#i do. usually dive head first into these things and not take as many breaks as maybe i should

[mbat]

anyone else have like, a messy/nontypical setup (as opposed to their usual one) when doing a several days long project and its kinda... everything? in a good way?

it just feels like... wow, im doing something, and it feels good that its taking up space, and itll feel physically different when its done

[bangaveragewhitewine]

crazy-mad for you

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, frenemies to lovers)  - Happy Hours series

Chicago, 1991. When you’re not pouring beers and shaking cocktails behind the bar of Jackie’s, you’re fighting flirting balancing banter and bite with the metalhead bouncer on your break.

A busy Friday night changes how you see Eddie Munson. Maybe you were wrong about the bouncer with his silver tongue and Bambi brown eyes...

This is 18+. If you’re not 18 please hit the back button and read something else.

Word count: 16.7 K

Contents/Warnings: Frenemies to lovers. Misogynistic comments; objectification, men being men. Some violence; Eddie gets in a fight. This is an 18+ fic. Smoking, alcohol consumption & drug use. Oral (reader receiving). P in V sex. Excessive use of pet names. Eddie & Reader are mid to late twenties. Reader is written as AFAB and uses female pronouns.

Author’s Note: One minute you’re daydreaming about cherry margaritas and Eddie Munson, and the next you’re writing 36 pages of how you fall in love with him... Just girly things? This is my first attempt at writing Eddie ❤️

I do hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it! Thank you @specialagentmonkey for beta reading / being my hype woman.

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not repost my work to other sites.

Dividers by me ✌️

The cold fizz of vodka soda lime prickles your throat with a pleasant burn. 

It’s August and it’s warm, too warm to be crammed in this little dive bar with too many bodies and not enough of them wearing antiperspirant. Way too warm to be working, slinging cheap drinks to the thirsty Friday night crowd crushed into Jackie’s. They can be stingy with their ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ but the tips are good at least (thanks to the pulled-low hem of your tank top showing just enough and the hug of denim on your hips). 

Jackie’s was a popular little dive you had visited during your first week in Chicago; a drink with your new roommate and some friends ended with you charming the owner Frank and promising to return for a trial shift the following evening. That was almost a year ago and you had settled in well, stepping up to be a supervisor after six months. 

Now, bone tired and wishing just a little bit that you worked a nine to five, you long for a cool shower and something fried and crispy and maybe cheesy (not particularly in that order). You’re here until close, two a.m last call followed by another hour of cleaning. Then you’re home free. Until tomorrow night anyway.

You tip back the last of your drink and crunch the ice between your teeth. Those last few minutes of your break are dwindling and soon you will haul yourself back, to fill beers and shake-up cocktails, all tits and teeth and aching feet. The music from the bar is loud as you perch on your stool at the back door, but you hear him over it hum-singing something way more Billboard Hot 100 than his usual taste. It makes your lips curve into a smirk, your head leaning back against the cool brick wall. 

“Don't you know, hmmhnn change. Things'll go your way. Hmmm hmm Hold On for -”

“Hey, hotshot.”

The small startle that shakes Eddie’s black-clothed body makes you laugh more than it should, particularly when he attempts to brush it off and play cool. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, I should’ve known you’d be here.” His voice is a groan, head tipped back with hammed-up exasperation. 

“Careful, Ed. They’ll revoke your metalhead licence if they hear you’re singing Wilson Phillips these days.” Your voice is a conspiratorial stage whisper as you cross your legs, stacking one over the other. His usual leather jacket has been swapped out for the hot summer nights, black denim over his usual tight black t-shirt and Dickies. 

He rolls and flicks his lighter to set the cigarette between his lips aflame as he meanders toward you. You can hear the crackle of burning tobacco as he takes a long drag, eyes never leaving you. “Not shaking your tits for tips, sugar?”

“Aw, been thinking about me while you’re asking cute girls what their star sign is?” you snark, missing the shadow of something that passes over Eddie’s face as your eyes roll. 

You switch your focus to the night sky above as Eddie comes to loom by you. The smoke swirls around him as he offers the cigarette out to you. Before taking it, you reach back and leave your empty glass on the sill behind you and swap a chilled bottle of Budweiser for the smoking cig. 

It’s not an olive branch, just part of your usual ritual; trading acidic barbs, mean words, shared smokes and free drinks whenever you’re scheduled on the same shifts (which is most nights). 

Eddie uses his keys to uncap the bottle and takes a long pull, head tipped back to show off his pale throat. A sliver of silver glints around his neck. The beer is almost half gone when he rips a truly boyish burp. Gross. 

You take a drag, sighing the smoke into the warm air. 

“What’s the sigh about, princess? Did someone not say please when they asked for their Cosmo? Your little apron tied too tight?” Eddie plucks at the wrap of black fabric around your waist. The way it hugs the curve and flair of your hips is certainly not lost on him.

You blow your second drag of smoke directly at him for that one. “Well if you could make sure we’re not packing the place out and breaching health and safety, that would be fuckin’ fantastic.” 

“Simmer down, princess. I’ve got it handled. You just pour your little drinks and wink at the boys and we’ll get through tonight just fine, ‘kay? Leave the crowd control to me.” Eddie tilts his head, dripping condescension like the total asshole he is. He’s way closer than you even realised and you can smell the spicy Fahrenheit behind the smoke. There’s heavy silence as you both glare at each other in the back alley.

The heat and hectic night make your banter especially snarky but Eddie’s the first to break, nudging you with a little smile. You barely catch his gaze dropping to your lips as you take another drag from his cigarette.

“No one giving you any trouble tonight?” he asks. 

“No more than usual. Just absolutely slammed in there. Just got done changing kegs again - they’re drinking us dry and it’s only Friday.” You roll your neck, sighing again when it cracks. 

“Tips good?” He seems almost genuine until his mean little smirk returns,  “Your tits are probably doing the real heavy liftin’ but..” 

“Listen dickh-”

Just as you’re about to cuss him out, there’s a burst of music and crowd noise as one of the other bartenders comes to find you. Michelle looks between you and Eddie before rolling her eyes. “C’mon, you’re really pushin’ that ten-minute break tonight. Sorry to break up whatever this was,” she flaps her hand between you and Eddie (who’s grinning like a wolf as he finishes his beer), “but we have a bachelorette party in line and it’s already crazy in there.” 

“Bachelorettes?” Eddie pushes off the wall and steals the smoke back from your fingers, “Sounds like I should probably get back to work. Ladies.” He winks before sauntering off, leaving you almost simmering with something like anger until Michelle scoffs and drags you back inside. 

“The sooner you two just bang and get it out of your system, the better,” Michelle tuts. 

“Ew. Pass.” You scoff and pause at the dingy mirror to fix your hair and pat the sweat away with a rip of trusty blue roll, scooping your breasts up in their cups and adjusting your top before scurrying after Michelle again. If you’re going to be busy, you may as well make it worthwhile and rake in the tips. 

The bar is louder than loud but you’re energised from your vodka soda and little sparring session with Eddie and easily fall back into step with the other bar staff, working together like a well-oiled machine - despite the annoying rusty hinge manning the door.  

Eddie rejoined the staff with his buddy Jeff in tow after they had spent some time on tour with their band. You had barely contained your eye rolls when the loud metalhead had waltzed into one of Frank’s staff meetings (conducted over pizza and pitchers of beers) unannounced and kicked his feet up on a table like he owned the place. Everyone was happy to see him (adding a round of shots to toast his glorious return) but you stayed wary of the flirty metalhead with a silver tongue and big brown Bambi eyes. Yeah, you felt warm all over when he looked you up and down and smiled like a wolf but you knew his type - total flirt, make a girl feel special and then move on to the next one. You didn’t move your entire life to a whole new state to get fucked over again, so you and Eddie settled into trading catty comments while you watch out for each other, allowing the occasional flirtation for balance. Getting under each other’s skin in whatever way seemed most annoying and fun? It worked, made the slow nights bearable, the busy ones more fun. Whatever it was. 

An hour later the small of your back is nearly soaked with perspiration. The bachelorettes are in full flight, meaning you have been pouring shots and mixing cocktails non-stop. They’re sweet at least, good with their excited ‘thank you!’s for all the fruity drinks you made them - cherry margaritas, blue lagoons and strawberry daiquiris going down an absolute treat. 

You’re shaking another batch of lemon drop shots for a girl's night group when you become hyper-aware of two yuppie finance bros with their gaze firmly fixed on your chest, trading little smirks and comments with each other behind their glasses. You’re overcome with an overwhelming sense of ick. 

It’s nothing new, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore sometimes - even when you’re up-the-walls busy and the kegs need to be changed. You refocus and fix your gaze on the glowing EXIT sign, thinking about how many more cocktails you will make before close. Your eye is caught instead by Eddie standing by the door, already looking at you while he’s supposed to be making sure none of the patrons are being too dickish. 

When your eyes meet he tilts his chin in a nod. Eddie smirks as he shimmies his chest at you, to which you mouth a very easily recognisable ‘FUCK YOU’ with a cheeky wink for good measure. 

He shakes his head and you pour the line of shots, earning yourself a nice big tip and a rake of compliments from the drunk girls who make you promise to do a shot with them later. Not a promise you can definitely keep, but their enthusiasm is a balm for your soul.

As they shuffle away to give each other pep talks in the bathroom (gosh, you love them), one of the men who had been eyeing you up steps into their place. You don’t miss the way he drags his eyes over their bodies before his snake-like stare is fixed on you. You have already made plenty on tips so you dial back the smile, giving him a barely polite brow raise in place of a ‘What’ll it be?’

“Two whiskeys, top shelf. Whatever’s expensive in this dump,” he says, speaking to your chest rather than your face. You can smell the sour of his breath across the counter. 

You square your jaw and suppress an eye roll that would surely render you sightless for the rest of your days. “If you don’t like it, the doors over there. Ice?”

He grunts affirmative and you pour the drinks from the barely touched bottle, slamming the glasses down just hard enough to startle him before you give him his total.

“There’s an extra fifty in it if you give me a smile,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar with the crisp note in hand. “You been given’ out a lot more for a lot less all night. One little smile for me?” The man nods to your cleavage, and you refuse to feel self-conscious. 

You can’t summon the effort to even fuck with him, come up with a comeback that his Neanderthal brain couldn’t possibly comprehend. You give him his total again along with your best deadpan glare. “You’re holding up the line. Pay up or am I going to need to cut you off, buddy?”

His face turns sour, acidic anger bubbling up. “You’re a hard little bitch, aren’t ya?”

You smirk at that, plucking the fifty from between his thin fingers to cash up before dropping his change back on the counter. “I am, thank you so much for noticing.” Your voice is nearly saccharine, and you play up the airhead facade for a moment before turning to the customer next to him. “Next please!”

His curses blend into the background as Michelle hip-checks you with a grin and wink, which you return while beginning to pour beers for your next order. If you let every slimeball get to you, you would have given up a long time ago. 

On such a busy night, it was easy to be distracted and forget all about him, but the sharp brown eyes standing by the door saw everything - and he wasn’t so forgiving. 

Almost another hour passes; another keg change, more cocktails to shake, another few visits from your favourite group of girls (who you take a shot of tequila with when they bat their lashes at you - you’re a sucker when it comes to girls who give you compliments and smell like vanilla).  

The crowd thins a bit and you take a turn collecting empties, happy to have an excuse to get out from behind the bar and stretch your legs again, even if it is to balance too many glasses on a too-small tray. The ever-changing obstacle course of the floor on a Friday night is one you’re well practised at, dodging stray elbows and dipping in between patrons to take their spent glasses from the sticky tables, maybe chat a little if it’s not too loud or busy. 

Paradise City is pouring through the speakers as your arms begin to protest the load they are carrying. You know your limit and pick up two more stacked pint glasses, catching Eddie’s eye as he bids goodnight to some regulars. His boot is already halfway out the door after them when you see his face change into something you can’t fully comprehend. Not because you can’t read him - you absolutely can - but your body is careening forward and down toward the floor before you can catch yourself. Your foot had caught on something that hadn’t been there before you met Eddie’s stare, sending you flying forward. 

There’s a thud, crash, smash as you hit the deck alongside every single glass you had expertly balanced. The sound feels huge, ringing in your ears and it’s like the air is sucked out of the room, your body is winded by the unexpected impact. The music cuts and everything hurts - part ego, part ‘that’ll bruise tomorrow’ pain. 

You wish for the sticky floor to just swallow you up as patrons form a little circle around you, crunching broken glass under their feet. A familiar pair of boots stops right by your head. Eddie. He crouches to kneel by you with one hand heavy on your shoulder and floods your already overwhelmed senses with his smoke and leather and spice. 

He says your name, edged with panic until you open your squeezed-shut eyes. You manage to push yourself up with a small wince, hauling yourself with his help to sit on a quickly-vacated low stool. His hands feel huge as they cup your face, you hadn’t noticed how long his lashes were (unfair) or the freckles dusted across his nose. 

“M’okay, Ed. Jus’ need a minute,” your murmur, head ducked to hide your hot cheeks and embarrassment. He stands and puts his arm around you, without thinking you rest your head against his hip but miss his slight intake of breath as your coworkers calm the crowd and start sweeping and gathering the glass, and thankfully turn the music back on. 

Eddie bends a little to speak to you, low and quiet, “Just sit there a sec, okay? ‘Chelle is going to bring you to the staff room.”  

You nod and take a few breaths before taking his hand to stand and be passed safely into Michelle’s care.

“I’ll be back to you in a sec. Don’t go gettin’ in any more trouble, ‘kay?” Eddie’s softness has an edge now, his eyes zeroing in on the man who had given you shit at the bar earlier. The one Eddie had been glaring at ever since; he had seen him stick his foot out to trip you. 

You’re just about to push through to the back hallway when you hear raised voices. Eddie’s voice is louder than the others. You turn and see him squaring up to the slimeball who asked you for a smile earlier, not looking as clever or slick now that Eddie’s up in his face.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Michelle murmurs, pausing behind you to watch. 

“I saw you fuckin’ trip her man. Get the fuck out.” Eddie is incensed. “Been givin’ her shit all night.”

Trip her? Oh. He means you.

“I wouldn’t touch’er. That bitch? Fuck off man, get out of my face.”

There’s a scuffle, another broken glass. More shouting before it really kicks off, fists swinging. Through the horrified crowd, you see knuckles connecting with Eddie’s pretty face. It hurts when you yell out his name, adding to the noise as Jeff rushes in to get the men under control. 

Eddie lands his own punch, rings slamming into the man's jaw, raising a collective ‘ooof’ from the gathered crowd. Despite the blood on his face and hands, Eddie manages to haul him out into the street with Jeff, some beefy regular marching the second man out by the scruff of his neck. 

“What the fuck…” you breathe, realising that you were holding on to Michelle’s arm way too tight. You apologise and she steers you back to the staff room in a daze of pain and confusion (more from the fight than your fall). The room is little more than a box with a wall of beat-up lockers, a sink and counter, a table with cracked Formica and creaky chairs and a squishy old two-seater. It’s cramped but it can be a haven on a busy night. 

As you ease yourself into the corner of the squishy sofa, Michelle pours you a big measure of whiskey for the shock. She kneels in front of you, looking you over for any cuts or scrapes from the glass, and checks your pupils for good measure. You’re just shaken up and feeling the impact of the fall. 

“You dizzy or anything?” she asks, squeezing your knee. “You’re gonna have a big fuckin’ bruise, babe. Remember when I spilled that pitcher, slipped and fell on my ass back before Christmas? Black and blue well into New Year.” She squeezes your knee and encourages you to take a sip of your drink. 

The whiskey burns but you barely feel it. 

“Why did Eddie hit that guy? Did.. did he trip me? The floor was clear, I just… I didn’t see... My foot caught something but..” Your voice shakes from the adrenaline, the shock of the last few minutes. 

She shrugs with a little smile. “I didn’t see either. You’ll need to ask Ed yourself.” A little frown etches between her brows. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t get pissed like that for no reason. He’s a good guy, babe. He looks out for everyone, staff and the drunks. He wouldn’t do that without a good reason. I know you get up each other’s ass but..-” 

As you take another sip, the door swings open. 

Eddie. Eddie with a bloody nose, lip swollen. Eddie with his jacket off, draped over his arm as he flexes his bloody knuckles around a bottle of Jack Daniels, a pint glass of ice in the other hand.

“Hey, you okay?”

His brown eyes are wide, but he’s trying to play cool despite the adrenaline coursing through him too. Eddie feels like his entire body is buzzing, not in a good way like when he plays a gig or when he gets you riled up at him, when you roll your eyes and give him that smirk - bad like when he used to get in fights in school, when a teacher would assume he was the troublemaker and send him to detention or the principal’s office. 

You look at Eddie and he looks right back at you. You can’t look away from each other. It’s like your fall and his punches caused something to shift; you can’t name it but it weighs on you, both of you. 

Michelle squeezes your hand. “I’ll leave you two to patch yourselves up. Be good.” A kiss is dropped to your head and she squeezes Eddie’s arm as she passes him by. 

It’s just you now. You and Eddie, both hurting. 

“Ed…”

He takes a long pull from the bottle of Jack and drops into the seat next to you. 

“Eddie, what the hell was that?” Your voice is quiet and your eyes shine when you look at him. He is a ball of frenetic energy, knee bouncing. You take in the black ink on his arms, see the veins and muscles twitch beneath. His nose and mouth are stained bloody, knuckles and rings too. 

He looks over you, sees how you’re holding yourself carefully after your fall. “He tripped you.” Eddie’s voice is quiet, not something you hear often. He’s loud and he’s brash, hear-him-before-you-see-him kinda guy. 

“Oh.”

“Oh? He’d been giving you shit all night, you could’ve called me. Or Jeff.” He sips the whiskey again and tops up your glass without another word.   

“Yeah, he was a creep. Nothing new there. If I come crying to you and Jeff every time someone gets fresh with me I’d never be behind the bar. People are assholes. I can handle myself, Ed.” 

“And how’d that go for you tonight? You could’ve been really fuckin’ hurt.” His eyes blaze, nostrils flare. 

Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?” 

“No. No, fuck,” he growls in frustration. “I know you can handle yourself. That’s why you’re fuckin’ great at your job. If I had just taken him out when he gave you shit at the bar then maybe -” 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie I don’t need you to save me or protect me! Shit happens! This was shit. It happened. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to... I want to..”

The air between you is charged and heavy. 

I want to. What does that mean? 

Eddie covers himself quickly. 

“It’s my job. I want to make sure you, everyone here, can do their job without some fuckin’ guy with halitosis making it worse for you, waving his cash in your face like that.” Eddie nudges you gently, “I just want to do somethin’ right. I like working with you, even when you’re a pain in my ass.” 

You scrunch your nose up, “Sap.” It’s easy to both fit back into your normal routine, ignoring the lingering something more that had just become quite clear to both of you. 

“I might like working with you too. Don’t let it get to your head, I’m not sure your ego needs to get any bigger, Munson.”

He smiles, but the throb of his nose makes him wince and swear.

Eddie has made no attempt to put that glass of ice to good use so you ease yourself up to grab two clean bar towels, tipping the ice into one before wrapping it up. You pass it back to him before filling the empty glass with water.

“Thanks, princess.” Eddie flexes his fingers as the ice soothes the burning with cool unpleasantness. 

You ease yourself back into your seat, facing Eddie now. “C’mere. Let me clean you up.” 

He pauses, looking at you from the side of his big brown eyes before turning to face you. “It’s not broken. Just a little blood. You should see the other guy..” Eddie grins when you roll your eyes. 

