#electric guitar and fuck me boots

[lady-belz]

What even???? Fuck me sideways!!

#bts #bangtan soyeondan #min yoongi #park jimin #jeon jungkook #d day is coming #agustd #calvin klien jungkook #why are they so fucking hot #electric guitar and fuck me boots #I have a boot kink

[neo-nomatrix]

(My) Nuisance

Hobie brown x reader

word count: 964

find the rest of the mini series here

synopsis: You thought you hated Hobie, but for some reason you’re starting to like him just as much as you like Spiderman.

a/n: (maybe too much) british slang used

You hate your next door neighbor. No, no you loathe your next door neighbor. You think he is the worst person to possibly exist. His stupid flat decorations, his loud punk-rock music blasting at unruly hours, the way he would come back to his flat at 4 am stomping his boots yelling with his friends about their latest anarchist protest. But you hate nothing more than the way he looks at you.

Everytime you try yelling at him he opens his door with the cheekiest grin on his face. While you’re standing there fuming he’s leaning against the door panel looking you up and down. The worst part is how much he tries to smooth talk you.

“I already told you how annoying your music is, no one wants to hear that at 3 am alright? Some of us have work in the morning,” you complain, smoke practically coming out of your ears.

“Oh c’mon love it’s not that bad. Don’t have to be such a tosser ‘bout it. It messes up that pretty face of yours,” he says.

“Are you daft? You’re the one keeping everyone up at night with your dumb guitar,” you roll your eyes.

“It’s not that big a deal sweetheart. Y’know i'm starting to think you’re making up rubbish just so you can talk to me more. I’ll admit it’s pretty cute but you could just ask me out,” he leans closer to your flushed face.

“I don’t fancy you if that’s what you mean,” you scoff.

“Not saying that. I’m saying if you wanna snog me so bad you could just say so,” he shrugs.

You could burst out laughing. Kiss him? That’s fucking hilarious.

“You’re joking right? i’d rather die.”

“I don’t believe in comedy, love,” he says.

“Of course you don’t,” you mumble as you storm off back to your door.

You’ve decided he is the worst person ever. He doesn’t deserve your efforts and time.

You set your keys down and fall into bed as you hear amp feedback and the sounds of Hobie strumming his guitar. You can’t help but roll your eyes. How could someone be so incompetent?

You reach your hand over to where the bed and the wall meet to grab your Spiderman plush. You hate to admit it because it’s kind of dumb but you’ve always loved spiderman. Ever since you were a little kid you collected posters, figures, pins, and merchandise having to do with the superhero. Even now, your walls are decorated in spiderman posters, you own spiderman clothing, and even printed your keys to have a blue and red spider web on them.

There was something so nostalgic to the vigilante and his style that you had to adorn your room with touches of blue and red. You thought spiderman was the embodiment of “cool.” From his suit to the way he acted around criminals to the electric guitar on his back. Sure, a guitar was the main thing you hated about Hobie but Spiderman did it better. He made it work in the way Hobie dreams of.

You wake up to the loudest knock on your front door you’ve ever heard. You immediately know it’s him. You try to ignore the blaring pounding coming from your door but it keeps going. You force yourself to get up and answer the door. You hope you can open it, yell at him, then go back to bed.

To your dismay the second you open the door Hobie places his hand on the top of the wood, stopping you from moving it anywhere else.

“What do you want this early?” you groan.

“It’s like 9 am, love. But anyway-” He cuts himself off before finishing his sentence. You’re too groggy to notice that he’s staring inside of your flat. His eyes search the walls and decor in front of him.

“So, I take it you like Spiderman?” He laughs.

“That’s none of your business,” you sigh, crossing your arms.

He pushes his way inside of your flat, moving around like he’s looking for buried treasure. He picks up memorabilia and smiles at them. He holds up a Spider-Punk figurine and turns towards you.

“Spider-Punk huh?”

“Don’t touch my stuff! You know this is technically breaking and entering,” you scold him, taking the figure out of his hand.

He puts his hands in his pockets and just smirks at you. That stupid smirk, displaying half of his teeth and perfectly showing his lip ring.

“What do you want from me, Hobie?” you question after placing the figure back on its stand.

“Jus- Just wanted to apologize for last night,” he starts.

“You mean this morning? We talked at 1 am, remember?” You say, passive aggressively.

“Right, whatever. You’re… You’re right,” he exhaled, “I shouldn’t be blasting my music that early. It’s inconsiderate and rude to the people in my vicinity,” he breathes.

In the time you’ve known him you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say sorry. You’re taken aback, did he really apologize? And did he sound genuinely sorry?

“Oh, oh uhm thanks,” you sat, still skeptical a camera crew would come out laughing saying this whole thing was a prank.

“I wanted to see if you maybe wanted to come to my show tonight? We could get dinner after or whatever you want,” He scratches the back of his neck, he’s nervous.

“I’d like that, I guess,” you reluctantly say.

“Wicked. Uhm, i’ll be leaving then. Sorry again,” he says. Shooting finger guns at you and making his way out the door.

You smile, maybe, just maybe, Hobies getting to you. As he’s leaving you could swear you see some blue and red material with spikes on it slipping out of his pocket.

#spiderman x y/n #spiderman atsv #spiderverse x reader #spiderman x reader #hobie brown #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobie x reader #spider punk #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk x y/n #marvel x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman x you

[babygorewhore]

Enter Sandman

Rafe Cameron x fem alternative reader!

After being hired by Rafe Cameron to be Wheezies music teacher, he asks you to give him his own lesson.

Hi so this is kinda short and I lowkey wanna burn it. And is it self inserted? Yes. But that’s fine. Anyway. Warnings! Oral! Male receiving! Daddy kink! Unprotected sex and praise requested by @gri959 I hope you like it baby!!! Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx and barely proofread please be nice to me I’m sensitive.

Getting the email that Rafe Cameron hired you to be Wheezies music instructor truly was the last thing you expected Monday morning after opening your computer. You scoffed and had half a mind to reject the offer. You’d known each other through high school and he was an asshole to you. Made fun of your pogue status, style and your role in the band you were in. You’d even slapped him across the face one morning when he’d really pissed you off.

But you were both adults now. And the pay wasn’t something you could afford to say no to. Wheezie was requesting singing and guitar lessons. You worked for a company that sent you to Kooks homes for hour sessions. Sometimes two if they doubled the offer. You were scheduled today at four to go to his house.

It gave a list of her experience in the email and it wasn’t much. She’d briefly been in choir before her fathers death completely changed her schooling. You honestly felt sorry for her. First the loss of her father and now she was apparently living with Rafe.

You sighed and went to your music room where you kept special instruments and books for students. You selected a small electric acoustic guitar, one with a smaller body and thinner neck to accommodate her size. It was smooth to the touch as you gently picked up the case as you slung the bag filled with beginner books across your body and made your way out of the door of your apartment.

The house was even larger than you’d imagined when you arrived and parked in the driveway. You swallowed to give your dry mouth moisture as your boots crunched the pavement as you walked the path to the front porch.

You square your shoulders and ring the door bell.

Wheezie answered and gave you a grin. Her eyes brightened as she swept them over your instrument and she ushered you inside. “You’re right on time!”

“Yeah! I try to be.” You smiled at her as she walked you to the living room, the large space immaculately clean. You felt nervous to sit down in fear you’d mess up a pillow or something.

The first twenty minutes you established goals, genre, her vocal type and finally a lesson plan. She was a willing student and picked up on the first round of exercises rather quickly. A spark of excitement went through you as you adjusted her fingers on the neck of the guitar, she wasn’t quite strong enough to make a lot of noise on the strings but it wasn’t bad.

“You can stop watching us, weirdo.” She says and breaks your concentration as you tune your guitar again and your head snaps to the right.

Rafe was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his expression intrigued as he studied your hands holding the neck and body as you absentmindedly strummed. “Oh, hey.” You forced a polite smile and he nodded.

You stand and gently place the instrument on the stand. You walk over to him, listening as Wheezie hums her exercise and attempts a power chord. “Thank you for hiring me. I was surprised to see the email.”

He shrugs with a little eye roll. “Yeah, well you’re good. I remember you playing back in high school.” You snort and cross your arms.

“Yeah? I remember you being an asshole to me.” You remark and he gives you a half smirk.

“How can I make it up to you? Wanna teach me a couple things? You can show me how to play Enter Sandman. Isn’t that what your band played at the competition?”

“And won.” You smiled and he chuckled. “You serious about me teaching you something?”

“Sure. I mean I’m going to have to hear it for months aren’t I? Might as well fuck around a little.” You bristle at the flippant wave of his hand before nodding. “We can go in here.” He gestures with his head before walking to the other room.

“Hang tight, okay?” You tell Wheezie who gives you a half hearted mhm.

You follow him after grabbing your guitar, trailing after his tall body as he meanders to the kitchen and sits down at the table. “What? You don’t want Wheezie to hear you?” You raise your eyebrows.

“She’s fine. Are you afraid to be alone with me or something?” Rafe challenges and goosebumps rise on your arms.

“No. Of course not. I just don’t know why you’d want to hide your poor attempt at playing a secret.” You snort and he scoffs.

“You think I’ll be terrible? My own teacher, doubting me? I’m hurt, baby.” He places a hand on his heart and your own flutters at the nickname before you clear your throat.

“Well, let’s get started.”

He takes the guitar and places it across his lap. Rafe runs his fingers along the strings, testing them as his rings squeak against them. You move to settle in the seat next to him before he bends his hand awkwardly, his wrist shifting and you quickly stop him.

“No, no, see if you do that, it’s going to hurt overtime. What you want to do is relax your wrist,” you step behind him and lean down, adjusting his hold. Your mouth inches away from his ear. “Okay…that’s better. Good job,” You mutter and you notice a patch of his skin heating.

Rafe moves in his chair, his legs spreading wider and you place your fingers on top of his. “Perfect. That’s great. Just keep the pressure there. Don’t strain your arm.”

“Mmm, sounds like you enjoy telling me what to do, huh?” He quips and you pause. You go to move around him but he catches your arm. “No, keep going. I like hearing you boss me around.” He winks.

You roll your eyes before settling behind him again, your chin rests on the back of the chair as you strum with him. Rafe’s hand strength allowed him to make more noise with the strings but you noticed his lap. The way his body shifted. He was fucking hard. And that’s when you had an idea.

“You know…I think we should make sure you’re really paying attention.” He half turns at your words.

“Yeah? How’s that?”

You shrug and trail a finger along his shoulder and arm before you sink to the floor in front of him with a smile.

“Play exactly what I showed you. And try not to mess up.” You tell him as your hands find his belt, you undo it and tug his pants down. You palm him in the middle of his boxers, feeling his cock against your hand and he inhaled sharply, hitting the wrong note.

“Rafe. Try again.” You pull down his underwear to his mid thigh, his heavy dick slapping against his thigh and you moan at the sight of precum leaking from the tip. “If you don’t fuck up, I’ll let you cum.” You order him and swipe your tongue along the vein before dragging it out. You spit on your hand and find his balls, massaging them as you kitten lick his tip.

You take him between your lips, his soft skin against yours as you dig your nails into his thighs and he huffs out a breath but he plays the correct chord. You take more of him down your throat, your tongue working the underside of his cock as you start to move your head around and he hits an incorrect one. You start to pull back a little but he quickly corrects it. “Mmmm,” you moan as he hits the back of your throat.

“Not-fucking-fair.” He hisses as he continues to shakily strum as you gag around him before sloppily pulling off him, arousal pooling out of your mouth and your core tightening from his dark gaze on your face.

“Who said I play fair?” You challenged with a smirk and he growls before setting the guitar down on the floor, reaching forward to haul you on his lip.

“You wanna fucking play a game? Fine. But don’t forget who’s in charge here, baby girl.” Rafe slaps your ass and lowers you down on his cock, your covered cunt soaked as you grind down on him, your hips moving in a slow rocking motion. His hand moves to cup your neck.

“Dirty girl. Wanting to ride my dick with someone in the other room? Making yourself my own little fuck toy.” He squeezes your throat a little tighter as your hands settle on his shoulders, gripping tight as he slides your panties to the side and sinks you down on his cock.

His shaft fills you to the brim as you settle onto him, throwing your head back as you jerk your pelvis and take him more, your lips finding the crook of his neck and you suck his skin, making sure to leave a little bite mark.

“Fuck-“ he exhales and his fingers find your hair, pulling tightly. “Gonna make you spill with my cum. You gonna take it like a good girl? Take daddy’s cum in that sweet pussy?”

You whimper against him as he guides you while you bounce, his grip sliding to your tits and he gives them a gentle squeeze, testing the waters before your climax approaches while he pinches your nipples. Your cum gives him extra slick as he jolts harder, his own release spilling into you and ropes of cum fill your insides.

It drips out of your cunt and onto his lap. You both tremble as he holds you close, brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “So. How did I do for our first lesson, baby girl?” He smirks with a half laugh.

You shake your head and climb off, adjusting your fumbled clothes. “Not bad.” You look him in the eye and cast a glance over your shoulder. “But I need to get back to your sister.”

“Yeah. You will. And then you’ll come back to me. I really wanna test how good of a teacher you are. I already forgot all the shit you showed me. I think I need a reminder.”

As you walk away, you realize something. Your panties are gone and you half turn to see him pocketing them with a wicked grin.

@xxbimbobunnyxx @marchsfreakshow @drewstarkeyslut @redhead1180 @emsgoodthinkin @take-everything-you-can @drudyslut @slvt4jamesmarch @valeskafics @rafescurtainbangz

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe smut #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x smut #drew starkey #Drew Starkey smut #drew starkey fanfiction #outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks smut #obx #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron imagine #rafe fic

[kairiscorner]

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

man... he's so annoying. and yet, so fucking dreamy.

summary: you were lauded as the only serious junior in the entire spider society. you did your work and loved doing it, you made no exceptions for any rules, not even for yourself. you loved order and civility, you fought hard in your universe to earn it, and you believed you deserved it here in the spider society and tried your hardest to uphold it. but when he showed up... you were gonna have a problem.

word count: 1,222 (crazy)

a/n: might be part 1 of something, or a oneshot, who knows !

you loved being a spider person, though of course, you'd never show it. you were looked up to by anyone who was anyone, everyone wanted to be like you. you upholded the law and ideals of society as a spider person, who'd've thought for your city to be civilized, all they needed was a spider-themed hero and they'd all bow down and listen?

it was because of your amazing abilities, tireless determination to serve and protect the people of your hometown that you were sought out by the spider society and became one of theirs. and you were the damn best at it. you found a new pleasure and hobby in beating up bad guys, being spotted over roofs of abandoned buildings, being pointed and gasped at by onlooker civilians, and saving the day as a friendly neighborhood spider person.

life was great like this, it followed one, linear path that everyone else did. it was the perfect pastime, the perfect job for you. you made a few friends and got along real well with jess and peter b, you had dibs on being jess' kid's mentor when it'd be born, and mayday absolutely loved you. you were peter b's go-to for a babysitter if he had to leave for a mission or go on a date night with mj. you were a trusted kid at the spider society, the adults had never met a kid as serious, responsible, and hard-working as you.

it was pure bliss, being part of the spider society.

until he showed up.

the moment he came in, you swore you heard a loud electric guitar strum reverberate throughout the halls. you felt the vibrations of it in every bone and muscle of your body, this guy couldn't have bothered you any worse. you groaned at the noise, asking others around you who that was. they shrugged, must've been some newbie, not that you cared, you just hoped they'd keep it down.

you cared for order and civility, and you found that in the spider society. despite there being some rogue ones and rebellious folks, you found yourself getting along with most of them. but you had a feeling that this newbie who made himself known through his flashy one note show might get on your nerves a little if he keeps that behavior consistent, but you digressed.

as you went over to the lobby to see what all the fuss was about, you soon heard another ear-piercing noise. it wasn't just one note that was playing now, it was a whole metal song. to make matters worse, some drummer girl joined him in, contributing to the noise.

"who the hell?" you asked yourself as you spotted a spiked spider man masked person with a black leather vest, buttons and pins adorning the lapels of it, with dark spider-doodled pants and long black boots with mismatched laces, yellow on the right and blue on the left. his mask had what appeared to be a runny look to it, the lenses of their mask ran down a little by the ends. their entire apparel screamed anarchy and chaos. and you loathed it.

