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toomuchracket · 9 months

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falling for you (flatmate!matty x reader)

promptober day 10, and there was nobody else i could have written this for. a fluffy but slightly angsty pining lovesick moment, before the two of you are actually flatmates and you're just babies on nights out in manc. i hope you enjoy!

p.s. yeah, i know the pic is the wrong era for this, lol. but it's alllll about the vibes <3

matty's trying his damnedest not to stare at you right now.

he's failing miserably, though. the copious amount of alcohol in his body is rinsing all the sense out of his brain - well, what little you hadn't already stolen from him when you met him earlier outside your halls of residence, all made-up and glowing - and he really cannot tear his eyes away from you, saying bye to your friends at the door of the nightclub.

matty blinks, and self-awareness hits him like a freight train. nah. he's being weird. he needs to get a grip.

but then you turn towards him, waiting on behalf of both of you in the cloakroom queue, and you smile, and all thoughts about stopping looking at you fly out of matty's head. how can he be expected to focus on anything but that face of yours? the vodka's made your beautiful eyes softer, and a combination of marlboros and mac lipstick have made your lips pouty and kissable. well, more so than usual, matty thinks.

he's so distracted by your beauty that he almost doesn't hear the cloakroom attendant shout him up to the window. stumbling slightly - he'd say over his own feet, you'd say due to drunkenness (and you'd be right) - matty exchanges his two tickets for the jackets you and him had been all but forced to wear to prevent the freezing october air getting to you, and wanders over to you. wordlessly, in a well-rehearsed routine, he slings his own jacket over his shoulder as he helps you into yours.

you murmur a thank you. "you hungry?"

for you, yes. for a kebab, no, matty wishes he could say. but he can't, so he just shakes his head.

"neither am i," you say, helping him zip up his leather jacket. your dexterity has been diminished by your drinking, and one of the fringes on the sleeve of your own coat gets stuck between the metal teeth of his. clearly, your brain has also been affected by the alcohol; you frown at the zip, unable to see why it won't move. "huh?"

matty smiles, moving to help you. "got caught on your coat. sorry, darlin'."

"oh, s'fine. thanks," you reply, as you're unstuck once again. with a smile, you hold a hand out to matty. "shall we?"

like he'd ever say no to you. "we shall."

and the walk back to your uni begins.

if it had been raining, matty would have done the gentlemanly thing and sprung for a taxi. but it isn't, for once; actually, he thinks, it's kind of a perfect night. the sky is inky-black, devoid of any clouds, and the two of you are just drunk enough that the streetlights look just as pretty as the stars you can't see from so far into the city like this. he's more thankful for the cold air now than he was before the two of you went out - after the close heat of the nightclub, and the internal glow of the however many shots you did, the coolness is welcome. that, and it forces you to secure matty's hand in your own for warmth, which is maybe the most perfect aspect of the night, in his opinion.

naturally, then, a pang of heartbreak hits him when you break the hold to rifle through your handbag. when you procure a half-empty pack of cigs, though, it dissipates.

"want one?" you ask, holding the open end of the packet towards matty.

"no thanks, sweetheart," he says. he isn't lying: the thought of anything clouding his vision of you, even cigarette smoke, is unbearable. but then a spark of an idea crackles somewhere in his brain - whether it's in spite of or because of his tipsy state, matty isn't sure, but either way it tells him he shouldn't be so quick to refuse. so, tentatively, he continues speaking. "i'll gladly share one with you, though."

you take your time answering, slowly pulling a cig from the pack and shoving the rest back in your bag, then digging around for your lighter. matty chews his cheeks during this performance, terror that he's overstepped a friendship boundary of some sort beginning to creep up his spine. but then you shrug, and say "alright", and he's fine.

well, he's not fine, actually - the next words that leave your mouth are "need your help to light it, though, matty".

fuck. his hands so close to your jaw, close enough that he could take hold of it and kiss you before his brain could convince him that it was too much of a risk to your friendship? that's dangerous.

god, he's so drunk. and so definitely in love with you.

what matty is first and foremost, though, is a good friend. shoving down any and all romantic and/or sexual thoughts about you and your lips as best he can (which is, admittedly, not very well), he turns to face you and takes the lighter from your hand. "c'mere then."

when you oblige, silently, and look up at him with your lips parted and those sparkly doe eyes of yours, matty bites the inside of his lip so hard he feels it bleed. christ. this was perhaps a bad idea.

but the cig is right there, waiting to be lit, so he takes a deep breath, cupping the lighter as he flicks the flame into existence and brings it to your mouth. the orange glow illuminates you quite beautifully, and suddenly matty's head is filled with thoughts of you across from him, like you are now, but sat at a candlelit, white-clothed table with a glass of wine and a fancy dinner before you. and, if he's being honest, also with thoughts of you underneath him, face blissful and softly lit by the candles dotted around the room as he fucks you slowly and tenderly.

for fuck's sake. you're his best friend. he can't be thinking of you like that. why can't he stop thinking about you like that tonight? maybe he's going insane. he has no idea. but whatever is compelling him seems to lessen as you step back and exhale the smoke. "thank you, babe."

babe? that's new. but not unwelcome, not at all. matty feels his heart flutter at the pet name.

"s'alright," he smiles. now it's his turn to hold out a hand. "shall we keep going?"

"mhmm," you quickly take another puff of the cig, before sliding it between matty's lips with a giggle and taking his hand; you have to tug him forward a few paces before he regains control of his brain, but he quickly manages it, and the walk home continues.

for the most part, it's uneventful, aside from the alien feeling of your hand constantly in matty's. that is, until he tries to be clever and inhale the cig mid-conversation, and ends up exhaling directly in your face when you turn to listen to him without him fully noticing.

you cough a little bit when the smoke hits you, and matty panics (and internally facepalms. what a fucking idiot he is) as he throws the cig on the ground and stamps it out. "shit! i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i didn't mean that! you alright?"

"s'ok, i'm ok, don't worry," you assure him, waving away both his fretting and the lingering smoke. when it clears from in front of your face, matty's heartbeat increases as he takes in your amused smile and your even-more-sparkly-than-earlier eyes. you're beautiful. you're fucking glowing. and you're tucking yourself under his arm and cosying into his side as you walk. jesus christ. "this is a lot better for us, don't you think?"

matty's cheeks lift into a smile. "definitely."

it really is better, matty thinks, walking towards the front door of your halls with you snuggled into his chest. much like every other aspect of matty's life, you fit seamlessly into his side - you just feel so right there, so natural, as if the two of you were biologically designed to be together. maybe someday, he hopes, you will be; not two best friends traipsing into uni accommodation for a post-night out sleepover, but a pair of lovers heading home after a date.

he doubts that'll actually happen, given that he'd have to go through the impossible task of telling you how he feels first, but still. it's a nice distant daydream, one he's still giddily thinking about when you unlock the front door and pull him through several more until you reach your bedroom.

you groan when you flick the light on and see the state of your bed, makeup palettes and hair products and failed outfit options strewn across it. matty immediately jumps into problem-solving mode; anything to stop you being unhappy, after all. "where do you want all this stuff, darlin'?"

"the fucking floor," you grumble.

"so… where i'm meant to sleep?"

your head snaps up, and you catch matty's eye in the mirror as you take your earrings out. "well," you turn to face him, your expression… nervous? "you could just, y'know, share the bed with me."

oh. matty can feel his heart pounding in his ears, diminishing the volume of your continuing (and frantic) monologue: "i mean, i know it'll be tight cos it's a single, and you've always insisted on sleeping on the floor even when i've offered to let you have the bed, but it's really cold tonight and i wouldn't mind the extra heat, and at least if we're sharing i know you won't be freezing and you'll be comfy, yeah?"

"ok," matty says, despite barely registering anything you said in his fugue state. he's drunk, and lovesick, but he's not an idiot. "yeah. we'll share."

your face breaks into a relieved smile. "ok. good. um, before that, would you…?"

"oh, of course," matty darts over to you as quickly as he can, while you turn to face the mirror again and lift your hair up. slowly, with fingers fumbling just as much from nerves as from alcohol consumption, he undoes the zip on the back of your dress. the perfume still lingering on the back of your neck clouds his brain with every breath he takes, and the organ threatens to completely shut down when matty pulls the zip down low enough to reveal a lack of bra clasps underneath your outfit. once he's finished undoing you, he steps back while he still has the ability to do so, turning away from you. "there you go."

"thank you," comes the reply from behind him, followed by the sounds of fabric rustling and drawers opening. matty busies himself with carefully clearing your bed, only turning back round when you tap his arm; he smiles when he sees you in a big t-shirt, hair shoved up messily and makeup half-removed, holding out a pair of sweatpants he recognises as his. "you left these here last time. i thought you might want them to sleep in. and i did wash them, before you ask."

you roll your eyes as matty presses the trousers to his nose anyway as a joke - when he registers that his clothes now smell like you and your washing powder, however, it stops being funny in favour of being lovelorn-inducing. but his smile quickly returns when he properly notices the design on the t-shirt you're wearing. "i cannot believe you're wearing a drive like i do shirt to bed. thought you were more proud of me, to be honest, darlin'."

"of course i am, but it's comfy," you protest, brow furrowing in the most adorable way as you frown. it softens wistfully as you continue. "and it reminds me of home."

weird, matty thinks. you're not from- oh. christ.

he's home, to you.

what a fucking thought that is. matty's not quite sure how he's managing to stay sane, but he smiles, pulling you into a tight hug and stroking your back. "that's very lovely of you, sweetheart."

"s'just the truth," you reach up on tiptoe to pat matty on the head, before pulling away. he misses you immediately. "you wanna get ready for bed?"

does he ever.

matty nods, kicking his shoes off and quickly undressing while you climb into bed. despite the fact you've seen him in shorts and nothing else before, he wonders if he should feel self-conscious as he strips to his underwear in front of you; something's definitely different with the two of you tonight, matty's sure of it, and he can't quite tell if that's a good or bad thing. probably good, although that might be wishful thinking on his part, just like the way he's convinced your eyes linger on his torso with interest in the mirror when he takes his shirt off.

anyway. clad in his sweatpants and no more, matty climbs into your single bed. he tries to get as comfy as he can, facing away from and without touching you - whether that's to ensure your space and comfort or to stop himself from agonising over how much he likes you, matty has no idea. he isn't comfortable in the slightest, but he'll endure it.

you, on the other hand, have other ideas. with a sigh of "daft boy", you move forward so your body is against matty's back, slinging an arm and leg over his front and spooning him. "is this alright? i figured it was the best way to keep us warm."

"it's perfect, sweetheart," matty replies, and he isn't lying. despite how much it hurts being so close to you and repressing how he really feels about you, matty's surprisingly chill about the way you're clinging to him. cautiously, but feeling compelled to do so, he brings his hand up to stroke your thigh; when you hum contentedly, matty rests it there. "goodnight."

"mmm, night," you yawn out, the blanket of sleep falling on you fast. "love you."

matty smiles, half sadly, half dreamily. "love you too, darlin'."

the next day, he writes a new song.

#mads muses #mads does writing #promptober75 #flatmate!matty #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fluff #matty healy angst #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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skullhorn59 · 1 month

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Heavenly Hell

A/N: the story inspired by a daydream, and the name by @hazelfoureyes (sorry not sorry for the tag :P), I cooked up another fic. sinners - enjoy. >:3 Tags/Warnings are added progressively, design changed/fixed with time. mostly proofread! Summary: you have always been a fan of the show Hazbin Hotel in your life - and as you are spawned in a Hell identically matching the Show, you can't believe your sheer luck. you're immediately on your way to eagerly meet the celebrities (at least they are in your world), but your arrival hadn't gone unnoticed... Pairings: Lucifer, Valentino, Adam, Alastor, Vox, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk x Fem!Reader Tags/Warnings: self aware and insecure Reader, Spoilers for the Show

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Minors DNI 🚨🚔

The moment you open your eyes, you see red. red above you, red around you, red everywhere.

Are you dreaming..?

Your other senses begin returning to you, and you groan in pain. your entire body aches as you force yourself to stand up. where were you? you sure weren't dreaming, judging by your physical pain.

Wait a damn minute. your body changed. you can feel more muscles aching, in places where none have been before. testingly moving those muscles, you are taken aback. the position of your ears changed. and you even... have a tail?

