#smoke and sewers

[sspacegodd]

When it's cold, I like to stand in clouds of car exhaust and pretend I'm a wizard.

[lizbethborden]

I got sicker than I’ve ever been in my life after touching the ceiling of a packed subway car riding to Brooklyn like four or five months before covid made landfall in the states. Like truly ungodly unprecedented illness. After that and living in my ancient roach infested apartment and drinking the water and breathing the air and the fucking heat and cold, my body chemistry changed on a fundamental level I think, my sinuses have never been the same. It’s a different planet in NYC man like what they say if you can make it there you can make it anywhere it’s true but on a physical, biological survival level. Mad respect.

Now this is a beautiful story of making it in the Big Apple

[ww2yaoi]

I think the Babe and Bill memoir is valuable because it reminds me how much I hate Philadelphians <3

LMAO

the way they were talking about their upbringings I was like this sounds like a cartoon you can't be serious

[soggypotatoes]

why. why is it so hard to learn from mistakes lol

I will go and make the same mistake most nights and regret it and forget and make it again. for YEARS

[deimos-posting]

HAVE YOU AND YOUR LITTLE FRIEND WITH THE SUNGLASSES DECIDED TO CHANGE YOUR MINDS AND JOIN OUR FACTION YET ? o>o - @prophet-posting

bruh you could not PAY me to go back to nexus city

[erigold13261]

I can see Yinu in the FRAU getting into fights with her mother about things like Mama being in love with ONLY her papa and the concept of Yinu as a piano prodigy, not Yinu herself as a hurt child. Which is not true, and only drives her and mama into more ugly fights and Yinu turning to more drugs. (… maybe she’s doing this not only to get fired, but also to meet her papa earlier) (dang I hate how my brain comes up with dark stuff)

Speaking of drugs, I can see Eve turning to them to come up with more ideas bc she’s all burned out and needs inspiration. Which only makes her more eccentric and unstable.

I don't see Yinu as one to want to end her life, she just wants the pain and hurt to end, so if numbing herself is the only way she can do that then that is what she does.

As for the fights, I think she would end up getting into a fight about Mama not being able to move on from Papa. At least in this AU, Yinu just wants her mother to be happy and stop trying to push her into doing music, and the only way for that to really happen is if Mama accepts Papa is fully gone and Yinu is her own person instead of clinging to his memory through her child.

So yes they would get into more fights, really ugly fights, but they literally just want each other to be happy but can't actually communicate it correctly.

And with Eve, I already saw her as someone who did recreational drugs. Mainly weed, mushrooms, and DMT. However, after the failed revolution I can see her doing harder drugs to cope with her mental state, ignore outside problems/criticism, and like you said try to gain some passion/spark when she gets burnt out.

[batsycline69]

my period is coming so soon and I can tell because I am on the verge of tears because i was thinking really hard about batman

[barcodegaybitch]

Why do I smoke?

Because it makes me one step closer to death...

Because I hope I get cancer and die...

Because with every cig my mind stops for a second...

Because I don't care if I destroy myself...

Because nothing matters anymore...

I'm going to kill myself anyways

[blueberrybluestar]

i had to uninstall gaiden today because i physically couldnt keep myself from replaying the iw demo over and over

so i reinstalled yakuza:lad because i felt like playing some of it again before iw releases. just wanted to fuck around and do some side content maybe

except

all my premium adventure save files are gone for some reason???? idk what happened but like. i'm genuinely upset? i put so much time into those. i beat the TFMT on those. what happened. why are they gone.

i do still have my ng+ legend file that's on like chapter 3 so i might just end up replaying through some of the game before iw releases. still a little bummed out that all my pa saves are gone though.

[gilded-gheists]

Sometimes a family is 2 old gays and their nonbinary and transfem daughters that all hunt monsters together.

[haveihitanerve]

Four Times the Batkids Forget They're Adopted, and The One Time Damian Forgets He Isn't

It had started off as a joke, as most things do, and Dick meant nothing behind it, really. It was amusing to him, actually, to tell his coworkers things about Batman and pass it off as his father. “Oh my dad? Yeah hes not big on talking. He loves showing me he cares though.” (this was, of course, in reference to Batman doing three back flips and a kick split when Nightwing had patrolled with him the other day, a classic Nightwing move) But it soon…went deeper. Dick stopped making jokes out of it, and actually began listing things about Bruce. About his Dad. It didn't help that his police friends were actually interested. “So did you and the old man do anything fun over the weekend?” Dick thought back to how he had wanted to surprise Bruce by stopping by for dinner and instead had ended up in the sewer eating granola bars on a stakeout for killer croc, who had escaped. Again. “Oh yeah we had a picnic.” Dick nodded, smiling at Randy. “Yeah. He’s, he’s kinda bad at remembering when to eat a meal on time and all that.” Dick laughed. “Its something I share too. Must be genetics.” He rolled his eyes. Randy laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I hear you. My old man smoked all the live long day. I try to keep it down, but that addiction gene is just strong eh?” Dick chuckled. “Yeah I guess.” His phone buzzed in his pocket and he waved to Randy, turning to tug it out. It was one, simple message from Babs. “Ur adopted genius. What genes.” 

Jason didn't even know how they had gotten on the topic. But here they were. “Yes. I got my mothers hair, of course, but I get my temper from my father.” Artemis was saying. “I have parents.” Bizarro grunted. Roy laughed, smacking him on the shoulder. “Well you certainly didn't get Kal’s looks buddy. But you do have his killer hair.” Starfire laughed. “That is true. I, for one, share my parents hair and have my fathers powers. But truly the best gene I was given were my mothers eyes.” They all turned to Jason. “What about you?” Roy asked. Jason scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, I used to have my dads eyes but um after the pit y'know,” He waved to his now green eyes. “And actually I have my dads dark black hair, and he’s graying early too, which might be why my white streak is so prominent.” They nodded in agreement. “But yeah, hes actually a little taller than me so maybe I’ll still grow a few inches but uh yeah. I don't… remember my mother enough to talk about her.” “Dang man. I wish we could meet your dad.” Roy murmured, laying a comforting hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Then we could really compare. I mean-” He laughed. “You sound like his carbon copy.” Jason frowned at his friend. “What do you mean? You’ve met Bruce?” They stared at him. “Jason,” Artemis began slowly. “Aren't you adopted?” 

Tim hunched over the information form, eyes straining to read the small print. His hand reached up to stifle a yawn and he settled for a sigh instead. It was late, but Tim needed to get the form done before he went to bed, otherwise everything would be far too stressful in the morning. He reached over and grabbed his coffee mug, a dark black cup that had a red R painted on it poorly. Bruce had made it for him a few years ago when he had first become Red Robin. He sipped it, staring down at the medical form. “Gods I hate having to do this.” He muttered, but reluctantly grabbed the thick medical binder Alfred had obligingly gotten for him when he had asked for medical records of the family. Tim did not under any circumstances, want to have to sit at the doctors office the next day and somehow lie his way through all the medical questions relating to his family history. He didn't have the time nor patience for it, and it was crucial he was given proper medical advice what with his missing spleen. “Any history of heart issues Bruce?” Tim muttered, flipping back past Martha and Thomas to Bruce’s great great great grandfather. “Nope, guess not.” Tim was halfway through the form when he realized the blood coursing through his veins wasn't Bruce’s. 

