#hit him up for an electric bike

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

Can u write jude smut from this prompt

https://www.tumblr.com/kentoangel/754475951689236480/men-who-knead-your-thighs-and-hip-as-you-sit-on?source=share

Nights Like These

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — You and Jude decide to spend the night in on his day off.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 2.7k

Warnings! NSFW! FLUFF, slight domestic fluff, sweetness, Jude is hornyy, SMUT (18+), unprotected vaginal sex, cowgirl, she a pro rider, soft sex, soft dom!Jude, sub!reader.

It was his day off today, and all you guys had done was lay in bed, eat, and watch movies. It was nice to be like this with him. Usually, he was so busy with football that moments like these were rare. You missed him.

But today he was all yours, so you treated him like a king. Starting with a morning blowjob to wake him up. Then you made his favorite breakfast. After that, you gave him a relaxing massage. He had been complaining about his sore muscles for days, so you decided to pamper him. That led to an afternoon nap, followed by a walk in the park.

Now you both were enjoying a quiet evening at home, snuggled up on the couch watching his favorite movie. It was perfect.

He was leaning back against the plush cushions of the couch, legs stretched out in front of him. You were straddled on his lap, running your fingers on the back of his neck. Occasionally you would kiss his forehead, neck, anywhere you could reach.

He was reveling in it, practically purring into your shoulder. His body was putty in your hands. You loved how he'd relax in your presence, and how much trust he had in you. How safe he felt with you. And you felt the same way about him.

The movie wasn't interesting to you, so you decided to talk to him about your plans for tomorrow instead. You and your best friend were planning a day trip to the beach. You traced lazy circles on his skin as you spoke, your voice a soothing murmur against the backdrop of the television. He hummed in response, his eyes half-closed, a small smile playing on his lips.

"We're going to hit the boardwalk first," you said, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Then maybe rent some bikes and explore the trails. It should be fun."

He nodded, his hands resting comfortably on your hips. "Sounds nice," he replied, his voice a soft rumble that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. He listened attentively to every word that came out of your mouth.

His fingers brushed against your thigh, making you shiver at the touch. The warmth of his hand against your skin sent tiny sparks of electricity dancing up your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into him a little more, craving the contact.

"And after that," you continued, your voice a little breathier now, "we'll probably grab some lunch at that little seafood place. You know, the one with the amazing shrimp pasta?"

His eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a lazy, contented gaze. "Sounds like a perfect day," he murmured, his thumb now tracing small circles on your hip, mirroring the pattern you'd been drawing on his neck. "Wish I could come with you."

You let out a giggle at the ticklish feeling of his actions. "You've had me all day. Don't be greedy." you teased, your fingers playfully tracing along his jawline.

He groaned softly, rolling his eyes in mock frustration. "But you're mine." he pouted, his voice carrying a hint of playful possessiveness that made you grin. His hands tightened ever so slightly on your hips, pulling you closer against him as if to emphasize his point.

Your smile softened, your heart melting at the way he held you so tenderly. "I'm always yours," you whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead. His grip on you relaxed a little, and you could feel him smiling against your skin as you leaned in for another kiss.

He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss with a soft sigh of contentment. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. The feel of his warm, firm lips against yours, the way he held you so close, it felt like nothing could ever come between you.

His hands slipped further up your thighs, pulling you closer to him, until you were flush against him. His erection pressed against your stomach, and you could feel how hard he was already.

Your hips moved involuntarily, grinding against his groin, and he let out a low moan. His fingers trailed up your back, playing with the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath. His warm fingers grazed your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he traced circles on your lower back.

The kisses got more heated, the air growing heavy with want and need. You both pulled away, gasping for air, your eyes meeting in a smoldering glance. He didn't take his time to act on it, pulling you back into a long, deep kiss.

His fingers slipped under your shirt, stroking your skin as he pulled you even closer against him. Your hands found their way under his shirt too, running along the hard planes of his abs and up his chest.

He leaned back a little, his breathing heavy as he looked at you. His eyes were dark with desire, his pupils dilating as he gazed at you.

He licked his lips, his eyes tracing over your face. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. You blushed at the sincerity of his words, your heart beating a little faster.

His fingers slipped under your waistband, brushing against the sensitive skin there. You gasped at the touch, your hips jerking forward against him.

He smirked at you, "Tease," he accused, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. He leaned in for another kiss, his fingers stroking your hip before sliding down to squeeze your butt. You both moaned into each other's mouths at the touch, your hips grinding together involuntarily.

You wanted him so bad.

Then you had a wicked thought. If he wanted you so bad you were going to make him work for it. So with all the strength and restraint you could muster, you pulled away from him. You tried to push yourself up off his lap, but his hands were still on your waist, holding you in place.

"Hey, where you goin'," he said, his voice laced with want. He leaned forward, trying to pull you back into a kiss.

"I'm sorry baby," you whispered, running a finger over his jawline. "I have to go shower."

He groaned at the words, his fingers tightening on your hips in protest. "Baby, please," he said, his voice soft and pleading. You almost gave in to the whine in his voice. But you stood firm. He was always teasing you. Time for a taste of his own medicine.

You smiled down at him, leaning in to kiss him one last time. "You'll have to wait," you said, standing up from his lap but before you could take one step his hands were on your waist dragging you back to his lap.

You let out a laugh, "What are you doing?"

"I'm not letting you get away that easy," he said, pulling you back flush against him. His eyes darkened as he gazed at you, his fingers already working on pulling down of your shirt. Leaving you exposed for his eyes.

"Jude," you whispered, your voice trailing off as you felt him slip his hands under the band of your sweatpants

"I want you so bad," he murmured into your skin. You moaned in response, your body arching into his touch. His hands roamed over your panties, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing. You bit your lip to stifle the whimper that came from your throat.

"Fuck it," you whispered. He growled in response, his hands tightening on you, pulling you closer to him. His lips were on your neck, sucking and licking at the sensitive skin there.

He pushed your sweatpants down, running his hands up your thighs, and you moaned as you felt his erection press against you through the thin layer of your panties. His hands were on your breasts, massaging them gently, and you arched your back in response.

You both were breathing heavily, the air was hot with desire. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust. You knew he needed this as badly as you did.

"Let me fuck you," he breathed, his voice husky. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

He pulled off your sweatpants, running his hands up your thighs to push your panties down. You stood up on his lap, pulling them all the way down before tossing them to the floor. He took a moment to look at you, his eyes scanning over your body.

You sat back down on his lap, feeling the heat of his erection against your pussy. He groaned in response, his head falling back against the couch. Fuck you were so hot like this, he thought.

You ran a finger down his chest, circling his nipple before moving down to the bulge in his sweatpants. You stroked him through his clothes, watching as he clenched his jaw in response.

He was already so hard for you. You could feel his dick throbbing under your touch.

He grabbed your hand, pulling it away. "You're going to make me come," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I want to be inside you when I do."

He lifted his hips, pulling down his sweatpants. His dick sprung free, and you licked your lips at the sight. Hard, thick, and long. You wanted him so bad, it was almost painful.

You reached down, wrapping your hand around him. He hissed in response, his eyes closing as you began to stroke him.

"God," he breathed, his hips bucking into your touch. You stroked him slowly, watching as his face twisted with pleasure. He was so hot like this, you thought, your pussy clenching in response.

"Ride me," he said, his voice hoarse with desire. You nodded, straddling his lap. He helped you lift your leg, positioning his dick at your entrance. You ran his head over your clit a few times to make sure you were both nice and wet before slowly lowering yourself down.

You both moaned as he filled you, stretching you so beautifully, almost painful. His hands grabbed your waist, pulling you closer against him. You let your head fall back, arching your back as you felt him fill you.

"Fuck," he breathed, his head falling back against the couch. You stayed still for a moment, adjusting to his size. He was so big.

He kissed your chest, licking at your nipples. His hands ran up your body to cup your breasts, massaging them gently. "You feel so fucking good," he breathed against your skin. You moaned in response, grinding yourself against him.

You both were breathing heavily, the air was hot with desire. You sat up, looking into his eyes. You knew he wanted you badly, but he was being gentle with you. His muscles were still sore from training, and you didn't want him to hurt himself. So you took matters into your own hands. Or rather your hips.

You began to ride him, slowly at first. Your hips moving up and down on his cock, stroking him from base to tip. He groaned at the feeling, his head falling back against the couch.

"God, baby," he breathed. "What are you doing to me?" He was losing his mind inside you. You feel so good, you're giving him goosebumps.

You grinned in response, leaning forward to kiss him. You were in control now, and it felt good. You began to move faster, your hips grinding against him at the end of every thrust.

He moaned in response, his hands grabbing onto your hips. "Fuck," he breathed. "You're so tight."

You felt your pussy clench around him, and he groaned in response. "Move," he growled, his fingers digging into your hips. You did as you were told, lifting up and then sinking down on him. His hands were on your waist, helping you move on him.

"Jesus," he breathed, his head thrown back. You could see the pleasure written all over his face. "Keep fucking me, sweetheart. Doing so good," he murmured. He leaned forward, pulling you into a deep kiss. His hands were on your hips, moving your hips faster as his tongue danced with yours.

You moaned into the kiss, the pleasure building inside of you. He was so deep inside you, your walls clenching around him as he thrust up into you. You were both so lost in the kiss and the feeling of being filled by each other.

His hands were on your waist, moving your hips faster. You could hear his breathing quicken as you rode him faster. "Harder," he breathed, his voice hoarse.

You moved faster, feeling his cock throb inside of you. His hips bucked up to meet your thrusts, driving him deeper inside of you. You both were breathing heavily now, your bodies moving together in unison.

"Fuck, Jude," you breathed, your head falling back as the pleasure built inside of you. You were so close to cumming.

"Yeah baby," he murmured, his hands tightening on your hips. "Gonna come on my cock pretty girl. Cum for me. Cum on my cock baby." The dirty talk pushed you over the edge, and you let out a cry as you came. He groaned in response, his cock throbbing inside as you clenched down, oh so tightly.

"That's right, cum for me," he breathed, his voice husky. You kept moving, your hips rolling as you continued to cum. You felt him tense underneath you, his body stiffening as he came. "Fuck," he groaned, his cock pulsing inside of you as he emptied himself into you. You felt the warmth spread inside of you as he filled you, your bodies still moving together as you milked him dry.

You collapsed on him, both of you breathing heavily. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close against him. Your lips found each other in a soft kiss, both of your eyes closed as you savored the feeling of being together.

His head fell back against the couch, his eyes closed in bliss. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you as he came down from his orgasm.

"I think I'm dead," he said, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. You giggled at the words, his chest moving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

His eyes opened, his gaze soft as he looked at you. "You're perfect," he said, his voice full of emotion.

You leaned forward, kissing him softly. "So are you," you murmured, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.

"I'm so lucky. Thank you," he murmured into your neck, his voice filled with emotion. You could feel his heart beating wildly against your skin.

"For what," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"For choosing me. For giving me a chance to love you. For giving the best day. For being the best girlfriend on earth." He murmured into your neck. His hands stroked your back gently, holding you close to him.

You hugged him back, your face pressed into his neck, his words making you shy. "I love you," you whispered, your voice soft, timid.

He pulled back a little, his eyes dark as he looked at you. "I love you too," he murmured. You smiled, leaning in for a kiss. His lips were soft against yours as he kissed you. He pulled back a little, his eyes soft as he looked at you. "You're going to make me fall in love with you even more," he whispered. Your heart melted at the sincerity of his words.

You stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms. Then he pulled out of you, and you let out a pouty whimper at the feeling. He cooed softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your back.

"You're okay baby," he murmured, his voice soft. You nodded, laying your head back on his shoulder. He held you like that for a while, stroking your back as you both caught your breath.

"Let's take a bath," he whispered, his voice husky. You nodded, getting off his lap to stand on shaky legs. Looking like a baby deer. He would have laughed at the sight if he wasn't so preoccupied with your well-being.

He stood up, his arms wrapping around your waist. "C'mon," he said, pulling you up. You went willingly, letting him lead you to the bathroom.

-Bianca🌻

[ruruumin]

on campus transportation!

₊˚ ᗢ blue lock! various x gn! reader.

⤷ how isagi, bachira, rin, shidou, and kaiser (separate) would get around campus.

yoichi isagi: traditional bike

his mom and dad bought his bike and he’s been using it since he was in middle school (you might even say its his first love).

is always worried about whether or not someone will steal his bike so he has to put multiple bike locks on it. one time, when you attended a lock picking session by acm, you pranked him by sneaking his keys and his unlocking his bike lock, before coming back up with his lock in hand to scare him into thinking you learned to unlock his bike.

he has a little basket in the front to put his backpack on it, sometimes he hangs little charms or keychains given to him by you and it makes his heart skip a beat every time he sees it swing. 

kind of a menace in the bike lane, he tries to be as kind as possible but when people walk all over him it can get him riled up. he almost hit a girl with his bike because she was standing in the middle of the bike lane talking on the phone.

he’s the safest person to ride with though! when you’re sitting close to him on the back of his bike, he’s on his best behavior on the road. if you have a class across campus that you need to get to, know that he will always be there on time to pick you up and drop you off. you might as well rate him 5 stars on uber because thats how good he is. 

meguru bachira: electric scooter

he’s too eager to turn and weave through traffic. he’s good at it but it scares you because of how fast it all happens, and how casual he is about it at the end. you’ve seen a ton of horror stories about people getting ran through by a scooter and every day you pray it wasn’t bachira riding it (it usually is).

sometimes he forgets to lock his scooter and he ends up finding it a few meters from where he originally parked it (someone tried to steal it but ran off the moment he came back). he is too excited whenever he sees you walking by, so he’d ditch his ride and immediately hug you)

he is the first person to suggest riding together (do not do this) because he thinks it’ll be cute and fun (DO NOT DO THIS). you have to wrap your arms tightly around him because sometimes he is hitting 19 mph on a public street and you’re afraid he’s going to crash into something.

he’s honestly the most talked about person on reddit because he is almost always about to hit someone while traveling through the bike lane (or any form of road) on campus. like someone should make a sign warning everyone there is a menace on the streets with black and yellow hair.

