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#voicemail ofc
seabeck · 4 months
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my dad does home inspections and has done for more than a decade, and only like two of the local realty teams have learned not to lie to him. the others are always like oh it's a perfect house :) what foundation problems? no the electricity is perfect. there are no crawlspace scorpions.
Where's that handshake meme with "car salesman, realtors: being lying scumbags"
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ritz-writes · 6 months
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...has Crowley never sent Aziraphale to voicemail?
I just rewatched the scene before Aziraphale gets discorporated, and realized Aziraphale didn't seem to realize he got the answering machine first.
"I know who you are, you idiot, I telephoned you."
Was this his first time hearing the voicemail message? Cuz that makes me think that Crowley, anytime he sees Aziraphale calling, immediately answers no matter what. It's his angel, after all. How can he not answer?
And I just think that's really cute.
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hauntedpearl · 2 years
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oh okay okay okay hear me out: dean's widower arc 2: electric boogaloo that is post-canon pre-empty rescue moments. people have talked about how he leaves cas texts and voicemails and yes that fucks so hard like!!!! can you imagine!!!!
at first it's mostly a lot of angry, helpless drunken ramblings. this is like pre 15x19, let's say when he's like alone alone. he'll be like come back, you son of a bitch! he'll be like how dare you. he'll curse and yell and cry and brokenly say, you had me, cas. we had each other. but then lucifer calls him and it's so fucked up dean can't bring himself to pull up cas' contact for a while. they beat god. they get their lives back. jack comes back to them (he must!!!). their lives are theirs again and dean's determined to look for a way to get cas back. his voicemails are now everyday updates. he tells cas about jack. about sam and eileen. about a thing he's cooking. about what research is like. he still gets drunk and says dumb shit sometimes but then he'll apologize in the next voicemail. it's like prayer but it makes him feel better that it's a tangible thing. it makes him feel like cas is actually listening. the illusion of cas' life is easier to maintain when the phone against his ear is solid and cold and grounding in a way.
when cas comes back, they figure out that cas' phone's just lying around the bunker somewhere. Dean finds it, but doesn't give it back to cas right away. they exist in this limbo where it means so much that dean spent so much time to get cas back and that he risked so much to rescue him, but all these months of pouring his heart out to a phantom still doesn't prepare him for the real thing. cas, for his part, is just happy to be back but he's also very wary and is perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop. they go on like that for a bit until it all comes to a head at some point because cas has misplaced guilt and dean has misplaced anger and it's always a bad combination and cas is like maybe i should go and dean's so mad he just stalks up to his room and brings cas ' phone to him and he's like do whatever you want. and then he goes to his room to just drops to the floor, head in his hands. cas turns on his phone and yep. all these texts and missed calls. and then the voicemails. he spends the night listening to them and then he FINALLY SEES it and goes to find Dean in the early hours of the dawn and dean's still on the floor against his bed and cas settles down next to him and they don't say anything for a bit but then cas just turns and hugs him and buries his face in dean's hair and hey look it's not everything but it's a start and they're gonna be okay. like. suddenly they're both aware that they have the rest of their lives. and like. IT'S SO. HMM. LOSING MY MIND THIS MORNING!
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stewykablooey · 1 year
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he’ll call ken he’s literally gonna call ken
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carcarrot · 1 month
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hair appointment scheduled 👍
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superabnormal · 5 months
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ocdnatural is something that is sooooooooooo *brain explodes*
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countlessrealities · 8 months
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RELATIONSHIP BUILDING || Accepting !
@advnterccs sent: 📱for a voicemail my muse left yours. { To your Rick from my Morty ! }
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Rick almost dropped his phone as he tried to take another swing from the mostly empty bottle he was holding in his other hand. Half of the mouthful of liquor trickled down his chin, joining the stains that were already wetting his teal shirt, but he didn't seem to notice, too busy squinting at the screen to find the number he wanted.
Morty was mad at him.
The fact in itself wasn't news. It wasn't the first time and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last. However, this particular fight was bothering him as very few had, for more than one reason, and he couldn't shake off the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Guilt. He had fucked up, he knew it and, for once, he was failing to deny it.
The phone rang and rang on the other side of the line, but no one picked up and the call eventually ended with a click, as it was redirected to the voicemail.
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"G-God fuckin' dammit," Rick muttered under his breath and gulped down more liquor before raising his voice.
"M-Morty, what the hell, p-pick up the fuckin' phone! W-Where the fuck are you?! S-Stop watching porn o-or jerking it or...whatever you're doing. G-Geez, I can't believe tha-that you...you let me go to the goddamn voicemail, l-little shit."
A few other grumbled words followed, but they were distorted by a hiccup and thus unintelligible. He should probably specify whom he was. The last thing he wanted was for the teen to give shit to his boyfriend because of something he had done.
"I-It's Rick. Shit, I-I mean other Rick. Y-Your lame ass, bitchy, fuckin' ungrateful little freak of a boyfriend's Rick."
Alright, maybe insulting his own Morty so freely wasn't the smartest idea. He was trying to get his other grandson's help to make it up to his own and all that spiel was kind of counterproductive.
Fuck, the little shit makes stuff hard even when he's not around. Fuck you, Morty.
