#Classy City Touring | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tkaulitzlvr · 1 year ago

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hiya! i live for your stories, i’m kind of addicted lol

could you please write 2010 tom meeting reader’s family for the first time over dinner, charming the shit out of them while teasing reader throughout the whole dinner, then sneaking off to the bathroom and… 🤭

TIME AND PLACE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom meets your parents for the first time, and he is a lot more relaxed than you are - perhaps too relaxed, teasing you beyond belief whilst your family are completely oblivious, the two of you ending up in the downstairs bathroom, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

content: smut

a/n: LOVEEEE this idea thank u so much for requesting anon! also can we please talk ab how hot he looks in this clip like i’m going insane, coincidentally it fits w this request so i had to use it. i also wanted to say thank you for 400 followers, i only had like two when i started LMAO so thank u to everyone that has followed thus far!! 💞

“baby, calm down, everything is going to be fine. what’s the worst that can happen?” tom says as we climb out of the car.

“you clearly don’t know my parents tom.” i laugh, taking a deep breath and praying for some sort of miracle. my parents are classy, reserved people, with respectable jobs, and pretty traditional viewpoints - in other words exactly what my boyfriend isn’t. “just please, don’t mess this up. i really want them to like you.”

he smiles softly, closing the car door behind him, walking around to the other side where i am standing, placing his hands on my lower waist and kissing my lips softly.

“i’ll try, i promise. you’re getting worked up over nothing.” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead, pulling me into a short hug. i pull away, my hands resting on his chest as i inspect his appearance, straightening his jacket and brushing off any imperfections from the material.

he chuckles at my panicked state, softly grabbing my hands and shaking his head. “it’s going to be fine.” he repeats, rubbing my shoulder comfortingly before taking my hand and beginning the short walk up my parents’ driveway. “besides, what’s not to like about me? i’m funny, charming, sexy, kind, famous - i tick every box.”

i shake my head, pushing his chest lightly as i stifle a laugh. “seriously, my parents are hard to please. you wont be able to win them over as easy as you did me.”

“hm, we’ll see. i think i’ll surprise you.” he states, stopping once we reach the front door, my hand hesitantly reaching to place a few firm taps on it, my other squeezing tom’s in an attempt to calm my nerves. he notices this, running his thumb up and down the skin soothingly, whispering a small ‘don’t worry’ from beside me, the door opening as my mom stand there, wide smile on her face once she sees me.

“honey!” my mom grins, opening her arms out and pulling me into a tight hug. after moving to the city with tom and touring with the band, i hadn’t seen as much of my parents as i usually would, missing them more than i had realised. she pulls away, eyes turning to tom.

“you must be the famous tom. i’ve heard a lot about you.” she says, forcing a small smile on her face, though i can tell that she is silently judging him, not yet bold enough to say her thoughts out loud. her eyes turn to mine whilst she gives tom a quick hug, my face tensing as i shoot her a knowing look, immediately seeing the way that she has made her assumptions about tom.

“all good things i hope ma’am.” he smiles, pulling away from the hug and taking my hand, my mom moving aside to let us both inside the house. it is clean, my mom always insistent on keeping it spotless - a slight smudge of dirt on the floor, or photo frame out of place and she would lose it. the faint smell of lasagna wafts around the place, the aroma bringing me some sense of comfort through its familiarity - the dish had always been my father’s specialty for as long as i could remember.

“where’s dad?” i ask, tom’s hand still touching mine as my eyes wander around the large living room. it is his turn to be nervous now - i can tell from the way his hand doesn’t leave my own, feet anxiously tapping against the floor.

“in the kitchen, preparing dinner. it won’t be much longer now, you can sit down, and tom, make yourself at home honey.” she says, shooting him a warm smile before she disappears out of the living room, leaving tom and i alone. i sit down on the couch, shrugging my jacket off, leaving me in my purple summer dress - sophisticated yet casual. tom, as usual, is adorned in all black: bandana tied around his forehead, oversized t-shirt and an even bigger pair of jeans, complete with a plain jacket. he had wanted to dress up a little, yet i had convinced him otherwise, not wanting him to pretend to be something that he isn’t, deciding that my parents can like him for who he truly is, or not at all.

he sits beside me, placing a gentle hand over my thigh, rubbing the bare skin softly.

“you okay?” he asks, planting a quick kiss to my cheek, intertwining his fingers with mine, his leg still bobbing up and down.

“mhm.” i say, taking my free hand and placing it over his leg, stopping its fast movements. “are you? you’ve gotten all skittish.”

he chuckles lowly, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “just…not sure if your mom likes me.” he shrugs his shoulders, looking downwards.

“she’s the most blunt woman i know. trust me, if she didn’t like you, you’d know about it.” i answer truthfully, knowing that my mother has never been one to hide her opinions - she makes it painfully obvious how she feels and, besides from her slightly off introduction, it seemed that at least to me, she liked tom. “besides, since when do you get nervous, mr cool?”

a small laugh leaves my lips, a teasing smile playing on them, not used to seeing tom anxious. he is usually the most confident person i know, yet now he seems panicked, and the sight is strange to me, but, he shrugs it off.

“i’m not nervous.” he insists, about to continue, though he is soon cut off by the voice of my mom sounding from the kitchen.

“dinner!”

tom sighs, standing up as i follow. he wraps his arms around my lower back, leaning in to give my lips a few soft pecks, smiling into the short kisses that he places on them, giving my ass a teasing squeeze. his eyes are playful, a hint of indisputable mischief illuminating the sea of brown, one eyebrow slightly raised - i know that look far too well to see that it isn’t one of innocence. he has something on his mind, this not the time or place.

“get that look off of your face. not here, absolutely not.” i state, looking upwards at him and shaking my head, straightening my dress and taking his hand, leading him out of the room.

“what look?” he asks, attempting to act oblivious, a slight smirk tugging on his lips. i tut from in front of him, sending him a quick glance as we approach the dining room, my dad laying out the food and my mom taking a seat at the table.

we both take our seats, sat opposite my mom and dad. having never met my father before, i expect tom to be hesitant to speak - my dad doesn’t exactly look to be an approachable person. yet, he makes the first move, much to my surprise.

“i’m tom. nice to meet you sir.” tom smiles politely, nodding his head and holding his hand out for my dad to shake.

clearly shocked by tom’s politeness, my father’s eyes widen, hand reaching outwards and briefly shaking tom’s, before sitting back in his seat.

“ted.” my dad states simply, taking a sip of his wine before continuing. “great to see my daughter has brought home a man with manners, good on you, tom.”

i send my father a glare from across the table, tom smiling weakly in response, his eyes falling to the food in front of him.

“this looks amazing, thank you so much.” tom says, looking upwards as my parents mutter a small thanks, a brief silence looming over us. i turn to tom, seeing that same playful look on his face, much more prominent this time. i quickly shake my head, putting whatever thoughts that are in his mind at bay, shutting them down before he can even consider acting on them. one hand grasping his fork, he digs it into the food on his plate, the other trailing downwards ever so slowly, reaching the hem of my summer dress.

my eyes widen, unsure of how to act, my hand instinctively reacting to move tom’s away, yet i am soon stopped by the voice of my father. tom doesn’t slow his movements, instead they become more calculated, his hand snaking further and further up my dress. somehow, he acts nonchalant, facing away from me, eyes attentively looking at my father as he speaks.

“so tom, what is it that you do exactly?” my father asks, placing a mouthful of food in his mouth after speaking.

tom clears his throat, his fingers dipping teasingly into my panties under the tablecloth, my eyes widening as i attempt to act natural, tom able to do so with ease. “i’m in a band, i’m the guitarist.” he states, fingers continuing to toy with the lace material, dipping further inwards ever so slightly, causing me to fidget in my seat, attempting to hide what is going on.

“goodness can you sit still? i’ve never seen you shuffle in your seat so much!” my mother laughs, shaking her head and focusing her eyes on me. tom seems to find this particularly funny, his lips curving into a satisfied grin, knowing exactly why i am so squeamish, him being the reason, my parents totally unaware of the position his fingers are in. he lets out a small chuckle beside me, shaking my head as my mother did, faking a look of concern.

“are you okay?” he asks, his voice seeming a little worried, though the second i turn to face him, i can see the glint of mischief in his eyes as he knows exactly what he is doing, roping my parents in as they buy his concern.

just as i begin to reply, he slips one finger into my folds, a small gasp leaving my lips. my mother furrows her eyebrows, looking directly at me, clearly confused at my weird behaviour. my hand flies to cover my mouth, also in an attempt to disguise the light shade of crimson that my cheeks are turning, completely humiliated. though i manage to play the suspicious sound off as a hiccup, quietly excusing myself afterwards. “i’m fine, just a little warm.”

the entire thing is hilarious to tom, his lips curved into a smile so small it is almost unnoticeable, never fading as he engages in conversation with my father, his fingers continuing their restrained movements inside my panties, positioning themselves to toy with my clit.

“this band, is it really a sustainable career for you? how much do you earn? surely, it can’t be much.” my father states, unimpressed by tom’s job, failing to realise how successful he actually is.

tom laughs quietly, taking a breath inwards, discreetly slipping a finger inside of me, my teeth sinking into my tongue, clamping down onto it in an attempt to hide the moans dangerously close to spilling from my lips, his finger moving in and out of me at a teasingly slow pace. besides from this, he remains calm, too calm, considering that he is pleasuring me under the table - my parents totally unaware as tom somehow manages to win them over, this only pissing me off even more.

“no sir, i actually do pretty well for myself. we are quite well known, not just in germany, but we often do shows in america and other places. i make a great living out of it, actually.” tom is confident in his tone without being cocky, my father nodding slowly, seemingly satisfied with his response. he opens his mouth once again, about to ask tom another question, though when tom’s finger hits a certain spot inside me, a small whine from the back of my throat quickly stops him.

“are you okay? what is going on with you tonight honey?” my mom frowns, somehow not catching onto what is happening. tom remains unfazed, still pumping his digit in and out of me slowly.

“sorry, i’m just feeling a little under the weather. i must be coming down with something.” i apologise, forcing a brief smile as my mother nods her head, digging her fork back into the food whilst my father continues to interrogate tom.

“and how long is it the two of you have been dating?” he asks, his finger flicking between tom and i, though his question is directed mainly at tom.

“what is it now? two months, am i wrong schatz?” tom asks, knowing how long we have been dating without any doubt in his mind, though he deliberately places this attention on me, looking at me with that same smirk as my father’s eyes soon follow.

tom’s fingers pump in and out of me, his pace speeding up a little, my thighs clenching together at the feeling. sending him a quick glare, i clear my throat, trying to act as unsuspecting as possible. “yeah, two months, that’s right.” i say, nodding my head quickly, desperate to turn the attention away from myself, though it doesn’t take long for me to fail miserably.

“you look awfully warm, you’re sweating honey. do you need to step outside, maybe get some fresh air?” my mom says, tom’s fingers slipping out of me as she utters those words, my lips pursing slightly at the lack of contact. i turn to him momentarily as he sends a brief wink in my direction before taking a bite of his food, looking away from me as if nothing had happened.

“yeah, that’s a good idea. i’ll be right back. sorry.”

i quickly stand up, shaking my head and rushing out of the room, sighing in relief when i open the bathroom door, quickly closing it behind me.

i take a look in the mirror - my cheeks flushed, hair slightly frizzy, faint line of sweat glistening on my forehead, all thanks to the smug bastard back there. my hands turn the tap, cold water rushing out of it as i use it to begin splashing my face, attempting to regulate my body temperature, tom managing to get it so high with his actions.

the door swiftly moves open, my head shooting upward as i am met with tom’s eyes, his expression somewhat calm despite what he had just done.

“are you fucking serious? the fuck was that?” i hiss, hitting his chest in anger, my face falling in disbelief when all he does is chuckle at my temper, clearly failing to understand how mad i am at him in this moment.

instead, he hushes me, muttering out a small ‘be quiet’ before pushing my body harshly against the wall, his lips roughly colliding with mine moments after. his hands find my waist, running up and down soothingly, kissing my lips deeply, his desperation communicated through the hunger of his kisses. despite my anger, i quickly kiss back, my hands reaching upward to his face, pulling him closer to me, my fingers raking through his braids, momentarily running over the soft fabric of his black bandana.

“i don’t know why you’re acting so pissed off.” he whispers against my lips between kisses, becoming more rough with his movements. “you act like you’re angry, but you didn’t tell me to stop, did you? why?”

i stay silent, attempting to ignore his question, instead pushing his face even closer to mine, deepening the kiss and slipping my tongue into his mouth.

“i can tell you why.” he states matter of factly, pressing his body against mine, his hard on prominent through his jeans. “you didn’t want me to. you liked me touching you, even though your parents were right there, didn’t you, hm?”

i whine lowly in response, palming him through his jeans, watching the way his mouth falls open slightly, an almost inaudible groan escaping from it. i can sense his desperation, hell, it was clear the second he gave me that look in the living room, and it had failed to go away for the entirety of the evening. if i weren’t equally as needy, i would be scolding him, calling him out for his stupidity, though i am just as reckless as him, bringing him closer into me as i kiss his lips, moaning into it.

“we gotta be quick baby, okay?” he mumbles against me, his hands moving downwards to hoist me upwards, placing me roughly on the bathroom counter, clearly paying little attention as a few things fall onto the floor with a quiet thud. i hit his chest, pulling away momentarily, though he doesn’t seem to care, shrugging his shoulders and moving his hands underneath my dress to tug my panties off.

he lets them pool at my feet, hurriedly undoing the buckle on his belt, letting his own jeans fall to the floor, not even bothering to fully remove them. his boxers follow as he lifts up my dress, separating my legs apart and moving in between them, eyes lustfully staring into my own.

“you gonna be quiet, yeah?” he whispers, forehead against mine as i quickly nod my head, feet hooking around his hips in an attempt to bring him inside me faster. he strokes himself a few times, positioning himself at my entrance.

his lips collide with mine as he slowly slides inwards, muffling the low noises that spill from them, instead silencing my small whines with his tongue, slipping it into my mouth whilst his cock slides further into me. about halfway in, he stops, sensing the way my eyebrows furrow in discomfort, unable to accustom to his size so quickly, the lack of time we have leaving me a little unprepared.

“c’mon baby, take it. you can take it. just like that, doing so good.” he praises, grabbing my hips, angling them slightly differently, the change in position allowing him to push into me inch by inch, my walls clenching around him.

“fuck- you’re so tight, always so good for me.” he mutters, face burying itself into the crook of my neck, planting slow and soft kisses there, his hips beginning to rock back and forth once he senses that i am comfortable, the pain finally subsiding. his kisses become firmer, teeth occasionally nibbling downwards on the skin, leaving purple-ish marks in place of his lips, though i am too dazed to care, focusing on the way he dick slips in and out of me, tip prodding against my g-spot.

he pulls his head out of my shoulder, his hands removing their firm grip on my hips as he rests his forehead against mine, hands coming to either side of my face. his eyes burn into mine, though he sees a lot more clearly - my own rolling to the back of my head every few seconds, clenching around him when the pleasure becomes a little too much. though from the brief moments my eyes stay open and i am able to study his face, the sight is almost enough to make me cum on the spot.

his eyes are half-lidded, consumed by the hazy need for pleasure, eyebrows furrowed as a few wrinkles form on his forehead when they knit together. his lips are slightly parted, falling open further when his dick would hit a certain spot inside of me, small yet almost audible grunts sounding from the back of his throat.

a loud moan emits from my lips unexpectedly, tom hurrying to press his lips to mine, slightly covering up the sound. he pulls back soon after, his hands returning to my hips, using them to maintain the steady thrusts that i can tell are becoming harder for him to continue, the way his dick twitches inside of me letting me know that he is almost there.

“shhhh.” he coos, admiring the way my face twists in pleasure, knowing that he is completely responsible, nobody else able to have this effect on me. “almost there baby, so close.”

i nod weakly in response, attempting to meet his thrusts, grinding myself against him half-heartedly, this clearly having some effect on him as he throws his head back, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to prevent any sounds from spilling out.

“shit, yeah. like that baby, keep going.” his voice is shaky, on the verge of letting out a moan, i can tell from the way he swallows harshly, hips faltering momentarily. i comply with his words, continuing to move my own hips at the same speed of his, pushing us both to our climax, though tom continues to do most of the work, his pointer finger reaching downwards to rub my clit in soft, slow circles.

“c’mon schatz, can’t hold it anymore. cum with me, mhm?” he groans, lips inches away from the crook of my neck, his teeth sinking into it harshly to prevent the loud groan that begins to sound throughout the bathroom as i feel him shoot his cum into me.

his thrusts remain slow and deep, fucking his cum into me as i reach my climax, eyes rolling to the back of my head, lips squeezing shut. he places one hand firmly over my mouth, hushing the restricted moan that sounds from it, his hips eventually slowing to a smooth stop.

he pulls out of me as i hiss at the loss of contact, a small ‘sorry’ spilling from his lips. my body falls forward, totally exhausted, chest heaving up and down as he pulls his jeans back up, wrapping his belt through the loops, bringing his lips to mine quickly.

“you okay?” he checks, running a gentle hand across my cheek, smiling gently once i nod my head. he bends down, sliding my panties back up and over my hips, pulling my dress downwards so that it covers my thighs.

sensing that i am still slightly weak, he picks me up, helping me down from the countertop, my legs buckling a little. it doesn’t take long for me to come to my senses, wondering how tom and i were going to return to the table. we couldn’t go back together without looking totally suspicious, my mind racing to find ways to avoid the utter humiliation that would come if my parents found out what had just happened.

“how the fuck are we gonna go back?” i sigh, running my hands through my hair, visibly stressed out. “how did you manage to leave, what did you say to them?”

he shrugs, hands loosely resting on my hips, evidently nowhere near as concerned as i am “just said i needed to use the bathroom.”

“okay…” i trail off, playing with the material of his jacket as i think, certain that if we are absent for much longer, my parents will begin to grow suspicious regardless of if we return together or not. “i’ll go first. wait a couple minutes then come back, okay?”

he smiles at my serious tone, stifling a laugh as i tilt my head, looking at him in annoyance.

“okay, okay. i got it, a couple minutes.” he laughs, placing a soft kiss on my lips, letting go of my hips once i nod my head, turning away from him to quickly check my appearance, surprised that i only have to smooth my hair, fingers threading through a few small knots.

“act casual. and get that stupid smirk off your face, i can’t believe you convinced me to do this.” i sigh, wiping the lipstick that had smudged onto my face, eyeing tom’s expression as all he can do is keep that same smug smile upon it, clearly not regretting any of it. my hand reaches for the door handle, about to tug it open, not before tom pulls me back, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“don’t be mad at me. i love you.” he pouts, pecking my lips a few times, his eyes soft as they look into mine, attempting to win me over, with some success much to his surprise. i shake my head, smiling warmly at him, mumbling a small ‘love you too’, before heading out of the door, making sure not to close it behind me, reminding myself that my parents think i have been outside.

i enter the dining room, my mom’s face lighting up once she sees me. “you feeling any better?” she asks, beckoning me back over to the table as i take my seat.

“much better. where’s tom?” i ask innocently, furrowing my eyebrows in forged confusion, determined to keep our acts a secret, acting as if he wasn’t inside me literally two minutes ago.

“he said he needed to use the bathroom. he should be back soon.” my mom replies, sipping from her glass afterwards, a wave of relief spreading over me as i realise that she is completely oblivious, as is my father, who finishes the food on his place absent-mindedly.

“a nice boy you’ve got yourself honey.” my mother says out of the blue, a genuine smile on her face. my eyebrows raise in surprise, her sudden approval unexpected, but the way my father nods his head in agreement throws me off completely; slightly suspicious of how fast they have warmed up to him, knowing my parents to be extremely standoffish.

“really?” my voice is uncertain, a small laugh leaving my mom’s lips at this.

“why so shocked?” she says, my eyes drifting towards the entrance to the dining room, seeing tom walk through it. he shoots me a quick wink, moving past me as my mother spots him, her face lighting up.

“tom! we were just talking about you!” she smiles, watching as he takes his seat, an intrigued look on his face as he ushers her to continue, giving my thigh a quick squeeze from under the table.

“i was just saying how much you suit her.” my mom begins, shooting me a quick grin, turning her attention back to tom. “i’m so happy she’s found someone like you tom. so polite and put together, i admire it, really. very unusual for boys your age. i’ve never met anyone as mature.”

i stifle a laugh at her words, looking downwards into my lap, finding her obliviousness amusing, wondering how she would react if she ever found out what had just happened, using such positive words to describe him, completely unaware of the fact that minutes ago, he had been the complete opposite of all of them. my eyes shoot upwards in his direction, seeing his lips curved into a smile, soaking in all of the positive attention, using it to fuel his ego, clearly proud of how he has managed to pull this whole thing off, winning over my parents in the process an added bonus.

༻❦༺

“thank you so much for having me. it was great to meet you.” tom repeats, smiling widely as we say our final goodbyes, my parents waving us off as they close the door, tom and i walking down the driveway, hand in hand.

“i can’t believe you won them over so easily. that’s literally never happened before. every time my sisters have brought a boyfriend over, they literally hated him. one time my dad made my sister break up with a guy, in front of everyone.” i laugh, never witnessing my parents be so fond of a guy before, not expecting them to welcome someone like tom with open arms, usually approving of boys who were nothing like him.

“told you i’d surprise you.” he grins, that infamous smug smirk tugging on his lips once again, his hand squeezing mine as he looks downwards at me. i can tell that he will be smug about this for a while, this night being something he will bring up for the rest of our relationship, soaking up his own pride. he pauses, tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he opens the car door, climbing into it as i follow. “and, i love your parents house…

especially the bathroom.”

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#tom kaulitz #kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz smut #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff

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sungbeam · 1 year ago

Text

nonidol!eric sohn x f!reader

you won't think golf is a boring sport after he's done with you! (but it's not about golf, and it's not about swings. just a young heir with money, love, and a thing for you.)

▷ genre, warnings. technically s2l, country club au, summer break au, starts with him already into you, slight pining? idk, fluff, humor, rich people™, golf lol, swearing, drinking, kissing, it gets like actually romantic, Eric Sohn bc he's so attractive someone help me.

▷ word count. 11.4k

▷ inspired by swing my way (cha cha malone & phe r.e.d.s)

a/n: my submission for the deoboyznet summer on you event! and @mosviqu who implanted the idea of country club rich boy eric into my brain @@

It wasn't like Eric Sohn, heir to his parents' multi-million dollar investment firm, prized shortstop of the UCLA baseball team, planned to spend his entire summer charming his parents' clients and partners. A summer spent at the Beverly Hills Country Club wasn't something new for the young heir either. The rolling, emerald green hills for golf; the clean cement tennis courts; the dim and classy bars were all ingrained in him since childhood. They were environments Eric had learned to thrive in, and when one had the advantage, one was always taught to wield it like a blade.