“My hero,” you deadpan, though you do kind of mean it. 

With the damp corner of the rag, you gently begin to wipe the blood from Eddie’s face, sitting closer than you have ever really been to him. It’s silent between you, the quietest you have ever seen him. He’s too busy watching you, your focused face and how seriously you are taking your task. 

“Very gentle,” he murmurs. 

“Mm, don’t try me, Munson.” You’re quiet again, concentrating on wiping the blood and not looking into his eyes. “Not your first bloody nose after a fight then?”

“M’nope. High school… Mosh pits. Few angry drunks. The usual.” He doesn’t mention his father’s temper, his first bloody nose from a beer-soaked backhand. The whiskey tastes sour in his mouth at the memory.

You lean back a bit, assessing your work before wetting another edge of the towel. Eddie crosses his eyes, looking down his nose. “Am I pretty again?” He gives an extra cheesy grin for emphasis, making you laugh. It makes his heart soar; that sound, how you duck your head. But he sees your pained wince, bringing him right back to earth. 

“Shit, sorry.” “It’s fine. I’ll live.”

You bring your hand back to his face and wipe the last of the blood-stained around his mouth, taking one last slow swipe over his too-plump-to-be-decent lower lip. That was more for you than for him, though the spark of fire in his eyes said otherwise; it was the same spark lit low in your belly since you had first laid eyes on him and started your incessant teasing of each other. 

“All done.” Your voice is just above a whisper, neither of you making any move backwards. 

“Thank you, nurse.” You can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. “Hey, can you... wear one of those little white dresses next time?” 

He’s grinning again when you shove at his shoulder to put some space between you, the skin beneath almost burning hot under your hand even through the black cotton of his t-shirt.

“No next time. You hear me? Your groupies will come for me if that pretty face gets all bashed up.” There’s that smirk of yours that sets the embers burning low in his stomach alight. 

He rolls his eyes at you, stealing your move. “You heading home?” he asked, watching you again as you drained the last of the whiskey in your glass. 

“Mm, soon. I’ll check if I can help close and clean, then I’ll go.” You lean your head against the back of the battered sofa and close your eyes briefly. You think you might just sleep here until your stomach growls like something from the seventh circle of hell.

Eddie’s big brown eyes shine with mirth, astounded at the inhuman noise that just came from your curled-up body. 

“Shut up. I’ll make cereal or something when I get home.”

“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”

“Who doesn’t like fries?” you peek one eye open to look at him.

“Let’s get some and I’ll make sure you get home safe.” Eddie checks his knuckles and swipes some of the blood from his rings, acting far more nonchalant than he felt. 

“You don’t need to.” Fries and a shake did sound amazing. Walking home while I felt like a human embodiment bruise? Not so much. 

“I know. But I’m going anyway, and you need to eat. So let me.” 

He pokes your arm as he speaks; you think fleetingly that you might let Eddie Munson do anything if he asked you nicely, spoke to you with that hushed husky voice. You think that you definitely must have hit your head when you start thinking about his eyes…

But he can’t know that, so you settle for an eye roll. “Ugh, fine.” 

With far too much energy, Eddie pushes himself up and empties the ice into the sink along with the red-tinged water. He potters around the little staff room, chucking rags into the bag for the laundry and rinsing glasses. You watch him, curious and a little confused until you realise you are staring and don’t want to be caught. 

You sit up and unlock your tiny locker, taking off and balling up your apron to throw in your bag, spraying deodorant under your arms before shutting and locking it again. Eddie’s got his jacket back on and you carry your own too-big denim jacket over your arm. You give him a nod, ready to go, and head out to the bar to check with Michelle that it’s okay for you to call it a night 

The crowd had thinned to a few stragglers who were almost ready to call it a night. Jeff has the door under control and the bar staff are already cleaning tables and glasses. You promise Michelle you will call her tomorrow, that you will stay in bed if you hurt too much, and accept her gentle hug after she passes you your tips for the night. 

“Get home safe. No more getting into trouble,” she says, eyeing you and Eddie together with interest (and some smugness). 

“No promises. See ya tomorrow ‘Chelle,” Eddie says with a wink before you both head out toward the black ‘86 Dodge Daytona parked a little down the street. It’s still humid and warm outside and you walk in silence until you see him unlock the nice car, opening the door for you. Your stomach flip-flops when he gives you a slight bow. He’s only being nice because you made an ass of yourself at work, you tell yourself. 

“Jesus, being a rockstar really pays off,” you tease and throw your bag into the passenger footwell before easing yourself in. “Or did you steal this?” 

You knew he had worked in a garage before moving to the city, and you force the thought of Eddie in a grease-marked tank top out of your head.

“Nah, my days of grand theft auto are long behind me.” Eddie winks and closes the door before rounding the shiny bonnet to sit in the driver’s seat. His keys jangle before he turns the ignition. 

The radio blares Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast so loud that you just about hear Eddie’s swearing over it until he gets the volume down. “Oops.”

“Dude, mind your fuckin’ ears. You’ll be deaf by thirty.” Your own ears are ringing after the onslaught of noise. 

“Huh?” He holds his hand up to his ear and smirks stupidly before revving the engine. 

You sink back into the low seat and shake your head; your own smile reflects at you in the window as he peels away from the curb. “You better not murder me, Munson. I’ll haunt the fuck out of you if you do.” 

“Once again babe, kidnap and human sacrifice are also long behind me.” 

He drives a little fast, but you don’t hate how you feel sitting in the passenger side of his car. He has a faded Black Ice Little Tree hanging from the rearview mirror alongside a skull keychain that cackles and glows red when you push a button on the back. The cramped back seat camouflages balled-up band shirts, a pair of beat-up Chucks, amp leads and guitar strings - a random accumulation that gives you a glimpse of who Eddie is outside of work. It’s easy for your mind to wander; Eddie, a back seat, what kind of girls he usually brings for a ride in his baby. Instead, you wonder about all you don’t know about the guy you spend a good part of your week with, the man currently driving you to get diner food at 2 a.m. after he punched a guy who was mean to you.

“Feelin’ okay?” he checks, flexing his knuckles on the steering wheel as he takes a left.

“Yeah.” You roll your head to look over at him. “Tell me something.”

Eddie glances across at you, brow raised under his bangs. “What?”

“Something, anything. A secret, a story. You always have something to say, so tell me something.” 

“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”

“Probably.”

“Shit okay. Um... Okay. I almost got kicked out of my high school graduation. My friends were disruptively loud, like obnoxious motherfuckers - love them to death. And I flipped the Principal off instead of shaking his sweaty little hand.”

It does make you laugh, just a little - more of a really amused smile. “That’s fuckin’ cool, Munson. Were they your little Dungeons and Dorks friends?”

“Rude.” He pauses. “Dragons. Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Nerd. You’re from where, like Ballsack, Indiana?”

“Close. Hawkins - just north of Ballsack actually.”

“Can’t say I know it. Home of the Metalheads or..?”

“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”

Your lower lip juts out just a little at the loaded confession.

“Your turn. One secret, please. Dirtier the better.”

“Perv.”

“Witch.”

You smirk, leaning your head back. “Been called worse tonight.” 

You don’t see Eddie’s knuckles twitch while you think of a secret. Hearing that guy call you a bitch reminded him of all the times he had heard his poor mother called the same by the deadbeat he called Dad. 

“Okay, you’re going to piss your pants at me. I used to work at this kinda fancy cocktail place before I moved here,” you say. “Totally lied about my experience before starting. Think… wannabe jazz lounge for yuppies. The menu was like this leather folder thing. Anyway, my first week and this like.. rich lookin’ guy comes in and asks for a Roman Coke.”

You see Eddie glance at you as he indicates and swerves the car smoothly to park opposite a little diner not far from where you live. 

“I’m a few days in, super eager to get it all right. I’m like, ‘Yes, of course, coming right up’ and can I remember what the hell is in a Roman Coke? Fuck no. It’s not on the menu so I think ‘Hey this guy must know better than dumb little me’. I’m flipping through the recipe cards, everyone else is busy and kinda mean anyway so I stare at the liquors for like two minutes before I go back and ask him ‘What’s in that again?’.” 

Eddie’s biting his lip. He knows where this is going. He sees how you light up when you tell your story, begs the butterflies to calm their swooping and swirling behind his ribs as you deliver the punchline. 

“Rum. And Coke.”

His head falls forward, rests on the top of the steering wheel. His shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“Eddie. He was the owner.” 

He cackles. That throaty yell of a laugh you hear ringing through the bar or from the staff room when he’s goofing around instead of working. 

“Oh no..” He’s wiping tears from his eyes as you cringe in his passenger seat. “Oh princess, that’s fuckin’ terrible.” 

You sit together in his parked car until you settle, faces hurting from smiling until your stomach growls again.

“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”

“And a Coke?”

“And a Coke.” 

Eddie is out of the car and opening your door before you even have your seatbelt off. He offers you his hand to help you out of the car, careful of your sore body after the fall. 

“Feeling okay?” he asks, still holding your hand. 

“A bit achy. I’ll have a hot shower and take something before bed.” You lift his hand to check his knuckles. “Sore?” 

“I’ve had worse.”

He squeezes your hand gently before you let go and cross the street to the hole-in-the-wall place glowing with neon Coca-Cola signs. 

“You get in a lot of fights then?” you ask as he holds the door. 

“Not anymore.” Eddie shrugs and leads you to a little table, nodding politely to the waitress filling coffees at the counter. She says hi to him by name and you think about Eddie coming in here alone, or not, after his shifts.

The backs of your thighs catch on the red vinyl and you know you will need to peel yourself up later.

Eddie sits opposite you, looking immediately at home as he relaxes back in the booth. In the bright diner lights you can see where his lip is still swollen and sore, the lingering specs of blood in his nostril despite your careful clean-up.

The waitress, an older woman with thinly drawn brows, comes over and pinches Eddie’s cheek with motherly affection. “Hi hon, you two know what you’re havin’?”

Eddie scrunches his nose like a bunny. “Hi, Marie. Usual for me, and a big basket of fries and a Coke?” He looks at you for confirmation, and you nod. “Please and thank you.”

She eyes you up with a little smile as she writes the order. “I was wonderin’ when Eddie was going to bring a nice girl for me to meet. Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”

By the time you both open your mouths to set Marie straight, she’s already gone. Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, but he shrugs it off. “Hate to have to break her heart and tell her you’re not a nice girl.”

You gasp in mock offence and put your hand to your heart. “I am so nice.” You can’t even keep a straight face as you say it. “Slandering my good name, Munson. I thought you were all about protecting my honour.”

Your close-to-the-bone teasing keeps the rosy tint on his cheeks. 

“I never told you, your face when you fell? Fuckin’ hilarious. Should’ve taken a picture to put behind the bar.”

The jab puts you even again, not that either of you keeps score but it’s all about balance. Can’t be too nice, don’t want to be too mean. 

You rest your head against the back of the booth and close your eyes for a moment, feeling the exhaustion from a busy and unpredictable night wash over you. 

Eddie takes the opportunity to just look at you for a moment; even under the too-bright lights of the diner, he thinks you might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Tell me something else,” you say before opening your eyes. When you do, you catch a fleeting dreamy look on Eddie’s face and lean forward to rest your chin on your hand as Marie drops over your drinks and food; fries for you, a burger with oozing American cheese and crisp bacon for Eddie. 

“So nosy,” he teases, shoving a straw into his fizzing Coca-Cola. 

You shrug, feeling a burn in your stomach; maybe you were overstepping. “You don’t have to. You can sit and stare at me if you prefer,” You take a long sip through your own gently placed straw and raise your brows at him. 

He can’t and won’t argue with that one and stirs the ice as he thinks, takes a sip. 

“One of the first gigs I played out of our hometown, we had like thirty people instead of the usual five drunks in the Hideout. I tried to crowd surf, thinkin’ I was hot shit. Broke my wrist.” 

Your eyes blow wide as you eat the best fry of your life - it’s perfectly crisp and fluffy, salted just right - but the punchline of Eddie’s latest confession had you wanting to know more.

“You want half?” Eddie asks, nodding to his burger. 

“No, I'm good, thanks. Hold on, reverse to the breaking your wrist after thinking you were Iggy fucking Pop.” 

He’s already a bite in but holds his wrist up before he flips you off. “See? Good as new,” he says, pausing his chew. 

The fries are too good to waste so you push down the urge to throw one at him. 

“I was eighteen. Stupid kid. S’the reason I didn’t graduate that year.” He sips his Coke again and watches your reaction from beneath his lashes. 

“That’s shitty.” You feel the frown deepen between your brows, angry on his behalf about something he was long over. “No wonder you flipped the principal off.” 

You share your fries with Eddie and eat until your stomach feels warm and full. You share another secret too, tell him about the time you got so scared in a haunted house that you punched some guy dressed as a zombie and got kicked out. He almost choked on a fry at that and laughed so loud that Marie looked over and shook her head fondly at her favourite customer. 

It’s easy to drop the charade that you and Eddie don’t get along. A diner at fuck o’clock in the morning exists a world away from the little bar that pays your rent and bills. When you see him get excited telling you a story, letting you see Eddie beyond the bar, you know you got him wrong - he’s funny as fuck, sweet too. 

Midway through a story about how his friend Robin had dragged him to do (very) drunk karaoke last week, Eddie catches you staring and scrunches his face a little. “Am I rambling? Fuck, sorry.”

“No. Well, a little, but I like it.” You sip the dregs of your refilled Coke and smile a little. 

He smiles back, ducking his head just a little and he catches the time on his watch. His Bambi brown eyes blow wide when he realises. “Jesus, I oughta get you home. The sun will be up soon.” 

You didn’t realise either, but you also don’t care. You’re still tired, still aching, but you feel lighter than you have in months, like a long-dead spark might just be coming back. The warm glow is dampened just a bit when Eddie gulps down the last of his drink. 

He pulls his jacket back on and insists that he helps you put yours on when you wince. He settles the bill, kisses the back of Marie’s hand and promises to come see her soon. Neither of you let her down when she says she hopes to see you again sometime. 

It’s cooler outside now, but the warmth in Eddie’s car and his gentle singing along to the radio rocks you into a light doze as he drives the few blocks to the address you gave him. It kills him to wake you once he’s parked outside. 

The small frown lines on your forehead tell him you’re still in some pain after the tumble you took. The ache in his knuckles felt like nothing in comparison to the twisting anger in his gut when he saw that prick’s foot shove out into your path and you watched as you fell in slow motion.

He gives it a minute, tries not to stare like a creep, before reaching over to shake your knee gently. 

“Hey.” He says your name so softly, so gently, and taps his fingers against your knee. 

You startle slightly and realise where you are. “Sorry, Thanks for the ride, Eddie,” you say quietly. “And the fries. And everything.” 

He smiles again, a gentle curve upward of his lips as his fingers rest on your knee. “Any time. We’re like two or three blocks from each other.” 

Neither of you wants to burst the already waning bubble you have been in since you left the bar. For a moment, you just look at each other until the air becomes too thick, too heady to breathe easy. You’re not entirely convinced that you didn’t hit your head, that this whole night hasn’t been just some dream of yours. The heat of his hand on your leg tells you it’s real. This is something real. 

And still, you make the first move. Pop the bubble. Too much. Too scary. 

Your seatbelt clicks open and you grab your bag as Eddie does the same, coming to open your door and offering you a hand to get out. 

Neither of you let go of the other’s hand, eking out the last of whatever this was before you have to go your separate ways and think about what it could turn into if you only had the bravery. You’re both standing so close and you watch the shadow of his stupid-long lashes under the street light. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Today. Whatever. At work.” You want to slap yourself for stuttering. 

“Only if you feel up to it. Don’t be a hero, princess.”

“That’s your job, Ed. I’ll see you at work. Thank you, again..”

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

You walk to your door and Eddie rounds the car again to the driver's side. He raises a hand to salute you as you turn to give him one little wave before closing the door. 

“Fuck,” you sigh with your back pressed to the wood of the door.  “Fuck.” Eddie growls as his head drops against the roof of the car. 

You both take a minute. Need a minute before you can move on. 

You drag yourself up the stairs and let yourself in, quiet enough to not wake your flatmate. Eddie waits to see your light come on before starting the car and driving the two blocks to his place. 

After popping some painkillers you crawl into bed. Even your racing mind and pounding heart can’t keep you from falling into the deepest sleep you have had in months. Your dreams echo with Eddie’s happy throaty laugh, the gasp from the bar when he threw the first punch, the sound you made when you saw a fist crash into his pretty face.

You sleep late through the Saturday morning city sounds as they turn to afternoon and float through your cracked open window. You sleep until your flatmate knocks to check you made it home and are still breathing, then doze off again while she makes brunch for you both. 

Over eggs and bacon, toast and fresh fruit, coffee and Advil, you tell her everything from last night and show her your bruises. She runs to CVS to get arnica cream and more painkillers while you strip your bed, shower and do laundry, keep busy to keep the recurring thoughts of Eddie from your head. 

While you are folding clean clothes from earlier in the week back into your drawers, you come across a guitar pick Eddie had left on the bar one time before your shift started; once lost from his pocket, found again amongst the collection of shirts and shorts and jeans you wore to work. You had meant to give it back, then he had called you a brat for something stupid. Maybe he had burped too loud in your direction, and so you didn’t bother. As you run your thumb over the smooth curve of it, you think maybe he’s been at the back of your mind for a longer time than you even realised.

You’re sore all over but you call Michelle and let her know you will be in for your shift. You don’t tell her that you stayed out extra late with Eddie talking about stupid shit and laughing until your face hurt - you're not sure you could handle her sweet smugness over the phone. 

After a long bath to soak your muscles and a huge plate of pasta for dinner, you get ready for work. Denim shorts, a tight black t-shirt tucked in, and your trusty Dr Martens (despite the heat). You add some jewellery, spritz your perfume, and fix your hair up off the back of your neck to keep cool. You swipe some Raisin Rage on your lips before wiping it off in favour of a slick of cherry flavour Chapstick. At the last minute, the lipstick makes its way into your bag - just in case. 

It’s just after six when you step back into Jackie’s to help cut wedges of lime and lemon for drinks, make sure the barrels and kegs are hooked up properly, the mixers ready to go. It’s almost time to open up and you haven’t seen (or heard) Eddie yet. You chase your disappointment with a quick smoke break with one of the summer hires before Frank pulls you aside, making sure you’re okay after last night (and that you’re not thinking of suing the bar or anything).

“My wages wouldn’t cover a lawyer, Frank. Even with the tips,” you smirk before stepping from his office out into the hall, running straight into black denim and spicy cologne. 

“Woah, easy there.” Eddie’s hands steady you, two wide palms on your arms that squeeze gently when you look up into his smiling face. “You’re a fuckin’ liability, honey.”

Your cheeks feel hot but you shove his chest gently. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. It was so peaceful and quiet, what a shame.” 

Back to normal. Except Eddie’s hands are still on your arms, his thumb circling on the round of your shoulder. “Feelin’ okay?” he checks, speaking quietly just for you. 

You nod and lift your hand, taking his chin between your finger and thumb, feeling brave alongside the little intake of breath Eddie just about hides. “No bruises. Good.” 

There’s a beat where you and Eddie aren’t quite sure what you mean, what to say next. You’re glad that Frank calls for Eddie from his office, wanting to have the same chat with him as he had with you. It gives you both a good excuse to let go of each other, figure out what the fuck that was before your shift starts.

