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cause-i-am-a-mastermind · 1 year

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not to be a crazy swiftie, but i have a theory about midnights....

it might not even be new, but it's new to me, okay?

i wanna say, that I don't know shit about Taylor-lore, all i know is just bits and bobs and the bops (haha), that's all the context i have.

if you observe the songs in order:

lavender haze - the start of the relationship, start of lover era. it's a new relatioship, he's so accepting of her and all the drama that was around her, she feels the lavender haze creeping up on her (lover album - baby blue and pink clouds, pink+blue=purple -> lavender haze) she's so in love that she doesn't even care what people are saying ("talk your talk and go viral, i just need this love spiral, get it off your chest, get it off my desk")

maroon - the start of the end, a happy memory in the present, but looking back, it's all shades of red. "Red" is a song, in which she describes love as red. she described the love she felt towards him as golden in Daylight. looking back to the happy memory, she realises that he might not be the one, although she still loves him. comparing red and maroon (with burgundy and the other shades she used) we can feel like she really grew up between the two songs, these darker shades of red feel more mature

anti-hero - it all ties back to being a people pleaser (as she called herself in her newly released song" you're losing me"), the relationship isn't working out, so she tries to find the problem in herself. what I'm unsure about is the identity of the anti-hero. is it Taylor who finds all the faults of the relationship rooting from her, or is it Joe, who does not even seem to notice them? it's also notable, that she didn't leave Joe inher will in the music video. they either already broke up, or she already lost faith in the relationship lasting much longer.

snow on the beach - it was a good night. she thought the spark between them was gone, but that night was different, and it gave her hope. it's weird, it's like a dream, something she didn't think would happen, just like seeing snow on the beach. "I can't speak, afraid to jinx it" it made her so happy to have the spark back, but she's scares to mention it, just in case.

you're on your own kid - this song is a bit different, it could be interpreted in completely different contexts, but it also feels like they started to spend time apart from eachother. she's still hopeful, and is still looking to change herself, in case she can save the relationship. but it's just not working out. the one she loved the most, the one she thought was THE ONE just isn't, she's feeling lost like she's all alone in this world.

midnight rain - i saw someone say this was actually from Joe's pov, and it kinda makes sense. maybe both character's are Joe. "he" is his younger self, maybe from before they met, the one, who was looking for a bride. but it all changed, he changed, just like a day changes to another when midnight hits, a completely new day, a new person. the "I" is his current self, the one who is only chasing fame, wanting to make his own name. the song shows, how Taylor feels it's her fault that he changed. Before he met her, it wasn't a problem, but once they started dating, he was known as Taylor Swift's boyfriend, so he wanted to make his own name. this wouldn't have happened, if it wasn't for Taylor, so she simply blames herself.

question...? - i might be just dumb for this, I don't see anything in this, might be about cheating, or just thinking about cheating??? idk. she might started to realize she can't keep blaming only herself

vigilante shit - she's just in her girlboss era, don't mind her, she's servinggg

bejeweled - she gave him everything, he gave nothing. she's a bad bitch and she shows it. she was less public during the relationship, but she's still bejeweled, she can still make the whole place shimmer. "i polish up real nice". he gave up his chance, of always being first, so he now has to "wait in line" - he didn't put her first, so why would she?

labyrinth - he's trying to win her back, and it's working, kind of, but she knows, she can't let go of her walls, despite that being what everyone expects of her

karma - this song is for anyone who wronged her, but there are three, who got a verse dedicated to them, and i believe the third might be for Joe "ask me what I learned from all those years, ask me what I earned from all those tears"

sweet nothing - finding the pebble brings back a memory, that he might not be the villain she made him to be. she might have realised, that she went to the other extreme, that instead of blaming it all on herself, she was blaming it all on him. but it's not like that, it's not black and white, they both had parts in why it didn't work out.

mastermind - she's thinking about how they met, and the fact, that she was pulling the strings, which is a romantic gesture, kind of, but it does feel a bit artificial. we all have this belief that meeting our soulmate just happens, it's supposed to be love at first sight, and she might be feeling like she ruined their chances by pulling some strings right at the start.

the bonus tracks don't seem to follow any chronological order.

the great war - it ties the songs together, it makes the story a whole. when the relationship started to fail, she had everything bottled inside of her. she fought her feelings alone, although he tried to be there for her, it was just feeding the fire. she was blaming him, and despite seeing the situation more clearly, it was the great war. their biggest fight, they couldn't just "plant a memory garden" and act as if nothing happened. "the worst was over" "we survived the great war" they thought this was a huge fight and it's over, but the first world war was also called the great war, until the second happened, so the song title was also foreshadowing another fight.

some people think Bigger than the whole sky describes a miscarriage. which would make a lot of sense, as that tends to have its toll on relationships.

paris - 'yeah, nothing bad happened, we were in paris, remember?' this might be about how the public had no clue about the hard patch they were experiencing, this is the version, that we heard, thinking everything is fine and they love eachother more than ever. "romance is not dead if you keep it just yours" - that's a fucking lie, their romance was literally dying, but they couldn't just say that

high infidelity - it's either about her cheating on him. or the fact, that his feeling were never as strong as hers "the slowest is never loving them enough". maybe april 29th is not the day she cheated, but the one, where she soent the whole time daydreaming about them being married (second verse)

glitch - it completely disregards how she described their meeting in Mastermind. they weren't supposed to become a thing, it just happened, it was just up to chance, that she wasn't "in someone else's playground". the whole relationship happened because of a glitch, she didn't want to have a serious relationship

dear reader - she's talking about her experiences and giving advice, but her main advice is "never take advice from someone who's falling apart" but she's the one falling apart, you shouldn't take her advice, because she's so hurt that she can't see straight ("you should find another") - at first it's just whispers, then at the end, she's the one who tells the "reader" that they should find someone else to take advice from

hits different - this song is after the breakup, but doesn't make it too obvious, but might be the reason it was not online until now. it's not easy for her to move on, because he wasn't just 'one of those Kens, she'd just ghost'. "now the sum burns my heart" this line is referencing Daylight (love is golden like daylight) - love is burning her heart. the breakup made her a mess, she's crying over objects, she goes on tangents about him, so she doesn't get invited anywhere anymore, she still hopes for him to come back

#taylor swift #midnights #midnights 3am #midnights 3am version #taylor swift midnights #am i reaching too far #am i reading too much into this?#you're losing me still needs to ripen in my brain #i love to read to much into things #it's like my hobby #proofreading is for losers #i hope I won't regret wasting 3 hours on this shit #i will probably get embarassed and private this #midnights theory #be honest should i check myself into the nearest mental institution?#I shouldn't have drank that coffee #i am high on caffeine

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years

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!!! no longer on crutches!! I have a walking boot and can walk again!! hooray!!

