#March goodies!

[housecow]

Who says you have to be one or the other? I think you could have lots of fun transitioning between a housebound cow on oxygen and the fattest soccer mom possible. Maybe it’s all in the timing, maybe start out as a housebound cow and shift into soccer mom mode later.

okay, this is hot as fuck. getting to experience the limits of what my body can handle and then losing a portion of the weight—not too much, just enough to be easily mobile again, managing my health as well. but i’m still, what, 350-400lbs?

the whispers i’d hear from the other parents… “she’s such a fucking cow,” “how much do you think she weighs?” “there’s just so much… flab!”

and little do they know this is my lightest from the last few years. that i’d been 600lbs at some point, needing help up from bed and from anywhere i’d plopped down to feast. that my husband had plumped me up to obscene numbers, reveling in the fact i was dependent on him for almost everything.

my present soft, full, wobbling figure is the result of hard work. not only to get active, but in denying both myself and my spouse. we know what we want, but it’s for the kids now! they need a mom that can keep up with them. sure, i get winded easily, can’t see my feet or even past my tits, but this is an improvement!!

others just see my huffing and puffing as a failure, when it’s the opposite. it takes dedication. the extra wide folding chair i pull out at every soccer game was bought with pride, and the way my husband squeezes that back roll he gifted me is comforting.

sure, it still takes a lot of food to keep up with being 400lbs… i still eat like a pig. sonic shakes at every game and countless fast food runs before 3:30pm school pickup. i RSVP to neighborhood/school bbqs and they have to spend double the amount on food (we chip in!) but it’s all a labor of love!

plus, when it’s just my feeder and i, he gets to tease me about it all. talks about how hot it was when i needed the walker. how much of a shut in i was compared to now—“remember when you couldn’t even drive because your belly was in the way?”

he’d lay a hand on my still-formidabile tummy, stretched out from the hundreds of lbs and a few of his kids. i know he wants so badly to get me back there, i can tell what he’s thinking. and if he started that process—funneling every night, telling me what to eat and when—i wouldn’t be able to stop him. but we’re responsible :3

[jilychallenge]

WHOOP WHOOP

glitter in the sky, i'm spinning out waiting for you

Read my March Jily Challenge fic for @jilychallenge HERE! My sincere apologies for posting this a day late. I needed - as you will have seen if you follow me here - a bit of a break this week.

For her thirtieth birthday, Marlene McKinnon and Mary McDonald gift Lily Evans the thrill of a lifetime: a tandem skydive. What no one expected? For Lily to end up in the hospital as a result with her ankle covered in soul marks.

A Jily Soul Mark AU written for the March 2023 Jily Challenge

I was partnered with the lovely @abihastastybeans this month! ❤️

[royalarchivist]

Phil: Do you need anything? Are you ok?

Wilbur: Cabron! (Bastard)

Luzu: [Laughs] Cabron...

Wilbur: Cabron- mi cabron! Si!

Luzu: Mi- [Laughs] So, that's like saying- that's like telling someone "You're my bastard."

Wilbur: Si!

Luzu: "My" like in... like in possessive, you know? Like, "My bastard." Not other one.

Wilbur: WAIT. QUE?! (What?!) Quackity told me to say it to everyone!

Phil: Wha- "You're my bastard"? [Laughs]

Luzu: Well, I mean... I don't know if I would like, trust Quackity, honestly.

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]

-

Luzu: Oh no- espera- (wait-)

Wilbur: Por que? [Why?]

Luzu: No... Quackity le gusta mucho trolling. [Quackity really likes trolling]

[Phil and Wilbur laugh]

Luzu: Like, before you know it, he's gonna have you going around saying somewhat equivalent to "penis" you know, like-

Wilbur: Ah, pene! Si! Mi gusta pene! (I like penis)

Luzu: Pene pito pollo verga! (Variations of "penis")

Quackity: [In chat] WE ARE HAVING PARTY 2800 1800

Wilbur: Si. Oh! Fiesta! (Party!)

Phil: Oh, ok.

Luzu: Fiesta- what?

Wilbur: En- en- en el chat! En el chat! (In the chat!) [Laughs]

Phil: "En el chat" [Laughs]

Luzu: It's funny because I- I said "dick" and Wilbur automatically said "Oh, party!"

Wilbur: Pene fiesta! (Penis party!)

Luzu: Like, that was the first thing that he had, and I was like, "What? What..."

Wilbur: Philza, lead the way!

[elennemigo]

1

★ Netflix unveiled Eric first official look.

14

★ Benedict and Sophie were spoted at the Courtauld Institute of Art on the day on their 9th anniversary.

24

★ First pictures from The Thing with Feathers set, in London.

✧ ── ⋅ FIN ⋅ ── ✧

[safyresky]

Scrimbly Jacqueline 13/52: In which Jacqueline impresses the Lady of the Lake and gives her Blacksmith Guardian a heart attack and a HALF.

COMPLETE with SILLY LITTLE DRABBLE BELOW THE CUT :O

Disclaimer: I know nothing about Arthurian Legends. HASHTAG WINGING IT!!!!

-

"What happened to the one in the anvil?!"

"Broke it fairly fast in a duel if you can believe it."

"He BROKE one of my SWORDS?!"

"He did stick it back in the anvil after drawing it out the first time."

"He did WHAT to my SWORD?"

"And then pulled it back out again. After multiple people took a go at it. Merlin was a bit late to the whole affair. Wizards, y'know. Terrible timing."

"In AND out of the anvil?! MULTIPLE TIMES?"

"Deep breaths, Bastion! Red's really not your colour."

The dwarf took a deep breath in; held it. Breathed out. The wind from his exhale ruffled his sooty beard. He frowned to himself; the lines in his forehead creased deeply as he tugged his beard in thought, the gaggle of young magibeans he had taken in running around the shop behind him. Sparks flew as the older ones worked to make various weapons; some worked on aesthetic details, piles of gems and precious stones gently strewn about the benches. Water hissed as weapons were cooled, clanking ringing out from the far recesses of the shop.

"Well Bastion? Up to snuff?"

"We'll get it done. It may take a little bit to forge a fresh one—"

"Not to worry! I came prepared." The woman in front of him grinned. She lifted her hand. Bastion watched, head tilted in interest as her palm glowed turquoise and suddenly, CLANG! CLATTER! A pile of swords appeared out of thin air and landed right on the counter top, water sloshing and spilling off the sides of it.

Bastion gawked.

"You wouldn't believe how many people dump their swords in the lake. Nasty little surprise, having one of these buggers hit you right on the noggin. Enchanted, too, most of them!"

"Most of them?" Bastion picked one up, admiring the craftsmanship and the inlaid gems. "All of them, I'd say! This pile is radiating magic. Between the lot of us and this pile we should have the new piece done to your specifications in, oh, about two weeks? Belinda, what do you think?"

A tall, elvish woman came over, magnifying eyepiece in her eye. She hmm'd, examining the gems inlaid in the sword pile quickly and closely. "Maybe more. Some of these enchantments have worn away completely, and they'll need replacing. We can do that in house, of course, but there are a handful we'll need to procure out of shop. The anti-fatigue one, we'll have to pop over the wall to get. The strengthening one, that'll be in the mountains."

"I can grab that one meself," Bastion volunteered.

"I can send Maggie over the wall. She does well with the fairies here. Hmm. Breathing underwater? Now, that one may be a feat—"

"Oh, not to worry! I took care of that one." Another glowing turquoise hand lifted and a small gem appeared in front of the pair, suspended in a bubble of water. "One of my specialties," the lady teased, winking as the bubble popped. The gem landed in Belinda's hand, the water bubble popping right on Bastion's nose.

