#especially ipas

[yeehaw-melbourne]

Maybe this isn't a hot take, but I've rarely seen it posed, so I'm gonna say it.

Everybody says "beer is such a Straight Guy drink".

They're correct- but ONLY of its from a can.

If you drink beer from a glass bottle???? YOU ARE GAY. GAY AS HELL. You are more than 0% fruity.

If you're so straight, why are you drinking (slurping, sucking even dare I say) from something that looks like a penis?

See that top? That is suspiciously phallic shaped. Argue with the wall.

(Does not apply to lesbians)

((Do any lesbians drink from beer bottles? The lesbians I know do not even like beer but that could be from lack of sample size))

[courfee]

look at that!! i've talked about it so much and now chapter 1 actually exists in real life!!

[wrenchinator-central]

Vanilla extract aside, it is refreshing to see water and cider in the top two slots. A good cider on tap really does beat out most beer

[hylianengineer]

Linguistics class was fun this morning, in a deeply neurodivergent way, because we were learning the Internatuonal Phonetic Alphabet which basically amounted to sitting around making weird sounds trying to figure out which ones go in which words and correspond to various symbols. Fun new stimming tactic.

[whatudottu]

Hey, I noticed your post on Ectonurite religious practices, and I thought the concepts were very interesting. I’m a big fan of the Anur System myself, to the point I’ve learned how to make languages for them, if that’s not too weird…

In reference to this post-

The 'having a favourite fictional setting' to 'make a conlang' pipeline is all to real Pilgrim, my linguistics teacher let me use mine for my end of term project instead of the assigned analysis (transcribing a conversation between yourself and a friend, which probably would've been useful to study); you wouldn't believe what planet I based it on (don't look at my icon that's cheating :P)

But nah yeah, the Anur System is to me one of my favourite parts of Ben 10 Omniverse since I love horror and horror themed things but hate being scared of them so- the Anur System and the movie monsters that influence their design always has a special place in my head!

Even in my mutants and magic au where I retcon even OS to include more mutants and more magic users and presence where I made the Mummy an actual mummified priest who's attempt at resurrect worked (to the detriment to waking up to the grubby mitts of the British museum) and making Viktor an actual frankenstein's monster who's functionally mutant both to parallel Gwen and Max better (Gwen for magic obviously, Max for being a not-so-ex-Plumber who dealt with more than just alien phenomena but humans doing weird things inspired by old books and other stuff), I can't not still have the entirety of the Anur System still exist! I can't remember who but someone made thep khufan siphonophores and well- riding the coattails of my fulmini posting I got excited over them :P same goes for transylians though I haven't thought much about their potentially interesting biology other than the thought of 'how weird can scar tissue adaptations in biology become' so :P :P :P

[tobacconist]

mr iwan wmffre thy booke on late cornish grammar is making me hate IPA even more than i already do....

[etherealcockring]

Idk if y’all play gacha games (we probably shouldn’t most of them are greedy but I can’t resist this cute nsfw wolf boy so here we are lol) but um look at my boy.

He’s so cute and precious and I hope I can get his new unit within 200 rolls. Cause that’s all I got and I need to collect every garu ever.

[nopoodles]

*sigh* going back to a particular project with it's 31k words and looking at the thing I butchered to turn into it sitting comfortably at 35k and wishing the butchered thing wasn't so... it's not bad, it's just not publishing quality. It's not of a standard I would expect people to pay for.

[sillysanddweller]

everytime i see somebody trying to phonetically spell smth without using ipa i cry a silent tear and shed a hair from emotional distress. awnt and cawf-ee are going to cause me to pass away

[azure-stars]

Literally don't let them tell you lies about beer

[kinkiskarma]

noah kahan doing a beer collab w two roads... ct bitches rejoice

[butchvampireheimerdinger]

okay hear me out…butch4butch Sevika where Sevika is a power bottom???👀 reader is taller and stronger than her but very shy and intimidated by her🙈

Pairing: Powerbottom!Sevika x gentle giant-service top! reader

Warnings: ns/fw, fingering, cunnilingus, grinding/dry humping, smoking, mentions of violence, and horny lesbian activityyyy

Word count: 3k

A/N: Love you. Love this. You have come to the right place for this one, my friend. The lack of butch4butch Sevika content is criminalll if that woman has a type it begins with D and ends in Y-K-E-S. Anyways, how appropriate is it that my first fic is butch4butch Sevika smut. Checks out. (that being said, it is my first fic so you freaks betta be NICE) Now without further ado…

You Have No Idea

By ButchVampireHeimerdinger

It was the slow ending to an eventful shift at the last drop. Customers were in good spirits all night, likely due to a sudden influx of Piltie goods some gang had rattled up through more or less honorable means and was making its way through town. In any case, the energy was contagious and it had you, the buff and generally even-tempered server/bouncer, doing things you didn’t normally do. Like drink on the job — just a beer you had been nursing for over forty minutes — and fraternize with patrons. Y’know, other than the obligatory how are you, do you wanna pay out now or open a tab. Real actual conversations -- which led you to number three on the list of Things You Don’t Normally Do; you were hunched over the bar playing Texas Hold ‘Em with three regulars. Two were men, you didn’t remember their names, but they always came to the bar at about this time. A package deal — they snickered in your direction as a nearby shady-looking customer walked out on his tab.

“Hey, isn’t that your cue, tough guy?” The man gave you a patronizing sort of eyebrow raise as he dealt the next round.

Technically, it was. You got hired pretty much on account of your physique — you were 6’3” and a tank, always had been. Broad shoulders, biggest girl on the playground growing up, you gained muscle at the drop of a hat. You didn’t even try. But it was all for show. You were more of a lover than a fighter. Sometime in the first few months of the job the staff discovered you were better equipped to work inside the bar. Customers liked you because you were polite, a breath of fresh air from the culture of animosity that permeated the undercity. Still, it didn’t help your ego in situations like this. ”Hey, you don’t know what she’s got under her sleeve.” The third voice at the table spoke up. The right hand of Zaun. Sevika.

She had been a regular since before you started and probably would be long after. You had heard some pretty nasty stories about her and the things she was capable of. But when she came up to your counter for a drink, she came without malintent, always respectful to the waitstaff. It was disarming. Tonight, especially, your eyes lingered over her toned shoulders and sharp collarbones.You wanted to run your hands over them, to see how her body would react. And maybe it was the house IPA you had been drinking, but probably not.