#shout out to my mother for snatching and appointment literally today #got my crutches and splint at midnight got them off at 4:30pm #just 16 1/2 hours baby!!#i was fully prepared for several days this is a significant improvement #also very glad I don’t have the crutches anymore because I found out that if there is a slight barrier between me and getting to the kitchen #i simply will not eat. i did not eat breakfast or lunch because I didn’t want to deal with the crutches. and now I have a headache #dw I have eaten since then and the headache is now fading but like oof #anyway #also being forced to pay attention meant the feelings from my revelation were forced to the side and are no longer overwhelming #i did think I was gonna implode in the doctors chair but then I used the bathroom and it was fine #fork theory coming through !!#now I gotta face that revelation but it’s okay I think I’m good now #also still have an hour at the library #gah that’s three places in one day and I took a test this morning #after getting two hours less sleep than normal #i really just set myself up for a wild ride #this is fine #really though the worst of it is over everything’s chill now #so how’s everyone else’s days going? /gen #tw injury #quil's unholy underworld

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seokmatthewz · 2 years

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this file is taking 89 years to download pls manifest for me tht it works before I have to leave NSNSN

#they close at midnight and it is apparently gonna take an hour so in theory it should?#but also it sporadically says its gonna take 4 hours so JDMDKMD #145mb/906mb we r getting there so slowly but hopefully surely BDKDKD #iri.txt

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anime-scarves · 2 years

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Playing more TFT tonight! The current patch is a little wonky but lets have some fun anyways.

#text #wonky is a bit of an understatement #day 1 of a patch is always a silly place lol #scarf streams #also an hour earlier than usual #8pm starting time doesnt leave me at like midnight when i'm done #and I can get to sleep at a better time #not that I will #but I could in theory

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strozzaprete · 2 years

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i don't know there must be something on my goddamn face that tells people that they can ask me for the most random favors without any concern for the fact that i have a personal life and/or i'm not a lawyer and/or that they're putting me in the middle of a situation i have nothing to do with but now i have to handle it for them

#like dude sorry but actually not sorry i don't know if your internship acceptance letter is written correctly #we graduated in media theory and digital arts TOGETHER how am i supposed to fucking know if it's legally sound or enough to get you #the permit to stay. shouldn't the professor who accepted you in the internship know this? how am i supposed to know this?#i'm glad to help with other things but this is too much #also people need to stop asking me to get weed for them because police is fucking everywhere and i'm not willing to travel for an hour and #a half on public transport just to get weed to this girl who i haven't seen in like a year also #it's been two years and i've had people calling me at midnight like ''heyy can you pick up for me?'' fuck no dude ENOUGH

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elmmni · 2 years

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never expected to be outed by the family friend pity she has to die now! (<- shouldve expected to be outed by this woman)

#my mom has been suprisingly more chill than i feared but that really is irrelevant i was still outed i have a blood feud with this woman now #im gonna cry i was already crying its fucking midnight im gonna walk to her house and punch her in the face idk if shes home #i could never assault her its illegal and for all intents and purposes shes a nice lady but also she has to die #im gonna invent new worse curse words to yell at her im gonna become a fucking witch and genuinely curse her im interfering in the divorce #i wanna hug my gf idk if ill ever be able to see my gf again #i never wanna speak to my mother again she wont leave me the fuck alone #i wanna go rant to my brothers cause its Their friends mom but also im talking to my Girlfriend which seems more important #i walked to the woods at fucking midnight and screamed and walked around the block 4 times before i calmed down i burst into tears the secon #the second i stepped inside #my mom hugged me when i got home she said i was only queer in theory before i learned she knew i had a girlfriend i want to punch her #i have two old women on my 'i wanna punch you in the face' list and i honestly dont know who ranks higher at this point #i never wanna speak to anyone again i need to see my partner immediately #i just saw my best friend 3 hours ago if he doesnt show up to give me a hug in the next 30 minutes i may die #im feeling every emotion in this chilis tonight fellas sorry #i need a punching bag i need to go lay down i need to stay exactly where i am so i can talk to my girlfriend and draw #i fucking hate it here FUCK

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scuderiahoney · 5 months

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*word counts next to fic titles!*

all works written and owned by me. please do not repost these works to other websites, or copy them in any way. thank you!

OP81

In Motion - in progress Hockey AU Series Oscar’s a certified hockey prodigy, and the new kid on the block. You’re the adopted best friend of his new hockey team. You take it upon yourself to make him feel welcome. What could possibly go wrong?

Take Care- 7.4k feat. Lando Norris! You, Lando, and Oscar are roommates. The three of you promise to take care of each other. It takes you all far too long to admit just how much you mean it.

Color Theory- 6.6k 18+ mdni! Oscar’s an old friend of yours. This time when he comes home to visit, things get messy.

Ache- 1.9k 18+ mdni! Leaving you behind makes Oscar’s chest hurt. Sometimes coming home is just as hard.

Be Brave- 5.2k You’re a teacher, and someone’s had the brilliant idea to send your class full of 5 year olds to the McLaren Technology Centre. Chaos ensues. Oscar’s there to help.

In From The Rain- 7.1k Oscar’s looking for an easy to care for houseplant. You have just the solution.

Stick Around- 4.1 k You’ve been searching for your soulmate your whole life. Maybe you’ve just been looking in the wrong place.

Tangerine- 6.8k You’re definitely not an insomniac. But Oscar keeps finding you awake at all hours, and he’s starting to get worried.

tangerine series masterlist

CL16

Every Second - 2.6k The world is ending. you’re right where you belong.

All You Got - 5.4k You hate Charles Leclerc. The feeling is mutual. He’s made that clear from the very beginning. (driver reader, enemies to friends to lovers)

After All- 3.6k Charles Leclerc is your best friend. According to everyone who’s ever seen the two of you together, he’s also madly in love with you.

MV33

Always Walk Me Home- 4.3k You and Max are keeping things casual. Sooo casual. You can be casual. Right?

🍓 can be read as standalone, but for more parts in this universe, check out Strawberry Wine!

Pick You Up- 6.7k When Max has one too many gin & tonics, you’re the one who picks (him) up, every time he calls.

DR3

Blackbird- 10.1k You’re a bartender at a mountain lodge. When Danny shows up, you’re determined to keep your distance. It doesn’t really go to plan.

Sweet Like Grenadine- 5.6k You love weddings. However, you don’t love being stuck by yourself at a wedding, a plus one to a boyfriend who’s too busy for you. Enter Daniel Ricciardo, your knight in shining armor.

LN4

Puzzle Piece - 3.6k You’re always drawn to Lando. He’s always happy to have you near him. Finally, the pieces might just click into place.

Take Care- 7.4k feat. Oscar Piastri! You, Lando, and Oscar are roommates. The three of you promise to take care of each other. It takes you all far too long to admit just how much you mean it.