Steph rubbed a hand across her belly, staring at the monitor. “Your baby looks good Ms. Brown. They’re at the proper stage. Due in about two months. We’ll see you back here for your next check up.” “thank you doctor.” Steph murmured, sliding off the bed and dressing quickly before hurrying out to her car. The car door slammed shut behind her and she breathed, pressing her forehead to the steering wheel. Her phone buzzed. She lifted it and pressed it to her ear, hitting accept. “Hello?” “hey Steph.” Bruce’s voice vibrated through the phone. “How was your doctors appointment?” Steph gave a bitter laugh. “Everything looks good. The baby will come in about two months.” “Thats good. Thats real good.” Steph nodded, eyes closed. “You doing okay Stephanie?” Bruce asked, voice soft. “I don't know.” her voice broke and she squeezed her eyes shut, fighting tears. “I just- I’m so scared Bruce. So scared.” Bruce hummed comfortingly through the phone. “I know Steph. Its scary. And parenting, its hard.” Steph coughed out a watery chuckle. “Was that a hit?” She muttered, rubbing a hand over her face. Bruce chuckled. “No. Baby it wasn't. And just think, you’ll get to see all the firsts I didn't get with you. Their first steps. Their first wave. You might even get to hear them say mama before i kidnap- i mean adopt him or her.” Steph laughed again, and it sounded less watery. “Yeah. Well, when do kids start walking?” She asked in interest, sniffing and sitting up straight again. Bruce hummed. “Well i started walking almost immediately, but Im special.” Steph laughed. “Of course.” “alfred said i first started talking when I was around thirteen months old, and Talia said Damian was walking by ten, but she could have been lying.” Steph nodded. “Tell me more.” She whispered. Bruce obliged, happy to distract her. “Oh and whats probably going to be your favorite, babies, or at least I did, start laughing at around four months.” “laughing?” Steph gasped. “Oh Brucie!!! Thats too funny! Little chubby baby you, the future batman, laughing!” She cooed. She could almost feel his eye roll through the phone and stifled her laugh. “So yeah..” Bruce finished. “You should expect your kiddo to start walking around then. And laughing probably sooner. I would have if you'd be in my life at that time.” Steph was quiet. “Thank you B.” He hummed. “Anytime Steph. I’ll always be here to help you.” “Wait wait wait-” a new voice joined in the background of Bruce. “Are you guys serious right now?” Steph identified it as Jason. “What?” Bruce asked puzzled. “B, Stephs adopted. Her kid is as likely to walk at the same time you did as when she did!” 

“Damian?” “Go away Drake.” Damian called back, riffling through the papers. “Dami?” Tim poked his head into his younger brothers room. “Oh hey kiddo. Whatcha doing?” “I am busy Timothy.” Damian countered in annoyance, shoving the box back under his bed and moving to his desk. “What are you looking for?” Tim asked puzzled. Damian ignored him. “Dami.” “Go away Timothy.” Tim crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Come on Baby Bird. Tell me.” Damian shook his head, covering the blush on his cheeks by poking behind the desk. “Damian.” Tim’s hand was suddenly on his back. Damian jumped. Tim held up his hands in surrender. “Just tell me. I’m sure I can help you find it.” Damian sighed in acceptance, cheeks pink. “I have.. Lost my adoption papers.” He muttered, staring at the floor. But Tim didn't laugh or ridicule him. In fact, when he looked up, his brother seemed thoughtful. “Well i know me and dick and jason have them hung over our beds…” His gaze drifted to the very clearly empty space above Damians bed. “I know.” Damian jerked his head in a nod. “That is why I wished to find it.” Tim nodded in understanding. “Well, lets go look in the den. Thats where Alfred keeps all the legal stuff.” Damian trailed after his brother to the living room and watched as he opened the cabinet and pulled out three boxes. “You look through this one, I’ll search these two.” Tim ordered. Damian nodded, accepting the box. It was where Alfred found them, two hours later, broom in hand. “My dear sirs, what are you doing?” The butler asked in bafflement. “Looking for Damians adoption record.” Tim answered, nose still in some papers. Alfred looked at them. “Master Tim. Master Damian.” The two boys looked up. “Yes Alfred?” Tim asked. Alfred's face was fond and utterly confused. “Master Damian is not adopted. He is Master Bruce’s blood son.” 

@nonepizzawithleftglitter @zombiewithaflowercrown

you asked and you shall recieve!

[anytimeplumbingok]

Sewer Leak Smoke Testing | Anytimeplumbingok.com

Sewer leaks are nothing to be concerned about because Anytimeplumbingok.com expert smoke testing services have you covered. Count on our professionals to finish the task swiftly and efficiently.

[servicpop]

NSFW ; BLACK , WHITE & GRAY criminal bottom m!reader x detective oc

warnings; age gap , degradation , hate sex , exhibitionism/infront of people (mentioned slightly) , hand cuffs , dubcon/noncon(?) , no after care

notes __ this idea has been sitting in my inbox for awhile but I've finally gotten around to it !

JUNE 19 1999 / 11:48PM

Red and blue lights colored the night skies; not even a slither of the moonlight slipped past the cover of the clouds. The bright yellow caution tape strapped around the fences of the home squealed when Callahan Marshall pulled them up to duck underneath them.

Officers on the scene scrambled to question him but were quickly shot down with the flash of his badge. They slowly retreated, allowing for the man to walk into the crime scene.

The rain had been unforgiving tonight, covering all traces of footprints that might have been left by the culprit in an attempt to escape. A scowl plastered Callahan's face as the stench of alcohol and smoke insulted his nose. The floorboards creaked underneath each step he took, whining with the burden of his weight.

"Careful, Marshall, we aren't too sure if the culprit even left. There's been no signs of escape." Callahan's eyes slowly met the ones that belonged to one of his co-workers — another detective. The other man visibly shuddered when Callahan's pitch-black eyes met his, deep circles tainted the bags of his eyes. A gruff noise was all he got in response before Callahan made his way through the home.

It wasn't a house belonging to someone particularly made up of money so why would anyone make such a mess out of it?

The rooms were left clean, untouched almost. Only a few drawers or cabinets were opened and a few appliances were out of place but no alarming indicator a robbery had happened. Callahan traced a finger along the countertops of the kitchen, looking at the dust that had been sweeped up. This house had been left like this for awhile, even before the culprit set foot in there.

A sudden clattering caught Callahan's attention and he turned his body to the other detective and police officers searching the house, "Did you knock something over?" "No sir, what did you hear?"

Callahan slowly approached the laundry room, twisting the doorknob with caution. He pushed the knob forward and the door swung open. It was hard to make out with the lack of light but Callahan saw a figure dart out the window. "Here!" He called out, alerting the officers before he walked up to the window, watching as the figure scrambled away. He wasn't worried though, the whole place had been surrounded by police patrolling the area.

You couldn't get far even if you tried.

JUNE 22 / 2:24PM

You got caught. It was about time you did.

You had spent the past few years doing various, sketchy jobs in the desperation for money. You lost your job not even three months into it and it had become harder and harder to find suitable jobs to spend the rest of your life slaving away at. You had no choice, it was either that or living off the streets with the local sewer rats as your only form of entertainment and friendship.

Now, you were stuck in an enclosed, dusty white room, sat cuffed to a metal table right in the middle of it with an annoyingly bright light dangling from the ceiling. It was the interrogation room. And the man you sat infront of you was none other than the 'greatest detective of our time' Callahan Marshall.