#1 doordash person, if you need anything to eat on campus he will come over with his little scooter and a takeout bag. there is no limit to the distance! if you want to get burgers on the other side of campus, he will be making it there and back in 15 minutes. he always brings his charger to campus because he knows he will be using up his battery a lot.

rin itoshi: traditional skateboard

picked up skateboarding only because he saw his older brother do it. 

relatively careful on public roads. he weaves in and out of crowds but knows when its time to dismount and start walking (this goes out the window once he sees shidou as the two frequently get into arguments in the bike lane, sometimes he purposely goes slower just to piss him off or try to outspeed him).

he gets easily annoyed when people are walking through the bike lanes, in his mind, the sidewalks were already unfriendly to him, so getting up in his business would immediately put him in a bad mood. he has the look in his eyes where it screams “i’m exploding you with my mind right now.” 

props his board against the wall or underneath his seat whenever he’s in class. since he frequently sits in the back or closest to an exit, he doesn’t worry about anyone tripping over his things.

he doesn’t have any decals or vinyls on his board. it’s relatively plain if not for the stickers you buy him. its so funny seeing the nonchalant, serious rin in line for coffee, holding a skateboard covered in pink and green flower stickers, curtsey of you.

as much as he is tempted to get one of the electric skateboards to make going uphill a hell of a lot easier, he constantly compares himself to sae, and would rather die than admit he’s a worse skater than him (he also doesn’t want to admit to shidou he wants an electric skateboard).

shidou ryusei : electric skateboard

he dislikes traditional skateboards because they don’t make his heart “explode” like electric ones. in his mind, he wants something faster and stronger, and getting an electric board makes the most sense to him. and while he is still able to ride his skateboard like a normal one, he loves the thrill of going fast on the street.

he is 100% throwing insults at rin whenever he is passing him on campus roads. do not be surprised if you see him holding up middle fingers because he was born to piss off the younger itoshi. when the two are on the bike lane he is always shouting for rin’s (his opinion, slow) ass to hurry up the hill.

this guy is drifting and weaving all over the place but his favorite thing to do is going downhill on a long strip. he loves the wind in his hair and seeing his surroundings become one colorful, blurry mess. on his freetime, he likes to aimlessly skate around campus (sometimes he will check your location and randomly show up after your class is over to greet you)

as much as he wants you to ride on his back while hes on his skateboard, he knows better. instead, he’ll sit on top of it, and let you use the remote as some kind of rc car and pull him around. it kills you inside every time you accidentally pull too fast on the gear and it sends him flying off backwards. 

he’s actually quite polite on the bike lanes. although it bores him a little to see how slow everyone is going, he can respect the way of the road (its also because if he doesn’t, he might actually get hit by a car. one time, when he was getting ready to skate across pedestrian crossing, a car almost crashed into him.) 

michael kaiser: electric bike

this is the closest he can get to a motorcycle on campus.

definitely thinks he is the hottest guy whenever he is riding his bike (this is immediately shot down by isagi who gives him a little jab for not being strong enough to go uphill without a motor ;; these two have rivalry on the bike lane & its literally so funny seeing it in person)

he is relatively respectful on the road, he occasionally cusses people out in german if they aren’t going the right way or if they’re blocking his path so that is something to note whenever you’re with him 

he is still unfamiliar and a little uncomfortable with touching, but won’t fight back if you wrap your arms around his waist when you’re riding together with him. he’s a blushing red mess and tries to hide it with his helmet. 

getting around campus can be a little annoying because people are always clumped together on roads, but he has learned some secret pathways that let him get to class 10 times faster (he’s the type of guy who’d tell you “i know a spot”)

[fluffy-dixon]

Sleeveless

No warnings, just a bit of heated tension between two people who are obviously very attracted to each other.

This was inspired by seeing Norman wearing his cut off Joy Division t-shirt.

-

Today was a very ordinary, chilled, and relaxed kind of today, almost feeling like a normal Sunday afternoon despite the apocalypse. Daryl, your best friend who you spent the most of your time with, all the time in fact, stands there in the garage tinkering with his motorbike, the sunlight filtering through the dusty windows, casting a warm glow on his tanned skin. His motorhead T-shirt, its sleeves artfully cut off, clings to his broad shoulders and defined biceps. As he leans over the bike, his back muscles ripple beneath the fabric, and you can’t help but trace the lines with your eyes.

That damned t-shirt does things to you within.

His hands, calloused from countless battles with walkers and working, move with a graceful confidence—fingers adjusting bolts, tightening screws. You watch the play of tendons as he grips the wrench, the way his knuckles flex. It’s as if every movement is a symphony, and you’re the sole audience member, captivated by the performance.

The things he could do with those hands, mhmm.

What.

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts but then it hits you: the sudden realisation that this isn’t just admiration for his mechanical skills. No, it’s something deeper, more primal. Your heart races, and you wonder how you never noticed before—the way his laughter reaches your soul, the warmth of his gaze when he catches you staring.

You’re undeniably attracted to Daryl, and the garage becomes a stage for a different kind of tension—one that has nothing to do with bike repairs. The air crackles with possibility, and you find yourself wondering what it would be like to trace those arm muscles with your fingertips, to feel his lips against yours.

But for now, you keep your secret, watching him work, knowing that this newfound desire will forever colour your perception of motor oil and metal. And as he looks up, meeting your gaze, you wonder if he senses it too, he smiles at you, exposing his emotions - a very rare moment which he only shares with the people he cared for most.

“Watcha starin’ at, huh?” His voice, gravelly and deep, wraps around you like a warm embrace. You find yourself speechless, utterly captivated by his every move. Daryl stands there, mere centimetres away, his presence filling the garage. Your feet dangle over the edge of the toolbox you’re perched on, and he steps in between your legs.

His palms, rough from countless hours of tinkering with engines, rest on the tops of your thighs. The heat from his touch seeps through your skin, igniting a fire within you. You’re acutely aware of the tension—the charged air that crackles between you two.

And then, without warning, the words tumble out: “You’re really hot.” You hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but desire has a way of bypassing reason. Daryl blinks, confusion etching his features. “Wha?” he stammers, caught off guard.

Quickly, you backtrack, your cheeks flushing. “It’s really hot,” you correct yourself, hoping he didn’t quite catch your slip. But the heat in the garage isn’t just from the weather; it’s the electric pull between you and him, a magnetic force that defies explanation.

[baby-tini]

May I ask for Mikey x fem oc or reader, in the last arc scenario when mikey goes back to the past with his memories intact and tries to find her but couldn't, and only finds her again when both of them are adults with their own jobs and everything...(Also just for it to be a little angsty maybe she died before the last time).... I'm sorry I'm so bad at this 😭

A/N- You're all good, sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy it nonetheless.\ TW- Readers death and Manjiros attempted suicide in the Bonten timeline. He looked for you, he looked everywhere for you, but you weren't anywhere too be found. He searched for you for days, then those days turned into weeks and unfortunately months. The last image he has of you, is when you died in his arms, during his Bonten days. He remembered he didn't eat or sleep for days. You were the only light in his dark life. The only thing that actually kept him going. The only reason he even thought about getting up in the morning, that's the main reason he tried too jump off that building in the first place, but then, Takemichi had saved him and promised everything would be better for him and everyone, including you. But as he went through his life, happy to have all of his friends and family alive he was grateful, don't get him wrong, but he missed you, deeply he missed you. He's never loved and cared about someone so deeply and intimately before. He never forgot about you, not even once, you were always stuck in his head as the same questions continuously ran through his mind. Where were you? Were you okay? Were you thinking about him too? If you were, were you thinking about him nearly as much as he thought of you every. single. day. It was a chance meeting in all honesty, your friend was really into motorcycles so, of course she wanted too watch the races, so when she bought tickets, and her boyfriend wasn't available, she asked you too go with her instead. You really didn't want too go at first, given motorcycles weren't really your thing, but in true bestfriend fashion, she had pleaded with you until gave in. Giving you the little puppy dog eyes as she clung to your arm with a multitude of pleas. Then demanding you get ready when you finally gave into her. When you did finally get to the racing stadium, she went crazy, telling you all about the racers and who they were. How skilled they were and what type of motorcycles they were driving. Again, being someone who really wasn't into motorcycles, you weren't really listening, just watching the bikes speed around the track until they were done and finally announced their winner, but you didn't really stay for that, instead quickly leaving too busy yourself at the taiyaki stand. You've always liked taiyaki, it being your favorite snack and all. Especially when you think about the memories you'd occasionally get, eating it with a man that you couldn't give a face or a name. "Hey, just make double and I'll pay for it." That voice... sounded so familiar, the deep rasp hitting your ears as it sent your brain into deja vu. A man, with a black undercut walked towards the stand as he pulled out his card, still dressed in a racing uniform. As he turned to look at you and your eyes locked on his, you both froze. There was a feeling of electricity that shot through the both you, as your eyes met his. The beautiful obsidian that felt so familiar yet so.. distant. "...Baby?" The mans eyes held a recognition in them as those lost memories of yours came back, clearer then before. Finally giving the man a face and a name, "Manjiro..?" The way his name fell from your lips sent a shiver up his back, as though he had been dunked in ice water. It was quick, more on instinct then anything really, as you both grabbed at each other. Clinging to the other as you ran your hands over the other. His hands running through your hair, then grabbing at your face and staring deep into your eyes while his watered.

Quickly pulling you away from the crowded area, he led you into a back alley. Quickly trapping you in his arms, chest-to-chest, he held you as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. Wrapping your arms around his waist you held him tightly, taking in the smell of his cologne, Hugo Boss, you'd never forget that smell, it would always drive you crazy whenever he wore. The smell nearly as comforting as his arms, the tan, muscular limbs wrapping around you in a vice. You both pulled back after long minutes of the tight embrace, before you could say anything though, his lips were already on yours as he buried his hands deep into your hair. Your hands coming up to run up under his shirt, feeling the hard muscle of his chest and abs, trying too recite everything to memory as he pulled closer. Only pulling back too catch his breath before diving back in and holding your face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks, as if, too also recite everything to memory. Reluctantly pulling away, he leaned his forehead against yours as he panted against your lips, your breath mixing with his as he stared you down with those wide black eyes, no longer empty and cold. Instead they were warm and loving, his pupils dilated as he took you in, the image of you dying in his arms coming back as he held you closer while he felt his eyes got wet, the salty liquid dripping down his cheeks. "Don't ever leave me again... I can't be without you baby, you're all I ever think about, I need you, I love you so much."

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Simple Joys

An 'It's Who We Have' Oneshot

Summary: after a few months, Billy ventures outside of London to feel somewhat normal, and brings her along for the ride | Word Count: 2k~ | Warnings: just fluffy

A/N: my boyf took me to goose fair to cheer me up and I couldn't help but think of my favourite pair 😭

When she thought of her life in London, the first word that came to mind was busy. Always busy. Rubbing shoulders with people everywhere you go, fighting for your life running around tourists and least of all the incessant beeps of rowdy taxis and weaving out the way of electric bikes.

So the first thing she thought when Billy said he wanted to take her up to Nottingham one cold October evening, she thought it might be the same.

And yes, while there was a certain hustle and bustle about the place, it was like a breath of fresh air. Billy had been uncharacteristically quiet since they left London, a small, secretive smile on his lips as he glanced around the familiar city centre.

With their hands linked, fingers intertwined, she caught him looking at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement. His hair pushed slightly to his forehead from the hat he was wearing to cover his ears from the chill. Equally, she was grateful for the thick scarf around her neck. The midlands was bitterly cold.

“What you looking so happy about, eh?”

Billy shrugged, his arm moving to casually drape over her shoulders. “Just excited to show you a bit of my world. You’re always dragging me to your fancy London spots, figured it’s my turn now.”

He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear. “You ever heard of the Goose Fair?”

She furrowed her brows at him, half amused, “assuming there are no geese involved?”

Billy chuckled, his breath warm against her ear. "Not a single one, surprisingly," he said with a smirk. "Over 700 years, and not a goose in sight. But I promise, it’s a hell of a lot more fun than it sounds. Rides, games, all the dodgy fair food you can handle."

She grinned, shaking her head. "You really know how to sell it, Billy."

He walked in front of her, the Council House coming into view behind him as he walked backwards. He seemed so aloof that she couldn't help that warm fluttery feeling in her stomach. “Proper day out with the locals.”

She found herself smiling, excited not just for the fair, but for the chance to see this side of Billy, the carefree, playful part of him that rarely had a chance to surface.

As they approached the Goose Fair, the air thickened with the scents of sugary doughnuts, frying onions, and the rich aroma of caramelised popcorn. The sound of distant screams from the towering rides mixed with the low hum of chatter from families, couples, and groups of friends wandering the packed fairgrounds. Bright lights blinked from every direction, illuminating the sprawling rides, food stalls, and game booths, all surrounded by the hustle and bustle of one of the oldest fairs in the country.

Billy’s hand found hers, squeezing it gently as he pulled her through the crowds, using his body as a sort of meat shield. 

“First things first,” he beamed, his tone playful, “you’ve got to try the mushy peas.”

