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#chloe is too good to us
tsunamiholmes · 4 months
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I'm sure many of you have seen the new Among Us x A Hat in Time announcement by now, which consists of new cosmetic items based off of the AHiT characters as part of the new Indie Cosmicube.
However, what I've not heard as much discussion about is the new art featured in the promo.
"New art?" you ask, glancing at the familiar sprite art of the AHiT characters in the background. "I guess Bow Kid's looks new..."
"But what about the rest of them?" I ask, smirking.
"Those have been around for years!" you protest.
"Ah-ha!" I raise a finger, a witty smile spread across my face, "but have they?"
In fact, all of the main character sprite art in the background of this promo has been redrawn. Some, like Hat Kid's, has even had design changes as well.
Let's start with Hat Kid:
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Overall new shading and smoother painting lines, including added highlights and shadows to create more depth
New eyes that give her a more cheery and childish appearance
New, more expressive mouth with fangs!
Updated stars on her umbrella
More detailed ears
Below you can see some of the areas pointed out and the original art we've had for years.
Next, Mustache Girl:
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Again, completely new shading and highlights
New, sharp gremlin teeth (I'm loving all of the new teeth choices here, Jenna)
Brand new eyes
Changed left eyebrow position to give a more "evil" expression
New styled nose to match the other, newer art
Next, The Conductor:
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New shading and highlights
More light spill/reflections on his dark clothing and hat (see the underside of the bill and the left side of his arms/collar)
Larger tongue
Slightly more plump tie
Cleaner line art, specifically on his right hand
The crows are the same from the Welcome to Mafia Town title card, as pictured here:
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I didn't bother making a GIF since they didn't have any changes!
~ ~ ~
That about sums it up I think. That new Bow art is super cute, and I can't wait to see it in full. Oh, did I not mention? Gears for Breakfast didn't spend all of this time redrawing these classic images just for some Among Us promotion. Or rather, they might have, but a little birdy told me that we'll be seeing them again soon...
For what? I have no idea. No clue there. But you can be assured that we'll be getting the full, brand new versions of these pieces of art in the near future!
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magnolia-moonshine · 6 months
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Just some Genshin OC Outfits I’ve been thinking about
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chloe not really loving jake but holding onto him as a backup plan of sorts- if all else fails and there's nobody left to love her, he will, he'll always come crawling back to her vs jake not really loving chloe but obsessing over her because he sees her as a crucial piece to the 'perfect' life that he was promised, that everyone expects of him
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transpidergwen · 1 year
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I can't believe we got Heartbreak High AND Extraordinary Attorney Woo this year?!!! Careful Netflix you keep giving me autism rep and I'm gonna acquire a taste for it.
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yuukimiyas · 6 months
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(*´ч ` *) happy tues to you all!! poppin by w some fresh coffee & a lil donut to kickstart your day!! i hope its as great as you!! <33
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girlcreature · 10 months
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i <3 split decision
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myangelscrimson · 2 years
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I wanna get into knife/dagger collecting but my parents don't trust me with knives
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atticrissfinch · 4 months
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In the Next Room | (joel miller x fem!reader) (oneshot) (18+)
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Masterlist | Ko-fi pairing: neighbor’s fuckbuddy!joel miller x fem!reader summary: When the peace and quiet of your apartment is disturbed by the noisy escapades of the couple in the neighboring unit, you find yourself entranced by the mystery man on the other side of the wall. And when you stumble upon him on a dating app…well, it might just be fate. warnings/tags:  [18+ MINORS DNI] no!outbreak, age gap (Joel is 48, reader is under 29), v mild dom!joel, slight voyeurism, joel just straight slutting and whoring it up but…like…in a charming way, masturbation (f), daddy!kink, a looootta size!kink, dirty talk, a liiittle bit of sexting, one (1) swat to the ass, minor degradation!kink, praise!kink, spitting, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), mild deepthroating, irresponsible unprotected piv, creampie, brief cockwarming, Joel Miller: DILF Extraordinaire even without a kid at home, a teensy weensy bit of ddlg-esque infantilization but nothing extreme, joel and reader just being feral and adorable w each other and having a jolly good ol’ time, reader has hair and is lifted onto a counter sry.  word count: ~11.5K | ao3 a/n: I was chatting with daddy chloe @chloeangelic and she mentioned she knew someone who found out her fuckbuddy was also fucking her neighbor and I said…hold on. Huge idea. So this lovely fic was born. I really love these two and I did not expect it to be this fun and cute and sexy, so I hope you enjoy! title is from In the Next Room by Neon Trees, which I highly recommend you give a listen to. s/o to @saradika for the gorgeous divider ♥️
Taglist Update: This will be my last time using my taglist! For future updates people follow @atticrissfinchupdates 💖
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If you only knewHow hard it is to handleHow bad I want this scandalOh, I lose controlWhen I hear your body moveThrough the walls in the next room
--
One thing you’ve really come to appreciate about your new apartment is how quiet your neighbors are. You’ve only been here for about 3 months, but in comparison to your last apartment, the noise level might as well be nonexistent. No persnickety old lady raising hell over the dodgy as fuck elevator by the stairs, no screaming three-year-old behind the door across the hall, no meathead grunting out his squats at 5 AM in the neighboring unit. Just a mild-mannered elderly couple across the way and a cute, perky woman, probably in her 30s, in the apartment to your left. It’s been a silent paradise so far, and you couldn’t be more grateful. 
Until tonight. 
It started off with tampered whimpers, then what sounded like moaned “oh, fuck”s, and finally graduated to a thumping bedframe and a woman screaming. Your next-door neighbor, you gather pretty quickly. And not just wordless screams, very colorful screams.
“Fuck, baby!”
“Oh, shit, Joel! So fucking big!”
“I can’t! Too fucking big, please!”
The headboard on the other side of the drywall knock-knock-knocks against your shared wall where your own headboard stands pathetically dormant in contrast. 
You hear an unintelligible response to her cries in the cadence of a deep, rumbling voice. You’re a sucker for a deep voice, you always have been, and it sounds like the girl next door is having exactly the kind of night you wish you were having. 
“No, fuck, don’t stop! Just so fucking big, Joel!”
The voice rumbles again with a silky lilt to it, and for some unknown reason, you find your eyes drifting closed and your mind filling in the gaps you can’t quite hear. 
I know it’s big, baby, but you can take it. 
Such a good girl for me.
Feel so tight around this fat cock, baby.
Without even having put thought into it, you discover your hand has snaked its way under your panties and is already massaging circles around your clit. Your mouth drops open in a gasp when you slick up your fingers with the evidence of your arousal and you get the rhythm just right against the bundle of nerves pulsing between your legs. 
You thrust up into your hand to the tempo of the headboard crashing into the wall, straining your ear to try and catch even the faintest glimpse of the actual words the man is feeding to her as he pounds her into the mattress.
You’re blessed when his voice raises for a single phrase, a passionate aggression behind his words.
“Yeah, fuckin’ take it for me .”
The words have you bucking into your hand, a moan crackling in your throat, and your fingers picking up speed. Your ears take it upon themselves to filter out the shrieking voice of your neighbor and solely hone in on the husky tones of the man. You imagine he’s older, large and imposing, with hands that dwarf yours as his fingers slip in the spaces between your own and restrain them above your head as his huge cock wreaks havoc on your insides. 
It’s been months since you've been laid, months since you’ve even had a single viable candidate in this new city. It’s not a stretch to claim that you’re fucking desperate, hence your hand taking residence in your underwear and getting off to the auditory scraps granted to you by this mystery man.  
The woman’s voice breaks through your selective hearing barrier.
“Fuck, I’m coming, Joel!”
And he bestows his heightened voice on you once more as he replies.
“I know, sweet girl, I know. I’m so fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want it? ”
You shut out the woman’s voice again in favor of embarrassingly whimpering out loud to your empty room, “Inside, please, daddy.”
You hear a guttural grunt, and you picture your faceless man’s hips stuttering into you as he fills you up with all he has to give you. You gasp as your orgasm floods through you, shooting warmth through your limbs and sparks through your brain as your hand slows to a stop. You pant as you feel the faint pulsing of your clit under your fingertips, and both the couple and the furniture in the next room fall silent.
Your unsoiled hand reaches up to cover your face, dragging down it as you come to terms with what you just did. 
Fuck, you need to get laid. 
You’ve been rotting in bed all morning, taking full advantage of your peaceful Saturday with no obligations. You scroll mindlessly on your phone as a notification pops up indicating that a package you were expecting was dropped off at your door. You groan, relishing the precious moments in your soft fortress of sheets, and roll lethargically out of bed. You throw on a pair of leggings to cover your bottom half and straighten your mussed camisole to ensure all nipples are accounted for within the confines of the fabric from a night of tossing and turning. You perform a solid full-body stretch, feeling your joints pop faintly and pleasantly as you pad to your front door. 
As you pull it open, you bend over to grab the small box, just as the door to your left swings open. You swivel your head to see a man, a large, older man, stepping out the door and pulling it shut behind him. As you snap upright, the man startles, a hand flying over his heart in surprise. 
“Jesus, you scared me,” He drawls with a small grin gracing his scruffy–fuck, beautiful –face.
After a few moments, you realize that you’re just fucking gawking at him. “I’m so sorry! Didn’t mean to!”
He chuckles, a gorgeous little sound from plush lips, and gives a courteous shake of his head. “All good. Hope you got somethin’ excitin’ there.”
You blink, a quizzical look on your face before you process what he said. “Oh! The package. Not really, just a new milk frother. Gotta have those homemade lattes, you know?” You say with a short laugh, cringing internally at how awkward you’ve suddenly become around this man. Are you really this out of practice with flirting? Not even flirting, just human interaction itself?
The man shrugs, his smile still in place. “More of a black coffee man, myself.”
“Bold,” You attempt to tease, nodding your head. “Need all the energy you can get after a night like that, I suppose,” You say a bit boldly yourself, gesturing to the door he just came out of. 
His eyes widen a little, a pale flush entering his cheeks as he gives an uncomfortable cough into his fist. “Uh, ‘s-’scuse me?”
Your eyes widen in response when your brain catches up with what your mouth just ran away with. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I just, uh…had a bit of a front-row…ear to your activities last night. Walls are a little thin,” You clench your teeth in a show of shared embarrassment, jabbing your thumb over your shoulder toward your own apartment.
The blush intensifies on his cheeks as he gives an uncomfortable laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Shit. I, uh, I’m sorry about that. We, uh, we’re usually over at my place, but I found a termite infestation in my house, and it’s being tented right now, and I’m stuck over at my brother’s place, and…I don’t know why I’m tellin’ a complete stranger all my business, but. Anyway, we’re usually over at mine. I’m sorry for the, uh, ruckus,” He rambles, burying his largelargelarge hands into his jean pockets and rocking on his heels. “We’ll be back at mine next time, so. Won’t happen again.”
You nod, only half hearing what he’s rambling about as your concentration is taken out at the knees the more you hear him speak, the more his voice washes over you like a cool splash of water, the more your brain sees fit to supply you with a plethora of disgusting things that voice could divulge to you that you didn’t conjure up last night, this time with his voice in crystal clear high definition and not muffled by anything other than possibly your hair or your skin or your lips on his mouth. 
The throbbing between your thighs has your confidence climbing, elevated by your attraction to this complete stranger as he’d referred to you. “Sure sounded like you gave her a good time in there.” 
“I-I don’t know about all that,” He laughs awkwardly again, the blush bleeding down his neck. 
“I mean, she sure had a lot to say about, uh, what you had to offer,” You babble, feeling your cheeks heat up, but unable to shut yourself up. “Sounds like she was struggling a bit.”
The man’s eyes dodge yours with a fervent dedication, flustering his words as he excuses the accusations. “Nah, she uh…she…she was just talkin' up my ego. You know how it is,” He stammers. 
“I don’t know, must be a pretty good actress from what I heard. I’ve never been able to fake it that hard. Sounded pretty real to me…Joel, is it? Did I hear that right?”
“Damn, I, uh, yeah. Yes. Joel. Miller,” He introduces himself stiltedly, holding out a hand and then staring at it like he’s shouting in his head, what the fuck are you doing?
You take his hand for a single shake, gifting him your own name in return. His handshake, though short, is sturdy, mildly calloused against the back of your palm, like he works with his hands. As your mind digs its claws into you with ideas of what exactly he could do with those hands, they fall away from each other, and you occupy the absence by gripping the frame of your doorway. 
“Well, uh, it was nice meetin’ you. I-I promise we won’t disturb your peace again,” He says with a resolute nod. 
“No biggie,” You reply, doing your best to sound casual and, if you’re honest, not discourage him from putting on another show for you to get off to. 
He gives one more jerky nod and heads for the elevator, rubbing his flushed neck as he goes. You grab your package and scurry into your apartment, shutting the door firmly behind you and drooping back against it. 
Stupid stupid stupid.
Hot hot hot.
Fuck.
That evening, the solution to your growing problem seems relatively obvious as you mull over your actions from last night and this morning. Your need to have the shit fucked out of you is reaching a fever pitch, and the easiest, most logical conclusion is to dust off the dating apps burning a hole through your phone. 
So you settle in against your pillows with a large glass of rosé and open up an app. 
You won’t lie, things are looking pretty bleak. 
You must swipe past thirty mediocre men, only doling out one or two right-swipes among the lefts. 
And then you feel your stomach swoop. 
You know that face. Time could jettison you forward forty years into the future and you would still know that face. The way it blossomed with red at your comments, the way thick fingers scratched at the scruff adorning it, the way the lines by his eyes crinkled in bashfulness. 
And then there’s his name, locking your suspicions in concrete. 
Joel. Age 48. 7 Miles away. 
Bio: Just a simple guy, looking for fun, but we’ll see how things go.
You scroll through his photos, a random selection of snippets from his life. One with a beer in his hand at the beach, his toes in the sand. Another with his face shaded by a ball cap, squinting at the photographer to his left as he sits with a fishing pole cast into a lake. His arm around a man roughly the same height and age range, some shared facial features, matching smiles–a brother, maybe. A suggestive selfie in his bed, sheets tucked below his pecs, eyes bleary with sleep accompanied by a soft smile and messy curls. 
Easiest swipe right of your life. 
Another pang alights in your stomach when you’re instantly met with the little “matching” animation, clinking your two profile pictures together with a heart. 
Your tongue darts across your lips as you sit up straighter, wine sloshing in your glass until you steady it with another sip. Your standard protocol is to wait for the guy to message first, but your eagerness gets the better of you. You don’t even wait a few minutes to be coy, you just go full-send.
You: Fancy seeing you on here…
Fully expecting to wait a minute for a response, you take a deep breath and burrow into your pillows again. But you get a notification almost instantly. 
Joel: I was thinking the same thing… Joel: Feels somethin like kismet, or whatever they call it
A smile breaks against your cheeks, and you bite into your knuckle to stop yourself from just straight-up squealing. 
You: They do call it that, from what I hear 🤭
This time he doesn’t respond immediately, and your teeth begin to tug at your lower lip as you watch the stagnant chat thread. 
And then a possible reality smacks you in the face. 
What if this man is taken? What if your neighbor is his girlfriend and he’s still creeping for girls on dating apps?
The fluttering in your stomach starts to take a sour turn, worrying your lip further as you await his reply. What if they’re together right now, and he can only respond when she’s distracted?
Another message pops up.
Joel: A little like kismet that we met in the hallway i’d say too. Same place, same time and all
You take a breath and decide to just cut through the bullshit as early as possible before your thoughts truly run away from you.
You: Speaking of. I’m gonna be honest. If that’s your girlfriend that lives next to me, I’m gonna have to enact Girl Code and let her know I saw you on here. Because that shit is not cool. 
You send it before you can talk yourself out of it, and close out of the app as soon as it’s out of your hands. You down what remains of your wine and place the empty glass on your nightstand, but your attention springs back to your phone as it buzzes again. You brace yourself for his panic or defense and open the message. 
Joel: lol well you can put down your pitchfork and reshelve the sacred “Girl Code”. Trish and I are strictly casual. By her own insistence matter a fact. You can ask her if you don’t believe me
You sigh a breath of relief and tap out a response.
You: Really?  You: Guess I just have a hard time believing that any woman could turn down that face
He responds immediately again.
Joel: Well now you got me blushin again. Thank you darlin
You: At least I can rule you out as “stupid enough to cheat on your gf by trolling dating apps with your full face on display”
Joel: Haha no ma’am. I’m an honest man. Only cheat at Go Fish and Yahtzee and it’s been an age since I cast my hand at either. 
You: Well now I know what to watch out for 😜
You stretch your legs out under your sheets, feeling giddy that the banter is coming so easily after your awkward conversation earlier today. 
You: How’s the whole tenting situation going?
Joel: Got back in this morning. House successfully fumigated. Termite threat hopefully neutralized. Fingers crossed. 
You: Lucky Trish
You nibble on the side of your thumb as you wistfully beg him to take the bait. 
He does. 
Joel: Could be your luck too… Joel: If you want
You suddenly very much regret consuming half a bottle of rosé. 
You could invite him over here, but that would be especially cruel. Unequivocally against Girl Code to fuck the man you literally met because your neighbor is also fucking him in the apartment next to you, in the apartment next to her the very next night. That’s some twisted, reverse Uno shit, and you have no desire to tempt fate or karma with that nonsense.
You: Unfortunately I’m a little intoxicated right now. And I don’t want to invoke the wrath of an otherwise peaceful neighbor by stealing her fuck buddy from right under her nose and then rubbing said nose in it by making her listen lol
At severe risk of coming off as uninterested, you quickly follow up.
You: Maybe tomorrow? I’m free all day. Would love to see what all the fuss was about last night.