He was an older guy, probably pushing his 40s by now. You could tell from the way his brows were locked into a furrowing position and the stubble that graced his chin seemed lazily maintained. He also had quite the bit of hair on his arms, his sleeves loosely rolled above his elbows. You couldn't really tell what color his eyes were from how low he held his head and the light above you casted a deep shadow over his eyes, but through the darkness you concluded that they were a yellow-ish orange. Interesting.

"June 19." You flinched. It was expected that he had a deep voice but actually hearing it was different. His voice was coarse, gravelly like wheels crunching against a rocky trail and you could practically hear the amount of cigarettes he's smoked throughout his years of stress. "You were caught about and hour or two after police had arrived," Callahan sounded bored, mumbling his words.

Growing up, Callahan had always hated criminals. From watching bad guys on TV to coming home and seeing his parents dead on the floor and his house a mess from a robbery, Callahan devoted the past years to serving justice. His world was devoid of color, a black and white film on an old, vintage television.

"Did you steal from Mr Broadwood's home?" He pressed, leaning his forearms along the table. They were meaty, not extremely muscular but definitely built from casual hours at the gym. Could you even lie at this point? He was so sure with his words that even the fact that people were watching you from the two-way mirror comforted you from this man.

"No." And the cheap lie rolled off your tongue like it was sweet candy. He raised his eyebrows, unamused. Yeah he was definitely onto you. "So... these photos aren't you?" A confused look flashed across his face as he slid the printed images of your face in full view; it was painfully obvious that it was you. But your head seemed to shake side to side saying 'that's not me' like it was instinct. Callahan leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face as his head tilted back in annoyance. You could hear the prickly sound of his stubble scraping against the palm of his hand.

"I'll force it out of you if you don't fess up," His hand slammed down onto the metal table, causing it to rattle from the contact. "Fine, is force the only thing you cops know how to do?" It was only natural you acted this way. For all your life you've relied on cops to protect you and your loved ones, but each time you needed them the most, they turned a blind eye to you.

But, oil doesn't mix with water. Your two starkingly different perspectives caused conflict. With balled fists, Callahan stood up, the chair scraping against the floors with how abruptly he stood up. Before you knew it, a hand made its way to your hair. Callahan's thick fingers tangled in the strands and pulled your head back, eliciting a small yelp from you. He leaned in closer, looming over you with hate seeping from his pores.

"Tell me this isn't you," He growled, picking up the photos and shoving it in your face. In all honesty, you were focused on how damn close he was. His breath was fanning against the shell of your ear and if you concentrated enough, you could hear the short breaths he took. Callahan straightened his posture but never loosened his grip on your hair. He pulled your head back even further and peered down at you. "Dirty criminal," he muttered under his breath.

You swore it was just the adrenaline making you hard. There was no way you'd fall for a detective like him. So why did he have your face squished onto the table and your boxers pulled down just under the curve of your ass.

"This is what you wanted isn't it?" Callahan had one hand holding your head down and another on your waist, digging into your flesh. He found out that the more he dug into your waist, the more you'd whine and squirm against him. You couldn't deny his words though, something in you was so intrigued by Callahan. He got straight to the point, and he didn't try and fool you with kindness. But maybe you wished he'd be a little more gentle with you.

Your eyes shot wide open when you felt his tip circle your rim. You didn't even have to see it to know the size of it. Could it even fit? "Wait—" Your words were cut off as he thrust forward with no warning, letting his cock sink into your hole. The burning sensation of the stretch made tears bubble at your eyes, threatening to spill. A groan slipped from his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, "God you're too tight."

Callahan moved his hand from your head to firmly grip at your waist, leaning forward so his body weight would pin you down. His hips grinded against you, digging his cock deeper inside your warm body. "Spit it out, did you do it or not?" He grunted, beads of sweat trickled down his temples as he pounded into you repeatedly, watching your flesh ripple with each thrust. "You're leaking everywhere," He chided, snaking his hand to reach for your neglected dick, holding the tip in his palm.

Your wrists strained against the cuffs binding you to the table, the metal cutting into your flesh as you struggled. "I didn't— do it!" You managed to gasp between moans, your hair spilling out onto the table. "Oh really? You didn't do it huh?" He scoffed and his hand tightened around your weeping tip, stroking you off in time with his relentless thrusts.

"People are watching you through that mirror and through the cameras, your pathetic face is on view for everyone to see," Callahan leaned down to whisper in your ear, grabbing a fistful of hair to yank your head up, allowing your teary face to be on full display for the cameras. Fuck, that turned you on more then you would've wanted it to.

His head slung against your shoulder, an oddly affection gesture for how hard he was fucking you. "I know you're not innocent, but your fuckin' doe eyes pisses me off," Callahan's voice had gotten even rougher, and the anger was clear in his tone. He was just using you for stress relief.

Your thighs trembled and your body started to give out, the stimulation was too much for you. His cock kept abusing your prostate, grinding and rubbing against it so much that black stars seemed to cloud your vision. Your fingertips clawed at the metal table, trying to ground yourself as shameless moans came out of your throat. "You're so loud," He scowled, leaning back so he could admire your back in its full glory.

It got him off with the way you sucked him back in even if you seemed so stubborn to liking him. Watching his fat cock disappear into your hole was enough to make him groan. "You wanna cum? Admit it." It was like his dick was a truth serum, you found yourself blabbering, tears rolling down your pink cheeks as you spewed out the truth, "Fine, I did it, I did it, please— just—" A smirk plastered Callahan's face as he whistled, "Go ahead."

In a split second you found yourself spurting out white all over his hand, your back arched and your body convulsed in his grip. Callahan meant to pull out but you were sucking him in so much that he couldn't. He cursed as his orgasm crashed down on him like a wave, filling you up with his sperm before he could pull out. "Shit," he huffed, pulling up his pants before he stared at his cum dripping from your hole. It was still clenching around nothing, and Callahan couldn't help but feel a pang of responsibility for you, but he shook off those thoughts. His one duty was to protect the civilians, not empathise with criminals.

"I'm done here," He grumbled, picking up his things and leaving you slumped on the floor, still bound by the handcuffs on the metal table. He turned his head over his shoulder to glance at you one more time, feeling a strange uncomfortable sensation in his heart before he scoffed and walked out the doors.

He's never lost control like that with any other criminal.

BONUS ; IN THE OTHER SIDE OF THE INTERROGATION ROOM

"Kid looks like he's about to die," Alastair, a co-worker of Callahan, was assigned to supervise the interrogation, "Marshall sure is brutal," He sighed, standing up once he heard that Callahan was finished.

"At least his tactics work though, props to him," Alastair turned around to face the intern who was meant to learn from this experience. The poor boy had his hands covering his eyes.

"It's fine now, you stay here, I'll clean the guy up."

a/n ; i changed my layout !! Its alot easier now ^^; my previous one had so many symbols I had to copy and paste ,, anyways ! I finally wrote about him ♡♡ the original request(?) was a bit different so this is ooc of him but I will expand more on his story if you guys like him ! Also I introduced Alastair ,, maybe I can write a threesome with them sometime !! I've never done it before so who knows

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

I'm so fucking confused on WHY THE FUCK PEOPLE THINK BRIDGERTON SEASON 2 IS BETTER THAN SEASON 1?!?!?

