would love some thoughts and feedback on something new I'm working on (very very new) but i'm feeling rusty when it comes to creating content that's not already on this blog.
it's just vibes rn but I always wanted to do another fic similar to simmer. not eddie this time, maybe steve (probably), maybe another character from another show, maybe even something original. but i'm thinking a little moodier, a slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of thing, maybe some angst. I think? anyway, here's what I have so far, if anyone would like to read.
HONEY, SHOW ME HOW TO DO IT
The streets are close to dead at such an hour.
The glow of the traffic light outside of your bedroom window makes your walls look scarlet and the summer air thatās leaking in through the open crack is too warm for five am.
Itās July and itās early and thereās clothes scattered over your floor, a shoe by the door, your bra hanging over the back of your desk chair. Your sheets are twisted into a gingham green lump at the end of your bed, thereās a pillow slumped into your nightstand, nudging precariously against a half drunk glass of water.
The town outside is still sleeping, the AC unit is whirring, your head is aching and thereās a man in your bed.
š š š š š
You try not to audibly groan as your feet find the floor. The body sleeping next to you is lying on his front, his face buried into one of your pillows, his arms wrapped around it like it tried to run away in the night. Heās tanned and dotted with freckles, a summer scene across the skin on his back, broad and taught with muscle. You frown as you look over your shoulder at him, trying to place a name, a face, any memory of the last few hours.
The only things that come to mind are bare skin and a lot of touching. Teeth and lips and hands and calloused fingers that dug into your hips as you rode him. You rub your face, clearing the sleep from your eyes, the tequila and the taste of sex from your lips.
You try really hard to walk quietly to your bathroom, padding softly across the wooden floors, avoiding the board that you knew squeaked like it held a deadly disease in its whorls and knots. The bathroom door shuts with a squeak and a click and you hold your breath, forehead braced against the cool wood but you hear nothing, no sheets rustling, no feet on the floorboards.
Your reflection stares back at you from above the sink with disdain and disappointment and youāre not in a position to disagree with her. Your hair is a mess and thereās leftover lipstick on your neck of all places, like youād gifted it to someone whoād pressed it right back onto your skin. Thereās the beginning of a hickey on your chest, purple and pink and blooming under the bright fluorescent light thatās humming above you.
The shower starts with a groan and a hiss, the pressure battering the floor of the tub and you shed what little clothes you had on before clambering into it, skin prickling at the chill before it rocketed to almost too hot. You hit the temperature dial with an annoyed indifference, hiding under the cool spray until your hair is stuck to your head and it doesnāt hurt as much as it did when you first opened your eyes.
You think back to the night before, eyes closed, your stomach starting to turn with tequila and vodka and cheap beer. You remembered the sticky floors of the new bar youād been dragged to, nothing more than a basement room filled with sweaty bodies and with brick walls covered in band posters and beer mats from places around the world. There were more people than tables and an oversized disco ball turned slowly overhead, entirely out of place as some indie sleaze song leaked out from the speakers in every corner.
Youād danced with your friends, nothing more than your hips moving in the crush of bodies, skin on skin as you tried to take shots without it spilling over your fingers. You remember licking raspberry syrup from your thumb, your eyes on a guy who stood across the room from you, his brows raised when you grinned.
You remember a song passing, maybe two, before he came over. There hadnāt been any bravado, no cheesy lines, no faux nonchalance. Heād bent down to your ear, a large warm hand hovering over the small of your back as he leaned into you. Someone had bumped him, his lips brushing your ear and heād told you that you were pretty.
Youād grinned, shyness disappearing under the taste of tequila and when heād asked you to dance youād handed your empty glass to your friend and took his hand. It got blurry then, his hips against your ass as he moved to the music, moved against you. His hands, warm and big, laying on your hips, fingers settling into the crease of your upper thigh until you were too warm and the only answer was to pull him outside for some air.
Heād tasted like beer when he kissed you, your back against the rough brick outside of the bar. But his hand had cupped the back of your head to save it from becoming sore and that alone had you arching into him, his free hand around the back of your thigh as you hitched your leg to his hip. There mustāve been a taxi ride to yours and there was a fuzzy memory of your couch, the man pressed into it as you shed your shirt and straddled him, his lips dancing across your throat, your sternum.
You stayed under the spray until the water turned too cold and your head felt less like someone had jumped on it. Your hair was clean and your face had been scrubbed, your toes minty fresh as you spat leftover toothpaste down the tub drain and when you got out, wrapped in a too small towel, your bed was empty.
I said it before and I will say it again: I absolutely LOVE those summer vibes you weave into your works. It makes me think of that roadtrip story which I loved SO much, and I really enjoyed the tenderness of this one. It perfectly resonates with the mood Iām in today. So - thanks for sharing it!
All the colours, all the flowers, all the stuff. Yep, this is pretty much what the inside of my brain looks like š (I did have to fudge the first image part bc a few of these came out with either idea montages or just full on ads or shops, but I think I did ok)
Tagging a handful w no pressure, but if you see this and you want to join in, consider this an open tag! @jamdoughnutmagician @indulgence-be-thy-name @airen256 @pedroschka @steve-loves-eddie @rebelfell @sidereustales @thecreelhouse
Sweet @pedroschka, hereās my interpretation! Mineās a bit more colorful, but that shouldnāt surprise us for weāve done done of these already, haha.
And whatās going on with my hobby one?! Looks more like a spirit animal to me lol.
this is going around twitter rn but im also super curious: please tell me your topĀ four comfort movies that youāre always down to watch bc my friend thinks mine are ridiculous and now weāve realised everyoneās version ofĀ ācomfortā is hilariously different
"You only like this character because she's a woman!" okay and you hate her because she's a woman, knowing that she has all the traits you would enjoy in a male character.
welcome to hawkinsā number one diner! where the staff donāt wanna be there and the linecook is a grumpy metal head who likes to argue with his boss and ignore everyone else. but the new waitress canāt hack the rude customers and the regulars can be a littleā¦ much.
serving up indiana heatwaves, slow burns, walk in freezer breakdowns, late night talks, shared shakes and food as a love language. order extra spice for $4.
[41K] a linecook!au with eddie munson and shy fem!reader.
CH1. HOME STYLE
CH2. ICE BOX
CH3. SUNNY SIDE UP
CH4. 0800-AWKWARD
CH5. WAKE āNā BAKE
CH6. SPILLED MILK
CH7. SPICE BOX
CH8. BOILING POINT
CH9. SIMMER [EXTRA HOT 18+]
CH10. CHEQUE, PLEASE
THE SNACK BAR š„”
THE KITCHEN MIX š»
WWW.JIMSMIDNIGHTDINER.COM š¾
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