He wiped it off, completely unbothered.

"I can procure a seeing stone. That should be simple enough. That just leaves the resistant gems. Most of which we have here...all but the cold resistant one. That'll be off in the far frozen."

Behind the pair, one of the magibeans by the anvil perked up. The Lady of the Lake watched as the girl tilted her head, listening in.

"We can send Tristan—"

"TRISTAN?! NOT TRISTAN!"

Belinda looked amused as the girl—a sprite, the lady noted—ran over to their little group. Bastion looked very, very tired. And perhaps a bit anxious? The girl pushed right through the pair of them, indignant, hands on her hips. "Tristan is STINKY! And ANNOYING! He's not even cold resistant—"

"But he is older and has much more experience with these sorts of environments—"

"HE'S GONNA MELT ALL THE ICE! I won't! I can just waltz right through it! Can't you send me? I wanna go! You know I can do it!"

"I know that if I send you and something happens, your father will kill me right dead! Send me right off to Rosehaven, personally! He's trusted me to take care of you!"

Well this just got interesting, the lady thought to herself, watching in amusement. "Does he usually go around killing people?"

"No. Not that I know of, at least. See, he's in a position of power."

"Oh?"

"One of the Governors back home."

"Oh."

"He won't kill you, honest! He's the nicest person I know! "

"Her mother may, though," Belinda pointed out.

Bastion hummed. "Fair point."

"What? No it's not! She'd be super okay with it and say it was furthering my spritely education—"

"Did someone call for me?!"

"UGH nooooOOOOoo go AWAY TRISTAN!"

"Always a pleasure to interact with you, squirt."

A taller sprite had appeared now, shoving the girl to the side and taking her place between the pair of smiths, armour shiny, surcoat barely creased or smudged or dirty. "Fair Lady of the Lake, I would be HONOURED to fetch this gem for you." He bowed deeply, holding his hands above him and summoning a little flame.

The Lady of the Lake barely repressed her snort in time. The sprite rolled her eyes, a sentiment shared with Belinda. Bastion exhaled loudly through his nose.

"That's enough of that. Up you go. It's off to the far frozen for you. We're out of cold resistant gems and we'll be needing one for the new King's SECOND," he shot an unamused glance the lady's way, "sword."

"I will venture to the far frozen mountains! I'll leave at dawn, after procuring the finest cold resistant clothing and warmest warmly enchanted sword we have here!" He dropped the grandeur, looking giddy and very much like the under two-thousand year old sprite he was. "This'll look great for knights looking for a new squire."

"I'm sure," the Lady of the Lake replied, biting her tongue very, very much.

"It will take me but two weeks time—"

"I could do it in one! DAY even! Not week! Come on, do we really have to send him of all people? Of all SPRITES?!"

"That's enough Jacqueline," Belinda spoke sternly. "Mind our guest."

The girl huffed, blowing an errant curl of off her forehead and stomping away, disappearing into the back recesses of the workshop, mumbling something about elements versus what sounded very much like "a whole ass season".

The Lady snickered to herself.

"So sorry about that. She's a..."

"Piece of work?" Tristan suggested.

"Adventurous sort," Belinda spoke over the young squire, glaring daggers at him.

"It's quite all right. Kids. So! Sword. About a month, then?"

"If you'd like the opal then yes, about a month. If not, two weeks."

"Brilliant! I'll be back in a month. And you can keep whatever swords you don't use. I've no attachment to any of them. Cluttering up the lake and hitting my head and interrupting perfectly relaxing mud soaks," she tsk'd. "I'll be off then!"

And before Tristan could abase himself any further, the Lady of the Lake was out the door and well on her way down the lane.

-

The moment Melusine shut the door behind her, she cackled. What an absolute wanker, that Tristan. She had far more faith in the delightfully outspoken sprite than she did in that sorry slip of a squire.

Sword issue taken care of (both of them, thankfully) she made her way back to her humble abode (lake), thoughts returning to her next task: find who had thrown the last sword into her lake and jinx their arm. Terrible aim for a thousand days, perhaps. Or maybe turn it into something wiggly. Like an eel. Or a tentacle. Somewhere in that wheelhouse, for sure—

"HEY! HEY! LADY OF THE LAKE. YOUR LADY OF THE LAKENESS, THAT IS."

Mel turned abruptly, watching as the sprite from before wriggled her way out of one of the windows and ran towards her, waving her down.

"WAIT UP! PLEASE! DON'T GO BACK TO YOUR LAKE YET I WANNA TALK!"

She fell mid run, flat on her face. Mel winced, about to ask if the sprite was all right when she sprung back up (a chilly wind flitting through the lane way) and continued running, unbothered. She skid to a stop right in front of her, breathing heavily for a moment, her coiled braids swinging, little hairs trying to escape the neat loops.

"Alright?"

"Yeah! Absolutely! Just catching my breath. Hi! Sorry to bug you, um, your lakeyness," the girl bobbed a quick and lazy curtsy.

"Not at all."

"Oh! Good! I thought maybe it would be—I wasn't very polite back there. I usually am! Tristan just bugs me a LOT."

"He's a knob."

The girl grinned, laughing. "RIGHT? And it's very annoying that he gets to go on that fetch quest cuz like, ice and snow is my SPECIALTY. Anyway, I wanted to ask you if Bastion and Belinda gave you an estimate? For time, that is."

"With that sop going on the fetch quest? About a month. I can wait, though! I've tons of other things to do in the meantime. Which is more inconvenient as an arm, do you think—tentacle or an eel?"

The sprite looked thoughtful for a moment. "Eel! Because it has a mind of its own! Harder to control if it doesn't think like you. Unless that's not the aim here?"

"No, it is! It is. Good point about the eel."

"Thanks! I try. Without the cold gem thingy. Did Bastion say how long it'd be?"

"About two weeks."

"Oh! Good! So come back in two weeks and it'll be ready."

Mel quirked an eyebrow. "Really now?"

"Mhmm!" The girl nodded exuberantly, an excited glint in her eyes. "I'm gonna go get the opal."

"Didn't your guardian tell you not to?"

"Mmmmmaybe—"

"I heard him myself."

"—ooookay so YES he did BUT! He is OVERREACTING and Tristan is gonna WALK. I CAN TELEPORT! I CAN POOF IN AND OUT AND BE BACK SO FAST!"

Mel served her with a stern look.

The sprite bristled. "I'll be okay! Really!"

"Now I'm all for giving men like Tristan the old what-for, but Bastion's the best swordsmith around. Not to mention a stand-up magibean. I certainly wouldn't like to see him sent to Rosehaven by your parents should something happen to you."

"Nothing's gonna happen! I've survived WAY worse!"

There was a brief pause; a quick emotion passed over her eyes. But before Mel could discern anything other than she meant it when she said she'd survived worse, it was gone, and the sprite continued as though nothing had happened.

"And my parents won't hurt him, I've been out and about for like three hundred years at this point and they have their hands full with my younger siblings. Even THEY could do a better job than Tristan, and they're not even four HUNDRED yet."

Despite how funny the sprite was being, Mel tried very hard to keep the stern facade. "Have you told Bastion you're going?"

"Would you believe me if I said I did and he was okay with it, totally changed his mind?"

"No."

"Look, your lakeyness—"

"Mel."

"Jacqueline!"

"Charmed."

