#Happy Mid-August

[juridical-angel-blog]

[oumoumimi]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNGKOOK 💛✨️

[09/01/1997]

(cr. namuspromised)

[loderlied]

i know that durge technically doesn’t have a birthday but gortash decides that zeke’s is on the day they met :]

[sotruebritney]

just got accepted for a master program in italy😶

[eggmeralda]

listening to my february-june 2022 playlist which led to ⬇️

[truffulacore]

i'm graduating today which is fun but more importantly it's raining which is so sexy but even more importantly it's the anniversary of the swag archive

[crispy-chan]

Praying for some Europe tour dates crammed between the Paris mubank and Paris lollapalooza 🙏 preferably by mid June 😭

[imwritesometimes]

like.... I need everyone to understand that I watched this like 4 second clip eleven billion times

[thisis-an-original-name]

i love my cats so much bc like… there’s a thing here. and it’s alive. like an actual creature. and i think it loves me and knows that i love it. and one of my cats…. she’s so weird…. she comes into my room at 1 AM and makes these insane whirring noises and god forbid I stop petting her, she’ll look at me with the biggest eyes you’ve ever seen until I start again. during the day sometimes it seems like she doesn’t even like me that much but then when she’s on my bed, she’s like “you…. Are my best friend 🥺” And maybe it’s just because my room is warm and I like to pet her but I’m choosing to believe that on some level she knows. She knows that she’s been with me since she was a baby and I was 10, and now we’re both old as fuck and I’m moving away next year and I can’t take her with me but that doesn’t change the fact that we wouldn’t be the little guys that we are today without each other.

So yeah. Maybe I’m just going crazy, but I just love that there’s a living thing in my house that doesn’t understand shit that I tell her but loves me so much anyway, just like I love her. And she Gets It. What does she get? No idea. But she Gets It.

[whimsiwitchy]

we broke up (one shot)

hugh jackman x f!reader

summary: you get dragged to a work event by your boyfriend of three years when Hugh comes to flirt with you. after you reluctantly tell him you’re taken, he backs off for the most part. a few months later, Hugh tells the story during an interview but little does he know you’re single now. 

warnings: implied age gap (not mentioned), flirting while in a relationship (kinda)

authors note: here's a little oneshot I wrote tonight. enjoy <33

You’d been with your boyfriend, Rowan, for a few years now. He earned a degree in marketing and immediately got a job for a studio. While he enjoys his job and it brings in good money, the events he dragged you to were unbelievably boring. The company he worked for always had big parties after a success on a project. At first they were interesting, often running into celebrities here and there given that it was the success of their movie, but lately you found yourself sitting at the bar more often than not. It was routine at this point. Rowan would show you off for the first hour, then he would toss you aside to fend for yourself. You weren’t the biggest social butterfly, hence why you liked to sit alone, drinking. 

Tonight wasn’t any different. You were at another party for the successful marketing for Deadpool and Wolverine. You’d heard a few whispers that the stars of the movie themselves were somewhere wandering around but you hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing them. Rowan dumped you at the bar a little over thirty minutes ago and you’ve been sipping on some fruity little drink ever since, completely in your own world. You made small talk with the bartender every once and a while but you were mainly people watching. 

“Mind if I join?” A deep Australian accent asks. You look up and see a gorgeous older man. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a pair of black expensive looking glasses. He was deliciously tall and had a thich salt and pepper beard. “Uh no, go ahead.” He sits in the bar stool next to you. He orders a drink from the bartender before returning his attention back to you. “Pardon me if this is too forward but you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” The comment takes you aback. “Oh um, thank you. That’s really sweet of you to say.” He looks down to your glass that’s nothing but melted ice at this point. “Can I buy you another drink?” He asks. “You probably shouldn’t. I’m taken…sadly.” You whisper the last part, unsure if he heard it or not. “Oh! I apologize for coming on to you. You’ve been sitting here by yourself for so long, I thought you might have come alone.” You huff out a laugh. “My boyfriend works for the company. He’s out there socializing or whatever.” You shrug and signal to the bartender, asking for another drink. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, you’d be on my arm all night.” He smirks. “Is that right?” You smile at him. Before he can answer, you feel your phone vibrate with a text from Rowan that reads ‘where are you babe? Time to leave.’ 

“Well, the boyfriends calling, I gotta go.” You carefully climb out of the chair and grab your jacket and purse off of the back. As you start to walk away, the man speaks again. “Wait! What’s your name?” You turn back to face him. “Y/n.” He smiles and repeats it. “I’m Hugh.” His answer surprises you. “Oh! Congrats on the movie. I didn’t even recognize you at first with the beard and all.” He laughs. “Bye Hugh.” You wave before walking off.

—

It’s been a few months since that night in July, it being September now. You and Rowan had broken up mid-August, both of you agreeing that the relationship wasn’t going anywhere. It hurt for a little bit but you knew it was for the best. Living with him had been awkward as you searched for a new place, deciding that he can keep the current apartment. You wanted a fresh start, which is where you are now. Tonight was your first night in your new apartment. You didn’t have any furniture yet but you were happy. You bought an air mattress to make do until you could afford an actual bed. 

