#let's go Tucson

[kiss-inthekitchen]

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Amazon’s financial shell game let it create an “impossible” monopoly

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then San Francisco (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!

For the pro-monopoly crowd that absolutely dominated antitrust law from the Carter administration until 2020, Amazon presents a genuinely puzzling paradox: the company's monopoly power was never supposed to emerge, and if it did, it should have crumbled immediately.

Pro-monopoly economists embody Ely Devons's famous aphorism that "If economists wished to study the horse, they wouldn’t go and look at horses. They’d sit in their studies and say to themselves, ‘What would I do if I were a horse?’":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/27/economism/#what-would-i-do-if-i-were-a-horse

Rather than using the way the world actually works as their starting point for how to think about it, they build elaborate models out of abstract principles like "rational actors." The resulting mathematical models are so abstractly elegant that it's easy to forget that they're just imaginative exercises, disconnected from reality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/03/all-models-are-wrong/#some-are-useful

These models predicted that it would be impossible for Amazon to attain monopoly power. Even if they became a monopoly – in the sense of dominating sales of various kinds of goods – the company still wouldn't get monopoly power.

For example, if Amazon tried to take over a category by selling goods below cost ("predatory pricing"), then rivals could just wait until the company got tired of losing money and put prices back up, and then those rivals could go back to competing. And if Amazon tried to keep the loss-leader going indefinitely by "cross-subsidizing" the losses with high-margin profits from some other part of its business, rivals could sell those high margin goods at a lower margin, which would lure away Amazon customers and cut the supply lines for the price war it was fighting with its discounted products.

That's what the model predicted, but it's not what happened in the real world. In the real world, Amazon was able use its access to the capital markets to embark on scorched-earth predatory pricing campaigns. When diapers.com refused to sell out to Amazon, the company casually committed $100m to selling diapers below cost. Diapers.com went bust, Amazon bought it for pennies on the dollar and shut it down:

https://www.theverge.com/2019/5/13/18563379/amazon-predatory-pricing-antitrust-law

Investors got the message: don't compete with Amazon. They can remain predatory longer than you can remain solvent.

Now, not everyone shared the antitrust establishment's confidence that Amazon couldn't create a durable monopoly with market power. In 2017, Lina Khan – then a third year law student – published "Amazon's Antitrust Paradox," a landmark paper arguing that Amazon had all the tools it needed to amass monopoly power:

https://www.yalelawjournal.org/note/amazons-antitrust-paradox

Today, Khan is chair of the FTC, and has brought a case against Amazon that builds on some of the theories from that paper. One outcome of that suit is an unprecedented look at Amazon's internal operations. But, as the Institute for Local Self-Reliance's Stacy Mitchell describes in a piece for The Atlantic, key pieces of information have been totally redacted in the court exhibits:

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2024/02/amazon-profits-antitrust-ftc/677580/

The most important missing datum: how much money Amazon makes from each of its lines of business. Amazon's own story is that it basically breaks even on its retail operation, and keeps the whole business afloat with profits from its AWS cloud computing division. This is an important narrative, because if it's true, then Amazon can't be forcing up retail prices, which is the crux of the FTC's case against the company.

Here's what we know for sure about Amazon's retail business. First: merchants can't live without Amazon. The majority of US households have Prime, and 90% of Prime households start their ecommerce searches on Amazon; if they find what they're looking for, they buy it and stop. Thus, merchants who don't sell on Amazon just don't sell. This is called "monopsony power" and it's a lot easier to maintain than monopoly power. For most manufacturers, a 10% overnight drop in sales is a catastrophe, so a retailer that commands even a 10% market-share can extract huge concessions from its suppliers. Amazon's share of most categories of goods is a lot higher than 10%!

What kind of monopsony power does Amazon wield? Well, for one thing, it is able to levy a huge tax on its sellers. Add up all the junk-fees Amazon charges its platform sellers and it comes out to 45-51%:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

Competitive businesses just don't have 45% margins! No one can afford to kick that much back to Amazon. What is a merchant to do? Sell on Amazon and you lose money on every sale. Don't sell on Amazon and you don't get any business.

The only answer: raise prices on Amazon. After all, Prime customers – the majority of Amazon's retail business – don't shop for competitive prices. If Amazon wants a 45% vig, you can raise your Amazon prices by a third and just about break even.

But Amazon is wise to that: they have a "most favored nation" rule that punishes suppliers who sell goods more cheaply in rival stores, or even on their own site. The punishments vary, from banishing your products to page ten million of search-results to simply kicking you off the platform. With publishers, Amazon reserves the right to lower the prices they set when listing their books, to match the lowest price on the web, and paying publishers less for each sale.

That means that suppliers who sell on Amazon (which is anyone who wants to stay in business) have to dramatically hike their prices on Amazon, and when they do, they also have to hike their prices everywhere else (no wonder Prime customers don't bother to search elsewhere for a better deal!).

Now, Amazon says this is all wrong. That 45-51% vig they claim from business customers is barely enough to break even. The company's profits – they insist – come from selling AWS cloud service. The retail operation is just a public service they provide to us with cross-subsidy from those fat AWS margins.

This is a hell of a claim. Last year, Amazon raked in $130 billion in seller fees. In other words: they booked more revenue from junk fees than Bank of America made through its whole operation. Amazon's junk fees add up to more than all of Meta's revenues:

https://s2.q4cdn.com/299287126/files/doc_financials/2023/q4/AMZN-Q4-2023-Earnings-Release.pdf

Amazon claims that none of this is profit – it's just covering their operating expenses. According to Amazon, its non-AWS units combined have a one percent profit margin.

Now, this is an eye-popping claim indeed. Amazon is a public company, which means that it has to make thorough quarterly and annual financial disclosures breaking down its profit and loss. You'd think that somewhere in those disclosures, we'd find some details.

You'd think so, but you'd be wrong. Amazon's disclosures do not break out profits and losses by segment. SEC rules actually require the company to make these per-segment disclosures:

https://scholarship.law.stjohns.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=3524&context=lawreview#:~:text=If%20a%20company%20has%20more,income%20taxes%20and%20extraordinary%20items.

That rule was enacted in 1966, out of concern that companies could use cross-subsidies to fund predatory pricing and other anticompetitive practices. But over the years, the SEC just…stopped enforcing the rule. Companies have "near total managerial discretion" to lump business units together and group their profits and losses in bloated, undifferentiated balance-sheet items:

https://www.ucl.ac.uk/bartlett/public-purpose/publications/2021/dec/crouching-tiger-hidden-dragons

As Mitchell points you, it's not just Amazon that flouts this rule. We don't know how much money Google makes on Youtube, or how much Apple makes from the App Store (Apple told a federal judge that this number doesn't exist). Warren Buffett – with significant interest in hundreds of companies across dozens of markets – only breaks out seven segments of profit-and-loss for Berkshire Hathaway.

Recall that there is one category of data from the FTC's antitrust case against Amazon that has been completely redacted. One guess which category that is! Yup, the profit-and-loss for its retail operation and other lines of business.

These redactions are the judge's fault, but the real fault lies with the SEC. Amazon is a public company. In exchange for access to the capital markets, it owes the public certain disclosures, which are set out in the SEC's rulebook. The SEC lets Amazon – and other gigantic companies – get away with a degree of secrecy that should disqualify it from offering stock to the public. As Mitchell says, SEC chairman Gary Gensler should adopt "new rules that more concretely define what qualifies as a segment and remove the discretion given to executives."

Amazon is the poster-child for monopoly run amok. As Yanis Varoufakis writes in Technofeudalism, Amazon has actually become a post-capitalist enterprise. Amazon doesn't make profits (money derived from selling goods); it makes rents (money charged to people who are seeking to make a profit):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Profits are the defining characteristic of a capitalist economy; rents are the defining characteristic of feudalism. Amazon looks like a bazaar where thousands of merchants offer goods for sale to the public, but look harder and you discover that all those stallholders are totally controlled by Amazon. Amazon decides what goods they can sell, how much they cost, and whether a customer ever sees them. And then Amazon takes $0.45-51 out of every dollar. Amazon's "marketplace" isn't like a flea market, it's more like the interconnected shops on Disneyland's Main Street, USA: the sign over the door might say "20th Century Music Company" or "Emporium," but they're all just one store, run by one company.

And because Amazon has so much control over its sellers, it is able to exercise power over its buyers. Amazon's search results push down the best deals on the platform and promote results from more expensive, lower-quality items whose sellers have paid a fortune for an "ad" (not really an ad, but rather the top spot in search listings):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/29/aethelred-the-unready/#not-one-penny-for-tribute

This is "Amazon's pricing paradox." Amazon can claim that it offers low-priced, high-quality goods on the platform, but it makes $38b/year pushing those good deals way, way down in its search results. The top result for your Amazon search averages 29% more expensive than the best deal Amazon offers. Buy something from those first four spots and you'll pay a 25% premium. On average, you need to pick the seventeenth item on the search results page to get the best deal:

https://scholarship.law.bu.edu/faculty_scholarship/3645/

For 40 years, pro-monopoly economists claimed that it would be impossible for Amazon to attain monopoly power over buyers and sellers. Today, Amazon exercises that power so thoroughly that its junk-fee revenues alone exceed the total revenues of Bank of America. Amazon's story – that these fees barely stretch to covering its costs – assumes a nearly inconceivable level of credulity in its audience. Regrettably – for the human race – there is a cohort of senior, highly respected economists who possess this degree of credulity and more.

Of course, there's an easy way to settle the argument: Amazon could just comply with SEC regs and break out its P&L for its e-commerce operation. I assure you, they're not hiding this data because they think you'll be pleasantly surprised when they do and they don't want to spoil the moment.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/01/managerial-discretion/#junk-fees

Image: Doc Searls (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/docsearls/4863121221/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[carolmunson]

let's go, don't wait: part II (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! series masterlist summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, phone sex, smut, oral (f receiving). some sad childhood talk, all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (19K words.)

With how easy the first date had been to make, Eddie wasn’t expecting it to be so hard to pin you down for the next one. Neither of your schedules had lined up for the rest of the week, and up until next Friday neither of you had much free time. You either had to stay at work late or he had to stay late for the three extracurriculars he was running (jazz club, D&D club, and co-runner of the school’s GSA) – which he’d only be annoyed about running if he didn’t absolutely love the kids. The extra overtime didn’t hurt either, perks of working at a rich kid private arts school.

At first he was nervous you were busy going on dates with other guys until he called you one night and he could hear your boss in the background waxing poetic about the shift to lab grown sapphires. Then he’d feel bad for feeling so accusatory to start – you’d never said anything to each other about being exclusive. Hell, you’d only been on one date. But you talked every day, and fuck did that feel good for Eddie. 

g’morning pretty  ew you’re obsessed with me. good morning, boy

He’s happy he knows you’re joking because he’s certain no other guy would get it. He knows you read his text and screamed into your pillow, cheeks hot and chest thrumming. That’s why you always have to respond so mean so that he doesn’t know how much you like him back. This backfires, because he can tell that the meaner you are, the more you like his attention.

what’s your weekend look like? i know you leave for AZ on sunday but i’d really like to see you before you go. 

You were headed to a gem trade show in Tucson on Sunday for a few days. You went every year you’d been working for your boss, you told him all about it on the phone. You’re cute when you’re excited but he didn’t want to embarrass you by saying so – just let you rattle on about all the things you get to see. You promised to send him pictures of some of the cool fossils you might come across, all of the big crystal furniture.  “You were a weird dinosaurs kind of kid, right? You’d be into pictures of fossils?" “Why are you so mean? Would you go up to nine year old me and call him a weird kid that’s into dinosaurs?” “No, he’d be so sad.” “So next time you wanna say some mean shit, imagine you’re saying it to nine year old me.” “I bet you were a cute kid,” you thought out loud, “You’re a really cute adult.” 

“You think I’m cute?” “The cutest.” His face burned at every compliment you offered him, flushing dark pink at every sweet word you said. He was a mess. Embarrassment would flood him when he’d check his phone during class, the kids would never let him hear the end of it.  “Did you meet her on Tinder, Mr. E?”  “This is not appropriate class discussion guys,” his eyes would shut tight in frustration when they’d catch him texting you back and he’d reluctantly tuck his phone into his back pocket. They were way bolder than he was at their age. “No because like, you’re so happy though. Look how you’re smiling when you text her.” “Mr. Munson’s got that W rizz.”  “Is she hot?” “Be fucking forreal. He’s blushing so hard right now.” “Smash or pass, Munson?” “Guys, can you relax? You literally have a test right now." Bzz. Bzz.

i gotta run errands on saturday and go then leave sunday night :( working late friday cause we need to take gem inventory essentially He sighed, he didn’t want to wait until next Friday to see you again. 

i could run errands with you if you’ll have me. i’ll drive! you sure? it’s not super exciting stuff. you make it exciting. :) i’ll take you out to lunch. sound good? okay :) okay :)  see you saturday, cutie omg shut up 🙄 but yeah. see you saturday. :) 

He was nervous you’d notice he got his interior detailed the night before, but he was too embarrassed to let you get into the car in its original glory. He honked the horn in three short bursts, being mindful of the neighbors even though it was around 9:30 in the morning.  You inch out of the door of your place, the first floor of a quaint three family home, in your Princess Diana best. You dressed for errands and his heart swells, leggings and a big sweatshirt, little white sneakers and socks. You look cute like this, hurrying outside with your paper Old Navy bag blowing in the wind, relaxed and laid back. But you aren’t for long, you take a step outside only to feel the chill in the ‘second winter’ air of March and raise a finger to him before running back inside — reappearing with a lightweight parka haphazardly thrown on. You patter to the car and he tries to ignore his heart rate speeding up while he leans over to open it for you. “Hey you,” he smiles, “Good morning.”  “Morning,” you say with a coy smile. His chest leans forward slightly to kiss you as you settle in but he stops short. Are you there yet? You only kissed that night last week. What if you weren’t ready to kiss again? He swallows, settling back into his seat but recognizing how his car fills with your scent. You smell so fucking good he could eat you.  “So what’s the agenda, sugar?” he asks.   “Okay, agenda: Target, Old Navy for a return,” you say, raising your bag, “I have to run into Sephora to pick up some sunscreen for my boss, and um…I think that’s it? They’re all in the same shopping center over by um – by the movie theater.”  “Oh yeah,” he nods, “I know the one.”  He reaches for the sound system, turning the volume up a little, Lamb of God’s Vanishing crunching through his speakers. He watches for your reaction and can tell you don’t know it, but you don’t seem appalled or repulsed.  “Do you have a tunes preference?” he asks, voice velvety smooth, eyes catching on your parted lips, “It’s a long drive.”  “Uh…” your knee bounces faster, “I mean it’s your car. We should listen to what you wanna listen to.”  “Honey, I’m like your Uber driver today,” he offers, head tilting while he looks over at you. Eddie’s gaze lingers on your face with soft eyes, lashes a shadow over his irises, “How’m I gonna get a five star review if you don’t like the music?” 

“I do!” you assure aggressively, “I do like it.”

“Here, I have a plan,” he nods, holding his hand out, “Gimme your phone.” 

You toss him a look which triggers an eye roll from him, “Just trust me, give me your phone.” 

“Here’s the bargain, I connect your tunes to my car,” he mumbles while he disconnects his phone from the car’s Bluetooth and connects yours instead, “But I get to pick the songs. Deal?” 

A giggle bubbles out of you, shoulders shaking loosely, “That’s ridiculous.” 

“But is it a deal?” he asks again. He takes a breath that inflates his chest, while you consider it. It’s not fair that you look so cute this morning, it’s not fair that he doesn’t have the confidence to just reach over and lay one on you like they do in the movies. He wasn’t lying when he said you were so kissable. 

“It’s a deal,” you nod. He watches your knee slow down to stopping. Eddie swallows, eyes traveling from your knees to your full thighs sitting fat in his passenger's seat with a quick scan that you don’t notice. 

“Okay, so let’s see…” he mutters, going into your music and scrolling through your artists, landing pretty early on with an enthusiastic nod that makes his waves bounce around his face. 

“Blood Brothers?” he asks, “Wow, you really did hate your dad, huh? I haven’t heard this album in years.”

“I started liking them for a boy back in high school,” you shrugged while he thumbed through the tracks, “Then started liking them forreal.” “That’s okay,” he smiles over at you, “You’d be surprised to see my Spotify wrapped every year. Never as mean and scary as you’d expect.” 

“No?” your brows raise, “Not a bunch of ‘Stabby Metal Scream Crunch Stab’ in your top ten?” 

He scoffs, settling on ‘Set Fire to the Face on Fire’, the opening Fire! Fire! Fire! leaking through the speakers, “I married the head cheerleader at my high school – I’d like to think my music taste is pretty eclectic. Metal’s just, y’know, the main course. Plenty of side dishes on my roster.” 

“You a big fan of having something on the side?” you quirk a brow at him through the rear view mirror while he puts the car in drive. He scoffs again, lips twitching up into a smirk. You’re quick and it makes his blood rush, his fingers drum nervously on the wheel while he keeps the car in place.

“Why’re you so mean, huh?” he teases, “Do I look like the kind of guy that’s had a lot of side pieces?” 

“Oh,” you start, giving him a once over, “Not even close.” 

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” he asks, putting the car in park again. He turns down the volume, turning his body completely towards you. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” you drone, turning yourself toward him in return,  “I guess I am.” Eddie clears his throat, tongue flicking over his full lips to wet them. 

“So uh…before we hit the road,” his voice cracks, heart rattling in its cage, trapped in his chest, “D’you-think-I-could-steal-a-kiss-good-morning?” It pours out of his mouth while his body goes numb – like the bandaid was ripped off but someone else did it for him. His hopeful voice when he presents the offer sounds foreign to him, but he knows what he’s asking you. Blood rushes in his ears, the steady thump of his heart pounding through his veins. Your bottom lip tucks into your teeth, eyes shutting briefly with anticipation, a tiny chuckle huffs through your nose. Your knee starts to bounce again. 

“Yeah, but it’s not stealing if I’m letting you have one,” you reply, your own voice becoming delicate and girlish, teenage nerves coasting down your throat through the back of your neck. He leans close to you, engulfed again in the scent of your perfume, head leaning to the side slightly while your movements mirror his. Eddie brings a hand up to hold your face, keeping you steady while he goes in for the kill, one he’d been hoping to make since he saw you last. Heart stuck in his throat, he almost feels a sob shoot through his chest when his lips touch yours. It’s as soft and warm as he remembers. As soft and warm as the moment he’s been replaying in his head since last Monday. 

You both break apart but he doesn’t move away from your face, hand dropping from your cheek to your bouncing knee where he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Are you nervous?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I think maybe, yeah. But I’m excited, too. Y’know, to spend the day with you.” 

It’s his turn to feel giddy and embarrassed, a flush building steadily on the apples of his cheeks, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too. But it’s  just gonna be a nice, chill day, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod, both of you wearing matching smiles. 

“I do have a rule, though,” his brows furrow, implying he’s serious. You look very seriously back at him. 

“I gotta kiss you every time you’re startin’a look a little too good,” he gives you a shrug of one shoulder before settling back into the driver’s seat while he pulls onto the road, “Cause I don’t know if you saw, but the way you look this morning is fucking illegal.” 

You let out a soft tsss from between your teeth, shaking your head while you settle back into your seat, “You’re so stupid.” 

“I’m just a man, sugar,” he tilts his head, readjusting behind the wheel before putting the car back in drive. He restarts the song before pulling onto the road, feeling like maybe this errands date would go much, much better than he’d planned. He drums on the steering wheel again, head softly bouncing along with the beat of the song while the lyrics scream through the car. You mouth along with them, staring out the window while you do. 

‘Those cold hooks, cemetery claws raking at the infant's jaws,Set fire to the horse on fire,Set fire to the dress on fire,Set fire to the stage on fire,Set fire to the stars on fire!’

“Damn, me and the band shoulder cover this,” he nods to himself, “We’d fuckin’ crush.” 

“Can you scream like that?” you ask, turning your head to face him, “I feel like I’d blow my vocal chords.” 

“Eh, sorta kinda,” he tilts his head from side to side, “I got plenty of practice. Do plenty of screaming with our own stuff, you sorta train your voice up to do it. I might not be able to scream as high but, I could harmonize with Jeff – lead guitar if you remember –” “I remember,” you smile, “And his wife Alycia.” 

“And is wife Alycia! Damn, look at you,” he smiles, “You should write my memoirs. But yeah, surprisingly Jeff can get pretty high up there – it’s super impressive.”

“Well when you cover it, I’ll come watch,” you nod, “You still haven’t really told me about your band.” 

“Corroded Coffin?” he asks, turning into a coffee shop drive-thru and pulling up behind a short line of cars, “Not much to tell. We play shows every couple weeks, in the summer every week, at a few bars around the city that are into that scene. We have fun – still play at our old stomping grounds in Hawkins, too. Same five drunks cheering us on for the last twelve years.” 

His eyes widen at the realization, “Twelve years, Jesus. I’m so fuckin’ old.”   

“Oh, thank god I only have two years until I’m fuckin’ old,” you laugh, “You don’t look old.” 

“You don’t look old either,” he smiles, giving you a once over that you immediately feel shy under, “What can I get you?” 

“Oh no, no,” you shake your head, reaching for your wallet in your Old Navy bag, “I’ll get it, seriously. You’re driving me.” 

“No, please, I’ll get it,” he says, pushing your hand down gently while you offer your card. 

“I wanna pay for it, you’re already going out of your way to do all this boring shit,” you offer again. He plucks your card from your fingers and flicks it into the backseat. He shrinks when your smile falls, you’re very obviously not taken by his actions. 

“Look,” he shrugs, voice lowering, “I didn’t wanna say anything cause I didn’t know how you’d react. But this location actually doesn’t accept money from women. I know, crazy right? So sexist. Its so gross of me to still go here when it’s totally against all my shit. But since they don’t accept any payments from women, I’m gonna have to pay or else we can’t get coffee.” 

You roll your eyes but can’t hold back your laugh, “Fuck, why do you have to be funny about it?” 

“You think I’m funny, huh?” he grins, pulling up to the microphone box. 

“Yeah, funny lookin’,” you tease. Eddie ‘tsks’ a few times with a shake of his head, looking back at you. 

“What can I get you?” he asks again. 

“Medium, iced, caramel. Almond milk if they have it, regular if not,” you respond, crossing your arms. He orders and can feel your eyes on him, he wants to turn back around and kiss that pout right off your lips. You’re not used to having someone take care of things and he can tell, you don’t like it either. Or at least you don’t know how to let yourself like it. Two givers stuck in a car running errands with each other – he wonders if you’ve ever known how to take. 

He gets the coffees, yours with your milk and flavor, his iced and black. You say thank you when you take it, there’s something about your face when you do, a softness he feels like he’s not supposed to see. 

“Hey, you know my rule,” he says, leaning in again, “You’re startin’ to look at little too good right now.” 

Your embarrassed smile says enough when you close the gap between the two of you, lips pressing together in a soft and gentle peck. 

“Thank you,” he expresses, big brown eyes looking into yours before pulling back onto the streets. He turns the sound system up again, the opening of Cam’ron’s Hey Ma flows through the speakers, he nods enthusiastically. 

“Another banger,” he exclaims. 

“You know this song?” you ask with surprise. 

“I grew up in a trailer park, baby. You hear a lot of different music out there,” he shrugs. Eddie feels his throat choke up when he realizes he called you baby. But at least if you hated it, you weren’t showing any sign that you did. 

“Got drops. Got coupes. Got trucks. Got jeeps. Alright, 'cause we gon' take a ride tonight So ma. Wassup? Let's slide. Alright. Alright, and we gon' get it on tonight.” He likes that you’re impressed that he knows the words, of course he does. He grew up hearing this song all of summer 2002, running through the hose with the little kids, while his old baby sitters sat out in lawn chairs to work on their color. Playboy Bunny stickers on their hip bones to show off their tan lines. 

You both sing the opening verse to the windshield, windows coming down an inch as you turn onto the parkway, voices booming over Juelz Sanatana’s. 

“Now I was down town clubbin’, ladies night, Seen shorty she was crazy right, And I approached baby like, ‘Ma, what’s your age and type?’ She looked at me and said, ‘Yous a baby right?’” He hits the last red light before the long stretch of the drive, turning to you to deliver a passionate line reading of the lyrics. He’s surprisingly smooth, even impressing himself at how actually cool he’s being about it. 

“I told her, I’m eighteen and live a crazy life, Plus I’ll tell you what the 80s like, and I know what the ladies like, Need a man that’s polite, listens and takes advice. I can be all three, plus I can lay the pipe. Come with me, come stay the night.” 

He winks when he finishes the line and by the way you stop singing, he knows he’s got you flustered. You are easy. He wants to see how much easier it is. 

“You better be careful,” you warn, tongue caught between your teeth. “Yeah? I better be careful?” he grins, car pushing forward when the light changes so he can turn onto the highway. 

“You’re trouble, Munson,” you shake your head, turning your attention back to the stretch of asphalt ahead of the both of you, “You’re big trouble.” 

“She looked at me laughin’ like, ‘Boy your game is tight.’ I’m laughin’ back like, ‘Sure, you’re right.’” 

“D’you need a cart?” Eddie asks, taking a side step over to the push carts neatly pushed into each other in between the double doors of Target. 

“Nah, if I get a cart I’m just gonna use it as an excuse to buy more stuff,” you pull a face, shoulders dropping dramatically, “And while I’d love to have an excuse to buy more stuff, I just need a basket.” “Basket it is,” he grins, hand wrapping over the hard plastic of one of the handles, tugging a basket loose from where it’s encased with its brothers. You reach your hand out, taking a step closer to the entrance, our step triggers the automatic doors and he files in after you. 

He looks at your outstretched hand behind you and then up at your face, “I can hold it, Ed.” 

He gives you a small shake of his head, “Nah, I’ll carry it. You lead the way. What’s on your list?”  “I mostly just need to get travel stuff…like toiletries,” you think out loud, “I guess this wasn’t really much of a big errand now that I think about it.” 

“That’s okay,” he says, and he means it. 

You don’t go straight to the beauty section. You’re taken by the $5 and under shelves at the front of the store, full of small decor knick knacks that he recognizes from his own apartment. This is where Tati’s always picking up those little gold tchotchkes for the coffee table and bookshelves every other month. The same way Chrissy would always have new, tiny holiday themed pieces every year to sneak onto their mantle.

“So, do you want me to keep you on task?” he asks, falling in step next to you, watching your fingers toy over a felted bunny figurine for Easter, “Or do you want me to aid in you not being on task?” 

You look over at him, eyes scanning over his frame. He catches the way your eyes linger on the way his t-shirt fits him under his leather jacket and denim vest. Dark olive green, a touch too tight in the chest, collar worn out just enough so that the ends of his collar bones peeked through. 

“We have all day, right?” you smirk. 

“All day,” he nods, “You a walking through the aisles type of girl?” 

“Is that a deal breaker?” you ask, attention captivated by a lavender ceramic pencil holder in the shape of a rainbow. 

“No, not at all,” he assures, taking you by surprise when he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’m a walking through the aisles type of guy.” 

“Was I looking a little too good while perusing the five dollar shelf?” you tease while you move onward into the store, stopping to thumb through a rack of jeans.

“Well that’s the thing,” he says with a tilt of his head, “You’re always lookin’ a little too good.” 

He hums when you roll your eyes, “Hmm. How’d I know that was coming?” 

“Why’re you so nice to me all the time, huh?” you fake argue, bored with looking at clothes and taking deliberate steps towards home goods to the bath section. Eddie hurries to keep up, basket clicking and clacking in his hand. 

“I guess I can be mean to you, but I feel like that would make me a shitty date,” he jokes back, “And an even worse Uber driver.” 

“So true, actually. Zero stars,” you nod, running your hand over a towel that matches the color of his shirt, “Y’know green’s a really good color for you? Makes your eyes pop.” 

“Oh…” he can feel himself turning red when you say that. So she’s been looking at my eyes? Is she always secretly sort of checking me out the way I’m always secretly sort of checking her out? Does she think I’m cute or something? Why am I trying to propose to her right now? Is it ‘cause we’re looking at towels? 

“Um, thank you. I’ll um, I’ll wear it more often,” he runs a hand over his face while you continue to look at towels, turning the corner to look at the fancier ones. You laugh at his jittery response, not so much at him, not teasing, but – this guy covered in tattoos, stomping in combat boots, definitely has a knife in his back pocket, chains dangling down the side of his pants, is blushing bright red just because you said he looks good in green. This guy? 

“You should,” you encourage, turning to see his reddened face, “What happened to not being nervous?” 

“That’s a rule for you,” he says, walking a few steps ahead of you. His eyes catch on a soap dispenser, it’s the same one he had in the master bathroom back with Chris, “I can be as nervous as I want.” 

“Ah, I see, rules for thee, not for me,” you nod slowly. 

“See! Now you’re getting it,” he says over his shoulder. He reaches his free hand back toward you, eyes meeting yours, tossing you a smile when you look at his hand and back at him, “Yeah, I want you to hold it.” 