Blurbs:

I Want Your Midnights // NYE Blurb Drop

1k Celebration Blurbs

#fics #honeywrites #cl16 #op81 #f1 fic masterlist

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interlagosed · 2 years

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In a different world I definitely fucked one of my former professors/now friend

#dreamt about him again jfjdjfjfjff #the worst part is I know he adores me and would in theory be into me 💀#but actually this man is so gorgeous and so serious and thoughtful and intelligent and helpful and respectful #thank GOD I’m married to my soulmate otherwise this would actually be unbearable lol #my friends used to be like ‘why is he responding to your emails at midnight??’#when I was worried about what he thought of me they’d deadpan and be like ‘you’re literally his favorite’#he emailed law schools on my behalf when I got waitlisted without me ever asking him to #he literally tweeted about me one time!!!#he sent me a BIRTHDAY VIDEO #and also when I saw him after graduating again he immediately wanted to hug me and I was too dumb to realize what was happening fkdkkckfv #but then he photobombed a picture I was in and we went for an hour long walk and then I DID get my hug #anyway *SIGH* ethics.

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blueparadis · 7 months

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╰┈➤ DOPAMINE ✦ YUTA OKKUTSU.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ At midnight, when your long-distance boyfriend decides to surprise you things take a wild turn when Yuta notices that you are on your heat cycle.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ a/b/o au, alpha!yuta,omega!reader, established relationship, mention of heat cycles & rut, lactation k!nk. | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. |

Almost an hour ago the doorbell rang and as you opened the door, Yuta was standing at your doorstep. At first, you could not believe your senses because it had been almost a year since he moved to another city for his work. As an independent and responsible girlfriend you let him go, without suspecting anything or letting those suspensions cloud your judgment. He has kept in touch with you, through and through, but somewhere in your mind you could not let all those suspensions go away. Maybe because you have faced grave bumps in your previous relationships. When he greeted you with a small peck on the cheek it was more than you could ask for; he even joked about how he will never forget your surprised face as if you have seen the ghost of him. But his surprise visit was not the reason for your shock.

But now he is here. You sit by the edge of the bed watching Yuta as he stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom, washing his face, and cleaning his mouth. The geyser is on and knowing him he will definitely demand your presence to share the bath. The bathtub is probably half-filled with cold water. The tap water is running and you have not stopped jerking your legs for several minutes.

“So?” Yuta starts. “What’s up? What’s got you so worked up? He finally asks but you are hesitant to speak. You do not know how much he has changed in this one year, both physically and emotionally. He seems like a totally different person now that you see him in person instead of video calls and photos. You know there is no use in hiding it anymore. It will create more problems.

“I’ve been skipping my pills.” You exclaim in one breath with your eyes closed.

“What?” His jaw drops. He leaves the bathroom, closes the tap and sits on the carpet of the floor.

“Yeah. My doctor said it would be better if I don’t take the suppressants while my alpha is away. And, since you were gone— you take a quick look of him through the corner of your eyes before continuing— “and my heat cycles have been manageable.”

Yuta takes the seat beside you. The moment he tries to hold your hand you snatch it away from him. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I’ll leave. Then— you can see your doctor or maybe take the suppressants till I move out.” Yuta understands. There is a theory that he has been recently aware of- that an omega can go under lactation phase if their alpha enters the ruts at the same time they enter heat cycle. Honestly, he would love to fuck you witless in this bed where he made countless memories with you but he doubts you will have any stock for protection. He thought on his way home, he would buy some but excitement got the better of him. It slipped his mind, naturally.

“No… that’s not it.” You tear up, hiding your face in your palms. The thing is an alpha’s rut can get triggered by an omega’s heat cycle and during this time, the said omega is expected to lactate. The doctor has warned you about this since you already had an alpha by your side but you did not think Yuta would come back to you through a loophole. He has been gone for his studies, and somewhere in your heart you thought he would be gone forever but here he is, sitting beside you. He is there for you.

“Ya’know i’ve missed you.” Yuta says getting closer trying to hold your hand. This time you let him. He has been away the same time you have been away from him. A one whole year. He has missed making love to you, fucking you everywhere except bed, sharing his ruts with you, fucking you while you were in your heat cycles.

“I missed you too,” you revert back and he rolls you along the bed hovering on top of you. He jerks his head sideways. Maybe it is the commence of your heat cycle that is affecting him.

“woah that was uncalled for— are you okay babe?” he asks so gently, so softly that it fuzzes up all your senses.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” you say folding one of your legs and kneeing his crotch. He is just wearing a bathrobe, feeling his dick would not be much of a hassle. Yuta’s eyes follow your legs. His face lights up with a smile.

“eager, aren't we?” He whispers before latching his mouth on to the crook of your neck. His knee nudges your entrance as he starts to kiss all over your neck, collar bones and shoulders. There is a warm sensation pooling in between your legs.

“ohhh— yuta,” you moan and his lips find their way to yours. You do not hesitate to push your tongue in his mouth, wet moans filling the room along with his pheromones. You feel his cock nudging you. It makes you edgy. You can not do this right now. You should not, no matter how much you have missed him. You flattened your hands over his chest to push him away but he misunderstands it as an act of advancement on him and ends up making you sit on his lap.

“Don’t worry. I can control myself” he pulls up your top discarding it somewhere on the floor. “But there are certain things that I have been wanting to try— his mouth latches on your nipple right after making you arch. He is not using his teeth just yet, but he is sucking so hard and so strong that you think he might just taste your milk.

Yuta has been like this since the day both of you took the next step for this relationship. He keeps his mouth busy whenever he makes love to you, by sucking your nipples, eating you out, biting your ears or just simply kissing while pumping his cum inside you. But this time, he can not fuck you. He would love to breed you during his rut but he knows, neither of you are ready to be a parent. There is a whole life ahead for that.

“Yuta, please. Not so hard.” you plead because the accumulation of heat in between your legs is getting unbearable. His hands are clamped on your waist as he switches onto your other nipple. You gasp watching a little drop of white milk oozing out of your boob. It turns you on more than ever.

“Yuutaa— you call out his name as his teeth come into play. But he does not pay any heed to it. He continues to suck, his hands moving to your back and he pulls you closer to his body. Now his cock perfectly touches your folds and with one more push he could feel you around his cock. Unable to take his hard sucks anymore you pull his face away and distract him for a while.

Yuta’s mouth tastes different. You have kissed countless times and never before you smelled or tasted something sweet on his lips. You think maybe it will reduce the breast pain you keep having during your heat cycles. One if his hands cups your entrance, running a finger through your folds.

“You are so fucking wet baby.” Yuta rasps pushing his fingers inside you watching you bite your lip, eyes close and eyebrows pinching as he starts to finger you. “Do you know how hard it is for me to hold back?” he whispers in between his rough pants and your irregular breaths.

You start to arch, toes curl as Yuta gently lays you on the bed. His cock stands tall and proud by his stomach. You can feel it, hot and hard against your thighs. One of his hands is underneath your waist and the other picks up the face eliciting squelching noises accompanied by loud moans from you.

Your breasts look so big and so full with milk. He watches white liquid oozing out again and picks up his face. Seeing you close to your orgasm he speeds up the process by starting to suck your breasts again. You throw your arms around his back, nape and kiss him by the crook of his neck, holding his hair at the back. Your mouth hangs open, fangs start to grow and you sink them on his neck the moment he makes you cum by sucking some milk out of your boobs.