He surprises you, his next response coming in the form of a short voice memo. You practically tangle your fingers into knots in your effort to smash Play.
That dripping, syrupy Southern drawl echoes out of your phone speaker. 
“That’s a real shame, darlin’. But I’m free all day too. I’d love to show you…what was it you said? What I ‘have to offer’?” 
The message cuts off just after a delicious little chuckle, and you stare daggers at your wine glass. Fucking bullshit little cockblocker. 
You decide it’s only fitting to respond with a memo of your own, dipping your voice a little lower, more sultry to the best of your ability. 
“I think I’d love that. I could come over at noon. You could have me for lunch.”
Before you can second-guess, the memo slips from your fingers and straight to Joel’s phone.
Joel: Damn. Joel: I’ll put on my bib. Got a feeling i’m gonna need it. 
Your cheeks heat at the insinuation, and you sneak a hand underneath your panties to assess whether he’s right. 
And, fuck, he is. You’re practically swimming in your own arousal at the mere thought of Joel being a live outlet for your pent-up sexual energy. You moan as your fingers graze your clit, but you pull them out before you lose yourself too much. 
In a display of what you can only describe as bravery on your part, you aim your camera at your two soaked fingers, spreading them slowly until your slick is webbed thickly between them, translucent and alluring. Before the viscous threads break, you focus the frame and snap the photo. Caution to the wind once more, you send it off to Joel. 
No more than a minute later, another voice memo pops up for your listening pleasure.
His voice sounds significantly more wrecked this time. 
“God fuckin’ damn, babygirl. Better save some of that for me. By the time I get my mouth on you, I’m gonna be fuckin’ famished .”
You toy with your wet fingers, only pausing a moment before slipping them between your lips and sucking off the evidence of your attraction, moaning into your empty room at the heady taste, knowing Joel will be drinking it right from the source tomorrow. 
You start another voice memo. 
“Lucky for you, I just did some quality assurance on your meal for tomorrow. A little taste test. I think it’ll meet your expectations. Maybe even exceed them.”
Joel responds quickly with his own memo, the message starting with a groaning sigh that is quite possibly the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard until you hear what he has to say next. 
“Shit, babygirl. So proud of you, bein’ so thorough for me.”
You swear you can feel the serotonin flooding your brain at his praise, only increased when he sends a short follow-up memo.
“Such a good girl for daddy.”
A shot of arousal pulses through your cunt at that word and you feel like this shit is too good to be true. At the risk of saying something stupid, you opt to just send a no-frills text back. 
You: Fuck.
You already feel like you can just hear that decadent, dirty little chuckle from that first voice memo in response to your message.
Joel: Night, babygirl. See you at noon.
A text with his address tags along after. You paste it into your GPS app. Seven miles away.
You laugh, almost incredulously, to yourself. 
Fucking kismet.
It takes you mere minutes to get yourself off after. 
Once the haze has lifted, you’re on your wobbly feet, planning your outfit for Joel to take off tomorrow. 
—-
The summer breeze fiddles with the hem of your skirt, probably too short to be wearing in any kind of windy weather, but you know what you’re about today. High hemlines, low necklines, a necklace with a tiny charm positioned at the crest of your cleavage to draw the eye, just in case he’s not the red-blooded straight American male you’ve tapped him to be. 
You fidget with your dress as you make your way up Joel’s driveway, cross-checking the address number in the text with the one on the front of his house in tarnished gold numerical plates. When you’re confident you’re in the right place, you step up onto the porch, taking a deep breath before knocking on the front door. 
The varnished wood creaks open moments later, revealing Joel in all his scruffy, broad glory. He’s in a basic white tee, jeans, and thick socks, and that shit has never looked so tantalizing to you, biceps straining the elastic on his tight shirt sleeves. 
“Hi there,” He drawls, taking you in from head to foot and back again. You smile, doing your best to swallow the catastrophic levels of animal attraction you feel to this man just from the first glance.
He holds the door open for you and you step inside. Your first thoughts are that the home is cozy. Lived in. Picture frames on the walls of people you don’t recognize save for the ones featuring the owner of the home. A living room shooting off from the foyer with appropriately dingy couches and throw blankets strewn across them. A carpeted wooden staircase in the entryway leading to the upper level and a hallway that’s a straight shot into the homey kitchen. 
It feels…like a home. But a home that has had more than one resident. You decide to delve into that at a later date. 
Joel clicks the door shut behind you as you slip off your sandals and he takes your hand in his, holding it out to get the full effect of you. He pipes out a wolfish whistle as he admires your dress, the drape of it over your body. 
“You are a picture, darlin’.”
“Thanks,” You mutter, fighting off the urge to succumb to your self-consciousness. “But if I’m a picture, you’re the whole fucking photo album.”
Joel tuts at you. “Don’t you start an argument about who’s the better lookin’ one of the two of us, ‘cause a bastard just might spend the rest of the day makin’ his case,” He counters with a crooked smile, petting the back of your hand with his thumb before placing a kiss to it. 
“What a gentleman,” You say, an airy affect to your voice helping to mask the catching of your breath in your throat at first the touch of his lips to your person. 
“Do what I can,” He chuckles, letting your hand fall, but linking a large pinky with yours as you meander down the hall. It feels strangely intimate, yet somehow settles the subtle shake in your fingers. 
“Your home is lovely. Very warm. Welcoming.”
“I like to think that’s mostly my charming demeanor,” He flirts, peeking over at you as you both enter the kitchen. “Get you a drink?”
“No, I’m okay,” You throw over your shoulder as your pinkies lose contact and you wander around the kitchen island. He leans back against the counter, arms loose across his chest as he tracks your movements around his space. That feels intimate too, the casual scrutiny. 
You run your hands over the clean counters, your curiosity peaking when you come across a hodge-podge of odds and ends scattered on the laminate. Screws, drillbits, drywall anchors, and a myriad of other bits and bobbles you don’t know the technical terms for. 
You nudge one of the screws and send it rolling towards the backsplash. “Handyman, huh?”
“Somethin’ like that,” He affirms, glancing down at his arms and then back up at you. “I’m a, uh, contractor. My brother and I, we run a ragtag little outfit. Oversee a handful of guys. Got work all over the valley.” 
“So good with your hands,” You nod with a flirtatious little smirk.  
Joel gives a small laugh. “Reckon so, I guess.”
“Work on anything exciting?”
He shrugs. “Here and there. Mostly just internal construction for new small businesses in the area. Sometimes homes, kitchen remodels, that kinda thing.”
“You build this one?”
“Actually didn’t. Just ‘cause I got the know-how don’t make it easier to get all the proper permits and land and shit to build my own. And was still raisin’ a kid on my lonesome at the time. Less hassle to just buy. Did do my brother Tommy’s place though. Let him handle all the bureaucratic shit.”
You hum in understanding. “He the guy in your profile photo?”
“The very same,” He confirms with a dip of his head. 
“Hmm,” You muse, the passive revelation he just dropped not at all lost on you. “A kid, huh? So, you’re, like, a proper DILF then.”
He chuckles, eyes downcast with a dash of that sheepishness. “Dunno about that. She’s long gone out the house by now.”
“How old?”
“Uh, she’ll be 29 come this December.”
“Oh. Damn.”
“What?”
“Older than me.”
His eyes pop. “Shit.”
You see a kind of cast fall over his face, like a cloud drifting its way past the sun, and you feel a twinge of guilt for digging that up. But something tells you there’s something about that concept he’s intrigued by, aroused by. He’s not blind, he knows you’re young. He knows how old his daughter is, what she looks like at her age. Maybe just didn’t quite put two and two together until you emphasized it. 
You saunter toward him, your teeth sliding against your lower lip as you rest your hands on the counter at either side of him, feeling the heat of his skin radiating on your own and intent on waving off the cloud over his expression to bring back that sun. 
“Good thing I like that sorta thing, I guess. Daddy…” You let that final world melt off your tongue as you look up at him, the solar flare in his eyes a perfect match for yours. 
Joel’s chest rises as he inhales, blowing it out in a measured stream through his lips and shaking his head at you as his hands navigate their way to your sides, curling into the thin, stretchy cotton of your dress. “Oh, you little devil. Don’t go teasin’ me with that. Can’t be held responsible for what I do with it.”
“What?” You tease, fingertips tracing the softness giving way to muscle beneath the flimsy material of his t-shirt. “You ashamed to be putting the moves onto someone younger than your kid?” 
Joel just shakes his head again, exhaling through his nose as it points to the floor. “Just makes me feel like a dirty old man.” 
“Mmm,” You croon, tucking a finger under his chin and coaxing him to look at you. “But you are a dirty old man. Desperate to slide into some young, hot pussy. For a pretty little thing to call you ‘daddy’ while you do it.”
“Fuck…” He rolls off his tongue as his eyes squeeze shut and his head droops back. 
“Does Trish call you daddy, too?”
Joel’s head plops back down, conflict warring on his features at the mention of your neighbor while you’re both tiptoeing dangerously close to the edge. “Shit, baby. You can’t—”
“Does she?”
He sighs, his pivoting pupils searching yours before answering, “No. She doesn’t.”
You pull a raspy little sound from your throat as you inch your face closer to his, but taking care that you can still study all of his wrinkles and micro-expressions. 
“But that’s what you want. Isn’t it,” You state with no room for argument. “You want me to call you my daddy. Let you fuck me while I whisper it in your ear. And fall apart on your cock with it on my lips, where your come will probably be soon after.” 
Your lips ghost over his, and you can see the shimmer in his brown irises, the sparkle of every last filthy thing he wants to subject you to for the good of his own pleasure. As you speak again, your lips brush against his, and you tilt your head back enough to capture his eyes. 
“Now, which set of lips that ends up being, I’ll leave up to you.”
The tension snaps like the bite of a rubber band, and you gasp in shock as Joel’s hand flies up to your jaw, fingers squeezing your cheeks until your mouth is in a pout. 
“Said you wanted to see if your neighbor was all talk, didn’t ya?”
He all but forces you to nod your head with his hand as you blink rapidly, him nodding along with you with his own head, almost mockingly so with you in his unyielding clutches. 
“Yeah? So how’s about you stop runnin’ that pretty mouth, get on your knees, and find out for yourself.”
He maintains his grip on your face as you lower obediently to your knees, your hands slipping down the panes of his body as you go, until they sit at his thighs and you’re sat on your heels with Joel leaning slightly over you to maintain his hold in the new position. 
“Good girl. Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.”
With him already pressing your cheeks together, your mouth pops open with little effort, your tongue following suit. You detect movement inside his mouth, and then he’s hovering over your face with a glint in his eyes. A thick strand of saliva drips from his mouth directly onto your waiting tongue. 
You let out a brief, open-mouthed whimper as the fluid hits your tastebuds, but stay put as his spit trickles to the back of your mouth. 
“How does daddy taste, babygirl? Good?”
You nod assuringly, the saliva pooling at the back of your throat. 
“Such a good girl. Now swallow for daddy.”
You do so eagerly, closing your mouth to swipe your tongue against the roof and push every drop down your throat, before opening back up for him in a display of subservience. 
Joel’s thumb tamps down on your tongue, stroking with minor pressure over the muscle with something like a proud smirk. “So obedient. Daddy likes that. ‘Specially when you were so mouthy a second ago.”
“I’m versatile,” You manage to enunciate with Joel manipulating your face to his liking. 
“Yes, you are,” Joel praises, eyes flitting back and forth between your mouth and your blown out pupils. Without any preface this time, he shoots another wad of spit directly to the back of your mouth, and you gulp it down with as much relish as the first. Joel exhales a laugh and descends on you, slotting his mouth against yours with a decadent moan, his tongue dragging against yours as if to say good job. 
You laugh into it a little bit, tangling your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck to hold him to you. He tastes fresh, like cold water and toothpaste and something else that seems to be uniquely Joel. 
His kiss is commanding. Domineering in a manner that’s almost passive, intuitive. He leads, you follow. You hear the jingling of a belt, and your lips already feel plump and debauched from his tongue and teeth. When he breaks apart from you, it’s to lay his forehead against yours, peering directly into the insatiable avarice that he’s provoked inside you in an unprecedented amount of time. 
You hear the grate of his zipper as he lures you in further with a teasing, “Now how’s about we see just what you can offer me .”
He pulls you in for one last tongue-caressing kiss, leaving you breathless as he props his elbows onto the counter to his back, an impressive bulge protruding within his boxer-briefs though the undone fly of his jeans. 
“Right here in your kitchen?”
“Right here in my goddamn kitchen. ‘S where we eat all our meals,” Joel informs with a shade of seriousness, reaching down to pinch your chin in his fingers and successfully enrapturing your attention. “You be a good girl and choke down what daddy gives ya. Then daddy’ll have his fill. Unpack that little lunchbox you brought just for him, spread you out over the counter so he can feast as he pleases. And then he’ll pack it right back up for you, ‘cause he knows how hungry you are, huh?”
You whine from your throat and nod, “Yes, daddy.”
“That’s daddy’s good girl,” He coos. “Now take it out. Tell daddy if it’s gonna fill you up as full as you thought.”
When your hands come up to curl around the band of his boxers there’s a swirling of anticipation in your belly. You draw the suspense out for yourself, keeping your eyes on Joel’s as you tug down, his shaft bobbing in your periphery. And fuck, even just at the edge of your vision, you can tell he is impressive. 
“Go on and look, babygirl. He’s all ready for ya.”
You indulge yourself then, drinking in the sight, the size of him. He’s thick, girth like you’ve never seen before on a normal person who doesn’t pull his cock out for cash. He’s long, too. Swathes of skin bulging with purple-blue veins over the rock-hard swell of him, culminating at a plump, dark red tip that’s already weeping for you. 
Your mouth is far ahead of you, saliva flooding from under your tongue to signal up to your brain, I’m so fucking ready. 
You subconsciously lick your lips, earning a fleeting laugh from Joel above you. “Whaddya think? Look like it’ll make a good snack ‘fore we get to the main course?”
There’s a severe lack of eloquence being crafted in your mind, forcibly being shoved out in favor of Joel. Big. Joel. Big. Lick. Taste. 
Before you can filter it out, you just blurt out, “Big.”
That makes Joel chime a laugh again. “Very astute. What a smart girl daddy’s got here.”
“You were being modest outside my apartment,” You point out with a smirk. “You’re proud of how big you are.”
“Lotta talkin’ goin’ on here, babygirl,” Joel chides, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock that somehow only serves to make him look larger. “That really what you wanna be doin’ right now?”
You shake your head and nudge his hand to replace it with yours, almost comically small around the thickness of him. Joel hums out a moan as you employ the dribble from his slit to slick down his cock. 
“Can I…spit on it?”
Joel’s chin drips down as he raises an eyebrow at you. “Can you? Baby, you think you gotta ask?”
You make a shallow shrugging motion as you pull at his cock with your fist. “Just trying to be a good girl.”
“Well, ‘f you ask me,” Joel replies, his voice crawling a little deeper in tone as you continue to stroke him, “a good girl always spits, then swallows.”
“Yeah?” You ask, your own voice verging on coyish innocence. 
“Yeah,” Joel rasps, an edge of authority infused into the word in response to the naïveté in yours. It stirs something in your belly, something that preens and purrs and waits not-so-patiently for more of that dictatorial timbre—and maybe a firm hand to go along with it.  
You find yourself yearning for the strong, steady press of his fingers against your cheeks again.  
Not wanting to taint that “good girl” status as laid out by Joel, you accumulate the saliva in your mouth as you poise his length at your lips, and then round them to expel a healthy dose of spit onto the head. 
Joel moans again, petting a hand over your hair as you work the lubrication down his cock. “Mmm, hand looks mighty small ‘round that big cock, don’t it?”
“Yeah,” You breathe, your speed increasing with the enhanced wetness. Your fingertips don’t touch, and that knowledge has your pussy tingling under your dress. There’s just so much of him. 
Noises continue to spawn from Joel’s mouth as you pump him, twisting around the head and enthralling yourself with the precome spilling from his tip. 
“Put your mouth on it, baby,” He directs, a hint of that dominance injected into the command, which you take as an indicator that he’s done with teasing, he wants to fuck something. 
Fortunately, your mouth is more than willing, saliva still pooling in anticipation. You stroke him at the base as you stick out your tongue, giving him broad licks up the underside of the head and dipping into the slit. The groan Joel emits spurs you on, encasing the tip in your mouth and sucking. 
“Fuck me, babygirl. So fuckin’ good. Take it deeper.”
You moan around him as you loosen your jaw and dive down onto him until he nudges at the back of your throat. The tickle has an eye-watering cough vibrating around him, but you tuck your lips over your teeth and fight through your gag reflex. 
The length you still have left to take has you whimpering as you bob on him, keeping him buried toward the back until you have to release and gasp in a large breath. 
“Little too big for you, darlin’?” He remarks with a tilted smile, his thumb running over your damp cheek. 
You vehemently shake your head, taking him in again as you stroke what you can’t suck. 
Joel groans loudly, tossing his head back as his cock drags along the back of you. His fingers grip your hair as his head falls back down, his lips glistening. “Gimme that tight little throat, babygirl. Can you do that? You ever deepthroated a big cock before?”
You whine and let him slip out of you, dripping with saliva and making up for your absence with quick, long strokes. “Not as big as you, daddy. Not even close.”
“Just let me do the tip then, babygirl. I know it’s big, but you’re a big girl, aren’t you? Y’can take it. I won’t go too deep.”
You nod, mumbling against the reddened tip, “I can do that.”
“Good girl,” He praises, nudging at the back of your head until he’s as far as you can take him without actually entering your throat. Tears gather at the corners of your eyes as you gaze up at him, and him down at you. “Just let it in. Deep breath through your nose and let daddy take your throat,” He soothes, flexing his hand in your hair. 