When your fingers slide in to lace with his he realizes his hands are a little sweaty. They weren’t last time you saw him, with your hand cradled in between his on his knee at the bar. He was a couple drinks in then, not forced to face the action fully. Not aware enough to realize he was holding a pretty girl’s hand in public on a domestic date and all he can think about is railing you in the backseat of his Honda Civic and also making a mental note of all the color choices you like so when you eventually move in together he already knows what you — Jesus fucking Christ you have soft hands. You guide him through the rest of the bathroom section, stopping briefly to consider whether or not you need more hand towels for your apartment and then shaking it off. He let’s you take him around the corner to mattress covers, you talk about your Casper mattress and how you still aren’t sure if you really like it two years later. He hears himself respond in a fog but he’s caught up on how right it feels to be here with you, to be holding your hand, holding your Target basket for you, listening to you talk about whatever. 

You get to bedding and stop at the throws, Eddie’s fog lifts when you let go of his hand to take one of them off the shelf. A dark green knitted blanket replaces his hand, folded up neat and tidy in its wrap-around casing. 

“This is so perfect for my living room,” you murmur to yourself, “It’s so cute.” 

Eddie leans against the shelf while you let your senses absorb the knit: touch, sight, smell. You peer at the other colors, unhappy with the rest, balancing the blanket on your hip while you look back at the empty spot where it once sat. Your eyes roll again, shoulders slumping for real this time.

“Not seventy five dollars cute,” you grumble, putting the blanket back on the shelf. 

“Seventy five dollars?” he asks, aghast, brown eyes rounding in surprise, “What, did they shear the sheep here or something?” 

“That’s capitalism for ya,” you click your tongue, giving the blanket one last look with a little pout, “Oh well, I’m sure I can find a dupe or something at TJ Maxx.” 

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he consoles, taking your hand back and giving it an apologetic squeeze. 

“Sweetheart…” you repeat back, “That’s cute.” 

“That’s cute? Okay,” he smiles down at the tile under his feet, teeth showing, “I’ll keep note of that.” 

You both continue your journey through bedding, crossing through the Hearth & Hand showcase where he listens to you gripe about how you swear it’s a scam. None of this shit should be this expensive. Like, I could get all this shit at H&M Home online for twenty dollars less. What, just cause they’re on TV? Frickin’ ridiculous. He still stands by thinking that you’re cute when you’re mad. He can’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re both so far from travel toiletries, that you likely forgot why you were even here. He just likes this, being in Target with you, holding your hand while you yell about something. 

“Oh, hold on, I gotta look at these,” you squeeze his hand before you let go again, walking ahead of him while Matchbox Twenty’s 3AM fades into Des’ree’s You Gotta Be. 

“Decorative wicker baskets?” he asks, stepping back to look at the wall of wicker baskets of all sizes in the back of the store. 

“I need two for under my dresser,” you say, reaching up to grab one and looking at the tag for the dimensions, “S’for my socks and stuff.” 

He tosses you a look and you look back at him, “Don’t ask.” 

You get lost in the task, two stepping with a little sway to your hips, small movements. You sing along to the song while you pull one basket down and put it back, and so on. You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together. You aren’t mocking him when you sing along but the lyrics feel like they are. You’re so into it, too. He guesses this is what you’re like when no one’s around to watch you. How unfortunate that you’re so kissable even when you think no one is around to see it. 

“Hey,” he says, putting the basket down, “What did I say about looking too good?” 

“What?” you turn around, eyes rounded, almost startled, “Am I taking too long?”

“No,” he says with a furrow of his brow, approaching you gently while he crosses into your personal space. His voice drops a little lower, lips lingering close to yours, “No baby, not at all. Just looking really cute over here.” 

You can’t help but feel girlish when he’s like this, giggling while heat floods your cheeks and chest. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, pressing you back with his body so you’re flush with the shelves against the wall. His nose brushes yours, fingers finding your chin to tilt you up toward him where his mouth can taste you and you can taste him. He starts slow, just a test, shrouded in the lower light of the back decorative basket aisle, lips parting slightly to see if you’ll match it. He puffs a small breath against the ridge of your upper lip and it’s enough to send you into a frenzy. His body presses close up against you, kiss gaining fervor, hands coming up to cup around your cheek and neck to guide you with him

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, breaking away, “We’re gonna get in trouble.” 

“You think I’m scared of getting in trouble?” he clicks his tongue before grinning at you. Looks like you don’t do trouble. His lips ghost over yours, skating softly over your cheek to get to your ear, “I’ve been gettin’ kicked out of Targets since 2007, sweetheart.” 

His teeth graze your ear lobe, your hands reaching to clutch the soft leather of his jacket, a small sigh puffs out of you. He’s not sure if it’s pushing it, but the aisle is empty, and whatever he’s doing, he’s pretty sure you like it – his lips drop from your earlobe to the edge of your jaw, settling on a slow, wet open mouth kiss on your neck before meeting your mouth again. 

“Ed,” you mumble quietly, “I can’t be turned on at Target.” 

“Yes you can,” he giggles, stealing another gentle kiss from you. 

“Uh…hey folks,” a timid voice calls from the end of the aisle. You both break away, embarrassment clearly taking you over while you cover your face in your hands. A younger guy in a red t-shirt and khaki slacks waves awkwardly when he has both of your attention. 

“Sorry to uh, to interrupt but, um – y’know, this is a family friendly store and we just – yeah, I’m sorry. You’re not in trouble or anything,” he offers, stumbling over his words. 

“Thanks man,” Eddie says genuinely, giving him a wave back, “Sorry about that, just uh, caught up in the moment I guess. Baskets really do it for her, y’know?” 

The guy nods, walking away when a small thwap of the back of your hand hits his chest. 

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you laugh, changing your voice to mock him, “Baskets really do it for her. Fuck all the way off.” 

Eddie laughs with you, picking up the Target basket and placing it in your hand, “Look, I gotta pee so bad. Do you think you can man the aisles yourself while I go and take care of that?” 

You nod, “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll tell you where I am, okay?” 

“Cool,” he nods back, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, “See you in a bit.” 

hey, where are you at? easter stuff, i got distracted  very godly of you

He bustles through the aisles, realizing now that you’re on the totally opposite side of the store than you were before. He spots you where all the candy is, your basket full of your toiletries.  “Easter candy?” he asks. 

“It’s the best holiday candy, easily,” you confess, “I know people will probably say Halloween since that’s the candy holiday, but dude, there’s something about Cadbury eggs.” 

“Yeah?” he reaches out and takes the basket out of your hand gently, you don’t protest when he does, “Isn’t it supposed to be from the UK? Don’t they have better chocolate by proxy?” 

“I think so,” you agree while Eddie strolls a little further down the aisle, “Have you ever had them?” 

“I’m sure I have,” he says, fingers tracing over a chocolate bunny in a box, “I guess I’m more of a Halloween guy.” 

“Boring,” you sing, holding two small bags of Cadbury eggs in your hands. Eddie holds the basket in front of him while you gear up to toss one in. 

“Kobe!” you shout, the candy leaving your fingers in a lay up toss, floating through the air only to fall at Eddie’s feet on the tile. 

“Too soon,” Eddie shakes his head solemnly, reaching down to grab the chocolate and put it in the red basket in his arm, “How’re you gonna call out a legend’s name and then miss?” 

“I feel like you moved it so that I’d miss,” you accuse playfully. 

“I kept it exactly where it was, I think you’re just not very good at basketball,” he says, making his way towards you. You put the other bag in with the rest of your stuff and look up at him through half lidded eyes. He matches your gaze while he looks at you. 

“You just don’t wanna see me be great,” you tease. 

“Oh, stop,” he tutts, “You’re very great.” 

Neither of you can help but kiss again. It feels natural to do it at this point. 

“You get everything you need to get?” he asks against your lips. You nod, a little ‘mhm’ squeaks out of your throat, “Good, cause they can’t yell at us for making out in the parking lot. So we should head out of here soon.” 

The remainder of the errands and lunch go by like a blur to him. Saturday meant busy restaurants so instead you opted for fast food in the parking lot, starting the drive home sharing Wendy’s waffle fries over the center console. 

Before you pull out of the lot, he flicks your music on again, opting to just leave it on shuffle because he feels like he learns you better that way. What’s going to come up next that’ll surprise him? What’s he gonna find out about you? 

‘Baby, I know you’re hurting, Right now you feel like you could never love again. Now all I ask, is for a chance, to prove, That I love you.’ 

Eddie barks out a laugh, takes a sip of his Sprite, and then laughs again, “Oh shit. I haven’t heard this song in years!”

“You know this song, too?” you ask, surprised again at his music repertoire. 

“You really don’t think I’m cultured, do you?” he jokes, “I have a deep affinity for the Backstreet Boys, though I will admit I was an NSYNC boy myself growing up.”

“Of course,” you murmur with an eye roll, “What’s your favorite NSYNC song?” 

“Ooh, let me see,” he thinks while he turns onto the highway, “Definitely Drive Myself Crazy. I’d always try to hit JC’s runs.”

“You knew their names too?” 

“I told you already, I grew up in a trailer park. I had the same babysitter from two to eleven,” he explains, “Mrs. Grandy watched me until her daughter Summer turned thirteen and then I’d go and pal around with her and her friends. I was like her little brother, I practically lived there.” 

“Were you always there?” you ask, “At your babysitter’s house?” 

“Yeah. My uh, my mom died when I was seven but she was always working and tryna stay out of the house when my dad came home so I was always at the sitters. He’s y’know – he’s in jail but he was in and out of it when I was a kid, too. Got arrested for beating on her a couple months before she died and my uncle moved up from North Carolina to take care of me. But he worked nights so – if I wasn’t at school I had to have someone watch me while he slept and then someone had to be at the trailer while I slept. It was way easier when I was in school – but anyway – wow – off topic there – yes, I spent a lot of time with my babysitter and her mom,” he finishes.  

“I’m sorry,” you offer, reaching over to give his knee a reassuring squeeze. 

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. I’m okay – I turned out pretty cool, I think,” he shrugs.

“You’re really cool,” you smile, Eddie smiles back. 

“What’s your favorite Backstreet Boys song?” he asks. 

“Hey Mr. DJ, easy,” you tell him, “It’s the most fucknasty song they’ve ever made and it still holds up. Like, I want it played at my wedding. I’m trying to make a child to that song.” 

Eddie loses it at fucknasty, head falling back on the headrest while his chest bounces, “The most fucknasty song? We’ll have to play that next.” 

“You won’t be disappointed,” you say, “AJ sings it and he was my favorite.” 

“Oh, baby, that does not surprise me at all,” he grins. Calling you baby sounds comfortable now, even after just talking for a week. He’s not sure how fast or slow these things are supposed to go, but your little smile every time he says it makes him wanna say it more. 

“I saw them in concert, when I was like, nine or ten or something,” Eddie says, “For their Millenium Tour – was when I Want It That Way was huge.” 

“You got tickets?” you ask, a teasing grin splitting your face. 

“Summer was a huge Backstreet Boys and NYSNC fan, like, posters all over her room. Had every magazine they were in that she could find, everything. So all we would do when she would watch me was listen to them and talk about them, so I liked them because she liked them and I thought she was cool,” he starts. 

“So anyway, she finds out on the radio that they’re giving away tickets to a show in Columbus – cause like, no one fucking comes to Indiana to play shows – and she calls in and wins! She literally went into shock. But we ended up going and she brought me instead of her friend because she was like ‘Mom, he’s family’. Which as an adult, makes me fucking melt y’know? But as a kid I was like ‘Damn you’re gonna drag me to Ohio to see a boy band? I wanna see Tool.’”

“Not Tool!” you laugh.  

“But it was cool cause we got to stay in a hotel for a night and all that other shit. It felt really special, her mom got us t-shirts which I’m sure cost her a fortune but – damn. I had a lot of fun.” 

“It sounds like you did.”

“The most crazy thing though – which I’ve never told anyone so, I hope you feel special – was when I saw them perform, I thought like, ‘Wow, I wanna do this when I grow up.’ So in a way, if it wasn’t for the Backstreet Boys, I would’ve never realized I wanted to be a rockstar,” he confesses, “And I mean, obviously I was really into rock, and metal, and folk-punk stuff ‘cause of Wayne, but seeing those guys on stage? Everyone screaming? I was like ‘Damn, I wanna be up there! I wanna be shredding up there!’” 

“I love that,” you reply, a warm smile spread across your face while you watch him relive the memory in his head. 

He shrugs, “It was a cool dream to have but, I don’t know. That ship has long sailed.” 

“What do you mean? Long sailed? You can still be a rockstar,” you argue, a fry crunching soft between your teeth. 

He shakes his head, slight defeat caressing his tone, “No I can’t. I’m too old now.” 

“Too old? Shut up,” you assert through a mouthful of waffle fry, “Metallica’s still out there playing. Iron Maiden is literally on tour right now. And they’re all like – in their sixties for fuck’s sake.” 

“Okay?” he huffs back, the red from the hazard lights of the car in front of you flashes against his face, “And? They all got famous when they were like, twenty or younger. I’m fucking…thirty-two.” 

“Exactly! You’re only thirty-two,” you exclaim while he rolls to a stop at a red light. Your hand reaches out to squeeze his arm, “You have so much time. You can literally be a rockstar whenever.” 

Eddie’s chest gets tight when you say that – it had been a while since he heard that type of encouragement. He’d missed the feeling of someone cheering him on from the bar while he was on stage, Chrissy’s praise when they’d get home. Wayne calling to tell him he saw a review of their set in the paper. Lately the shows felt sad to him, he felt lonely, even though he was always the happiest when he could make it on that stage. 

“You can’t be saying shit like that to me,” he says knowingly, maneuvering his arm so that he can take your hand in his. 

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a hint of sullenness that breaks his heart. He kisses your knuckles before resting his and your hand on your thigh, the light changing to green. 

“‘Cause you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” Your eyes cast down at his hand on your thigh, your smile tight, stretching painfully across your cheeks, “Oh, okay. I’ll be meaner if that’s not what you’re going for.” 

“It’s definitely what I’m going for,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand softly. 

The mood in the car shifts to comfortable silence, I’ll Never Break Your Heart fading out into the opening croons of Leon Bridges’ Coming Home. You lean your head on the window, looking at the cars passing you on the highway, the light flecks of rain hitting the glass as the car keeps its speed. Eddie lets go of your hand, palm stretching over the mass of your thigh, running soothingly up and down on your leggings. His thumb rubs soft and slow over the outside of your quad, he just wants to touch you. It’s a comforting touch, no implications other than – I like being here with you right now. 

‘The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl. You're the only one that I want, Wanna be around. Wanna be around, girl, Wanna be around, girl, Ooh, wanna be around, girl...’

“I like this,” Eddie says, his voice soft, “Who is this?” 

“Leon Bridges,” you answer, “The whole album is so good. It honestly sounds even better on vinyl.” 

“I was just about to say, I bet it sounds great on vinyl,” he enthuses, “I like the old timey vibe.” 

“It’s cozy, right?” you ask. 

“Very cozy,” he nods, tossing a look over to you. Your eyes are heavy lidded, breath steady in your chest,  “You gettin’ sleepy?” 

“Kinda,” you yawn, “You’re not boring me or anything, I promise.” 

“That’s okay,” he offers you a soft pat on the thigh, returning back to the slow back and forth that was putting you to sleep, “We’ll be home soon-ish, just take a nap.” 

You frown, “You sure? Am I being lame?” 

“Nah, you’re not being lame,” he assures. Your eyes flutter closed, the warm cascade of his hand continues while they do. 

After a long stretch of highway, Eddie turns the car into your part of town, a sadness washing over him that he has to drop you off and then go home to his apartment for the remainder of this rainy evening. For a flicker of a moment he wants to be selfish and ask if you wanna just kick it at his house, but he knows you have stuff to do before this trip. Envy seeps into his sadness that your boss gets to spend so much time with you, gets to watch you laugh, gets to watch you solve problems, gets to watch you do anything all day. Is it healthy to feel like this so quickly? I don’t know her like that, he wonders, Is it that sort of thing where like, if you know you know? Or am I being kind of insane right now? 

“What’d I miss?” you ask, rising from your mini-nap in the car. You frown when you see your surroundings, so much closer to home than you hoped. 

“A few showtunes and Mariah’s Vision of Love,” he says, your sleepy voice tugging on his heart and lips, “I’m partial to My All but that’s cause I’m a professional sad boy.” 

“My All is on there, but it’s probably good I was out for Vision of Love – you didn’t have to hear me screlting it in the small confines of this car,” you laugh.

“Do you sing?” he asks. You shake your head no. 

“I did musicals in high school, as you can see by the showtunes,” you explain, “But I wouldn’t call myself much of a singer.” 

“I’m sure I’ll find out if that’s true sooner or later,” he offers. It’s part way through Good Charlotte’s Girls & Boys, volume low so he didn’t disturb you sleeping. 

“This song makes me laugh,” you say, he feels your hand find his, still sitting firm on your lap. You play with his rings, twirling them around his fingers, he swallows hard. 

“Like, so many songs that came out around this time, even a couple years after – now they just sound like women’s empowerment.” 

“Tell me more,” he says, turning onto your street, the ache creeping back up again. 

“Like, ‘Girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money.’ Is that supposed to be a dig? Of course I like cars and money – I’m a person. ‘Paper or plastic, don’t matter, she’ll have it.’ Like it’s a bad thing! Sounds like she’s thriving, he’s paying for everything and she didn’t even ask him to, she’s just sitting there looking hot!” you continue, “Sounds like a dream to be honest!”

“Yeah!” he nods, mulling it over in his head, “Fuckin’ – good for her!” 

“I’m happy for her!” you laugh, he laughs with you. It’s nice to laugh so much with you, he likes that you’re sort of goofy in your own right. He pulls up to your house, pulling in to park in front of the walk way. Both of your laughs quiet down, you both look at the house through your window and the air in the car changes. 

“I don’t wanna go,” you frown, shoulders slumping, “I wanna keep hanging out.” 

“I know,” he says gently, “I wanna keep hanging out, too – but you got stuff you need to get ready for tomorrow.”

“I know,” you scrunch your nose, “So stupid.” 

“So stupid,” he agrees, “How dumb that you have to go to a really cool expo where the weather’s nice.” “Well when you put it like that,” you say with a tilt of your head and a smile. 

“Let me get your stuff out of the trunk,” he offers, getting out of the car into the smattering of rain. He pops the trunk and grabs your bags, coming over to your side to open your door for you. 

“Here,” he says, offering you your toiletries, Old Navy exchange (and a few other purchases), and a Sephora bag with definitely more than just your boss’s sunscreen in it. You thank him and lean in for a kiss but he grins, turning away from you to go back to the trunk, “Sorry, forgot a bag.” 

He reappears with the trunk closes, another Target bag in his hands that he passes to you. The weight reveals what it is before you look, but you peek to be sure, “Ed…”

“I didn’t really have to pee,” he confesses, “You just really liked it and you looked so sad when you put it back so, you know, I just wanted to do something nice.” 

“It’s really nice,” you smile, looking down at the green Casaluna blanket nestled in the bag, “I just don’t want to like…feel like I owe you something.” 

“No, no, no,” he hurriedly shakes his head, “Please don’t feel like that. This really was just like – it’s not like a power move or anything I’m not like that, I promise – I don’t want anything in return, seriously.” 

“Except maybe a picture when it’s all set up nice in your living room,” he grins. Your eye rolls make his heart flutter because so far, you always kiss him after you do it and this time is no exception. 

“I’ll see you when I come back,” you say, wincing as the rain starts to pick up. “You act like you’re going to war, sugar,” he teases, “Like you’re not gonna text me in five minutes.” 

“Ew, bye,” you scowl, giving him a peck before hustling up the walkway to find refuge on the covered porch. 

“Bye,” he calls out, bottom lip tucking between his teeth in the afterglow of another good date. He gets back in the car and waits for you to get in safely before driving away towards his own apartment. At a red light, his phone goes off, just five minutes since he’s pulled away. He opens his texts, a full belly laugh barking from his mouth.  it looks great in my living room. oh shit it’s only been five minutes. 😡 fuck you. 

By day two of your trip, Eddie was already homesick for you. Savoring every message you could send his way when you weren’t busy, but also trying his best not to text you back immediately so he didn’t seem needy. Or worse, desperate. He liked it the most when you’d send pictures: big pink quartz bathtubs, amethyst arm chairs, huge chunks of malachite that were the size of his hand. 

these would make cool dice for d&d, right? the coolest. you should buy that and then hand carve the dice for me. let me pull a grand out of my ass real quick so i can get to work on that. so needy.   oh, so you miss me?  of course i do :) i miss you, too :) 

“So when’re we gonna meet your mystery girlfriend?” Robin asks, swirling her rum and coke with her straw, “Or does she go to a different school in Canada that we wouldn’t know about?” 

Steve snickers with Robin, two mean girls who always mean girl together. It was a Tuesday, which meant Robin and Steve would meet up for Happy Hour at a bar near Nancy’s office for the paper and then bother everyone else to come meet them until everyone showed up. The three sat at the corner of the bar, Steve in the center in his business casual. Patagonia vest over his blue button up, hair perfectly windswept with his sunglasses tucked into his t-shirt collar. Picture perfect finance bro with his mean lesbian guard dog to bark at any woman who might hurt his feelings. Eddie was convinced that if Robin wasn’t gay, they would’ve gotten married the day that they met. 

“Well she’s not my girlfriend yet, for one,” Eddie starts, defensively, “And if you wanna know if she’s real, here’s her Instagram.” 

He passes his phone to Robin who swipes through your photos with a nod, a smile pulling across her face, “Not bad at all, Munson.” 

“Let me see,” Steve demands with a slight whine, plucking the phone from her hand. He scrolls, a touch of a salacious smirk spreading across his face, “Oh, smash. Immediately smash.” Steve passes Eddie’s phone back to him on the table, screen open to a risque picture of you on the beach, “You didn’t fuck?” 

“Not yet, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, “I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I slip it in, okay?” 

“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, “I would’ve fucked her already.” 

“Yeah, we know loverboy,” Robin teases. Eddie’s shoulders tense a little because if Steve wanted you, he’d definitely be able to take you. He’s hot and charismatic, he has more money than he knows what to do with, and at the end of the day – Steve loves women. All kinds of women. Eddie swore Steve would leave college with a taste for thin blondes that were in his frat’s sister sorority but every night it was someone new. And every night, Steve Harrington got what Steve Harrington wanted. 

“Tell her to follow me,” Steve winks. 

“It’s the first thing I did when I met her, actually – told her to follow you,” Eddie jokes back. 

what’re you doing? happy hour with the group. well right now just rob and steve but everyone else is on the way. fun! i bought a new bathing suit at a vendor because i have bad impulse control. also look at these cool rocks. oh, sick – what kind are they? the vendor said they’re ocean jasper do you want one? will you get a matching one with me? also linger is playing at the bar right now and it’s…making me think about you? stupid as hell. absolutely will get us matching ones. i love that song. who said you could be this cute? pretty sure i did. steve says hi by the way, he’s ‘linger’ing over my shoulder. lmao you’re so corny “Is she gonna send you a picture of her in the bathing suit or not?” he asks impatiently. “She’s still working, man,” Eddie flips his phone over so the screen can’t be seen, “And even if she does, I’m not gonna show it to you.” “Yeah, don’t be such a perv Steve,” Robin sasses, “Get me another rum and coke instead.” 

After an hour, the rest of the group has made it and Eddie’s had three beers in a short span of time. Not enough alcohol to feel drunk, but enough alcohol that he keeps getting lost in the thought of your thighs on that barstool last week. The little overflow of your tummy in your jeans, your hips, what you might look like out of those jeans. What sounds you might’ve made if he went to your house after Target and he peeled those leggings off you. You’re busy and he’s bummed out about it only because he selfishly wishes you were here at happy hour instead of looking at cool rocks. “You look so sad right now,” Tatianna says from across the table the group has gathered round, “You miss your girl?” 

Eddie pouts dramatically, nodding, “I do.” “Guys this is the one, I’ve never seen him like this before,” Tatianna grins, “He’s down bad.” 

Tati reaches next to her to hold hands with Gareth giving it a squeeze, “Hinge is the truth, I’m telling you.” 

“I mean, you sure? He thought Chris was the one and look how that turned out,” Mike says from the other end. Everyone sighs and groans, whines of ‘C’mon Wheeler,’ sound out of a few of them. 

“When you know, you know, kid,” Gareth offers softly, “And I think Ed knows.” 

“When’re we gonna meet this girl who likes your nerdy ass?” Erica giggles next to him. “Exactly what I was saying earlier,” Steve adds. 

“I don’t think you need to meet her, Steve,” Dustin laughs, “Let him have something, for God’s sake.”  “Well,” Nancy starts, “I mean, Steve’s party at Barcade is next week. Might be a good sort of low stakes way to ease her in.” 

“That’s actually such a good idea,” Tatianna agrees. 

“But I have the jazz concert for my kids that night,” Eddie sulks. 

“Yeah but that ends at like, eight thirty,” she argues, “You should tell her to come. We’ll take care of her before you show up.”  “I’ll take realgood care of her, Munson,” Steve grins.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s head is down on his forearms so he doesn’t know how many people started scolding Harrington over his head. This was overwhelming again – this part. Eddie thought maybe all the fussing over starting to date would be the worst but now it’s every day that they ask about you. At least twice a day in the group chat – Your girl coming to D&D? How was your date last weekend? Is she with you right now? Tell her we all said hi. Are you gonna bring her to Tati’s art show?

He doesn’t have all the answers yet and he doesn’t know where you’re at either. Do you want to meet his friends? Would you even like them?

Everyone yelling at Steve is satisfying, but it would be cooler if you were here to see it.  

The following night he was up late grading papers he should’ve graded a week ago but he was too caught up in his personal life to care. Conversation with you had dwindled quickly last night as he spent more time at the bar and ended up planning the next campaign. You hadn’t reached out at all today and he felt too proud to be the one to text you first, a twinge of resentment plucking at his heart strings in his chest. Hollow loneliness drumming at his ribcage. 

The papers were graded, neatly stacked and put away in his bag for tomorrow, red pen capped and put back on his desk. Eddie groans as he stands up to stretch, peeling off his t-shirt and slipping off his sweatpants, tossing them haphazardly in the corner of the room by his hamper. He kicks off his socks, finally comfortable in his boxers and silver chain, before trudging down to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He comes back to a quiet buzz on his phone, screen glowing to life while he swipes it off his dresser. 

hey, sorry i was so MIA today. things got really busy and hectic, surprise zoom meeting with bloomingdale’s and then a second surprise offer call with bergdorf goodman and then a few vendors wanted to get dinner and schmooze. it’s no excuse honestly but i should’ve messaged you to let you know i was busy. i’m sorry, handsome :( thought about you all day if that helps 

Eddie’s heart leaps in his chest, cheeks already hurting from the smile splitting his face open. You thought about him all day. You thought about him all day. The same way he thinks about you all day. He climbs into bed, snuggling in under the covers with the glow of his phone illuminating his grinning face in the dark. 

don’t apologize, sweetheart, i know you’re busy. glad that your hectic day is over at least, now you can relax! thought about you all day, too. one of my kids kept trying to play juicy by doja cat on the sax at jazz practice, so you came to mind immediately. LMAO. i’ll take that as a compliment. what’re you doing up so late?  grading papers, but i’m done now. i’d ask why you’re up so late but it’s only nine thirty there. what’re you up to? trying this bathing suit on, finally. do you wanna see it?

“Do I wanna see it?” he murmurs, exasperated with an eye roll to no one, “Of course I wanna see it.” 

yeah, show me :) 

He waits with bated breath, trying his best to swipe out of the text conversation and do something else instead of counting the minutes until you reply. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits for the familiar buzz in his hand. 

And there you are, dark red spandex hugging you tight, cinching you in all the right places. His eyes linger on the high cut of the bottom, the way some of the pudge of your hips pokes out at the seams and he bites his lip. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbles quietly. Your thighs on full display for him, thick and begging for him to grab, you’re so fucking grabbable he can’t even stand it. 

jfc you know what you’re doing  whaaaaat? what do you mean?  ‘what do you meaaaannn 🤪’ you know what i mean.  do you not like it?  i like it a little too much  you wanna see it from the back? 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters into the darkness. He feels the blood rush to his pelvis like an army command, cock partially at attention while his hand palms delicately over his boxers. 

of course i do 

He gulps when the picture comes in, you posed like that on purpose. One ass cheek propped up on the bathroom counter, the other lifted and perky from your stance. The soft rolls of your back on display from how you’re turned to still have your pretty face in frame. He’d fucking wreck you. Lovingly, of course.

do you want me to hop on a flight or?? how much are tickets to az? i’m about to come thru.  you got enough blood in your brain to make that trip rn?  lmao you know i don’t 😏 sorry i’m all the way in a different state, i’d help take care of it. 