Looking around, you seem to be in a city, glamoured by a red pentagram in the red sky. lights everywhere, a familiar tower in the distance, and you can even feel the bass from the music of the clubs that are all around. wait. your eyes shoot back, and you squint at the tower in the distance. are those three V's at the front..?

Wait.

You've seen that tower before.

In one of your favorite shows.

Hazbin Hotel.

As the realization hits you like a freight train, your blood runs cold. but with more excitement than dread. did you die and spawn in the Show??? was everyone from it gonna be here, alive (well - undead rather) and kicking?? when did you spawn here? before the extermination?? after?? who was gonna be there??

You take a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. but who did you want to find first? Valentino? Vox? Lucifer? Alastor? someone entirely different?

You do think about going to the Hotel first, but judging by where you've stranded, it would be a lot quicker to go take a look for the Vee's first. and knowing good ol' Alastor, you think with a scrunch to your face, he would likely snatch up your soul right away, should he find out you've only just gotten here.

Nah - no way you are risking that.

At least for now.

And so - you have a makeshift goal. doing your best to keep your excitement at bay as you begin walking towards the Tower, you think about what kind of excuse you'll make up to be able to even see one of the Vee's upclose, let alone get away without having to sign a contract in the end.

Offering them your soul? - immediate no. suggesting to work for them? - as bad as the first, so hard no.

Glancing in between buildings from time towards the Vee's Tower to make sure you're still on the right track, you furrow your brows in thought.

Hmm.. there has to be a way.

Coming to a stop infront of your destination before you could think of something, you feel your heart flutter against your chest. a rare occurance - but all the more fitting. looking up and along the tower to the three V signs, you give your braincells another kick. and suddenly - they kick back.

Information!

Yes! that's it, you can give all of them valuable information! and in return.. ohoho. so many things you could ask for. you are definitely gonna go see Vox first. you have so much to sell him, it's almost depressing. but Val..? you don't have very much that's of use to him. maybe you can somehow convince Vox to get you a... talk... with his fellow Vee. surpressing a smirk, you look forward again, internally preparing your introverted body and mind for the upcoming social interactions.

The doors glide open quietly, as expected, and you step in, immediately being hit by a wall of cool air from an air conditioner above. it's like entering a store, you think.

With a rather fast glance around, you're greeted with a Luxurious Lobby. snuggled into the far right corner, there's a reception, with a bored looking demon behind it. a camera is seated in the corner above it, with Vox's signature line on it. you can spot another one placed in the opposite corner as your eyes search around the ceiling corners.

Red Armchairs instead of regular Chairs are generously placed in the three leftover corners of the room and a few along the left wall too, low coffee tables in between. as your gaze rises along the wall, you see lots of Voxtek advertisements as well as a few screens that almost lazily switch between even more ads. you can't help but take a step closer, your eyes flitting over each and every one of them with barely held back interest, trying to take it all in at once.

Until the sound of someone clearing their throat brings you back to where you were. oops. you turn your head to where it came from, and you see the receptionist almost glare at you over their glasses. you can't tell their gender at first glance - and you aren't gonna assume it.

So you walk over to them, your eyes somewhere near their face, but not actively looking into it, you're still exploring your surroundings a little. you start speaking, insecure from the moment they laid eyes on you. "uh, hello.. I'm uhm.. here to see.." what should you call him? best to go with the most polite one you can think of. "Mr Vox." taking a deep breath, you fiddle your hands together while you continue. "I have information for him that he's.. gonna want to hear."

The Receptionist raises an eyebrow at you, but before they can respond, you hear a noise that reminds you of electric current, and you feel a cool hand on your shoulder, sharp claws firmly placed on your thin clothing, but they aren't piercing through. and before you can process everything, you hear a very familiar voice speak. you gulp.

"Information, you say? sounds like something we should discuss in my office, privately."

─❲♡❳▷Hazbin Masterlist ─❲♡❳▷Main List

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #the vees #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #reader insert #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #reader #x you #you insert #x reader #fanfic

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from-memphis-with-love · 3 months

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Songbird - Ch. 1 - The Handsome Stranger

Summary: The year is 1969. The place is the International Hotel. Valerie Pedretti, an aspiring singer, has a chance encounter with one Elvis Presley in an elevator that will change her life forever. Notes: To me, 1967-1971 EP is kind of peak Elvis, and so I wanted to write a fic with him smack dab in that time period. In the 1969-1970 period, especially, Elvis was probably the most handsome and alluring man in the galaxy. Lots of anachronisms and historical inaccuracies in this one, but just roll with it because it's fun! I based Valerie, in a sense, off of a mixture of Kathy Westmoreland, Joyce Bova, and Linda Thompson. Kathy met the real Elvis for the first time in an elevator, and that really inspired this work. Priscilla exists in this universe but she and Elvis get a divorce far earlier than in real life. Theirs, in some ways like real life, is a marriage of convenience and an "arrangement." Lisa Marie does not exist in this universe.

Las Vegas, Nevada, 1969

Vegas was shimmering mirage of bad decisions just waiting to snare me—a sucker-punch I never saw coming. The lights, the noise, the impossible promise of it all crashed over me in kaleidoscopic waves as my cab cruised down the strip towards the International Hotel. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching slack-jawed as sequined showgirls and vacationers blurred by in streaks of neon and rhinestone.

The cabbie swerved to the curb with a jolt, snapping me out of my daze. "International Hotel," he barked, his voice an ice bath to my face. I shoved a crumbled wad of bills into his hand and stumbled out and into a swarm of hairspray and cigar smoke congregating under the hotel's blazing marquee. Blinking in confusion, I took in the frenzied scene unfolding—beefy security shoving their way through the sea of pompadours, vendors hawking glossy headshots, teddy bears and "I 🖤 ELVIS" pins. The realization hit me like a freight train. This wasn't just any weekend at the International. It was the kickoff of Elvis Presley's residency. Ground zero for absolute Elvis mania.

The irritation set in, simmering beneath my skin. "Shit," I muttered, suddenly feeling foolish for forgetting. Of all the rotten luck. Out of all the times to visit Las Vegas, I had unwittingly chosen the kickoff of Elvis's shows—an event drawing crowds I had no desire to mingle with.

I wove through the throng, lugging my cumbersome suitcases behind me. Inside the lobby was even more chaotic—a swirling kaleidoscope of big-haired fans and cigarette smoke lingering over shag carpet. Elvis was everywhere, his angelic face beaming down from posters, gold records, life-sized cardboard cutouts. A veritable religious shrine. Groaning internally, I caught my bedraggled reflection in a mirrored column. Of course I would show up to the Presley Promised Land looking like something the cat dragged in. Normally I'd at least try to pull myself together for check-in, maybe swipe on some lipstick or fluff my chocolate curls into place. After all, I didn't want to look terrible in front of people dressed to the nines. But after the day I'd had, I couldn't muster the effort.

My flight from Chicago had been delayed six excruciating hours due to "mechanical issues," which apparently was airline-speak for "sit tight while we screw you over." By the time we finally took off, I'd already stress-eaten two sleeves of Oreos and read the in-flight magazine three mind-numbing times. To top it off, I'd spilled coffee all over my only nice blouse right before landing. Clearly, some divine power had it out for me today.

Feeling sweaty and vaguely nauseous, I trudged to the front desk. The angular blonde behind the counter, Brenda, barely glanced up from her well-thumbed issue of Variety as I approached.

"Welcome to the International Hotel. Checking in?" She smacked her gum, eyes never leaving her magazine.

"Yes, uh, reservation should be under Deena Lovelace."

That finally got her attention. Her penciled brows shot up as she inspected me, taking in the coffee stains and rumpled slacks. "Wait, you're Deena? The Deena who told me she booked for the Sinatra audition tomorrow?" The doubt was palpable.

I gritted my teeth into a tight smile. "No, actually. I'm her friend Valerie. Deena got sick at the last minute, some kind of exotic flu, so I'm filling in for her."

Suspicion clouded Brenda's face, but after a long beat she shrugged. "Huh. Well, takes all kinds, I guess." She signaled to a bellhop in a red monkey suit and thrust a key into my hand. "Room 2806, elevators are that way. If you need anything, ask for Hector."

Hector the bellhop scurried over and hoisted up my bags with surprising ease for such a slight guy. I made a weak attempt to protest, but he just grinned and ushered me through the cacophonous lobby to the first hallway. The doors slid open and I thanked him, pressing a few crumpled bills into his white-gloved hand.

“I can take it from here, Hector.”

As I walked along, I looked at my reflection in the mirrored wall and exhaled slowly. My nerves buzzed like an exposed wire as I thought about tomorrow's audition. Landing a spot in the Sinatra chorus line seemed about as likely as shooting the moon at this point. I barely knew the song Deena had been rehearsing for weeks, my go-go boots had a broken heel, and my voice was ragged from practicing the whole weekend.

But damn it, this was the first real shot I'd had in ages to claw my way out of the chambermaid grind and actually make something of myself. To prove Ma right for always saying I had stardust in my veins, even when it landed me more trouble than applause growing up. I had to at least try. For all those thankless nights warbling in dim lounges, waiting for my big break. For Deena, who I knew would kill for this chance.

I'd barely begun my little pep talk when someone brushed by me, sloshing their vodka tonic onto my sleeve and snapping me back to the present moment. I weaved through the crowd towards another inner hallway, clearing my throat.

I turned on my heel and started hoofing it towards my room. The hotel's layout was an absolute dizzying mess of twists and turns in every direction. My thudding, ungainly footsteps were muffled by the shag carpet and the dulled roar of fans congregating throughout the hotel.

As I trudged on, the ambiance shifted gradually. The hum of voices faded away, replaced by an overwhelming silence that signaled I was getting farther away from the bustling core. Exhaustion tugged at my bones while I navigated the maze of hallways. My room was somewhere in this labyrinth, but my bed felt worlds away at this point.

My steps sank into the plush carpet as I drifted into a quieter, dimly-lit corridor that seemed less traveled. Finally, I found myself alone in front of a bank of elevator doors. I stabbed the call button and waited impatiently, my arms aching from the weight of my overstuffed suitcases. God, why did I pack so much useless junk?

"Must be close now," I muttered out loud, my voice barely audible.

With barely a thought, I slipped out of my heels and bent my toes backwards and forwards, allowing my sore feet to relish the heavenly softness underfoot. It was soft, springy, and absolute relief for my aching soles. Automatically, I began humming a familiar, nameless tune under my breath - just a few sweet, absentminded notes I always turned to for comfort when I needed it. The thought of finally washing this endless day off my face and jumping into a crisp hotel bed was the only thing on my mind as the gilded doors opened with a tinny ding.

The cab was empty. Relieved to finally have a moment to myself, I dragged my heavy bags inside and slumped against the mirrored wall. As the doors started to slide closed, a large, ring-adorned hand suddenly shot out, halting them.

I straightened up with a jolt, my exhaustion replaced by a flash of irritation. Great, just what I needed, another overzealous Elvis fan trying to cram into my personal space bubble.

But as the interloper stepped into the elevator, my breath caught in my throat. Standing before me, in all his smoldering, technicolor glory, was the man himself. Elvis fucking Presley. The aura he gave off was undeniable, that much was sure. And I recognized his face immediately, the same one splashed all over the posters and knick knacks in the lobby. There he was, outshining the garishly glitzy elevator cab like a supernova eclipsing neon. And next to him, a well-built redheaded man, his hand resting at something shiny on his hip. Bodyguard, most likely. Quickly, I shoved my feet back into my heels, silently cursing myself for having taken them off in the first place.

I blinked hard, convinced I must be hallucinating from sheer fatigue. But no, he was unquestionably real, from the polished black shoes to the perfectly coiffed onyx hair that shone like quicksilver in the light. His lean, powerful frame was draped in an immaculately tailored black suit, a shock of pink peeking out from the silk scarf knotted at his throat. But it was the penetrating, electric blue gaze behind tinted shades that truly unraveled me.

I'd never considered myself much of an Elvis fan. Sure, I could appreciate a catchy tune like "Don't Be Cruel" or "Teddy Bear," but I'd always been immune to the mass hysteria he incited in his besotted admirers. Yet here, in such close proximity to his cosmic charisma and undeniable sex appeal, I finally understood. This man was a force of nature.

The redhead caught my awestruck stare and chuckled knowingly. "I see you've met my friend Jon Burrows here," he said with a wink.