He watches as you inhale, and then rocks his hips forward, stretching your throat open around the head of him. You choke out a whine and Joel shivers at the friction of it, white-knuckling the counter at his back with his free hand as his eyes clench shut. 
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby. That’s— fuck.”
He pulls you free to inhale more precious air, an expression of lust and admiration on his face as he takes in your debauched features. “So good. Doin’ so good for me. Let daddy in again.”
You suck in another breath and sink down on him, your clit beating between your legs as he breaches the tip of his cock into your throat again. It makes your brain go misty, struggling to inhale through your nose. You’ve never felt something stretch your throat like this, but it’s intoxicating. You’ve been choked before and found pleasure in that, but this is different. A complete obstruction of your airway, just for the sake of proving your sluttiness to a near-stranger. 
“God, so fuckin’ tight for me. Such a tight fuckin’ girl for daddy,” He forces out through gritted teeth, gently rolling his hips to fuck your throat with his tip. Your throat constricts as you stave off your reflexes, and you know he feels it because the man goddamn whimpers. 
He rips you off of him by the back of your head, panting as he rakes his fingers through his sweaty hair. “Fuckin’ Jesus. ‘Bout to bust my goddamn load, darlin’. Shit.”
Warmth blossoms in your stomach at potentially being this gorgeous man’s undoing. You watch his chest rise and fall as he reigns in his orgasm, his cock bobbing up and down, the purpling tip seeping with precome and cascading with your spit. 
You automatically lean back in and place a tiny kiss to his slit, giggling at the resultant undulation of his stomach under his shirt. Joel breathes out a laugh of his own and holds a hand out for you. 
“Come on. ‘S my turn.” 
A little dazed, you take his hand and let him haul you up off your smarting knees, pulling you right into his chest. 
“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” He mutters as he captures your lips with his, licking into your mouth with fervor. You collapse into it, sighing into his mouth as his tongue mingles with yours, not a care in the world about the presence of his own fluids coating your tastebuds. 
You relinquish your hold on his lips, the bottom one sliding through your teeth, and mutter against him with a grin, “This is fun.”
He laughs lightly, stroking a thumb along your jaw. “Yeah? You havin’ a good time?”
“Mhmm.”
“Haven't even served the appetizer yet,” He mumbles, squeezing at your hips. “Hop up on the counter.”
He maneuvers you back and helps lift you up on the kitchen island, his hands gliding over the tops of your thighs once you’re seated. 
“Been thinkin’ about this pussy since I met you in the hallway,” He shares, heat in his eyes as he looks up at you from your acquired high ground. 
“Really? Slipping out of one woman’s bed just to pop a boner over another one’s pussy ten seconds later? Such a slut, Joel Miller,” You chastise, leaning back on your hands and parting your legs wider. 
“Well, as you can attest to now, there’s plenty of me to go around,” He justifies with a little wink, before craning his head to whisper against your ear, “She’s never deethroated me like that neither. So what does that make you, babygirl?”
“Hmm,” You hum, pretending to actually ponder his words as he kisses along your neck. “Good at what I do?”
He snorts, nipping at your jaw, “‘S a nice way of puttin’ it. I’d’ve just called you a goddamn slut right back.”
“Mmm. Kismet, huh?” You banter back, your fingers curling against the countertop at the charged sensation of his breath over your skin. 
Joel grins against your cheek, his hands slowly shifting up your dress. “Fuckin’ kismet.”
His fingers journey up higher, higher, until they hit the crease of your thigh…and he stops. 
“Fuck. You’re definitely a little slut. Showin’ up to a stranger’s house with no panties?” He emphasizes his words by dipping a finger between your soaking wet folds, drawing a shiver from you. 
“W-waste of time,” You stutter out, subtly rolling your hips down onto his finger. “Already knew what was gonna h-happen. Where they’d end up.”
“I’ll say,” He agrees, his finger disappearing from your center as it drags wetly back up your inner thigh with the rest of his fingers, gripping your thighs with both hands. “Already drippin’ off my fingers.”
He parts your legs with something akin to reverence, and when you’re spread out for him, fully on display, he groans as his forehead drops down onto your thigh. 
“God, look at that. So fuckin’ juicy for me and I ain’t barely touched you yet. You really like chokin’ on my dick that much? Make you all drippy and desperate for your daddy?”
“Yeah,” You whimper, feeling your hole clench at his words. 
“Perfect,” He sighs out, pressing up on the back of your thighs. “Feet on the counter, darlin’. Lie back.”
“But this is your kitchen counter —”
“I know what it is. What, you think a man don’t got bleach in the house? Now lie back.”
“I don't think you’re supposed to use bl—oh, fuck.”
Joel puffs out a devilish laugh into your clit as he swirls the tip of his tongue around it in dizzying circles. 
“Shit, god,” You exhale, feeling a full-body shiver roll through you this time as you dance on the balls of your feet against the counter. “Ok, I’ll shut up now.”
“Don’t shut up,” He mumbles, unlatching for just a moment. “Wanna hear exactly what I do to you,” He adds with a mischievous lilt to his voice before sucking your clit back into his mouth. 
“Yeah, okay. Fuck,” You sigh out, your hand blindly searching between your legs until it locates Joel’s head and grabs. Joel moans into your pussy, pulling a gasp from you in return as it pulses through your clit. 
Joel’s fingernails dig into the meat of your thigh as he brings two fingers to tease down the folds of your cunt and prod experimentally at your entrance.
“Fuck, yes, please put them in, daddy,” You whine, hips seeking to suck them inside you and making Joel breathe out a laugh again. 
“I got you, babygirl. You just lie back and let daddy make you feel good.” 
You pick your head up from the counter, seeing the twinkle in his eye and the top of his head adorned with your fingers in his hair, and you feel your face collapsing in pleasure as he slips his fingers inside you while holding your gaze. You drop your head back on the counter a little harder than you should, and if your cunt wasn’t clamping down around his fingers right now and your clit bearing the hot, broad brunt of his tongue, you might care more. But the soft throb at the back of your skull syncs up flawlessly with the thrust of him pushing your walls open, and it just works. 
You lose yourself in the slip of his tongue over your sensitive nub, your slick folds, the trace of him around where you’re stretched open around his fingers, sucking kisses at your stuffed entrance. It’s disorientingly hazy in your mind, the reality of it all. You just met this man, know next to nothing about him, whether he’s a liar or just a single father with a heart of gold and a dick of divine proportions. 
But Joel crooks his fingers just right as he fucks into you and you don’t fucking care about any of that. Just care about the press of him against your most sensitive spot, how you’re fucking screaming “daddy” for him and bucking your hips against his face. 
He hooks his free arm around your thigh to hold you in place, and you glance up to see pure, unadulterated hunger in his eyes as he devours you. You catch glimpses of his mustache webbed and glistening with your slick as his mouth works you over. 
The passion, the intensity in his gaze has the pleasure in your belly spinning and swirling, and you know that he knows it. 
“Daddy, I-I’m—”
He doesn’t even lift his mouth from your quickly spiraling pussy, he just fixes you with a look and nods. 
Your fingers yank at his hair as your back arches against the laminate, feet bowing up on your tiptoes, a thousand and one words flooding your brain that you could say, if only your vocal cords were operational at this exact moment. You just see a flash of white across your vision, eek out the tiniest squeak, and feel yourself transcend for a few blissful moments. 
Joel growls against your pussy, fucking you through your release with abandon until your body all but disintigrates against the countertop, your clit still pounding like a drum against Joel’s voracious lips. 
He drifts off you and flops his sweaty curls against your leg as you hear him laughing a little, panting a lot. 
“Oh my god,” are the first words you’re able to string together in the aftermath. Joel chuckles against your thigh, tonguing kisses up your skin and nuzzling his nose into the crease of your thigh and pussy. 
“Could fuckin’ live right here,” He muses, placing a delicate kiss on your outer lips. 
“I wouldn’t complain,” You sigh, muscling yourself up onto your forearms to admire the pussy-eating-glow Joel has in spades on his face. 
He holds his two slicked fingers up in the air and beckons your forward with them. You heed his call, pushing yourself up until you’re sitting up, albeit rather unsteadily. Without a word, he brings them to your lips, and you open. It’s so fucking easy to open yourself up for him, you’re learning. He studies your lips as you suck yourself off of him, substantially more coated in your wetness than when you sent him that filthy picture last night. And just for a little fun, you swirl your tongue around the tips of them, in between them, just to see his eyes glaze over a bit. 
He slips his fingers free and cups the back of your neck, eyes still preoccupied with the shape of your mouth. “Bring those lips over here, babygirl.”
You indulge him, indulge yourself, and revel in the press of his plump lips against yours again. His mouth moves so silkily with yours, an expert at drawing out the tension of these in-between overtures, sucking the taste of you right off your own tongue.  
Resting your forehead against his, you whisper, “Can I tell you a secret?”
His eyes close as he nods, “Mhmm…”
“The other night…when I was listening…”
He pops one eye open in curiosity. “Mmm?”
Your teeth toy with your lip before you reveal to him, “I came. To the sound of your voice. The sound of you coming.”
His eyes fall closed again with a broad grin. “Goddamn. Do I got a little voyeur on my hands?” He asks, intertwining his fingers with yours and squeezing as his mouth finds your neck again, gradually winding you back up. 
“Not intentionally,” You sigh out, your head lulling to the side with the drag of his lips. “Just couldn’t get over how sexy your voice was, even when I could barely hear your words. Just the tone of it.”
“Well, I’ll talk all you want me to, babygirl.”
“Good.”
He hums into you, flexing a hand at your hip. “I would really like to fuck you now. ‘F you’ll let me.”
“Hmm, let me think about that…” You tease, wrapping your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck to pull him in and taste him again. 
“Bedroom,” He mouths against your lips, helping to lift you off the counter and back onto your feet. 
“Yeah,” You agree, letting him tug you along behind you up the stairs. 
Your dress is on the floor in record time, your tits falling free of their confines when your bra follows, and Joel is shrugging his shirt off his shoulders when he herds you onto his bed, straddling you at the shoulders and waist. 
“Look at these goddamn tits, baby. Where you been hidin’ these all this time?” He groans, burying his face in them and sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth. 
“Th-th-think we were a little busy, don’t you?” 
“Never too busy for tits like these,” He asserts as he trades sides, the bud popping from his mouth plumped and shiny. 
You allow yourself to get lost in the sensation of his mouth on your breasts, his tongue and teeth stimulating your nipples, his hands groping the flesh of them. His exposed cock grinds against your thigh, leaving streaks of precome in its wake. 
“How do you want daddy to fuck you, babygirl?” He asks, kissing his way up your chest. 
You push through the haze of pleasure in your head, second-guessing what you’d already decided to say when you’d both arrived at this moment. “You’re gonna think I’m weird.”
Joel studies your face with a faint smile. “Maybe. Try me.”
After a brief silence, you decide to throw caution to the wind. Just ask for what you want. He can tell you to fuck off if it creeps him out. 
“Fuck me like you fucked her.” 
A flash of devilishness sparks in his eye, his smile burgeoning as he considers your words. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Wanna see how much my imagination got right.”
You see his tongue prodding at his inner cheek as he processes, eyes not straying from yours. Only growing more ravenous. “Okay,” He finally agrees, giving you a small nod. “Hands and knees, babygirl.”
Joel pushes off the bed, wriggling himself out of his lingering clothes as you eagerly get in position, peeking over your shoulder to get a nice view of this gorgeous specimen getting naked for you. Joel spies the attention quickly with you not exactly striving for subtlety, and he winks at you as he strips off his boxers. 
And something about that small gesture sets off the butterflies in your stomach. Which is all well and good, you suppose, granted that given Joel’s size, they were destined to be disrupted rather imminently anyway. 
Joel settles in behind you on his knees, his hands naturally gravitating to the curve of your hips as his cock bobs obscenely in the space between your bodies. He pushes and pulls at the flesh of your ass, parting it in front of him to reveal yourself to him from a different angle this time. The muted fuck he breathes out at the sight ruffles those wings in your belly again. 
His middle finger slips down the center of your ass, gliding over the pucker of your asshole and descending toward your soaked opening, and your eyelids shutter closed with a sigh. 
When he speaks again, it’s softer than it has been. Like the reverence that manifested when he spread your legs on the counter has found its way back to him. 
“Now, I fucked her with a condom. You want me to use a condom?”
You swallow and exhale through your nose. “We should.”
“Yes we should,” He echoes, and his finger pushes into you with ease.
“Don’t.”
His finger freezes. “Don’t?”
“No, not—” You try to clarify, huffing a breath out through your mouth this time. “Don’t use one. Fuck me bare. I’m clean. And on birth control. You’re…you’re clean, right?”
Joel’s finger starts to move again, but slowly, fucking into you at a glacially agonizing pace that has your breath hitching in your chest, building that heat in your core once again while barely even trying. 
“I’ve been clean since the last time I fucked someone bare. But I don’t know about after. You okay with that?”
You sigh, “This is fucking stupid right? We shouldn’t.”
Joel nods behind you, quietly slipping in a second finger along with the first and evoking a near-undetectable moan from you, while he commiserates your own sentiments once more. 
“It is stupid. And we shouldn’t.”
“God,” You moan, floating your head back onto your shoulders as you gradually rock your hips back to meet the maddening thrusts of his fingers. “Just…fucking do it.”
Joel’s fingers still inside you once more, shoved in all the way up to the webbing between them, as he bends over you, cupping your hip in his other hand and ghosting his lips over your ear. “I need you to be real sure, darlin’. ‘Cause once I start, once I feel this perfect pussy wrapped around my naked cock, I’m not gonna wanna stop.”
Joel twists and curls his fingers inside you, and your toes curl along with it as you gasp at the press of them against your sweetest spot. You swallow thickly again and affirm, “I’m sure that I wanna feel your bare cock inside me.”
Joel’s forehead makes a home between your shoulder blades, moaning as he places a kiss where his lips land on your spine, and grinding out a wrecked and reedy, “Fuck. Alright. Then daddy’ll fuck this cunt raw.”
You whimper as Joel’s fingertips massage at that spot inside you, his other hand coming around to circle your clit, all pretense of dragging out your pleasure abandoned. 
“But I need to feel you come around my fingers again first, babygirl. Be a good girl for daddy.”
You’re embarrassingly close already, vestiges of your activities downstairs culminating with the torturous tease of his fingers winding you up for the last several minutes, and now the sweet, slippery, calloused drag of his skilled touch rubbing at your clit. All in all, it takes him less than thirty more seconds before you’re tiptoeing the edge. 
“I-I’m—” The words don’t even have the opportunity to claw their way out of your mouth before you’re shattering on him for the second time this afternoon, pulsing around his fingers in a silent scream as he mutters the sweetest encouragements into your skin. 
His hand is wet when he uses it to stroke down your side, squeezing and smacking your ass lightly as your legs tremble under you and you float back down to earth. 
“That’s a good girl. All soaked and ready for my cock now, huh?”
As your brain cells continue relearning how to assemble words, you just nod, muttering some mottled version of yeah that sounds alien even to your own ears. But the incoherency makes him laugh, which makes you smile, and it helps ground you. 
Joel takes his cock in hand and slicks it up with the wetness clinging to your folds, your stomach seizing when he grazes your sensitive clit. It sits between your lips as Joel leans over, rifling through his side table and coming up with a small bottle of lube. 
When you protest slightly, he insists, “Just wanna make this feel as good as fuckin’ possible for you, baby. I know you’re already drenched. But you’ve seen how big daddy is. Need all the help we can get.”
He’s liberal with the lubrication, anointing your hole and his cock and lining himself up. And at the first light press, his size feels insurmountable. Skin stretching, pulling apart in every direction as his head makes room for itself. You whimper into the side of your arm, biting into the flesh as the pain flares. 
“I know, baby,” He coos in your ear, his inching forward more akin to centimeters as he takes his time entering you. “Daddy’s real big, huh? Too much for this tight little pussy?”
“It’s just so…” Your words trail off in a moan as he slips further inside, almost fully seated within your walls. “God, it’s so fucking big.”
“You want me to stop?”
“Fuck no,” You gasp out, your hand reaching out to dig your nails into his hip to prevent him from retreating. 
“Mmm,” He moans, sucking your lobe into his mouth and tugging with his teeth as he bottoms out inside you, feeling you clench around him as he brushes your cervix. “Knew you could take it all. Slutty little thing.”
“F-feels like I’m splitting in half,” You let out shakily, your fingers trembling where they indent his hip. 
“Well,” Joel grunts out as he withdraws to the tip and pauses to whisper in your ear, “I guess good ol’ Trish was right,” and then slams the full length of him back into you again. 
The scream you release grates against your vocal cords, has your fingernails threatening to pierce through the cotton of his duvet, has your knees sliding further apart on the bed, dropping your ass down. Firm hands dig into your hips and haul you back up just in time for Joel to fuck into you again. And again. And again. Until the rhythmic slapping together of your skin perpetuates the illusion in your mind that it’s failing to keep tempo with the sound of it reverberating off his bedroom walls. Or maybe your hearing is just failing you in favor of zeroing in on the stretch of Joel’s cock inside of you. 
That must be it, because you don’t even realize that you’re still screaming, still shouting obscenities about his size, his pace, just him, until you register Joel in your ear, growling at you, “Yeah, let me fuckin’ hear it baby. Let me hear how you take it. How big is daddy’s cock inside you, babygirl? ‘S’it as big as you wanted?”
He must categorize your half-intelligible slurs of, “Yes, fuck, so fucking big, daddy please ,” as plenty satisfactory, because he just keeps going. One of his hands buries itself into the hair at your scalp and pulls, yanking your head up until your view shifts from pillows and sheets to stark white ceiling. A grunt pushes its way past your throat as the arch of your neck compresses your skin against your throat and Joel bottoms out inside you again, grazing the end of you in the most glorious, transcendent fashion. 