It was around midnight and you were doing your nightly youtube watch. You were scrolling through your recommended videos when you saw Hugh’s face pop up. It was an interview posted a few minutes ago from him on some late night show you’d never heard of. You clicked on it, wanting to hear what the man was up to these days. The interview was a standard one, mostly questions on his upcoming movie about some sheep. You weren’t really paying attention, close to dozing off when a question peaked your interest. 

“So Hugh, it’s almost been a year since the announcement of your divorce and the fans wanna know…How’s your dating life doing? Are you seeing anyone?” The woman asks, wiggling her eyebrows. Hugh lets out a big laugh. “I’m actually not seeing anyone. It’s funny you ask because the last time I even attempted to flirt with a woman she turned me down.” The interviewer's eyebrows shoot up in shock. She gasps before asking, “How could anyone turn you down? We need to know the full story here.” 

“Ryan and I were at this party for the marketing team that worked on Deadpool and Wolverine and I saw this absolutely gorgeous girl sitting at the bar all alone.” The interviewer is nodding her head, engaging with every word Hugh says. “I eyed her for a while to see if anyone was with her but she sat there alone for a good thirty minutes before Ryan hyped me up to go over there. When I finally did, I ordered a drink and tried to play it cool but I felt the urge to tell this girl how stunning she was, so I did.” You giggle to yourself and you hear him tell the story from his point of view. “She thanked me and I offered to buy her another drink. I kid you not, in the prettiest voice I’ve ever heard she says ‘you probably shouldn’t, i’m taken.’” His hands go up to his chest, gripping right above his heart. “My heart broke mate. I flirted a little more in true Hugh fashion but she had to go. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since.” 

“What a lucky woman, I’m sure she regrets it.” 

“Hey, I tried my best.” He shrugs before looking at the camera. “Y/n, if you ever break up with him. I’m all yours baby.” 

Your jaw drops, the sound of cheers blasting from your phone.  

‘we broke up. I’m all yours. @/RealHughJackman’ 

You hit send on the tweet and hoped it would be enough to bring him back to you.

thank you for reading <3

[queenshelby]

Uncle Tommy (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Niece Reader

Warning: Smut, Incest, Taboo Relations, DDLG, Dub-Con

And yes, this was a request! Please comment and engage!

It was during the month of August that you moved back to Birmingham after having spent almost twelve years travelling with your mother Esma after your father died and whilst your mother disliked the idea, you were eighteen now and to put it bluntly, you were no longer a child and had to make your own decisions.

Your mother had met and married another man a few years ago, and you had no desire to be a burden on their newfound happiness so, when your Aunt Polly suggested for you to move in with either her or your Uncle Tommy, you were grateful for the opportunity.

Your Uncle Tommy had horses and you had always loved the idea of working with them, so it was an easy decision to move in with him. Your Uncle Tommy had a new wife. She was his third wife and whilst you thought that living with a man like him and his newfound love would be slightly awkward, you settled in easily. 

After a few days, you began to feel more comfortable in your new surroundings, enjoying your work with the horses and even though you had not seen your Uncle Tommy for over 12 years beforehand, he seemed genuinely happy to see you.

You came across as bright, intelligent and respectful and found yourself in your uncle's office quite often, helping him with paperwork and other business-related tasks. However, there was something peculiar about your Uncle Tommy. Something that made you feel slightly uncomfortable but also somewhat exited when he was around, although you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

He was a mid-forty-year-old attractive man with a commanding presence, handsome, with piercing blue eyes and jet-black hair. You never remembered him like this from your childhood. Now he seemed to have acquired a distinguished elegance - a byproduct, perhaps, of his wealth and power.

It wasn’t just his looks, but also the way he carried himself. Confident, commanding, yet respectful. He treated you like an adult and didn’t hesitate to give you the responsibility you craved.

But then, occasionally, you felt as though he made some advances towards you which you were not sure whether or not you should reciprocate. He was your uncle after all. He was a married man, and you were in a relationship with a good young man who happened to be working in your uncle's factory. 

On occasion, your uncle would put a stray hand on your waist, his fingers lightly tracing your curves as he leaned in close to whisper something mundane, his warm breath tickling your ear in a way that made you shiver.

You would quicken your pace, eager to escape the alluring pull of his nearness and return to the comfort of your own room. However, sometimes, you got lost in the moment, in his mesmerizing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through you.

One evening, after a particularly long day of work with the horses, you found him in the study.

He was sitting behind his desk, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a pen in the other. His eyes were focused on some documents in front of him, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

"Uncle Tommy," you said softly, not wanting to disturb him.

He looked up, his gaze softening as he took in your appearance. You were wearing a simple dress that hugged your curves and showed off your legs. Your hair was loose around your shoulders, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks under his gaze.

"Come in, Love," he said, gesturing to the empty chair in front of his desk. "What can I do for you?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"I just wanted to talk to you about something," you said finally. "It's about James, the young man I am seeing," you told him, causing him to furrow his eyebrows.