Yuta rolls over your side. Both of you regaining your breaths. He asks, “Are you satisfied?” to which you smile and respond,

“you think?” He chuckles at that. Both of you smiled but deep down you knew what kind of pit you were going to fall into.

—

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kentopedia · 7 months

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♰ sweet serial killer — nakahara chuuya

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 4 - serial killer!chuuya

chuuya's always in such a rush to get home to you, so he can't really be blamed if he misses a few drops of blood on his clothes.

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, murder, blowjob, obsession, soft chuuya, one use of slut, pet names, slight corruption kink — 2.3k

the bloodstains had never gone unnoticed by you, despite what chuuya had thought.

the deep smear of maroon was the first thing that caught your eye each time he came home, smeared on his white collars, on the sleeves of his crisp button-ups.

naively, or perhaps out of sheer desperation, you forced yourself to believe that they were merely from cuts on his hand, ones that he’d missed, wiping them only on his shirt on accident. chuuya, from time to time, could be accident prone. he’d hit his hip on the countertops, stub his toe and curse profusely after, constantly too rough on his body. it wouldn’t have been unusual if one of those silly errors had led to a more serious injury.

truly, there were a plethora of things that could have explained why drops of blood so frequently coated his clothing—just none that made sense to you.

the more you tried to rationalize it with yourself, the more outlandish your theories became. you couldn’t justify the blood running down the back of his shirt, not when you’d scrubbed his skin raw in the shower and found no cut. you couldn’t explain the dirt on his pants, the way that he’d spend half an hour in the bathroom every time he returned, turning the white porcelain of the shower a watery red.

chuuya snuck out late often, came back even later. every time he thought you were asleep, you’d pop one eye open, notice that the door was cracked, and watch as he scrubbed his clothes clean in the sink.

after, he’d slink into bed with you, curl around you with a heavy sigh, and kiss you deeply before passing out, as if nothing had changed at all.

for a while, you’d wondered if he was cheating on you—but it seemed so unlike chuuya, and there was no other evidence to point in that direction.

you had another theory, of course, but it seemed crazy—the musings of an overactive imagination. it was unfair to chuuya, too, who was the most loving person you’d ever met. maybe he stayed out late, disappeared to places you didn’t know about… but he was charming, caring, and he loved you, didn’t he?

but after nearly two months of enduring the routine, you decided not to let him off the hook any longer. if chuuya couldn’t be honest with you after a year of dating, moving in with one another, you weren’t sure he ever would be.

something about bringing it up to him, starting the conversation, was too frightening, and instead, you followed him one evening, when he snuck off on his bike, disappearing after midnight.

he stopped first at a bar, coming out only thirty minutes later with a pretty woman on his arm, smiling roguishly as he gestured towards his motorcycle. for a moment, you had almost thrown up in your car, tears hot in your eyes as you wondered if, maybe, your suspicions were right. maybe he was cheating on you, even when you’d believed chuuya to be utterly devoted to you.

maybe it had all just been a lie, an act he excelled at.

still, you held your shaky hands around the wheel, determined not to get ahead of yourself. there wasn’t proof—yet—of that insurrection. you wouldn’t judge him until you knew for certain.

if he had any idea that you were following him, he gave no indication of it.

chuuya took her to an abandoned dock, one that was crumbling with old ships and empty slots, the dark waves crashing against the shore under navy october skies. it was eerie, hauntingly so, the sign decrepit and wasting away, the perfect place to commit a murder and get away with it.

he snuck in past the locked gate easily in his motorcycle, but you were forced to park beyond it and trudge ahead on foot. you only hoped that your car wouldn’t get broken into—and that you wouldn’t be killed in the meantime.

in the midst of your search for chuuya, you heard a scream—it rang out through the port, loudly, echoing in the hollowness of the empty air. there was no one around but you, no one to save whatever soul had met their demise.

against the logic of every horror film you’d ever watched, you followed the noise, running towards it with heavy breaths in the cold air. the wind snuck down your throat, burning your lungs.

you found him at the edge of the dock.

the screaming stopped, cut off abruptly as chuuya landed another rough hit of his knife, blood spewing over his blade, into his face, down his neck. he brought the silver weapon down over and over again, sticking it into the woman’s side, her chest, the sound as steely as it was in the movies.

for a moment, you froze, unsure what do as you stared at your boyfriend, the one who smiled at you so sweetly. it was hard to reconcile him to this monster.

chuuya stood, straightened, and though your body was screaming at you to run, you could do nothing but stand and stare, breaths heavy at the sight of his familiar frame. if you ran, he’d only catch up to you. but if you didn’t…

“did you follow me?” chuuya turned, then, revealing only his side profile, so dark and glossy with red.

you hands shook at your sides. “i—” the sound was so weak that you couldn’t finish your sentence. “chuuya, i’m sorry,” you said in a panic, wondering if you dropped to your knees, begged him that you wouldn’t tell, then maybe he’d let you live.

he sighed and wiped his face, though the blood smeared worse in the process. it streaked over his chin, his jaw, as it dripped from the blade in his gloved hand. “‘it’s okay, doll. ‘m not gonna hurt you.” chuuya took a step forward, and though you couldn’t help it, you stepped back, shaking with fear. he stopped then, eyes softening at your fragility. “i promise.”

“chuuya,” you said again, helplessly. “what’s going on?”

he let the knife clatter onto the dock, his hands held high in surrender. with a sigh, his shoulders deflated. “you weren’t supposed to see me like this, baby.”

“you killed someone,” you choked out, tears streaming down your cheeks.

he looked out towards the ocean, his tongue running over his teeth before his jaw clenched, tightly. “it’s just a little something i gotta take care of, okay? i’d never hurt you. i love you, remember?”

that seemed like the kind of stupid thing that only took place in books; a serial killer truly loving the woman that he kissed at night. but chuuya…

well, it seemed hard to believe that everything about him had been a lie.

“you’re scaring me,” you said, wiping your face. “i don’t—”

he was upon you in two strides, stripping the gloves that held someone else’s blood, seeping into the fabric. his cold hands cupped your face, and there he was: the man you adored, delicate fingers tracing your jaw, eyes full of adoration for you, and not an ounce of malice. “i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry,” he said, kissing your cheeks, your nose, pressing affection into every pore. “i wish i didn’t have to, but,” he kissed you hard, wrapping you up in his arms. “it’s just an itch i can’t stop scratching.”

you knew enough about serial killers to understand what he meant. “she was an innocent person,” you argued, though you were melting into chuuya’s arms, forgetting your fear, despite your sprinting heart.

“no, no,” chuuya countered, his hands lacing through your hair. “i worked with her. she’s been after me for weeks. slipping things into my drinks when she thinks i’m not looking.” he smiled, but something about it was dark, evil. “just like that man who followed you home three weeks ago. just like your ex-boyfriend who made you cry every day. or the man who tried to mug your best friend. they’re people who hurt others. they’re not innocent, are they?”

chuuya seemed genuinely curious, his head cocking to the side, and his fingers stilled, his lips red not from blood, but from his force of his kisses.

you let a shaky breath leave your lips. “you did all that?”

when he put it that way—was it such a bad thing? you had been relieved when your horrid ex-boyfriend had been found dead on the streets. perhaps the men who found it fun to prey on unsuspecting women deserved a gruesome death just like him.

maybe even the woman who had her sights set on your boyfriend shouldn’t get off any easier.

