#and i also got talked into doing another gig

[djs-horny-blog-lmao]

Well I hope for the best for you! I’m also having my ass handed to me by uni, it’s excellent 🙄

But you’ll get through it, I know it!!!

✨🐍

getting our asses handed to us by uni gang!!!!! Battle cries!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!

sfdgkjdfg strength to you, sparkle snake. we'll get thru this. together. take my hand.

[strawhbrrries]

Movement

pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader

summary: a double date that leads to mike schmidt coming home with you in the name of "helping your friend" and he ends up fucking you.

warnings: unprotected sex, no foreplay, creampie??, female pronouns, slight degrading??, pet names, heavy cussing, mike being hashtag v hot, no established relationship, porn with no plot, not proofread

word count: 2.1k words

author’s note: listen to movement by hozier for the full experience!!! I know this fic wasn't voted to be the first mike one to be posted but I had to do it okay!!!! he's so hot n sexy in this and i need him badly...please enjoy! mwah!

Your eyes scanned the restaurant in front of your car, you were promised a very nice dinner with a very nice man and the place you ended up might as well have been a denny’s. Gia somehow managed to rope you into a double date and as the amazing friend you are, you obliged. Now, you wanted to take it back. If the guy you were set up with wasn’t just an absolute heartthrob you might consider strangling her in the bathroom.

“Gia, this better be the best damn food and the hottest men you have ever experienced or I’m never doing you another favor ever again.” You teased, getting out of your car as she walked up to it.

“I swear he said this place was nicer! Thank you so much babes, I owe you one!” She responded, slipping her arm inside of yours to walk inside. “Maybe the inside is really nice and it’s just a shady exterior.”

You’d never seen the man Gia was seeing tonight so when the two of you arrived at the table you weren’t sure which man was yours, but you knew which one you wanted. He looked gentle, shaggy hair untamed almost like he wasn’t prepared to go on a date tonight. 

“I suppose I’m your date.” He smiled softly, getting up to pull your chair out for you. “I’m MIke, you look uh, really beautiful tonight.”

After the introductions and small talk the two of you hit it off right away, it helped that Gia and her date were more interested in each other than remembering that the people they brought also existed.  The more you talked the more Mike came out of his shell, he wasn’t as shy as you first pegged him to be. Your heel was slowly caressing his calf, neither of you were quite sure when it had ended up there but he wasn’t complaining.

“A man in uniform is hot.” Your flirting was a little rusty, but it seemed to be working just fine for you.

“It’s just a security gig.” He shrugged it off, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. 

You grabbed the straw of your drink, wrapped your tongue around it, and took a sip. Mike choked slightly but covered it up with a cough, adjusting his pants under the table at the same time. 

“She’s not going to go home with him unless I go home with you.” You whispered in his ear as you leaned over the table, tangling your fingers in his hair to trick Gia into thinking you were whispering something dirty. “I’d really like to go home with you.”

You could feel the heat creep up his neck, his face was flushed. His heart might as well be on the outside of his chest with the intensity that it was beating, it’d been a long time since he’d been on a date or even gotten laid but Abby was at home and that just wouldn’t work.

“Uhm, my sister’s at home, can we go to your place?” Mike’s saliva was thick and pooling in his mouth, it felt almost impossible to swallow. He had to be dreaming, this just didn’t make sense otherwise. He was just doing his friend a favor and now your breath was hot on his neck and his jeans were uncomfortably tight.

The second the two of you walked outside he got fidgety, like he was going to take off the second you let go of his hand. Frankly he was surprised you hadn’t let go of it the second you picked it up, he was dripping sweat from the moment he realized you were his date. He quickly made a mental note to send a letter to the company who made his preferred deodorant, the fact that he didn’t smell absolutely putrid spoke volumes on their product.

“So did you mean what you said inside? Because I’m perfectly okay with just going home.” 

“I meant it, don’t be so nervous.” You smiled back at him, handing him the keys to your car.

The tension was thick, his knuckles were white as he tried to keep his focus on the road ahead and making it back to your place safely and not the fingers drawing figures on his thigh as you spoke about something he couldn’t quite grasp. 

Your place wasn’t too far from the restaurant that Gia’s date had picked, that Mike was thankful for. The longer he had to endure the torture that was your fingers on this thighs, the less his ability to be a gentleman and control himself existed. If it was up to him, he’d probably just pulled over and fucked you in the backseat of your own car but it wasn’t. He was a gentleman, he’d just met you all of a few hours ago, he knew better.

“This is the place.” You smiled softly as he pulled into your driveway.

“It’s nice.” He stated, handing your car keys back to you and taking your hand. “Suits you.”

Mike’s eyes wandered the walls, taking in every aspect of you, as you led him through the house. It didn’t take him long to notice that you lived alone, another thing he was now thankful for. His fingers trailed the zipper of your dress as he stood behind you in your bedroom, his other hand rubbing your arm and leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

“Are you going to take it off?” Your voice was shaky and quiet, for the first time tonight you were nervous. 

“And you thought I was the eager one.” He chuckled, tugging your hair back softly to give him just enough access to your face to make eye contact with you. “Do you get off on bringing strangers to your home and having them fuck you?”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, blessing the ears of the man behind you who responded with a groan. His lips made contact with your neck, biting and sucking at any of the skin he had access to. The hand that was holding your hair back made itself busy drawing the zipper of your dress further and further down until it couldn’t go any further, you shivered as the cold air hit your back. 

Mike detached himself from your neck and took a step back, briefly admiring how disheveled you looked despite still being fully dressed, he made a quick motion for you to turn around and you obliged almost immediately. If you got his dick any harder it might’ve fallen off before he ever got the chance to use it. 

He backed you into the bed, laying you down and sliding your dress off and into a pile on the floor. Another deep groan was emitted into the air as he took in the sight in front of him, you hadn’t worn a bra and the underwear you’d chosen left nothing to the imagination. Mike immediately started thanking whatever god was above for you and the experience he was about to have. 

Your heart was pounding out of your chest. Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on sleeping with anyone tonight but then you saw him and your entire plan was flipped upside down. You lied about your friend not going home with her date if you didn’t leave with him, you didn’t want him to think you were desperate but he knew now. The second he touched the zipper of your dress, anything left of your facade was gone. You needed him.

“If you weren’t so fucking wet I would’ve thought you were only doing me a favor.” He spoke nonchalantly, rubbing his finger over your folds through your underwear. “ Or maybe you’re just a whore? Huh?”

“For you.” You choked out, words getting caught in your throat over his words. 

At the beginning of the night you would’ve placed money on the fact that he wasn’t capable of things like this, it was like another side of him had come out during the drive to your house. You weren’t complaining, his words were getting to you in a way you’d never experienced. 

“Yeah? For me? Mikey’s own personal whore.” He slipped your underwear to the side and slid his finger through your folds, collecting your juices and bringing them to his mouth. “You’re as sweet as you look, need a honey jar full of you.”

You cried out at him softly, trying to use anything you had to stop his teasing. He was winding you up but edging you right before you could pop, he could’ve said anything and you would’ve agreed just to get him to fuck you. Being this desperate for a man you hardly knew was an exhilarating experience. 

“Please, I need you.” You whined, grabbing at his shirt in a desperate plea. “Please.”

“Good job using your words, pretty girl.” Mike praised, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down, throwing them in the same pile as your dress.