"who's ready to overthrow an oppressive regime with me? an oppresive regime of boredom in this whole building!" the newbie's voice exclaimed. it was deep, yet smooth; it had a fluidity to it, almost as if he could say anything, and one would immediately listen, no questions asked. soon, everyone around you who was watching was buzzing as the guy played a loud metal song for all to hear. many were cheering for him and encouraging him to keep playing, but you soon noticed many of these people were on patrol duty. and many of them looked like they were more invested in this nutcase's impromptu performance over work, work that saves the multiverse, you thought as you reminded yourself.

"okay, people, this is cool and all, but we have work to do." you said as you tried to get the onlookers near you to listen to you, but it was for naught. none of them heard you over the incessant cheering, howling, and music in the air. you huffed as you shook your head, put your mask on, and swung over to the makeshift stage they had that was made of wooden crates and cardboard boxes laying around.

as the guy was strumming away on his electric guitar, showing no signs of giving out, you took the mic away. "okay, this was a good show and all, but we have work to do." you announced yet again, which earned the groaning and disappointment of a lot of people.

"yeah, yeah, groan as much as you want, that won't stop mr. o'hara from freaking out at us the minute he comes back and sees this whole... gathering." you say, trying to quell the audience's thirst for more excitement.

"well, aren't you a prissy one?" asked the newbie with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. you rolled your eyes. "what you did just hindered a whole lot of people from their responsibilities here, newbie." you told him in a stern voice as you frowned at him, expecting him to be mature about this if he was recruited as a spider man.

he laughed as he thanked the drummer girl for her performance as she was packing up to leave, and turned to look back at you with a smirk from underneath his mask. "you're real cute for that, upholding orders from higher-ups you so badly want to please. that's not being a spider person, though. more like being... an obedient little dog." he teased as he bent over a little to look you in the eye.

up close, he was much, much taller than you, much bigger in nearly ever aspect. you gulped a little, but your frown and angry expression remained. "say what you want, my judgement stands. i'm also more experienced than you here, so if you want to survive, you listen to me." you whispered as he leaned in closer to you, smirk widening.

he took off the mask, and you were surprised to see just how many piercings he had, you didn't even have any piercings for earrings at the bottom of your ears, yet he had... so many. he grinned at you as he ran a hand through his thick hair in wicks. "i think i can manage on my own, little doggy." he teased as he ruffled your hair and chuckled a low chuckle.

"i mean it though, it's cute. if you wanna be more than just a little dog for the higher-ups, though... you'll know where to find me." he said with a wink as he put the mask back on and swung away.

you were left alone now, thinking about who you just met. he was, of course, rebellious and disorderly, everything you weren't aspired never to become. you knew nothing good came out of a discordant lifestyle like his, no matter how little you knew of him, you knew one thing.

"man, he's so annoying..." you complained aloud as you took the mic and hopped off the makeshift stage, ready to clean it up before the adults got back. 'and yet, so... dreamy.'

oh dear, looks like he's gonna be quite the pain in the ass for you.

lmk if i should keep this going babes, i loved this idea sm, thank you to my friend on the dc server for the idea :DD

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @pixqlsin @k4tsu3 @nokkihy @fictarian @bivivivii

#hobie brown #hobie brown x you #hobie x y/n #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown my beloved #atsv hobie #atsv x reader #atsv x y/n #atsv x you #hobie my beloved #hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobie spiderverse

[orangecarton]

Nordic Bunny x Reader WP (W.I.P.)

(Sorry in advance ;-;)

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TW: Swearing

Honestly this isn't your best moment. You kinda got scammed out of 20 bucks for what you thought was a cheap cosplay of an alien soldier and when you put on said costume you got screamed at to "get back to the ship" and got kidnapped by some purple fish looking creatures. Next thing you know you're in outer space in, what you can only assume is, some sorta Ren Faire for space dorks. It looked pretty cool, but people kept trying to put you to work and getting you to larp with them, talking about some "Ruler of the Galaxy" and "Nightmare to Humanity". It was all really charming but right about now is when you were starting to get the munchies, so naturally you went on the prowl for some poor vending machine and/or food cabinet.

Without any helpful signs around to guide you through this maze of Star Wars ride at Disneyworld and Metallica's love child, you got lost. After walking for a while you start to hear shouting. A sign of life, and perhaps snacks (or at the very least water. Because GOD DAMN was it getting hot). Walking closer the shouts got louder and you could make out some words.

"ANOTHER FAILURE! WHO THE HELL THOUGHT CRABS WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA?!"

"Um, you did... sir."

"SHUT UP, DUM DUM! Are you calling me STUPID?!"

You reached the door and it automatically slid open, just in time for you to see one of your fellow cosplayers get zapped and turned into feathers by an extremely tall guitar monster. In this life or death situation you know it is important for you do react with dignity and poise, as to survive and stay alive. So you respond in kind,

"HOLY SH*T, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?! OH MY GOD?!"

Your panicked state causing you to just freeze in place, stuttering and mumbling utter nonsense.

"Excuse me? YOU DARE INSULT AND MOCK ME?? YOUR FEARSOME RULER??!?"

The guitar man struts closer, is it wearing platforms??? He (???) Raises his hand, the one that shot the guy before you (rest in piece). You stumble back and scream,

"AHHHH DONT SHOOT ME PLEASE!! I HAVE BANANAS IN THE FREEZER I STILL NEED TO BAKE INTO BANANA BREAD. They've been in there for months, BUT I PROMISE I'M GOING TO GET TO IT I SWEAR!!"

He falters, and in this moment you take in his appearance. He had a dark robotic and skeletal build, donning some sick ass platform boots, a leather cap, a red tie, and huge shoulder pads. His face was that of an electric guitar, rocking red eyes and scarlet lipstick, and... wait is he just in his underwear?

"What the- You're a human?!"

He lowers his hand and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Yeah... I'm a human. What about it?"

"How did you get up here?! Into my IMMENSELY IMPENETRABLE EVIL HEADQUARTERS?!"

"... I walked."

"...Oh."

You both kinda sat in awkward silence for a bit. The issue from before had presented itself once again when your stomach let out a noise that even Godzilla would be jealous of.

"You uh... got any snacks man?" You asked, the fear from before subsiding and your fallen brother in arms forgotten (R.I.P Nathan). Guitar man™ looks at you quizically, then turns around and whispers to himself (you could still hear though because he isn't a very quiet person).

"If I befriend this human... I'll be able to infiltrate the Earth AND TAKE IT OVER THUS BECOMING THE GRAND IMPERIAL EMPORER AND MOST EXTREME BEARER OF AWESOMENESS WHO HAS LOTS OF FRIENDS AND NEVER HAS TO HANG OUT ALONE!! MUAHAHAHA!!!"

"Sooooo... is that a no?"

He turns back around and smiles wickedly,

"Come now human! I will grant you snacks and in return you will become my friend, hang out with me, tell me all of humanities weaknesses and how to defeat Shred Force!"

"Yeah ok." You shrug.

He grabs your arm and just about drags you with him as he strides down the hallway. You stumble but manage to keep pace.

"Hey what's your name anyway?"

"You, my fair accomplice, can call me Nordic Bunny. RULER OF THE GALAXY AND NIGHTMARE TO HUMANITY"

"Cool cool."

What the hell have you gotten yourself into (Seinfeld credits play)

(Sorry for the bad grammar, here's a little doodle for compensation)

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#nordic bunny #nordic bunny shred force #nordic bunny x reader #shred force #i apologize for what i have done #IM REALLY SORRY ITS JUST THAT THERES NO NORDIC BUNNY STUFF 😭 #might put on ao3 idk

[eddies-house]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Five - Cold Eggs

W/C: 6K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mentions of drinking

Some early morning honesty on the rocks. Eddie is fucked. In every sense other than literal.

A/N: I'm getting giddy over these two please tell me yall feel the same

Masterlist

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The Munson bachelor pad wasn’t as boyish and messy as you initially thought.  You were sober enough to make that observation.  It was cozy, much like your own home and was around the same size.  The kitchen was probably the messiest part of it however you didn’t get a peek at the bedroom which you assumed could also be very disheveled.  There were cereal boxes left open on the counter, Cocoa Pebbles being the one that caught your eye along with a neglected box of Rice Krispies that laid on its side.   

A few too many pots and pans cluttered the stove top and some empty cans of soup and Spaghettios were left to collect dust near the sink.  His refrigerator held a collection of magnets, some being letters from the alphabet, although quite a few were missing, and others were ads from a pizza place and a few fruits and vegetables with cartoony faces.  Among the mess on the counters, you also noted a few empty liters of soda and some crushed beer cans.  Budweiser to be specific.

Other than that, the living room you’d been sitting in was tidy.  There was a clearly used checkered blanket bunched up on the corner of the couch you’d been occupying for the past several minutes and a few car catalogs littering the coffee table along with a copy of Lord of the Rings, bookmarked with a coupon for ground beef clipped from the local ads.  Next to that, an ash tray nearly overflowed.  

His wallpaper wasn’t as ugly as yours, which you envied.  It was maroon with even darker stripes alternating, creating a dark but homey atmosphere.  The wall sconces on the other hand, we’re tacky.  They looked more medieval than anything, almost like torches.  The light wood floors contrasted with the walls and at your feet was a frayed rug that looked like it had seen better days.  Not dirty, just tattered.

In the corner sat an acoustic guitar painted with the words ‘this machine slays dragons’ and next to it was an electric guitar, red with cracks of black.  You’d never seen one like it before and it seemed to be well loved from what you’d heard every day, the endless guitar solos bleeding into your eardrums daily.  At least he was getting his money's worth out of it.

You continued eyeing your surroundings, taking in the habitat that was Eddie Munson’s home when your gaze lands on a particular object that piqued your interest.  It sat atop a shelf near the door, a lonely Garfield mug.

Before you could further examine the mug or even think of reasons as to why it was displayed, if it was even displayed, or perhaps it was abandoned in a hurry out the door, Eddie emerges from the bathroom just off the living room.  His curls are now wet ringlets toward the bottom, and instead of wearing your puke, he wears a red sweatshirt that reads ‘Indianapolis, Indiana’ on the front along with some baggy black sweats.  Despite his comfy clothes, his face is still decorated with that grouchy frown you’d grown used to.  Did this man ever relax his face?  His eyebrows were still pinched together either in thought or in irritation.

“I-um, I’ll wash the shirt and um the–the boots.”  You stutter, rapidly standing from your perch at the edge of his couch.

Though still a little tipsy, more coherent thoughts flooded your mind.  Guilt plagued you as you thought about the blanket of barf that coated his shirt and boots about a half hour earlier, abandoned on the front porch.  You were smart enough to avert your gaze when he lifted his shirt off of his torso just to let it wrinkle up on the wood planks to be dealt with later.  It wasn’t your fault that you’d caught a glimpse of the tattoos that adorned his body, some kind of dragon if you remember correctly, wound from his waist up to his ribs.  The others you didn’t have long enough to distinguish their imagery, though there were several along with what appeared to be some scarring of some kind.  You couldn’t be sure, the darkness from the night not allowing you a clear picture along with your hazy mental state.

“Don’t worry about it.”  He dismisses while you bashfully sit back down on the edge of the couch.

It was hard to grasp whether he was pissed at you or just at life in general.  You would take full responsibility for the vomit but everything before that was on him.  Yelling at you over a pile of broken plates seemed far more degrading based on his tone, the way he reprimanded you and painted you as this stupid girl, unable to stand your ground.  Maybe it was better that he fired you, you wouldn’t be subject to his obnoxious mood swings where he seemed to take everything out on you when shit hit the fan.  

You continued watching Eddie move about his surroundings, taking in how he interacted with his day to day environment.  What did he look like fully relaxed?  Lounging around, playing his guitar without a care in the world.  It was difficult to picture; the image of a moody man with a tensed facial expression the only one you could seem to conjure up every time rather than the vision of him with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, enjoying coffee out of that stupid Garfield mug.  You wonder if takes his coffee with cream and sugar.  Maybe just cream?  Or just sugar?  Maybe he drinks it black, that would be the most sensible option if you were going by his grouchy nature.

“Gonna find my keys, then we’ll go back to the bar to get yours.”  Eddie decides, shuffling through some items on the kitchen counter.  

The irony.

Agreeing with a hum, you allow yourself to lean further into the couch while trailing your finger over the faded plaid pattern, lines of beige crossing over white that temporarily held your focus.  The clinking of empty beer cans against the linoleum counter can be heard, and then footsteps into the bedroom just off the living room to your left.  Two idiots with misplaced keys under the same roof.

It feels as if the couch begins to mold around you, welcoming you into its springy cushions that otherwise wouldn’t be very comfortable but considering the night you had and the state you were in, you felt like you were on a cloud.  Your thoughts drift back to curious visions of Eddie.  What did his hair look like first thing in the morning?  Was it as wild as you imagined?  Curls sticking up every which way, frizzy and matted?  Or was it somehow still perfectly messy?  Boyishly messy.  

Did he take those chunky rings off every night, leaving them on his nightstand until the morning?  How many more tattoos did he have?  What movies did he watch?  What did he do for fun?  You suppose plucking at his guitars was a main contender with the way it would constantly invade your ears.  Obviously he read, your eyes catching that copy of Lord of the Rings on the coffee table again.  Maybe he worked on cars too, based on those car part catalogs.  

The image of him working under the hood of a car, all sweaty in some kind of tank top occupied your brain, his usually tense face hard at work with grease smeared along his cheek.  And his hands.  His hands would be coated in oil and he’d pull a rag out from his back pocket to wipe them off.  Then he’d smile and reveal those deep dimples framing his face so perfectly.  And then you would–

“Uh, Bambi?”

Eddie’s voice doesn’t do much other than cause you to stir in your sleep, snuggling a pillow while curling into yourself.  You were nearly drooling, completely content.  He couldn’t help but stare a little longer than necessary before realizing what a creep he was being.  Was he supposed to wake you?  If he was, he felt wrong doing so with how peaceful you looked.  He rolled his eyes but truthfully, he didn’t mind having a guest for the night.  

Maybe he’d be able to get some sleep for once.

–

Tossing around as the springs beneath you squeak, your mouth feels like it had previously been filled with sand.  Not an ounce of saliva coated your tongue, you were severely dehydrated.  You flung the knitted blanket that had rested on top of you off–when did that get there?  You don’t remember grabbing a blanket before drifting off into a deep slumber.  

This wasn’t even your house.

Collecting your thoughts, you recall that you had been sitting on Eddie Munson’s couch before apparently falling asleep.  It was still dark outside, signifying that it had to be early in the morning which meant you’d only slept for maybe two or so hours.  A lamp set atop a beat up side table in the corner was the only thing illuminating the room now.  Sitting up and stretching, your bones ached from the way they were piled on top of each other in the position you had been sleeping in.  Your right arm had pins and needles running up and down it from being cut off from circulation for so long.  

The groan that threatened to escape you was held in your throat as you scooted forward, only to find a full glass of water right there on the coffee table.  This was beyond embarrassing, this was humiliating.  If you could scurry out the door and across the yard back to your place you would, but you were in this predicament due to your own negligence.  

With no other options available to you, you gulp down the lukewarm water, just grateful that your tongue was no longer dryer than the Sahara desert.  But it still wasn’t enough.  Your thirst seemed unquenchable, at this rate you’d need approximately five more glasses.  So you stood yourself up, legs shaky and stomach a tiny bit queasy, and wobbled over to the kitchen.  You’d have to pace yourself to avoid throwing up a bunch of water since your stomach was so sensitive right now.  Food was out of the question but water was a necessity.  

Twisting the sink handle with a small screech of the metal, you fill the glass with a shaky and weak arm before sipping away.  

Slowly.  You remind yourself.

It must have taken around eight minutes to finish that second glass of water, coaching yourself through it the entire time.  You grew tired of drinking it but persisted anyway.  As you reach to fill a third glass, you’re startled by a figure in the doorway to Eddie’s room, unable to make out any features in the dim lighting.  With a yelp, you manage to drop the glass in the sink, it clanking around noisily but thankfully, not breaking.  

“Shit, why are you awake?”  Eddie asks, hands raised in surrender as he emerges from the shadows.

“Why are you awake?”  You counter.

He raises a brow, clearly wide awake.  He didn’t even have that gravelly, sleepy voice.  Maybe he hadn’t even gone to sleep at all.  There was no evidence that his hair was any frizzier than before and his face didn’t have that puffiness to it when you wake up.  It’s also possible that he just looked perfect when he woke up but if you’re being honest, no one really woke up perfect.  

“I, uh, I was reading.”  He admits, scratching the back of his head.

“Oh.”