Sevika gestured toward your dwindling pile of poker chips with her chin as she looked down, analyzing her hand. “Clearly, she must be the type to play the long game.” This earned her another light fit of snickers from bar idiots one and two, but they were easily impressed. You rolled your eyes.

Sevika raised two chips. The table matched. She spoke again.

“So, tough guy, do those arms of yours get you any female attention? Since you’re obviously not using them for any other tactile purpose,” her eyes traveled to the empty seat where the tab-skipper had been sitting.

You shrugged, suddenly warm and very aware of your body and not sure where to rest your gaze. “I get around.”

For some reason, tweedles dum and dee found this hilarious, and howls of laughter followed. You slapped your hand over your heart and feigned a look of deep hurt, to mask the bit of real hurt you were feeling. Yeah, it had been a while, but surely not long enough to warrant that response.

“Is it that implausible?”

Sevika chuckled and shook her head, but her expression was good-natured.

“Just make your move, Casanova.”

You had a full house. Three aces. Two kings. You matched, and didn’t raise.

Sevika raised, the men matched, and you folded.

The table revealed their hands and Sevika won the pile with a straight. Not a bad hand, but the round would’ve been yours if you had taken the risk. Sevika clicked her tongue, scolding you, which made your palms sweat. You averted her gaze and became suddenly interested in wiping down the bar.

Following your pitiful defeat, the two guys payed out, leaving the bar empty save for you, Sevika, and a couple stragglers who always stayed until morning and probably didn’t have anywhere else to spend the night. To your surprise, the woman beckoned you over once more. Something in your heart lifted. Something in your pants dropped.

“Blackjack?” She pushed the cards toward you, and her dominant sort of gaze made you feel, once again, compelled to do what she asked.

You won the first few rounds. Sevika was risky to a fault. If it wasn’t 21 exactly, trust she would draw. And she always made you the dealer, watching your hands intently, hungrily, even, as you shuffled. The third round was a tie, but she didn’t have anything left to raise.

“Tell you what,” she said. “You win this round and I’ll spread it around that I walked out on my tab, and you chased me down and kicked my ass for it. Should prevent other situations like our friend earlier, at least for a while.”

“Are my bouncer abilities really that pathetic?” You picked at the side of your nails. Sevika’s gaze pierced through you and you found it difficult to meet her eyes. But you didn’t necessarily hate the way her eyes took you in. Slowly and deliberately, like you were a battle map and she was trying to parse out her strategy.

“And if you win?” You looked up, all innocent. Maybe you imagined it, but your doe eyes seemed to rile her up a little bit. Something in the way her jaw shifted, the way she rubbed her flesh palm on her pants.

“Already planning for defeat? See, this is exactly your problem. You’re talking through a universe where you lose before we’ve even started.” She shoved her pile towards you again.

“Deal ‘em.” She commanded, you obliged.

“I’m serious! I just wanna know what I’m agreeing to. Fools rush in, and all that.” Your voice made everything sound like a question. With her, it was. Sevika was hard to figure out.

“You’re cute. If I win, I want…” The woman took a hit of the blunt she was holding and used it to gesture, her movements creating little loops of smoke that rose and dissipated. Her eyes followed them, and not you. For once.

“I want an hour. With you. N’ those arms.” You jerked while shuffling, accidentally knocking over your beer in your surprise. You picked it up quickly, hoping she didn’t notice.

“You serious?”

“Deadly. Fuck me up, Casanova.”

She won. Wasn’t even close. Three sevens, if you could believe it. As soon as you slapped the last seven down, you both shot up from the counter at light speed and she followed you to the back.

“A little eager, aren’t we?” Her voice was low and husky, but with a little something else.

“Sore winner,” was all you could think to respond. You shoved her lightly. She shoved you harder with her prosthetic arm. The two of you kept at it, pushing and shoving back and forth as you practically raced to The Last Drop’s back office. Play-fighting, like you were “one of the boys,” but it had a bit of a bite to it. Like you wanted to eat each other alive.

The office was hardly used except for the rare moments when staff wanted to crunch numbers. Or, of course, engage in extra-professional affairs like this one. That couch had seen some things. You fiddled with the key for what was apparently a moment too long.

“I’m getting bored out here, Casanova.” You looked into Sevika’s eyes through her thick brows, a couple inches below yours. You slammed your shoulder into the door and it gave way immediately, with a satisfying bang as it swung open. Sevika followed, grabbing you by the shirt as she brought your lips down to hers, hard, and kicked the door shut behind her without looking.

She dragged you toward her, her back pressed against the peeling drywall. Her tongue dragged against your bottom lip and something deep in your pelvis vibrated in anticipation. One of your hands reached up to the wall, to keep you both steady. Sevika grabbed your other hand and guided it under her tank top. You squeezed her breast, tracing over her nipple with your thumb. Your bodies pressed together and you brought your knee in between hers, rolling your hips forward and pressing your leg into her crotch. She moaned into your mouth. Like her voice, it was deep and gravelly.

You set a pace. Her hips seemed to agree with it, bucking upwards to get that friction where she needed it most. Her hands gripped your waist and hips as she started to manhandle you, making you move faster against her. Your kissing was frantic and sloppy, like there was anger behind it. Your lips shined with her spit, and you moved to kiss up and down her neck. She reacted with a throaty panting noise when you got to a sensitive spot — a fleshy and soft area where her jaw met with her neck. You twisted your head to the side and downward to get better access, to fully exploit that weakness. Without fully thinking through your actions, your sucking collapsed into biting. You drove your teeth into her neck and Sevika’s jaw shot upward as her panting became gasping. She grabbed the back of your head and pushed it harder against her neck to say what she couldn’t; more, more, more.

Your hands fumbled with her belt and she noticeably did not help you with it. It was like she got a kick out of watching you struggle. You finally got them unzipped and you reached under to start palming her through her boyshorts. She had already soaked through. Good.

You pulled away to look down at her again while tugging lightly at her waistband. You raised your eyebrows to ask, May I? Chin still tilted upward, she nodded, huffed out a “yuh” sort of noise, and hooked her leg around the back of yours to bring your chests closer, all rough.

You pulled down the panties and your fingers dipped into her folds. Sevika’s eyebrows knitted even closer together, if that was possible. You continued sucking and working that spot on her neck. Her lips were against your ear and you heard her panting grow more desperate, more melodic; whines and vocalizations mixed with the gruff and grainy rhythmic in-and-out of her breaths.