His clothes soon joined yours on the floor, a small pout emerging when you realized you wouldn’t be able to suck him off, his eyes catching yours as he climbed up your body. He kissed his way up, biting occasionally. Fingers tracing your skin just as you had done to him earlier in the night, lighting a fire on your skin as they went. It was like his body was made to fit yours, like your souls had searched for each other through every lifetime and yet this was the first time they had met.

His lips finally met yours for the first time, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he pulled away to breathily whisper something in your ear. You shook your head in agreement at whatever he said, as long as he kept touching you like that and making noises in your ear you’d agree to anything he said to you. 

Shaking your head yes was the best decision you’d made so far, you felt two fingers slip inside of you. Thrusting for a few moments before they were replaced by the tip of his cock, slowly pushing in as his mouth found one of your nipples. The gentle man you had once perceived had been replaced by a god who was hung like a horse, splitting you in half with the cock fit for a god.

“Fuck.” Mike moaned, tipping his head back when he bottomed out, taking your legs and placing them on his shoulders. “So good, pretty girl.”

Anything you had planned on responding with quickly dissipated the second he pulled out and thrusted back in, a low groan coming out insead. His fingers were digging into your thighs as he held them up where he wanted them, all you could hope for was the imprints bruising as a reminder that this actually happened. What hair that wasn’t sticking to his skin from the sweat covering it was dangling backwards freely, all his focus was on not cumming too soon and if he continued to look at you he definitely would.

Your eyes had glossed over a long time ago, tears streaming down the sides as a byproduct of the blissful state his cock had put you in, fingers gripping desperately at the sheets and your tits bouncing with each thrust. He was once again praying to every god that he would get to do this another time, then he could sear the image of you under him into his mind.

“Mike, Mikey I need..” You whined, the knot in your stomach twisting and turning, threatening to spill before you could even finish a coherent thought.

“C’mon pretty girl, you can do it, let it go.” He praised you, bringing his thumb down to your clit and drawing figure eights in time with his thrusts to help your orgasm spill over.

His words were the final piece in the puzzle, your orgasm hitting you soon after he spoke. Legs shaking, mind blowing, tears, and silent moans was all your body could do at the supernova your orgasm had proved to be. You’d never cum this hard before but if every orgasm after didn’t measure up, he had ruined you. 

“You did so good.” Was all you heard as you came down from your high, Mike’s hands soothed down your hair as he whispered into your ear. 

His thrusts continued at the same pace for only a few seconds before his hips stuttered and he painted your insides white. 

“I guess tonight wasn’t a total waste.” You joked quietly, turning to the side to smile at him as he laid down next to you. 

“We need to do this more often.”

[eggmeralda]

I hate uni so much atm

[drurrito]

Night Drive (18+)

Summary: You get a new car

AN: 18+ only y'all--we're gonna pretend that there are plenty of other self-driving cars that aren't t*sla...I hope this makes up for me not putting out another part of AYTO yet! All mistakes are mine.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: cursing; reader has a dick; dom//powerbottom!Natasha; sub//top!reader

----------------

You sink lower into your seat as you rev the engine of your new car with the widest grin Natasha can't see. Natasha looks hardly impressed from your view beyond the barely-legal tint of the windows.

You decide to roll down your window and plead your case.

"Hey baby."

Natasha rolls her eyes. You already screw yourself coming right out the gate with pleasantries, Natasha knows you're desperate to get on her good side when you do that.

"So...what do you think?" You vaguely gesture to the rest of the car and Natasha scoffs.

"I think you were a finance bro in your past life," she crosses her arms, and you relent, "probably," you sing as you round the car to lean against the hood. The gun metal gray still holds a shine in the moonlight. This wasn't an impulse purchase, you had been talking about buying a new car for a while now. You would go on little rants about the specs of certain cars whenever you saw them on the road or on TV. It's not like you were waiting when you had the money, being an avenger was a pretty-paying gig. You were just waiting for the right one, at the right time--a method you mastered by the time Natasha came around.

"Wanna go for a joyride?" You offer, already leaning off the hood and spinning the key in your hand.

Natasha wants to keep giving you a hard time, but you look so damn good in front of your sleek, expensive, new backdrop. Your muscles bulge under your fitted black shirt, and you have the cockiest smile on your face, like you knew you were winning this race.

"And if we get pulled over?"

"With SHIELD plates? I'm not worried about it," it almost comes out like it's scripted. You're not above rehearsing a speech for Natasha if it means getting your way. You're pulling out all the stops, but Natasha wants to remind you who's really behind the wheel. Her eyes rake over you slowly, intensely--the same way fresh lava travels over earth. You're standing at attention and you don't even know it.

"You gonna open the door for me or just stand there like you forgot your manners?" Natasha watches in amusement as you fumble for the door handle. She slides onto the cool leather while you make your way into the driver's seat yet again. You wait patiently for her to get comfortable and buckle in.

It's only when you rev the engine with a wink that Natasha muses this might have been a bad idea on her part. You punch the gas pedal and she's quickly acquainted with the back of the cherry red bucket seat.

----------------

Natasha decides that she doesn't like going fast unless the fate of the world depends on it. She also decides this is the one exception when she sees the freeway system of veins in your forearms as you grip the steering wheel. Natasha feels like she's flying when she watches your triceps flex while you turn the wheel or do something as mundane as turning on her seat heater.

Natasha slides her seatbelt off in a way that doesn't set off the sensor--she didn't want this moment to be ruined by a lecture on why it's important to buckle-up. You're too distracted by the beat of your night drive playlist to notice her crawling closer to you.

You feel her lips on the shell of your ear, "eyes on the road, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," you try to say cooly, you don't dare chance a look over at her. She hums with satisfaction and rewards you with a kiss on the skin behind your ear and a nibble on your lobe that tightens the coil in your belly.

Natasha sucks and licks at your neck while her deft fingers work to undo your belt and zipper. Her hand explores the border of your waistband before dipping under and finding what it was looking for. You let out a whisper of a gasp when Natasha admires your full length and girth. Your grip on the wheel tightens, Natasha chuckles when she hears the leather under your fingers groan.

Natasha begins to stroke you slowly, agonizingly so, but that doesn't keep your hips from bucking up into her hand.

"Tash," that only elicits a rumble against your neck. Natasha's other hand curls around your neck and gives a light squeeze that makes your vision blur for a second. Her stroking picks up speed, you have to work impossibly hard to keep your foot off the brakes.

"Natasha, please."

"I like the way you say please, baby," she mumbles with your skin between her teeth.

"What did I tell you?"

"Eyes on the road, ma'am," you say with a quickness that makes the corner of her lips curl up in satisfaction.

"So smart," she praises before you helplessly watch her head lower until you feel her lips greet your cock with a sloppy kiss. You throw your head back against your seat with a pathetic moan.

"So desperate," Natasha teases, and your mind feels like it's going a million miles an hour--multitasking is usually your strong suit, but it seems damn near impossible now.

Natasha's tongue travels the length of you, your hips feebly buck into her mouth when she finally grants you entrance. You slow your speed to safely take a hand off the wheel and hold her hair back. She thanks you with a gentle squeeze on your thigh and the prettiest sounds you could have only ever imagined.

Your playlist is already repeating itself by the time Natasha comes up for air. She can barely hear it over your panting anyway. You're rock hard and right where she wants you.

"The car can drive itself, you know," you breathe out. Natasha's brow quirks with curiosity.