An awkward silence trickles in, causing you to cross your arms as a means to close in on yourself, steadily backing up until you hit the counter behind you.  Eddie maintains eye contact with you as he retrieves his own cup from one of the cabinets, filling it up and chugging it down with ease.  You suddenly feel so out of place, like you were supposed to leave but there was nowhere else to go.  

“I, um, I’m sorry for…for the puke.  A-and for falling asleep.  I didn’t mean to intrude.”  You tell him honestly.

He only nods.  

“I can go…sit on my porch until you go into the bar.  And I’ll get my keys and be out of your hair.”  

A few drops of water roll down his chin as he continues drinking, the back of his hand coming up to swipe the liquid away.  He appears to be lost in thought, eyes concentrated on the counter in front of him where a few rogue Rice Krispies live.  You let your legs carry you a few feet away, your goal being the front door until he speaks up again.

“I’m not gonna be responsible if you get eaten out there.”  He grumbles.  

“Eaten?”

Eddie looks you up and down as if to say ‘are you serious?’.  To be completely honest, you hadn’t taken into account the wildlife that thrived throughout the area before you moved in.  Now you were looking more and more dumb by the minute.

“Bears?”  He offers an anxious head tilt.  “We have fucking bears here, Bambi.  You can’t just wander around in the middle of the night.”

“I wouldn’t be wandering.”  Why were you trying to make an argument?  Out of all the things you could fight him on, why were you choosing whether or not you’d get eaten by a bear?  “I would be sitting on my porch.”

You felt like the dumbest woman on the planet and you knew you should’ve stopped talking but the words just…came out.

“Bears can reach your fucking porch, you know that, right?”  

His large eyes bored into you in disbelief, his mouth slightly hung open as he awaited your answer.

“Y-yeah.”  You gulp.

“God.”  He scoffs, turning away from you, perplexed before muttering something under his breath that you happened to also catch.  “Christ, they shoulda turned you away.”

“Who?”  You pipe up, feeling a bit daring.

For a moment, he turns to stare at you blankly.  It’s almost as if you’re the only two people awake and if either of you happened to raise your voice in the slightest, it would awaken the town.

“The assholes that sold you that house.”  He just about whines, his voice an octave higher, frustration obvious in his tone.

The refrigerator light briefly appears over the blue and green tiled floor as Eddie opens it, reaching for something before turning around toward the stove and kicking the door shut.  

“What–what do you mean?  Turn me away?  What’s that supposed to mean?”  You ask in offense.

“I mean…”  He cracks an egg into a pan, followed by another.  “They shouldn’t have sold it to someone so clueless.”  Another egg.  

The shells are discarded in the sink, further cracking into smaller pieces at the impact he’d thrown them.  

“What?  Were they just supposed to reject me until someone more ‘qualified’ came along?”  You try to catch his gaze, ducking your head as he reaches for the salt and pepper.  “And–are you seriously making eggs right now?”  

You earn a scowl from him as his pan begins to sizzle, his hand quick to grab a spatula from one of the pots on the stove to flip the eggs.  This had to have been some weird dream or manifestation.  And there they were again, those three numbers falling from his lips in a whisper as his eyes shut temporarily while his eggs simmered.

“I was already qualified before you came along!”  He raises his voice, not quite to a yell but not very quiet either.

Silence. 

Your eyes must have bulged out of your head, Eddie’s features softening by the second.  Regret settled in his eyes, your face the vision of pure horror and all because of him.  

He got impatient.

His therapist would be disappointed in him.  And so would Wayne.

“I-I just…I was going to, um…”  He starts calmly.  “I was gonna buy it.  And, and I was—”  His breathing is now shallow, his eyes wet and pleading.  “It–it was–I don’t–”

“Eddie.”  You whisper, trying to break through whatever trance he was in.

He seemed stuck in his own head, eyes darting back and forth while he struggled to find words.  The eggs were on the verge of burning which prompted you to reach over him and turn the stove off.  The spatula he previously held clung against the tile.  

“I-I–um, I was–”  

It’s as if he isn’t even in the room, totally removed as the same few syllables fell from his tongue.

“I’m–I-I–”

“Eddie, it’s okay.”  You attempt to soothe him.  “Do you wanna sit down?”  You ask, trying to catch his eyes but failing as he squeezes them shut.

Again with the counting.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

All under his shaky breath.

“I-I’m fine.  ‘M fine.”  His voice cracks, eyes opening timidly.

When you go to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder, he flinches, a gasp leaving his lungs.  Forcing yourself a few steps backward in order to provide him the space he needs, you recognize a hint of fear within him.  It’s not of you, it’s something else yanking at his thoughts.  

“Sit down, let’s sit down, okay?”  You instruct, gradually lower yourself, waiting for him to follow your actions.

Nodding, he slowly slides his back down the side of the counter, falling into a position where his knees were to his chest, hands resting against the floor.  You join him, still keeping your distance but wanting him to know that despite the previous tension, you were being supportive through his episode.  Whatever it may be.

“Breathe.”  You tell him, just as he had done with you back at the bar.  “In…and out.”  You encourage him.

He follows, his breathing still labored but improving.  Continuing for a minute or so, his shoulders finally loosen up, his face relaxing.  You let him guide the situation from here, if he wanted to talk or remain mute.  Either was okay.

Moments pass, the hard kitchen floor causing you discomfort that you willingly take, not daring to shift around too much as to keep the tranquility finally falling over the two of you.  Instead, you take interest in the wood grain of the cabinets, eyes wandering around each curve like a maze, sometimes identifying shapes along the way.  A dog’s face, a ghost, and occasionally the haunting silhouette of a human.  

Sneaking a glance at Eddie, you find that his eyes are shut as he rests his head against the cabinet behind him, his hands fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie, tying little knots and then undoing them just to repeat the process.  Your watch indicates that it’s 4:03 AM.  You would usually be sleeping however you can’t really offer yourself much sympathy when it seems this is the norm for Eddie.  He always had tired eyes though you’d never put much thought into it until now.  He must not be sleeping.  Which could also be a contribution to his moodiness.  

“I’m gonna lose the bar.”  Eddie speaks up from beside you, eyes still shut as he continues to fidget.  

“Hm?”  You turn your full attention to him.

There’s a pause, a moment of thinking.  You can tell as he opens his eyes and side-eyes you, not with malice but more so to collect his thoughts.  Lips pinched in between his teeth roughly, you could almost wince at the way blood surfaces from the poor abused skin.  Not too obvious, but obvious enough as you await clarification, the tiniest bit of crimson seeping out from behind his teeth only to be left to dry out on his perfectly shaped lips.  Then he breaks the silence with a heavy exhale.

“I, uh, I’m pretty close to losing it.  Can barely pay the bills on the damn place.  Been going downhill for a few months now.”  He elaborates, spinning a ring around his finger repeatedly .  “I was gonna use the rest of my savings that my grandpa left me to buy that house.  Rent it out.  I talked to a friend who’s really good with all that financial shit and he said I could get a steady income and most likely keep the bar running and profiting again.”

“Oh.”  You whisper, a huge sensation of guilt overtaking you.

“Not your fault.”  He sighs.  “Guess I’ve been kinda taking it out on you.”

Now he avoids your gaze, far more interested in the cracked tile beneath him.  A curse can be made out from just under his breath while he buries his head in his hands, running them up and down his face, almost as if to relieve some of his stress but having no such luck.  His admission catches you off guard, not at all suspecting that this morning would turn into honesty hour.

“No.”  You reply quickly.  “I mean…yes.  But I-I didn’t know.  If I knew–”

“Don’t give yourself a stroke, Bambi.”  He cuts you off, turning to look at you.  “I’m not proud of how dick-ish I’ve been.  It’s nothing personal though.”  Eddie confesses, seemingly annoyed with himself.

Sincerity floods his eyes, a cry for help.  But how were you supposed to help him?  Before you can muster up some kind of response to his almost-apology, he continues.

“I-uh, I just can’t lose this bar.  I inherited it from my grandpa and he had been running it for…years.”  Behind his persistence, there’s hints of defeat.  A bitterness that you’d come to recognize in the last few weeks.  “And, uh, I didn’t know ‘im for very long but, I kinda feel like it’s my responsibility.”

“Didn’t know him for very long?”  You asked before even calculating the consequences.  You had no right to pry into his personal life.

His hands begin to move up and down his shins, a self-soothing gesture from what you can tell.  Eddie was very fidgety, and you’d only just started noticing.  

“Yeah.”  He whispers.  “I moved here like four years ago.  Some bad shit happened back home and I–”  There’s a moment of hesitation, a sudden panic lurking behind his gaze.  “I can’t go back.”

You want so badly to ask him where ‘home’ used to be but decide against it.  He had already willingly offered you more information than you would have originally been brave enough to ask for.

“Anyway, I never really knew my grandpa until I came here to live with him.  He died last year.  I’ve been trying to keep things afloat since then.”  He explains, pinching the bridge of his nose with a shaky hand.

“I’m so sorry.  I-I didn’t know.”

Genuine sympathy drips from your voice, the kind that felt like hot honey running down a sore throat during flu season.  During the moment it feels…good.  Comforting.  In the way that only his mother ever was in the brief time they had together.  And then the sting returns.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”  The walls are rapidly raised once again and god knows when you would get to peek through the cracks again.  “We should, uh, we should get to the bar so you can get your keys.  And your car.”  He suggests, pulling himself up from the floor with a groan.

“Wait–what about your eggs?”  You mention, gripping the edge of the counter for leverage as you stand.

The eggs were long forgotten about, now all sad and cold in the pan.  Unappetizing.  One of the yolks had somehow broken among the commotion of Eddie’s panic and left a disgusting coating around the gaps, that eggy-wet-dog smell nauseating you.  They were trash in all honesty but Eddie didn’t seem to mind, quickly lifting the pan and grabbing a fork to shovel them into his mouth.

You can’t fight the urge to stare, cold eggs and runny yolks being tossed into his mouth without a second thought.  

“What?”  He glances at you in irritation.

“You could’ve at least heated them up.”  You complain, nose crinkled in revolt.

He rolls his eyes but his annoyance quickly melts away, a fraction of a playful smirk pulling at his lips, eyes gleaming with something captivating.

–

The scent of tobacco and motor oil invades your nose, the smells of Eddie’s truck, much different than the little pine tree air freshener in the car he’d driven you in last night.  The engine rumbles down the road, startling the birds as he drives by.  Some kind of guitar riff blares through the radio, his ringed fingers tapping along against the steering wheel.  Instead of his sweatshirt and sweatpants, he now wears a long sleeve covered with his leather jacket along with some ripped up blue jeans.  As far as you’re concerned, he’s way underdressed for the brisk morning air, only getting colder and colder by the day.  Though, he may run hot and the drop in temperature just doesn’t faze him.  Even so, it’d make you feel better if he at least put on a heavier coat.

Regardless, you can’t seem to control the shivers that rattle your body, your teeth nearly chattering, jaw clenched tightly.  You were mentally scolding drunk-you for forgetting your jacket at the bar and though you were on your way there now, it didn’t do you any good with the way you were practically an ice cube.  It was apparent that the heater of Eddie’s truck wasn’t very efficient as the air coming out was slightly warm but not warm enough to relieve the cold nipping at the exposed skin of your arms.  You could see your breath, only further reminding you of how cold you truly were.

Attention was the last thing you wanted as you subtly moved your hands that rested politely in your lap, up your arms to offer the tiniest bit of skin-on-skin warmth.  Any kind of relief would do.  You only hoped he wouldn’t notice as you began to move your hands back and forth as a means to create some friction, more heat.

Buy a large, fuzzy, soft coat, ASAP.  You note to yourself.

As a distraction, you begin to identify objects within the truck, a solo game of ‘I spy’ if you will.  At your feet, there’s a small crate of cassette tapes.  An impressive collection, mainly metal and rock from what you can see.  Maybe a few folksy ones behind those based on the labels, John Denver being the one that stood out to you.  Then, another car parts catalog on top of the dash.  An empty can of Dr. Pepper in the cup holder.  Or what you assume to be empty.  A definitely empty cigarette carton abandoned in the other cup holder–

“Shit, here.”  Eddie says, reaching behind into the back seat only to magically pull out a denim jacket covered in several patches and pins.  

Evidently, you weren’t playing it as cool as you thought, clearly somehow exposing that you were in fact freezing.  He showed no emotion as he urged the jacket into your reach, eyes still focused on the road.  Your hesitation only had him pushing the denim into your hand, wordlessly cautioning you that he wouldn’t have your modesty or insistence that you were fine.  Clutching the rough fabric in your hand, you pause to stare at him, as if he was going to change his mind any second.  He doesn’t.  Only keeps his eyes forward, brows furrowed in that grumpy manner.

His nose is pink again and you were willing to bet that the tips of his ears matched if they hadn’t been hidden by his wild hair.  Even his cheeks were dusted with the lightest rosy shade.  Fall looked good on him.  You couldn’t even imagine how amazing Summer would look on him.  

Quickly, you undo your seatbelt and shrug the jacket on.  It’s cold from living in the truck all night but warms you up regardless, much cozier than your bare arms out in the open.  And it smells like Eddie, a smell you can’t quite pinpoint to one specific thing.  A little bit like cigarettes, maybe a hint of cologne, spicy but not overpowering, and a whiff of rubber.  It almost smelled like a garage.

The sun was just rising on the horizon, the lake coming into view perfectly as if to put on a show.  Hues of orange painted the sky, birds chirping and squawking as they announced the arrival of a new day.  An apricot dream accompanied by peachy tones.  

–

The Bourbon was a shell of itself at 5:00 AM.  The morning was bright and early though the bar wasn’t ready to awaken just yet, not until the evening when it thrived.  Until then, it slept peacefully throughout the day, forgotten about until Happy Hour.  Ribbons of light snuck in through the blinds, illuminating the smallest sections of the tables and the floorboards.  

The lights quickly took over that magical early morning feel as Eddie emerged next to you, hands tucked into his pockets while you scanned the room.  And there they were, your keys.  Sat right on top of the bar just as you had remembered.  Your jacket, however, was nowhere to be seen.  

Bummer.

You could’ve sworn you grabbed it from the back lockers before you declared war on Eddie last night.  It wasn’t there either, your locker devoid of your belongings other than a pad of paper and a pen.  

“Have you seen my jacket?”  You ask Eddie, checking the barstools just to be safe.  Nothing.

He had slipped right back into work mode, even at the crack of dawn.  You suppose it's fair though, the information he had shared with you in the quietest hours of the morning resonating in your mind.  Work never stopped for him.  

“Hm?  No, I haven’t seen it.”  He answers, collecting the dirty rags from their designated bin behind the bar to start them up in the wash.

With a soft pout, you trace your steps in your head but can’t seem to recall where you’d left it, your brain failing you.  Maybe it would eventually pop up again, it wasn’t anything special anyway.  It just happened to be one of the heaviest jackets you owned so you would have to remember to stop by one of the shops to search for something equivalent.  Beginning to pull your arm out of the sleeve of the jacket you currently wore, Eddie’s voice stops you.

“Just–keep it ‘til you find yours.”  He says.  Like he knew.  

Were you that obvious?  Girl moves to a random town miles and miles away from home only to be unprepared for the weather conditions in which you would think she would be aware of before committing.

“No, it’s–”

You immediately shut up when you see his expression, something that says ‘for the love of god, just listen’ with glaring eyes and furrowed brows.  Instead of fighting him on it, you offer your gratitude in the form of labor.

“Um, I could stick around…and help.  If you need.”  

Your words float in the air, so delicate it makes him want to vomit; not out of disgust but out of confusion for whatever feeling was swirling around in his head, making him dizzy.  Each word was too sweet, cavity inducing sweetness that he wanted to lick up like icing.  He wasn’t used to being presented with such regard, a candied offer delivered right from your pretty lips to his ears.

“If I still have a job.”  You add.  Sugary syllables pouring from your lips unintentionally.  He may have a heart attack from the amount of sugar.

Eddie collects himself, clears his throat as if to also clear his conscience, not succeeding.  You’re so unlike everything that he knows.  He knows of friendly conversation and boyish banter, endless nights followed by endless days without sleep, he knows of his shitty attitude that comes around more often than not, but he’s never been one to know pure kindness, a certain tenderness radiating from you and seeping into him.  Sure people are kind to him, especially here.  But you’re something else.

“Yeah.  Yeah, ‘course you have a job.”  He affirms.  