He squeezes your shoulders and gives you a little smile before letting you go. “Be good. Don’t get in trouble.” 

“I’ll try, hot shot,” you say quietly, giving him a wink before going to join Michelle and the other bartenders for a quick pre-open meeting - but not before you dip into your locker to pat a layer of lipstick on. 

The crowd begins to trickle in, slow and steady until it’s packed full and the music blares just loud enough. They’re a fun crowd tonight, and everyone is in good spirits now that it’s not quite so oppressively hot outside. You don’t have time to think about much else in between chatting to customers and mixing drinks; shaking cocktails is a bit more laborious when your body aches but you don’t complain. 

It’s almost eleven before you take your break. You take another Advil before slipping past the Staff Only door. The air is tinged with smoke as Eddie leans against the brick, waiting. 

His face lights up when he sees you and the two glasses you’re carrying. “Double fisting?” he asks, taking another drag. 

“One for you, one for me. Mines the water.” You extend out the dark fizzing highball glass to him, which he eyes suspiciously. He passes you the nearly burnt-out smoke as a trade-off. 

“What’s this?” he asks, “The witch's potion? I knew you’d take me out by poisoning me.”

You prop yourself on your stool and sip your ice water, smirking into your glass. “It’s a Roman Coke.” 

Eddie’s laugh rings through the alley and he holds up the glass. “You fuckin’... Wow. What an honour.” His free hand covers his heart, silver rings glinting in the light. It would be easy to think he’s being condescending or playing around, it’s what you do. But Eddie is genuinely a little bit touched and a whole lot smitten. He can feel his heart beating faster under his palm. 

You pass him a paper-wrapped straw before watching as he takes a curious sip of your special mix. You take a drag of his cigarette and watch his eyes blow wide as he computes the flavours. 

“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.

“What is in this? It’s insane! I really like it,” Eddie says, grinning. 

His smile makes your tummy flutter. 

“It’s rum - but like, a coffee-infused rum - and Coca-Cola, with Sambuca,” you list off the ingredients that had been turning over in your head all evening. 

Eddie nods as he takes another sip, letting the flavours wash over his tongue. “Mm, I like it. You’re a real little alchemist, huh? Get it on the menu.”

You laugh and pass him back his smoke. “Nah. That’s an Eddie special. Just to say thanks..” 

Eddie looks at you, watching your teeth sink into your stained-dark lip as you wait for him to respond. He’s a shade softer than the usual tough-but-fun guy who works the door, softer than when you’re usually tearing strips off of each other for fun on your breaks. 

“Careful,” he says, voice quiet. He looks almost bashful. 

You frown a little. Your gut twists uncomfortably. Had you read it all wrong? 

“I don’t know what to do with myself when pretty girls are sweet to me,” he says, sipping his drink pointedly. 

The knot in your stomach swoops. He thinks you’re pretty. Eddie thinks you’re pretty. Eddie who flirts with dolled-up girls all night while he’s checking IDs.

You look back at him, see how the light and shadows play on the slope of his nose and those long lashes. “You have plenty of practice, Ed,” you say, so quiet. “You always know what to say.”

He smiles just a little and shakes his head. “Not with you. S’why I say stupid shit. Anyway, no one’s as pretty or sweet as you,” he says. “Even when you’re mean. Especially when you’re mean - so fuckin’ pretty then.”

Your laugh is almost involuntary, cheeks feeling warm. “That was smooth, Eddie,” you say, teasing him again; that was comfortable, less scary. 

“It was? Oh good. I’m fighting for my life here.” He laughs and leans against the wall beside you. 

He’s taller than you as you sit on your stool, tuning your body sideways to look up at him. “Putting the moves on me, Munson?” 

“Is it working?” Eddie raises his brows, pushing them up under his choppy fringe. There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, hopeful and yet apprehensive. 

“Yeah, I think it might be,” you whisper, biting your lip again. He wants to bite it for you, soothe the pinch of his sharp teeth with his silver tongue. 

You reach a hand out, sliding your fingertips up over the back of his hand and wrist until they slip under the cuff of his sleeve. You bring his hand down onto your thigh, warm and bare in the summer evening heat. 

You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too. 

He leaves his drink on the sill next to your water and steps closer, his hand huge on your legs as he feels the smoothness of your skin and the frayed hem of your denim shorts. Eddie crowds closer, smelling the sweetness of your perfume as his leg slots between your knees. His eyes flick from looking at your lips to searching your gaze for any hesitation or hint that you’re just fucking with him. He finds none and feels braver than ever. 

He dips down, brushing his nose against your cheek and hears your intake of breath, that little gasp he wants to swallow and consume. His lips press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, begging sweetly without a word. 

You turn your head just a fraction to close the minute gap, bringing your lips together. With your hand on his neck, you feel his pulse race in time with your own beneath the stroke of your thumb, sliding down the strong tendon to where it meets his shoulder. 

Eddie’s lips press and slot with yours, plush and gentle and tasting sweet like Coca-Cola. He kisses you slowly, savouring the feeling of your lips on his. You pull him as close as you can, your warm breaths mingling as he sneaks a look to make sure you’re real. 

He is gentle behind the bawdy jokes and leather and silver rings. He’s softer than anyone can see. But you can feel that sweet softness in the way he cups your face before kissing you again. Eddie strokes his tongue against your lower lip to ask for permission he doesn’t need. It makes you shiver as that smooth-talking tongue slides with yours, making you gasp. 

Before it can build pressure and turn any steamier, he slows it back down and kisses you in slow pecks again before leaning his forehead against yours. He can’t stop himself from smiling and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not elated when he feels your shy smile too. 

Behind that smile, you’re aching for more. You want to run your fingers up through his curls and tug, be kissed breathless by him. You want a hundred more soft kisses, feel his smile on your mouth. You want to feel him everywhere. 

“You okay?” he whispers, and can’t resist pushing another kiss against your cheek before moving back to look at you again. 

“More than okay.” You bring your thumb to swipe the lipstick transferred over from your lips to his. You want to see every shade you own smeared around his mouth. 

Eddie kisses your thumb, before pretending to nip it to make you laugh. “Are you going to be able to go back to the bar?” 

You shake your head, smiling before sighing over-dramatically and fixing a pout on your face. It drives him mad in the best way. “Mm, maybe give me one more for luck?” you whisper. 

He puts you out of your misery with one more long lingering kiss. “I’m not done kissing you. At all.” Another peck, because he cannot simply stop himself. “I’ll wait for you after work.” 

Your smile is too big to hide, rendered speechless by his confession. So you nod, giving his lower lip one last swipe to remove the evidence before patting his cheek. 

Eddie reluctantly backs off for his own good. He had thought about pressing you against the bricks and kissing you stupid too many times to be decent. He still will - it’s at the top of his bucket list - but just not now.

He grabs his drink, downs it, and gives you a wink. “Don’t go sharing that recipe, okay? That’s for me only, sugar.” 

“Cross my heart,” you tease, sitting on your hands so you don’t drag him back against you. You think he might just be okay with it if you did. 

“Later…” As if he can read your mind, he backs away with absolute mischief in his eyes. 

“Later.” You wiggle your fingers at him and laugh when he almost walks ass-first into the stacked crates of empty bottles. He swears at them and flips them off before throwing one last wink your way. 

Once you’re sure Eddie has turned the corner of the building you cover your face with your hands and smile into them, murmuring ‘What the fuck, what the fuck’ as your cheeks heat up your palms. 

When you have just about gathered yourself, you head back inside and fix your smudged lipstick. You tap Michelle’s hip when you get back, signalling for her to go take her break. 

She looks you over, suspicious of where exactly that coy little smile came from. As she throws one last look over her shoulder, she sees Eddie at the open door, looking just as dreamy and pleased with himself.  

The rest of your shift passes without incident, which is a miracle because all you have been thinking of is Eddie Eddie Eddie. Eddie’s lips, Eddie’s hands. Eddie’s strong inked arms and his sturdy thighs. His lips (again). 

You caught each other’s eye a few times during the night, and it made you feel hot all over. Especially when he was being a total gentleman to some pretty girls, telling them to get home safe. You had felt his dark–chocolate stare on you as you laughed with customers, and shook up cocktails while he watched the strength of your arms and the subtle bounce of your breasts. Knowing Eddie was watching, thinking about how he might kiss you again later, made you slick with desire and excitement. 

You ring the bell for last call at 2 a.m. as your feet burn, and arms ache. There’s a flurry of orders while Jeff and Eddie close the doors and stand inside shooting the shit together, bidding customers good night as they leave in pairs and groups. By three it’s kicking out time and the few reluctant stragglers take recommendations for pizza joints and all-night diners to soak up the alcohol. While the bouncers do one last sweep of the place, you work through your checklist with a singular motivator; kissing Eddie Munson. 

With anticipation buzzing in your chest, you wipe spills behind the bar, refrigerate the mixers and hand-wash the muddlers and stirrers from the cocktails. The younger guys fill the dishwasher with glasses and barware. You thank your stars that it’s not your night on bathroom duty, refilling the straws instead and making a note for Frank of what’s running low before he does his full inventory and stocktake. It’s a well-oiled machine and your duties are finished in record time... 

Eddie made himself useful, staying out of your way (but watching closely, in absolute awe of you) in favour of picking up a broom and keeping the music going to keep morale up. He leans on the clean bar, chin on his hand as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks, tilting his head toward the back door. 

You nod, “Gimme two.” You restrain yourself from running to your locker (a quick walk is sufficient and unsuspicious). You fix your hair, blot your shiny face and spray deodorant and perfume again before opting for cherry flavour Chapstick. Extra lipstick this late? Far too eager. 

After a quick round of goodbyes, you notice Eddie and Michelle have both already gone and you rush around to meet him by the door. One taste and you are hooked, needing another kiss like your next breath. When you can’t see him, it’s like your lungs shrink. There’s no lingering scent of his cologne or swirling smoke, no glowing cherry or loud laugh in the back alley… 

Breathe. In, out. Calm the anxious flutters. Is he already at his car? 

Just as you’re about to round the building, the back door opens and an almost frantic-eyed Eddie nearly catches you with the door... “Hi,” he breathes. Relief. A sigh you both share before the smile, the relief. 

“Shit, did I get you?” He puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezes when you shake your head. His hands skate down your arms to squeeze your hands. “Sorry, got distracted inside. Can I... Can I drive you home?” 

Your nod is far too eager and you squeeze back, your rings tapping against Eddie’s. You drop each other’s hands but stay close to each other. This is new and unnamed and you don’t want the work crowd throwing questions at you before you have even figured it out yourself. 

Your hands and arms bump as you round the building together and for once neither of you know what to say. When you look up, Eddie is already sneaking a glance at you; he smiles when you catch him and you both dissolve into laughter. 

“What the fuck, you’re literally never this quiet,” you tease, elbowing him gently. “Say something.” 

Eddie takes your hand again, swinging his arm with yours. “You looked hot tonight. Like, hotter than usual.” Eddie licks his lower lip and it makes your stomach flip. 

“You think so? It must be the drink I made you. Pretty strong…” 

“Maybe. Maybe it’s ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you kiss.” He’s so smooth and it makes you feel warm all over. 

Close to his car now, you slow your stroll and lean against the passenger side. “Yeah? Maybe you should kiss me some more then, seeing as you can’t stop thinking about it.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna.” He grins and crowds you against the shiny black metal, bracing one hand on the roof as the other loops around your middle to press your body close. 

It’s like stars bursting behind your eyes when you feel Eddie’s lips on yours again. This kiss is eager and almost needy after hours of trying and failing to not eye-fuck each other. The hand lying low on your back slips lower and Eddie uses the leverage to step his thigh between yours with a delicious press of pressure. When you gasp he takes the opportunity to dominate the kiss a little more, licks his tongue against yours in a dirty slide.

You haven’t been kissed like this in a long time, all tongue and pulling soft gasps from each other. It has been even longer since you have been heckled while you’re kissing someone; Michelle breaks that streak as she wolf-whistles at you from across the street as she walks to her own car. 

“Get a room!” You don’t see her grin and salute as you laugh into Eddie’s chest, hugging your arms around him beneath his jacket. He kisses your forehead and holds you after flipping Michelle off with a rosy-cheeked smirk.

“She made me late, by the way. Gave me the talk in the office.” 

You rest your chin on his chest, pulling your eyebrows together. “The birds and the bees? Where do babies come from?” You laugh when he pokes your ribs and holds your squirming body closer still.

“Ha ha, jokes on you. That’s next week.” 

You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt. 

“No, just that I better treat you good and not fuck around. Don’t want work to be awkward, blah blah.” Eddie squeezes your hips. “She also said ‘It’s about damn time’.”

You nod slowly, remembering her quips over the last few months about how you two should just shut up and get over yourselves, bang it out or something. It seemed like it was obvious to everyone but you and Eddie just what was going on behind your little frenemy routine. 

“Well then…” you say quietly. 

“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes. 

There’s a lot for you to figure out. You can’t just kiss your co-worker and expect everything to stay the same, but inside you think that maybe you don’t want that and Eddie doesn’t either. That’s something you both need to figure out, but right now you just might die if you don’t kiss him again soon. 

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I come to your place?” you ask quietly. 

Eddie nods, eyes sparkling. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck. I’d like that a lot. Are you sure you want to? We don’t have to...”

You rock up on your toes to kiss him again. “I want to. Let’s just... See where it goes?”

A little breathless, Eddie nods and roots for his car keys to unlock the door. He pecks your lips again before you both get into the car. This time he keeps his hand on your knee while he drives through the dark streets, only moving it to change gears. You keep it there, smoothing over the rings he wears with your fingers. 

You recognise Eddie’s street - there’s the bagel place you go to, the camera store where you get film developed. You can’t believe he’s been this near all along. 

He swings the car into a little parking garage under the building and takes the spot reserved for apartment 8. You twist in your seat to face him and see he looks a little lost in thought. “I can go home if you prefer?” you say. 

“No no. Please, don’t. I’m just.. thinkin’ about how messy my room might be.” He twists one of his rings and you cover his hand again to stop the anxious little movement you recognised from your own fidgeting.

“I don’t mind. Being nocturnal can be pretty shitty for keeping your place clean,” you say. 

Eddie nods, shoulders deflating now that he’s less worried you’re going to think he’s a total animal.

You pull his hand back over to your lap, fingers intertwined. “Anyway, I’m not here to snoop at your stuff, Eddie.” You shrug a little, hiding your smile as he thumps his head against the seat. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, I know it.” 

“You should be so lucky.” 

Your lips meet again halfway across the centre console, smiling mouths and ringed fingers grasping at each other, wherever you can reach. A rogue elbow hits the horn, making both of you jump - Eddie yelps - then dissolve into a fit of giggles which Eddie gladly smothers with one more kiss. 

“Lemme get your door, princess,” he says, lips brushing your chin and cheek one more time before freeing you from his hold to hop out and round the bonnet. You could get used to this… 

There are more kisses in the small shaky elevator, crowded to the mirrored wall as Eddie’s lips get acquainted with your jaw and neck, finding that spot below your ear that makes you moan his name quietly, tug him closer by his belt loops. 

You drive him crazy in the best way, he makes you feel wanted - perhaps craved is more apt - as his hands run over the flare of your hips and dip to your behind.

The elevator stops, dings, and you drag Eddie’s mouth to your own again to taste his tongue before he takes your hand and does his best not to drag you to the door marked with a brassy 8. 

“Shit,” he mutters, fighting with his keys to find the right one as you slip a hand up the side of his t-shirt, feeling the trail of hair below his navel to scratch through. 

“You’re a demon. An actual devil woman,” he hisses, resting his forehead against the door as he lets you distract him for a second. Before you can tease him anymore, Eddie turns and takes your face gently in one hand. “You actually want to come in or am I going to need to put you over my shoulder and bring you back to the car?” 

His eyes are burning with want, lips pink and puffy from your kisses. He watches your pupils blow wide and sees the gulp in your throat. 

“You gonna behave?” 

All you can do is nod, brain static with want, accept a kiss on the pout he’s placed on your lips, and try not to swoon or combust on the spot while he wins his battle with lock and key. 

Eddie flicks the light on inside and throws his keys in a saucer sitting on a little table inside the door. There’s a short hallway with a fairly full junk closet before you step into the apartment proper. You told him you weren’t here to snoop, but the urge to look around and soak in all you can about Eddie Munson is too good to pass. 

A typical boy's apartment really - an open plan kitchen/living room with a second-hand sofa and mismatched chair, a coffee table cluttered with an empty mug and a full ashtray, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a forgotten Coke can. There are some amps stacked in a corner, framed posters yet to be hung as they prop against the wall. It’s kind of exactly what you expected. 

Eddie twists a piece of hair around his finger, watching you look around. “Can I get you a water…?” he suggests, “Hungry?” 

“Mind if I use your phone? I want to leave a message on my voicemail so my flatmate doesn’t think I died or got in another bar fight.” Sense prevails over your desire to get your fingers back under his shirt, find out what other ink he has hidden beneath. 

“Sure, good idea.” Eddie points to the phone on the wall by the little breakfast bar. You notice a Garfield mug which makes you smile a little. “Back in a sec.”

While you’re leaving a message on your answer phone, Eddie stuffs dirty and clean laundry into some approximation of where they should be. He fixes the blanket and duvet on his bed - thankfully freshly changed - and strums his Sweetheart before hearing you hang up the phone. He takes a peek in the mirror after removing his jacket, shakes out his curls and gives his arms a quick flex before telling himself he’s an idiot - being friends with Steve Harrington has definitely altered his brain chemistry in some sort of way. 

Meanwhile, you have already given your own armpit a sniff and fixed your hair in the reflection of Eddie’s microwave before you hear his boots on the wood floor again. 

“Did you get prettier while I was..?” he looks between you and his left-ajar door glowing with the bedside lamp he had left on. 

You roll your eyes at him before following him to sit on the sofa, leaving your bag and jacket on the well-worn cushion of the armchair next to it. He flicks some music on low and relaxes back into the cushions, watching you decide where to put yourself. 

“Any time you want to go, just say. I’ll drive you home,” he says quietly. You can feel the warmth of his arm where it stretches across the back of the sofa.

Scooting closer, you turn your body to face him a little more. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Ed. Promise.”

He nods and welcomes you back under his arm, pressing his lips to your head while one big hand squeezes the top of your arm. “You smoke?” he asks, nodding to a little box like the lockbox you have for petty cash at work. When he flicks it open, you see some pre-rolled joints, papers and a bag of green. 

“Oh shit, you’ve been holding out on me, Munson,” you tease, poking his ribs before he sits back next to you with a joint and his Bic lighter. 

Eddie flashes his brows upward as he sticks it between his lips to light up. “Something something… Not mixing business and pleasure?” he says, muffled by the joint. He takes a hit before offering it to you, fingers brushing as you raise your brows in turn. 

“Oh yeah? I think we’re doing plenty of that tonight.” You take a drag with a smiling mouth as Eddie’s eyes darken and flash mischief again. 

“Yeah, think so. Been thinking about it a lot longer than I’ll ever admit though,” he says, watching how your breath catches and you cough a little. He tuts playfully, “Am I going to need to show you how, or are you pretending so I’ll shotgun you?” 

You fan your hand in front of your face to give yourself some air before flipping him off. “Be nice, s’been a while.” You tap your fingers against his knee. “Wait, go back. How long have you been pining over me?” You’re more careful when you take your next hit, raising your brows expectantly at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he takes the joint back; after another hit, he taps the ash off the end. “Not your business.”