Your middle and ring finger sort of skated all around her entrance, just barely avoiding her swollen clit. You took in the sight — Sevika’s heaving chest, her eyes closed as she chased the pleasure you were giving her. Her moans grew to something not exactly desperate, that wasn’t like her, but deranged and shameless. She panted like she was breathing fire. And like she didn’t care if all of The Last Drop could hear her, even though they probably couldn’t.

The pulse of her hips grew a little more erratic and she shifted her legs like she was ready to switch positions. You gestured subtly with your head toward the couch, and she dragged you toward it.

The woman collapsed on it and rested her arms outward, elbows relaxed on top like it was a throne. She leaned as far back as she could as you helped work her pants and boyshorts all the way down until they dropped to her ankles. She pulled her shirt off with both hands, pulling it up and over from the back of the neckline. She threw the tank top to the side and all of the air left your lungs, as you took in the sight of her upper body. Where you were buff, she was cut. Unlike you, Sevika didn’t have the type of figure that was imposing simply by nature — her physique came from blood, sweat, and tears. She had the body of a bruiser, of someone who spent their life fighting. The Sevika before you made you realize why some of the patrons kept their distance. But it somehow made you want to get closer. It made you want to please her, and to be good at it.

Sevika had a manspread going and you dropped to your knees in front of her. But she wasn’t having that — not yet. With her flesh hand she grabbed you by the throat and dragged you up to her lips for another messy kiss. Your teeth clashed together and when your tongues made contact, you felt those butterflies low in your pelvis. You moaned into her mouth instinctively, and it came out higher and breathier than you expected. You felt her lips form a slight smile against yours and she released her hold on your neck, making you drop down to your knees. You were certain the impact must have shook the entire city block.

Breathing heavy, you went to start kissing and sucking at her inner thigh, but she tilted your chin upward to look at her. Breathless, she commanded,

“Take your shirt off for me, Casanova. I wanna see those arms while you… Yeah.”

You fought the smile forming and stripped for her. You took off your tank top and sports bra the same way she had — in one fluid motion, from the back. You were caught between a sudden wave of self consciousness and the urge to draw it out, to put on a show for her. You settled at maintaining eye contact as you subtly flexed for her, and placed your broad hands on her knees. Sevika smiled, all smug as she reached over to a nearby discarded vest, brought out the rest of her blunt, and lit up as her eyes poured over your exposed upper body. She inhaled deep using her metal arm, and with her flesh hand she traced over your biceps, satisfied.

All confident, you started on her inner thighs, taking your time. When your lips finally connected with her wet cunt, you heard her make a sharp exhale through her teeth. You kept going, first going over it all with a flat tongue, drinking in the moment, then using your tongue to explore her folds. Sevika let out a satisfied hum as you started sucking at her swollen, neglected clit.

That was when you brought your fingers up to her entrance, casually tracing, nothing else. That pissed her off.

Sevika slapped the top of the couch to get your attention. Your eyes snapped up to hers as she leaned forward to get all up in your face, with her signature sneer on.

“Did someone pay you to waste my time?”

You froze.

“That wasn’t rhetorical, I’m seriously asking you if some outside party with an interest in distracting me paid you to bring me here and do absolutely nothing with me.” You raised your eyebrows, eyes all wide and innocent. That made her groan, and she covered her face with one hand, your puppy eyes making her feel horny and desperate and a little guilty about snapping at you.

“Just. Fuck. Me.” She collapsed backward and you didn’t respond, just immediately did what she asked. You pushed your two fingers inside her without warning — hard. Again she exhaled through her teeth.

With your mouth, you continued giving her clit attention, and you pushed in and out of her, fingertips maintaining contact with her front wall, the one closest to you.

The sounds she made were pornographic, and it made you aware of the pool of slick that had established itself in the crotch of your boxers. Listening to her body, you gradually picked up the pace and you found Sevikas hand weave through your hair, grabbing you roughly at the scalp and pressing you closer and closer still.

Her face was angled toward the sky as she whined, her metal hand gripping the cushion tight enough to create what was probably going to be permanent ripples in the fabric. You brought her closer and closer and her grip on your head tightened as she bucked her hips upward, essentially fucking herself on your tongue and fingers. She occasionally let out a depraved vocalization that a trained ear might recognize as “fuck,” “don’t stop,” and “faster-FUCK faster.”

Until the pulse inside her cunt became erratic, and you felt a familiar tremor in her legs. You didn’t let up. You started fucking her deeper, with more pressure, using your tongue to play with her clit faster. Sevika’s thighs involuntarily snapped up to trap your head and you brought your hands up to brace them. Your tongue still moving as she cried out, loud and animalistic as she rode out her orgasm. Her thighs held you so tight against her pussy that you couldn’t escape if you tried, and the strength would probably have suffocated someone more petite.

Eventually, Sevika’s cries retreated back into deep panting and her legs dropped back to the floor, still trembling and spasming. She looked down at you, eyes half lidded, and gave you what could have been interpreted as a smile. She spread her arms back out on the top edge of the couch cushions, somehow still holding the half-smoked blunt. You shook your hair and a bit of ash fell out, which made you giggle. You were so invested in fucking her, you hadn’t noticed the active fire hazard against your skin the whole time.

With her chin, the woman gestured to the spot on the couch next to her. You settled in, your sides touching and your head leaning back against where her bicep was resting. She wrapped that arm around to bring the blunt to your lips.

“You can finish it, I don’t like the roach,” she said, and you obliged. You took a deep hit from her fingers and the last fiery bits assaulted your lungs, but you liked it. Sevika ashed it out on the couch, as if you hadn’t already desecrated it enough. You settled into a comfortable silence and she allowed you to lean your head on her pec, still uncovered. Until she spoke up.

“Promise me something, Casanova.” Her voice hoarse and gravelly from the earlier activities.

“Mm?” you responded. She wrapped her arm around you to reach up and ruffle your hair.

“Promise me you’ll never get good at cards.” You sucked your teeth and sneered back at her, giving her a hefty shove, which she gladly returned with equal force.

[mykneeshurt]

I absolutely love your Keegan fics.