The small smile you grace him with makes him want to jump off of a bridge.  Because he is such a cruel being, such a monstrous man awaiting further punishment from the universe for being much less than gentle with such a sweet-tempered, sympathetic human that may even be a gift from god himself if Eddie believed in all that.  

And then Chrissy crossed his mind.  He could not endure another loss.  Chrissy was never even his but he used to mourn what could have been had she lived.  Perhaps she was his first love.  A miserable little middle schooler pining after Hawkin’s Sweetheart all the way up until highschool.  And the moment he got close enough, she was gone, right in front of his poor traumatized eyes.  It was enough for him to swear off love for good.

For some reason he was finding himself wanting to dial back on that promise.  He had only known you for around two weeks and was going back on his own word.  It was freaking him out, making him want to yank his hair out from the roots and collapse onto the floor.  He felt like a teenage boy again, going through puberty and trying to work out all of his jumbled feelings and hormones.

You were staring at him expectantly and it was only then that he realized he had been lost in thought.  A pool of thoughts actually.  Maybe even having a revelation?  

“You can uh…”  He clears his throat, nearly hacking up a lung.  “You haven’t…you haven’t eaten, have you?”  

Internally, he’s scolding himself.  

You’re gonna get hurt before you can even get close.  People are not meant to love you, Munson.  It’s been proven time and time again.  Quit while you’re ahead.

He was too far ahead anyway.  Would he ever learn his lesson?  

People are not meant to love you.

“No.”  You answer sheepishly.  “But I-I’m fine!”  You try to say convincingly.  The reality was that your stomach was swallowing itself, the fact that your dinner had been four tequila shots was not favoring you.  

“Bambi.”  Eddie says sternly.

God she’s gorgeous.

He was fucked.

“Okay…fine.  I haven’t eaten.”  You admit.  “But I can help out a little and then–”

“C’mon.”  He demands, abandoning the bin of dirty rags to head for the kitchen.  

And on the way, he reasons with himself as you follow.

Just be friendly.  There’s nothing wrong with being friendly.  We can be friends.  Stop scaring the shit out of yourself.  She wouldn’t even like you beyond that.  No one would.  

“So, what are you feelin’?”  He asks, knocking his knuckles against the metal worktop.

“Oh, I-I don’t know.  Whatever is easiest.  You know what, I can just go get something from one of the shops, I’m sure that little pancake place is open by now.”

“You don’t trust my cooking?”  He jokes, amusement written all over his face.

To be fair, he hadn’t given you much reason to trust him since you arrived.  But somehow, layers were starting to peel back and you were getting the tiniest glimpses of his true self.  And you’d be stupid not to indulge when he had practically propped the door to his mind right open.  At least for the time being.

“Should I?”  There’s a huge grin on your face, a stupid grin that you try to conceal but can’t.  “I dunno, you kind of have me wondering if you’re gonna spit in my food or something.”  You quip.

“Ouch.”  Eddie feigns hurt by bringing a hand to his chest.  “You think I’m that scummy?”  He asks, raising his brow playfully.

“Oh, the scummiest.”  You banter back.

“You’re breakin’ my heart Bambi.”  He frowns before disappearing into the walk-in freezer, discarding his leather jacket on a hook on his way.

Truth be told he was breaking yours too, with his handsome face and his dumb smile, deep dimples you could think about for hours, and those eyes.  They told a story, a tragic story that maybe he would never care to share.  And that’s what broke your heart.  Suffering in silence.  You knew that feeling all too well.

“By the way…”  Eddie shouts from the freezer before appearing once again.  “I’m Eddie.”  He sticks his hand out toward you, two eggs held in his free hand.  

You look up at him, bewildered.  

“I never asked for your name.”  He reminds you with a shit-eating grin.

The Eddie you met weeks ago was gone as far as you were concerned.  All within a few hours, he seemed to warm up to you.

The scary dog was rolling over…for you.

~end~

Masterlist

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #eddie munson au #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things au #stranger things fic

[silent-raven13]

Don't mess with Spider-Punk's Sunflower

Green Goblin laughs out loud flying on his hoverboard, the anomaly glitching around having to throw bombs left and right. "Oh shit! He's going crazy!" Gwen shouted.

Pavtri said, "We gotta help the civilians! Those bombs are gonna hurt them!"

Miles went to use his venom strike on the enemy, before the villain was able to hit him with one of his bombs. "Ah-hahaha, take that Spider-man!"

"Arr-ahhhhhh!" Miles took the harsh hit at least using his venom strike to handle the hit, "Uhhhh!" His body weakened as he fell down.

"MILES!" Gwen and Pavtri shouted being busy from saving civilians.

Miles falling in mid-air, until a special Spider Punk came to the rescue. "Gotcha, luv!"

"Augh!" Miles winced at his hands taking damage, "I-I-I got lucky, huh?" Then he noticed a sharp deep cut on his side, "Ahh, fuck." His eyes snap back at his partner seeing how the punker remained quiet, this is worrisome!

"Shh, it's okay. Take a breather. I'll handle him! This isn't the first time I dealt with a fascist Osborn." Hobie went on top of building for his Sunflower to rest, he pressed his forehead against him. Their masks touching, then a kiss on the forehead. "Don't worry I got this, Sunflower."

"Hobie, be careful."

"Heh, careful is my middle name, darling." Spider-Punk went on the edge glaring at the Green Goblin.

"Bae, your middle name is...." His boyfriend jump off the building to fight their enemy, "Laurence." Miles finished seeing his boyfriend is pretty pissed off at the Green Goblin.

Being pissed off is one thing, but for Spider-Punk, he's enrage! Seeing an Osborn attacking his love one, not just any love one, his Sunflower had made him felt a rage he never felt before. Or rarely felt, because Spider-Punk is known to fuck shit up when he wants too!

"Ahh, another Spider-man coming to take me on? Hahaha, like what I did to your friend? You lucky I didn't blow his brains out!" The Green Goblin laughs manically in the air.

Spider-punk glaring at the enemy, all he saw was red. When the enemy launch another rocket bomb, Spider-Punk uses his electric guitar to hit it like a baseball. The rocket exploded in the air causing the Green Goblin to move upward away from the smoke, "Wha?" Then out of the smoke appears Spider-Punk's body shoot out with both his hands holding the neck of his guitar-*WAM!*

The powerful swing hit the anomaly's helmet causing to the crack leaving one eye mask completely broken. Norman Osborn's eyes wide releasing he was falling down being completely knocked out from his hoverboard. "Wha-what! AHHHHH!" He screams as he watches Spider-Punk on his hoverboard looking down at him like curiosity like what would happen if someone fell on concrete.

*THUD!* The Green Goblin's green body suit with armor landed hard on the streets having his body tumbling around till he lays as if he were dead. Letting out a low groan, he hears heavy footsteps, and chains clinging together. Quickly looking up to find Spider-Punk dragging his guitar on the pavement with metal scratches against it.

The menacing superhero had an eerie vibrance around him completely different from the Spider-man the villain knows. This one was already at it's limit with the whole cat and mouse game, especially when he hurt the other hero in black and red suit.

"Get up." The Spider-man grunts with his big beady mask staring down at him, no emotions show, but the sound of his voice is deep and daring.

Norman tries to more feeling one of his arm broken as he grunts in pain, his whole body couldn't move, a massive pain through his head. Then, heavy thick boot pressed against his abdominal with a harsh shove to making his whole body turns. His head facing the grey skies, the echos of people screaming and chaos all through the city of New York, "I said Get up, you fucking cunt!" The Spider-man demanded in a serious tone before kicking him hard.

"OOOHH! AHH!" Norman clutched his stomach feeling like the kick rupture one of his organs.

"I said fucking get up! Fight me like a damn man, you bombaclatt!" This time Spider-Punk hit his body with his guitar, with all his rage he started to beat the Green Goblin into a bloody pulp. The punker stomps on the enemies chest until he heard ribs crack, "This is what you get of fucking hurting my SUNFLOWER!"

Norman tries to fight away until he screams in pain, begging for the Spider-man to stop him. Spider-Punk didn't believe in mercy, he believes in pay back. Hurt his loved ones, he'll retrieve the same energy ten thousand folds.

In spite of anger, he grips on to his guitar being ready to bash into the Green Goblins' brains out. He done it before, what's another kill gonna do to him? "I'm gonna make you regret for hurting my Sunflower!" He swings his electric guitar with all his power causing Norman Osborn to beg in cries.

"NO, PLEASE! I HAVE A SON!!!" Norman shut his eyes getting ready for the worst, with his helmet cracks showing off his bloody face in panic.

Then Hobie stops with his eyes wide at Miguel grabbing at the neck of the guitar stopping the murder of the Green Goblin anomaly. "Enough, Brown. You done enough damage to him." Miguel said in a serious tone with his mask shifting to a glare.

"Ha, I say when I'm done!" Hobie growls at him.

"Shouldn't you worry about a specific someone... I dunno like Morales?" Miguel turns his head and points at Miles walking with his hands covering the deep wound he had being covered by a bandage Gwen is helping him.

Hobie turns his head shifting his anger into worry, "Oh! Sunflower!" He happily rushes over almost skipping to find his sweetheart, "You alright, luv?"

Miguel shook his head at the punker seeing how he swept off Miles' feet, their foreheads pressed together and kiss. Then he looks back at the Green Goblin staring in shock before passing out. "Whoa! He does not look good?" Peter came by looking at the bloody mess.

"Brown lost it."

"Pfft, and you don't? Last time I check you also kill your enemies."

"Okay but he went off the wall because Morales got-" Peter stood with one hand on his hip and the other free hand pointed at him, wagging his finger, "You know, you and him are so much alike, if it was Gabi. You would burn down the whole city." This caught off Spider-man 2099's guard. "Huh uh, stay quiet."

Hobie happily snuggles his love while Miles said, "Bae, you gotta chill. I only got cut."

"Never! Whoever hurt you will get their shit rocked, Sunflower." He nuzzle into his boyfriend's neck, inhaling his scent, "Mmm, my Sunflower." Miles can only giggle at his boyfriend being so cute.

#punkflower #miles morales #hobie brown #spiderman #flowerpunk #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #fanfic

[film-in-my-soul]

steddie - writer’s choice ❤️

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Writer's Choice - Different First Meetings + Modern/Canon Divergence AU (because I don't want to have the period typical homophobia)

.⋆｡°✩ Steve takes the kids to a local concert and manages to get himself front and center when Corroded Coffin takes the stage. ✩°｡⋆.

Steve is going to kill Dustin. And Lucas, too, for that matter. Max he thinks he can forgive, seeing as she's a full head shorter than most of them and out of all the kids (practically adults now, but if Steve thinks about that for too long he'll want to throw up... or cry), she's the one who'll make sure the rest of the buttheads currently scattered throughout the too dark, overly-crowded concert space don't get themselves into trouble. But the fact remains that Dustin had said he'd stick with Steve if they got closer to the stage, that no one else wanted to go with him, and "C'mon Steve! You want to leave me alone with a bunch of metalheads?" only for Dustin to abandon him!

If there's a saving grace, and it's a marginal one at that, Steve's managed to force himself to the front of the slightly raised platform between the bands changing over so he's far enough away from the mini moshpits that keep breaking out. But it also leaves him closer to the more fanatic audience members who aren't particularly mindful of where they're throwing their elbows, and even with his hearing aid turned off, they're loud, a low chant of "Coffin, Coffin, Coffin!" growing in urgency and volume.

Still, it feels safer to be able to crawl along the stage to escape if he needs to, and Steve can admit to himself that he's not having the worst time. That doesn't mean he's not sending Robin passive-aggressive texts every half hour, seeing as she'd tricked him into being the chaperone. He steadfastly ignores the replies where she calls him out, knowing he would have offered himself up anyway.

He's just about to send her another, maybe even send a selfie of his slowly deflating hair and scowl, when the lights dim almost to the point of total darkness.

There's an immediate hush, and then, when the strobes at the back of the stage flair up, imitating lightning, silhouetting figures that weren't there a moment before, the crowd explodes into a roar. It's almost so intense that Steve's bad ear rings. A fog machine hisses to life from somewhere off the right of the stage, and when a good layer of the smoke has started spilling over the lip of it, ghosting over Steve's knees, the rest of the lights come back on, a mix of neon red and flickering white.

There's a bass line kicking up to match the pattern of the blinks, and something about its low sound matching that visual cue and vibrating Steve from his feet to the top of his head easily fights through the screaming people buddying up to Steve and catches his attention in a not so unpleasant way. The drums follow, and it's effortless to connect the hard hits, higher in pitch and almost imperceptible to Steve's fucked hearing, with the nodding head of the musician responsible for it. And then, like a siren call, a distant wail, a guitar comes to life, and Steve's eyes follow the invisible wave of sound only to stop when-

Holy hell.

Right in front of him, only five feet away, with his leg propped up on a pedal and his wild mane of dark frizzy curls shaking with the rock of his body, is the most gorgeous guy Steve's ever seen.

It could be a trick of the mood lighting, or maybe just the combination of envy-worthy hair and wicked, electric smile, but Steve's pretty sure it's the whole damn package.

The guitarist's in a cut-off tank top, the edges of it tattered and the arms slit so low down his sides that Steve can see the curve of black ink crawling across his ribs. His pants are black and leather, like his boots, and each time he moves, picking out a new cord or riff, the flash of the silver jewelry adorning his fingers, chunky, eye-catching rings, is a beacon for Steve to track. He looks like some 80's hard rocker transported right into the twenty-first century with the sole mission to remind everyone why they included 'Sex' in the phrase 'Sex & Drugs & Rock 'n Roll' and from the way he moves, large and confident, throwing off winks and grins, he knows it.

Some of the girls around Steve sound like they're crying, sobbing out the name 'Eddie,' and given that they only get louder when the guitarist swings his hips and hair in their general direction, Steve guesses that's the guy's name.

A lot of the music fades with his attention so readily captured, but Steve likes this band more than the one before, and not just because he has to check if he's drooling when Eddie drops to his knees halfway through a song for a ridiculously attractive guitar solo. The bass is hard, and it's not just senseless thrashing. There's an occasional mellowness to the musical breaks, and the lyrics are followable. It's still not Steve's kind of sound, but dumb as he is about metal music, he knows these guys are good.

There are a few moments where Steve thinks his and Eddie's eyes meet, where one of those winks or blown kisses might be for him. He's still right against the stage, but Steve likes to think he's gotten a grip on his habit of wishful thinking and shrugs it away. He tells himself it's the blonde with the big rack screaming herself shrill just behind his shoulder that's getting all the attention he kind of wants just for himself.

Steve can tell the end of their set is coming up because somehow the energy in the crowd grows tenfold, and there's a new rocking of bodies where every other note of the song currently howling from the amps bumps Steve up against the platform, harder and harder each time. Something's coming. He doesn't know what, couldn't even guess, but the atmosphere is ratcheting to positively feral levels as he's jerked left and right but managing to keep his feet planted. And when the drum solo kicks in, starting soft but growing into a steady crescendo, Steve's proven corrected.

The audience behind him gives one heaving shove, and he trips forward, barely catching himself on the lip of the stage with his palms but nearly smacking his face on it all the same. He curses under his breath and shakes the disorientation from his head when he realizes someone is right in front of him. Steve follows the leather-clad knee up to a leather-clad thigh to a black cut-off tank top until his gaze plants itself right on the smirking mouth of Eddie, the guitarist.

The drums are still going, still rising in intensity like the crowd that's becoming distant white noise to Steve the longer Eddie doesn't move away. Steve doesn't even realize that Eddie's getting closer until there's a hand cupping his cheek, a thumb pressed to the dip of his chin, and his face is tipped up.

"Careful there, big boy," Steve thinks is what Eddie says, mostly reading his still sharply amused lips, and then he's not thinking much of anything because the cymbals of the drums crash, and Eddie is kissing him.

It's deep and messy and so full of blatant showmanship that it's mostly gross. It also has Steve's toes curling and a startled sort of moan forcing itself from his chest. It's quick also. Too quick if he's being honest. He doesn't even get a chance to close his eyes and feel it before Eddie separates from him with a wet pop and before jumping right back into the music.

He blows a kiss right at Steve and punctuates it with a hard-strummed chord on his guitar. Then he's gone, leaving Steve in a momentarily senseless vacuum until the room comes pouring back into his brain, and he's forced to acknowledge the people shaking him in some weird display of congratulations.

Steve's not sure how he's supposed to feel, but he thinks the next time Eddie throws a grin his way, he won't be as quick to dismiss it as being for him.