"Me too! You're like, one of the coolest magibeans around these parts. All of the littler kids are losing it in the back," Jacqueline said, giggling. Mel smiled to herself. "Anyway. Please don't tell him! He'll get all over protective and stuff. Which I appreciate of course," she said, sticking her palms flat in front of her. "I'm really glad he let me apprentice here! And he teaches us all how to use the swords which is great! I'm very thankful. Don't get me wrong. I just...really wanna do this, y'know? And telling him would make it really hard for me to do this."

"Hmm. You're right. Perhaps I should cut out the middle man and go right to your parents myself?"

"Please don't! I really, really wanna do this!"

"Ah, so they would stop you?"

The sprite made an unsure noise, tilting her hand back and forth in front of her. "Fifty-fifty."

"Interesting."

"What?"

"Oh, plenty of things. You think I know your parents?"

She shrugged. "Most people do! It's kinda obvious, actually." she flushed a bit, scratching her head. "Anyway, I really think someone needs to knock Tristan off his high horse, and since I don't have jousting mastery yet or the means to get a lance and corner him, I was thinking that if I showed him up instead, it'd lay him FLAT on his BACK!"

"I admit, that does sound very appealing."

"Really?"

"Oh, absolutely. I deal with his type all the time. They're all knobs, really. It'd be fun to see all those big airs pushed right out of them. Do you think they'd make a rather rude noise as they deflate?"

The sprite giggled. "I hope so!"

"Then it's settled! I'll be back in two weeks time for my sword, complete with cold resistant opal."

"Really?" she brightened. It was rather heartwarming.

"Truly."

"Ah, thank you thank you THANK YOU!" she hopped forward, almost hugging the Lady of the Lake before stopping herself with a sheepish grin. "Sorry." she cleared her throat. "Anyway, I'm gonna head out now. I'll be fast! They won't even know I was gone," she winked. "See you in two weeks?"

"I'll be there bright and early for the sword."

"Yay! Okay! See you then!"

And with a cheeky little salute, the girl continued her run down the laneway, a scabbard on her back bouncing with each footfall.

She's got it, Mel thought to herself, as the delightfully outspoken sprite crested the hill and disappeared in a flurry of light blue sparks and what looked to be an actual flurry of snow.

-

Two weeks later found Melusine at the front counter once more, requesting to see her completed sword from a delightfully confused Bastion.

"I mean, it's done as done gets, but Tristan isn't back from the far frozen just yet so the opal is missing—"

"No it's not! TA-DA!"

Mel grinned to herself as Bastion turned. She could picture the jaw drop when his whole body seemed to sag in shock as he looked at the person who had just spoken up.

It was Jacqueline. She stood in a very wide horse stance, proudly holding up a small opal, maniacal grin on her face.

"You didn't."

"I did! And I did it in a DAY. And nothing happened to me at all! And you didn't even notice I was gone! I came right back nice and safe! And my parents won't be doing a murder because I told them what I did and they were very proud, which is what I THOUGHT and also KNEW would happen!"

"Well done," Belinda pipped up from her workspace. "And I suppose this is the reason why I couldn't find the sword in question amongst the others?"

"I stayed up all night getting it ready so that I could do THIS!" With a flourish, she pulled the sword out from behind her, placed it gently down on the counter top, and placed the opal right into the setting she had carefully carved for it last night.

It slid right in and glowed a brilliant, bright white. Then, the other gems glowed; the entire sword, in fact, was glowing, an iridescent rainbow. It lifted up off the counter, shaking for but a moment before flying into the scabbard when Jacqueline held it out in front of her.

The glow diminished; the smithy grew silent.

"Your sword, your lakeyness," Jacqueline said, bowing down and offering it to her. "It has been a great hONoUr to BEQUEATH to you this BLESS-ED OBJECT, for I journeyed SOOO FAR to procure the far frozen opal IN BUT A DAY FOR YOU! WITH NAUGHT BUT MINE OWN TWO HANDS—"

"That's quite enough, Jacqueline," Belinda interrupted, amused.

"It was good, right? I sounded just like Tristan."

"Well I'm impressed," Mel said, taking the scabbard and throwing it over her shoulders.

"And I am most definitely having a heart attack," Bastion decided, clutching his chest.

Belinda rolled her eyes, placing her eyepiece down and coming around the table. Carefully, she turned Bastion around and sat him down, looking him over. "You'll be fine."

"And what of Tristan?"

"I see his type all the time. He'll be right as rain. Oh, sure, his ego will take a hit and he may bemoan and grovel and do all sorts of silly it's the end nonsense, but he'll bounce back. They always do. We can only hope he'll be a little more subdued." Mel shrugged.

Jacqueline looked delighted. "Then we'll see who the piece of work REALLY IS."

"Should we call him back?"

"Nah. It'll be funnier if we leave him alone and he comes back all like OH! WOE IS ME! I HAVE FAILED YOU! And then DEFLATES! With GAS NOISES!"

"He'll be so upset," Bastion mused.

"Gas noises?" Belinda would regret asking, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah! Y'know, like, PFFFT," Jacqueline blew a very wet raspberry, hopping up and sitting on the counter. "Maybe Mel will come by to ah, soothe his ego?"

"And by soothe you mean—?"

Jacqueline grinned. "Watch him cry like a big baby and die a bit on the inside when he realizes he was bested by THIS GAL!" She hopped up on the counter, pointing at herself with both her thumbs.

"Jolly good! I'll be sure to pop on by in the next fortnight. Now! Bastion! what is it I owe you?"

Still shocked into silence, Bastion barely managed to utter a puff of air. With a sigh, Belinda pat his head and turned to Mel. "Given his present state and the materials you brought for us to use, consider this one on the house. And Mistress Frost? Off the counter, if you please. That's more than enough out of you."

---

My god, that got out of control. Delightful! I'm sure Mel and Jacquie had a ball when Tristan came back as he very much did think he was BESTED by some DEVILISH FOE. And you know what? He wasn't wrong!

Anyway, this SCRIMBLE was requested by @definitelyy-not-a-vampire a haute minute ago:

The drabbley ficlet smile shot thing just. It just. haPPENED. Whoops! Sorry not sorry!

She WAS gonna be scruffy and grubby and full of soot but then when the Lady of the Lake came into play (who in my mind is 100% @kscribbs Melusine of Miller's Law fame), Jacqueline was like "nah. I'm gonna impress the SHIT outta her! >:D"

And that went from IMPRESS to FUCK AROUND WITH AN ABSOLUTE FOP OF A SPRITE WITH HER in like. 100 words while writing the ficlet, lol.

Enjoy! Here's the un-scanned/edited one:

And you bet your ass I have some design notes >:)

I stole a fashion through the ages textbook from the library (and by steal I mean I have renewed it every semester and it has lived on my bookshelf since about 2019) and scoured through the middle ages chapter to figure out this fit

NOBODY TOLD ME IF SURCOTS WERE SHORT OR LONG SO I YOLO'D.

Wanted to throw in some purpleish pink bc I think purple is in Jacquie's palette, she's THAT GOOD at ice >:)

The hair is not short, it is simply in those braided coif. Things???? And it is a MIRACLE they are staying put

This is between 1350-1450 so she's between 1255-1355. IDEAL Gremlin age lmao

I don't have enough experience/markers to make the opal look opal so YOLO lmao

And yes this is uh, up very late lol. BUT YOU CAN SEE TAGS FOR DEETS! AND THIS JUST MEANS DOUBLE SCRIMBLES THIS WEEK LMAO

[carryonlikewedidbefore]

Oh god. 2024 brings Dirty Honey, Hozier and Explosions in the Sky to Melbourne.

And I have tickets to all of them.