"Show me," it's a gentle command, but your fingers rush to press the right sequence of buttons. You ease the seat back with haste, and Natasha just lets you sit there for a few beats to take you in and also leave you in suspense.

Your fingers dumbly flex against your legs while you wait for further instruction from Natasha. She doesn't even try to hide her smirk when your eyes begin to dart between the road and her.

"You're not gonna let us crash right, dove?" Natasha's finger traces a feather-light trail down your arm. It's a genuine question, even though she knows you probably did some sizable research on the safety features of the car before you even entertained buying it.

"No ma'am, you're precious cargo," you give an easy smile and that's Natasha's cue to move and straddle your lap. You help her with your hands on her hips, your hands quickly retreating to your sides when she's situated over you.

Natasha swears your eyes are sparkling as you watch her slide her panties to the side with one hand and take your length in the other.

"Eyes on me, baby, just for a second," she coos and you obey. Natasha can't help but admire the striations of your muscles working overtime to restrain yourself. You've always been intoxicatingly obedient, even when it's downright painful. Your eyes are locked on Natasha's, you have to bite your lip to stifle a moan when she finally eases down onto your cock. She's already working her hips in a way that has your entire body buzzing. You can count on one hand how many cars have passed you by this whole time, just like you expected.

Your fingers dig into the leather of your seat, your eyes periodically glancing at the road to make sure it hasn't veered off course for whatever reason. Natasha steals a few sloppy kisses when she leans into you to get a better angle and bounce on your cock at a speed that should be illegal.

"Tash, I'm gonna-," you choke out between labored breaths.

"What was that baby?" she leans back and oh god, you wish you had the kind of self-control your car has right now. You feel like you're going to pass out watching Natasha ride your cock, you're too blissed out to realize that she's spelling out 'm-i-n-e-' with her hips.

"I'm gonna come so fast."

"I know baby."

That seals your fate. Your arm reaches back to brace yourself against the seat. With a long and drawn-out "fuck," Natasha feels you push deeper into her, filling her up with every last drop of you. You both fall into a sweaty, moaning heap against the seat. Your body trembling with aftershocks as Natasha scratches at the skin on the back of your neck. You only get to drink this feeling in for a few seconds until you see red and blue flashing lights in your rearview mirror.

"Shit," you sit up and Natasha freezes when she sees what you see. You feverishly check your speedometer, you're not speeding. You start rifling through your brain to see if you forgot to do something, insurance? Plates? Registration?

Your questions are answered when you watch the cop car speed off into the night. Natasha lets out a heavy sigh of relief that makes your dick twitch, reminding you both that you're still inside of her.

"Told you," you try not to sound so exasperated. Natasha just rolls her eyes before kissing your temple. Night drives might just become a regular thing now.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

NSFW BLOG | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

chapter 1 : oh shit. a cowboy.

summary: when you come into his shop to get your boyfriend's car fixed, yunho can help but wonder what a hardworking, pretty girl like you is doing with someone so...pathetic. and maybe, just maybe, he feels like he could treat you better.

pairing: cowboy mechanic!yunho x female!reader

genre: non-idol au | strangers to lovers | angst | fluff (no smut yet, but there will be eventually)

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually)

word count: 4.9k

content/warnings: pet names (sweetheart, doll), strangers to lovers, toxic relationship, yeonjun slander 😗 (sry baby), yj and reader get into a pretty big fight

notes: literally thank you so much to @ateez-main-yapper for helping me write this! like this would not exist without her letting me yap in her dms. or letting her help build the story up. or asking her to help edit. this was a two woman job 🙂‍↕️ so thank you baby 💗

ALSO there have been a couple changes and edits from the teaser, so not everything of the first 1k words is the same ☺️

and YES there will be a part 2 (& 3 💀) so PLEASE don't ask for it 😭 she will come when she's ready

Where the fuck was this place? You took another turn down another shaded alley, the sky strangely overcast for two in the afternoon.

The tapping of your fingers on the steering wheel was the only music since the stereo had broken months ago when Yeonjun slammed his fist against it in a fit of rage when you asked him to skip his gig this weekend to attend your sister’s wedding. Now it just blinked periodically when the car hit a bump, giving it miniscule signs of life. And for a man who focused his whole life around his music, he seemed uncharacteristically uninterested in getting it repaired. And maybe it would never get fixed because you could only afford to get the big issues fixed today.

After six wrong turns you finally pulled into the parking lot. Your friend had recommended this garage when you’d told her this car had been having all sorts of issues, and she insisted on here. You had your doubts when she pulled up the Instagram of one of the mechanics to show you the shop and ended up going on about how hot he was for several minutes, but you didn’t really have any other options.

It looked official enough. The brick building was large enough to house two large garage doors that opened up the shop to the dusty parking lot. Peering inside, you could see that there weren't many people inside the garage. There were only two mechanics in your line of sight, the closer of the two venturing back and forth between his toolbox and the taillights of an old Chevy, and you were their only customer as far as you could tell. You shrugged, Maybe they’re understaffed. 

You shrugged before swinging the car door open and grabbing your purse out of the passenger’s seat, brushing off your pants before you made your way in. There wasn’t a front desk or a receptionist to talk to, and you got the feeling that this shop was solely run and staffed by the men inside. 

You spent several moments hovering by one of the garage doors, shuffling your feet and trying to catch the eye of one of the mechanics, but neither of them looked up. Entirely too absorbed in their work to notice your presence. They must not get very busy. 

“Um…hello?” You spoke, trying not to startle either of them. 

They both turned to you, and the man who’d been fixing up the Chevy opened his mouth to speak. But he was cut off by his coworker, who jogged over from where he'd been partially hidden from view behind a rack of miscellaneous parts, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder and muttering a quick, “I’ve got her, Min.” 

“Min” chuckled and rolled his eyes, returning to his work.

Oh god. 

“Hey Doll, what can I do for ya?” Something about the way he sauntered up to you and smiled so gently immediately filled your stomach with butterflies, but you chose to ignore them for the sake of your own sanity.

Doll. That was a new one, and you felt that anyone else uttering that word toward you would’ve disgusted you to your core. But something about this stranger was strangely comforting. Maybe it was the way he tilted his head as he waited for you to speak. Maybe it was the baseball cap strewn backward on his head. Or maybe it was the strands of his taupe hair that fell in front of his face, strands you imagined yourself brushing up under his hat.

Your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your purse, “I’m, uh, having some car issues.”

The laugh he let out, and the curve of his lips that accompanied it, made the tips of your ears burn, “‘Course you are, sweetheart. Anything in particular, though?”

“Oh,” you chuckled softly along with him, “Well, he mentioned that the acceleration’s been kinda weird, and I thought the engine was a little loud when I drove it here today. Sorry, I don’t really know a ton about cars.”

He hummed and tapped his foot a couple of times, “Which one is it?” 

You pointed across the lot. 

“Alright, let me pull it into the garage,” he put his hand out in your direction. 

You stared at it, confused, and when you looked back up at his face he was smiling at you again. Stupid smile. He made your heart flutter more than you would’ve liked to admit.

“Keys, sweetheart. Your keys.”

“Oh,” you scrambled around in your purse before handing them over, embarrassed. 

He took them from you with a 'thanks doll' and a tip of his head, hand hovering over his forehead in a way that made you think he was used to wearing hats much bigger than this simple baseball cap. Before you could even question it further he was jogging across the lot and pulling the car through the big garage doors. 

When he stepped out of the car he looked at you curiously, “This your car?”