Ficlet Bingo!

#steddie #steve/eddie #stranger things ficlet #steddie ficlet #ficlet #got a little carried away with this one

[insanely-lovely-and-random]

My favourite part's of Baz Luhrman's Elvis 2022:

1. The trippy ass opening sequence that felt like it should be part of a 3d rollercoaster ride with the billboards and zooms round Las Vegas.

2. Just the way Tom Parker says "He's white" is fucking hilarious. And really says it all.

3. The buildup of the Elvis reveal with the fly fly away flashbacks before he goes on for the first time, that build up hella pays off.

4. The moment he transforms into Elvis like Clark Kent becoming Superman in his pink suit, the burst of electric guitar and the shots bouncing round on the beats is incredible.

5. Him dissapearing into the curtains with sheer disbelief on his face after the crowd went wild.

6. The radio presenter introducing Beale street, make's me laugh everytime.

7. The fairground scene where Parker being a creepy ass villain talks to Elvis in the Mirror Hall, him popping into frame is genuinely terrifying.

8. The way Elvis says and just the way the looks into the distance as he describes the Rock of Eternity.

9. The tension and sheer manipulation at play when Elvis parent's sign a deal with devil.. Parker I mean.. That zoom in on Elvis pressing his mom's hand down is magnifique.

10. Tutti. Fricken. Fruitti.

11. B.B. King telling some hard truths about how Elvis is safe cause he's a white boy people are making money off.

12. The cuts to the rally just before Elvis' preformance and the look he gets in his eye just as he thinks "fuck. that".

13. Wiggling. The. Finger.

14. Trouble. The whole song and scene.

15. Parkers utter bafflement in the line "He didn't listen to me." Truly not grasping how his puppet could possibly disobey.

16. The shot of him in the car looking up at fireworks, looking so so lost is haunting and beautiful.

17. The modern cover of Can't help falling in Love is perfecto.

18. The first shot of the Viva Las Vegas montage where during the freeze frame Butler genuinely looked the spit of Elvis.

19. The spinning shot of Elvis as we go into the trippy mess of Edge Of Reality and the look on his face with the water dripping as it all takes it's toll is so real.

20. The Hollywood sign scene. The way he sit's staring out, the shades, his boot propped up. Hell even the brief mention of the sign as a reflection of his career could easily be cheesey but he sounds so goddamn honest.

21. The way he laughs hearing his careers in the toilet completely self aware.

22. Rebellion uno 2, him not giving a damn what the Colonel thinks!!

23. Everytime Parker says Here Comes Goddamn Santy Clause. Tom Hanks has always been a comedic actor in leading man disguise.

24. The leather suit. The guitar he wears for no discernable reason as he doesn't play it at frist and then hands it off to somone but who cares!

25. The bloody look on Parkers face when the Whorehouse dancers and Kung Fu comes in.

26. The huh huh huh noise made as the song builds.

27. Bobby Kennedy getting shot and the frustration and pain as he says "It has everything to do with us."

28. When Parker threatens he'll have to leave him should he disobey and the absolutely glorious, "Hmm." .... "Um Hm." The man didn't even have to use actual works and spoke sooo much with those sounds and look alone.

29. Honestly the haunting way he plays "Here Comes Santa Clause" alone is hella beautiful.

30. That spin of the camera as we see the hugh red Elvis sign and his beautiful white suit.

31. The sheer emotion in the original song and Butler's preformance during "If I Can Dream" is a Goddamn masterpiece.

32. The headlines proclaiming his comeback!

33. Parker trying to claim credit as the special was his idea is just so narcissistic and sooo him I just can't even.

34. The score of the whole thing but during the hospital scene where Elvis tries to leave Parker a creepy slot machine type writer background song plays and just chills.

35. The utter horror I feel when told about the International Elvis says "The Snowman strikes again" and I scream internally every. Single. Time. NOOOOO

36. FUCK ME. My favourite scene in the entire film is him redoing That's Alright Mama Vegas style. The Ba ba Buuum "Raise the octave". BA BA BUUUUM. The silk shirt. The belt. The exhilaration in his eye's and acting. The drum part when he's just "Hah hah hah hah". Fuckkkkk.

37. The journey of song told as he preforms it and the three way cut shot of how it lead to this moment!

38. The punch in the gut of Suspicious minds, the lyrical metaphor and his entrapment plays out real time. The way the Colnel says "Now how are going to pay me." With a horrifying giggle. The fast cuts as the writing gets laid out. 5 Years.

39. The Vegas style I Will Always Love You. The best version of that song👌

40. Backstage as everyone rejoices completely oblivious to what has happened and the way the Colonely llaughs then cries as he witnesses Elvis joy. Is he actually a touch remorseful? Is it just relief his debts are cleared? A mix of both? Who knows but my God it's awful.

41. The montage of the tours, the icnoic outfits, Hunk a burning love one of my fave Elvis songs and those bloody capes, my God it was helluva look!

42. The callback to the beginning as Elvis collapses hearing from Jerry and the utter repulsion on his face as he stares at the Colonel as he's covered with water, says it all. His face acting is genuinely incredible in this movie.

43. The Apollo 11 style split screen and music as he gets injected just one of those touches that makes me think you creative guy you Baz!

44. The way he says and preforms the whole angry scene on stage, the way he says Colonel's an alien, the way his anger escalates, the screaming of fired and the quiet final "You're fired." Before LITERAL mic drop and walk away.

45. The heartbreak we feel as we see him about to leave the hotel only for Parker to be sat waiting for him sinking his fangs back into him again.

46. The insults Elvis throws at Parker is so raw and real and clearly he's so so tired and he is just trapped.

47. The way the Colonel says "The thing about the rock of Eternity my boy is that it's forever just beyond our reach." And that fucking hurts.

48. The face acting of Austin in that scene as he reacts to what the Colonel says is beyond words. The lighting is fabulous.

49. The chilling instrumental as Elvis gives in closing his blinds and telling his dad to send up Doctor Nick and the utter helplessness as he leans on the couch.

50. The way Elvis sits in the car in his jumpsuit with Priscilla the exhaustion in his body language and voice as he says he's out of dreams. How he never made anything lasting. How he thinks no one will remember him. And how horrifying it is the Elvis probably really didn't know how huge and lasting hims impact would actually be.

51. Him mouthing I will always love you.

52. The shot of him looking up as the plane flys and quiet subdued story of the bird that would die if it stopped flying.

53. Parker saying how it wasn't his heart or the pills or himself that killed Elvis but love. Because in a twisted way that's one of truest things he's said in the entire movie.

54. How Parker recalls he saw his last peformance, that he could barely walk but when he sang that song..

55. "Unchained melody from the album Unchained melody.. makes sense.." God Elvis could be funny.

56. The real Elvis during Unchained melody. That voice reverberates with so much feeling and strength despite him being weeks away from his death. He sang with his entire soul and he had a loootta soul.

57. The flatlining noise as Parker fades from the shot and we're left with the back of Elvis spreading his cape like wings reminded of how he couldn't fly away but left the only other way he could.

58. Elvis has left the building.

59. The plain white font for the lines about Parker and Elvis having his in glorious, glorious gold.

60. The credits starting with the utterly bedazzled BAZ LUHRMAN. And I say thank you to that man! Thank you so so much. I love. This. Movie.

I know it's pretty much the whole movie buuut what can I say 🤷‍♀️

#elvis presley #rant #movie #movie rant #elvis #elvis 2022 #baz luhrmann #cinema #movie list #list #favourite moments #top 10 #top 60 #best of #austin butler #tom hanks

[thepresentmic]

still into you

band!au

ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴜᴋɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

summary: It's been 6 months since things with katsuki exploded, now he's back and you're not over him - and maybe he's not over you

contents: drabble, to be expanded (possibly), light angst, post-break up, band!au, bakugo is bad at feelings, reader isn't over him, both are stubborn, everyone else is sick of their shit, reader and shinso are like siblings, background shinkami, hopeful ending

a/n: based in the same universe/timeline as my original band!au pov and inspired by this tiktok. i know barely anything about musical instruments so if i've gotten anything wrong, pretend i didn't

it's not like this was your first time on stage. hell, you'd been front and centre at dozens of other shows before and never batted an eyelid. but it was still weird being up there without them.

without kiri bouncing about behind you with that dopey smile, or denki constantly strumming the same chord procession of his 'pre-show warm up, without-

you shake your head and hop up on the nearest equipment case, one combat booted foot rested on the edge, the other leg dangling as you tap out a rhythm against the metal with one of shinso's stolen drumsticks.

"would you loosen up, it's gonna be fine." shoto grinned and shouldered your arm, leaning back against your leg. "easy for you to say, dumbass, you've never played a show this big before." you sunk your fingers into the back of his hair and shoved his head, making him lurch forward.

shinso snatched his drumsticks from your fingers as he passed by, "you're the one that organised this show, remember?" he smirked, dropping down onto his stool and pushing his headband up and flexing his fingers in a half assed impression of you.

'"fuck him, i'll show that-" what was the phrase they used?"

Sho laughed, 'emotionally stunted asshole'.

you flipped them both off and hopped down, heading for the mic set up behind the tattered navy curtain as shouto and tetsutetsu and took their places. "i was drunk."

you heard a muffled announcement on the other side of the curtain, band name, basic intro, the usual stuff. "by the way, i invited denki and the others."

you shot him a dark glare over your shoulder. "you did what-"

"he loves me and he misses you."

you grunted, "i hate you." he just grinned, "no you don't."

the room when dark and the curtain began to fall.

"fuck it. let's do this."

it's not like he would show up anyway. it wasn't like he still cared.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

fuck, you had missed this. missed the thrum of the chords under your fingers and the heavy vibrations that rocked through the floor and up your body.

it wasn't the same, but it was a start. and it had felt good. music had always been your escape and it finally felt like a piece of you was coming back. denki had pushed his way into the 4th row, and you silently cursed shinso for being right. seeing your best friend had brought a bittersweet smile to your face.

and he was alone. of course he was. fine. good. you didn't need him anyway. not anymore.

you were over it.

your buzz lasted right up to the final song, it was new and it was honest and you were glad that bastard didn't show.

it's not a walk in the park to love each other

you closed your eyes and pulled the mic off the stand, bringing it closer, waiting for the bass to drop.

why didn't he show? how could he care so little?

but when our fingers interlock, can't deny can't deny you're worth it

you open your eyes, and immediately they find a blaze of crimson right there, next to denki. everything else became a dulled sound, your eyes dropping down, confidence wavering.

right in those few seconds, it's 6 months ago and your heart is collapsing.

fuck, you weren't over it.

'cause after all this time, i'm still into you

"focus on the guitar." sho's quiet voice speaks in your ear. you turn just a little in surprise and grin as he suddenly starts to strum a loud, intense electric guitar solo over your chorus.

i should be over all the butterflies, but i'm into you. and baby even on our worst nights, i'm into you 

when you look back at the crowd that's going wild, all you can see is katsuki. he's looking at the two of you with fire in his eyes. it's a look that lets you know that maybe your story doesn't end here

#bnha #boku no here academia #mha #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #band!au #mha fic #bnha fic #bakugo x gender neutral reader #bakugo #shoto torodoki #todoroki shoto #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #tetsutetsu tetsutetsu #kaminari denki #denki kaminari #thepresentmic #thepresentmic writes

[hawkinshighdropout]

We Get High.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x (female) Reader

Summary: Eddie has smoked as long as you knew him, but you had never given it a shot, the curiosity gets the better of you and you ask to try a hit of his blunt.

Warnings: No warnings, this is purely fluff/pure content. Unless you count a couple of curse words as needing a warning? Idk, I haven’t written fanfics in like 8 years so I’m a little rusty…

Note/Request: Requested by @aliceraered. “Hi!! Hmm maybe one about Eddie teaching the reader how to smoke 🍃? I feel like this could be so sweet like she's got absolutely no idea what she's doing and she's getting super flustered trying to not look silly and he just thinks she's so cute 😂”

Word Count: 1.2k

Send me prompts to write about!

It’s a typical weekend for you and your boyfriend, Eddie, spending time alone together in his trailer whilst his Uncle Wayne was at work.

You sit on his bed whilst wearing one of his DIO band shirts and fuzzy socks on your feet, Eddie sitting at the foot of the bed strumming his electric guitar whilst trying to workout a new solo from one of the Metallica songs he was obsessed with.

Tapping your sock covered feet softly against the mattress in time to his strumming whilst his tongue stuck out in concentration, letting out a frustrated groan whenever he missed a note on the solo.

“Fuck it, I’m going for a smoke!” he grumbled, setting his guitar back on its place on the wall before swiping his blunt and lighter from the nightstand. Pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before he leaves the room and heads outside the front of the trailer.

Curiosity always had you in a chokehold. You weren’t a smoker, but you always had an interest in giving it a go, maybe it was because you saw Eddie smoking on a daily basis or maybe it’s the way he became way more relaxed afterwards that you sought that level of calm.

Climbing out of bed, you adjust his shirt, so your backside is still covered, making your way down the hallway of the trailer in the direction of your boyfriend. A shy smile on your face as you crack open the front door, feeling warm in the cheeks at the way his eyes light up at the sight of you standing there.

“Hi, precious. It’s kinda cold out here so maybe stay inside? I won’t be long!” he reassured, lifting his partially smoked blunt in the air to show that it wouldn’t take him long to finish it.

“Actually, uh, I was wondering… Can I try?” you ask sheepishly, playing with your fingers anxiously as you were unsure if Eddie would want to partake in it.

“Why would you want to do that?” he seemed confused, taking another drag.

“I dunno… You seem to like it, I’ve never done it, I just wanna see what the hype is all about?” you shrug, leaning against the doorframe whilst nibbling on your lower lip.

“I guess you can try it, yeah. Do you know what you’re doing?” brows furrowed a little as he analysed your expression, stepping towards you a little more.

“Not a fuckin’ clue,” you laugh.

“Grab my jacket and your shoes and come out here, I’ll show you,” he laughed fondly at your cluelessness. You nod in understanding, stepping into your boots and pulling his jacket around your shoulders to keep you warm as you step outside towards him.

“Hi, you,” you giggle happily once you are back in his arms, where you belonged.

“You look so cute right now,” he coos, kissing the centre of your forehead as he wraps his arm around your middle, cuddling you to his chest whilst his other hand holds the blunt, “Promise me you won’t smoke anything when I’m not around, okay? Not until you’re used to it as I don’t want you being alone if you have a weird trip…”

“I promise,” you nod eagerly, bouncing slightly in your step from the excitement of this.

“Good girl. Okay, so… I’m not sure how to explain this really? Basically, bring to your lips, suck for a few seconds, hold it in your lungs for a couple more seconds, exhale?” he laughs a little, trying to find the best way to break this down for a newbie to understand.

“Sounds simple enough,” you smile, letting him bring the blunt up to your lips, keeping it at enough of a distance that you could pull away if you changed your mind.

Wrapping your lips around the butt, you look up at him before closing your eyes and taking a long inhale of the blunt, counting to three to hold it in your lungs but ending up spluttering and coughing as Eddie quickly removed it from you. Patting your back and comforting you as you cough yourself dizzy, he presses kisses to your forehead to reassure you that its going to be okay.

“You good, love?” he chuckled nervously once you caught your breath, you nod once.

“That…. Fucking hurts?!” you whine a little, lower lip jutting out as a pout.

“You kinda get used to the burn, the more you do it,” he shrugs, kissing your pout, “Wanna try again or are you done for the night?”

“Can I try again…?” you mumble, Eddie nods and brings the blunt back up to your lips.

“Don’t be shy, it’s okay. I was a god damn mess when I first started, you’re way cuter than I ever was whilst hacking up your lungs,” he laughed a little, causing you to smile.

Once again, your lips wrap around the butt, inhaling and letting it linger in your chest for a couple seconds before exhaling successfully. You coughed a little once the air was out of you, but you were able to inhale without choking on it, eliciting a proud smile on Eddie’s face.

“Look at you, you’re a fast learner,” he smirked, taking the blunt back to his lips for a drag.

“I feel dumb choking like that in front of you,” you pout, snuggling closer into him.

“Oh? So, you can choke on my dick but this you’re embarrassed about?” he smirks, causing you to hit his chest with your palm and whine a nervous “Eddie….” as he cackles a little to himself.

Stubbing out the blunt as it got close to the bottom, dropping it in the ashtray that sat on the porch to the trailer. Smiling as his large palm would come up and cup your cheek as he presses a few soft kisses all over your face, causing you to giggle and squirm in his arms. Bumping your noses together before you finally get to give him a few soft and slow kisses.