“Absolutely my business. Go on. Was it when I wore that little dress to the Christmas party? Oh no, I bet it was when I spilt that pitcher of beer on my stupid white shirt… Fuck, I forgot that.” 

Eddie remembers both vividly (especially the little dress) but no, it was way before either of those incidents. “You going to keep annoying me ‘til I tell you?” 

“Yep.” You grin and watch him take a long slow hit. His lips wrap around the end and his cheeks hollow, showing off those sharp cheekbones. “Tell me,” you sing. 

He holds the smoke in before sighing it out with his head back against the sofa to look at the ceiling. His head turns to look at you instead. “Maybe like… the first shift we worked together? Maybe the second, either way, you were shaking up spicy margaritas or somethin’, had this little smirk on your face. Then later you asked me for a cigarette and the rest is history…” 

Your cheeks heat at his confession and Eddie’s do the same. He’s embarrassed and you feel like an idiot for letting your hang-ups get in the way of really seeing Eddie and giving him a chance. 

“Jesus, Ed.” You squeeze his arm, just below the flurry of bats tattooed there. 

His arm sizzles where you touch him - well, that’s how it feels to Eddie anyway. “We got a good thing going though, I mean I really do enjoy it. Making you huff at me and roll your eyes. Fuck.” His smile is cheeky, a little dirty as he licks his lower lip. 

You laugh together and let him bring the joint to your mouth. Your eyes slip closed as you inhale before opening again to see Eddie watching you. It reignites the spark low in your gut as you begin to feel nice and fuzzy around the edges. 

Eddie takes one last hit before saving the rest, stubbing the joint in the ashtray on the arm of the sofa. His eyes don’t stray from yours as you crawl into his lap. 

You twist one of his curls around your fingers; his hair is soft and the curls springy. “Guess it was like…perverse flirting or really long foreplay?”

“Mm, hot.” He squeezes your thigh. “I’m good with both of those. That is if you let me take you out. A real date.”

You pretend to consider it, though you are already in his lap, in his home, ready to give him anything he asks for. “Yeah, I’d like that. Last night was real nice, just talking with you. Just… get me some flowers instead of punching a guy next time?” 

He copies your faux-consideration and nods, “Deal.”

Said deal is sealed with a kiss; this one is sweet and warm, soft even. You both know you are skipping ahead of your date, but as you smile against each other’s mouths, Eddie thinks he might just keep you in his lap forever if you let him. 

Your lips press and slide, tongues tangle and tease as the intensity simmers to a boil again. His hands roam up your thighs and around to grasp two handfuls of you, pulling you close as you press yourself against him. You can feel the hot breaths through his nose against your cheek, and Eddie wants to groan at the feeling of your breasts pushed up against him. Your bravery builds in tandem with how much you want and need him and you start up a slow roll of your hips. 

Eddie swears against your mouth, “Shit, you feel good.” He squeezes his hands and pushes his own hips up, letting you feel how thick and hard he is for you. 

Your whimper makes him crazy-mad with lust, Eddie’s lips feeling the vibration as he kisses your throat and finds that spot on your neck again. He wants to mark it, hear what noise that would pull from your pretty, kiss-bitten mouth. From the corner of his eye, he sees the flutter of your lashes, the way your mouth drops open. He thinks you are so pretty and it makes the ache in his chest pulse like a bruise. 

You direct him back to your lips with a gentle tug, opening your eyes before you press a kiss to his lower lip before leaning back enough to untuck and pull off your t-shirt. Eddie’s jaw twitches as he feasts his eyes on the black lace cups you fill out so perfectly, the glint of your necklace beneath the hollow of your throat. 

He moves both hands back to your waist where the denim cuts in, fingertips skating the bare skin above. “Can I?” he asks, looking up to your eyes. 

Instead of answering, you cover both hands with your much smaller ones, guiding them upward until you feel the warmth of his hands cover and cup the weight. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Eddie whispers, looking at your face again as his thumbs seek and stroke the pebbled nipples beneath. 

Eddie had never been subtle when he checked you out at work; he made playful and bawdy comments his cover story to get away with letting his eyes linger a little too long on your chest. You let him away with it every time, knowing you would get him riled up another way later that shift or on the next one. 

When you look down, the sight and feel of his guitar-scarred hands on your chest make you bite your lip hard. Your palms skate over the gooseflesh of Eddie’s arms, over the bulk of his biceps and shoulders as he learns how to make you keen for him with just his hands on your breasts. You pull him in for another filthy kiss and blindly glide your fingers down his chest to the top of his trousers. You have already felt how hard he is under the roll and grind of your hips, but it’s not enough. Eddie deserves to be touched and tasted after all this time, pining over you. Not because you pity him, you want to make up for lost time. 

His hips press upward, seeking out your touch; you adjust yourself to straddle one of his thighs and flip the hem of his t-shirt up to get at the button and zip. Your eyes are fixed on the hard line of him pushing up against the fabric; your fingers brush over it before undoing the fastenings, making his breath catch in his throat. 

“I want you so bad,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss your jaw again. That makes you pulse right between your legs; you relish the firmness of his thigh pressing against you there as he kisses his way back to your lips. You pull away only to push the black work pants and tartan cotton boxers down enough to get at him, to see him. 

Eddie watches your eyes flash when you see the thick length of him, brushing your fingertips up and down to watch it kick with arousal. You nuzzle against his cheek as you take him in your hand, telling him how big and pretty his dick is before beginning to stroke him. In your mind, you’re thinking about how he will feel inside you and in your mouth, but you try to focus on kissing his neck and learning how he likes to be touched. He’s rock hard and weeping at the tip, it makes your mouth water.

“You think about me when you do this for yourself?” you ask, pausing to lick your hand before grasping him again. The tinge of salt on your tongue makes you want more. 

Eddie nods, eyebrows pinching together. “Fuck, I do. Tried not to, but I can’t help it.” 

That makes you feel hot all over and you rock yourself against his thigh to relieve the pulsing between your legs. “M’here now, don’t need to pretend anymore, Eddie.” Your lips brush his jaw and the way he moans, the way he pulses with arousal in your hand, it makes you giggle. 

“You’re literally gonna kill me,” he groans and rests his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I’m not. Promise. Just want you to feel good,” you say, and kiss him again when your hand picks up the pace. 

Eddie’s hips rock upward into your fist. His hand stills your arm and he has to take a few breaths before looking at you - his chocolate-button eyes are consumed by dilated pupils. “This’ll be over real fast if you keep that up, baby. You’ll never let me live that down.”

His head dips to kiss across the tops of your breasts before running his nose up along your throat. His head tilts toward his room. “Can we? Been thinking about you in my bed.” 

You nod, keep cool even though the butterflies in your stomach are back with a flurry of vengeance. Eddie grins, which sets you off too, and you tuck him back into his boxers before moving to let him stand. 

He offers you a hand and twirls you once. “Hold on. Let me just..” 

Eddie pauses, looks you up and down and you know he’s up to no good. Before you can figure him out he has you over his shoulder with a surprising show of strength. You squeal-laugh, slapping your hand on the back of his thigh. “EDDIE!” 

His laugh is throaty and rough - like an honest-to-god gremlin - and he just about manages to keep his pants up as he carries you to his room. “You seemed to like the idea of that earlier, what you complainin’ about, baby?” 

You can only laugh in response until you’re deposited onto his bed with more care and gentleness than anticipated. You lay back to catch your breath, cheeks warm and aching as you grin up at Eddie. You’re certainly not unimpressed by his ability to fireman-lift and carry you. He kneels to untie your boot-laces, then his own. You sit up and pop the button on your shorts before Eddie takes over, removing them along with your shoes to leave you in your only slightly mismatched underwear and bra - they’re both black, and Eddie doesn’t notice or care. All he sees is you, in his bed.

His t-shirt and pants are left in a heap with your clothes and in a moment he is with you, laying you back to kiss you everywhere. His hands and lips map your body, kissing freckles and stretchmarks, nuzzling the red mark your bra left around your middle when it’s removed and lost to the floor. He notes the ticklish spots on your ribs, saves them for later, and lavishes kisses on your bare breasts. 

As Eddie lays his body between your spread legs, you wish you had longer to see the new ink revealed to you but take the chance to stroke his hair like you have been wanting to. He practically purrs and chases the relaxing motion, leaning against your hand when he breaks his trail of kisses to the band of your underwear. The light is too dim to see how soaked they are, a darker shade of black between your legs caused by him, but Eddie knows it’s there and teases his fingers over the damp heat. He smiles when your hips jump up at the friction. 

His chin rests on your hip bone while he looks up. “This okay?” he checks, dipping his fingertips up past the elastic around the top of your thigh. He goes no further until you nod, breathe out ‘yes, please’.

You get the feeling that if Eddie was still wearing pants, your undies would go right in his back pocket. The thought of that alone makes you throb as Eddie looks at the feast in front of his eyes. 

“Oh she’s pretty,” he murmurs, biting his lip. “And so wet f’me…” 

You gasp when he finally touches you, stroking his finger down the seam of you. He swears and shifts his hips against the bed when he feels your wetness and watches his finger come away shiny. 

He pushes one kiss below your belly button before getting comfy, manoeuvring one leg over his shoulder with his arm around for good measure. His curls tickle against your leg but all you can focus on is how his tongue strokes and licks, how his lips suck and press. 

His name bounces off the poster-clad walls, your voice gaspy and ragged when his tongue circles your clit before pushing its way inside you to seek out your soak. 

“So sweet, I knew you would be.” His voice is a murmur against your cunt, there and gone again as he seals his lips around your clit. 

“Fuhhh- Eddie.” 

One hand balled in the duvet, the other a crown atop his dark curls as you shift your hips and help him find the angle that is just right. He is rewarded with a scalp-burning tug and a guttural moan you can’t even begin to be embarrassed by as he feasts on you like a starved man. 

His fingers squish your doughy thigh before he slows to a pause - it’s brief and yet you whine in complaint. You feel his breathy laugh against your folds, his murmured ‘easy, baby’. Eddie stopped only to remove the rings on his right hand so that he could push one, then two, deep inside seeking out your g-spot before you can comprehend that his rings are on your fingers for safekeeping. 

His eyes are fixed on you; your heaving chest and breasts, the blissed-out expression on your face. He knows when he has found it, feeling you gush in time with a wet, wobbly moan of his name and the pained-by-pleasure look that graces your pretty face. 

“That’s it, huh? Good girl,” he murmurs. He earns another loud moan as you arch your back to chase absolute bliss. 

Eddie’s hips roll against the mattress - if you had the brain capacity to notice you would surely die on the spot. Your heart already feels like it is about to leap from your chest, blood pounding in your ears as he keeps up the pace and pressure. He can hear and feel how close you are as your voice gets higher, begging brokenly ‘yes, yes! Eddieeee!’ when you free fall over the edge. 

Your body goes tense and then boneless as he works you through it, not letting up until you nudge his head with your thigh. “Too mm-much,” you slur, hips twitching. Eddie presses gentle kisses and murmurs words of praise against your sensitive sex; he leans into how you stroke his head while you come back to the land of the living. 

“Y’okay?” he asks, smiling up at you with shiny lips. He eases his fingers out, marvels at just how soaked they are in the golden glow of the bedside light before kneeling up and licking them clean. “Knew you’d be sweet, sugar.” He winks and you curl in on yourself as you shake with laughter. 

“You’re a menace, Munson. Remind me how you've been single all this time when you can do that?”

You take his hand, pulling him down so he is lying on top of you. He’s hard against your hip, but isn’t pushy with getting you to do something about it as he lies with you, holding you as you bask in the afterglow. 

“Guess I had this really big weird crush on a pretty girl, got me in a dry spell,” he teased. He smacks a smooch to your cheek and makes a pleased little noise when you pull him in for a proper kiss, taking your cheek in his ring-less hand. 

You let yourself feel a little smug as you drag your fingertips up his back, swirling and stroking until they brush the band of his boxers. “Do you have condoms?” you whisper against his lips, hoping that the dry spell won't ruin your plans.

Eddie nods and peels himself away to kneel up and reach over to his messy bedside table, digging an almost full box from the top drawer. He squints at the date and takes one from the packet with a pleased grin, “We’re in luck.”

You reach out to palm him through the straining cotton, feeling the growing damp spot and smiling up at him as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. You sit up, pushing his boxers down with both hands. They join the rest of the forgotten clothes on the floor while you get your hands back on Eddie’s body. You see more ink usually hidden beneath his clothes; you want to look at each tattoo, study it and ask him what it means, listen to him tell you more stories and secrets. But there’s plenty of time for that. 

Eddie smiles against your mouth when you wrap your fingers around him again, chancing a glance to watch your hand - your hand heavy with his rings - stroking him. His hips jerk almost of their own volition; his brain has most certainly gone static. “Jesus, fuck,” he murmurs. 

You catch on a moment later and giggle against his shoulder. “That got you going, huh? Me wearing your rings…”

“You get me going. That’s just extra hot.” His voice catches when you squeeze him again, and he calls you a devil woman one more time. You’re getting used to it, kinda like it. 

The foil packet crinkles under Eddie’s knee. You push his chest gently, sending him to sit up against the headboard so you can make his lap your throne again. Without hesitation, you tear the foil and roll the latex down over the diamond-hard length that’s weeping for you to sit on it. He steadies your hips as you hold the base of him, sinking down through the stretch and pinch eased only by how soaked you still are. 

It’s intense, the burn and the closeness. Eddie’s forehead against yours as you watch him watching you take him inside. The lingering tendrils of the weed you smoked together make it all so deliciously fuzzy and warm. Neither of you makes a move, settling into the tight heat and fullness of Eddie inside you. 

His fingers stroke your hips while yours twirl the ends of his hair, touch his silver chain and brush up his neck so that you can cup his jaw and kiss him again. You hold on to each other tighter as you begin to raise and roll your hips, savouring the stretch until your body tells you to move faster, harder. 

“Look how pretty you are,” Eddie murmurs, taking in the bounce of your breasts and the way your jaw hangs open as you move in his lap. “Yeah, that’s my girl. Are you my girl, baby?” 

You whimper, holding him tighter and closer as you nod. “I’m yours, Eddie. All yours.” Your voice wobbles but not because you’re unsure, you’re just feeling so good, so full. 

Eddie groans deep in his throat, squeezing your hips and ass tighter as he helps you to bounce. You pause, focusing on rolling rather than rising to ease the burn in your wobbly thighs; it makes you whimper against his neck. It’s so much but not enough; so good, it’s frustrating.

“Shhh, I got you. You’re just feelin’ too good, huh?” he murmurs, nodding with you when you give a small ‘uh huh’. “Yeah, good girl.”

Your brows crease as you keep rutting your hips. “You feel so big. Fuck, Ed…” 

“You gonna let me do the hard work, hmm? You just lay back and look pretty for me, princess.” His voice is like hot honey, making you drip in his lap. He feels you pulsing, making his hold on your hip tight enough to leave a bruise as he gathers his composure. He’s wanted this so bad for so long, refuses to let himself (and you) down by busting early like a teenager. 

You nod, blissed out as he runs his hands over your warm body. Eddie is careful, so gentle, as he helps you to move up and off of him. He guides you to lay back, comfy on the pillows that smell just like him. You can’t resist nuzzling into them as he makes his way back between your legs. 

“Comfy?” he asks, palming your thigh as you hook your legs over his hips. He watches your eyes, sees that you are a little more with it now, with him. He can’t wait to see you dreamy-eyed and blissed out beneath him. 

You nod and squeeze his hips. “Very comfy.” He sees how your lips pout, asking for a kiss without words.

As if he could say no, refuse you the very thing he himself is craving. 

Eddie leans forward, arms braced on either side of your head and presses his lips to your cheeks, nose and forehead. He laughs quietly when you scowl all mean before you soften at the brushed blessing of his lips against yours.

He reaches down and takes himself in hand, stroking a few times before rubbing the tip against your cunt. He imagines how this would feel without the condom, feels the hot winding pull in his abdomen at the thought before your voice brings him back. He smiles and nudges his nose against yours, mirroring the rub down below.

“Please,” you whisper, lips catching Eddie’s. “Fuck me.”

The eye contact is almost too much, a burning intensity, but you feel hypnotised to keep your eyes on him as he pushes inside. 

You squeeze your lips together, feeling that stretch again, and watch how Eddie’s brows pinch. 

“You feel unreal, baby.”

He rolls his hips and pushes the rest of the way in. Lashes flutter and your jaw drops open. He feels so deep, it’s like he’s all the way in your chest. 

After a moment he begins to thrust slowly, dragging himself halfway out before pushing all the way in again and again and again. Eddie drinks in the little whines and moans that spill from your lips. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. When his hips rock again you feel him press against that spot that makes you see stars and there is no way you can keep quiet. 

“There we go, is that it?” Eddie asks, repeating the motion. Your back arches and he hikes your leg higher, almost folding you in half as his thrusts get harder, faster.

You can feel tears pricking your eyes, feeling almost overwhelmed with pleasure. Through the sting, you see Eddie’s clenched jaw, the meaty cord in his neck straining and the rosy glow on his cheeks. 

“Eddie, m’so close,” you whimper, almost tearful as you squeeze his forearm.  

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it. Fuck.” He huffs through his nose when you flutter around him and he leans over you more, spreading you wider still as he begins to pound his hips into you. He is barely holding on, feeling hot all over as he fucks you, wishes it could last longer but you’re both so tightly wound.

There’s a perfect press and drag against your clit that winds that cord of pleasure inside you tighter and tighter. Your mouths press together; barely a kiss, more a shared moan. One particularly hard thrust brings you to your climax with a broken moan against Eddie’s chin. Your nails press into his rear and pull him in to rut against that spot, fucking you through the most intense orgasm of your life as he meets his own peak with a husky throaty groan.

You feel like you're floating, fallen over the edge in each other's arms.

The weight of Eddie on you brings you slowly back to earth, breath huffing against your neck as you stroke up his back and up into his curls. You take a deep breath in; when you exhale it's shaky and wobbly almost like a quiet sob. 

Eddie summons the strength to press up and look at you, seeing your dazed smile and warm wet cheeks. “Hey,” he wipes the tears gently, “Oh shit. Did I hurt you?” he asks, panic spiking the glowy daze. 

You shake your head, almost giggling when you speak. “No, no. Fuckin’... amazing.” You pull Eddie back down and wrap yourself around him, holding each other as you come back to earth. A few more tears escape and Eddie wipes them away with such reverence. You stay quiet until you can string a sentence together. “That was incredible.” 

He smiles, cupping your face, and kisses you before carefully rolling you onto your sides to face each other to run your fingers over each other's warm bodies and share more kisses. Once he is sure you’re actually okay, he excuses himself to throw the condom away and returns with water and a damp flannel. He spends a moment cleaning you up as you gulp the water down, then finishes the rest and fills it again before closing his bedroom door. 

“You want a t-shirt?” he asks, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before throwing his hair into a low bun.

Despite the blanket, you feel a little shivery and accept the offer. 

He helps you into a well-loved Dio t-shirt before pulling the duvet over you both. Your legs are tangled together as you lie together, as close as you can. Outside, past the closed curtains, the sun is already starting to peek on the horizon.

You hum tiredly against Eddie’s shoulder when you remember the weighty silver on your hand and tap his hip gently. “Hey, Romeo. Your rings.” Your hand comes up in front of his face, wiggling your fingers. 

Eddie smiles, a lazy curl of his lips, and kisses the tips of your fingers before taking them off for you. He reaches back to drop them on his bedside table.