"L-Listen, you...you gotta call me back, Morty. I need...we got some shit to do. U-Urgent shit. An-And you have to come with. C-Can't do it on my own. I-It's a two-people job, y-you know? But don't...It's not weird stuff. N-No weird stuff involved." For once, he actually meant it, even if never say never when it came to a Rick-and-Morty related thing. "B-But you can't tell...gotta keep your mouth shut, m-my Morty can't know, got it, l-little buddy? I-It's...if he knows, it will be ruined. S-So we gotta be quiet an-and quick and...you know. G-Get it done before he knows."
There was a voice in the back of his head, one that sounded awfully like Morty's, that was telling him that this was a dick move. Using the teen's own boyfriend to get forgiveness when the latter had been part of the reason why they had fought in the first place.
Good thing that Rick was used to not playing fair and to cheating at every chance he got. Especially if it made it easier for him to get what he wanted.
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"We...you...fuckin' call me back, little shit," he resumed, squinting down at the phone as if it had been the boy's face, before letting himself fall in his chair.
Or, at least, that had been his intention. What actually happened was that, in his drunken state, he bumped into it, sending it rolling away and tripping himself backwards. He managed to slow his fall down by grabbing the hem of the workbench, but he still ended up flat on his back, also causing a few tools and unfinished devices to hit the floor with him.
He also lost the grip on the now empty bottle he had been holding and it flew out of his hand, crashing on the ground and shattering in pieces.
Great.
More unfazed by the mess than anyone else would have been, the scientist merely fished his flask out of the inner pocket of his lab coat, took a long, noisy gulp without bothering to sit up and then belched in the phone, before speaking up again as if nothing had happened.
"Y-You got it, Morty? I-It's...life and death. F-Fuckin' life and death, Morty! Y-You don't want to risk causing a-another of those...those...shit, c-can't remember the goddamn word...! Eh, w-whatever." A shrug that the teen obviously wouldn't have seen. "B-But you get it, Morty, don't you? O-Of course you don't, b-but you're still going to do it. B-Because I'm asking you, Morty. I am fuckin' asking."
More like demanding, but those were details.
"S-So do it for the world. O-Or for your family. O-Or for yourself. Whatever. A-As long as you do it for me."
At the end of the day, what mattered was that he and his Morty made up and went back to do what they usually did without the boy glaring at him at any given turn and denying him. He couldn't stand that. Hopefully just having the other Morty there would make it better already.
"G-Good. Great. Just...fuckin'...yeah. Call me back. Soon, M-Morty, got it? Soon! O-Or I...I'll bomb your garden or-or piss on your comics or...put you in Jerry's body or...m-make you allergic to dicks s-so you can't touch one ever again or..." Damn, he had already run out of ideas. "I-It's gonna be awful. For you. I-I fuckin' promise you that."
And without another word, he closed the call, carelessly dropping his phone on the floor and returning the flask to his mouth. Good. A few hours and shit will be fixed. No need to worry anymore.
...Still, while he waited for his other grandson to get his shit together and call back, he would get drunker. You know, just in case.
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sunny-daysss · 1 year
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Why are people so mean for no reason :/
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bewilderedbuck · 1 year
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not to be like. emo or whatever but. how am i supposed to live with this feeling for the rest of my life
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seungstarss · 2 years
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Hi! Idk if this sounds rude because I really don’t want it to be 😭 but when are you *heart cracking* leaving Tumblr?
Oh noo that's not rude at all dw,,, I'm leaving this Sunday so I'll be completely inactive from Monday on
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avatardoggo · 2 years
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_(:3 」∠)_
#so today marks a week (?) form when i called my (ex) best friend and she didn’t answer and i left a voicemail and ofc she didn’t answer that#not like i was expecting her to but yk a gal can dream so ya ig we’re not friends anymore. surprisingly i haven’t cried about (yet ik myself#i’ll cry but i thought it’d be sooner than later)#and i was talking to a mutual friend and she asked if i wanted her to talk to her for me and i decided no bc if she wanted to she would yk?#like it’s not by force and if she wants to be a coward and just act like our friendship meant nothing than i can’t control that i can voice#my hurt and pain but if that doesn’t move her than at least i said something right? it just succs bc i don’t use the term best friend let#alone friend lightly like we did commissions together with our fav characters like multiple!! like i don’t do that with just anyone#i have a poster in my room of a drawing my sister did for her christmas present last year that i colored and printed and and I GAVE HER MY#COPY OF WUTHERING HEIGHTS THAT I WROTE A BUNCH OF NOTES AND AND A LOVE LETTER LIKE IVE NEVER DONE THAT BEFORE AND AND#i told her about my social anxiety and ocd which i haven’t told Anyone (besides you guys <3) and not even my family knows and she can’t even#return my calls or texts and it’s like a slap in the face like it meant nothing to her like i opened up sm and it’s like it meant nothing to#her like i’m nothing i’m just this person that was convenient to be friends with but now IDK BC SHE WONT TALK TO ME#ok now i’m tearing up now and if i start crying it’ll be gross and noisy and i don’t want to cry rn#vk overshares in the tags
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screampied · 23 days
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if you write venom gojo, or venom ANYONE, block your inbox. The woman I’ll become after that will have to be studied for generations to cum bc I have a BAD obsession with venom 😭‼️
— Pearl anon <3
we’re thinking about it 🌚🌚🌚🌚🌚🌚🌚🌚🌚
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decrheart · 4 months
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☆ put this star into the inbox of your favourite blogs. it’s time to spread positivity !