[hottpinkpenguin]

Letting Someone Go - Part 1

Benny Cross X Reader A/n: saw Bikeriders yesterday, needless to say I have a new Austin Butler character to obsess over <3 no better soundtrack to Benny Cross breakin' hearts than Zach Bryan. *the poem in this is lyrics from his song 'Letting Someone Go' Word Count: 2253 Warnings: cursing, alcohol use, Benny breaking hearts, angst, unhappy ending

What you had done to deserve Benny was beyond you. After all, you’d always tried to be a good person. Tried to do the right thing, to treat other people well. So who had you wronged so mightily as to deserve the torture that was Benny Cross?

“Hey. Hey! I’m talkin’ here!”

Sheila snapped at you, wrenching you out of your own miserable head. You dragged your gaze off of Benny, playing pool in the corner, and back to your friend. 

“Sorry, Sheils,” you mumbled. She rolled her eyes at you as you took a deep gulp from your Budweiser. 

“You’re still draggin’ ass about that man, aren’t ya?” She nodded unabashedly towards Benny, raising an eyebrow at you in question. You wanted to sink into the dirty floorboards beneath you, just get swept away in the sewer pipes or water table or whatever the fuck was below this personal hell you’d found yourself in. 

You shrugged, gulping down more beer in the hopes that it might dull the ache in your chest. 

“He ain’t worth it, hunnie.” 

You fixed Sheila with a hard stare. She shook off your glare, lighting her cigarette and blowing a plume of smoke up into the rafters. 

“I’m just sayin���, there’s plenty of guys ‘round here for you to shack up with. Benny’s just a loose cannon is all, who cares if he’s off ya.” 

You drank until your beer was empty. Your head was beginning to swim, but unfortunately the booze wasn’t touching the sadness that had sent you to the bottle in the first place. You stood up from your chair, pushing back from the table with a loud and clumsy clatter. No one really noticed over the thumping bass of the jukebox or the din of the crowd. You walked over to the bar, trading in your two empty bottles for two fresh ones. Zipco eyed you curiously from his usual seat at the back corner of the bar, but you refused to acknowledge him. Last thing you needed was another friend trying to cajole you out of your heartbreak. 

By the time you came back to Sheila, Wahoo and Corky had plunked down on either side of her. Probably trying to get her into bed, you thought darkly. And they’d likely succeed, based on how she was batting her eyes up at them. Usually, you welcomed the company of the Vandals, but tonight you found you could hardly stand them. Not necessarily that you wanted to be alone, just left alone. Sitting by yourself and knocking back an obscene amount of beer as you stared daggers into the back of Benny’s head was all you were really game for tonight. 

Rather than join the others, you swerved and walked towards the back of the bar, past where Johnny was sitting with Brucie, Gail, and Cal. The light was broken back here, and the shadows suited your dark mood quite nicely. You settled into a chair, tucking your legs up underneath you as you cracked open one of the new bottles and gulped down another greedy mouthful. Finally by yourself for the moment, you let your mind run wild over the last few weeks.

Where had it gone wrong? What did she have that you didn’t? And why the hell did you care so much, while Benny clearly cared so little? 

After all, it’s not like you and Benny were anything. You’d been sleeping together for a couple months, sure; but that was just the lifestyle. You’d been raised up on the back of your daddy’s bike. He was a founding member of the Red Devils of Hamilton, Ontario; so that made you practically royalty in the MC world. You knew what it was to be a Vandal before they’d even existed as an idea in Johnny Davis’ head. Hell, you practically taught Johnny everything you knew about how to run a successful club. 

That was probably why Benny hurt so damn much, you realized. You’d never admit it out loud, but this whole thing was ass backwards. You were the one that was supposed to run around and break the biker boys’ hearts. You were the one that wasn’t supposed to get attached, the one who would cut bait and run at the first sign of feelings. You were definitely not the kind of girl who’d get hung up on some loser just because he rode a nice chopper. 

But instead, Benny Cross had gone and played you at your own game. When you’d come back to Chicago to check on Johnny Davis’ pet project, you hadn’t planned to stay more than a few days, maybe a week. You had your sights set on California, on a small rancher high up in the mountains outside Crescent City. 

But then you’d met Benny. Benny with those piercing blue eyes, that gentle pillow talky voice, and the most gorgeous set of lips you’d ever kissed. He’d had you panting after him like a puppy dog within three days. A few days had turned into a few weeks, which had stretched into a few months. Now, you were still here, looking to spend your second Christmas in the cold. And unlike the last one, this Christmas would be a lonely one.

You’d been tangled up in Benny for the better part of a year now. He still drove you just as wild as that first time you’d seen him. Even from this far away, you could hardly stand to look at him without squirming. 

The first eight or nine months had been good. Maybe not great, but damn good. You’d wanted it to be fucking terrific, Lord knows you wanted that more than anything. But something in Benny just wouldn’t thaw for you. He was exactly the type of man that every other hard biker tried to be. He didn’t care about much, except his club. Didn’t show feelings for the simple fact that he didn’t have many, at least not the deep kind that you were desperate for. He was a detached, unbothered person. At first, you’d mistaken that for easy-going. It certainly made getting to know him nice and easy. But after nine or ten months, the edges of your relationship had started to turn brittle. While you were lying awake at night, daydreaming about getting a house together and getting married and maybe a baby or two, Benny was out doing the same old shit. Drinking, fighting. Generally avoiding anything that required commitment or persistence. Just livin’ life in the breeze.

But things had really taken a turn when she showed up. You could remember the night so clearly. It had been late fall, maybe two months ago. She’d come in looking like a misfit, all prim and proper in her white jeans and pink sweater, with her hair done up like Jackie Kennedy and her perfect eyeliner. Way too shiny and sweet for this kind of crowd. The guys had, predictably, gobbled her up with their eyes. No one more so than Benny.

The moment was seared in your memory: she was looking at the door, Benny was looking at her, and you were looking at Benny. Next thing you knew, Benny was gone, racing after her into the November air. You’d watched from the foggy window as she’d climbed on the back of his bike and they’d rode off down the street, all the while the club was cheering like it was fucking homecoming or something. Never mind that you were literally gutted, your heart trampled and lying like a used up bag on the floor of the bar. 

Benny had come back the next night, all hang-dog and apologies. All “I’m sorry baby, that was wrong” and “I dunno what came over me” and “I promise, it was nothing”. Both of you knew those were all lies, but only one of you really wanted to believe them. You were clinging on tight to the fading dream that was Benjamin Cross, meanwhile he was racing headfirst into the future that was Kathy Bauer. 

She kept coming around after that. That’s how you really knew that you were going to lose him. If that pretty little minx had kept her distance, then maybe Benny would have really been able to close that door. But she couldn’t. And, as much as you hated her for it, you couldn’t blame her. She wasn’t blind. She saw the same things in Benny that you did, you could tell just from looking at her expression when he was around. She had stars in her eyes, same as you. 

At first, Benny had put on a pretty good show of sticking by you. Even though the two of you weren’t officially anything, there was a code in the club. Fellas stuck by their gals, and vice versa. And, just by virtue of how long you and Benny had been, well, how long you’d been you and Benny, you were owed some measure of loyalty. 

But after a week or two, Benny was straying. Kathy would come into the bar and Benny would get this tiny smile. He’d find excuses to sit near her. Then it turned into talking to her. Then it turned into talking with her alone. 

Then he’d finally said the words you’d been dreading. 

“Baby, we gotta talk.”