“Shame there’s not someone in the next room over hearin’ what I’m doin’ to you, ain’t it?” Joel coos in your ear again, his thrusts going more liquid, like honey drizzling off its dipper into the jar. He slides languidly inside you to the hilt, dragging out with the suction of sweet molasses luring him back in. It devastates you in an entirely new way, has you hanging off his words with blanching fingertips. “Though, I’d wager you’re screamin’ loud enough to perk up some ears in the houses down the street.”
You moan at the thought, at the notion of people hearing Joel destroy you just like you overheard him doing to your neighbor. Right now, you couldn’t give a shit if the entire world knew how good this man is making you feel. Your friends, your family, the goddamn Pope for all you care. Just as long as he keeps fucking you like this. 
You are absolutely, without a sliver of a doubt, irrefutably positive that you have never felt this full. Despite Trish’s own words, god bless her, you never could have prepared yourself for the battering ram that is Joel’s cock ravishing your cunt. In your experience, dicks of any size can be fulfilling; dicks of any size can be unfulfilling. But heaven help you, Joel has the length, the girth, and the motion down pat. Throw on top the scintillating monologue of filth spilling into your ear like the sweetest poison, and goddamn it, this man could have you professing your love for him within the hour.
“Love this fuckin’ pussy, baby. So goddamn tight around me. Tell me how it feels,” He growls through his teeth as he steps up his pace again, your head jostling with the thrusting of his hips and the strands of your hair stinging at the back of your skull. 
“So perfect. So fucking perfect. Love your cock, daddy,” You sob, your hair slipping through Joel’s fingers and your head falling forward as he releases his grip, instead wrapping his hand at the slope of your shoulder into your neck to pull you backward into his pistoning hips. 
“‘S it big? ‘S it as big as you wanted when you heard me fuckin’ someone else with it?”
“Yes, daddy! So big. Bigger than I ever could’ve—oh god ,” You cut yourself off as Joel hits you so fucking right inside, and suddenly words aren’t so doable anymore. 
And for the first time in your life, you think a man is going to make you come three times in a single day. Hell, in an hour. A man you just fucking met, a man who 48 hours ago was nothing more than a velvety hum and a few dirty words on the other side of your wall. And now he’s made a space for himself inside your body, coaxing orgasms out of you as easily as he had you calling him “daddy”. 
“Daddy, I’m-I’m gonna fucking come again,” You whine, and Joel is already sliding the hand on your hip in between your legs, circling your throbbing clit with his fingers.
“Little cunt is putty in my fuckin’ hands, huh, babygirl? Don’t matter what I give you–my mouth, my fingers, my cock–just a thirsty little bitch for any piece of me you can get. Come on, come for me again, darlin’. Come for your daddy. All over his big fuckin’ cock.”
With that, your eyes roll back as your pussy spasms around his hard length, your body convulsing as his fingers tease out your release from you. The pummelling of his dick inside your cunt, the magic of his touch on your sensitive clit has your orgasm seeming to float through every vein in your body, not stopping until it’s fried every one of your nerve endings in the process.
“Oh, fuck, baby. That’s–god, pussy feels too fuckin’ good,” He grits out, fingers and cock still doing their due diligence to draw out your pleasure as long as possible. “Tell me to come in this fuckin’ cunt.”
You whimper, nodding your head rapidly as your high finally starts to fizzle out and the pounding of his dick increases in intensity as he approaches his own climax.
“Uh-uh, I need to hear it, babygirl. Tell me to come in this stretched-out little cunt,” He grunts out, his voice going a little breathy as he struggles to stem his release. 
“P-please, daddy! Please come in my little pussy, fucking need it so bad,” You sputter out, using what energy you have left to throw yourself back onto his cock. 
Joel groans deep from his chest as his hips snap forward once, twice more before he’s shooting his load inside your already dripping, waiting cunt. Joel’s mouth descends on your shoulder, his teeth burrowing into the skin as his cock pulses. 
Your racing heart begins to slow as the moments pass, Joel’s mouth unearthing from the craters excavated in your flesh, sucking lazy, soothing kisses to the impressions. You hum at the calming slide of his mouth, his cock softening but staying put right where you’re convinced it belongs for the rest of the day.
You let out a little squeak when Joel nips playfully at your shoulder, knocking your head against Joel’s as you mutter with a lighthearted grin, “Eat your heart out, Trish.”
Joel breathes out a laugh, capturing your lips in a lazy, sloppy kiss. Strong hands wind around your waist and pull you back against him, Joel sitting on his heels with his length still buried inside you and your heads craning to savor the afterglow.
“You’re somethin’ else,” He mumbles into your mouth, hand sneaking up to squeeze at your tit.
“As long as I’m something,” You tease back, intertwining your fingers with his over your breast.
“I’d really like to do this again.”
“I would too.”
“Might not even have to take my cock out of this glorious little pussy in the meantime.”
You laugh a little, nestling your forehead into the curve of his neck. “I meant more like…I’d like to do this whole thing again. In the future.”
He tilts his head toward you. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Joel affirms his hold on you and plants a kiss on your head. “I like the sound of that too.”
You stay there, secure in his arms, his spend pooling where he’s lodged inside you. You gradually feel him harden once more and you fall onto your back, letting him unravel you all over again on his cock. Taking you a little slower this time, a little longer, fucking his come back into you with each heavy stroke and smearing it over his shaft, into the tufts of hair at his base, dripping down his balls. And after he brings you to orgasm a toe-curling, limb-tingling fourth time, he makes you tell him again. Tell him to spill himself into your body, fill you up with more than just his paralyzing length. And this time he spreads open your thighs, watches as you push it out of your ravaged hole onto his disheveled bedding, and showers you with praise.
You lie sated and exhausted on his bed as he wipes between your legs with a damp cloth and settles down next to you, pulling your back into his chest and draping his chin over your shoulder. Your bones relax into him as his breathing balances.
“That was… the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. No contest,” You finally admit, at risk of it going straight to his head. 
“Me too,” He reciprocates, inhaling deeply as he squeezes around you. “All that fuckin’ kismet,” He chuckles in your ear. 
You hum, unable to wipe the smile from your face as his breath dances over you. As he kisses down your neck, you sigh. “Remind me to send Trish a fruit basket.”
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taglist: @bbyanarchist@within-the-depths@livingdeadmaria@cool-iguana@a-roving-woman @koshkaj-blog @asideblogformyficreading @totallynotastanacc @adaslittleblog @walkintotheriveranddisappear @pr0ximamidnight @sinfulrock @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kyloispunk @pinkiec6-rubi @vickywallace @pattwtf @chiyo13 @neverwheremoonchild @janaispunk @youandmeand5bucks @ladyburberry @kamcrazy123 @punkshort @survivingandenduring @confessionbrain-writings @lizzie-cakes @prettyinpunk85 @joeldjarin @bubble-pop-eclectic @chloeangelic @tripkid @untamedheart81 @jbb-sgr @punkshort @thee-expired-lover @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81 @maximoff-forevermore @zliteraturehoe @5oh5 @khindahra @nottodaysattan
This will be my last time using my taglist! For further updates please follow @atticrissfinchupdates ❤️
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bigfatbreak · 4 months
Note
Wait does Tom saying Audrey needs to pay child support for Zoe mean she needs to pay Andre, or did Tom adopt Zoe to have an extra barrier between Chloe and Marinette?
It's both a little more simple than that, and a little more complicated, too. Essentially when Tom decided he was going to take Chloe to court for her various bullshit, he decided to look into what other shit her family might be hiding, in the hopes of adding more pressure.
(In this AU at least, I really couldn't find confirmation in any real sources) Zoe is an illegitimate child Aubrey had while in New York, and since she's such an influential person, the father figure decided to settle out of court, as trying to wrench something like child support payments or any sort of supplemental care from an asshole who's also a millionaire seemed impossible. Tom decided to make contact with Zoe and her dad in the hopes of essentially double-teaming the Mayor's family.
It's technically how Zoe and Marinette met in this AU.
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A sort of "butterfly effect" (hehe) happens when Tom uses Nooroo to gather information for both their cases, leaving these two to bond on and off. Marinette at her core is still very, very wary, (as this is during the mourning process, Sabine had passed away recently during this time) but she's also kind, which strikes a chord with Zoe, who's constantly changing facades to try and appeal to those around her. It's hard to change yourself to be what someone wants if they never let slip what they want.
Because of this, we're not going to see Zoe really in this AU, as when she eventually heads back to New York with her dad, her time with Marinette has helped her try to establish her own personality with her own wants. Hanging out with a mysterious, kind baker girl who's overworked but still makes time for you does a lot for a baby lesbian, and she manages to make and keep friends.
She does send Marinette letters and emails though, and they text on and off - Zoe still harbors a crush on her, but to Marinette, Zoe is just a good friend : )
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etherealstar-writes · 2 months
Text
I WANNA BE YOURS | LIONESSES X READER | PT 12
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pairings: lionesses x reader
summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.
part: twelve
part one here
✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦
THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM
the REAL karate kid HOLD ON I FELL ASLEEP AND THIS IS WHAT I WAKE UP TO Y/N BAE WHAT IS THIS 😭
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elton OMG LESSI MY MEMES SKILLZ ARE FINALLY RUBBING OFF ON YA
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stairway still cannot believe this tho y/n 😔
neev neither 😔
willybum the betrayal 😔
the REAL karate kid y/n just so you know, we are not okay 😔
lotte 😔
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ so um ....
neev Y/NNN YOU'RE ALIVE HOW WAS THE DATE
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ he never showed up got stood up 😔
elton oh
stairway that is so sad
willybum that truly is terrible to hear
the REAL karate kid very sad
neev that really sucks
meado you idiots! atleast be nice and pretend to actually feel bad! ignore them y/n i'm really sorry to hear that he didn't deserve you at all
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ thank you beffy 🥺 it's fine gonna thrive in my single life forever i guess 😔✊
stairway well y/n i'm free tonight 👀
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ so am i 👀
willybum absolutely not we have our semis tomorrow you're not going anywhere
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ that is very unfortunate georgia 😔 maybe one day
stairway 😔
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ you know now that i'm getting better at my woso knowledge do a few of your teammates just not like messaging? bcuz there's a few not on this chat
neev hold on a sec you're right! chloe, esme, kirby, turner and zelem aren't even in the chat
staiway you forgot to add them ??
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ and you guys just realised 😭😭
elton shhhhh i'll add them now
elton added ona batlle
elton oh nuggets
the REAL karate kid HELP
elton i am walking and eating a donut and i accidentally clicked on the wrong person
willybum added katie
willybum do not trust ella to add people to this chat anymore
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ omg hey ona!
kie oh my days
ona batlle hello! :) i am not on the england team?
earpsy you qualify to be here anyway don't ya worry
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ ona, may i just say you are very peng
stairway Y/N.
neev peng 😭😭
ona batlle i am not sure what that means but i can only assume that it is good so thank you!
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ do you think i'm peng?
ona batlle yes sure! of course!
stairway 😐😐
katie ur ugly
elton hey katie! nice to see you too
katie i was talking to you
elton that is not nice
katie neither is being friends with you
elton i am not sure where this attitude has come from
willybum i love this new zelem
katie i hope you fall in the shower
willybum i take that back
katie HAHAHA HELP
neev WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING
katie HAH WILLYBUM THESE NAMES 😭😭 and i'm not katie zelem
meado i cannot believe how you guys keep doing this you added katie mccabe not zelem
elton OMG IT WASN'T ME IT WAS LEAH I DIDNT DO IT THIS TIME
rusty metal you literally added ona earlier ...
willybum changed the name katie to mccard
mccard was that name really necessary? really?
willybum yes.
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ OMG THE KATIE MCCABE ILY
mccard hello y/n ❤️
willybum absolutely not stay away from our y/n mccabe
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ OMG CAN WE ADD STEPH CATLEY TOO I LOVE HER
the REAL karate kid HUH
stairway hey hey hey you're supposed to be the lionesses' biggest fan what is this betrayal
neev yeah 😔😔
mccard added steph
meado STEPHYY hey girl!
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ OMG OMG NO ONE MOVE
steph katie did you add me here to get attacked bcuz i'm aussie? and heyy beffy!
mccard not this time :)
steph national diving time?! help 😭😭
the imposter aka y/n ❤️ omg hi!! ily you're amazing
steph aww thank you y/n!!
stairway look toone what have you done everyone's stealing y/n away from us now
elton how is any of this my fault?!!
the REAL karate kid it is
neev it is
lotte it is
willybum it is
earpsy it is
brightness it is
daily it is
stairway it is
rusty metal it is
meado it is
mccard it is
elton
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i hate you all so much
✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦
part thirteen here
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weebiewrites · 8 months
Text
Things in the Miraculous movie that were way better than the show
Everything
Ok but actually, adjustments made in the movie that vastly improved the show’s canon:
Marinette’s awkwardness being equally applied to everyone she interacts with. Having her reputation be that she is a walking disaster makes Adrien’s (and Alya’s) kindness to her more impactful. Also makes Chloe’s bullying more believable. IN GENERAL makes Marinette’s character more believable.
In the same realm, the entire school and world not revolving around how perfect and cool Adrien is fixes SO. MANY. THINGS. The only person at school who seems to care about his status is Chloe, which not only makes his overall character less annoying, but also adds to Chloe’s characterization.
Speaking of Chloe, making her an actual character and not a bitch who torments her classmates relentlessly for no reason? Like yeah she’s still a bitch and a bully but she has sense of decorum and won’t take it too far if her reputation is on the line.
Sabrina having agency? Hello??
The subtilization of Marinette’s crush on Adrien. Like, hello, she has a lot of shit going on! She doesn’t have time to be swooning over her classmate all day! Yet another thing that makes her more believable.
TIKKI AND PLAGG CHOOSING THEIR OWN HOLDERS. Fuck Fu. Kwamis are literal eldritch gods, why wouldn’t they have a bit of agency?
The entire sequence of Marinette saving Fu. A clever way to have Fu meet the holder while still having Tikki be the one who chooses. Also way better storytelling for him to not intentionally put himself in danger to find a holder, makes the whole thing more organic.
The addition of the rule that the Tikki and Plagg only awaken when there’s a miraculous-level threat. Gives actual purpose to the role of the Guardian, imo.
Unpopular opinion but Tikki’s personality change was great. Once again, literal eldritch God!
Not to harp on this, but once again, the kwamis still having some level of control and AGENCY even when their holders are transformed. Tikki being in Ladybug’s yo-yo and actually guiding her was cool af and WHY WOULDN’T SHE BE ABLE TO DO THAT???
Ladybug and Chat having more general abilities BUT not having their special abilities right away. The sequence where Chat caught the invisible bullet? Cool af. And Ladybug NOT having the reset button right away really raised the stakes and honestly just felt right. It was really rewarding and triumphant when she used it towards the end.
The earrings/ring glowing as a way to communicate when one of them is not transformed. Such a good and cool idea.
Adrien and Marinette frequently hanging out together in a group with Alya and Nino without it being weird!!! Jesus!! Let the kids be kids!!!!!
Gabriel Agreste being less of a piece of shit.
Chat Noir’s “You’re my sidekick!” To, “I’m your sidekick!” progression. Followed by Ladybug’s, “we’re partners!” Immaculate.
Marinette gaining confidence as Marinette from being Ladybug AND ALSO SPECIFICALLY from her partnership with Chat Noir. LET THE SUPERHERO CHILDREN HAVE A MEANINGFUL AND UPLIFTING PARTNERSHIP FFS
Speaking of, LADYNOIR HANGING OUT
LADYNOIR PLAYFIGHTING
Ladybug liking Chat romantically maybe before the 5th fucking season? Making Chat’s first confession less cringey bc she actually really likes him back and totally wants to kiss him? Being internally conflicted ab it?
Marinette confessing right after she gently lets Chat down for the first time, literally perfect angst set up
Adrien BEING ABLE TO STAND UP TO HIS FATHER. Fuck Sentiadrien.
Gabriel being capable of feeling human emotions
Identity reveal
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forlornalbatross · 8 months
Text
Go outside the box one hot minute suffering isn’t just what you see on television or read on UN’s edition famine natural calamity or war underlined thus enjoy the free things like the longest conversation with someone you adore walk with me by the river darling we can only do this once in a blue moon & that is okay the promenade will not go anywhere some place artificial intelligence is basking we may no longer be as free as freedom used to looks like copy & paste sounds more appealing than creating one’s own cerebrum’s invention now to wait to see to type a small nothing to upload download sideload & the talent is praised for its imitation I am as good as Gouda I have seen statues of Buddha my mouth is too sober to continue over the downsize of what can never upsize I want to walk to St Andrews instead maybe I will find more sunlight where my beloved is doing her own toil my labour is kindness I prefer to be tender & none of this matter only when you first hand experienced it then talk is no longer cheap -
D C de Oliveira | To Chloe, You & Other Thoughts IV | July 21 2023 | Friday 1.45am
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carolmunson · 1 year
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let's go, don't wait (e.m. x f!reader)
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inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! 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, some sexual themes. some discussions of bad parents. eddie had some sad parts of his childhood. all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (11k) eddie is 32, reader is 30. so older!reader i guess, idk. i already started writing the part two which is almost entirely smut.
Jingle. Click. Creak. “Mmmm.” Eddie knows that groan anywhere, the deep primal urging of a one Gareth Emerson and the giggles of his girlfriend, Tatianna Edwards. They stumble into the apartment, lips attached, hands grabbing and fisting each other’s layers from the cold. 