You shook your head, “No it’s my boyfriend’s. He’s been…busy…lately, so he hasn’t been able to bring it in. He keeps complaining about it, though, so I just decided to do it for him, I guess.”

He raised his eyebrow at you, nodding slowly. 

“What?” you asked, moderately offended.

He shook his head, waving a dismissive hand, “Nothing. Sorry. You just seemed a little unsure is all.”

“Yeah…I don’t know. I honestly think he just kept complaining so I would get tired of his whining and go on and get it fixed myself,” You chuckled awkwardly. Why the fuck were you telling him this? You started to feel a little embarrassed.

And that feeling only got worse when you saw the mildly horrified look on his face. 

You shook your head and ran a frustrated hand through your hair, “Can you just fix it?”

That pretty fucking smile came back, and your grip on your hair tightened just a little in frustration. “Of course I can. Glad you brought this in when you did, honestly. Seems like your boy toy’s got a bit of an exhaust leak. Could be pretty dangerous, so it's good to get it off the road.”

“Ah, perfect.” You shifted on your feet, “How long will it take, do you think?”

He lifted his hat and ruffled his messy hair before readjusting it on his head. Why did every little movement he made drive you crazy? “Unfortunately, issues like this take a couple days. I doubt I could get her done any sooner than tomorrow.”

You nodded, “Okay. I’ll try and get a ride home then.”

“Alright, Doll. Let me write down your number real quick so I–so we can call ya when she’s ready.”

You wrote down your name and number for him on a pink sticky note that he stuck to the dash. 

“Perfect!” He smiled at you, “We’ll call ya tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, “Awesome! Thank you…Oh. I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Yunho. My name is Yunho, sweetheart. It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand for you to shake.

And you couldn’t help the ramming of your heart in your chest when he took your hand into his own.

Yunho watched as you stepped out into the parking lot to call someone, presumably that questionable boyfriend of yours who seemed to be way more trouble than he was worth. He couldn’t help how his heart had dropped when you told him you had a boyfriend in the first place. After a long while of singleness, he was kind of hoping to test the waters when he saw you, and it even seemed like you responded positively to his obvious flirtations.

“So a boyfriend, huh?” Mingi startled him from behind.

Yunho let out a small sigh, trying not to let himself get too worked up about it. You had only met twenty minutes ago for fucks sake. “Yeah, seems like a real piece of work though.”

“Really?” MIngi gave his friend a skeptical side-eye, “Or is that the jealously talking.”

“No, seriously! This is his car. And she said it’s been actin’ up for a while, but he never made the time to bring it in. She only brought it here ‘cause he wouldn’t stop whining ‘bout it.”

“Huh. Sounds kinda child-like to me, but who are we to judge? We haven't even met the dude,” Mingi pat his friend on the back, “Try not to let it get you down, man. I’m sure there’s a cowboy-lovin girl right around the corner waiting for you.”

Yunho nodded, moving along so Mingi would let the whole thing drop. But no matter how many times he repeated in his head that you were taken, he just couldn’t stop looking over in your direction. You just seemed so…tired. He didn’t want to assume, but he got the feeling that this boyfriend of yours might be the main cause of that. And try as he might to reign in his ego and keep it in check, he couldn't help the part of him that knew that, whatever this man was providing for you, he could do so much better. That wasn’t really his place, though. So he let you be. 

“Yeonjun what do you mean you’re busy? You were on the couch when I left an hour ago,” you sighed through the phone.

“Baby, come on. You know I have a gig tonight,” You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “And I need to get in the right headspace, so I can’t leave the apartment. It’ll ruin the mood.”

“Is that really more important than picking me up? I’m stuck here.”

“I don’t know. Call an Uber?” Oh, you were gonna kill him.

“What? Why would I pay for an Uber when I have a boyfriend at home with my perfectly functioning car who could drive his ass over here and pick me up? For free!”

You hated how difficult it was to get him to help you out in any way. Why did he have to be so stubborn? “Listen, I really can’t break my flow right now. Maybe wait a couple hours, and I’ll come pick you up, okay? Or maybe have one of your friends pick you up.”

“It’s 3 pm on a Tuesday, Jun. Most people are at–” He hung up on you, “Work..” You trailed off.

God, this is so embarrassing. What the hell were you going to do now? You could call an Uber, but you could barely afford groceries this week. And getting this car fixed was gonna drain the last of your paycheck. 

You bit at your lip anxiously, wracking your head for options. Your friends would be more than happy to pick you up, but most of them wouldn’t get off work for another two hours. So maybe you could just wait until then. Or maybe you could hitchhike? The highway was miles off. And your gut wrenched at the idea of a stranger knowing where you lived…But maybe that could work. Or maybe you cou–

“Everything alright out here, sweetheart?” 

You jumped at his voice, “Oh! Yeah,” you scratched at your head, trying to force a smile, “My boyfriend’s just really busy, so he can’t come get me.”

“Do you…need a ride?” He offered sincerely, “I don’t wanna overstep or anything, but I could help ya if you need it.”

“Oh god no! You don’t have to do that.”

He grinned softly at you, “It’s really nothing at all. I’ll tell you what, I’m leaving here in about an hour. If you can’t find a ride before that, you’ll let me give you drive you home.”

Just say ‘yes.’ Your brain was practically begging you to speak, but you knew this would cause an argument with Yeonjun. A random handsome man bringing you back to the apartment? Oh, it was a recipe for disaster. But what other choice did you have? It wasn’t like he was gonna pay for an Uber to help you home or pick you up himself. No, he left you stranded here with a shit reason, so you were gonna get home the best way possible, and, if it pissed him off, that was his own damn fault.

“Ok,” you smiled up at him, “If you really don’t mind.”

“Trust me, Doll, it’s no problem at all. Let me just finish a couple things up and change, and then we’ll get going, okay?”

You sat on the bench inside the shop while he finished his work. Trying to give yourself a moment to breathe. This was supposed to be your day off. You had finally been able to get a break from both of your jobs, and this is how you were spending it. Trying to fix the car of your boyfriend who couldn't even put his “pre-show ritual” on hold to make sure you got home safe. Part of you was mad at him. Livid that his priorities were so far in the gutter. But you were mostly angry at yourself. Because at the end of the day, when all was said and done, you were the one who had spent six whole years of your life bending over backward for a man who wouldn’t even reach out his arm to catch you. 

You worked two jobs to support the two of you. Your paychecks paid for groceries, rent, insurance, everything. And what did he pay for? Nothing. Because he didn’t have a job. He played two gigs every month at the dingy bar two miles from your apartment, which somehow justified not even bothering to look for employment. 

How did you even get here? A deep sigh rose out of your throat. What the hell were you doing all this for? Your head hurt just thinking about all the times he’d let you down and all the stupid little arguments those let-downs had caused. And yet you were still out here paying his bills and running his errands.

“Alright, sweetheart, ready to go?” You broke out of your spiral when he called for you, and you looked up to see him no longer in the denim and baseball cap he was sporting earlier. 

Lord help me. You silently prayed to whoever might be listening, swallowing around the sudden dryness in your throat. He was sporting a light blue button-down shirt with the top two buttons left open so his collarbones were exposed and a light brown cowboy hat that almost exactly matched his hair. A cowboy. Of course. You couldn’t help the racing of your heart as he reached to adjust the brim of his hat. Unsure of whether you wanted to praise or curse whatever fate had sent him your way.