No no no no no, you were screaming inside as you calmly sat down at the kitchen table of the small apartment you'd set yourself up in. Your hands were shaking, so you’d played with the nearest coffee mug until you’d chipped your nails. 

“Listen, darlin’, I… well, I’m not too good at this sorta thing.”

One tear had slipped out. You’d practically smacked yourself in a hurry to get rid of it. You couldn’t stand how upset he had you. 

“Just say it, Benny.”

Benny had tried to grab your hands from across the table - for what purpose, you couldn’t imagine. But you’d pulled away from him, your eyes burning. 

“I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to find someone else, baby. I swear. I just… it just… happened.”

Too many tears to wipe away now. You were squeezing the coffee mug so tightly in your palms that it was a wonder it didn’t shatter.

“It’s Kathy, isn’t it?”

Benny hadn’t said anything, just nodded. 

“And you’re moving in with her, aren’t ya?” 

To add insult to injury, before Benny even had the guts to properly break things off with you, he’d adopted a bad habit of sleeping on the back of his bike in front of her house. At least, that was what Cal told you. After you’d practically threatened to cut his throat with your blade. Not that you were much of a threat, but Cal had a soft spot for you and you knew it. You weren’t afraid to press on the soft spots when needed. 

Another single nod from Benny. You couldn’t tell if he was looking at you or not.

“So… you’re done with me then, yea? Is that what you’re saying?”

Another. Fucking. Nod.

And so, that was the end of it. A fitting ending, all things considered. Benny, quiet as the grave, just nodding away the entire future you’d dreamt up for yourself at his side. 

Unable to figure out what to say or how to feel, you just shrugged and let the tears slip off your jaw and plunk down onto the plastic checkerboard tablecloth. 

“Aight then, Benny, you best get your stuff and get out, then.”

You wished you’d have added some harsher words at the end, leave a little sting on him, but you didn’t trust your voice not to crack. So it had been your turn to stay quiet while Benny packed up his things - a shockingly small amount, you realized, as it took him less than three minutes to shove them all into a pillowcase. 

The final dagger had been when he’d hesitated at the door, looking back over his shoulder at you. You were exactly where he’d left you: sitting at the kitchen table, crying, that coffee mug turning over and over in your shaking palms. He’d turned back and walked over to lay a soft, sweet kiss on your forehead. The most affection that man had ever shown you had been in the goodbye that he’d made you say for him. It was an irony that you didn’t think you’d ever get over. 

As you sat in that dark, lightless corner of the bar, watching Benny shoot pool with Big Jack and Cockroach, Kathy leaning against a high-top table a few feet away and beaming at him, you thought about some ridiculous poem you’d heard once. If someone had put a pistol to your head, you wouldn’t have been able to tell them where you heard it or who wrote it or even what the rest of the poem was about. Just one line came floating back to you out of the back of your mind:

One thing I’ve come to know, nothing kills you slower than letting someone go.

**Read part 2 here! **Let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶It's a dreary start to the week, but as the days go by, the dynamic between you and Eddie shifts. You both ask questions with hidden motives, and after a significant morning, he tells you about Adrie's mom. Then, Steve shows up unannounced with a proposition Eddie can't refuse. Literally.✶

NSFW — slow burn, mutual pining, flirting, light angst, depictions of poverty, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 2/20 [wc: 5.3k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 2: Whimsy as the Wind

Monday was a storm.

There was no better stimulant than the rush of a morning against the rain. Hitting like bullets on the skin when Eddie clutched Adrie to his chest to shield her on the way to the car. Spelling disaster for the braids she asked for, then complained about when he pulled her hair too tight. Dripping into his eyes as he fumbled with the buckle of her car seat in the jet black hours. Drenching the bottom of her favorite pants despite his efforts to protect her.

“Daddy’s sorry,” he mumbled on her wet forehead shining under the dim overhead light.

On the way to preschool she was quiet. The rhythm of the fat drops pounding on the window soothed her, and he was grateful, despite the rising sensation of lateness grating on his nerves.

Everything moved slower on stormy days. Yet he moved faster. It didn’t matter if he skipped eating his breakfast at home to get out the door quicker, the red stop lights took longer, he swore it.

Life was against him. But Adrie was quiet, and Mrs. Teresa was in charge of helping the little ones out of their cars. She was an out-of-towner, meaning, she wasn’t aware of Eddie’s reputation, and therefore was nicer to him than the other teachers, taking care to go beyond superficial greetings.

“Good morning, my dear,” she said to him, voice rough with age. She held an umbrella above his head as he got Adrie out, and followed him to the awning. His coveralls were already darkened by rain, but the gesture was kind, as was him offering his arm for her to hold onto as she stepped over the whirlpool circling the sewer drain.

Eddie sank into a crouch to ease his daughter’s vice grip from his neck. “Give Daddy a kiss goodbye, ‘kay?” Begrudgingly, she stood on her own two feet, and gave him a quick, annoyed peck on his cheek. “You gonna be good today?”

The attitude radiating off her was not promising.

“Your friends are waiting for you inside,” Mrs. Teresa said. “I think they’re playing dress up.”

An offer which proved enticing, as demonstrated by Adrie bolting from him for the front doors.

“No running,” he sighed to himself. The older woman chortled along, and wished him to have a good day as well. He should’ve taken the heart-palpitating lightning strike and simultaneous adrenaline-inducing clap of thunder as an omen when she uttered those words.

If not those things, then certainly his breakfast was a harbinger of the day he was about to have: instead of making two grape jelly biscuits, and two with egg, he ended up making two with both jelly and his daughter’s cold leftover scrambled eggs, and the others were left plain.

He ate the plain ones first before venturing into uncharted territory.

“Fuck no,” he said, mouth full of grape flavored egg-mulch. At least no one had to witness him spit it back into the container.

David’s Auto Repair didn’t have much in the way of shelter to keep him dry during his smoke break, so he sat in his car in the alleyway to pass the time until it was acceptable to arrive early.

‘Early’ being the time when you usually arrived, and an hour before Carl.

Til then, he cranked the heat and reclined his seat back, hugging himself to relieve the constant shiver his damp coveralls caused sticking to his skin.

Now, the heavy rain patter became a lullaby. Pelting the roof, easy on his falling eyelids. Precious seconds, minutes under the guided meditation of tap, tap. Tap, tap. Responsibilities drifting to the recesses of his mind. Thinking back on the days he spent doing this in the high school parking lot, promising Wayne he’d work hard to graduate only to end up napping in his van for most of the morning.

Eddie willed his eyes open. His watch told him he’d been asleep for fourteen minutes. Still early for work, but he felt a jolt of anxiety anyway.

He couldn’t blow things off like he used to. Not with people relying on him. Adrie and Wayne both depended on him to not be a fuck up. And if they weren’t motivation enough, he had another..

You should be sitting at your desk right now. If he timed it right, he’d pass by while the scent of dried coffee still clung to you before it had started brewing, which was an odd association he didn’t know he craved at the moment until it was at the forefront of his mind.

“Already following her around like a lost puppy, Munson,” he chided himself, turning off the car and bracing himself for the sprint to the employee’s entrance at the back of the garage.

And when he entered, the employee’s entrance at the front of the garage slammed open on a flashing cue of lightning, and there stood what he could only assume was a Creature from the Deep.

You huffed in two breaths, “Holy. Shit.”