If you’d be willing, could you write some Jealous Keegan x F reader smut based on this scene from After We Collided.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLWxKsTp/

Summer

Keegan x F!reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, explicit smut, jealousy themes

A/N - sorry this took so long! I’ve haven’t written in such a long time so I hope this is everything you wanted ❤️

———

‘Hey!’ You laughed, clicking your fingers in Keegans face. Shaking his head gently he offered you a warm smile, acutely aware he’d been caught day dreaming. ‘It’s my round, what do you want?’ He pondered momentarily before settling on a pint of the newest IPA on offer.

He watched as you made your way to the bar, hips swaying with every step. Your baby blue summer dress accentuating every curve, every ripple of your soft skin. As he trailed his eyes up your body, he noticed a hand placed at the small of your back. Flashing his eyes towards the face of the intruder he could see it wasn’t someone he knew.

He felt tense instantly, fists clenched under the table, nails digging into his skin. He noticed his breath hitch in is throat, furious that someone else was touching you. Not that you were his to claim, you weren’t together. He knew you through your brother, he’d known you for years, you were just a friend.

The intruder pressed his lips against your cheek, his hand curling round your hips pulling you closer. Keegan felt his heart implode, acid coursed through his veins as he scrambled to keep in control. His mind raced, visions of the stranger fucking you, his fingertips grazing your skin, pulling at your hips as he buried his cock into you.

Not being able to take it anymore he shot up from his seat, the chair scraping across the wooden floor. It was enough to muster every single persons attention, all eyes fixed on him in that moment. Not that he cared. All but sprinting out the pub he charged his way through the plethora of patrons.

The fresh summers air sucker punched him, forcing the oxygen from his lungs. Sauntering over to his car he placed his hands on the hood, trying to ground himself. Why was he so wound up? Why did he feel so jealous? A flurry of emotions surged within him, unable to make sense of this sudden outburst.

And that’s when you showed up, because of course you did.

‘Keegan?! What’s wrong?’ You panted, pulling strands of hair out of your face. If his head had turned any faster he would have broken his neck. The low summer sun illuminated his steel eyes, full of an emotion you couldn’t quite understand. ‘You fuckin him?’ He snapped. Venom in his words.

Not being one to take anybody’s shit, especially Keegans shit, you squared up to him. He may be a marine, but he didn’t scare you. Not in the slightest.

‘What the fuck did you just say to me?’ You challenged, your eyes meeting his, seething with rage. ‘I said … are you fucking him?’ He closed the gap between the two of you even further, his breath brushing over your lips as he looked down on you. ‘And what on earth does that have to do with you? Of all people’ you spat.

Electricity surged in the air, skin prickling from the intense energy that swarmed between you.

‘So that’s a yes then?’ He said as he chewed his jaw, arms crossed with his biceps bulging from beneath his shirt. ‘No, it’s a mind your fucking business. Where has this even come from?’

Keegan had never acted like this before, he’d been protective of you, but never jealous.

Sighing he pinched the bridge of his nose, a single strand of black hair fell, framing his face. ‘Forget I even said anything’ he muttered under his breath as he turned away from you. ‘No, no, you don’t get to say that after making a scene. Why does this matter to you?’

‘It doesn’t.’

‘Clearly it does’, you said as you repositioned yourself in between him and his car.

Your back pressed against the black door frame, the metal molten from sitting in the sun. He remained silent, staring off into the surrounding fields. ‘I know him from work Keegan, he tries it on with me all the time but I’m not interested. You’d have seen that yourself if you’d had bothered to try and contain yourself. You’re my brother’s friend, not my brother. You don’t get to say who I can and cannot fuck.’

He chewed his jaw again, this time the muscle rippled beneath his skin, his pulse throbbing along his neck. Peering up at him you regarded him closely, wanting to see where this would go. ‘And what if I had fucked him Keegan? What then?’ His gaze deepened, hardened, as he placed his hands either side of your shoulders. Closing you in.

‘Him touching me? His body on top of mine? Kissing me … fucking me so so slowly? What would you do Keegan?’ You smirked at him, watching his face contort as his hands curled into fists. ‘Is that what this is about? You wanna fuck me Keegan?’ Placing your hands on his belt you pulled him slightly, biting your lip as you hummed. ‘You wanna feel me? Taste me?’

Pressing his hips against yours, you could feel his thick cock graze your thigh. He lowered his lips to your ear, his tongue running along his teeth. ‘Get in the fucking car.’

He all but manhandled you onto the back seat as you fell onto your back. Slamming the door shut he turned his attention to you. Your chest heaving as the sun strained to break through the blacked out windows. Pulling you by your hips towards him, he forced his knee in between your thighs causing you to gasp.

You grasped at his shirt pulling his lips to yours, they were unexpectedly soft. The kiss was forceful, with purpose, teeth clashing together as he pushed himself on you. His hands gripped at the flesh of your inner thighs as he coaxed you to grind on him. Deepening the kiss he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, before nipping it gently.

Rolling your hips you whined into the kiss, the pressure on your clit igniting something primal within you. Breaking the kiss you gasped for air, pulling at his neck as he littered your neck with kisses. He groaned against your skin, fingertips leaving indents in their wake.

‘Tell me to stop’ he whispered, his voice cracking, ‘tell me to fucking stop.’ You dragged your nails along his scalp, unable to find words, instead only strained whispers. His fingers grazed along your lace covered cunt, ‘don’t tell me who I can’t fuck’ you purred, pulling at his belt once more.

In a swift motion he hiked up your dress, finally revealing a delicate white thong. He groaned to himself as he yanked at his belt, the metal the only sound heard in between your shared gasps. Propping yourself on your elbows you watched with curiosity as he freed his cock. Your arousal soaking the fine piece of material.

Spitting into his hand he pulled them to the side as he massaged his thick cock, your eyes wide you were about to protest ‘wait!-‘

When he pressed the tip against your entrance stretching you out in one fluid movement. His head dropped as he stifled a laugh, one of pleasure or disbelief you weren’t sure.

Falling onto your back you squeezed your eyes shut, completely and utterly blissed out. Mouth agape as your desperate pussy welcomed him with open arms. ‘Oh fuck’ he drawled, pushing your hips into the leather seats. He began thrusting at a punishing pace, a man starved, needy. Euphoria is the only way he’d describe finally feeling you around him, finally seeing you beneath him.

His thrusts expelled all oxygen from you, leaving you panting, needing more and more. Choking on your gasps you dug your nails into his skin, feverishly rolling your hips, trying to feel more friction on your aching clit.