“I’m fairly certain I’ve tried mushy peas, Billy,” she laughed, raising an eyebrow. But she didn’t protest as Billy led her toward a food stall, handing over a few coins in exchange for a steaming polystyrene cup, thankful then for her thick gloves.

"You’ve got to have mushy peas," Billy said, holding out a forkful with a grin. "It’s a Goose Fair tradition."

She eyed the peas suspiciously, then sighed and took the bite, trusting his enthusiasm. As the taste hit her, her eyes widened in surprise, and she froze mid-chew. “It’s minty?!” 

Billy burst out laughing at her reaction, barely holding the fork steady. “You should see your face.”

She shook her head, still processing, blinking at him with amusement. “I was not prepared for that at all.”

"Hey," Billy said, feigning offence, "this is fine dining where I’m from. Just wait until I get you on one of the rides after all this. You'll be thanking me when you’re dizzy and full of carbs.”

She laughed it off at the time, but Billy was not joking. And as they stepped up to the dodgems, she realised she might’ve underestimated him.

The ride roared to life, and within seconds, Billy’s eyes gleamed with the mischievous focus of a man on a mission. He gripped the wheel, glancing at her with a wicked grin. "Hold on tight," he warned, just as they lurched forward.

She barely had time to register what was happening before Billy veered sharply, locking his sights on a pair of unsuspecting kids in a bright red car. He slammed their car from the side with a cackle, sending them spinning. “Got 'em!” he shouted triumphantly.

“Billy!” she gasped, wide-eyed and laughing at the same time. “You’re going after children!”

He only smirked in response, dodging another car and steering straight for a teenager who had been too cocky behind the wheel. “No mercy,” he muttered, tapping the accelerator.

She gripped the side of the car, laughing through her protests. “I thought you’d be... I don’t know, charmingly bad at this or something.”

It was so so nice to see Billy happy. Carefree. No furrowed brow or distant gaze, no shadow of the weight they'd been carrying for so long. Just him, fully in the moment, grinning like a kid between lovesick glances. For so long, they had been in survival mode. From that horrific day at Cranstead Fields to the fallout that followed, every step had been a fight to just stay afloat. But today… today, it felt like they were finally catching their breath.

It was strange to think it had only been that July it happened. It felt like a lifetime between then and now. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched him laugh, a thick swallow of emotion easing her shoulders, his whole body relaxed in a way that had been rare to see. He was healing. They were healing.

Her heart swelled at the sound of it, his laugh, unguarded and free.

It was here, she thought with amusement, that he had a competitive streak, something rarely seen in any of his interactions back in London. And she saw the twinkle in his eyes reignite as they stopped by a ring-toss game booth. “Right,” he said, rolling up his sleeves, “time to win you something.”

She shot him a sceptical look, arms crossed. “Billy, these games are rigged.”

He smirked, grabbing a ring with a confident twirl. “Maybe for the average bloke,” he said, winking at her.

His confidence was admirable, and the first few attempts were predictably off-target, much to her amusement. But Billy, determined not to be outdone, narrowed his eyes and focused, launching the final ring with precision. It sailed through the air and landed perfectly on the peg, causing the stall worker to give a resigned, tight-lipped smile.

“All right, mate,” the worker said, handing Billy a tiny plush toy shaped as a goose. “She’s yours.”

Billy turned to her, a wide grin spreading across his face as he held out the stuffed goose. “Told you I’d win something.”

As the night wound down, they found themselves standing in front of a massive ride, The Stargazer, a swinging chair ride that took riders high up into the sky, offering a breathtaking view of the fair and the city beyond.

“Up for one more ride before we call it a night?” he asked, already knowing her answer.

They strapped in a loveseat, and soon, the ride lifted them high into the cool evening sky. As they soared through the air, the fair spread out beneath them like a sea of twinkling lights, the city glowing softly in the distance. For a moment, it was just the two of them, floating above it all, the wind whipping through their hair.

Billy looked over at her as his hand slid around her waist, his heart swelling with something that felt both terrifying and exhilarating. The glow of the lights reflected in her eyes, and for a moment, everything else disappeared, the past, the chaos, the danger. It was just her, the night, and this feeling.

“I’m glad we came,” he said softly, his voice almost lost in the wind. “It’s nice, having something… normal.”

She smiled, leaning into him, her head resting on his shoulder. “Yeah, it is. We deserve this.”

He let the words settle between them, a quiet acknowledgment of everything they’d been through. Now, here they were, sharing something simple, something normal, like a ride under the stars. And somehow, that made it feel even more precious.

Billy pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “We do.”

They were drunk on the night, on each other, intoxicated by the simple joy of being together, of having survived so much and still finding this lightness in the world.

“I can’t believe you took me to a fair,” she murmured, glancing up at him with a soft smile. “It feels like a dream. And you! Driving like a maniac on the dodgems?”

Billy chuckled, his grip around her tightening as he kissed the top of her head. “Hmm…impressed though?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Yes, baby, consider me thoroughly impressed.”

The path they walked together slowly became quieter, pulling them into a quieter, more suburban part of town, where they'd be staying with Billy's Aunty and Uncle for the weekend.

“You think your Auntie Jean will still be awake?” she asked, stifling a yawn as they approached the house.

Billy grinned. “Oh, she’ll be waiting up. Probably with tea and biscuits, knowing her.”

Sure enough, as they approached the front door, a soft light flickered in the window, and the smell of something sweet drifted out from the house. For a short moment he refrained from knocking on the front door, and simply held her beneath the dim glow of the porch light.

With a quiet exhale, Billy reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, cold from the night but warming under his touch. Her breath hitched slightly as his thumb traced along her jawline, and she felt the warmth bloom in her chest, the kind that only he could stir.

It reminded her of the time he'd kissed her in Cranstead Fields that summery evening. Except this time, she doubted he tasted like WKD.

He gently tucked a strand of windblown hair behind her ear, his hand lingering as his thumb grazed her skin. Her cheeks tingled, not from the cold, but from the tenderness in his touch, the quiet love that had been growing between them for so long.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Billy’s voice was low, barely above a whisper, but the sincerity in his words hit her like a wave.

She felt her heart skip as she met his gaze, her hand sliding up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. How alive he felt. “Only when you look at me like that.”

Billy’s smile widened, and without a word, he leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to hers, their noses brushing. His breath mingled with hers, and for a moment, they stood there, wrapped in their quiet intimacy.

“I’m so lucky,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers as he spoke, the words carrying a weight that made her heart swell.

And then, softly, tenderly, he kissed her. It wasn’t rushed or urgent, but slow and full of all the hardship they’d carried through every moment, every challenge. It was a kiss that promised something real, something lasting.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads still resting together, both of them breathing softly, she smiled, her eyes sparkling with quiet joy.

“Let’s go inside. Get warm,” she whispered, though neither of them seemed in any rush.

Billy grinned, his thumb tracing her cheek one last time before he reached for the door. "Yeah," he said softly, still holding her close. “After you, baby.”

The warmth hit their bones instantly, and even past the incessant questions from Auntie Jean between offers of cups of tea and something to nibble on, she and Billy would meet eyes across the room, and it would still manage to make her blush the way he looked at her.

There was no need for words. This kind of love, friendship, everything, had no need for declarations. Just the simple, undeniable truth that they were meant to be here, together.

...

General Taglist; @1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @all-for-aemond @bellstwd @blackswxnn

@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @cl-0-vr @eddieslut69

@emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @nixiefics

@primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @sheshellsseashells

[snapghoul]

Head-canons 3

Growing up + Mr. & Mrs. Seresin and Sophia

Note: I’ve hit a block with mini fics and I need requests to help the brain rot flow because I’ve been staring at a blank doc for a while.

Warning: mention of child loss.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

JAKE

★ Jake was the kid who had to get a matchbox car or tiny plane from the store every time they went.

★ He helped his dad cut the lawn as a kid. By help meaning he sat on his dad’s knee and “drove” the mower.

★ Can draw fairly well, won his second grade class art contest by of drawing the Blue Angels squad. His mother had it framed in her office.

★ Used most of his allowance on Galicia at the arcade in town. Held the highest score for a year.

★ Did the water bottle muffler on his bike.

★ Knows how to sew his own clothes, his mother taught him how after she got tired to mending the tears in his pants.

★ As a baby when he was done napping he would shake the crib bars until someone came to get him.

★ All his favorite matchbox cars are still lined up on a windowsill at his parents house.

★ Had the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling.

★ Had a favorite chicken, her name was Candy.

★ Had beef with a lot of teachers in school, he wasn’t a quiet kid.

★ Competed in the rodeo with Tyler, he did barrel racing and roping with their mom’s horse Storm Warning. He won a few times.

★ Touched the electric cattle fence because older sis Sophia told him it was off. It wasn’t.

★ Sucked at hangman in school (still does)

TYLER

ᯤ Excellent at math, was in honors and AP all though high school.

ᯤ Flipped his first truck doing donuts in a field, it was fine aside from a few dents.

ᯤ Liked to garden with his mom, he had a ljttle kiddy gardening set. He liked to dig the holes for the seeds and flowers.

ᯤ Had multiple concussions from the rodeo. Only had one 3d grade concussion and it was his last.

ᯤ Almost got struck by lighting when he was ten trying to get a look at the storm.

ᯤ Got stood up on prom night and ended up not going. Jake bailed on his date so Ty wasn’t alone.

ᯤ Released crickets into the school hallway.

ᯤ Climbed out of his crib when he was done with nap time.

ᯤ Spray painted his bike red (it got everywhere)

ᯤ Was the bottom bunk when he shared a room with Jake.

ᯤ Was a stuffed animal kid, his parents have totes of them still.

ᯤ Liked to set his marshmallows on fire.

ᯤ Sophia locked him in the chicken coop more than once.

ᯤ Won the science fair two years in a row, he build a mini version of Dorothy and a tornado.

THE SERESIN FAM

✿ Brisket.

✿ Sophia is four years older than the twins. She is a veterinarian in Austin, she’s been married for two years.

✿ She originally did not like her brothers, she didn’t want anything to do with them when they were infants.

✿ There was supposed to be a another sibling, a girl, before the twins were born. Her name was Dana.

✿ Mrs. Seresin’s name is Rosalie. Her maiden name was Hayes.

✿ Mr. Seresin’s name is Cole.

✿ Mrs. Seresin has a small business, she crochets many different things. She sells a lot at craft fairs.

✿ Mr. Seresin regularly mixed up the twins as babies, hence the color coding.

✿ They have one goat named Guy. Guy will stand on the porch and bleat until he gets his daily apple slice.

✿ All three siblings have a strong and loving relationship with their parents. Both mom and dad support them in everything.

(Please tell me yall get the crickets in the hallway reference)

[late-draft]

Some more details for the sci-fi AU, this time specifically for Zuko before I manage to draw more:

He fires lightning in this AU. However it's not very strong, and he has to wear a specifically made suit that allows him to fire it without damaging his body. Electricity is gathered then channeled along the outside of his arms. Visually it's purposefully similar to Aang's tattoos, except only localized to his back and arms. Azula, of course, doesn't need any assistive technology for her lightning bending!

While in canon it's important that Zuko's s1 hairstyle is a shameful one that signifies that he lost an Agni Kai in a terrible way (and I believe this hasn't been touched upon enough in canon), in this AU I'm reversing it. This hairstyle is worn by all the best firebenders-racers. It's supposed to be a point of pride and the gaang (mostly Sokka and Aang) make fun of it.

Zuko's lapels on his suit are pure white, they lack any stripes that signify status in the Fire Nation. Ozai's are (of course) completely covered in a bazillion stripes.

Zuko's entourage of older racers that accompany him oftentimes do NOT want to attempt very dangerous moves while chasing an airbender who makes it look easy. Zuko just hits the gas and survives by jumping and passing through pretty narrow openings or closing garbage press or what have you... yikes. He also tries to race Katara, but once she's on the highway, he's left in the dust. This is why Katara often jumps in with her bike to pick up Aang once he's done with his search.

Firing lightning and fire blasts at fleeing Aang who snickers at him results in a lot of explosions and collateral damage on buildings.

Zuko often gets in trouble by racing on highways and pathways that are held by Zhao, who's in charge of Fire Nation's transport lines. These are not your standard 200 km/h highways, these things have unmanned vehicles going 400 km/h. Again, Yikes.

Music? Yes

Me & You - Dirtyphonix Remix

[luv4fandoms]

Best Christmas ever! (Dwayne x Fem!Reader)

I'M BAAAAAAAACK!!

So this idea hit me when I read these prompts and I couldn't resist writing it. It seems I am a sucker for Christmas themed stories with Dwayne and Laddie lol. This is kinda in the same universe as "When you're unaware" since it mentions a brother who owns a truck

late night drives to see all the christmas lights in the neighborhood

Pairing: Dwayne x Fem!Reader

Word count: 885

Warnings: Overload of cuteness

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Ko-Fi

"The Carter's still got the biggest light display back home?" Your brother asked as you walked down the boardwalk to meet up with the boys, it had only been about five months since you had met them and already you couldn't picture your life without the rowdy group.

"Oh yeah, every year Jenny is adding something new. I think now it's a competition between them and the Gonzalez family that moved in down at the old Jackson place, they go all out too"

"I remember how pissed George used to get when mom would get dad to decorate"

"Yeah times that by a hundred and you now know the first Christmas after the Gonzalez's moved in" you laughed just as you caught sight of the boys.

"Y/N!" Laddie called, running down the boardwalk to hug you.

"Hey sweetie! Having fun so far?"

"Paul took me on the rollercoaster and Dwayne got me cotton candy" he smiled up at you.