“Yeah?” he chokes out, palming turning to full slow strokes over the fabric, “You wanna take care of it for me?” 

yeah? you’d take care of it?  only if you asked nicely :) 

“Fuck,” he whispers, tossing his phone down to reach for his side table drawer to reach for the tiny bottle of lube he kept there. He tugs down his boxers hastily, squirting some of the liquid in his palm before picking up the phone again with his clean hand. 

i’d ask very nicely. i’d even say please.  what a good boy. :) 

“M’such a good boy,” he huffs, hand wrapping tightly around the base of his cock and dragging upwards, “I’ll be so good for you.” 

would you want me to use my hands or my mouth? 

“Oh my fucking God,” he groans, brain short circuiting at the thought of you on your knees while he stands over you. Eyes looking up at him with a hand tangled up in your hair, desperately trying to not thrust deep into your throat while you go to work on him. He bites his lip while he fucks his fist, palm and fingers gliding in time with his foreskin, teasing his tip. A fire lights in his belly, cooking up thoughts in his head on how he’d want you first. 

i like the idea of keeping your mouth full  oh you wanna shut me up? is that it?  i don’t think it takes much. 

His head leans back on the wall behind his bed, eyes closing while his hips roll up to meet the speed of his hand, slower now to stave it off. 

“Yeah, suck it just like that…” he hums out, “Please more.” His brows pinch while he looks back at the picture you sent, your glossed lips gleaming back at him. They’d look so good around his cock, your eyes would look so good filled up with tears when you tried to deep throat him.

“T-take all of it,” he stammers out, unsure of his own dirty talk to himself. Would he actually say that? 

Bzz. Bzz.

oh yeah cause you’re soooo big 🙄

“Psh,” he hisses out with a roll of the eyes, hand lifting off his cock to type back. He guesses when it comes to you, he would say that. Just so you’d stop being such a brat. 

you’re gonna feel so stupid when you see it  you sound very confident  because i am  is it big? 

He looks down at himself confidently, laying fat and dense up his stomach, kicking up at the thought of you seeing it for the first time. Chrissy always gawked at it, despite how many times she’d seen it, it was always like she was seeing it for the first time. The girls he’d pull into the bathroom at The Hideout and other bars would whine at the sight. Both him and them slurring together about how they can make it fit. 

its big, sweetheart. but i think you can take it.  i know i can take it.  so sure of yourself tonight, huh? bet you wouldn’t be so cocky if you were here.  so i could watch you jerk it in your bedroom? puhlease. 🙄 i can tell by how you’re talking that you really like the idea of that.  so you are jerking it in your bedroom?  the same way i know you have your fingers between your pretty thighs

He doesn’t know that, but it was worth the shot. His mind reels, thinking of you barely changing out of your swimsuit into nothing to lay back on your hotel bed to touch yourself to him talking to you. He grunts when his hand wraps around his length again, fisting himself with more intention, thinking about your hips writhing in time with his. He wishes he knew how you sounded when you felt good, how you’ll sound when he makes you feel good. And god does he wanna make you feel good. 

🙈 stop  yeah? i can stop.  don’t actually, i’m just embarrassed 😩 how come?  cause i do have my fingers between my thighs 

“Fuuuuuck me,” he groans into a whimper. He shudders a gasp while his hips buck up to meet his hands thrusts, imagining you on top of him, under him, below him, above him. Mouth, hands, pussy, anything of yours bobbing over his cock. Wiping the images clean and starting over with you splayed out on the hotel bed again, trying to keep quiet so your boss won’t hear you through the hotel’s thin walls. 

does it feel good, sweetheart?  it would feel better if you were doing it for me.  can i call you?

“Can I call you?” he reads out loud, in a whisper, “Can I…call you…” 

absolutely. 

Your face pops up on his phone within the minute, phone buzzing rhythmically in his hands. His heart rate jerks alive, stomach dropping like he’s on a roller coaster while it continues to ring. 

He accepts, swallowing thickly as he does. 

“Hey there,” he murmurs. 

“Hi,” your voice is shaky on the other end, he holds back a moan. 

“Hi,” he says back to you, squeezing himself softly at the base again. 

“Do you wanna hear something embarrassing?” you laugh, following up with a soft needy sigh. 

“Always,” he swoons out, low and warm. 

“Your voice is so hot to me,” you giggle, “I don’t think I could finish if I didn’t hear it.” 

“Ah, there you go again, thinking your compliments to me are embarrassing,” he smirks. You sigh again and he lets out a heady breath while he strokes himself, teetering towards a climax. 

“Sorry,” you smile, and he can hear it in your voice, “You having a hot voice isn’t embarrassing. Me getting off to it is embarrassing.” 

He pauses, hearing your shallow breaths pick up, waiting for the right time to strike. His thumb trails over his tip to smear the precum oozing out of it over the head — his eyes roll back as he thinks about your tongue there instead. 

“S’not embarrassing,” his eyelids lower, settling deeper into his pillows. He groans low in his chest before speaking again, “You all wet for me, sugar?” 

“Yeah,” you whine to him. 

“Wish I could be there to take care of you,” he huffs, “I’d make you feel so good.”  

“How?” you ask breathily. 

He smirks, biting his lower lip, letting out a low laugh, “I’d take my time with you. Sounds like you get real needy.” 

“I’m not needy,” you protest. 

“Not needy, but calls me from the other side of the country to cum to my voice?” he argues playfully, “Oh yeah, not needy at all, baby.” 

You whine again, a few huffs of breath sound in the receiver. 

“You like that?” he asks lowly, “When I’m a little mean to you?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Fuck…” he whispers back, blood rushing to the tip, twitching while he works his hand up his shaft.

“Wait – are you actually jacking it right now?” you ask with a laugh. 

“Yeah,” he sighs back, “Are you surprised?” 

“How long have you been doing it?” 

“Since you sent me that picture with your whole ass out,” he confesses with a giggle, it just makes sense to him to answer honestly. 

“Is that how you wanna fuck me?” your voice is laced with depth and sex, his hips buck up at the sound, “From the back?” 

“Maybe not at first,” he starts, imagining he’s in the hotel with you, eyes locking on yours while you touch yourself. Meeting your pleading eyes with a salacious grin while he pumps his cock, climbing on top of the mattress. Climbing on top of you. 

“I’d probably want you on your back so I could see your pretty face,” he offers, “Watch you take it.” 

You sigh into the receiver again and he groans quietly while pleasure starts taking him over. 

“But if I’m being honest…” he starts again, voice lightly teasing. Your breaths pick up, and if he thinks he’s hearing right, you’re very wet. Just because of him, the way he’s talking to you. He shudders before regaining his composure, voice dropping dangerously low. 

“I can’t wait to get my mouth on that pussy,” he slurs out, drunk on the idea. 

“Mmm, fuck,” you mewl out. Okay Munson, maybe you still know how to do this shit. “Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?” he asks, a light raise to his voice, “You like thinking about me between your legs?” 

“Yes,” you huff through gritted teeth. He feels his orgasm creeping up on him quick, your little whines hitting his ear and gliding down his chest to his pelvis. Every soft puff of your breath feels like he’s the one making it punch out of you. 

“I know you’d take it so good, too. You’d get so messy for me,” he groans again when his palm grazes over the underside of his tip, cock leaking cum unceremoniously, sending shockwaves through his system, “Just like you are right now, hm?  Waiting for me to come over ‘n’ fuck you stupid?” “Please,” you whine into a growl, “Please fuck me stupid.” 

“Oh baby, I will,” he moans while he feels his balls tighten, closer and closer to the edge, hearing you pant and beg like that. Just for him. He grunts, breath huffing from his nose like a bull while his orgasm takes him over, cum shooting onto his belly in thick ropes, “F-fuck till you can’t fuckin – mmmf – can’t fuckin’ think.” “Oh! Oh my god, fuck. Fuck!” you cry out into the receiver. He grins, satisfied at that reaction, both of you taking deep breaths into your mics while you both come down. 

“Did you cum for me, sugar?” he drawls. 

“Mhm,” you squeak out. His grin doesn’t fade, it turns dirty, filthy, “Good girl.” 

“Don’t say that.” He can hear your embarrassed smile in your voice, it makes him laugh. He’s normally not like that, that’s not something he thinks he’s ever said in bed – at least not sober. 

“I won’t say it, I’m sorry. You don’t like that?” he asks thoughtfully. 

“I like it a lot and you’re too far away,” you say softly. 

“Poor thing,” he offers. 

“I am a poor thing!” you exclaim. You quiet down a little, both just listening to each other breathe on the other end, “I’m excited to see you again, when I come back.” 

“I’m excited to see you, too,” he smiles while he speaks softly into the receiver, “But lucky for me, I have these pictures of you to hold me over until then.” 

“Visual learner?” you tease. “Physical, too,” he counters. 

“You really are trouble,” you laugh, “And um – I don’t want you to think that like, the only reason I wanna see you is just to have sex or anything. I just really like spending time with you.” 

“I don’t think that at all,” he assures, “I really, really like spending time with you. I’m – and this is gonna sound super lame – but I’m excited to keep on getting to know you.” 

“Lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” you laugh, “But also, same. We can be lame together.” “Oh – uh, by the way,” Eddie’s voice reverts back to normal while a reminder jolts his body awake, “The group really wants to meet you and I know it’s gonna be the day after you get back and you might want to rest, but Steve’s birthday party is Friday if you wanna come. Totally understand if you’re gonna be too tired.” “Oh no, I’d love that!” he can hear you shifting on the mattress, likely getting ready for bed, “Steve’s the one whose Instagram request I shouldn’t accept, right?” Eddie laughs, “Right.”

You both talk for a little longer before he tells you it’s getting late and you should get some rest since you had such a long day. He doesn’t want to hang up, but you’re both too old to be doing the ‘falling asleep on the phone’ thing. Plus, he had to be up for work in five hours. 

Eddie slides into the seat on his Honda Civic and sighs – he’s tired. He doesn’t want to go to Steve’s party where everyone is gonna be loud and drunk by the time he gets there. He hates playing catch up, but you’re gonna be there so he’s doing his best to hype himself up before he starts the car. He cracks the Monster Energy sitting in his center console and chugs it, heaving a deep breath before starting the car. Mayhem’s Freezing Moon blares through his speakers and he nods to himself, Good, good, good. It would be a hype enough song to get him excited on the way there. He gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror, looking the same as he did when he freshened up in the teacher’s bathroom after the Jazz Club performed during the Spring Concert. His slim fit black slacks still kept their crease, his wallet chains still dangled from his pocket. Eddie took your advice and started wearing more green, a hunter short sleeved linen blend button up laid open and loose over a clean and expensive white t-shirt. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he looked hot. His hair was coiffed and coiled – he made sure to get a trim before you came back just to touch up the shag. His tattoos were the showiest you’d ever seen them and deeply moisturized, his silver chain and small rings were recently cleaned. 

He wants you to lose your mind when you see him, but when he walks into the bar he knows he already lost. There you are, standing at the bar with Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin while they laugh with you at some story you’re telling. You’re all legs in your little black skirt with a cute cropped ‘ARIZONA’ sweatshirt cinching you in right at the waist. Your little white sneakers were shining purple in the black light of the bar, you probably wear these everywhere. 

“Eddie!” Dustin calls out, giving a big wave to call him towards the party. You whip around, beaming while he makes his way over, meeting him part way with a drink in your hand. He can smell your perfume immediately and he’s surprised he hasn’t already fallen to his knees. “Started without me, huh?” he asks, nodding to the drink in your hand. “I tried to get Steve a drink but he said it was a better gift for him to buy me one…or two,” you tell him sheepishly. Eddie catches Steve’s eyes over your shoulder when he pulls you in to say hello and shakes his head. Steve smirks, blowing him a kiss before mouthing, ‘Her ass? Insane.’ putting his hands out to show off the size of it. Eddie flips him off while he lets you go. 

“Everyone’s been really nice though,” you smile, giving him a once over, “You look really good.” 

“Thank you,” he says in your ear, kissing your cheek, “You look too good. Don’t think I can let you stick around here too long.” 

“S’kinda hot when you’re like that,” you grin sloppily, biting your lip. The tequila’s blurring the filter in your head a little, he can tell you’re just saying what comes to mind, eyes a little glassy. 

“Like what?” “A lil’ possessive,” you shrug. He tucks a knuckle under your chin, lifting your gaze toward him for a moment.  “Okay,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you much more passionately than you expected. Your mouth is cold against his, tongue sliding in to taste the tequila on yours. He snakes one arm around your waist so that you’re chest to chest, both of you laughing against each other’s lips while Tati and the group whoop and holler over your makeout. He breaks away, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. 

“I missed you,” he says confidently. 

“I missed you,” you smile, pulling him tight against you. This was what he was waiting for. An ounce of clinginess so that he didn’t feel so insane for wanting to be close to you all the time. He leads you back over to the bar, hand on your lower back while you put yourself back in your little group. 

“What’re you having tonight, big boy?” Ed asks Steve, clapping him on the back in a brotherly hug. 

“Surprise me – you doing shots?” he asks. Eddie nods, getting the bartender’s attention when she makes his way over. 

“Can I get four shots of Jameson and then two for my buddy over here?” he asks, pointing at Steve with his thumb. The bartender nods, lining up the shot glasses and starting the pour. “I don’t really like Jameson,” you scrunch your nose. 

“Well baby, they’re all for me, so don’t worry about it,” he grins playfully, white teeth shining, “I’ll get you something else when you finish that drink.” 

You nod lazily, pulled into conversation with Robin while Steve and Eddie start taking their shots. The whiskey feels good hitting his throat, burning just enough to reinvigorate him for the rest of the night. He clicks his tongue when he downs them all, the scent of Tatianna’s vanilla perfume overtakes him before her hands cover his eyes from behind. 

“Guess who it is,” she laughs. 

“Someone who used my Warm Vanilla Sugar hand lotion today,” he answers, his fingers running over hers while he peels her hands away. He turns to her to pull her into a hug and then hugging Gareth behind her, already with their drinks in hand. 

“Look, it went with the fragrance I was wearing today. You used my curl cream again so – you can’t even be mad,” she shrugs, beckoning him over with her hand, “Come sit with us really quick.” 

Eddie turns to get your attention but Tatianna stops him, “She’s a big girl, she’s been doing fine on her own without you here, so far. Let her make friends.” Eddie pouts and Gareth pats him on the back after passing Tati’s drink to her, guiding him over to their booth close by the end of the bar. Eddie sits in the middle of the bench, looking like a kid who just got in trouble and is about to get a stern talking to by his parents. “So…” Eddie starts. 

“I really like her, dude,” Gareth grins, “Came in and immediately knew who we were, introduced herself, offered to get us a round. All around seems very much your vibe.” 

“And you, mom?” he asks, eyes lifting up through his lashes to look at Tatianna who has a smug grin on her face. 

“All I’m saying is that you should always be listening to me when I tell you to do something,” she shrugs, “‘Cause what if you had deleted the app that night? Would’ve never met the love of your life right there.” 

“Love of my life? You think?” he asks, eyes widening. “I know. Her energy is exactly what I thought it was gonna be,” Tatianna explains, gold rings in her twists flashing back the neon reflecting on them, “And you’ve been down bad for the past few weeks so I knew there had to be something about her that was really good.” 

“So you like her?” Eddie grins. 

“We love her,” Tatianna nods, “Consider her adopted.” 

“Steve loves her too, it looks like,” Eddie huffs, looking back over at the bar to see Steve showing you something on his phone, a little too close for comfort. 

“He’s behaving himself, don’t worry,” Dustin says while he slides in next to Eddie, “We all gave him a warning before she got here. Plus, he’s got two girls on his radar right now that he’s trying to take home if he doesn’t get too drunk – but y’know, we’re banking on the getting too drunk part.” 

“Always banking on the getting too drunk part,” Gareth laughs. 

The night continues on, people coming and going, getting up to dance, getting new drinks. He watches you blend in seamlessly, swaying with Tatianna at the bar while you wait for a rum and coke for you and water for him. He still has to drive home after all. 

“What do you know about this song?” Tatianna laughs while Victoria Monet’s Coastin’ booms over the speakers. You both walk back over, two stepping in time until Gareth pulls Tatianna in tight to him, rocking back and forth with each other and stealing kisses. 

Eddie watches you approach him while you lipsync the words playfully, hips swaying in in time with the beat. 

‘Think of the waaaays, The ways I wanna give you this ass, Just how you liiiiike, Feel like a Thursday how I’m throwin’ it back.’ “The ways you wanna give me this ass, huh?” he smirks, eyes flitting over you while he takes the water yor offer him. You keep up with your sway, pressing up close to him – you look up with a fake unamused quirk of your brow and he knows you’re about to say something bitchy that’ll make him fall for you even harder. “I don’t think you could handle it,” you flirt. 

“You know something?” he starts, putting his water on the table of the booth, catching you before you can sit down, “I think I can handle you just fine.” You burn at his words, a shy grin pulling at your lips when he sits down at the edge of the bench next to Nancy and across from Steve and Robin. It’s fun to flirt with you like this, right on the precipice of something a little dirty. He wants you so bad and if he knows women as well as he thinks he does, he knows you want him so bad, too.  He pats his thigh, encouraging you to sit on his lap. You hesitate at first but he nods encouragingly, a silent Please, it’s okay. You settle in, the table high enough that both sets of your thighs fit under the table. He takes a breath before letting his hands settle on your skin, imagining what it might be like when he gets to put his hands on all of it. 

Everyone banking on Steve getting too drunk to take someone home was right, him and Robin were already in their codependent best friend phase of the night where they only want to hang out with each other, hands cupped tight on the table. You’re talking to Robin about a game that’s like Sims but 8-bit – 

“It’s called Unpacking and it’s so cute, you basically unpack a house or a room and you learn more about the person’s story by unpacking their boxes – sort of like Sims but with actual feelings that you don’t have to make up,” you enthuse. 

“Is it on Steam?” she asks, “I’ll literally buy it right now.” 

“We’re partying, Rob, don’t play a dumb game,” Steve whines. 

“She’s not gonna play it right now, Steve,” Nancy chides, “She’s gonna play it later. Don’t worry, we all know tonight is about you.” 

Lucas comes over to the table looking aggravated, Max grinning next to him in a smile that Eddie knows too well. Lucas lost a bet and has to pay up, Eddie wonders what they bet on this time. 

“Why does your Dragon’s Lair score have to be so fucking high? Can you literally let anyone have anything?” Lucas huffs. 

“Don’t be so sad, Sinclair – you can always try to beat Red’s score,” Eddie shrugs, smirking smugly at the pair. 

“She’s 250 points behind you, and you’re both like, seven thousand points ahead of everyone else,” he huffs. 

“What’d’you owe her this time?” he asks. 

“I can’t even tell you out loud,” he sighs. Max cackles, offering her hand and leading him back over to the Party at the bar, fingers laced with each other while they talk. Eddie adjusts under you, groin shifting under your ass by accident but he savors how delicious it feels to have you on top of him like this. 

“Are there any other games in there that you have a high score on?” you ask, breath hitching slightly while his hands coast teasingly over your bare skin under the table. Your posture straightens when his fingers glide up your inner thigh, brushing his fingertips past the hem of your skirt. You like that, he thinks, your body language tells him all he needs to know to keep going. 

“The Dracula pinball machine,” he replies confidently. 

“I’m gonna go beat it,” you grin up at him. 

“Oh yeah?” he asks, hand sliding off your thigh when you get up to head to the arcade room,  “You even know how to play?” 

“You can show me,” you shrug. He doesn’t really have to show you, pinball is pretty self explanatory, but he doesn’t want to give up a chance to have you alone. He leads you to the machine, pointing out where you want the ball to hit for the best chance at extra points. The music on the sound system is loud and the machine’s music matches it so he has to get close to your ear to explain. 

“Do you think I don’t really know how to play or do you just wanna get close to me?” you ask, turning your head to look at him while he chin hooks over your shoulder. “You caught me,” he blushes, hand resting on your hip while he fills the gap between your back and his chest, “I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.” 

And you do, in fact, you’re really fucking good at pinball and he’s almost mad about it. “Where did you learn to do this?” he asks after you rack up nearly three fourths of his high score in one go, the ball just narrowly missing the lever before sinking down to be propelled again. 

“Summers on the boardwalk in New Hampshire,” you grin, “My uncle lives over there so we go visit him every year. Played one pinball machine every summer – my high score still stands, like, eleven years later.” “That’s so hot to me, oh my god,” he laughs while you get the next ball rolling onto the board. You lean forward, hips jutting out against him while you really get into it, concentrating hard. Eddie’s breath hitches when you slowly move your hips against him, so slow that he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose or not.  Rihanna’s Work starts over the speakers and  that’s when he knows it’s on purpose. Your movement’s pick up a little, lost in the game and in the beat. You’re a good dancer and that makes his mind wander to other things you might be good at. Your fingers work quick on either side of the machine, lights flashes against both of your faces while you keep trying to win and he keeps trying to not pull your skirt up in the middle of Barcade. 

While the song continues, he stops paying attention to you playing, so caught up in how your waist winds and ass bounces against him that he doesn’t realize you aren’t even playing any more. His hips grind slowly back against you, one hand on your lower back, the other gripping your hip to keep you in position. This isn’t new territory for him, pulled into clubs by Tati and Gare, Robin and Steve, everyone else, from the moment things opened back up again in Indiana. When you look back at him he short circuits at first, but he knows you’re surprised he can dance like this. Maybe you forgot, but he does teach Music Theory – rhythm is kind of his whole thing. Of course he has it.  

Your hips roll, making your ass run painstakingly slow and firm over his hardening cock. A groan gets stuck in his throat, reaching out to your shoulder to pull you up right again with your back against his chest. 

“You like bein’ a tease?” he asks, voice deep and daunting. 

“Just getting you back for what you did under the table,” you say matter-of-factly, turning around to face him with your butt leaning against the machine, “You’re not the only one here who knows how to be a slut.” “Also, I beat you,” you grin. 

“Looks like you did,” he says, eyes passing yours to look at the new high score glowing on the outdated screen. 

“Do I win a prize?” 

“M’sure I can think of something,” he murmurs, lips pressing against yours while both of your eyes flutter closed. He takes your hand, leading you to the dark corner close by, both of you hidden by the now defunct change machine to press you up against the wall. “What do you think you deserve?” he purrs before catching your mouth in his again. His kiss is a little sloppy, a little needy, it’s the four shots of Jameson. Not too drunk to drive, but buzzed enough that he doesn’t care about his kissing technique, he just wants to taste you. “Oh, it’s like that?” you giggle mischievously, “I don’t think we can do what I think I deserve in a public place.” 

“Hmm, okay, not into exhibitionism I guess,” he huffs a laugh while his kisses trail to your neck, knee slotting between your legs where you eagerly press up against him. He feels one of your hands fall into his hair, making his assault on the crook of your neck more intense when you give it a slight pull. “Kiss me,” you whine softly. “M’sorry, sorry,” he smirks, meeting your lips again, “You just smell really good, I like being in there.” “You’re a really good –” Kiss. “Mmm--kisser.” “Thanks, sugar, you’re –” Kiss. “Not so bad your –” Kiss. “Mmm shit – yourself.”  He can barely think like this, so close to you but not close enough. Hands on your waist and hips to guide you against part of his thigh while a little whine pulls out of you. He can’t hold off much longer, feeling his pants grow unbearably tight. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbles against your jaw, a satisfied smile blooms on his face when you roll your hips against his knee again. 

“You don’t wanna hear everyone drunkenly sing Steve happy – oh, mmm – happy birthday?” you pant out while he presses kisses at the curve of your jaw back to your mouth. His hand entwines with the hair at the nape of your neck, giving you a soft tug to keep your head in place. 

“The only thing I wanna hear right now,” he purrs in your ear, “Is what you sound like when I’m making you cum.” 

The ride home is quick, barely saying goodbyes while he pulled you through the crowds building at the bar and paid the tab. Gareth shot him a wink as they left, tossing you both a wave but neither of you could think of anything else except each other. 

He dropped his keys twice trying to get in the door of his first floor apartment, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you smile, “Just breathe. I’m still gonna be here.” 

The door opens and he takes a millisecond to rip your coat off and kick off his shoes, instructing you to kick off your sneakers or Tati would likely emerge from the walls and kill you both for walking into the house with your outside shoes on. His lips immediately attach to yours. There’s no time to waste for him, pulling you over to the couch and plopping down with an excited puff of breath. “C’mere baby,” he beckons you over with two fingers, grinning up at you while you climb over his lap to straddle him. His kiss is searing, hands exploring you with abandon, all the ways he’s been thinking about touching you were now fair play. No one here to see either of you, no one around to interrupt. You can feel how hard he is under his dress pants, the material leaves little to the imagination. The gentle curve of it, its thickness, the length, all pressing up against you with every mutual roll of your hips. 

You choke out a whimper when it hits just right up against your clothed slit. Eddie looks up at you mischievously, greedily sucking on your neck for a moment before catching your gaze a little.

“That’s all it takes? Just pushing my hips up like that?” he purrs, rolling them up again slowly, “Is that what you want?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe. He bites at the skin on your chest, not hard enough to hurt. He grips and grabs you but not hard enough to bruise. He’s testing the waters, seeing what you like and how you like it. His hands travel down past your hips, gripping the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your mouth, exploring you more, his palms flattening against your skirt while it rides up, the curve of your cheeks warm in his hands. 

“Finally got to grab it the way you wanted to?” you tease between breaths. 

“Mhmm,” he groans, “Now I just gotta smack it around.” 

You take his lower lip between your teeth, making his cock twitch when you let it go to click back against his gums. 

“Ooh, you wanna spank me?” you laugh into your next kiss. His hand reaches up to pull at your waist, pushing you tighter up against him. His fingers graze between your legs from behind while your head falls back in a breathy gasp. 

“Do you want me to spank you?” he asks, brows raised inquisitively.  

“Maybe not tonight,” you shrug with a smirk, hips winding over him in a way that makes him really feel you. He growls when you do it, hands guiding your hips to do it again, “Maybe only when I’ve been bad.” 

“Jus’lemme know,” he grumbles, pupils taking over the brown in his eyes, “So I can  — mmm, shit — teach ya a lesson.” 

“Next time,” you huff into his next kiss. He manhandles you so that your back is to the cushions and throw pillows, switching your positions so that he’s on top.

“Next time,” he nods, pulling your sweatshirt off and dropping it to the floor, “But since you’re so good, it only makes sense that you get a reward, right?” 

“I did beat you at pinball, so…” you grin. He grins back, kissing your neck hungrily, slotting his knee between your legs like he did at the bar. 

“You did beat me at pinball,” he nods, a soft growl brewing in his chest when he feels you start to grind against him. Insatiable, he thinks, Greedy girl. But he doesn’t know if he can say that to you yet. He doesn’t know, all the way, what you like. He feels his heart hammer in his chest at the fear of realizing it – you aren’t Chrissy. What if he was only good because Chrissy thought so? What if he wasn’t actually – 

“Oh!” you squeak out, hand reaching out to grip his bicep. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away from your neck to look at you, big brown eyes blown with nerves. 

“Y-yeah that’s just…where you’re kissing…that’s a spot for me,” you admit bashfully, unable to look at him. 

“Sweetheart,” he shakes his head with a knowing smirk, “Shouldn’t’ve told me that.” 

A kiss on the lips is his only consolation to you before he goes back to your neck, tongue trailing down to its last spot where he parks his teeth and lips. You like that. He hears you like it. And fucking God is it good to hear you like this, to hear you in person, moaning and whining in his ear just from kissing and sucking this spot on your neck. 

“Eddie…” you breathe, high pitched and desperate, hips still pressing against his knee for friction. He can’t help but go back to your lips, but before he does, he peeks to see the marks he left behind. 

Lips become neck, neck becomes chest, chest becomes stomach, stomach becomes hips, and before you know it he’s on his knees on the rug in front of you. Eddie’s eyes find yours when he’s kneeling between your legs, the center of your thighs looking him in the face. He places a kissing on the inside of your knee, gentle and soft. 

He opens his mouth to ask, but you nearly read his mind, tugging up the hem of your skirt over your thick thighs. He helps, pushing the fabric up over your hips and ass so he gets another chance to touch and feel you. Once he settles back down he takes a breath, smiling up at you while he readjusts your legs to open a little wider, mouth making contact with your skin soon after. His lips capture the fat of your inner thigh, traveling down in passionate kisses, like your skin is divinity that he’s found for the first time. 

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, lips ghosting over your underwear to reach the top of your other knee, planting a kiss there too. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out. He lets out a low, teasing giggle at the state of you, head lolling back on the couch while he kisses the inside of one thigh and runs his hand over the outside of the other. His kisses stop and he looks up at you from between your legs, big brown eyes begging you to let him in. A ringed finger teases over the gusset of your underwear, the way you bite your lip gives him the approval to keep going. His slides your panties off, run of the mill black cheeky cut cotton that he wished he could’ve stripped you down to. Just to see that ass swallowing them, to see the way they sat on the curves of your hips. 

“You nervous?” he asks with a smile while your legs close, your underwear placed on the floor next to your shirt.

“A little,” you giggle. 

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he coos, hands cupping under your knees to spread your legs again, “Just gonna make you feel good.” 