[lebellabomb]

[viperra1]

i did the unimaginable and created a post-apocalypse AU with the two of them. i am. at loss. (i want a sequel so bad......)

[travelinginenvelope]

March 28th 2023

Yesterday’s beautiful incoming from my penpal Sasha 🥺 look how purple and sparkly everything is! I love it! Actually, you probably can’t see the sparkle too well on the pictures but it’s AMAZING in person! 🥹 i also included a picture of the pocket where i found the letter and some extras she sent me as well as the beautiful bear postcard that is fully decorated in the back! It’s so cute 🥹 i never decorate my postcards like that because i mostly have touristy postcards that i include in my letters and like to talk about what my penpals can see on it. I also always feel like i wouldn’t be able to decorate the postcards as well as some other people so i’ve been avoiding it 👉👈

[roomselfcontain2]

Luxury over standard chamber and hall Selfcontain visit website 1 single room for rent with pop TV console bullet proofs doors modern computerized shower in the bath room with kitchen furniture interior design located in a mini estate at rumuekini area in port Harcourt city rivers state Nigeria

[onionringbearer]

march ka ba? kase, i love you so march

[thingswhatareawesome]

¨

[othertragedy]

Pootis and me in the basement pft

Photo:

Back in March i went to a convention as medic! this was the second time I dressed since Halloween of last year.

Sadly Pootis had to stay in the car because I had so many things at hand, with the medigun and goodies, and couldn't exactly hold them while walking so yeah! the parking lot basement was really dark XD

took other,,

interesting photos

Schadenfreude to the plush of my sister

!!!!

basically me pointing at things!

[dreamescapeswriting]

The Protector ~ JJK

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

GENRE: non!idol au, mafia boss!Jungkook, shy reader, first date, insta love, cute, 

PAIRING: Mafia!Jungkook X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

In the dimly lit corner of a rundown bar, Jungkook, the notorious mafia boss of the city, sat perched on his usual stool, observing the evening's patrons with a keen eye. The air was thick with the scent of cheap liquor and the murmur of conversations that veered between laughter and tension. He'd only come here tonight after a deal gone wrong with one of his clients and he wanted to make himself feel better.

Jungkook nursed his whiskey, his gaze scanning the room, taking note of the faces and the subtle shifts in atmosphere. His reputation preceded him, ensuring that even in a place as rough as this, there was an unspoken deference in the air. Amidst the usual crowd, a scene caught his attention. 

You were sitting alone at a table, your demeanour timid and your eyes darting nervously around the room, clearly you weren't comfortable in a place like this and people could see it clearly as day. Opposite you stood a man, clearly inebriated, his boisterous laughter ringing through the bar. He leaned in too close, his words slurred as he attempted to coax the girl into drinking with him.

Junkook's lip curled in distaste, he didn't need to be close to knowing that the guy was making you uncomfortable, he could read the expression on your face from where he was sitting. Jungkook wasn't one to meddle in the affairs of strangers, but something about the situation didn't sit right with him. You seemed extremely uncomfortable, your body language tense as you awkwardly refused the man's advances.

"Boss? Cat got your tongue?" Benny, one of Jungkook's associates, asked as he sat down beside him. Jungkook narrowed his eyes in your direction and Benny followed his line of gaze, standing up when he realised what his boss wanted. He smoothly began to make his way across the room, positioning himself nearby, ready to intervene if needed.

Meanwhile, Jungkook continued to watch from his vantage point, his eyes narrowed as he assessed the unfolding situation. The man's persistence bordered on aggression, his demeanour growing increasingly threatening as you continued to resist his advances.

"Just have a drink with me doll face, you'll not regret it," He chuckled, leaning in closer to you, his breath heavy with the scent of vodka as he smirked down at you. You didn't know how many times you had to decline the creep before he finally got the message but it was starting to get under your skin.

"Come on, sweetheart, loosen up a bit! What's the matter, afraid of a little fun?" You nervously shifted in your seat and shook your head. 

"I-I'm fine, really. I don't drink much." You explained, not that you needed to. Your decline should have been more than enough for him to leave you alone.

"Aw, don't tell me you're one of those goody-two-shoes types. Live a little! You're missing out on all the excitement." He said condescendingly with a giant smile on his face, you forced a fake smile out.

"I-I'm okay, honestly. I just prefer not to drink." You shrugged at him but the man just raised his eyebrow mockingly at you.

"Prefer not to drink? Ha! What are you, some kind of saint? Or are you just too scared to handle your liquor?" You looked down at your hands, nervously starting to play with the skin around your nails,

"N-no, it's not that. I just... I don't like the taste, that's all." You mumbled,

"Well, if you're too delicate for a little drink, maybe you should stick to your tea parties, princess. Leave the real fun to us grown-ups." You bit down on your lip, wanting nothing more than to get up and leave but he was blocking you in. 

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I just... I'm not comfortable drinking." By now Jungkook was already standing behind the man, staring down at him as he laughed at you, the discomfort on your face only growing as you stared at him.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Jungkook said simply, the man who had been bothering you, spinning around so fast to see who had been the one to interrupt him. The man's eyes widened in recognition, a flicker of fear crossing his face as he realized who stood before him.

"Problem here?" Jungkook's voice was low, but it carried a weight that brooked no argument. You stared at him wondering why he was coming to help you of all people, you knew who he was, of course, everybody did. The man who had been bothering you stammered, his bravado faltering in the face of Jungkook's steely gaze. 

"N-no, boss, just... just having a friendly chat with the lady here." Jungkook turned his attention to you, his expression softening slightly as he offered you a reassuring smile. 

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" Tingles ran through you at the nickname and you smiled a little, nodding your head, relief washing over you as you found yourself under his protective gaze.

"Y-yes, thank you. I... I just wanted to be left alone." You told him simply, Jungkook nodded, his gaze returning to the man who had been upsetting you,

"I suggest you do as the lady wishes and leave her be. We wouldn't want any... misunderstandings, would we?" His hand tightened on the man's shoulder and he paled, nodding frantically as he began to stumble away from the table, eager to put a distance between him and Jungkook.

Once the man was gone Jungkook turned his attention back to you and gave you a soft and gentle smile. 

"You're safe now. Can I buy you a drink? Non-Alcohol of course," He suggested, you hesitated for a moment before nodding, a shy smile tugging on the corners of your lips.

"I... I'd like that."

When Jungkook came back over with a drink you found yourselves alone, people staring in silence from across the bar and you stared down at the glass of water trying to think of what to say to him.

"So, what's your name?" He chuckled, trying to break the ice, even a little, you nervously played with the rim of your glass.

"It's YN." He nodded at you.

"Nice to meet you, Yn. I'm Jungkook." You managed a small smile, feeling surprisingly at ease in his presence despite his intimidating reputation.

"Thank you for, you know, helping me back there. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't stepped in." Jungkook shrugged at you, 

"No need to thank me. Just doing what's right. That guy was bad news."

"Yeah, he definitely was." A moment of silence passed between you both before Jungkook decided to break the ice further.

"So, what brings you to a place like this, Yn? You seem like you'd be more comfortable in a library than a bar." You laughed softly, grateful for Jungkook's attempt to lighten the mood.

"I... I actually work nearby. I just wanted to unwind a bit after a long day." You admit, shrugging your shoulders.

"My co-workers talk about this place all the time, I thought it might be nice." You admit though you weren't exactly sure "nice" would be the word you would use to describe it

"I understand that. It can be tough out there. I hope he didn't ruin your night though,"

"It seems to be picking up," You giggled, your cheeks heating up as you realised you were openly flirting with him. 

"Then I'm glad I could help," He smirks at you.