"What about him?" your uncle asked , setting his glass aside and giving you his full attention. There was a hint of something in his tone that you couldn't quite place, but it made you feel slightly uneasy.

"Well," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I just wanted to let you know that we're getting serious. I think we might even get engaged soon which means that, maybe, I would be moving in with him."

Your uncle's expression didn't change, but you saw a flicker of something in his eyes that made you feel uncomfortable.

"Love, you are fucking 18 years old, " he said, his voice low and controlled. "You should not be making decisions like that yet," he said honestly as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin as he looked at you thoughtfully.

"I respect your feelings for this young man," he said finally. "But I urge you to be careful, eh? Don't be a fool. You are a fucking Shelby and you  do not commit yourself to just anybody," your uncle said and you sat there in silence for a moment, digesting his words. You knew he was right, of course. You were young and had a whole life ahead of you. You should not make any rash decisions, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

"I understand Uncle Tommy, but I really love him,"  you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your uncle chuckled in response before leaning over the desk and caressing your cheek.  His touch was gentle, but the heat of it sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and danger at the same time.

"You are a beautiful young woman Y/N, " your uncle said, his voice dripping with suggestion. "And you deserve much better than a factory worker like him who seems to have no fucking aspirations to become anything more, eh," he added, his fingers tracing your jawline.

His fingers lingered longer than necessary, and you felt a strange heat spreading through your body. You knew you should pull away, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. Instead, you felt yourself leaning into his touch, your heart racing as your mind filled with forbidden thoughts just before his wife walked into the study.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt," she said as she entered the room, her eyes flickering between you and your uncle.

Your uncle quickly withdrew his hand, his face becoming impassive as he greeted his wife with a warm smile.

"No, it's alright, love. Y/N and I were just having a discussion about her future," he said, his voice betraying no emotion.

You quickly stood up, eager to escape the tension in the room, but you took what your uncle had said to heart. You knew that he was right and, over the next few weeks, the relationship between you and James became strained.

A few weeks later...

It was around 10 o'clock when you heard a knock on the door of your bedroom. You were sitting on your bed, reading a book and trying to clear your mind. 

"Come in," you called out, setting your book aside and straightening your posture as the door opened and your uncle stepped inside.

He looked striking as ever, his hair perfectly styled and his suit tailored to perfection. His eyes scanned over you in a way that made you feel both excited and slightly uneasy.

"Uncle Tommy, what are you doing here?" you asked as he entered your bedroom, closing the door behind him, before sitting down by your side.

"I just came to check on you, Love," he said , eyes gleaming as he looked at your young and naive figure. "To see if you were doing alright," he continued, running his fingers ran through your hair. "Frances told me that you have been having some problems with this boy you were seeing," he then admitted  , with a hint of concern in his voice.

You couldn't help but feel grateful for the attention, and somehow, comforted. You thus sat up next to him, wearing nothing but your satin nightgown, confiding about what happened between you and James.

"We had a little argument because he wants things that I am not ready for, you know. So, I have distanced myself a little from him for now and it's really making me sad," you answered honestly, and your uncle nodded before resting his hand on your bare thigh. 

Your uncle's touch sent a jolt of pleasure throughout your body, his skin was warm and rough, you leaned in slightly towards him, letting out a soft sigh.

"Well, I told you before Love, you deserve better than a boy like James fucking McFallon, eh," your uncle said with a gentle voice, running his fingers up your thigh, causing you to shiver.

"Now, tell me though Sweetheart, he didn't make you do anything you didn't want to do, did he? Because if he has, then I will need to deal with him,"  Thomas said, his voice a low growl.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and safety in your uncle's presence. You knew that he would always be there for you and protect you from anything that could harm you.

"No, he didn't. I just didn't want to take the next step with him yet," you said softly, looking up at your uncle.

His fingers were still tracing their way up your thigh, sending tingles throughout your body.

"And he hasn't touched you in any placed you didn't want to be touched, has he?"  Thomas asked, looking into your eyes with that piercing blue gaze.

"What do you mean by that?" you asked, in your rather naive mind, causing your uncle to chuckle.

"I mean, he hasn't touched you down here without your consent , has he?" Thomas clarified, his hand vaguely brushing over your clothed sex.

You felt a sudden heat rising to your cheeks as your uncle's words finally sunk in.

"No, he hasn't. I wouldn't allow it," you said, but your voice wavered slightly, giving away your uncertainty as your uncle's eyes gleamed as he nodded his head, pleased with your answer.

"Good, because if he had touched you right there without your consent, then would have had no choice but to fucking cut him, eh?"  Thomas said, as he gently caressed your cheek with one hand while rubbing his fingers over your panties with the other, before pulling the fabric to the side. 

You froze almost immediately , tensing up as you tried to comprehend what your uncle was doing.

"Uncle Tommy, you shouldn't touch me down there, I think," you stammered while, at the same time, inadvertently spreading your legs.

"You are right Love, I probably shouldn't. But doesn't it feel nice when I touch you there?" Thomas whispered as you rubbed his thumb over your clit, creating a strange wetness between your folds.