He sighs when your legs open up for him, already wet and puffy, you’d been thinking about this all night. Eddie nips softly at your inner thigh again before he lets his lips linger over your folds. You squirm your hips closer to him, a whine leaking out of your mouth. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I won’t tease you, I’m sorry.” 

But he’s lying. Leaning in to get close, only to ghost a breath over your clit. Fingers sliding to your slick lips to separate them slightly for more access to you. He pauses, leaning back away from your pussy and looks up at you quizzically.

“Actually, should I put on Hey Mr. DJ to set the mood? Since it’s so fucknasty…” gesturing his thumb towards the sound system on the other side of the room. You let out a mix of a laugh and a groan while his kisses coast on your thighs again.

“You said you wouldn’t teaaaasssseeee-oh my God,” you moan out when his mouth meets your clit without warning, soft, slow sucks and licks. 

“You like that, sugar?” he asks, voice dropping down to a bassy gravel. 

You nod feverishly, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

“Mmm, don’t stop?” he asks, tongue gliding from your entrance to your clit. 

“Please,” you gasp, hand reaching out to run through his hair, bangs pushing back to reveal the soft lines of his forehead. 

“Well you’re asking so nice, seems a little mean to keep you waiting,” he coos, fingers replacing his mouth while he talks, “But I thought you liked it when I was a little mean.” 

“Don’t be mean, Ed,” you pout. 

“Okay, I won’t be mean,” he smiles, opening your legs a little wider. He’s confident about his skills here, Chris loved getting eaten out so he dedicated a lot of time to getting it right. It helped that he loved going down, watching his partner gasp and whine while he serves her on his knees. Feeling the tug on his hair when he’s doing it right, making her feel good. The press of her hand to push him closer to her when she’s getting close, giving it to her over and over again. 

“Oh fuck, Ed — oh my god, baby,” you mewl, hips grinding up against his mouth. He smirks into the next stripe of his tongue, latching onto your clit to suck softly while his fingers press against your entrance. His eyes gaze up at you, your own going glassy while you look down at him. 

“I like when you look at me like that,” he confesses quietly, mouth returning to its actions immediately. He keeps his eyes on you while his first finger pushes in, he groans at the feeling — snug, warm, wet. He drags out slowly, a high pitched moan escaping you when he pushes back in with little resistance. His head moves with his mouth, tongue laving over your clit, lips pursing over it when he feels your pulse over his finger. 

“You’re so good — fuck — you’re so good at this,” you sigh. The praise runs down his chest and along his spine, he moans gratefully into his next kiss against you. He stripes his tongue again, using his other hand to keep your lips spread for more access. Your thighs twitch while he goes back to soft deliberate sucking, alternating between that and gentle fluttering flicks from the tip of his tongue. 

“That’s good for you?” he mumbles. 

“You’re so good for me,” you whisper back, gripping his hair hard when he pushes his second finger in, “Just…unhm, just like that.” 

He keeps a steady pace with his fingers, evidence of his skill coating them while he does. He wants to drag this out a while, take his time with you like he said he would. He breaks his mouth away for a moment to really look at you, just in your bra and skirt. His heart skips a beat, breath caught in his throat. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Too afraid to say it outloud. What if you don’t like that while you have sex? You said you like when he was a little mean, does that mean he should be mean all the time? 

“Earth to Ed…” he hears you say, your hand waving in his face. He looks back up at you, startled, “You okay? You stopped and sort of just…stared for a second.” 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he laughs to himself, taking his fingers away to massage the inside of your thighs with both hands, “Just got caught up staring at you.” 

“Ew,” you giggle with a smile, “You think I’m pretty or somethin’?” 

Eddie leans up between your legs on the couch where you come down to meet him, noses inches apart, “Well I don’t wanna be too forward…” 

“You’re literally eating me out, you can’t get any more forward,” you both laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Of both being shaky and shy even this far into the game. 

“Like I was saying — I don’t wanna be too forward, but I think you’re honestly so beautiful,” he blushes bashfully, looking down so all you can see are his full lashes, “And I didn’t wanna be corny and say it while I’m like, neck deep in your pussy.”

“That’s very sweet, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, pushing back one side when he looks up at you again. Baby. He likes when you call him that. He likes when you call him baby. He’s excited for you to call him other names like pretty boy, and babe, and honey. He wants to hear ‘em all. He wants you to spend the night so he can make you breakfast in the morning — for like…ever. You kiss him and he shudders, cock jumping in his slacks for a hint of attention — but he has a job to finish. 

“You’re very sweet,” he says, nuzzling your nose before kissing your cheek, then your jawline, your neck, your chest, down and further down until he’s between your legs again — he doesn’t tease this time. He licks at your entrance, replacing his fingers with his tongue to lap up what you have for him. Your thighs tremble he trails back up, swirling his tongue over your clit when his fingers snugly sink back inside you. 

“Eddie…” 

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, voice smokey and deep. He lets his fingers search inside you for your g-spot, grinning when he finds it. Your moan is loud when he massages it, hips pushing down into the couch cushions, head thrown back while you grind against him. 

“M’so close,” you huff, “That feels so good, please don’t stop. Don’tstopdon’tstop.” 

He grunts, feeling your thighs jump while he keeps up his pace. His tongue gets sloppy with it, wet and filthy, pooling spit out of his mouth in droves to mix with your slick. He fills you with a third finger, legs parting further again while you huff into the stretch. 

“Ooh, you can really take it, baby,” he encourages, “Look at you takin’ all these fingers.” He glides the flat of his tongue over you once before leaning back to watch you. The pads of his fingers press in slow circles against your g-spot again, smirking when your eyes roll back. 

“M’gonna cum…oh shit  — oh fuck Ed I’m g.. — ohfuck — fuckfuckfuck — mmm-ah!” Your hips jump, lifting off the couch, writhing to pull away while you feel your orgasm rush rapidly to its peak. 

“Thaaaat’s it,” he smiles, mouth returning home to its place latched over you. He holds your hips down with his free hand, eyes fluttering closed while he continues. A slight flit of his tongue right as he pumps his fingers in puts stars in your eyes, thighs snapping closed on either side of his head — exactly what he wanted.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you chant with strained, shaking vocal chords, tears pricking your eyes. Eddie groans when he feels your walls clench down hard over his fingers, flooding over him down his hand. You hiss while he keeps going, fingers easing out of you but tongue licking up as much as he can while you come down in shivers. 

“You okay?” he asks, when your thighs release him. You reach for his hand, still covered in your juices and pull it toward you — but he knows your game. He knows you’re gonna lick it off and give him those eyes — so he pulls his wrist away, “Oh, no baby.”  

Eddie delicately puts his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours with a glint of satisfaction, and gently sucks them clean instead. 

“I don’t like to waste it, sugar,” he croons, “I can make you something if you’re hungry.” 

His sexy act breaks when you roll your eyes at him, clearly flustered by his antics in your post orgasm glow. He snickers when he stands up, leaning down to peck you with your arousal still smeared on his mouth and chin. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pouts back. A peck turns to a kiss, a kiss to something passionate. 

“Why don’t I go get cleaned up,” he starts, before catching you in another kiss.

“You should pee since that’s the smart thing to do before and after,” he presses a kiss to your neck.

“And then I’ll take you to bed,” he murmurs huskily, “How’s that?” 

“That’s really nice,” you rasp back, turning so that you’re nose to nose, “But I am a little hungry now that you said that.” 

“You’re funny,” he smiles, another kiss, “I’ll get us a snack and then I’ll take you to bed, is that better?” 

“Much better.”  

Eddie passes you your panties and shirt, and points out where the bathroom is down the hall. While you traipse along, he opens the fridge, taking out the tiramisu he got as dessert with his takeout last night but didn’t get around to eating. He slices the generous cut in half, gently placing it on two tea plates and grabbing two forks. 

“Do you like tiramisu?” he asks when he hears your socked feet pad into the kitchen. 

“I do. My mom’s is the best actually,” you brag. He turns around to see you, your bright smile, your refreshed face. 

“Will you still eat it if it’s not your mom’s?” he asks, offering you the plate. 

“Yes, of course,” you nod, taking both plates out of his hands and placing them on the table, “But first I gotta –” 

Eddie’s taken aback by the kiss, but you don’t notice. He’s swift at the pick up, matching your pace expertly and hoisting you up onto the counter with surprising ease. He grunts when you pull him forward between your legs by the belt loops because he knows you’re trying to fuck just as much as he is. 

“Baby…” he starts, regretfully breaking away, “Are you hungry or not?” 

You don’t answer at first, you just look at him and kiss him again. When you pull away, your gaze lingers. Fear coasts icily over his chest when you almost look forlorn. 

“Shit…” you whisper, shoulders drooping. 

“Wh-what? What is it?” he asks, hands getting clammy where they rest on your thighs.

“I…” you take a deep breath, it shakes when you exhale, “I really fucking like you.” 

He smiles, but he knows why this is your response, why you look like this, why your shoulders sulk — because he’s also there, “Does that make you scared?” 

You nod, but instead of going in to kiss you again he pulls you close, smooching your cheek before leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay that you’re scared,” he murmurs, “But if it’s any consolation…”

“I really fucking like you, too.” 

When you kiss again, he’s overwhelmed. 

“Fuck the tiramisu,” you breathe, “Let’s just —.” 

“Mhm,” he breathes back, hoisting you off the counter, balancing you on his hips, “I fucking need you.” 

Jingle. Click. Creak. 

“HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” calls the voice of a sloshed Steve Harrington, from the front door, “Put your clothes on, sluts.” 

But it’s not just Steve, it’s the whole party — the group filing into the living room while you hurriedly slide down Eddie’s form. Tatianna and Gareth follow in after everyone gets their shoes off, laughing and joking with Robin and Dustin while they stumble through the door. They halt when they catch Eddie’s expression from the other room, a stare so cold it could freeze them both. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Gareth mouths, realizing with deep regret what they’ve interrupted. Tatianna makes her way over, making a face of pure guilt when she makes it into the kitchen. 

“So here’s the thing, my phone died and Steve was using Gareth’s phone to change the music and I forgot to text you,” she explains to the both of you, “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s seriously okay,” you laugh, “Please don’t feel bad. It’s you and Gareth’s apartment, too.” 

“Are you mad at me?” Tati pouts at Eddie, who could not stay mad at Tati for even a second. 

He puffs a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms, “No, no, I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.” 

“Okay,” she smiles, opening her arms for a hug which he obliges without question, “Gare’s sorry too, but unfortunately he’s busy babysitting Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum with Nance.”  Eddie looks down at you when he lets go of Tatianna, reaching his hand out to rub your back, “She means Robin and Steve.” 

“I figured,” you smile. Tatianna makes her exit and you’re both alone in the kitchen again. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie offers, using the leverage of his hand on your back to pull you in close to him. 

“What, why? There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you furrow your brow, forearms leaning up the length of his chest. The opening bass of Dua Lipa’s One Kiss starts to thump from the soundsystem in the living room into the kitchen, along with Steve’s passionate This is my favorite fucking song, holy shit. 

“Everything got ruined,” he frowns, “I’m like, kind of embarrassed.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you urge, pulling him a little closer to give him a reassuring kiss, “There’s always next time. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

“No?” he asks, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re stayin’ right here?” 

“Well, until I have to go to home,” you shrug. The music gets a little louder and Eddie throws his disappointment to the wind. There is always next time. For now, he has you here in his kitchen, lips on yours, hands on your cheeks, the steady thump of the beat of his heart. And of course, Steve drunk crying to Robin in the living room – You’re literally my best fucking friend. You’re my best fucking friend Rob, I love you so much. 

Eddie giggles against your mouth at the sound, an ache caught in his chest. He really fucking likes you. 

[seat-safety-switch]

There's this super fancy steakhouse near my home, and I've always wanted to eat there. Their salad bar is beyond excellent, a friend informs me, and their grated cheese is actually from Italy. Expense aside, you'd think this would be an easy trip for me. You're wrong.

You see, this steakhouse is so fancy that they have a special employee whose job it is to park my car. As far as I can tell by watching their parking lot with high-powered binoculars, their "valet" will take your car from you at the entrance, park it for you, and retrieve it for you when you're done eating. This, presumably, saves you the dinner-ruining stress of gently turning your vehicle to place it into a parking space.

Personally, I don't mind parking. My own backyard is full of cars packed helter-skelter, with mere millimetres of space between them. I could probably park a bus in here, if I really had to, but it would take me a couple of hours to get it back out. That's not the problem. The problem is that the valet would have to drive my car, which means I'd have to explain how to drive my car to them.

In case you think that's not a problem, allow me to explain. Most carbureted cars have a single choke, which you pull out when the car is cold in order to help it breathe a little better. Mine has sixteen, which must be pulled, bagpipe-like, in a specific order as the engine is running in order to keep it from dying at the lights. Could I fix it? Not until they create a bottle of head-gasket fix that also cures giant holes in the block.

Sure, I could park a few blocks away and walk there, but the valet will smell the desperation on me. If I have a rusty, propane-spurting 1970s Chrysler product, maybe I'm an eccentric. There's fewer of those left than Ferrari 458s, which makes me a "vintage collector," at least in the eyes of the super-rich-people yacht-owning magazine I tricked into doing an interview with me last year. All that goes out the window if I show up on foot. Same goes for letting my dinner date drive me there: her Hyundai Tucson is, well, a Hyundai Tucson. Not eccentric at all. Practical. They hate that there.

Ultimately, I think I'm going to have to bite the bullet and do things the hard way. I've already applied for a job as their assistant valet. There's an employee discount, and I'm pretty sure that I'll be head valet once the bossman sees that I can fit like 700% as many cars in there as the old guy. It's just going to take a few weeks to get them back out again, which is even better for business.

[joshsindigostreak]

Moonburn

Chapter One

Nine of Swords, Upright: sleepless nights, worry and anxiety.

Vampire Hunter!Jake x Witch!OC

Authors Note: Hey y’all!! I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter in Jake’s story! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! If you need to catch up on the Prologue, do so here.

*Set prior to the events of I See Hell in Your Eyes. This is the beginning of Jake’s story. This can be read independently from ISHIYE but there will be cross references as it’s in the same universe.

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Not very many just some swearing.

Description: When a young affluent hunter finds himself taking an unexpected detour in Tucson, Arizona, he finds himself drawn to a local dive bar with a rather ecclectic clientele, situated on an equally intriguing location adjacent to a cemetery. Cemeteries are neutral ground, so even if he found a Vampire to snuff out, he couldn’t. Especially with the owner of the bar being a Witch and watching him like a hawk.

Jake’s dreams were always distinctly under two categories: either he’d find his dream self walking down an empty city street, head on a swivel for any Vampiric activity, trailing one he had found earlier that kept evading him. Or, he’d wake up in his childhood bedroom, realize that he was seven years old again, hearing footsteps in the hallway growing closer.

His mind would not let go of the night that Vampire broke in and found the twins’ room first on the upper floor. The Vampire’s appearance had morphed over the years, steadily gaining more grotesque. But the feeling of its mangled and dirty fingers tangling in his hair and violently pulling upwards, sending white hot pain into the boys’ scalp as his feet lifted off the ground, was always the same.

This night was no exception, and unfortunately for the young hunter it was the latter scenario.

A distant creak of the hardwood floors down the hallway always startles him awake. His large and curious brown eyes would always pop open at the sound, and he’d strain his ears to try to figure out who was walking towards his shared room with Josh. It couldn’t have been his little brother Sam; he was too light to make the floorboards move like that. Josh was snoring above him, oblivious to everything, so that ruled out him. Maybe his parents? But he could hear the heavy thuds of shoes as the sound got closer, and why would his parents have their shoes on in the middle of the night? The realization that it was someone else in the house besides his family made his blood run cold and had him pulling his covers up to his chin as he tried to make himself as small as possible on the bottom bunk.

A few agonizing minutes later, the footsteps were right outside his door, and his younger self was stiff as a board, bracing himself for whomever would enter. Sure enough, the doorknob would slowly twist and a stream of light from the hallway would stream in as the door opened. All he saw before he screwed his eyes shut was a large, intimidating silhouette peering into his room. Jake tried to keep his breathing even, not wanting to give it away that he was awake. The intruder made his way into their room, kicking a few toys out of the way in the process. He could feel their presence near his bed, and it took everything in him to not flinch at the putrid breath that was being exhaled into his face.

But Jake was a frightened child, and his instinct was to get to his brother as quickly as possible. When the creature whispered, “jackpot…” his eyes shot open and he opened his mouth to yell for his twin, all while trying to scramble down his bed and make it to the ladder leading up to Josh’s bunk. His tiny hand had just reached one of the bottom bars when the all too familiar sensation of fingers in his hair and being yanked backwards and upwards rattled his system. Distantly he would hear his brother startle awake and barely touching the ladder as he flew down to come to his rescue.

The creature paid Josh no mind while he lifted up the younger boy to his eye level, his mouth twisting into a sadistic smile and revealing the long jagged fangs that extended from his gums.

A Vampire had somehow broken into their extensively guarded house.

Jake kicked and squirmed midair, trying to get the Vampire to drop him, but it was no use. The creature stared into his eyes, hunger clearly on his mind. The young boy couldn’t take it anymore and as he clawed at the Vampire’s wrist he took a deep breath and released a shrill, high pitched shriek that rattled the-

The now adult Jake shot up in bed, silver knife white knuckled in his fist. Through his own personal training, he had taught himself how to sleep with his hand curled around a knife under his pillow, and not letting go of it until he was awake.

His skin was damp and clammy, feeling especially chilled from the ceiling fan spinning above. In spite of this sweat gathered on his hairline, threatening to spill down his face. His eyes darted around the room for any threats, as if he was ready to face off with the Vampire from his memory. But the hunter was alone in the tiny motel room, and when he deduced this he rolled out of bed, still holding the knife. He padded over to the sink in the miniscule kitchenette and poured a glass of water from the sink. He gulped it down but it took two more glasses to finally get some relief in his dry throat.

After setting the glass down and abandoning it next to the sink he went around the room to check his security measures. His crossbow lay still on the other side of the bed, with a wooden arrow locked and loaded, ready to be grabbed at a moment's notice. With Josh off doing whatever it was he was doing, the weapon was the closest thing he had to a partner in crime.

The solitary window was covered by curtains, and Jake carefully pulled back one of the panels to look out onto the parking lot. The sun was freshly risen, giving him solace in the fact that his ultimate threats were locked inside and away from the light. Sunrises had always been Jake’s favorite for this reason. His shoulders relaxed as he opened the curtains as far as he could, letting in as much natural light as possible. Now that he was awake and definitely not going back to sleep any time soon, he turned his attention to getting a shower and washing off nightmares as best he could.

~!~

It had been over four days now, and Jake still could not get his night at The Tipsy Tumbleweed out of his head. He went to other bars around town to kill time, but all of them were so basic to him. They were too loud, or the drinks sucked, or the TV’s weren’t on anything interesting, or the bartenders would try way too hard to flirt with him for better tips. He wanted to go back, he wanted to see her, he wanted to at least get her name.

But Jake was full of an unfamiliar feeling of intimidation he wasn’t used to. He couldn’t remember the last time he had walked into a situation where he wasn’t the top dog, even when surrounded by Damned corpses who were decades older than him. His exposure to other supernatural creatures was limited. Growing up the focus was so heavily on Vampire’s that he rarely took the time to learn much about others. He usually just relied on Sam to info dump about whatever creature he was obsessed with that month and he’d tuck any useful information into the back of his mind and kept on moving.

Sam’s best friend happened to be a Werewolf, which was a secret that all three Kiszka boys kept to themselves out of respect for Danny, who always seemed like a good kid regardless of his DNA. The twins were just glad that their little brother had finally made a true friend, which was something they always worried about given Sam’s nerdy and introverted nature. The change in Sam after that first summer with Danny was like night and day, and his confidence and ego hadn’t stopped growing since. It was a gift and a curse, Josh would say in exasperation.

Witches however? Jake hadn’t truly met one in person before. He knew of them, and had gotten a few lectures on how to watch out for them. His mother in particular emphasized that they were simply untrustworthy and never expounded beyond that. Once again his brother would fill in the blanks sometimes. He mentioned a few who had gone to his university but he wasn’t particularly close to them. That hadn’t stopped Josh from making cracks about Sam going to Hogwarts whenever he got the chance, or asking if he had any classes with Hermione. This usually resulted in the nearest object thrown in the oldest sibling's direction.

The most Jake knew about them was that they were definitely not human, and most had innate abilities that were passed down via genetics. Covens were a thing but not a requirement, and most were very secretive as to what they got up to. One thing Jake would never openly admit is when he was out of his depth on something, but he couldn’t just accept defeat like this and twiddle his thumbs until he could get out of town.

Which was why he was sitting in the parking lot of The Tipsy Tumbleweed, staring at the entrance from the drivers side of his shitty rental. He mulled over the vague threat she had given him days prior. She didn’t say he couldn’t come back…just that he couldn’t come back and pull any shit. He could do that. He could just walk in, sit down and be good. He could potentially apologize.

The hunter repeated these affirmations to himself as he walked inside, immediately greeted by the familiar music, the glow of the various neon signs, and the scowl of the owner of the bar he was standing in.

She was behind the bar, writing something in a notebook of hers on the bar top when those big hazel eyes looked up and locked onto him. It took a conscious effort on Jake’s part to not trip over his own feet under her gaze.

He settled on the bar stool directly in front of her without a word, and the two stared at each other wondering who would flinch first. Her hazel irises were all he could focus on, and he took the opportunity to map out the different ways the green blended into light brown.

“Are you going to behave tonight?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t?”

Her right eyebrow slowly raised, “not in my bar there isn’t.”

The hunter nodded at the Witch, falling back into silence.

She reached to her left and brought a low ball glass in front of her on the bar and her other hand grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured about two fingers worth into the glass. It was the same order from that first night, this time untampered with.

“We’re going to try this again, but if you even look at Lou for too long I’ll physically toss you out myself.”

The hunter's eyes swiveled slightly to the right, his peripheral catching sight of the Vampire who was focused on the TV. Jake quickly snapped his eyes back to the bar owner’s,

“Got it,” he replied in an obedient tone that he rarely spoke in.

She nodded and replied, “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some regulars to greet.”

The Witch turned on her heel and walked out from around the bar, passing behind Jake and making her way to one of the two-top tables towards the front of the bar. As she passed, a sweet yet earthy scent wafted around him. Was that her perfume? He pondered. Or was that just her?

He racked his brain as he tore his eyes away from the swing of her hips and turned back to his glass. Whiskey was always his go-to at bars, because no one could truly fuck it up, but in truth, he was a Pinot Noir guy. It started when he was a teenager and the only alcohol he could get his hands on was the wine in the basement. His parents collected bottles from their travels and had so many at this point that they never actually drank that Jake sneaking a bottle or two every so often went unnoticed. He quickly figured out what he liked so by the time he was actually of age it became his private staple.

Jake continued to fire off questions in his head as he outwardly minded his own business.

He was brought back to reality when a familiar young voice answered, “her name is Cecilia, by the way.”

Jake looked up and saw the young bartender named Stacey standing in front of him.

“How did you-”

Her eyes went wide once again, just like that first night, “oh shit I’m so sorry! Sometimes it's hard to differentiate people’s inner voices from their outer voices and it sounds like someone asked me something out loud and-”

Jake raised his hands slightly off the bar, palms facing outwards to show he wasn’t mad, “hey, you didn’t do anything wrong it’s ok.”

Her face relaxed slightly, but she was still clearly embarrassed, “Cecilia’s been helping me get better at it but I still fuck up some times.”

Jake looked at her with warm eyes, “I’m assuming that you heard me thinking about him,” he cocked his head in Lou’s direction, “and went off and told her the other night?”

She looked down at the bar top and fiddled with her fingers, “yeah…we’ve just never had any trouble in here before and Lou is just really special to us and I didn’t want anything to happen to him.”

Stacey kept her voice low, as to not let Lou hear her saying that he was special to her. However, it didn’t work and the Vampire kept facing the TV and he suppressed a small smile while his face turned pink.

“Well you don’t have to worry about me, I'm not going to mess with him.”

“I guess that truth serum worked,” she looked up, trying not to smile.

Now it was Jake’s turn to look embarrassed, “yeah…yeah it did.”

“Well she’s still letting you sit here so she can’t be too mad still.”

“I’m on thin ice but I promise I’m just here cause I like the place, that's all.”

Stacey looked down and saw that Jake’s glass was empty, “do you want another drink?”

Jake looked down at the glass, but decided to do something different tonight, “do you have a good Pinot here?”

She looked at him blankly, “wine?”

“Yes…”

“Umm…I think we have a few bottles in the back.” She turned and disappeared behind the Employee door.

Jake sat there softly tapping his thumbs on the edge of the bar, inwardly hating that he was making a fuss over something as arbitrary as a drink. It was another reason why he always fell back on his “usual.” He hated being “that guy” in situations.

After a few minutes the young bartender busted through the Employee door and nearly jogged over to Jake’s spot at the bar. It was clear she wasn’t used to using a corkscrew, but after cussing a little under her breath the cork popped from the bottle. She threw Jake a triumphant smile as she poured him a glass.

“Thank you, Stacey,” he said warmly.

“Any time,” she replied before leaving the bar area to ask if anyone else needed refills or new drinks around the bar.

He studied the glass closely, grasping it by the stem and tilting it to the side and then back again to see what kind of legs it had before bringing it to his nose to see what flavors he could pick up. The alcohol itself was pretty strong, but he had had worse. It was medium bodied, with tannins that weren’t too overpowering due to the bright acidity from the-

“Are you detecting the grapes?”

A silky voice startled him and his eyes left the glass to look in front of him. It was Cecilia. His face reddened slightly, again, but her face broke into a smile as she wrote some figures down in the notebook she had placed on the bar.

“Oh umm-”

“Relax, I’m just fucking with you,” her smile stayed fixed on her face and Jake felt his shoulders relax. He hadn’t even realized how tense they had been. “You’re the first customer to order any of the wine we have, by the way.”

“I imagine people aren’t really thirsty for wine right off the highway,” the hunter said as he took his first sip. Oh, that’s not too bad, he thought, surprised at the texture and flavor of the wine.

The Witch nodded, “yeah people are more interested in their usual beers or liquor. You know the whole, ‘candy is dandy but liquor is quicker’ mentality.”

The corners of Jake’s mouth almost turned into a smile, “my brother likes to say that a lot.”

Cecilia’s eyebrows raised in curiosity, “you have a brother?”

Jake nodded, “three, actually. Two are biologically siblings and the other one we all kind of adopted over the years. He’s a good kid.”

She smiled, “oh that’s nice. Are they all hunters too?”

“Only one of them is; Josh.”

“Is he older or-?”

Jake grimaced slightly, “well…older…by five minutes. The other two are younger than me.”

Her lips formed an O, “so you’re a middle child? I can see that with you.”

Had it been anyone else, Jake would’ve gotten offended by that, but he let it slide for Cecilia.

“Only technically.”

“I can’t relate, I just have a little sister, Astrid. Or Ass-strid as I called her growing up.”

At this point they were both smiling softly at each other.

“What’s she like?” Jake asked before taking another sip of wine.

The Witch started to roll her eyes but stopped, “oh she’s the picture perfect Witch my mother always wanted, except that neither one of us inherited Moms psychic abilities. Astrid can enter people’s dreams, which was so fun growing up.” This time Cecilia let herself complete the eyeroll.

Jake’s eyes softened as he looked at her, the question clear in his expression.

“As for me, I do this…,” her eyes swiveled down towards Lou, who was once again minding his own business. His usual glass sat idly as he paid attention to the commercial on the TV, and immediately slid down the bar towards the Witch like a hockey puck, directly into her curled hand.

Lou was unimpressed and let out a short, “hey,” towards her and she sent the glass back, not spilling a drop.

Jake had never seen a telekinetic in person before, and sat there dumbfounded.

“Wow…” was all he could say.

She shrugged, “I can also read Tarot pretty well.”

Something inside the hunter was very interested in it all. Witches were something that weren’t brought up a lot, and when they were it was never in a positive light. He was mainly taught to focus on the Undead more than any other creature.

“...and your mom?”

Cecilia leaned in towards the hunter, closer than she had been before and whispered, “my mom talks to dead people.”

Jake blinked at her.

“She heads a Necromancy coven in Northern California where I grew up,” the Witch leaned back towards her side of the bar, “it's not as exciting as you think.”

He wanted to ask more questions, but the way Cecilia’s expression soured at the mention of her mother gave him enough of a hint to drop that part of the subject.

“How did you end up in Arizona?”

This time, her eyes softened wistfully, “my dad was from here.”

The word ‘was’ stuck out to him.

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded, “yeah.”

The two stared at each other, allowing the silence to wash over them. Jake swallowed the last of his wine, and before he could open his mouth another question was thrown his way.

“I just realized I am a terrible bar owner and have been talking to you this whole time without getting your actual name?”

Jake smirked, his eyes staring into hers, and slowly extended his hand over the bar, “Jake Kiszka, hunter of the Undead and at your service.”