"Hopefully in that order right?" You laughed.

"Paul knows better" Dwayne nodded earning a 'Hey!' from the blonde vamp.

"So what were you two discussing?" David asked while Paul passed a blunt to your brother.

"The families that go all out for Christmas back home"

"Should have seen this one, I swear they must spend a grand a day in electric with how many lights they have" your brother told them.

"Whoa really?" Laddie asked, now invested in the conversation.

"Oh yeah, think of like every light on the boardwalk but on just one house" you laughed.

"Paired with light up animatronics of Santa, reindeer, and snowmen" your brother finished.

"That is so cool!"

"It really was" your brother nodded.

"It definitely made Christmas" you smiled

"That it did"

"I will admit, I'm gonna miss not seeing it this year...I feel like it's not Christmas time until you see the lights"

"Yeah I know what you mean, it's childhood"

"But I get to spend this Christmas with you so I'm happy!" You smiled, leaning down and grabbing Laddie in a bear hug, listening to the smallest vampire laugh, unknown of the eyes that were watching the scene unfold with a soft smile, and a plan forming in his head.

It had been a couple weeks since then, the boardwalk had decked itself out even more for the Christmas season with various lights and window displays, but that wasn't what Dwayne wanted you to see that night when he pulled up to your house. He parked his bike in the garage, Laddie jumping off the back to go get you while he grabbed the keys to your brother's truck. He had already told him his plan, so he had offered his vehicle since it would be able to fit the three of you, and because he kept it at your house instead of at the cave near the ocean air. He watched you stumble out, quite literally, due to Laddie dragging you, he may only be half vamp but he was still stronger than a human. A bag of homemade cookies in one hand and a smile on your face as you gained your balance.

"I have been retrieved" you laughed, making your way over to him.

"I also come baring goods, but please kind sir, why have I been fetched from my kitchen?"

"Because fair maiden, we are going for a drive" he smiled, holding up your brother's keys, which caused you to raise an eyebrow.

"Come on!" Laddie cheered, pulling you towards the old truck before you could say anything, you laughed as you helped him up into the cab, before getting in once he settled in the middle of the bench seat, Dwayne soon getting in and starting up the old girl. You weren't sure what he had in mind, but you knew he wouldn't do anything reckless, not only was he not that type, but he also had Laddie in the vehicle, your brother's vehicle at that. He drove for a while before you found yourself in a more populated part of town, but not as populated as the boardwalk area, more of the suburban type of place...And that's when you saw them.

Lights were strung up on just about every house, in ever color, and every shape. Some houses had full blown Christmas trees out front while others had the wire reindeers. Some had Santa on the roof while others had the classic blowmolds that looked like they had been passed down for generations.

It was Christmas.

Dwayne smiled as he watched you and Laddie stare in awe at the houses, the radio softly playing a Christmas station while he drove slowly. Laddie had already dug into your cookies as he offered them both one with a smile.

"This is so...magical" you smiled.

"This street continues on into the next town, they do this every year. I always take Laddie to see it" he explained.

"It's my favorite part of Christmas! When we heard you talking about missing the lights Dwayne wanted to show you too!" Laddie spoke around a mouthful of cookie. You tried not to tear up as you looked over at the man who held a soft smile while looking at the two of you, his two favorite people he concluded.

"Thank you, this is the best Christmas ever" you spoke softly. He simply nodded as he watched Laddie curl up against you, pointing excitedly to his favorite displays. He couldn't agree more.

'Best Christmas ever'

I'm so happy with how this came out! Short but sweet lol. I really do lean towards Dwayne and Laddie for Christmas stories 😂. I hope everyone enjoyed it!

[delicatebarness]

i think he knows | chapter thirteen

Summary: Netflix & Chill?

Warnings: Kissing.

Word Count: 1076

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A/N: Oh Bucky, if only more men were like you.

Tags: @bigtreefest | @caplanbuckybarnes | @angelbabyyy99 | @mega-kittyglitter-1 | @cjand10 | @armystay89 | @itvy5601 | @spider-mans-hoe | @buckys0whore

You stood in the corner, the anticipation hummed as you checked your phone for what felt like the hundredth time. The streetlamp cast a soft glow around you as seven o’clock hit and just like he promised, Bucky was riding toward you. 

It was like a scene from a movie, a small smile played on his lips as he caught sight of you. Your heart skipped a beat as the familiar rush of warmth flooded through you. 

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft as he parked the motorcycle up by your side. “You ready?”

You nodded, a grim spreading across your face. He handed you his helmet and you took a glance around to ensure that no one was watching before strapping on the helmet and climbing onto the bike. 

Together you set off into the night, the cool air blowing through your hair once again. As you wrapped your arms tighter around Bucky’s waist, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. Eventually, you arrived at Bucky’s house, there was a spill of light coming from the windows. 

“Welcome to Fort Barnes,” he said as he led you inside, the scent of popcorn filling your scents as you slipped your shoes off. Bucky gestured for you to follow him into the living room and toward the makeshift blanket fort he had built in the center of the room. “I hope you like it.” 

Your eyes began to well as you took in everything. “It’s perfect,” you said, your voice filling with awe as you settled into the pile of pillows and blankets. 

Bucky’s eyes shone with excitement as he watched you take in the fort, he had built it with the care that was feigned to him. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve built anything like this,” he admitted, as he gestured toward the fort. “But, I wanted tonight to be special.” 

His words swelled your heart, and a rush of emotions washed over you. “It is special,” your voice responded, barely a whisper as you met his gaze. “ Being here with you, it means everything to me.” 

He finally joined you amongst the fort, his smile somehow widening at your words, he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “I’m glad,” he said softly, his thumb tracing a gentle path along your cheek. “I want tonight to just be the beginning,”

He reached for the bowl of popcorn, a playful glint in his eyes as he offered you a handful. Your fingers brushed against his as you reached out, sending a jolt of electricity through you. You couldn’t help but meet his gaze, a mix of excitement and longing filling the air between you. 

For a moment, you were lost in his eyes, everything began to fade, the secrets, the fort, the popcorn, everything. And then, Bucky pulled back slightly, he broke the spell as he settled beside you. 

There was a sense of contentment washing over you as you nestled together, wrapped in each other’s arms. You found yourselves sharing stories and secrets, opening up to each other in a way you hadn’t allowed each other to do so far. And with every word you exchanged with each other, the connection between you deepened. 

~

An undeniable tension grew between you as the night went on. With a playful glint in his eyes, he turned to you, “I don’t know about you,” his voice was low and husky. “But, I’ve been thinking about doing this all night.” 

Anticipation coiled in the pit of your stomach as you searched his gaze waiting for his reply. Yet, without a word, he closed the distance between you and your lips met in a hungry, desperate kiss. 

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as you melted into each other's embrace. You moaned softly against his lips, the sound drove him wild. Your hands roamed over his arms, tracing the contours of his muscles.

With a low growl, he shifted, pressing you against the pills and hovering over you. You gasped as his lips began to trail down your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your skin. 

His touch sent waves of heat rushing through your veins as you surrendered to the sensation of his lips. You arched your back, pressing yourself close to him. You craved more of his touch as he began to roam his hands over your body. 

But as the intensity of the moment grew, you began to feel a sense of panic bubble up inside you. It tightened like a vice around your chest. Your breath caught in your throat as you gasped, trying to push the wave of anxiety down. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice beginning to tremble. “I… I think we should stop.” 

He was lost in the heat of the moment, for a few heart-pounding moments, he didn’t stop. 

Yet, your words did register with him as his movements slowed. Pulling back slightly, concern flickered over his gaze as he searched your face, his expression softened as he gave you space to collect yourself. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice filled with concern as he debated if he should pull further away or bring you into an embrace. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, your breath shaky as you tried to steady yourself. “I’m okay, I just… I need a moment.” 

He nodded, his concern deepened as he brushed away a tear that trickled down your cheek. “Take all the time you need,” he spoke softly. 

You leaned into his touch, grateful for his understanding. You took a few deep breaths, a sense of calm taking over. After a few short moments, you reached out, intertwining your fingers with Bucky's.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, fidgeting with his fingers in yours. “I didn’t mean to… I just got overwhelmed.” 

Bucky shook his head, tracing his thumb over the back of your hand. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he tried to reassure you, his voice now soft and soothing. “We do things in your time, I’m here for you.” 

A weight was lifted off your shoulders, you offered him a grateful smile. At that moment, you felt like you had found someone who cared for you and who would respect your boundaries. 

He wrapped you in his arms once again, and a sense of peace settled over you as you sat quietly together in the fort. “I just want you to feel comfortable and safe.”

---

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[watermelonsugacry]

Y/ns insta post idea for harrys house anniv…

She would post a reel of all the cute behind the scenes moments of the album recorded on film camera or her phone...h and her getting all domestic and how the album was made in the quarantine…

She would actually make a piano acoustic mashup just for this occasion including all the songs from the album..and post it on the reel!!💕😍

she definitely would!! here are some of the clips she would include:

There would be a clip of YN from behind as she rides her bike. They're riding along their private villa down through the beautiful greenery where grapes grow. She adorns in a flowy sundress and her hair waves softly behind her.

Harry's in the recording booth at YN's home studio, clad in a white tank top that nicely shows off all his tattoos and tanned skin. After pushing one side of the studio headphones behind his ear, he squints his eyes shut and his nose scrunches up as he hits a high note.

Loads of small clips of the production team dancing in her home studio: While Tyler messes with the various sliders on her huge studio console, Harry frames his face with his hands with an over-emotional look on his face. The next one is of Kid and Harry shimmying on an uncomfortable-looking Mitch (who still manages to break out into a laugh). Another plays of YN on her knees, leaning back as she dramatically plays the air guitar in the middle of the room.

When the team was in Italy, YN records from her spot seated at the outside patio table as they all raise and click together their glasses of wine.

YN has her phone propped up on one of the music sheet stands as she's in the recording booth. The microphone covers a bit of her face from the way the camera is angled and she has a pair of chunky studio headphones on. She pulls away from the mesh-covered microphone, her gaze set on the people behind the glass as her nose scrunches up in a giggle.

Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, YN slightly peaks her phone over the top of the romance novel she's reading to Harry. They sit facing each other, her bare legs lay over his as they indulge in some reading. He's only dressed in loose shorts, leaving his top half have delicately bare. Too engrossed in his own book to notice, he continues to softly caress her shins with one hand as the other holds up his paperback.

In the passenger seat, YN records the side view mirrors. She captures how her hair gets pushed back from the wind, Harry's yellow sunglasses sit on the bridge of her nose, and the sea beside the highway is seen in the background.

With her film camera propped up, she pushes Harry to stand in front of their house in Italy. But before she can go to her spot behind the camera, he pulls her back to him for a kiss. She's quickly pulling back as giggles tumble past her lips from how ticklish his mustache is. He doesn't let up his grip on her though as he continues to pepper kisses over her cheeks and neck.

Sitting in the recording room together, YN records Mitch from her spot on the floor. After taking a hit, he passes the blunt back to her. When he stands back up-right, he adjusts his studio headphones, playfully flips her off before he begins to play his electric guitar. Only her hand comes into view, showing off her middle finger back to him as she aggressively shakes the camera.

Tyler, Kid, Mitch, and Harry all move around YN's kitchen as they whip up breakfast. Everyone crowds around each other as they all gather and pass around plates, cereal boxes, and hot pans.

Harry records his love from his spot on the couch in her living room in LA. YN sits on her knees before him with black gloves on and a tattoo gun in hand. He captures how she pinches her brows together in concentration as she writes the word oui above his knee before wiping away the excess ink with a paper towel.

The last clip that plays is a bit longer than the rest. The five of them (Tyler, Mitch, Harry, YN and Kid) sit in front of the studio panel as they have the final listen of the completed album. When Love Of My Life finishes, they all look at one another in accomplishment. YN pulls the end of her sleeve over her hand and wipes away the happy tears that had run down her cheeks before standing up with the rest of the team to hug everyone.

SINCE 2010 masterlist

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - Too Fine Too Be Normal

@lexosaurus @hannahmanderr @zombiemerlin

When outsiders have to deal with any member of the weirdo trio it really is best to just roll with the punches. Plus, Orson actually LIKES his techy internet buddy; so what if he’s some kind of superhero pharaoh or something?

Orson blinks at his screen, not for the first time feeling confused and baffled over TooFine’s chat comments.

TooFine: brb gotta go eat a bat, nightshade found the plant paint I covered her fruit tree in

He’s assuming what the guy means is that ‘nightshade’, TooFine’s friend, is trying to hit him with a baseball bat. Strange and extreme but at least this time he’s not claiming to have ‘accidentally fallen into another dimension’. Whenever TooFine leaves suddenly it’s always wildy outlandish stories. Certainly there’s no way he thinks Orson actually believes them right? Yes it was very funny anyways. Reading TF’s impressive imagination always made him feel a little better about life, like even if your life is simple and plain you can bring some crazy into it with your mind.

Sometimes though, it’s clear he’s actually telling the truth, like that one time they were on voice chat and Orson dad popped in to try and convince him to let him teach him how to hunt again, Orson liked meat but he had zero desire to actually go and kill things. But TF started talking guns too, apparently that thing about TF’s in person friend having parents who made weapons was very much true. TF impressed Orson’s dad, meaning his dad now approved of the friendship. At least TF didn’t bring up that ‘ectoplasm’ stuff while his dad was around, the last thing Orson wanted was his dad thinking all his online friends were crazy too. His dad definitely didn’t believe the claim that TF’s friends parents also had a modified military vehicle they used on the actual road; something about how military treads can’t be used on roads because they’re too damaging. TF followed that up with ‘our roads can withstand some pretty heavy artillery’, Orson’s chuckle and eye roll probably convinced his dad that TF was screwing around with him a little.