At least, that was what he was taught. Over the years, he'd also learned that his extroverted personality and charming smile were disarming—and his pretty boy appearance often resulted in others underestimating him. That was their mistake.

"...that trip to Taiwan will be such a great opportunity to explore the relationship between our companies."

Eric clasped Mr. Thomas Tsaur's hand in a firm shake as the two men stood at the final hole of the golf course. Eric beamed. "Yes, of course! I know my mom would love to see the night markets around Taipei; my parents have been looking forward to the trip all year," he said, as easy as breathing air. Of course, he didn't really know if his parents were looking forward to it. If he was the one on his way to Taiwan instead, he knew that he himself would be ecstatic.

During business meetings—and meetings that weren't officially classified as business, but were definitely about business—Eric tried to stay as true to himself as possible. Once in a while, some of the persona he'd built up slipped through the cracks, but there was a reason he liked baseball more than business.

Mr. Tsaur made a pleasant reply back about promising a fun-filled tour of the city with his wife, and the two of them were splitting up. There were offhanded comments about seeing each other for dinner when Eric's parents finally arrived, but that was all that was left of the interaction.

Eric jogged down the hill toward the conventional path where a white-topped golf cart sat waiting for him. His driver and caddy companion for the day was Jacob Bae, a regular worker here at the country club whom Eric had known for at least a couple years now.

But instead of just Jacob and the cart, Eric found that someone else had joined the group.

You sat in the second row of the golf cart with a circular serving tray pressed over your lap. Like some of the other staff members at the club, you wore the standard black, collared shirt and black skort. He'd seen you around this place plenty of times this summer and even greeted you once or twice, but he knew you were new.

Oh, trust that he knew a new face when he saw one, especially when said face was as pretty as yours. The only shame was that you were often assigned to areas where Eric didn't exactly frequent, but he never took himself as the type to give up easily.

You and Jacob were sharing a laugh as Eric approached the golf cart with his golf putter in hand. "Hey guys," Eric chirped.

All the attention flickered over to Eric, but he couldn't stop staring at the way the slight breeze this afternoon was making your hair fall in your face all pretty. Even in a braid, the little strands fell out to frame your face.

"Oh, hi Eric! How was the last round?" Jacob asked as he twisted around in his driver's seat to watch Eric round the back to put his putter away. You had shifted in your seat slightly to follow him with your eyes, as well.

Eric slid the stick into his bag and caught your eyes. His smile widened. "It went well. Same old, same old," he chuckled, bracing a gloves hand on the roof of the cart. "When'd you get here, Yn?" He asked you with a nod of his chin.

You perked up at the sound of your name. Cute. "Ah, just a few minutes ago," you said. You sheepishly gestured to your empty tray. "Haknyeon dropped me off a few holes over to deliver drinks, and then I saw Jacob over here and walked over to catch a ride back to the clubhouse."

"I can't believe he just ditched you," Jacob chortled.

Eric circled around the cart to take the seat in the front beside Jacob. "He ditched you?" He frowned, leaning his arm over the back of the seat to look at you.

As the cart began making its smooth return down the path and over a small bridge, you smoothed your braid over your shoulder. "No, no! He didn't ditch me; we were just headed in the same direction until we… weren't," you mused. "I mean, if Cobie wasn't here, a walk back wouldn't have been the worst thing anyways."

"I guess," Eric agreed, biting his lip. "So, uh… ever played golf before?"

"Golf? It's been a while, but yeah, I've driven the occasional golf ball across a green."

From the driver's seat, Jacob slapped his right hand down on Eric's shoulder. "Yn-ie! This guy's one of the best casual golf players you'll probably ever meet. His swing? So clean."

Eric chuckled, clasping a hand on the back of his neck, when he felt your attention flicker back to him again. "I'm no pro…"

"I'll have to see that for myself then," you said with a smile.

The golf cart slowed to a stop in front of the doors into the main kitchens of the clubhouse proper. Because this main kitchen was so large, they were given their own set of doors directly to the outdoor courts and beyond for easy access. While Jacob would drop you off here, he would have to continue onward for Eric's proper spot.

You clambered out of the golf cart, poking Jacob in the shoulder as you went. "Bye, guys! Thanks for the ride, Cobie."

"Bye, Yn!" Both boys chimed together. When you disappeared behind the swinging kitchen doors, Jacob pulled the cart back onto the main road to carry onward.

Eric settled into his seat to face forward once again. He lifted the cap off his head and carded a hand through his hair to let the strands, dampened with sweat, dry a bit. "I didn't know Yn was allowed to work the golf range," he commented as innocently as possible.

Jacob made a small humming noise. "Yeah, we're short a couple people out here because of the Ferndale event going on down by the gazebo."

"She wasn't sent there?"

"Did you want her to be sent there?" Jacob grinned slyly at the young heir, who turned his gaze elsewhere.

Eric coughed. "I didn't say that."

His companion still would not wipe that knowing smile off his face, even as he slowed the golf cart to a stop and Eric hopped out to collect his equipment from the back. "I didn't say you did," he snickered as Eric walked away.

He didn't give Jacob the satisfaction of an answer, instead, saying a "thank you" for driving him over his shoulder, before ducking inside the clubhouse locker room.

Jacob shook his head in amusement and began making his way further down the path to return the cart. Silly, silly kids.

You didn't realize country clubs were real until you were sitting in the office of the Beverly Hills Country Club's hiring manager and being hired. That was about a month ago, and no, you still didn't believe it was real. The entire training experience, in fact, had swept through like a fever dream.

The summer season had just begun, though, and they had taken you on in a rush of desperation. You hadn't failed to notice how relieved the hiring manager looked when you told him you'd worked as a waitress at an upscale wedding venue before you moved cross-country, and knew how to carry a drink platter and dirty dishes. That was part of the reason you'd been hired on the spot. You'd also mentioned your extensive knowledge of how to fold cloth napkins into swans, and you liked to think that was your true selling point. (Don't ask, the last part was because you had been very bored while waiting in the backroom during a wedding.)

And while you cared little about cleaning pools or catering to rich prick egos, you did care about the crisp green bills that graced your eyes with more frequency than a Superman actor on Hollywood Boulevard. There was also the possibility to gain some more experience in the dining and catering world; if you were lucky, you could butter up your manager to let you help out in the kitchen some.

After all, that was why you were here so far from home.

"Yn, you've got company at table five," Haknyeon said as he passed by you on his way into the kitchen.

You gave a nod out of instinct. You brushed your hands against your black waist apron, absentmindedly reaching up to also smooth out the black vest on your upper half. Usually when you worked at the club's restaurants and bars as wait staff, your uniform consisted of a white button down under a black vest, followed by a black skirt and apron. It was classy and chic, and definitely added to the expensive atmosphere.

You could see table five in your section up ahead. It was a little early into dinner service, but there were still people who came in. To your surprise, the company at table five was none other than Eric Sohn himself, along with two others you recognized as his parents. They were dressed casually—meaning semiformal. It was something out of a dinner cruise, with Eric's dark brunette waves styled effortlessly messy and the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone to reveal the slightly bronzed, toned skin beneath—

You cleared your throat, plastering a smile on your face as you approached the table. "Evening, everyone. Mr. and Mrs. Sohn," you gave a small greeting bow to his parents, then swiftly doled out little napkins for their drinks. "It's nice to see you on the grounds again today."

"Oh, Yn! It's very nice to see you this evening," said Mrs. Sohn with a delicate flourish of her wrist.

"Yes!" Mr. Sohn chimed in, "What have you been up to? Eric says he saw you on the golf range today."

Your eyes darted to Eric's, then went back to his parents when you realized his eyes were on you. You laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and bracing the end of your serving tray against your waist. "Oh, uhm, yeah! I was just summoned down there to get some drinks to the Santos family—you know them, right?"

Recognition lit up in Eric's mother's eyes. "Yes, yes! Marina and her kids! Ah, well that sounds nice; I'll have to see if I can bump into her at the spa or something. Eric gave you a ride back in his cart, didn't he? The walk back is awfully far."

You nodded. "Yeah, of course. He was with Jacob, so I just hopped in the back and rode back with them here."

"I still owe you that golf date," Eric cut in smoothly, the hand with his Rolex draped over the back of his chair. His smile was casual, innocent, the kind that so easily could make anyone do his bidding.

"Golf date?" His parents glanced curiously between the two of you, and you felt heat rush up to your cheeks.

"It was just an offhand comment," you said sheepishly. "Jacob was telling me about how great of a golfer Eric is and I said I wanted to see his swing some time." Before anything else could be said on the matter, you tucked your tray under your arm and replaced it with your notepad and pen. "Can I get you anything to drink? An appetizer to start?"

That drew away the conversation promptly. It wasn't like you were uncomfortable with the idea of going on a date with Eric Sohn, it just wasn't that simple. Though the club officially encouraged good relationships between staff and club members, they didn't exactly encourage the romantic kind of relationship. Obviously, it would be impossible to enforce a no-entanglement policy completely, but you wanted to stay on your manager's good side.

You nearly folded in half over the counter of the tiki bar at the pool. Sweat streamed down the side of your face, and you were pretty sure your baby hairs looked akin to a lion's mane under your white baseball cap. Thank god the club didn't force you to wear a black colored hat instead; the black polo and skort were death enough.

Jacob chuckled as he passed you a clean, damp towel that had been soaking in ice water. "Before you get heat stroke," he said, then returned to preparing a tray of drinks someone had ordered at the hot tub.

You thanked him profusely, dabbing your face and neck with the cool blessing. "Sheesh," you groaned. "I think I need to reapply my sunscreen soon. How are you out here all the time, Cobie?"

He grinned with a half-hearted shrug. "Well, I work with cold drinks and I'm under the shade. And—" he tapped the handy little fan clipped to one of the structure poles of the tiki bar, "—this beautiful work of engineering."

"I need one of those umbrella hats and squirt bottles kids bring to Disneyland," you grumbled and plucked yourself up from the bar. You returned the towel to Jacob so he could toss it into the soiled towel bin on the other side of him. You watched as he finished up filling the tray and whistled at the pool waiter who had ordered it for the group at the hot tub.

As the waiter walked away with the drinks, you thought aloud, "How could they stand to be in the hot tub in this heat?" From here, you could see the group of girls gathered in the bubbling jets of the hot tub at the far end of the pool in their bikini tops and Gucci shades.

"They're not standing—they're sitting."

You sent Jacob an unimpressed look, to which he simply smiled wider.

"Hey guys!" Ji Changmin huffed and puffed as he collapsed onto the barstool next to you. He had a towel hanging around his shoulders and a white sweatband holding up his dark bangs dripping with sweat. "Can I get an ice water, hyung?"

"Yeah, man," Jacob said, already dumping a scoop of ice in a cup.

"You alright there, Changmin?" You glanced over at the club's dance instructor with barely concealed amusement.

Changmin took the corner of his towel to dry the dribble of sweat making its way down his forehead. "Whoever thought it was a good idea to do hot Zumba in the height of summer needs a reality check. I think I'm dying."

As one of the country club's primary dance instructors, not only did Changmin lead all of the dance activities on the grounds, he was also supposed to take over any dance aerobics classes like said hot Zumba. You knew it wasn't his favorite, but it was still funny to make faces at him through the window as he did can-can kicks in leg warmers with all of the rich moms.

You leaned down to check if he had the leg warmers on. He did not. At least he finally had the good sense to break uniform.

Jacob slid over an ice-cold glass of water, and Changmin drained it like a man who trekked through the desert for seven days. You glanced at Jacob's digital clock on the counter behind him—he kept it so he could be on time for all of his breaks.

"Oh shit," you said, quickly fixing your cap and adjusting your hair, "time for me to get back to work."

Changmin straightened. "Where are you stationed today, Yn-ie? Chanhee and I wanted to come pick you up later for dinner before we have to come back."

"That's right!" Jacob slapped his palm to his forehead. "We have to all be back here for the banquet. I almost forgot, damn it."

You cocked a brow at him. "Wow, you, Jacob Bae, almost forgot about the major event all of our jobs are riding on that's taking place tonight?"

A smile curled onto your face when Jacob narrowed his eyes at you. "Don't you have work to do?"

You let out a laugh and began backing away from the tiki bar and your friends. "Kim has me at the ice cream bar until the end of my shift, Changmin. I'll catch you boys later!"

Jacob and Changmin raised their hands in twin waves to you as you walked away. If you remembered the time on Jacob's clock correctly, you had about fifteen minutes to get up to the indoor ice cream bar for your shift.

Tonight, the country club was hosting a banquet for one of the business men here. It was supposedly one of the most important events for the club's reputation, so it was all hands on deck. Everyone from Chanhee at the spa to Haknyeon in the kitchen were called upon to clock into work once again tonight to help out. You were glad you weren't a part of the set-up and takedown committees, but you were expected to wait on the banquet. Jacob was supposed to be bartending tonight, as usual, and your other friends and coworkers would be waiting alongside you.

You glanced up on your walk out of the pool area and nearly tripped over the soles of your sneakers.

Coming in hot (literally) were none other than Eric Sohn, Lee Hyunjae, and Lee Juyeon—all of whom were very much shirtless. Swim trunks hung low on their waists, their stomachs carved like triplet Michaelangelos. Seeing shirtless guys at the pool wasn't new for you, but these guys were actually around your age.

Eric saw you first and waved. "Yn, hey!"

"Hi guys," you greeted back with a shallow nod of your head. "Nice day out for a swim."

"I know, right?" Hyunjae raised a hand to shield his eyes from the unforgiving summer sun. "You must be baking in that uniform, Yn." He raised his chin to gesture at the all black attire.

"I don't suppose you'd be able to join us?" Juyeon smiled. He knew you probably couldn't join them because you were clocked in, but he had always been pretty nice nonetheless. He and Hyunjae were cousins, and the Lee family was well-known around here for being big names in the legal sphere, as well as being one of the larger families. There was another cousin of theirs around their age running around here somewhere, too.

You gave a helpless shrug. "Duty calls, unfortunately."

"Yn, hey wait—" Eric caught your attention as you were about to continue walking up toward the main clubhouse. He flashed you that smile again, the one that made your stomach do flips and would convince you to do flips for him if only he asked. "You won't happen to be working at the banquet tonight, are you?"

"How'd you guess?" You replied good-naturedly. "Why do you ask?"

He began walking backwards toward the direction his friends had drifted off to, his smile tilting up slightly. "So I know which cologne I should wear."

And it definitely wasn't a trick of the summer sun that made you see him wink at you.

"He's into you."

"He is not—" you wrestled your sleeve up your forearm and made a frustrated noise when the button would not go through, "—into me."

Chanhee gave you a nice, slow eye roll just so you would see it, and he yanked the sleeve away from you so he could roll it up himself. "A lot of men around here like smelling nice, but no one pulls out the Acqua Di Gio just for the service girl or a business banquet," he hissed as a fellow waiter rushed past you two in the narrow corridor. "Jesus, why is this button such a bitch?"

"That's what I'm saying," you hissed back at him as the two of you both struggled to fix your sleeve. "Not the cologne thingy—I hate how you're able to just take a whiff and name the cologne. What kind of demon nose do you have?"

Chanhee sighed and collapsed against the wall opposite to you when he finally managed to get the sleeve right. The two of you were currently on break, not hiding, in this corridor. In T-minus two minutes, you would both have to be back out in the hustle and bustle of cleanup or after-party drinks in the lounge. Because the main course had finally been served, a lot of the waiters were allowed to go on break. The banquet thus far had gone relatively smoothly, other than the fact that when you had served Eric all of his courses, he'd made sure you practically melted on the smell of his cologne.

It wasn't your fault you had to bend down close to him to not spill the hot food. And it wasn't your fault that he chose to put his mouth right to your ear when he told you a joke, masking it as asking for more water.

You couldn't decide if you were going to giggle or let your knees buckle at that moment. Thank god you managed to laugh behind your hand and hustle away before anyone noticed.

But that was besides the point. The point was that Chanhee had also passed by Eric, caught the faint trail of Aqua De Whatever, and connected some dots.

"If you want a demon, you talk to Changmin," he said. "I just know my shit. And I also know that you only break out the Acqua Di Gio when you want to attract someone, and based on the fact he's currently seated around about fifty other businesspeople…" Chanhee made a wild, desperate gesture with his hands, eyes widened. Are you getting this? He seemed to ask. Because I will smack you if you aren't.

You fanned yourself, justifying it by thinking about how hot the back hallway was and this outfit was, rather than admitting that it was because Eric was hot. "Okay, okay. Come on, we have to get back out there," you said, already turning your heel toward the door.

"I'm just saying that clearly he's been trying to tell you something," Chanhee added as you both broke out of the hallway and into the kitchen. He grabbed a circular serving tray from a stack on the counter next to him to hand over to you.

"Well, what do you suppose I should do with that?"

He pressed his lips into a thin smile, taking hold of a small, empty cart and pushing it ahead of him. "Just keep an open mind, darling."

You and Chanhee separated at the kitchen doors out into the banquet hall. While he would be a part of cleaning up, you needed to head over to the next-door parlor where the party had moved post-dinner. Business would continue as usual, just with a few more drinks and pool involved.

The parlor room was arguably one of your favorite rooms in the club with its cozier atmosphere created by the evergreen walls, tiffany-shaded lamps, and dark oak furnishings. It was also outfitted with a hearth (unused during the summer and spring) and a billiards table. Most of those who had chosen to stay had migrated with a certain crowd of people they planned to continue chatting with. Your job, as well as the few others recruited to the parlor, was to be a fly on the wall until somebody needed something. If tips were passed around, you were free to pocket them.

You were probably standing and waiting for only five minutes before you saw Eric stand up from where he was on the far side of the room. He shouldered his suit jacket off and draped it over the back of his armchair, exposing the white dress shirt and black vest beneath. Whew, he was wearing a full suit to this event? You wondered how he even survived, but all conscious thought flew out the window when he caught you staring and started smirking to himself. The smug, little expression stayed etched into the sharp planes of his face even as he strolled over to the pool table and lined up his shot.

You wondered—and it was just a thought—what it'd be like (possibly) for him to lean over you—

"Excuse me, miss?" You shook out of your daze and remembered why you were here. Unfortunately, it was not to admire the young heir watching you from the other side of the room, but to serve guests.

For the next couple of hours, your job was exactly what you did. You had been so focused on running back and forth from the bar in the other room and back that you always seemed to have missed Eric trying to catch your eye again. If he wanted drinks, he had to suck it up and ask someone else who just happened to be near him instead.

As the evening dwindled into a sweet, humid night, the amount of guests also began to trickle down. You had grabbed a rag on your way back to the parlor room and said goodbye to your coworkers on their way out. Some still lingered for last minute clean up, and though you were technically done for the night, you wanted to wipe down anything you had missed. It was something simple that you could do to help out a colleague, and it wasn't like you were in a rush to go home.

When you walked back into the parlor room, however, you blinked—surprised—at the sight of an individual left. He leaned against the billiards table, one hand holding the edge of the suit jacket draped over his shoulder and the other scrolling through his phone.

Eric glanced up from his device and pocketed it at the sight of you. "Hey."

"Hi," you said back. "Uhm, can I get you anything—"

"Oh, no no. I'm good." He shook his head, pushing off from the table. He shot you that signature boyish smile of his and your heart began doing cartwheels. "I just wanted to ask if I could give you a lift home."

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Truthfully, you were caught off guard, stunned. This wasn't what you were expecting from him.

He saw your hesitation and let out a sheepish laugh, cupping the back of his head. "Sorry, this is so out of the blue. I… it's a little late out right now, and I didn't know if you had a ride or not. I know you're not usually scheduled to work so late."

"You know my schedule?" You blurted. Though, the thought did warm you and amuse you.

His eyes widened. "I mean, uhm, definitely not in the creepy, stalkerish sort of way! I uh, I like to think I pay a lot more attention when it comes to you." His admission didn't do much to slow the racing organ in your chest cavity. You always saw Eric Sohn as one of those smooth and collected young men who were born to charm. But seeing him flustered and tripping over his words because of you?

You ducked your head slightly, flattered and most definitely charmed still. "I'd really appreciate a lift home, Eric."

You both shared a smile in the slightly dimmed, slightly warmed lights of the parlor room.

Once you had finished glossing over the surfaces of the parlor room with your rag to catch any rings made by perspiring liquids, your manager dismissed you for the night. Eric told you he would meet you out front where he would bring his car around for you. You found yourself standing at the edge of the curb with a gentle, yet rare summer breeze wafting through your hair. You had your bag slung over your shoulder, and you grasped the strap and fidgeted with the material.

A car pulled up to the circular driveway—it was a sports car. The Corvette, sleek and aerodynamic, was doused in a shiny orange coat of paint that glimmered even in the night. The passenger side window rolled down so you could see Eric leaning over the center console and waving to you.

"Hey, hop in!" He said to you with a grin, lowering the music he was playing.

Gingerly, you walked up to the car and managed to maneuver yourself inside. The passenger seat was lined in soft black leather, and the inside of the car made it all the more easy to suffocate on that delicious cologne of his.

Eric had ditched his suit jacket and vest in the backseat of the car, leaving him in just his white dress shirt and slacks.

"Nice car," you whistled lowly as you buckled yourself in.

His mouth tilted upward. "Thanks," he said. He fussed around with his phone for a second before passing the device to you. "If you wouldn't mind putting your number and address in."

"Oh." It was a brand new contact page. You didn't question it, swiftly inputting all of the necessary information before returning his phone to him.

Eric took a peek at the address, then pulled out of the country club's driveway. You didn't live too far away from the club, luckily. It was only a few minute's drive, but the walk sometimes felt a bit longer. California didn't exactly have the most convenient public transportation system, and in an area like Beverly Hills, it was near impossible to find a reliable bus or train service.

"Any music preferences?" He asked you quietly.

You shook your head. "I'm not super picky. What you have on is all good with me."

"I have to confess, Yn," he said with a half smile, eyes darting toward you, "that I was trying to steal your attention all night."

Your stomach flipped and you suppressed the smile that threatened to crawl onto your mouth. "Really?"

He laughed. "Yeah, but obviously, your work ethic beat me out, as well as my own luck."

"Any reason for seeking me out?" He'd technically had your attention all throughout the banquet, but he had also needed to entertain and chat with the other people around him. While the after party was sometimes used for business discussion, too, the banquet dinner itself was the main event.

"I mean, besides wanting to talk to the cute girl eating up all my thoughts?"

He was turning onto your apartment complex's street all too soon. The car slid into a parking spot along the curb, and he twisted in his seat to face you. "I really want to take you out, show you a good time. It doesn't have to be something fancy if that's not your vibe; we can always start with golf."

You let the smile bloom on your face at the reference to the "golf date" you both had yet to schedule. You still wanted to see his swing, after all. "Then it's a date," you said, "I should have a free day two days from now, if that works for you."

Eric bit his lip. "I'm all yours, hon."

Before you could start doing somersaults from excitement, you resolved yourself to getting into your apartment first. "Well, thank you again for the lift, Eric. You have my number?"