The Witch held out her hand and wrapped it around his to shake. The warmth of his skin rippled up her own arm, over her shoulder and down her back, settling at the base of her spine

“I hope you don’t tell your baristas that,” she retorted with a crinkle in her nose, “Cecilia Addington, bar owner with First Born Daughter problems.”

Jake never wanted to let go of her hand. The firm grip of her fingers and the softness of her skin had his head spinning.

He wanted to know if all of her skin was just as soft.

Reluctantly, they both dropped their hands at the same time each taking a second to flex their hands under the bar out of each other's sight.

Jake was the one to speak first, “so how does-“

“No more questions until you buy another drink, Jake.”

The butterflies from sixth grade swarmed in his gut at the sound of her saying his name.

She turned her head and gave Stacey a Look and a nod towards the hunter, before giving Jake one last smile before slinking around the bar to greet a few patrons that had just walked through the door. Jake watched her the whole time, listening to the volume of her voice and appreciating the fact that she was a hugger just like he was. Fuck.

It was going to be a long night.

To be continued….

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema, @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @childinthegardenn , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty , @jjwasneverhere , @josiee-gvf , @peaceloveunitygvf , @musicislove3389 , @gretavanhockey , @gretavanazula

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

Pretty little letters 2

Dbf Negan x fem reader

Synopsis - After finishing college you decide to on a gap year to take a breather after many years of hard. Setting out to travel the country, you promise to write to your dad every week, what happens when his best friend Negan makes you promise to write to him too.

Warnings- No apocalypse AU, dads best friend, large age gap, feelings, love confessions, adventures, reader travelling, reader described as female, mentions of cheating, Negan is the one cheated on in this fic by ex wife, struggles with feelings, dad finding out about relationship, some angst, obviously not canon at all, smut in this chapter, p in v, unprotected sex, both reader and Negan are consent king and queen. So yeah 18+ only please.

Let me know if I’ve left anything out

Word count - 6.1K (sorry another long one)

This is two of two chapters in this mini series.

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Waking up the next morning was a task in itself, your head was pounding, and the light filtering in from the cheap motel curtains was making things worse. You looked over at the wall clock 9:00am, pulling yourself up with a groan you headed for the shower, once in you began lathering yourself with soap to remove the stale alcohol smell. God last night was a blur, a few flashbacks start filling your mind, you remember sitting with a few women who invited you to their booth for some drinks, and you remember leaving before they dragged you onto the dance floor.

As the warm water spray roused you more you remember staggering home and passing out, ‘could have been way worse’ you think to yourself. After brushing your teeth and packing up your room, you grab your phone and car keys and make your way into town to find somewhere to eat. Maybe a good breakfast will help, although luckily your head hurts more than you felt nauseous.

Walking into a cute little diner you sit down and ask the waitress for pancakes, whilst waiting for your breakfast you pulled out your notebook and pen, deciding it was the perfect time to write your letters, it’s been a while since you’d written properly to your dad, and after your conversation with him last night you felt guilty. Thinking back on the phone calls of last night though your stomach drops, Negan and his date, argh! Surely he won’t go? He really didn’t seem that keen on it, you needed to put it out of your mind today, just be in the moment of the day! So you write your dad a little letter explaining where your off to next, before moving on to Negan's.

Hey Negan,

I’m currently sat in a cute little 50s style diner, I’m hoping breakfast cures this hangover a bit.

Maybe I had a little too much fun last night, though sitting with the middle aged women having a girls night seemed to be the right call, as I made it back to my room in one piece!

I’m going to head through New Mexico today on my way to LA, planing some stops on the way though. Going to stop in Arizona and see the Grand Canyon, I’ve always wanted to see it, maybe visit my best friend Gemma who lives in Tucson now, her and her husband have recently bought a puppy so I’m gonna be right in there!!

I hope you and dad are doing well this week, I miss you both a lot today, and please make sure dad doesn’t burn the garden shed down with his BBQ this weekend!

With love

Y/N

Xxx

On your way back to the car, you post the letters in the postal box on the sidewalk. The warm breeze kisses your skin as you walk, leaving goosebumps in its wake, it’s a beautiful day and you take pleasure in the little things that morning. Birds chirping, children laughing in the streets, a man who is dancing down the road with his headphones blaring out classic rock, not a care in his mind as to who may be watching.

Once back in your car you set your sat nav for a small town in the Gila National Forest, New Mexico and hit start, you’ll see how far you can get in a day, as you’re excited to get to Arizona. Whilst turning up your music you hear your phone buzz, ‘I’ll get that later you think’ eager to get going this morning, you have a long drive ahead of you.

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The flight had been awful, he was squished between a screaming child and a sweaty bald man, who felt it appropriate to tell Negan his life story. So once he had stepped through customs he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, good god he thought that was hell, but at least he will be with you in just shy of an hour, checking his watch he checked the time 8:30am he had time.

Once he secured a taxi he gave the man the motels address and counted the minutes down, he couldn’t wait to pull you into his arms and tell you he felt the same, that there’s no way he’s going to go on this date, that the only women he wants is you. Checking his watch again 9:35am and only 10 minutes until he’s at the motel, he ran over in his mind again everything he needed to tell you, he hasn’t ever declared love to someone before and he wants it to be perfect. He runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair, he’s so nervous and he doesn’t know why? It’s you! He’s never been nervous around you.

“Here we are sir, Eunice south motel”, “Thank you” Negan answers, handing the man his money before grabbing his bags out the trunk, once the cab had left he made his way over to the reception, entering he found a young lad at the desk, he must have been 19 at the very oldest. “Hello sir, welcome to Eunice south motel, are you checking in?” He reads it out like a scripted monologue that’s ingrained into his brain. “Hello there, I’m wandering if you can help me, see I’m looking for a young woman, she checked in yesterday. She’s called y/n y/l/n, she is about this tall ‘Gestures with hand’ and she has h/c hair.” Negan asks.

“Oh yes! I do know who you mean, she was in room 27” the boy answers.

“What do you mean was?” Negan asks.

“Yeah well she checked out this morning, about 20 minutes ago actually, you just missed her” the boy nervously answers again.

Panic sets it, your gone how can you be gone already!

“Did she say where she was going at all?” Negan asks.

“Said something about finding some breakfast in town”

“Ok thanks” Negan responds before rushing out and calling another cab, hoping he can find you before you drive off. He tries calling your phone but it goes straight to voicemail. “Shit!” He mutters before deciding it was quicker to jog into town than wait for the cab to arrive. Hauling his backpack and duffle on to his shoulders he starts a steady jog into town.

Once he arrives he notices a 50s diner, that would be the exact kind of place you would go he thinks. Upon entering he asks the waitress if she has seen you, “Yes I’ve seen a girl matching that description, how do I know you’re not a pervert chasing her though hmm?” The waitress sneered, reluctantly Negan fished his phone out of his pocket, showing the waitress his Lock Screen, it was a photo of you and him, his arm looped around your shoulders pulling you in close, big grins on both your faces.

Negan was loosing time and patience, “Please have you seen her?” He asks once more. “Yeah I saw her she left about ten minutes ago, she left this accidentally” the waitress mentions, handing him your debit card. “Shit” he mumbles again, “She isn’t going to get far without that” he sighs. “Ok thank you I’ll see if I can track her down” he says as he leaves, your card in hand.

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You’re singing along without a care in the world, your phone is still buzzing in your pocket. You will check it once you stop for gas, you’d need to stop soon looking at the dash it’s saying there’s only 80 miles left.

Spotting one ahead you pull in, pulling out your purse when you notice it, your card is gone “Fuck!” You call out to no one. Luckily you noticed before you put gas in, pulling out your phone you notice you have 5 missed calls from Negan, that’s odd he doesn’t usually call that many times knowing you’re busy. You’ll have to call him back later you have bigger things to deal with right now, walking into the shop part you ask if they take Apple Pay, to which they state no. Groaning you go back out to your car, pulling it forward and out of the way of the pumps.

What are you going to do now?

You call your dad but he doesn’t answer, probably busy with work, you could call Negan back see what he could do, but he’s the other side of the country, there’s no way he could help. Sighing you close your eyes and groan, did you even have enough fuel to go back to the diner, that must be where you left it. But it’s 100 miles back and you only have 80 at a push! Checking google, there’s a town with your bank in ahead you could get a new card issued, that’s only 70 miles away, cutting it close but it’s the best option you had.

Searching your glove box for your phone charger you came across a scrunched up ball, pulling it out you found it was a $20 dollar bill and a $10 dollar bill. “Yes!” You cheer, that can definitely get enough gas to get me to the next town, once your car was filled as much as you could afford you set off once more.

Little did you know Negan was frantically trying to catch you up, now in another cab following the route that he was praying you took.

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You’d had success at the bank, another card would be ready for you to collect in the morning. They had also given you a cash withdrawal to pay for your motel tonight, all in all things weren’t too bad. You'd found a nice motel close by making it easy to walk over first thing, so with everything sorted you settled in your room for the evening.

Maybe you could find somewhere for dinner? You weren’t all that hungry though, you’d had a hell of a day and really you just wanted to rest. You’d spoken to your dad and assured him you’d sorted it, when he said he would leave now and come get you, you’d had to laugh though, he’d do anything to have you back earlier.

Laying yourself back on the beds itchy covers, you close your eyes, a nap may do you good.

Meanwhile Negan was going out of his mind, where were you! The cab driver was loosing his patience too, telling him to pick a motel and call someone else in the morning. He was just about to give up hope when he spotted your car in a motel carpark. “Stop! There! That’s her car!” He shouted, tears now filling his eyes from sheer relief! “Thank god for that” the cab driver muttered, Negan grabbed his bags with urgency, paid the driver and shot over to your car. That was definitely your number plate! He looked into the room behind the car, there you were, asleep on the bed safe and sound.

He gathered up all his courage before knocking on your door.

You shot up from the loud knock, it was heavy and urgent. You slowly shuffled to the door, as quietly as you could muster and peaked through the peep hole. Negan??? It was Negan, you grabbed the handle and swung the door open.

There he stood right in your doorway, with a face you couldn’t quite read, you usher him in closing the door “Negan what are you doing here? Not that it’s not good to see you! This is the best surprise ever! It’s just I’m confused why are you……..” your rambling was cut off by him flying forwards and smushing his lips against yours in a searing kiss, his hands found your cheeks as he pulled your body into his, after recovering from the shock, you threw your arms around his neck pulling him in even closer.

“I love you” kiss “So much” kiss “So Fucking Damn Much!” He punctuates between fierce kisses, you’re now struggling to stand upright, your legs buckling as so much emotion fills you, this is everything you’ve ever wanted. “I love you too Negan, so so much” you mumble against his swollen lips. He smiles against your mouth “I know, I got your text” you're confused now “My text?” You ask, “The one you sent me last night before you fell asleep” he mentions, now staring down at your beautiful face, memories start flooding back! You did text him, you told him not to go on the date and that you loved him.

Gasping your hand flies to your mouth, “Oh my goodness” you shake your head in embarrassment. “You were drunk weren’t you” he laughs, “Yeah a bit” you mumble still feeling incredibly flushed. “Hey” he moves your chin up to face him, “Don’t be embarrassed, I feel the same about you doll, I flew here! Chased you down in the back of a cab until I found you, god I sound like a stalker now don’t I?” He laughs, “No” you shake your head in disagreement, “I think it’s incredibly romantic, I’m so happy you found me!”, “Me too beautiful, me too” he agrees placing is forehead against yours.

“Oh I almost forgot! You left this at the diner” he mentions, handing you your debit card. “Oh ” you giggle, “I have already cancelled and replaced it, I’m collecting the new one in the morning.” You explain. “Hmm well maybe look after that one better” he laughs, you nod in agreement, before bringing your lips back to his in another passionate kiss.

Pulling him against you, you run your hands through his hair, slightly tugging the strands causing him to let out a low moan. Smirking at his reaction you do it again, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth in tandem. “Careful sweetheart, you’re going to start something you can’t finish” he groans, “Who says I don’t have every intention in finishing it!” You tease. He growls picking you up and throwing you onto the bed, before crawling over you and attaching his lips to yours once more.

You slowly start running your hand under his shirt exploring the planes of his toned chest, you can feel his heart thump under your fingertips, the rhythmic drumming grounding you, he is really here, this is really happening. “I love you” you blurt out once again, he smiles against your throat, “I love you too beautiful”. Moving your hand back down you tug at the hem of his shirt, “Are you sure sweetheart?” He asks, watching your features for any hesitation, “I’m sure Negan, you’re all I’ve ever wanted” you admit.

“Ok baby girl” he offers, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before shuffling back to stand up. He smiles down at you as he pulls his shirt off, you sit upright tugging your sleep shirt over your head leaving your top half bare, before bringing yourself onto your knees. “You’re so gorgeous sweetheart” he admires as his eyes run over the exposed parts of your body.

You run both hands over his chest again, the look of love and admiration on his face as he watches you, brings up a mix of strong emotions. You’ve never felt so loved or so wanted in your life, the few college boys you’d been with before never took their time like this, they never made you feel this special and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Cupping your face in his large hands he pulls you in for another slow kiss, sweeping his tongue against your lips seeking entrance, which you grant happily, deepening the kiss. You move your hands downwards, fingers playing with his belt buckle, hesitating you break the kiss and look up at him, meeting his warm hazel eyes.

“Go on baby, I’m all yours” he whispers, that was all the confirmation you needed, you make quick work of his belt and jean buttons, before pulling them down his legs, he steps out of the offending material kicking it to the side. You lay back against the sheets lifting your hips, encouraging him to do the same to you. His fingers hook under your sleep shorts and panties before pulling them both off in one swoop, leaving you completely naked.

Kneeling at the foot of the bed he tugs sharply on your ankles, pulling them up and over his shoulders, bringing your soaked heat to his face. “This ok baby girl?” He asks, “Yes!” You reply pleadingly, lifting your hips a little as you speak, feeling like if he didn’t touch you soon you’d combust. “So needy baby” he teases, running his forefinger through your slit.

He groans when he feels just how wet you already are, “Shit baby, this all for me?” You whimper nodding frantically, “Negan please” you beg, becoming needier by the minute. He gives your inner thigh a playful nip before licking a firm stroke through your folds, you throw your head back with a breathy moan, fingers finding purchase in his hair.

He sets a steady pace, alternating between licking and suckling at your clit. He quickly learns what you like, as he starts working you open with his fingers, angling them upwards and reaching that spot that makes you see stars. “Fuck Negan I’m gonna come” you cry, reaching your peak fast. He works you through your high before pulling away and placing a gentle kiss to your hip bone.

As your catching your breath he pulls his boxers off and rejoins you on the bed, once more hovering over you. “Still sure baby?” He asks again, letting some self doubt fill his mind, he’s still unsure as to how someone as beautiful, young and brilliant as you, would want an old man like himself. “Yes, I told you, you’re all I’ve ever wanted Negan, please I want you” you answer, rolling your hips into his seeking that friction you so desperately needed. “Fuck baby girl, ok” he moans, taking himself in his hand he rubs the blunt end of his cock through your folds, before notching it at your entrance and sinking forward.

As your hips meet flush against one another you both let out deep moans, getting lost in the feeling of each other. “Shit baby you feel so good” he groans, “God I’ve thought about this for so long, I’ve needed you so much, can’t believe you’re now mine” he rambles, slowly thrusting in and out of your tight heat. “Fuck baby girl say it! Tell me you’re mine!” He begs, “I’m all yours Negan, fuck I’ve always been yours” you cry as you start meeting his thrusts.

The room is filled with the sounds of soft moans and broken gasps, you grab his shoulders pulling him in as close as you can, “Faster! Please go faster” you plead, moving your hips harder against his, he indulges you picking up speed, his movements becoming more frantic. “So close, don’t stop” you whine as the familiar feeling in your core builds, Negan moves his hand between your bodies rubbing your clit, causing your whines to grow louder, “That’s it baby girl let go for me” he encourages you, throwing your head back you give in to it coming hard, white hot pleasure cursing through you.

“Fuck! There you go baby, shit I’m close where do you want it” he asks, “Inside” you gasp another orgasm building, “I want it inside me” you affirm. His thrusts become rougher, rhythm becoming sloppy as he reaches his high stilling against you as he comes. You reach your high simultaneously, grasping onto him for dear life as you repeat his name like a mantra.

When your heart rates steady and the fog clears he looks down at you, removing a sweaty lock from your face, “you’re going to be the death of me, you know that baby girl?” You grin up at him, “Yeah but what a way to go huh?” You reply, he huffs out a laugh, “Yeah” he agrees, nuzzling in against your throat, “Let’s get cleaned up yeah?” He asks, “Yeah ok”.

Cuddled up in bed, drifting off in each others arms your heart felt so full. “I love you” you whisper before falling into a dreamless sleep.

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The next morning starts in a rather frantic rush, it was amazing to wake up beside the man you love, but you had a lot to get through. You’d managed though to go to the bank, collect your new card, grab breakfast together and pack up your room in just over an hour, leaving you feeling quite accomplished.

Walking out from your now vacant motel room Negan asks “So baby are you driving or am I?” You grin at him teasingly, “Oh you most certainly can drive! I want to relax. I’ve loved every minute of this trip, but it’s been heavy going” you admit. “You’ve got it sweet cheeks, today you can be my passenger princess” he proposes. You giggle at his comment as you enter the car, “So where too baby girl?” He asks, “Well I was heading towards Tucson to see Gemma and her new puppy” you mention, “Ok we will make our way there then, did you want to get it up on the sat nav?” He suggests. “But will you really want to come with me to see her?” You ask nerves settling in.

“Of course I do baby, I want to meet your friends, if you don’t want me to come with you, I can drop you off and collect you later?” He offered, “No I’d like to bring you with me, I guess I just got into my head” you sigh, “Hey sweetheart look at me” he says lifting your chin up to meet his gaze, “I am in this for the long haul baby, I don’t throw I love you around pointlessly, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you beautiful. So that means meeting your friends, your family and we do need to tell your dad.” He explains.

Your face falls at the mention of telling your dad, you would need to tell him, you couldn’t start a life with Negan and not tell your dad, and you knew Negan wouldn’t want to keep anything from him. The thought though terrified you, what if your dad can’t except it? What if he hits Negan?, shouts at you both? Refuses to talk to you? Fear sinks in your gut as you think of all the consequences.

“Hey darlin’ let’s not worry about it right now, but in the next week we need to tell him, yeah it may not go as well as we hope, but I can’t live without you, so we will have to make him see won’t we?” He asks, and he’s right, you cannot live without him either! You want the whole lot with Negan, a home together, marriage, maybe a dog? “Yeah ok your right we do need to tell him, just not today. Let us just live in this bubble another day?” You ask, “Yeah ok sweetheart” he smiles, before putting the car into drive and heading out to the highway.

_______________________________________

You’d reached Tucson by 2pm and after giving Gemma a quick call from an hour out, she’d told you she was home and excited to see you. Pulling up outside the address she gave you, your nerves were replaced by excitement of seeing your best friend again. As you got out of the car her front door was thrown open as she bolted out to meet you! “Y/N!!! Oh my god it’s so good to see you!” She gushes throwing her arms around you in a fierce hug, one you returned effortlessly. “I know!! It’s been too long! How are you? And where is this cute puppy I’ve heard so much about?” You ask excitedly.

“Oh he’s inside with Alex!! Gosh, I haven’t seen you since my wedding day home in Virgina! How’s your dad? Oh and your Nan? Are they well? We have so much to catch up on!!!” She rambles out without so much as a breath. You laugh at her antics, “Dad and Nan are both well yeah” you return. She looks up from you then and clocks Negan behind you, “And who is this?” She asks teasingly, grinning like a Cheshire Cat! You step back grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together, “This is Negan” you answer, recognition flashes on her face, “As in the Negan? Your dads best friend? The one you’ve been in love with for years?” She whispers into your ear, he hears though, laughing at her very loud whisper.

“That would be me, but I’m lucky enough to be her partner now” Negan replies, you smile at him and then back at Gemma “Sooo puppy?” You ask again, Gemma giggles “I swear you’re more excited to meet the dog than see me!!” She laughs, “Well yeah?” You offer smiling.

The afternoon was great, you and Gemma sit on her kitchen floor playing with the puppy, while Alex and Negan talk about guy stuff and you can’t help but smile at how easily he gets on with everyone around him, despite being a couple of decades older than you all. It all feels so effortless, and you can’t help but feel excited for your future together.

Once alone Gemma asks you “So you haven’t told your dad yet?”, “No not yet, it’s only been a couple of days that it’s been official you know? I wanted to live in this happy bubble before my dad bursts it. I know he won’t be happy” you sigh, “Well if you two were this obvious before, then I think he already knows, or is at least waiting for it to happen.” She offers, “What do you mean?” You ask confused. “Y/N, you look at each other like the other hung the moon in the sky, you are obviously very much in love, and that didn’t happen over night. I’m telling you he knows something, your dad isn’t a stupid man. I think he’d be more upset if you kept it from him now it’s happened, than the actual happening of it, if that makes sense babe?” She asks.

“Yeah, it does. I just worry because I can’t loose him you know?” You sigh, “I know and you won’t, you’re an adult remember? He can’t stop you both being together” she offers giving you a playful nudge, you nod at her giving a small smile. You are still worried though about how this will all go. Just then the men walk back into the room breaking your train of thought, “You’ll both stay for dinner yeah?” Alex offers, “Yeah that would be lovely thank you” you smile.

The journey to the motel that night was quiet, you were deep in thought and Negan didn’t want to pry and make you uncomfortable, he ran a gentle, comforting hand over your thigh. “We need to tell him” you blurt out, “My dad I mean, we need to tell him, Gemma is right, he’d be more upset about us not telling him than anything else” you offer, he gives a deep sigh glancing at you “Yeah I think she’s right too, when did you want to do it baby?” He asks.

“Tonight” you declare, “The longer we leave it the worse it will be” you decide. “Ok baby girl.” He agrees. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t shitting it, but it needed to happen, he couldn’t have a life with you in secret.

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It’s been an hour now, an hour you’ve been sat in the motel room. Well Negan is sat, watching you from his spot on the bed, as you pace back and forth the room clutching your phone. “Sweetheart, just call him it will be ok, I’m right here.” He comforts, grasping your hand as you try and pace past him again.

“Ok ok” you give a deep sigh before calling your dads cell phone. “Hey kiddo! It’s been a couple of days, everything ok?” You dad asks, “Yeah dad I’m fine, actually I’m really good. I’m in Tucson I’ve just got back from seeing Gemma” you mention, “Oh that’s great honey, how is she it’s been a year since her wedding!” Your dad answers, “Yeah she’s good, her and Alex have a new puppy, he’s super cute” you say, “Aww that’s good, you spent the day playing with him then?” He asks, “Yeah that, and just catching up you know?” You reply, “Yes I know well how you two get when you are catching up” he laughs.

“So I have something I need to tell you” you say biting your nails nervously, “Ok kiddo? You ok?” He asks, “Yeah like I said I’m really good ummm, Negan’s here with me” you say, “Negan is with you? What as in right now?” Your dad asks and you can hear the confusion in his voice, “Yeah as in right now, here in my motel room with me” you say nervously, “Hey Mike” Negan speaks up, confirming he was in fact with you.

“Negan’s with you in Tucson? In your motel room with you? Why is he there with you? How is he there, he was here just a couple of days ago.” Your dad asks his voice becoming more frustrated while he tries to put together what is going on. “Yeah he flew out to me a couple of nights ago dad” you respond, you know you are beating around the bush, buying time but the anxiety is overfilling now.

“Put him on the phone Y/N!” Your dad demands, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea dad, just talk to me” you deflect, but Negan hands out his hand for your phone, reluctantly you hand it over to him. “Hey Mike it’s me” Negan answers, “Do you want to tell me why you are in a motel room in Arizona with my daughter Negan, because I am really struggling to understand this.” Your dad asks angrily, “Well it’s a long story, but in short she admitted her feelings to me so I flew to her to tell her I felt the same way” Negan answered, trying to keep as calm as possible.

“Feelings? What feelings Negan?” He was definitely confused, his mind not quite catching up with everything, or wanting to ignore what he already knows. “I love your daughter Mike, I have for a very long time, and I think deep down you’ve known this a while too” Negan replies, “Well I knew you two were close, and I had suspicions, but I never really put much thought into it. She’s young enough to be your daughter Negan!” Your dad shouts, “I know that, I know the age gap isn’t ideal Mike but I love your daughter very much. This isn’t some fling I want to assure you of that, I’ve never felt this way before. I want a life with your daughter, a home together, the whole nine yards.” Negan explains calmly hoping to make your dad understand.

“I’m going to need some time to come to terms with this….. I need to go” beeep, the phone line goes dead and you look down at Negan worriedly. “Come here baby girl, it’s going to be ok, he’ll come around” he says pulling you into his arms. “He just needs some time, we did the right thing not keeping it from him” he continues, kissing the side of your head.

Later that night while Negan is softly snoring behind you, you lay awake worrying. Your phone buzzing tears you from your thoughts, it’s a message from your dad.

Hey kiddo

I have to know how long has this been going on really? Xx

Hey dad

We were being honest, it’s been just over 24 hours, we couldn’t keep it from you. Although we hid our feelings from each other for years this is very new. I love him too though Daddy, I can’t live without him now, and you know he’s a good man, he won’t hurt me. I don’t expect you to understand it, I just hope you can come to except it.

Xx

Hey kiddo

Thank you for telling me from the start, I’m glad you don’t ever keep things from me. And I can appreciate how hard that was to do, I need some time ok? But I love you that will never change ok? Xx

Ok dad, love you too xx

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You both spent another two weeks travelling, you saw the Grand Canyon and it literally blew you away, but that niggling feeling in your heart kept twinging “We need to head home Negan, I need to see him and fix this, I haven’t heard from him in weeks” you say, “Ok sweetheart, let’s go home” he agreed, he hated seeing you so churned up.

Arriving back in Connecticut felt weird, seeing the familiar streets pass by in a blur, as you head to your home street. Pulling up in your drive you notice your dads truck is there, signalling he was home. Negan gives your leg a gentle squeeze “Come on baby, let’s sort this out yeah?” He asks, “Yeah” you sigh exiting the car.

Entering your house you take in its familiarity, you let that in itself comfort you. Taking Negan’s hand in yours you make your way through to the kitchen, you notice your dad in the garden mowing the lawn, no wonder he hasn’t come greet you.

You tap loudly on the window causing him to snap his head up, emotion filling his features when he sees it’s you. He kicks off the mower and rushes inside, you let go of Negan’s hand and throw your arms around your dad. “What are you doing home kiddo? Not that I’m not happy to have you home! It’s just your not due back for months” he asks, “I couldn’t be away with everything up in the air dad, I had to come home and see you.” You admit.

Your dad looks over your shoulder at Negan and then back at you before giving you a small nod, “Yeah ok let’s sort this” he sighs motioning for everyone to head into your living room.

“So I’ve had some time to think it through, and I guess I did always notice something between you both. I guess I just hoped I was wrong” your dad starts, his confession causing Negan to wince, “But you are both my favourite people on this god forsaken Earth, and I do want you to both be happy. So I will except it, but I can’t say I understand it” he offers.

You go to speak but your dad cuts you off “I also know that you won’t listen to anything I say y/n so there’s no point going there. It’s not like I can stop two adults from being together. But if you ever hurt her Negan I swear to god” he threatens, “Absolutely man, I’d expect no less” Negan agrees. “Ok then, come here kiddo” he offers pulling you into another hug. Then he turns to Negan shakes his hand and gives him an awkward side hug, “I’m trusting you ok buddy, with the most important thing in my life, you understand that?” Your dad asks, “Yeah I know, I can promise you I will love and cherish her for every day I have left” Negan affirms.

Your dad gives him a nod, “Ok then guys it’s Friday night, so pizza and a board game?” Your dad offers, “Sounds perfect dad” you smile, snuggling into Negan on the sofa,

Just like that everything was right again, you were home with your boys eating pizza and fighting over monopoly, everything was as it should be.

Taglist

@lanadelnegan @lunajay33 @akah565

[anticapitalistclown]

hello! I've been reading your recent scenarios and I'm wondering if I could ask you a Ma Taesoo smut with fem reader, thank you and I wish you well

here you have, and I wish you well too! <3

Ma Taesoo x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, smut, p in v, size difference

Working as Ma Taesoo's assistant was the best opportunity life offered you, since you started working for him you just not only had a great income, but you also had a great bond with your boss. Sometimes you couldn't even believe how you went from getting rejected on all your job applications, having a hard time to bring some income home to now driving a Hyundai Tucson to work, gesture of your boss the ex-delinquent that everyone was reluctant and scared to work for and who you gave an opportunity.

You've just arrived to the land on the mountain that Taesoo is about to buy, your boss is already there talking with the vendor, they seemed to discuss about the price so you rushed over there "do your magic" Taesoo pat your shoulder and you winked back at him. After walking around the lands while negotiating with the vendor, you returned to your boss with the signed contract "all yours and I even haggled a bit under the estimated price" Taesoo smiled at you "good job there" he patted your head "maybe I might buy you another car as a reward" he leaned against his car "another big one like mine, you look good driving big cars" you blushed at the compliment and noded "it's all thanks to you, boss" you both gave each other an accomplice smile and drove to Taesoo's house in the woods, there he has all the paperwork regarding the lands management.