Either way, hopefully TF gets back in time to keep helping him with this stupid drone he’s trying to build. He’d love to be able to go get the mail without having to actually go outside, so much wasted effort when he’d rather be gaming or reading. Then he gets a voice chat request, the voice that comes through is not TF’s

“Oh shit hey, you actually picked up, wow I can’t believe he made an outsider friend. Weird”, this new teen clears his throat, “okay so, Nightshade actually might have knocked him out in a fit of rage? So he’ll be a bit- hey! No! Put that down! You don’t get to hit him again just because I’m protecting his PDA!”.

TF actually used a PDA? Such old tech? Why? Weird.

“Emilie is PINK! PINK!”.

The boy teen groans, “ugh. Goths. Anyway, while he’s out, he give you any ideas for a good birthday gift? I’ve been banned from giving him weapons or explosives, and the last time I got him a souped up hard drive he hacked the federal government and filed the presidents taxes for some insane reason”.

Orson blinks, “I think he’s been talking a lot about electric cars and electric bikes? What happened after he… did the presidents taxes?”. He really just wants to know where this guy was going to take that level of bullshit.

“I’d rather ideas that don’t require me to steal my rich arch enemy uncles credit card. And eh, nothing much, just got abducted by some secret service folks up into the Appalachian mountains for some ‘one on one’ talks time. He got some new wicked scars out of it even, one looks like a hockey stick! I don’t even have one like that yet! But hey, what’s life without a few abductions here and there? The gov loves shooting me!”.

Orson makes a face, alright so were TF’s friends just as bad as him? Shaking his head, “get him a lock picking kit then, in case anyone abducts him with handcuffs or something”. What the actual hell? He absolutely has to google this.

“Oh that’s not bad-oh hey buddy! You good? No lumps and bumps? No booboos or owies?”.

“You jerk, I’m fine. Why is she still armed!”.

“Emile. Is. PINK”.

“It suits her!”.

“She’s a black apple tree! Pink is never her colour!”.

Oh so the goth did actually name her plants, odd but not insane. And yeah, a hacker did actually do the presidents taxes… weird. There’s no way that was actually TF right? Was he friends with an actual hacker?

“Oh T I totally voice called, or whatever, your online buddy? It seemed like the chat was recent and shit so you know”.

“Man, you are way too overprotective and way too much of a mother hen for a dead guy. Gimme that”.

“Hey at least dead hens can shoot laser beams out of their mouths, way cooler than living ones”.

TF clearly has his… PDA back, “you’re still working on that ‘let me be lazy’ drone right?”.

Orson blinks, “yes, but real talk, did you actually file the presidents taxes?”.

“Oh my zone! DP you shit head! Ugh, look the guy was trying to embezzle my towns funding to buy another yacht, so I figured hey why not forcibly report all his off shore accounts and that weird charity donation to a Russian network. I also might have gone after all his staff too? They weren’t impressed but I call anarchy and how was I supposed to know his people would actually not suck at tracking people?”.

“T, dude, I’m pretty sure the federal government and the goddamn president have better tracking than those G.I.W. morons”.

“Are you going to fix Emilie or what!”.

“Never”.

Orson flips through google results a little more and yeah, a ton of people got hacked for taxes… Hell Orson even stumbles on a whistle blower data leak about ties to Russia that he nopes out of real quick. “TF bud, that’s super concerning”.

“Heh. Fair enough and- oh shit!”. There’s an actual explosion over the line. “Hey, you wanna actually witness shit for a change, because good goddamn. DP! Have you been skipping sleep again! Why is the goddamn sleep god throwing a building at us!”.

What.

You know what.

Fuck it.

Orson sends the zoom invite, it’s accepted immediately. It’s actual pure chaos. There’s shouting, what looks like a sentient star cover blank wearing a mask in the sky, a glowing black and white teen throwing actual everything forbid bath bombs at the thing in the sky. TF looks like he’s from freaking ancient Egypt, with a helm on and everything. Then a bunch of glowing vines shove TF out of screen, a girl in a green and black body suit with a freaking cape chasing after.

For a second he’s wondering if TF is playing a massive prank on him and somehow created a hyper realistic superhero show set up. The… PDA is pointed up at the sky as the voice of the guy who started the voice chat shouts, “I HAVE MIDTERMS! WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO!”.

The blanket creature shouting back, “SLEEP!”.

“Oh yeah I guess I should have seen that one coming”.

Okay so. TF’s friend, whose parents make weapons, is a superhero or something? Google to the rescue.

TF shouts, “why are you stabbing me! There’s a god in the sky! Fight him!”.

“Naw, UnderGrowth actually likes Nocturne, since sleeping humans aren’t actively polluting Mother Nature”.

“Fuck that stupid grass stain”.

“I’m going to end you”.

Orson blinks at his phone, DP, Danny Phantom. A real person, in a real town, that looked like a real superhero. It’s that rumoured haunted town actually, a real haunted town. What the actual hell? Is he friends with a superhero or sidekick? Who’s also a hacker? And eats a concerning amount of meat without getting sick somehow? Has all the stories he’s been getting, and not reacting strongly too, been real??? Alright, okay, gotta play it cool self. He probably actually thought Orson was taking him seriously and has decided that Orson passed some kind of weirdness meter test. This was basically almost an identity reveal wasn’t it? Holy crap he’s involved in a real life comic book secret identity reveal.

The ‘Nocturne’ guy gets blasted into a wall, DP pelting It with eggs he got from somewhere. The Nocturne holding up a massive canister over Its head, “YOU WILL FAIL IF YOU DO NOT SLEEP!”.

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit”, TF comes sorta back on screen, grabbing up his PDA, the ‘facial markings’ don’t look like make up, it looks like it’s part of his skin. “Okay okay, so that right up there is a massive thing of halothane vapour from the looks of it, fun. So we’re all probably gonna pass out here, feel free to disconnect if shit gets boring”.

Orson squeaks a little, “boring? You get up to some insane shit. Why is a… sleep god? Trying to knock y’all out?”. Roll with the punches, gotta roll with the punches. Freak out later.

TF snickers, “DP doesn’t get enough sleep and has been frustrating this ghost since he formed. God’s am I right? Ha!”.

“Get back here you!”.

“Oh for crying out loud! I’ll fix your freaking plant okay! Ugh!”. TF gets smacked into a wall all by the plant girl anyways.

Orson eyes the parts of his drone before looking back to the screen, “why are you helping a random friend you made, build a drone when this crap is going on?”. Because it seriously has to be asked.

TF uses sand to push himself out of the wall rubble, “eh, normalicy is nice and shit, plus you’re impressively chill. I bring up sneaking into a death gods liquor cabinet and you just give me a ‘that’s nice, have fun. Don’t hospitalise yourself’. Sure, Red’s chill but she’s more DP’s friend”, smirking, “and his ex, plus she rides a hoverboard and shoots ghosts so…”.

Oh okay, so there’s a fourth one. This is completely insane. Whelp. Guess he’s in it now though. Orson shrugging, “I’ve always been a pretty laid back guy, though this is definitely the craziest thing I’ve seen. Way worse than that chic on drugs or something who was trying to bite people”.

“Oh yeah drugs are bad, way worse than hacking regardless what the government has to say about it”.

Then the canister explodes, giving Orson a serious anxiety spike as bits of metal impale in things and gas starts going everywhere. DP actually does a comedic salute in the air before just falling to the ground. The Nocturne guy looks very pleased with Itself and actually wraps around the probably unconscious teen, hissing at the plant girl when she tries to approach.

TF cringing, “stupid obsessive ghosts. DP looks like he’s been bent like a shrimp”, TF moving his PDA camera and yeah the black and white teens position is kinda shrimp like.

All Orson can think to say is, “great, now I’m hungry”.

TF laughing while hurling a fist full of sand, “HA! Yeah sushi would be great right now”.

“You disgust me”.

“NONE SHALL DISTURB HIS SLUMBER!”.

Was it normal for ‘villains’ to seemingly baby heroes? Because that’s what this looks like. Nocturne literally just wants the black and white teen to sleep, that’s it. Weird. And then freaking pillow monsters??? Start storming the screen, TF and Nightshade/plant girl doing battle with them. The zoom gets cut out so Orson is just going to assume the device got broke.

…

Okay.

So.

That happened.

One question, well many really, but why is someone so tech focused going with a freaking Egyptian theme? Nightshade made sense, he’s pretty sure even her ‘code name’ is actually a plant. And DP was, well, a literal ghost so the Phantom name made sense. Weird that ghosts were actually real still. Yes he’s seen some stuff about them on the news occasionally but it still seemed so far fetched. And he’s pretty sure he saw some people dressed up as DP at last years comic con.

Weird.

Very weird.

Well. Nothing for it now. So he sends TF a message asking if he’s good. It takes multiple hours but….

TooFine: we’re good, DP’s still out cold and has been abducted into a sleep gods lair but like, we good. Sleepy Blanket won’t try to skin him like some people.

OriOri: that’s good? I mean, his skin would probably make a poor blanket?

TooFine: HA! Thats the kinda joke DP would make! He’ll be proud

TooFine: he’ll be proud whenever he wakes up

TooFine: and when Sleepy Blanket stops acting like a crazy dragon protecting its horde

TooFine: and when he finds his way back to the land of living

OriOri: it’ll be a while

TooFine: good. He really should sleep more

TooFine: the dumbass

OriOri: if he gets so little his pissed off god then yeah. That’s impressive actually

TooFine: you have no idea. Anyways, tots sorry for dipping on your little project. I’d offer Techy’s services as make up but he’s an idiot with newer tech

Orson has no clue who that is and isn’t going to ask.

OriOri: at this point I’m more curious why the heck you went with an Egyptian theme for a guy who hacks the federal gov and makes visual horror games

TooFine: eh, it would be kinda weird if a reincarnated pharaoh wasn’t Egyptian themed, you know how it is. Technically you don’t but you know you know

Orson sighs, this was so weird. But he is so not going to let on that he never believe the shit TF said.

OriOri: I guess? Now do you know how to better connect female usb c to an hdmi, cause it’s pissing me off

TooFine: *snort*

TooFine: but of course I do. Debendint on how far you need the connection to work you might have to bike something from scratch. I tots got blueprints and they are definitely not stolen from the fbi terror investigations unit. Definitely not.

Orson was probably going to get arrested one day because of this, but screw it, TF was fun to talk too and made his mostly boring life more interesting. Not interesting enough to ever consider moving to the guys nightmare town though. Not a chance in Hell.

End.

Prompts: Tucker fucked up. Hard. But it’s like, how the hell was he supposed to know that hacking the federal government was a bad idea? Nocturne takes a liking to Danny and decides to help teach him a lesson, whether Danny wants it or not. Outsider POV. Tucker makes a new online acquaintance, and will casually allude to the crazy shit he and his friends get up to while ghost hunting. The new acquaintance thinks Tucker is just embellishing the truth, until…

[xzerosparrowx]

For week seven of @astrangersummer

Prompt: "or maybe we don't." / laugh | wc: 1,061 | Rating: M | cw: drug use, mentions of a dead character (Barbara) | tags: skinny dipping, night swimming, trespassing, inspired by Pablo Neruda, soft love, Steve PoV.

-

like sunshine on skin, a warm blanket in winter.

“... I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love…” - Pablo Neruda (One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII)

The leaves rustle gently in the balmy summer breeze, the hum of crickets and cicadas fill the air like music and in the gentle darkness of a clear night Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson lounge on the rooftop of the Harrington house.

Milky white smoke curls in the air between them, the heady scent of earth, pine, and plum fill their lungs until their limbs are slow and deliberate. The stars are bright and clear, pinpricks of light against the expansive, endless darkness, and in the blue night, Steve cannot help but think that Eddie Munson is beautiful.

“So, you don't like swimming in your own pool?” Eddie breathes out, holding out the blunt for Steve to take.

The hairs on Steve's arm stand on end when the brush against Eddie's fingers is warm and electric. “Yeah,” he says, sucking in the smoke, “I have this dream where I'm in there doing breast stroke or something and every time I come up for air I'd see her sitting at the edge of the pool looking at me.” Steve recalls, taking another hit, holding it out to Eddie.

“Fuck man, that's rough,” Eddie mumbles, bringing the joint to his mouth. They're silent for a few moments, basking in the stillness of night.

Steve can see the jagged scar that cuts into the pale skin of Eddie's jaw, a blooming drop of blood against fresh snow. He knows there are more scars all over Eddie's body, more splatters of blood. Steve has only been able to peek at those ones, glances through partially open bathroom doors, and loose singlets at gigs. He wants to touch all of them, to feel Eddie against his lips, and know that he is warm and alive.

“But other pools you're ok swimming in?” Eddie asks, giving the joint back to Steve.

Steve shrugs “yeah, I guess,” he answers, taking the last hit and stubbing the joint on the tile beneath him.

“Well, that does it then,” Eddie stands, brushing off non-existent dirt from his black jeans.

“What?”

“I feel like going for a swim, and we can't go in the one you see ghosts in,” Eddie explains, climbing through the window that leads into Steve's bedroom.

“Is it Hagan or Carver that's got a pool?” Eddie asks when Steve follows him down the stairs.

“Hagan, but Carver lives near Lovers Lake. I think they got like a dock or something,” Steve rambles. He's still following Eddie, the other boy opening the door to the garage and making a beeline to Steve's bike.