Noticing this he slowed his pace, allowing a ribbon of saliva to fall from his lips onto the throbbing bud. ‘Show me’ he hissed as he pulled at your fingers. Needing no more direction you massaged your clit, finally relieving some of the pressure. ‘Atta girl’ he praised, smirking down at you.

He resumed his previous pace, sweat now beginning to form on his brow. Gritting his teeth, watching as his cock slid in and out of your cunt, covered in your arousal. ‘You wish it was him fuckin you? Fuckin this needy little cunt?’

‘I … fuck … no, Keegan please’ you stammered, all coherency and logic completely voiding itself from your mind.

Cupping your jaw he ran his thumb along your bitten lip, he pulled down on it watching as your eyes fluttered closed. You welcomed his thumb into your mouth, sucking softly at the pad. ‘Cum on this cock sweetheart. Come on’ he prompted, words barely audible over the whines exuding from the back of your throat.

Your fingers still worked your clit as he maintained his pace, his mouth slightly agape as he whimpered from the sensation of your pussy around him. He felt you begin to tighten, knowing your climax was building. ‘Cum for me’ he whispered, his thumb still nestled between your lips.

Your muscles tightened as your body shook beneath him, back arched and toes pointed as the explosive release washed over you. ‘Fuck … good girl’ he praised, as his free hand caressed your hip. You led beneath him breathless, completely and utterly satisfied.

‘In me’ you whispered, although it verged on begging. His brow furrowed as he slowed his pace, hitting every crevice of your cunt, your sensitivity heightening every move. ‘Cum in me Keegan’ you stated much more harshly, ordering him almost. ‘Are you on …’

‘Yes, don’t stop’ you whined interrupting him, wrapping your thighs around him, pulling him closer.

Not needing anymore information he pressed both hands around your hips, a single strand of hair fell onto his face framing it perfectly. His jaw fell open as he squeezed his eyes shut, low moans and whimpers filled the space between your two sweat glistening bodies. Feeling him fill you completely, you bit your lip smirking up at him. Biting his lip he dropped his head, chest heaving with every breath.

Humming to himself he finally looked up at you, the orange glow from the sun mixed with the steel blue of his eyes as he took you in. You were glowing. He pressed his forearms each side of your head as he kissed you deeply. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for a very very long time’ he admitted, hovering his lips above yours. ‘Mmm I can tell’ you smiled, ‘wanna know something?’

He nodded.

‘So have I.’

[undead-supernova]

Brutal! / Masterlist / 18+

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 - tbc

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: it's all fun and games, all soft kisses and gentle words until the past is revealed and new perspectives are learned

contains: talks about past sexual trauma, eddie reliving trauma, confident!reader

note: this chapter is different than the others and it is on purpose. when we erase the stories and feelings of victims, we erase the possibility of recovery and healing. especially those of us who are forgotten amongst recognition.

please do not read this part if the subject of sexual assault is triggering for you

song inspo: Seven by Phinehas

wc: 4.1k

special thanks to @jo-harrington for helping to edit and @littlexdeaths for your lovely divider. i appreciate you both for being so encouraging and lovely friends

You didn’t want to admit that what happened at the party had upset you.

Well, not the part where Eddie made you cum. That had been heavenly—euphoric. It couldn’t even be considered a state of bliss. It was more like an inferno, the lascivious flames pulling you further and further into the blaze.

But there were his words in your head again, the ones hurled at you before he realized his mistake.

Are you using me?

If we even fuck, is that it?

Will the chase be over for you?  

The water rushed down your neck, the steam billowing throughout the tiny bathroom as you turned up the heat again. You had to let it scorch your skin, had to let the sting pull you back down to a state of normalcy.

There was a memory that you dared not touch from freshman year. One that still crept up every now and then, in half-asleep states and furious daylight. A growling beast, one with a four-letter name and a specified interest in IPAs as if he was the Christopher Goddamn Columbus of beer. 

You shut your eyes, convinced that his hands were pressing in on the grimy tile behind you, stretching the wall to tear the veil and grab you. Like that one scene in A Nightmare on Elm Street, he was always trying to split you in two.

Further and further he pushed, so close to gripping your throat. So close to suffocating you once more and pulling you back down to the shadows. 

Knock, knock.

You gasped, jumping back and almost slipping before steadying yourself.        

“Hey, Eddie’s here!” Aron called from behind the door.

  “Okay!” you shouted back.

You placed a hand on your chest to still your thrumming heart before you really processed her words. Letting out a scoff at your own absentmindedness, you shouted, “Be out in a minute!”

Maybe you always felt like you were being split in two, now more than ever. Having these emotions that you’d pushed down for the sake of survival. Changing yourself to fit the way you wanted others to see you. That mask, all gnarly and scary just to prove to yourself more than anyone that you were no longer the fool.

It made you wonder if you’d been putting this mask on for Eddie. But things would be better with him. 

They always were.

It started with midterm study time, you swear. You really tried, pulling up a three hour long video of Cozy Fall Oldies Muffled In Another Room Next to a Fireplace While it Rains to help keep both you and Eddie focused. Going back and forth, you took turns helping the other with flashcards. While you were honing in on 20th Century Lit, he was groaning through his Algebra I equations. 

Within twenty minutes, Eddie decided it would be more motivating if you gave him a kiss every time he got the equation right. 

Though you rolled your eyes, you indulged him. Whatever got him to study.

“What happens if I get an answer right?” you asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“That’s up to you,” he replied with a shrug, looking back down at his TI-84 calculator. But you noticed the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips as he quickly glanced back up at you. “We could always play Strip Study.”

“‘Strip Study’, huh?” you teased.

“Yeah, it’s a good game. Very helpful in trying times.”

“And what are the rules to this so-called Strip Study?”

“Well…” he trailed, setting the calculator down before shifting closer to you on your twin-sized bed. Counterintuitive to the point of your study date, Eddie pushed aside your textbook and came to hover over you. You refused to move, challenging him with your faux expression of disappointment. It was impressive, seeing him this forward. Above all else, however, you were quite amused.

“If you answer correctly,” he started, slowly pushing you down into the mattress. ��then you’ll just have to take off a piece of clothing.”

You snorted, shaking your head at him. He mocked you, shaking his head right back, tickling you with his curls. “And that’s supposed to be for my enjoyment?” you pondered.