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glitterypinkconverse · 10 months
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─ ⊹ ⊱ IN THE HEAT OF IT ALL
e-42!miles x fem!reader
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summary after having an argument with miles, you get mad as to why he always brings up your plushies while you guys are arguing. so, you threw them all away.
request by @friedturtlewhispers ! i accidentally posted this without writing actual story, so sorry your request got deleted 😭
a/n this is a continuation of the 42!miles headcanon from these headcanons! i’m a sucker for angst so ofc i has to write this 🤷‍♀️
warnings angst to fluff, cursing
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“Ma, you’re the one who sleeps with stuffed animals at night.”
You two have been fighting over God knows what for at least 30 minutes, and whenever he brought up the fact that you sleep with stuffed animals at night pisses you off. You scoffed, stuck your middle finger up at him, and went to his doorway.
“Fuck you, Miles.” That was all you said before you walked out of his bedroom, and out his apartment door.
New York at night was chilly, so as you left the building you silently cursed to yourself. You forgot your jacket again, as it was hot during the day but then it cooled down. Luckily, your apartment building was only a block away, so it wasn’t that bad of a walk.
His words still rang through your head. That was his only comeback nowadays ever since he found out. You thought he hated it, for how much he teased you about sleeping with the stuffed animals. But secretly, though he would never admit it, he found it cute that you do. It made him happy seeing you happy, although you weren’t feeling it right now.
You thought actually sleeping with them bothered him, so as your mind was overflowing with rage, you did the petty thing.
You threw them all away.
Well, not really. You just stuffed them all in a bag and put it in your closet. But, it felt like you did because your once overfilled bed was now empty, the only thing on it was your clothes, pillows, and obvious blankets.
Your phone was blowing from texts and calls from Miles. You looked over at it and rolled your eyes. You put your phone on do not disturb, charged it, and then got in bed. All you needed right now was some rest, so you closed your eyes and tried to fall asleep. Though, it was hard without at least one thing to hold.
Miles on the other hand, was freaking out. He was pacing around his room angrily, you guys never ended on bad terms. You would always make up, because he knew how important it was for you to have closure. He wanted to make this relationship work, and right now he felt like he was failing it.
“Pick up the phone, Y/N,” he mumbled, silently cursing everytime it went straight to voicemail. He groaned and left his room, saying a quick goodbye to his mom before leaving the apartment.
He walked, practically ran to your apartment where he barged in because you forgot to lock the door. Your parents were out on a work trip right now, so he reminded himself to scold you later on this. But for now, his only priority was to set things right and make it up to you.
He slowly opened your bedroom door, from the light being off he figured you were asleep. That was all until you turned around to look at the light that was entering your room, and groaned when you saw Miles standing in your doorway. “Fuck off.”
He scoffed and made his way towards you, “That’s no way to talk to me, now is it?” He joked, though you weren’t having it.
“What the hell are you doing here, Miles.” You turned away from him, so he couldn’t see the anger that was still looming on your face.
“Whatchu think I’m here for? I’m here to make it up to you. We’re not leaving on bad terms, and I swear by that.”
You didn’t respond, and that left Miles quiet. He observed the position you were in, and noticed your bed looked different.
“Ma, where’s all your stuffed animals?” He asked, concern in his voice. He shuffled around your bed, looking over you and looking at the end of your bed.
“Gone,” you mumbled. He paused in his tracks, looking over at you even though you couldn’t see him. Your back was facing the wall, so he immediately turned you around to face him.
“Fuck you mean gone?”
“I mean, gone, Miles. Like, they’re not here.” He was shocked, you loved those things more than anything. He looked around your room, for any sign of them.
None.
“I’ll be right back,” he mumbled before hurrying out of the room. You rolled your eyes and turned around in your bed again, feeling slightly bad that you lied to him.
However, Miles was going to the nearest store to get you something. He walked down the aisles of the store, searching for the perfect plushie. He grimaced at all of them, as they all looked unintentionally creepy. He decided on a pink teddy bear, as it looked the most tame and he knew how much you liked teddy bears. He went up to the register and paid for it, then rushed back to your apartment.
You were almost asleep when he barged in once again and sat on your bed. “Turn around.” When you didn’t, he turned you around himself and what you saw in his hands shocked you.
You sat up to face him, you didn’t expect him to buy you a teddy bear. You took it from his hands, admiring it slightly. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Y’know, I actually find it cute how you sleep with these.” You looked up at him and smiled, then fell into his arms.
“It’s alright, I guess. Thanks for the bear,” he hummed in response, to which you continued, “there’s a bag in my closet, do you think you can get it?” He pulled away slightly and raised an eyebrow at you, watching as you giggled against his chest.
He peeled away from you and walked to your closet, silently cursing when he saw the bag full of stuffed animals. “You’re full of shit, y’know that right?”
You laughed as he threw the bag at you, you throwing one of your pillows back at him in response. “You loooove me though.”
He walked back to your bed and put the pillow you threw at him back on the bed, and laid down with you. “You got one thing right,” he said as you adjusted in his arms.