“if i must live with this sin,” chuuya said, a response to your silence, his eyebrows pulled together tightly, “it only makes sense i should do something good with it.”

“by killing the people that hurt me?”

“well,” he smiled softly, “what other purpose do i have to live for?”

the weight of chuuya’s devotion washed over you, and you remembered your previous thought, of needing to drop to your knees and beg chuuya for your life. now, though, he was staring at you so lovingly that you fell to your knees in a different way, brushing your hair out of your face.

chuuya watched as your fingers ran over the bulge in his pants delicately, a thirst starting in your stomach. you loved him. and if you ever doubted that fact, now you were certain.

“what are you doing, doll?” chuuya asked, breathlessly, watching as you undid his belt, slid the silver zipper down his tight black pants. “you just found out your boyfriend’s a serial killer, and you’re gonna suck him off… are you that much of a slut?”

you’re not sure why the mean name spurred you on further, sent need coursing through you as your mouth watered for chuuya.

“my boyfriend killed someone who was trying to take him from me,” you smiled sweetly, licking your lips. “who else can say the same?’

chuuya sucked in a breath as you freed him from the confines of his tightened pants, stroking your manicured hand down the length of him, the touch barely there. then, you wrapped your hand around him, your fingers tightening as you watched the flush start from his neck, the red that couldn’t hide, even beneath the smears of blood.

“you wanna watch next time?” he teased, wispy strands of hair falling over his eyes. “if a man ever bothers you, just tell me, sweetheart. i’ll kill him with you right by my side.”

you were ashamed by how much that turned you on, the pool of desire sinking in your stomach. already, you ached to get your lips on chuuya, and you stroked him eagerly, listening as his gasps grew faster.

quicker than anticipated, chuuya was hard, the tip sticky as sweat gathered at his hairline. his lips parted so beautifully when he stared down at you with darkened grey eyes.

“maybe i’ll kill them myself,” you said back in a sultry voice, knowing perfectly well that your fingers would tremble around the blade, that you couldn’t kill a man even if you wanted to. still, you liked pretending to be chuuya’s beautiful siren as your thumb grazed over his slit, just feet away from the woman he killed. “think i’d look pretty with blood on my face, chuuya?”

chuuya groaned as your hand sped faster, shiny and sticky as he leaked down your palm. “oh, you’re pretty all the time, but god, knowing you’re just as fucked up as me would drive me wild.”

you smiled, chuuya’s cock stiff in your hand as you pulled away, licked the wetness from your palm. blinking up at him from under your lashes, chuuya’s gaze grew dark, his patience waning.

“taste good, chuuya,” you grinned, wiping your hands off on your thighs as you finally positioned your lips over his tip, kissing him lightly.

he hissed, but kept his hips still. “yeah? want me to cum in your mouth? fuck,” he said as you sank your hot lips over him, your tongue running along the side of his aching cock. a heavy hand landed on your head, and chuuya stroked your hair lovingly, his breathing heavy as you hollowed your cheeks. “such a messy girl, all for me. so hungry for my cock, aren’t you?”

you made a soft sound, your mouth too full of him to speak.

“y-yeah,” chuuya stuttered, his chest heaving as your fingers reached up to stroke him gently, massage his balls as spit made a mess all over your face. “fuck. fuck, you’re so perfect. i can’t let anyone else have you. gonna kill anyone who even looks at you.” chuuya groaned, his other hand coming around to cup your cheek, thumb stroking you in adoration. “i bet you’d like that. you’re so desperate for attention, and you’ve got all of mine.”

his words came out more raspy, then, voice lingering on the edge of a sigh. you ran your tongue along the vein, swallowing around him once more. from the deepened sound of chuuya’s voice, you knew he was close, and his fingers curled in your hair, roughly, squeezing at your scalp.

he choked out his words, chest rising quickly. “just like that, sweetheart, such a good girl. you’re gonna make me cum.” his voice strained as his hand guided you, gently, along his aching cock.

there was little warning when he shot thick ropes of cum into your mouth, yanking on your hair tightly as you swallowed as much as you could. it leaked onto your lips, down your chin, and you glanced up at chuuya with lust-blown eyes, smiling with flushed cheeks.

“i love you, chuuya,” you said, your hands resting on your lap as he gazed down at you, cock twitching once more at the sight of you so ruined.

“shit. i love you too, doll,” he said, pulling you to your feet, cradling you against his chest. “i’m never going to let anyone hurt you again. i’ll keep you safe, okay?”

you smiled, nodded at the sight of his flushed cheeks, but already, he was tugging at your waistband, sticking cold fingers down your pants.

“chuuya,” you gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady. “what are you doing?”

he smirked, eyes dark as he rubbed a finger through your wet folds. “didn’t think i’d let you go without taking care of you first, did you?” chuuya asked, watching the breaths come out of you quicker. “besides,” he nodded over his shoulder towards the lifeless, bloodstained body, eyes wide and white in fear as she stared. “we can’t leave without giving her a show.”

tags: @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @annoyingpainterprincess

OCTOBER MASTERLIST

sorry guys i kinda rushed through this one a bit bc i wanted to get back to writing about my scrumdiddlyumptious pookie bear :/ (dazai)

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munson-blurbs · 7 days

Text

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Apologies were in order when Eddie's true whereabouts were revealed, but would a rainy evening bring forgiveness or an even harsher storm? (4.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, misunderstanding, anxiety, self-deprication, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, brief touching, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter eight: mind your own business

A simple conversation changed everything.

Admittedly, it was not your conversation, but one you had eavesdropped on.

You had turned in the final exam for your Experimental Psych class, ruminating over any possible wrong answers as soon as your paper touched the pile on your professor’s desk. Did you get an abnormal amount of Cs in the multiple-choice section? Were your short answers detailed enough?

And then you overheard two guys talking in the hall, one sounding like he’d just chain-smoked a carton of cigarettes.

“Dude, what the fuck happened to your voice?”

“Lost it at a concert the other night. Totally worth it, though.”

“What concert?”

“Death’s Echo.”

You froze, hoping your sudden stop didn’t draw any attention to you. Death’s Echo had a concert? Where was it? Is that where Eddie was on Monday night?

Potential exam mistakes forgotten, you strode over to the guys on a quest for information. “Excuse me.” Your lips curved into your best customer service smile. “Did you say you saw Death’s Echo?”

The hoarse-voiced one nodded. “Yeah, why? You like them?” His eyes narrowed in assessment; you clearly didn’t embody his expectations of a punk music fan. A fair enough judgment, because you certainly weren’t.

“Where did they play?” You pressed, ignoring his question.

“Webster Hall,” he coughed, and his buddy laughed at his apparent pain. “You listen to them?”