You want to stay awake, stay in the bubble of bliss, but the pull of exhaustion is too strong. 

“Sleepy?” Eddie brushes a kiss on your forehead and flicks the lamp off when you nod. 

“Eddie? Tonight was amazing,” you whisper against his chest.

He smiles in the dark, squeezes your hip. “Yeah, it was. I’ll make tomorrow amazing too if you’ll let me, but you gotta sleep first. Bet you’re really grumpy when you’re tired.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, hiding your face in the pillow. In the dark, you can just see the outlines of each other, shapes and shadows. “Lemme sleep and you can take me for breakfast. Like a date or somethin’.” 

He hides his grin poorly, you can see his teeth flash even with your eyes almost closed. “Nah, breakfast is part of the package. Lemme plan something for our date.” He gives you one last kiss, “Sleep now, sugar.” 

You feel warm, so happy and safe in his arms as you fall asleep. If Eddie asked, you would never leave his arms, leave his bed. And Eddie? Eddie lingers on the precipice of sleep, ready to drift once he knows you’re sleeping soundly. He kisses your forehead one last time before closing his eyes, both holding each other in an utterly blissful sleep. 

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

[torukmaktoskxawng]

Could you do a fic where the water boys, (aonoung and roxto) save a sully!reader kid from one of the poisonous things? Like she's exploring similar to how Kiri does in the water and is about to touch a poisonous one and they grab her away?? Just a comfort teaching fic about the metkayina wildlife

Love your fics btw <3

(Gif not mine)

Pairing: Ao'nung/Female!Sully!Reader/Rotxo (Platonic)

Warnings: none

Taglist: @alinacecee @mooniequeen

A/N: Another short but hopefully sweet request <3 Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

Tsireya had looked around the moment Rotxo mentioned Kiri was missing, only to find another girl was missing other than Tuk, "Has anyone seen Y/n?"

"Not another one," Ao'nung rolled his eyes, "How many of you Forest People tend to wander?"

Lo'ak's eyes narrow as they land on the reef boy, "Shut up, bro."

"We can split up and look for them," Neteyam quickly takes charge, likely to break whatever tension was straining between his brother and the chief's son. 

Tsireya liked the idea and offered to take Tuk with her while Neteyam took Lo'ak. As the group of children split up, Rotxo urges Ao'nung to follow him and together the two friends take a deep breath and dive down toward the reef below, looking around for the missing Sully sisters.

It took some time, but they stumbled across you first, the teenaged forest girl aimlessly swimming around the reef, admiring the various different fish and colors without a care in the world, unaware of the reef Na'vi who have taken notice of you. Rotxo and Ao'nung swam leisurely toward you, watching as you inched close to one particular coral, with long, purple soft-looking arms that gently floated with the current, and at the center bore tiny, acid-colored tentacles. You appeared entranced by the peculiar coral and reached an arm out to it. Only then did the reef boys pick up their speed in their panic.  

Rotxo makes a deep grunting sound in the back of his throat, twice, to get your attention. When you didn't hear, Ao'nung speeds forward as quickly as possible, swimming as fast as he could. The moment he was in reach, he reached out and roughly grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the coral and startling you. 

Whipping your head around at your assailant, alarmed until you realized who was holding onto your arm, then you glared at Ao'nung and pulled away. Your eyes wander until they find Rotxo, who then uses his hands and arms to try and communicate one simple word to you. Ao'nung only rolls his eyes when you tilt your head in confusion, closely watching Rotxo sign until you respond by shrugging your shoulders and shaking your head, before pointing up to the surface.

The three of you simultaneously swim up and the moment you break the surface, Ao'nung is scowling at you, "What were you thinking, forest freak? Wandering by yourself when you clearly know nothing about our home?"

"Take it easy, Ao'nung." Rotxo defends.

Already used to Ao'nung's distaste of you and your family, you choose to ignore him and only address his kind friend, "What were you trying to say to me down there?"

"I was trying to tell you it stings."

You tilt your head in curiosity, "What stings?"

"The coral you almost touched. It is called 'fantail'. It stings."

"Oh." You take a moment to absorb the new information before deciding to be courteous and turn to Ao'nung, "Thank you for stopping me."

The chief's son doesn't expect the gratitude, eyes widening a fraction before he covers up his shock with a scoff, looking away, "Next time, I'll just let you do it. Maybe you will learn your lesson."

Ao'nung then turns and starts to swim away, back the way he and Rotxo had come looking for you. As you watch him go, Rotxo paddles up to you with an amused smirk, 

"Don't mind him. He usually gets that angry when he's scared."

"Scared?" You spin back to Rotxo, "Why was he scared?"

"Ao'nung doesn't like watching pretty girls get hurt."

Warmth spreads up the back of your neck and over your face, eyes immediately darting down to avoid the pleasant grin on the reef boy's face. Flustered, you mumble under your breath, "Or maybe Ao'nung doesn't like getting in trouble if someone gets hurt under his watch."

Rotxo laughs, but it isn't mocking or cruel. The reef boy's laugh was a soft, sweet chime that was followed by a genuine smile, "Stick around us a little more, Y/n, and you'll see what I mean. Just-- avoid the fantail from now on, okay?"

The smile you offered was shy, but a promise, nonetheless, "You got it."

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Tbh, while I was researching for this, I couldn't find any sea life that was poisonous and harmful to Na'vi lol. I checked every wiki page and my atwow visual dictionary and couldn't find anything other than the fantail coral. It has stinging tentacles for catching zooplankton, but it doesn't mention whether or not the Metkayina avoids it. So, for the sake of the story, we'll use it 🤣 But if anyone has a better flora or fauna option I could've used, let me know cause I swear I looked everywhere.

MASTERLIST

REQUESTS

[baby-jaguar]

CoD Western AU and Mail Order Spouse Trope

Howdy!

Welcome to my version of a Wild West AU & Mail-Order Spouse Trope. Introduction of the reader scenario will be down below and a little digital art will be added in to show our lovely options of spouses. This is Gender Neutral.

This was my first Au and trope project I’ve worked on. While I learn and decide how I want to upload this, I hope everyone enjoys or just gets a kick out of this!

Introduction & Backstory

Your life wasn’t awful, per se, but sometimes you wonder if you say that to yourself to cope with what you’ve been through. Simply put, you were your family's breadwinner, caretaker, and damage controller. You were poor-ish, where you had to use scraps of fabrics to make your clothes, but yet your father could always afford a bottle to be in his hand, and your mother out on the porch smoking whatever she needed that day to cope and try to be a mom and wife.

Coat of many colors indeed.

You worked, and you have worked from a young age to continuously support your family as you didn't have a choice if you wanted to keep the roof over your head. Although, you were thankful that your mother was adamant you went to the schoolhouse and got at least a good amount of education.

After attending school for a few years until puberty, you were in the working class; your job as a domestic servant included the taste of farmhand, tailoring, and working to cann fruits that were grown on the farm. After a long shift on the warm and humid spring day, you walked back home to hear your father yelling as usual but stopped when you heard your name being spoken.

“As soon as we sell that damn nuisance, we’ll be rolling in dough. I can’t believe that damn bastard politician wants our kin. Said once he’s back from his campaign up north he’ll come meet ‘em.” He laughs before taking another swig of his drink, your mother laughing along with him as she has a lit pipe in the house for the first time in a long time.

Now, you to truly understand the depravity of this; the seriousness of her celebrating with a lit drug inside the house.

Your stomach drops, nausea rolling over you at the thought of them selling you off to the old and decrepit wealthy politician for marriage to get money. Money that they’ll blow through, having never learned to control their vices turned addictions.

A cold sweat breaks out on you as you swallow down the urge to expel the minimal amount of food in your worn-out body, and promptly turn around and walk back into town.

Walking the dark streets, you navigate quietly and hide behind the shadows of the night with only a few dimly lit light posts flickering their oil flame light. While walking the edge of the closed shops, you see a dirty newspaper thrown on the ground and almost step over it until a small headline catches your eye.

“FRONTIER MEN, LOOKING FOR CAPABLE SPOUSE”

Your eyes scan quickly over the matrimony company advertising for men located in the frontier lands, each searching for promising spouses and wanting to marry soon. You read over the information, seeing that the listed men below are located in newly booming towns out west, a few even located in mining towns or having their own company.

Your body zings with a chill of adrenaline at the thought of diving head first into chance and change, but you knew something much better could be awaiting you…

Should you do it?

looking around, the humid and small town looks back at you as you enter a hardened state of mind; What would become if you stayed here? The disgusting politician's new toy just to break? Your parents are already planning on how to drain their funds dry within a month of letting their addictions take over? You don't have friends, your boss is the closest thing to one just because you spend hours each and every day working.

Yeah.

You're gonna fucking do it.

Taking a seat, your eyes quickly scan down the page of advertisements, looking over the small blurbs of descriptions offered. The correspondence cost would be 10 cents, meaning you have one chance to get his attention and get the new life you need.

Simon Riley Biography, Meeting Simon,

John Price Biography, Meeting John

Kyle Garrick Biography, Meeting Kyle

John MacTavish Biography, Meeting Johnny

Phillip Graves Biography, Meeting Phillip

Alejandro Vargas Biography, Meeting Alejandro

[rustingcat]

Enchanted 

"I'm in love with you Lena Luthor."

The words echoed in Lena's head, as she desperately tried to connect any sense into them. A love confession was the last thing she expected that Sunday morning. Her first instincts were to dismiss it, write it off as a joke or an exaggerated friendly comment, but Kara's sincere gaze told her otherwise. It rooted her in place, unsure what to do.

"Lena?" Kara's voice came out worried. "Well, I suppose you don't have to say anything, but you're making me kinda nervous. Please, just say something."

Lena opened her mouth to talk, but came up empty. Lena realised with horror that she had no idea what to do next, she had lost control of the situation. She felt as if she was drifting in space with no anchor to keep her grounded, and it was terrifying.

What were her options? She tried to gather all of her wits to figure out the correct course of action. She could just say no and walk away, Kara would no doubt be hurt, yet she didn't think she would back away from their plan of joint parenthood. They would continue to live together, that is until Kara would no doubt find someone else, move in with them and live a happy life without her. Terrible outcome for her, yet very clear and predictable. A future she could somewhat control.

On the other hand she could say yes. Reveal her own feelings, open herself up and let herself live the life she wanted. That was the journey she was on after all, yet it could lead to so many unpredictable scenarios; Kara could realise that her feelings were not as deep and leave, they could end up not working as a couple leaving them with a constant weird awkwardness that could be unpredictable by itself, they could break up after years in a big couple's fight that would tear them apart, or they could be happy with the usual bumps in the road. All of it seemed so random and unpredictable, just thinking about it made her feel the reins of control slipping from her grasp.

Kara's eyes seemed so valuable, so open and full of love and care. She was her best friend, her most cherished ally, the mother of their future children and the love of her life.

"Lena?" Kara asked again in a small voice.

Magic was a complicated thing to practice. She felt so free letting herself dive into it, like it was a part of life that was missing for so long and she finally found it, but it was dangerous and highly unpredictable. Learning it, she tried to take small steps, keeping everything low stakes, small and controlled until she was ready for more. One hundred percent ready for more. But the book made it a constant point to remind her that magic was not about control, it was about letting go and directing the flow. Control was the thing that was holding her back. Holding her back in many aspects of her life. Maybe it was finally time to let some of it go.

Fuck it.

Lena leaned forward to finally connect their lips together. Kara seemed startled at first, but her surprise quickly subsided as she began kissing her back with matching enthusiasm, reaching up to grasp her hips to draw her closer. Lena reached to cup Kara's face with each hand, deepening the kiss as she caressed her cheek.

She got lost in the kiss, letting herself be consumed by Kara's touches and her heat, directing every ounce of emotion she had into it. They separated to breathe, foreheads touching as they panted heavily. 

They stayed in that moment, catching their breaths, while holding each other close, not saying a thing. Once they got their breathing under control, Kara lifted Lena's cupped face to meet her gaze. Lena couldn't help but smile, a shy smile that slowly spread, encompassing her entire face, Kara matched her like a mirror. 

"How do you feel?" Kara checked.

How could she even begin to describe it? She felt the heat running through her body, the fluttering butterflies in her stomach, the racing heart in her chest along with the spreading lightness and warmth, and something more… something she couldn't really describe.

"Enchanted," she answered simply. She felt a surge from the unexplainable feeling run through her as Kara's smile grew. That is until her now empty coffee mug suddenly burst in flames that disappeared in an instance. "Quite literally," she said, still shocked from the unexpected magical burst.

Kara's smile slowly turned into chuckles that gradually grew into full on laughter. Held tightly in each other’s arms in their own home, they just laughed.

Once they got their breathing back in order, their chuckles subsiding, Lena finally found the strength to say the words that have been sitting on the edge of her tongue for so long . "I love you, too. I love you so much Kara Zor-El Danvers."

Kara kissed her again, and again until the only thought in her head was Kara.

"Wait," Kara broke the kiss. "Should we… Should we talk some more?" She asked unsure.

"Um…" Lena tried to calm her racing heart and the heat that was spreading throughout her body. If Kara could be brave enough to talk she should be able to do the same, Lena owed it to her. Not to mention that talking was something they've been failing at consistently and it was probably a time to change that. "Yes. Let's talk." Lena nodded and gestured to the table under the mountain of food they were sitting beside just moments ago.

"Yes. Cool. Awesome." Kara mumbled as she sat down. "So…" she started.

"So…?"

"Um… will, I mean, if you want that is – um, do you wanna go out with me? Like on a date?" Kara barely breathed as she stumbled on her question.

Lena tried to suppress the growing grin that spread on her lips. It was ridiculous how nervous Kara was considering their heartfelt love confessions they just exchanged, not to mention the heated make out sessions. She didn't want Kara to think she was laughing at her, but she was just so adorable that Lena couldn't help herself.

"Yes," she giggled. "Kara, if you had any doubt, I want you. I want to be with you." She tried to reassure her.

"I want to do it properly." Kara insisted.

"Kara, we're living together and have twins coming in just a couple of months, proper went out the window ages ago."

"I…" Kara's face turned bright red, it really shouldn't have been so charming. "Ah, yeah," she chuckled. "We really haven't done anything in order."

"Nope." Lena laughed. "I do need you to promise me something."

"Of course, anything."

"I need to know if you're committed to this. To us. This can't be a causal thing Kara. It means too much for me, you mean too much for me."

"Lena, you're it for me. I've never been surer of anything in my life. I'd marry you right now if I could."

"We should probably go out on a date first." It was a small deflect, but Lena's body went through so many warm and positive emotions, she wasn't sure she could handle more without turning into a puddle.

"Haha, yes. Probably best. Do you have a preferred place you want to go? I think we've exhausted most restaurants in town."

"Hm…" Lena hummed and took out another scone. She spread it with some butter and jam and was about to take a bite out of the delightful deliciousness, when a thought occurred to her. "How about out of town?"

"Sure, wherever you want to go."

"It is my turn to ask, fancy a trip to Ireland?"

[unluckiestmember]

Intimate Moments (Arcane Edition)

Summary: The most intimate and emotional moment during sex you’ve had with the main Arcane characters!

Characters: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Ekko, Viktor and Silco

Warning: NSFW for sexual themes and suggestive themes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

A/N: A compilation from my last account and one of my personal favorite imagines/headcanons. Enjoy!

Jinx

It was your first time having sex with her. She didn’t really know what she was doing, but Jinx being Jinx, dived head first. Literally. She thinks she’s seen and been to heaven when she’s between your legs. The feeling of her on you in such a position made you moan out her name.

Not Jinx. But Powder.

Jinx stares up at you and you already know you made a mistake. No one calls her Powder, not even Silco! Unless you have a death wish, you should keep that name out of your mouth!

You stare down at her blue eyes expecting a scowl or a roar! But you were shocked when she whispered to you,

“Say it... Say it again.”

So you say it. “Powder.”

“Say it again.”

“Powder.”

“Please say it again.”

“Powder...”

You experience the best orgasm in your life, having the loose cannon below pleasure you like there was no tomorrow. She let her tongue work wonders and picked up her pace, taking in all of you in her mouth. When you came, Jinx cleaned you up and even pleasured you a little more, causing your eyes to roll back in eternal bliss.

She could tell you were finished for now so she pulled herself up to cuddle into your side. It took you a minute until you realized she cried to sleep. Not tears of anger or sorrow. But of joy.

Ever since, you are the only one who can call her Powder.

Vi

Vi is a wild animal in bed.

She’ll throw you down and waste no time to fuck your brains out for simple pleasure.

But one day, during a steamy make out session, you stopped to kiss down on her bandaged knuckles.

She’s taken a back for a minute.

Why would you do that?

You keep kissing on her knuckles without a care in the world. “Stop it,” She told you, trying her best to pull away from you. But you hold her softly. “Y/N, stop it...” She keeps fighting back for a minute, but eventually stops.

The brute breaks in your arms. How could you do that? How could you love someone who’s ruined so many lives with those fists of hers? It was impossible, wasn’t it? But you told her the answer to her worries and questions with a single glance into her gray eyes.

‘No.’

That night, you two had sex as usual, but this was more personal. More intimate. Vi took more gentle strokes and eased into picking up her speed and slamming harder on you.

She screams and moans your name like a prayer, countlessly says she loves you, feeling like any moment you will disappear. Though the way your hands relaxed on her hips and drew circles along her waist said otherwise.

The two of you came together before sleeping in each other’s arms. She could get used to sensual sex like that…

Caitlyn Kiramman

Innocent little Caitlyn.

Why are there barely any headcanons for Caitlyn? I-

Caitlyn was a classy woman, so sex was never really on her mind. It still wasn’t when you guys started dating. But you both knew you had to get things over with eventually. So one evening, Caitlyn dragged you to her room to try it.

The both of you were super awkward, especially the female enforcer. She would always ask in between actions “Are you okay? Is this right? Should it be the other way?” Bless her soul.

All around, everything was going well.

Until it was time to get naked. When it came her turn to feel pleasure, she didn’t do anything.

She hung her head low to the ground almost in disappointment. She stared down at her body. Thoughts lingered in her head; ‘What if I’m not beautiful to Y/N? What if I make a fool out of myself?’

Before she could ask herself any more questions, you rid her of her worries with sweet kisses. With every piece of clothing thrown on the floor, you whisper out, “You’re so precious. You look like an angel. Oh, I love you so much.”

You almost broke her down with every kiss you placed to mark her body. Your lips graced on her cheeks, her lips, her neck, her chest and finally her core. Oh, you loved everything about her.

You started to eat her, licking inside her folds at an average pace and flicking your tongue on her clit.

In a matter of seconds, her hands are lost in your hair, pushing your head closer to her to feel all of your tongue inside of her. Her moans clouded the room long after she came in your mouth. Pulling up, you both had lust in your eyes and could tell the night was still young…

Let’s just say she eventually screamed your name to the heavens long into the night and she realized two things; Sex with you was the best! And she was beautiful.

Ekko

Ekko has always been a bit of a wild boy when it came to having sex with you. It’s why you two were together to begin with.

He can be playful some nights, chuckling with you when he messes up something. Rough when he just really wants you. And romantic when you just need to know he cares about you.

One night the two of you were just having the time of your lives. He was slamming into you from behind, groaning out, “You like that, huh? Yeah, go ahead and scream my name, baby.” And boy did you love it.