“Oh, and also, don’t forget to lock your door. Can’t let anyone taking m’ girl away.”
“Go to sleep, Miles.”
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TAGS ↣ @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx
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taintedcigs · 3 months
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i slept with someone from corroded coffin and all i got was this stupid song written about me.
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ROCKSTAR!FBOY!EDDIE X READER
summary: fooling around with a famous rockstar who's a notorious playboy sounds perfect on paper, until you catch feelings for him. that's why you decide to end things, to not get your feelings get hurt, and its all going perfectly, until eddie releases a song, written all about you.
warnings: smut, p in v, MINORS DNI!!!!, pet names, praising?, lovey dovey, kinda angst and arguments, drgs & alcohol mention, swearing? idk this is kinda cheesy n cute with a mix of fluff sprinkled honestly!
author's note: the indented parts are texts between steve and reader and thenn reader and eddie. they look confusing as fuck im sorry i just wanted to make them look unique but they look stupid. also yes. i patted myself in the back after i found this title (thank you fob). and yes the lyrics are inspired by i don't care im on a fob kick sue me! and ofc fboy!eddie isn't actually that much of a fboy bc if i can't write lovesick eddie ill die. this is super cheesy so i still struggled a lot but UGH. not proof-read ignore all mistakes
also credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts! (i changed them but still!) and @saradika for the dividers! pls like + rb + interact w me in anyway to support my writings!! ty!!
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DINGUS sent you a spotify link. did you listen to this? yeah. its kinda romantic. no. the lyrics are insane. n all about u okay? are u at the party rn? yeah. u comin? soon he’s there too u already knew that, didn’t u?  false accusations r rude, steve.
You click your phone off with a groan, but he was right. You couldn’t stay away from him, and maybe, just maybe, this was your way of running into him, accidentally. 
Because ever since he released the song, the tabloids had gone crazy with it, half of the lyrics screamed you and all of the old headlines pointed at you, the mystery girl Eddie used to be seen with, and you really were growing tired of seeing your name next to “Munson’s new girl.” 
Because you weren’t his new girl, you weren’t his anything. He was a cocky asshole who was good with a guitar and was even better at fucking. And that was something both of you could relate to, the only thing you had in common with him. Or, so you thought. 
But of course, as with everything else, the things between you changed, you started staying over, he started staying over, and the two of you even went on fucking dates, disguising them under ‘we were just hungry, is all.’ 
You tried to keep up the cool girl act, like you could fuck someone and not catch feelings. Every inch of you itched not to care, to act like it was all fine, but it was all fucking bullshit, you cared, so fucking much that your chest ached. The more you got to know him, the more you fell for him, and the more you fell for him, the more you realized there was no fucking way this would work. 
Cocky rockstar who spent more time doing drugs than sleeping, with girls all over him? The imaginary red flag bells rang in your ear, even now. He wasn’t looking for a relationship and you knew that. That’s why you ended it two months ago. Or at least, you started ignoring him two months ago. 
Yet, he had been calling and texting you, wanting to meet up, drunken slurs of nonsense, gibberish voicemails, and yet you never answered, because if you did, you knew you’d be back to pathetically swooning over him.
Until today, just because of that stupid song, like it meant anything. That douchebag probably wrote songs about every girl he fucked. 
You weren’t special. 
Another ding sound from your phone almost startled you, the contact name made you groan even louder. “don’t FUCKING answer.” That didn’t mean shit. It was just something stupid to make you feel better that you couldn’t stay away from him, because you knew, deep down that if you really didn’t want him to contact you, you would’ve deleted his number, and blocked him. You were too chicken shit to do that, and still desperately wanted to hear from him. 
So you settled on that contact name. Like it made a difference, like it changed anything. 
DONT FUCKING ANSWER did you listen to the song?
Don’t fucking answer. The contact name should be enough to convince yourself that.
Too late.
                                                                   no. don’t lie to me, sweetheart.                  ��                                                         why would i lie?
You sink into the couch, a much quieter corner of the party, not even bothering to socialize. Your brows furrow, index finger flying to your lips anxiously, as you chew on it to patiently wait for an answer.
You sip on your drink with a nervous gaze on your screen, barely noticing the way the couch sink further when someone else took a seat next to you. 
“Hi.” The gravelly voice pulls your attention away from the screen, making you set your drink aside as you look up, finding yourself face-to-face with him. 
Shaggy bangs cascade onto his forehead, and with your exaggeration, it looks longer than the last time you saw him. Black jeans cladded with chains. A graphic tee messily thrown over his heavily tatted chest, that you could still imagine right about now—pathetic. He looked just about the same, the deep dimple adorning his soft cheeks had seemed to disappear, wearing a scowl instead, that tiny voice in your head told you that was your doing, that maybe he was just as miserable as you. Maybe your feelings weren’t fully one-sided.  
Shit. 
“Eddie?” Squeaky, and annoying, you were sure that’s how your tone sounded, yet he didn’t seem to comment on it.
“‘m glad you remember my name, sweetheart,” he scoffs sarcastically, leaning further into the plush couch, elbow propped at the side, eyeing you with frustration. 
“W—what the hell are you doing here?” You stutter as if you weren’t expecting to run into him. Full of bullshit. 