As you talked, Jungkook found himself intrigued by your quiet strength and resilience. Despite your shyness, there was a certain warmth to you that drew him in. And you, in turn, found yourself opening up to him in a way you hadn't expected, feeling a sense of comfort and safety in his presence. The conversation flowed easily, ranging from lighthearted topics to deeper reflections on life and the challenges you faced. As the evening wore on, you discovered a connection neither of you had anticipated, forging an unlikely bond over glasses of water and whiskey in a dingy bar, where you found solace in each other's company amidst the chaos of the world outside.

As they drove through the quiet streets, a comfortable silence settled between you both, broken only by the soft hum of the engine. Jungkook had insisted on driving you home that night after spending so much time together and the closer he got to your place the more he realised he wanted to see you again. You arrived at your apartment building, Jungkook parked the car and turned to you with a warm smile.

"Here we are. Safe and sound." You nodded, offering him a grateful smile in return as you unbuckled your seatbelt and got out of the car, swiftly followed by Jungkook.

"Thank you for the ride, Jungkook. And for everything else tonight. I really appreciate it." Nodding at you he smiled again, watching you closely as he tried to come up with a way to approach you about seeing you again.

"Anytime, Yn. You know where to find me if you ever need anything." Before you could open the door to your apartment, Jungkook reached out to gently touch your arm, causing you to look up at him in surprise.

"Can I say something?" His palms were sweating as he stuttered a little, no one had ever made him this nervous before and he didn't know if he liked that about you or not. Your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze, a hint of nervousness flickering in your eyes.

"Y-yes, Jungkook? What is it?" Jungkook took a deep breath, gathering his courage before speaking, he needed to ask you before he lost the courage.

"I... I had a really great time tonight. And I was wondering if... if you'd like to go out with me again sometime?" Your eyes widened in surprise, heat creeping into your cheeks at Jungkook's unexpected question. It was something you'd been thinking about in the car too but you never would have been able to ask him out. You couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

"I-I would love to. That sounds... that sounds wonderful." You giggled a little as Jungkook's face broke into a relieved smile, his heart skipping at your response. He leaned in closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

"Great. I'll pick you up then. I'll see you soon." Your heart raced as you watched him drive away, a smile playing on your lips as you realized that sometimes, unexpected encounters could lead to the most extraordinary connections.

[bookshelf-dust]

something’s gotta give

gif by @kwistowee

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 5,988

warnings: swearing, crude jokes, sexual innuendos, general hatred for either party, one small mention of a judgmental christian lady, depictions of an accident involving a box cutter, talk of blood and the ensuing wound, banter, both reader and eddie trying to get under each others skin, enemies to lovers trope

synopsis: eddie munson is a prick. a prick who also happens to be your coworker. you hate his guts. he hates yours. and who would think there’d be reason for anything else?

a/n: well, hello!! i’ve been working on this idea for a little bit, and it was definitely a challenge because i’ve never taken on something with this dynamic before. it was so tricky to come up with all these snarky remarks, to build up a world where it made sense. speaking of, this is without a doubt a 90s!au. i am proud of myself for trying something new and i think it turned out pretty good. shoutout to @clovermunson for listening to me vent about my struggles and helping me mold eddie into the smartass he is. also thank you to @steph-speaks for making me a cutie rb banner!! peep it at the end of the fic. happy reading!!! <333

————

“Here’s your change and…there’s your receipt.” 

You bump the cash register drawer with your hip, slamming the thick metal shut. You give a big, warm smile to the woman in front of you. She has a face full of freckles and the most beautiful silver hair that makes her blue eyes look insanely vibrant. 

She grins back at you, setting her palm on the countertop, her nails painted a pale, shimmery shade of pink. “Thank you, sweet pea. And thank you for helping me find some goodies!” She shakes her paper bag. 

You hand her a complimentary bookmark with the store name on it. “You’re so welcome. You’ll have to stop by and let me know what you think about that one!”

“Of course! You have a good day, now.”

“You too!” You give her a small wave as she walks out the door, and move to put away the store’s copy of her receipt. Your smile drops immediately when you feel a looming presence behind you. The paper in your hand gets crushed when you shove it under the counter. 

“Damn, you flick the bean this morning?�� Eddie’s voice drips with malice. You know he’s wearing that sinister ass smirk before you even turn to face him. 

“Why? Need some advice on how to find it, Munson?” You grab a stack of books off the counter and slide out of the way so he can clock in. 

The sound of his boots on the carpeted floors tell you he’s following you. He always is. 

“I think it’s a valid question, princess. You’re in such a good mood it makes a guy wonder…” 

You stop in the mystery section, looking for authors with the last name beginning with ‘F,’ and begin to restock. “Well, Eddie, if I got off and that’s why I’m so bubbly today, it’s pretty clear to me that somebody gave you blue balls last night.”

He laughs, snatching a book out of your hand to put it on the top shelf when he sees you rise up on your tippy toes. It pisses you off. “Harsh, princess.”

You turn around at the sound of the doorbell, but he stops you with an arm outstretched to rest on the wall. 

You grab his hand and shove it out of your way. “I guess you should’ve put that hand to good use then and given yourself a quick, and probably little, job before you came to your real one.”

When you escape his vicinity, you look around for the customer you heard come in. There’s a young boy wandering through the back section where you sell records, tapes, CD’s, whatever the fuck. It’s Eddie’s section, and therefore not your problem. 

You hold eye contact with the man in question, giving him your bitchiest look possible. “You have a customer, Munson. And…” you glance at your watch, “I’m going on lunch.”

Eddie watches as you cross your arms and march off to the break room. His gaze falls to your ass. You’re wearing this long skirt, one that falls just above your ankles so your boots poke out. The fabric is loose and flowy, but manages to cling to your skin and he can see every curve when you walk. Every bounce of soft flesh—

“Hey, excuse me?” The voice of a boy, no more than fourteen, snaps Eddie out of his dick-controlled reverie. 

He spins around to face the kid, putting on his customer service face. “What can I do for you, little dude?”

In the break room, you stand in front of the microwave, shifting back and forth on your feet while you wait for your leftover pasta to warm up. It’s rare now for your shifts to line up with Robin’s. She is a good coworker, and you’d built up this system, this rhythm, that Eddie has never even tried to build with you. 

God, you miss her. And you fucking hate Eddie Munson. 

You pull out a chair and sink down into it, too pissed to care that you’re essentially manspreading and certainly eating like a slob. 

What angers you the most is that you tried to be friendly with Eddie when he was hired. You have seniority over him, and you were happy to help him figure out how things worked. But he didn’t give a fuck. To you, it seemed like he was too good for your help. 

But the first time you saw him ask Robin for help, you realized that he just…didn’t like you. And you don’t know why. You have always been nice to your coworkers. You have no reason not to be. Except when you get to a point that you’re forced to match their energy. 

You down the rest of your drink. You need to go out and get some fresh air, despite the fact that it’s fucking scorching outside. 

Up front, Eddie gives the young boy his receipt and a little bag full of cassette tapes, buttons, and a patch that he helped him pick out. Another child saved from the masses of pop music, he thinks. 

He taps his ringed fingers against the counter, lowering himself so that his elbows rest against the cool vinyl. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie catches a sticky note stuck to the edge of the computer monitor. 

The store’s goal total for today is written there, penciled messily in your handwriting. Eddie rolls his eyes. Why do you always have to be on top of everything like that? You’re so fucking uptight all the time Eddie’s surprised you don’t waddle because of the stick you permanently have up your ass. 