Just feeling him stretch you out and pound deeper and faster in you was like euphoria. You found yourself screaming at the top of your lungs, “Ah, yes! Right there! Fuck, I love you, Ekko!”

You didn’t want it to stop, but soon the movement had slowed and the grip on your thighs loosened. You felt your body turning now to face the leader of the firelights panting down at you. “You love me,” He questioned, his brown eyes glistening in the moonlight full of hesitant awe.

Did you say you loved him? You never told him because you were scared of getting attached. He was the leader of a cause and lived in Zaun. Any minute he could be taken from you, so you tried not to get attached. Yet you said you loved him, whether it be out of lust or love wasn’t important. You said the sacred three words to him.

In that moment, you were sure as he began to stroke inside of you again, you didn’t see a warrior. You saw your boyfriend, your best friend, your everything.

He must have seen that in you too because he started to dig deeper in you, continuously hitting your g-spot with smooth strokes. His arms wrapped around you tightly, groaning at the feeling of a climax approaching him.

Together in a sea of utter pleasure, the both of you came together before relaxing in each other’s embrace under the shine of the midnight moon.

You slept well that night in his arms, letting him hold onto you with the mindset of if he let you go, you wouldn’t come back.

No matter what, after that day, you both say I love you at least once a day.

Viktor

My everything next to Jinx.

You and Viktor have been partners for a long time in Piltover, working on projects together when he wasn’t accompanied by Jayce. Though you two never started to officially date because hexcore was more important, even if deep down you two wanted to become an item.

Well, the thing about humans is that they don’t know how precious people are until they almost lose them.

Viktor found himself having a particularly horrible week; The hexcore may have fixed him, but took away a close friend. He may have almost stopped an incoming war, but he ended up losing some close allies due to the bombing on the council’s headquarters.

He had thought he lost you when the city went into lockdown due to the commotion. Thank the gods he found you that night safe and sound at your home.

Thank the gods he was safe too.

That following night, the two of you met one another at your home, where he knocked on your door. Your eyes connected with his amber eyes, and you were sure they screamed one thing; ‘I need you’.

In a matter of seconds, you two synchronized like gears to slam each others’ lips onto one another. Moving in rhythm, bodies danced through the dimly lit house towards your bedroom, where the scientist pushed you down on your comforter and wasted no time to rid himself of your clothes.

You did the same, though you found it cute and amusing that he was apologizing for his ‘inappropriate’ actions. You showed it was okay when you slammed your lips onto his again and felt yourself yearning for him.

You two grinded on each other, letting your lower bodies explore one another through groans and moans. The entire night, you two were one. Nothing else mattered when you found Viktor cumming inside of you and placing your hand gently onto your cheek.

You two stared at one another desperately before you heard the man speak in his native tongue, “я люблю тебя так сильно.”

You never questioned what that meant, but when you two started dating, he made it an effort to always tell you “I love you so much.”

Silco

As long as you’ve been dating the crime lord of Zaun, you knew damn well that Silco was not an emotional guy. No one has ever seen him let out his feelings to people, not even Jinx.

If he did ever give into his emotions, it would be out of anger, but never out of love.

He only ever saw sex as something done to relieve stress, kind of like you. You were his bitch anyways, nothing more.

That’s why he would always fuck your brains out, slamming his cock inside of you through your mouth or lower end with one goal in mind; To forget about the world and please himself for once in his god awful life.

However, one evening when he was railing deep inside of you on your desk, something was different to say the least. He wasn’t fucking you like a mad man. He wasn’t calling you degrading names and growling like an animal. Instead, his strokes were sensual and careful.

That was new. Was he sick? It’s not that you didn’t enjoy it. But why was he doing this?

You reach up to touch his face where his scar was and the man had froze up. You wanted to ask what the hell was going on. Where was the man who would pound you senseless?

Instead of being given an answer, his orange and blue eyes just pierced down at you before he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Through those eyes, you had seen the man you once knew. A man who was calculating, but somewhat compassionate. A man who just wanted the best for him and his brother. A man once had big dreams he wanted to accomplish with you by his side.

He always said that naïve brat was gone, but you always knew he was in there. That’s why you had no issue with this new version of him. It’s why you never batted an eye at his scarred eye. As a matter of fact, you adored it. You adored him.

With the feeling of your lips crashing slowly into his, Silco began to fuck you as usual. His strokes only picked up after a moment of your moans colliding in your mouth.

Before you knew it, he came hard and deep inside of you, making you scream out his name before relaxing a bit. Now panting hard on his desk, you stared up at Silco, finding him panting along with you. He eventually pulled away to sit in his chair.

You don’t know why he apologized or what happened that night, but from that day forward, Silco was more open to showing his appreciation for you…

Arcane requests are currently open! :D

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, be safe and have a good day! <3

[loveemagicpeace]

🔥Zodiac signs when they are mad🔥

✨Gemini mars will tell you all the wrong things when they are angry. Their reactions are always very quick and thoughtless (they can quickly say some nasty things) but I swear they always regret it after a few minutes/hours. And they begin to realize that everything they said was wrong. But also in general, I notice that geminis are so unpredictable, but they will always want to talk to you and wanted to resolve the things by talking.

💧Scorpio mars will always be very sharp with their words and can quickly bite you and stab you deep in the heart. But their anger depends on how much you hurt them with what you said or done to them. Their reactions are usually always well thought out. They can resent you forever or only for a short time. They also have a deeply wicked temper. Many times they tend to take revenge. Because when someone betrays them or does something bad, they feel like someone has used their power. But you always feel the pain in their anger.

🎨Sagittarius mars have a very fiery reaction, which is usually quite impulsive, especially when it comes to something that involves them or things that are close to their heart. They will always go into conflict no matter what. They will be like” come now let's speak up about it”. They have a “go big or go home” mentality and hunger for change and spontaneity wherever they turn. But they always have a direct reaction. They will persist and will not back down from conflict, you never need to feel dramatic around them.

🪐Capricorn mars tend to have a very respectful attitude towards people, they don't like to argue or waste time with it. They tend to step back and process the whole thing. These people are cunning and practical,understanding that drama is a waste of energy unless they are coming out on top. And then after some time they say how they felt.

🧚🏼‍♀️Pisces mars have an impulsive response and in anger can say a lot of things they don't mean. But when they are angry you can clearly see their emotions. In conflict, these individuals often do not face anger head-on and can suppress pain because it is so difficult to process. That energy may transform into sorrow or anxiety instead. Because they have a deep emotional response, they will be angry, but they will still care about what they will say to you. They will break things but they won't want to break your heart.

🎈Cancer mars have a very sensitive response, you can hurt them very quickly with words. And they will resent you very quickly. Whenever you fight with them or they are angry, they will say things that will hurt you. And a lot of times they put the blame on you. And for some reason, they always include the family or your home or brought up some past stuff. They can also be quite passive-aggressive.

🔥Leo mars are people who do not like to lose a conflict, many times they react with ego. In conflict, these people can be quite fierce, unleashing a fit of rage — especially if their sense of ego has been offended. They can also hold onto a grudge stubbornly. And very rarely do they admit they are wrong. They will not budge from their ego and always stand behind what they say.

💥Aries mars if they want to, they can quickly get into a conflict with someone. However, that can also make them quite brash and impulsive — diving in first and thinking about it later. People with this energy are unafraid to take action and often tend to be quite courageous. They are fearless and do not fear the reaction of others. But many times their anger passes quickly because they focus on themselves.

🌼Taurus mars their reactions are always calm and understanding. They have very calm nerves and really rarely react with anger. Usually slow to anger, their patience is also quite strong. However, once frustrated, they will dig in their heels and likely become quite stubborn and adamant about what they want. They may love you very much, but their stubbornness can be many times stronger than what they feel. And if you are not the first to approach, they may never be.

☂️Virgo mars their reactions are always different, but they usually always analyze the situation or have a predictable reaction to a certain thing. Sometimes they want everything to go according to plan. However, when frustrated, they will become highly critical and can exhibit perfectionism. They usually always go deep into the details of people and then criticize them to the end. So in anger they can say some things that will surprise you.

🫦Libra mars passive aggressive reaction to conflict. Although they usually want to keep the peace and prefer to step back from conflict. And will unleash their fury when they are pushed far past their comfort zones. They don't like to step on only one side, they are on both sides. But since libra here is uncomfortable, these people can also manipulate in a seductive and friendly way. They get their way through their charm.

🥑Aquarius mars in conflict, these people are passionate for debate and will rally others to their cause to support them. Their anger is not big or intense, things usually don't hurt or affect them unless it has to do with their society. They tend to look for people who will stand up to them in a conflict. But they can be very rebellious and do things their own way. They can have contempt for authority, especially when the code of conduct strikes them as restrictive or the leader is following a script.

-Rebekah💘🦋💧

[zsakuva]

How do you come up with so many intricate plots and characters? They seem so… human? I’m very surprised you don’t read much! I guess what I’m asking is, what’s your creative process? Do you take inspiration from aspects of yourself, or is it more of a form of escapism? When you write your plots, do you imagine yourself as the character, the audience, or both? 

Another thing that truly amazes me and makes your channel stand out a lot is the way you give the listener a voice. It feels like each listener is so different and unique, and *actually* interacts with the character. It also feels like you’re never spoon feeding us information? All the questions do get answered, but it’s different style imo. Usually, in most ASMR RPs I’ve heard, the speaker will repeat what you said verbatim, (eg. “You think XXX?”, or “You want me to XXX?”), and the frequency at which these types of phrases are used makes it *seem* like a RP. Of course, it’s a challenging medium - the audience needs to know whats going on somehow, but you manage to achieve the same in a much more subtle way. It makes me wonder how long you spend planning out your content haha.

Final question, do you prefer to type or handwrite your plans, scripts, etc? I’ve always preferred planning on paper, even though it’s a bit impractical haha. Also, would you mind showing us your handwriting? I think it says a lot about a person! There’s the stereotype that people usually have a certain handwriting that corresponds to their major/occupation, and if I remember correctly, I think you studied film? I’m just curious hehe. No pressure, of course!

Sorry for sending you an essay, I hope you have a restful and comfy Friday! 

Thank you!

Honestly, I don't know how I do it myself considering my memory is absolute shit! Though I don't read much, I learn about characters through other mediums such as television shows and movies. I'll try and break this down for ease of reading!

~My Creative Process~

When making a character or series, it all depends on where my initial inspiration began. For example, with Niall, I wanted to create an M4M series exploring a character who carries trauma of being forcibly outed, betrayed by someone he confided in, and how those events affected him through his adult life. The core of Niall's story was confronting fears that manifested due to the Listener's actions in school, and finding that there was a way to heal, albeit slowly, and a hope to love despite external animosity. Niall exists because I wanted to tell a particular story.

With Zaros, he first came about because of The Noble Trials plot. I knew that he would be different from other characters, so I'm using this series as a means of testing my skill with a new editing style, story format, and new world setting. Although it's more work, I have the most fun with The Noble Trials and making its lore (though I'm always a sucker for that)!

I go into creating characters with the belief that they are all extremely flawed. Whether that be by nature or nurture, there will inevitably be some slew of events in their pasts that shaped the way they act in the current timeline. This also extends to the Listeners so they aren't rigid, boring, and an empty shell. Characters can clash, but they can also change with and for each other. A good example is Isaac's story. He was scarred by his past, and was willing to confine Pickle in the house if it meant not losing someone he cared for again. Pickle was also scarred with abandonment and instability, wondering if they would ever find a home. Isaac gave them a place to belong, and Pickle gave him consolation and courage to face the unknown.

When I write, the character's actions must reflect the backstory in which they were crafted, so I always need to dive into their heads.

~Listener Dialogue~

This requires much more thought to make interactions seem authentic, but there's a fine line between repeating words verbatim and not alluding to any sort of context. I dislike repeating the Listener's words so I try to indirectly insinuate what they were saying whenever possible. If I can do so with SFX alone, that's a bonus! But when scenes contain heavy dialogue, it can be difficult to get the message across without being heavy-handed with repetition, unless that's the purpose of a specific moment.

~Handwriting vs Typing~

I always handwrite my outlines! On some occasions, I can start and finish a script without the help of one, but my workflow tends to include writing an outline of some kind, and it has to be done on paper! I feel like the ideas manifest quicker that way.

However, I always type my scripts. It's much easier to edit, share with other voice actors, and there's a level of professionalism in formatting that motivates me to write more!

Here is an example of my writing. This screenshot was part of a Twitch stream!

[crescencestudio]

Devlog #35 | 09.26.23

Hi everyone!

Hope the beginning of Fall has been kind to you all <3 To be Frank, it has not been Kind to me LMFAO. But I'll get into that, so let's dive in yippee!

Before I do, someone liked this post recently, which was such a throwback. It was before the full demo was out and everything!! I was so young and full of life. I'm going to sprinkle some comparison shots of the new assets with the old ones to break up the text and also walk down memory lane with me! (Full GUI not shown as I'm still waiting on the assets)

Chapter Cards (Left: After | Right: Before)

The "Progress"

I'm going to structure this devlog a little differently from the usual template. The main reason being, for those of you who didn't see, I have not been feeling Myself recently.

This month I found myself all out of sorts. While I felt like I was making progress and doing so much everyday read: fighting for my life, when I looked back on things at the end of this month, I didn't feel like I really did much.

On a higher level, I finished fulfilling Kickstarter physical rewards, opened a Kofi shop of the remaining merch, edited Druk's route and continued writing Etza's route, updated assets and code for the updated demo, and then general commission stuff (BGs from Vui, soundtracks from Peter, etc.).

But overall, Alaris felt largely like it was kinda sitting at around the same spot as it did when I entered this month. Which made me a little sad! I had wanted to make So Much Progress on Alaris because next month I won't be able to work on it really. Then, I realized I haven't taken a break from game development since I started it two years ago HA!!!

The Real Progress

Development for me has been back-to-back. Chapter releases every 1-2 months during my first half year of development, Full Demo release shortly after, Kickstarter shortly after, Full Game Development shortly after. When I was feeling burnt out from Alaris, I made intertwine. Then I was Heavily Involved in the development of two games shortly after.

All of this on top of my IRL responsibilities, which include a job, PhD school, and well, functioning as a normal human occasionally.

And then here we are at the end of September 2023, and I'm wondering why even though I creatively want to work on Alaris, I find my brain literally just getting too tired to think.

Etza CG (Left: After | Right: Before)

I think ever since the Kickstarter, I've put a lot of pressure on myself to consistently put out LOTS of updates for each monthly devlog. I don't want people to think I'm not working on things or I'm not committed to delivering after giving me their hard earned money. But now, with two years under my belt, I'm realizing that is... HMM maybe too high of a standard to put on myself for my first game ever. There are many much more seasoned developers than me who don't put that pressure on themselves (which is Good and Healthy).

So this month, I debated scrounging around and gathering all my crumbs to give you all a devlog that you'll be satisfied with. But I decided ultimately that wouldn't be good for me and would honestly not be the most transparent way to present the current process of things.

And so. Here I am. Head in my Hands. Letting you all know that while I'm not "burnt out," I am.... only human LOL (one human at that). And so some months, like this one, will just not have much progress to report. Not because I'm not working on it or any other deeper reason. But because it's physically impossible and unreasonable for me to be continuously pushing out a steady stream of content.

In-Game Sprites & BGs (Left: After | Right: Before)

Next month, I'lll be taking a vacation. It's actually my first Big, Official one in a Long Time! I'm very excited for it. And while I did initially think about working on Alaris while I was traveling on trains or things like that, I decided to respect my own need to be a Human and just take a break for once in my life. I don't even want to say I Might work on things, because that sentiment alone will pressure me to make some progress. So yes. Next month, there will be no devlog or updates. But please rest assured, I am "working on Alaris" by letting myself just Exist and Rest Up!

Not an Alaris screenshot but it is market research that deserves to be included because I played House in Fata Morgana recently and it was Phenomenal!

Thank you all for understanding and your continued support. I'm extremely appreciative to have such a kind and patient community. Hope you all have a wonderful October filled with Fall Treats, and I'll see you in November! <3

[supraveng]

Fandom Leap - prologue

Summary: Reader is stressed and enjoys diving into her favorite fandoms as her happy escape. What happens when she is some how transported into her favorite fandoms

A/N: this is my first time doing a story collaboration with the amazing mutuals I've encountered on tumblr, and being overzealous or crazy, I decided to collab with as many as i could. this series will have multiple chapters and each written by someone else.

(there should be a new chapter every week or so)

Word Count: 494

Pairing: none yet

Fandom Leap Masterlist

Falling into the Fandom

Your work week has been crazier than normal.   The last few years had been intense, with budget cuts your department of 10 has dwindled down to 6, but the work was divided out and you were all making due. But now, with James on vacation and Julia on maternity leave, there wasn’t much time to breathe.  

This is the monotony that had become your life, go to work, take a short lunch break so that you have something in your system besides coffee, then head home late, leaving a pile of work for the next day, grab some take out on your way home just to repeat it again the following day.  Thankfully, having to work on the weekends was not part of your humdrum existence, so you tried your best to have at least an entire day of something just for you.  

Occasionally meeting friends for brunch with bottomless mimosas, but usually binge watching your favorite TV or movie series.  That was until you were scrolling through social media and caught a notification for Comic Con coming near you next month.  

You didn’t usually attend these events, the cost usually rather intimidating, but this time you decided to at least see who might be there.  Clicking on the link you were shocked to see the wide range of appearances from nearly every series you followed.  

There were actors from Supernatural, Stranger Things, Marvel, DC comics, Walking Dean, Criminal Minds, Chicago Fire, 911, The Boys, Top Gun, The Wicther, Last of Us, Star Wars, and the list just kept going.   The more you looked the more excited you got about the idea of spending a long weekend at the cheapest hotel you could find and getting to meet as many of your celebrity crushes as you could.  

Now that you think about it, it wasn’t just the actors you had a crush on, the characters were a bigger part of your life than the people you actually spoke to on a daily basis.  Before you went to sleep that night you had your weekend booked, you were excited to say the least and you had something fun to look forward to while you dredged through the next month of her normal routine. 

The only difference this month was that weekly activities were as frugal as possible, planning on spending more of your weekly budget on meet and greets and photo ops with as many celebs and characters you could fit into the weekend at Comic Con.   

Packing up everything you needed for the long weekend, the only thing left to do was make sure your brother would be checking in on your cat before the 2 hour drive to the convention center to check out the vendors before the weekend began.   To say you were excited when you finally hit the road was an understatement, this weekend would hopefully be the highlight of your year and bring some true joy back into your life.  

NEXT

@nickfowlerrr @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @crazyunsexycool @swiftlymoniquesblog @missvelvetsstuff @vibraniumarm06-bucket @rosedpetal @imyourbratzdoll @herdreamywasteland @jamneuromain @potterhead2207

[red-n-stuff]

You really should make a list PLEASE make a list <3

Your wish is my command dear anon! I have had many a spicy thought brewing regarding these two and here are the highlights!

🔥Darlin and Sam Spicy Ideas🔥

Sam goes on some sort of trip, I’m thinking it’s something to do with the Monarchy or something of that like. Normally- for a trip so long, he’d have Darlin tag along. Since the two of them moved in together it’s been getting increasingly more difficult for them to spend any length of time apart, but unfortunately, Darlin’s pack obligations conflict this trip, and Sam has to head out on his own. Over the course of the trip, darlin takes every opportunity they have to tease the absolute hell out of him. We’re talking pictures- videos, voicemails- it is delicious agony. And when Sam finally gets home? He damn near kicks the door down and first thing he does is press them up against the nearest wall, knocks pictures off the wall, No surface in the house is safe and they ABSOLUTELY break the headboard.