“Lovers Lake can get fucked,” Eddie scoffs, pushing the bike to the garage door just as Steve pushes the button to open it. It's only when Eddie is already halfway down the driveway, swinging a leg over the bike that Steve's brain catches up.

“Hey hey hey hey,” he runs, placing his hands on the handlebars, “or how about maybe we don't go over to Tommy's to use his pool?”

“And why not?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, the other settling on his hip “shit man, cause it’s the middle of the night. They're gonna be asleep.”

Eddie cackles, bright and loud, a soft look in his eyes as if Steve were a particularly cute puppy “that's kind of the point, Stevie.”

“We don't have any swimming trunks,” Steve adds, not really knowing the point he is trying to make.

“Night swimming and skinny dipping usually go hand in hand, big boy,” Eddie concludes, the large grin on his face softening into something else.

“Ok fine, but I'm dri- I'm gonna be the one riding the bike, you're no-muscle-having-legs won't be able to push the bike with both of us on it.”

Eddie gets off the bike with a bark of laughter, and Steve hops on, taking a large steadying breath when he feels Eddie's hands on his shoulders as the other boy stands on the bike behind him.

It is not a long bike ride. The Hagan's are practically neighbors, separated by a bit of the forest surrounding them. Eddie climbs off, and Steve follows, their footsteps silent as they approach the wooden fence that cuts the backyard off to the rest of the world. Steve watches Eddie climb smoothly over it, and he wonders if the guy has done this before.

Steve lands on the other side without issue, his eyes landing on Eddie, who is already standing by the edge of the pool and toeing off his shoes.

They take off their clothes in silence, casting them aside in a heap until the pair are in nothing but their boxer briefs. Steve's eyes roam the planes of Eddie's torso, the badges of survival pinned all over.

“Steve,” he hears Eddie whisper, the low voice bringing him back so their eyes meet.

It is a slow process, but Steve's heart quickens when Eddie’s ringed hands toy with the waistband of their underwear, his mouth going dry the further Eddie pulls them down. Steve wants to touch. God, he wants to touch him.

“Your turn,” Eddie says, throwing his underwear to the pile of clothes. Steve quickly follows suit, his eyes latched onto Eddie, watching the other boy watching him.

They don't dive in the water. Instead, they slowly slip in, the cool water sending a rush of goosebumps over Steve's skin. They laugh quietly together, breathy and hesitant, the thrill and fear of trespassing and being caught thrumming between them. They swim in circles around each other, a string between them that pulls them closer second by second until they are only a breath away.

Steve cannot look away from Eddie. Not when Eddie closes his eyes. Or when his fingers lightly caress Eddie's jaw. And never when the boy leans into the touch.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, saying his name like a promise, a confession, a prayer, and permission.

It is not fast or loud. There are no dark clouds of doubt and fear. It is a slow, gentle thing, a truth like golden sunshine against skin, a warm blanket in winter. It is simple and uncomplicated.

Steve loves Eddie.

[wroteclassicaly]

Winter is the bane of your existence, your fingertips prickling with that icy electric as they struggle to lock your door with trembling hands. You’d lost your mismatched gloves in the laundry pile you’ve yet to do, and with your dad coming for supper this weekend, you realized you had to venture out into the arctic rain to get a few things at the store. It’s only a block from your trailer, but the moment you leave the confines of a tin roof that shields you beneath safety on your porch — you wish you would have managed your finances better, to save back some cash to order a pizza instead. Holding onto the railing, your legs tighten to hold you steady, deep black sludge darkening the wood of your steps, covering your half-shoveled walkway. You clutch your Goodwill thrifted handbag, digging out your list and balancing your ink pen between your teeth.

This, of course, has you not looking as you approach your mailbox to start your journey, failing to hear snow pack itself down beneath bike tires. His big feet hit the pedals for all they’re worth, and he lets them slam into the ground to slide, cold instantly soaking through his boots, past his socks, and landing across his toes. He prevents a total collision, but his torso catches you by the shoulder and his arms release his mailbag, crashing into the ground along with your tangled limbs. Your purse goes flying across the road, list destroyed, ink pen a casualty. It takes you a few moments to realize that you’re laying back against his chest, legs wound together, his bike several feet beyond, both of you soaked in muddy rain water and discolored snow, that you pray to god Old lady Tilly’s Pomeranian didn’t piss or shit in.

Everything aches, near that numbing, throbbing process from temperatures. Baron is groaning behind you, fingerless gloves swiping his chocolate tresses from his face. Looks like he forgot his hat today, you note, drinking in his disheveled appearance beneath his patchwork coat (you’re pretty sure he got that thing from a time capsule planted in the 70’s). His green cargo pants are sopping wet, having taken the brunt of the mud, his cheeks are dusted pink, along with his damp mouth and red nose. He’s an absolute treasure, shining everytime you see him, blinding your vision and common sense.

You look down as your skin warms from your realized predicament, almost forgetting about the snow and slush soaking through your pants, and now your panties.

“You okay, doodlebug?” His accented voice is winded, his hands reaching out gently to grasp his own ankle and lift it off of yours. Once your legs are free, he pulls you up with him and that hidden strength he possesses, his coat crunching under rustling fabric.

Your snow boots smack into the watery muck below, one hand held in his massive, gloved palm, the other planting itself on his jacket clad chest. You’re nodding, lifting your chin to face him. “I’m so sorry, Baron. M’ good, I just wasn’t paying attention —“

“You know how many times I’ve done that? Knocked into your mailbox a time or two.” He reaches down beside you to knock his knuckles across several indents in your box’s post. It makes you shiver, cars driving across snowy roads in the distance, a simple backtrack to you both.

Baron clears his deep, wind—coated throat, sniffling softly, taking a few steps behind him to grab up your purse. He brings it to you with an offered hand, starting to protest as you bend to retrieve his overflowing bag. Nothing is ruined, thankfully, and you make a quick exchange, fingers lingering, grazing.

“You’re cold, sweetheart. Should be wearing somethin’ on your hands. Momma used to tell me how fast the weather works against us.”

At the mention of his mother, you note his jostled deflation. You try to lighten his spirits, thanking him for breaking your short fall. “Just grateful we didn’t seem to land on anything special. Like a clockwork present from Mrs. Tilly’s dog.”

It’s comical how his moss-shrouded eyes, kissed beneath luscious lashes — widen in fear. He whispers, just to you, with tendrils of his hair blowing over your nose, tickling, caressing, drifting from your cheekbone, and even nicking your forehead. “Did it, ya know… do its business in there, you think?”

“I considered it within the first seconds, but I think we’re safe.” You’re chuckling, and the next sentence is leaving your mouth before you can stop it. “I think your ass got the brunt of the damage, if we’re being honest.”

He marvels at your language, lips pursing and then they pop, tongue clicking at the roof of his mouth. You start to wonder if you’ve overstepped, but he smirks, the corner of his mouth, tugging in a way that makes you want to kiss him breathless, not missing a beat. “You wanna check it out for me?”

Your brows raise higher on your frozen forehead, and he’s immediately apologetic, manners kicking into overdrive. “No, oh my goodness. Doodlebug, that wasn’t very proper of me when you were just—a—kiddin’ and all.”

His flustered state gives you confidence. “Maybe if you spin real slow. As for checking it out, I’d love to, if I didn’t have to make the store before closing.” You sigh when reality pushes its way in. Here in this park it’s usually Baron that jumpstarts those reserved butterflies, giving you something to always look forward to.

“What are you needin’? I might have it at home.”

“Baron, I don’t want to take anything from you —“

“It’s not takin’ if I offered, now is it?”

He’s slipping his bag over his shoulder and yanking bike by the handlebar off the ground, one hand on his trim waistline.

“Some stuff for supper. Dad is comin’ in this weekend.” Baron’s smile melts you entirely, your energies on high alert. He knows how your lack of relationship with your father affects you. He feels a possessive need to protect. Besides, your pop doesn’t deserve you working yourself into a frenzy over a home cooked meal.

“I got a frozen pizza. I think that’ll do just fine for him.”

He raises a hand off his bike to push his hair back, and then scrambles to replace it, the heavy object almost clattering onto the ground once more.

By god, he’s too cute for his own good.

“Okay.” It’s not one word, but it’s how you say it. Pliant and secure, satiated.

“Okay.” He replies, bashful, toeing his work boot into the ground and swirling it around the slush. “You go on back in and I’ll bring it to ya after my route?”

Your response shocks his flickering gaze into finding you. “Can I walk with you, Bar?”

Because yeah, you sure can…

// Eat me paragraph //

[mucking-faori]

THE GODS HATE HIM TOO

"I am māori so I couldn't be doing anything to them uwu"

Text: Act Party leader David Seymour came a cropper on his electric bike in Auckland's Parnell on Sunday, and says he got a lot of help from passersby - but one onlooker was not quite so supportive.

Seymour was cycling on Parnell Rd after leaving the Holy Trinity Cathedral’s Commonwealth service in the early evening.

“I just didn’t see a car. It wasn’t their fault, they had right of way. So I slammed on the brakes and realised I was going to cartwheel over, but I also realised I was still going to hit the car so I slammed on the brakes harder and over I went.”

Seymour says he did not hit the car, and the people in it stopped and came back to check on him. “They were mortified, but it wasn’t their fault.”

He was unhurt other than the shock and a sore wrist that he hoped would heal quickly. A number of people turned up to check on him, bringing out water and offering him a ride home.

However, there was one negative reaction to his plight.

“While I’m sitting on the traffic island in a state of shock, some guy comes over and starts filming me. I thought ‘that’s a bit weird’ and then he says ‘you know what, sometimes you get exactly what you deserve”.

“In a [British] accent, he said ‘look what you’re doing to Māori, you’re just a trust fund baby who’s out of touch with reality.”

“I thought ‘I am Māori, and I don’t have a trust fund’.”

Seymour has been prominent this year for pushing his Treaty Principles Bill, which attempts to define the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi, and the coalition government has also told government departments to use their English titles ahead of the te reo Māori title.

[checkingoutforheroes]

B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL

Part 4.

Avengers x fem!reader

Words: 1333

Synopsis: This takes place in Avengers: Age of Ultron. When The Avengers were at the rock bottom, Nick Fury and advised by Maria Hill, to initiate the B.A.B.Y Protocol. Will a young, damaged and broke girl agree to this initiative and help a team to save this planet earth?

Part 3

Main Masterlist

“There, that’s the truck from the lab. Right above you, Cap. By the bridge, it’s them. Got three with the cradle. I can take out the driver.” Clint was ready to shoot the truck but Steve disagree. “Negative. The truck crash, the gem could level the city. We need to draw out Ultron.” He jumps on the truck to get its attention.

Well, he did get its attention and it pissed. “No, no, no. Leave me alone!” Ultron shoot the truck door almost hit Steve. “Well, he is really unhappy! I’m trying to keep it that way!” Steve shouted while hanging on the broken door.

“You’re not a match for him, Cap.” Clint stated. “Thanks Barton.” Steve muttered.

Natasha sees the situation from their jet. “He needs help.” “I guess you wanna unpack your birthday present.” Clint told her to go behind the jet and wait for his queue. She pressed the button for the metal box and saw an electric Harley Davidson and mutter to herself. “That’s a birthday present.” She hops on the bike and waiting for Clint’s to open the bay. “We got a window. In 3,2, give him hell.”

The fights between them and the robots can take too much time and damaged. Natasha make other plans to their original plan of taking the cradle safely because it’s not working out so safe. “This isn’t going nowhere. Clint, can you draw the guards out?”

Clint shooting at Ulron in front of Steve trying to lure the minions out. “Let’s find out.” Three of the guard out and the truck is empty.

“Cap, keep him occupied. I’m going in!” Natasha drop her bike and jump into the truck.

Steve let out an exhausting breath. “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

Meanwhile at the tower, you walk on Maria and Fury’s discussion. “How’s everything? Did they get him?” Maria and Fury acknowledge your present and she pull a chair for you. “You should be on bed.” You just sat slowly on it. “Nah, I’ve been worse. This is nothing.”

Maria rolling her eyes at you. “You’ve been dead for 6 minutes until Tony change your device. What are worse than that?” You don’t have answer for that and Fury coming at you too. “And when are you planning on telling us? Next Christmas?” “I don’t even ask for it and I like to keep it shut. It’s not something to be proud of.” He huffs, “Once this is over, you’re going to see a doctor.” “Why everybody keeps telling me to find a doctor? I’ve been fine all this time. I’m here not to be taking care of. I’m here because the world is at stake and I’m here to help. Doing something, at least.”

“Proof that. Until then, you’re off the mission. Agent Hill, follow me to pick up our old stuff back.” Fury order. “Can I tag along?” Maria turns to you. “We’ll be back. Why don’t you help us monitoring them for us? Use this for contact and maybe help Stark and Banner. But please, for the love of God, don’t ever piss him off.” She walks out of the room, following Fury.

Bruce notice you’re walking towards them. “How’s your feeling?” “Just another day at the office. Still getting the hang of it.”

Tony and Bruce watched and heard some of your conversation earlier. “Gotta admit. I adore your spirit.” Tony expressed. “I never thank you, to both of you yet. Thank you, for saving my life.” Bruce smiling softly and nod. “You’re welcome.”

“Are you kidding? We’re a team. We’re the Avengers. Once you step a foot in this building, you’re the Avengers. We help each other. Well, maybe some of us being a pain in ass but yeah, you’re one of us now. Welcome to the club kid.” Tony reasoned it for you and your eyes lit up on them. “Really? You mean that? Am I, an Avengers?” Tony looking at Bruce while he continues working on his computer. “Bruce. Back me up here.” “I don’t see why not. You’re young and we’re all above 30. We can use a fresh blood.�� “Legacy. Thanks Shrek.” Tony responded and you let out a chuckle “I guess you’re the one being the pain in ass.” “Everyone asses” Bruce nod down and we’ll continue our work.