“Hi guys,” he calls out, his tone was as bored and annoyed as he hoped it would be. His eyes don’t leave the TV, transfixed on the screen while he watches another YouTube compilation of the best guitar solos of all time. He disagrees with most of them, but it’s enough to drone on in the background while he scrolls through his Twitter feed. He’s never even posted. Not once. Not even a picture on his profile. 
“Hi Ed,” Tati chirps, clicking the side table lights on. He can smell her Chloe perfume when she comes to give him a hug hello. Her arms wrap around him from behind the couch, cheeks touching, a few of her butterfly twists falling forward over his shoulder. 
“Did you stay in tonight?” she asks, pressing a glossy smooch to his cheek. “Sure did,” he huffs, arms crossing over hers in a semblance of an embrace. Her gold bracelets are cool against his skin, her gold rings match his silver ones. He thought when Tati entered the picture that he and Gareth would’ve started to drift apart. Instead, Tati became Eddie’s new best friend – Gare really took ‘date the girl version of Eddie’ to heart. They were two peas in a pod. “You should’ve come out, there were a lot of single girls there – you’re a good dancer, you coulda snagged one,” she sounds like a mother trying to set him up. Eddie tilts his head up and looks at her from below, her deep skin shimmering with the glitter fallout from her eye makeup. She always looks pretty with ease, even with her makeup smudged – like she meant to do that. 
“Oh, I’m sure,” he smiles tightly, but the look falls to something soft when Tati lets go and her almond shaped manicured nails rake gently over his scalp through his conditioned curls.  “You can’t just keep picking up girls from shows, dude,” Gareth chides playfully, coming around the couch to sit next to him, “They’re starting to get waaaay too young for you at the bars.”
“Yeah, perv,” Tatianna teases, ruffling his hair before curling up on the recliner closer to the TV.
“Can we please not talk about this again,” Eddie sighs, sinking further into the cushions. He presses on his eyes with the heels of his hands, “You do this every time you guys come back from a date.”
“We gotta get you on Hinge, or something,” Gareth says.
“Tinder at the very least,” Tatianna follows.
“Okay, I’m going to bed,” Eddie grunts when he gets up, a little dizzy at the speed before he finds his footing, “Don’t be too loud tonight.”
“Just trying to help!” Tati calls out, “You deserve to be too loud at night, too!”
Eddie sucks his teeth before he turns the corner to the hallway, disappearing for the night while his friends fell more in love. 
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It feels like they’re disassembling a bomb. Eddie sulks in a seat at the kitchen table while Robin, Steve, Nancy, and Gareth chatter behind him. Jeff and his wife sit across from him with just as much excitement as the group opposite them. Eddie frowns, bangs too long over his eyes, hands sweating onto the back of his banged up stickered phone case.
“I think you should put the picture of the guitar last, it doesn’t have your face in it. I’d swipe past you,” Robin points at the screen in front of him while he tries to make sense of his Hinge profile. 
“Well you’re a whole lesbian Rob, so you’d swipe past me anyway,” Eddie’s clipped words make the group laugh instead of making them back off. His shoulders sink immediately. This was mortifying.
“She’s right though,” Steve pipes up, “They’ll think you’re some weirdo who's obsessed with his guitar if you — well, actually then maybe it’s fine…” 
“Why don’t you—” Jeff starts.
“You’re married and you’ve been with Alycia since 2014. Your opinions are void,” Eddie interrupts with a sigh. 
Jeff lets out a laugh from his broad smile, “Look, I’m just saying. Why don’t you focus on your answers to the questions rather than the pictures? Girls love stuff like that. You’re smart, you’re a good writer.” 
“Babe, they’re not gonna care about his answers if the first picture they see is of an out of focus guitar taken on an iPhone 4S,” Alycia cocks her head at Jeff, “Like, at least be honest with him.” 
“I know you’re squinting in that picture from Jeff’s wedding but maybe you can put that one first,” Nancy points to the screen and then scrolls down a little. It lands on a photo of Jeff and Eddie, both sweating from the night's activities. His dress shirt is unbuttoned half way down his chest, silver chains and tattoos on full display, tie tied around Jeff’s forehead like a makeshift Rambo. 
“Yeah, you look really good in it,” Robin agrees. 
“Wait, wait, wait!” Tati shuffles into the kitchen, “I got in touch with the photographer from the show two weeks ago at Wraith Bar and he’s sending me some pictures.” 
“You can use the six pictures you’re tagged in from the last three years,” Tatianna scolds, “You look like a bum in them.” 
The group frowns and tosses glances at each other, it’s true. The more recent pictures they had of Eddie were far and few between. He was either blinking or off to the side, blurry or ducking out of frame. Every picture where he looks like himself was either from a show or had Chrissy in it, and he deleted all of those three years ago.
“Stop, you look so fine in these,” Tatianna squeals, “The girls are gonna love you.” Everyone but Eddie huddles around Tatianna to scroll through the pictures. Some of him mid shred with sweat pouring down his chest. Some of him screaming into the mic, hair wild and wet around his face. There was one, that he begrudgingly really liked, where his head leaned back into the light with a winning Munson smile. It was when he heard the opening drums to cover ‘The Immigrant Song’ as a gag – but not really a gag ‘cause he loves that song. It gets everyone at the bar pretty excited – even if they only know the song from School of Rock. 
Eventually, Eddie isn’t even holding his phone, it’s being passed between Tati, Steve, and Robin while he dictates his answers to stupid questions. By the time his profile is finished, his head is hidden in his mass of curls, resting his forehead on his forearms at the table. 
“Are we done now?” he asks into the space between his face and the woodgrain. Despite the winter air flowing through the kitchen window, he’s overheated with embarrassment. There are suddenly too many people around, too much talking, too much giggling at his expense. He tilts his head back up and takes a full breath through his nose and out through his mouth – “Oh shit! You matched with someone!” “How? I didn’t even look at anyone yet,” Eddie’s brows furrow while his head slowly comes to center. “Don’t worry about it, dingus,” Robin chides, “Just talk to her.” Eddie takes the phone and looks at her profile. Rachel, 27, Vet tech. She’s pretty, soft eyes, great smile. He swallows thickly before he goes to his ‘Matches’ and types three letters that felt like they took ten years to write: Hey.
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The chats start fast and die faster, some flirty banter here and there before he’s too nervous or quickly bored. His heart squeezes every time he gets a notification, a buzz in his pocket, a reminder of a message. Some girls don’t want a relationship and that’s fine, that’s just not what he’s looking for. Some girls ask the big questions first and he can’t answer right away. Some girls just aren’t his type and he isn’t theirs either. 
The first date he goes on ends with her excusing herself to the bathroom before they even get to order dinner. She doesn’t come back — he’s not even sure what he did. It started off fine, she was pretty with blonde hair and blue eyes. Fun and easy conversation, a voice that sounded like powder puffs and sugar scented perfume. If he blurred his vision a little, she could’ve been Chris. But she wasn’t Chris. 
Maybe that’s why she left. Maybe she got the vibe that he was preoccupied with her looking like his ex. 
Maybe it was because he said, ‘You remind me so much of my ex-wife,’ before they got to order dinner. 
His second date wasn’t much better. He was proud of himself for not going for another Chrissy look alike, but it was clear that this new girl was on a hunt for a husband. 
“So are you planning on getting the tattoos removed?” she had asked, pursing her red lips. He was surprised at how well her lipstick stayed on after eating a pasta dish. Whenever he wears makeup for a show, it smudges before the lights come up. 
“Uh, no why?” he asked.
“Just y’know, thinking ahead — family photos and whatever,” she shrugged. His mouth had never run so dry in his life. The chicken alfredo turned in his stomach. 
The third ended up being a quickie in the bar bathroom only for her to leave right after and unmatch him without as much as a ‘Thanks for a good night!’ He at least wanted to be a gentleman about it. 
The fourth fizzled out and neither of them felt the connection. 
The fifth felt weird because they had talked so much on the app that they didn’t have anything left to talk about when they went out for drinks. 
A month had gone by and all he had to show for it was five bad dates and dozens of unanswered chats. Eddie was found sitting in his bed in the dark, only the light on his phone keeping him illuminated while he thumbs through Instagram. Another app that he has for no reason, he never posts, he never shares anything. He just scrolls.
He wonders if Chrissy’s on Hinge. Eddie’s stomach lurches at the thought of coming across her profile. All blonde and blue eyes, all sweet and spunky, all the right answers to her curated questions. Photos of her in the Maldives, in her friend’s weddings, of her in Chicago after she moved. His heart hammers, sweat collects on his bare chest, heating up the chain lying flat against it until it sticks. He quickly swipes out of Instagram to his home screen, a photo of Robin and Steve flipping him off from the stage after a Corroded Show during load out. He holds his thumb on the app until all the apps shake, thumb hovering over the ‘x’ on the corner to delete the Hinge for good. 
What’s another three years of being single? 
“Ed?” he hears Tati on the other side of the door, her soft knock following her voice, “I got Indian and I’m not gonna eat it all. Gare doesn’t want it, you want it?” 
“Yeah, sure,” he hums. She opens the door and sighs at the darkness. He squints as the light pools in from the hallway and sees her lean her shoulder against the door frame.
“Are you in here sulking?” she asks, one brow raising.
“Yeah, Tat, I’m in here sulking,” he groans, laying flat on his mattress, “I like to sulk. Let me sulk.” 
“Don’t sulk,” she puts on a pout and flicks his light on, leaving the containers of rice and chicken saag. He groans when the light stings his eyes, tossing a forearm over his face. 
“What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice falling into kindergarten teacher territory. She never realized her profession would come so handy living with two grown men, “Why’re you being such a baby in here?” 
“I think I’m gonna delete the app,” he murmurs, still hiding under the protection of his tattooed arm. The pressure feels good on his face, releasing the tension starting to brew behind his eyes. He hadn’t eaten since his lunch period at work, the hunger was starting to catch up to him. 
“Don’t delete it,” she shakes her head, crawling onto the end of his bed. She takes her twists out of her jumbo claw clip and readjusts to pull them all back away from her face. Tati eases his phone out of his hand and slides her glasses on, flinging his dead arm off his face to use his Face ID. He whines, face scrunching is disapproval.
“I told you to stop doing that,” Eddie complains, sitting up against his pillows before crawling out of bed to get the food waiting on his dresser, “Do you have any naan or…?” 
“Do I look like a food bank, Munson? Damn,” she tilts her head and he raises his brows in a silent ‘Well, do you?’
She sighs deeply, “Yes, I have extra naan but you can only have it if you don’t delete the app and eat with us in the living room.” 
“Those are two totally different asks, Tati,” Eddie huffs. 
“I don’t make the rules,” she shrugs before starting to laugh, “Actually, I totally do.” 
The phone buzzes in her hand and Tatianna’s grin only widens when she sees the notification, “You have a new like.” 
“Whatever,” he shrugs, face laced with disappointment and frustration, “It’s gonna be another dud. Why bother if there’s no point? Like, this can’t actually be how people meet each other —“ 
Tatianna opens her mouth to protest but Eddie interrupts his own thought before she can speak, “You and Gareth are the anomaly.” 
“What if the sixth time’s a charm? She looks really cute,” She smiles, teeth bright against her smile, cheekbones glistening where her moisturized skin hits the light. 
He rolls his neck and sighs while Tatianna continues to encourage him, “Just try. You owe yourself that. Chrissy wouldn’t—.”
“Fuck Chrissy, Tat,” Eddie’s voice raises slightly, suddenly defensive. His chest burns at the sound of her name, heat rising up through his neck to his face,  “I don’t really give a fuck what Chrissy would and wouldn’t want. ‘Cause if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have to be on these stupid fucking apps.” 
“Whew, tell me how you really feel Ed,” she says while she stands up off the bed to walk towards him.
“Look, I get you’re still mad about how things went down with Chris. I know you’re still hurting, but you’re denying yourself a chance to start over — just shoot this girl a message. She seems cool,” Tati speaks so gently to him that he soothes instantly. She offers his phone, still open on the new profile — he’s hesitant at first but he takes it from her to look at the screen. 
There you are. You are cute. Your profile is simple: your name, age thirty, your opening tagline ‘idk i’m just out here i guess’. He lets a puff of air out of his nose at the sentiment — ‘Same,’ he thinks. 
“Fine,” he says finally, “I’ll look through her stuff and I’ll message her. Are you happy?” 
“Thrilled,” she smiles, “So thrilled that I’ll even let you have the extra samosa.” 
He follows her out of the room with his phone and food in hand, looking at her fondly when she passes him a tinfoil covered piece of naan in the kitchen, “You’re my best fucking friend, dude.” 
“I thought I was your best friend?” Gareth pouts from the kitchen table, D&D notes littered in front of him. 
Eddie scrunches his nose, tilting his head while he considers, “You’re alright I guess.” 
When the food is done and he’s gotten a proper look at your profile he decides to bite the bullet — fingers shaking while he matches back with you. He doesn’t start with ‘hey’ this time because Robin and Steve said that was boring, so he tries something new: 
wild that you’re just ‘out here’, me too. 
lol, twin behavior. how’s your night?
Eddie’s heart hammers at the response. He’s surprised at the reaction, he hadn’t had that with any of his other chats, normally expecting them to die off after the first ‘Hey, how are you?’ pleasantry. But maybe this could be different, maybe this could be fun. 
scored some indian food from one of my roommates so it’s one of my better nights. 
ooh, i’m so jealous. i have buyers remorse from some baked ziti i ordered. should’ve just made it.
what did you get?
chicken saag, still jealous?
i’m more of a saag paneer girl but consider me over here seething.
Eddie grins into the phone, cheeks hot while he thinks about what to say back. He skims over your profile again, eyes stilling at a photo of you laughing on what looks like a cruise deck. The sun hits you like a golden streak across your eyes. The caption reads ‘the last time i felt a single shred of genuine happiness’, he huffs an airy giggle before going back to the chat. 
you’re funny, did you know that?
um ya, i’m the funniest person i know, actually. 🥰
that's crazy cause i’m the funniest person i know. and since now i know you, it’s looking like we gotta battle for who the funniest is.
Jesus fucking Christ Munson, why can’t you just be normal? Why can you just say ‘lol’ and call it a night? He frets. His leg bounces while he waits for your reply, food rolling in his stomach. The cool metal of his rings is welcomed on his warm cheeks while he leans against his hand on the arm of the couch. The few minutes he waits for the buzz of his phone feel like eternities. But there you are to save him from his embarrassment:
lmao okay. where did you wanna battle?
there’s a bar in the city that i think could host. you around tomornight?
tommorow night* sorry, fuck, i was trying so hard to be smooth with it.
TOMORROW***** FUCK. LET ME LOG OFF FOR ETERNITY REAL QUICK.
yiiiiikes! embarrassing. but this proves you actually might be funnier than me. i’m not a sore loser so i’ll go on a date with you if that’s what you’re asking.
do you drink? it doesn’t have to be a bar.
i do! where did you have in mind?
there’s a spot called little spoon saloon in the city if you’re familiar. sorta cozy.
oh yeah sounds great for a battle 🙄
but yeah i know it, that’s not too far from my place. maybe we’ve seen each other before and never known it. two ships passing in the night~*
does seven work for you? i know it’s a monday, so we can do earlier if you gotta be up early or something.
sevens fine :)
okay :)
:)
:)
see ya tomorrow! Eddie bites his lower lip, breathing steadily through his nose while he sends over his number. Anything to get out of looking at the app for at least another day, anything to spare him from potentially running into Chrissy’s profile despite her being in a different state. It was getting close to the holidays, she could be around at any moment. 
Before he can spiral, his phone buzzes again – this time a text from an unknown number. His grin widens, too caught up in the excitement bubbling in his chest to feel Tatianna’s stare from the recliner. hi, it's me. jsyk if you don't reach out by like, two tomorrow -- i'm considering it a cancellation and i do have a 50% cancellation fee. sorry! 
50%? stop selling yourself so short, kid. but don’t worry, i won’t cancel. no? you’re not scared to battle? i’m never scared of a battle. :) (A lie.) see you tomorrow. 
“What’s got you smiling like that?” Tatianna smiles, cheeks tight from being unable to hide her excitement. “Are you talking to a girrrrrl?” Gareth teases. Eddie let’s out a ‘tssss’ while he stands up and stretches, quirking a brow at his best friend. “Is it a girl? You takin’ her out?” he asks again. “Yeah G, it’s your mom,” he shrugs, “Night y’all.” “Ed,” Tati whines, “Come on.” Pink floats across his cheeks, itching his nose to hide his goofy smile behind his hand. “Yeah, it’s a girl. And yeah, I’m taking her on a date tomorrow,” he groans. Tatianna squeals, shimmying with giddiness while the recliner rocks with her. Eddie’s too caught up in hiding his face, “Ugh, she’s cuuuute, Tati, what am I supposed to do?” 
“Show her what she’s been missing,” Tati shrugs, “Everyone needs an Eddie.” 
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Last night, Eddie fell asleep caught in a memory that became a dream. He’s eight years old at the YMCA, Wayne sitting in the stands watching him – this is maybe two weeks after his dad dropped him off before he got sent to prison. Wayne wanted to make sure his schedule stayed the same as it could, so Saturday swim lessons it was – today was diving off the block. Eddie had been dreading this lesson for a month, knowing that level 2.5 meant you had to at least try. In level two, they had you stand on the block just to get used to it. He could barely breathe for the ten seconds it was up there, tears stinging his eyes while his teacher encouraged him to come closer to the edge. Three of his classmates had already asked if they were allowed to jump off. It looked fun but it was just so high up. What if it hurts? What if he landed the wrong way? He was up soon, standing behind the block with the rest of the kids, shivering from being out of the water. He could dive off the edge of the pool just fine – in fact, his teacher said he was a great diver, especially for an eight year old. So it should be no problem to dive off the block, he just had to do the same thing he always does. Just higher. 