“Did ya really think you could ignore me forever, huh?” He tilts his head slightly, almost expectedly, earning an eye roll from you. 
“I wasn’t ignoring yo—”
Eddie tuts quickly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cuts through the ambient noise of the party, “I thought we said no more lies, huh?” 
With a huff, “Why are you here, Eddie?” you mumble.
“Am I not allowed to party?” He banters, brows slightly raised, making you huff out an exasperated breath, your eyes bore into him, almost to signal him ‘Take this seriously.’
“I wanted to know what you thought.” He shrugs like it was normal to just come running after everything just to know what you thought of the song. 
“The song?” He nods in confirmation.
“Didn’t like it,” you confess, avoiding his gaze, but your brows betray you, lifting ever so slightly.
He tsks, shutting you off quickly, “You see that little quirk your brow did? That only happens when you lie, you can’t help it. You do that when I ask you if you ate the last pizza slice, or when I ask if you watched the next episode of the show we were supposed to watch together, or when you—” 
“Fine, fine! I liked it,” you groan, interrupting him and suddenly standing up from the comfort of the couch, being so face-to-face with him immediately making your nerves bubble.
“Just liked?” He tilts his head slightly, a smirk curving on his lips. 
A deep sigh of breath, “what do you want, Munson?”
He stands up with you, making you back away from him with a heavy footstep, the entire party was too loud and crowded, yet, in this stupid corner, it was just the two of you. “For you to admit that you loooved the song, and how much you missed me,” he sing-songs, taking a step closer to you, musky smell invading your senses, making you take a deep breath.
Both of you stand near the wall, and it should be awkward, it should be enough to make you leave, but all it does is draw you closer to him.
“You’re annoying.” 
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”
“I wasn’t avoiding—” He tuts, with his stupid index finger up, rejecting your lie.
“I—I don’t know what you expected.” You shrug, so nonchalantly that his gaze narrows, chest aching with the implications of your words.
“We both knew this wouldn’t last forever, didn’t we?” You chew the inside of your lip to stop those tears that had been begging to flow ever since you listened to the song, wiping off that smirk on Eddie’s lips. 
“Would’ve been nice if I got a reminder, and not have been just fully ghosted, huh?” The brunette grumbles with a downturn of his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. 
“Oh, don’t act all high and mighty, isn’t that what you do all the fucking time?” you snap, gaze narrowed, and arms crossed against your chest. 
“Fuck girls and then leave them? Did it crush your ego this fucking much that I did before you could?” 
“What the fuck does that mean?” He retaliates. 
“It means I was smart enough to pull myself away from your bullshit,” you rasp, disdain written all over your face.The room seems to shrink as the distance between you decreases. 
Another step closer to you, and you didn’t realize your back had hit the wall now. “My bullshit? God, that’s fucking rich, if I seem to recall correctly sweetheart, you were in this as much as I fucking was!”
“Oh, was I?” You bark out a chuckle, cruel, mocking, “I don’t remember being okay with you fucking half the city.” Realization of how bitter and jealous that sounds, dawns on you much later than the words leave your lips, and thankfully, Eddie’s too fucking immersed to realize the double meaning of your words. 
“Are you fucking kidding? No strings attached! Non-exclusive! That’s what you fuckin’ signed up for!” His voice echoes, mirroring his frustration, and you open your mouth.
But he doesn’t let you speak further, cutting you off sharply. “Is this all because of that new guy you’re seein’?” 
“What? What guy?” 
“The one who was all over you earlier,” he bites out, jaw clenched, and you can almost taste his bitterness in the air.  
“The same one you fucked at Jeff’s party.”
“Are you stalking me, Munson?” 
“Did you just want an excuse to end things? Are the two of you serious or somethin’?” His voice wavered between anger and desperation, gaze pathetically searching for yours, to gauge your reaction.
You scoff. Did he really think you’d end things because of a stupid fling you had which in the first place occurred just so you could forget him? He was so goddamn clueless it drove you insane. 
But what you didn’t realize was that you were just as clueless, if not more, because why would he write a song all about you, if this was just about sex? Because who would get so jealous of someone they didn’t care about? 
Say my name and his in the same breath.
I dare you to say they taste the same. 
The lyrics from his stupid song swirled your thoughts, yet you were still too stupid to see it, weren’t you?
Another step closer to you, a dangerous game the two of you liked to play. He smelled alluring, a fucked up mix of nicotine, his musky cologne, and that damn leather jacket. “Do you really think, he could compare to me, sweetheart?” 
Say my name and his in the same breath.
“Tell me he’s fucking better, and he’s actually what you want, and I’ll fucking leave, I’ll bury all the other songs I wrote, tell me, and I’ll be out of your hair forever.”
I dare you to say they taste the same. 
And just like that, all the defenses you put up, all the times you ignored him, they are cracked, disappearing into thin air. You hate it, you hate that he has this effect on you, you can feel your mind getting hazier, eyes blinking rapidly to process what the fuck is going on, and his face is mere inches away from yours. You knew their names didn’t taste the same. And you knew he could never ever compare to Eddie.