You cleared your throat and stood up from the bench, barely pushing a ‘yes’ out of your mouth. 

He grinned and motioned for you to follow him to the parking lot. The innocent gesture left you lightheaded as you focused on the way his index and middle fingers curled towards his wrist.

As you approached, he gestured to a baby blue pickup truck, “Here she is. My baby.” You chuckled, endeared by the pet name, the image of him gently patting the hood of 'his baby' as he walked around the front of the truck with you reminding you of cowboys in old westerns, leaning their foreheads against their mares as they gently stroked their manes. 

It was sweet. So sweet that you almost missed the fact that he was coming around to the passenger side of the truck with you.

He brushed past you, reaching for the passenger-side door. Swinging it open, he held out a hand to you, and you took it without much thought. 

“Up you go,” he said with a playful lilt to his voice, helping you hold your balance as you climbed into the truck.

“Thank you, Yunho.”

“It’s not a problem at all, Doll. I got ya.” He was going to be the death of you for sure.

“Ten years. You’ve been working there that long?” you looked over at him, amazed, “How old are you?”

He let out a hearty laugh, “Twenty-five. Mingi and I used to come up after school every day and help out. His grandpa used to run the shop but he retired a few years back and left it to him.”

“Oh, that’s sweet!” The thought of a little Yunho sweeping the floors and vacuuming cars made you smile. 

He hummed, “Yeah, it’s been a real nice job. Flexible hours, good pay, get to meet pretty girls from time to time.”

The tips of your ears burned at his blatant flirting. You looked over to see him focused on the road in front of you. The rays of the late afternoon sun shone on his face, letting you see the tan glow of his skin up close. 

Why did you have to meet such a seemingly perfect man today? Why couldn’t this opportunity have fallen into your lap six years ago? 

And fuck you knew you needed to end things. But more than half a decade of your life had been poured into this relationship and you couldn’t find it in your heart to let that go so easily.

Yunho noticed you looking over at him in his periphery, expecting some kind of playful rebuke, but was more than a little worried by your silence. Afraid he'd crossed a line, he was quick to apologize, eyes sincere and tone sober when he chanced a proper glance your way. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’ mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No! It’s fine,” You assure him, unconsciously threading your fingers through the ends of your hair, “I just don’t usually get this kind of attention. I know you’re just being playful.”

He nodded, some of his playfulness seeping back into his expression as he cleared his throat, adjusting the brim of his hat as he fixed his attention back onto the road in front of him. “I promise I’m not lyin’ about the ‘pretty’ part, though. I hope you know that.”

You scoff, but you can feel the heat in your cheeks rise, “Thank you…”

Silence enveloped the two of you after that, but he didn't seem to mind. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and humming along to the music playing out of the car's stereo. In another life, one where the man waiting for you back at your apartment wasn't hell-bent on driving you insane, you wanted to believe that you could be strong enough to look away. To ignore the butterflies filling your stomach. To ignore the way he made your heart flutter. But you just couldn’t find it in you to look away, but he didn’t seem to catch on.

He thinks it's cute that you think he doesn’t notice. He’s very keen on noticing your every little move. The way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear when he called you pretty and the way you awkwardly fidgeted with your bag when you told him that you didn’t normally receive that kind of attention.

It took every ounce of self-control in his body to keep him from prying. But he couldn’t help the way he started to hate this man that he’d never met even more. What he wouldn’t give to have a partner who was willing to go get his car fixed without asking. Someone who was so dedicated to the relationship that they were willing to sacrifice the little free time they had just to help out.

As he pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, he glanced over at you and met your eyes for a second. You quickly whipped your head away, embarrassed that you’d been caught red-handed. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, smiled, “Here we are.”

“Mhm,” you nodded awkwardly, busying yourself with checking that you had all your things set to go. “Thank you for the ride. It means a lot.”

“Not a problem at all, Doll. Need me to walk you up?” he asked, leaning forward to try and meet your eyes.

You shook your head, “No, I’ll be alright.” You gave him a smile, “So you’ll call me tomorrow?”

He nodded, the tip of his hat dropping slightly, “Yep, I should be done with ‘er around noon.”

“Perfect! Again, thank you so mu–”

You were cut off by the sound of someone pounding on the passenger side window. Both of you turn at the sudden commotion. 

Yunho watched as you hurriedly swung the door open and slid out of the car. And he heard a muffled, “Jun, what the hell!?” after you’d slammed the door of his truck.

Ah, the boyfriend.

“Are you insane? What the fuck is your problem?” You yelled.

Yeonjun glared at you through the wild strands of his crimson hair, “My problem!? Who the fuck is that?”

“Oh, that’s your issue? That I had to have the mechanic drive me home?” You seethed, jabbing a finger into his chest, “This could’ve easily been avoided if you had picked your sorry ass off the couch to drive me home yourself. Like any decent partner would.”

Your not-so-subtle jab seemed to go over his head, his mind too focused on the image of you smiling and blushing in response to a man that wasn’t him. “You really couldn’t have found a woman to drive you home? It just had to be this dick.”

“No, Yeonjun, I couldn’t find a woman to drive me home. You know why? Because it’s a Tuesday afternoon and all of my friends have jobs. Unlike you who can’t even take the time to take a break from whatever the fuck you do all day to give me a ride.”

He gawked at you, clearly offended, “I have a job.”

“Oh my god. This again?” You ran a frustrated hand over your face, “No. You don’t. Practicing with your bandmates twice a week and playing a single gig a month is not a job. You make $100 a month.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want a nine-to-five? I like my schedule the way it is.”

You could feel angry tears forming at the back of your eyes, stinging as you held them back, “You think I DO!? Yeonjun, I work sixty hours a week trying to keep us afloat. I pay for our food, our rent, our insurance, your fucking car! And I can’t even get you to pick up the damn apartment when I’m gone.” The tears started falling before you even realized it, shocking both of you. It had been a long time since he’d last seen you cry. Because you always chose either anger or an eerily calm response to his childishness. Knowing deep down that he wouldn’t be able to comfort you if you slipped into vulnerability. “I’m fucking tired Jun. This was my first day off in three months, and I spent it trying to get your car fixed. And I can’t even get a ‘thank you’ out of you. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. You aren’t nineteen anymore, and I think it’s time you grow the fuck up.”

He didn’t say anything. The anger in his face replaced by a mix of shock and awkward discomfort, one of a man who was embarrassed to even be in this situation.

You stayed like that for a beat, holding your breath, praying for the moment when he realized everything he’d done wrong. Where he woke up from the immature daze he’d been trapped in since you were teenagers. But you supposed that was all wishful thinking, the tension broken not by either of you, but by a honk from behind him. His bandmate was here to pick him up. 

He couldn’t even look you in the eyes. “We’ll talk about this later,” he mumbled before jogging up to his friend’s car and sliding into the passenger seat. You watched him give his friend one of their ridiculous handshakes, the sound of blaring music and feminine laughter spilling out into the parking lot before the car door slammed shut. The scene was so ironic in the face of everything he'd just yelled at you for that you really couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up through your tears, bitter as acid on your tongue.

Yunho sat in his truck as he watched your asshole of a boyfriend leave the parking lot. He stayed like that for a while, watching you wipe at your tears and try to compose yourself. When you’d calmed down enough for his conscience to let him leave, he looked down at the passenger seat and noticed you had left your purse behind.