“So, my little bad girl, how did you like that?” he asks, giving your lower lip a playful little tug as his free hand sinks lower to give your butt a fun little squeeze in the process.

“It wasn’t too bad… How long until the high kicks in?” you ask shyly.

“Well, you only had a few puffs, so I don’t think you’re gonna get a major high, but it’s usually about five to ten minutes? You’re gonna be a lightweight though, so maybe sooner?” he shrugs.

“Oh? Okay… How will I know when I’m high?” brows furrowed at your own question.

“If you have to ask that, it hasn’t kicked in yet…” he laughed fondly, turning you around in your spot and placing both his hands on your waist as you both faced the trailer now.

Eddie guides you back towards the trailer with a smile, pushing you lovingly up the steps so you can cross the threshold and step out of the jacket and shoes. Smacking your ass lightly once you’re safely inside with a chuckle coming from him as you jump in shock before shooting daggers at him playfully.

“Maybe we should bake edibles instead, might be easier for you to get the high without the choking part?” he offers, shutting the trailer door closed behind you both.

“Yay, brownies!” you squeal in delight at the idea, clapping your hands in excitement.

#Eddie Oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #eddie munson #eddie munson edit #eddie fluff #Eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #imagine #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham #angst #fluff #oneshot #fanfic

[ceilingfan5]

Rockband + werecreatures au👀?

Listen! Sometimes you’re so close to going fucking insane that you have to push the final button yourself. You know? Sometimes you’re the camel and you’re so goddamn tired of all the goddamn straw–oops! How did that Last Straw get on there? Too late! You know? You’re the bug and the boot and you’re the squish and the stain and the absence, you’re the noise and the noise and the noise and the noise. 

Seems like Taako is always the noise, these days. It’s easy to be the noise. It’s easy to fill a room to the brim–to drop a flashbang and know people fucking saw something, they’ll remember something, but he got to pick what that something was. A lot harder to just… be in a space. Existing makes Taako itchy. Makes him feel like his skin’s about to peel off and his bones are gonna crack and warp and hideously reach for the gentle light of the moon, like he’s him and he’s a monster and the monster is him and he is the monster, always the monster–

It may or may not be that time of the month.

Which pisses him off, as he sits there noodling on the keyboard in their big hollow practice space. Whale fall of a band hall, the exposed ribs holding up the ceiling, the walls at a half-perceptible angle that no badge-wearing bitch ever could have signed off on, and when it’s full? When that parking lot is full, when all the bottom feeders have come to feast? Man, you can feel it in your bones. 

There are two ways to feel alive, and neither one is good for Taako’s blood pressure. 

He hammers on the keys, skin too fucking tight, heart beating too fucking fast, and his tempo is burning garbage, and those nasty neighbor kids left firecrackers in the trash again. He’s not even supposed to be here. He had a prior engagement. He had plans. He had hopes, once, dreams, even, but honestly, how embarrassing. He wants to rip and bite and tear and kill. He wants to riff so hard he forgets his name. He should get his guitar and plug it in instead, but he’s on the edge, and if something shoves him bodily over it, careening for a hard pause, he’ll fuck up the strings again and get in trouble. They aren’t famous enough yet to just break stuff. But oh, when that day comes…

Keyboard it is, until he can hold his claws back. D, D, B flat, C– no, no, no, fuck, it never sounds right. What the fuck was Magnus thinking? Idiot doesn’t have ears that perk at every passing car in the night. (Or…does he? He’ll have to google if bears have good hearing later.) He’s got his own problems, yeah, but Taako isn’t being understanding right now, he’s being an absolute bitch, and he can hardly stand himself. Break him open, he’ll be bright as super nova full of glow stick acid. How can anyone expect him to be calm and nice and good, not least himself? No wonder no one wants him. Easier to be the flashbang, to be the noise. 

“Taako?”

D, D, B flat, C– it isn’t going to work, not with these lyrics. What were they thinking? 

“Taako…”

“Fuck off,” Taako growls. Kravitz does not, in fact, fuck off. He’s incorrigible that way, always turning up like a bad penny. Maybe a counterfeit penny. This one is smiling. Makes you think, why shouldn’t the guy be pleased with himself once in a while? 

Smug fucker. 

“I’m not going to ask,” Kravitz says, being all understanding or some shit. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Sweet, I won’t, thanks for the permission, guy.” Taako hammers on all the keys at once. Maybe if Kravitz opens his mouth again he’ll straight up sit on the stupid thing. 

“But I could pick up drums or bass, if you want to jam?”

“I don’t want to jam. Unless we’re talking a fork in an electrical socket.” 

Kravitz nods like this isn’t a middle-school ass answer. Taako’s hardly thinking- well, hardly thinking at all, let alone clearly. Kravitz knows he’s pissed. Maybe if he were like Taako, he’d smell it on him, but you could have no nose at all and pick up on it right now, honestly. 

God, Taako wishes Kravitz could understand. 

“He stood me up,” he says, still feeling mean, mean, mean, fury burning up his bloodstream. “And you know what? You know how stupid- I thought this time would be different. Fucking-” he doesn’t have any words to follow. He wants to spit acid. Kravitz doesn’t seem bothered enough for him, as he swings himself up onto the stage. Stupid bastard ignoring the stairs to look cool. He’s feeling something, but Taako can’t figure it out. All the senses in the world don’t add up if you can’t focus to do the math. It’s just noise. 

“I’ll kill him and eat him for you, if you want,” Kravitz says, sitting heavily at the drumset. He starts tapping a countoff, setting the pace. 

“Nah,” Taako says, oddly touched. “He’s probably poisonous. Lawyer.”

“Fuck,” Kravitz says. “What are you doing, fucking lawyers?” He starts in on the drum solo of one of their best songs, and not one to miss a beat, Taako joins him. He wishes he could trust himself on the guitar right now. He needs to slam that motherfucker into another dimension. 

“I can fuck whoever I want.”

“You can, no judgment, just- Like you said. Poisonous.” Hard to hear him over the set. The noise beats in Taako’s chest, and he loves it. 

“Yeah. Maybe I’ve got a taste for it.” 

“Blegh,” Kravitz says, fully sticking his tongue out like a third grader. Taako’s surprised into laughing. 

“Yeah, alright, maybe I’m sulking. Shut up.” 

Kravitz snickers. The impending chorus looms. 

“Seriously, fuck whatever you like.”

“You don’t care?”

“Do you want me to care?” Kravitz doesn’t miss a beat. Asshole. 

What’s Taako supposed to say? He’s cornered.

“No,” he says, audibly delayed. 

Kravitz shakes his head. They miss the first chorus. 

“Cause if you want me to care, you know I will.”

“I do.” Taako’s skin writhes. He doesn’t want to talk. He just wanted to make noise. “I- I don’t know. Maybe I’m poisonous. I’ll bite you and you’ll die.” 

“Venomous?”

“Nerd.”

Kravitz cocks his head, not denying it. 

“I’m not afraid of your teeth.”

“Maybe you should be!” 

“Nah.” 

They both stop playing. The hall creaks, the silence echoes. 

Taako looks at him. 

“I know, Taako.” Kravitz fiddles with his sticks. “You want me to just say stuff? I’ll stop quipping. I know.” 

Taako stares at him. 

“What are you, some kind of were-chaser?” 

Kravitz laughs, startled. 

“I mean, it doesn’t turn me off-”

“Jesus!” Taako walks away from the keyboard, pacing. “You know? You know- and-”

“And I’d still kiss you.” 

“Hard to kiss with all those teeth,” Taako grumbles. 

“Tell me to fuck off, and I will. But you have to mean it.” Kravitz folds his arms. Taako looks at him. Kravitz stares right back. 

There’s no way Taako isn’t giving him pathetic sad puppy eyes right now. His night has sucked too bad, and he got too mad, and now he just feels like a stuffed animal dropped in the bathtub. 

“Can I make you dinner?” Kravitz asks, a little softer. Fucker. Knowing Taako’s too riled to go out right now. Damn him so hard. 

“No chance in hell,” Taako says pleasantly, even though his voice cracks nasty. “Cause that is poisonous. Buy me steak.”

“Yeah,” Krav says, giving him the biggest, mooniest eyes. “Anything you like.”

#taz #taakitz #tazb #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #taz balance #taakitz fic #thank you!!

[witch-of-the-west-country]

I am going to be 50 years old on the 12th October. Half a century. And can I just say I am so happy with myself.

I'm overweight - thanks to the steroids and the rheumatoid arthritis for that btw - and I need help with the most basic shit sometimes. But I am still here.

I am also seeing four artists next month : Scene Queen, Delilah Bon, Electric Callboy, and Skindred

I have the best fucking platform goth boots to wear, and my birthday present from my mother, a handmade tooth necklace from Lithuania

Darlings, no matter what your age, be happy with who you are. Accept yourself. You may not think you are special or beautiful or talented but you are. There is nobody like you.

I always wanted to play the guitar but I never learned to do much. I just strummed. I did a bit of ballet, played a bit of clarinet, learned a bit of belly dancing later on. Nothing special. But it doesn't matter. I still did those things.

It is never too late to achieve a thing, and it's never too early to appreciate what you have already done. Sometimes surviving is a feat in itself. And if you've gotten that far you have every reason to be proud

There is no time limit on life. None of us know how much time we have, and if you think you've wasted your time you are wrong. If you've spent hours in bed scrolling through your phone you were at least doing something that occupied you.

Be happy loves. And if you can't, talk to me

#Mental health #Aging #Gen Z #gen x #millenials #depression

[harrison-abbott]

quite a hefty loan

My son Hamish got heavily into Led Zeppelin.

And he fell in love with Jimmy Page’s playing,

And he asked for an electric guitar for Christmas.

And I bought him one, alongside an amp and

Sheet music and I paid a guitarist friend I knew to

Come over to the house to give him lessons.

Hamish got bored of the lessons fairly quickly.

My friend said to me, “I don’t think Hamish is

Practising with his work. He needs to practise

If he wants to get anywhere.” And Hamish, after

A while, said he didn’t want to do the lessons

Anymore, and then he gave up the guitar altogether.

I asked him why and he said, “Because I’ll never

Be as good as Jimmy Page.”

So I sold the electric guitar and amp on eBay. And

I lost a lot of money as a result.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Hamish became interested in a girl in his school.

Then he was going out with her, and she would

Come around to the house and they would go into

His bedroom for hours, with a shut door, and it

Was all a bit weird.

Hamish was a goodlooking kid and I suppose

The girl was pretty as well. And they were only

Fifteen, the both of the, so I thought it was fairly

Innocent. It was in November when they hooked up

And then in February Valentine’s Day was coming

Near, and Hamish knocked on my office door

And coyly asked me for some money so he could

Get her some gifts for the day. I ended up giving him

£40. Because he kinda sweet talked his way into

Describing the gifts he needed to get. And I regretted

It afterwards because he’d fucked me over. I shouldn’t

Have given him that much.

And what made it worse was that he broke up

With the blooming girlfriend one week after Valentine’s

Day. He didn’t tell me about it; told his mother

About it. And he was all blue and depressed in

His room, despite it being him who pulled the plug on her.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Hamish got into soccer for a brief spell, after watching

Liverpool FC win the Champion’s League. He said

He wanted to try out at the local team, wanted to get into

Football. He’d never been sporty and he wasn’t particularly

Athletic and he barely knew the rules of soccer.

He asked for a Liverpool top: and I said no.

But I got him a pair of football boots and drove him down

To the local park where some middle aged men

Ran a amateur squad. They said they’d give him a

Trial of four weeks to see if he showed any promise.

Hamish went to the first practise. He was totally

Exhausted: I picked him up at the park and there

Was dried sweat and mud all over his face.

He went to the second practise and he played

A game or two with the team. I asked him how

It had gone, on the drive back home, and he responded,

“I didn’t get much of the ball.”

And on the third time, I didn’t drive him home,

Because he walked home from the park by himself.

He went up to his bedroom and shut the door.

When I asked what was wrong he said he had chucked

His boots away and that he wasn’t going back to

Training ever again.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Those were all in his youth. These stories.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Hamish did pretty well at university and then he got

A job and then he met this woman and got engaged

To her. I liked his fiancé as well. She seemed good for him.

Hamish asked me for a loan of money [quite a hefty loan]

In the lead up to his wedding.

It had been a long, dragged out affair with the engagement.

And the wedding event was supposed to be this huge affair.

Extravagant, and Hamish said he was struggling to pay

For all of it, but if I could lend him some money then he

Would be able to pay me back after his honeymoon?

So I sent him the money.

And, ten days later, he and the fiancé had had a massive

Fight. And she had stormed off and gone to stay with her sister.

It turned out that she and Hamish had been bickering for

Months and that their relationship was in freefall.

So why the fuck did Hamish ask me for all of that money

If he knew that she and him were headed for Hell!

They split up. And the wedding was called off.

Two years after all of that, I called up Hamish and asked him

If he could send me that loan money back from the event.

He got offended and aggressive and told me that he didn’t

Have the funds for it at the moment. But he could send it

Back in the future. … He never did.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I’m an old man, now. And Hamish is approaching his middle ages.

He has a new, actual wife. Has had one for a while and he

Has a son too and so that makes me a grandfather.

Last Sunday it was Father’s Day. I’ve never really cared about

Card company holidays. Meh, I don’t mind them. But, Hamish

Got in contact with me on the weekend before that to say

He would drive down to see me on the Sunday. I was looking

Forward to seeing him and was touched that he had made this vow.

And on Sunday morning he texted me to say that he had the flu

And wasn’t able to come. He was so sad. Sorry Dad, he said.

#writeblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #prose poetry #stories #poem #poetry #spilled ink #tumblr writers

[tsatsuma69]

EUROVISON SEMI FINALS PT.2:

SPAIN 5/10:

strong start ngl

bb them boots slay the house down

pandering to me (i <3 red)

fun lil dancy dance :)

5/10

ARMENIA 3/10:

straight people? at eurovison?? ew.

she works hard, smoke machine works harder

ngl bored me

3/10

DENMARK 3/10:

there so many twinks this year wtf

its giving charlie from heartstopper

mid tier pop song

3/10

ESTONIA 2/10:

hehehoho magic piano :P

first ballad of the night

u bore me

2/10

CYPRUS 2/10:

yass howl for be bb

!!MUSTACHE ALERT!!

get wet, coward 💦

mid at best tho

2/10

ROMANIA 4/10:

GUITAR PENIS YEEEEEEAAAAAAH !!!!

get ur knees out, slut

loving the smocks

bbgorl has a growl i like it

!YES!CHEST!OUT!

oil him up ;)

song was. decent

4/10

GREECE 1/10

okay twink steve irwin, sing for me

no his vibes rancid actually

the beige, straight, version of romania

greece bb step up ur game u always dissapoint me

1/10

SLOVENIA 6/10:

okay discount harry styles

ooh song is fun would have done great in 2014

DONT LICK THE CAMERA

if u cloned harry styles X5 and it got worse each time youd get this act

not bad

not winners

6/10

SAN MARINO 6/10:

bbgorl went SO hard with stripper last year what do u have for me

HELLO GLITTER DILF

does not even come close to last year but. not bad

fun song + good vocals

6/10

BELGIUM 6/10:

ngl not off to a great start bestie what is that hat ????

i take back my slander, slay

funky + dancable

could go harder

catchy tho

YES VOGUE <3

6/10

ICELAND 7/10:

oh god please dont be bad

!!!LETS GO LESBIANS!!!

did she just do a flip

empowering :)

love her vibes

damn she put her whole pussy into that

7/10

ALBANIA 8/10:

ALBANIA BROUGHT THE DRAMA

oh that outfit slays

theyre having a wonderful time :)

this song goes hard

adore the strings mixed with electric guitar

!!FIRE!!

8/10

UK 3/10:

its ….okay

chorus could have gone way harder

visuals are fun i guess

eurovison has me so unpatriotic

(not that im otherwise patriot fuck facist terf island)

mid as usual, mid as expected

did she just meow? slay.

3/10

AUSTRALIA 8/10:

interesting start

!!!!SHOULDERPADALERT!!!!