Ever since the day he got hired a few months ago, Eddie has despised you. He remembers taking a small tour of the shop and being introduced to you where you were organizing a new shipment of magazines. 

You stood, shyly fidgeting with the pin on your fitted denim vest. You were bubbly, with these sweet little doe eyes and an expression on your face like you were hoping to make a new friend. He remembers your palm feeling unsettlingly cold when he shook your hand, and now it all makes sense to him. 

What with the way you can change moods with the drop of a pin, how you manage to bring a storm cloud with you every time you walk in his direction but have everyone else wrapped around your finger. 

A cold-blooded bitch like you must surely feed on the souls of little children every morning. 

He hates how organized you are, how prepared. How you behave all patiently when you’re with a customer who’s been a prick, even though he knows it’s all an act because you’ll give him a death glare at any given chance. 

But most of all? He hates how fucking gorgeous you are. You’d think all that hatred would make you look like an old hag, but no. Instead you walk around in your skirts that show off that perfect ass and every once in a while you wear a shirt that shows the tiniest sliver of your stomach, or in some cases, your back, if you bend over. He hates when you wear those platform boots with the heels that allow you to level with him. 

And the fact that you’re walking toward him right now. 

Eddie watches as you strip off the cropped button-up you’d been wearing, exposing your bare arms. 

There’s a tattoo running up the length of your bicep that he’s never seen before. His gaze lingers on it for long enough that you catch it and raise a brow. 

“You cry when you got that, princess?” He points to the dark ink on your skin. 

You slide behind him and sit on the stool in front of the computer. 

“No, Eddie. I fell asleep. If you want to bond about how you wailed during each of your tattoo sessions, you’ll have to talk to Brian.”

He scoffs. “Guess you can handle a little prick then, huh?”

“I work with you everyday, don’t I?” You smile, but keep your eyes on the computer screen. There’s supposed to be a new shipment of books coming today, and your boss already asked you to set up the display when it gets here. That reminds you, and you speak before Eddie can give you a smartass remark. “Eddie, there’s a box of new vinyls in the back you’re supposed to sort and put out.”

“Yeah? I’ll get right on that, mom.”

You pinch your thumb and forefinger together so that you don’t snap. It’s such a shame that such a pretty man is such a fucking asshole.

The mouse starts to feel slick from your clammy hands as you click around, trying your best to track the package. Slam!

Eddie drops the box of records on the far end of the front desk, making you jump. He grabs a box cutter and pulls open the mess of cardboard and packing tape as aggressively as possible. 

Your head snaps in his direction. “Can’t you do that anywhere else, Munson?”

“Nah, babe. My only entertainment for the day is pissin’ you off, and I just clocked in.”

You facepalm. “Jesus fucking Christ, I miss Robin.”

Eddie cups his hand around the shell of his ear. “What’s that, princess? You need Buckley, huh? Bet she puts up with your shit.”

You stand up. “More like she puts up with me talking about the shit you put me through, because you masquerade as a sweet little angel when you work with her.” You’ve moved toward the other end of the counter before you can even realize, leveling with Eddie and getting in his face.

He places both of his hands on the table, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Maybe it’s because Robin isn’t a fucking priss, and actually has a personality.”

That hits a nerve, and Eddie catches the way your brows twitch. But your poker face doesn’t slip, not for a second. Your eyes flick to the front door. 

“You have a customer, Munson. I’ll go take care of the records. Oh, and they’re a chick. Maybe you can go see if she has a personality that’s up to your standards and get your dick wet so that there’s a slight chance you become less of a raging asshole.”

Eddie looks over his shoulder at the young woman who’s just walked through the door. She has long, dark hair and more piercings than he can count. She’s his type, and he hates that you clocked that. When he turns back to you, you’re already taking the box off the counter. 

“Oh, and Eddie? Fuck you.”

You get the vinyls sorted and put away in record time. 

————

If it’s possible, the next day is hotter than the last. You’re sweating the second you walk out of your front door, your hairline quickly dampening and your thighs sticking together on the drive to work. 

You put on the one short dress you own today, grateful for the fact that your place of occupation doesn’t have a strict dress code. It’s too hot to wear anything, but the thin, mesh-like fabric and little spaghetti straps will do just fine. 

Luckily for you, Eddie’s shift doesn’t start until one, so you’ll be able to have a chill morning where you won’t feel like blowing your own brains out. Knock on wood, but you even feel a little giddy because Robin opened, which means she’ll be there to welcome you and greet you with a bit of peace. 

You pull open the front door, and pick up speed, knowing the cool air is just within your reach. The sounds of heavy metal reach your ears before you see him. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” 

You consider yourself lucky that the floor is empty, because you did not consult your conscience for one second before expressing your pure annoyance that Eddie is here before he was meant to be. 

You push up your sunglasses so they’re level with your eyebrows, and take a look at the figure standing behind the counter. There is no Robin anywhere in sight. “Where is Robin? Why the fuck are you here?” You catch Eddie’s gaze drag up and down your bare legs and that good mood flies right outside the front door. 

“Why are you dressed like that?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “What’s the matter, Eddie baby? You not see a lot of shoulders in that fuck ass club of yours?”

You pull your sunglasses back down over your eyes and grin, because you’ve just seen Eddie Munson blush. That one really hit the mark, and you are immensely pleased with yourself. 

Even more so when you realize he’s following you. You start switching your hips, knowing where his gaze is. You’re not as stupid as he thinks. 

His wallet chain is jingling, his hair flying behind him as he jogs to meet you in the middle of the store. If a customer were to walk in right now, they’d see the both of you standing nose to nose, a murderous look in your eyes, and probably feel like they’d just walked in on a taping for a soap opera. 

“What do you know about my fuck ass—” He coughs, practically chokes. “W-what do you know about Hellfire?” Eddie asks. You can almost see his blood boiling. 

You put your hand on his chest. “I’m a rogue, bitch.”

The sound of your laugh reaches Eddie’s ears before he’s even registered your hand on him, your breath on his neck, and that you’ve turned around and disappeared. There’s no way you’re not a witch. Are you a witch? What does a hex feel like? 

Eddie starts walking to the stacks, suddenly encouraged to see if you carry any witchcraft-related texts. The doorbell chimes and he’s forced to spin around. 

The group of people that have just pushed through the doors is huge. At least six teenagers of varying heights, followed by four or five college-aged kids. And they all look like they’re on a mission. Two of them head straight for the records, one for the magazines, and he loses sight of the rest down the romance aisle. 

In the back, you lock up your bag and shake out your shoulders. 

Your fingers fly over the radio, quickly changing the station Eddie had chosen to one you know plays much better music. You turn the dial down a little too, having already started to feel blood leaking out of your ears. 

At the counter, Eddie watches in horror as the teenagers grab armfuls of records and CDs. What’s worse is that a family of four walk in next. An older woman walks straight up to him. “Excuse me, sir?” Sir? What is he, a fucking mummy? “Where are your bibles and Christian novels?” He catches her eyeing the ink littering his pale arms. 

“I can show you to them, ma’am. If you wanna come with me, we’ve got a whole section just for that!” Your bubbly voice meets Eddie’s ears. And so do the sounds of “There She Goes” by The La’s. 

The woman turns on you, her smile brightening, and she’s quick to follow your purposeful step. Over your shoulder, you wink at Eddie. 

He knows it’s evil. He knows he fucking hates your guts. He hates that you’ve just charmed that red flag of a woman. But he’ll be damned if he fails to admit that his zipper didn’t feel just a little tighter at that faux flirtation in your expression.

“Let me know if you need help finding anything, alright? And if we don’t have anything in stock, we can always order it for you!” 