While trying to crack the code for that cradle, Natasha feels the truck lifting. “The package just air borne. I have a clean shot.” Clint tell them on the comm. “Negative. I am still in the truck.” she needs to think fast.

“What the hell did you...” Natasha cut his sentences while cutting the rope that tied to the cradle. “Just be ready. I’m sending the package to you.”

Clint ready on his position. “How do you want me to take it?”

“Uhhh… You might wish you didn’t ask that.”

Wanda fly in the train to help Steve and front the Ultron. “Please. You don’t have to do that.” Somehow, Ultron is kinda sound scared and he fly out the train. “Surveillance in our path. Can you stop this train?” Steve ordered and both of them do their best to stop the train and people around it.

Once the cradle touches the Quinn jet floor, Ultron manage to snatch Natasha’s leg and take her with him. “Nat!” Clint saw the incident but he can’t do anything to help her while piloting the jet. “Cap, did you see Nat?”

“If you have the cradle, take it to Stark!” Steve ordered.

“Do you have eyes on Nat?!” Asking again for confirmation.

“Go!” Steve shout.

Wanda telling Steve about what Ultron’s plan. “I read him. Ultron can’t tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it. We have to move fast.”

He disappointed and fly that jet back to the tower and leave his friend behind. “Damn it!” He contact the tower when he’s close for them to prepare and inform about their current situation. “Quinn jet to tower. Quinn jet to tower.” You hear his voice and press a button to accept his call. “Quinn jet, this is Y/N speaking from the tower. You’re affirm to report.” Clint told you that he’s 15 minutes away to arrive and Natasha is missing in action. “Oh God.” You pull down the headset and running to find Tony and Bruce. “They’ve got Nat. She’s m.i.a.” Bruce takes his glasses off. “You have her tracker right?” Tony rush to his computer “I’ll find her.”

You and Banner helps Clint unload the cradle and bring it into the lab and Tony walks in. Disappointment shows on his face and Bruce ask before I do. “Did you find her?” He just walks straight toward the cradle. “Haven’t heard but I’m sure she’s alive or Ultron would rub us in the face.” Seriously? Did he truly find her at all? You want to ask him that but Clint change the topic. “This seal tight.” He stands next to you.

Tony turn around to look at both of you and Clint, ignoring Bruce. “Is there any chance she might leave a massage outside the internet? Old school spy stuff perhaps.”

“You worry about the cradle.”

“We’ll find her.” Both you and Clint walks out that lab.

Clint handle the modern tech frequency while you handle the old one. “You okay with that? Wanna switch up?” You tuning on the frequency “I’m good. I can’t be near that high tech frequency anyway. That’s why I still have my Walkman and not Bluetooth headset. You know, because my…” You pointing at your left chest and he nodding. “Right. I hope she led us somewhere.” You smile at him. “She’s Natasha. She’ll make plan.”

It is true. Natasha did figure something out. While you tuning the frequency, you hear a static note. Tuning it again to have a clear shot. Natasha sending you her location by Morse code. You tell Clint to decode it on the screen. “You’re right. She did have plan.”

[pricelessemotion]

Lectori Salutem | E.M.

Summary: [5.1k] you and eddie shoot pool and spill secrets.

Pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!music journalist! reader

Warnings: drinking, language

Notes: things are finally picking up! next chapter will include some 18+ content so you must have your age in your bio for the taglist!

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Eddie clambers into the passenger seat of your car. Upon leaving the diner, you managed to convince him to let you drive to your next destination, citing a general need to live. 

The drive back to Eddie’s was considerably less nerve-wracking. This go around, he decided to obey the speed limit and not split lanes like a maniac. Not only did he give you peace of mind but he also spared the delicious french toast that you ate from making a reappearance. 

Turning the key, the car starts with a light rumble. The sound of electric guitars and heavy drums shatters the silence between the two of you. 

Fuck.

You still had the Corroded Coffin tape in your stereo. 

Eddie is turned away from you, grabbing the seatbelt. At the sound of his own voice being played back to him, he slowly turns around to look at you. The grin on his face would put the Cheshire cat to shame. 

“I didn’t know you were a fan, sweetheart.” The nickname is saccharine coming out of his mouth. 

“I–” You sputter, trying to come up with a good defense. “I’m thorough in my research.”

Eddie is obviously amused at the fact that he’s caught you red-handed. His seatbelt is already buckled, but it’s stretched thin as he leans across the center console. He smells like syrup and cigarettes. For a second, you consider turning the stereo off completely. 

“Should I be scared? Do you have a shrine to me in your room? Do you have my face tattooed on your ass?” With each question his voice gets louder and louder, filling the tiny space with his velvety timbre. 

Though your face is hot with embarrassment, you’re secretly relieved. Any semblance of tension from bringing up Evelyn at the diner has dissipated. It’s been shredded with every strum of a guitar. You find it’s easier to be around Eddie this way. It’s easier to give in to his playfulness, rather than try to maintain the facade of professionalism. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You say, casting him a sideways glance. 

Eddie, for the most part, remains stoic. But you catch the twitch of his mouth and see the tell-tale shade of pink flood his cheeks. If anything should be indicative of the fact that you’ve stunned him, it’s that he’s stopped talking for the first time since you met him. Another thing you’ve learned about Eddie Munson: He never shuts up. 

You release the parking brake and peel off into the streets. If Eddie is at all bothered by listening to his own music, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he takes the opportunity to quietly sing along, only stopping to pepper in commentary about the track or to give you directions. The richness of his voice is so distracting that you haven’t even noticed that you have no idea where he’s taking you.

Trying to find street parking in East Hollywood is a fruitless endeavor. You almost wish you had taken up Eddie’s offer to ride his bike. Eddie directs you around the backside of a building where a sign indicates that it’s a private parking lot, not meant for public use. He assures you that you won’t get towed.

The Blue Line is a bar tucked in between a Thai restaurant and a dry cleaners. Walking up to the doors, you’re hit with the clashing scents of peanut sauce and fresh linen.  

There are very few people inside, given that it’s a bar and it’s barely even five o’clock yet. The soles of your shoes stick to the floor, making a quiet but awful velcro-like sound with every step you take.

“Buckley!” Eddie’s voice booms as you enter the establishment, echoing off the concrete floors and exposed brick walls.

A tall, freckled girl springs up behind the counter. At the sound of her name, she grins, her dark lipstick contrasting pearly white teeth. 

“Munson!” She yells back. The few patrons that linger around various areas of the bar are evidently disturbed by the sudden change in volume, turning their heads and scowling. She doesn’t seem to care. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Just looking to shoot some pool in the best bar in L.A.” Buckley audibly snorts at the last part of his statement. “My tab still open?”

“Always.” She shakes her head and raises her brows at him as if to say, of course. She turns to look at you. “Who’s your friend?”

Your mouth opens, but the words die on your tongue. You and Eddie are not friends. At least, you’re not supposed to be. But you don’t know if you want to tell this woman, who Eddie is clearly close with, that you’re here on assignment to try to cherry-pick the best parts of him and turn them into something palatable. 

At your hesitation, Eddie swoops in and makes the introduction for you. He doesn’t mention the fact that you’re a journalist. Whether the omission is for your benefit or his, you’re not sure.

“Nice to meet you,” She throws the rag she was using to wipe down the counter over her shoulder and extends her hand. “I’m Robin.” 

Her handshake is firm, but her eyes are soft. The fine bottles of liquor behind her are backlit by an unseen light source, giving the illusion of stained glass. She quickly turns around and rummages through the minifridge and grabs two beers. 

“You know the rules, Munson, don’t get too rowdy and clean up when you’re done.” She says, popping the caps off of the beverages and setting them down on the counter.

“Me?” Eddie grasps his chest in faux incredulity, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Too rowdy? Never.” 

Robin sticks her tongue out at him in response right as she’s being flagged down by a customer at the far end of the bar. She salutes the both of you, flouncing away to refill the man’s old-fashioned. 

To your right, there’s something akin to a hall of fame. A collage of pictures of different celebrities that have visited the very room you’re standing in. You wonder if Eddie is up there, but you don’t dare to go see for yourself.

“Can you play?” He asks, walking towards the pool table. 

You make a noncommittal noise. You had played your fair share of games of pool, sure, but never in a setting quite like this. Never with someone like Eddie. Setting your bag down on one of the empty tables that lined the perimeter of the room, you pull out your tape recorder.

“You mind?” You ask, holding up the device in Eddie’s direction. 

Eddie grimaces and shrugs off his leather jacket, draping it over a bar stool at the opposite end of the table. The motion draws attention to the plethora of ink that litters both of his arms.

“Do we have to?” His face scrunches up as he asks the question, a slight whine in his tone. 

You almost feel inclined to say no, if only just to see the wrinkle that has formed between his brows disappear. Another thing you’ve learned about Eddie Munson: he is very hard to say no to. That’s how you ended up in this bar in the first place. 

It would be easy to forgo the tape recorder and pretend that the two of you are just friends hanging out. But if there’s one thing that you know, it’s that the human memory is fallible. You can't risk the quality of your article for the sake of his comfort. 

“It’s what I’m here for.”

Eddie bristles at your response but says nothing. He takes a square of blue chalk and thoughtfully rubs it on the end of his pool cue. The sunglasses he took off are tugging down at his v-neck, exposing sharp collarbones and even more ink. 

“I have a proposition for you.” Eddie declares. 

You raise an eyebrow. 

“For every ball you sink, you get to ask me a question about my life. For every ball I sink, I get to ask you about yours.”

You let out an incredulous laugh, thinking that he can’t possibly be serious. But he just stands there, staring at you as he sets the blue piece of chalk down at the edge of the table. 

“Final offer. Take it or leave it.” He throws both palms up in the air, pool cue tucked into his side. 

For the second time today, you take Eddie’s words as a challenge.

“You’re on.” 

Eddie takes his time setting up the game. While he’s leaning over the side of the table gathering the scattered spheres, you can’t help yourself from admiring his silhouette. The back of his shirt rides up, revealing a strip of skin that you cannot tear your eyes away from. 

Oh my god.

Eddie Munson has a tramp stamp. 

A chaotic collection of branches and thorns surrounds a Latin phrase: lectori salutem. You rack your brain, trying to remember the one semester of elective Latin that you took back in freshman year of college when Eddie suddenly turns around. You quickly look up to meet his eyes, but the smirk on his face reveals everything. 

For the second time today, Eddie has caught you staring. 

“Ladies first.” He says, grandly gesturing toward the table. 

You break the rack. A blur of colors bursts forth in every direction. Despite your best efforts, none of the balls make it into a pocket. Looking back at Eddie, you see he’s still got that smirk on his face. He leans over and effortlessly knocks a ball into a pocket. Stripes. 

“Where did you go to school?”

“NYU.” You reply, having been asked this question so many times that the response is practically automatic at this point.

Eddie lets out a low whistle. “Out-of-state tuition must’ve cost a pretty penny.”

“I had a scholarship.”

“Wow. Pretty and smart. You’re kind of the whole package, aren’t you?” The teasing lilt in his voice doesn’t take away from the sincerity in his words. 

The compliment flusters you, which you’re sure is the whole point of Eddie’s making it. 

“Only one question, remember? It’s still your turn.” 

Eddie sees right through your attempt to deflect. Graciously, he doesn’t point it out. He just leans down once again and lines up a shot. Stripes Twelve. Right lower pocket. 

“Why do you hate New York?”

The sureness with which he asks the question throws you for a loop. Whatever you had expected to come out of Eddie’s mouth, it definitely wasn’t that. 

“What makes you think I hate New York?”

“Tsk tsk. I’m asking the questions here.” Eddie scolds, but his voice is devoid of any real ire. He plants his hands on the table, leaning towards you. You can just barely see the faint outline of a gravestone on his right forearm. “You don’t hate it, but you don’t love it either.”

In the five minutes that have passed since he started questioning you, Eddie has managed to see right through you. You’re starting to wonder if you’re actually that transparent or if he is just that good at reading people.

“I don’t know. My dad is from there. Whenever he talked about New York, it always seemed like some mythical place. He always said ‘Don’t live in New York so long it makes you hard. Don’t live in California so long it makes you soft.’ I guess I went to New York to prove to myself that I could, y’know. Prove that I could leave the nest and not fall flat on my face.”

Heat blooms in your chest during your ramblings. The pressure you feel is so much that you’re surprised steam hasn’t started coming out of your ears. Despite knowing exactly why you went to New York, you’ve never said the real reason out loud. It didn’t seem like it mattered to anyone but you. 

Eddie has a thoughtful look on his face. “3,000 miles is a long way to go to prove a point.”

You shrug. Eddie pauses for a moment, waiting for something. At the realization that you’re not going to say anything more, he leans over the table and shoots.

Stripes. Thirteen. Top right pocket.

“Did you?” Eddie posits, elaborating on the quirk of your brow. “Prove your point?”

You want to laugh. That’s the same question you’ve been asking yourself since you made the move back west. The prodigal daughter returned with nothing to show for it. 

“I proved that living in California my whole life made me soft.” You admit, gazing down at the table, the floor, your shoes, anywhere but his face. 

Eddie frowns in your periphery. He has a clear shot at the far end of the table. You wish he would take it already. 

“It’s not a bad thing, y’know.” Eddie’s fiddling with his pool cue, generously rubbing more blue chalk on the end. You don’t know much about pool, but you doubt that it’s necessary. It seems like he’s doing it more to prolong the inevitable. “Being soft.”