Grabbing the bag, he exited the truck and approached you. Trying his best not to startle you, he cleared his throat. 

Surprised by the sound, you turned around to find Yunho standing there awkwardly, holding out the purse you now realized was missing from your shoulders, “You left your bag.”

“Oh…thank you.” You mumbled, closing the distance and grabbing it from him with a bit more force than you meant to. The mechanic didn’t so much as flinch.

How could he when his heart hurt for you? This woman he could barely even claim to know. He hated the fact that you felt the need to respond defensively, the pain in your eyes, and how you could barely look at him. You shouldn’t feel ashamed of this. It wasn’t your fault. But Yunho knew without you having to say anything that you were incredibly embarrassed. 

“Listen–”

“Oh god. Please don’t”

His shoulders dropped, “I just wanted to–”

You lifted a hand to stop him, “Yunho, please. You’ve been so kind to me, and I really appreciate your help today. But please for the love of god don’t make me dump my relationship problems on you.”

“Hey now,” he said, holding both his hands up in a calming motion as he spoke in a voice so deep and steady in contrast to your own that it caught you by surprise, “I don’t mean to push or pry, Doll, you just look like you could use someone to talk to is all.”

“I just don’t want you to think down on me,” you sighed.

He looked at you sincerely, slipping the hat from his head and placing it on the hood of the truck, “Now, have I given you the impression that that’s somethin’ I would ever do?”

The appreciative smile you gave him almost made him melt. You leaned back against the side of his truck, tilting your head back until it hit the window with a soft thud, “I’m just so tired.”

Yunho slid next to you, awkwardly scuffing his boot into the pavement, “Would it be too rude to say I could tell?”

You chuckled, “I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’ve been trying for years to get him to just put in an ounce of effort, but he won’t budge. But we’ve been together so long I don’t know if I have it in me to end things.”

“You know it’s not your job to teach him how to be an adult, right? He’s a grown-ass man. You shouldn’t have to beg him to help you out.” 

The somber look in your eyes when you looked up at him made Yunho want to pull you in and hug you to his chest, but he respected your boundaries. 

“I know. I just…” you trailed off, no longer finding it in yourself to argue for your relationship.

Yunho took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he wanted to get off his chest, “Look, Doll, I don’ wanna overstep or anything, but I’m gonna be blunt with you.” He paused, giving you room to tell him to stuff it and save it for someone else if you wanted to. But you were looking up at him expectantly, teary eyes nearly pushing his little speech clean out of his skull. He had to clear his throat a little before continuing. “The way that man treats you is just disgusting. For everything you do for him? The least he could do is make sure that your apartment is spotless and you never have to cook again. And I’m not saying it’s me who should give it to you, but you deserve worlds better than that.”

“Yeah…” was all you could get out before you felt a tear fall down your cheek, and you tried to wipe it away before Yunho saw. But of course he noticed.

Tentatively, he placed a hand on your shoulder in comfort, running his thumb along the fabric of your t-shirt. You surprised him, though, when you turned into him and started sobbing into his chest. Your fingers desperately gripping his button down.

“Oh sweetheart,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back. Holding you with so much warmth and sincerity that you felt safer than you had in years. In the arms of a stranger, no less.

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@sushiinmidnight @atiny-dime-p1ece @mismatchfluffysocks @vic0921 @vampzity

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[taintedcigs]

— even if it’s handcuffed i’m leaving here with you

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader x eddie munson

summary: steve asks eddie for his handcuffs to spice up things in the bedroom with you, and once things go wrong, the two of you turn to eddie for help… in more ways than one. (wc: 3.1k+)

warnings: MINORS DNI, smut smut smut, or*l (f!receiving), handcuffs duh, lots of praises, dom!eddie, steve kinda subby but also soft!dom? the dynamics are mixed LMAO, pet names (sweetheart, honey, baby, slut), mmf, three way kissing idk

authors note: so this is what happens when a girl mixes her three hyperfixations; 9-1-1, steddie and CHALLENGERS. i wrote this v long ago it is a bit shitty and not proof-read SO IGNORE ALL MISTAKES THANK U. (also this is sm more meaningful to me now bc i got this song as my surprise song like i accidentally manifested this WAIT.)

and please, if you wanna support me; reblog + like + comment ILY!!

Steve is embarrassed.

Embarrassed that he has to ask Eddie for this. For handcuffs to use that he has no idea what the fuck to do with.

And of course Eddie finds it all amusing, a smirk plastered on his face while he teases Steve, rosy-cheeks turning pinker.

And normally, it would've pissed him off, Eddie's teasing, his flirty comments towards you, towards him.

But for some reason, it doesn't.

The three of you have this dynamic that he can't quite put his hand on, it's different, exciting, new, it intrigues him, more than anything.

You and Steve had just started dating, a couple months in, the honeymoon phase and all, and of course, Eddie had been there for it all.

The first moment you caught Steve's eye, you caught Eddie's too, the dynamic settled in then with Steve charming you right away, while Eddie's flirty antics didn't go unnoticed by you.

Yet, somehow, someway, it snowballed into you dating Steve. But it didn't end there. The three of you hung out often.

Very often.

So much so that you had regular movie nights, always ending up high out of your minds with Eddie’s shitty weed, talking each other's ears off 'till the sun came up.

You knew everything about his life, his shitty band gigs (the one Steve dragged you to, and surprisingly his music didn't suck), his uncle, his girlfriends. Or the lack thereof.

Eddie always mentioned how he just hadn't found the right one yet, just a bunch of meaningless sex.

And he made sure to always come to the both of you afterwards, telling everything, in great fucking detail too. 

Maybe it was weird for anyone else. But for the three of you, it was your normal. 

Especially for you, because you enjoyed them. Enjoyed his stories as they made you squirm in your seat. Reactions not going unnoticed by Steve.

And it's what led to Steve wanting to spice things up in the bedroom with you. He knew the sex was great. He was obsessed with you, and you were with him.

But, fuck, there was something missing. Something he couldn't pin point exactly. And he was willing to try out anything, especially when he remembered how much you reacted to one of Eddie's stories with the handcuffs, later mentioning to him that you really liked the idea.

The idea of losing control, giving yourself fully to another partner, and Steve's knees almost gave out right then and there.

He didn't know where the fuck to obtain handcuffs, hence why he immediately ended up at Eddie's door, enduring his endless teasing, sort of hoping that he'd offer to help.

An idea that crossed his mind, but one that he'd never verbalize, unless, you mentioned it too.

The second he showed you the handcuffs you squealed in excitement, putting on your best lingerie, making a show out of everything before the two of you didn't hesitate to jump on each other. His clothes scattered in the room, you in your lingerie, hungry for each other.

His mouth lingered, scent so intoxicating that you could feel your thighs dampen, lips all over your skin and hands squeezing whatever he could grab onto, both of you feral.

“Y'know I didn't wanna have to do this,” he murmurs into your lips, bringing the cuffs in your view, playing into it, enjoying the giggles you give him in return. 

“Please, sir, promise I'll be good,” you pout with those doe eyes, making Steve almost cave in, cock stirring against his tight boxers, begging to be attended to. 

He gives a rough grunt before pining your hands above your head “That’s my girl.” 

“But you still have to be punished,” he hisses quietly, putting his weight on top of you, the cold metal off the first cuff making you shiver, he tightens it as soon as he locks it, making sure your other wrist is free, for now. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on ya, doll.” His hums make you whine loudly.