But this was no "Jon Burrows." I knew who it was, plain as day. And his affect on me was immediate. Was I dreaming? My pulse started racing. Should I say something? And just how the hell did this happen? I opened my mouth, then closed it, swallowing hard. Play it cool, Valerie.

Any lingering self-consciousness about my frazzled appearance just evaporated in the sheer force of his presence. Though judging by the unmistakably mischievous curl of his lip, my travel-battered state didn't seem to faze him one bit. His perceptive eyes met mine, always accustomed to the spotlight but now studying me with curiosity. He took in my slumped posture and visible fatigue without a hint of judgment.

"You've had yourself a long day, haven't you, honey?" That voice, richer than a Mississippi smokehouse, sliced right through me.

I could only nod dumbly, a lump forming in my throat. "I—uh, yeah. No. I mean... yes, you could say that," I stammered like an idiot. Get it together!

His smile was pure bewitchment. "Well, you'll be tucked in in no time, I reckon. I hear the beds are mighty comfortable here."

I looked up at the ceiling in silence, tracing the swirling pattern with my mind's eye and trying to give off a vibe of cool indifference. But my stomach was actually rolling.

To my surprise, he kept talking. "Pardon my manners. My name's Elvis, and this is my pal Red. Who might you be?"

My throat locked tighter than a cowboy's bullwhip. "Valer—?"

"Valerie." He drew the name out, savoring each note and curve as if testing its ring. Each single syllable seemed to undergo some mystical transformation, alchemized to pure liquid amber from his lips. "A pretty name for a pretty little songbird." A ringed hand discreetly adjusted the bejeweled cups shielding his gaze, maybe hoping to make out my sides better.

Elvis was still steadily playing the blue suede shoes off me, from his elegant bent stance to the teasing half-smirk barely shadowing those indolently hungover features—the whole routine daring me to go chasing his bait. But I was far too busy trying not to spontaneously combust. I screwed my eyes tightly shut for a half-moment, desperately grasping to regain some sense of composure with an oxygen-deprived brain.

How did he know...?

Dumb question, Sherlock. The very notion conjured images of me, sweat-glazed and punchy-tired, mindlessly vocalizing sweet lullabies straight from my Off-Off-Broadway chambermaid days while I waited for the elevator. Of course he would've overhead that.

I cinched my mouth into what I hoped was a blasé half-smile, refusing to come completely uncorked by his pet name. I replayed the embarrassing moment in my head, wishing I could dissolve into the elevator shaft. Every breath I pulled in seemed to crackle with electricity. First I randomly share an elevator with The Elvis Presley, and now he'd overheard my nervous vocalizing and was complimenting me on it?

"Baby." A rich, salt-cured chuckle melted off his tongue, resining deep in my nerve center. "I got ears like a well-tuned radar dish. You in town for a show?"

I shook my head slowly. "Technically yes, but no. Just an audition," I replied, my heart thundering in my ears. I hoped he couldn't hear it pounding.

"Who for, if you don't mind me asking?" he inquired with that laser gaze.

I sucked in a steadying breath. Might as well take the bait since I'd already been barb-hooked but good. "I'm here for an audition, actually. Tomorrow. For Sinatra. I'm a singer. I mean, not like you, but hopefully one day..." I paused, unsure of how much backstory was worth burdening Elvis with. "Just got a last minute sub-in for a friend who's under the weather."

Something flickered across Elvis' handsome features before the mask of idle curiosity slid back into place. "Is that right?" His gaze raked over me again, slower this time, more deliberate. "And what will you be singing for Ol' Blue Eyes?"

Shit. Why was he asking me so many questions? My palms started to sweat as I racked my brain for a suitable answer. It wasn't like I could admit that I barely knew the material, that I was flying by the seat of my pants on a far-fetched favor for a friend. So I settled for a half-truth instead.

"Oh, you know. Just a little medley of standards. 'To Keep My Love Alive,' 'I Can Cook, Too,' that kind of thing."

Elvis nodded slowly, a shadow of a smirk still playing on his lips. "A classic set list. I'm sure you'll knock 'em dead, honey."

I started to stammer out a thanks, but Elvis was already moving past me towards the door as the elevator finally shuddered to a stop. He paused, throwing a glance back over his shoulder. There was a new intensity in his eyes when they met mine, a dark promise that made my toes curl involuntarily in my heels.

"I'll be rooting for you, songbird. Break a leg."

And with that, he was gone, leaving me weak-kneed and dizzy in a cloud of his smoky-spicy cologne. I sagged against the wall, trying to collect myself. What in the ever-loving hell had just happened? Had I honestly just been shamelessly eye-fucked by Elvis Presley in an elevator?

More importantly, why had I liked it so much?

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the treacherous thoughts as I finally stumbled out into the harshly lit hallway. It was late, I was tired, and I had an audition to rest up for. The last thing I needed was to dwell on smoldering looks from a celebrity Casanova that I had no business panting over in the first place.

But even as I went through the motions of unlocking my room and sinking face-first into the marshmallowy duvet, I couldn't stop my mind from wandering back to the electric encounter in the elevator. The way Elvis had stared at me, equal parts scorching and inscrutable, as if he was trying to crack some tantalizing code. There was no way I could have imagined that. The effortless command he'd exuded, the sheer magnetism rolling off of him in waves. How ridiculously, unexpectedly good he still looked, hips swiveling in slow-motion in my mind's eye...

I punched a pillow in frustration, annoyed with my traitorous libido. This was so far beyond the scope of anything I'd anticipated when I'd agreed to sub in for Deena's audition. But one thing was certain—my time in Vegas was shaping up to be a hell of a lot more interesting than I'd bargained for. And something told me that a chance run-in on a hotel elevator was only the beginning.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis fic #elvis x oc #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #songbird #elvis fans

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thegildedbee · 1 month

Text

Blanket/Weather: May 17 & 18 Prompts by @calaisreno

Lhasa remains steeped in darkness, even though the stars at the roof of the world are beginning to fade as night closes its eyes. Sherlock carefully weaves in-and-out between the long-haul lorries in the crowded service area, moving towards the one that will clandestinely carry him to its destination in Shigatse, which will place him in the vicinity of a rogue copper mine. This improvised transport strategy allows him to slip surreptitiously from town, thwarting the restriction on international visitors that they be accompanied by guides anywhere they travel within the captive region. Careful to remain undetected, he slips through the back door of the attached freight container; once safely inside, he casts light from a pen-sized torch across the boxes, gauging how to arrange a space to conceal his presence.

The blend of noises outside the truck crowd in on his awareness, amplifying his sensation of confinement – snatches of conversation, mostly in Mandarin, random laughter and occasional shouts, the peremptory staccato of a horn, the groaning metallic scraping of engines downshifting, the crunching of gravel under moving vehicles. He sits down, pressing his back against the side wall, knees bent, his hands and fingers idly flipping and spinning the pen torch. After a few moments he stops, puzzled at feeling pulled off-kilter, unsure as to why. This moment, now, is just one more to get through, as are the moments to come over the next five hours, and then in however many days lie ahead. The waiting, the dark, the placelessness – these are all familiar companions; he’s practiced at tamping down his resentment, and meeting each of them with resignation. He allows his mind to drift, seeking to surface useful data . . . and when it comes, the result suggests an odd source -- the similarity of his physical position to that last day before he disappeared, sitting preoccupied on the floor at Bart’s laboratory, bouncing a small rubber ball, waiting for events to unfold. He rubs at his forehead, and exhales with an irritated huff, frowning, displeased that he’s let the memory intrude.

He disciplines himself to shift focus, to stay in the present, by mentally rehearsing the two major tasks he needs to complete today, barring any unfortunate developments that would require starting over. He’s here to neutralize two confederates of Moriarty's syndicate who work for a multinational energy corporation – the first is an enterprising engineer overseeing the digging of an illegal mining pit, the second an executive at the corporate headquarters in Lhasa, who is diverting impressive amounts of monies to the both of them. (Sherlock has no desire to know the whys of their circumstances – whether, in addition to greed, their actions are due to incentives, or blackmail, or outright threats; all he needs to know is that they’re beholden to the dictates of his enemy's network and any bounties they dangle, and are therefore a potential threat to himself if he returns, and to his friends.)

He arrived in the Tibetan Himalayas three days previous, but he’s had to wait impatiently to implement his objectives, betrayed by his body, waiting to gradually shed the debilitating effects of altitude sickness, in his muscles, his stomach, his lungs. He grudgingly admits to himself that the downtime, however, was probably necessary, allowing him to catch his breath in more ways than just the one that's so currently urgent.

The last fortnight had seen him – as Gabriel Vernet, a director at a French biopharmaceuticals start-up – in an unrelentingly tense journey in which he’d conducted business, fake as well as real, in Singapore, Hanoi, Hong Kong, Macau, and then through Sichuan to Chengdu for the flight to Lhasa. He’s been traveling on papers and an operative legend courtesy of the British government for this leg of his odyssey; while he prefers to chart his own course, unencumbered by the high-handed and condescending auditing of his brother, he had conceded to his better wisdom of seeking aid from London while being shadowed by ever-present governmental representatives of the People’s Republic of China -- as well as floating in and out of view of particularly vicious groups of gangsters operating in Southeast Asia.

His knowledge of Mandarin has been essential in keeping his forward movement going; it helped Vernet to facilitate cooperation from the sources he sought out, high and low. It also allowed him to expand his reconnaissance, especially when those on whom he was eavesdropping assumed that the sharply-dressed businessman within earshot was unable to understand their conversation. As a result, he’s obtained a wide-angle view of activities that he might not have been aware of otherwise, beyond his immediate remit. He’s learned, for example, from ancillary figures, of Chinese mobsters from Fujian, who have been tearing through various states in the U.S., muscling their way into the astonishingly lucrative illicit cannabis market that has accompanied legalization.

He’d crossed cyber-paths again with the Mexican cartel he’d come across digging through the dark internet in Tallinn – the one funding Nigerian meth labs to supply Asian buyers. Here, it’s reversed: Fujian gangsters are using the cartel to smuggle thousands of Chinese workers into the United States to produce illicit drugs – trafficked in to do agricultural labor at burgeoning marijuana grow sites. Trapped by fences, surveillance cameras, and guards with guns and machetes, the captive immigrants create tens of billions of dollars alone in states such as Oklahoma – a location that's an attractive target due to the abundance of cheap land, the lack of regulations on the size of cannabis farms, and a scarcity of police personnel with the language capabilities needed to translate communications and infiltrate networks. For what it might be worth, Sherlock had passed along what he’d learned to the CIA’s Crime and Narcotics Center.

He’ll be on a tight schedule in Shigatse today, needing to collect photographic evidence of the illegal mine, and still leave time enough to make it to the railroad station platform, and mingle inconspicuously amongst the groups boarding the local train bound for Lhasa. Once he's settled aboard, he’ll add the pictures to the files of documentary evidence he’s carrying on his mobile, and, as they near the city, he’ll press send and deliver the folder to one of the corporation’s higher-ups who is eager to rise even higher. Once the recipient verifies the information contained in the anonymous gift, he’ll be thrilled to gain credit as the conduit for the revelations it contains to his superiors in Beijing.

They’ve made good time on the road, and Sherlock stands up and stretches, releasing the kinks in his back, and jogging in place to get his adrenaline running. In his worn camping gear, he’s dressed completely different from Vernet, in his bespoke suits, with his expensive leather briefcase, and the expected Rolex watch.

The fact that copper mines require supplies of water will lend him the needed cover afforded by yet another identity – there are wetlands in the area, and it is unsurprising that a Canadian wildlife biologist on an international team will be there on foot, surveying the habitat of the black-necked crane. If anyone questions him, he’ll indicate that each of the members of the team have temporarily spread out to cover a greater area. There has been a great deal of anger, within Tibet and worldwide, at the damage done to the plateau’s environment due to China’s resource extraction agenda and its urbanization policies– the protections that the PRC is extending to the vulnerable black-necked crane population have been a public relations plus for them. The birds are currently in the vicinity, completing their breeding cycle, and as long as he can get in and out quickly, Dr. William Scott’s presence is likely to pass with little scrutiny, as long as his papers are in order.