“Isn’t it?”

You’re almost sure that he’s joking. Actually–you’re sure that he’s making fun of you. He must be. The notion makes you angry. Oh, of course, the heavy metal rockstar is extolling the virtues of being soft! You look up, a snide remark already on the tip of your tongue. But when you finally meet his eyes, his gaze is intense. Contemplative, even. You take another sip of your beer and hope it washes away the lingering bitterness. 

Eddie Munson and his damn sincerity.

He looks as if he’s about to say something, but then decides against it. He leans over, lining up that clear shot that you had spotted earlier. His necklace hangs from his neck, the red guitar pick grazing green cloth. 

Stripes. Nine. Middle left pocket. 

“So,” Eddie starts, smiling satisfactorily to himself. “Do you actually have my face tattooed on your ass?”

If his earlier question about hating New York shocked you, then this one was like being struck by lightning. You gape at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You should’ve known that this would come back to bite you.

“It’s just a question.” He defends. “I’m genuinely curious.”

“No, Eddie, I do not have your face tattooed on my ass.” 

“But you do have a shrine of me in your room.”

“I am this close to using this pool cue to poke both your eyes out.” You threaten, absolutely buzzing with mortification. 

“Fine! Fine, I’ll let it go.” He concedes, before saying the next few words under his breath. “For now.” 

Eddie is the opposite of a bad sport when he misses his next shot. He only clicks his tongue and gives a slight shake of his head. You’re relieved that you finally have the chance to get out from under his microscope. 

Solids. Four. Bottom left pocket.  

“What do you like most about living in LA?” You ask. You know that it’s cliché, that everyone who moves here is asked the same question. But you can’t help but want to hear everyone’s answers. Each person you meet paints a picture of your hometown with vibrant colors. It’s always refreshing to hear a new perspective. 

“The food, oh my god, the food!” He practically moans. “I swear whatever bullshit they were passing off as Mexican food back in Indiana should be investigated.” 

Eddie goes on a whole tangent about tortillas that could easily be used in a commercial advertising the food scene of southern California. All of the talk about tortillas reminds him of his favorite food truck, located in East Los Angeles. It’s parked right across the street from a record store. He discovered it while trying to visit every record store in the city. 

“And speaking of record stores… I mean, fuck, you can’t find half the obscure shit that you have here back in Indiana. There’s no point in shipping your shit out to the midwest if no one’s gonna buy it I’m guessing.”

“I never even thought of that.” You admit. Every time you walked into a music store, there was always a new shipment waiting for a band you had never heard of. “Growing up, my favorite thing was always to go to the record store. Even if I didn’t buy anything, I would just sit in one of the booths and listen to vinyl.”

You smile at the memory of the sun streaming through windows and chunky headphones too big for your adolescent head. The nostalgia clouds your mind so much that you fumble the next shot, accidentally knocking a striped ball into a pocket and giving Eddie the chance to ask you yet another question. 

“Do you regret going to NYU?”

“No.” You say, and you mean it. “I think it’s good to get out of your comfort zone. I think… I think it’s important to figure out what’s wrong for you. Maybe even more important than figuring out what’s right.”

Eddie hums in agreement and excuses himself to go to the bathroom. You take the opportunity to eject the tape from the recorder and put in a fresh one. Tucking the tape into your bag, you remember that you still have the mixtape Eddie made for you. You make a mental note to listen to it on the way home.

“Having fun?” Robin appears next to you, gathering a few bottles that hapless patrons have left behind. She lifts Eddie’s off the table and adds it to her collection. You hadn’t even noticed that he had finished it. 

“Eddie is absolutely kicking my ass at pool right now.”

She barks out a laugh. 

“I know the feeling. We used to play with each other all the time back in Hawkins. I think I only won once, and that was because he was high off his ass.” 

Your ears perk up at the mention of the small town in Indiana. You could tell from their interactions that they were close, but this was a whole other level. Does she know about 1986? 

“Maybe he’ll have mercy on me.” You muse, slightly wincing at the doubtful look Robin gives you.

“I have faith in you. Don’t let Edward get into your head.” She squeezes your shoulder as she leaves, the glass bottles clinking in her wake. 

So, you think to yourself, Eddie stands for Edward. It’s a regal-sounding name. A little too refined for the rockstar who’s rough around the edges.

When Eddie returns from the bathroom, he holds two more beers in his hand. You’re about to say that you still haven’t even finished your first one. That you think one is enough. You still have to drive back, after all. But he sets both of them down next to his leather jacket, making it clear that they’re both for him. He sniffles as he approaches, giving a small cough to clear his throat. His knuckles brush the tip of his nose until it glows an angry red, even in the dim lighting. He pulls up his pool cue right to the edge of the green-striped ball. He’s got a clear shot. 

He shoots.

He misses. 

You quietly breathe out a sigh of relief. Despite the fact that your job is to get into the nitty-gritty of people’s lives, you’ve never been on the receiving end. It’s unnerving. There’s a reason why you’re a writer. You like the control of rough drafts and rewrites and edits. It leaves less room for misinterpretation.  

Circling the table, you hope to find an easy shot. 

“You have to actually hit the balls with the stick for them to go anywhere,” Eddie says, taking a long sip from his second beer. “Just wanted to make sure that you knew that.”

You roll your eyes at his obvious attempt to psych you out. Leaning over the far end of the table, you balance the pool cue delicately between your fingers. When you finally make the shot you smile to yourself as not just one, but two of the balls go careening into pockets at opposite ends of the table.

“You know, I’ve half a mind to think you were hustling me, sweetheart.” Eddie takes a long sip from his second beer, the condensation dripping down his hand. 

“It’s not hustling if you just assumed I would be bad at it.” You’re so proud of yourself that you can’t help the smugness in your voice. “What’s your middle name?”

“Now you’re crossing the line.” He deadpans. “That’s just too far.” 

“Oh come on, Edward.” At the sound of his legal name, Eddie’s facade drops. The reaction encourages you to continue your teasing. “It can’t be that bad.”

“How do you know that’s what Eddie stands for?”

“I have my sources.”

“Your sources could be wrong. It could stand for Edison. Or Edmund. Or Edgar.”

“Something tells me my sources are correct.” Your eyes flick over to the freckled girl behind the counter. Eddie catches your glance and kisses his teeth, shaking his head in exasperation. 

“What if you’re secretly a fairy who’s trying to get me to say my full name so that I’m indebted to you for the rest of my life?”

“Fine. Don’t tell me your middle name.” You concede, trying to come up with a better question.  “How did you know that I was a writer? Back in your room–when I picked up the book–you called me a writer.” 

“Isn’t that like, your whole thing?” Eddie waves his hand flippantly. 

“Yeah. But there’s a difference between journalistic writing and fiction writing. How did you know that I do both?”

Eddie takes another drink from the beer in his hand, thumb grazing the label. 

“Maybe I’m ‘thorough in my research’ too.” He says, quoting your words back to you.

It’s a non-answer and both of you know it. You decide not to press the issue. Maybe Eddie isn’t such a good sport after all. You started winning and he stopped playing fair, dodging your questions left and right. For someone who is supposed to be getting interviewed, he isn’t doing a very good job. You settle on a topic you hope he’s willing to actually talk about. 

“Patsy Cline.”

“What about Patsy Cline?”

“She didn’t exactly fit in with all of the metal.”

“My Uncle Wayne loves Patsy Cline. He would always play her records whenever he was cooking or cleaning. I guess listening to it reminds me of home.”

“So do you actually like it? Or do you just find it comforting?”

“Is there a difference?” Eddie muses at you from behind the lip of his beer bottle, before taking a long swig. “Wayne actually gave me that vinyl as a parting gift. He said it’s for ‘when you want to listen to real music’. He was only joking. Kinda.”

Eddie visibly softens while recalling the man who raised him. His tense shoulders have drooped and his jaw unclenches. He speaks of the older man with an unmatched fondness. 

“Wayne sounds like a funny guy.” You smile, sidling up to Eddie. “What’s he like?”

“He’s the best. He took me in when I was just about this big.” He juts his palm out at his waist.  “I had big ears, a buzzcut, and a gigantic chip on my shoulder. I was so– I was so angry at the world. He was the first person who told me it was okay to feel that way. 

He was a trucker before I came along, but then he quit and started working at the plant so that he could be there for me. Everything I do, it’s all for him.”

The words make your heart clench. Sparing yourself the embarrassment of revealing just how much his words got to you, you take your next shot. With misty eyes, you see the flash of blue make its way across the table and into a pocket. You already know what you’re gonna ask him. 

“Say you get everything you want. You win Grammys. You sell out Madison Square Garden. What next?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” Eddie polishes off the third beer. “I’d probably start by buying Wayne a house, but that’s if he’ll even let me. He’s always saying that I’m the kid and he’s the adult. That he’s supposed to be taking care of me, not the other way around.”

He lets out a quiet burp, which he muffles with his fist. His pool cue has been long forgotten next to him. The configuration on the table before you tells you that you can win in just two more rounds. You’re not sure if you want to. You try anyway. 

Solids. Three. Middle right pocket. 

“Does your reputation actually matter to you?”

“That’s a loaded question.” Eddie leans backward. He’s a little unsteady on his feet, the effects of the alcohol seeming to finally kick in. “Off the record?”

“Off the record.” 

You make a show of grabbing the tape recorder and clicking the stop button. You slide it over the wooded lip of the table, proving to him that the device really isn’t recording anymore. 

“Of course, my reputation matters to me. Anyone who says they don’t care about their reputation is lying. Sure, you learn to brush it off. You learn to expect that everyone you meet is gonna have preconceived notions about you. Whatever. People have always had some shit to say about me, I say let ‘em talk.

But it never gets any easier realizing that everyone you meet thinks they know you just because of some shit they read in a magazine. It never gets easier knowing that nothing you do belongs to you anymore.”

Eddie’s words weigh on you. Whether or not he realizes it, you fall into both those categories. You had turned your nose up at the lousy headlines. You had thought he was just another reckless rockstar. Now, you’re tasked with writing him a new one, one that’ll make people like you see him in a better light. It's still the same. He still doesn’t get to control how this story ends. 

“Is that why you agreed to this interview?”

You know you’re essentially wasting a question. Whatever his answer will be won’t matter in the long run, because you won’t be able to use it. You want to know the answer anyway. 

Eddie looks down at the table and then back to you. You know that he could tell you that you used up your question. That if he was a little less drunk he would probably diffuse the tension by quipping back to you, only one question, remember? He doesn’t. He sees that you have the winning shot perfectly laid out for you. This time, he doesn’t prolong the inevitable.

“Yeah, it is.”

You make the shot. Just like that, the game is over. Your victory feels hollow. 

A blue-striped ball sits lonely on the table. A question left unasked. An answer left unheard. 

Eddie puts his leather jacket back on and brings the empty beer bottles back to Robin. You pick up the tape recorder. It feels like dead weight in your hands.

You meet Eddie at the counter, where he’s happily chatting with an amused Robin, all previous tension regarding your last question seemingly forgotten. You bid your goodbyes. The two of you shuffle awkwardly together towards the entrance before Eddie gets distracted by something.

“Oh my god, I love these!” Eddie regards the gumball machine full of small, shitty prizes with a childlike wonder. 

He grabs his wallet from the pocket of his jacket, dutifully pulling out two quarters. He shoves them both into the coin slots and cranks the handle. The machine spits out a plastic capsule with a bright green lid. He takes the prize and thrusts it into your hands. 

“For you.”

You’re confused by the sentimental gesture but decide not to question it. Shaking the contents out into your hand, the prize reveals itself to be an 8 ball keychain. 

“Hey! We match!” Eddie pulls out the motorcycle keys from his pocket, and sure enough there’s an 8 ball hanging from the key ring that’s identical to the one you’re holding in your hand. 

“Yeah.” You smile to yourself, twirling the small sphere between your fingers. “We do.”

The drive back to the house in West Hollywood is quiet this time. You elected to switch from the cassette to the radio as soon as you got in. The sounds of classic rock drift between the two of you. Eddie spends the entire drive looking out the window, proving himself to be a quiet and contemplative drunk rather than an obnoxious and outspoken drunk. 

Pulling up to the curb, you feel slightly awkward. You’ve never been good at goodbyes. 

“You doing anything tomorrow?” Eddie’s head flops in your direction, his body language giving away the depth of his inebriation. 

“Um.” You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what he might be planning. “It depends. What time?”

“Around noon? We have a recording session tomorrow and I just thought maybe you’d like to hear some of the stuff we’ve been working on. Plus you’d get to meet the other guys. It would be good, right? For your article.”

He says the last sentence as if it’s an afterthought. 

“For the article.” 

“It’s at the recording studio near Sunset? Big red sign, can’t miss it.” He’s using his hands again as he talks. The silver rings glint under the yellow of the street lamps. “Can I have your number, though? Just in case it gets canceled or something. I don’t want you to show up and think I’m sending you on a wild goose chase.”

“Sure.” You rattle off the number for him. Eddie continues looking at you, glassy-eyed and rosy-cheeked. “Are you sure you don’t want me to write it down for you?”

“I have a good memory.” He grins toothily, tapping his temple with his index finger. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

With that, he tumbles out of the car and stumbles to the front door. You watch his retreating figure with the realization that you’ve barely scratched the surface of who Eddie Munson is.

You remember to swap cassettes before pulling away. As you begin mentally writing the beginnings of his article in your head, the mixtape plays softly in the background. 

Living in a world of make believe 

I can hide behind what's real

But wearing your emotions on your sleeve

And they all know what you feel

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