-

Now, Sam and Darlin ain’t particularly party goers- though after some convincing by Asher and the recent opening of a magic owned/operated dive bar, they agree to go spend some time with the pack just having a bit of fun like the good ol’ days. Sam and Darlin spend the majority of the evening tucked up in some corner at the bar making googly eyes at one another, (and Damn do they know how to dress to impress amiright) but it’s not too long before they get into the evening that someone catches sight of them while Sam walked away for two seconds, a bout of uncomfortable flirting ensues, threats of physical violence are made, and progress is not achieved. By the time Sam gets back, they’re on their feet getting ready to pummel this person right? Sam calmly steps in, asks what the problem is, traditional bar talk ensues, and Darlin fully expects Sam to deescalate the situation and brush the person off and that the two of them will just go home. Is that what happens? Nope. The other guy swings first and Sam drops him clean on the first hit. (You can imagine how hot darlin thinks he is after this- they absolutely jump his bones as soon as they get into the car)

-

The two of them have had a hard time lately- with everything to do with Quinn and the stacks of paperwork Sam gotta Wade through, it feels like time they have together is few and far between. Never one to ignore a good solution, Sam plans a little date night for them. The two of them head up to the mountains for the night, he makes a mountain of pillows and blankets in the bed of his truck and they talk about life as they enjoy a bit of beer and some good food. One thing leads to another as it usually does in these moments, and the two of them end up having some of the most tender, absolute tear-jerking sex known to man kind.

-

In the morning, Sam wakes them up the fun way.

-

Sam is a cowboy, and it stands to reason he wears gaudy, huge belt buckles. Darlin gets the impression of said belt buckle on their forehead. You know how that happens.

-

Darlin ruins the upholstery in the back of Sam’s pickup. They aren’t sorry about it.

-

I think Sam definitely falls into the soft dom category of things, but I also don’t think he’s well versed on any sort of BDSM stuff- still, seeing Darlin trussed up in a bit of rope sure looks mighty fine to him.

[thoscheienjoyer]

Part 2 to my last story post about theta and koschei in the academy using kissing practice as an excuse to kiss instead of just saying their feelings

WARNING: this kiss is more intense and involves tongue, but there is no smut

The weeks passed with Theta and Koschei's "practice sessions" becoming a routine they both looked forward to. Each meeting in their secluded field was filled with gentle brushes of lips that spoke more than words ever could. They never acknowledged their deeper feelings aloud, both content to exist in like this, scared to ruin it. One day as they settled beneath the shade of a tree, Koschei seemed quiet, just like the first time. Theta noticed the look on his friend's face and nudged him lightly. "What's on your mind?"

Koschei bit his lip, a gesture Theta knew as a sign of nervousness. "Do you know what French kissing is?" Theta's cheeks heated up instantly. He did know, having come across the term in one of the many books he'd devoured in the Academy library. "I do," he replied slowly, his heart beginning to race. "Why do you ask?" Koschei's eyes met his, filled with curiosity. "I was wondering if you'd like to try it"

Theta's mind whirled. The idea was both thrilling and scary. He wasn't uncomfortable with it; in fact, the thought of sharing such an intimate experience with Koschei was incredibly appealing. But he couldn't deny the flutter of nerves in his stomach. "Okay," Theta said softly, "We can try."

They moved closer, their usual ritual taking on a new intensity. Theta could feel Koschei's breath against his lips, and he swallowed hard, trying to calm the rapid beating of his hearts. Gently, he tilted his head, and their lips met in a kiss that slowly deepened. When Koschei parted his lips, Theta followed suit, as Theta's tongue brushed against Koschei's, it sent a shiver down his spine. They clumsily rolled their tongues against each other, exploring each other's mouths and Koschei gave a little suck that caused a breath.

The sound was like music to Koschei's ears and he was about to do it again just to hear it but Theta returned the favor and he mumbled a moaned. His hands slid to his friend's hips to rub and his friend shivered placing one of his own in his hair to run through. They were running out of air but it felt too good to stop yet, Theta bit Koschei's lip softly with a gentle tug and Koschei panted at the parting before pulling him forward to dive back in. His hands grip his hips as something to hold onto just to deal with the sensation, when it finally stopped they were both breathless. They sat in stunned silence for a moment, letting the intensity of that just sink in.

Koschei was the first to break the silence, his voice shaky, "Wow." Theta nodded, unable to find his voice, his mind still reeling from the experience. He could feel his hearts pounding in his chest, and he knew that Koschei must feel the same. Both seemed to be in a hurry to get home, probably just embarrassed after how into it they got, it wouldn't make things awkward though at least. Laying in the beds of their separated dorms neither of them could shake the feeling of the kiss, they could still feel it and that made it hard to sleep.

The first part

[desirepathzine]

Jeff Buckley Saved My Life in Orlando, Florida by Randi Eversole

In March of 2016, I was on a charter bus, headed towards Orlando, Florida. I was a senior in high school. The trip was with my Southern Baptist evangelical church choir. I did not want to be there.

The choir tour was a non-negotiable part of every year, a way for all of the concerned parents of young church goers to ship their kids off during spring break so they would spend it in service of the Lord and not mingling with all the other degenerates who were out of class. Ostensibly it was a week full of "volunteering" to some degree, singing at shelters and nursing homes, paying money to sing contemporary christian worship music in historic cathedrals. touring around whatever major city from the safety of the bus, so on. The trip was to a different scary big city every year. Prior to Orlando I had found myself in Chicago, the year before Chicago we'd done an actual tour, saving souls in Jacksonville/Florida, Savannah/Georgia, and Charleston/SC.

By the time we were halfway through Chicago, I had started to articulate issues I had with this mission, and indeed the Southern Baptist denomination of Christianity as a whole. By the time a senior trip to Orlrando, FL was announced, I saw it for what it was: an excuse to take a bunch of kids to Disney World under the banner of Christianity.

For the 12 hour bus ride to Orlando, I had prepped a few albums to listen to, as I usually did when headed somewhere new. I had discovered many favorite artists tucked away at the front of the bus (they usually made all the students sit in the back, but I was prone to motion sickness, so I always ended up at the front with all of the chaperones, who largely left me alone).

That year, my album picks had included Grace, Jeff Buckley's only album. I had of course been familiar, you couldn't sift through a single Tumblr playlist without coming into contact with Hallelujah. I vaguely knew somewhere that he had passed, that he was all of my favorite vocalist's favorite vocalist, that sort of thing.

For whatever reason, somewhere in Georgia, I decided now was the time to listen to Grace for the first time. And my download of the album had somehow not copied Mojo Pin, the album's first track, to my iPod so I indeed did start the record listening to the title track. I quickly fixed this mistake on returning home. Ancient problems from a different time, truly.

I did not listen to another record for the rest of the week.

Here was a friend, a person striving for authenticity, an artist coming into his power. All of the things I desperately craved both to be and to be around. It was a balm and a shield against all of the empty expressions of the music I was going to sing that week, the manipulative key changes and nonsensical lyrics. Here was something real and special.

So many lyrics were reaching through time to hold my hand, the beautiful melodies and vocal acrobatics elevating me, taking me away from the bus window view of the interstate, to somewhere I felt safe and seen.

I was alone in many ways that week, alienated from the religion I was raised in, alienated from my peers who maybe at one point had been my friends but had steadily pulled apart from me in the latter months of high school when it became clear we were not going to be compatible adults, bunking in a drafty Hyatt Place with roommates I really didn't know at all, who argued ceaselessly when we were supposed to be sleeping. I had been relegated to a pullout couch in an attempt to get some space.

As any anxious and isolated neurodivergent teen girl would in the circumstances, I went on a deep dive that first dark night in Orlando, far away from home and surrounded by strangers, into Jeff, his life, his work. I listened to interviews to keep the noise at bay. In my search, I found a picture of Jeff, holding a phone, on a portable bed, presumably talking to a journalist, doing press. I tracked down the location. It was a hotel somewhere in Orlando, Florida.

(photos by Merri Cyr)

It was like waving at someone in another dimension.

Two days into the tour I looked down at the t-shirts we all had to wear, a mish mash of Bible references and key words in the shape of a cross, printed on ugly mint green and coral orange t-shirts (the orange stained my bra for weeks, it was horrible). The choir was given a 'theme' every year for the tours, one inspirational word that was supposed to drive the spiritual growth of 9-12 graders. The year in Chicago had been the "restore" tour (which is extremely problematic the longer you dwell on it). "What's the tour name this year?" I blearily asked one of the chaperones. "Oh, it's the Grace tour. Make sure you use the hashtag."

The tour was the first time I encountered an actively hostile audience during any of the shows. Looking back that seems strange, but nonetheless. We often performed for unsheltered folks, who were forced to listen to us boisterously praise the Lord as they tried to get something to eat or were otherwise seeking support. The show in question took place in a parking lot where an extremely questionable Christian charity group set up once a week to attempt to convert anyone who needed a hot meal. Somewhere in the hour long set of worship music, teenagers banging on trash cans under the guise of performing STOMP (yes, like the off-Broadway thing, which no one even knew because it was such a dated concept by 2016), a capella chamber music (I did that too), and emotionally manipulative skits, one of the people in the crowd started to yell. I don't remember the exact verbatim statements, but it was along the lines of "Why are you singing when we need food, need shelter?"

That night, at the mandated debrief/devotional portion of the night before they finally let us all go to bed, many of my peers expressed that they had never thought of the work that way, as something that could be potentially a nuisance, bothersome, something people were forced to suffer through in order to have their basic needs met.

That was a question I had been asking myself for over a year at that point, ever since pretending to "restore" Chicago in 2015. Did anyone really find inspiration in a bunch of white middle class teenagers singing their little hearts out over Coldplay instrumentals? Did the sloppy manual labor we tried to do at various places for people in need really benefit anyone? Did tired building custodians go back in the day after and correct the naive mistakes of suburban teenagers who were not given any option other than to figure out ways to be helpful? Much ink has been spilled over the epidemic of teenage-centered volountourism from churches, sending unqualified children to do labor to get closer to God, etc. I was tired of treating people less fortunate than this community like pawns to achieve karma points. I was tired of singing bad music. I was tired of feeling like a ghost.

When we got back on the bus, or returned to the hotel, or had mildly unsupervised free time at venues, I would check back in with Jeff. I listened to So Real over and over again, its simplicity was spellbinding. One night they carted us to Disney Springs, the shopping district on Disney property, to burn off steam before getting ready for another day of presumably hard work. I was too tired to traipse around, half-heartedly tagging along with folks that seemed indifferent to my presence. I sat down with a shaved ice and watched a pair of living statues performing in the humid evening, bronze and vaguely Victorian looking, glimmering under the ambient theme park lights. I watched them work a crowd while I listened to So Real and briefly became lost in a story that to this day I cannot recall correctly, some short-lived idea about statues yearning to be real. I started crying, not helped by the schedule that left us overworked and under-rested, and a lack of access to protein and actual nutrients beyond pizza.

Every night, I thought of Jeff on a hotel bed, years ago, in the same place as me. Was he alone? Did his worldview, the questions he screamed out towards the end of Eternal Life, his propensity for diving into the biggest emotions, isolate him like they isolated me?

It's easy to fall in love with someone who has passed, it makes it easy to assign them traits you admire or romanticize their short life. I don't think I fell in love with Jeff in that way, although it is undeniable that he was beautiful. I didn't need lips to kiss, I needed a shoulder to cry on, and it felt like there was a beautiful friend helping me chart a course out of self-loathing and getting mired in philosophical mud.

The last night of the tour, before the Friday fun day when all pretense of work is thrown out to go to a theme park or explore safely curated areas of the city, it was expected that somebody, a youth pastor or the choir director or a well meaning chaperone, would give a sort of pious pep talk, asking us if we really believed all the things we were singing, or were we just having fun on a spring break trip? Anyone who is familiar with Cry Nights at evangelical summer camp knows this tactic. Overstimulate and exhaust young people with still developing brains, feed them a steady diet of sweets and carbohydrates, and then the claws of emotional manipulation will sink so much deeper. And then make them go sing a concert with exhausted voices and clogged sinuses from crying, where their emotions and convictions will run so high, that surely no one in the audience will go unmoved.

That last pep talk reared its ugly head before the last concert, as I presumed it would. But I didn't really listen, while the tears flowed around me. In my head, I was sitting across from Jeff Buckley at the pullout bed, quietly centering myself, trying to find peace in the midst of the chaos. We smiled at each other and said nothing in this vision.

I returned home, glad to be done with youth choir forever, vowing ot never go back to the church I had been raised in. (and also I finally listened to Mojo Pin since it didn't make it onto my iPod)

I was trying my best to give myself grace under strange and infuriating circumstances. Jeff taught me how. Being curious and sensitive is a strength, rage can fuel beauty, seeking authenticity is a worthy journey. That this situation was temporary and I would not have to live my life beholden to the whims of a religious institution that actively benefitted from my fears. Grace, real grace, given freely without the expectation of a transaction, is beautiful. I returned home, a week before my eighteenth birthday, and began the long process of figuring out what I actually believed, what I actually valued, and pursuing the things that filled me with joy at full speed, a road that I am still traveling.

[messenger-of-stupidity]

Last Line of Defense

I BLAME @confusedpanda-777 for this. It’s really all their fault for putting this in my head. 

Summary: What if flirting wasn’t a wonderful thing? What if it came as a line of defense against tension in the air? And what higher form of tension was there than a big sexy guy accusing you of being a creepy stalker in the middle of public? Honestly, what choice did they have?

CW: Some crack (the pickup lines for the most part), angst, flashback and unhealthy way to view relationships (arguing is healthy, as long as you don’t take it too far, yknow?) and toxic family, Davey is innocent by accident, Angel needs some therapy and grass, GN Angel, some dialogue from the first meeting audio

Redacted Masterlist

Angel yawned, their jaw making a soft popping sound. They really should stretch more often, but it’s not as if everyone had time for that. Time. It was such a constructive thing. And if Angel wanted to have a philosophical debate with themselves outside of where they were hoping to indulge a craving for lunch, they would dive deeper into the topic. But alas they had better ideas and wanted to order food and eat before their lunch break from work was over. 

Their eyes flickered up to the speakers placed throughout the fast food restaurant that played music. It wasn’t any song Angel recognized, but it wasn’t too terrible considering where they stood now. Sometimes these places played songs and it could be a reflection of the quality of their food. If this was how it was with this place, Angel was going to get meh food. But as long as it wasn’t bad, they didn’t mind. They walked into the line a small smile on their face. Maybe if they got asked out and they weren’t really interested in the person, they could go here. Saying no to people could always be so difficult.

Besides, turning someone down got really uncomfortable too. There were moments of awkward silence where the other person had to process what you had said and those were the moments that Angel absolutely dreaded. They leaned to the side to get a look at how long the line was. There were a few people ahead of Angel. Hopefully they didn’t take too long. After all they were on a-

“Why are you following me?” A low harsh voice sounded. Angel smiled sympathetically for whoever the statement was directed too. That was until they realized the man that had entered after them was facing them down after they turned around to face him. His eyebrows were turned downward and his mouth in a deep frown. He was taller than Angel. They blinked at him before giggling slightly, confused.

“What?” They asked. Had they misheard?

“I said, why are you following me?” He repeated, sounding more agitated with them. They resisted the urge to shrink back. How many times had their friend said that shrinking back was a sign that you were meek and easier to bully? There had to be some way to fix this. Think Angel.

“What makes you think I’m following you?” They asked as their brain scoured for a solution. Something other than their usual tactic. He sighed, but in an angry way. Angel wasn’t even sure what that was. A huff maybe? He crossed his arms over his chest and their eyes dropped away from his face to look. Damn. They hurriedly raised their gaze again. 

“Because you’re everywhere I am, dumbass!” He answered. They stared at him incredulous. The insult seemed a little harsh if you asked them. “What? Do you think I wouldn’t notice? I have eyes, y’know?” Yes, Angel did know considering they were staring into them because they didn’t want to be staring at the guy’s chest. They looked kind of like pillows. Not that it was something Angel could say. They tried to shake away the uncomfortable air that was beginning to form.

“Why would I even follow you, dude?” They asked, dropping their hands into their pockets. They wished they were wearing a hoodie, preferably an oversized one. But they came from work so they were trying to follow their office’s dress code. They dropped their eyes away from his face. This guy was just wearing a simple dark t-shirt and equally as dark jeans. Pretty basic. It certainly suited him though. They raised their eyes again and notice his eyes were narrowed. Shit, did he notice?

“Well if I knew why you might be following me, I wouldn’t have asked. And that question wasn’t rhetorical. What do you want?” He scoffed. Angel sighed softly. All they wanted was to get some food before their lunch break ended. Not be accused of being creepy. 

“Maybe we’re just in the same places.” Angel suggested, bypassing his question. It didn’t really matter what Angel wanted in this situation. This guy must have been just hella paranoid.

“Oh, so we just happen to keep ending up in the same places. Convenient.” He said, his tone still accusatory. Angel suppressed a shiver and looked around them, keeping a smile plastered to their face. They didn’t like getting accused of something for this long. 

“Experiences usually are.” They murmured as they looked for an out. But whoever this was, he had their attention captured for better or worse. And considering the air was filling with uncomfortable tension it was likely for the worse. At least he was pleasant to look at. Maybe that could distract them?

“I meant the explanation is convenient, not the experience you little snot.” Again, harsh. Why did he keep insulting them? Besides they were way cuter than a snot. Maybe he just had ugly snot. Sucks for him.

“Why would anyone even follow you?” They said, switching gears. They would go around in circles at this point and that would make this only even more awkward. 

“Well it’s none of your damn business why someone might follow me around.” They raised an eyebrow at his retort and his scowl darkened. “Wouldn’t you like to know... if you don’t already.” Was this guy being for real? This had to be some kind of prank or social experiment. No one was this stubborn, right?

“That would be why I asked.” They chirped, keeping a grin on their face to mask away the uncomfortable feeling. This guy was certainly scary, but the air around them was increasingly becoming more scary. Was this Murphy’s law coming into play? If something could go wrong while they eat lunch, this was something going wrong? They just needed to calm down. Angel took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.

“Oh we got a comedian over here.” Angel resisted the urge to wink at him, even if that was the perfect opportunity. “Look, if it was once that’s a coincidence. Twice? Alright whatever, apparently we live in the same area. Three times? I don’t buy it.” Angel paused for a moment, running the uncomfortable conversation through their head.

“I got here first though.” They said, tilting their head to the side.

“It doesn’t matter who showed up first. Each of the times we were both there. Clearly, you were following me.” That was like accusing someone at the mall of following you. Besides, what previous two times was he talking about? They couldn’t recall it.

“Maybe you were following me.” Angel said with a shrug. If he was going to accuse them, they might as well do the same thing. Although if a guy like this was following them it would be both scary and flattering. 

“I was not following you! Why would I follow you?” He denied quickly. Angel smiled wider. It seemed kind of like a game. And besides, it was decreasing the tension. They should have known this would help. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know... if you don’t already.” They parroted his phrase back to him, holding back a snicker. He seemed to be getting more annoyed but it was different. He was only frustrated because he couldn’t think of a comeback as good as Angel was. Poor dude. He couldn’t think of comeback on the fly and didn’t have pretty snot like Angel did.

“Oh wouldn’t I like to...” He growled out before shaking his head. It kind of reminded Angel of a dog. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but I’m going to find out.” That sounded ominous. Angel didn’t like the way it made the air feel all serious again.