He nodded. "Never losing it."

You grinned something fond. He grinned right back at you. "Get home safe."

"I will. Good night, cutie."

You slammed the car door shut and left Eric to his lonesome. Through the passenger side window, Eric watched as you disappeared into your apartment complex, safe and sound. He had almost given into the urge to ask if he could walk you up, but it was a miracle you had even taken him up on his offer to drive you home.

He pulled up your contact and sent you a text so you could have his number, too, as soon as possible. He deposited his phone into the cup holder, then punched the roof of his car with a shit-eating grin on his face. He'd scored your number and a date in one night—damn right, he did.

You had reasoned with yourself that this was okay based on the fact that you weren't on company time.

"Shoooooot," you whistled with a slight arch in your brows and applause. You tracked the distance Eric's driving shot sent the golf ball flying, and in the early morning sunlight, the white sphere disappeared over the crest of green hill.

You figured being courted by a club member during your own free time was a loophole you could live with. Especially when such a loophole looked so good swinging a golf club.

His follow through was just as beautiful as he was, his arms lifting the golf club over behind him from the arc. When he lowered the club to turn back to you, he was beaming. "What's the verdict?"

Your golf club was currently acting as your arm rest as you staked the head against the grass. "I don't know, Eric," you sucked in a breath, teasingly. "I think you could've gone pro."

He laughed then, eyes narrowed into glorious upturned crescent moons. "Thanks, cutie." He made a gesture to the tee. "All yours."

"Let me preface this by saying that it's been awhile," you were quick to say as the nerves suddenly bubbled up into your chest and made you wanna do a jittery shuffle. You should not have let Eric go first.

"No worries," he chirped. "Why don't we practice first?"

Yes, practice. Thank god he knew where your head was at.

You eagerly agreed, and set your golf ball up on the tee. Nervously, you smoothed your gloves down the front of your pleated golf skirt. You lined up the face of the golf club with the ball and pulled it back a millimeter—

Then chickened out.

"Performance anxiety," you grimaced to your date.

"Oh, well, that's okay!" Eric set his golf club down on the field and made his way over to you. "Can I help?"

Yes. "Please do," you chuckled, leaving room for him to take your club.

But instead, he shook his head. "No, no. You won't learn anything from just watching, silly goose."

He grabbed the golf club over your hands and lined both of your bodies up correctly. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his front pressed against your back. His mouth was so close to your ear again, and there was that damned cologne making you see hearts.

"Sorry, is this okay?" He asked softly.

You gulped, nodding. "Yeah. Perfectly okay." You wondered if he could feel your heartbeat quicken like a drum crescendoing. If he wasn't careful, your heart might just fall out and run to his arms.

From this position, Eric smoothly guided you through the steps of a perfect swing. The pullback was cranked over your shoulder, then the club would swing straight through, followed by the arc back over your other shoulder and the appropriate turn of your body. As he had explained to you, getting the perfect swing or shot in sports mostly came down to the follow through. If one could not back up their initial movement, then why make the shot?

"—and you turn your body—yeah, just like that," he praised as you automatically rotated yourself from the side to the front, the toe of your foot digging into the ground and turning with you. "That's beautiful."

He backed up from you then, giving you some space. It suddenly felt like you were missing something with him gone. "You should try it now!"

You took a deep breath in as you lined your golf club up with the ball again. Cranking the club back over your shoulder, you swung it down and back up again. When the face of the club met the ball, it did so with a resounding PING!, and the ball went sailing.

(That sound… mwah. The sweet, sweet sound of triumph.)

"You did it!"

"I did it!"

It hadn't gone as far as Eric's had, but it had definitely traveled farther than it would have without his help. You whirled to him, clasping his hand with yours as you both shared equally radiant smiles. A giddiness flooded into you, and no doubt into the glow of your face.

"See? Not too bad," he said, squeezing your hand.

"All thanks to you," you pointed out.

He shook his head, using your linked hands to lead you back to where your golf bags were waiting a little ways back by the cart. "Nah, you had it in you, Yn. It was just performance anxiety, as you said."

The two of you each grabbed your own bags and hiked them over your shoulder to head down the hill and find your respective golf balls. From this view, you could see that the other patrons of the club were slowly trickling out onto the acres surrounding. It felt strange to be here as not a staff member, but as a guest instead.

Eric piped up, "Is it weird that I was hoping you would ask for my help?"

"Not really," you mused, then meekly added, "'cause I was kind of hoping you would offer your help."

He looked about as happy as you felt, and he swung your hands together between you.

It hit you, then, that you were still holding hands. But you didn't let go, and Eric didn't say anything. He just helped you find your golf ball, line up another shot, and hugged you from behind like it was nothing.

From across the pond, Jacob, Changmin, Chanhee, and Haknyeon pulled up over the bridge. The four of them were all piled into a golf cart, and Jacob stopped it just over the crest. They all knew about where you were today and why you were dressed in proper golf attire rather than the country club uniform. They watched with wide eyes (and maybe a camera or two) as you and Eric had a good time.

"Young love," Jacob sighed fondly from his spot in the driver's seat.

"I think it's gross," Changmin giggled. He yelped, furiously rubbing the place on his shoulder that Chanhee had whacked. "Hey! I was kidding!"

Chanhee rolled his eyes. "Let them have their moment. I'm glad Yn-ie let herself have fun with him."

"They look like they're having quite the time," Haknyeon said. "They're cute."

Changmin poked his head in between Jacob and Haknyeon from the backseat. "Just a thought, but what if we turned on the sprinklers like in High School Musical 2?"

An exchange of looks, a deep consideration… "No," they all chorused. They would get their asses kicked for that.

You were on lunch break when Changmin practically crashed onto the bench next to you with a crazed look in his eyes. "You. Me. Spa. Now."

You couldn't even say goodbye to the sandwich you were eating before Changmin grabbed your arm and dragged you across the club.

"Changmin! What the hell—"

"I'll explain in a second!" He hissed back at you while ducking into the service entrance of the spa.

The backdoor led to a staff break room, where Chanhee was currently (coincidentally) seated on a stool eating a box of Pepero while watching a cartoon on his phone. The man glanced up from his phone at the loud commotion, one cheek full of his snack, and he blinked. "You're lucky I'm not with a client right now."

"Yeah, yeah," Changmin said, dragging you and a stool over to Chanhee at the same time. He pushed your shoulders so you would take a seat. Changmin placed his hands on his hips as he stood before the two of you. "You're never gonna guess what I just overheard."

"What?" You and Chanhee asked at the same time.

"Well, you know Clara?"

Chanhee jumped right in. "The one fooling around with that Brian Yang guy. He's the heir to that one corporation monopolizing SIM cards or some shit."

How the hell…?

Changmin's head bobbed vigorously. "Yes, yes! That's the one. Anyways—I was walking past the manager's office and they were talking loud enough to hear with headphones on. Apparently, Clara and Brian had a nasty, nasty split, and Brian got her fired."

Silence.

Chanhee's eyebrows flew up. "Like… fired-fired?"

A grave nod. "Fired-fired."

You held your head in your hands. "Just because of a break up?" You asked. "Clara is such a nice girl."

Your friend's lips were pressed into a line. "Doesn't mean he's a nice guy. I dunno—" he threw his hands in the air and let them flop back against his legs, "—it's fucked, man. He said it was, like, too awkward to be around her all the time since he was here all the time. And because his father is one of the stockholders of the country club, Manager Kim could do little but do his bidding."

Your heart had fallen into the pit of your stomach. Drama like this didn't really happen often here, but there was always something going on.

You always thought there were assholes here, but sometimes they just kept on reminding you of it.

"And now I'm fooling around with one of the club members," you thought aloud. The realization hit you, a golf ball to the face. "Oh my god."

Chanhee's hand came up to your shoulder and gave you a soothing, warm squeeze. "Eric seems like a good guy, Yn-ie. You never know."

"But you really never know," you murmured. There was a reason why the club discouraged romantic relations between club members and staff. Perhaps this time, it wasn't about work productivity, but about keeping your damn jobs. You needed this job. You needed it so desperately because of the money, the opportunities, the connections. Not to mention all of the people you'd befriended here… it didn't seem right that you were scared of what Eric could do to you, but reality was settling in fast.

The Sohns were a major shareholder in the club, which meant they could pull strings like tying a shoelace.

But Eric is good. He's been good, you reasoned.

Changmin crossed his arms as he leaned back against the wall behind him. "You should talk to him. At the very least, you only went on one date, so it's not like you're completely involved yet."

That was a good point. You were going to run with it.

When Eric invited you over to his house, you should have known you were about to drive your beat up sedan into the driveway of a palace, not a house. A house was for normal people, not whoever the Sohns were, you knew that much. To say you were intimidated by the massive front lawn, iron gates, and limestone arches and columns would be an understatement. Maybe you should have worn something nicer.

You pulled up to the curb of the roundabout—he'd mentioned to you that you could just park there. Apparently the garage was a little inconvenient for guests, but you weren't complaining. The front of the house was a marvel to look at, and wherever that garage was would have left you unable to fully soak in this modern wonder. Plus, you had some time to pull yourself together before seeing Eric.

The plan was… no plan, really. He wanted to hang out with you, and you'd mentioned your love for cooking. Thus, he proposed a miniature cooking class in his kitchen, along with dinner on the patio. It sounded nice. It also sounded great when you remembered what you needed to talk to him about. (Yay.)

It's not a big deal. Eric's cool.

You finally managed to trek your way up to the front door and you booped the doorbell. It was one of those loud bells that must have echoed throughout the house, because you could clearly hear it from the outside.

A couple minutes later, you heard the locking mechanism come undone. The door opened after; you swore that every time you saw this guy, you became speechless.

You had seen him in a dress shirt before, but this tank top and over-shirt thing was new. It was casual and comfortable, yet chic. His hair was styled in the same manner his clothing was—simple and so attractive. A silver chain and matching silver rings added the subtle touch of elegance to pull everything together.

"Hi," he grinned—he was always smiling, you realized. It was such a pretty smile. He stepped aside and gave you room in the doorway. "Come on in, cutie."

"Thanks for having me over," you said pleasantly, trying not to openly gawk at the front foyer with the sky-high ceiling, chandelier dripping with crystals, and grand staircase wrapping around the walls up to the indoor balcony.

He closed the door behind you as you deposited your shoes by the small rack. Eric wrapped a loose arm around your shoulder to guide you through the foyer. "Of course! I'm so excited you're here; I went out—actually no, I…" he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "ordered it off that grocery app. I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking for."

"Grocery app?" You laughed. "Are you talking about the stuff for dinner?"

"Yeah!"

The two of you entered the kitchen. It was a wide, open space that flowed straight into the living room. The cabinets were smooth and snow white, accented with countertops marbled with black and hints of gold. Though clean, it was a space well-loved with a recipe book left open to a lobster risotto; little candies left in a jar on the island labeled with chalk; barstools that weren't quite aligned, like they'd actually been sat on. The living room, too, was beautiful. Massive, but beautiful, with a wraparound couch sectional and a flat screen with family photos hung above it. It was framed by shelves filled to the brim with CD and DVD cases, more family photos, books, and little baubles.

And the lighting. Oh man, the natural lighting from the windows making up the entire back wall… it led out onto the acres of land his family owned, as well as a patio that overlooked the valley.

Eric had mentioned dinner on the patio. If your math was right, that meant you would probably be dining at sunset, all while overlooking a splendid view—how romantic. God, you hated how giddy you were starting to get. Those butterflies in your stomach would not cease.

"You have a really, really beautiful home," you murmured, letting him take your bag from you to place on one of the barstools.

You had always thought that big houses like this would be so difficult to fill. What was one supposed to do with so much space anyway? From the pictures on the wall, you could see Eric's parents, himself, as well as a sister who must have been out making her own mark on the world in that special Sohn kind of way. Even with just four people in this place… they still managed to make it feel like a home and not a house. It was like your own house back in your hometown, across the country. It was lived-in and warm and yours, and that was the beauty of it. And you were certain by just looking at this place that the Sohns were a family who loved each other.

How could you not believe in Eric? Not with all of this to vouch for him? He had grown up loved.

"Thank you," he said. "It's one of my favorite places to be. That's why I still haunt it like a ghost," he joked. He placed a warm hand on the small of your back and led you over to the fridge where he had put all of the grocery delivery bags in. Even the fridge was relatively stocked. "Not sure if everything I got was right, but hopefully it'll all turn out delicious anyway."

You helped him unload the bags onto the kitchen island, raising a brow at the labels on the groceries. They were on the higher end of price and quality, which definitely wasn't a problem, but holding a hundred dollar bottle of red wine just for sauce was making your anxiety levels spike. "Oh, no. It all looks great, Eric. Thanks for getting these, by the way. I would have gone out and brought them here, but—"

He waved away your worries. "You're busy and you're working. Plus, it lets me technically pay for dinner," he said with a cheeky look on his face and gesturing with a finger gun. It was cute. He was cute.

"Smooth, Sohn. I see you."

"That's what they called me in high school," he played along, dancing on his toes behind you to fiddle with his phone and turn on a speaker somewhere (you didn't know where). "Smooth Sohn."

You snorted, slapping a hand over your mouth. Eric's eyes glittered with a mutual mirth. "Whatever you say, honey."

He waltzed back over to you, tongue in cheek. "I like that better though—honey." He leaned back against the counter next to you and watched as you sorted out the ingredients in different piles depending on how they should be prepped. "So what's the plan, chef? You're the boss."

"I'd love to know where your knives and cutting boards are," you said.

He leapt into action. "Say no more!"

In reality, you did have to say more. It wasn't that Eric didn't know where everything was in the kitchen, he just wasn't as well versed in using the kitchen. He'd told you while teaching him how to hold a knife properly that he really only came in here for ramen. Good news was he could crack an egg with one hand; bad news was that was about all he could do. It was still charming, nonetheless. And the cute cooking lesson gave him plenty of opportunity to get close to you.

He had even insisted on you teaching him how to chop carrots like how he had taught you how to swing a golf club—over and around him—with your hands over his and your body wrapped around his, your chin on his shoulder.

But with dinner well past done, the two of you made your way out onto the patio just as the sun was sinking into the embrace of the valley below. It melted into the sky like a broken yolk, saturated and golden. He let you have the seat staring out into the valley. The way he looked at you though, made you feel like you were his million dollar valley view.

The table was set with twin glasses of red wine (amazing what a good wine paired with beef stew could do for the soul), plates separated by a hot stew pot, and a couple of candles for ambiance.

"Wow," he moaned as the beef melted on his tongue. "This is so good. And you're telling me you're pretty, smart, and can cook?"

You held back a giggle so you could swallow your bite. "And I'm single," you jested.

"And you're single!" He leaned his head back, eyes closed. "Thank god for that."

Eric leaned his cheek on his fist, his head cocked slightly and his eyes on you with a swoon-worthy admiration. "Thanks for coming out tonight and hanging out with me."

You could kiss him. "Please, I should be the one thanking you. It's been really fun hanging out with you." It was surreal, actually. The fact that this young heir had deemed you "worthy" or whatever to court and entertain—it wasn't like you defined your self worth by his attention and affection, but this felt nice. Your conversation with Changmin and Chanhee the other day came to the forefront of your mind.

"I, uhm, think this is a good time to ask if you wanted to do this more often? Hanging out with me, I mean."

You weren't sure if this was what you thought he was asking you. He reached for his wine glass, and in the fading sunlight and the candlelight illuminating the bashful expression on his face, your heart pounded.

"What I mean to say," he tried again after a small sip of wine, "is would you be my—"

"I think we should talk!" You cut in before you heard anymore. You were getting jittery, unable to figure out when was the right time to bring up the thing, but also, you wanted him to say his thing, and it was just a mess. But when you saw Eric's wide eyes, mouth zipped up, you repeated in a much calmer tone, "I think we should talk about something. It's not… it's not super serious or anything. I could just be overthinking."

Oh, you felt bad. He looked like a kicked puppy, but you saw him pull himself together for you. "It's—you're probably not overthinking, Yn. What's on your mind?"

The wine glass was put down. He even put his fork down.

Were you making a big deal out of this? Probably not, right? This was important, you reminded yourself. You pursed your lips. "So one of my coworkers—former coworkers," you amended, "Clara. Her name's Clara. She and this guy you might know, Brian Yang…"

He nodded. "Yeah, I know of him."

"Well, they kind of had this thing going on between them. And the other day, she was fired because they broke up and he thought it was too weird that she was working where he was hanging out all the time," you rambled on. "And I uhm, I just wanted to make sure from the get-go that… you know… it's stupid, I don't know. But it's my job, y'know? And—and I need this job, but I like you a lot, Eric. Am I making any sense?"

Neither of you were eating anymore.

You looked at him, hopelessly, searching for signs of understanding.

He leaned in slightly and reached for your hands over the table. "Yn, sweetheart," he said, lacing his fingers with yours over the pot of beef stew, "that is a valid point to bring up, and I can understand what you're probably thinking. That—that news must have been scary, or at least nerve-racking, and Brian's a dick for that—"

You nodded, swallowing.

"—and I don't want you to risk your job because of me," he said earnestly. "But I really want to see where this goes, you know? If anything happens and you don't feel the same way, then no harm, no foul. I'm not gonna take my emotions out on you like that asshole; that's not right."

The breath you had been holding in fell from your mouth, a wave of relief. A sappy, grateful sort of smile worked its way onto your mouth and you met Eric's own kind expression. "You are actually perfect," you let out a breathy laugh. "Where have you been all my life?"

He grinned. "Funny, that's what I've been thinking about you." Eric set your laced hands on the side of the table as he raised his glass to you. "So what do you say? Can we try this?"

You lifted your glass to gently clink it with his. "Let's do it."

"So he's perfect, but he hasn't kissed you yet?" Chanhee's gasp of incredulity hit you in a gust of air. His lips pursed like a penguin's beak. "Figures."

You sent him a look. "Oh, please. Figures what? He's just being… I dunno, chivalrous!"

"Chivalry is dead," Haknyeon snickered as he waltzed by you with fresh towels to lay out by the pool. "You should make the move, Yn."

"So you two are, like, dating now?" Asked Changmin as he hopped onto the tiki bar stool next to you and Chanhee. He kept on glancing down at his watch; he must have only a small break in between his dance classes today.

"They're 'seeing where things go,'" mocked Jacob with a shake of his head. He swirled a rag around the innards of a glass to dry it.

You sent them all dirty looks now. "Cobie, out of all the times you choose to be an imp—"

"An imp," Chanhee muttered, glancing away as he took a sip of his piña colada, "I'm dead."

"If it makes you feel better, Yn, I'm supervising a tennis match with him and the Lee cousins later today. I can get a feel of where his mind's at," Jacob offered.

You drummed your fingers against the bar. The offer was tempting… "It's fine," you insisted. "We don't have to rush things. We go to the same university and we live in the same city now. It's not like we don't have time… right?"

"Riiiight," Changmin drawled with an over exaggerated wink. He frowned at his watch, hopping off his stool. "Damn it, salsa class time. Catch you losers later!"

As he darted off into the distance, Chanhee sniffed. "Says the loser." He plucked the pink umbrella out of his drink and set the decoration down on his napkin. "You're not wrong, Yn-ie. Taking it slow isn't a bad thing. From what you told us, it seems like you're both on the same page now anyway."

"Thank you," you said.

"Maybe he's trying to plan a romantic moment." Haknyeon rejoined the conversation now that he had done his towel delivery.

Jacob nodded with an approving turn of his lips. "You might be onto something. He seems the type."

Your heart was fluttering as if it sprouted butterfly wings. Oh, the thought of kissing Eric Sohn in romantic lighting…

"I think you should take her back to her job before she drifts fully into La La Land." When you snapped back to reality, Jacob's eyes were twinkling, eyebrows wagging.

Haknyeon nudged you with the back of his hand and nodded up to the clubhouse. "C'mon, Yn-ie. I think Manager Kim wants to brief us on dinner service anyway."

Hours later, Jacob found himself on the tennis courts, overseeing a match between the three Lee cousins—Sangyeon, Hyunjae, and Juyeon—and Eric. He often thought it was luck that got him to land this job where all he did to pass the day was make drinks, drive golf carts, and occasionally play doubles with club members. For all that it was, he considered himself very content.

"—that was a foul," Jacob declared, jogging to go catch the tennis ball before it bounded into the bushes.

Hyunjae let out a groan. "Nooo! It hit the line. Jacob, please, I thought we were cool!"

Sangyeon shook his head, smiling as he caught the tennis ball from Jacob with his free hand. "Hyunjae, we all know your eyesight is shit."

Hyunjae wrinkled his nose. "Hey! No one asked."

"Can we take a break?" Juyeon asked, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "I think I need some water."

The boys all murmured their agreement, and Jacob reached down into the mini cooler he'd lugged out to toss them ice cold bottles of water. It was just one of the few perks that came with the club membership.

While Sangyeon and Hyunjae were bickering about eyesight and foul lines, Juyeon settled into a seat by them to referee. Eric sidled up next to Jacob as they both absentmindedly watched the chaos unfold from afar.

Jacob whistled. "So… Yn said she had a really good time with you the other night."

Eric perked up at the sound of your name. "She did? Well that's a relief to hear."

"It wasn't clear?" Jacob asked, face tilted in question. "I mean, not to completely expose her or anything, but she's been gushing about you all day, man."

A giddy smile took over the youngest Sohn's face. "She was?" He licked his lips, drawing the pad of his thumb over the corner of his mouth to catch the water that had dribbled from the bottle. "She's—she's so cute, hyung. Like, I don't know if this is weird for you because you're friends—"

Jacob coughed in amusement. "It's fine. Think of me as your guardian angel."

"Right," Eric piped up. "I think… I think we really hit it off, y'know? And I mean, she probably told you we just kind of had dinner and she had to leave, but she'd come after work, so she was probably tired and—"

Ohhh. Jacob understood exactly what was going on now. His heart warmed at the thought that Eric was being so considerate and not forcing you to stay. He was thinking about your long day, and didn't wish to prolong it anymore. Little did he know, you probably wouldn't have minded hanging around a tad longer.

"—I wanted to kiss her—"

Wait huh. Jacob tuned back in. "When?"

Eric blinked. "Uhm, at dinner. Or at least, when I was walking her out to her car." He glanced away and his smile softened at the thought. "I wish I had, actually. The moment was right there, and the lighting was perfect, and her smile—oh my god, her smile."

Jacob's eyebrows flew up to his hairline. So this was where Eric's mind was at; good to know. "Then do it—kiss her."

"Right now?"

"No! Not right now—"

"Hey, you guys ready to play again?" Juyeon called. The three Lees had already maneuvered themselves back to court.

Eric and Jacob exchanged glances. This conversation wasn't over, Jacob's look seemed to say.

They nodded to their companions, though. "Yeah, we're ready."