“Tell me,” he encourages, dares you to. You fail to notice how much emotion his gaze carries, how the corners of his lips twitch, just at the thought of you finally admitting you don’t want him. His stomach turns at the thought, this is his last chance, he knows that, and he can’t fucking lose you. He can’t. 
And you don’t know any of that, but you knew, know that no one else could compare to him. And you hate yourself for thinking that, you hate yourself for falling for him, the world stops rotating on its axis when he’s in your peripheral vision, and it’s fucking disgusting. Pathetic. Stupid. Because you know the two of you have no chance. But here you are. 
“H—he is b—” Of course, your brow quirks up almost immediately, betraying you quicker than you can even attempt to lie. 
That dawning smirk appears on his lips again, it’s mocking, and just as much smug. You want to wipe it off of his stupidly pretty face. “Tell me,” he dares you, again. This time much cockier and confident, and you suddenly realize how small you feel under him.
“He isn’t,” your meek voice is barely audible.
And you don’t register the shaky breath he draws when the words leave your lips, giving him the confirmation he needs. You wanted him, he had no fucking clue why you ghosted him, yet you still wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you. 
Both of his hands were placed on the wall now, towering over you, making your breath get caught up in your throat. “Speak up.”
“No, fuck! You know he’s not, you know he could never fucking compare to you, you fucking know tha—” He shuts you up with a rough kiss, lips pressed against yours messily, letting the petty comments die down your throat. Because this is all he wanted, needed to hear anyway. 
“Up,” he grunts into the kiss, tapping your thighs, hoisting you up from your waist to help you wrap your legs around him, tight, he wants you at his mercy, locked to him. 
You wrap your legs around him, barely, the melty sensation in your knees making you so shaky that he barks out a laugh into your lips, holding you close, firm, the butterflies in your stomach traveling all across your body.
He lifts you up as if you are weightless, arms wrapped around you strongly as he carries you to the nearest empty bedroom, impressively without hitting your back anywhere, so roughly that your core throbs at the feeling of his arms around you.
“Baby,” he mutters as he lowers you down on the bed swiftly, smooth, gaze darkened and pupils blown wide, all the pent up desire waiting to explode. 
“Eddie,” you beg, shaky voice sounding purely angelic to his ears once he got rid of his shirt, shrugging it off with a huff, his fingertips grazing against your top, feeling your hardened nipples, causing gasps out of you, he’s quick to pull it over your head while you run your fingers up the grooves of his stomach, the tip of your fingertips almost burns everywhere you touch. 
He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, “missed thi-you,” he corrects himself, because that’s all he wanted anyways, you. 
He nips at your nipples, tongue good at giving attention to both of them, all wet and warm, making you squirm under his touch, you’re quick to get rid of everything else, leaving you in your panties, making him grunt. 
The pad of his thumb rubs against your left nipple, leaving goosebumps in its wake, while his other hand travels down your chest, then your stomach, finally drawing circles when it stops between your thighs, ghosting over your panties before he tugs them down your legs, spreading them apart with a slight hum, pupils blown so wide that you can’t admire those chocolate hues anymore. 
He visually drinks in that sight of you, laid down on the couch, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re completely at his mercy and his chest aches with need. “So pretty like this f’me,” he coos into your chest, pushing his middle finger inside of you. Making you feel so good that you can’t stop the gasps coming out of your lips.   
Pleasure shivers through everywhere he sucks and touches, his finger eases into you when he adds another one, a moan escaping you quickly. “Need to be in here, sweetheart, d’ya have any idea how much I missed this?” 
You don’t. You don’t know about the sleepless nights, the drunken ones, the drug-induced ones in an attempt to recreate the high you gave him. It’s fucked up, it’s insanely toxic. Yet, he can’t get enough of you. 
His gaze upon you is dangerous, maybe it’s because he had missed you so goddamn much, or maybe because he didn’t know where this would lead, but it felt fucking sentimental, different somehow, and he could feel you, everywhere on his skin.
Your hips start rocking up against him when the pad of his thumb flicks over your clit, making you arch your back, whines, mumbles leaving your lips. And all he can muster is, “so goddamn beautiful, look at you whining for me.”
You can feel his bulge rub against your thigh every now and then, it’s distracting, almost agonizing. You desperately need it inside of you, you had missed him, missed his touch, missed the feeling of him filling you to the brim, you missed seeing his face contort in pleasure when he was inside of you, you wanted him to never forget you again. 
That’s why you feel so numb, can barely speak, and of course, Eddie notices, how unusually quiet you are, and he wants to make this unforgettable, just so you have another reason to come back to him. Just so you don’t leave him, just so you stay forever. 
“Gone too quiet on me, honey, tell me what you need,” he coos down at you, thumb still caressing your pussy, and all you can fucking do is chew down on your bottom lips, eyeing his bulge that was begging to get out. And he barks out a goddamn chuckle, “P—please, Eddie.” Pathetically leaves your lips. 
And normally he would make you beg, tease further, but he reaches to tug down his pants quickly, because fuck, he had missed you. And he can’t bear the thought of not being inside of you any longer. 
Thinking is not your strongest suit right now either, your brain is mushy, all the nights and days spent thinking about him, about this explodes into your body. Your pussy aches when you finally see his cock again, a sound of need leaving your lips as you eye his length, so big that pleasure ripples through you, especially when you see his gushy tip, glistening with pre-cum. 