"It feels really weird, Uncle Tommy," you moaned as your uncle started to move his thumb in a circular motion, building up a strange and unfamiliar ache in your lower belly.

"Do you want me to stop?" Thomas asked, his voice husky and full of desire as he slowed down his movements, waiting for your answer.

"No, don't stop," you panted , your body coming alive under his touch.

Thomas smiled and resumed his previous pace while feeling himself grow hard beneath the confides of his pants.

"Do you think I could have a closer look at your treasure, Sweetheart? I would love to see that beautiful little hole of yours now, because it is getting so nice and wet for me,"  your uncle whispered in your ear while slipping his fingers under the waistband of your panties.

"Uncle Tommy, I don't know if that's a good idea," you said, gasping slightly as you felt your uncle's fingers touch your intimate areas.

"I promise, Love, I will make you feel really nice down there," Thomas reassured you, sliding his index finger over your wet folds. 

"Okay , but just this once," you agreed, reluctantly but with a hint of curiosity in your voice.

"Good girl. Why don't you lie down for me , Love?" Thomas suggested, removing his index finger from your wetness and giving you a soft pat on your bottom, encouraging you to lie back down on the bed.

You didn't resist and followed your uncle's instructions, biting your lip as he slipped off your panties, leaving you bare before him.

Thomas couldn't help but admire the sight of your body laid out before him. Your legs were slightly parted, giving him a glimpse of your beautiful, wet sex. Without warning, he then spread your labia open with his fingers, exposing your clit and inner folds.

"Such a beautiful sight, eh" Thomas whispered while gently tracing your folds with his index finger, causing you to shiver at the touch.

"You are simply stunning, Love," Thomas continued, awe in his voice as he leaned down to get a closer look.

"Have you ever put your fingers inside your little tressure box here?"  Thomas asked, his voice low and deep as he gently circled your clit with his thumb.

"No, I don't think I have," you replied, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves as your uncle asked you such a personal question.

"Would you like me to be the first one to do it?" Thomas asked, his eyes gleaming with desire.

"I-I don't know," you stammered, feeling yourself flush at the thought. "Is it going to hurt?" you asked, biting your lip as your uncle's fingers continued to explore your wet sex.

"Only for a moment, Sweetheart. But I promise, it will feel so good after that," Thomas reassured you, before slowly and gently running his index finger over your wet sex again. 

"Okay , let's try it," you agreed, feeling yourself getting more and more aroused by your uncle's actions and words.

Thomas couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as, very carefully, he pushed his index finger inside your tight sex, feeling your inner walls clench around it.

You couldn't help but gasp at the sensation, as your uncle's finger penetrated you for the first time. It felt strange and unfamiliar, but also incredibly pleasurable.

"How does it feel, Love?" Thomas asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"It feels...weird, but also kind of nice," you replied, finding it hard to put your feelings into words.

"Good, that's great Love," Thomas praised you, as a proud smile appeared on his face. "Now, I want you to relax and breathe deeply while I move my finger inside of you, okay?"

You nodded eagerly, taking deep breaths as your uncle slowly moved his finger in and out of your sex. It was an odd sensation, but also incredibly arousing.

You couldn't believe what was happening in this moment, but at the same time, you couldn't deny that it felt incredible. Thomas's fingers were now exploring every inch of your wet sex, causing you to moan and writhe in pleasure beneath him.

"You're so fucking tight, Love," Thomas groaned, as his finger moved deeper inside of you. "But I think I can get a second finger inside without breaking your barrier," he said tentatively  , looking deep into your eyes for consent.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, but you also couldn't deny the arousal that was building up inside of you. You nodded your head in agreement, and Thomas slowly slid in a second finger, causing you to gasp at the feeling of being stretched.

"That's it, Sweetheart. Just relax and breathe," Thomas whispered softly in your ear, as he continued to move his fingers in and out of your wet sex.

The feeling was still strange and unfamiliar, but the pleasure that accompanied it quickly overshadowed any discomfort you might have felt earlier. Your breathing became heavier and more ragged as your uncle's fingers continued their slow, teasing movements.

Thomas could feel your body tensing up beneath his touch, so he leaned down to whisper in your ear once more, "You're doing great, Love. Just relax and let me make you feel good."

He moved his fingers slowly at first, allowing you to get used to the sensation of being penetrated in this way. He could feel your tight walls gripping his fingers, and he knew he had to be gentle.

"Oh God," you moaned, your head falling back as you felt your arousal build. "Something strange is happening," you admitted, as you could feel a pressure building up inside of you, along with a warmth spreading throughout your body.

"Explain it to me, Sweetheart. What do you feel?" Thomas asked again, his fingers still working their magic inside you.

"It feels good, but I feel like I am about to wet myself," you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed.

"That's good. This means you are close," your uncle said as he started to circle his thumb faster on your clit, pushing his fingers deeper inside of you at the same time.

"Let go, Sweetheart," Thomas coaxed you. "Don't hold back, just let it happen."