It did not come as a surprise to you when you found out Eric had a home theater in his basement. It was something like you'd pictured from the movies, the ones with the rows of dark leather armchairs, deep cup holders, and a giant screen and surround sound system. The foot of the theater room even had a little snack station to make popcorn, and a mini fridge stocked with drinks.

You and Eric shared the couch on the bottom floor that was big enough for the two of you. It was a random Tuesday, and you didn't have work today, so he'd suggested swinging by and hanging out with him for the day. You couldn't possibly refuse.

Eric scrolled through the movie options on the screen with the remote. "Are you sure you don't want any popcorn?" He asked you.

You shook your head. "I'm good, really. But it sounds like you want popcorn, Eric."

He caught his tongue in his smile. "Maybe."

If you weren't supposed to be watching a movie, you would have gladly curled up on that couch and stared at him for the rest of time. His jawline was enough to make a girl go mad, and the fact that he was just so sweet, too—

"How about this one?"

You snapped out of it, barely flicking your gaze back over to the screen in time to avoid him finding out that you were just blatantly staring. "Uhh, sure. I haven't seen this one, actually."

"Really? Oh my god, we have to watch it then." And so you did.

It was about halfway into the movie that you realized there was a draft coming down on you—the air conditioning in this room was awfully high, but you didn't want to say anything. You hiked your legs up onto the couch and hugged your arms, leaning back slightly against the quilt draped over the back of the couch. (How conveniently placed…)

Eric saw your movement from the corner of his eye. "You cold? We can share the blanket."

"My hero," you joked as he removed the quilt from behind your heads and draped it over your laps.

Because the article wasn't exactly miles long, you and Eric had to shift over closer to each other. Not that you were complaining. The arm and leg pressed against yours were warm, and it gave him the perfect opportunity to raise his arm and place it over the back of the couch behind you.

As you both watched the rest of the movie, you gradually let yourself lean into him, and his arm eventually fell to rest directly around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

"I always liked the ending of this movie," Eric murmured softly to you as the credits rolled. He brushed his fingers along your arm in a warm, soothing manner. "What'd you think?"

You stayed with your head tucked onto his shoulder. "Hmm, not bad. I think they could have cut the romance though."

"Ah, I see your point," he said. "Sometimes directors just like to force it for the sake of a subplot."

"Wholeheartedly agree."

His fingers danced up to your shoulder and began playing with your hair. He pursed his lips. "Are you a fan of romance movies? That's kind of a random question, I guess."

"Not really—a random question, I mean," you said, and pulled your head off of his shoulder to face him. The thought occurred to you of how close your bodies and your faces were, sharing warmth and skin. You saw his eyes dart down away from yours for a split second. "I like romance movies. I think they restore my faith in humanity," you mused. "You?"

"I like 'em, too." He released a small exhale, an almost-shy smile etching itself onto his face. "Most of them are just… feel-good movies. They're really sweet, and I've always kind of wanted something like that."

"High standards," you whispered, though playfully. "Wouldn't we all like something from the movies?" To you, this was what the movies were like—"handsome guy sweeps girl off her feet, and he's perfect and she's happy." You were already living out your too-good-to-be-true dreams.

He laughed. "True. I think it's just a matter of waiting for the right person to come along, maybe. And following through."

You bit the bait. "Following through?"

"Backing up your initial swing," he clarified. "Something to drive the ball home and make sure you mean it. I feel like maybe that's what people forget about romance—that there's still an after, beyond happily ever after."

Wow. "Your brain," you praised. "That was actual poetry, I think. Is this how you get girls?"

He bit his lip through a smile, leaning closer. "Only one girl. I hope it's working."

"I think it's working a little too well," you admitted, voice barely audible now.

You could feel the warmth of his breath fan over your lips as he came closer, about ninety-percent of the way; the other ten percent was left for you to either push forward or pull back. He was giving you the decision on a gold platter.

And who could deny something served so beautifully?

You closed the gap between you and pressed your lips against his. It was soft, at first, as the nerves in your brain and your vital organs threatened to go haywire. You breathed him in, your noses slotting against each other. He cupped the back of your head with his free hand, the other curling around your waist.

When you broke apart, it was for a split second, until he was kissing you again. You were half in his lap at this point, your legs draped over his, your side pressed to his chest.

Foreheads pressed together, you shared a breath of air with him. He nuzzled his nose against you as if unable to be so far from you. "Be mine," he said, simple at first. Then, "Please."

You smiled against him and felt his mouth do the same. "Only if you'll be mine, too."

"As if I would say no," he laughed, leaning in again, and crushing his mouth to yours. The theater room filled with both of your giggles as you fell backward.

If this was the happily ever after, then you would gladly follow through.

a/n: to anyone who read flight risk, i just redeemed myself from valentine's day

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @kflixnet

#kflixnet #bjnet #deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #eric sohn x reader #sohn youngjae x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz oneshot #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #eric sohn drabbles #eric sohn oneshots #eric sohn imagines #eric sohn scenarios #eric sohn fluff #the boyz fanfic #dbn: summer on you

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 4 months ago

Text

half past five high - prologue: when we met in venice (part 1)

pairing: photographer!Joshua x influencer fem!reader

genre: comedy, drama, fluff, strangers to enemies to ????

warnings: alcohol and food consumption, cursing, drama, minor violence and involvement of the police

word count: 2.9k

summary: in the world of fashion, social media and influence, you're one of the game changers. But you never knew that a smaller player in the form of a freelance photographer would be able to change you.

Author's note: hello I am indeed alive and so is this series!! this is also part of the SVTHUB World Tour collab hosted by @svthub!

p.s.1: in case you wonder why the teaser part isn't included in this fic.... it's because I split it in half heheheheh

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2024. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

Fashion Week. Probably one of the most exciting weeks in your life, even more than Christmas.

A week full of runway shows and models dressed in extravagant outfits, interviews with designers from all over the world and huge chances of expanding your network all over the world.

Every single year, you’ve never failed to attend the shows, no matter the city it takes place in and this year is no exception.

Your recent collaboration with Prada landed you an illustrious invitation to the front rows of their fashion show and you would never miss the chance to visit Venice, given the fact it has been on your travel bucket list for ages.

And here you are, on the grand night, sitting on the front row with Liz, your trusty helper, amongst other celebrities with names brighter than diamonds. Under other circumstances, you would have felt at least intimidated, but knowing that some of these celebrities follow you on social media is a huge ego boost for you.

The show begins and you fall silent, your eyes watching the stunning yet stoic looking models parade on the catwalk, each one of them dressed with the latest designs. You can hear faint whispers from all around you, probably discussing (or criticizing) about the clothes.

Fucking stuck up idiots, you think. A bit ironic, but it doesn’t stop you from making this thought.

Nevertheless, you decide to stop bothering with the rest of the guests and focus your sights on the runway, keeping mental notes of the sleek designs, occasionally whipping out your phone to keep photos and videos of the event.

A few hours later, you enjoy a glass of pink champagne, casually walking through the halls of Centro Congressi of San Servolo. Your ears catch conversations made in multiple languages, Italian being the dominant one - you are in Italy, after all.

“I know we’ve been in fashion shows before, but something about Venice feels so….classy.” Liz looks around the hall with curious eyes.

“Keep your eyes peeled, darling, it will be a great chance for you to learn even more.” You send her a wink.

“Y-Yes, of course, Miss!”

“Jesus Christ, you can just call me by my name, it’s not like we’re that apart in terms of age!”

“I- No, I never even thought of that!” The blond girl gestures apologetically, “It’s purely out of respect and courtesy.”

“How did I get so lucky with you?” You pat her head gently, still holding your glass in your hand, “Don’t worry too much though - You can always help yourself to a glass of champagne.”

Liz gives you a hearty smile, but that smile turns into a scared expression as you’re about to turn around to walk away, not noticing the incoming man behind you.

“Miss Y/N, watch out-”

You let out a scream in the middle of the hall, as you bump into the unknown man and his glass of champagne crashes and spills all over your Prada outfit, drenching the expensive fabrics.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry-” The man apologizes honestly, “Wait, let me help-”

“Don’t you fucking dare, you asshole!” You snap at him, “Are you even aware of how expensive my outfit is?!”

“I do, that’s why I wish to help!”

“Yeah, I can see how much you’re helping right now!”

“Miss Y/N, please, let’s not cause a scene!” Liz begs you to stop yelling, as she tries to calm you down.

“Maybe you should listen to your friend,” he comments, “She’s clearly more composed than you.”

“What did you say?” You narrow your eyes at the infuriatingly handsome man.

“Miss Y/N, let’s just g-”

With a swift motion, you splash your remaining champagne over his face and throw the glass on the marbled ground, the loud noise making more heads turn towards you.

“If you knew where the fuck you were going, none of this would have happened, asshole!” You turn on your heel angrily and Liz follows right behind, bowing repeatedly, as a form of apology.

The young man stands in the middle of the hall like a frozen pole, unable to form a sentence. He takes a few looks around and notices lots of other guests looking at him with mockery and disdain written all over their faces. He’s certain that the whole incident will make the tour of the online world until the end of the night and the tour of the TV morning gossip shows until the next day arrives.

A waiter approaches the man and wordlessly hands him a cotton napkin, the latter accepting it with a nod of his head to clean whatever he could from his ruined outfit.

"Anything else I can do to help you, sir?"

"Nothing, I'm afraid," He sighs in defeat, "but thank you nonetheless."

The next morning finds you in your hotel room, angrily watching the news tabloids about the champagne incident with two eye patches on your under eye area and a pitch black coffee in your hand.

"Preposterous. Utterly preposterous!" You close the TV and throw the remote controller on the bed.

"Miss Y/N, I'm really sorry for what happened," Liz hangs her head in shame, "If only I had noticed him coming towards you sooner-"

"If you feel so bad for everything that happened last night and you want to prove that you're not useless, find me that man's info!"

“I already did that last night, Miss.”

“Then why didn’t you say so?!”

“You were asleep, Miss!” Liz defends herself. “It's rude to wake up someone in the middle of their sleep.”

“What’s the point of not ruining my sleep, if my career is falling apart within mere moments?!” You yell at her.

“I’m sorry! I’m just trying my best to support you, but yelling at me won’t help at all!” Liz retaliates and you nearly gasp from her newfound resolve.

You let out a deep sigh and sit on the bed, crossing your legs.

“You’re right. You’re actually the only person that has done nothing wrong.” You rub your temples with your fingers. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay, I understand your frustration.” Liz responds with a small smile, “If you still want to discuss about that gentleman’s info-”

“Gentleman?! He ruined my clothes!”

“I know! But he still tried to help-”

“Just give me his info, Liz.”

She hands over her tablet to you and your fingers start swiping on the screen, browsing through the notes Liz has kept.

“Joshua Hong, freelance photographer? Eh, I expected more.” You grimace in disappointment.

“I think he’s very talented. He’s definitely not as pompous as other photographers who have made a name for themselves.”

“Whose side are you on again?”

“Yours! I’m just….sharing my first impression of him…”

“You find him charming, don’t you?” You raise your eyebrow at her.

“But he is!”

You stare at the tablet screen, your eyes fixated on the profile picture of his Instagram account.

His facial features are so balanced and his skin is so perfect and you know it's not a filtered photo - with your experience, you know when a photo on social media is filtered, and this one is very much real.

“Yeah. In a very infuriating way.”

"Did he really bother you that much?"

"Well duh!"

"It was still an accident-"

"That made me the center of all social media gossip and drama!"

You pause right after finishing your sentence, the gears in your head spinning faster than the wheels of a Ferrari.

"Um, Miss Y/N?"

"Liz, I will need your help."

"Of course, but what for?"

A Cheshire cat grin spreads on your lips.

"Why, addressing the situation of course."

"You plan on releasing a statement?"

"Of course. Can't let the whole drama unattended, right?" You take a sip from your coffee.

"Miss, are you sure about this?"

"One hundred percent. I promise, it won't take more than ten minutes. Then we can go get a proper breakfast by the pool."

“Seriously, she just dropped a whole glass on you because you accidentally dropped a glass on her?”

“Crazy, I know,” Joshua sighs, “and because of that, my face is all over the paparazzi news!”

“At least you’re looking good in front of the camera!”

“Cheol, can you please be serious about this? My career is hanging by a thread!”

“It was just a petty dispute, people will forget about it in a few days,” Seungcheol replies calmly, “You just got a champagne bath, you weren’t caught by the police for drug trafficking.”

“Well, if you put it that way, it doesn’t sound as bad.”

“See? You just need to be chill about it. It’s not the end of the world.”

“But still, she sounded so fucking entitled, like?”

“Well, she’s a top class influencer, what did you expect?”

“She’s a what now?”

“Really now, Josh?” Seungcheol sighs in disappointment.

"I'm a photographer, not someone who sells fairytales and Pinterest-related stuff on social media." Joshua scoffs.

"It still doesn't change the fact that you live under a rock."

"I was literally invited to Fashion Week, fuck you Cheol."

"Either way, I suggest you look into her social media, just to be prepared."

"Fine, whatever - Wait, prepared for what?"

"For any possible scenario!"

"You said that it wasn't something serious not too long ago!"

"I did. But it's always wise to have a backup plan in case things go south."

"That last bit felt really ominous…."

"You can always not pay attention to me!"

"Don't you have a job to do?"

"I am my own boss, in case you're forgetting." Seungcheol snickers.

"You remind me with every chance you get…" Joshua groans.

"I love you too, Josh. Gotta go now, buddy, it was nice talking to you."

"Good luck out there, Cheol."

"Could say the same for ya."

Joshua ends the call and drops his phone on the mattress, deciding to get dressed and visit the hotel restaurant for some brunch.

His phone rings again, but it's multiple notifications this time.

"Someone's impatient…" He mutters to himself as he picks up his phone again.

seungcheol: I fear I might have jinxed your downfall

seungcheol: please stay calm while you're reading the next screenshot

seungcheol has sent a photo.

Joshua opens the photo and carefully reads the white text on the black background, the blood in his body steadily rushing to his head.

Hello, this is Y/N. I am writing this post to address the situation that occured last night in San Servolo.

First of all, I am deeply sorry for the trouble I caused to the rest of the guests and the organizers of the event, as it does not reflect the person I truly am. However, I must say that major damages occurred due to mister Joshua Hong's carelessness, since the outfit I donned was custom made by the house of Prada.

I am willing to put this unfortunate incident to rest, as long as the perpetrator is also willing to compensate for the damages made.

Once again, I am sorry for the trouble I caused.

"What the fuck is this?!" Joshua yells in the middle of his room and rapidly types back to Seungcheol.

joshua: IS SHE FUCKING SERIOUS

joshua: COMPENSATION? SHE DELIBERATELY RUINED MY CLOTHES TOO

seungcheol: josh calm down for Christ's sake

joshua: how am I supposed to calm down after this??

joshua: bitch took her own narrative and ran with it

joshua: bet you this is already circling around the gossip tabloids

seungcheol: do you want me to contact my lawyer and see what we can do?

joshua: no not yet

joshua: desperate times call for desperate measures

seungcheol: joshua please don't

Joshua chooses to ignore his friend's texts and reaches out for the telephone on his nighstand, in order to call the reception.

He knows Prada has reserved rooms for all the ambassadors in this hotel, so you must be staying in the same hotel as him.

"Hotel Baglioni de Luna, how may I help you?"

"Good morning, this is Joshua Hong."

"Oh, hello sir Hong! What can I do for you?"

"If it is possible, could you perhaps tell me if miss…Y/N L/N is present in her room?"

"She called not too long ago to ask about the morning buffet. I supposed she must be taking breakfast."

"Thank you kindly for your help."

"Have a good morning, sir Hong."

Definitely not good, but might as well make it hell for her, Joshua thinks as he ends the call.

He gets up and opens his closet, taking out a pair of jeans and a linen shirt, quickly changing into them. He slips on his shoes and grabs his phone, room key and wallet before he leaves.

"Let's see what you will do now, miss Y/N."

If Satan had an only child, you would probably be the one.

You're happily enjoying your breakfast together with Liz right next to the pool, humming a happy tune as you take a bite from your cookie.

"Is it really possible to be so happy from one person's misery?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, darling." You reply with a smile on your face.

Liz sighs deeply and resumes eating her breakfast.

"There you are, you poisonous bitch!"

The loud voice nearly makes the girl jump from her seat, but you remain unfazed, until Joshua is stomping his way to your table, slamming his phone on the surface.

"What do you think you're doing?" You look at him with narrowed eyes.

"I should be asking you that question!" He shoves the phone in your face with your statement on it, "Compensation? Contacting the company?! Bitch, we're ambassadors of the same brand!"

"Yet you were the first one to ruin my outfit!" You angrily get up from your seat.

"And you were the one who ruined mine on purpose!" Joshua retaliates.

"Both of you, please stop causing a scene again, everyone is looking!" Liz tries to separate the two of you, noticing how everyone is staring at you and Joshua, just like last night.

"Perhaps I should release a statement as well and sue you for defamation - At least I'm kind enough to warn you beforehand." He spits with a venomous tone.

"Oh, because that would be so beneficial to someone who is as insignificant as you. Freelance photographer, my ass. You're just another paparazzi who wants the few minutes of fame!"

Your words make Joshua furious beyond the point of return and he picks up your coffee cup, splashing it all over you in the same manner you threw champagne on him.

"There, now we're even, you dramatic bitch."

"Mister Hong!" Liz yells at him, "What is wrong with you?!"

You grit your teeth and raise your right hand, immediately slapping him across the face with full force, making sure it left a handprint on his face.

"You are the worst person I've ever met in my life!"

"I could say the same about you!"

Your anger consumes you and you physically lunge yourself at him, pulling him by the shirt to tackle him. Unfortunately for you, he's much stronger than you and he manages to retain his balance, giving him an opening to push you against the table and knock over some of the plates.

"You asshole!" You yell and get back on your feet, pushing Joshua away. This time, he actually loses his balance and falls into the pool.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" He yells at you as he tries to get out of the pool.

"You're the one who made me do it in the first place!"

Liz stands at the sidelines, watching the scene unfold with horror and she runs to one of the waiters without hesitation.

"Call the hotel security, or the police! Just call someone, please!"

The waiter nods and rushes to the mini bar, shortly asking the staff to alert the security.

Only a couple of minutes later, two men of the hotel security barge through the glass doors and make their way to the pool, where two more waiters are trying to separate you from Joshua.

"Stop right there!" They yell and apprehend the both of you, waving at the waiters to stand aside.

"Let me go! He's the one who started it!" You yell out loud.

"You can say that to the police when they arrive," the other man informs you, "you've already caused a great deal of discomfort to the rest of the guests and damages to the area."

"But-"

"Oh, just shut up already!" Joshua curses at you again.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion, asshole!"

The security have to forcefully bring you down to the ground level of the hotel, where two police cars are parked outside the entrance.

"One of your staff told us about the situation, that's why we brought two vehicles - we can't suffer damages either." The police officer explains as he handcuffs you and Joshua separately, leading you towards the cars.

"Wait!" Liz runs outside, "Let me go with her!"

"We cannot allow that, Miss. You might be called in later by the officers for a testimony, but that's all you can do."

"Liz!" You shout from inside the car.

"Yes ma'am?!"

"Call my lawyer and tell her everything!"

"Will do!" She shouts back and watches the officers return in the vehicles, taking you and Joshua away.

She looks behind her, multiple guests and hotel staff discussing with disapproval written all over their faces. It's guaranteed that photos and videos will already circulate the Internet and the damage control will be insanely hard to complete.

"Lord give me the strength to pull through this."

#svthub #svthub.collab #joshua fluff #joshua crack #svt joshua #joshua hong #svt fluff #svt crack #seventeen fluff #seventeen crack #seventeen #hpfh #tw alcohol #tw food #tw violence

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piastrisversion · 1 month ago

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straight from the tortured poets department || matty healy x gn!reader

genre: slight angst+slight smut || word count:

warnings: mentions of a daddy kink and unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), also mentions of sh, first paragraph is delusion city....

authors note: the rat has crawled his way back into my mind so ur favorite matty healy x gender neutral fanfic writer is back and better than ever!! the story begins after the cut off so click it and ENJOYYY!!

Christmas, 2022. It was hard to go on social media without seeing Matthew Healy. The new album, the tour, the songs probably written about you (the word "probably" in this scenario meaning "of course they are, why wouldn't they be"). The edits on TikTok didn't help you to forget and/or move on from him. The sad part was you tried to move on. All the therapy sessions in the world couldn't stop you from telling all your friends you loved him still.

Matty Healy (@trumanblack) liked your story.

8:30 pm on Christmas-motherfucking-Day. Obviously you're not complaining, you wanted him back. But the fact he took the time to search your account on Instagram and click your story and like it. He wanted to show that he cared, at least that's what you thought. But Matty is a smart man. He knew you would bend at the idea of him coming back. He knew you saw all the edits, tweets, so on and so forth. But no, you thought, you won't give him the pleasure of sliding into his DMs like you so desperately wanted to do moments before the notification shot through. But that didn't happen.

Two hours later, you found yourself knocking on that bastard's hotel room door. He ended up sliding into your DMs, almost begging you to see him on Christmas. Matty may have been smart but before all that he was pathetic. He admits to that. He likes to be called a good boy after a being on stage for fucking hours, his aching cock in your hole doing nothing but just sitting in there, warming it up. He's a self aware man and you two accept that. You beg that he isn't just wanting you here to fuck you but in the back of your mind you not just want it, you need it.

Sheepishly, he opens the door.

"Didn't think you'd actually come" he coos

"Why's that?" you answer back softly

"Left me on read."

You chuckle as you enter the room. He's wearing a half-buttoned dress shirt and dress pants, both wrinkled. The room smells of Glossier Body Hero body wash and Matty's way-too-expensive cologne, which most likely costs more than your rent that month. The room is clean, classy yet still messy in Matty fashion. He stands behind you as your eyes wander around the room. He almost looks at you in wonder before he reluctantly breaks the silence.

"I got ya somethin'"

You hum out as he shuffles into the bedroom, bringing out a medium sized gift-wrapped box after a moment or two.

"You left this in Manchester." he says in an almost cocky yet still vulnerable way.

You look almost confused as you sit on the couch nearby, setting the present down before tearing into the gift wrap. After tearing through half a meter of wrapping paper and a half hazardly taped Amazon box, you find the typewriter you kept in his flat. The one that was used to write the mountains of poems and stories you wrote for him. The same ones your friends wanted you to burn but you couldn't. You would protest that it was "your art", to be subtracted from the context it existed in. But that wouldn't be possible.

"H...how long have you been waiting to give this to me?"

You look up at him like a lost, confused puppy dog.

"Matty...matty i-"

"Hm?" he interrupts

"...Is this all?"

"...Also wanted to talk to ya"

"About?"

"Christ, take a guess, darlin'" he says sharply

You look away from him and back at the typewriter. The worn out "M" and "H" letters. You smile to yourself before looking back up at him.

"What about it? Heard your thoughts on that album of yours" you say mocking him to an extent.