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and you’re practically stomping on your way back to the counter. You use the walk to actually take in Eddie for the first time since you came in. 

He’s wearing a t-shirt that he obviously cut the sleeves off of at home, purely based on the way they’re fraying. His arms are…beefy, to say the least. His skin looks unnaturally soft, and his biceps are just so big and they look like they’re begging to be squeezed or bitten, even. 

Your eyes wander lower when he’s called over to help a child cart probably ten CDs to the counter. His jeans aren’t tight, not exactly. But they fit. He’s got more ass than most people would know what to do with. You can’t help but wonder what it looks like outside of that ratty denim. Or what else he might use that bandana for. 

You park yourself in front of the register, getting the system set up before the rush you can feel coming on. The cracks in the leather seat below you pinch your thighs, but you can’t be bothered to care. You deserve it for thinking of such a dickhead that way. Why are the gorgeous ones always assholes? 

A quick glance over your shoulder tells you that Eddie’s not helping kids anymore, but shamelessly flirting with a girl who can’t be more than twenty-one. She looks slightly intimidated by him, until he flashes his ring-covered fingers in front of her. You recognize that look, the one that tells you she might just eat him alive. 

You fear she’ll be immensely disappointed when she truly gets to meet his personality. 

In the time he’s been trying to woo this young lady, a line has formed, and now you’re stuck cashing people out. The Christian lady is first. 

“You find everything you needed today?”

She drops some change into the tip jar and takes a mint from the tray you just restocked. “Yes, I did, sweetheart, thank you for asking. You see that? Yes, that one—isn’t it gorgeous?”

She forces you to look at the fancy bible she’s picked out, and you do so despite the voice inside your head screaming for her to fucking pay already and get out because she’s been here long enough and the line is only getting longer. 

“It sure is!” You do your best to smile kindly. You hand her the receipt and a small card that not only thanks her for her purchase, but promises a ten percent discount if she comes back within the next month. 

The next customer is easy, a ten year old with a storybook that has colorable pages and a bookmark with rainbow tassels. You hand him a sticker and tell him you like his Gizmo shirt, and he beams his way out the door. 

When you are confronted with a set of parents who clearly have more kids than they seem to want, you feel a warm breath on the back of your neck. “You have a happy pill on you I can have?”

Eddie takes the stack of books out of your hands and places each one in a paper bag. The customers aren’t even looking at you, what with the husband fussing about inflation and How much for a paperback? and the toddler trying to eat the rug.

“No, sweetie,” you start, sliding the bag across the counter, hoping maybe the woman will notice and take her gaze off the street just outside the window. She takes it without looking at you, without a word, and the husband walks away mulling over the receipt, not bothering to do a headcount of kids. “I can’t keep up with your stash of boner pills.”

Eddie laughs. He tosses his head back, bearing his thick neck to you. It’s a slow sound. You can’t help but feel like it’s not something you should hear. It feels like the kind of laugh someone saves for a lover in privacy. And it’s so gravelly and deep. 

The line has slowed, and all that’s left for you to do is keep an eye out for the customers slowly making their way up front. 

You tilt your head a little in Eddie’s direction, signaling that you’re speaking to him. “You probably do need them though, based on the way you were eye-fucking that girl earlier. God knows you’re gonna need a little…happy to keep up with her.” 

Eddie bends a little at the knees, getting his head completely level with yours, his brown eyes twinkling with malice. “You think about my dick a lot, princess?”

You place your hand on the counter, less than an inch between yours and Eddie’s fingers. One move and they’d be touching. Hell, one step forward and your front would be pressed to his. “More like I worry about it,” you say. 

He quirks a brow, his lips ticking up at the corners. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Since I see you try and pick up a girl in the store at least three times a week and you know what? They never stick. So either it’s that you can’t get it up, or it’s that if you treated any woman as well as you treat that guitar of yours, maybe they’d be satisfied.”

Eddie takes a step forward. You’ve never been this close to him. “You know, Princess, they might not last, but based on your fucking attitude, it seems like you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?”

He pushes a strand of hair out of your face. Your blood pressure spikes. It feels like your veins are turning colors with how angry you are. Eddie has the nerve to laugh. 

“Yeah. I think all this bitchiness comes from the fact that no one will put their dick anywhere near you. They’re probably afraid you’ll make it shrivel up and die.” You don’t say anything, and he just keeps going. “Hell, I’m nice enough that I’d fuck you if that meant you’d get off my back.”

Your entire body goes rigid. And in that moment, you know that’s exactly what he wanted from you. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction. 

“Thanks for the offer, Munson. But I’d rather gouge my own fucking eyes out than let you touch me. If you wanna see me as a priss, that’s fine. But at least I’m not an insufferable prick who can’t give a damn about anyone who’s not shoved so far up my own ass and ready to fall at my feet at any given moment. Some people have to grow the fuck up.” You practically spit out the last few words, your voice laced with venom. 

Eddie blinks. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glazed over. For the first time since he met you, he doesn’t have shit to say.

————

You and Eddie are the only ones on schedule today. 

You haven’t spoken in days, just moving around one another and doing your jobs in silence. You can’t lie about the pride you feel in your chest from having finally gotten to him. Even if the dead quiet is unsettling, you feel a sick sense of satisfaction. 

You think Eddie might’ve even mastered the art of a fake, but amiable personality. 

You’re currently hiding away in the back room, unpacking new shipments of books, vinyls, display materials, along with all the shit you actually need like paper for the register and cleaning supplies. 

Not that it matters where you are because you’ve had a total of one customer today. But that’s how Wednesday’s go. 

It’s sort of mindless, this activity. You slide the box cutter over the packing tape, rip open each box, take everything out, stomp the box flat, repeat. It’s not very stimulating, but you don’t hate it. 

The last box though is covered in enough clear tape to catch every fly in the world, and it’s taking some serious sawing to get through. You set your hand on the worn and slightly damp cardboard, bracing yourself to get one end of it loose. 

You’re just getting there when the blade finds a raindrop on the silky tape and slips free. You’re not expecting that, of course, and the blade slices the skin of your forearm quickly and thoroughly. 

You yelp, dropping the box cutter. You’re never one to wail or scream, but you let out a whimper at the shock of pain. Your non-dominant hand starts to shake as you take in the wound.

You’re too panicked to realize that your frightened exclamation could be heard up front, considering there’s no music playing and you left the receiving room’s door open. 

It doesn’t look deep enough to need stitches, but it’s bleeding. Quite a bit, actually. 

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

There are thudding footsteps, and then Eddie appears in the doorway. “Fuck fuck fuck, what? Bein’ so damn loud.” He pauses, taking in the sight before him. 

Your eyes are glazed over, your hands shaking, and you’re cupping your forearm so as to not let blood drip all over the floors. 

“Oh fuck off, I do not need this right now!” you exclaim, knowing he’s going to berate you or say something demeaning and you are not going to cry in front of him. 

Eddie says your name. 

He never says your name. It makes you look up at him, and you almost feel nauseous at the sincere look on his face. 

“Do you need me to drive you somewhere?”

You roll your eyes. “No, Eddie. I’m not fucking helpless! And I’m not bleeding out either!”

He steps towards you, his hands outstretched like he’s a ringmaster, like he’s trying to tame an apex predator. “But you are bleeding.”

“No fuckin’ shit, Sherlock—”

“Let me help you—”

You decide to shove past him, whimpering your way towards the bathroom. Eddie is on your heels. You try to shut the door in his face, but he plants his boot firmly on the floor and prevents you from it. His glare is unwavering. 