You listened to your uncle, allowing yourself to fully immerse in the sensations rippling through your body. His words were like a switch, releasing all remaining tension and inhibitions, sending you crashing over the edge in a dizzying wave of pure pleasure.

"That's it, Love. Let it all out," Thomas encouraged you with a gentle smile, as he watched you ride this new and exciting experience.

"Oh my god. Oh fuck," you moaned as your body trembled and shuddered, the pleasure radiating outwards from your core  , pooling in your belly and spreading through your limbs.

Your orgasm hit you hard and strong as you released your wetness all over your uncle's hands, leaving you panting and sweating. You squirted for several seconds, leaving the sheets soaked and you blushing with embarrassment.

"I-I didn't know that could happen," you stammered, your cheeks flushed red as you tried to regain your composure as Thomas carefully pulled his fingers out of you, resting his hand on your thigh, as he studied your expression. Your face was flushed bright red, and you looked utterly spent.

"How are you feeling, Love?" he asked softly, his voice thick with concern.

You blinked dazedly up at him and nodded slowly. "I...I'm okay, I think," you finally answered, your voice still trembling slightly as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Thomas smiled at you and leaned down to press a soft kiss on your forehead. "Good," he said simply before standing up, leaving your side for a moment.

You watched him through hooded eyes as he walked towards the en-suite bathroom, before returning with a warm washcloth to gently clean you up. His touch was tender, caring and you ought to ask whether you had indeed wet yourself , but you couldn't summon the words. He then threw the washcloth into a nearby hamper before reclaiming his prominent position on your bed.

"Don't be embarrassed, Love. That's completely natural," Thomas murmured softly as he traced the curve of your cheek with the pad of his thumb, smiling down at your amazed expression.

"I've just never... felt anything like that before," you admitted shyly, feeling just slightly overwhelmed by how strong your reaction had been.

"It wasn't bad, though. In fact, I think I might like it," you added, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you looked up at your uncle. "Do you think I could make you feel that good too?" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at your uncle with wide eyes.

"I am sure you can, but not tonight, Love. Tonight was all about you," Thomas replied, his voice gentle and soothing. "There is no need to rush things, we have all the time in the world," he added affectionately, before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead once more.

"Now, why don't you have a rest and we can revisit this tomorrow if you like," Thomas suggested, as he tucked the blankets around you, tenderly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You watched him as he turned off the lights and left your bedroom, before letting your heavy eyelids fall closed and slipping into a peaceful sleep.

T

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[lives-in-midgard]

You Are In Love

Pairing: Evan Buckley x reader

Summary: When you're out with your friends you meet a handsome firefighter. After a while you go on a date and decide to keep your relationship a secret until something happens.

Word Count: 1200

A/N: Hey. This is part of the Buddie-August challenge. This also includes some characters from the Rookie. I hope you like it!

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Buddie-August hosted by me and @buckys-wintersoldier

Prompt: Kisses

911 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

After a long shift at work one of your colleagues had the idea to go to a bar. You don’t often go to bars with all of them, but today you all finally had time. A lot has changed for you since you started working as a police officer at the Mid-Wilshire Station. You found a lot of friends there and you love your job.

“I’m gonna get a drink, would any of you like one too?” You asked the others.

“Could you get me another one of these.” Lucy said, pointing at her drink and you nodded.

“What about you Tim?”

“I’m good, thanks.” He said, smiling at you. When the others said they didn’t need anything, you made your way over to the bar. While you were waiting in line for drinks, a cute guy stood next to you and waited as well. Somehow he looked familiar to you, but you weren’t sure where you had seen him before. He smiled at you and then you suddenly remembered him. You could never forget that smile.

“You’re firefighter Buckley, right?” You asked and he chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s me. Wait and you are officer L/n.”

“You can call me y/n.” You said with a smile.

“Only if you call me Buck because that’s what everyone calls me.”

“Okay, deal.” You said and he had that sweet smile again. You talked for a few more minutes until your drinks were ready.

“See you around, Buck.”

“See you and be safe.” He said and watched as you walked back to your table. You handed Lucy her drink and sat down next to Tim again.

“Who was this guy?” Tim asked curious.

“Oh, just a friend.” You answered and Tim nodded. You and Tim have been friends and partners for a long time and over time he has become very protective over you. He always knows when something is wrong and is there for you as best as he can.

The next day you kept thinking about your meeting with Buck. He was so sweet and you hope to see him again. You didn’t think you’d see him again soon because just when you had an emergency call and had to call the ambulance, it was the 118 that showed up. You couldn’t really talk to him, but it was great to see each other again.

When you were grocery shopping and walking through the halls someone said your name and when you turned around you saw that it was Buck.

“Hey Buck.” You greeted him with a smile.

“Hey, good to see you.”

“I was wondering if you would like to have a coffee with me sometime?” He suddenly asked.

“Yeah, sure. How about I give you my phone number.” He nodded and pulled out his phone. You tipped in your number and he called you, so you had his number too.