“For now.” You can feel his smirk widening when his lips attack yours again, hungry, as his bulge presses against your inner thighs, his hand holding your cuffed one in place, making you mewl desperately, kisses traveling down your chest. 

And of course, you use his distraction to your advantage, quickly grabbing onto his free hand, the second cuff clicking onto its place before he can even attempt to protest. 

“I guess we’re even now, pretty boy,” you tease with a sultry voice, but Steve’s head pops up to meet your doe eyed gaze with a panic. 

“Did you just handcuff us both to the bed?” He asks, shear dread overtaking his face, making you furrow your brows. 

“Yeah, baby, that’s the whole point,” you giggled, attempting to kiss him again but he pulled away. “Fuck,” he groaned, making you roll your eyes. 

“Oh c’mon, I know you have a thing for women being in control.” 

True, and it would’ve turned him on, almost made him bust out right then and there, if the context was any different, but instead he could just groan in panic. “Oh, sweetheart, I do, but fuck-”

“What?” You ask, face puzzled.

“The keys are in my pockets,” he murmurs, gaze trailing near the dresser. 

Your eyes follow his, the jeans you threw in a hurry were placed upon the dresser, far away from the two of you, and there was no physical way to reach for them. 

Both of you, cuffed to the bed, and no one there to save you.

“Oh, shit.” 

-

The two of you tried every possible position to get out, but there was no fucking luck, and that’s when you finally settled on calling someone for help. 

It was obvious the only person you could call for help was Eddie, but you knew his teasing would be relentless, curls bouncing each time a laughter rumbled from his stomach, making you huff out immaturely. 

“Seriously, Eddie, this isn’t funny!” Steve chided, a bit playfully considering he knew how stupid the two of you must’ve looked, and it just made Eddie chuckle louder and louder. 

“Are you kidding? This is the highlight of my week!” 

“C’mon, Eds, just help us.” Your soft tone caught his attention quickly, his smirk disappearing just as fast before he approached the two of you closer, now able to get a much better look at the two of you. 

“Oh, Harrington, what did you even do?” He rambled, trying to ignore that feeling he always got, but this time much stronger, you in your lingerie, and Steve’s obvious bulge that made Eddie gulp physically. Shit.  

“I totally should’ve offered to teach you both.” He didn’t even know where the fuck that came from. Word vomit.  

“Why didn’t you?” Curiosity got the best of you, and you didn’t even realize the implications of your words, until the two boys snapped their heads in your direction, like you’ve blurted out the most scandalous shit ever. 

“I- uh- what?” Eddie stammered, eyeing Steve carefully, not knowing if this was a joke. Or if both of you actually meant it.

He never thought it was possible. This. The three of you. Sure the dynamic between all of you had been tethering on something more. But never straight forward like this. 

It surprised both of you when Steve spoke up, lips twitching into a smirk. “Why didn’t you offer to teach us?” The two of you finished each other’s sentences, it almost looked intentional, as if the two of you have planned this, like the two of you ever talked about this. 

You didn’t, it was just natural. Something you both had been too ashamed to admit. 

Something even Eddie couldn’t admit to himself, other than a few jokes, and some drunken confessions here and there, but nothing like this.

All he ever wanted.

Eddie’s usual confidence was wavering, and it was amusing to see, exciting. Something you’d love to explore. Make him beg. God, you knew he’d sound pretty as fuck when he whined. 

“W-would you guys want that?” Stammering, again, yet you can’t get too cocky, because you know once Eddie fully wraps his head around what the fuck is happening, he’ll lean back into that domineering side. After the countless stories the two of you  have heard, it intrigues you both. So you and Steve unanimously help him to get there. 

“If we didn’t, we wouldn’t offer it, Munson,” you encouraged, watching the way his eyes oggle both of you, curious, ecstatic, that dirty mind conjuring something.

“So… you’re both sure about this?” 

“Sure that I want to be fucked by both of you? I think so, Munson.” You roll your eyes, so bored of the fact that you’ve been handcuffed for the past twenty minutes with no action, and because you knew it’d rile Eddie up. You’ve seen the flare in his gaze before, jaw locking in each time you rolled your eyes at him. 

And it works, like a switch, you see the dominance bubbling up on his face.

“Feisty that one, isn’t she, Stevie?”

“Mmhm, the dirtiest mouth,” Steve adds, soft hands squishing your cheeks with a smirk, insides feeling gooey with the way they both eye you. 

He tssked, “Haven’t you taught her some manners?” You whined slightly at that comment, they both knew what you wanted, what you desired, your boundaries… everything. 

A dynamic that’s been brewing for months… finally exploding into reality, and of fucking course you couldn’t hide your excitement, making Eddie grin. 

He’s quick to uncuff Steve, a groan leaving his lips at the relief from the cold metal against his skin, making Eddie’s cock stir at the sound. His two play things. And he’s going to have so much fun. 

“Wanna help me teach her some manners, pretty boy?” Steve didn’t even answer, holding you down and spreading your thighs while Eddie grabbed your other hand, cuffing you properly this time, tightening it and relishing in your pathetic mewls. 

Biting the inside of your thighs, Steve didn’t hesitate to tease you, spreading your pussy lips open to show it to Eddie, both of them grinning hungrily, “look how pretty she looks, Eds.” 

“Such a gorgeous pussy,” Eddie hummed, admiring, groaning with a deep sigh. 

All he fucking dreamed about. 

Glistening with your arousal, inviting him in, and those goddamn sultry eyes were driving him insane, making him blink twice to make sure he wasn’t imagining, both of you looking at him like you wanted to eat him up. 

A kind of attention he wasn’t used to, but it got him more and more riled up, confident, trailing his fingers by your inner thighs, the sensation of Steve’s lips brushing against your thighs while Eddie’s fingertips softly teased at your skin was something straight out of a dream. 

Eddie looked at Steve, a subtle need to get his permission to press his lips to you.

So new… boundaries blurred and unknown, and Steve was quick to nod, hungrily watching the two of you, cock straining so hard against his boxers that he was aching.

Desperate. 

Eddie was more or less the same, especially when you initiated the kiss, the softness of your lips brushing against his, making him whine pathetically. 

It didn’t take long for him to take control again, the dynamic between the three of you changing ever so quickly, Steve still ghosting inside of your thighs, stomach, chest, legs, everywhere.

And shit… Eddie was a good kisser. 

His lips were demanding, soft but somehow still teasing, attentive. His tongue didn’t meet much resistance as it danced against yours, smooth, on beat, the type that made flutters appear in your stomach, all the while Steve’s touches making your thighs dampen. 

Too much. But in the best way possible. 

If your hands weren’t tied up, it would’ve been surfing through their soft hair, demanding more attention, making you grew more and more frustrated, a smirk sitting on both of their lips at your pathetic moans. 

A light scruff of Eddie’s beard scratched against your cheeks before he broke the kiss, “Steve,” he hummed, gaining his attention, head popping up all ecstatic, “C’mere.” 

Both of them stick to your side, weight of the bed shifting as the gazes exchanged almost burned each other through the core. Full of longing, desire, and hunger.  

Eddie angled your face toward Steve, “Kiss her,” he demanded.

A demand that didn’t take Steve a second longer to obey, thick fingers brushing against your face as his big hands cupped your heated cheeks, with your lips parted slightly he didn’t hesitate to push his tongue inside your mouth, possessing you fully, completely, an uncontrollable whine slipping past your lips. 