You want every fucking inch inside of you, and Eddie’s more than ready to oblige, “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”
“Need you, Eddie,” you moan, all fucked out, his fingers slip in and out of you still, but it isn’t enough for him. He needs more, he craves your validation like he never has before. 
“God, you’re soakin’ my fingers, princess,” he grunts, wedging himself between your thighs, weeping cock drips onto your inner thighs, making you moan breathlessly. “Tell me exactly what you fuckin’ want, honey.”
“Eddie.” His name sounds like silk, even when it’s so lewd, Eddie decides, and it makes him let out an impatient huff. “P—please. Need you to fuck me.” It’s so goddamn desperate that you can feel heat rise to your cheeks, but it’s everything to him.
“Want you to fuck me like you mean it.”
“Oh, that’s easy, sweetheart,” he grunts, lining his cock through your entrance, coating himself in your slick, enjoying your mewls before he doesn’t hesitate to push his cock inside of you, inch by inch, relishing the way you cry out for him. 
Greedily, you rock your hips into him, making him let out a frustrated groan. “Have no fuckin’ idea how much I missed this greedy cunt, sweetheart, shit.” He thrusts in a few more inches, and breathless moans and babbles of his name fill the air.
“Suckin’ me right in, baby, fuck, you’re so pretty like this, mhmm.” His cock moves inside of you, and your hands are wrapped around his back, desperately clawing at it, the fullness making you want more, “you like that, baby, like bein’ full of me?” A heavy sound leaves his lips, pathetic and you pulse around him. 
“S’so good Eddie, and s’big,” you barely manage to let out, and he watches you with that burning amber gaze, thrusting all the way in without hesitation. Those plushy lips that hang open, that filthy mouth, the prettiest fucking features—you, were going to be the death of him. 
Maybe it’s because you had missed him, or maybe because you hadn’t experienced this in a long time, or fuck, maybe, just maybe that the song had created a new type of need between the two of you. Using sex as a sort of connection that the both of you desperately needed. But, shit, was it this different this time. 
He felt different—his lips, touch, skin as it slapped against yours, it was different. 
Full. You feel so fucking full that your back involuntarily arches against him, fingers clenching desperately, your screams and cries filling the room the more he plunges inside of you, deeper, hungry, and just as greedy as you. 
“Yeah, better than that asshole?” It rolls off his lips so bitter and jealous that you can barely register it. Not being used to this possessive side of him, and it’s glorious, especially when he’s pounding his frustrations and insecurities into you. 
“Mhmm, so much better.” You clawed at his back, every thrust of his hip making you feel higher and higher, mind filled with nothing but him. 
“So pretty like this when you say my name, sweetheart… so goddamn beautiful, and all mine, yea?” He wants a confirmation, and wants to hear you say it, his head ducking between your breasts again to kiss, taste, suckle them. Make sure he never forgets it. 
“Wanna hear you say it.” He hums, the vibrations reverberating through your chest straight into your core, cock plowed so deep inside of you that you can barely speak through your cries, hitting that sweet spot that every other asshole misses. 
You’re too scared to give him what he wants. But you feel him, everywhere, and you still want more, of course, you’re his. That’s all you fucking wanted anyway. Plushy lips shake as you gaze up at him, his amber hues are so sticky-sweet that you still struggle to process it, words come out in a ramble “All yours, Eddie.”
His mouth crashes onto yours roughly, desire coursing through both of your bodies, almost interconnected. “Shit, fuckin’ hell sweetheart, ‘m not gonna last long.” His thrusts are getting sloppier, yet you feel the ravaging desire coursing through your veins. 
“So perfect,” he murmurs, the kiss he lays on your lips just as relentless, not letting you breathe or think for a goddamn second, you’re so goddamn close.
And you wonder, how the fuck did you even go two months without this? Without him?
“Eddie!” You cry out once you feel the pad of his thumb rubbing against your clit, eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm washes over you. Pure bliss overtakes you while you claw at his back, his body tenses, and cock flexes as he cums inside of you, groans and curses left in your hair. 
Minutes pass of you lying next to each other, breathless, processing everything that just transpired. And you should feel guilty, embarrassed, and should run to the hills for doing this with him again. 
But you’re obsessed, addicted. He’s like an excitement that you’re sure you’ve never felt before, running through your veins, like a fucking drug. 
Both of you get dressed in silence, the party booming outside is quick to bring the two of you back to reality, and out of the trance that he pulled you in. 
He breaks your bewilderment with a slight “Fuck.” Standing on the opposite side of the bed before he fully turns to you. “This wasn’t—I was supposed to talk to you.” He mutters, fingertips anxiously running through his tousled hair.
Caught off guard and awfully curious, you mumble, “About what?”
“The song…”
“I told you I liked it.”
His brow furrows deeper, and he shakes his head in frustration. “No, that’s not it—uh, did you not listen to the lyrics?”
“I did.”
“And?”
Your face searches his for some clarity, you take a step closer to him, the distance between the two of you was still awfully much according to him. “What are you asking of me, Eddie? Did you really think one song would just solve everything?”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“W—what am I supposed to get Eddie? You wanna have your cake and eat it too! And I just can’t fucking do that, not anymore.”