Two days passed until you got a message from Buck. He asked if you were free tomorrow and you agreed to meet after work. At work Tim noticed that you were different, happier and more excited. He didn’t ask you about it, but it made him happy to see you happy.

The coffee date with Buck went very well. You talked about everything that came to your mind. You both really enjoyed it and had a great time. He asked you out on a date and that date turned into another date and suddenly you were in a happy relationship.

You had been dating for about three months now. Usually you were at his house or yours or sometimes you were going out. Favorite things to do together include cooking, watching movies, going to the beach and you enjoying it when he tells you a story from work and then you tell him some stories too. You’re very happy together and try to spend as much time together as possible, even if it can be a bit difficult due to your work shifts. Some people don’t think a relationship between a police officer and a firefighter is a good idea, so you decided to keep the relationship a secret for a while, which wasn’t always easy especially if you would see him on a call.

Today you have been called into a very difficult situation. You called for backup, but things quickly escalated, and you injured your left arm. Luckily, Officer Harper, Officer Nolan and Officer Bradford arrived at the right time to arrest the person. While Harper and Nolan arrested the person, Tim ran over to you and called an ambulance.

“Tim, I’m aright, it’s just a small scratch.”

“Let’s wait and see what the medics say, okay?” Tim said and put some pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. A few minutes later you could already hear the ambulance driving near you. When the doors opened you could see that it was Buck. As soon as he saw you, he ran towards you.

“Babe, are you okay? What happened?” He asked, looking at your arm. When you looked over, you saw that Tim had a confused look on his face.

“I’m okay, it’s just a small scratch.” You said again.

“Let’s go to the truck and I’ll take a look at it.” Buck said, placed his hand on your back and guided you to the truck. Then he removed the cloth from your wound and gently tried to stop the bleeding. You took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, babe.” He looked into your eyes and tried to smile at you. Then he looked back at the wound.

“The cut isn’t too deep, so it’s okay if I just bandage it.” He said and you nodded. Buck gently put the bandage over your wound and then gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, honey.”

“Anytime.” He said, then Buck tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and gently pulled you into a passionate kiss. When you broke the kiss, you reached for his hand and smiled at each other.

“I have to go back to work.” You said after a few seconds, even though you didn’t want to say goodbye.

“Me too.” He said, looking over his shoulder to see his friends looking at you both with smiles.

“I guess they all know now.”

“They definitely do.” You said with chuckle. You noticed how happy they all were and then looked over at Tim who was as happy as they were.

“I think I have to go now. See you later.” Buck said and gave you a quick hug.

“See you.” You said, waving at him as you walked away. As you walked to your car, Tim was still standing next to yours and looked at you with a grin.

“Now I know why you’ve been so happy lately.”

“Yeah, Buck makes me really happy.” You confirmed and opened the car door.

You were glad that Tim and Buck’s colleagues now found out about your relationship, but you definitely want to meet them soon on a better occasion. Buck has told you a lot about them, so you’re very excited to meet them.

Taglist:

@cevansbaby-dove | @buckys-wintersoldier

@beaubbdoll

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ The Last Great American Dynasty

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request

♥ pairing: logan sargeant x fem!driver!reader

♥ synopsis: logan gets replaced at williams mid season by you, his girlfriend. luckily his racing career and f1 story is not over yet.

♥ smau - fc: women on pinterest - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing, hate comments, and james vowels slander !!!

♥ a/n: logan gets the happy ending he deserves (by taking james' job lol).

-August 26, 2024-

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, susie_wolff, and 3,592,602 more

williamsracing Y/n L/n to race for the remainder of the 2024 season

view comments

logansargeant proud of you ❤️

yourusername thank you logie. I can't wait to see where racing takes us both. I love you ❤️

user6 the fact that he's still so supportive of her... I love them your honor 🥺

alex_albon You gave it your all brother and it’s been a pleasure being teammates with you. I know whatever you do next, you’ll be awesome. I can't wait to race along side you as well @/yourusername. Lets make history.

user9 HOW ARE WE FEELING LOLEX NATION 😭

user1 the tears that are coming out of my eyes right now

user2 😧

user7 I felt my heart break in real time

user4 ... james I am in your fucking walls

user5 I am so proud of y/n but damn.

user21 can someone explain please??

user7 logan, the driver y/n is replacing is her boyfriend

user9 I cried.

user60 imagine taking your own BOYFRIENDS job. he deserves so much better

user51 poor logan 💔

user10 lets not let the sad news about logan leaving impact our support for y/n. shes the first woman to race in f1 in a VERY long time and that's an incredible achievement

user3 say it louder for the people in the back

user12 this !!!

user4 James vowels is the common enemy

user8 @/user4 TRUE

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Logan's Insta Story-

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by logansargeant, susie_wolff, lilymhe, and 609,427 more

yourusername oh look i’m winning

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user1 yes you are queen

user2 you don’t have to brag 😔

user5 POINTS

landonorris @/logansargeant maybe you should get her a dog

pierregasly 💀

user1 landooo 😭

user8 how is she so gorgeous

user9 oh to be y/n

user6 prove the haters wrong !!!