Eddie tactlessly stared from across the room. You were beyond soaked. Your primary colored all-weather jacket appeared to not be waterproof in a monsoon, sagging on your frame like a melting street light of red, yellow, and green. Much like his coveralls, your once light-wash jeans were now dark blue. Somewhat adorably, though, was your pissed-off face being scrunched in a glare due to your hoodie drawstrings cinched tight in a circle, framing from your brows to your lips.

Your shoes gushed out puddles of rain on the concrete as you shoved your bike forward and let it fall in a clatter.

“I fucking hate this town.”

“Why are you riding a bike?” he asked, thinking you’d gone insane.

“Because I don’t have a car?”

“Why don’t you have a car?”

You sputtered sarcastically, gesturing at your bike. “Because I’m from the city! We have things like public transportation. Trains, taxis, buses.. walking! I've never needed a car to reach my mailbox before.”

Thinking himself helpful, he suggested, “I know a place where we can get you one for cheap.”

“Dude, I don’t even have a license.”

“Why don’t you–?”

“Trains!”

Eddie’s face collapsed into his own glare right back at you, and he waved his hands about the auto repair garage for automobiles where he fixed cars for people in need of transportation in which you answered their calls regarding said transportation and ordered parts to repair said personal automobiles at the garage intended for cars where he worked. You got the irony.

“None of this matters,” you said, dismissing him. True, it didn't matter, and he knew from your exaggerations your anger at him was in jest, but he appreciated the banter regardless. It was a nice break from reality. “It took me so long to get here because my whole street was flooded, and I’m guessing it’s flooding outside of Hawkins where the storm is coming from. We were supposed to get a delivery yesterday, but it never showed up.”

There was a pause where both of you accepted the arduous day ahead.

You said, “I’ll start calling around to see where our delivery might be stuck.”

“And I’ll do what I can without it,” he agreed.

Inhaling a breath of fortitude knowing you’d be informing a few upset individuals today that their cars wouldn’t be ready, you unzipped your jacket and loosened the drawstrings, dropping your hood back. You froze.

“Oh God, don’t look at my hair,” you begged, scuttling through the lobby and into the bathroom.

There were no more exchanges after you ran away. There was no time to entertain the lingering gazes, or small conversations where he thrived on your smile. He had to process what he could to earn money before sundown, and you played phone tag until you yawned, and stared blank-faced at the wall while customers bitched at you.

By normal closing hours, you were both too beaten down to do more than walk past each other on your way out without a goodbye.

A part of him wanted to do the chivalrous thing and offer you a ride, but that seemed too forward, too intimate, too invasive in his small car where his backseat was partially taken up by his daughter’s car seat, and he couldn’t come to a conclusion about your surprise when seeing her, nor unpack the loaded question of why he cared.

Whatever.

At least the rain stopped.

————

Tuesday was overcast.

You looked at Eddie leaning on the countertop to your desk and spun your hand while rolling your eyes, wishing the person on the other end of the phone line would hurry up. Eventually, you hung up, and interrupted him from picking at his nails. “They said it’ll be thirty minutes before they get here.”

“Guess I’ll wait then.”

He didn’t make to leave, and you didn’t have anything else to do, so you laced your fingers and leaned onto your forearms towards him, hoping through giving him your attention, he’d willingly talk to you for once.

“Um,” he drew out, searching the expanse between your hands, where he encroached on your space if only to the wrist. He tapped his knuckles on the vinyl. Swallowed visibly “About your policy thing.. Did you really move here just because your roommate asked you to?”

You drew your gaze up from his descending Adam’s apple, over the soft edge of his jawline, and grainy stubble on his chin. “I mean, kinda, yeah. Obviously, she’s been my best friend for years and needed help moving anyway, so I was up to make the trip, but when she asked if I wanted to stay, I said yes. Seemed intriguing enough; discovering what else was out there after living in cities for so long. See what sorta trouble I could get into when not surrounded by the usual nightlife options.”

“And how’s that going so far?”

“Bobbie’s mom and I are real good at solving the Wheel of Fortune before the contestants.”

Eddie snorted.

He dropped his focus to the looping circles he was drawing with his fingertip. Breathing deeper than necessary, and holding the air in his lungs for a few taut seconds. He rambled, “Sounds like Hawkins isn’t the place for you. Just somewhere to blow through, waiting for someone to ask you to, like, go to Chicago and be a bartender or somethin’.” He ended with a laugh aimed at his hands. Hollow. Empty of the humor he was pretending. “No responsibilities. Ready to get up and go whenever you want. That’s cool.”

“Been there, done that,” you mitigated the tension with a joke. “Bartending in Chicago, I mean.” He wasn’t being purposefully cruel, but the bitterness creeping into his words stung.

You glanced at his ringless fingers. Was he envious of your lifestyle because he was tied down? Your gut instinct told you he wasn’t the type to hold that sort of resentment towards his wife or daughter, so it had to be something else.

“Or,” you countered, “Someone could ask me to stay in Hawkins, and then I’d be obligated to, if we’re abiding by the policy. Who knows, maybe Kevin needs someone to walk his dogs, and then I can lead a nice, quiet, boring life here, absent of any fun or risks, hanging out with dogs for the next eternity. Is that what you want? Me bothering you until you’re in the grave?”

He squinted. “Fair point.” The laugh lines bracketing his mouth enhanced his appeal, joining the crow’s feet, and the harsh crease between his brows as he raised one in smug curiosity.

Perhaps you were staring at him for longer than you realized.

By chance, a chime signaled you both to a customer walking in the door in need of an oil change, and you reaped any opportunity to tease him. “Sorry, but some of us have work to do and can’t chit chat all day,” you cooed with the absolute cockiest head tilt to taunt him.

Shooing him away with a manila folder was extra, you had to admit, but upon recognizing the manner in which he rolled his lips inward to disguise the fact he was smiling, you figured smacking his hands was well worth the weird look from the woman waiting to speak to you.

————

Wednesday was a gale-force.

You went for it.

Arriving at dawn, you prioritized catching Eddie at the beginning of his morning cigarette.

He was leaning against the wall, upper body hunched with his hand cupped around his mouth, flicking his lighter until more than sparks stood against the gusts whipping the collar of his coveralls against his neck. His hair was blown back from his face, granting you the full picture of his raised eyebrows.

“Good morning, Eddie!”

“Hey? You’re early. I thought you’d get swept away on your bike like Dorothy, and I’d have to seek the courage to find you.”

“So in this scenario you’re the Cowardly Lion?” you asked, sidling up next to him to be heard above the wind.

He considered the implication and shrugged. “Guess even in my wildest dreams I’m still a coward.” Like any nice person, you sprung to assure him that despite your very short month of knowing each other, he (probably) wasn’t a coward, and he caught you. He caught you with your mouth wide open, ready to defend his honor.

Smoke slipped from his coy lips.

You tutted, “I think you’re the Scarecrow.” No brains.

“Anyway,” you went on, back to the reason your calves ached from pedaling like a mad man to get here at the same time as him. “It’s not like I bike that far. Bobbie’s parents live on that street next to the big open field, like, fifteen minutes away. Maybe twenty. Or ten?” You pointed vaguely north.

There’s a reason you never navigated on road trips.

“I thought they sold that empty lot forever ago,” he said.

“Well, unless they sold it to a bunch of tiny white mice who scurry every time I open the back door, I think it’s still abandoned.” You took your hands out of your jacket pockets and displayed them. “Not just mice, either. The other day I swear there was a spider the size of my palm in the bathroom.”