"Still as hostile as ever" he says under his breath.

"Oh, I'm the hostile one?"

"Well yeah-"

"How am I hostile...tell me" you interrupt.

He looks away, thinking of a response before looking back into your eyes. He plops down on the couch next to you, turning his head towards you before plopping his head on your lap. You sigh before you running your hands through his soft black curls. The room turns silent as the tension between the two of you turns comfortable as he nuzzles into your lap.

"Jus' miss ya...is all, I guess" he coos out, "Sorry if you got harassed or somethin'... didn't mean to start anything".

"I'm an adult, I'll be fine if some teenagers on the Internet tell me to slit my wrists, Matthew"

He somberly chuckles at your joke before going silent. He did miss you but he never viewed you two as exclusive. He thought it was just a lovebombing filled fling, something to take his and your mind off of the bullshit in your lives. But to you, due to the lovebombing on his side, you thought it was forever. You told your friends, your mom, everybody you could that he was the one. So when he ghosted you after months of obsessing over one another, it shook you. The album didn't help either but you didn't wanna tell him that. Not at this moment anyway. He moves his body to look up at you in the cutest most Matty way possible.

"My baby..." he sighs out as his eyes flutter shut.

You chuckle, "Hm?".

"I wan' to kiss my baby" he mumbles out.

You sigh. "Shut up, Matty...don't make this worse for us"

He gets up from your lap, looking at you in your eyes before softly pressing his lips against yours as his hand snakes up your jawline. Your hand, almost in muscle memory, goes under the hem of his dress shirt, holding his warm tattooed skin.

"Is this what you want?" he moans between kisses

You nod. If anything, this was what you needed.

#the 1975 #matty healy x reader #matty healy #x gn reader #matty x reader #angst #the 1975 smut #smut #matty healy smut #this is kinda half assed but idgaf tbh #tell me if you want a part 2 #the tortured poets department #ttpd #ts ttpd

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poppletonink · 3 months ago

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FILM REVIEW: Roman Holiday

★★★★★ - 5 stars

"What the world needs is a return to sweetness and decency."

During her grand tour of Europe, an adventurous, young princess escapes into Rome during the middle of the night. While she explores the city, she falls in love with an American journalist.

Roman Holiday is a light-hearted, adorable romance with a bittersweet ending. It takes the viewers by the hand and guides them down the streets of an ancient and tremendously cultural city. Be prepared to consult TripAdvisor, because, after an hour and fifty-eight minutes of watching Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck's dazzling love affair, you will most certainly feel the need to travel. The film encapsulates the beauty of Rome through a classy and glamorous lens - black and white in colour and yet brimming with emotion. It shows the human desire for thrilling escapades and freedom from the constraints imposed upon us - be it through work, school or, as in the film, our living situation. Regardless of whether riding on a motorbike, daring fate at the La Bocca della Verità and eating gelato in Rome is your idea of freedom, these actions incite a hunger for adventure within viewers.

This cult classic film plays with many tropes including, but not limited to, 'the important haircut', 'the bet', and 'the rebellious princess'. While many tropes are used to fuel the drama and plot of the film, others add to its cathartic and fun nature. The most notable use of a trivial trope is when Princess Ann has her hair cut into a pixie cut - though an act of rebellion and freedom, it shows spontaneity and relatability in her character, making Roman Holiday even more entertaining to watch.

Having defined the very nature of the genre over the past seven decades, Roman Holiday is a must-watch romantic comedy and perfect for a vintage film binge.

#roman holiday #film and tv #film review #old hollywood #vintage films #audrey hepburn #gregory peck #classic films #classic movies #old movies #classic hollywood #citizenscreen #film blog #film and television #romantic comedy #rome

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brian-in-finance · 7 months ago

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Classy lass

Caitríona Balfe attends Harrods Iconic Dining Hall relaunch hosted by Stanley Tucci on October 5, 2023 in London (Image: Dave Benett/Getty Images for Harrods)

All the best Caitríona Balfe photos from her recent appearances at stylish events and on the red carpet

The Outlander actress and former model always looks amazing and she's a regular on the high-society scene in London, Paris and New York

Fans are currently in the midst of another 'Droughtlander' with the second half of season 7 not due to hit our screens until November.

In the meantime, however, at least we are getting to see plenty of Claire Fraser – also known as Irish actress Caitríona Balfe – as she tours the world attending glamorous and glitzy events.

The former model, 44, is often seen with famous faces such as Stella McCartney or Carey Mulligan... and of course, her Scots co-star Sam Heughan, who plays on-screen hubby Jamie Fraser. Here's a selection of the best images from the past 12 months:

Ladies who lunch

(L to R) Caitríona Balfe, Micaela Marconi and Carey Mulligan attend a special lunch to celebrate "Maestro", hosted by Charles Finch, at Maison Assouline on December 1, 2023 in London (Image: Dave Benett/Getty Images for Netflix)

It’s all a blur

Caitríona Balfe attends the LOEWE FOUNDATION Studio Voltaire Award 2023 on October 10, 2023 in London (Image: Dave Benett/Getty Images for LOEWE)

With the REAL husband (emphasis not Brian’s)

Caitríona Balfe and her husband Tony McGill attend the UK Special Screening after party for "Leave The World Behind" at Kettners on November 29, 2023 in London (Image: Dave Benett/WireImage)

Razzmatazz

Caitríona Balfe attends the Charles Finch & CHANEL 2024 Pre-BAFTA Party at 5 Hertford Street on February 17, 2024 in London (Image: John Phillips/Getty Images)

Polka party

Caitríona Balfe attends the launch of Manzi's Soho, in partnership with Choose Love, on July 6, 2023 in London (Image: Dave Benett/Getty Images for The Wolseley Hospitality Group)

A night at the theatre

(L to R) Caitríona Balfe, Gloria Obianyo, Tobias Menzies and Sophie Okonedo attend the press night after party for "Portia Coghlan" at The Almeida Theatre on October 17, 2023 in London (Image: Hoda Davaine/Dave Benett/Getty Images)

Vive la France!

Delphine Arnault and Caitríona Balfe at Loewe Ready To Wear Spring 2024 held at Esplanade Saint Louis on September 29, 2023 in Paris, France (Image: Swan Gallet/WWD via Getty Images)

A night on the town

Caitríona Balfe attends the private view of "Gabrielle Chanel. Fashion Manifesto" at The V&A on September 13, 2023 in London (Image: Mike Marsland/WireImage)

Cait and Stella

Caitríona Balfe and Stella McCartney attend the NET-A-PORTER x Stella McCartney cocktail party during London Fashion Week to celebrate the Stella McCartney FW23 Runway collection at The Box Soho on September 15, 2023 in London (Image: Dave Benett/Getty Images for NET-A-PORTER)

Here’s where Brian passed his 10-image limit…

With Big Sam 👨🏼👩🏻

Sam Heughan and Caitríona Balfe attend Outlander Season 7 World Premiere At Tribeca Film Festival at OKX Theatre at BMCC Tribeca Performing Arts Center on June 09, 2023 in New York City (Image: Getty Images for STARZ)

New York, New York 👩🏻👨🏻

Caitríona Balfe and Zachary Quinto attend Outlander Season 7 World Premiere At Tribeca Film Festival at Verōnikaon June 09, 2023 in New York City

The famous four 👩🏻👨🏼👩🏼👨🏻

Sam Heughan, Caitríona Balfe, Sophie Skelton and Richard Rankin attend Outlander Season 7 World Premiere at Tribeca Film Festival in NYC (Image: Getty Images for STARZ)

Check the link for the three missing photos:

Scottish Daily Express

Remember… only six more months of Droughtlander to go… 🙃

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #Fashion #Scottish Daily Express #11 May 2024 #Thanks thetruthwilloutsworld

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illarian-rambling · 3 months ago

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Thanks for the tags @theink-stainedfolk @willtheweaver @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @leahpardo-pa-potato! Everyone and their momma tagged me in this lol

WIP Tour Tag

Welcome to the world of Illaros! Or, more accurately, welcome to the ship pushing the boundaries of its exploration - the grand RS Starbreaker! Come take a trip aboard this top-of-the-line research vessel and witness the wonders of this single-star cosmos. The views are to die for! (And not just because only ghosts can survive in space)

Places I recommend to visit:

The hold of the RS Starbreaker

While not as stunning as some of the other locales, the wooden belly of this refitted schooner is a home away from home. Except, if your home had only the amenities you could scavenge from crates of research materials. Curtains line the space, allowing for private areas, while old crates have been stacked all over the place like miniature castles. Handstitched cushions provide a comfortable place to rest, and soft music can often be heard from someone practicing an instrument. It's the tender underside of a formidable ship, where even a crew of the damned can rest their heads.

Kuli Outpost atop the titan, Dara

Located on the planet of Daramakt, this small city is built into the shaft of a single massive tailfeather of Dara, one of two titanic avian gods that endlessly circle the gas giant planet. The wind from Dara's flight has forced the architecture of Kuli Outpost to adapt. The buildings are sloped to avoid drag, and everything is anchored in case Dara ever banks - an event on the scale of a natural disaster. Every material comes from Dara. The building walls are woven from its feather fibers, ceramics and glassware are made from the shells of insectoid beasts that live alongside the Darains, and their clothing is made from the lichens that grow on their massive living home. The people of Kuli are tough from living in such an environment, however, they know how to party when they can. As a frequent stop for the Flying City, the outpost is full of casinos and malls for the entertainment of travelers. Even so, the most entertainment most foreign folk need is simply the knowledge that they could walk for an entire day and not reach even a sixth of the way down the length of a single one of Dara's feathers.

Unamed ice beach on the planet Jeshan

As the name suggests, this beach has no title, as Jeshan is not inhabited. It used to be, though, which is why there's a beach in the first place. A metal column, perhaps twenty feet in diameter, extends up from the fathomless depths of the water world's ocean. No one knows where it comes from or who made it, but it produces just enough heat to melt the surrounding ice and raise the water temperature to something manageable. It's a little oasis of warmth looking out onto an endless field of shifting ice split occasionally by waves as tall as redwoods. The only clue as to its origin is a bit of incomprehensible writing etched onto the left side. As for the swimming itself, it's not a bad spot. Just don't think about how deep it is.

Who are the tour guides?

Captain Faalgun Falani

You'll find no tour guide more committed to their role than Captain Falani. He has gone over all the interesting facts beforehand and memorized every safety protocol. A bit stuffy, yes, but a responsible and passionate fellow, in his own way. Just keep him away from the casinos on Kuli, and if he asks if you'd like to experience some more adventurous flying, say no. You aren't built for those levels of G-force.

Pashananath

You will easily find a more committed tour guide than Pash. He's got passion, that's for sure. He has a way with words that makes you wonder since when you cared so much about the avian life of Jeshan, and he can work a crowd like a seasoned waiter at a classy restaurant. However, the moment he gets bored, he's gone. Good luck finding your way back to the ship without him. If you ask nicely, he'll probably play his cwyth for you.

Souvenirs! What are they?

A standard-issue Republic military shortsword

No one knows why the Republic decided to pack so many weapons onto the ship for a research mission, but none of the crew knows how to use one, so honestly, they've got swords coming out their ears at this point. Please take one.

A keratin poker chip from Kuli Outpost

As mentioned, this place is known for its gaming houses. All the chips are made from the chiseled feather shaft of Dara, while the cards are processed lichen. Each are painted with purple pigments derived from barbs of the feather.

A mysterious artifact from Jeshan

When an odd metal box covered in chunky buttons and spiral indents washes up during a beach trip on an alien world, you take it with you. It makes a soothing humming when you press the top button, but only when submerged in water.

I'll tag @mk-writes-stuff @somethingclevermahogony @ominous-feychild @cain-e-brookman @urnumber1star and anyone else who wants to play :)

#writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs #wip tour tag

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bullet-prooflove · 1 month ago

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Out of sheer curiosity, how do you imagine Ro and Pride spending Halloween? How about the days leading up to it?

Halloween is a massive thing for the both of them. Ro is from Georgia and they do Halloween the same way New Orleans does, big events that go on for days. She kinda loves the pageantry of it.

I think actual Halloween day and night is probably spend prepping the Tru Tone for a huge Halloween themed party. It’s one of the most profitable nights of the year for bars so they decide to take advantage of it. They manage to get on a few spooky bar brawl tours so the bar stays packed. They hire a mixologist who specialises in smoky, alchemy style cocktails. Dwayne hires an amazing band to do classy Halloween themed songs, stuff like Black Magic Woman, I Put A Spell On You, things that fit the vibe of the bar. He leaves decorating to Ro and she goes all out, we’re not talking cheap streamers, we’re talking getting Sebastian to set up green and purple uplighters outside to give it a Mardi Gras spooky vibe and then play to that vibe within.

Their costumes will probably be a couples costume, white skull make up with dark hollow eyes. Dwayne would wear a raggedy suit with a top hat, he takes the jacket and the hat off when it gets too warm and rolls up those sleeves. Ro will prob wear a black and white lace dress with limited tulle and a white rose headband that contrasts against her hair.

They’re both work the bar on the actual night so they pack the stuff they want to do into the week before.

Ro is still relatively new to New Orleans (a few years as a transplant) so she’ll probably want to do more touristy stuff that isn’t Dwayne’s thing sometimes. She’d hit a ghost tour with Sebastian and tour a few haunted houses, go to the Voodoo museum. She may go to a psychic reading with Tammy or hit a party with Chris if Dwayne is working.(Dwayne comes home to find her dressed up, passed out on the couch and gets to hear about her and Chris’s antics at work the next morning)

Dwayne would probably have spent some time seeking out the best Halloween decs in the city and would give her a tour in the convertible. He’d buy Halloween cookies for this tour and have a thermos of pumpkin spice ready. Dwayne would ask her about some of her own Halloween traditions and try to incorporate those into the time they spend together.

They would defo do the parade together, Dwayne would love the way she lights up when she sees everything. I also kind of love the idea of them doing a spooky whiskey tasting together in one of the old distilleries. As something very special and probably a surprise Dwayne would take her to one of the haunted restaurants, somewhere that does amazing food and has a rich history.

#dwayne pride #dwayne pride x reader #ncis new orleans #ncis nola

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pawnshopbleus · 1 year ago

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Put Me in a Movie - Chapter Fifteen, Part One

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary - You’re a famous actress and he’s one of the greatest directors of all time. What happens when you get cast in his new movie?

Chapter Fourteen

You didn’t mean to yell, but you were so overwhelmed and the words started to tumble out. The day started out very nicely. You woke up in Miguel’s arms, you had breakfast with each other, then, the two of you parted ways. Today was the start of the press tour for your newest film. It was not going to be long. Just a few stops around the United States. It was going to start in Los Angeles and it would end in New York City. Just in time for a very beautiful Christmas in New York City.

All of your bags were packed the previous afternoon. All you had to do was sit in a chair while your team worked their magic. When they were done with you, you looked like a brand new person. Your stylist picked out a stunning black velvet dress that made you look like a million bucks.

You got picked up in a long stretch limousine that was empty when you got in. The ride was silent and lonely. If only you had someone to ride with you.

Once you got out of the limo, camera lights flash causing you to be temporarily blinded by the lights. A security guard escorted you to the red carpet where you would strike a few poses before going inside the theater. It was a simple task really, but one thing stopped it.

In the middle of the red carpet stood Tasia in a beautiful green evening gown. You hated to admit it, but she looked more beautiful than you remembered. She was posing for the camera, a different pose for each click and flash.

How the hell did she get in here? you thought to yourself. No one on the cast and crew liked her enough to invite her back for the press tour. She must have weaseled her way into the venue with some sort of bribery. That just goes to show that the security was no good at keeping the bad people out.

Tasia could feel your eyes burning holes into her skin. She turned around and winked at you before walking into the venue. You couldn’t let people see how you were visibly affected by the gesture so you straightened your back and smiled at the cameras.

Inside the theater was magical. It was as if you were transported into a classy eighties-themed theater. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, mirrors aligned the walls, and retro neon lights weaved their way throughout the theater.

Miguel wasn’t there yet which was quite concerning. Your boyfriend hates being late to any certain event so when you entered the theater filled with journalists, cast, and crew, you were surprised of his absence. You were also surprised to not see Tasia’s fiery red hair in the midst of all these people. You needed to know why and how she was there. Luckily, as you scanned the area you were able to see a sliver of ginger hair and a green dress enter the bathroom.

You hastily made your way to the lady's room and looked around. No one was looking at you at the current moment. That was good.

The bathroom was just as nice as the inside of the theater. Stalls that provided efficient privacy, skins that had warm water as well as cold, soap, and paper towels. You weren’t here to marvel at the greatness of the bathroom but on a mission to find the woman who poses a threat to your relationship.

“I knew you would follow me,” Tasia said as she exited the stall. She let her hands run under the water for twenty seconds, washing the flowery-scented soap off of them.

“Why are you here?” You got straight to the point.

“Look, I’m not here to argue with you. I just want to see the film that I was once a part of. The way I acted was wrong and I’d like to apologize.”

You were stunned. It was as if you had just gotten the wind knocked out of you. Here you were acting all judgemental and all Tasia wanted to do was apologize. To be quite frank, you felt like a bitch.

“I don’t know what to say,” you let out a breath, “Thank you for the apology but I just want to know why?”

“Because I was in the wrong. I saw the way Miguel looked at you and it made me jealous. You’re such a great actress and a really nice person. I guess I’ve never met someone so sincere.” Tasia sighed as she stared off into space.

“But you’re so beautiful. Why did you feel jealous of me?” you asked.

“Beauty fades, but raw talent is forever. You have both. All I’ve got is a pretty face and rich parents. It got me to where I am today, but I hate it. I want people to like me for me and not just because I’m pretty or the daughter of famous parents. It gets tiring!” Tasia said that with such passion that it almost made you cry. You felt bad for her. She has lived a life many women would kill for, yet she’s so unhappy. That just goes to show that money can't buy you happiness.

You didn’t ask if you could give her a hug, but you just felt inclined to give her one. Her skin was smooth and hairless. You caught a whiff of her perfume and it smelled like a fresh bouquet of flowers that were just picked from the field. She hugged you closer to her and let out a sigh into your neck.

“Thank you,” She whispered, “I needed this.”

Chapter Fifteen - Part Two - Comming soon

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spider-man: across the spider-verse

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julietapark · 2 years ago

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Paris and Chapter 2: run for your life, BTS!!!

This part of BTS life is all about PERSONAL LIFE.

Like civil life out of duty of being only idols.

They are riding their life like riding a motorcycle

Ok, since that Festa Dinner, they decided to live the most freely as they can, each one in their terms, and it amazed me how I did not came to this conclusion before.

Ok imagine growing profesional and personal all in front of millions of people that love you, think they know you and admire you as an “idol”

Our beloved RM.. in that infamous Festa dinner talked truly about his feelings and fears, he bursted in tears, it really anguish me because it really anguish him: the doubt that we fans were going to be with them no matter what..so true telling that he need to be himself, that the K-POP doesn’t give space for the idols to grow and mature… His album is all about this, his feelings, that man once said that he wants to love… but how could he do it in front of us?…will we allow him…

We need to know our limits!! We are just fans. Tae decided to share his love with us with a brave and classy touch… in the city of love.. those crazy and delusional fans hating them… what’s that!!! Let’s all be grown ups !!

Now I understand their fears…

But even with fear they have decided to move on.

Those 7 man are really using their position to break all the K-POP rules

Jin and Jhope enlistment... I think that it’s their way to take the reins of their lives: no more waiting for anything to happen, maybe if they are willing to find a partener, to have a deep relation they need to leave MS behind…

Suga is succeeding with his tour, showing the driving force he has inside that small and sexy body.

And four our beloved couple…

You don’t see what JK has done with his own promotion and support of Jimin’s album and hard work… no one asked him for it.. neither he is doing that for anyone else… but he shared his support with us.

He is building a fortress maybe for them both to have all they want: lots of rooms, a huge garage, a disco, a studio, a practice room, a bondage chamber🙊… or what ever they want!!!!!!

Ohhh!! life can be so good, and it’s not about money or social success -we know that they have a lot- but a life with freedom, good food, good love, intimate love, sex, good times with friends… life even when it gets shity, if you succeed on being optimistic about everything, you can be almost happy and free (I know that lots of people aren’t) to do whatever you want…

You know that feeling? To be the ruler of your own life? Those of you who are reading this, even if you are still studying or living on your parents house or all by yourself, with your lover and kids…. You can decide what you do and how…

Oh please let’s not be a burden to them on enjoying their life and really let’s give them the power of freedom… because when you really really really (3 times, because i think that for some it’s not true) love some one, you just want them to be happy.

#bts taehyung #bts yoongi #v bts #jimin #jungkook #jikook #kookmin #bts #rm bts #bts jin #bts jhooe

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in-death-we-fall · 2 years ago

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24 Hour Party People

Things are getting messy on the Stone Sour/Murderdolls UK tour. Welcome inside their world of drunken orgies, comedy pissing and pickled cow’s hearts…

(google docs link)

Photos: Tina Korhonen

If you ever find yourself in the same building as Corey Taylor, the frontman with the most Tourettes-like speech patterns in rock (no mean feat in an arena where swearing is both big and clever), the chances are you’ll hear him long before you see him. A couple of hours after his band Stone Sour’s first UK show with fellow Slipknot-affiliates the Murderdolls, the singer is drunkenly ping-ponging off the walls of a corridor backstage at Nottingham’s Rock City, beaming and gleefully bellowing Electric Six’s ‘Gay Bar’ at top volume before tumbling into his dressing room for the umpteenth shot of Jack Daniel’s this evening.

The backstage area is teeming with young women who have miraculously acquired passes along the way. More incongruously and to Taylor’s obvious confusion, there are also random semi-naked men flitting about. In the next room, Murderdolls’ Nikki Sixx-coiffed bass player Eric Griffin is entertaining two ladies — one of them, dressed as a sexy nurse, currently occupied with snapping on a pair of surgical gloves. Tonight is clearly going to get messy. If everyone involved in this tour comes out of this thing unscathed, it’ll be a miracle.

“I like the fact that we’re just five fucking guys who stink and love music. I love it, that’s real, fuck that dumb shit.”

Rewind a few hours, and an infinitely more coherent, if chronically hungover Corey Taylor is fumbling his way into a minibus to join his bandmates on their way to an in-store signing. While, along with guitarist Jim Root, he spends his time worrying America’s parents and poncing around in a mask in Slipknot, it’s quickly obvious that Stone Sour offers the chance to show his often-gurning, surprisingly clumsy human side. The side that has dumped all attempts at being enigmatic for the person whose big ambition in life is to appear in a cartoon (“I can picture Bart Simpson going to a Slipknot concert,” says Jim. “It’d be great, you’d hear, like, a note between bleeps.”), who has been terrified of sharks since his mother took him to see ‘Jaws’ when he was three, who has an obsessive love of British comedy, and revels in tasteless, decidedly un-PC jokes. A random example: “What do you call the worthless skin around a pussy? The rest of the woman.” Classy.