Several hours later, Sherlock is relieved that his tracking efforts have paid off with actionable evidence – meaning that there will be no need to scramble for a new plan. After verifying that his file has been successfully delivered, he slumps in his seat, stubbornly indifferent to releasing himself from being on high alert. He knows that letting down his guard is when sloppiness can creep in and mistakes made, but having been awake for more than 24 hours and in action all day long at an altitude that still leaves him easily winded, relentlessly reminding him that breathing is problematic, is taking its toll. One last detail – dropping his mobile so that it lands on the train tracks when he exits – and then, in less than an hour, he can be seated in the hotel's oxygen lounge and restore his body and mind.

As they near the station, he shoulders his rucksack, ready to act out the fiction that he’s attached to one of the groups he’s sat nearby, and pulls out his mobile in order to remove the sim card. But when the screen lights up after he turns it over in his hand, he’s startled to find a text message notification -- receiving messages is not supposed to happen, ever, on this unit. No one has the number, save one person. This is not good. This is very much not good.

He takes in and releases several breaths to try and lower his pulse rate, hoping that when he clicks on the icon that he’ll find nothing more dramatic than someone misdirecting their text. At first glance, the message does appear to be irrelevant; at second glance, however, it is evident that the innocuous platitude it contains is negated by the fact that it is written in code.

His anxiety spikes at deciphering the communique: emergency action needed, abandon the hotel -- which means he'll not be returning to the inviting bed, the soft pillows, the warm blanket. There is no indication of why, or of what comes next, other than that he’ll be met at the station by a man who will identify himself as a tour leader from the Council for the Preservation of Sacred Alpine Cranes, and that he is to reply in Mandarin that he was honored to have seen four pairs of the noble birds nesting safely when he inspected the field site.

Other than this terse instruction, he has no idea what he’ll find once he leaves the train, and whether or not he is walking into a trap. And as he gazes out the window at the dark clouds beginning to gather in the east, he sees that the weather may be turning against him as well.

........................................................

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper

@helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk

@topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra

@solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack

@msladysmith @ninasnakie @riversong912 @dapetty

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#mayprompts2024 #calaisreno #sherlock bits and bobs #may prompts 2024 #johnlock

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ktchie · 10 months

Text

'It's the hope that kills you'

Ted Lasso x Reader

Fluff and Angst

♡ other tags: attempt at humour/ no proof read we die like Rupert should've / possible part two

♡6.1k words

◇ In which Y/n wanted to confessed and Ted has a pastel pink apron.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

She consider herself as a tough independent woman who rather die and be beheaded than show any ounce of feelings or a hint of affection.

Her therapist said it's because she grew up in a household that doesn't show much emotion or any vulnerability. And they're right, she remember the time she saw her Dad shed a tear on the night of her high-school graduation, hiding behind his hands and cool dad stance before abruptly going to the bathroom and staying there for 40 minutes - he came back with red eyes and a terrible pun joke. As if nothing had happened.

So it is perfectly understandable that she grew up hating vulnerability, choosing to stay rigid and emotionless rather to have her whole soul on the palm of her hand. It doest help either that she's the eldest kid, the pillar of her siblings, the one who lays awake at night thinking any and every problems her parents throw at her way, worrying about it to the point her chest hurt and she has to learn to calm panic attack in such a young age.

So that being said, she never really had the full experience of romance or being in a relationship. She flirted with a few men on her lives and had fucked them plenty of times but she never really did the whole holding hands thing and all that cheesy stuff that people always whined about once the clock hits 10 and loneliness hits you like a freight train.

But meeting Ted, meeting Ted makes her want to dive head first on whatever corny things couples do in this day of age. Whether it be kissing on the rain or robbing a bank at 2pm in a Sunday afternoon.

She stared at him from across her, sitting so patiently like an overgrown child with a cup of steaming hot coffee.

"Something you need, Ted?" Her tone of voice held nothing but pure professionalism that made her quietly hissed.

Ted looked at her with his big brown eyes that makes her heart all googoo gaga, she sometimes wonder if Ted is secretly part of some hidden government group because she swore that puppy eyes could stop a international fued.

"Oh you know, just wanna visit ya'" he stated with a cheeryness only he can produced in the morning, all dimple and wide smiles. "'been awhile since I saw you, thought you're actually avoiding me but boss said that you're six feet under with all the work you got goin' on"

She chuckled at his words "Ted, I don't think there's anything in this world that could keep me away from you" she answered with a subtle smile, if she wanted him she would get him, whether it be by words or thousand of prayers.

Ted looked at her silently, wide eye and a blossoming blush on his cheeks. He looks ethereal underneath the early morning sun, a fallen single strand of hair dangling on his forehead that makes her hand itch with yearn to fix it.

"But I have been awfully neglectful to the rest of you, haven't I?" She decided to move on from her flirting (?), she doesnt want Ted to dropped dead on the floor from all the blood on his head. "I've been busy these past few weeks, but Will told me about the team plan get together on Sam's restaurant. I'll make sure to attend it, even shoulder the payment if we can get Sam to give us the bill"

Ted nodded his head, tounge tied for once, some part of her rejoiced while the other part, the one who always fear rejection and if she's being too much or too stupid, fear for whatever friendship they have (or had, if worse comes to worse)

"I-well" he cleared his throat, looking at her through his weirdly long eyelashes that always made her tear up in awe and envy.

"We can uh' y'know, we can split the bill, don't hav'ta shoulder it all by yourself"

"No its alright" she shook her head, she contemplate touching his arms, feel the soft fabric of his awfully comfy looking sweater and the skin underneath it but she decided not to, Ted might freak the fuck out and leave the room yelling 'HR! HR!' And have her fired and be shamed by the rest of the Richmond community for touching their beloved American wanker. "Consider it as my payment for forgetting to visit the locker room"

"Wasn't your fault, anyway" he shrugged before gesturing to the tower of folders and impending blueprints for the upcoming renovations and building upgrades. "I mean take a look at that, the great mt. Everest would cry if he saw this monstrosity. Even looking at it makes my stomach all funky" he shudder at its sight. "Do you even take a break? Jeez."

She sighed and leaned back on her office chair "from time to time, 15 minutes or 5. I like to finish my work early so.."

Ted frowned, he has one of those upset looks that makes her heart clenched and crack little by little until it exploded on her chest and she has to pretend she wasn't in pain so he could view her as a normal human being and not a lovesick teenager. "Ya should take a better care of yourself, you can't just go 'n on 'n on workin' till you drop dead" if it's possible, his doe eyes turned even more sadder. " its not good for you"

She bit her lip, her thighs moving up and down underneath her desk. She never liked it when he's anything but happy. "I can go take a rest when I go home and take a rest some more once I finish of all this work. its fine, don't worry too much about me"

"How can I not worry about you?" Ted leaned in, sad eyes and furrow brows. "Youre my-" he sighed before he shake his head "heck, If I had known you're over 'ere slowly killin' yourself i would have yank you from your desk till you're screamin' and cryin'"

Screaming and crying huh? Oh she can do that, alright.

"Ted.." she sighed, trying her hardest to ease the furrow on his brows "its fine, im fine. Don't worry about me too much. there's another game coming up, thats what you should be focusing on yeah?"

Ted sighed deeply, leaning back on the chair before nodding. A lock of hair fell down on his forehead, perfect it was, and y/n thought he never looked more beautiful then. She wonder if Ted kept his hair perfectly gel all the time or if he had ever let his guard down on the four walls he had been forcely call his home.

She would love to see him just him, just Ted, with his goofy smiles and bad puns and old reference from a bad film made years before.

She would love to love him, flaws and imperfections and bad days. She would paint him beautifully, perfect at every stroke of her brush and no smudge of mistakes and yet she knows she still wouldn't do him justice. Ted is just too perfect, too lovely, too godly to be even be depicted on a rough white canvas of this wretched world. Ted deserves to be painted in the walls of the church, or at every thread of the clouds, he was meant to be seen and to be watched and to be memorize until his kindness and his generosity and smile are engraved deep within everyone's heart. Y/n wanted to worship Ted with utmost devotion that her mouth would utter prayers like a second breath, until her two pressed hands bleed and flowers grow between her palm.

She watched him sat across her, his gaze darting everywhere on the carpet before a smile slowly broke on his lips, eyes suddenly lighting up and whole body perking up.

"Hey" he looked up to her, grin and joyful gaze "guess what I cooked last night" he had said giddily

"if you get it right I might just have to take a peek on that ridiculous sitcom you've always buggin' me to watch"

She scoffed, offended. "Modern family is not ridiculous, it's the best thing that ever happened to television-"

"Now hol' up. You're gettin' ahead of yourself now, sugar" she pretended the pet name didnt make her stomach flip and twist and did all kinds of wwe wrestling stunt.

"I'll have you know that you're wrong, there are tons of- you know what, I ain't even gonna argue with you because we're both too tired for this and I'm too excited to tell you what I cooked last night, so just guess, come on"

She squinted her eyes before sighing as she started to think. "Well, last time we spoke you wouldn't shut up about barbecue and kebab and that one burger that sounds like it could kill you from one sniff"

"Triple cheese burger with bacon crisp, 3 sunny side eggs and curly fries dipped in ranch and garlic sauce with side on-"

"Sounds awful. Americans and their ridiculous food, seriously how are you not dead yet?"

Ted had shrugged with a sickeningly sweet smile "have no idea, but its good 'n ya know what they say 'enjoy life while it lasted'"

"Curse that qoute for manipulating you, let's just pray you wouldn't drop dead in the middle of the court because we can't handle your decaying body and another lose at the same time"

"You betcha! Now guess what I cooked!" Ted was almost jumping from his seat, propping his head on his palm as he stared at her.

"Come on, now"

"Curry"

"No"

"Friend chicken?"

"Nope, but boy I would love to have that right now"

"Salad?"

"Heck no! You kiddin' me?"

"Uhhh, curry?"

"You already said that!" Ted pouted lightly and she almost reach out to trace the bottom of his lips and mumbled how sweet he look right now but thankfully she stopped herself.

"Allright I give up" she threw her hand up and sigh "anything you cooked is fantastic anyway, doesn't matter what it is"

"Oh, arent you a sweetheart" he smiled at her so adorably it made her tooth ache. "I'm glad you think so because I just cooked f/f!" Ted yelled so excitedly, arms spread wide and eyes bright.

She looked at him with agape mouth

"F/f? Are you serious?" She grinned so widely, it has been awhile since she tasted it, mainly because the only f/f she had ever ate is the one her mother cooks.

"Course! I wouldn't lie to ya!" Ted had stated "I couldn't get some shut eyes last night so I decided to make it, better to do something than nothin' at all am I right?"

She's still looking at him, as if in trance. "Wow Ted..I mean im pretty fucking pump but-well, why did you make it? You could have baked, you usually bake when you have nothing to do"

Ted looked away from her, cheeks suddenly getting warm and pink under the sunlight. "Oh you know..just miss ya' I guess"

Her heart crumbled and melted inside of her chest, she could feel its warmth drip from every nerve she has and settle deep within her guts and lay there until she has to curl her toes in a pathethic attempt to calm herself down.

He took a peek at her under his lashes. "I was so used seeing you every darn morning 'ere so it makes me all sad and upset when I don't. Even coach beard had to knock some sense in to me, told me to keep my marbles together or else he'll hide my barbecue sauce" he lightly chuckled "pretty heavy threat, if you ask me"

"I didnt know you miss me so much"

"Are you kiddin' me? I miss ya a hell'ava lot more than 'much'" Ted had almost yelled "i miss ya more than Roy misses running! And thats alot"

She laugh quietly, both in amusement and the tickling feeling deep on her stomach that normal people (with normal amount of love on their heart) would refer as butterflies, but for her, for someone who love too deep and too vast and too much and for a girl like her that grew up reading stories and fairy tales and movies characters with soft confession under bright stars and harsh rains, she could refer the feeling on her stomach as a clawing beast, a magnificent one born on legends and shaky words of the fear locals, with a ferocious growl and wild eyes and fangs as big as a tallest house.

In short, everytime Ted does something so adorably lovely on her eyes she could feel the entire animals on her stomach.

She looked at him with a gentle smile, eyes bright and so so soft - looking at him a like proper lover would. "I miss you too, Ted" she had said almost like a whisper, like a sin. "More than you could ever know"

The statement sounded too intimate, the tone too romantic to be said between casual friends and even the silence after it could be written in a pages of old romance stories - describe it like moment after the music, where the two of them stares at one another with that yearning look that makes all the reader sick to their stomach.