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, patriciooward, Indycar, and 984,582 more

logansargeant back in blue

tagged; @/andrettiindy

view comments

yourusername 🩵

logansargeant 🩵

patriciooward good to see you again

user7 SHUT THE FUCK UP NOT ANDRETTI SIGNING HIM FOR 2025

user9 HAHAHA

user3 the personal beef andretti has with f1 is inspiring 😩

user8 WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER 🦅🇺🇸

user5 lets go logan

user1 oh we are SO back.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, andrettiindy, and 2,459,302 more

logansargeant today I got the privilege of marrying the most talented, beautiful, and kind woman I have ever met. you have stood by me since the beginning of my career and I am honored that you chose me to support you throughout the future of yours. I love you so much

comments are limited

f1 our favorite paddock couple

indycar double it and give it to the next motorsport

alex_albon congratulations to the both of you!

lilyzneimer thank you for making me your maid of honor 🥹 you looked absolutely stunning today

yourusername lilyyyy 😭🫶

williamsracing so who caught the boquet? 👀

yourusername lily mhe 🤭

lilymhe we might be needing those brides maid dresses again soon

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-December 2035-

It has just been announced that former F1 driver Logan Sargeant and his wife, Y/n L/n will be the new team principal and CEO of Williams Racing.

The F1 American Dynasty

If you're unfamiliar with the story of Sargeant you may not understand the significance of this change for Williams. He had a spot on the grid during 2023-2024 before being dropped mid-season and replaced by his now wife Y/n L/n. He then went on to drive for Andretti, an American Indycar team and Y/n won four championships during her time in F1. The two of them have continued to carry on the legacy of American drivers in Formula 1, encouraged by the Andretti family.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by andrettiindy, susie_wolff, oscarpiastri, and 1,362,503 more

yourusername CEO life

view comments

lilymhe GORGEOUS

yourusername no YOU <33

williamsracing glad to have you back @/logansargeant

user2 even admin is a logan fan

user4 oh FUUUCK YEA

user7 stop the middle picture-

user9 I want what they have 😭

user1 their ULTIMATE revenge

user12 fuck james vowels

user3 all my homies hate james vowels

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

end notes: thank you so much for reading! even though logan isn't on the grid I'll still have a few fics coming out for him soon <3

[crowleysgirl56]

Updated with edits!

Timeline of the last 12 months 15 months of the Good Omens fandom.

July 2023 - Good Omens season 2 drops. Fans watch on the presumption this season is based on the sequel idea Terry and NG spoke of in the 90’s and 2006. Reactions are mixed but mostly positive. We’re happy with fluff. Initial thoughts: “I don’t see how this story could have been fleshed out into an entire novel, but I guess it was only ever just initial ideas, so I suppose that works.”

July 2023 - THE KISS.

Fandom reaction: NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

August 2023 - NG responds to fandom

NG: “Season 2 isn’t actually based on the idea Terry and I spoke about.”

Fandom: “What?”

NG: “Season 2 is just a bridging story to get us to season 3. That will be the story that Terry and I discussed.”

Fandom: “What!?”

NG: “Season 3 hasn’t been greenlit by Prime yet so we might not get it.”

Fandom: “WHAT?!”

NG: “Also I wrote the kiss that way by giving the fandom what you want without actually giving you what you want. So like, stop asking me for things or I won’t write them.”

Fandom: “AAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!”

August to November 2023 - The fandom, now lost and depressed, mope through the halls of Tumblr and Reddit, desperately clinging to any piece of information dropped by NG, sharing fan art, creating headcanons and theories, and writing the angstiest of angst fanfiction ever written. Some weep in a corner mumbling about the South Downs. Most just trudge through their daily lives, listless and despondent.

December 2023 - Prime greenlights Good Omens Season 3.

Fandom: YES! OMG HOORAY! WAHOO! Dancing in the streets. Fanfiction turns to fluff and smut. NG is active and happy, answering many questions without actually answering them. Gives us the hilarious gift of Dottie and Sadie.

January 2024 - speculation of when season 3 filming will begin commences. Realisation that it could be quite a while starts to sink in. Actors and writers strike has caused delay to the scripts being written. David and Michael have taken on theatre work which will delay their filming schedules. Douglas McKinnon announces he’s stepping away as director. Fandom has slight freak out, but NG reassures everyone it’s nothing to worry about, and linked to the recent strikes.

Early to mid 2024 - “The invisible and unbreakable line that joins Crowley and Aziraphale”.

Fandom: AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! We inevitably become even more feral. Much fanart is made.

March 2024 - David hosts the BAFTAs and Michael helps him during the opening. David is then nominated for TV BAFTA for Good Omens.

Fandom: OMG YYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAYYYY!!! Much dancing and celebration is had once again. We are so in love.

May 2024 - filming schedule for GO season 3 is announced. It will commence January 2025. The fandom reacts.

Fandom: “That’s still so long away!” “Michael and David will have their hair dyed white and red for the awards season!” “Going by the previous production schedule this means season 3 won’t reach our screen until 2026! No!” “Cannot wait for this to start filming we are going to be so feral!” More fanfiction, more fanart.