Gareth, before Gareth was his best friend, climbs up the block and puts his feet at the edge of the white plastic and metal. His teacher, Miss Tiffany, tells him to put his arms up and bend his knees and to dive at the whistle. The whistle blows and Gareth leaps – but he doesn’t dive smoothly into the water. 
“BELLY FLOP!” Jason Carver yells from the edge of the pool where all the kids who already dove sat. They start teasing him relentlessly, Miss Tiffany helping him out of the water to inspect his red belly. Tears well up in Gareth’s eyes, his mom leaning over the bannister from the seating area. “Are you okay, baby?” she asks. Gareth burns red with embarrassment, only encouraging the cackling kids to get crueler. 
Miss Tiffany puffs her whistle three times, “If you tease again, you’re not allowed to go to free swim. Do you understand me?” 
The group quiets, slowly kicking their feet in the water. “Alright Eddie, you’re up next!” 
He gulps, climbing up on the block slowly before standing to full height with his eyes closed. He takes a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, like his Uncle Wayne taught him to do when he was feeling nervous. When Eddie’s eyes opened, a chill ran through his chest – for some reason the block seemed higher than ever. 
“Ready Freddie?” Miss Tiffany asked, treading water in her red bathing suit. She grinned up at him, knowing that the phrase always made him giggle – but not today. 
“Arms up, knees bent,” she continues. Ed looks down at the water and the room spins, he can hear Jason and the class giggling. Hear the splashes from the kicks of their feet. 
The whistle blows. He doesn’t move. The whistle blows, again. He puts his arms down. “You okay, Eddie? You can do it! You’re a great diver!” she cheers. 
Eddie chews on his lower lip, thinking about the smack of the water when it hit Gareth’s stomach. The laughter. The teasing. The potential of the pain. The whistle blows again. Eddie climbs down off the block, sniffling when he makes it back to the pool deck, “I don’t want to Miss Tiffany.”  
“C’mon Ed, I know you can do it! Do you want me to save you for last?” she asks, her smile still bright and encouraging. Eddie sniffles again, eyes burning with tears while Jason and his friends start to tease him, too. “Swimming sucks,” he bites, stomping towards the boys room, grabbing his ratty towel off one of the benches on the way in. He’s only in the locker room for a few minutes before he hears the door open and Wayne’s apologetic voice talking to Miss Tiffany from the deck floor.
“He’s just goin’ through a lot right now,” Wayne says, his gruff voice rattling off the metal of the room. 
“Eddie?” Tiffany’s voice calls. 
“Come out here, son,” Wayne calls, “Y’know, if your decent.”  
Eddie sniffles back his tears again, shuffling over to the door while Miss Tiffany waits with his Uncle.
“Do you maybe wanna stay a little late today and we can practice diving off the block when class is over?” she offers, “I know it can be scary to do it in front of your classmates, but I want you to pass to level three!” 
“No thanks Miss Tiffany,” he mumbles to the tiles on the floor. 
“That’s okay Eddie, maybe we can try again next week. How’s that sound? I know you can do it,” she says softly. 
“Okay,” he murmurs before turning on his heel and moping back into the locker room. Wayne was waiting by the check in desk when Eddie emerged after changing, his ratty towel slung off his shoulder. 
“You okay?” Wayne asked.
“Yeah, can we just go home?” 
“Sure kid, was gonna stop and get us some lunch if you wanted,” Wayne’s eyes crinkle with his smile, “Wanna go to McDonalds?” 
Eddie returns the smile half heartedly, “Yeah.”
They walk to Wayne’s pick-up hand in hand, despite some parents thinking he’s ‘too old’ to be doing that. He needed the support, and his uncle was never one to make him feel like he didn’t have it. 
“So d’you wanna try again next week? Your starting form was great, buddy,” Wayne asks while Eddie puts his seatbelt on. Eddie considers it. Getting to the edge of the block and making Jason Carver eat his own words. Making him look like a loser for a change. 
But the words ring in his ear ‘BELLY FLOP!’ The relentless teasing if he didn’t do it this week and then messed up next week. He’d be a baby and a joke. 
“I don’t wanna do swimming anymore, Uncle Wayne,” he huffs.
“You sure?” his uncle frowns, putting the car into gear, “You’re really good, Ed. Y’could be on the swim team.” 
“I don’t wanna come back. I quit,” he repeats. He crosses his arms while they pull out of the parking lot, watching the rest of the kids pool out of the doors with smiles on.
Eddie wakes up to his alarm blaring, back in his 32 year old body. He swears that the air of his bedroom smells like chlorine.
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Eddie made sure to text you at 1:59 PM like an asshole. 
still on for tonight? :)
so close to having to pay my cancellation fee. 
but yes, still on for tonight :) 
sorry, work’s been wild today. would’ve texted you sooner!
you’re off the hook…
for now. 😡
He likes your little attitude, he decides. That little hint of sass in your messages keeps him on his toes and it’s not lost on him that this is probably how you flirt. He wonders, selfishly, how easy you are to fluster. You both exchange a few back and forths before he’s finishing up work for the day and heading to Wheeler’s for a campaign chat. 
The texts completely drop off while he gets ready to see you. He takes an extra long time in the shower, using the tiniest squeeze of Tati’s curl cream when he comes out because it makes his hair look good. He scrubs his face raw before shaving, following up with the skin care routine he kept up with, even though Chrissy curated it for him. 
Once dressed, he stepped quietly out to the living room to grab his jacket in the closet and pull out his boots. 
“You used my curl cream, I see,” Tatianna crosses her arms. He blushes. 
“Don’t be mad, I just wanna look good,” he puts on a faux pout, eyes rounding while he slides the leather over arms.
“You look really good,” she smiles, “It’s gonna be great.” 
Eddie shoves his socked feet in his Docs, worn in from years of wear, and looks up at her, “I’m kind of excited.” 
“You should be! I don’t know, I just have a really good feeling about this one,” she smirks, “Text me at some point, let me know how it goes.” 
“It’s a better indicator if he doesn’t text you, Tati,” Gareth says, coming up behind her, “You look sharp, dude.” 
“Sharp?” Eddie rolls his eyes, “What’re you? Eighty?” 
Tatianna clicks on her phone to look at the time, “Can you get the fuck outta here? You’re gonna be late!” 
“I’m going, I’m going!” he laughs, arms up while he grabs his keys from the hook by the door, “Wish me luck, bye!” 
Eddie felt sick. Suddenly feeling like he was standing at the edge of the pool in ‘98.
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When he got his keys in the ignition of his Honda Civic, a text came through immediately. He swallowed tightly, in some way expecting it to be you. In some way, expecting you to be canceling on him. 
Instead, it was Tatianna in the big group chat: 
here, we made a playlist for you
Eddie clicks on the Spotify link and laughs. First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182
First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182
And so on. The music automatically connects, the opening guitar ripping through his speakers. Eddie quickly types up a response on his phone before pulling out into the street. 
very creative, edwards.
someone in this house has to be. ‘In the car, I just can't wait, to pick you up on our very first date. Is it cool if I hold your hand? Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?’ He rolls his eyes as Mark and Tom serenade him in the car, laughing at the lyrics. It’d been a while since he’d listened to this album, let alone this song. While he won’t admit it to Gareth or his girlfriend, it was exactly what he needed before he got to the bar. 
‘Do you like my stupid hair? Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear? I'm just scared of what you think, you make me nervous so I really can't eat.’ “Let’s go, don’t wait, this night’s almost over,” he sings along, fingers tapping on his steering wheel while he waits at a red light. He’s on the fourth replay of the song by the time he pulls up. The ignition cuts off the lyrics before the chorus, he takes a big breath before opening the door. Just a couple minutes past seven, but he told you he was running a little late, so you wouldn’t be mad. His phone buzzes to Robin, Steve, and Jeff reacting to the playlist Tati sent. Alicia, Jeff, and Nancy sent him sweet good luck messages. Robin and Steve sent them a picture from a bar they were at, flipping him off. ‘Break a leg, dingus,’ came in her follow up voice memo. Eddie considers making this new picture his phone background. 
He swallows hard when he gets to the door, his bottom lip getting pulled between his teeth in apprehension. He nods to himself, “You got this, Munson.”  Another deep breath, he’s still ten, he’s still afraid to dive off the diving block. What if it hurts? What if he belly flops? 
‘What if you don’t? What if you dive this time?’ He thinks to himself. He opens the door to the bar, his ten year old self puts one foot on the diving block. The chatter of a few conversations at once is disorienting, so is the low light of the bar in comparison to the neon outside. The man at the entrance asks for his ID and he awkwardly fumbles for his wallet as if it’s not obvious he’s been old enough to drink for eleven years. “Here, man,” he says, somehow nervous he’ll get caught with a fake like he’s nineteen again. The security’s light flashes over his birthdate and he passes it back with a short and gruff thank you. Eddie takes a few steps before checking his phone to remind him what you said you’d be wearing.
in a red cut off sweatshirt, jeans that look like dickies – hard to miss! white airforces! i’m here, looking for you if you can’t spot me just approach the most off putting girl at the bar, it’s probably me :) 
He smiles into the light of his phone. You’re are funny. His phone lights up again, another text bubble added to your previous one. Eddie’s heart hammers in his chest when he looks at it, knowing you’re really only moments away. got you a guinness cause that’s what you said you liked on your profile. it looks like battery acid tbh. there’s a couple seats by the end of the bar, i’ll grab them. He looks up from his phone finally to see a blur of red start maneuvering over to the end of the bar. That’s you. Oh shit, that’s you. Oh shit, you’re – fuck. You have a fat fucking ass in those jeans. He swallows again, shaking the horny thoughts out of his head through the tendrils of his hair. Another deep breath through the nose, out of the water to the diving block just to dive again. He walks the length of the bar and hears his name, your voice in real life – not through a voice note or on your profile. “Ed?” 
Eddie catches your eye and his heart sinks and leaps so quickly he thinks he’s going into cardiac arrest. You’re real pretty, even more so when you grin at him from a few feet away. You wave him over and he does his best to walk confidently towards you, taking his jacket off while he does. He doesn’t know it, but the other girls at the bar are looking. He’s all broad shoulders and dark tattoos, two silver chains and understated rings. Full lips and doe eyes. Tatianna never told a lie, he was unmistakably handsome – he just didn’t know what to do with it. You toss your hair when you speak to the bartender from the end of the bar with a bright smile. The man puts two drinks in front of you and you leave cash in their wake. Eddie winces when he sees you pay, but tries to ignore the sting. In a way, it feels like he’s already losing – like he’s playing Sims with Robin and he’s not on track to get a gold reward on date night. You’re hot and you know it, but he can tell it’s like you just found out. Your eyes are flirty no matter what you’re looking at, you’re full bodied and it’s like you know it’s making him salivate. Eddie can’t help but be nervous when he takes a seat next to you, fingers immediately drumming on the bar top in front of him. “Guinness for you,” you say, sliding the pint glass in front of him. “Thanks,” he smiles, “You didn’t have to do that. I asked you out, you’re not supposed to be paying for me.” 
“I know, but – why don’t you get the next one and we’ll call it even?” you offer. He nods while he takes a sip, eyeing the lighter orangey liquid in your glass. “Did you get a cider?” he teases. 
“It’s a grapefruit beer, thank you,” your brows furrow at him while you take a sip. You have a good face, part of him wants to say that but it seems like a weird compliment. ‘Nice face.’ Like, what does that even mean? His tongue feels heavy, he can feel the sweat building under his curly bangs. “Weaksauce,” he laughs, scrunching his nose, “Grapefruit beer? Not for me, toots.” 
“Yeah, because you drink battery acid!” you tease back, “You’re a stout snob, huh?”
“Nah, just never heard of grapefruit beer. I always drink Guinness – or like, Miller light. Never really stray,” he shrugs. 
“You wanna try mine?” you ask, sliding the glass to him. 
“You sure?” he watches you nod and brings the beer to his lips. It’s tart, a little bubbly, hitting his tongue on the off beat from the stout before. It settles and then it’s sweet, he wonders if you’re the same. Eddie smacks his lips, “I don’t hate it.” 
“That’s such a stout snob thing for you to say,” you pull a face, bringing your drink back to sit in front of you. “I’d offer you a sip of mine but I know you don’t like it,” he smiles, “Wouldn’t want to ruin the taste of your dessert beer.” “Fuck off,” you shake your head and smile, taking another sip of your drink. The Guinness in his hand makes him feel less nervous, but not all the way – toeing the line of the end of the diving block but not scared to look down into the water. He can tell you’re nervous too by the way you pick at a hangnail on your thumb absentmindedly, the way you cross and uncross your legs. Eddie’s eyes linger for a moment at the way they spill over each other, squishing flat on the seat of the stool when you keep them uncrossed. He tries to discreetly follow the line of your thighs to your hips, up to your waist before getting ahead of himself and pulling his eyes away. 
“How was your day?” you ask. Not the question he was expecting. “My day?” he asks, brows raised while he tries to recollect anything before getting ready to see you. “Uh, my day was good. Yours?” You fucking dumbass, you couldn’t just spare one detail? She’s gonna think you’re an asshole. “It was fine,” you answer quietly. Your smile fades a little and he feels a panicked chill rush in his chest. “S-sorry, I should’ve elaborated. I sound like such a dick, sorry,” Eddie feels the heat creeping up on his cheeks, a clamminess starting up at his hairline, “I um, I went to work. Came home, went to a friend’s house for a minute and we talked about a campaign we’re putting together next weekend. I had some dinner, and then I started getting ready to see you and um – uh, now I’m here.” “Campaign? Are you a politician or somethin’?” you quirk a brow while you look him over. He feels insecure under your gaze, he hopes you like his tattoos.  
“No, no, it’s for Dungeons and Dragons.” Saying it outloud makes him feel like a loser, even though you don’t react like you think so. 
“Cool,” you smile. 
“Do you like, even know what that is?” Defensive already, waiting for you to make fun of him. Waiting for this to end up another mistake. Waiting to belly flop. 
“Yeah, I know what it is,” you answer quietly again, this time your shoulders, “Have some friends that play.” 
“Oh, cool. Cool,” Eddie nods, chest tightening, toying with his rings while you reach for your drink, “Um, I’m — yeah, sorry if that came off like, dickish. I didn’t mean to—.” 
“No, no, it’s okay,” you shake your head when you say it, almost like it’s rehearsed. Like you’re always ‘okay’-ing something. 
“Sometimes people think it’s weird when I tell them, I dunno,” he shrugs, still looking down at his rings, “If I’m being honest I haven’t been so great at this whole dating thing.” 
You smile again and he looks up in time to see it, his breath hitches. You’re very pretty. 
“If it makes you feel any better, I learned how to play Magic the Gathering twice to impress a boy. Two different ones,” you grimace, scrunching your nose, “Gross right?” 
“Oof, that’s rough,” he jokes, “Magic the Gathering? That’s like, way worse than D&D.”
“Well the difference between you and me, is that I don’t still play,” you bite back, cocking your head while you take another drink. “Didn’t impress those boys after all, huh?” he raises a brow and your mouth falls open in faux offense. 
“You’re so mean,” you gasp.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he drawls, “Should’ve put that in my profile.” 
“Oh, so you are mean?” you grin. 
“The meanest,” he grins back, teeth straight and shiny. Full lips pulled tight against them, “How was your day?” “I worked,” you shrug, “Not as exciting.” 
“What do you do?” he asks, turning towards you on the stool, leaning one arm on the bar. He relaxes into the seat, legs spreading wide while his free hand runs nervously over his thigh.
“I’m a personal assistant to a jewelry maker,” you let out a half chuckle through your nose, “It sounds fake when I say it out loud. But basically, I just keep her schedule and run errands and keep her shit in order. She’s an older woman and she’s not the most tech savvy in the world — great at what she does though, really eccentric but I feel like you gotta be when you work in the arts like that.” 
“That’s cool,” he says softly, watching you talk, “What kind of jewelry does she make?” 
“Oh you’ll love this, since you like D&D and stuff,” you start, your excitement is infectious, his heart thrums, “She makes fine jewelry for the most part, but also makes anodized chain mail jewelry and wearable pieces for theater and ren fairs on the side. I told you, eccentric.” 
“Oh, so she’s a little alchemist, huh?” he smirks. 
“Kinda, yeah,” you shrug, heat hitting your cheeks while he keeps his gaze on you, “It’s cool to watch the first few times, and then you get bored.” 
“I’m sure it’s the same for people who watch my band,” he laughs. You shake your head, a curve pulling from the corners of your lips while you finish your beer. 
“Alchemist,” you repeat with a playful roll of your eyes, “You’re such a nerd.” 
“What do you do for work?” he notices you fully turn when you ask, your knees toward him. He remembers Steve telling him once that it was always a good sign when they do that. Like Steve knows anything about body language and dating these days, he’s been platonically attached to Robin for years. His little guard dog. 
“I’m a teacher,” he replies, knocking back the remainder of the Guinness in his glass.  
“Hm,” you hum, looking him over suspiciously, “That’s surprising.” 
“I work at a performing arts school,” he rolls his eyes, “It’s 2023, I’m allowed to have tattoos.” “What do you teach?” you squint when you look him over a second time, “Actually, let me guess – drama?” 
“Music theory,” he corrects. 
“Ooh, big brain,” you joke, “That’s cool.” 
“Big brain? I don’t know about that, I just like music,” he shrugs, “It makes sense to me.” “When I was in high school everyone always talked about how hard music theory was – like, all the band kids,” you explain, there’s a sparkle starting to glint in your eye when you talk to him. “You were hanging out with the band kids?” he tosses a sarcastic knowing look before taking his glass in his hands, “And I’m a nerd? I dunno girl, it’s not looking good for you here...” “Even worse, I was dating one,” you grimace back. “Fuuuuck, you were really fighting for your life in 2009 huh?” Eddie laughs low, lower lip tucking in between his teeth to run his tongue over it. 