Her words sounds like a confession, one that is so gentle even the gods up above would melt where they stood. She didn't utter the proper words of 'i love you' and didn't open her palm where her bleeding heart lay and offer it to him with a desperation - but the way she said her words, the way every letter soud so much like a sudden whisper in a night of passion and sudden realization of devotion and adoration makes her statement more than a confession - as if it was an oath, a promise set on stone. Like a knights word as he kneeled on his king and offered the edge of his swords, bare against the world, bright steel and fierce glare as his lips mouth his promise, the words he would live and die on, where war would start and where it would end - be it by his blood or his foes. And similar to that y/n is ready to be let down on where she sat, to spill her heart like a leaking wound and let it stains them both, let him know how she feels, how serious, how much time she had spent pinning after him, yearning, adoring him so silently like a lovesick suitor from afar.

Ted grinned at her, dimple deep on his cheeks and that damn fallen hair on his forehead that makes him so so lovely. He opened his mouth and y/n waited with bathed breath and wonder what words would come out but before he could even roll his tounge the door of her office opened with a harsh loud push.

"Y/n we have to- oh. oh Ted! Good morning!" Higgings strolled in clumsily and no matter how much she love the little dork she kinda want to crush his glasses on her palm and send him home.

"Higgins! Nice to see ya today, buddy" Ted stood up to greet him and to give him a pleasant hug and if the coach is annoyed at anyway, he didn't show it. God he's so kind its annoying..

"You too, Ted. You too" Higgins replied with a smile that reserved only for Ted, filled with gratitude and adoration before he turned to her and she watch, with great amusement and a little irritation, when that smile fell down on his lips. "And uh, we need to talk"

She sighed mournfully, waving a goodbye to the wonderful conversation she was having with her love and to the words he would say earlier. She gestured Higgings to sit across her before she met Ted's eyes.

"Im afraid we'll have to cut our cheesy conversation here, Ted. Duty calls and if you want someone to blame, blame Higgings" she pointed at the man with a teasing smirk that had Higgins poor heart rapidly beating with nervousness.

"What? But I'm merely doing my job-"

"Im fucking with you" she patted his shoulder with a light laugh before glancing at Ted, who still remained at her office with a smile.

"I'll gave you a call later" Ted had said "let's have a dinner, ill cook for ya'"

She bit her lip to keep the ridiculous love sick smile threatening to rip her mouth apart and nodded "ill look forward to it, have a good day"

"You too, sugar"

And he was gone and if Higgins wasn't infront of her, staring at her with that bewildered look only spooked squirrel could do she would have stood up and do a cartwheel on her carpeted floor because holy fucking shit Ted is going to cook for her, just for her, not like those times where they eat together on the locker room and she has to sneakily steal his lunch - tho she knows Ted wouldn't mind Beard is another problem, she still thinks Beard has a few dead bodies on his back, the man has a stare of a despondent convicted murderer inside a prison cell. Its crazy.

"Oh." Higgings blink rapidly, his mouth subtly and slowly forming a smile. "You and Ted?"

She squinted her eyes "We're friends"

"Not with that look in your eyes, no"

"What did you eat today to have you acting this cheeky, my dear Higgins?" She looked at him up and down with a scowl.

The man let out a grin

"I should be the one asking that" he then leaned in "or should it be 'who did you meet today that have you acting this lovesick, my dear y/n?"

She flush red "You're fired"

"That'd be the 205 times you've fire me and I will continue to ignore it as long as I live"

"The first time i did that you sobbed on my shoulder"

"Well its.." he looked away "it was a different time"

"Sure it was"

____________________________________

"Look what we have 'ere-"

"JESUS, ROY!" She had jumped 2 feet from where she stood, clutching her heart and her car keys.

"What the hell man!"

"What? You got yourself an American man and suddenly you're weak of heart?"

"That doesn't even make any sense.." she mumbled with a disturbed look as she stared at him. "What are you even doing here? and I dont have an American man, get your head straight"

"Its a fucking parking lot, im allowed to be here" He commented with a glared as he not so softly leaned on her car.

She sighed through her nose, annoyed. "What i meant was, why the fuck are you even standing about in here and suddenly appearing from the darkness like a...hairy angry batman"

"Im not fucking hairy!"

"you shed like a golden retriever, you're not fooling anybody!"

Roy, the dog, growled in annoyance before he blocked her way to the driver seat.

"Please move or ill yell bloody murder" she stated suddenly so so exhausted.

"Why actin' so rush? Got somewhere to be?" She squinted his eyes at him, suspicious and contemplating why is he being such a dick.

"Why are you talking to me like you're about to take my lunch money?"

Roy, with the little patience he has, growled once again before he shook his head, as if he was the one getting annoyed and tired on the conversation. Then he stared at her, right on the eye, as if wanting to burn her soul and cook her alive.

"Youre really not going to tell me?" He had asked, hands on his hips.

"Is that how it is?"

"What?" She ask, confused.

"You and Ted" Her eyes widen, what is he on about?

"Me and Ted? What about us?"

"Higgin-" he cleared his throat "I mean, someone told me you and the little prick was getting all chummy in your office. Even got yourself a fucking date, how lovely"

She sighed "there wasn't a date Roy, Ted and I are friends. And we aren't getting 'chummy' or whatever kind of meaning that word has in your vocabulary and tell Higgins-"

"It wasn't higgings"

"-tell him to keep his damn nose out of my business or ill key his car"

Roy stared at her for a long second before he clenched his jaw and mumbled a 'fuckkkkk'

"We're-" he swallowed before he looked upwards to the sky, as if begging the gods above to give him more strength. "We're-..f-friends, arent we?" Her eyes soften in both adoration and amusement as he grimaced with every letter he spoke.

She chuckled "we are, no matter how much you disdain that word"

"Then," Roy had sighed "believe me when I say that that cowboy Mr. Rogers is fucking inlove with you"

Suddenly the air felt too thick and her clothes felt too hot. "Roy, i think you're wrong. Ted wanst-"

"Don't you fucking dare tell me he wasn't because a blind bloke could see it in a mile away, he wouldn't fucking shut up about you. fuck sake, He even draws you!" He yelled dramatically, hands shooting in a air in a form of exaggerated irritation that only Roy Kent could do. "Those past few days where you lock yourself up in your bloody office has been the worst days of my entire life, Ted looks constipated half of the fucking time and all he does is broods and broods and fucking complains about you. He's insufferable! Beard has to talk to him in the bathroom to get him straight!" He massage his temple before sighing and looking at her so gently then, so softly, like a brother would, like a friend would do, like someone you can hold onto when life gets though and days gets bad.

"Believe me, he's inlove with you.." he softly said like a whisper.

"In every possible way a human could love, he's inlove with you"

Her breath hitched from her throat, tounge heavy on her mouth and her heart beat could be hear from miles away. The beast inside of her guts fell silent, almost asleep, like his words strike straight to his heart and send him down on the ground, wounded and shaken and could never get back up.

"I came here to.." Roy cut short, finding the proper words. "To tell you how happy I am that he finally work the balls to ask you out, but turns out he's still a fuckin' pussy and a mess of a man"

She chuckled and shook her head.

"Ted is.." She lick her lips and leaned on her car, Roy beside her and shoulder apart.

"I don't think Ted would do the first move, he's..afraid, I think. All his life Michelle was the only woman he knew, only woman he loved and if what you're saying is not true, then she's the only woman he would forever love" she said almost mournfully. "Divorced is hard, specially for someone like Ted who loves too much and give too much, maybe that's the reason why I'm hopeless inlove with him to the point of humiliation but who fucking cares, right?" She shrugged.

She then swallowed before sighing a shaky breath. "I'll uh, ill confessed tonight. While we eat dinner, ill..ill try, and if- y'know, he doesnt like it then I'll back off" she bit her lip as her gaze burn holes to the pavement.

"I'll love him from afar, cheer for him from the stands and sob on my office if I saw him and sassy together again"

Roy chuckled "i remembered that one" reminiscing her worst times of sobbing half dead on her office table mumbling how cruel it is to love Ted and asking what Sassy has that she does not.

"Maybe ill hire a hit man too, have them kill you so you could forget about it" she bumped his shoulder with her own and lightly laugh when Roy grunts.

"I'll write it with my fucking blood, believe that"

"Write it with your chest hair and ill believe it"

"You fucking cunt-"

____________________________________

"Sorry 'bout the mess.." Ted gestured to the perfectly clean living room with a sheepish look. "didn't have time to clean up. I'm just too excited to cook for ya I forgot about everything else"

"That so? Well I'm excited to taste it, I'm sure it'll be wonderful" she smiled at him as she put the bottle of wine down on the marble kitchen bar.

"Oh it'll blow your socks off, its nothin' like the food at Sam's restaurant but its darn good if I say so myself" She watched silently as Ted, adorable adorable Ted, wore his pastel pink apron, tied it around his waist and fluff it with a lovely smile that almost had her clutching her precious weak heart.

"Im sure it'll be delicious" she say, referring more to the cook rather than food. "I like anything you do anyway, so"

Ted glance at her and smile, all dimple and bright eyes. It made her smile too, softly, subtly, like one of those yearning smile that hides thousands of words and promises and hopes and desperation.

Ted went back to his cooking, whistling a tune she swore she heard before. He was telling a story, one about a fish and a basketball and a prom that gone wrong but for the life of her she could not listen.

She thought about her conversation with Roy, the words he had utter that made her want to pour her heart out and confessed to her love. She dont want to be hopeful, being hopeful is nothing but a wish on the wind in this place. It is the poison that rots your mind, that decays the flower and the trees and the grass, break the ground you stood up upon - watch it crumble and crumble until your legs become weak and your bones break from your flesh and you fell ill and sick and cough blood until you die and wish that you should have done better, that you should have stayed quiet and at peace and settle from staring from afar instead of watching your own skin slowly peel away as you continue to hope and hope and hope and watch as the filthy earth swallow you whole and- Jesus christ she should really stop reading those sad terrifying books Nate had been recommending her alot, its ruining her head in the worst ways.

"Ya feel alright?" Ted's voice woke her from her thoughts.

She looked at him furrowed brows and concerned eyes. "Im good, it's nothing"

"We could just watch a movie, you know? Order some good ol' pizza and have a laugh on some bad movies and oh! You know what? we could just watch your favourite-"

"I rather just taste your food, Ted. If you don't mind"

"But you look tired" and there it is again, the puppy look, the vain of her existence. God he's so terrible she kinda want to kiss his face and pinch his cheeks.

She chuckled "arent you sweet"

"Oh gosh! I didnt- darn, I didnt mean it that way, sugar!" He was panicking, going all over the kitchen with his cute apron on and little sauce smudge on his cheeks.

"You l-look tired but y'know still pretty, and cute and-and you know? Please darlin' I didnt mean to offend you i just want to-"

"Hey, hey, hey.." she called out to him with a barely contained humour smile "I get it, I was fucking with you. I'm just joking, calm down"

He slumped dramatically on the counter with a sigh "oh goodness, you had me there. Thought I was gonna loose ya'"

They had talked a little bit, or maybe too much, she couldn't exactly remember how long it was or what it was about but she had know they had laugh and jest and share a few stories of their childhood and back when they're still a foolish teenager who didn't know what they want and where they belong - she still don't know now if she was being honest, she wasn't really the kind of person that plans ahead of time, or give a genuine thought on what she wanted to do in the future and how she will get there but Ted is, Ted knows, Ted understand what he wants and how he will get there and what he see himself on the future and in which place and who he was with, it made her fall a little more inlove with him.

"How was it?" He had asked as he leaned in, nervous and fidgeting.

"Oh gosh please say somethin' I'm about to blow a nerve over 'ere"

She laugh "it was good!" And it is, the best curry she probably had.

"Its perfect, Ted. Even the spiciness is perfect"

He blew out an air "oh thank god, I was so worried ya wouldn't like it! And to be completely honest with ya' I thought I switched up the salt and sugar halfway"

She laugh again, it wasn't even funny, she's just inlove and a complete fool.

Ted started to talk about his day, down to what he had ate for breakfast and how terrible his coffee was 'it tasted like cow piss' his words. He then talked about his theory that Nate is secretly a goverment spy forced to work with him for a very dangerous top secret world breaking undercover mission - when she asked why he think that - 'because nate is a genius and there ain't no way he was a water boy before I came here and coach beard told me he saw nate yesterday slap a fly in a speed of light and didn't even flinch'

It was ridiculous theory but she then remember the amount of gory psychological thriller books Nate has been recommending her for the past few days and a good amount of them involves a spy or two. She wasn't convinced but she'll keep an eye out just incase.