Eddie leaned down, taking the opportunity to leave a kiss on your neck. You could’ve sworn you heard him take a deep breath, like he was desperately inhaling your scent. There was a part of you that wished to do the same.

“Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll take off a piece of clothing. How does that sound?”

“Hm,” you hummed as your fingers traced his collarbone before you pushed him back. He shivered as you crawled on top of him, his dominance cracking in an instant. Without thought, you grabbed his wrist before bringing it up to your mouth. You closed your eyes momentarily to breathe in his cologne, his being. You made sure to meet his eyes as you lightly bit down on his skin.

He was opening his mouth to fill the silence, but you quickly leaned down, gently ghosting your lips against his before whispering, “Not a chance.”

Immediately you sat up and scooted away, grabbing your textbook before he could retaliate. 

He laid there for a moment, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before sitting back up and giving you a look. Was it annoyance? Disappointment? Who could say. 

“You really hate me, don’t you?”

Shrugging, you felt around for your TV remote before turning up the music. “I hate the thought of you failing your Algebra midterm because I gave you a free peep show.”

When you looked back at him, he finally wore a grin. “It would be a metal way to go.”

“Well, maybe if you pass your midterm I’ll let you have a look,” you challenged.

You were amazed when that is what got him to shut up and get back to work.

After a few hours of real studying, Eddie dramatically collapsed on top of you, burying his face into your sweatshirt. He planted a swift kiss over your belly before sighing.

“Okay. Nap time.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “I think you earned it.”

“I think that’s the longest I’ve ever studied.”

You peered down, watching his mahogany eyes soften, drooping ever so slightly. Without thought, you ran your middle finger across the stray hairs of his now too-long bangs to keep away from his eyes. You pocketed the thought to trim them for him.

“I’m proud of you,” you said quietly. And you meant it. 

Though his words had stung, he’d done nothing but apologize for them. You’d had several conversations with him owning up to his mistakes and asking you those questions he hadn’t thought to before. You told him about Sam, about Blake and John and Meghan and Maggie—all of which got a little too close for comfort. Those were the ones who’d actually given you their names, had made it a point to introduce themselves before their hands wandered. Before they called you a slut and walked away.

He’d listened the entire time, nodding while trying to hide his frustration. You knew he’d do anything to avenge you—he said as much before you’d shushed him with kisses. Kisses that promised that he was forgiven. That you were thankful for his efforts. That you were starting to fall desperately in love with him.

There was just one other instance you hadn’t divulged yet. 

“Yeah?” he asked.

But that could come later. Much later.

You nodded. “Yeah.” Eddie let out a soft hum. “Get some sleep.”

For now, you focused on the way Eddie’s eyelids shut and the gentle smile on his lips loosen. For now, you focused on someone who you couldn’t quite admit was the most important person in your life.

As Eddie fell into his half-asleep daze, he could vaguely picture a certain kind of monster. One who slips into dreams, coating the edges of the scene with a fuzzy filter. Not Freddy Krueger, per se. One with a better grip on how to lure men to their deaths. Maybe like a siren, with jagged teeth and turquoise eyes that brought sailors to their knees along rocky shorelines and brutal seas. 

But what happens to a man when he is less than interested in their attempt at temptation?

Eddie, as steady as his breathing was, began to descend into some dream that felt like a memory inside an alternate reality—could the two coexist? Because there his van was, parked on a beach. The air was thick with salt, digging into his forearms like thousands of tiny push pins scraping along the first few layers of skin. He had enough sense to wait in the back of the vehicle. Waiting for what, he could hardly remember. Waiting for who, well…

The moment the recollection stirred, there was a pounding on the back doors. 

“Munson, come on!”

When he looked out the window, he saw Charlotte Stevens. She was a regular, scoring weed here and there when she ended up fighting with her aunt and uncle. He only knew because her parents died in a car wreck only a month after her senior year—Eddie’s second—began. He let her yap off to him about her problems whenever she came by. Some of his “clients” were chatty, growing quiet over time when Eddie told them to go see a different therapist and slammed the door on them. 

But it was Charlotte.

She was lonely. Heartbroken. Sure, she was part of the popular crowd, but he knew better after his few interactions with Chrissy Cunningham. A lot of those girls did what they had to in order to survive. It didn’t make them a villain. He really thought Charlotte was the same way. He cut her some slack, watching the light in her eyes wither and die. Saw how the school year thinned out her dirty blonde hair, living off of half-eaten salads in the cafeteria. 

After all, he was heading off to college soon without his close friends. Who didn’t need a near-stranger to lean on?

“You’re late,” he said as soon as the door swung open. 

He wasn’t prepared for the sunlight pouring in, eyes catching on the sight of pavement and grass. Were they no longer at the beach? Where were they?

And why did it feel so…familiar? Like that day behind The Hideout. It was where she usually met him, feeling too paranoid to do it literally anywhere else. He could vaguely see the rutty door to the bar behind her. His refuge. His escape.

Charlotte huffed, her white tank top clinging to her body while sweat dripped down to her cut-off jean shorts. “As if you have anything else going on.”

“Do you want your weed or not?” he snapped. 

“Geez, what’s gotten into you?” she asked as she sat opposite him. Eddie made sure their knees didn’t touch. 

He wasn’t one to make connections with these people. The less he knew, the better. Even with someone he took pity on. Because, believe it or not, tragedy never truly made someone nicer. He’d seen enough damage done to the redhead that lived across from him. After her brother died, she changed everything. And she was definitely no longer interested in casual conversations without an insult or two thrown in.

Needless to say, he knew when to leave well enough alone.

“Do you care?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not really.”

Exactly.

“Okay, well, it’s fifty even,” he said absentmindedly, trying to locate his metal box. 

“Maybe I could pay a different way.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked back up at her. Of course she’d try to cheat the system now. “Trust me, Stevens,” he said. “There’s nothing I need more than money right now.”

And when she put her hand over his, he realized just what she was proposing. 

“Are you sure about that?”

Eddie pulled his hand away. “Uh, yeah.”

“Come on, Eddie.”

Something evil twisted in his gut at the sound of her saying his name for the first time. 

“Hate to sound like a douche, but I’m not interested in you. So, yeah, nice try. I’ll take that fifty bucks. Now.”

She moved suddenly, quick to pounce as she threw her hands on either side of his head, caging him in. Like he hadn’t said a word. Like he was prey.