He repeats your name once more. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Just—just fucking stop for a minute, okay? Let me help you. Let me do this one thing without any of this shit, you hear me?” 

You blink. Eddie kicks the door stopper down so it stays open. His eyes flick to the toilet seat. “Sit.”

You’re too winded to say no. So you sit down, cradling your arm, while Eddie rummages around for gauze and wipes and whatever the fuck he can find because he’s not a nurse but he has had to clean himself up on more than one occasion. 

You can’t process that Eddie is treating you this way. Like a human. That he’s insisting on helping you when he doesn’t get anything out of it. 

When he returns, he settles on his knees in front of you, looking into your eyes to make sure it’s okay for him to touch you. You hate the way your stomach flips. But the little shift in your arm tells him it’s alright. 

Eddie’s fingers are cold on yours as he turns your forearm outward so he can look at the wound. You can’t help but watch as he works on you. Takes care of you. 

He sets a paper towel underneath your arm, using another to press down on your skin and make sure the bleeding has stopped. The pressure hurts, but you don’t say a word. 

Eddie hooks his foot around the corner of the trash can, pulling it closer. He throws out the bloody towel and wets another, being as gentle as he can in an effort to clean all of the dried red splotches from your skin. 

The cut isn’t deep, but it definitely nicked a few capillaries along the way. It is a little longer though, and Eddie has to use two big pieces of gauze to cover it. This is after he’d swiped your arm with alcohol wipes, grinning to himself because of how hard you were trying not to show him any weakness. 

Eddie’s thumb lingers on your skin long after he’s taped you up. You’re both silent, sitting in your shitty workplace bathroom. You can feel that he wants to say something, but you don’t know what. It’s why you haven’t gotten up yet. 

You notice his eyes on your face before you meet his gaze. “Will you look at me?” he says. Your heart jolts in your chest. 

“What for?”

“So that I can tell you why I’ve been a giant dick since I met you and you’ll see I’m being real with you.”

Your head shoots up, mainly because you can’t really believe he’s just said those words. “Hold on,” you laugh, “You’re going to explain yourself now? After I spent all that time trying to be your friend and you—”

“Treated you like shit, yeah I know.” Eddie drags his hands down his face. You’re not sure why, but you feel compelled to listen to him. “I showed up and you were there in your cute fucking skirts and you were so nice to everyone and just so…good? I couldn’t stand it.”

You blink. 

“I’m not like that. I’m not good with people and empathetic like you are and it takes me a long fucking time to do anything right. And I chose to take that out on you, to hate you, because you were so perfect, and that was easier than falling for you.”

Your mouth drops open. He what? Eddie waves his hands in your direction. 

“Close your mouth, you’re gonna catch flies. I hated that I could’ve dropped to my knees for you the second I met you. You looked at me like I was precious, like you were happy to meet someone new, and I’m such a fuck up, such a nuisance to so many people, that there was no way I was going to let a pretty girl like you befriend me and have me ruin it all. Because the truth is, I’d kill to be as fucking good as you are.”

You start shaking your head. You feel your eyes glaze over, so you look down at your freshly bandaged arm. 

“And I realize that the only reason you’re a dick to me is because I started that shit.”

You let out the barest hint of a laugh. “It’s called matching your energy. There wasn’t any point in trying to befriend you when you…hated me.”

Eddie says your name again. “I don’t hate you. I do hate myself though, and that I was so—”

“Jealous?” you interrupt, finishing for him. 

He tugs on the hair at the base of his neck. God, this is the most ridiculous fucking thing. 

“Yeah. Jealous that I don’t have as much good in me as you do. I’d see you working, see you happy to help anyone, see you pull more weight than anyone else here. I hated that you’re everything I’m not.”

When you finally look back up at him, you’ve gone all teary, and something inside Eddie breaks. It snaps. 

“We’re not supposed to be the same. If we were, nothing would ever work. You act like you’re just—just this helpless piece of shit, Eddie. You aren’t. But I can’t make you realize that. All I can do is tell you that if you want to be more charismatic—or whatever the fuck—you gotta work at it.”

He’s looking at you with his stupid ass doe eyes, and you think you finally understand him. 

“It doesn’t matter if you’re everything I am, Munson. No one else is livin’ your life for you.” You start to trail off, but not quite yet. “I wish you hadn’t been so fucking sincere so I could yell at you.”

Eddie tosses his head back, bearing his neck to you, and laughs. He raises his hands, beckoning you. “C’mon. Let me have it. You deserve it for how many times I’ve called you a priss.”

You shake out your shoulders, and if you weren’t still drained from the box cutter incident you’d jump up and hop back and forth like you’re readying to get in the ring. 

“I get it, you know? But I also don’t think it’s fair, because, and I’m gonna be honest here, the day you got hired I thought you were so gorgeous. Trust me, I was fully weak in the knees. You were also dressed like, well, you, and I wanted to at least make friends with you because you seemed, to use your words, good.”

“I heard you crack a few jokes, saw you picking up on how things worked, and then with me it was like you had this alter ego. I just don’t think it was fair that I got the short end of the stick here, even if I did enjoy being a smartass to you. So I guess what I’m really saying is, why me? Why weren’t you a dick to Robin, or Brian or fuckin’ Keith? Why not take out your jealousy on someone else?”

Eddie stands up, shoves his hands in his back pockets. “You can hit me if you feel like it, because I know this is going to sound fucked.” He pauses, and then all the words spill out at once, leaving you completely breathless when he’s finished. 

“Not only was I jealous of how perfect your soul is, but you being so sweet made me want you. I wanted you all to myself. I wanted that personality, those kind remarks, that look you get in your eye when you’re listening so well, I wanted it all around me, all the time. It felt like you were this fucking angel, I wanted to lose myself in you.”

“But it didn’t feel like I’d be worthy of you either. I figured you’d get sick of me, real quick, when you realized I wasn’t as good of a person as you. When you figured out all the shit I need to work through. It seemed easier to hate you than to have you see me the way everyone else does. Nobody wants a work in progress.”

You laugh. You take in your surroundings, still in the work bathroom, and you laugh. Eddie’s brows shoot up, and his heart drops out of his ass and onto the tile floors below him. 

“Eddie, everyone is a work in progress. And I am an extremely patient person.”

He recovers himself fast enough to make one more smartass remark. “You’re sure you don’t wanna kick me in the balls or somethin’?” 

You take a step towards him, breathing deeply. Breathing him in. 

“Not right now, Eddie. What’s frustrating though, is how much I want to kiss your dumb ass. Your annoying, over-complicating, completely ridiculous, stupid hot fucking ass.”

Eddie blinks. You might as well have kicked him in the balls because he can’t even think a single coherent thought now. Not with the way you’re pushing up onto your toes and pulling him down towards you, shaking your head so he doesn’t make up something stupid about not deserving it. 

And then your mouth is on his. Your lips are so warm, and everything else disappears. All Eddie can feel is you. Your perfume engulfs him, the heat of your chest pressed against him, the soft fat of your hip under his hand. When you pull on his hair he almost whimpers. 

You kiss hard, harder than he’d have thought, but it’s so gentle at the same time. You’re kissing him stupid. There’s no other way to put it. The only thing that pops in his head is that his suspicions about you being a witch were totally fucking spot on. 

When you finally pull away, your lips have gone all puffy, and there’s this dazed but incredibly satisfied look in your eye. He’d take you home right now and get on his knees for you if you’d let him. 

Your lips tick up at the corners, and he has to shake his head so he can really hear what you’re about to say. 

“Aren’t we on the clock, Eddie?”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!