"-it wasn't that much of a big deal"

"You set your school on fire!" Ted had exclaimed rather dramatically, on her opinion, as she told him her high-school tales.

"Thats like- Thats arson!"

"Its not arson if they don't know someone set it on fire" she tap her forehead lightly as if gesturing Ted to see how smart she is. And Ted, bless his heart, actually nodded.

"Youre right, thats smart. Look at ya' getting away with crimes in such a young age!" He grins so beautiful she was actually proud of what her foolish younger self did back then.

"You sounds awfully proud of me bring a criminal"

"Well its kinda awesome and speaking of awesome!--" his eyes was bright and there's a little smudge of sauce near his lips, he looks adorable and loveable and she just suddenly want to kiss him stupid and tell him how much she loves him-

"--Sassy and I are going on date this weekend!"

A glass shattered on the background.

She wasn't adventurous or a sucker for pain and near death experince but if someone had ask her what it would feel like when an arm go through her chest and crush her heart in one fist, she would describe what she's feeling right now in exact gruesome detail that even Nate would vomit on the corner.

She couldn't stop her smile for falling from her lips or the soft disbelief of 'oh' that escape from her tounge, its amazing how a simple two letter words sounded so broken out of the millions she had uttered before.

"Thats great, Ted" she thank every God there is that her voice didn't came out robotic "im happy, you deserve someone who can take care of you"

Ted nodded his head with a grin that is far too wide for his cheeks and then he stared talking, he was saying something but she couldn't hear it, didn't bothered to hear it, she was too busy wondering if the feeling of absence on her chest had been there long before or had just recently appeared now.

"-aint it funny?"

"Yeah" was her response even if she didn't hear any word of it, she avoid his gaze as she wiped her mouth with a tissue and cleared her throat - there's a vile stuck on it that she couldn't seems to swallow.

"Ted, I-uh, I think I'm gonna go home. I'm not feeling very well" she was a liar and a coward but she rather die than cry infront of him - and suddenly she was young again, alone in her room, toes cold from the floor board and clenching her hands into a tight fist and wondering what is it about her that is unlovable.

"Oh, uh, okay" Ted stood up from the table "are you feelin' dizzy? Does your tummy feels funny? Do you wan-"

"I don't" she said firmly, she was upset, mad, not to him but to herself, for even hoping that she could have this. "I don't need anything, thank you" she lied and swallowed the humiliation of even wanting to say everything she wanted to say to him. All those words she wanted to confessed makes her sick to her stomach because how fucking dare she believe she even has a chance? How foolish to even assume she could have Ted?

"Nothing like a good rest would fix" she had stated, hoping to ease his mind but her chuckle came out weak and sad.

"Okay uh, ill walk you to your apartment - I mean, flat, christ-"

"Its okay" she grab her bag "I can walk by myself"

"I don't think its safe-"

"I can handle myself"

"Still, you look a little pale and I can't have a gal like yo-"

"Fucking hell Ted!" She had yelled and the guilt settled on her stomach as soon as she did so.

Ted look at her like she wasn't her, like another person came on his flat with a face of a friend he adores and she wanted to laugh because how could she want to love him and care for him when she could barely be half of a kind person that he was?

"Just- fuck, I got it. I can handle myself just dont-" she sighed through her nose and looked down, she could feel the tears on her eyes and but none of them fell down.

"Just let me be, yeah? I'm not a fucking toddler you need to be coddle all the time"

There's a pause before Ted nods "Okay" his eyes were sad, sadder than anything she had ever saw and it would've break her heart if it weren't shattered before.

She looked at him silently, a second. She almost wanted to say it, say the words, just lay it all on the table and let Ted feast on the remnants of her broken heart and whatever is left. He'll take good care of it, she knows. That's a kind of man he is. Maybe even fix it together with some melted gold.

"Im sorry" Ted was the one who apologized even if she should be the first, it made her guts coil. "I didnt mean to upset you, I was just-just worried. I'm sorry"

She looked down and clenched her fist, dig her nails on her palm.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, I was being a dick and I have no excuse-"

"Youre tired and you're not feeling well, 's okay"

"Its not, Ted" she shook her head "I shouldn't have talk to you like that, you're my-" she swallowed "youre my friend, I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry"

Ted smile, sad and worried all at once. "Its okay, I forgive ya'"

He shouldn't be, atleast not this easily.

"Okay" she nod her head once before she turn to the door with trembling hands.

Ted appeared next to her and held the door open for her. "Be safe, sweetheart"

'Don't' she wanted to whisper but felt too tired to do so.

"Call me when you get home"

"Will do"

The ground was wet as she walked and the road felt much sadder than before, the cold night air beg her for warmth and instead of the heat of her flat her mind travel to the warmth of his hands, of his touch. Y/n briefly wonder how she came to be like this, how she love so fiercely like a beaten dog and dig claw marks on everything she ever love just to watch it be yank away from her as easily as her tears could fall.

#ted lasso #jason sudeikis #ted lasso x reader #fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso gif is not mine #possible part two?

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gdsfreight25 · 3 months

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temptingfatetakingnames · 3 months

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Dancing in the Dark Final Part

AO3 / Part 1 / Part 2

Eddie wouldn’t say he drove over the speed limit when he took his friends home, but he certainly toed the line. He also wouldn’t say that he kicked them out of his van as soon as he pulled up to their places, but that would be a lie. He was…anxious to get back to Steve. He hadn’t wanted to leave him in the first place but they both had people they needed to get home.

Designated driver duties done for the night; Eddie was on his way to Steve’s place and he was freaking out a little.

Okay, he was freaking out a lot.

Him and Steve were friends. They had slept over at each other’s places before. What they hadn’t done is sleep in the same bed after admitting they liked each other. Steve was struggling, and Eddie didn’t want to add to his stress by being nervous or weird about it. Steve needed sleep, that’s what Eddie was going over to help him with.

Sleep.

Nothing else.

…Maybe cuddling – to help Steve sleep.

The beamer was already in the driveway when Eddie pulled up to the Harrington House. He turned the van off and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans before he got out. His heart was a fluttering thing in his chest as he approached the door. Before he could knock, it swung open. Steve smiled. A real one, small and soft, and Eddie felt himself melt into a gooey puddle. Oh. The power that little smile already had over him was dangerous.

“Hey,” Steve said, smiling wider.

“Hey,” Eddie replied, smiling back, and they stood staring at each other in the doorway like lovesick fools.

“Come in,” Steve said and stepped back so Eddie could pass in front of him as he closed the door. Eddie was a little unsure where to go. Living room? Kitchen? Right up to Steve’s room? It was late and Steve was probably tired but adrenaline was coursing through Eddie like a goddamn freight train. His fingers tapped against his legs.

“Need anything? I can grab you some comfortable clothes to change into?”

Eddie hadn’t gone home to grab an overnight bag because he couldn’t bear to be away from Steve any longer than was strictly necessary. He nodded and Steve grabbed his hand, leading him through the house and up to his room, turning off the lights as they went.

Right to bed then.

When they got to his room, Steve let go of his hand to go over to his dresser. He pulled out pajama bottoms and a worn-out t-shirt. Eddie wasn’t going to tell him that he usually just slept in his boxers… if he slept in anything at all.

“Thanks,” Eddie said as Steve handed him the bundle of clothes. He went to change in the bathroom, giving them both a moment alone. The reflection staring back at him from the mirror was of a person he barely recognized. Wide eyed and red cheeked. He was so fucked. He dropped his head into his hands, shaking it back and forth. After his little internal crisis, he changed into the pajamas. They were soft and baggy on him. He and Steve were pretty close in height but Steve was broader than him, more muscular. As he was about to head back out he heard a soft knock on the door.

He opened it to Steve, a toothbrush in his hand and wearing his own pajamas.

“For you,” he said, holding it out.

Eddie took it. “Sorry, I really should have stopped at home first but I –” Eddie cut himself off before he admitted that he hadn’t wanted to waste any more time away from him.

“All good,” Steve replied, “I always have extras handy.”

He walked into the bathroom and fluffed his hair in the mirror before grabbing his own toothbrush. After squeezing out some toothpaste onto his brush, he passed the tube to Eddie, who did the same. They brushed their teeth, eyes meeting in the mirror and Eddie couldn’t help feeling slightly seduced by the look he was being given. It made his body feel warm – to have Steve Harrington looking at him like that. He wanted to kiss him. The urge to reach out almost impossible to resist. But he did.

Sleep, Eddie reminded himself. He was here to sleep… and talk. No kissing.

Not yet anyway.

When they were done, they walked back to Steve’s room and nerves lit up his spine as Steve turned on the small lamp beside his bed and turned off the main light. The room was cast in an intimate glow, the lamp only giving off a small amount of light. Steve flipped down the covers and slid under them, looking at Eddie with a searching look as he hesitated to do the same thing on the other side. Eddie crawled into the bed, heart pounding wildly, with none of the grace Steve had displayed.

They laid down on their backs, faces toward the ceiling, letting the night settle around them. Steve was warm beside him, a powerful force of gravity, pulling Eddie closer. Steve must have felt it too, because seemingly at the same time, they turned towards each other. Edging closer and closer on their respective pillows until Eddie could feel Steve’s minty breath on his face. Slowly, so slowly, Eddie reached out and put his arm over Steve’s shoulders, drawing their bodies closer. Steve didn’t resist but melted forward until their bodies aligned tightly against each other, legs intertwining.

Eddie didn’t know what to do with the feelings in his chest when Steve sighed and snuggled in against him. They felt too large for his body, threatening to erupt and spill out everywhere. Steve Harrington was in his arms. Soft and warm. Eddie breathed him in deeply, a delicious smelling cologne still lingering on his skin.

“Good night, sweetheart,” Eddie said.

He felt Steve’s response against his skin. “Good night, Eddie.”

Silence descended and Eddie closed his eyes, trying desperately to calm his pounding heart so he could go to sleep. He didn’t question Steve’s need to leave the small light on. There had been many nights that he hadn’t been able to sleep without them. Flashlight in one hand and a walkie-talkie in the other.

“I’m not tired,” Steve whispered.

Eddie couldn’t help but snort and Steve laughed a little.

“Alright,” he capitulated. “I am tired, but I don’t want to sleep yet.”

“Is there something you want to talk about?”

He went quiet, thinking, and Eddie held him close – wondering if he would fall asleep before answering.

“You said you want to know more about me… so, ask a question. Any question and I’ll answer it.”

“What’s the secret Robin has on you?” Eddie asked immediately and was instantly more awake because of the riotous blush that erupted on Steve’s cheeks.

“Any question but that one!”

“Too late sweetheart, you said any question!”

Steve gaped up at him but Eddie just looked calmly back, eyebrow raised, waiting for the answer. He refused to look away and after a moment Steve released a resigned huff and hid his face into Eddie’s neck. He fought to suppress his body’s shiver as Steve’s breath ghosted over his skin.

“It was you,” Steve said so quietly Eddie had to listen closely to hear his voice. “In the van when you called me Big Boy…” Steve trailed off, like that answered his question. Which it very much did not. What was him? He gave Steve a little shake.

“Shit. You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Say what?”

“You gave me a goddamn sexual crisis! Robin was absolutely no help as I struggled for months to figure out what I was feeling was a crush…” Heat bloomed warm and quick on Eddie’s face at Steve’s admission.

“But you didn’t see me,” Steve continued and Eddie’s good feeling disappeared as quickly as it had come. Steve huffed a laugh that sounded suspiciously close to a sob. “But no one did, so that was nothing new.”

Eddie wanted to say that he was wrong – that he had seen him – but he wouldn’t lie. He saw him now… and hoped that was enough.

“You hid yourself too well, Steve. I had no idea you felt that way. I’m sorry it took me so long to see behind that mask you show everyone… but I’m looking now. I see you… and Steve?” Eddie asked and waited for him to lean back and look up at him. When he met his eyes, Eddie said, “I like what I see.”

Emotion burned in the hazel depths staring back at him. Fierce and bright and Eddie threw his no kissing rule out of the window and captured Steve’s lips with his own. As much as he wanted to bite and consume, he kept it gentle and soft. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed and he deepened the kiss, tongue questioning at Eddie’s closed lips. Without thought, they parted and Steve surged forward. His hands came up to Eddie’s cheeks, before slipping behind his neck and into his hair. The kiss became wet and slippery, messy in their desperation to taste each other. There was no longer anything gentle about it. Eddie nipped at Steve’s plush lower lip and was gratified when he moaned deep into his mouth. Eddie clutched him closer before releasing him and backing up as much as Steve’s hands in his hair would allow. They needed to slow things down… and breathe.