All of which is good news for the scores of fans who have turned up to meet the band today.

“There are guys out there who would pick their eyes out with a fucking coathanger and go, ‘Aaargh! They’re for you!’,” grins the singer as one fan thrusts a giant dildo at him to be signed. “But they’re all great. Anyone that listens to us is pretty fucking cool. And little kids are really into it too. You take the time and you fucking talk to them and shit, that’s a fan or (sic) life. Get them young, like the tobacco companies say!”

Over at the venue, the Murderdolls — all similarly hungover, bar iron-livered frontman Wednesday 13 — emerge from their bus in a flurry of red and black hair and leather to be met by fans bearing gifts of Boris Karloff action figures and teddy bears dressed in bondage gear.

Perhaps inevitably, because of the way they look, their unashamedly cock-rock outlook, their gang mentality and the way that there’s genuinely no-one like them at the moment, the band have inspired a tribe of similarly-attired devout followers who you can spot a mile off. Many of them are female, which is curious given the off-the-scale testosterone levels that shape the band.

“We had a group of four girls here bawling their eyes out, really shaking,” says Joey Jordison, struggling to wake up. “I don’t really think it’s too weird. We give them something to believe in, some escapism from maybe some of the hard things in their lives.”

“It’s insane,” grins Wednesday. “You hang around us for a day you’ll be crying to get away from us.”

It’s a strange kind of devotion the two bands create. While both are surprisingly approachable some people still go to unnecessary extremes to get their attention.

“A girl came to an in-store signing with her arms completely slashed up, with every guy in the Murderdolls’ name cut into her arm,” says Joey. “She brought me a cow heart in a formaldehyde jar with my picture in it, and said that that was her heart and it belongs to me. And she gave me a book of a hundred poems that are all about me.’

Is that not a little disturbing?

“No, I just think that some of these kids need a little bit more attention. We’re a fun band, we want the kids to have fun, and I don’t want anyone taking their aggressions out on themselves. Life is really not as bad as they think it is. That’s why we come over here, because I know we’re important to these kids. I could easily be at home right now sitting out on my porch drinking a beer and not giving a shit. But I’d rather come over here and tell kids thank you for giving me a reason to live as well.”

By the time showtime comes around, Stone Sour can be found in their dressing room “spanking the bottle of Jack”, a strange pre-show ritual that seems to achieve little more than earning Corey a new blood blister on his finger.

One set of anthemic rock and one set of fantastically ludicrous glam-rock stomping later, and it’s time to get the alcohol flowing, bring the prettiest girls backstage, and for certain members of this touring circus to behave very badly indeed…

“Oh Jesus.”

Corey Taylor is suffering. The last anyone saw of him last night was when he was taken to support band Elviss’ bus for a little drink. Today, he’s paying the price, big time.

I remember getting onstage,” he says, trying to piece the previous evening together. “I remember doing a great show, coming offstage, drinking about 12 Jack and Cokes being pulled onto Elviss’ bus and them pumping fucking absinthe down my goddamn throat trying to kill me. Fuckers. After that it’s a blur. I remember eating an ignorant amount of fucking lamb steak, just shoving it in my face. It was fucking gross.”

“We go apeshit every night.” -Joey Jordison

This, apparently, has nothing on what went on in the Murderdolls’ tour bus last night, where one stunned witness hazily recalls someone attempting to use the on-board toilet, only to be met with the sight of a certain lanky member of the Murderdolls inserting “objects” into two girls.

“We are a fun rock ‘n’ roll party band in every sense of the word,” says a wary Joey Jordison the next day as the band roll in to the Birmingham Academy. “You can draw about every conclusion you ever heard about the traditional rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle from the ‘80s, that’s pretty much us. But I don’t want to make it sound like that’s cool. I don’t endorse it in any way.”

Joey, Corey, and Jim Root have, of course, seen and done it all before with Slipknot, so it’s fair to say that, bar the heroic alcohol consumption, they may have a certain amount of detachment from the mayhem surrounding them these days.

“But all that crazy shit happened a long time ago,” Corey insists, grimacing through his hangover. “I don’t really recall! I’d be coming offstage, having a glass of milk and eating cookies.”

Because the two bands are about such vastly different things — with Stone Sour it’s about bringing things down to the simple elements of their songs and connecting with the audience, while Murderdolls are on a mission to bring the biggest, trashiest, glammiest, most X-rated party to every town they hit — there’s little in the way of rivalry between the camps. The only competition seems to be with putting on the biggest, loudest live show.

“If anything I think it’s healthy if there is,” Corey concurs. “It just makes you want to give that bit fucking more and go for it. At the end of the day it’s all about the kids, fuck us. It’s all about whether they’re having a good time or not.”

“There’s always that little competition,” Joey says. “This is our last run before we go back to Slipknot, so I’m not worried about it too much. But we put on the same show pretty much every night anyway. We go that apeshit every night.”

The first thing you’d notice on entering the Murderdolls’ dressing room is the detritus: clothes, make-up scattered everywhere, not to mention drummer Ben ‘The Ghoul’ Graves — the cause of most of last night’s very worst behaviour — stretched out on a sofa and spilling, somewhat unpleasantly, out of his stage costume of a PVC thong while loudly “making room” in his nose. The second thing you notice, half a second later, is that it stinks in here.

“My clothes smell like a cat litter box,” Wednesday says, wrinkling his nose. “I got my pants out of our wardrobe case, and they’re still soaked from the show because I was sweating, but I swear they smell like piss. I think someone could have pissed on my pants. Our stuff was packed up, so I’m not sure what happened, unless someone is trying to play a trick on me.”

This, of course, is what happens when you stick a load of men on a bus together for months on end and deny them the rights to proper laundry services.

“Most bands rely on special lights and effects,” Wednesday continues, as Joey and Corey work on new Slipknot material down the corridor. “But we come to the people in Smellovision. We bring all the senses out. Whenever you come to our show and we haven’t come onstage yet, you can go (sniffs), ‘Oh, something smells like shit! They’re getting ready to go on!’. We’ve got an intro smell instead of an intro tape.”

Tonight’s show makes Nottingham’s insanity look like a warm-up. It’s so hot in the venue you have to wade through the air, and after Stone Sour incite a mass singalong of ‘Bother’, the Murderdolls trip down the stairs, making last minute checks on their hair, before they explode onto the stage. By the time the encore comes around, Acey has rather gruesomely lost all his clothing from his lower regions, the rest of them are running around the stage as if they’re being chased by killer mosquitoes, and Stone Sour are bellowing their approval from the wings. Nothing here is about angst. It’s all about living larger than most of our lives.

“Rock stars should look like they’re from outer space or something,” Joey says afterwards, as they pack up their make-up kits. “When I was growing up seeing Alice Cooper and Kiss and shit, when I went to a show I could be like, ‘Okay, that’s the fucking dude in the band’. That’s the way it should be. Even with Slipknot, our image and the show goes with the music. Music and imagery go together, and it just makes it that much more fun for the live show.”

And while Stone Sour head off to deal loudly with the latest booze-related crisis (their bus driver, who is supposed to be driving them to Scotland in an hour, is passed out drunk, so it’s time to fire him), Joey prepares himself for the long, but no doubt eventful journey ahead.

“I intend on having a hangover tomorrow,” he says. “The plan for tonight is the same for every night. The reason bands get so fucked up and drink a lot is because all we do is the same thing every day, and it’s the best fucking lifestyle. We have no responsibilities. You’re on this bus, nothing can fucking touch you. You’re meeting cool fucking people all the time. It’s much more fun-orientated and more of a free-spirited vibe with this band than any other band I’ve been in.”

“I liked the ‘Fuck’ song!” The fans’ verdict on the Stone Sour/Murderdolls face-off…

Name: Riannan Davis Age: 19 From: Mid-Wales Well, what did you think?: “Excellent. I love Stone Sour and Murderdolls.” Which band comes out top?: “Stone Sour. I just prefer them and I get bored of Murderdolls after a while. Stone Sour are good over and over again.” Highlight? “Getting promised to go backstage in five minutes!”

Name: Andrew Gordan Age: 14 From: Oxford Well, what did you think?: “It was amazing, really good.” Which band comes out top?: “Murderdolls, definitely. I just prefer that type of music, it’s really good.” Highlight?: “‘White Wedding’ by the Murderdolls. I love the Billy Idol version, and I love the Murderdolls version.”

Name: Natalie Reynolds Age: 15 From: Bristol Well, what did you think?: “I’ve had a fucking amazing time!” Which band comes out top?: “Murderdolls! They rock, because Ghoul’s in the band. He’s so fit! He’s just the drag queen of my dreams.” Highlight?: “Seeing Ghoul in a thong!”

Name: Chaz Boswell Age: 18 From: Wales Well, what did you think?: “It was fantastic tonight.” Which band comes out top?: “Murderdolls, definitely. They’re more fun than Stone Sour, and I prefer their music. My friend lost his shoe.” Highlight?: “Finding the shoe.”

Name: Hayley Lamb Age: 14 From: Lemington What did you think?: “I had a great time.” Which band comes out top?: “Murderdolls. I just love the way they dress and I think their music’s great.” Highlight?: “I liked the ‘Fuck’ song with the umbrella, that was great.”

#if there's anything else you want scanned from this let me know #murderdolls #stone sour #joey jordison #corey taylor #jim root #wednesday 13 #ben graves #eric griffin #acey slade #interview #acey that's so fucking illegal #kerrang july 26 03

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xanadontit · 2 years ago

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For those who asked how my brother enjoyed his little European tour the tl;dr is he absolutely loved it, 12/10, would do it again.

His favorite city (and he said he’d like to go back!) was Prague. Reasons: beautiful city and they had a lot of freedom there to explore. He said that the structured tours were pretty fun but being able to go off and get lost was the best for him. My little adventurer!

Lucerne was the “prettiest” city according to him but he caught a cold there and wasn’t feeling so hot so he’d also like to go back and “do stuff without feeling crappy.” He’s also dying to snowboard in the Alps. Well OK!

Hot goss interlude: Leo and Camryn are officially back together. But don’t tell anyone, OK?

He’d like a little more time to explore Dresden but other than that isn’t dying to go back to Germany. “We spent the most time there and I’d like to check out other places.” Fair! Pretty sure they also traumatized the poor tour bus driver, Dimitri, while there. Sorry, Dimitri!

Paris had the worst food! Sacre bleu! Per the kid, the organized dinners were underwhelming at best and straight up gross at worst. “I had a cheese crepe and I think the cheese had gone bad.” Betrayed by melted cheese… the horror. But he said the sunset cruise on the Seine was beautiful and he’d definitely go back. Also he was able to procure a non-sus crepe to right the previous crepe wrong. He also had really good pizza there for lunch a couple of days.

Speaking of food, I was curious if he was adventurous and he said “as much as possible.” They were largely left to their own devices (within reason) to get lunch. Usually kids and a chaperone would break off into a smaller group to get lunch somewhere. Dinners were with the whole group (50 kids plus chaperones) and arranged in advance and there wasn’t much choice in terms of ordering. But there was usually local entertainment so he said even if he wasn’t in the mood for the chicken being served it was still fun.

No one was sent home, no one did anything terribly insane, and the chaperones, understandably, had a drink or two each night (per my brother they “were drunk” but he’s prone to exaggeration). One of my brother’s friends got day drunk by accident and lost on his way back to the bus so he had to drop a pin and a few kids had to fetch him lol. My brother wanted to try a German beer so he did and when I asked how it was said “it was a beer” lol.

He bought me an insane purse in Paris; it’s very much like a Chanel bag in that it’s quilted with a chain strap but it’s not a Chanel. He told me the other option he found was an alligator print but he thought this was more classy for me. How much longer until he realizes his big sister is three raccoons in a trench coat and not some debutante?

I’m so, so happy he had this experience but I’m also really happy he’s home.

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wordynerdygurl · 2 years ago

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Someone to Watch Over Me

Part 1: “Love is Blind”

Author’s Note: Do you think the Duffer’s realized what they were doing when they brought Eddie Munson to life on paper? I don’t think so. Because it’s been, what, nine or so months now, and I’m still all in on my favorite ne’er do well metal head.

This is my first time with an Original Character standing in for “reader”. Just like with my reader insert fics, our OC is female and plus size. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Plus Size OC Amanda Patterson Summary: It’s love at first sound, pitch perfect and fated, everything in harmony. If only life were a love song.

Amanda and Eddie meet by chance but their connection is real. Some night music and milkshakes maybe all it takes to show that Hawkins’ resident bad boy is worthy of love. The kind of love a misfit like Amanda is ready to give to the right guy. Have they each found the right someone to watch out for them? Warnings: This is a slower burn than my usual, but I think it’ll be worth it. There will be SMUT in additional chapters, but for now, there’s making out, eating a lot of junk food, some size shaming and self doubt. Oh, and a character gets slapped.

“There’s a saying old, says that love is blind”

1990

“So, Eddie, how’s the tour been going?”

Pulling a long strand of dark hair over his cheek, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to break, Eddie raised his dark eyes to the reporter asking the questions, ignoring the video camera and boom mic hovering overhead. It took everything in him to keep the sarcastic edge in his tone to a minimum, “Well, Chuck, it’s been a helluva time. Me and the boys, we’re just taking what comes. It’s been fuckin’ amazing to see so many cities and of course, our fans.” “Oopsie! Can’t curse like that, Eddie. Can we cut around that?” Chuck was asking some producer, talking over Eddie’s head, ignoring him all in the name of being appropriate for television. Already he was over this whole experience. What Eddie really wanted was to get back to the green room, have a beer or a smoke- scratch that. And a smoke, before having to play tonight’s show.

The conversation around editing was still happening, Eddie’s interview on pause. It gave him a minute to evaluate the man asking the questions. Smarmy, yea, that’s the word Eddie would use for a guy like Chuck. Hair slicked back and suit a little too colorful to be classy, the guy was cheesy as hell, but he was going to film a piece about the band. Something for MTV to use in promos or some shit. Eddie didn’t really care to know. There were people for that now. The same people who kept assuring him that there was no such thing as bad publicity. Not when there was a nationwide tour that needed to sell tickets and t-shirts and records, so he bit his tongue and smiled sheepishly, waiting for the next question. “We rolling? Great. Ok, ready Eddie?” Nodding in answer, Eddie gave him the green light. The interviewer tapped his finger against the skinny microphone in his hand, picking up seamlessly from where they had stopped earlier, “That’s good to hear. Now, Corroded Coffin plays specifically metal but who has influenced your musical journey? Which artists do you listen to?” Blowing out an exhale, his lips parting, Eddie thought for a minute. “Ya know, all the greats Chuck. I mean, I cut my teeth on Led Zeppelin. Heart, Black Sabbath, obviously-” he rolled his eyes for emphasis, “-Iron Maiden and Metallica. You play metal music and I’m there, man.” Chuck nodded along, agreeing with everything coming out of Eddie’s mouth, trying way too hard to seem interested. He seemed more like a Madonna kinda guy, too caught up in the look of something to worry about its substance. It grated on Eddie’s nerves, set his teeth on edge. “Gotcha. So, the people want to know-” Chuck drug out the question, clearly enjoying the way he baited his interviewee, “-What is Eddie Munson’s favorite song?” Toffee colored eyes widened. Despite the movement around him, the roadies hauling in speakers and gear, the conversations between stage crew and security guards, the clicking of boot heels on parquet flooring, Eddie could hear it. His favorite song. Clear and distinct, the memory a perfectly preserved bubble of sight and sound. From over his shoulder someone coughed, bringing Eddie back to the here and now. “Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean to zone out there.” “Don’t worry, we’ll edit it out.” Chuck’s hand made a motion urging him to continue. Eddie’s ring laden right hand rubbed across the skin on the back of his neck, internally debating just how real to be with his response. In the end, Eddie told the whole truth. He spilled one of his deeply held secrets to a douche bag with gelled back hair and a smile that was too much teeth. Looking directly into the bubbled lens of the video camera, Eddie offered up a reluctant, almost embarrassed smile, “My favorite song? That’s a great question, man. And, uh, ya know, I wanna say something hard rocking and fast. But honestly? Someone to Watch Over Me by the Gershwin brothers.” Eddie’s voice was practically a whisper at his admission. He was ready for a ribbing. A hard rocker like him, known for bad boy behavior and leaving a lady behind in every city? No way Eddie Munson could possibly be a romantic at heart, right? Fully expecting a laugh from smarmy Chuck, some jab about the softness of his choice, or a comment on it being a standard, something old fashioned or behind the times. But Eddie only heard the insipid agreement of the interviewer, “Great song. A classic.” “Yea. It is.”

—

1987

It had always come naturally to Amanda. She opened her mouth and the sound just came out, warm and round, with the right amount of inflection and sweetness of tone. Singing was what she did. From the time she could talk, Amanda was making music, using her body as the instrument. Church choir taught her how to sight read sheet music, her voice moving up and down the scale in time with the half and quarter notes. Learning how to let her high Soprano melt in with the other members of the chorus so that no individual could be heard over another. Discovering the power of dynamics; an effective hushed line that built into a climaxing crescendo, the rush of belting out a powerful note with all of the choir members doing the same. Amanda continued to discover the best ways to utilize her voice, really only ever happy when she was humming or whistling or belting out a tune. One Christmas there was a tawny wooden guitar under the tree. She carried it with her everywhere she could. Teaching herself the chords from a beginner’s guide until she could play “Frosty the Snowman” without stopping. And her unquestionable love of music grew with every new song she memorized until the entire book had faded from overuse. There were high school musicals, of course. Grease, Annie, Guys and Dolls, Anything Goes. And even if she was always the sidekick with no solo, hanging around in the back of the chorus lines, she loved performing. Being on a stage, with the lights and excitement, the tension of anxiety turning into the power needed to propel her through the show. Amanda lived for the thrill of it. Something could go wrong or things could go incredibly right. In either case, you could never truly know which way it would play out until it was happening. Then, the curtain would fall and there would be bows and applause. Amanda loved the spotlight, absolutely and unequivocally. Only, the spotlight didn’t love her back. Her round, full cheeks wouldn’t do to play Sandy. The curvy, womanly figure she’d grown into wouldn’t work for Annie or Pepper or even Mrs. Hannigan. Despite the lovely, lyrical quality to her voice, it wasn’t enough to outweigh her looks. So Amanda sang out loud and long from the back row of the chorus, her robe tight across her ample chest. She learned the simple choreography for musical numbers and was told, “you’re so light on your feet” as if it was shocking to see. Every year was a new chance to gain that place in the middle of the stage, singing for all she was worth for everyone to hear, but never making it due to a healthy appetite which made her soft in the places where people would rather she be firm. It was the bitterest of pills, but she swallowed it, happy just to be involved. Pleased to have her name printed in the program as a participant even if she was living off of the scraps of lesser performers who just so happened to look prettier under the hot stage lamps. She accepted hugs from the pretty boys who tried on singing and dancing as a way to meet girls, but wouldn’t give her a second glance. The boys who saw her as the funny, talented friend of the group. Always happy to drive everyone home, listen to everyone’s troubles, offering sage advice and asking for nothing in return. That was Amanda.

All too soon, school was ending. Over. And college loomed in front of her, full of promise and secret worries.

She knew what she wanted, what she had always wanted. It had never changed despite the wacky directors who hid her behind scaffolding or pushed her to the dim corners of the stage. Amanda was on the earth to do one thing only: make beautiful music. It was, after all, her favorite thing to do. Unfortunately, it was also incredibly difficult to make a career out of, something her parents constantly felt the need to remind her about. They only wanted what was best for her, that’s what they said anyways. And what was best, in the opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Patterson, was a steady job as a hairdresser or nurse or preschool teacher. Anything really to fill the gap until she met “the one”, got married and started having their grandchildren. Too bad Amanda loved the music so much more. It had taken a lot of work, hours and hours of debating and shouting but somehow she had convinced them to let her go to school for music. The catch? She’d also study education. It was a compromise Amanda was willing to make, just to get her foot in the door. Worst case? She’d wind up a music department chair at some high school or another, a great back up plan to her real dream: musical super stardom like Linda Rondstadt or Carol King. Only, school was expensive, especially when you were trying to make music your career. And her parents did as much as they could, which she was incredibly grateful for, but everything cost so damn much. So, almost broke and entirely desperate, Amanda searched around until finding a part time position at The Music Shop. She started selling sheet music and drum sticks, auto tuners and guitar straps from a squat building painted an obnoxious shade of ocean blue that could be seen for miles in any direction. Occasionally there’d be a student in need of some musical mentoring and she’d drag out her acoustic guitar, the tawny one she kept in its cardboard case after all these years. Showing them where to hold their fingers and how to press against the tough strings in order to get a pretty sound out of the instrument brought her a lot of joy. It was still making music and that was enough for her between class work and socializing and generally trying to be a good person. The college classes related to music and music theory were fascinating. Her collection of records and tapes had grown significantly. It seemed as though every new person she talked to had a list of bands she “just had to listen to” and Amanda did. How could she ever thank her roommate’s boyfriend for turning her on to Lou Reed? Did she live before knowing all the words to Pirates of Penzance? How did Whitney Houston sound so incredible all of the time?