'stralia getting heavy with it <3

yes flirt with the camera

wish they would have screamed more

the guitarist is slaying it

WAIT OH MY GOD THEYVE GOT A KEYTAR

8/10 (mostly bc keytar)

UKRAINE 5/10:

phantom of the opera vibes?

okay no

wait kinda? hear me out

oh he looks so slay tho

sexy robot :)

solidly good song 💛

but not stand out for me

5/10

GEORGIA 7/10:

sprinting start babes goddamn

drums go hard

background is giving human centipede poster vibes …. why is this a running theme this year

ooh this is fuuun tho

7/10

POLAND 0/10:

nepo baby cheat

jann was fucking robbed

where is twink supreme ??? :(

"what goes around comes around"? sure fucking hope it does >:(

0/10 nul points

AUSTRIA 9/10:

i.fucking.love.this.

THIS IS SO CAMP

edgar slayllan poe✨

outfits? slay.

visuals? slay.

go austria giving us the most random shit i love it

now THIS is eurovision

they got silly with it :3

9/10

LITHUANIA 3/10:

please no dont end with a fucking ballad

mm still boring for eurovison

like its not a bad song but. mid

was that it???

3/10

best: Austria

worst: Poland

blanllad count: ugh

who made it thru:

Albania 🔥

Cyprus :/

Estonia

Belgium

Austria :3

Lithuania

Poland >:(

Australia :)

Armenia

Slovenia <3

final thoughts:

semi bc thats as hard as most of these songs went

JANN WAS ROBBED!!! ROBBEDDD!!!!!!

like fr why was this round so mid????

frothing at the mouth for the final >:)

#eurovision #eurovision 2023 #eurovision song contest #esc 2023 #eurovision review #teamjann #jann #esc semi 2

[silent-raven13]

The Star and the Waiter

(AU: Hobie is a Punk Star coming into a Puerto Rican restaurant and happens to meet a certain cute waiter, Miles! No Spider-man/super powers in this world)

"You fuckers been Ace!" Hobie finished the last song with a big bang having his electric guitar smashing on stage before he jump on to the crowd. The Spider-band kept playing their music while their lead singer stage dive.

The audience cheers out loud a mixtures of joy shrills, screams and tears. They tries to touch every part of the punker, while he sticks his devil horn hand sign in the air.

After another successful concert, the manager of the famous Spider-band got all the members back on the tour bus, "Fucking nice work, guys! Another best show! Ya'll are trending on all social media! Fucking beautiful! Hobie, I could kiss you man!"

Hobie walks in the tour bus with a big grin on his face, "Oh yeah? Never knew you find me attractive, Bruce?"

"Pfft, easy fucker. Figure of speech. Anyway, best way to end the tour. Tomorrow ya'll can rest." The manager chuckles.

Riri, the bass player finally rested on the couch, "Fucking finally! I'm so fucking tired!"

"For real!" Karl, the second guitarist.

"Ugh, I'm so sore!" Mattea groans being so exhausted. "I just want to sleep." She landed on Riri being exhausted.

"Fuck Mattea! Warn a gal!" The dark skinned bass player grunts.

Hobie stood wiping off the kiss marks from his face after they dealt with the VIP fans. There were so many girls than the last time. The popularity of the punk band had grown faster in the last year.

Honestly, Hobie didn't expect his band to made it into fame. Hell, he became one of the most popular, eye candy lead singer around! Anyone would want him. Model agencies, make-up companies, other artists wanting to collab- hell, he even got rich influencers and high class people wanting to pay him to be in a "relationship" with him for the publicity.

No, he's not like that. Maybe that's why his band are so famous. They are the real deal! They never back down on what they believe in. Hobie always doing what he wants and no one can stop him. He is rawr to the core, he never believe in consistency, Chaos, no labels, staying true to his own words got him the fame he needs.

Let's not forget, his looks too! This handsome lad has all the women squealing at his feet. They would faint at the spot. "Hah, crazy you made out with that mum." Karl commented.

"Oh yeah, she was so proud about using her son's college fund to get here." Riri laughs, "Well, everyone wants to fuck Hobie Brown, right?"

Mattea laughs, "For real. Remember that popular celebrity send him a letter begging to be his girlfriend and she was willing to pay him."

"Expensive ass whore." Karl nudges his best friend, "Right, man. You turned down a multi-billion dollar relationship! You'll be set. I heard rich girls like that only into NFL or NBA players, especially black guys."

"That's so true. Didn't her sister marry a basketball player and then, divorce within the week?" Mattea asked, "I say stay away."

"For real, rich white girls like that only cares about flaunting their riches and you know how they love using black men for their sick twisted desire for a mix child. It's all shit." Riri let Mattea lay on her lap while they talk.

"Well, Hobie Brown is never going to be involved with transplants! I prefer the real thing in a person." He walks to sit on a lazy boy, his leather pants made a squeak sound. The lead singer wore all black with a spike battle leather vest jacket, leather black pants with three belts wrapped around his waist, buckled thick combat boots. The sexiest look for the singer, his heavy boots made sounds for every step.

"Hahaha, and that's why you got stalkers. That rich girl didn't take no so lightly." Mattea laughs, "She did a whole story on her social media."

"That's her problem." Hobie chuckles, "Anyway, I'm a bit famish. Is there any food?"

"We got leftovers, dude." Karl checks the fridge to find burgers, tacos, all sorts of leftovers. "I'm sure half of them are spoiled because this fridge stinks!"

"Unless you want leftover old Chinese?" Mattea hums.

"Eck, I'll go grab a bite." Hobie snorted, deciding to get his wallet and smartphone.

"Whoa. Whoa. Hobie," His manager stops his, "Your not going out, again! Last time you did, you got shitfaced and had an all out brawl!"

"Pfft, not my fault a couple of blokes wanted to fight." Hobie remembers he went to a pub to drink and ended up kisses some of these men's girlfriends or dates- Whatever it was. They wanted to fight him so he gladly fought them. That was a trend, all over social media.

Luckily, his fans and most people were on his side. Since it wasn't his fault those women didn't admit they were in relationships. Everyone loses their minds over a Star!

"Let him go, Bruce. Hobie can take care of himself. Besides, we're done with the tour." Riri was on her Smartphone seeing their concert was trending all over on TikTok.

"Hah, yeah. And we go back home tomorrow. So, let's just chill." Karl hums, "Anyway, I'ma order some pizza."

"Oh I'll take a stuffed cheesy crust with pepperoni." Mattea shouted.

Hobie was done with junk food, being on the damn road only got them eating junk. They had only beer, too. He wanted something different, something home-made? He wasn't sure. All he knows he's sick of these take out and expensive dishes that aren't good.

"Bro, you better hurry and get something to eat. Just because it's New York, doesn't mean some restaurants closes later." Riri hums.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be quick, besides I know where to look." He waves his hands away, "I'll be fine, pops." He left with a grin on his face toward his manager.

"Fucking Hobie..." Bruce groans being stressed out, "Send me your location, kid!"

"Fine. Fine!" Hobie rolled his eyes before leaving out of his tour bus, he saw how much the crowd died down. Checking his phone, he saw it was nine... shame, his band could've gone longer, but fucking Bruce warns them to follow the schedule.

Anyway, he saw an interesting spot when his tour bus pass through the city. It looked homey, warm with an interesting art wall on the side. Whoever are the owners of the restaurant, they were smart enough to have an artist to create such a beautiful artwork. Shame Hobie wasn't able to admire it long, since his tour bus speed up. He did remember the name... Morales' Kitchen.

"Hmm," He realized he needs to look it up to see what to order. Pulling up his expensive smart phone, he found the restaurant is Puerto Rican basis. It looked appealing and the reviews shows positive reviews.

Reviewers:

BunnyFox: OMG I loved coming here since I was a kid! Best Puerto Rican FOOD EVER!!!

ShyGuy23: Man, this place is soo good. If you want to taste Puerto Rico, it tastes just like home! I missed my mom's cooking, so this comes close to it.

PuertoRicanGirlie: BEST PUERTO RICAN PLACE EVA!

And it went on with that. Many recommended the traditional plate which contain tostones, arroz con habichuelas (rice and beans), and a choice of chicken, pork, or beef. Many recommended pork or chicken with a side of salad. He'll probably get that, he never had Puerto Rican food.

Now, this might come a surprised from the Punk-Star with his family descendants of Jamaican and Haitian ancestry, he always loves trying Caribbean food. By now, he would've tried Puerto Rican, but nope. So far, he had Mexican and Dominican food as far as he knows.

Well there's a first time for everything.

He chuckles at his own thoughts, he never thought he would say that, again. The nineteen year old had been through every sexual, adventurous experience so his first times were long gone.

Walking in the slight cold night of the city, he pulled out his cigarette to smoke. His wicks bounces from every step he takes, enjoying his walk.

Ahh, this is nice.

Hobie isn't gonna lie, he so far hates being famous. He didn't think their whole life would be on watch.

Figures

In a capitalistic world, only Corporate Greedy, big evil money hungry businesses like the music Industries would leech the blood out of their artists. Do this or don't do this. Hobie thought if he can go back in time to prevent his seventeen year old self to sign his soul away from the contract... would he? Maybe. So far, he hated the constant fans budding in his personal lives, annoying blokes challenging him as they act he never threw hands.

It's funny how the PR teams always work overtime to fix his imagine for the sake of their record labels. There always something with them. That's why he lash out so much the last year, yet his soul takers still try to force him into this mold. A mold of being a basic Poster- HIM A POP STAR?

He would rather eat glass off the subway station floor. Or they try to make him be a rapper or join a Hip Hop reality television show to make a career out of it. They always say, Punk is never forever. Hobie conquer on that, he and his band worked too damn hard to stay true to themselves.

He threaten his bosses that he will make sure he's not going down a fight. There was many "scandals" like nudes, sex videos, drug use, and all to remain trendy and down right fucking true to himself. Controversy can be a powerful weapon, inconsistency is him! All the videos of him kissing men, women, none-binaries- ALL OF IT! He wouldn't care, he never believe in labels and believe in his voice.

His inky eyes saw a poster about Saving Gaza being torn or written. "Hmmm," He knew one of the main reasons to be famous was the amount of power his voice is.

The Punk Star took a photo of the poster, then posted on his Social Media with massive words, "SAVE PALESTINE! FUCK GENOCIDE!" He put the watermelon logo, Palestine flag and rock hand sign.

He's never one to back down for what's right. As he put his Smartphone in his pocket, his phone started to blast with notification of massive people liking, comments good or bad. A smirk on his face knowing the haters will write him a lot of slurs, curse words, but he didn't care. He laughs at them. His voice is POWERFUL!

Now, his record label... his bosses might not take it, too lightly. He didn't care. They got nothing on him and his band.

Then, a savory smell of tomatoes, garlic and cilantro tickled his nose. Huh, I'm here already? He saw the restaurant seeing the warm color scheme of brown, yellow and red. There was a massive Puerto Rican Flag next to the name of the place.

Hobie slowly walks to the mural at the most badass piece. It's a massive mural of black and brown people showing Empowerment with their hands raised into a fist, some figures had face covers wrapped around their mouths with different country flags. A lot of Latin American flags, especially Caribbean flags. There was an abstract city with so many small indication of past racist and discrimination history. What Hobie loves the most about the mural was the massive words that spread on the top, 'We are the People! We have the Power!'

"Fuckin' hardcore." Hobie decided to take multiple photos of the mural. He loves art like this. Art about empowerment in the black and brown community. People of color works on politics, installations about Capitalism ruining this damn world. He looks at the graffiti signature... "MGM?"

Maybe he can find the name on his social media. Hobie can already tell he's going to be a massive fan. The artists already checked off from his list on the art works: Empowerment, check! Representing POC, check! Different from the basic art, CHECK!

His stomach growls, "I should eat." He said to himself, he went to the front door to find the place closed at midnight. "Nice."

When he enters the shop, he saw a very homey restaurant. The walls painted of beautiful scenery of Puerto Rico with people dancing, food, and instruments. The lights were warm, the shades of brown and tiles brick color gave it a very mom and pop restaurant. There was a bar and television up high on the corner next to the bar and other places. So far it's empty.

The punker's inky eyes look down at the Wait list; so far a decent amount people came by through out the day. Then he hears someone coming out of the back of the kitchen, it sounded like two people speaking Spanish.

The person walking out the kitchen to the main floor, his footsteps light which got Hobie to glance up. When he did, he never thought he saw someone so beautiful in his life.

The hostess smiles at him, "Hello, welcome! Is it just you?" His eyes are colored of Honey brown with big doe like eyes.

Hobie had to take a moment to analyze such a beautiful man. He had a tapered short afro with a fade on the sides and zig-zag design on the side. His ears are pierced, nose wide and plump lips with such shimmer warm brown skin tone. Oh shit, Hobie was awestruck.

"Um.. Umm, yeah. Just me." Only a few words came out of his mouth. He wanted to stare at this Host, he had such a beautiful smile it felt like sunshine sending warm kisses.

The host nodded, "Okay, come with me. You want booth or a regular table?" He asked going to the side of the desk to take out a menu.

"Booth." The Punker's voice low like a mumble.

"Okay, I'm Miles by the way. I'll be your waiter." He turns to Hobie with a soft smile.

Miles...

Such a cute name for a cute lad. Hobie stares at Miles' behind seeing his rear, nicely thick. The young waiter had a basic white and black waiter outfit, the collar white sleeves rolled up showing off his left arm with tattoos.

A sleeve tattoo ain't too shabby.

Hobie couldn't tell what it looks like, but he can tell it looks unfinished from the elbow to the wrist. Then he saw Miles showing him a booth in the middle. "Here's the menu, for now do you care for water or your ready to order a drink?"

"I'll have a water, luv." Hobie casually said being a flirtatious, he sat in the booth looking at the menu.

"Okay. I'll give you a few minutes." He let out another smile. Hobie study those big beautiful plump lips, they were moisturized looks like chapstick.

Miles happily went to get a glass of water for the punker. Damn, he's so cute... Hobie didn't look at the menu but had his eyes on the waiter this whole time.

When Miles came back to place a glass water, "Ar-are you ready?"

"Hmph?" Hobie looking stupid.

"To order?" His waiter arched his eyebrow.

"Oh, um... actually." Hobie felt a bit embarrassed for wasting time. Staring at Miles got him feeling like a little lad. "What's your popular dish? Or what you recommend?"

"We have the traditional plate; it got rice and beans, tostones, salad, and choice of meat. I prefer pollo guisado." Miles flips the menu to show the poplar dish being serve, "But if you want something more meat, pernil with a side of tostones. These are our popular dishes for..." He eyed on Hobie, "new customers."

"Heh, because my accent, mate?" Hobie did have a thick cockney accent.

"Hahaha, pretty much, man. Unless you tried Puerto Rican food." Miles giggles.

Damn, even his giggles are cute.

Hobie felt his cheeks warm. If he can turn pink, he would. "No, luv. Never."

"Then I say pick the first one." He gave another smile this time his eyes seem to be gleaming at the punker.

"Alright, the first one. The way you said it. I'm not into pork..." He casually said.

"Okay, coming up." Miles wrote it down, then took the menu. "Any drinks besides water?"

"I would say beer but I'm underage." Hobie chuckles.

Miles' blink a couple of times being surprised, "What? Really!"

"Yup, I'm nineteen years old. I know I don't look like it." Hobie chuckles.

"Oh wow, you do look like you would be around twenty one. Awe, too bad, man. Can't serve you alcohol if you're underage." Miles look side to side with a small whisper, "Don't worry, I'm nineteen, too!" Then winks at him.

Hobie blinks at couple of times, he felt his mouth dry. "Really?"

"What? I look too young?"

"Nah, your tattoos gave it away." The punker said as he took a sip of water.

Miles arched his eyebrow with those Amber eyes gleaming at the punker like enchanted gems. "Oh yeah, how do you know I didn't get when I was sixteen?" He gave an amusing grin.

"You look like a good lad who follow the rules. Something about you seems like the type to never take risk." Hobie grins at him.

"Hahaha, well you're right I do follow the rules but I wouldn't say I don't take risks." Miles winks at him being flirty.

Oh, he's flirting with me?

Hobie felt stupid for giving a weak response, "Hah, risk taker?" He added, "What kind of risk you take?"

"Well, this tattoo." He lift his left arm showing his sleeve, "Not an easy project."

"What is it about?"

"Many stuff. I design the tattoo myself and went to a tattoo artist to do it." He got closer to show a beautiful collage works of graffiti characters, stars, clouds, sun and moon, and florals. A lot of Sunflowers.

"Bloody hell, mate. You design this? This looks fucking amazing. Maybe I should ask you to design me-self a tat." Hobie admires the work. "I got a spot empty at my right side."

"Nah, you wouldn't want a design from me." Miles chuckles in amusement.