Steve let out a slow breath. “I wasn’t expecting this,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you. All of this because of a song?”

Because of a song? No. Because of how Steve sang it. So raw, like he was pulling the lyrics out of himself bleeding. Eddie had never heard anything like it. He wasn’t sure if he ever would again.

You can't start a fire You can't start a fire without a spark

“It wasn’t just the song. But it did…open my eyes, I guess? I had never seen you be so vulnerable before. You always act so tough, so unshakeable. The way you sang that song showed me that I didn’t understand you at all, that I had seen the surface of you but didn’t look any deeper. Everything you said about your fears and your dreams – I get it. I really fucking get it.”

Steve was nodding along with what Eddie was saying, his fingers idling playing with his hair.

“It was easier… to try and lock it all away. If I just told myself that I was fine, that everything was fine – then it would be. But the box wouldn’t stay shut. Not this time.”

I'll shake this world off my shoulders

Eddie had experienced horror. Had lived through hell. It was easy to forget that Steve had experienced it, too – but for longer. He remembered being absolutely stunned when they had finally told him the whole story. Demogorgons, Russians, Mindflayers, Vecna. The men and the monsters Steve had fought. Eddie was still fucked up over his one encounter, he didn’t know how the rest of them did it.

“You didn’t talk to Robin?” he asked.

“I did. Of course, I did. She’s my best friend but she’s moving on – it’s over for her and I wanted it to be over for her, too. So, I stopped bringing it up. She didn’t question it. To her – to everyone – I was back to my old self. Easy, simple Steve Harrington.”

“Steve, I –”

“I know that I hid away parts of myself,” Steve interrupted. “Hid them well enough that no one could see them. I don’t blame anyone for not seeing through me, I just…” Steve sighed and trailed off. He flipped onto his back so he was staring up at the ceiling, hands across his chest.

I could use just a little help

Eddie hesitated but Steve had told him to ask questions. So, he asked the other one that had been burning a hole in his tongue the whole night.

“Why did you sing that song?”

“I didn’t want to sing at all but Robins stubborn and I knew she wouldn’t let it go. I wasn’t planning on singing it, but I heard you guys – laughing and joking. Abba, Duran Duran, Madonna.” Steve said and paused. “I didn’t want to be easy, simple Steve Harrington anymore.”

There's a joke here somewhere and it's on me

Shame burned through Eddie, sudden and sharp. An uncomfortable feeling that he had little experience with. He had no idea that Steve had heard them, but he should have. Their table had been right in front of the stage, and they certainly hadn’t been quiet about it. At the time, he probably wouldn’t have thought that Steve would care.

“I decided at the microphone – to try and show you all who I am, what I’ve been feeling. To see if it would make any difference,” Steve said and turned back to face him, a hand under his cheek. He smiled slowly, softly. Beautifully sad. “I guess it did.”

He was too far away, so Eddie drew him against his side again. Without hesitation Steve tucked his head under Eddie’s chin and clutched his back.

You can't start a fire Worryin' about your little world fallin' apart

“It did,” Eddie agreed quietly. “You shocked me – shocked all of us. I’m sorry we made you feel that way. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I’m not happy about how we ended up here, but I am happy to be here, with you warm and lovely in my arms. I want to get to know you better, which means no more hiding what you’re thinking and feeling. Promise me, Steve – no more hiding.”

“Lovely? …You think I’m lovely?”

“Steve,” Eddie warned.

“No more hiding, I promise. I’m happy to be here, too.”

“Good,” Eddie said and kissed his forehead. “We should go to sleep.”

Steve poked him hard in his side instead and Eddie laughed before telling him what he wanted to hear.

“Yeah, Steve. I think you’re lovely.”

As if there was any doubt.

A mumbled response that Eddie couldn’t hear came from the man in his arms.

“What was that?”

“Think you’re lovely, too.”

Eddie couldn’t keep the massive smile that came over his face or the warmth that settled into his heart. Gooey puddle, that’s what he was.

“Good night, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered into the dark.

“Good night, Eddie.”

He held Steve tightly all through the night. Held him against the darkness and the loneliness and the nightmares. Held him because he was precious and worth protecting.

Even if we're just dancin' in the dark

---

@newtstabber @warlordess @tillystealeaves @imfinereallyy @heartsong18 @saltyseagoat83 @aceofwands @djohawke @th30ra3k3n @lazy-duck @surreal-honeypot @awkwardgravity1 @yoriposts @alycatavatar @tearsonthemoon222 @roastingdragon @mightbeasleep @helpimstuckposting @goblintendencies @dannys-guilt-ridden-cockroach

I tagged everyone who commented on the first part asking for more, I hope that's okay!

I think that will be it for this little fic, I wanted to finish off the night and give a bit more of a conclusion. I truly hoped you enjoyed this mostly fluffy and a little bit angsty final installment. As always, it's a pleasure to share with you all <3 Good night!

#steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington can sing #open mic night

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hornyhornyhimbos · 1 year

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i just think that eddie would be very eager to learn how to eat you out ♡

18+ as always, semi-virgin!eddie x innocent!virgin!afab!reader, oral f!receiving, fingering f!receiving, multiple orgasms for reader, explicit language, nicknames (baby, princess), small mention of porn, reader doesn't shave down there, 1.2K words, not beta read!

slightly inspired by this post by @mantorokk-writes and this art by @edsforehead

part one | filthy fridays | ask box

eddie all but dragged your skirt up your body, bunching it at your waist. his hands moved to toy with the waistband of your panties, nearly cumming again at the sight of the soaked, pink material. "well, baby," he said, his mouth hovering desperately close to your core, "we've got a lot to cover during this study session."

"wait, eddie," you said, tugging at your skirt and covering yourself back up.

his previously dark eyes misted over with tears at the sight. he wanted nothing more than to have access to every inch of your body, and the idea of you hiding yourself was incomprehensible to him.

"what's the matter, baby?" he asked, voice suddenly thick.

you shifted uncomfortably in your spot on his bed, nervously pulling at your skirt. your eyes darted away from his, but he met your chin with a finger, lifting your face to connect your gazes. "hey, we don't have to go any further than you want to. say the word and we can cuddle or grab some food or-"

you shook your head, your stomach fluttering at his gentleness. "no, it's okay. i just…"

his thumb swiped gentle strokes over your cheek, his tone endearing as he inquired, "what is it then? is it something i did?"

"no, it's just…" you willed yourself to rip off the band-aid, your eyes darting away again. "i don't shave. down there."

"cool."

"i know it's gross but i don't really know how and i didn't think i'd need to today and-" his words hit you like a freight train, the impact enough to stop you in your tracks. "wait what?"

"i know this isn't the perfect time to admit this but when i watch…" he hesitated, "movies, i usually go for ones that have girls with hair. i think it's way sexier."

your gaze turned to an expression of softness, your eyes nearly teary as they fell on his. "you're not just saying that to get in my panties?"

he shook his head with a chuckle. "body hair is a serious issue. i'd never joke about that," he kidded, his hands meeting your thighs. he gave the supple skin a soft squeeze, internally reveling in the sight of the crescent shapes his fingertips left behind.

"you really wanna go down on me?" your tone was so soft, you were surprised he even heard you. "what if i taste bad?"

eddie rolled his eyes playfully. "nothing about you could ever be bad. besides i've always wanted to try it and if you're a willing candidate, i'd love for you to take my oral virginity. and actual virginity when the time comes." he laughed lightly. "huh, cums."

you were the one to roll your eyes this time. a light switch went off in your brain as you started, "eddie?" he met your gaze, a bashful look coming across his face. "it's not gonna eat itself," you finished.

he crouched in front of you, his hand meeting the waistband of your panties once more. "so needy all of a sudden," he teased, hooking a finger around the fabric. he dragged them down your legs agonizingly slowly, tempted to take a whiff of the pretty cotton, but forcing himself to resist. a soft peck was left on the inside of your thigh, his eyes going dark as they made contact with your cunt. "pretty," he smiled, a goofy smile like he'd already been fucked silly.

the second he flattened his tongue against your folds, you knew you were done for. he'd barely made contact with your pussy and you were already hooked. the tip of it barely grazed your entrance, and it already had your legs shaking.

"tell me what feels best, okay?" he said before licking another stripe up your core. "want to make you feel good."

one of your hands managed to latch onto his curls, the other grasping the sheets for purchase. his mouth made contact with your clit, and the feeling from earlier—which you now knew was an orgasm—started to build again.

"mmm," he hummed against the bud, looking up at you with glassy eyes. he pulled away, hooking one arm around your leg. "gonna move your leg, okay? it'll give me a better angle."

you managed to nod before his mouth made contact with your clit once again, his nose resting against your mound. you could've sworn you saw his nostrils flaring, like he was attempting to inhale every last drop of your scent. his opposite hand moved toward the bud, taking over for his mouth as his tongue slipped downward.

"oh, eddie," you sighed, your hips rutting without prompt. his tongue dipped into your hole, an unfamiliar but euphoric feeling. his tongue lapped at your cunt like he hadn't drank in days, your body the perfect oasis.

blown-out eyes peeked over your mound, curled bangs stuck to eddie's sweat-covered forehead. "how am i doing so far?" he asked, trailing kitten licks back up to your clit.

"shit," you sighed as he toyed at your entrance with a finger. you rolled your hips toward the digit, hoping to prompt eddie to continue further.

he chuckled, sliding his finger in up to the first knuckle. "such a foul mouth," he said, tsk-ing his tongue. "who knew my sweet baby was capable of saying two cuss words in one day?"

before you could form a rebuttal, he plunged his finger in all the way, thrusting it in slow but hypnotizing motions. "keep that- fuck -keep that up, eddie, and i'm gonna be saying a lot fucking more."

he suckled your clit and continued his finger's pace, his dick somehow managing to harden even more at the sight of your furrowed brows. "that, princess, sounds like a challenge."

he hooked a second finger in, the cool metal on his middle finger leaving you nearly speechless. you clenched around him as his mouth reconnected to your bud, the sight of him peeking over the hairy bump between your legs somehow managing to be both erotic and endearing. your head fell back against his mattress, your nails digging into his blanket as he worked your hole faster.

"holy fuck, eddie, it's-" you started, cut off by a moan as he pushed a third finger in. "shitshitshit, eddie, that feeling-"

"you're gonna cum, aren't you, princess?" he asked, his voice teasing. he licked another slow stripe over your clit, his tongue rough in the best way.

his mouth met your cunt in an open-mouthed kiss, practically making out with the bud. his fingers sped up, and your second orgasm washed over you, your legs shaking as they wrapped around his shoulders.

"fuck, eddie, don't stop!" he looked up at you through wet eyelashes, giving you a hum of approval. his fingers pulled you through your orgasm, and before long, you came again, your voice hoarse from the string of expletives and moans falling from your lips.

eddie gently removed his fingers, a small whimper slipping from your mouth at the loss of contact. he unhooked your legs from his shoulders, standing to kiss you, blatantly ignoring the dark spot on the front of his boxers. you moaned into his mouth, savoring the salty taste. his tongue slipped into your mouth, making out with you in the same fashion he had with your pussy moments prior.

he crashed down beside you on the bed, tossing an arm over your exposed tummy. his opposite hand settled between your legs, cupping your pussy but careful not to overstimulate you too much in one day. "that, princess," eddie grinned up at you, eyes glazed over and a goofy sideways smile flashing up at you, "was definitely my favorite part of today's homework."