“That’s—that’s not it!” His voice wavers, with urgency, and desperation in his tone. He takes a step forward, attempting to bridge the emotional gap, feeling so fucking frustrated that he wants to rip his hair out.
“Then fucking explain it to me!” You plead. 
“You want an explanation, fine! Fucking fine!” His frustration echoed through the room, pacing back and forth, making you take a deep breath. 
Was he… actually gonna do this? 
“You wanna know what the fuck I’ve been doing ever since you ghosted me?” He ran a hand through his hair, scared, gaze all mellow and vulnerable in a way you have never seen before. It makes your shoulders slump when you nod. 
“I go to those stupid Hollywood parties, meet asshole rockstars—the most interesting shit, yet somehow someway the thought of you will pop up in my mind, uncalled for, might I add, and then I can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about you the whole fucking day.” Your eyes widen, trying to absorb his revelation, yet he won’t stop rambling and you feel your chest tighten with each word, fuck, he’s finally doing it.
“I—I never—shit! I never thought myself capable of feeling things like this, but fuck, you came along, with that goddamn smile, throwing a manicured middle finger right in my face, a—and just put up with my bullshit.” His voice softened, and he couldn’t help but trace the contours of your face, to desperately know if you were on the same boat, and you look at him with such glistened eyes that his heart leaps to his stomach. 
“My world flipped upside down, and you have proven me, so goddamn wrong that I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore!” The tears almost welled in your eyes, because, fuck, there was no way this was real.  
You reached out instinctively, the corner of your mouth twitching uncontrollably. “E—Eddie, please… please stop saying things you don’t fucking mean.” 
“Things I don’t mean?” He gives you a breathy chuckle, ironic, and nowhere near funny. His eyes bore into yours, intense and searching. “Do you think I like feeling whatever the hell this is? I fucking don’t, you have me acting like someone I’m so unfamiliar with, to the point where it scares me. All I can think about is you, you, you, because you occupy every single space of my mind.” Your eyes soften, the room seemingly pulsing with his emotions, making you feel hot everywhere on your body. 
He felt the same way.
Eddie felt the same way. 
“B—but fuck I’m scared, honey, I’m so goddamn scared,” He admits, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the tension before he’s at your side, calloused hands grabbing you by the shoulder, so softly that you melt into him.
“Because what if—what if all of this comes crashing down one day?” His voice trembles, gaze avoiding yours, he was scared, so goddamn scared of losing you. Forever. He doesn’t want that, he couldn’t afford that. 
“Just two months away from you fucking sucked. I didn’t—I don’t wanna feel these things, but you make it so hard not to.”  His forehead rests against yours, making you suck in a deep breath, it’s all so fucking sentimental, and all you wanna do this kiss him, tell him you feel the exact same way. Tell him about your fears. 
“And now I can’t fucking stop, fuck,” He confesses, admission punctuated by a frustrated sigh. 
“I wrote you a song,” he gently caresses your cheek, and you’re so scared to look up at him, to meet his tender gaze, because you know you can’t hold yourself back. 
“I came over to this party in a frenzy when I found out you’d be here,” he continued, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. “I—I just I haven’t even been able to touch another girl.” Your eyes snap open, you’re sure they’re almost heart-shaped now, with the adoration you look at him.
“And, do you actually fucking think I'd write songs for just anyone—” His question lingers in the air before you shut him up with a kiss, rough, sweet, and making Eddie feel dizzy all over, his head struggles to comprehend it all, breathless but he manages to react just in time.
The booming music becoming a mere background noise when he had you, mind swirling with all the possibilities and mouth begging to never stop tasting you. He wants to let you completely engulf him, feel you everywhere.
Everything he wanted and more.
He fucking hates himself for doing this, but he pulls away, mesmerized, eyes so wide that you can’t believe this is Eddie, he’s all flustered, salmon pink. And it makes a wider grin sit on your lips. “So… you—uh, what does this mean?”
You smile at him, lips widely stretching into a grin, as you shrug. “It means I feel the same, Eddie.” you admit, tone a tender reassurance. “That’s why I tried to shut you out… to try to move on, because I was scared—fuck, but I feel the same way.”
“So, does that mean we're dating now?”
“We can take things slow, figure everything out?” you mutter with a shy gaze, lips itching to twitch into a smile, again. “But I—uh—I like you, I really, really like you.”
“Gone soft on me already, sweetheart?” he mumbles with a stupid grin, making you elbow him softly, with an exaggerated playful huff. 
He’s quick to flinch, rubbing his arm as if you even delivered a powerful blow. “Ow—what the hell is wrong with you?”
“You think I’m going soft? You’re the one who wrote his feelings as an exaggerated love song!” 
He leans further slightly, his grin widening when you gave him those adorable eyes, finding you both equally amusing and endearing. “Oh… just you wait.”
You arched a brow, curiosity piqued, “What the hell does that mean?”
“The album is coming out soon, sweetheart. If you think this was an exaggeration, you should hear the whole fucking thing.”
That glint re-appears in your eyes just as quickly, gaze softening as you melt into his embrace.
“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.” You tease, scrunching your nose at him, so adorably that he leans down and presses a gentle kiss onto your hair.
He's an idiot, a total complete fucking idiot, but he's all yours.
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