“Yup,” you lied easily, not wanting to stick around and have him find out why a “fan” didn’t even know about a local gig. “Um, feel better!” You hurried out of the building, head spinning with this newfound knowledge.

Webster Hall. It was just over an hour to get there, which meant that the concert must have started late; a practice not unheard of for more up-and-coming bands. The prime time slots went to the headliners who brought in the most money.

If Eddie had gone to the concert on Monday, why wouldn’t he tell you? Did he think you’d be angry? Disappointed?

Or maybe he just didn’t want you to know he was blowing off work for a concert, you reasoned, and your opinion beyond that is irrelevant.

Should you ask him about it tonight? Could you? He might hole himself up in his room, ignoring your knocks and only coming out after your shift.

Maybe that was for the best.

His harsh words from last night continued rattling around your brain, barely taking a reprieve during the test. Honestly, you were grateful you wrote down actual psychological terminology instead of I am a total hypocrite over and over until self-deprecation filled the pages.

Tomorrow was your last official day of your undergraduate career, your own personal deadline for confessing the truth to your parents, and yet you were no closer to being ready than you were when you first made that silent promise.

The problem spun a web woven from neurons and synapses, its delicate threads slowly taking over your mind and catching the most daunting tasks.

NYU Essay revisions Graduation The motel Eisen’s Eddie

Too much. It was all too much, but you couldn’t shake them from their entrapment. You wanted to squeeze your eyes shut and only open them once everything had been resolved.

You had a fleeting thought of boarding the bus and remaining seated as it rolled past the motel, leaving it all behind and reclaiming your sanity. Running away was always an option, in theory; realistically, you would be overwrought with guilt before the bus made it to the next stop.

What you’d once considered loyalty was now stained with splotches of cowardice.

Maybe one day, you would be able to see yourself the way you wanted to be seen: as a trailblazer, a go-getter, a woman in pursuit of her dreams.

Today was not that day.

Rain streamed down from the clouds in thick sheets as though compensating for the week’s idle threats of stormy weather. It pelted against the motel’s windows like a steady drumbeat that wouldn’t be drowned out by your clock radio cranked up to its maximum volume.

Darkness loomed in the night sky, heavier than usual. Wind accompanied the rain, jostling the power lines and making the lights flicker.

If the electricity went out tonight…

You couldn’t finish that thought, not when the front door swung open to reveal Eddie, drenched from head to toe. His curls clung to his forehead, his cheeks, the back and sides of his neck; his chest heaved beneath a faded Black Sabbath t-shirt that was saturated with rainwater.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, unmoving and catching his breath.

This was your chance to apologize. To admit what you know—what you might know. The timing of the Death’s Echo concert could have been a coincidence, but your intuition told you it wasn’t.

Another awkward smile that didn’t reach his eyes, a tentative “hey,” and he was trudging past you without attempting to stop.

Opportunity went as quickly as it came. Every word you had planned had been scrambled like a tornado swept through your brain and left gibberish-laden debris.

The version of you that had confidently confronted him about smoking pot a few weeks ago would have scoffed at the way you failed to utter a simple apology. But this was much more complex.

Eddie’s forgiveness—if he forgave you—was only half of the battle. His blatantly false accusations about your work ethic had cut too deep to ignore.

Did he really think that little of you? Or was that his own defensiveness rearing its ugly head and taking over?

Then came a cry from down the hall.

“Of fuckin’ course!” Eddie boomed loud enough to be heard beyond his closed door. “Goddammit!”

You abandoned the desk, grabbing your essay papers and bolting to his room. He was at the window, violently pushing down on the pane, but it remained open. The shirt he’d been wearing earlier laid right next to the door as though he’d peeled it off as soon as he stepped into the room.

Your eyes landed on the dusting of hair that was now plastered to his pecs, another effect from the weather, the soft brown tendrils partially obscured by his demon head tattoo.

This wasn’t the first time you’d seen him bare-chested. The night he had arrived, he answered your knock in only his Calvin Klein boxers. He was wearing Fruit of the Loom tonight, the elastic waistband exposed from the weight of his rain-sodden jeans.

Heat burned in your belly, a sensation you hadn’t experienced in a long while.

“Little help?” Eddie grunted impatiently, and you nodded, tossing the essay onto his nightstand among a sea of his own handwritten papers.

Had he caught you staring?

He moved over, bringing both of his hands to the right side so you could press both of yours to the left. The combined force was enough to smack it closed, the resulting burst of wind sending the papers airborne. They floated to the ground, paragraph-laden parachutes, but all you could focus on was the patch of carpet beneath you. It was completely soaked, visibly darker where the rain had seeped in, and it squelched under your sneakers.

“I’ll grab towels.” You started towards the door, pausing to scoop up a sheet of looseleaf that had landed near your feet. It was obviously Eddie’s; his was not as meticulously curated as yours, full of scratch-outs and barely legible, but the words you could make out were enough to pique your interest.

Want what I can’t have

She’s got me mixed fucked mixed up

You couldn’t read any more of it without him noticing, and you certainly did not want to get caught snooping after upsetting him, so you placed it on the bed as casually as you could.

There were extra towels stored in the supply closet, and you jogged back to the lobby, mentally calculating how many you’d need to sop up the mess. Taking as many as you could carry, you perched your chin atop the oversized pile and lumbered into Eddie’s room, dropping them to the ground.

To your dismay, he had put on a new shirt, but it did nothing to temper your thoughts of running your fingertips over his inked skin.

The air was now rife with the scent of burning tobacco, the cigarette between Eddie’s lips already smoked halfway to the filter.

“Thanks.” It was muffled and gruff, hardly an olive branch, but it was enough to tug the corners of your mouth in a tepid smile.

You wanted to stay, wanted to ask about what he had been writing, but Eddie snatched up your essay papers from where they’d scattered before you could ask. He shoved them towards you, leaving the edges creased where they crinkled under his grip.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t vandalize them,” he sneered. A gray cloud whorled from his lips as he spoke, but it didn’t hide his sarcastic grin.

You steeled your gaze and forced yourself to look just above the glowing ember and into his eyes. “I’m sorry.” You let your apology float downwards, watching for any indication of a softening expression, but he remained tense.

“You didn’t even bother asking where I was,” he spit.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, less abrasive this time. “I assumed...because you were so mean to Ben…” Any further explanation felt too much like an excuse, so you left the sentence unfinished.

Eddie’s chest deflated slightly, his bravado extinguished. He’d been expecting a fight, you realized.

You refused to give him one.

“Were you at Webster Hall?” Your voice deliberately turned up at the end, careful to pose it as a question rather than a declaration. Certainly not as an accusation.

Eddie flinched, his forefinger and thumb quickly pinching his cigarette to keep it from falling. “What?”

“Monday night,” you said. You pushed your right foot into the mound of towels, hit with a sudden bout of antsiness. “Was your errand seeing Death’s Echo play at Webster Hall?”

He said nothing, just looked at you. Really looked at you, assessing whether or not you deserved to know the truth.

The admission came out gradually, as if it was being met with resistance, pulled from a place so deep he had forgotten its existence.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Eddie took another drag from his cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs until forced out with a cough. “Wanted to hear how they sounded with their new, ah, frontman.”