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @esoltis280

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butlervol6 · 2 years

Text

positive | dad(to be) austin x reader

previous part here!!

pairing: austin x fem!reader

summary: trying for a baby isn’t always easy, especially when you keep getting negative tests. austin and reader remind themselves, and each other, to keep positive over the course of the first few months of trying.

warnings/notes: negative pregancy tests, mild sadness/crying, mentions of periods, very mildly suggestive at one point, and tw for v*mitting!! im finally back!!! i missed you all so much, my life has actually been insane the last few months and it seems like im finally catching a break so i can write again. im so so thankful for all the love and support on my writing so far and im so excited to finally get this part out for yall! ENJOY PT 3!!!!

words: 2.8k

You knew when you started trying to get pregnant that it could be a long process. As someone who could be easily disappointed you knew it was important to prepare yourself and, before you got the first negative test, you thought that you had adequately done so.

month 1-September 2021

It was the day before your period was due to start at the beginning of November, the first time taking a test after you and Austin had begun trying to get pregnant. Austin was sitting on the couch downstairs, strumming absentmindedly on his guitar while an old movie played on the tv, when you quietly closed and locked the ensuite bathroom door. You had just come back from brunch with a couple friends, also stopping on the way home to pick up a box of pregnancy tests, and told Austin you were just ‘running upstairs to change’ so he wouldn’t suspect anything. Before taking the test, you closed your eyes and internally reminded yourself not to get your hopes up, though you could still feel the buzz of excited anticipation. After taking the test, setting it on the counter and washing your hands, you allowed your mind to wander. You imagined how excited Austin would be when you showed him the test and how you would reveal to the world that you were going to be parents. You turned to the side to gaze at your stomach in the mirror, imagining a bump containing your tiny growing baby.

When the timer finally beeped, you were quick to pick up the test, expecting to be faced with two bold red lines. When there was only one, you immediately felt the disappointment set it. You tried turning the test side to side, using your phone flashlight—anything to try and identify the missing line. After a couple of minutes, it was clear that the test was negative and your sadness hit like a freight train.

Tears freely flowed down your face and you knew that the only way to feel better would be to talk about it with Austin. For this reason, you decided to just head downstairs and find comfort in your blissfully unaware husband, still strumming on his guitar.

“Baby, come ‘ere. What’s wrong?” He quickly placed his guitar to the side and opened his arms, which you immediately fell into.

“I wanted to surprise you because I thought it would be positive but it wasn’t.” You sniffle with your head tucked into his neck, pulling the test from your pocket and holding it out to him. He takes it, glancing at it and quickly setting it aside, pulling you even closer. His arms were warm and tight around your frame, “I’m just disappointed.”

He maneuvers your head from his neck, brushing your hair out of your face and kissing both your cheeks, “It’s okay to be disappointed, I’m sorry I wasn’t with you when you took it. Just try to remember that this is just the first test baby.” You nod at him, wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks,

“I know, I know. I just really thought I was so it took me off guard.” You blow out a breath before continuing, “It’s just not the right time, when it is then it’ll happen.” Austin smiles lovingly at you, tilting your face up to place a gentle kiss on your lips,

“Exactly. We just need to keep positive in the meantime.” You smile back at him, his encouraging words making you feel better. “Plus, this just means we get to keep trying. Don’t you love trying? I know I do.” He squeezes your hip and leans in to leave sloppy kisses along the skin of your neck and chest. You giggle, threading your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck to pull him harder against you. You feel his lips pull into a smile momentarily against your skin before continuing to mark you,

All you can manage before you pull him up and crash your lips against his is, “Well, that, mister, is a great point.”

month 3- December 2021

It was a few days before Christmas and you were, understandably, stressed. Last minute shopping, baking, wrapping and packing for visiting Austin’s family over the holidays filled your days. It was as you were putting the last tray of gingerbread cookies in the oven that Austin entered the kitchen, your phone in his hand and his hair still wet from his shower,

“Here darlin’,” He hands you the phone, fluidly reaching around you to press start on the oven timer for the cookies and kiss the side of your head, “It was vibrating on the bathroom counter, figured it was important.”

You took the phone, thanking your husband, and tapped the screen to check your notifications. There was a text from Austin’s sister confirming holiday plans, a couple of emails you noted to go delete later and a message from your period tracker app. Since trying to get pregnant you had been using the tracker more than ever, for figuring out when you are ovulating and also when to test. After the last two months of negatives you had neglected to check your app as much, meaning that you didn’t really know where in your cycle you were.

You unlocked your phone, opening the app to check the notification, and were met with a pop-up stating that you were three days late–a notification you had set up when you and Austin decided to start trying but had never recieved in the months previous. You were momentarily taken off guard, reaching back to grip the counter top you were leaning against. Austin, still in the kitchen, glanced over at you,

“What’s goin’ on?” He stood from his seat at the kitchen island, coming to stand next to you and peers at your phone, “Oh–does that mean…?” You look up, meeting his eyes. You can tell there is an excitement in them so you choose your words carefully,

“I–uh, I’m not really sure. I mean I’ve been late before and not been pregnant…and I have been stressed with everything going on so it could just be that.” He listens intently to your words, his thumb and finger pinching and prodding at his bottom lip anxiously, “But, I could test just so we know for sure?” His eye light up at your suggestion, nodding enthusiastically. You softly smile at him, “Alright, but I need to finish baking and I really should finish packing and we also have a few more gifts to wra–” Austin grasps your face between his hands,

“Baby, it’s okay. We can do it whenever you’re ready.” He presses a quick kiss to your lips, pulling back and smiling at you before busying himself with cleaning up your baking mess. You can’t help at smile to yourself, taken with just how kind and caring your husband always is.

…

After hours of doing the many tasks that needed completing, you finally had a free moment to take the pregnancy test with Austin. He leaned against the counter, reading from the large instructional booklet in his hands from the pregnancy test box–as if you hadn’t taken many before– when you entered the ensuite bathroom. Without looking up, he held out the unwrapped test to you. You took it from him, ripping the package open and threw it in the trash. Austin still hadn’t looked up, fully engrossed in his reading,

“Love, you do know there isn’t going to be a quiz? You don’t need to memorize everything on that paper.” He looked up at this comment and regarded you with faux annoyance,

“Ha Ha, you think you’re so funny hm?” You nodded at him, a smug smile on your face, and he couldn’t help but crack a smile. As much as you were teasing him about it, you found it endearing that he was so interested. “Alright, now go pee.” He gestured toward the test in your hand. It was your turn to laugh at him and his bold declaration, making your way to the toilet while he went back to his reading,

“Okay okay, I’m going you impatient man.” You pulled down your leggings, sitting down and uncapping the test, watching as Austin went right back to the place he had left off in the booklet. You shook your head at him and began to reach the test between your legs when you caught sight of a familiar red stain. You had felt pain in your back for a couple of hours but assumed it was because you had been on your feet all day doing chores, not because you had–finally– started your period. You thought you would be disappointed but instead you felt a laugh bubble up and out before you could stop it, “Um…Aus?”

“What baby?” He looked over at you, immediately noticing the crimson against the light pink fabric of your underwear. Surprisingly, he too chuckled to himself, crossing his arms over his chest, “That’s just our luck isn’t it?” He reached under the sink, grabbing you a tampon and an extra pair of underwear from the stash you kept with your period supplies to hand to you. You were momentarily surprised that he wasn’t at all disappointed and couldn’t help but vocalize that,

“You’re not upset?” You began cleaning yourself up, still sat on the toilet and, if it had been anyone else, you would’ve felt strange having such casual conversation while you were doing so. But not with Austin, who replied just as casually,

“Well, I mean maybe a little. But, like I said the first time, it’s just not the time yet. It will be soon enough, and until then I’m gonna keep positive for you and us.” He punctuated his sentence with a kiss before he began to back out of the room with the promise of snacks, a movie and cuddles downstairs once you were cleaned up.

month 5- Februray 2022

By the fifth month, you and Austin had managed to completely eliminated the pressure, and therefore the possibility of disappointment, off of trying to get pregnant. You had both fully come to terms with the idea that your timeline being altered wouldn’t really matter in the long run, either way you would eventually have a child and the time it took to get there would never cross your minds again. Because of this, you decided the month prior that you would stop testing before your period was due to begin as it created more upset than it was worth. If you ended up not being pregnant that month then the arrival of your period would alert you, not a negative test.

Today was the last day before your period was supposed to arrive for the month and it was the least stressed you had felt since September. Instead of worrying all day about the impending test you would have to take, you were able to bask in the excitement of the first Elvis trailer dropping with your husband. There were phone calls and FaceTimes with Baz, cast and crew, who Austin had become close to during the process, celebrating the positive reception and palpable excitement from the public. This led into days of preliminary, general conversations with managers and agents around press tours and public appearances for the following months. You were so engrossed in it all, excitement buzzing through you as you sat in zoom and phone meetings hand-in-hand with Austin. You, and he, had been so caught up in it all the excitement that a week and a half slipped away without so much as a second thought from either of you. This was until you were making dinner one night and suddenly felt sick to your stomach.

At first you just made your way over to the fridge and got yourself a glass of water, thinking you had just been too busy that day and neglected to keep yourself properly hydrated–a somewhat common occurrence you had been actively trying to work on changing. You swallowed one mouthfull of the cold water and immediately felt your stomach turn, slapping a hand over your mouth and running to the first floor bathroom. Barely making it inside, you double over and empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. Austin, having heard the commotion, enters the bathroom,

“Oh my poor girl.” He gently pulls your hair away from your face and rubs a hand along your back. After a few minutes of retching, the nausea passes and you sit down. You lean back against Austin’s legs as he stands behind you, closing your eyes. You hear the sink turn on and off before feeling a cool cloth touch the heated skin of first, your forehead, and then arms, “Think it’s passed now or do you still feel sick?” You open your eyes and look up at him, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours,

“I think I’m done for now. Can you help me stand up?.” He places the cloth he was dragging along your skin down before gently lifting you up. You lean heavily on him, skin still feeling slightly heated and prickily as the last of the nausea still lingers, and he carefully manuvers you to stand in front of the sink. You reach for your toothbrush, about to put it in your mouth but stopping to ask, “Can you get my mug from under the sink so I can rince my mouth? I don’t think I can bend over.” He nods, leaving a hand on your waist as he squats down and opens the undersink cabinet. You brush your teeth quickly, just to get the taste out of your mouth, spitting out the toothpaste when you finish. He finds your mug, placing it on the counter and is about to stand up when when you feel him freeze,

“Baby?” He stands up abruptly, bumping you slightly, causing you to wince from the movement of your body and your weak stomach, “Oh my god, how late are you?” He holds up the box of tampons you had stashed under the sick after purchasing them a couple weeks ago in preparation for your period–the period that was supposed to start over a week ago. You stare at him dumbfounded for a moment, wiping the reminisce of toothpaste from your mouth with the back of your hand and quickly doing the math, before you ask him,

“Do we have any tests left?” He exits the bathroom without responding, heading upstairs to look for the box of tests in your bedroom. Left on your own, you look at yourself in the mirror, searching for any early indicator that you might actually be pregnant. You study your face and your frame, even lifting up your shirt and turning to side just like you did the first month, but, obviously, nothing looks different.

Austin reenters the room moments later, pregnancy test box in hand and everything happens so fast. The time it takes for you to take the two remaining tests, place them on the sink and set the three minute timer feels like it passes in the blink of an eye. The anxiety is thick in the air as Austin wraps himself around your from behind, rocking the two of you softly side to side with his arms tight around you and his head tucked into your neck, waiting for your three minute timer to beep. You hold tightly onto his arm that’s slung across your chest, leaning your head back and closing your eyes.

After the longest, most silent, three minutes of your life, your phone loudly signals the time is up and you jump. You feel Austin blow out a breath against you before lifting his head and looking at you through the mirror on the wall in front of you,

“Do you want to look or should I?” You turn around in his arms, carding a hand through his hair for a moment, studying his face, before kissing him softly. When you pull away you don’t answer his question right away, instead you say,

“Positive, right? We just need to keep being positive and everything will be okay, right?” Tears prick the corners of your eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and needing reassurance. You can see his eyes get glassy before he pulls you into a crushing hug, pressing his lips to your forehead over and over. He murmurs against your skin,

“Yeah my love, everything will be perfect no matter what it says.” You kiss him again before pulling back, wiping your eyes and turning around to the sink where the tests lay. He reaches toward one test while leading your hand to the other, “Together?” You nod, pulling his free arm across your chest again as a comfort. Austin begins to count down from three and you repeat that word in your head like a mauntra,

“3.” Positive. “2.” Positive. “1.”

You both look down and flip the tests in your hands. Your hand instantly flies to your mouth, dropping the test back onto the counter, as you begin to cry,

“Oh my god, it’s positive!”

taglist: @bcofl0ve @abloversblog

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #dad austin #austin butler imagine #austin butler one shot #austin butler blurb #austin butler fic #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fluff #austin butler angst #austin butler fanfic #butlervol6writes

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