“How?”

“By keeping an eye on you.” Angel saw their chance to lighten the air again. The conversation was fun when the air was light before. And they had to be all serious at work. This was supposed to be a break from that.

“You can eat lunch with me if you want.” They offered with a shrug, their smile turning into a smirk.

“No I don’t want to.” He shot them down quickly. They could hear some of his own confusion bleeding into his voice.

“Aren’t you here for lunch?” They asked, tilting their head to the side. It was becoming a game again and they could feel themselves relaxing again.

“Well yes I’m here for lunch. What the hell do you think they sell here?” He asked. His fingers tapped rhymically on his bicep. They watched for a moment before quickly filling in the silence.

“So you can have lunch with me and keep an eye on me!” They said, their voice still cheerful and smirk still in place. This guy wouldn’t shake them. Besides, if this was a social experiment like they had thought, then they could do a social experiment too! If that’s what this was called. But it didn’t really matter.

“I can keep an eye on you from a distance. Preferably driving away and hoping you don’t follow me.” He said and Angel didn’t say anything. They just stared at him expectantly. It went on for a few moments and during those moments this guy started to fidget. Angel resisted the urge to fidget themselves. It seemed like he didn’t like uncomfortable pauses in conversations. That was something they had in common then. “You know what? Fine. I will have lunch with you because I wanna figure out what the fuck you’re up to.” Checkmate bitch.

“Ask me.” They said as they examined their nails. They held back a laugh at the way he sputtered.

“Ask you? You wish! You just asked me and I said yes. That’s as good as you’re gonna get.” That seemed fair. “Now, go up and order dumbass.” He grumbled. Angel looked, confused before realizing the line had been moving steadily. It was their turn now. Alright. 

“So care to admit it?” He asked as he sat down at Angel’s table after he got his food. Angel looked up from their meal, chewing. They swallowed before answering.

“Admit what?” They asked, suppressing their smile.

“That you’ve been following me!” 

“Only after you admit that you’ve been following me.”

“I have not been following you. That’s bullshit, stop trying to get a rise out of me.” Aw, he realized the game. That was a shame. “I’m really supposed to believe that we just keep ending up near each other?”

“Maybe. It could just be fate you know.”

“There’s no such thing as fate. There’s probability which people ascribe fake meaning to so they can feel better or safer or less like shit.”

“That’s a kinda sad way to view things you know.”

“Whatever. If you’re not following me, then why the hell would you ask to have lunch with me?”

“Because you seem like pleasant company.” there was only a hint of sarcasm in that.

“What?”

“I mean it. do you not believe me?”

“Well no, I mean that’s... thank you but don’t think that compliments are gonna make me trust you! I’m not that easy.” Flustering him diffused the tension in the air better than making a game out of this. Angel switched tactics.

“So you’re saying you’re easy otherwise?”

“I’m not easy at all! Get your head out of the gutter.” He grumbled. It was kind of adorable, but that wasn’t the target of this. They just didn’t want this to be awkward.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not getting flustered and you are not the one in control of this conversation!” He argued. He was practically writing this for them.

“So you like being in control?” They wiggled their eyebrows. They were surprised by the smirk that spread over his face.

“Yes, I do like being in control. You’re not going to fluster me with that one.” Angel wanted to point out that he admitted that he had indeed been getting flustered. But the turntables had them speechless.

“What’s your name?” He asked suddenly. Angel blinked quickly, shocked out of it.

“What? Why?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” Okay that was fair. Angel complied. “David.” He returned. “I’d say nice to meet you, but that remains to be seen.”

“Trust me, my exes can agree that it is nice to meet me.

“Would you stop saying stuff like that!”

“Is it making you uncomfortable?” The goal was to make this conversation more comfortable, not the opposite. They would need to figure a different tactic if that was what was happening.

“No, it’s not that.” Oh good. “it’s just... we’re in public and I don’t even know you.” He did say it didn’t make him uncomfortable, so Angel continued.

“You can get to know me though.” They purred.

“Well who said I wanted to get to know you?”

“You did earlier. That’s the whole reason you agreed to eat lunch with me.”

“I did not. I said I wanted to know what you’re up to. There’s a difference. For all I know this is some plan of yours. And if it is I’m going to find out.”

“I promise you, David. I am innocent.” He scoffed at that.

“I’ve known you for all of five minutes and even I know you are anything but innocent.” That... sounded like a bad thing. Angel frowned.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Well I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Under the right circumstances that can be a very good thing. But I don’t need to be putting any more thoughts in that twisted head of yours. You seem to make plenty of them all on your own.”

“What? Like... let’s go back to my place. I’ll give you head and if you don’t like it, you can give it back.”

“Stop saying things like that! God you’re forward. This is not helping your case that all of this was some kind of coincidence you know! Unless you flirt like this with everyone you randomly run into.”

Angel frowned.

Angel giggled as they raced down the grassy hill, their cousin not far behind them. The rest of their family sat on top of the hill, talking about whatever boring older people talked about. Angel swore that they would never get old and boring. Old and boring people didn’t smack their cousin in between their shoulderblades with the power of a thousand spartans. Old and boring people didn’t race down the hill barefoot because they kicked their shoes off in the car and hadn’t put them back on since. Old and boring people didn’t act like Angel acted. And they were going to act like this until the sun burned a hole in the sky.

“Wait for me!” Their cousin wailed behind them. Angel kept running, still giggling to their heart’s content. They weren’t going to stop just because their younger cousin couldn’t keep up. Maybe once their legs got longer they would be able to keep up with Angel. They skidded to a stop once the grass turned into concrete or whatever the walkways in the park were made from. Their cousin slowed to a stop too, gulping in air. Angel supposed it wasn’t a good idea to challenge their cousin who had asthma to tag, but that’s what hindsight was for. 

“You run... too fast...” They complained. Angel just giggled again with a shrug before plopping down to sit. Their cousin sat beside them, hugging their knees to their chest. Angel had decided that doing that ruined the chaotic image they were trying to spread. Chaotic people didn’t make themselves smaller. So while their cousin was taking up less space, Angel laid back and spread out their arms and legs as wide as they could go, doing the best impression of a starfish you had ever seen. “My parents were fighting again before we came here.” Their cousin admitted in a low voice. Angel glanced at the younger family member from where they were laying.

“Why?” They asked. Angel had never seen, nor heard their parents get into an argument. Everytime a problem bubbled up to the surface, one of their parents brushed it away and would start being all mushy with the other until they were forced to calm down. Why their uncles didn’t do that was beyond Angel.

“I dunno. Something about a water bill not getting money. I didn’t really understand. How come your parents never fight? Papa complains about it to Dad a lot.” Their cousin switched around the focus of the conversation to Angel, causing the older of the two to sit up with a wise expression on their face. 

“Because they love each other. When you care about someone, you don’t let yourself get angry at them.” Angel answered. Their cousin nodded slowly.

“But everyone get angry, and that’s okay. That’s what Papa told me. So why don’t your parents argue?” They pressed. Angel plucked a few grass stems to sprinkle onto their cousin’s head. They groaned and wiped it away as Angel thought. 

“I think they get close to arguing sometimes. But then one of them always changes it.” They answered before standing up and shaking their head. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” They added as they held out a hand to their cousin to help them up. 

--~~--

“I want to talk about this!” Angel opened their eyes at the whispered words outside of their bedroom door. The only light in the room came from the nightlight, tucked away in the corner so Angel wouldn’t use the light to focus on something else other than sleeping. 

“Come on, baby. They’re asleep, and we have some time to ourselves. Don’t you want to make the most of it instead of wasting it away on talking about this? We can talk about it later, I promise.” Angel sat up in their bed, eyes focused on their door where on the other side their parents stood. They held their breath, silently hoping that this would work and they wouldn’t argue. The couple had an awesome track record already. They couldn’t ruin it yet. There was a long silence before a sigh.

“I hate how you know that flirting works on me.” They said. Angel let out their breath. Crisis averted. They lay back down, a soft smile on their lips. Their parents were in love. If Angel ever got into a situation where they might argue, they were going to do the same thing. Because that’s what people did when they cared about each other, and Angel wanted to care about everyone they came across. It wouldn’t do any harm to cheer up a stranger too. And the flirting had cheered up their parents. It was the last line of defense.

“Only the hot ones.”

[razorblade-kiss55]

Night Life

Hey guys!! I randomly wrote this idk how I feel about it but I thought I was fun so why not ! Let me know if you like it :))))

Synopsis~ you’re a bartender at a random dive bar. While the jackass group is traveling around for their movie they’re in town for a little bit. They stop by the bar one night and things get a bit interesting.

Warnings: only thing I can think of is reader smokes a cigarette. (Don’t smoke y’all I only write it bc I like the aesthetic I know you know what I mean)

Word count -1.3k

Every night for you was the same. The usual drunk idiots, the fights, the chaos. Though you never wavered in your choice of this life. Until it got too much. Now here you are. Cleaning the top of a bar you hated more than you ever thought you could. But then something pulled you from your deep over contemplation of every decision you’ve ever made. It was laughter and you were immediately drawn in.

A large group came in, you soon recognized most of them to be the Jackass crew. You weren’t a fan, you didn’t dislike them either. It just wasn’t ever something you watched. But you could spot Bam Margera and Johnny Knoxville from a mile away. You realize you have a few of your regulars demanding your attention at the bar. Most of the large group settles by a few pool tables the rest dispersing throughout the bar.

You get sidetracked doing other tasks and completely forget about the group. You assume the other bartender must’ve helped them while you were in the back so you don’t worry too much about them not being served. You’re finally done with the other things you had to finish up for the night and settle back behind the bar.

You notice the bar isn’t too busy other than biggest friend group you’ve ever seen. I mean come on who has that many friends? You therefore decide to take advantage of your managers one drink a night rule. You grab a glass pouring a generous amount of whiskey. It was nearing the end of your shift after a long day and you needed it.

“Steve-o!” A surprisingly southern accent called out across the bar grabbing your attention. You saw Johnny Knoxville playing pool leaned over one of the tables. “Could you be a doll and get me a beer?” He asked, steve-o wasn’t doing much just chatting to a few of his friends.

It seems he obliged because he’s now heading your way. He slumps down and plops his elbows on the bar In front of him. He looks up to find the other bartender. His eyes meet yours for the first time and you swear things went in slow motion for a second. You can instantly feel your face flush. He continues to stare, you could only assume he’s passed the point of no return and just trying to formulate a thought, through his drunken haze.

But you’re shocked when he sounds almost completely sober. “ Hey uh” his voice is more gravelly than you realize and your even more curious about the brown eyed boy in front of you.

“What can I getcha?” You say hoping maybe if you spoke up he would finish his order and stop gawking at you. He looks away smiling and clearing his throat, sitting up a little higher In the seat.

“Just a beer” He responded looking back to you.

You nod and grab a cold bottle from the fridge popping off the lid and hand it to him. He grazes your fingers with his, never breaking eye contact. You can tell by the look he gave you before walking away, that it was intentional. He was now sat back in his original spot in the corner of the bar.

The night is is slowly ticking by, so you decide to go out for a smoke break before leaving for the night.

You step outside in front of the bar leaning against the brick wall. The neon sign lit up the dark parking lot.

Suddenly you hear the front door swing open and look up to see the roughly spoken boy from earlier.

“Hey” he smiled at you sliding his hands in his jean pockets

“Hi- were you like looking for me?” You question resting the cigarette on your lips inhaling deeply.

“Ya know I hear those things are bad for you.” He said walking over to lean on the wall next to you.

“Can I bum one?”

“But I thought they were bad for you.” You ask mocking his previous statement.

He shrugs “I tend to like things that are bad for me.”

You aren’t sure what that means, but you can’t ignore the chill it made run up your spine. You brush it off pulling another smoke from the carton.

“I’m Steve-o” he said sticking his hand out, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

“Y/n” you return the hand shake

“So?” You question him after a long period of silence.

“So what?” He questions back chuckling slightly

“Were you looking for me?”

He laughs leaning off the wall now walking in tiny circles.

“Uhh” He took a long drag scratching the back of his head like he was trying to collect his thoughts

“I was” he said nodding slowing his pacing, now focusing on you.

“Why?” You ask you can’t help but have a shit eating grin on your face.

“Well I Uh was” he was abruptly cut off by the sound of laughter as we both look over to see a guy in camo pants curly brown hair. He’s the first to bust out of the front door. He’s followed closely behind by Johnny with his arm around bam. They all started flooding out one after the other all of them in their own random conversations.

“Heyyy!!” Chris comes up to steve-o sliding his arm up to rest on his shoulder.

“This is chris.” He says looking back to you, he looks annoyed but you find it slightly amusing.

“Hi” you reply softly, waving to him.

“Hey” he says in a deeper voice now all his attention on you. He is absolutely wasted, as stumbles around still holding on to steve-o somehow. There’s a long awkward silence until chris blurts out “My friend here thinks your sexy.” Pointing to his friend next to him.

“Christ dude!” Steve says now trying to peel the drunk boy off of him.

“Aannnd you should give him your number.” He smiles wholesomely now pointing at you.

You laugh watching as they start fighting slightly. steve-o is still trying to get Pontius to stop touching him. They go back and forth for a few minutes, you’re still completely entertained by their idiocy.

He looks up realizing your attention is on them and that you didn’t walk away minutes ago, like he presumed. “Shit stop dude.” He says whispering now swatting at chris to stop.

“I’m sorry about him, he uh says crazy shit.” He says scratching the back of his head like before.

“Oh it’s ok” you reply

There’s a moment of silence before you speak up again “So you don’t think I’m sexy then?” You ask putting on your best doe eyes.

He gets choked up completely caught off guard by your question.

Chris laughs at your response giving you a high five. “I like this one!” Still laughing he walks away back to the rest of the group.

“I do think you’re sexy.” He admitted quietly, his eyes darting from the ground to yours.

“Well good then this shouldn’t go to waste.” You hand him one of your cigarettes with your number on it. When the two boys were goofing off you had ruffled through your purse and quickly wrote it down knowing you already you were going to give him your number.

He ducks down sweeping your hand up in his, rubbing the back of it gently with his thumb.

“Goodnight” he says dropping it, softly, now running over to the people screaming for him to cmon and that they were leaving without him.

“Goodnight!” You called out after.

You watch as they all pile into their cars driving off. Now heading over to yours plopping in and throwing your bag to the passenger seat. You sigh dropping your face into your hands.

This boy was not going to leave your mind anytime soon.

~ hope the cigarette moment wasn’t too cheesy I couldn’t pass it up. ~

Thank you for reading you’re my favorite xoxo <3

[rogueshadeaux]

An update regarding inFAMOUS: Erosion

Hey there! Rogue here, and I have something regarding inFAMOUS Erosion that I wish to tell you all about so as not to blindside you.

(Now, stop panicking, first off lol.)

I got married in the height of the pandemic; everyone in my family has autoimmune issues (even my poor cat is asthmatic) and my then-boyfriend at the time and I wanted to cover as many bases as possible, especially since I was pregnant. So our five year plan became a five week one, and we got married. No wedding, no reception, just us on the courthouse steps with a judge (we weren't even allowed in) and then take out after. While neither of us cared about a wedding, we never got to go on a honeymoon, and that was always something we strived for down the line. COVID-19 took so much from so many of us, and my family was no exception.

Well, the parasite that was in my womb is now two years old, the oldest is becoming an adventurous spirit, and we've decided it's time to put that savings account to good use and make this a family affair. We've booked not only two separate trips, but a series of events all throughout July and August so we may 'live it up' in lieu of time and chances missed.

And I plan on going on hiatus while we do so.

I fear I won't be able to keep up with the word count and deliver a quality tale on time, and would rather make sure I don't burn myself out trying to perform on top of everything else we have planned. It's also always healthy to take a break! And I feel I have the perfect midpoint prepared to pause and give you all an 'intermission' of sorts before returning. I know it's always so so scary to hear an author is going on hiatus, because really, that's the preamble to an orphaned fic; so I want to assure you that where I will stop the story before disappearing is 104,404 — and the current fic is at 136k words. There's still passion for the project, and it will probably be worked on in the lull time of my hiatus; but that gap between where I've posted and where I am is closing, and I don't want it to get any closer. And I fear trips and concerts and museums and events and a wild summer is simply the perfect storm to be caught in — and to lose my way in the kicked up dust.

"So then...what does that mean?"

I will be posting up to Chapter Twenty, with a two-chapter 'mid-season finale' as I've been jokingly calling it on the 9th and 10th of July. After that, I will be going on hiatus until September 11th, 2023. Another Monday, per the usual. I am beyond excited for this second half; I finally feel like I can dive into the real meat of the story. Once I hit that midpoint, every piece of foreshadow and worldbuilding is on the table. The big turning point that'll propel the second half of Erosion will be revealed. I'll be moving on from whittling the wood to manipulating the marionette, and you have no idea how hyped I am to really give you the tale I'm trying to spin. The sad thing is, I've still gotta spin it, and I fear I won't be able to dedicate myself as well as I should in order to really give this idea in my head the honor it deserves. And of course, what you deserve too; I'm a freelance editor. If I put anything out there that sucks, I will off myself lol.

"Will you be disappearing too?"

Nah. Probably not. I'm chronically online and legally/medically can't drive, so I gotta do something on the car/plane rides. There are two one shots in my google docs I might push out in the meantime, an art commission planned, and of course, I will always supply memes and share other inFAMOUS pieces that my dear friends are putting out. There's so much newfound chatter in the inFAMOUS fandom that I feel confident I could step back for two months and you wouldn't even miss me! It's truly breathtaking to see this fandom returning like this. If you put things into perspective, while two months seems so goddamn long — that's 4 chapter updates. That's it!! That's all I'm gonna be gone for!!

"What if you finish Erosion while you're gone?"

God, that'd be the day, wouldn't it? I'll definitely freak the fuck out and post nonstop on Tumblr, so if I do, you'll know lol. If by some stroke of a miracle I finish Erosion while I'm gone, I will still be on hiatus until September 11th. I need a goddamn vacation. But upon returning, if I am either done or very close to done, I plan on upping my schedule to a weekly posting system. If not, biweekly until that point.

So, that's my advance warning for you all: I plan on stepping away, but it will not be permanent. I can't disappear from this fandom the moment it's beginning to return! That'd truly be insane!

While I am gone, check out @conduiitz'/@kraftledare's Shattered, a comic of a Glass Conduit looking for his best friend in a post-apocalyptic wasteland; @codenamehazard's No Man's Land, an Evil Karma Cole MacGrath AU that follows the Beast as he explores the Wildlands of the Great Plains and the society Conduits have created in it; and @cedar990's Equilibrium, where Light Conduit — and DUP Agent — Ezra Sims tries to throttle the plans of the rising Dust Men in Nova City.

And keep an eye out when you read; you might catch a certain pair of Conduit twins playing around in the backgrounds of these stories! They need a break too, after all.

I want to thank you for your understanding and for all the time you've dedicated so far to hearing me tell this story. I've truly enjoyed every second of it, and cannot wait for more. Tsiikohtaahsi'tsihp amohk aohkanoo'p — which in my tribe's language means I'm so happy we've all gathered here; it's given me a chance to tell a tale I never thought anyone would care about, and to watch the embers of this grand video game franchise be fanned enough to reignite. I love this community and will be itching to return the moment I declare official hiatus status, I just know it.

But until then, let's finish the first half of inFAMOUS: Erosion!