You sat on his office, he calmly offered you a blanket to warm yourself and left you working alone, the little office was comfortable and the fact that it just started raining helped you focus a bit, the blanket, smelled of Taesoo, his cologne was there, you could only think about using a blanket that Taesoo also used. You snuggled on the blanket smelling at it as if it was the best smell, your cheeks burned and you closed your thighs, then you jolted by Taesoo's sudden irruption "y/n, it's raining lots so you're gonna stay here tonight, you already have a room prepare-" Taesoo focused on your snuggling self "are you feeling cold?" you denied "I'm fine, just the blanket is really comfortable" you stared at each other in silent "fine, I'll prepare dinner" Taesoo broke the silence and left. Your heart was racing fast, you already stayed nights as his place, it was usual due to him living in the mountains, you and his boys stayed actually a lot over but this time you couldn't take off your head your boss, lewd scenarios flooded your mind, your breathing was heavier, you placed the finished paperwork and rushed over to see him.

Taesoo was in the kitchen his breath also heavy, he said really bold of him about you staying tonight when he doesn't even know if he could be capable of controlling himself, not after all the perverted thoughts he had lately of you, he felt bad, you trust him as a boss as someone to rely on. He noticed you, you were at the door, your skirt more lifted that usual from sitting all day, your breath was also heavy, your face all red and your lips pouty, he walked towards you "Taesoo, I'm cold" you said to him, you were so nervous that you could feel your blood rushing around your head "don't worry angel, I got you" Taesoo caught your indirect and rushed towards you his hands grabbed your waist, your arms around his shoulders in a matter of seconds you already where making out. Taesoo's kisses were rough and desperate, he didn't show any signs of letting go of you, he lifted you, your legs around his waist his hands grabbing your ass, it was too much "Taesoo" you broke the kiss "I want you" Taesoo smiled at you and walked towards his bedroom kissing your neck "I'm gonna make you mine dear".

His bedroom was warm, a fireplace was the source of warm and light in his room, Taesoo dropped you on his big and comfortable bed and suddenly, you where under him and your shirt and bra got removed in one go, his hands already removing your skirt, you joined him and started to unbutton his shirt, he teared it revealing his naked torso your naked body being hugged by him his lips kissing from your neck to your chest then your legs, his fingers teasing your pussy, little moans already escaping from your lips, he slipped two of his fingers inside, his eyes focused on all your body "you're so beautiful" you let out a moan and he rushed the movement of his fingers "they're long!" you moaned, his fingers were deep and felt so good against your walls "yes they are, do they make you feel good?" you nodded Taesoo gave a kiss in your lips then traveled down and he gave a peck to your clit, making you shiver, your reaction gave him joy, his mouth was savoring you "Ta-Taesoo! ah!" you could hear the lewd sound that his fingers and mouth made against your pussy the pleasure made your legs tremble and then he bullied more that gummy spot that instantly made you cum at the touch "good girl, you will give me more, right?" Taesoo brushed your cheek you shyly nodded "so smart and competent, I'll make sure to give you the best fuck as reward" Taesoo undressed completely, his dick, big, slapped his stomach and you swallowed, his hand grasped it and you bit your lips, you got closer to him, his hand directing yours to his dick you slowly moved your hand up and down, his breathing was heavy, Taesoo found your hand so tiny around his dick "you're so big" it slipped from your lips making Taesoo chuckle "you look good with big things".

He easily placed you on his lap, your back resting on his chest, his left hand grabbing your throat and his right teasing your clit, from his position he could see all your body, his eyes fixed on your cunt, your pussy stretched by his cock "cum for me baby, let me feel it" you groaned loudly, your head fell on his shoulder your legs fighting to not close your hips desperately moving up, your walls tightening around his dick "that's it princess, you've got it" Taesoo increased the speed of his fingers circling your clit making your moans more louder making you cum so hard.

Taesoo moved you back to lay in bed, slowly kissing you, slowly caressing your body, slowly making time to appreciate you. Once you were back to you senses, Taesoo aligned his cock again to your entrance, slowly entering, making you feel every inch again, your walls adjusted him well so he started moving slowly, watching all your reactions before you opened your mouth "Taesoo! go harder!" Taesoo placed your ankles over his shoulder "as the princess wants" he left all his worries of hurting you and started to pound you like a beast, his strokes hitting deep made your eyes go back, erratic moans and breathing, Taesoo was so proud "good, my princess, you're taking it like a champ" he grabbed your waist and pounded rougher " I-I can feel you" you opened your mouth wide and left a silent moan "mhm good" Taesoo praised you, not minding much but letting you speak "I can feel you here" you pointed at the bulge he made on your stomach "boss is so deep" Taesoo fixed his gaze on your stomach the little bulge appearing every time he pounded in, it made for Taesoo one of his now favorite views a motivation to keep hitting you deep an so along with the praises coming from him, the way he hit so so deep, his size, everything, was so much enough to drive you to your orgasm again, your walls squeezed him hard, trapping him, your nails clawing at his back and along your moans made him cum right after you.

He cuddled you in his arms, a blanket covering you both while you were recovering your breaths, your gaze on the fireplace, his hands caressing your hair "I don't want this to be an only one time thing" you spoke to him worried, afraid that the heat of before had ruined your relationship, Taesoo kissed you forehead "as if I would let you go away, princess you're not going to get away from me so easily, not when you're so perfect for me" you accommodate on his chest, happy to spend the night with him.

[thecapricunt1616]

Blue Lotus - SxC One-Shot

♡ O/S Inspo: Blue Lotus - In Vedic Hindu tradition, the lotus represents enlightenment as well as purity. It is the symbol of the consciousness rising out of the mud of Maya and attaining its original nature or self-realization. 

♡ Summary: Carmen accidentally almost checks out of life permanently due to a migraine fucking up his vision, and Sugar flips & sends him off to a trauma rehabilitation center, Syd is realizing she finds it extremely hard to stay away from him.

♡ W/C: 7,616

♡ Posted Date: 04/06/2024

♡ A/N: This is my first SydCarmy fic aaa!!! I have a hard time writing in 3rd unless its not my characters, so writing in 3rd for them was okay! This OS is all thanks to the LOML - the person who FULLY turned me into a #SydCarmy4Lifer - @gingergofastboatsmojito - This fic was HEAVILY - heavily, inspired by hers - Tucson, It can be found right ❀ here ❀ - My only request is you go read hers if you are going to read this one!! Her SydCarmy fics are the best, and the only ones I really read, give her a follow because her SydCarmy theories are also out of this world. Also, YES GINGER - Stardust is .... a horse - ol' girl TOLD THEM she'd always be watching!! If you'd like to meet Madame in her human form, mosey on over here - this fic also heavily inspired me to write for SydCarmy hahaha. If y'all want more of Blue Lotus let me know! I have ideas for a PT 2 if it would fancy anyone :)

♡ Warnings for BTC: Accidental OD , Vomit, Sad Syd, but fluffy kinda!! Only lightly edited (we die like men), OC Carmy (IM SORRY) we all know he's down bad for her so maybe this can be considered IC Carm, because were just in his head more then watching him? But that's all basically.

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Carmen was sick as a dog. Well - physically- the mental demons never stopped nagging at his overall happiness level, but it had been a long time since he’d felt this horrible, physically speaking, at least. 

His muscles were aching, to the point any brush on his skin left a dull pain in its wake. His throat was swollen and sore, he had a terrible fever- his head felt like it was so full of pressure that it would explode. 

He’d never experienced a headache like this before. His vision was actually spotty, there were little blotches in his vision, that were... glowing? He wasn’t quite sure, it was beyond the realm of anything he’d ever felt or seen before. 

That was what must have caused him to grab his black bottle of oxydose he’d gotten after a root canal he had a few months back- rather then his liquid Zyrtec cold and flu liquid medicine. 

The pain in his head was so bad, he didn’t even question why the usual cherry flavor had been replaced with bubblegum, as he swallows straight from the bottle, before putting the cap back on and going back to the couch, collapsing in the nest of pillows and blankets. 

It was only about 10 minutes, and Carmy was feeling fine- no…Carmen was feeling… amazing. 

His limbs all felt very heavy, but he felt warm, and comfortable. As comfortable as he’d ever felt. He actually found himself thinking ‘have I ever felt this good?!’ And before he knew it, he was laughing to himself about how he should double dose cold medicine more often, because he felt as if he was on cloud fucking nine. 

He laid back on the couch, closing his eyes, and wasn’t sure just how long he laid there that way. It could have been minutes, hours, days for all he knew. The only thing he was thinking of, was her. He began wondering what she was doing right now, if she was adorably leaned over the counter, writing in her little notebook- her braids cascaded over her face like a beautiful beaded curtain. 

If the blood in his arms hadn’t been replaced with cement, he’d have grabbed his phone and called her, and poured out his entire heart to her. Because nothing else in the world right now mattered. Carmen had no other thoughts, the past didn’t exist, nor did the future. The only thing that existed in this world at this very moment, was Sydney. 

‘Psssst’ 

Carmen opens his heavy lids, just barely, his vision was blurry and almost doubled. “Mmm?” He hums, not even sure if he heard someone- or why he would hear someone. He lived alone, and didn’t hear anyone come in. 

‘Yo. Dipshit.’ Carmen knew that voice anywhere. 

“What?” Carmy looked around, and knew something was very amiss, when his brother was standing there in his living room, looking at him. He had this ethereal glow to him. 

“What the fuck” Carmen said, sitting back on the couch, rubbing his eyes.  

‘You’re nodding out right now. Here’s what y’gonna do.’ 

Carmen couldn’t do anything but nod his head obediently, was Mikey really here? He couldn’t be- he was hallucinating. 

“Monkey are you here?” Carmen asks softly, rubbing his eyes again to see if he would disappear. He didn’t. 

‘I’m as here as you’ll be if Y’don’t listen. Crawl to the fucking bathroom and throw up. She’s gonna be here f’you, don’t fight her’ 

Before Carmy could look back at him and question what he meant - he was gone. 

Carmen suddenly felt…much too hot. He tried getting up, but narrowly missed bashing his skull on the coffee table trying to get to the bathroom, so he decided to take his wise older brother's advice and crawl there instead. 

He didn’t finish the journey, though. He actually collapsed in the bathroom a few feet in front of the toilet, luckily on his stomach. 

He was catching all sorts of luck today, because Syd had insisted she go and check on Carmy, as he was supposed to be at work today but hadn’t said a word- and that was nothing like him. 

She got the extra key from Nat, and told her she would go check because ‘Pregnant women have by nature weaker immune systems’ and would blame herself if she ‘let Carmen get her sick’, so she convinced Sugar to let her go by herself. 

When Sydney had opened the door, the first thing that greeted her was loads of empty Gatorade bottles on the coffee table near the couch, and a random French cooking show playing on the tv. 

“Carm?” She calls, but when she saw one of his feet sticking out from the bathroom, she dropped her bag and ran, gasping when she saw him splayed out there in a puddle of vomit, looking sickly pale, with dark blue lips and fingertips. 

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO YOURSELF!” She shrieked, getting him on his side as fast as she could and quickly pushing the emergency button on her phone, putting the call on speaker and setting it to the bathroom counter. 

“Carmen? CARMEN! Wake up!” She slapped his arm, shaking him violently. “Carmen! Oh- oh god.” She said nervously. 

‘911 do you need fire, medical, or police?’ The woman at the other end says. 

“Medical! Medical my friend- oh god Carmen” she shakes his shoulders. 

“Okay what’s your emergency?” The operator asks 

“Uhh- I- he’s- so he’s thrown up, he’s passed out, his pulse is weak- he- his lips- t-they’re blue. oh Carmy” she touches his cold clammy forehead. “He- he’s- he’s cold oh my god why is he COLD can you fucking send someone Jesus Christ!” Sydney snaps angrily. 

“Okay- it sounds like he is having an opioid crisis ma’am, do you have narcan available?” The operator asked her and Syds heart drops. 

“No- what? No! He- he wouldn’t- his brother- he…get here!” She said frantically and quickly told her the address of Carmen’s apartment complex.

“Yes, yes you’re calling on an Iphone, ma’am - we have your exact coordinates. Just in case - do not try to make him throw up more, make sure his airway is clear- what is your name?” The woman asked her. 

“Sydney- my name is fucking Sydney - but it doesn’t matter! He matters! My god! His name is Carmen- C-Carmen fucking Berzatto! Put that in your notes lady! He- he’s 31- where the fuck is the ambulance?!” She uses all of her strength to get him leaned up against the counter. 

His vomit was getting everywhere, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t find a way to care, the only thing that mattered to her was that each breath Carmy was taking looked more and more difficult. 

“They are en route! Remain calm, how long have you known this friend?” The Operator tried to distract Sydney, since there was only so much you could do for an OD patient if there was no narcan. 

“He- he’s my…my partner we run a restaurant together. This doesn’t matter! Save him. Please! I can’t loose him!” She said, shaking his shoulders. 

“Carmen! You fucking asshole! What did you do!!!” She shouts at him. “You would never do this! What did you do!!!” She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, it didn’t matter though- Carmen wasn’t awake to see it. 

No, Carmen was far, far away. Somewhere floating between life and death, he felt like he was being embraced in the warmest most comforting hug he’d ever felt, he’d never been more comfortable in his life. 

But Syd, was in hell. Her own personal version of it. It felt like a lifetime before 2 paramedics came barreling into the bathroom, one of them holds Carmys head steady and the other sprays a full dosage of narcan in his nose. 

Sydney stood in the corner near the shower, shaking hands cupping her face absolutely terrified. 

Carmen was up now, nearly the second the paramedic hit the plunger release. He sits up with a gasp, eyes wide like a caged animal. 

“What the fuck.” He mumbles, looking at both of them before meeting eyes with Syd. 

“Syd?” He blinks a few times. 

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding “you asshole” she grumbles, wiping her teary eyes. 

“You’re home, you’re safe, you overdosed. Do you take opioids often?” The paramedic asked, putting a blood pressure cuff around Carmen’s arm. 

“What? No- what the fuck don’t touch me!” Carmen snaps, ripping off the cuff and whipping it across the bathroom “stop- stop! Stop touching me- get away” he shouted angrily “I’m fine” he hissed. 

“CARMEN!” Sydney barks, she’d never used that tone with him- so it was fair to say it very quickly got his attention. 

“You will let them do their job, dick. I just- I- I find you in a puddle of your own vomit on the bathroom floor- I couldn’t wake you up! So now? you’re gonna listen to them.” She said angrily, grabbing the blood pressure cuff from next to her leg where it fell and handing it back to the paramedic.

“Give him your arm.” She snipped. 

Carmen sits back against the bathroom wall like a dog being scolded, wordlessly offering his arm to the paramedic and keeping his gaze fixed on his lap. 

“192 over 96” the paramedic told the other. 

“Christ kid” the paramedic said, “gave you a fuckin dose of narcan and y’wired like y’re on coke” they helped him up and on the gurney. 

“Hes- he’s gonna be okay?” Sydney asked anxiously, watching as they buckled him in by his hips and legs. 

“He's gonna be fine in a day or so.” One of them responded. Carmen just looked away, the shame and embarrassment already looming over his mind like a huge storm cloud. 

“I’m gonna…I’ll- I’ll clean up, and meet you at the hospital, ok? And I’ll have sugar meet you” she told Carmen and went over, giving him a hug. 

He couldn’t understand. It made him slightly angry how sweet she was being to him. He was putting her out, he was fully fucking up her whole day- but all she was worried about was him. 

“Syd..I’m fine. Thanks. But I’m fine. Don't- just…ugh no- please- I’ll do it. Just go- go home. take the day” He said, gently patting her back. 

He wanted to throw his arms around her and never let go, he wanted to kiss her- he wanted to hold her and tell her he would never leave her again. He wanted to tell her he loved her. 

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would, or could for that matter, since he didn’t even realize yet that was what the feeling in his heart really meant. 

“Thank god. Thank god you’re fine, Carm. What would I do without the biggest pain in my ass?” She teased. 

Even though Carmen was hurting all over in a way he didn’t realize was possible, his lungs were aching, as was his entire body, and he felt as if the pressure behind his eyes were going to make them pop out - he smiled. It was slight, of course. But it was there. 

“Couldn’t get rid’a’me if y’tried, Syd.” he told her. 

The ride to the hospital was Carmen’s nightmare. They insisted on the stupid flashing lights and sirens, since his blood pressure was ‘dangerously high’ so he was at risk for a heart attack, and then rolling him out on a stretcher in front of all his neighbors was nothing short of a god damn dumpster fire. 

He was never home, but like hell he’d ever intentionally show his face during the day again. 

The hospital was even worse, he got plugged in to all these monitors and had an oxygen mask, got poked and prodded with needles, and was told he was being put on a 24 hour psych hold per hospital policy after an overdose- just in case he’d been trying to end his own life. 

Sugar got there shortly after the nurses had finally let him be, when he heard her loudly telling them “CARMEN! BERZATTO! Like bear! B-e-r-z-a-t-t-o!!! Where IS HE !” He ripped off the oxygen mask, knowing if she saw him that way he’d never live it down. 

Even though it really was helping ease the ache in his lungs and the pain in his head, he was willing to deal with it for his very pregnant sister not to worry. 

Her heels click as she storms down the hall to his room, ripping the curtain back. 

“Oh- Bear” she said, bursting into tears and rushing up to him, hugging him tightly. “Oh my god, bear. Never do that! What did you do? No- no- you aren’t in trouble, you aren’t in trouble, Carmen. I love you. You just worried me! You made Sydney cry Carmy! What the fuck- what happened?” She cupped his cheeks, observing his exhausted face. 

“Oh you’re sick- you’re so sick- Carmy” she felt his forehead and cheeks with the back of her hand like she did when they were kids. “It was an accident, right, right Bear? You wouldn’t do this?” She said, more pleading him than asking.  

“No. No. No sug, no- I- I’d never. I just fucked up! I’m fine. I’m fine. C’mere” he hugs her close, kissing her head gently. “Stress isn’t good for the baby bear” he joked, hoping it would get her to lighten up. 

“Carmy stop” she pushed away, looking at him seriously. “No. No. This isn’t okay- nothing - nothing about this is okay, bear! You almost died! Syd said- “ she shook her head. “Carmy. I- we can’t do this. We can’t. You’re right.” She sniffled, sitting back in the chair next to his hospital bed and wiping her tears. 

“What- what do you mean?” He sat up a bit. 

“I- if you….i can’t watch you like this anymore, Carmy. I can’t- I can’t see you wither away. Fucking emotionally anymore. It’s killing me. It’s hurting-“ she took a shaking breath. 

“It’s hurting your niece. Carmen. I can’t do it anymore. here.” She dug around her purse, pulling out a brochure. 

“Go- go. Get out of fucking Chicago, Carm. This place- I-i heard of it” she sniffled “its stupid-“ she laughed a bit, shaking her head. “So stupid, fuckin this..this Astrologer. She said in her podcast that this is the best place to go based on the location? I dunno…it’s a therapy place” she said. 

Carmen looked at the Brochure, his brows raising. 

‘Blue Lotus Trauma Therapy Rehabilitation Center’ the front contained photos of absolutely breathtaking pine trees, mountains, as well as red cabins. 

‘Blue Lotus is tucked safely away on Big Bear Lake in Big Bear, CA. Come and experience an inpatient by day, outpatient by night 30 day program, along with 15 days of sole inpatient TF-CBT therapy, focused on your direct needs as a patient. We specialize here at Big Bear in Equestrian Therapy, and Cattle Therapy. Enjoy hiking on hundreds of miles of breathtaking trails, and get to know the stunning haven that is Big Bear, California.’ 

“Horses.” Carmen looks at her, unwavered. 

“Yes! They say they like- get us or something? You’ll be back before I give birth. Go. Carmen. Go. Or- or I can’t work there, anymore it-“ she shakes her head, looking down at her swollen belly as hot thick tears stream down her cheeks. “It’s like watching Michael…again. In a different way” she said quietly, wiping her face and looking up at him once again. “Please.” She whispered. 

He shook his head, setting the stupid brochure down on the bedside table and laying back in the bed, grabbing the oxygen since his head was beginning to pound again and putting it back over his face, averting her worried gaze. 

“I don’t have the energy to call these people” he muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head back, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. 

“I- I already got you a bed. I called them…on the way over- I begged them. And they are willing to take you, Carmy. Please. I’ll pick your cabin and everything - you- you stay in a cabin after the 15 days and then for 30 you go back and forth. It sounds so nice, bear. I know they’re gonna take such good care of you think about it- please- will you go?” she got up, pulling him into a hug. 

“Thank you” she whispered after a few moments when he didn’t decline her. 

Carmen didn’t reply. If Sugar really thought that stupid place would make him ‘change’ (if that was even possible) and if she really felt as if it was affecting her child that was growing inside of her- he would give it a try. Even though he felt as if it would be just another money pit in the name of ‘mental health’ that didn’t do a thing. 

“There’s dead man walkin’!” Richie said, Syd following in behind him. 

“Stop! Don’t call him that Richie it was scary!” Syd shoves his shoulder. 

Carmen grabbed the brochure, quickly tucking it under the blanket. 

“Fuck you, cousin” Carmy said, his voice all nasally and low from his flu or whatever the fuck he’d picked up, that had led him to giving himself a cocktail of meds that almost sent him to Michael prematurely by total mistake. 

“Carmen is leaving. As soon as he’s released. So- get your time in he won’t be home for a month or two” Sugar said and sat down, not budging on the issue. 

Carm just rolled his eyes, laying his head back and wanting to melt into a puddle on the floor, but at the same time, he also wanted to pull Syd into the stupidly small hospital bed, and hold her to him, never letting her go. 

“You are?” Syd asked, coming to his bedside and meeting his gaze. 

He just stared at her. Wordlessly, he pulled out the crumpled brochure and offered it to her. She took it, looking at it. Richie comes over as well, peeking over Syd’s shoulder to read. 

“Equestrian therapy? Gonna go play with some horsies Carm?” He teased, his smugness being wiped off his face when Syd stomps on his foot with most of her weight, causing him to whine in pain. 

“Woops! Maybe you should learn some personal fucking space asshole” she shoved back in to him so he would take a few steps back. 

“Ow!” He said dramatically, plopping next to Sugar who was also glaring at him with equal fire. 

“Okay- okay- sorry fuckin hell. The kid is fine” he said and Carmen motions to him. 

“See! See! Jagoff is right sometimes” he said to Syd and she shook her head. 

“This…is good. This is really good. I’m for this.” She said, looking at Sugar before handing the brochure back to him. “I’m… gonna miss you, but…you need to get the fuck out. Like really, out, Carm.” She told him. 

He sighed deeply, resting his head back and closing his eyes once more. 

Whatever will make Syd happy, he would do, no matter the amount of discomfort it brought him. 

“Fine.” He mumbled.  

“Really?” Sugar asked him and he looked over at her, brows slightly furrowed. 

“Want me to fuckin fight you about it?” He snipped, already annoyed with how easy he was giving in- but he was too exhausted to fight, and Syds lavender perfume was so comforting, and so familiar. He just wanted everyone except Syd to leave, and to be able to hold her. 

That wasn’t going to happen though, probably ever was what he’d told himself. No, that would be too good, the universe would be much too kind to Carmy as to let him have the ultimate pleasure and enjoyment that would come from being with her in that way. 

“No…no. I’m sorry. Thank you, Bear. I know this is gonna be good”  Sugar said quietly. 

The doctor came in, saving Carmen from the uncomfortable conversation. “Hello again, Mr.Berzatto. I have your results here- is this okay company? If not I can have them step out for a moment” she’d said. 

Carmen had already completely forgotten her name, her name to him was simple - not Claire. Which was the only good thing to happen to him today. 

“As long as I’m not dying cause these two will pitch a fit. You can go ahead” he said, sitting up slightly in the bed. 

“No, no. you are very healthy, well- for the most part. Does your family have a history of high blood pressure?” She asked, sitting in the rolling chair next to the bed and holding her tablet in her lap. 

“Dad. Dad did, bear.” Sugar said. 

“Oh! Lovely- and did dad also have chronic treatment resistant depression?” The doctor turns to her. 

“I- I don’t know but…I know he was depressed for sure.” Sugar replied honestly. 

“And I know per your file you’re a smoker, heavy or moderate?” The doctor asked 

“Heavy” Syd buts in and Carmen didn’t even have the energy to fight either of the women. 

“So heavy is a pack plus a day does that sound average?” The doctor asked Carmy and he nods a bit. 

“Sometimes…sometimes two. Depending on uh…how shit is” he cleared his throat. 

“Yeah, so we’re gonna need to reduce as much as we possibly can. And we’re also going to speak about treatment options. Have you ever done mental therapy?” She asked Carmen. 

“He’s getting help. Don’t worry” Sugar said, “he’s going to do a therapy program. Blue lotus? Heard of it?” She asked. 

The doctor nods with a slight smile. “That would be wonderful for you, by the looks of your chart.” She got up. 

“Visiting hours are over at 10 pm, he will need to remain here until at least 1 pm tomorrow afternoon- then he’s yours.” She headed towards the door, shutting the privacy curtain behind her before closing the door. 

Richie chuckled “hack job name” he muttered, rubbing his face tiredly. 

“What was her name?” Sugar looked over at him. 

“Doctor Ginseng?” He said, “isn’t that a- a fuckin-“ 

“A root. A very expensive, luxurious root. It can be put into tea, or soup…the native people of China believe it has properties that make your body better deal with stress” Syd said absentmindedly, staring at the clock while nervously twirling the end of one of her braids. 

“She got it” Carm said and the corners of his lips tugged into a smile, just a bit. He absolutely adored the way if Syd wasn’t beating him to the punch when someone asked a random food question- that she was teaching him something. 

Even after years in the kitchen, the hundreds of hours watching cooking shows, Sydney still managed to teach him. He was utterly amazed by her every single day. 

“That’s a good idea. I- I think we have some. Back at the restaurant. All the stuff here will be shit- I’m gonna make you tea. And soup.” she got up, grabbing her bag. “Don’t fucking die when I’m gone, Kay? Guess you need that reminder now” she told him. 

He rolled his eyes slightly “Y’don’t have t’fuckin make me tea Syd. I’m fine.” He said, but something deep inside him yearned for Syd to take care of him. He craved it. 

“I’m making the tea, and you’re drinking the tea. Be back soon” she said before heading out.

Sydney had stuffed Carm full of pastina chicken soup and warm ginseng tea with lemon, ginger root, and plenty of local honey. As well as sourdough bread that Marcus had made fresh that morning. 

They sat and talked, just the two of them for hours until visiting hours were over. The nurse had to actually warn them both that she’d told them 4 times already it was past visiting hours and she ‘wasn’t afraid to have people removed’ before Sydney finally hugged Carmy goodbye and left. 

They both took his leaving for 45 days extremely serious. They’d joked together about just how quickly and casually Sugar had whipped out the information, all put together so neatly - it was quite obvious she’d been waiting for an opportunity to ship Carmen off here. 

They laughed a bit, and shared stories, and of course Carm answered any and every question Syd had about running the restaurant on her own while he was going to be away. 

Syd had even pulled a chair up to the bed at one point, resting her legs across the mattress after taking her shoes off, and her legs were draped across his own. He didn’t dare say anything, though. He was relishing in the feeling of closeness with her, even if it was as close as they’d ever be.  

Syd had actually made him so excited that the nurse had come in when she first came back and Carmy realized they’d be alone, to realize he was perfectly fine- his heart had just settled at a new pace since she was around. 

He was feeling worlds better by the time he’d gotten to the airport on Sunday morning. He’d spent the rest of Saturday evening at Sugars after he’d been discharged from the hospital, and had one last close family meal with Syd, Richie, Nat, and Pete, well, Pete was a must - he couldn’t uninvite the man from his own house, unfortunately. 

Carmen would be in a hotel in Big Bear, California by nightfall, and by the following morning he’d be starting his 15 day inpatient stint at ‘Blue Lotus Trauma Therapy Rehabilitation Center’ tucked away on a farm, in a dip of Big Bear Lake. How fitting. 

The parking lot of the airport was full of tears, not from Carmy- of course, but a very tearful Sugar, who’d conveniently spent the rest of his hospital stay packing him 2 weeks of clothes to cycle through, explaining phones were allowed- but they gave the toiletries, since it was a mental health center after all. 

She kept hugging him, kissing his cheeks- as if she was sending him to war and not a fucking treatment center. “Is there…somethin’ I’m missing- am I never coming back er somethin are you selling me to some weird chef collector?” Carmen teased, getting at least a small giggle from her. 

“God no. I just… this will work Carmy. It has to work. You’ll get better, okay? It’ll all be fine.” She wiped her face. He nodded a bit. 

“It’ll work.” He said, he wasn’t sure if he believed it- but if it got her to stop feeling so sad, he would agree. 