Charlotte was a siren; he was sure of it. Waiting for him to slip, to give in to some desire that was nothing but an unlikely daydream. Her breath fanned over his cheek, invading his nostrils with the scent of her spearmint. Those teeth, smacking gum as she promised that it would be worth his while. Pinning his hands to his sides as he suggested again that she just pay him and leave. But Charlotte couldn’t take no for an answer, straddling him instead.

“I’ve always wanted to see what the freak felt like.”

That’s when Eddie wondered: what if these sirens didn’t even have tails, had nothing to do with what lied undiscovered and unencumbered by the rules of mythology? What if that was what made them lethal?

“That’s fucking weird,” he replied through his teeth.

“You can’t tell me you’ve never wanted to fuck one of the popular girls. I saw you looking at Chrissy with googly eyes all year.”

He had. He didn’t feel ashamed of that. Back then, he didn’t feel ashamed of much at all. Especially when he was finally escaping this town. Who cared who he did and didn’t fawn over now that he was searching for new faces?

“And you think you’re Chrissy? That’s fucking hilarious, Stevens. Funniest goddamn thing I’ve ever heard,” he growled, fighting against her grasp again. Instead, she moved her hips against him, trying to get him hard. 

But it wasn’t working. Eddie was far from aroused. If anything, he felt like he was going to puke. Maybe if he conjured enough willpower, he’d be able to spew all over Charlotte and get her to leave him the fuck alone forever.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m better.” 

Just as her hands reached for his belt, there was a pounding against the van. It was so violent, so powerful that the car began to shake. Eddie could’ve sworn they were going to flip before the rumbling stopped and the back doors ripped off their hinges. 

Standing there, in a thin black dress littered with glitter and stars, was you. The ends of your nails were sharpened into charcoal claws, one hand wrapped around a bejeweled whip. A shiny crown sat atop your head, gleaming in the scorching sun.

He caught your stare, piercing him with the fierce fury that clouded your eyes. But you immediately looked at Charlotte, frozen on top of him.

“It’s not what it looks—” he choked, trying to catch his breath. But it was failing him. He was failing. 

But there you were, cracking the whip before shooting it forward, snaking around Charlotte’s throat and dragging her down to the bed of the van. Her forehead smacked against the metal box Eddie had been searching for. 

You let her cough, let her head bleed before curling your fingers into claws. 

“You better wake up, Eddie,” you said as you stalked forward. 

He watched in horror as you jumped on top of Charlotte, shoving your nails into her wrists to keep her right where you wanted her.

“Wake up,” you repeated.

Eddie jumped out of the van, barely catching a glimpse of you ripping into her throat before the light consumed him.

“Wake up!”

Eddie gasped for air, his eyes flying open to see your face above him, eyes alight with concern. 

“Woah, hey,” you whispered, hands coming to pull him back down into your grasp. He immediately relaxed, falling into your arms once more as you began stroking his hair. “Eddie, hey.”

“Fuck,” he said, trying to fight the tears welling in his eyes. “Fuck.”

His vision clouded, the blurry images of his dream flashing each time he blinked. He couldn’t shake what was really there, what really happened.

Because that wasn’t how it ended. 

There was no one to save him back then. No Gareth or Grant or Jeff. 

No you.

Dragging his hands down his face, Eddie wondered when the distorted voices would dissipate. They came in all crackled, like Charlotte’s voice over the intercom during homeroom. It echoed in his head every other night, locking him in his cage of beige cinder block. 

“Hey, you’re okay. It’s just me.”

But here you both were, in your prison cell. And instead of beige cinder blocks, it was decorated. Prints of famous paintings littered your walls, covering up most of the beige with genuine color and vibrancy. It was a museum of your own curation.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

And if it was decorated, then it wasn’t really a cell, was it? No, it was a home.

“Bad dream?”

And he liked the thought of home.

“The worst.”

With you.

“Wanna go on a walk? Sometimes it helps me to just, like, walk around campus.”

He’d give anything to have that forever.

“Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

Campus always felt different after negative experiences. College seemed to darken with something untoward. You started to notice the way your unhappiness contrasted those who walked along the same path with their friends. A pearl of laughter from a stranger on the phone with their mother. The brushing hands of a honeymooned couple. The sight of cackling men throwing a football on a grassy patch.

It could hide that girl hiding her head in the brick to suppress her sobs. The guy running across your path, breathlessly saying Sorry, excuse me as he races to his next class. A certain boy next to you who hadn’t spoken once since you left.

The sun had poked through the clouds, illuminating campus with vibrancy. But when you looked over at Eddie, he kept his head low, fiddling with his fingertips. 

He was more solemn than usual, seemingly deflated after the dream he’d had. All you wanted was to grab his hand, keep him from picking his nails or his skin. Remind him that it was just a dream. 

Instead, you kept walking. Kept whatever distance he was setting, letting him take the lead. You caught him sneaking a glance at you every once in a while, always returning his somber gaze with a smile.

He never smiled back.

You wound in and out of pavement and grass, looping around the library and the food hall before turning around and heading back. And as you rounded the last corner back to your dorm, Eddie finally spoke.

“How did you…get to be so confident?” Eddie asked.

His question caught you off guard, causing you to stop. 

Not only that, but his question caught on a spiral of barbed wire like cloth. The wire that you’d used to cage your insides from anyone and any thing unwanted. It tugged at something you’d been dreading to bring up with him. Especially after the other night. 

And just like that, you had to shred what was left of his poking.

“You know men,” you started with a fake smile, letting the mask consume you. “Can’t keep their hands to themselves. No means yes and all that. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You waved your hand around, turning away to keep walking but Eddie caught it, pulling you back to face him. 

“Hey, you don’t have to brush that off, you know. You didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes poured compassion into yours, breeding a kind of fear that you’d never experienced before. This exposure to your innermost hurt without even a scalpel. It caused you to wonder if it was even fear. The wire now scraped along your ribs, each stroke against the bone growing gnarlier than the last. 

And it was in that torture that you snapped. 

“Oh, I know,” you said with a strained chuckle. “You don’t have to act like you know anything about it, though.”

You could tell your harsh tone surprised him, his eyes widening with each word you threw out. But it didn’t stop him from his expression changing, eyebrows narrowing. Something fell over his features, a darkness you hadn’t encountered before. There was decay behind his stare, his gentle nature starting to crack.