Taking the cigarette out of his mouth, he tipped his head back to blow the smoke above him before leaning over to study your hands up close. Contemplating them with keenness under the gray wash sky. Mumbling numbers to himself as if he were taking measurements.

He straightened up, and concluded, “Eh, not that impressive with how small your hands are.”

“Are they small?”

You faced him and presented your right hand.

Take the bait. Take the bait. Take the bait.

Eddie rolled onto his shoulder, body still at an angle from his legs crossed at the ankles. With a blank face, he understood what you wanted and decided to indulge your silliness, even if it meant sacrificing his warmth.

Uncrossing his arms, he wiped his hands on his clothes first out of habit.

Come on, Eddie.

None the wiser, he matched your thumbs. Pressed his left hand to yours.

Holy shit. He fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“Mm,” you hummed. You leaned in for a better look.

His hand was warm and damp from sweat. Concentrated heat emanated from his palm sealed to yours, securing the soft cups together, aligning the stretch of your fingers. Where yours were soft, his were rough. Lines of thick calluses. Hardened exteriors acting as a barrier from your tender self discovering what his skin truly felt like brushing over your own.

He wore three rings. All gaudy and themed. Costume-y. Definitely not of the wedding variety.

That didn’t mean he was single, but you doubted he was taken when you turned to him, and found his large nose to be inches from yours, and his gaze to be fond of your cheeks before meeting your eyes.

He bent the top joint of his fingers over yours, and slid his thumb to the outside, crowding your bones in a tight squeeze, establishing his advantage. “Still small,” he said, toothy and boyish; mouth crooked, and hand rolled cigarette bouncing on the syllables. “Let me know when you see a spider as big as my palm.”

Hypnotized, you agreed with whatever he said. “Duly noted. I’ll keep an eye out.”

His Cupid’s bow had no business being that sharp, nor his bottom lip that plump.

————

Thursday was raw.

Nighttime was a purple haze chasing the orange glow behind the trees. You walked around the garage with a small trash can in your arms, tidying up the place. Eddie was staying late again. He said it was to make up for Monday’s mess, but those jobs were completed days ago.

You nudged his boots to get his attention on your way to clean up the work bench. Though you wouldn’t consider yourselves close, you collected the few details you knew of his life, and held them dear to your heart, feeling privileged to know them. “Is your uncle not working today?”

His thighs flexed under the strained fabric of his uniform as he cranked a wrench. “He is,” he grunted from beneath the car, “I’m just trying to get in some hours before he leaves for the night shift.”

Fuck it, you’ll just ask. “How come you work late so often?”

The grinding stopped. For a moment, Eddie laid there, stomach rising and falling as he debated with himself. Seconds went by until he set down the tool and rolled out, sitting up on the creeper board.

Your question struck pink across his pale cheeks. Rather, the way you avoided it brought shame to his face. Why don’t you want to spend more time with your family?

The societal judgment of what he was about to admit weighed on him. He curled in on himself. Drew his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them loosely, latching at the wrist. He braced the words on his tongue–raw and vulnerable–and slipped a finger under his bandana to scratch at his temple.

“Sometimes I’d rather just be here,” he began slowly. “As soon as I get home, I’m the problem solver, you know? Whatever needs to be done, I have to do it while Adrie’s talking a mile a minute, screaming every question under the sun at me, and climbing all over me. I’m doing shit like trying to not burn her dinner while switching over the laundry and picking up the living room and telling her not to touch the stove and fighting with her to take a bath and making sure she has clothes picked out for the morning because if she doesn’t, then I have to spend twenty minutes calming her down before we leave for school so she can decide which shirt she wants to wear, and God.” He screwed his eyes shut, pressing his fingers on either side of his nose, muffling his voice. “I know I’m a shit dad, but sometimes I just want to turn my brain off, and stay here instead.”

“You’re not a shit dad,” you said with soft conviction.

He disregarded you with a mean scoff. “I sound like I hate my kid.”

“You sound overwhelmed, and tired, Eddie.”

“Maybe..”

Remembering you were holding the trash can, you set it down and leaned your hip on the workbench, settling into a comfortable position with a gentle ease of kindness to your expression, showing him it was okay to vent. You’d listen. It was safe. It was safe to show you the ugly parts of him. It would be okay.

You approached the next topic with care, though you could infer the answer for yourself now, “Is there no one else you can rely on besides your uncle to help alleviate some of the stress?”

“No. It’s just us. My parents have been out of the picture for a long time, and Adrie’s mom, uh..” He surrendered to the need for eye contact, wanting to see you, and stated evenly, “Adrie’s mom and I were never together. She was a customer of mine–”

Darting your gaze around the room, you pointed at the garage in an expression of ‘Really, dude?’

He turned puckish. He pinched his index and thumb together and tapped them to his smirk, indicating a much different line of work. You ‘ahh’d.

“Yeah, not a frequent flier either, just someone I saw here and there at parties or whatever. All it took was one night of stupidity. One fucking night of mistake after mistake, man.. N-Not that I think of Adrienne as a mistake! God, no. Just–y’know–the events leading up to her weren’t ideal.”

You held your hand up to stop him. “I’m not judging you. My parents never bothered to correct themselves.”

Mutual pain converged in your matching shrugs. Both of you were the undesireables. Though, he couldn’t imagine you being called a mistake when his failures were glaring.

Sinking into the solace of your presence, he explained further, “Adrie’s mom said–at most–three sentences to me after giving birth, and that was it. Everything else was handled by the court. She made it clear she wanted nothing to do with us, so sole custody should’ve been easy, but the system fucking sucks. Not once did I say anything contradictory; I made it clear from the beginning I wanted my daughter, but I know how I look on paper.. Trailer trash through and through. Busted for drugs more than once. Living with my uncle in a single bedroom piece of shit. Taking three attempts to pass high school. No real job at the time, and beyond broke. They kept trying to convince her to split custody, at least for the first year, but no.” There was a cynical dejection about him. One of haunting acceptance, thinking lowly of himself with his head hung, and glazed over eyes staring faraway. “She found someone better. Some guy with money who lived in Indianapolis, and she wanted to start a life with him. Move on from Adrienne. And me.”

“Eddie?” you called out to him.

“Hm?”

“You may not view my opinion highly, but I think you’re a great dad, and person. Money, reputation, criminal record or whatever else can go fuck itself.” You folded your legs under you, and sat opposite him with your back resting against the table leg. He scooted closer on his board, narrowing the swath of concrete between you to a few feet. “Beat yourself up all you want, but your love for your daughter is apparent. She’s happy. She’s safe. She’s fed. You take care of her just fine, and you’re allowed to feel frustrated, and you’re allowed to feel like you need a break.”

When he remained unconvinced, you insisted, “Adrie adores you, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah,” he snorted. “I know. That’s why Wayne never has these problems with her. It’s only me she’s ultra clingy with. Like if she’s not attached to me twenty-four-seven I cease to exist and she’ll never see me again.”

Something beautiful occurred in his shy glance. In his bashful smile. In the clumsy removal of his bandana, pulling his hair free from the ponytail and shaking it out. Wild.

His big brown eyes regarded you, and you beheld him in a similar light.

Something changed.

No longer casual acquaintances; you two looked at each other like you were friends.

“Sorry for rambling so much,” Eddie said.