“2007, 2008 all the way to like, 2016,” you hide your face in one hand and he wishes you wouldn’t. 
“Damn, that’s a long time,” he observes, “You didn’t marry that guy?” 
You lift your head back up, and shake your head, “It was on and off for a long time, he’s not a fan favorite. It’s uh – it’s why I normally don’t date musicians. I almost didn’t match with you ‘cause of your first picture.” 
Fucking Tatianna. 
“Eek, sorry,” Eddie puts his hands up, “Should I go?” “Do you play bass?” you wince.
“I play a lot of instruments,” he chuckles, “I can play the bass. But I’m not like…a bass player, if you know what I mean.” 
“Oh, I know what you mean,” you breathe out a sigh of relief, “Made that mistake more than once.” “What’s your favorite instrument that you play?” you ask, it’s almost girlish. He ponders it while you cross your legs, the toe of your shoe barely brushing the back of his calf but he knows it's there. You rest your chin on your fist while you watch him think about it. His brown eyes glint in the reflection of the light overhead, plush lips parted while he runs his hands over his stubble. “I think I’d have to say…electric guitar? I’ve been playing that the longest,” he hopes you think that’s cool. “Is it the same one that’s in your pictures?” 
“The Warlock?” he asks with a grin, “Yeah, that’s my girl. Best relationship of my life, prob’ly the only lady who talks more than me.” 
“It’s really nice. I like the color.” 
“Thank you,” he says quietly, eyes darting to your knees where they sit between his, “Um, can I get you another drink? Do you want a beer or…?” 
“If I get a real drink will you stop making fun of my beer?” 
“I promise.” He slides off the stool, sad to see your close proximity to him fade away when he stands up. 
“They have food here, right? I’m sort of hungry, if that’s okay,” your voice gets sheepish when you ask. 
“Yeah, that’s okay. Did you eat dinner?” The words fall out of him too fondly. 
“I had like, a huge spinach salad,” you explain, “Might not have been enough.” 
Something tells him to press further before he buys you more liquor, lest this date go to the wayside too quickly, “Did you eat lunch?” 
“I worked through lunch.” 
“Did you eat breakfast?” 
“I had a smoothie,” you confess. 
“Okay, so before I get you a drink, why don’t I get you some chicken fingers or something?” he insists. You’re shy in your smile back to him, nodding along at his advice. Yes, you should eat more before you keep drinking with him. He doesn’t want you to think he’s just trying to get you tipsy, he’s never been that kind of guy – even when he’d bring home girls from the bar. (They’d at least be the same level of totally obliterated as he was.)
He beams back at you when you nod, “Atta girl.” 
He doesn’t notice when your thighs clench. 
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The last chicken finger is eaten, the last fry of the basket he got for you to split crunched through. The conversation had lulled, not because you weren’t interesting – the nerves were getting to him, creeping up like vines along his chest. The look over the diving block at the water, it’s slow waves teasing him to jump. 
“So um,” you began, swallowing your final fry and wiping your hands on a napkin, “Since you’re a teacher, how was school today?” 
Eddie’s so used to this question that his response doesn’t change, always the same quote from the same movie. Forgetting he doesn’t know you like that, his mouth moves quicker than his desire to play things off cool.
“The worst day of my life, what do you think? Gosh!” Eddie sounds more like John Heder in 2004 than John Heder does now – but when he hears himself say it, he’s immediately embarrassed. Eddie opens his mouth to apologize, nervous you won’t understand but instead – you laugh. And what a sound that is for him to hear. 
“Oh, shit. I haven’t watched Napoleon Dynamite in years. Like, not since grade school.” Eddie laughs with you, “Sorry, sorry, that’s like my go-to reaction at home when my roommates ask me that. I should’ve said something more normal like, ‘It was fine. The kids can’t stop trying to take TikTok fancams of me.”
“Roommates? Fancams? You’re so hip, tell me more,” you enthuse. He puts a finger up to stop you at first, locking eyes with the bartender so he can finally order another round of drinks. 
“What kind of real drink do you want?” he asks. 
“Just a marg on the rocks, salt,” you shrug. 
“Psh, I said a real drink,” Eddie teases with a roll of the eyes, but they soften when you go to argue back, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” 
His toes inch towards the middle of the diving block.
“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he flirts. Eddie can see the heat hit your cheeks, the creep of a smile slowly curving upwards, you’re embarrassed. Nervous like he is. Maybe this is going just fine. 
When the drinks arrive he slides the margarita towards you and sips his own Jack and Coke slowly through the tiny bar straw. 
“Okay, so. I have two roommates. Gareth, who’s been my best friend since I was nine; and Tatianna who has been my best friend since I was twenty-nine,” he explains. 
“So why aren’t you dating Tatianna?” you challenge. You miss the straw when you reach for it with your mouth, it slides over to the other side of the cup. You try again and miss, cheeks burning while Eddie looks at you continue to fuck up. His eyes glint mischievously while you hold in your frustrated laughter, “Stop looking at me.” 
“It’s fine, I’ll wait while you get your life figured out over there,” he jokes, checking ‘the time’ on his wrist, “Shouldn’t be too long until you finally get it.” 
“You’re so annoying,” you grit out playfully while you capture the straw between your teeth, “Should’ve put that on your profile, too.”
“Anyway,” he continues, “I’m not dating Tatianna because Gare’s going to propose to her when they go on vacation in a few weeks.”
 “Oh! Yeah, that makes sense,” you nod, “Probably not a good idea to date your best friend’s almost wife.” 
“Yeah, definitely not well advised,” he shakes his head, pulling his hair up off of his neck for a minute before dropping it down, “Plus, her last name is Edwards and I dunno…don’t think I could live with myself if I was ‘Eddie Edwards’.”
You laugh again and he hoped you would. It’s a goofy laugh, you don’t try to sound cute when you do it. He knows you must be a loud laugher, if your small ones are any preview to what you could really do. You don’t sound like Chrissy. Her laugh was dainty, feathery. Like how they teach you to giggle in an etiquette class – all soft edges, all smooth lines. 
“You wanna take the girl’s last name?” you raise your brows, “Very forward thinking. Progressive.” 
“I don’t know, something about it’s kinda hot right?” he asks cock of his head, “Plus, my dad sucks so I don’t want to keep repping him by having his last name.” 
“Oh wow, my dad sucks, too,” you reply cheerily, “We have so much in common!” 
“What was it you said before? ‘Twin behavior’?” 
“Twin behavior, yes!” your hands meet both of his knees where he sits across from you, your tone is light and earnest, “You get me.”
Eddie takes in a hitch of breath, desperate to keep his cool when he feels your hands on him. It’s not even sexy but he could shoot straight to the moon if you asked him to. You use his knees as leverage to hop down from your stool, grabbing your drink before nudging him with your hip. 
“If we’re still battling though, there’s an air hockey table in the back room if you wanna play,” you offer. 
“Are you any good?” he wonders, hopping off the stool to follow you to the back. 
“I’m amazing,” you grin, “Actually won seventeen first place trophies in the intergalactic air hockey competition – of course I’m fucking bad at it, that’s why it’s fun to play.” 
Eddie laughs this time, it’s gruff and nicotine soaked. You’re already winning the battle for funniest person – you’re sharp with him and he’s starting to like it. He runs his hand over the side of the air hockey table in the empty back room, more and more pleased that he put this date together on a Monday. He slides a dollar into the machine so it whirs to life, the neon lights flicking on with a stutter. 
“This reminds me of birthday parties when I was a kid,” you muse to yourself, reaching for the hockey disc trapped in your goal, “Can you help me?” 
He nods, hand grazing your back to get you out of the way – you’re warm to the touch. If he was a braver man he would’ve pulled you into him but he’s not, instead squatting down to reach further into the goal where your game piece was. 
“Hm,” he murmurs, reaching further back and barely touching the top of it, “It’s in here, it’s just back there. I can get it, just –” he sucks his teeth like he did the night before, getting to his knees to try. Music plays over head, stuff the new crop of bar goers would consider oldies. You smile at the opening ‘Damn, shawty snappin’...’ of T-Pain’s ‘Buy U A Drank’, but even more surprised when you hear Eddie sing along softly to himself. 
“Snap ya fingers, do yuh step, you can do it all by yourself. Babygirl, what’s your name?” “Not you knowing the lyrics,” you laugh. 
“I was in highschool in 2007 of course, I know the lyrics,” he huffs, standing up, “I think it’s a bust for air hockey.” 
“That’s fine,” you shrug, “We tried.” 
“I know the club, close at three,” he lip syncs to himself before, turning his attention to you, “What’s the chances of you rollin’ with me?” 
You back and forth to each other in time with the lyrics before settling back down in your spot at bar. 
“You even know the Yung Joc part? Damn,” you laugh again, he loves it. 
“Why’re you so surprised? Is it the tattoos?” he asks. 
“Well yeah, you definitely give off a ‘loved Avenged Sevenfold’ in high school vibe,” you scooch your stool closer to his, your knees slotting between his open ones like a perfect puzzle. It’s not enough though, and he’s not sure if it’s himself or the Jack and Coke that encourages him, but he reaches for one of the legs of your stool to pull you closer. 
“Hey,” he says, your faces only a few inches apart. 
“Hey,” you respond. You catch his eyes flick briefly to your lips before they meet yours again. You can see the light smatter of freckles over his nose, long faded from the summer. 
“You’re right, I was really into Avenged Sevenfold when I was in highschool.” 
“I figured. I was into that whole scene thing, back then. All those singers that are mad at their dad’s and like, in retrospect, all hate women I guess,” you realize it as you speak. 
“I probably would’ve thought you were cute,” he guesses. 
“No, you would’ve called me a poser,” you correct, “Don’t lie.” 
He hesitates before nodding, “No, no, you’re right I definitely would’ve called you a poser. Did you like Fall Out Boy and all of that shit?” 
“Don’t shit on the music I liked,” you frown, “That’s not cool.” 
“I’m not, I’m not,” he assures, pulse speeding, “I promise, I’m not. I’m sorry.” You continue talking about music, high school, college, some ins and outs. Nothing too serious. Nothing too intense. But by now, Eddie’s feeling nice and if one thing’s for certain:
He wants to fucking kiss you. Toes at the edge of the diving block, Miss Tiffany’s whistle caught between her teeth. 
“So now that we’re three drinks in, can I ask you a personal question?” you ask, your eyes a little glassy. You’ve confessed that you’re tipsy, but aware, that if you have one more drink you won’t be – so Eddie already paid the tab. 
“What do you wanna know?” he asks.
“Why’re you,” you enunciate, implying he’s something, “On the apps? It’s hard to believe that someone like you would be single. Unless you have like, something deeply wrong with you, but you’ve been all green flags so far.” 
Your hand falls back to his knee and he eyes it before sliding his own hand down his thigh to lace your fingers with his. 
“You want the real story?” he asks, lifting your hand up of his knee to play with your fingers in both of his hands while he talks. His hands are warm and calloused on the fingertips, but the rest are soft. Lacing and unlacing, running his thumb up the lengths of your fingers, tracing your palm. 
“The real story.” 
“You gonna tell me why you’re on the apps after?” 
“Sure,” you nod. You look gentle, at ease. He eases in, too. 
“I got divorced in 2020,” he confesses. It feels like a weight off his chest to tell you, “Married my high school sweetheart, things were great for a long time, but y’know. People grow and – the pandemic was not kind to us.”
“Oh, I’m…I’m sorry to hear that,” you offer softly. 
“It’s okay,” he smiles tightly. “I guess I was both surprised and not surprised at all when she broke up with me. Almost relieved, I guess – that I didn’t have to play the part of her husband anymore. Not that she was a bad wife or anything, she was great she just – I don’t know,” he rambles, “And I don’t know, I just threw myself into work and my friends after. Girls after shows. Was too scared to like – go on dates incase it ended up like my marriage and –” 
He laughs, “My friends were tired of seeing me be so sad, I guess.” 
“You have such a solid support system,” you comment, “You mention your friends, like, every other sentence.” 
A beat. “I like that,” you nod and smile. He can’t get over how you look when you do that. 
“Why’re you on the apps?” he asks, your hand now cradled between the two of his, his fingers grazing your wrist. 
“I’m six months out of a six year long relationship,” you let out a breath through your nose and drop your shoulders a little, “Figured it was time to get back out there – enter my slut era.” 
“Oh yeah, you’re super slutty,” he teases, “That’s actually the first thing I thought when I saw you. ‘She’s in her slut era.’” “God, fuck offfff,” you giggle again. 
“But yeah, I ended it. I figure I should make that clear,” you say, “Just in case that’s like, a red flag for you. But I don’t know, we just weren’t growing in the same directions. Things felt done way before I left and I – I don’t know. I think I was just scared. I took some time for myself and now, here I am.” 
“It’s okay that you ended your relationship, it’s not a red flag,” Eddie’s voice soothes you when he says it, “If you told me you like, cheated on him and then hit him with your car then maybe yeah, I’d be a little concerned. But you’re an adult, you just know what you want better this time around.”
“Yeah,” you agree. Your eyes meet in a silent confirmation. His eyes flick to your lips for a second time before tucking his lower lip between his teeth again. 
BELLY FLOP! 
“You wanna head out? It’s getting a little late,” he offers. 
Your brows raise in surprise, “Uh, sure, yeah.” 
“Not that I don’t like spending time with you,” he assures, letting his fingers linger over your hand while he stands up, not wanting to lose contact just yet, “Just don’t want to keep you out too late.” 
“Oh yes!” you start with an old southern twang, “My daddy’ll be out there with his pistol if I don’t get home ‘fore sundown.”
“You’re funny,” he laughs, letting go over your hand to reach up and squeeze your cheeks affectionately. You both put on your jackets and head outside, both of you wincing in the cold of the winter air. 
“I’d really like to do this again, if you want,” a shy blush reaches his cheeks, meeting the pink from the cold. 
“Yeah, I’d like that,” you’re just as shy in your response, “This was fun. You’re fun.” 
“Thank you,” he flushes deeper, trying to prolong the inevitable. What if he belly flops? What if it hurts? What if the kids make fun of him? 
“I’d offer to drive you home but I’ve had a few,” he says, hand reaching out to fall on your shoulder, “I feel good to drive but like, god forbid anything happens so – I’m happy to get you a car or pay for it for you.” 
“That’s really sweet, thanks. Let me just um,” you pull out your phone to get in Uber with a speed that impresses him, “It’s really not that pricey, I’m close-ish by.” 
“Still,” he says, “Just wanna be a gentleman y’know?” 
“You’re very gentlemanly,” you flirt. Eddie stiffens, nervous, palms clammy. 
“So um, I’ll see you soon?” he asks, opening his arms to give you a hug. 
“Yeah, for sure,” you nod while you let him engulf you. His scent is warm and spicy, mixed with tobacco. You guess either still smokes, or he used to, but he never got up to have a cigarette in the hours you were at the bar. Eddie let’s go and cups your cheek briefly before giving you a gentle but winning smile. His warm brown eyes linger for the last time on your lips, now they’re slightly parted, waiting for him. His toes curl over the edge of the diving block, his knees are bent, arms up over his head...I don’t want to Miss Tiffany. 
Swimming sucks.
“See ya.” 
You quirk your brow for a moment, having expected much more than a hug, “Oh, um…see ya.” 
He walks half way down the street to his car, heart thrumming in his chest in embarrassment. He should’ve just done it. FUCK. He should’ve just kissed you. 
But what if it hurts? What if she leaves? What if you can’t make it to level three? What if they laugh at you? 
He breathes heavily through his nose while tears threaten to well up in his eyes, staining his eyelashes. What if you don’t want to see him again after this? What if you change your mind? He sighs audibly when he turns the key, phone auto connecting to the speakers. He turns up the radio while the car revs to life, pulling on his seatbelt and putting the wheels into gear. He leans back in his seat to pull out of his spot only to see you still waiting for the car outside of the bar. 
Blink-182 blares through his speakers, hitting him straight in the chest.
‘Let’s go, don’t wait, this night’s almost over. Honest, let’s make,this night last forever. Forever. And ever. Let’s make this last forever.’ 
What if he did stay a little later after class? What if he got the chance to move on to level three? 
Fuck it, he thinks. He turns off the ignition, shaking out the sounds of Jason Carver and the kids laughing, the sounds of their feet kicking in the water. Just Miss Tiffany and her whistle. He gets out of the car, determined. You’re still there, head whipping around to see him coming towards you while you bounce on the balls of your feet in the cold. 
Arms up. Knees bent. “Ed? My car’s gonna be here in a sec–” Whistle. His hands reach out to your cold cheeks to pull you in before his full lips capture yours. His eyes flutter close at the contact, feeling your mouth react to his in time. Soft and needy, hydrated. You immediately know how to keep his pace while he separates and goes back in for more. Wet but not messy, passionate but not feverish. The smoothest dive he’d ever done in his life. Your hands escape your pockets, fingers sliding behind his neck to pull him closer, sliding through the nape of his hair. He breaks away for a moment to delicately push your hair out of your face and really look at you before pressing his lips to yours again. You only stop when your Uber beeps from across the street. 
“I wanted to do that all night,” he mumbles sheepishly. 
“I wanted you to do that all night, too,” you giggle, breathless and blushing, “Thank you.” 
“Thank you,” he says, running a hand over his face, “Let me know when you get home, okay?” 
“Okay,” you nod, hurrying across the street as the car honks again,  “Bye!” 
“I’ll put something together for next time!” he calls out. ‘Cause there will be a next time. 