Writing a paper on the importance of Tom Petty’s ability to pen pretty lyrics, Amanda found herself surrounded by like minded musical folks. She was invited to parties where everyone sang along to the radio, getting rowdy in the tame way theater kids everywhere are prone to do. Drinking beers was fun. Smoking cigarettes killed her throat through and Amanda refused to damage her instrument with nicotine like that. Besides, she couldn’t afford them anyway. When she wasn’t studying or singing or stocking, Amanda did gig out. Sometime during her first semester she had been approached by Jim, a cellist, Mark, a drummer and Carly, a pianist. Having met the threesome at someone or other’s pre-Thanksgiving break bash, Amanda hadn’t realized it right away but she was casually auditioning for their band. Not once did her size come up. All the three seemed to care about was how quickly they could get her into a rehearsal. They had a jazz trio and wanted someone to vocalize for them, someone with a soft tone, an easy timber that could get them playing in front of bigger crowds. That she blended in with their group dynamic made it an easy fit and soon, the four of them were playing shows together all over the area and regularly too. Now, well into her third year at school, Amanda had a good idea of what her life was going to look like. She would work the store, teaching a couple of private students the ways of the guitar, and sing out with the band on the weekends. If they happened to get a wee bit drunk after a show, who could blame them? After all, they were barely twenty and the world still had so much left to show them. At the music shop, one late September Saturday, Amanda took a minute to hang up the flier for Hawkins’ Autumn Concert Series. Their quartet had been asked to entertain, practicing for weeks now getting the set list perfect for their biggest concert yet. Smiling happily to herself, she gently forced the pushpin into the cork board where the typical announcements of used instruments for sale, lessons for keyboard or piano, and imploring alerts for new band members all co-existed in a colorful, clashing collage. Stepping backwards, Amanda wasn’t entirely paying attention, her mind already drifting to the highlight of the performance. What she was going to wear, how she’d do her hair, all the little details that she liked to get right in an effort to make sure that the show went off without a hitch. That’s how she missed the fellow who was crouched down behind her, ringed hands reaching for the Iron Maiden song book that was propped up on the bottom shelf. Her booted foot hit something solid, something that shouldn’t be in the aisle, and she turned quickly. A blur of black leather and curls flew upwards fast. The joint of her ankle rolled and Amanda reached out blindly, connecting with a solid wall of a person, holding on with a death grip to keep on her feet. Holy shit, did this chick have pretty eyes. It was his first thought and boy, was it a doozy. Eddie could see the shock clearing as worry crept in, crowding around the wide irises, her lips parted in a panicked “o”. Clipped nails clawed into the denim vest he always wore, holding herself upright against the unfair tug of gravity, her forearms pressed tightly to his chest. Bringing a steadying hand to her wrist, he shook his head, shyly smiling, “You alright there? Took a bit of a tumble, didn’t ya?” Inhaling shakily, Amanda nodded dumbly, her heart still thrumming. Still standing much too close to a stranger. She had been certain of falling but having this, this guy break that fall, was disconcerting in an entirely different way. “Oh, I am so sorry! I didn’t see you, and-” “Hey, it’s ok. No harm done, so long as you’re ok. You are ok, right?” There was a brief flash of concern that crossed his face, but it faded when Amanda bobbed her head at his question. She hadn’t moved. Eddie was still looking down at her upturned face, the way her hair fell softly against her cheeks and the sweet sweep of her nose making her look about as precious as he had ever had the pleasure to see. Eddie didn’t want to look away. For another beat they stood there, together, surrounded by score books and tutorial materials while an instrumental version of “Don’t Stop Believing” played through the store speakers. Shifting in his Reeboks, Eddie swayed to the melody and Amanda let herself be carried along with him. In another second, Amanda was certain that she would wrap his arms around her waist and call it a day. Already, Eddie’s free hand was sliding towards her shoulder, another point of contact with this unknown, but very cute, man. “Yo! Amanda? Are you-” Kyle’s voice cut through the force field around the pair. At the sound of her manager’s shout she panic jumped back far enough to thud against the very cork board which held her proudly hung announcement, knocking the air out of her lungs with a grunted, “Oof!” “Jesus! What are you doing?”

Amanda’s eyes went wide at Kyle’s intrusion, and she pressed a hand to her chest to stop her startled heart from bursting free from the unused adrenaline, “Me? Kyle, you scared the crap out of me!” Eddie’s head had snapped towards the interruption before pivoting back to the pretty lady he now knew was called Amanda. His hand reached for hers reflexively, to help steady her, the same shy grin tugging at his lips. That she took it and held it like a lifeline sent a zig-zag of energy from his fingertips straight to the muscles of his tummy which tightened at the contact. One of Kyle’s eyebrows shot skyward, his face skeptical, “What’s going on over here, anyway?” He asked as if he already knew the answer, questioning eyes full of judgment. Amanda’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. What was going on back here? She didn’t know, really. Luckily, Eddie did. “Uh, your beautiful sales associate was just helping me find this-” holding up the song book with Iron Maiden’s logo splashed across the cover, he continued, “-and uh, then you came around the corner and, ya know, scared her half to death.” “Were you dancing?” Sneaking a quick glance her way, Eddie chuckled, “Dancing? While she’s supposed to be working? Naw man. Like I said, she was helping me out.” His arms crossed over his chest, Kyle stared directly at Amanda, all but demanding her side of the story. Running a palm up her neck, leaning into her hand, she exhaled loudly, “He’s- he’s right, Kyle. I was just giving him, ya know, a hand.” Narrowing his eyes, not believing either of them, Kyle groaned in frustration, “Fine. Whatever. Just, I had a question for you. Ya know, when you’re free?” Nodding, “Sure. Yea, of course. Just um-” she gestured towards Eddie, “-Give me a minute, ok?” “Yea. Ok.” Snorting, Kyle moved back towards the register, leaving Eddie and Amanda alone once more. Blinking those amazing eyes his way, Amanda locked her hands together to keep from touching the broad boy in front of her anymore, “So, thank you. I’m not entirely sure what was going on, but I’m glad I don’t have to explain it to my boss.” “Right. Well, I’m sorry for tripping you up. Covering for you seemed like the least I could do.” Amanda heard the store’s music shift, something by Annie Lennox filling the space, and she took a tentative step away from Eddie causing him to lean forward, “Wait-” “Yea?” Her hair swung over her shoulder, that’s how fast she spun around to face him, her stare open and curious. Nervously, Eddie bit his bottom lip as he rocked on the worn down heels of his sneakers. For the first time in as long as he could remember he was almost unsure of what to say, “Uh, can I see you again?” Amanda didn’t laugh in his face and she didn’t shy away, both reactions he fully expected if he was honest about it. Instead, and to his utter amazement, she reached behind her, yanking down the flier she’d only just hung up, “Absolutely.” And she pushed the paper into his hand before scurrying toward Kyle. Shit. He was in trouble already. Waiting just another couple of minutes, Eddie made his way to the cashier, patiently standing behind a flustered mom and her teenage son. That the kid kept trying to get her to look at the cherry red electric guitar and amp set, already staged for Christmas, wasn’t lost on Eddie. It’s exactly the type of gear he’d lusted after when he was young and eager, before he’d gotten his Sweetheart, and never looked back. Mind wandering, he didn’t hear her at first, “I can help you over here, sir.” Tilting his head towards her voice, Eddie took a shuffling step toward her register, “Ah, thank you, miss.” “No problem.” But it most definitely was a problem, because Amanda couldn’t lift her gaze his way. Not when her body rolled over hot at the memory of his chest under her fingers, his brown eyes peering down at her with sweet desire in their burnt caramel depths. Amanda punched in the code numbers, reading the price sticker and busying herself with recording the sale correctly. “Amanda? What’s the price for the Fender capo?” “Twelve fifty!” It’s automatic and Eddie was astonished at how she kept focused on his sale while answering her colleague from memory. Finally, she raised her face to find Eddie’s smiling one already looking in her direction, and struggling to keep the flush of her embarrassment in control managed to ask, “Is uh, is there anything else today?” “Naw, Amanda. I think this’ll do it.” Giggling, a bit more timid now that she was safe behind the counter, Amanda bagged up the book and relayed the total. Eddie pulled the bills out of his wallet, his chains clinking together musically, as Amanda made change for him quickly and precisely. When he grabbed for the package, his fingers rested over her own for just a heartbeat, “I’ll see you soon then. And uh, thanks for the dance, Amanda.” Stunned, all she could do was stand there, confused at the Dio patched metal head who pushed through the doorway and onto the street. Under her breath, Amanda swore, “Fuck. He knows my name.” —

Eddie didn’t know what he was supposed to wear to an outdoor concert in Hawkins Memorial Park at the beginning of October. Was it a jacket and tie sort of situation? Were jeans enough? Was he going to stick out like a sore thumb if he was wearing a Metallica t-shirt? All of these questions and more burned through the bong ripped brain of Eddie Munson. Pacing in front of his mirror, he fluffed his hair with his fingers, fidgety and fussing. “Dude. You’re fine. What’s the big deal anyway?” Fixing Dustin with a stare that would wither lesser beings, Eddie folded down the collar of his red checkered flannel shirt, “The big deal? I’ll tell you, Henderson. The big deal is-” grabbing for his well used bottle of Aqua Velva and splashing a few shakes into his hands, “-I don’t wanna look like a jerk. I want to blend in. Just uh, enjoy some new music, and a nice night.” “Psst. Bullshit. Who’s the chick?” His eyes widened. How could the little butthead know? Eddie hadn’t said a word about the music store beauty and still, somehow, the pipsqueak was calling him out. “What chick? Who said chick? There’s no chick.” “Me thinks thou doth protest too much.” Pausing while he fiddled with the buttons on the sleeves of his shirt, confusion filling his face, Eddie blinked, “Wha?” “It’s Shakespeare. You protest too much ‘cause, ya know, you’re covering up.” Frustrated, Dustin shook his head, closing his eyes as he exhaled heavily, “Nevermind. You’re clearly lying. Tell me about her. Who is she?” Looking over at his youthful friend, Eddie thought about it for a long second. Tell Dustin about Amanda? What was there to tell? Shrugging safely into his shirt, Eddie bought himself some time fiddling with the buttons. “Uh, well. I don’t really know her all that well. We, literally, bumped into each other at the music shop when I was picking up my new bible.” He was now entirely focused on his hair which had decided to go fluffy. Disgusted at what he saw, looking more pampered poodle than suave rocker, Eddie continued to run his hands through the curls as he chatted with his sidekick, “She’s uh-” “Pretty?” Dropping his gaze to the top of his dresser, Eddie’s cheeks colored at the word, “Yea. So cute. And, she seems smart. Funny, ya know?” Nodding, Dustin came up behind his friend, plucking a stray hair from his shoulder, “Sounds pretty damn perfect, man.” “I’m sure there’s a catch. There always is when it comes to women.” Eddie couldn’t help trying to keep his excitement in check. It was better to set his expectations low. Less likely to hurt so bad when someone disappointed him and people always seemed to be disappointing Eddie Munson. Catching his older friend’s eye in the mirror, Dustin offered up a toothless smile, “I don’t know, man. Maybe she’ll surprise you?” —

People were scattered around the park. Some hovered near benches, others sat on blankets and a lucky few used their lawn chairs, dragged from home, all to get a good view of the small stage where the quartet would be performing tonight. It was exciting. Amanda had unpacked her mic and cord, scatting a bit so that the guys could get a level on her voice and ensure a balanced sound through their mixing board. She didn’t really understand all the technicalities, but in the end it helped make sure that they all sounded as good as possible, so Amanda played along. “Testing one, two, three- testing one, two, three. Can y’all hear us out there?” A smattering of claps and one enthusiastic “Woo hoo!” met her question. Carly’s electric piano came next, banging out a couple of chords, before Jim slid his bow across the strings of his bass. Not to be excluded, Mark took a couple of rim shots, making them all laugh. Now all that was left was waiting for the start of the show. Seven o’clock and one of the town’s cultural council staff members used her microphone to blab about why they were hosting this event and to welcome Amanda and the band. The lawn had filled in a bit, more people milling around which was always a good sign, so Amanda took a deep breath before greeting everyone, “Good evening everyone! We’re the Indiana Four and we’re going to play for you tonight. If you like what you hear, there’s a tambourine-” jingling the instrument to get everyone's attention, Amanda added, “-and I’ll leave it right here, in case you wanna put a little something in it!”

It was still too early for a full on sun set, but the sky didn’t know it. Painted in bold streaks of orange that melted into petal pink due to the rays of the sinking sun, it created a warm glow which outlined everything around them with a gilded golden edge. The moon was already a ghostly crescent barely visible in the rainbow tinted ether when Amanda let her voice rise into the oncoming night. Mark counted them in with a broad smile in her direction and Carly’s piano joined the swell of music. The deeper bass notes of Jim’s cello grounded the opening strains of their first song. Amanda gently shut her eyes, letting her body feel every word of the song she was singing, just like she would do at home in her shower or behind the wheel of her tiny car. Unaware of herself and completely at ease, letting her instrument, her voice, blend into the melody the four of them created together. Eddie was never going to get over the sound of her voice. Sweet and soaring, she seemed to change the quality of its tone depending on the song, always leaving him guessing. Which version of this lady was going to sing next? A sultry vixen, heart broken and mournful? The shy ingenue, new to love? A plaintive bard, looking for answers? Or some new character created to enchant him with only the power of her voice? In between songs, Amanda smiled brightly, joking with the people gathered and teasing her band mates playfully. It made the entire concert feel comfortable- easy. Like the folks who came down to see them were in on the funniest joke. All one big, happy family who simply wanted to share music on a random October evening in the middle of Indiana. “Ok everyone, you’ve heard us sing a little of this and a little of that-” wrapping her hands around the microphone, Amanda pulled the silver stick closer, “-but now we’re going to do a favorite of mine, if that’s alright.” At the opening strains from the piano, a couple, older with matching graying hair, stood in front of their chairs and started swaying together, wrapped in each other’s arms. Amanda’s lips spread in a wide smile pointed in their direction as she started, “There’s a saying old, says that love is blind. Still we’re often told, seek and ye will find. So, I’m gonna seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind.” Moving from the lamp post he had been leaning against, no longer content to watch from the shadows, Eddie stepped directly into Amanda’s line of sight. She saw him. How could she miss the leather wrapped, long haired guy who was peering straight into her soul? And she wanted to look away, give someone, anyone else in the assembled listeners, her attention, but Amanda found that she couldn’t.

Had she expected him to be there? Shaking her head for the crowd to see answered her own thoughts. No, Amanda had no idea that the metal loving smooth talker would actually come to seek her out. But, she had thought about it in the small moments between guitar lessons or while driving to her classes in the morning.

So, no. Seeing Eddie stand there, bold as brass with his wide eyed stare and his hands in his pockets was not what Amanda had been expecting. Hoped for, maybe. Wished for, absolutely. Reality though was better than anything her mind might have considered. “Looking everywhere, haven’t found him yet He’s the big affair I cannot forget, Only man I ever think of with regret.” Eddie swallowed hard. The words she was singing wrapped around him on the night’s breeze and held on tight. It was as if they were having a conversation that no one else could decipher, a conversation for only two. “I’d like to add his initials to my monogram, Tell me, where’s the shepherd for this lost lamb?” And she sounded lost. Abandoned. Alone. Exactly like the type of person that Eddie was collecting for Hellfire or the band. A person who needed someone like him to shield them from the big bads in life. A guy who could protect her from the sort of wolves that a shepherd like him knew about all too well. “There’s a somebody I’m longing to see, I hope that he turns out to be Someone to watch over me.”

She was singing just to him. Only Eddie. There was no one else to look at, no one else who could understand or appreciate what the lyrics demanded. “I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood, I know I could always be good To one who'll watch over me”

Eddie felt his smile slide into place. It wasn’t the wide, dimpled, open grin that showed off his teeth and let you know he was happiest. No, this smile was small, secret. It drew his pretty pink tongue over the plush swell of his lips, something Amanda could see from a distance. Then, just to be coy, his pearly top teeth bit into the pillow cushion of his bottom lip, teasing her from her position on the small stage. Even from this far away, Amanda could see that he had made an effort. A shirt with a collar was buttoned across his chest, all red and black squares that looked soft and broken in. Sure, it was still under his leather jacket, but the denim vest must have been left somewhere safe, because he wasn’t sporting the pins and patches that she remembered from their first encounter. Jeans, dark blue or was it black? She couldn’t really tell, but it didn’t entirely matter. Either way, they fit snugly around his thighs and only sported a single torn knee. The threads stretched across his joint, frayed and begging to be played with. His hair was wild. It fell in waves of dark tendrils, looking to all the world like no care had been taken in its shaping and styling. Amanda stretched the fingers of her right hand, the one not holding her mic, imagining how Eddie’s curls would feel wrapped around her fingers. He saw it all. The way her hand fisted at her side before trailing up the chord of her microphone, tangling the slack in her fingers. How Amanda let every note have its own moment before the next one rose to join it. “Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, To my heart, he carries the key”

Eyes fluttering shut, Amanda took a breathy inhalation as the melody shifted, daring to break the spell by denying herself the sight of Eddie in the crowd. Her heart thumped in time with Mark’s gentle drumming, thick hips swaying without her conscious approval, the crowd around her all but forgotten. Sliding back to the original cadence, the song swelled up and out of Amanda, nearing the end. “Won't you tell him please, to put on some speed, Follow my lead, oh, how I need, Someone to watch over me”

Eddie was transfixed. There was only him and Amanda and her voice and the falling sun burnishing everything rose golden in the fading light. He caught the way her skirt curled happily at her ankles with every shift of her feet. The way her mouth formed around the lyrics. How her chest rose and fell with each expressive stanza. The words repeated: “Won't you tell him please, to put on some speed Follow my lead, oh, how I need Someone to watch over me”

Amanda let her eyes flutter open. Closer now, unavoidable and un-ignorable, Eddie was standing directly in front of her. The final note, held until her lungs burned from want of air, faded into the ether and she winked at him. She couldn’t help it, really. Not when she had somehow managed to carry on as if the most handsome guy Amanda had ever bumped into wasn’t staring straight into her soul as she sang. Not when every note was rich and ripe and reverberated across the people packed plaza even if, presently, she sang solely for an audience of one. Applause. Clapping and whistling came from every corner of the park, jostling Eddie’s attention. From the stage, Amanda giggled at his reaction, but smoothly covered her response, “We are just so grateful that you all came to see us tonight. So-” tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a shy smile pointed in Eddie’s direction, she continued, “-we’re going to do one more song before we say goodnight.” She didn’t look at Eddie at all this time. Amanda wasn’t even sure she could, not after the intensity of singing, to him, for him. But she could tell he was there all the same, with his elbows bending outward like leather wrapped wings, nervous energy causing him to bounce on his toes in time with the music.

The new melody started and Amanda let it take her away too. This number is lively, the rhythm more rock than jazz, and she gave herself permission to have a little fun, show off a little bit. Still, she actively ignored the one set of eyes that didn’t seem to stray from her own through their final song. Soon enough, it was all over and the Indiana Four began breaking down. A few friendly folks from the audience came up and said kind words. Luckily there were a few dollars in the tambourine and Amanda happily handed the take to Carly, “Not so bad.” “Not bad at all-” But her friend stopped mid sentence, a voice familiar and still foreign cutting through the conversation, “Um, excuse me? Amanda?” Turning around, Amanda was surprised to find Eddie so close that the toes of her boots brushed against his Reeboks. She looked up at him through the curtain of her mascara, “How can I help you?” Now her voice was breathy. Husky. And it made Eddie’s skin prickle hotly. “Uh, I just wanted to tell you- all, tell you all just how much I enjoyed your set.” Only, Eddie never looked past Amanda’s face. Couldn’t really. Not when her wide eyes were staring into his own, their long lashes accentuating her curious gaze, her head tilted in a way that showed sincerity.

His calloused palm rubbed against the back of his neck, nerves getting the better of him the longer that Eddie stood there. It felt like hours. Long, silence filled hours where no one spoke and he dangled from a weak branch of his own social awkwardness. In reality it was only seconds before Amanda giggled like a crushing school girl, dropping her gaze to break the spell she had unwittingly cast, “Well, that’s awfully kind of you…?” Clearly she was prompting him. It was unfair that she was at the disadvantage of not knowing his name when he had learned hers through the forced politeness of the customer service industry. Behind her, Carly snorted as they watched Eddie extend a heavy ringed hand, taking Amanda’s in his own. Raising it high enough to press a chaste kiss to the back, adding a saucy wink for good measure as he answered, “Eddie. I’m Eddie.” “Eddie.” Amanda wasn’t aware that she’d whispered it out loud until her friend was reaching past her, extending her own hand Eddie’s way for a greeting, using her flirty voice to try and charm the very handsome, very out of place guy, “Carly. That’s me. And-” dropping her hand when Eddie failed to take it, Carly laughed ruefully, “-you don’t care.” Carly was absolutely right. Neither one of them paid her any attention because the world as Amanda knew it no longer existed. Not anymore. There was a new sun, a new sky. One with raven curls and plump, pink lips. A center of the galaxy that smelled like Aqua Velva and cinnamon gum and something mossy green. The world had shifted off its axis, tipping her right into the arms of Eddie Munson. For Eddie, well, he had been gone from the second Amanda had tangled herself around him so tightly that she’d almost fallen. But it was amazing to recognize that these feelings he was having were mutual. He got shy then, toeing at the patch of grass in front of her, hands in his pockets while he played at casual, “Wanna get outta here?” Nodding wordlessly, Amanda agreed, only to realize her unspoken intention. “Yea! Uh, yes. Yes. That would be nice.” When Eddie cocked his chin up, the smile on his face was dazzling, “Excellent.”

— She was sure that she told the band where she was going and who she was leaving with, but Amanda couldn’t be certain. It felt like so long ago. An age had passed since she had been standing on the simple stage, singing for all of Hawkins to hear. Since then, the long ago days of the early evening, so much had happened. Eddie had held her hand as he walked her to his van, holding open the door and ensuring that Amanda was tucked safely inside. Boys didn’t do that- not for Amanda Patterson. Not for the chubby girl who still had her baby weight to lose. When he caught her nibbling worriedly at her bottom lip, Eddie asked pointedly, “Everything alright?” “Uh, yea, I just-” “Afraid I’m trying to kidnap you, huh? I get it. Vans do have a-” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively while pressing the tip of his tongue to the center of his top lip, “-certain reputation. But I promise you, Amanda. No funny business.” With one hand over his heart, Eddie extended the other, holding his pinky finger out. She recognized the gesture. Every school aged kid would. “Is that- are you making a pinky promise?”

His cheeks split into a solar powered smile as he nodded, “Oh, yes. Absolutely. And it’s ironclad, since, ya know, we link our little fingers.” Chuckling with her whole body, her shoulders lifted as Amanda agreed by reaching out her own pinky, “Ok, ok. No funny business.”

They wrapped their littlest fingers around the other, huffing out laughs like naughty children. And it did comfort any nagging fears that might have flooded Amanda’s mind because it was so silly. So unexpected. It was also entirely sincere. Roaring to life like a beast roused from slumber, the van started and Eddie shifted into gear, “Are you, by any chance, hungry?”

He was hoping against hope that she was because Eddie wasn’t ready to say goodnight. Not now when he finally had this beautiful songbird buckled into the passenger’s seat, looking at him with those electric eyes. Eyes that kept pulling him in anytime he dared glance Amanda’s way, now fully focused on him and beaming. Normally a question like that would be fully loaded for a young woman very aware of her size and stature, but for the first time and without any hesitation, Amanda answered without reservation, “Starved.”