“I love you, be safe ok?” She said for the millionth time “and remember look at your phone I sent you-“ 

“The flight number, Nat. I love you. Thank you again” he kissed her cheek, grabbing his suitcase and opening his texts, clicking his flight number she sent him. 

“Gate D11! Thank you Nat. Gotta go now- unless…” he teased. 

She smiled a bit, finally. “Get out of Chicago.” She pat his arm gently and got back in the car to a waiting Pete. 

The flight was okay, it felt much longer than he was expecting, but his anxiety told him a lot of things- he couldn’t trust minute things such as time and how he understands it anymore. The first thing he noticed upon landing was the stunning green, and the crisp air. 

The air felt…cleaner, then Chicago. It was chilly- since fall was quickly approaching. Carmen was suddenly grateful Nat had him put on a hoodie before leaving this afternoon. He had the entire evening to explore, and not be himself. 

He already was feeling some kind of new. He wasn’t here to work, definitely not to play, but he could enjoy himself, because he didn’t have to be him. At least not for the night. He opened the Uber app on his phone, booking a trip to the hotel to check in.  

When he’d gotten to the hotel and showered, dressing in some vintage Levi’s and a white long sleeve in trade for his short sleeve, along with his favorite plaid jacket. He had to get somewhere to see how people live here, how to be apart here, so he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb at this rehab place. 

He’d grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders and opened Apple Maps on his phone, looking for a park to go sit at and just be. He found a park close by, simply called ‘BearHill Park’ and following the walking directions. 

He’d missed his ventures to various parks in New York, but especially in Copenhagen. Copenhagen had the most beautiful sunsets Carmen had ever seen before. He missed it sometimes, not the work, but the life. It felt worlds more simple then his life now, where every relationship, every aspect of his job- was dripping with difficulty to manage it all. 

When he got to the park, he’d found an oak tree that looked well over 200 years old, getting situated under it and resting against the trunk, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.  

He watched a couple and a baby walking by, carefully though as he’d learned quickly as a child most people don’t take kindly to being looked at for more then a few moments at a time. But Carmen didn’t watch people in an odd way, of course. He was just wanting to observe, see how he should be. And in a place so new, so out of his ordinary all by himself, it was gonna take a lot of observing to get himself readjusted. 

He watched as the father pushed the carriage along, the mother holding his hand happily. They were far away so he couldn’t hear what they were speaking about, but it must be funny because their heads were tilted back in laughter multiple points throughout the conversation as they continued on. 

He continued on his cigarette, his eyes now finding a younger couple. He sat up a bit, leaning further against the tree to get a better look. From behind, the woman reminded him a lot of Syd, of course it wasn’t- but it was also the way her boyfriend or- husband- Carmen wasn’t emotionally advanced enough to look for a ring, he’d never needed to before.

It was how his arms were covered in tattoos, and his hair was a muss of dirty blonde curls like his. It was how the woman was beautifully tall, with stunning long black braids, and a floral scarf tied around the top of her head. She was much more…boisterous then Syd, but none the less. They looked like them in another world.  

So not only, has this other man, found his Syd, the universe was determined to rub Carmen’s nose in it, or that’s how he took it, anyhow. 

He scoffed a bit, rolling his eyes and looking the other way. Of course. He thought. Everyone can be happy but me. I’m headed to adult crazy camp! And those two are just, fuckin happy and in love. 

The girl laughed loudly, causing Carmen to look back over. “CAMREN!” She squeaked as he tickled her. “Cam! Stop- I-I can’t breathe!! You asshole” she punched his shoulder playfully. 

“Do you give up?! Say it!!!” The man countered, continuing the assault on her sides. 

“No- NO! This- this is cheating!” She said, interrupted by her own laughs. 

“Cheating?! No, I'm getting what’s rightfully mine Scarlett!” He pinned her arms above her head. 

Carmen now looked away. He couldn’t help but think of Syd while watching them, and think of everything he was too pussy to pull off. He wished he could take Syd somewhere like this, but who would run the restaurant, and why would she say yes. 

He’d finished his cigarette by the time the couple had left and he took out his sketchbook and the pen that lived inside of it. He looked at the recipe on his phone Syd had sent ‘Farro Mafaldine with browned Black Truffle Butter and Chanterelles mushrooms’ 

He had tried it for her, and he actually told her he wanted another bite to be sure he was ‘getting everything’ when really- it was just so fantastic he couldn’t stop at one single bite. 

“Syd that is…wow. Really, really fuckin fire. If it weren’t for the mushroom, we’d need that on the permanent menu. Have you tried others?” He’d asked. 

Syd just smiled and nodded, a lot of times she was around Carmen- she thanked god for her darker complexion, considering he made her feel overly hot, all the time. Nearly every time he spoke to her, and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t always this way. But ever since they opened the restaurant together- things had changed between them. Not for better, not for worse, the energy just… shifted. 

Carmen got lost in thought of Syd, and before he could realize what he was doing- he was drawing her. He rested his elbow on his knee, crouched over as he added details to each intricate little braid. It was one of Carmen’s favorite things about Sydney. 

No matter how she wore her hair, she looked absolutely beautiful. The braids, he did have to admit, were his favorite. Maybe it was because it was how her hair was when they met, but they interested him. He wanted to sit and watch her doing them. She told him a while back, she did them herself. 

Apparently, her mother wasn’t able to teach her- but she had cousins that could. She says it was usually much more expensive to have it done then just do it yourself, that part made sense to him. He was really impressed the first time he told her, she laughed a bit at that.  

‘Most of us do our own hair, I mean- unless you got it like that. But otherwise, just like the white girls we have to do it on our own’ Carmen blushed, feeling silly for not realizing. 

‘Yeah- yeah I..I get that but. I dunno…I’ve seen Sug do her hair…it seems easier” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 

‘Oh, well yeah, that’s why I only do mine every 6 weeks!’ She’d said, wiping down the counter. 

‘Really? Well that’s cool. I thought you like…I dunno.’ He chuckled a bit. 

‘That I went home, took out 200 plus braids, and then put them all back in before I come in every day?’ She teased. 

Now Carmen’s cheeks were bright red. ‘Okay- listen I’m not a girl. I wouldn’t know’ 

Carmen caught himself smiling at the memory. He looked up at the setting sky, and his heart fluttered a bit at the beauty of it. He’d realized he’d sat there now for probably 5 hours, his back was aching, but he didn’t care. 

He didn’t care because this was the most at peace he’d felt since moving back to the states. And he was alone. He snapped a photo of the gorgeous sunset with his phone, hitting the send button and hovering over Syds name for a moment, before deciding to click it. 

She did tell him to text her when she got settled in after all. 

In CA - this place lives up to the name. Never seen so many bear statues in my life. 

He sends the text, with the photo attached, not even realizing the photo had been a live capture, and you could fully see the drawing of Syd for half a second if you held the photo down. 

He put his phone back in his pocket, continuing on his drawing. Back in Chicago, Syd was very glad that she was working today- because the only thing on her mind otherwise was one single person. 

“Okay guys! I need some hands here- we got 3 dishes for table 13 let’s move! Keep up the pace!” She called out. She had already been here 12 hours, and wasn’t planning on being out for another 6. 

It was just how Sydney operated - she couldn’t sit and worry about Carmen. It would just unearth emotions she didn’t want to go searching for, and once they came up she was worried it would ruin absolutely everything she’d worked so hard to maintain. 

And back across the country, 2,000 miles away, Carmen was contently packing his backpack, getting up, and heading to a small diner he’d seen. He enjoyed a quiet burger to himself, in the corner booth, looking out the window at the water. 

The place truly was beautiful, and very hidden away. There were barely any cars here, it was fully the opposite of anywhere he’d stayed long term, and he was beginning to feel as if he needed that, he wouldn’t admit that to sugar, though. 

He’d gone back to his hotel, taken a shower, gotten in his pajamas, and was laid in bed, watching some random cooking show on the food network since the TV unfortunately didn’t have YouTube like his did. 

When Sydney had seen the photo, she almost didn’t realize it was live at first. She was also at home, finally in bed- but she was 2 hours ahead of Carmen- so instead of it being 11 pm- it was 1 am. She’d scrubbed the restaurant floor until she was sure someone could eat off it, and made sure every station was in perfect condition before returning home.  

She laid in bed with sore hands, a sore back, and sore knees, and sore- well, everything. When she finally had checked her phone and seen it. She smiled a bit at the comment about the bear statues, clicking the photo open to see more. 

It was a breathtaking sunset for sure. She went to close the photo, her thumb lingering because she saw a speck of white in the corner- and the photo started moving. For just a short moment she sees…. Herself? On the page of Carmen’s sketchbook.

She could feel her heart thumping in her throat. Why would he be drawing her? Unless- no! Keep the emotions buried! He is sick. He is so depressed- treatment resistant depression the doctor had said his chart showed. 

She swallowed thickly, not sure what to say back. Should she just ignore it? Should she mention it boldly? Should she just…forget about it and convince herself it didn’t happen? 

She typed and retyped the message multiple times, smiling to herself a bit as she jokingly typed out ‘pretty sunset, even prettier drawing.’ Before deleting it and retyping before hitting send;

fire sunset. so I take it big bear is treating the bear well so far?

Carmen looked at the message right away, smiling to himself a bit. She’d never called him bear before, something about it made his heart begin to race. 

According to Nat, bear+big bear = depression gone, I’ll let you know in a few days if that's the truth.

He wasn’t sure about the whole equestrian therapy thing still, but he did know that being here seemed to allow him to breathe a little easier- and he was already here, so he would try.

The first 5 days in the inpatient program were…quite the adjustment. That was because it was what he learned was the most intensive part of the treatment, and meant to break down your walls by setting you in a hard routine so you had no choice but to think about your shit. 

This included a wake-up time of 6 am, the lights in his inpatient room literally turned on, then at 7:30 was breakfast, then- at 8 am they had 1 hour of either equestrian class, which you learned how to begin caring for the horses, or an hour of tending to the cows - Carmen chose the Horses because he was not going to shovel cow shit. 

Then, you had a therapy class of your choice from 9-11:30, he chose art therapy. It didn’t feel like therapy to him, they got to draw, or paint. Carmen just sat by the window, drawing different recipes - or, more often than not, drawing Syd from memory. 

12:00 was lunch, 12:30-2:00 you had mandatory either equestrian therapy, or cattle therapy. Carmen was more drawn towards the cattle on hard days, and the horses on easier ones. This was because the hour of 3-4 was mandatory group therapy. That usually emotionally drained him until at least art therapy the following day, since to progress and complete the program- you need ‘participation points’ in your 15 day inpatient stay, before you’re trusted to be on your almost fully on your own for a whole 30 days. 

The horses were usually nervous around new people, so it was a challange to get them to trust him. While the cows, people in the group joked- were ‘giant grass puppies’ the therapy consisted of literally just laying with the lazy cows and cuddling them, and feeding them snacks, which they very much enjoyed, and Carmen found to be very soothing once he learned to douse himself in bug spray before heading in the pen so the flys would be out of his way.

Then, dinner was at 5, and afterwards you had the evening to yourself in your room, or you could walk the trails until they closed at sunset. In your room you could watch tv, read, and the residents were also allowed to have their cellphones.  

It was quite exhausting the first 5 days, but the second 5 he was getting into a groove at Blue Lotus. He was beginning to enjoy the hard manual work that came with working with the animals, and the time it took to build their trust. There was one particular horse Carmen had become fond of, a white horse named Stardust. Perfect name for her. 

When he looked in her eyes she felt more human then most people he met in real life. She was different then the other horses. He’d been told that she rarely took to men, and that he was the only male she’d never need startled by. He always took extra time brushing her mane, and they both seemed to appreciate eachothers silence. 

Carmen heard other people in stalls next to him, they would talk to the horses- dump their issues they were too afraid to tell their therapists out on them. He wondered if the horses ever got annoyed, he probably would if he was a horse. He smiled a bit at the thought, and it was almost as if Stardust could tell what he was thinking, because she turned her head and looked at him before snorting almost in agreement and sticking her head back out of the stall. 

Getting into outpatient life at lotus though, was as easy as falling into bed for Carmen. His inpatient stay, he made sure to take the time in the evenings to learn his favorite quiet trails, the ones less taken usually, so when he graduated to outpatient - he could take stardust for rides on his own.

 It took them about 3 days to get to know each other in that regard, it was mostly Carmen’s fault though he realized, because when he’d get nervous he’d pull on her reigns in such a way that she thought he meant for her to go faster - when it was the opposite. But, Stardust was so, so patient with Carmen. 

He made sure to sneak her extra apples with a small drizzle of honey in return, so she knew her patience with him always came with great reward. 

Carmen had been gone for about a month now, he and Syd would text intermittently, sugar was sure to call once a week and they’d talk for about an hour. But it was mostly quiet from Carmen’s end, he had told them it was because he was usually out, all day long unless he was at therapy. 

It was day 19 of the outpatient part of the program, so he had just 11 days left. He had just finished his morning art therapy, and was in the stables tending to stardust, feeding her slices of pumpkin they’d had in the snack bucket for the horses today. “Come onnn- the tongue, really star” he wipes his wet hand on his jeans and she nudged his shoulder with his nose, asking for more. 

“You are greedy! I’m always the first one in here y’gotta leave some for the rest of these guys!” He grabbed another piece of pumpkin, feeding it to her. 

“And this is our horse stable, he spends a lot of time out here” Carmen heard one of the employees likely giving someone a tour, only half listening. 

Stardust snorts at him, nudging his chest and he rubs her neck gently. “What is it? Y’done? Pumpkin not good enough for ya? No honey apples until after our ride or Y’don’t listen missy” he pats her head gently. 

“I didn’t take you for a horse guy but I guess drop anyone off in the middle of nowhere and you’d be surprised. 34 days and you went full fuckin’ cowboy on me- are those boots, Carm? ” An all too familiar voice said from the large open sliding door of the stable He looked at stardust for a moment, he must be dreaming, or ODing again. Maybe he died, and had been dead the entire time. Because there was no way he could believe Sydney Adamu was standing behind him, 2000 miles away from their shared city, in Big Bear, California.

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡♡♡ ⋙

[hippolotamus]

WIP Wednesday ☀️

Tagged by the lovely and talented @tizniz @wikiangela @daffi-990 @theotherbuckley @bidisasterbuckdiaz @wildlife4life @thekristen999 (can't wait to get to all your posted fics and snippets!)

This is not at all what I thought I'd be posting today. But in the course of visiting WIPs through asks the last few days, this one really grabbed me again. Here's the last snippet (and master tag list). It made me cry so now I'm making it your problem, too.

Evan’s voice is shy this time, relieved. Eddie can picture the way he’s cradling his phone, his elbow resting on his other arm wrapped around his middle. The way he’s ducking his chin and his cheeks are probably painted in a rosy blush. It loosens the knot in Eddie’s chest, just the tiniest bit. Enough to ease the mess that’s been tangling together for nearly five years now. “How have you been?” Eddie asks.  “Oh, y’know. Okay. I’m in Arizona now. About eight hours from Tucson.” “Arizona? Wow, you, uh, probably aren’t worried about snow storms then.” “Nope.” Evan pops the ‘p’ and gives a small chuckle. “Can’t say that even breaks the top ten. Haboobs on the other hand… well those are a whole other thing.” Eddie’s just about to ask what the hell a haboob is when Christopher’s piercing shriek fills the air. Eddie whips his head around to look. He rushes over to his son who is a pouting mess of tears and flailing limbs, and pulls him into his arms while still holding the phone between his ear and shoulder. “Sorry about that,” Eddie says once he’s got Chris settled in his arms. He looks over his tiny body for any obvious injuries, and feels along his head and spine, not even sure what exactly he’s looking for. The outburst had been so sudden and Chris hadn’t even been so much as toppled over. But then, as quickly as it started, it recedes again as Chris pops his thumb in his mouth and nuzzles into the crook of Eddie’s neck.  “Is that-” Evan sucks in a shaky breath, cutting himself off.  Eddie’s throat and chest grow tight as realization dawns on him. The reminder of every mistake he’s made – even the ones that gave him his perfect son – sticking like daggers in his heart. Because Evan’s never heard- he doesn’t know. Because he left and was gone. Because Eddie pushed him away and couldn’t be what Evan wanted or needed.  “Christopher,” Eddie says, barely able to keep his voice from breaking. “He’s four now. Almost five.”  “Christopher,” Evan repeats.  An unbearably heavy silence stretches between them, so loud in its intensity that Eddie wishes it would just swallow him whole already. He doesn’t know how much time passes before there’s the sound of shifting and crackling on the other end. “I should, uh, I should go,” Evan rushes out. “It was nice to hear from you again.” “No, Evan, wait-” Eddie pleads, only to be met with more silence as he realizes the call’s been disconnected. Evan’s gone. Again.  In a haze, he lets his phone drop to the floor. He rearranges a now dozing Chris as he numbly settles on the recliner, gently rocking them back and forth. Silently, tears begin to stream down his face and he rocks them faster as if it’ll keep him from shattering and breaking apart completely.

np tagging @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @actuallyitsellie @filet-o-feelings @queerbuckleys @bi-buckrights @chaosandwolves @diazsdimples @elvensorceress @epicbuddieficrecs @eowon @fortheloveofbuddie @bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @saybiwithme @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @indestructibleheart @jesuisici33 @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites @lizzie-bennetdarcy @loserdiaz @loveyouanyway @monsterrae1 @rmd-writes @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @statueinthestone @steadfastsaturnsrings @the-likesofus @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @thewolvesof1998 @vanillahigh00 @watchyourbuck @weewootruck @welcometololaland @your-catfish-friend @slightlyobsessedwitheverything and anyone else who wants to 😘

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14C: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Guns N’ Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go?

- Guns N’ Roses, “Sweet Child O’ Mine” (1987)

Tucson || July 1988

AA met every Thursday in a church hall not far from the studio. She’d borrowed Bobby’s Trans Am to drive Jamie, holding his hand the whole way, hearing about his chat with Alec – who had graciously agreed during their January trip to New York to be Jamie’s sponsor.

She kissed him when he went inside. Needing some peace and quiet of her own, in the car, as she waited.

She had tried NA off and on, but it hadn’t really clicked. She was so very happy that AA really worked for Jamie – it was always much easier for him to open up to perfect strangers – and she was grateful that he could get the support he needed, at a moment’s notice, in any city.

Not to mention that the Friends of Bill took the “anonymous” in Alcoholics Anonymous quite seriously – meaning, in those meetings Jamie was just Jamie the alcoholic, not Jamie Fraser the frontman of Print, not the rock star. Just a man who fought daily battles with addiction, who was trying to be better, who just so happened to have the number six record in the country today.

It was hard. It was always going to be hard. But he was worth it. The life they had together was worth it.

She pulled out the folded envelope. Smoothed the creases against the steering wheel. Reading and reading and re-reading the return address.

Listening to Guns N’ Roses and Def Leppard and Poison and Cheap Trick on the radio.

She didn’t see Jamie cross the parking lot. Jumped when he slid into the passenger seat, smiling, with a kiss.

“Hey.”

She offered a tight smile. “Hey. How are you?”

“Much better.”

His gaze found the envelope.

He didn’t need to say anything.

She couldn’t say anything.

But now that he was here, she opened it.

Held out the single sheet of paper.

They read.

Dr. Claire Beauchamp

via Colum Laird, Broch Productions

Dear Dr. Beauchamp,

Thank you for your letter and providing a forwarding address. Three months ago, the BMC board unanimously voted to terminate your employment. For legal reasons we will not provide further details, and the board’s decision is final.

However, we have communicated to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts that your medical license should be restored, with the provision that you no longer practice medicine in any kind of high-stress environment. You may contact the medical board at the below address to request a copy of…

Jamie watched Claire read and re-read and re-read.

“Sweet Child O’ Mine” played softly on the radio.

A long, long moment.

The song shifted to the bridge.

Where do we go now, sweet child? Axl Rose murmured.

Jamie took a breath. “Where do we go now, Claire?” he whispered.

She folded the paper and put it back in the envelope. Laid it on the dash. Reached beneath her shirt to pull the long chain up over her neck. Settled her left hand on Jamie’s thigh, skin hot through his jeans.

Jamie unclasped the chain, letting his grandmother’s engagement ring slide free. He slipped the ring onto her finger. Brought her hand to his lips, kissing so softly.

“I’d like us to have an extra day in Boston when we’re there next week. So that we can pack up my apartment.”

She was looking through the windshield, face turned to him in profile.

“Yes. What else?”

“I’d like a little house in the mountains of North Carolina. Not too far from The Ridge. It’s so beautiful and peaceful there. I’m sure Dougal and Gillian can help us find something.”

Gently he bit her knuckles. “Something small. Kitchen and living room. Bedroom for us. A room I can use for music. And a room for your medicine.”

She nodded. “I’ll transfer my license – I’ve already looked into how to do that. I can file the paperwork when we get to Boston. I don’t know if I want to be in a private practice, or just volunteer in a clinic, or maybe something else. We’ll get settled, and then we’ll decide.”

“We will. I – are you happy, Claire?”

She smiled tightly. “More…relieved. And yes, I’m happy, Jamie. Happy to be free. Happy to be marrying you.”

They sat in silence for a long while. Listening to the final notes of Slash’s guitar. And then the first two minutes of INXS and “New Sensation”.

Memory flared – the last time she heard this song was the one time she’d seen Jamie nude, changing into his leather pants backstage in Orlando, when she’d entered his dressing room without knocking.

She swallowed. “I want the house to have at least one spare bedroom.”

He laced their fingers. “Of course – for guests.”

She flushed. Finally met his eyes.

“Yes. And for children.”

He released a suddenly shaky breath. “Oh, my love. Yes.”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m never taking this ring off again.”

He leaned across the console and kissed her. Kissed her. Kissed her.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

WTH House. This home fascinated me right from the start. It's a good price, for 3bd, 2ba 1977 Mid-century modern in Tucson, Arizona at $345K. I thought that wall of hanging ornaments was kind of nice, until I saw what it was.

Oh. Anyway, if you are a fan of purple, you're going to like this house.

Notice it's the only gated home in the neighborhood and the gate is purple. (Is something going on in there?)

Okay, so this is the living room. There's a skylight and some funky lights on the ceiling.

There's a lot of glass block in the house. Note how they staged the island to let buyers know that it's a counter as well as a cooktop.

See? But it looks like only 1 big burner and 1 smaller.

Maybe it's a warming tray.

It does, however, have cool purple lights.

There's a large dining area.

In the primary is a glass block wall, a purple carpet, purple walls, and 2 bare bulb lights for the bed that convey.

This bathroom has a purple glass bowl sink and the grout spells out "AXE." They must be fans of Axe cologne?

This bedroom has sliders to the yard.

The 2nd bath has a modern glass sink installed on an old piece of furniture. Has a nice big shower, though.

This looks like it was an outer door/wall, but they built another bedroom onto it.

There's the addition. Looks so flimsy.

There's a small patio in the back, plus a dirt yard.

There are some plants in the front. of the purple house and some weeds scattered around the back.

The entire lot is the only one in the neighborhood that's enclosed in a cinder block wall.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/9800-E-Mary-Dr-Tucson-AZ-85730/8549826_zpid/

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Cory Doctorow Humble Bundle

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then San Francisco (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!

It's been 21 years and 29 days since Tor Books published my first novel, Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom. In the years since, Tor has published every one of my novels, sending me around the USA and Canada to talk about them. Now, they've teamed up with Humble Bundle to sell 18 of my ebooks on a name-your-price basis, with part of the proceeds going to benefit EFF:

https://www.humblebundle.com/books/cory-doctorow-novel-collection-tor-books-books

I've been associated with EFF even longer than I've been published by Tor! My first novel came out while I was working EFF's first-ever booth at CES. I split my time between the booth and my motel room, where I paid $0.25/call to dial up to Earthlink's local number and manage the launch-day publicity. Over the years, I've benefited immensely from Tor's editorial and publicity departments, working with brilliant publishing people like Patrick Nielsen Hayden, Patty Garcia, Dot Lin, Laura Etzkorn, Elena Stokes, Sarah Reidy, Lucille Rettino, and of course, Tor founder Tom Doherty.

But I like to think that it was a two-way street. Tor and I have come a long way together on ebooks: most visibly, they allowed me to publish several novels under Creative Commons licenses (my first book was the first ever CC book, coming out just weeks after the licenses themselves launched). As my editor Patrick Nielsen Hayden said at the time, "Ebooks have the worst hours-in-meeting-to-dollars-in-revenue ratio of anything in my publishing career. Why not?"

https://craphound.com/down/download/

Just as important – but less visible – was Tor's willingness to let me insist that all my books be published without DRM, meaning that anything you buy on say, Amazon, can be moved to any reader program if you decide to start getting your ebooks elsewhere. This worked so well that in 2012, Tor became the first major publisher in the world to ban DRM on all its ebooks, flying me, John Scalzi and Charlie Stross to New York City to announce it this at a big, splashy event at Book Expo America:

https://web.archive.org/web/20130512022634/https://tor.com/blogs/2012/06/tor-books-announces-e-book-store-doctorow-scalzi-a-stross-talk-drm-free

Tor's unique status as the sole major DRM-free publisher in the world was well timed! That same year, I curated the very first Humble Ebook Bundle, which was very top-heavy with Tor titles, and raised more than $1,000,000 for the writers, publishers and charities associated with it:

https://web.archive.org/web/20121017215636/http://www.humblebundle.com/

That opened the floodgates to a series of Humble Bundles, tempting other major publishers to dabble with DRM-free, including Simon and Schuster:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-I5QyAfglU

And Harpercollins:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HHMLfeCrCrE

Now, 12 years after that inaugural Humble Ebook Bundle, I find myself honored by being the subject of a bundle of my own (it helps that I've written a hell of a lot of books in the intervening years). Included in the bundle are (nearly) all of my Tor novels and novellas: The Lost Cause; "The Canadian Miracle" (a Lost Cause story); Red Team Blues; Radicalized; Walkaway; "Party Discipline" (a Walkaway story); Pirate Cinema; Rapture of the Nerds (with Charlie Stross); For The Win; Makers; Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves Town; Eastern Standard Tribe, Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom, Little Brother, Homeland, Attack Surface, and "Lawful Interception" (a Little Brother story).

(The sole exclusion is The Bezzle, which came out two weeks ago and is already a USA Today national bestseller!)

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

Also included in the bundle is Poesy the Monster Slayer, my 2020 picture book for the littlies:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627/poesythemonsterslayer

All these books are delivered as DRM-free epub files. The Bundle runs for the next three weeks, and the minimum buy-in is $18 – that's just $1/book (full retail value is $187). Of course, you can name a higher price, and, as with all Humble Bundles, you can adjust the final split to share out the money between me, EFF, and the Humble folks.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/03/humbly-bundled/#eff-too

[sunlightmurdock]

Safe Zone | 0.3 | Jake Seresin / Bradley Bradshaw AU

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: A team of elite naval aviators holding down the fort at the North Island Air Base while they wait for reinforcements after a virus sweeps the continental U.S. - only, it’s been three months and no one has shown up.

Warnings: throughout the fic - gore, death, violence and pretty graphic mentions of all things zombie related, love triangle, smut (18+, minors dni), angst etc. A zombie gets stabbed in the eye in this chapter, it’s brief but worth mentioning

…

“That hair’s getting pretty long, Floyd,” Cyclone comments, looking disapprovingly across the rec room at Bob. “It’s out of code.”

Jake looks up from his breakfast. Like code matters anymore. He’s setting up to go and clear a fresh load of bodies from the perimeter, Bob’s long hair doesn’t seem like a pressing issue.

“My wife cuts my hair, sir.” Bob answers calmly, without looking up from his own breakfast. His voice is quiet, but calm. In the beginning, his voice would tremble at the mention of her.

People quickly learned not to bring her up.

Cyclone looks down at his coffee and swallows. The silence in the room feels suddenly much louder.

“Right. I’ll be at the front gate.” He mutters, turning and walking away.

Bob’s wife isn’t dead. He’s the only one that knows for certain about one of their loved ones. She was back in South Carolina when this happened, she’s stuck there, he’s stuck here.

One of Bob’s primary jobs around here is to make and keep contact with the active safe zones around the country. He was distraught for the first week, checking with every camp in South Carolina until she turned up. She’s safe in the Charleston safe zone - but she’s still there and he’s still there.

Phoenix is pretty sure her family are at the Tucson safe zone. Jake’s confident that his parents would have gotten his sisters and nephews safely to the one outside of Austin.

“Easy enough for him to act like everything’s normal - his family’s here.” Phoenix mutters dejectedly, shaking her head. Bob gives her a soft smile for always standing up for him.

Cyclone lived in the area. He and a bunch of the higher ups got their families here safely. They were living in the officer’s building, until Hondo’s youngest daughter’s crying started keeping everyone up and people were falling asleep on watch.

Now, families stay in the west wing, singles get the building to the east. Bob’s in the west for now, but he has a place earmarked in the east for when his wife gets here. She’s pregnant.

“I miss my mom’s cooking.” Fanboy agrees.