June 2024 - David hosts Pub in the Park. Michael joins him.

Fandom: THEY ARE SO CUTE! HOW CAN THEY BE THIS CUTE, WE DON’T DESERVE THEM.

Early July 2024 - horrible allegations are laid against NG and the fandom comes to a terrible crashing halt. Much debate and discussion is had back and forth: “Believe the victims”. “Separate the art from the artist”. “Drop the fandom entirely”. “Step back for a moment”. There is a lot of arguing, but there is also still a lot of love. NG has fled all social media.

Late July 2024 - until it’s January, and the show actually starts filming, Good Omens season 3 has now become Schrödinger’s Series. It both now exists and doesn’t exist. Prime at any moment may pull the production due to the backlash against NG. The fandom now re-examines McKinnon’s departure speculating if he left for other reasons. We once again despondently trudge the halls of tumblr and Reddit feeling the same feeling of this time last year.

This section of the post was made in late July was this was original posted: And that pretty much brings us up to date. Anything could happen in the next six months, which is why I feel we’re all worried. It’s why I’m worried. So instead, keep sharing the art, keep writing the fanfiction, keep speculating with theories and headcanons. Let’s be here for each other. Because we created this fandom for each other. It doesn’t belong to NG anymore. Let’s do this for Terry. Personally, I can’t wait to come back to this timeline and add January 2025 - filming begins.

28 July 2024 - Michael Sheen, the absolute angel that he is posts a picture of his tartan socks clad feet alongside the caption “To our world”. Such a beautiful, beautiful man!

10 September 2024 - Amazon Prime announces production for season 3 is paused. Everyone loses their shit. There is much lamentations.

Unsubstantiated posts start circulating that the show is cancelled. People who have a friend whose cousin’s gardener’s former roommate claim they are involved with the production and therefore they KNOW the show is cancelled. More lamentations.

Amazon stays silent for EIGHT. FUCKING. WEEKS.

The fandom walk around in a god damn haze again akin to what August to December 2023 felt like. Will we be left with the final 15 forever?

Mid October 2024 - for about 3 days straight the fandom receives information that is akin to a rollercoaster of emotion. Head graphics designer Mickey tweets out a now deleted post that everyone is going back to Scotland. Then Peter Anderson Studio tweet out a now deleted post referencing the South Downs cottage. Then random casting company updates their subscription website advertising Good Omens: The Finale a TV movie. Entertainment website releases an article referencing this. The fandom LOSE. THEIR. SHIT. AGAIN. We honestly can’t take much more of this.

25 October 2024 - Amazon finally announces the news we’ve been half expecting half dreading with positive and negative ramifications. Neil Gaiman is gone. GOOD! Season 3 will still happen. GOOD! But now it’s just a 90 minutes finale. WAIT, WHAT, NO! But it could have been worse. It was a hairs breath away from being completely cancelled. GOD BLESS RHIANNA PRATCHETT AND ROB WILKINS.

It’s been a wild ride everyone. I’ve already posted earlier this morning (25 October 2024) my thoughts about the whole situation so go read that there. But for now? Gaiman is gone, and we get our ending.

For now here’s to seeing our boys with their red and white hair again.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

crazy-mad for you

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

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

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

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

Word count: 16.7 K

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

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

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

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

Dividers by me ✌️

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, hotshot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Listen dickh-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trip her? Oh. He means you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The whiskey burns but you barely feel it. 

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

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

As you take another sip, the door swings open. 

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

“Hey, you okay?”

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

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

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

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

“Ed…”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?” 

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

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

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

The air between you is charged and heavy. 

I want to. What does that mean? 

Eddie covers himself quickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very gentle,” he murmurs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”

“Probably.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”

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

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

“Perv.”

“Witch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rum. And Coke.”

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

“Eddie. He was the owner.” 

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

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

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

“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”

“And a Coke?”

“And a Coke.” 

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

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

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

“I’ve had worse.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.

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

His smile makes your tummy flutter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt. 

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

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

“Well then…” you say quietly. 

“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes. 

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

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should be so lucky.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You gonna behave?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuhhh- Eddie.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You feel unreal, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[requinoesis]

I was so happy to see the art from everyone who participated in Sharktober this year! They all looked amazing! 🦈✨

You all might consider creating things like stickers, prints, or little artbooks to sell at art events! 🎨✨

Unfortunately I got into a bit of a creative block and couldn't even finish the first theme. I had a lot of ideas and was thinking about making small animations, but I guess that overwhelmed me. I hope you'll forgive me for that. 😢

My reasons may be related to the fact that I recently had some big changes in my life in mid-August (a very good change!), which led me to hyper-focus on other interesting things and new distractions that temporarily took my interest in drawing away.

Here's the progress of the "Space Shark" art that I was excited about doing until all the energy ran out and it became a burden. I don't know exactly what happens, maybe I'm just getting old and tired. I'll try to finish this at some point.

"One small leap for a shark, one big step for the oceans!" 🚀🦈

Thanks a lot for all!!