Lower lip tucked snugly beneath your front teeth, you nodded. “And how did they sound?”

“Great. Really fuckin’ great.” His wry smile held more sadness than amusement. “Better than when I was with them.”

Your heart lurched. Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand, giving it just a little squeeze before letting go. “I know that’s not true,” you said. “I heard you playing on Sunday, and you’re good, Eddie. Not just anyone could pull off playing Metallica without an amp, but you did.”

You wished he could see himself from your perspective, see the man whose talent was too vast for a dingy subway station, whose music deserved to be heard by sold-out crowds at The Garden.

Eddie didn’t agree, but he didn’t disagree, either. His face remained neutral, and given the circumstances, you considered that a win.

“I can work tonight. Hang the new wallpaper.” A lightning-speed subject change, but you were becoming accustomed to seamlessly shifting tracks to follow his train of thought. “I’ll be back out as soon as I finish this.” He lifted the cigarette to his mouth again and you nodded, closing the door behind you.

Part of you expected him not to return. If his brain worked like yours, he would overthink the conversation, replaying it over and over until he’d wrung out all the positives and left it saturated with the negatives. He’d opt to stay in his room and smoke out his pack, leaving the wallpaper job unfinished. But you heard the door hinge creak and his footsteps pattering into the lobby.

One thousand words flooded your brain to form myriad sentences, from a joking long time, no see to a much more serious who were you writing about?

Ben thought Eddie had feelings for you, ones that stretched past the platonic confines. But he’d only met him once, briefly. He didn’t really know him.

Want what I can’t have She’s got me mixed up

Did you really know him?

Eddie had an endless list of things he couldn’t have, which often was the case for people facing poverty. As for the girl who had him mixed up, you couldn’t narrow that down, either. The only women you’d seen him interact with were Phyllis (an unlikely muse, but it wouldn’t be the most bizarre case of unrequited love you’d ever heard of), your mom (again, not likely), and you.

There was no doubt you had him mixed up. Maybe even fucked up, as he’d written and crossed out. But had you had enough of an effect on him to warrant poetry or song lyrics–

Song lyrics.

It all clicked into place: The band; more specifically, the drummer who happened to be his ex-girlfriend. He’d gone to see them play. He could have spoken to her, and maybe realized that a spark was still present. A real spark, not whatever pathetic flicker you might have felt that night when he’d held your hand as you removed wallpaper, or when you’d exchanged gentle touches after his unfortunate wasp’s nest encounter, or when he’d loomed over you in the subway car and a delicate dip in your belly made itself known.

You decided that this explanation, the one in which you had little to no involvement, held the most logic. His inspiration was his past love–potentially his current love–and your argument was a mere distraction from a much more complicated situation.

A natural silence fell over the lobby, a healing balm over the wound you’d taken turns picking at and reopening. It was the perfect setting to finish editing your essay, and yet you found the task impossible. Any threatening grammatical errors paled in comparison to the slight movements of Eddie’s back muscles, visible through his white cotton shirt as he smoothed down the wallpaper panels.

The pronounced flex of his tricep as he drove the paper cutter above the moldings with utter precision.

The soft grunt that escaped his lips as he pressed on his thighs to stand up and admire his handiwork.

You didn’t know how long you’d been staring at him before the slamming front door snapped you out of it.

“L-Looks good,” you managed, throat suddenly bone-dry.

Eddie crossed his arms, took a small step back, and nodded. Wide brown eyes scoured the wall for any uneven edges or unglued seams, his lips pursed in concentration. “Not my best work but, uh, it’ll do.” He smirked at you, then jutted his chin to your left.

A middle-age man stood beside the desk, rainwater dripping off of the slope of his nose. He held an umbrella, turned inside out and rendered useless by the wind.

“Sign out front says ‘vacancy.’” He grumbled and swiped at his bushy eyebrows, revealing a sliver of beer gut when he raised his arm. “Just need a room for the night.”

“Mhm, of course.” You found your footing with a polite smile and collected the stranger’s money, just as you always had, just as you were supposed to. Because you were at work, and that was your job–not watching Eddie hang wallpaper.

As you scanned the wall behind you for a key, a warm whisper tickled your ear, breath tinged with a smoky aroma. A shiver reflexively wiggled down your spine as Eddie spoke, your body unused to this level of proximity.

“Put him away from my room. He looks like a snorer.”

You tucked your lips into your mouth to stifle your laughter. Eddie was right; you weren’t quite sure what it was about the man, but he did look like he snored. Loudly.

You meant to look over your paper after your shift, but sleep was too seductive to resist. Just one more day, one more final exam, and then you were done. At least until August.

Summer stretched before you, and though you would still be spending nights behind the desk, your days were wide open.

Days that might be spent alongside Eddie.

There was no formal apology from him last night, a fact that nagged at you throughout the bus ride to school and prevented you from looking past the first page of your essay. That, and the burdens of shame both you and Eddie carried: yours from the blatantly wrong accusation, his from…what, exactly? Why was he embarrassed to tell you where he’d been?

The wound was still too raw last night to press on it, to ask further questions; instead, you kept the conversation light and airy. The only foray into dangerous territory came from Eddie himself when he asked about the vandalism at Eisen’s. You couldn’t answer fast enough before clumsily pivoting the discussion to the warming weather.

And maybe it was your inner people pleaser that craved reconciliation, needed it to unfurl and bloom like a budding rose, that lowered your guard and bade you to talk with him. But people-pleasing didn’t explain the warmth that crept through your body, lazily winding through your veins, when he laughed at your jokes.

That laugh–the gentle nose scrunch it evoked, the lightheartedness it exuded, how it chiseled away at the remaining iciness between you. It was all you thought about that night, your heart relaxing as the friendship was no longer in limbo.

But when you got to class and flipped through your essay one last time, that newfound homeostasis meant nothing. Yes, there were ten pages present and ready to be stapled, but unless your conclusion focused on angsty song lyrics, you were missing the final page.

Dread’s chill pricked at you, followed by an overbearing wash of heat. The granola bar you’d scarfed down threatened to make a reappearance.

Stupid. How could I have been so careless? All I had to do was check before I left home, but I was too busy thinking about Eddie to do the bare minimum.

It was a bad dream; you’d wake up and find yourself in bed with your full essay safely stored in your bag. All you had to do was wake up and page ten would be a continuation of psychological development in infancy.

Your eyes opened hopefully, but you were still in the classroom, and the page still beared Eddie’s sloppy scrawl:

I’m the castle She’s the queen Can’t be a king I’m too obscene

The lyrics a few lines down stopped mid-sentence:

Crushed beneath a broken dream Failed to launch now I

You were wasting precious time. If you left now, you could probably make it home and back before the professor left. You’d have to fork over the money for a dollar cab and forgo your afternoon coffee, but it was a sacrifice you needed to make.

Stupid stupid stupid—

Your name being called drew you from your pit of self-loathing. It wasn’t Nora; the voice was too masculine and too far away for it to come from beside you.