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Tatianna is leaning over the back of the couch with her chin in her hands when Eddie opens the door. Her cheshire cat grin matches his own. 
“So I didn’t hear from you all night,” she starts, her voice syrupy smooth, “So that means it must’ve went really well.” 
Eddie sighs dreamily, kicking off his boots at the entryway and hanging his jacket on one of the hooks by the door. 
“Ooh, you like herrrr! I can tell! Look at your stupid face!” she laughs, pointing at him, bouncing on the cushions. 
“Tati she’s…fuck,” he shakes his head in disbelief while he walks towards her, “There’s either two ways this could go.” 
“Yeah?” she asks, looking up at him, “And those are?” 
“I’m gonna marry her, or she’s gonna absolutely fuckin’ ruin my life.” 
“I like her already,” Tati grins, “Sit down, tell me everything.” 
“Yeah, yeah, give me a sec,” he grumbles, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He plops down onto the couch while Tati grabs two cups of tea from the kitchen that she made especially for the recap of his night. Gareth had been long asleep for an early morning at work tomorrow. 
Eddie takes out his phone, two unread text alerts lingering on his home page. He opens them, smiling stupidly into the screen.
i’m home :) you’re a really good kisser by the way. 
glad you made it home safe. you are too. :) but you started off pretty kissable so, that’s probably why. you’re making me blush over here, stop it. 
Eddie lets out a soft chuckle through his nose, clicking out of your text conversation to go back to his home screen. 
He deletes the apps.
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louloulemons-posts · 8 months
Text
Teddy
Eddie Munson X Reader
Summary : Reader has a nickname for Eddie that melts his heart.
Word Count : 1.6k
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Warnings : Pure fluff, reader cries a little, minor talk of Eddies mom passing, talk of heads being chopped off, swears, pet names, use of Y/N, not proofread, just fluffy goodness.
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
Walking into the cafeteria, you look around for your boyfriend and his friends. Wandering over to the noisy boys, you smile, slipping into the seat beside his.
In the middle of a rant about hellfire, he rambled on about the others whining about lack of knowledge of his newest campaign.
“What’s the point of me,” he paused, kissing you cheek and placing his ring decorated hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze.
“-Telling you anything about it, it kinda defeats the object. You’d get through it too easy.”
“Can’t we just have a hint what we’re up against?” Jeff asked.
“Yeah man you wiped the floor with us last time,” Mike complained.
“Maybe it’s cause you’re shit,” Eddie shrugged, to which you lightly punched his shoulder. “What?” He asked.
“Don’t be mean Teddy, give ‘em a hint.”
You looked away from him, pulling your lunch out of your bag. A sandwich, some cherries and a bottle of water. “Fine, it’s sort of similar to last time. Just remember how many things can hide in the dark.”
“Wow thanks for zero help,” Dustin said. Eddie just shrugged, as you slid half of your sandwich over to him. “Here you go Teds.”
Kissing your head he smiled, “Thanks Sweet Girl.”
“You busy later?”
“No why?”
“What to rent a movie?”
“Sure, want a movie night?”
“Mhm, you can stay if you want. Parents won’t mind Teds.”
He went quiet as he nodded, taking a bite out of his half of the sandwich. You noticed how his cheeks were flushed, and through his thick curls you could see his ears red.
“You alright?”
“Yeah Sweetheart I’m good, foods nice.”
“Want any cherries?” He nodded, handing him a couple, you offered them to the other boys as well.
A few of them took some, all thanking you for the offer.
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
Lunch was uneventful after that, until your friend Chloe came running in. “Y/N,” she said, placing a hand of your shoulder.
Turning to her, you smiled, “Hey Clo, everything okay?”
“Do you think you could help me with moving my project, it’s almost breaking and I need to get it to our next class.”
“Oh yeah sure.” You packed away your lunch and stood from the table.
Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you leaned down to peck your boyfriends lips. “I’ll meet you at the van,” he said.
“Okay, see you later Teddy.” You and Chloe waved goodbye to the others and headed out.
“So um … Teddy huh?” Gareth teased.
“Shut up!” He said.
“But it’s cute! I’m gonna start calling you that now, Eddie Teddy.”
“Fuck off, only Y/Ns allowed to call me that.”
“Aww why?” He asked.
“Uh cause she’s my girlfriend you dick.”
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
Standing by Eddies van you saw him walk out of the building, saying goodbye to Dustin and wandering over to you. You smiled and waved slightly as he made his way.
“Hey Sweetheart,” he smiled.
“Hey Teddy,” you said, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. Taking your bag off you shoulder, he offered you his hand as you climbed in the van, placing the bag by your feet.
“Thanks.”
“Always.” He walked around to his side and began to drive out of the parking lot. “So what are we getting? Horror, sci-fi or are you gonna make me sit through a chick flick?” He asked.
“You always ask that, but you get so into them!”
“Do not!”
“Lies. I know you love them really Teds.”
“Mhm whatever you say.”
“Well I was thinking, I pick a movie for you, and you pick one for me.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I’ve got popcorn at home and candy, so it’s just the movies.”
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
Walking into Family Video, Eddie kissed your cheek and spoke, “I’m just gonna go say hi, go pick out the movie Sweetheart.”
“Okay.” Waving to the pair behind the counter before walking away down the aisle.
“Hey Munson.”
“Harrington, Buckley. How are we?”
“Good, you hear to use our discount?” Steve asked. “You know it.”
“How’s it going with Y/N?” Robin questioned.
“She’s great. It’s great.”
“I’m so glad I introduced you.”
“Yeah me too, I’ll owe you forever. Can’t believe she’s stuck around.”
“Coming up to six months now right?” The other boy asked.
Eddie nodded. “So movie night? Her parents like you?”
“Her dads a metal head himself Steve, of course he likes him!” Steve held his hands up in defence at Robins words. Eddie laughed, “Yeah they’re great people, really nice. Makes sense though, having that Sweet girl as their daughter.”
“Talking about me?” You popped up besides Eddie. “You? Sweet? Nah,” The curly haired boy teased. You bumped his side, letting out a playful sigh. “Go pick your movie Teds,” you said.
“What did you get?”
“It’s called Highlander. Looks good.”
“Oh yeah it’s cool,” Steve agreed, “I watched it the other day, insane, but great.”
“Perfect! Now go pick,” you pushed him towards the aisle lightly.
“Jesus, you tryna get rid of me?”
“Me? Get rid of you? Never!”
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
“Okay so I have Sweet and Salty popcorn, M&Ms and Reece’s. Help yourself,” you said, climbing on the couch next to Eddie. “Did you plan this?” He asked.
“I was just really hoping you’d be up for it,” you explained. “I’m always up for spending time with you Sweetheart.” You smiled, and snuggled into him.
“Okay kids we’re heading out now, we’ll be home at 1 at the latest,” your mom said, popping her head round the door. “Okay, have fun,” you waved to her.”
The pair shouted to goodbye to you and Eddie and were on their way. “Okay which movie first?” You asked.
“Well one has Sean Connery and one has Bowie so either ones a good pick.”
“We should start gory and end sweet?”
“Sounds like a plan, I’ll put it in.”
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
Soon enough you were sat together watching Highlander. Scottish warriors were freaking out because a man named Connor had come back from the dead.
“I think this was a good pick,” Eddie said.
“Thanks Teds, I’m glad your enjoy it.” Once again you noticed his face flushing. “Why do you do that?” You asked.
He looked away from the screen to face you, “Do what Sweet girl?”
“Go all blushy?”
“I’m not!”
“You are, your cheeks are all pink and I bet your ears are warm.” You reached out to feel, but he leaned away.
“Let me feel!”
“No! Get away from my ears.”
“Let me feel them!”
“No you little monster. Get back,” he shuffled to the edge of the couch.
You crawled after him, leaving him trapped. Reaching out again, you successfully touched his ear, it was burning. “Aha! I knew it!”
“Shush! Watch the movie! Look it’s Sean Connery.”
“No no, I’m pausing it.” You reached for the remote and paused it on the older man’s face.
“What’s going on? You know you can tell me anything?” You said softly, fully facing him. Legs crossed and hands in your lap. “I know sweetheart it’s just ..” he sighed.
“It’s okay Teddy. Take your time.”
“It’s that.”
“What?”
“Teddy.”
“Teddy?”
“When you call me Teddy I just,” he groaned, leaning back into the plush couch. “Do you not like it? I can stop,” you said, terrified that you’d made your lover uncomfortable.
“No!” He almost shouted. “Please don’t stop. I love it, so much,” he said, reaching out for your hand. “Then why’s it bad?”
“Oh sweet girl it’s not. It’s so far from bad, if makes my heart burst and my brain turn mushy.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah oh. Haven’t had anyone call me Teddy in a long time. When you first did it, it scared me, but I love it so much.”
You played with the rings on his fingers, “Who else called you Teddy?”
“My mom. Her little Teddy, said Edward was too grown up for me yet. Wayne was the one who started calling me Eddie after everything that happened.
“He called me Teddy once and I freaked. Said only mom could call me that, and now she was gone no one could. But then you came along, and damn sweetheart … you changed everything.
“So sweet and kind and beautiful. You called me Teddy and I felt so loved, only two ladies have made me feel like that. That’s how I knew it’d have to be you, you’d be my one and only girl. I just love you so much.”
You sniffled, rubbing your glassy eyes. “Oh no, oh Sweetheart. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you,” Eddie said, panicked, pulling you into his lap.
“You didn’t! It’s just so sweet. I’m so happy I make you feel like that. So honoured that you let me call you Teddy.”
“I am your Teddy, like I was hers, and I’m Wayne’s Eddie or Son.”
“You said something else to Teds.”
“I did didn’t I?” He asked, to which you nodded. “Well it’s true Sweetheart, I love you. Think I have from the day Robin introduced us.”
“I love you too Teddy.” He cupped your face with his hands, metal chilly on your face, but his warm palms comforted you. Leaning in he kissed your lips softly.
You pulled him back in, holding onto his shirt. Making the kiss more passionate, opening your mouth slightly, letting his tongue slide in.
After making out until you needed to breathe, you smiled at him, “I love you so much my Teddy.”
“I love you too Sweet girl, now come on let’s watch some guys chop each others heads off.”
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍
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kjdkive · 3 months
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accidentally revealing you're engaged — CL16
top actress! yn and f1 pilot! charles leclerc 
“you know, chloe, i am very scared of red carpets because it means interviews and questions and i hate them, why can’t we all just watch the premier in peace and in comfy clothes?” you ask your manager. 
“you talk a lot when you’re nervous.” she says. 
“i know and i am sorry.” you tell her. “i get anxious because you never know if they can twist your words. but whatever, i’ll be fine, right? like it’s nothing serious, right, chloe?” 
“we’re here.” chloe replies and waits for one of the bodyguards to open your door and let you walk out. “you’ll be fine.” she says before you get off the car. 
as soon as you get off you hear the screaming from the fans and you run to them so you’re able to take as many pics and sign as many autographs as you can before security tells you to stop. 
but the part that you loved the most is over, now is posing and then interviews. 
“yn! let us see the back of the dress!” you listen to the paparazzis and you turn around. you keep posing the way you’re being asked to, expecting for the pictures to maybe not look perfect but just fine. 
and the posing is over! now it’s the interviews. 
you’re 3 interviews down of 5 to go and your manager and your bodyguard are behind you supporting you, mouthing “you got this!” which makes you laugh. 
“hi, y/n, it’s so nice to meet you. i am kate and i am from know-it-all magazine.” 
you have to be honest, you had never heard from them. 
“hi, kate, nice to meet you too.” you smile at her. 
“i’m loving your dress, it fits perfectly! can you tell us who you’re wearing?” 
“of course, i am wearing a custom-made oscar de la renta which is a huge honour.” 
“are you excited to be here? i mean, you’re probably going to get asked out a lot because you’re a single woman now.” 
“uh, yeah…” what did she just say? this is what you didn’t want to happen, questions that are not normal and that you do not want to answer. 
“can you give a few tips to women who now are after charles?” 
okay. now you didn’t understand what was going on. what the hell is happening? 
“did you just ask me to give tips to women who like charles? as in what he likes and stuff?” 
“yeah, i mean, you broke up.” 
“we broke up?” you ask her, shocked. 
“yeah, that’s what everyone is saying.” she never stops smiling which is creepy and annoying you. 
“can you hold on a second?” you ask and she nods. 
you grab your phone from your pocket because yes, your dress had pockets. right now, a blessing and a curse. your manager was about to stop you but what you were about to do was going to be funny. you scroll a little bit through your phone, dial some number and put it on speaker.
“hey, charles! i’m on an interview and you’re on speaker, okay?” 
“hey, baby, yes, what’s up?” he giggles. “why are you calling me charles, though? did i do something?” 
“i think you did.” you laugh. “did we break up?” 
“what?” he asks, almost yelling. “did we?” he asks now more calmly but confused. 
“i mean, i don’t think so.” 
“as far as i know, babe, we’re engaged so you’re kind of stuck with me.” 
you roll your eyes laughing. 
“i know, right? thanks for letting me know though, i’ll call you later after i’m done, babe.” 
“m’kay, i love you!” 
“love you too, baby, bye!” 
you hang up and you look at the interviewer. 
“does that answer your question?” 
“it totally does. thank you so much, hope you have lots of engaged fun tonight.” 
“i will, thank you.” 
you start walking away from the camera but you hear chloe whisper to the interviewer: “she’s kind and naive but next time, ask better questions. just be thankful for now.” chloe could be a very scary person. 
“i think you’re going to go trending and you’ll also make a lot of money to that magazine.” chloe laughs. “good job.” 
“thanks? i guess.” you look at her. “charles fucked up, though, we were supposed to keep our engagement a secret.”
“you know how he is, he could never keep a secret.”  
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harlowsbby · 4 months
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Double Take 💘
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Requested, Jack has been ignoring the reader so she decides to prank him in a revealing outfit to get his attention.
“He’s going to freak out when he sees you trying to leave in this outfit!” Your friend Lola yelled over the phone.
“He’d be a real fool if he did.” Your other friend Chloe added on as you finished getting ready.
Lately Jack hasn’t been paying much attention to you usually when he’d get up he’d shower and go straight to playing the Xbox with his friends and you’ve had enough.
You decided to prank him and make it seem as if you were going to go out in a outfit that was a bit too revealing for his liking.
“I’ll call you guys back.” You told them. “You aren’t about to call us back you know after he sees you the two of you are gonna make us some aunties.” Lola joked and you rolled your eyes.
“Whatever, I’ll call you back.” You hung up and placed your phone on your pillow and looked yourself over one last time in the mirror before making your way downstairs.
“Dude! You fucking cheated and you know it!” Jack yelled into the headset as he ran around in the game to try and catch Urban.
“You just suck and you know it.” Ace added on, ever since the newest Call Of Duty game came out it’s all Jack has been playing but after tonight you were going to put a stop to that.
The sound of your heels clicking against the black marble flooring alerted Jack but not enough for him to turn around.
“Jack.” You called out for him and stood near the door with your purse hanging loosely on your shoulder.
He didn’t answer and continued to play on the game you rolled your eyes at how hard he was pushing the buttons on the controller, any harder and they’d all fall off.
“Jack!” You yelled which made him jump a bit. “Yeah babe! What’s up.” He asked and still didn’t bother to look behind him, his attention was too drawn on the game.
“I’m going out with the girls I’ll be back later on tonight.” You told him and sure enough that got his attention.
He paused the game which resulted in Urban and Ace to moan and groan in annoyance.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
He asked as you looked at your outfit. It was a an all black corset that was a bit see through and your short leather skirt left little to the imagination, if you were to bend down even slightly all your goodies would be hanging out.
“I’m going out with the girls? Remember I told you this earlier.”
His eyebrows furrowed together. “But you have to wear that? Why don’t you put on some jeans or better yet a pair of my sweats and one of my hoodies.”
“What? No I’m not wearing that I wanted to look good tonight, don’t I look good?”
You innocently asked and did a little spin.
“Yeah you look good really fucking good, so good that I’m almost certain other guys will try and get at you, so you aren’t wearing that.” He demanded.
“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t wear Jack I’m going out.” You went to walk to the front door but was stopped by Jack.
“The only place you’re going is back upstairs to change.”
You looked up at him with your arms crossed over his chest. He looked down at you with his eyes squinted slightly as if he was waiting on you to push his buttons.
“Lola is already outside waiting so I’m going out I’ll see you later, go back with playing with your little friends.”
You tried pushing past him but with him being much bigger and stronger that wasn’t happening.
“You can go out once you change.” You huffed. “Oh so now you wanna pay attention to me?” He raised his eyebrow.
“What are you talking about?” He asked.
“Ever since you got that new game you haven’t payed any type of attention to me but now that I’m all dressed up you wanna pay attention to me.” You frowned.
Jack mentally cursed to himself because you weren’t wrong. Whenever he got a new game he’d always be playing with the guys 24/7 to try and beat new levels to try and unlock new levels.
“I’m sorry baby for the rest of the night and week you got my undivided attention.” You smiled and held up your pinky finger.
“You pinky promise?”
He smiled nodded and lifted up his pinky finger and connected it with yours.
“I pinky promise babe now come on I’m trying to take this outfit off of you.” You grinned.
“Oh yeah? What do you wanna see me in?”
“Your birthday suit duh.” Jack said and followed you up the stairs.
While Jack was upstairs with you he completely forgot to turn off the game and turn off his headset, so Urban and Ace were still able to talk to one another via the headset.
“Where the hell is Jack?” Ace asked Urban.
“Uh well Lola just texted me saying we’d most likely be uncles after tonight so I’m assuming Y/N managed to get him off the game.”
“I’m just glad I’m not spending the night at his tonight.. I’ve had way to many traumatic nights over there.” Urban shivered.
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