Exhaling through a grin, Eddie shook his hair off his shoulders, “Then let’s go!” The drive to the diner was filled with chatter. He offered kind words about the band, the concert and her vocals. “You, you’re just incredible. Never heard someone sing like that before.” “Thanks, but truthfully, Carly and Mark and Jim, they make me sound better.” Amanda did that thing where she deflected the words, the attention, to anyone else in order to minimize herself. What she didn’t count on? Eddie’s ability to see right through her. Blowing his bangs off his face, Eddie swiveled to face Amanda, his tone finally serious, “Uh uh. Nope. No way. You’re gonna have to accept that you’re the star of the show, sweetheart.” Then, he leaned over the center console, right into Amanda’s personal space to bump her shoulder with his own, “Please, take the compliment.” Her jaw snapped shut, hands in her lap where Amanda fooled around her with fingernails, fidgeting. She swallowed thickly and bobbed her head, her voice gaining strength. “You’re right. I, uh, I appreciate you saying that.” “No problem at all, hun. I’m only telling the truth.” That’s when she noticed his little finger wiggling her way, “Pinky promise.” — Normally Amanda would frown at the idea of a booth. They tended to be a tight squeeze, embarrassingly so when she’d have to slide across the bench, her supple thighs sticking to the tacky pleather. She desperately did not want to be embarrassed in front of the forthright dude in front of her. But Amanda didn’t need to worry. Eddie, lacing her hand in his, tugged her to the back table, “My usual spot- out of the way and the most comfortable one in the place.” Deep and roomy, the color of jellied cranberry sauce from a can, the cushion was accommodating because of its indeterminate age. She plopped onto the seat with room to spare, more than a little relieved, “Oh yea?” “Yea. I’ve been breaking it in for years.” Cocking her head in a way that made Eddie’s breath hitch, a clever half teasing smile curling one corner of her mouth higher than the other, Amanda joked, “So you bring all your women here, then?” The deep barking laugh that came straight from Eddie’s chest made an elderly gentleman sitting at the countertop turn around with a scowl. “All my women? You make me sound like a lothario.” “Mr. Goodbar? Is that you?” She squinted her eyes, leaning into the bit. “Oh, Mandy, honey. I am nowhere near that good with the ladies.” “I don’t know. You’re doing pretty good with me, so far.” And it was out of her mouth like a runaway rocket. There was no way to pull it back, no way to reign it in. It was there- out in the ether, like a comet bound to crash through the atmosphere. Amanda froze because now she’d done it. She had pointed out her interest, revealed herself as wanting, knowing that any other time she had dared to give voice to her attraction it had always been met with let down and heart ache. The embarrassment boiled through her. God, she had wanted so badly to play it cool. To ensure that Eddie was really into her before making any kind of declaration that couldn’t be passed off as a joke. Stewing, Amanda waited for the inevitable rejection from the man far prettier and sexier than she should ever hope to have for her own. But instead of a dismissive shrug or, worse, a comment about liking her as a ‘just friend’, Amanda got to watch as Eddie’s eyes lit up joyfully. He couldn’t hide it either, apparently, since his smile widened enough to show off a pair of precious dimples, “Yea? Ya think so? That’s- uh, that’s good to hear.” Something about his own reckless enthusiasm caused the flood of worry to ebb away, leaving Amanda filled with a warm, gooey sensation that was not as familiar. Could it be? Was this what mutual attraction felt like? Was this what love songs had been selling for generations and greeting card companies were always trying to find new ways to describe? Was this… love? “Hey lovebirds, what can I get ya?” It is a universal law that wait staff appear at the table when it is least convenient and this interruption by Cheryl ensured that all was right with the cosmos, her tiny pencil poised and ready to write. They had spent no time reading the menu, but Eddie had it memorized cover to cover. Looking at Amanda, he nodded, “So, uh, do you trust me?” Again, her head tilted, appraising this nearly perfect stranger with the gorgeous grin and shaggy hair. “Uh huh, yea. I trust you. Why do you ask?” Licking over his lips, he turned all of his unfiltered attention to their waitress, dialing the charm up to eleven, “Hiya Cheryl!” “Hi yourself, Eddie. What’s it gonna be?” There was a familiarity there that spoke of too many late night coffee cups and slices of pie. It wasn’t friendly, really, but it was warm enough and Eddie’s puppy dog eyes moved the conversation into safer waters. “Hmm… patty melts. Two please, with the curly fries, ok?” A curt nod answered his request, “Yea, and to drink?” He looked at Amanda, that impish twinkle shining bright in his cinnamon dark eyes, “Milkshakes?” “Oh! Yes! Vanilla for me, please.” She beamed at Eddie, excitement at the consideration evident in Amanda’s face. “And I suppose you want chocolate, right Eddie?” Cheryl lifted her gaze from the scribble filled notepad to stare down at Amanda’s dinner companion. Placing his ring covered hand over his chest, Eddie batted his eyes, “You know the way to my heart, Cheryl.” Snorting approvingly at his antics, she jotted down Eddie’s preferred flavor, “All right kids, be right up.” And she wasn’t kidding because before either of them could let the silence grow, two tall and frosty milkshake glasses were being slid across the glittering formica, each topped with a mound of whipped cream and a luscious, over sweet cherry as a crown. A pair of straws were tossed down without much thought and Amanda greedily grabbed one, eager to taste the delectable treat in front of her. “So, tell me about you. What do you- like, what do you do for fun?” Eddie was toying with his straw’s paper wrapper, making small talk and working hard at looking effortless. He hadn’t been out like this, with a girl he was so into, in ages. Maybe ever, really, and he was rusty, more than a little out of practice. Amanda swirled her own straw through the thick vanilla shake in front of her, biting into her bottom lip before replying, “Well, I work. A lot.” “At the Music Shop?” She shrugged, “Yup. But it’s not all restocking sheet music and replacing guitar strings. I teach-” “Like guitar?” Something about the prospect was so exciting. A fellow musician to noodle around with and she just happened to have the voice of an angel? Was this paradise found, or what? Amanda nodded at his eager response, “Yea. Also some keyboard, like, really beginner piano, ya know?” Eddie slurped at his chocolate shake, brain going a mile a minute. Shaking his long hair off his shoulders, nearly gawking, he clicked his tongue before sighing deeply, “It’s not really fair.” Worry filled Amanda’s features. Had she done something wrong? It had all been going so well, maybe too well? “What’s not fair?” Rapping his ringed knuckles against the tabletop before pointing her way, “You. You’re like, too good to be true.” Shy now, Amanda turned away from his kindness, his honeyed praises, and fiddled nervously with the pendant of her necklace. It wasn’t something she had a ton of experience with; flirting and compliments and genuine appreciation. If she was on a stage, under a white hot spotlight, Amanda would know exactly what to say, what to do, but here on the worn out bench seat of a small town diner, Amanda found herself unmoored by all the attention Eddie was sending her way. “Oh, that’s like- I mean, I’m not-” she let her voice trail off, suddenly transfixed by something outside of the plate window. “Hey-” Eddie laid his hand, palm up, on the worn down table, his voice dropping to a whisper. He’d said something to upset Amanda because she had taken those brilliant peepers away and that felt wrong on a primal level. “-Amanda? Did I- uh, shit. Did I do something, ya know, wrong? Shit.” There was something in the defeated sound of Eddie’s expletive that brought her around. She saw his open hand, still laying on the table and cautiously linked her fingers with his. But she still could not meet his questioning look. Twirling one of those big, heavy rings around his large and frankly, distracting fingers, Amanda finally huffed out a lungful of air. “I guess I should like, be honest here and tell you that I’ve never really done this.” She motioned between the pair of them with her unoccupied hand as if that alone would explain her behavior. Eddie squeezed her fingers for a second, a trace of teasing in his tone when he asked, “Had dinner in a shitty diner?” Rolling her eyes skyward, she snorted out a small laugh, “No. Well, kinda? I mean, I haven’t really had a-” she let her eyes lock onto Eddie’s maple brown ones, holding him still, “-a date. I, uh, never really had anyone, ya know, wanna take me out. So, this is new. For me, anyway.” Eddie could see what the admission cost her. The once pleased smile now turned just a little pouty as her bottom lip puckered from the effort of opening herself up. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as if she couldn’t keep the air inside her for too long, but perhaps the most telling was the way that Amanda’s hand clung tightly to Eddie’s. For a long second neither one of them said anything. The kitchen crew could be heard, banging around pots and plates. Another couple in a nearby booth was laughing loudly. The radio was tuned to the oldies station so everyone could listen to Sam Cooke singing about Cupid. And when Amanda realized that Eddie wasn’t going to respond, she sat up, stiffer than before, readying to take her hand with her. But Eddie closed his fist around her fingers, keeping his hold on her and tugging her gently forward, a pained pinch obvious in his voice, “Me either.” “What?” He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, “I don’t date. Uh, that often.” Popping one eye open, just to see if Amanda was still with him, Eddie continued, “Um, I’ve got a bit of a, well, a reputation. And for some reason, the ladies around here aren’t into that.” Shooting for levity, Eddie hoped to lighten the mood. Moments like this, where he was on display emotionally, where he was open and vulnerable, made him nervous. Anxious. Twitchy. It was fucking scary to be sitting here with this pretty bird and tell her how much of a disaster he really was with no bravado to use as armor. And if Amanda wasn’t already heading for the hills, there was no way he would be able to stop her now. “It’s the van, isn’t it? All the people you’ve attempted to kidnap, right?” At her gentle jest, both of Eddie’s eyes popped open. She was still there, sitting sweetly behind her melting shake, a tentative twist of her lips making it impossible for Eddie to stop imagining what kissing her would be like and he felt himself nodding with a hoarse giggle, relieved, “Yea. That’s, uh, that’s it. I’m just a creepy metal head with a super creepy van.” “You probably have candy too and uh, puppies? For the luring of innocents?” “Of course. What’s a kidnapper without his bait?” “A weird guy with an empty van?” And that absolutely shitty punchline was enough to send them both into a giggle fit, shattering any lingering tension created by being a touch too honest in the moment. There would be a better time to talk about deep dark secrets and the reasons why two lonely people could find comfort in each other, but this wasn’t it. When Amanda pulled her hand back this time, Eddie let it go. She used her napkin to dab under her eyes, clearing away the tears that laughing together had created. Then she was dipping down to slurp at her creamy concoction, grinning, “This is so good!” “Right? But, I gotta say, vanilla is-” “What? What’s wrong with vanilla?” Shaking his head with a laugh, Eddie raised his eyebrows, “Vanilla is kinda boring.” “It is not!” Scalded by his choice of words, Amanda leaned over their shared table at the diner, motioning him closer. When she was near enough for her now vanilla scented breath to skate across Eddie’s mouth, Amanda husked, “Vanilla is smoky. Sweet. It’s hard to grow, super hard to harvest and while there are many imitators out there. Real vanilla. The good stuff? Well, that shit would rock your world.” Amanda, feeling bolder, pushed in tighter despite the formica between them, continuing in a hushed tone. “And Eddie-” her voice dropped even lower, forcing him to concentrate on every word leaving her tenderly parted lips, lips that smelled like bourbon and sugar and cream. Lips that Eddie wanted to taste so badly that he was sure he was going to go mad, right here in the goddamned diner, before their burgers ever made it to the table. Lips that begged to be kissed stupid, carried on, unaware of his rising desire, “-never forget this: chocolate needs vanilla to taste so damn good!” Sitting back, pleased as punch now that her point was made, Amanda slurped down another sip of her vanilla shake. Eddie needed a minute. Or seven. He was still almost lying chest down on the booth’s table, having to cock his head up to look at the vanilla loving vixen gloating over him. Spreading his broad hands over the tabletop, Eddie dramatically pushed himself back into his seat, eyeing Amanda warily, acting contrary for the fun of it. “It’s a good story, kid. But I’m still not convinced about vanilla’s superiority. Maybe-” He was pushing his luck, he knew it. God, but he knew it only too well. She’d admitted to being new to all this, inexperienced, but still, fortune favors the bold, isn’t that what some famous person had said once? Amanda, unknowingly, waited for his follow-up, her mouth wrapped around the striped straw, her cheeks round and smiling, “Maybe?” Leaning onto one leather wrapped elbow, Eddie reclaimed the space at the center of their table, “Maybe I need to taste it again?” She’s confused. Yea, definitely, confused. So Amanda moved, ready to slide her icy half filled glass his way. But Eddie shook his head slowly and waved her forward until their foreheads were almost pressed together. That’s when he cupped her cheek, gently, softly and Amanda, powerless to stop her body, nuzzled into the warmth there. It felt natural. Right. Easy. And there was no way that Amanda was going to deny herself this little bit of pleasure being offered so openly. If what Eddie had admitted was true, and the way his eyes had scrunched gave her a pretty good idea that it was, then he was in uncharted waters himself. Something about that idea, that they were both in this raging waterfall of connection together made it safer somehow. It made it easier to shut her own eyes and enjoy the calloused caresses of Eddie. Eddie slid his thumb over her plush bottom lip which parted without question, “Wanna taste you. That alright, Mandy?” God, did she like being called Mandy. She bobbed her head ‘yes’, her eyes shut from the want, already anticipating Eddie’s movements. But he surprised her again, asking- no, telling, “Open your eyes, baby. Please?” And only when Eddie could spy the blown open pupils of his dinner companion did he allow his mouth to surge forward. His slightly chapped lips separated enough for his tongue to sweep across Amanda’s own and he was rewarded with a sultry sigh. It made Eddie braver. Bolder.

Now he was intrepid in his search for the flavor of vanilla, teasing and taking a taste of every muggy corner of her mouth. His tongue brushed against her own, the fresh flavor of vanilla sweetness everywhere. Heady and exotic and exciting. Amanda tipped her chin downward, ready to deepen this first kiss that arched over forgotten milkshakes and the paper napkins wrapping up their silverware, tentatively running the tip of her tongue over Eddie’s teeth. Traces of chocolate and the syrupy sweet cherry from the top of his treat lingered on Eddie’s lips making Amanda hum harmonically. Her fingers fisted into the collar of his flannel shirt, ensuring that Eddie couldn’t escape, at least, not without effort. But she wasn’t worried. When his second hand molded to the curve of her other cheek, Amanda couldn’t avoid smiling, knowing that Eddie was as into this as she was. As far as first kisses went, this one was ranking pretty high on the list of all time greats and both were reluctant to pull away first. “Ahem! AHEM! I have your order.” Two heads turned toward the intruding voice of the bored and bordering on disgusted server Doris but Eddie and Amanda didn’t jump apart like a couple of randy teens might have. Oh no, Amanda leaned further into the cup of Eddie’s palm, offering their put upon server a small smile, dazed and almost drunkenly, “Hmm, thank you so much.” Eddie would have rather died than forfeit the pleasure of her trusting touch. With his free left hand he reached for one of the two plates, “Here, lemme have that.” “Whatever.” Without any further ceremony, Doris, because that’s what her name tag read, plopped both heavy ceramic dishes to the table, “Need anything else lovebirds?” Amanda lifted her head slowly, licking over her bee stung lips and nodded towards the pink cheeked shaggy headed boy still draped across their booth, “Uh, yea. Could we have another vanilla shake, please? It’s his favorite flavor.” Chuckling, Eddie let his broad thumb with the bitten down nail graze over the apple of her cheek, speaking to Doris but only looking at Amanda, “Two cherries, huh, Doris?” Rolling her elderly eyes, the waitress shook her head, “Right away.” Steam rolled off the two cheeseburger melts and stacks of seasoned french fries but they remained huddled as close at the table between them would allow. Cocking his eyebrow, Eddie couldn’t help the teasing, “My favorite, huh?” “Oh yea. You’re a convert now.” Settling back reluctantly, Eddie smirked your way, “Ever think that you’re my favorite flavor?” He was rewarded with a small kiss pressed to the inside of his wrist and what he realized was a trademark tilt of her head, “I told you that everything tastes better with vanilla, Eddie.” “Yea, you sure did.” Biting into his burger, Eddie grinned through the grease on his face, sure he had never been happier in his short life. And if the triumphant smirk Amanda flashed his way proved anything, she felt the exact same way.

— The second their empty plates had been cleared away, Eddie’s hand naturally kind of reached for Amanda’s, needy and greedy for the reassurance of touch. Just as natural, Amanda slotted her fingers between his, “I gotta say, Eddie, that was a pretty amazing burger.” Pleased at the recognition, Eddie squeezed her digits for a second, “Thanks for trusting me.” And then he seemed to realize the full implication of his statement. Thanks for trusting him on the drive over. Thanks for trusting his judgment about the restaurant and not just his menu choices. Thanks for trusting his intentions. Her eyes rounded at the sentiment, giving Eddie a flash of sympathy before leaning into a flirty smile, “I had to. You did pinky promise me that there would be no funny business and that’s ironclad. At least, that’s what I’ve been led to believe.” “God, you remember everything, huh?” But he sounded impressed. Happy that she hadn’t lingered on his more revealing comment. Nodding, Amanda agreed, “Yea, I mean, I kinda have an ear and it’s always been easy for me to memorize stuff. Lyrics, melodies, lines from movies-” Leaning forward again, engaged and interested, Eddie licked over his bottom lip, “No shit?” “No shit!” Eddie couldn’t help it. He let his eyes roam over the pretty face in front of him, etching all of the details into his own memory, vowing never to forget the greasy sweet shine of her lips around the red striped straw or how she folded her disposable napkin up primly before laying it across her dinner plate. The way Amanda’s hand felt so right in his and how her mouth tasted like vanilla ice cream with a trace amount of menthol throat drop lingering along her teeth. Eddie needed to remember it all for later. For tonight when he went back to his trailer, like a gentleman. For tomorrow or the day after or the day after that. For all the days that would spread between this time together and the next time Eddie would be able to see her. He was going to live off the sound of Amanda’s begrudging laugh when he made a joke that was funnier than it had any real right to be. He planned to survive on the nourishment of her sugared sighs when those perfect, plump and pouty lips had welcomed Eddie’s own. It was food for his soul. Essential for life like oxygen or water. “Uh, Eddie?” Amanda’s quiet question yanked him out of his own head and back into the present moment. He tugged the forward chunk of his hair between his long fingers, embarrassed at being caught, “Hmm?” “You’re, uh, staring.” “Yea. Sorry about that. It’s just-” “Do I have something on my face?” Panicked, Amanda patted at her cheeks to find the non-existent stain. And how could he help himself? “Oh, yup. A little higher. No, lower- uh, nope, other side. It’s right there-” he directed her wildly, pointing at the corner of his mouth to watch Amanda lick the same spot of her own, “-almost. How do you keep missing it?” “You little shit!” It was suddenly crystal clear that Eddie was full on fucking with her. There never had been anything on her face. “What? You got it. Just now.” Eddie’s impish grin made it impossible for Amanda to be truly mad so she settled for shooting him a playfully spiteful glare, “Uh huh. Yea, sure.” His thumb rubbed along the side of her pointer finger, the gentle drag a grounding reminder of Eddie’s unwavering presence. Amanda rested her chin against the flat of her right palm before sighing deeply, “What am I gonna do with you, Eddie?” Reflexively, re-actively, he answered, “Whatever you want, baby.” It was Amanda’s turn to stare. There was an open honesty in the hot coffee color of Eddie’s eyes that hooked her right through the heart and tugged like a caught fish on a rusty lure. He was being serious, there was no denying it. Around them the air shifted. It was no longer funny. It was no longer polite. The world narrowed once more, big enough for only the two of them and the dingy diner booth where they sat as everything else fell away. Her throat tightened and a lick of heated flame unfurled through her belly. Words flooded her thoughts but Amanda couldn’t seem to settle on the ones that would say what she wanted desperately to express. Eddie’s seemingly simple declaration had untethered her. Because it was too soon to speak with such clarity of purpose. Too early for the implication of more to be made. And yet, for the first time, Amanda saw the ghostly shape of possibility in the earnest expression Eddie wore. There was a promise there, stronger than one created when two little fingers linked, and something about that was spooky. Scary. Only, Amanda didn’t feel frightened like she thought she should, shrugging smoothly, “I- I wanna stay with you.” That was her truth, in the singular sparkling now. Leaving Eddie, even for the comfort of home, was a thought so daunting, so disruptive, that she was actively moving against it. Everything in Amanda Patterson said ‘stay’. Eddie’s head bobbed in understanding. He had no intention of letting the night end so early and without any plan in place for a follow-up rendezvous. At Amanda’s declaration, he’d changed the grip of her hand, turning it so that their palms touched, textured heat melding together.

He’d be lying if he denied the libidinous way his blood shot south at the whispered want in Amanda’s voice. He was a young and virile guy, after all. But Eddie wasn’t thinking with his dick when he said, “I don’t wanna let you go, Mandy.”

“Am I-” pausing to catch her breath, Amanda started again, “-are we crazy?” “I uh, I don’t think so.” Conspiratorially, Amanda huffed, “Then what do we do now, Eddie?” His free hand brushed through his curls roughly before landing on the back of his neck, “Let me take you home?” It was a question born of chivalry and Amanda agreed with a thin, “Yes, please.” Eddie stood up first, somehow managing to keep her hand in his as he slipped out of the booth smoothly. Once he was on his feet, he tugged lightly, bringing Amanda to the edge of the bench before offering his arm. She watched as Eddie threw some loose bills on the table and then he was leading her outside of the bacon scented diner and onto the sidewalk. She floated at his side, the swaying of her skirt brushing against the stiff denim of Eddie’s jeans. What had been an appropriate outfit for the early evening was now a bit too thin and he saw her shiver under the bright and clear Indiana sky. Popping open the van’s door, he saw her settled inside and as she buckled her seatbelt, Eddie shrugged off his leather jacket, “Here. Snuggle up under this, yea?” Gripping the body warm coat with greedy fingers, Amanda clutched it to her chest, humming her thanks. He watched as she spread it over herself, nudging the collar with her nose, “Oh man, it smells like you!” “Cigarettes and bad decisions?” “Nope.” Inhaling deeply, she thought for a minute, “Cologne? Aqua Velva, like my granddad wears and uh, Green Apple shampoo?” She couldn’t hide the surprised way her eyes widened or the knowing little smirk her mouth made at this discovery. “What? I think it smells good.” Lingering in the space between inside the van with Amanda and outside on the sidewalk, Eddie’s arms leaned into the rusted metal frame, effectively caging her in the seat. Not that she minded when every time he stretched his flannel shirt rode up just enough for an alabaster white slice of belly to peek over the waistband of his jeans. She had already noticed splashes of black ink over each hip but couldn’t be sure of its shape. His forearms were on display, the strong veins of his wrists visible under the artfully stained skin, and Amanda let her mind wander at the idea of what Eddie looked like under all that cotton and cloth. Amanda swallowed thickly. She was very aware of the protective bubble Eddie had built around her, here in the cab of his vehicle. The scent of him. The sight. It was a feast for the senses. And now all she wanted was to taste the plush and pillowy softness of his lips. Lips that were moving, saying something but her mind had gone over into staticy silver. She couldn’t help it. Not when he was standing with his trim waist nearly at eye level, the belt of his jeans drawing them low on his hips. “Huh?” That grin. Broad and toothy, spread smugly over his face, “Uh, did I lose you for a second?” “Hmm, yea. Kinda. Sorry, what were you saying?” “I was saying, I don’t want to say goodnight, at least-” he raised a hand to her cheek, brushing the calloused pad of his thumb across her smooth skin, “-not so soon.” Having already melted into his touch, hoarse and throaty, she agreed, “Yea, no, me either.” “Yea? So, if you’re up for a little adventure, I may have an idea.” Amanda lifted an eyebrow, questioning the boy before her with a sarcastic thread to her words, “An adventure?” “Don’t worry, babe. I'll make sure to get you there and back again.” His pinkie finger was wiggling, just waiting for Amanda to link them together in a silent show of trust. —

Thanks for reading! Part 2 is coming soon!

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