It was someone with the same name. Just a coincidence.

And then you heard it again. Loud enough so it echoed down the hall, but not frantic. And yet your heart fluttered in your chest.

Eddie.

There was no way; he couldn’t be—

You squeezed past Nora and thundered towards the door, trying to quell your hopes before they rose too high.

But there he stood, sweat pasting his hair to his forehead. His chest heaved beneath a white cotton undershirt that was tight around the biceps. Deep brown eyes lit up when he spotted you in the doorway, his lips curving in a triumphant smile.

“I have your paper!” Sure enough, your conclusion paragraph was clenched in his calloused hand.

You could have cried with relief. Fueled by gratefulness and residual adrenaline, you flung your arms around him. Your hands found his back muscles; at first tensed, almost reflexively, but quickly relaxed. The paper crinkling between your torsos jarred you out of the moment, and you took a step back before he could return the gesture—if he even would have.

“Sorry, I…” Words suddenly evaded you, eviscerated by the musky scent of his deodorant. He didn’t appear to be uncomfortable, all soft doe eyes and lazy grins from his unlikely heroism, but…still. Your relationship now teetered between employee and friend, and you couldn’t afford to knock it off-balance. “How did you get here so fast? And how did you find me?”

Eddie exhaled a chuckle. “Took a cab. And when I got here, I asked every other person where the psychology classes were.”

“You walked from where the dollar cab dropped you off?” How many blocks was that? No wonder he was sweating.

His cheeks, already flushed from exertion, tinged a deeper shade of pink. “N-No, I, um…it was a regular cab.”

Sheer disbelief widened your eyes. He must have dipped into his meager savings to shell out the money for an actual cab, putting him even farther behind in his journey home.

“I…” There were one thousand ways to finish your sentence.

I can pay you back.

I can’t believe you did this for me.

I am so sorry I ever doubted your character.

I wish we’d hugged just a moment longer.

You finally settled on a string of words that required no courage at all, just a genuine thankful smile. “I have your lyrics. Let me turn in my paper and I’ll grab them for you.”

Eddie’s timid expression shifted into one of amusement. “Shit, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Was wondering where those went.”

Opportunity splayed out in front of you, tempting you to ask him about the woman who had him mixed up. Every cell in your body ached to know if she was the same queen he’d placed on a royal pedestal, unattainable despite his valiant efforts.

Was it fear or politeness that held your tongue? You weren’t supposed to see the lyrics in the first place; how could you justify your questions? Sorry I read your innermost thoughts without permission, but could I pick your brain about them?

Any doubts about your intentions were confirmed when he took the page from you, cocked his head, and asked: “What’d you think?”

There it was. Your opening. You could see it, practically touch it, your fingertips brushing the chance to admit that the songs’ mysterious inspiration gnawed at you—

But then he might ask why you wanted to know. And, quite honestly, you lacked the energy to figure it out for yourself. The desire was too strong to be nosiness, too personal to be gossip.

Not to mention the inexplicable sourness that burned your esophagus when you’d considered the high probability that he’d written them about his ex-girlfriend.

“Really good,” you managed. “I can’t wait for the finished product.”

Coward.

“Me, too,” he agreed with a laugh. “I’m sure the folks at the train station are dying to hear it.”

“The rats’ll give you a standing ovation.”

He snickered. “My biggest fans.”

A hand squeezing yours prevented you from getting lost in the slight dimple that appeared when he smiled. Nora now stood beside you, expression innocuous to Eddie or any other man, but her dark brown eyes silently asked, are you okay?

I’m fine, you replied with a squeeze of your own, grateful for someone who swooped in seeing you with a man she didn’t know.

“Nora, this is Eddie,” you introduced her. “He’s–he’s my friend who’s been helping us out around the motel. Eddie, this is Nora, best friend and study buddy extraordinaire.”

“Ahh, Wallpaper Boy.” Nora furrowed a brow. “You go to school here?”

Eddie cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head. “No, I…she left her paper, so…” He trailed off as though embarrassed by his chivalry.

“So now she can graduate!” Nora wrapped you in an embrace so tight that you briefly worried about your shoulder dislocating. She leaned in knowingly, her tone teasing with an air of seriousness. “And keep me company at the ceremony, right?”

You rolled your eyes, acutely aware that Eddie was watching the entire interaction. The last thing you wanted was attention drawn to the fact that you weren’t attending graduation. “Maybe,” was all you said, and Nora left it at that.

There was an awkward beat before anyone spoke again, and it was Eddie who eventually filled the silence. “Heading home now?” He asked you, already starting towards the building’s doors.

“No, I’m going to Eisen’s. I promised Ben that I’d help clean the graffiti.” You braced yourself for a volatile reaction, or at least something akin to annoyance, but his response was more surprising than any snarky remark.

“I’ll come with.”

Cocking a disbelieving brow, you did your best to keep your tone free of judgment. You were waiting for the gotcha, but you couldn’t let him know that. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, why not? I’ve got the day free, and I have some…expertise in graffiti removal.” He relented with a shrug when you and Nora exchanged curious glances, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “My trailer got hit a time or twelve back in the day. The tragic life of a Satan-worshiping freak, y’know?”

“But I bet the vandalizers were upstanding citizens.”

“Keys to the city and everything.” Eddie stuck out his hand, palm up, and you could see the details etched into his pale skin. Calluses decorated the pads of his fingers; you’d assumed they were mostly from guitar playing, but now you could add physical labor to their origins. He looked down at his hand, then back at you. “Shall we?”

Your own hands were suddenly slick with anxious perspiration, like a middle school student on her first-ever date. Even that juvenile scenario held more significance than this—two friends scrubbing down a hardware store was a far cry from the Sandra Brown romance novels you secretly devoured in high school.

And yet, you felt it—that soft electricity that crackled through your whorls of fingerprints when you slid your palm against his, the jolt of energy as he tugged you forward and laced his fingers with yours. If he noticed the nervousness that embarrassing seeped from your pores, he didn’t mention it.

Nora, ever astute, excused herself with a story about not wanting to miss the bus, but not before whispering in your ear, “he’s cute.” An approval that would almost certainly be followed up with a phone call later to discuss the fine details of the afternoon’s escapades.

There are no ‘escapades,’ you reminded yourself. You’re removing graffiti, not embarking on a Parisian vacation.

Eddie led the way until he reached the building’s doors, blinking as his eyes once again adjusted to the sunlight. “I, uh, I have no idea where we’re going.”

You laughed at his candor. “Follow me.”

It was an opportunity to break the grasp, to unleash the anxiety that threatened to cleave you and Eddie back into two separate pieces. He was dangerous because he was temporary; if you allowed him in even farther than you already had—beyond the confines of friendship—his inevitable departure would destroy you.

Let go. Let go. Let. Go.

And yet you kept holding on, adjusting only to take the lead. Eddie’s thumb brushed against yours, pausing just at the knuckle to press down in subtle acknowledgment.

Hi.

You pressed back with an accompanying smile.

Hi.

This time when you reached the subway station, you both jumped the turnstile.

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