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Good. Because I’m not done.” He crept forward a few more inches, and aired his grievances in a lighthearted tone, bitching for the sake of getting it off his chest, “This time of year is really rough on us. Gotta buy her all new school supplies with whatever franchise or animal she’s obsessed with now. Which is unicorns, by the way. And, y’know kids grow like crazy. If it’s not an entire new wardrobe, then it’s the shoes. I swear this kid goes through shoes like she’s ruining them on purpose. I’m almost certain I buy new ones every time I blink.” 

A car passed on the street outside; the only break in the suffocating silence of a brick building echoing Eddie’s dramatic hand gestures as he sought sanity.

“She starts kindergarten next September and I’m already dreading it. She’s made lots of friends, which I’m grateful for.. Seriously, I’m really grateful that she’s made friends so easily, but she always wants to dress like them, do the things they do, go the places they go, and I try to figure out ways to afford it, but sometimes it’s too much, and I fucking despise telling her ‘no.’ Then there’s also the birthday parties basically every other weekend, and you can’t attend those empty-handed either, can you?”

You nodded patiently. “I suppose you are correct.”

“Kids are expensive, and it’s only worse at Christmas,” he concluded. Your stomach growled. “You want to leave, don’t you?”

Remaining in your slumped over position with your elbow propped on your thigh, and your cheek to your fist with your eyes closed, you asked, “What gave you that idea?”

He could mock you to his heart’s content, but you were right.

“Shit,” he exhaled, reading the wall clock. “We should go. Wayne leaves for work soon.”

“And Bobbie’s probably waiting for me to get home to gush about her girlfriend.” You stood up and stretched. “It’s cute, like a long-lost lovers situation, but yeah, she can go on for hours.”

————

Friday was cloudy with a chance of sun.

Tires screeched to a stop in the driveway of the garage, and someone honked their horn incessantly.

Startled, Eddie hit his head on the hood of the car he was bent over, and hissed between his teeth. He rubbed at the sore spot and glared behind him, ready to tell the nuisance off.

Except, if he did that, he’d be telling off his best friend.

“Of course it’s you,” he projected in a clipped voice, making his annoyance known.

Steve slammed his car door shut, and leaned against it, lighting a cigarette while Eddie made his way over. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, “I’m here on my lunch break, so if you wouldn’t mind gettin’ a little pep in your step, Munson.”

Passing by your inquisitive face smashed to the window beside your desk, Eddie raised his hand to show you everything was okay, and that there was no need to chew someone out for causing a disturbance.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Eddie asked, shuffling up to him. The sun was warm on his skin; a nice change from the shadowy cold warehouse, and Steve basked in it as well, golden hair flopping in the gentle breeze.

There was a moment where they both displayed their nervous habits. Eddie with his tongue prodding the inner corner of his lips, and Steve taking inventory of his surroundings during the drag of his cigarette.

“Look,” Steve stressed. Eddie sighed. “We haven’t seen much of you lately, and Nancy had the idea to go to the theater to see that horror movie that came out a few weeks ago. We’ll probably have the whole place to ourselves, and she, ah, invited someone else. Someone who is also single, if you catch my very obvious drift.”

Eddie’s hand immediately climbed its way to his throat, stroking the column and making a sound of disinterest. “I dunno, man.”

“Well, we’ve already paid the babysitter to watch a third kid, and we don’t mind Adrie sleeping over for the night. You can drop her off at 4 and, uh–” He nodded at his coveralls. “Get cleaned up, or whatever and meet us at 6. Make a good first impression.” At Eddie’s apathetic grunt, he sighed, “I know what you’re gonna say, but your date’s already agreed to go, and it’d be a shame if you left them hanging.”

Rolling his shoulders, Eddie forced himself to stop fidgeting by stuffing his hands in his pockets, and focused on the clouds crawling across the sky. “Fine. What’re they like?”

“Your date?”

“Yes, my fucking date you moron.”

Steve shrugged with a mischievous grin. “Dunno. I said Nancy’s the one who invited her, not me.”

Eddie faltered, “So, you don’t even know if she’s into someone like me?” When Steve quirked his eyebrow, it just increased Eddie’s agitation. He made sweeping motions down his body. Steve continued to smoke with a dumb pout. “Jesus, dude.” He stamped in a circle, making a big show with his arms, imploring with an exhausted bite to his tone, “You know what I’m asking.”

“No, I don’t know if she’s into metalhead freaks who are dads, sorry.”

“You’re the bane of my existence.”

“So it’s an official ‘yes?’” he asked without the sarcasm. “I mean, you might as well show up. Wayne’s got his poker tournament with his friends today, doesn’t he? That means you’ll have the place to yourself. Hey, play your cards right and you’ll get some action tonight. I imagine you haven’t gotten lucky since Adrie’s conception, yeah?”

Steve’s laugh was explosive and loud, but it petered out to a pitying noise the longer Eddie squinted into the distance.

“Really? I was just trying to joke with you. Sorry, man.”

Eddie lifted one side of his mouth in a dull grin. “S’kay.”

“Well,” Steve said, flicking the rest of his cigarette. “Just be yourself. Maybe keep the nerdy talk to a minimum, and you’re golden.” He turned to leave, and stopped. “Oh! And Robin’s back in town, if you didn’t hear. She’ll be there tonight too, serving as the fifth wheel, so at least you won’t be the most awkward one there. Come to think of it, I think it’s her friend who’ll be your date.”

“Sounds promising.”

“See ya at 6!” Steve said as he opened the door and fell into place behind the wheel, beaming pure sunshine up at Eddie.

“Yeah, bye.”

Going back inside the garage, it took a second for Eddie’s eyes to adjust to the darkness, and his first inclination was to look over at you behind your desk, totally filling out the paperwork in front of you, regardless if you were holding a pen or not.

Many thoughts crossed his mind upon watching you open random drawers, and shuffle papers to appear busy. Rationally, he should’ve jumped at the chance for Steve’s offer. A night out with someone without the looming responsibility of adulthood sounded like heaven.. But there was a knot in his stomach telling him to reject the date–not because he couldn’t be bothered, like Steve assumed, but because he pictured someone specific the instant he spoke the arrangement into existence.

The jaded, pessimistic part of him argued it shouldn’t matter what you thought about his love life. You two were hardly friends, and you were a drifter in search of your next big adventure. This small town wasn’t your home. You’d move on. And he should too.

He opened the glass door, and you feigned like you hadn’t been staring at him and Steve attempting to read their lips for the past few minutes. “Hey, I’ve got somewhere to be later, so I’ll actually be leaving on time today.”

“Oh, good!” you said. “Me too.”

Eyeing your thumbs up, he snorted and shook his head.

Yeah, he should move on before this feeling in his chest evolved into something bigger.

Taglist: @tlclick73 @kimmi-kat @hanahkatexo @eds1986 @mirrorsstuff @creoleguurl @loveshotzz @hazydespair @trashmouth-richie @omgshesinsane @lightcommastix @rose-tinted @lmili @wisestarlightwolf @secretdryrose @reefer-robin @aysheashea @eddiemunsons-world @mystars123 @bebe0701 @yeoldedumbslut @tayhar811 @christalcake @junggoku @fantasy-is-best @wendyfawcett @vintagehellfire @fezcoismypimp @xxsunflowerloverxx @jessepinkmanloml @nwhspidey @violetsandroses8 @kennedy-brooke @ughli @alana4610 @bmunson86 @sikirukn @hayleeshar @it-is-up-to-you @feralgoblinbabe @sammararaven