"Come on, Miles. I'm being for real. Look, to show how of honest man I am," Hobie pulls out his Smartphone letting all his accessories from his clothes clank and click together, "give me your social."

"Wow, showing social. You're pretty forward, huh?" Miles giggles feeling his cheeks warm by the punker.

Then the other teenager realized he's basically demanding Miles' social. "Ah, my bad, mate."

"No! No-no," Miles chuckles, "It's cool man. Look let me give you my social. But don't be too surprised about my selfies." He gave a mischievous smirk.

Hobie felt the color from his face drain being replaced by a warm shade of red being so damn bashful. Luckily his dark skin tone didn't reveal anything, but maybe his wide eyes did and the way his mouth slight hang open. "Huh?" He could only say then handed his phone to Miles.

The waiter happily gave him his social, "Here's my art account... it's also my personal account." He hums giving some indication about himself.

Hobie took his phone back to look through, "MGM? Wait, are you the lad that did the mural outside?"

"Yeah, that's me." He admits holding the menu close to his chest.

"Mate, that's a fucking fantastic piece. It's bloody powerful!" Hobie said to him being so impressed. Miles is cute, and an artist! So far, he's peaking more of his interest.

"Awe, you're making me blush, man." Miles giggles with one hand hiding his shy smile.

Cute.

"Mijo, ya esta!" The two stop hearing a woman's voice from the kitchen.

"Oh your dish is ready. I'll get it." Miles said as he went over to put the menu away and rush into the kitchen.

Hobie had time to look through Miles' social, he found out the teenager likes to read comics, watch cartoons and anime, and cosplay. He had photos of Anime-Con or Comic conventions. His mouth watered when he saw photos of the cute waiter cross dressing, some with complete makeup with a beautiful design wigs.

He's very talented...

Then, what got Hobie very hype was a photo of Miles having two hip tattoos, showing them off with his sweats low enough his happy trail showings, and if any more probably show more than just hair. Sharply inhaling as he saw Miles wearing a crop top with some booty shorts. He's not afraid of being himself that's for sure.

Hobie really likes that, even seeing Miles' at Pride Parade with a group of friends. They were huddle together wearing the skimpiest of outfits. Miles wearing fishnets with bright yellow top with sunflower ankle jeans and converse shows. He certainly knows how to dress colorful, too.

"OKay, here's your meal. Enjoy." Miles came by with a massive plate of food to set down. Those golden honey brown shines over at the punker looking through his phone. "Enjoying my pics?"

"Hmph? Oh um..." Hobie quickly set his phone down seeing the massive plate filled with rice and beans, chicken smothered with a special tomato sauce, hot tostones and salad. "This looks delicious." He sniffs the delicious aroma of Puerto Rica spices like garlic, tomato, cilantro, and so on. With such deepen scent, it reminded him of his mother's Caribbean spices.

"Thank you. Hopefully your'll like it." Miles nodded with a soft smile on his face, "Enjoy your meal. If you need anything I'll be over there." He pointed by the host desk to wait.

Hobie pouted for the moment, then quickly grab Miles' wrist which cause the waiter to look surprised. "Sorry, luv. Um..." Damn, normal Hobie is such a charmer, he can flirt his way through anything or anyone, but Miles sure left his tongue tied. "How about you sit here? I'm curious about your art."

"Well," He took a moment, "I would but-" Hobie being desperate, he let his hand go, "There's no one here, darling. Come, sit by me, Sunflower."

That looks like it worked because the nineteen year old gave a shy almost flustered smile. "Sure, normally it's not busy around this time anyway. My dad will be fine with me talking to our customers." He sat across the punker with his face resting on both his hands, "Demi lo, Papí. Cómo te llamas?"

Ohh, he speaks Spanish, too. Did he call me, Papí? Maybe I can...

"Mi nombre es Hobie." He finally answered as he took his fork to dig into his dish.

Miles' smile widen showing his teeth, his eyes seem to sparkle. "You know, Spanish?"

"I know about five languages."

"Wow, look at you. I only know English and Spanish." Miles giggles being impressed.

He will be the death of me.

"I'm a bit choppy with Korean."

"Oh wow, you know Korean? I know a lil bit, my best friend is Korean." Miles explained, "I wouldn't put it on my list. What else?"

"Let see, Patios, Haitian Creole, French, Spanish, English, Korean, Chinese, a bit of Japanese.... and I'm trying to learn Sawhili and Arabic." He counted with his fingers as he took a bite of his meal.

"Dude, that's more than five languages." Miles giggles having his eyes on the punker who's eyes widen after taking the first bite.

"I mean, English and Japanese don't count." Hobie said while chewing.

"It's still more than five."

"I know a little Swahili and Arabic." Hobie hums, "Not on the list like someone mentions."

"Hehe, still six, Hobie." Miles giggles with amusement.

"I don't believe inconsistency."

"Really? So you mix your info a lot?"

"Yup!" Hobie got a piece of chicken then let out a satisfying sound, "Mmm, this is fucking good, mate. Finally something good! Tastes like home."

"Good, huh?" Miles grins widely.

"Good? This is bloody amazing. I tried a lot of stuff before and this," He nodded with approval, "Tastes the fucking cake."

"I'm glad. I'll let the chef know." Miles hums happily, "So, Hobie... where ya from, man? You got a British accent and what's Hobie short for?"

Hobie grins widely, "Hobart and I come from good ole' London, luv."

"Hmm, Hobart? I never heard a name like that before. It's kinda foreign."

"Haha, not many have this name."

"But it is cute," Miles saw the way the punker look at him, "Hobie. That's a cute nickname."

"Not cute, mate. I'm dangerous." Hobie chuckles, "Look at me."

"Then what should I say? Handsome? Dangerous? Sexy?" Miles flirted being more bold.

"Sexy? I do like the sound of that." Hobie slowly chews with his eyes on his waiter.

"Hahaha, I prefer cute." Miles gave a smug smile, "Your cute."

"Stop, mate. Ya makin' me blush." He wasn't lying.

"Awe, that's cute." He laughs.

Hobie snorted before eating slowly. He wonders if Miles knows who he is. "So, Miles. What's does MGM mean?"

"Miles Gonzalo Morales. That's my full name." He answered rather quickly. "MGM keeps it fast and neat."

"And your works?"

"Mostly the struggle in living in New York, black and brown empowerment. Sometimes about my sexuality, or how we're often silence. You're lucky you got to see this painting. It's fairly new. Last one, I did a Free Palestine and- Oh Boy, the amount of hate we got. I mean, the tagging and pure hateful groups were making threats." Miles winced, "I don't think I'm strong enough for that kind of stuff... it's pretty scary."

"Fucking nazis. Nothing terrible happened?" Hobie asked.

"Thank god nothing did. My dad use to be a the Chief of Police so many cops respect him and we got lucky with that sort of protection." Miles rubs his neck about his latest work, "I know, it's risk making works like that. So this time I play it safe now with murals for empowerment and aesthetics for this place, but my personally gallery works I go crazy."

"You got a gallery?"

"Eh, it's a small one not far from here, but I do make works here and there." Miles shrugs, "It's my passion."

"Good, you should keep it that way. Trust me, nothing beats creativity, bruv." He took another spoonful, to his surprised he was eating the plate clean. Normally, he'll take a few bites and leave the rest for his friends. Never much of eater, but this meal was too damn good.

Thanks for the advice, man." Miles nodded.

"Also, how did your pops work in a place like this? You say he was a pig?" Hobie commented.

Miles noticed the insult for cops, it makes sense. Nobody likes cops in this day and age, especially with all the shit they been doing. "He retired early from an incident and uses the money to built this place. It's actually my mom's dream, so that food you're eating is from my mami." Miles hums.

"Well, your mom cooking is perfection." Hobie took a bite of a tostones with a loud crunch sound, "Mmm, normally I don't eat much."

"I can see, your very skinny."

"But my height balances out, Sunflower." Hobie added.

"Yeah, you're very tall and this is from someone who's six' two"."

"Ah, I'm six'five"." Hobie chuckles at Miles' expression, he couldn't believe it.

"Dude, you're so tall. I think my uncle is the tallest in my family and you passed him." Miles said being in shock.

"I'm always been the tallest around my family." Hobie added as he lift his glass of water.

"Oh let me get you a refill." Miles got up.

"Oi, um... what about a soda pop, luv? Anything Puerto Rican drinks?" Hobie asked.

"We have Good Ole' Kola, it's a popular Puerto Rican soda." Miles said.

"One please, Sunflower."

"Coming right up." Miles went over to the bar to get a freshly cold can, "Say, why do you call me, Sunflower?"

"Your tattoos and your social." The other teenager said seeing Miles handing him a cold can of soda, he opens it hearing the hissed sound from the soda. "Does it offend you, Miles?"

Miles sat back down with his head shaking, "No, it's actually my favorite flower."

"Really?" Hobie could use that. "Why?"

"You know that Post Malone song called Sunflower?" Miles asked.

Hobie took a moment, "Maybe... not into pop."

"Well, that's one of my favorite song, and I like how pretty Sunflower looks. They always make me smile." Miles leans over to rest his face on one hand, "And fun fact, when there's no light or sunshine, they turned to each for energy. Isn't that cute, hm?"

Hobie sips his soda giving a nod, "So you're saying I'm a Sunflower since I'm cute?" He flirted back having to give a slight grin.

"Hmmm, I wouldn't say you look like a Sunflower. Maybe a Moonflower." Miles hums, "My second favorite flower." His honey eyes seem to glisten at him.

This lead the singer awestruck almost too flustered, he never felt like this in years. He didn't know what to say instead he shove rice and beans into his mouth. "Did you know Moonflowers only open at night and closes during the day?"

"No, I didn't know it existed."

"Maybe I should call you, Moonflower since you call me, Sunflower." Miles seems to be very interested in him.

"Oh yeah? Heh, nobody ever called me something nice like a flower."

"First time for everything." Miles added, "So, what got you coming here so late?"

"Oh... um... I was in that concert not too far from here?"

"Oh I heard some punk band, right?" Miles asked being clueless, "That place was packed! What's the band called... Spider Punk? Spider... hmm, Spider Band!"

"That's the one." Hobie nodded, "Listen to them?"

"Nah, I heard one song from them and it was their latest single." Miles shrugs, "I'm very into hip/hop, rap, R&B, Reggaeton, um... hmm a lil bit of pop. My little sister seems to like the song, it got her to sleep through it."

"Oh cool, she's a Spider-head?"

"Hahaha, she likes chaos." He play with hands together, "She's two."

Hobie never laughs so loud, "What, mate? You're pulling my leg?"

"I'm serious. One time I played a song and she started to sleep through it. I dunno I guess it's her Puerto Rican side loving loud music."

"Well, I'm honored a two year old sprog loves m- punk music." Hobie added, "Though, I hate labeling it punk."

"Oh, your that kind of punker? Hate labels?"

"I don't believe in them. I hate the AM and I hate the PM." The punker shoves the rest of his meals into his mouth then wipe his hands with a napkin. Man, he should've ate slow to keep talking to Miles, but the food was so good. "Never believed sticking to one thing."

"That's punk of you." Miles giggles, "Sorry, terrible joke."

"It's fine. I'll let it pass since this food- Mwah, chef kiss." Hobie kisses his two fingers together into the okay hand sign.

"Awe, good thing, too. I don't wanna piss you off." The waiter saw the plate being so clean, not a crumble left behind. "My mom would be so happy to see this plate so clean."

"It was so good, I want a second one to go."

"I can make the order if you want?"

"Please, do." The punker being very polite with him, never did he become so polite to people he's attractive.

"Alright. It'll take a few minutes." Miles got up to pick up the dirty dishes and utensils, the he went back to the kitchen to submit the order. Hobie nervously sat up straight then he sniff his breath wondering if it smell bad.

Smells like cigarettes... shit.

When Miles come back, all he did was giggle to himself while holding a dessert, "You got my mom super happy. She told me to give some tembleque."

"What now?"

"It's coconut pudding. It's really good." Miles places it in front of Hobie with a spoon next to it. "Trust me, you'll want to lick the plate."

"That's kind of your mum to give me a free dessert." He never experience such kindness before.

"Don't worry about it. She does it all the time when a customer being sweet and cleans off the plate." Miles winks at him, again.

"Can you tell her, thank you. I appreciate it." Hobie got a spoon to try the dessert, "Mmm, this is amazing." He mumbles with awed.

Miles could only smile at him, "You know, I really think you're cute." Slowly sway his upper body being a little shy to say.

That caught off the punker, he nearly choked on his pudding, The had to drink his soda then let out a low, "Wha?"

"I think you're cute. Your eyes grew wide like a kid. It's cute." Miles shrugs as he went back to sit down.

"Um... thanks." Hobie didn't know how to react.

"Oh sorry, didn't mean to weird you right." Miles frowned for the moment seeing how the punker looked uncomfortable. "Oh great, Miles. You thought you met someone else that's into the same team. I'm so sorry if-" Hobie quickly said, "No! Nono! I'm just- I was told many things but not cute. Sorry, for being weird about it, Sunflower."

"Oh, so you're gay?" Miles asked, "Sorry if that comes off rude. Normally, straight guys give me that look."

"Haha," Hobie sat back with a low deep chuckles, "Remember I don't believe in labels, luv. I play all the teams. I believe in connection."

"Oh very pansexual." Miles teased a bit.

"Maybe. Never consistent. Also I jump around with multiple partners."

"Ah, I'm bi-sexual and monogamous. To be honest, I don't like share my partners." Miles shrugs, "But that's just mean. Whatever float your boat, y'know?"

"Don't like sharing, huh? I'm into that." Hobie smirks widely at him this time being bold.

"Oh yeah?" Miles' eyes gleaming, his left leg shakes from being a bit nervous.

Hobie nodded with his hand placed on Miles' hand, "Yeah." His thumb gently massage into Miles' soft hand, it felt so tender. Miles couldn't help but let out a boyish giggle.

When the punker finished his dessert, Miles placed him the bill and brought out the take out.

"Say, this is a little heavy?" Hobie noticed two containers.

"I left you a slice of cake. Maybe you'll like it." Miles' voice went to a whisper, "Shh, don't tell my dad." Hobie let out a low chuckle.

"Cheeky minx."

"Shh. Anyway will that be cash or card?" He asked placing the plastic bag with take-out in it.

"Card, Sunflower. Maybe next time, I can DM you?"

"Sure. Anytime."

Hobie pulls out his black card which got Miles tilting his head to the side. He never seen a black card before. Aren't those for rich people? Anyway, he went ahead charging the card and placing it back on the table with two receipt and pen. Miles went to clean up the tables getting ready for closing time.

Before Miles went over to pick up the receipt from Hobie's table, "Miles, mi vida. Can you help me?"

"Sure, mami." He pouted over to Hobie, seeing the punker is going to leave soon.

Hobie could only give him a small smile, watching his Sunflower go to the back of the kitchen. He thought about waiting for him until his manager is blowing up his phone like crazy.

Bruce: Where are you asshole? Get your ass back to the bus.

Hobie: 🖕🏿 fuck off. I'm busy here.

Bruce: Hobie.

Hobie: 🙄 fine. I'll be there soon.

He cursed himself at his manager. Fucking Bruce. Always ruining his game. The punker went into his wallet pulling out a wad of cash, then leaving Miles a wonderful tip.

Hopefully we'll meet again.

Just like the wind, Hobie was gone from the restaurant. With beautiful thoughts of his Sunflower and hoping for the next time to meet... maybe go on date.

When Miles came back after helping his mom put somethings away in the fridge, he rushes to the main floor to find no one around. He pouted, slowly going over to the receipt. To his shock he saw a five hundred dollar tip. "What?" He almost chokes on his gasp.

Then his hand saw the receipt with Hobie's number and note.

See you later, Sunflower 😉

Hobie's number: xxx-xxx-xxxx

Text me when you want to hang, luv. I'm open this week.

The teenager put the number into his smart phone never feeling so bashful.

Miles felt his cheeks warm, "Wow..." For the first time, his heart was beating so fast and palms were sweaty. To think this cutie Punker would give him, his number. Who is this Hobie Brown? And how he got so much money? Miles' curiosity is getting to him, maybe that's why he found the punker so attractive. He's so mysterious, sweet, beautiful like a Moonflower.

He wants Hobie Brown.

#punkflower #flowerpunk #miles morales #hobie brown #spiderman #across the spider verse #spider verse #fanfic #spiderverse #across the spiderverse