“You don’t have to act like you’re the only one who’s gone through something like that.”

A huff left your nose as you jerked your hand away. “Yeah, one in six. I’m well acquainted with my gender’s statistics.”

“At least you have a number,” Eddie fired back before looking at his feet. “At least…at least you don’t drive yourself crazy going back and forth from one in six to one in thirty-three.”

And then it clicked.

Are you using me?

Like, if we even fuck, is that it?

Will the chase be over for you?

“Eddie?” you asked, like the question you wanted to ask had already been spoken. “You’ve…you’ve…”

“Um. Yeah. Some girls aren’t as willing to ask permission as you are.”

And it was in that moment that you both realized how trauma had different effects on different people. Still mirrors, only with different colors reflecting off of your shattered edges. Yours came out all fiery red, all flames and guns blazing. His was something more somber, a devastating blue that desperately hid in the background.

“When…”

“Last summer.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

His furrowed eyebrows softened, eyes turned glassy as he asked, “Did you?”

You were at a loss of words. How could you even begin to think of what to say when all you could picture was the worst. Eddie, suffocating at the hands of a girl. Unable to escape, unable to run. Just like you had.

But Eddie never donned a mask. He’d never truly hidden himself away, not really when you were the one begging him to come out of his shell. And he was always out there, still taking chances on himself. Even when he slipped up, he still found ways to try again.

Could you say the same for yourself?

 “Eddie,” you started, closing your eyes to make it easier. “you are so much more than what happened to you. And because no one gives a shit to say this to men, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you went through something like that. Especially when all of your friends were gone. When I got r—” You stopped yourself, unable to even utter the word. “When that happened to me, I ran into Aron for the first time and she helped clean me up and… Well, I guess what I’m trying to say is you should’ve had someone be there for you. And I wish that person had been me.”

Eddie whispered your name, shaking his head as the tears spilled over. It was a broken kind of sound, like he was pleading for help. Pleading for reassurance, pleading to forget.

“Come here,” you whispered, feeling choked up yourself.

That’s when he fell into you, tightly winding his arms around your waist and burying his head into your neck. You felt the sudden release of tears and snot, the release of something buried down inside him coming to the surface.

 You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. But you went back to that September night, feeling Aron’s arms cage you in as if she could hide you from the monsters that walked amongst you. So you gave that to Eddie. Your hand came up to press his head further in, obstructing any light from either side of you. An obsidian of solitude for him, your fingers weaving into his hair. Scratching down his scalp until you felt him shiver, felt his locked up posture fall into something resembling ease.

“You’re okay,” you cooed. “I’m here now. I promise.”

Another strained cry erupted from him, louder this time. You tried to suppress your own tears, but there was no use. You could still be strong for him and share his sorrow.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” you asked.

He leaned back a fraction, puffy eyes meeting yours. You watched him hiccup, trying desperately to take a deep breath. Moving with him, you exaggerated your breath to help him move with you. His stare continued to pierce through you, indecision falling over his features before something seemed to click. 

And with his first successful steady breath, he finally spoke.             

“Please.”

If you are a victim of sexual assault, I hope you know that you can love again and that it will get better with time. I'm rooting for you. You don't have to be afraid. And you do not have to shut yourself off from letting love in.

I know I keep popping in and out to post things so thank you for continuing to read if you're still here. I've spent months wanting to post this chapter, but there was a lot of shit going on in my personal life — but I had to return to give y’all this.

[tragedykery]

welcome to another episode of “is this a common pronunciation or is it just my accent”

trying to develop a semi-phonetic vowel system for my dutch tengwar mode. this sucks ass <- is enjoying it but also it’s hard :(

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

Thanks to Asher pointing it out so fervently, I’ve become self-conscious of my quiet singing at work. Since no one has ever said anything directly before, I think I’d convinced myself on some level that they couldn’t hear me, but this is clearly not true. I’m not self-conscious of my singing itself so much as disrupting the people around me, now feeling as though my co-workers are all silently annoyed with me. So, I’ve spent the entire week actively trying not to sing out loud.

Until today, anyway. I’m so engrossed in my work, in writing out line after line of code, that the layers of synth and the familiar sound of the melodica teleport me elsewhere as Your Silent Face plays in my ears. I don’t realize I’m singing along until the last lines of the song, “you’ve caught me at a bad time, so why don’t you piss off,” when a hand flashes in front of my eyes, snapping me out of my flow.

I quickly remove my earbuds and look up to see Asher leaning against my desk, looking down at me with a smirk, “Did you just tell me to piss off?”

“No,” I say, a little flustered,” sorry, it was the song.”

“Ah,” he leans forward to look at my phone, but the screen has already gone black, “What’re you listening to?”

The closeness makes every nerve on my body stand at attention, and I watch as he reaches a hand toward me and taps my phone to bring it back to life. “It’s, um, New Order,” I tell him when a basket of roses illuminates on the screen.

He glances at it briefly, then looks back at me and simply says, “cool.” My face starts to burn as I stare into his eyes, perfectly gray like beautiful sheets of altostratus clouds, and I feel as though I may float away into them as they peer at me through long lashes and the teal-tipped strands of his black hair. Feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, I quickly lean back, clear my throat, and ask, “So, what’s up?”

“A bunch of us are going out for a drink after work today. Do you wanna come?”

“Uhh, I don’t know.” To be honest, I hate making plans for the same day, especially if I’m expected to be that social. Normally, I’d be quick to say no, but today I hesitate. It’s been so busy that we haven’t had much of a chance to chat or hang out since Geek Con, save for the occasional ‘hello, how are you?’ when I arrive in the mornings. Part of me is a bit eager to spend time with him again.

“Come on, one drink. I’ll buy.”

Could he be eager to spend time with me again too? The possibility causes a flutter in my stomach, so I agree, “Okay, one drink.”

“Good good. We’re leaving here at four.”

“I don’t know if I can get out of here that early. I’ll just meet you there.”

“Okay. What do you drink, anyway?”

I shrug, “Just beer usually. IPA.”

He cocks his head to the side, “Hm, interesting.”

“What?”

“I didn’t realize you were such a hipster.”

I roll my eyes and jokingly tell him to “Piss off” as I wave him away.

He laughs as he turns to walk back to his desk and then calls back to me, “four o’clock.”

“Yeah yeah,” I say before putting my earbuds in and getting back to work.

Prev // Next