“I miss my vibrator.” Phoenix scoffs. All eyes turn towards her at once. She looks up and frowns, remembering her company. She’s the only girl that stuck around when everything went to shit that isn’t in the west wing, “Open your mouth, Yale, and I’ll snap it off.”

Jake chuckles, standing up and dropping his plate into the sink. It’s someone else’s job to clean that up. The sun’s coming up as he crosses base to go and meet his team.

He turns his head to see Rooster coming out of the control tower. Followed by you. You yawn softly and stretch your neck. Your eyes meet Jake’s. His smiles slightly at the way your face drops, knowing you’re caught. Another thing he could tell on you for if he wanted to.

“Mornin’.” Jake calls out, lifting his hand and waving at you. It’s just to let you both know that he’s there and that he isn’t afraid of being loud.

It’s a falsely friendly gesture. Fucking Bradshaw got to you first. It’s fine, he can see the distance between the two of you - you’re practically yawning. Jake hasn’t lost yet.

Rooster gives him a nod of acknowledgement and then looks back to you, ignoring Jake almost completely. Your eyes linger on Jake’s, he shoots you a quick wink as he passes by.

He’s pissed off. Rooster convinced you to sign up, and he’s already trying to take you under his stupid fucking flightless wing. Jake’s glad he’s on body patrol this morning because he’s got a little anger to get out.

“Wasn’t so bad, right?” Rooster asks as he locks the door behind him.

“Was kind of boring, actually.” You tell him.

He smiles, then nods. “You an adrenaline junkie or something?”

You give a soft shrug of your shoulders, “Maybe.”

He stares at you, lips quirked up just slightly. You’re familiar with the look that he’s giving you. He makes no effort to hide the fact that he likes you. The world ended, what’s the point in pretending anymore?

“So, how’d you feel about picking up some shifts?” Rooster asks.

You purse your lips, still unsure. He’s spent the past five hours discussing the pros and cons with you. It would get you out of the room more.

“I guess there are worse ways I could spend my time.” You answer.

Rooster happily takes care of the enrollment for you, and of course volunteers himself to be your trainer. Cyclone insists that any civilians that will be taking on Navy duties will have one on one training — Rooster couldn’t be happier to abide by the rule.

You get started that afternoon. You both sleep off the ache of last night’s all-nighter for the morning and regroup at 1pm in front of the information centre.

Rooster looks you up and down as you reach him.

“Cyclone’s probably going to want you in uniform once you’re doing real shifts.” He notes, standing before you in what all of them seem to wear.

They each walk around in some variation of a navy working uniform. Some of them in the sea coveralls, some of them in military typical greens. Whatever they have, you guess.

You usually stick to shorts and some kind of t-shirt or tank top. That’s about all you can bear in this heat. It feels hotter this summer.

“I’ll drop some by your place tonight.” He looks down at his clipboard as he says it. This is a test. You spent all of last night brushing off his advances, keeping all conversation strictly platonic.

Now, he’s waiting to see if you’ll correct him here. You let it slide. It’s important to pick your battles, and having a tall brunette with pretty eyes offer to go out of his way to bring you uniform doesn’t seem like something to argue about.

Besides, he can swoon over you all he wants — it doesn’t mean a thing to you either way.

“How familiar are you with base? — I see you walking around often enough that I figure you know where most stuff is, right?” Rooster checks, lifting his sunglasses up onto his head as he looks down at the clipboard Hondo gave him.

You take a step closer and crane your neck to look over the checklist. All basic stuff. Arms training is at the bottom of the list — Luke’s going to be so jealous.

“Yeah, I know my way around.” You agree.

He dips a hand into the pocket of his cargos and pulls out a pen, ticking off the first point on the list. The second is shift posts.

“Okay — I’ll start off by showing you where each of the posts are, we can talk a little about what you do at each of them.”

“Sounds good.” You agree again.

Rooster holds the clipboard by his side and walks you through each of the sixteen posts. Everything in base first: the control tower, the warehouse, the food hall - all of the places with the highest traffic.

You pass by what used to be the Top Gun building, now repurposed to be a makeshift highschool class. You squint as you look through the windows.

“Look at that idiot.” You mutter. Rooster turns his head, finding your brother sitting at the back of the class, balancing a pencil above his top lip - he laughs softly. The girl next to Luke giggles and leans into his side.

“Oh shit.” Rooster’s smile drops quickly. He keeps walking and shakes his head, “That’s Admiral Simpson’s kid. You should warn him.”

You frown and look back to Rooster, “Is Admiral Simpson the scary one?”

“That guy.” Rooster points to the front gate. Your eyes focus on the older man, standing at the top of the wall, screaming orders at a young ensign. You wince. Rooster chuckles at your reaction.

“You and your brother seem pretty close.” He comments, walking right by the gate without doing much explaining at all. It’s clear to you that he’s not showing you around because he cares a great deal about the work you’ll be doing around here.

He just wants to get closer to you. You’re onto him every step of the way.

“Someone’s got to keep an eye on him.” You reply.

He nods, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek. He figures that it’s probably not his place to say anything - and that even if it was his place, you probably wouldn’t want to hear it.

“So, who keeps an eye on you?” Bradley asks. You turn your head to look at him as he walks you to the south wall post. He’s a little red from being in the sun too long, his curls messy from constantly running his fingers through them. He’s handsome - and that black t-shirt is tight enough for you to be able to tell that his body would be just as pleasant to look at.

Before this, you probably would have gone for him. He’s definitely the kind of guy you would have let buy you a drink and tell you that you’re pretty. Back then.

“I do.” You reply calmly, your chin lifted, looking him in the eye.

Bradley’s lips quirk, amused by your response. “Yeah, but - everyone needs a wingman, right?”

You almost laugh. You stare at him, then shake your head, “And you’re going to be my wingman?” He shrugs his shoulders, then smiles sweetly at you. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that.

Jake’s sitting on top of the platform on the south wall, one of his legs dangling down the outside. He glances down as something nudges his boot. He rolls his eyes. The decaying hand reaches for his ankle again. He looks down and stares into its eyes.

Her mouth hangs open and gaunt, growling dully as she claws at the side of the corrugated metal, occasionally grazing his leg. She’s dark-haired and torn open around the stomach. If Jake had to guess, he’d say that her eyes used to be green.

They dullen the longer that they’re dead. Still a bloodshot red where white used to be, her skin is dirty and flaked with drying blood. He looks up, checking the beach. He’s pretty far from the road blocks. This post is usually just to keep an eye on the coast.

The dead usually don’t make it this far up, he isn’t sure where she came from. It doesn’t phase him. He pushes himself up so that he’s on his knees and pulls his knife from his pocket. He doesn’t have one of those spear things Fanboy made here with him.

He holds the railing to the platform with one hand and leans forwards. Her hands reach up eagerly for his face, broken nails caked in dirt and dried blood extending towards his skin. Jake half-winces at the smell. He leans closer, she just about catches his collar.

Jake’s blade pushes through her eye until it’s submerged at the hilt. She sinks to the floor at the base of the wall. Jake pulls back up and wipes his knife off on the calf of his pant leg.

“Hey, Hangman.”

He turns his head, raising an eyebrow. Rooster lifts his palm and waves. Jake folds the switchblade in half and slips it back into his pocket as he looks between the two of you. No one calls him Hangman anymore.

“Bird boy.” Jake answers back. Rooster laughs. Jake turns to look at you, giving you a nod of acknowledgement. You nod back. “Takin’ the afternoon off, Bradshaw?”

Rooster lifts his official looking clipboard, “Showing the newest member of the team around, actually.”

Jake raises his eyebrows, “You signed up.”

You nod once more, but don’t answer him. He lifts the length of rope from in front of him and pulls it into his lap, biting down on the toothpick as he unties the knot he had made earlier.

Static crackles on Rooster’s radio.

“Uh… Rooster, we’ve got an incident in Block B. Could you get over here?” One of Rooster’s staff calls for his help over channel three.

Rooster turns his attention to look at you. “Fuck - I have to go handle that… uh-“

You look at him and nod. He has this look on his face like he’s willing to let that situation escalate if it means he’ll get to stay here with you. Your brows furrow slightly as you wait for him to leave.

“I can keep an eye on her.” Jake offers.

You look up at him, and then back at Rooster. Bradley gives a small ‘up to you’ type shrug. Jake grins, passing the toothpick between his teeth, “Alright, Trouble - come on over.”

Rooster stares at him for a moment. You grab the ladder and pull yourself up onto the platform, sitting down with your legs dangling over the edge, into camp.

“I’ll be right back.” Rooster swears. You nod at him, then lean back on your palms. You and Jake sit together and watch him jog towards Block B. Once he’s out of view, you turn your head to look at Jake.

You’re met with green eyes for just a second, before Jake looks down and continues to work with the rope in his hands. You turn your head and look out over the coast. You can see it from the window in your room, but it’s been almost three months since you saw the ocean without a window in front of it.

You take a deep breath. You look down, lips parting slightly. Jake glances up, catching you frozen and staring over the edge of the wall. He follows your gaze down.

“You know her or something?” Jake scoffs, shaking his head.

You turn your head and frown at him. He’s smirking. You stare.

“No, but - that’s still a dead person.”

Jake shrugs, “You get used to it.”

You think back to the beginning. The things that you saw in the days before you got here. That sick feeling in the bottom of your stomach burns up your sternum and sits on your chest until the heat of it makes you shiver.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.” You mutter, shaking off that cold feeling. Seeing them brings it all back. Jake glances up, cocking an eyebrow at you. He hadn’t been expecting you to be so phased by it.

“Did you lose someone?” Jake asks. He has always been one to put a foot over the line. He knows it’s a personal question, and he knows that it’s a disrespectful way to ask. He doesn’t even bother to look up at you as he says it.

But you did just spend the past twenty-four hours in Bradshaw’s shadow, so Jake figures you won’t mind the coldness.

You take the other length of rope and begin to copy what he’s doing. It’s a sailing knot, and a fairly complicated one at that. You run through his exact movements. Jake watches as you copy him.

“You’ve been here since the beginning.” Jake recalls - you’re in Block C, that was the first block to be filled. That means you got here within the first week. You’re higher up, likely to have arrived within the first four days after the evacuation order. “Did you lose someone before you got here?”

“Luke! Put me down!”

You’re interrupted by a shrill giggle. You both look up in unison as a group of teenagers spill out of the Top Gun south classroom. Luke’s got his arms around a girl’s middle, lifting her off the ground as she squeals.

Jake’s lips quirk as he realises who your brother is holding.

“Does he know who that is?” Jake asks softly. You’re glad that the subject has changed. You watch, unimpressed as Luke sets her back on her feet and drapes himself over her.

“No.”

“Do you?” Jake smirks. He lifts his head and squints over towards the front gate. Beau’s facing the remnants of the city, his back to the mess happening behind him.

“Rooster told me.” You nod.

Delilah Simpson bites her lip, grinning as she shoves playfully at Luke’s chest. Luke pulls her closer again and leans in closer to talk to her. Jake watches the situation unfold.

He could intervene, but after you had yelled at him yesterday, he just lets it happen. He knows that Luke’s going to get his ass kicked if her Dad sees them together.

Delilah blushes as she agrees to meet Luke later that night. He smiles, then turns back to walk back over to his friends without noticing you or Jake watching him.

“Hey, Luke!”

You both look up. Jake’s brows furrow slightly as he spots Rooster walking back towards the grass. Rooster holds up a round leather soccer ball, then smiles.

“Hey, you found our ball!” Luke grins as he walks over to meet Rooster halfway. Rooster tosses it to him, then looks up, his eyes landing on you, waiting for your approval.

“Fucking asskisser.” Jake scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. He glances up to find you staring at him.

Your lips are quirked just slightly. He’s surprised to find you amused by the comment. You’re about to smile. The corners of your mouth hint at a grin, then falter as you compose yourself, looking back down as you focus on tying the knot that he’s showing you.

“Oh, you liked that one?” Jake notices, his own lips quirking slightly in response. You don’t answer him, continuing to focus on your work.

“If you’re looking for jokes about Bradshaw, I’ve got hundreds, honey — just say the word.”

“I’m not your honey.” You reply calmly, fingers working nimbly around the rope. You’re getting the hang of it pretty well. Jake smiles at you.

“Are you his?” Jake taunts, knowing it’ll draw a reaction from you to imply that you belong to anyone at all. And it does. Works like a charm. You look up at him, furious at the insinuation.

You notice the smirk of anticipation toying on all of his features at once, not just his lips. Just as much in his eyes. You’re quick to realise that you were about to play right into his hands.

“Maybe if I’m a good girl, he might let me be.” You reply, knowing it would draw an equal reaction from him to imply that you’re interested in screwing his friend. Works like a charm. The amusement slips from Jake’s face, intrigue remains in its place.

He really can’t tell if you like Rooster or not. It’s even more difficult to figure out how you feel about him.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Jake decides, after six attempts of watching you tie and loosen it just fine. He moves forward and takes the rope from you. It’s an excuse to get closer and remind you that he knows what he’s doing and you don’t.

You watch calmly as he does the same thing over again. You mimic his movements and wind up with the exact same knot as before.

“That’s better.” Jake lies. It was already fine to begin with, but now he knows you’ll follow instructions.

…

@shawnsblue @cowboybarbie @perpetuelledaydreaming @xoxabs88xox @thedroneranger @laluneveillesureux @cherrycola27 @momc95 @abaker74 @footprintsinthesxnd @ohtobeleah @bioodforbiood

[seat-safety-switch]

There's a time and a place for everything, including doing savage burnouts. The time: any time. The place: the police station. You'd be surprised just how vacant the police station is during the day. Most of those cops are out investigating and/or committing crimes, and they won't want to drive all the way back just to yell at you for letting your clutch out a little fast. Sure, they're more likely to catch you during shift change, but at that point they just want to go home.

Since time immemorial, the cops have been busting our little street racing spots. We'd gather at a Timmies on the periphery of the ring road, what the nerds are calling the Outer Rim, talk some shit, and before the second flag had dropped on a heads-up drag race for pinks, the police helicopter would be there. You know where the police helicopter never is? At the police station, because that would just be bad optics, a wasteful expenditure of fuel, air space, and costly helicopter therapy. What are you looking for up there, officer, trying to see if your door got dinged in the parking lot?

Putting these two things together, a group of local entrepreneurs started a drag-racing series at the police station. There's plenty of parking: most of their day is spent listening to suburbanites shriek about a cracked headlight on their Tucson, and they just put in a special spot for you to be able to do Craigslist deals. Sure, it's probably suspicious to them that there are so many modified shit-box Hondas sitting in the parking lot, revving their engines, but these are traffic cops we're talking about, not hardened detectives looking for the Prelude Killer. We've been doing a few hours of races a night, with nary a scolding word.

So why not join us out here? Unless you're a cop, in which case you probably have better places to be. May I suggest the Timmies out there on the Outer Rim? They've got some new crullers, which are so delicious they've got to be committing some kind of crime.

[thesamoanqueen]

I'm good

Ratings: 18+

Warnings: SMUT; Rough/Angry sex; Hit of public sex; errors after errors after errors after errors after errors (…).

A/N: Angry Roman is a lot, so... if you don't like, don't read.

The hotel parking lot had some weird fluorescent lights, not exactly the kind of lights to put in a parking lot with all those pillars. But who cared? Maybe they had put them on last, after forgetting them and she was concentrating on them to avoid the silence of that car.

He was angry, really angry and Y/N didn't know what to do. Roman hardly ever got seriously angry in reality and on the rare times she had witnessed it, it had not been a sight to tell or see. But tonight they had reached a whole other level and the car was starting to hold tight on her, she felt guilty and she didn't even know why.

- Where were my cousins? - he asked suddenly, his hands still clasped on the steering wheel and eyes cast down.

Y/N bit her lip, the heel pressed to the mat under the seat and her hands flattening the edge of the sweatshirt he had given her to cover the glitter-filled dress. She knew where he was headed.

She loved the twins, she really loved them. She had loved them from the first second, when just a week after signing her contract with the federation, she saw them playing football with an empty box of Chinese food in a hotel parking lot in Tucson. At four in the morning. She had grown fond of them immediately, it had been easy: they were like two big Samoan children, it was almost impossible to hate them. They had grown up in a large and close family, forming a group was natural for them. Of course, they too had bad moments and for some it was not the best to find them both in front of them if things went badly, but in general it was easy to love them. Or at least for Y/N it had been so. She had started going out with them all the time and for her it was now "familiar" to have them around, she didn't even ask anymore where they were going or what to do. She was with them, she would have fun anyway, even if every now and then they got carried away... they were the ones who introduced her almost to everyone into the federation. They had introduced her to Roman. And Jaxon. Jaxson? Jackson? No, Jason. God, she just couldn't remember that dude’s name!

- I told them I was on my way back to the hotel.

She really did it, after repeatedly trying to enjoy a night that didn't take off. They were almost completely drunk, Naomi wasn't in much better shape, and she had to tell the bartender to call a cab to take them back when they finished making bad videos on the dance floor, but there was no point in giving Roman those details. Not at that moment.

- One of them could have accompany you - he replied quickly and Y/N turned to look at him confused.

- I'm not a child Ro, why would they?

They weren't in the ring, they didn't do business on commission and those two, as much as they enjoyed having fun and sometimes too much, could be blamed for anything but that. They had grown up together, in a family that didn't compromise on those aspects, why was he asking her those questions? If they had known that the guy would have taken it out for being rejected and would have followed her to the car to complain, they wouldn't have even made him get to the door. She wouldn't even let him get to the door.

- You could have called me - he replied, avoiding her question and Y/N went back for a moment to look at the parking lights, feeling that strange weight in her chest again.

- I thought you hadn't arrived yet, you had the interviews... these things always last longer than expected and to get here it took three hours by car - she reflects aloud, while Roman sighed and rested his head on the seat.

The last few weeks had been hectic, the PPV was approaching and he was as always in the mainevent. Journalists were in line to ask him the same questions over and over from all kinds of sports and non-sports news, he had podcasts to participate in, programs to make appearances. The federation exhibited him to the limit on those occasions and everything had to fit into his agenda, already planned to the minute for the previous months. She had seen him eat in the gym, sleep on the bus, change on a plane, wash in the locker room as if he had nowhere to go back and didn't want to get in the way. They were friends, they had sex - lots of sex - but she had no right to speak in his life and deep down, even if Y/N wasn't the face of the federation, knew how many sacrifices required a job like theirs. She didn't want to bore him, steal his time or worse, seem more of who she was.

And that had been one of the reasons she'd agreed to talk to that guy, friend of Xavier. She wanted to distract herself, find an alternative, but it was hours of stolen sleep, songs repeated in a bar like any other and two watered-down drinks that she had thrown away almost entirely. If she had known it wasn't the right night to spend with the twins, maybe she would have worked out, eat in the bedroom and hid under the covers to rest for a while, instead she'd had to get that guy out of Roman's hands before he lost control to the point of getting a call.

She watched him run a hand over his face, eyes closed and brow furrowed. He was angry, he was really angry and in one night Y/N had managed to smash his agenda, forcing him to take her back to the hotel when thanks to the advance interviews in Columbus, he could already be in bed.

- Roman ... - she called him softly, his heavy breathing filling the car, while he tried to calm his nerves.

She reached out to his arm, trying to get him to let go of the steering wheel and a low growl echoed in his chest, his face still motionless.

- Ro - she tried again, his grip getting tighter.

- He was yelling at you.

Y/N opened and closed her mouth for a second, her knees lifting on the seat to help her turn and look at him better. Was he angry about that? Was that the reason he had asked about his cousins? He thought...

- It was a little bit my fault - she admitted, snapping her tongue.

Jackson, Jaxson, Jason or whatever his name was, hadn't been nice to yell at her, but she had been a bit of a bitch, she had to admit it. Sitting on a stool for hours talking and finding that those next to you aren't paying attention to you isn't exactly an incentive to stay calm. Especially if that someone then decides to leave without a credible explanation for that behavior.

- He was trying to put his hands on you - Roman added deaf, his tone even angrier than before and Y/N shook her head, even though he wasn't looking at her.

No, he hadn't. He had just gotten closer than he should and maybe, on the other side of the road, from where Roman had swooped in with his car, it might have seemed the opposite, but no, it hadn't happened. Or she would have turned him against the sidewalk before he touched her hair.

- He was just mad cause I didn’t remember his name. - she tried to make him think, but he didn't want to know, he even seemed to get worse.

- I swear ... if he- he complained, his head wandering from side to side, his lips curled.

- ... hey ... im good, im alright... look at me Ro, im good - she quickly called him, her hands stroking his beard on both sides and pulling him towards her.

She saw him reopen his eyes with a still furious look and a small pout of disapproval escaped her along with a sigh. She stroked his face with her thumbs, her nails scratching his jaw in that gesture that seemed to relax him so much. His eyes remained planted on hers as his hands detached from the steering wheel and encircled her waist, creeping under the sweatshirt to hold her. Her fingers stopped, sliding further down his neck and the instant Y/N looked down at his mouth, Roman pulled her against him, lifting her up to sit on top of him.

The car was spacious, but he was a big guy and trying to sit as best she could, Y/N dropped her Balenciaga, Roman's mouth already against her in a hot kiss that threatened to make her out of breath. She felt her hands grab her ass, the boner pressing heavily on her center, the breaths echoing in the cockpit like a continuous roar. He was devouring her, without a plan, without holding back and she liked it more than she should, perhaps because of the tension or the memory of what had happened, she didn't know exactly, but she was already a mess.

They had seen each other practically every day, but they hadn't touched for more than a week and realizing that she had kept count, Y/N was not so surprised that she had missed him.

- I don't have the patience to... remove your clothes r-right now - she heard him warn her, between kisses and with her hands already on his belt, Y/N giggled.

- Considering... we're in a-ah... a parking lot, thanks-fuck! - she gasped, stopping as his hands pushed their way under her dress and two fingers slipped past her lingerie.

She felt him make his way inside her, his teeth biting her neck, the heat of his body almost burning her skin despite being dressed. He pumped in and out, merciless and furious, without waiting, her moods already wetting his palm, flattened against her center to also stimulate her clit at every intrusion. His fingertips caressed her walls, pressed in places where she herself would not have imagined she could have wanted them, and she lowered her head to his shoulder, curling her face against his neck. Roman’s beard tickled her face and from her mouth now came out only disjointed, broken breaths, the warmth mounting and her mind focusing only on him and what he was doing to her. He was in control, needy, his body even seemed to vibrate with tension, looking for a release.

- Rise up babygirl, i need you - Roman pushed her, but his arms had already lifted her.

With her knees pressed to his thighs, the abdomen contracted and short of breath, Y/N whimpered from lack of contact, until Roman stopped fumbling with his pants, releasing his already completely hard manhood. She looked at him with her lip between her teeth and a needy moan left her, as if she had been waiting for that moment all along. His hand rubbed his boner quickly a couple of times and without waiting for instructions, Y/N positioned herself on his lap, letting him slide inside her inch by inch, until it filled her completely.

- Hmm… f-fuck, ah, yes.

- Oh m-my- she closed her eyes, her forehead pressed against his.

Car sex wasn't comfortable, but having hardly any room to maneuver was forcing them closer than necessary and for that she would never stop thanking. She clung to his shoulders with her nails, walls tightening damp around his member one spasm after another, while Y/N tried to get used to having him completely inside her. She was literally sitting on it and her body was begging her to move, but Roman held her still by her hips and she was forced to cling to his hands, hearing him growl at her attempts to escape.

- I'm gonna fuck you so hard... that you forget you ever even m-met that asshole, you hear me babygirl? - he warned her seriously, running his tongue over his lips and Y/N could only respond with a moan as his hips lifted, pushing hard inside her.

She had him almost in her stomach, deeper than she'd ever expected, and her walls were holding him in a vise. He kissed her all along her neck, arms lifting and impaling her mercilessly, at a too frenetic pace from the very beginning. He was stiff inside her, hands gripping beneath her dress, the deep, hoarse moans echoing in her ears in a continuous up and down. He wasn't taking advantage, but a part of him was certainly venting and the idea of being there, at his mercy, was a turned on for Y/N. She indulged in his thrusts without thinking, letting him pump, brand her, and erase everything from her mind beyond the repetitive and overpowering movement of his hard-on. Y/N swayed her hips meeting his thrusts, the wet noise of their bodies mingling with the strangled moans, the air heavy with their breaths. She bit his neck, a kiss and another, until Roman slipped his arm behind her to pull her against him and Y/N stuck her fingers through his dark hair, feeling his forehead pressed against her neck, almost he was concentrating on that one continuous operation. He lifted her up a bit, reversing the movement of the thrusts and then letting her fall back on him, the tip of his cock pounding incessantly against her sweet spot, a satisfied growl accompanying every squeeze of her walls.

- Y-es… you're choking me b-babygirl, yes– he growled, digging his fingers into her hips in what was sure to be a mark the following day.

- R-Ro please… Im… Im-I need

- No. N-Not now, take it! - he stopped her abruptly, pushing her back against the steering wheel.

The new inclination, however minimal, gave Roman a greater range of motion and one of his hands slipped under her, pressing his thumb on her clit and taking from her a moan more like a scream. She was dizzy, about to crumble and honestly did not even understand how she had not yet collapsed against the horn, calling back whoever was guarding the hotel garage. Roman even seemed to increase the pace with each cry of her, as if they gave him the charge to continue and Y/N went back to holding on to his big forearms. Her buttocks slid against her jeans, the dress scratching her legs and her hair that was falling curl after curl, every time Roman grabbed her neck to bring her closer to him for a new sloppy kiss. Her moods by now were dripping everywhere and the sound of Roman's fingers spreading them on her button made her close her eyes, her chest rising and falling in search of an air which was perpetually missing. Careless, she pulled away from the steering wheel, clinging to his neck almost with despair and Roman gripped her against his chest, a hand behind the back of her neck and his lips pressed against her temples.

She felt his shaft throbbing inside her with the spasms of her moist center, pounding her most sensitive spot relentlessly with increasingly disjointed movements and opened her eyes again, begging with her forehead pressed on him. She saw his sweaty face, his muscles tense, sinking inside her, hammering her to the point of no return. He was destroying her and she couldn't, she didn't want to, do anything but stand there in his hands and let him have what he wanted.

Trapped in his press, her body bouncing with every thrust, she felt like she was losing connection with time and space, her mind completely empty and her core burning despite her leaking without restraint. One thrust, another, in a loop interrupted only by the low, husky noise of Roman's moans, she was out of breath and she opened her eyes again, begged him again, her head nodding. She couldn't resist anymore.

- … R-Ro ple-ase… ah! Please!

- G-Give it to me, its mine! Hm, g-give it, to, me, cmon – he conceded in the end and for Y/N it was enough, her body suddenly surrendering to the wave of pleasure that had mounted inside her and crumbled her there, in a parking lot with those lights pulsing behind her eyelids.

Roman continued his run undaunted for another minute, pushing under her with his head bowed, his abs contracted and his fingers pressed to her skin, emptying the last remaining energy and himself into her with a growl that made her body tremble. They were tangled up to each other, Y/N with her head resting on his shoulder and Roman with his chin on her temple, in a silence interrupted only by their breaths that slowly, with difficulty, tried to stabilize. She rubbed her nose against him, exhausted, feeling his hands slowly caress her aching legs and she inhaled deeply, the car smelling of sex. Of him.

- Babygirl… - he called back softly, his voice rough and Y/N lifted her face to give him a quick kiss on the jaw, before collapsing again.

- Im good - she assured, feeling him tighten his grip anyway.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyanross @wickedsunfire @romanstheory @thiccc-rider-mcintyre @keybladeofsteel @mcreignsera @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @jeyreigns @civildawn @minanajra @romanmydaddy @raidenandreigns @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @itjazzbicch @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @mariamheeeeee @vintage-pvssy @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @helensanders92 @niknakbucks92

[scaryscarecrows]

With the Olympics going, what’s the squads and Jays favorite sport? Also, one they would be mostly able to do decently? Can be summer or winter!

This is for the verse of them going back to save Jay btw so Martin too!

Jason: Watching? Equestrian; my city boy ass is still impressed by horses. And let's be honest, here. They don't want me in shooting. I'll make all of them look very, very bad.

Antoine: Fencing's always fun to watch. And I don't know...I was weirdly good at handball in school, so maybe that? No idea.

Riley: Okay, I'm a volleyball watcher, that I actually do watch religiously, and I'd do just fine at Taekwondo. They don't want me, but I'd be fine.

Jimmy: I'm on the gymnastics. I mean. Simone Biles. Je-SUS. And fuck no, none of--wait. Wait, wait. Track. I could do that without hurting myself horribly. Probably.

Mark: Meh, the only thing I watch is the skating. I'd probably be okay at swimming, though; it's too damn hot in Tucson not to swim, and I did okay when we had to take it in school.

Trent: I'm stoked they added surfing. Hell, I'd probably do okay at it; that or weights. Or both. Both is good.

Frank: I watch the snowboarding more than anything, but my golf game isn't too bad, so. Why not.

Martin: Aw, jeeze...uh...I watched the rugby this time. Don't wanna do it, but I watched it. And I took wrestling in school? For like, six months? So maybe?