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered, “you guys are so hot.” His breath fanned against your neck, hot hands running down your body, all three of you growing more and more impatient with each ragged breath, Steve’s tongue still shoved down your throat while Eddie played with your breasts, lips on your neck, making you squirm. 

You could feel Eddie’s needy cock pressing against your ass, while Steve’s was barely confined in his boxers, prodding against your thigh, you don’t know how or when it happened but Eddie had joined in on the kiss too, the three of your lips moving in synch, busy between each other’s hot mouths, tongues curious and on beat, all magical and tempting.

Dark depths you always wanted to explore but never could, sloppy and filthy in the best way possible, shutting your eyes close as you enjoyed it, felt it all. 

Unsure of who’s tongue was tangled in yours at this point but you could careless, disorienting you in a way that you couldn’t tell whose hands were hot all over your body, everywhere, messy, and uncontrolled. 

And fuck, did you need more. 

You could tell they did too, dicks twitching against you in a way that made you flutter. 

And it felt like the three of you communicated, telepathically, because both of them, somehow managed to break the kiss, making your face fall in for more, unable to do anything with your hands cuffed to the bed. Infuriating, and not helping the wetness that had well already pooled inside of you. 

“Awww, our pretty baby is needy, isn’t she?” Eddie mocked, both of them shifting down to your thighs, attention all on you as they spread you wider, mesmerized gaze following your every slight twitch. 

“Relax,” Eddie cooed, amber gaze dangerously warm, both making you whine and giving you comfort at the same time, and before you could think, Steve’s hands warmed you up as well. 

“Let us take care of you,” he added, and you couldn’t help but enjoy their squeezing, kneading, making you feel so fucking good. 

You nodded, squirming as Eddie’s bearded chin tickled your skin, planting kisses inside of your thigh, while Steve’s fingers teased you, and all you could do was whine, hips rising from the bed, lust overshadowing the initial doubt. 

“That’s our good girl,” Eddie praised, your thighs spread open, pussy exposed, completely. The two of them taking care of you, hands everywhere and one of their thumbs teasing your entrance, collecting your juices, smearing it around your lips, making you go airborne. 

You could barely comprehend what happened when fingers slipped inside of you, one at first, then two, slicked in your juices, teasing, pumping in and out of you.

Head thrown back, you embrace the euphoria, different fingers entering inside of you, both of them deeper and deeper, squelching noises and your whimpers so heavenly that Eddie could feel his cock twitching, while Steve pathetically rutted into the sheets, desperate for some friction.

Fingering you until you could hear how wet you were, opening you up. Fully exposed to them.

You were too fucked out to notice that they had both started kissing your pussy lips, lapping up your juices, drinking you in, Eddie on one side and Steve on the other. 

Heaven-sent.

You moaned like a bitch in heat, Eddie and Steve’s dripping cocks stirred at the sound, desperate to make you cum, to taste you.

Their fingers linked inside of you, thumbs continuing their rubs, and that hot white spot appeared behind your eyes. 

You wanted to cum.

Fuck that.

You needed to cum.

And who were they to deny their little angel? 

You had earned it.

Back arched, hands tight against the cuffs, all you could do was mewl as their fingers were stretching you, licks all over your hole making your breath ragged, “E-Eds… Stevie… I-I… shit!” 

Eddie was quick to pop his head to meet your gaze, fingers still continuing their movements, flicking your sensitive spots as he gave you that goddamn grin again. “You wanna cum doll… don’t ya?” 

Your body was frail. The most beautiful ache. Your entire nerve system felt like it was about to explode. 

Everywhere. All at once. 

“Come for us,” Steve  encouraged, his and Eddie’s fingers moving faster, Steve lapping up your juices while Eddie’s tongue found your clit, sucking on it like it was his lifeline. 

The softest tongue, but the roughest movements. Just fucking perfect. 

“Oh, fuck!” You hissed, “E-Eddie, S-Steve!” 

“That’s right, slut, scream our name while you come for us,” Eddie demanded. 

And fuck you wanted more, so much more. Just the idea of having two of them inside of you at the same time was enough to have your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head. 

But you couldn’t wait. 

“You-you’re both so… fuck… fu… fu… fuckkkkk…” Your words got caught in the back of your throat, pathetic noises was all they could make out, especially as Eddie’s tongue circled around your clit, suckling, fingers working faster as it finally brought you over the edge. Making you jerk and come so hard that white spots flew behind your eyes. 

The wildfire and the chemistry between the three of you burning your insides, that tingling warm sensation prickling every inch of your skin. 

“God, you taste perfect, sweetheart,” Eddie praised with a low hum. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that fucking moan?”

“You’re so fucking hot, baby,” Steve growled, making you his while he gently uncuffed you, each of their praises sending warm tingles down your spine.

Fuck, they were good. 

And as Steve was about to get up, Eddie stopped him with a quick tut. “Okay, pipe down, sweetheart, you still have a lot to learn.” 

With that dumbfounded look on his face, he turned to face Eddie, making him grin wider. 

“Oh, Stevie you look so cute with that confused look on your face, such a pretty face isn’t he?” Eddie’s attention turned to you, still so domineering that all you could do was frantically nod. 

“Do you wanna help me teach him, baby?” You nodded, again, gaze glazed, overtaken by desire.

The two of you were quick to pin him down, skin meshing all together when you helped Eddie cuff him.

“Let us take care of you, pretty boy.” 

[phant0mth1ef]

bakugou x blunt business course reader hcs / let me know if you guys want little drabbles of this!!

- usually business course students wanted to create their own companies, but there were a select few like you and some others that agreed to take on the challenge of trying to market heroes as approachable and attractive!

- he’s known your name since first year due to your placement in the sports’ festival, honestly with your quirk he was surprised you didn’t take the hero track. anyways his nickname for you was “wasted potential business course extra.”

- the first time he actually talked to you was in second year when the teachers had told the hero course students to get more invested with those in the business course, stating that one day they’d be in charge of each and every career.

- was a pain in the ass when he first met you, like he literally sucked and you dreaded every meeting.

“hello… bakugou?” you said skimming down the list of potential heroes you were supposed to meet with.

“yeah, what?” you knew getting people to like him was going to be even harder than getting people to like another client of yours, monoma.

“don’t take that tone with me, i’m basically launching your career.” you typed away on your laptop as the boy sulked in a chair, listening to everything you said.

“as i was saying, marketing yourself in a way similar to best jeanist can have either a good outcome, they’ll approve of you. or a bad outcome, they’ll call you a copycat.”

“tch.” so he ignored your advice and launched his career in a way similar to the pro hero’s and ended up getting insane backlash to the point where you had to step in and try to completely rebrand him.

eventually you got people to start referring to him as the blast hero.

“people are calling me blasty boy.”

“wow. that’s really unfortunate for you! anyways, what’s your height? this company wants to interview you for their tall men friendly jeans.”

- hated meeting with you because of how blunt and honest you were, but also grew to like you because whenever you complimented him, he knew you were genuine.

- would try to blow off meetings just for you to find him and drag him back to the business course meeting rooms, your quirk was something similar to blackwhip so he couldn’t ever really get out of your hold.

- once he realized how popular he was quickly getting thanks to you, he started to actually value the time you’d been putting into making him an admirable hero, but he couldn’t say the same for monoma who, no matter what you did, could not be saved in the publicity department.

- would never thank you, at least not directly.

“i guess this is where we part ways.” you told him at your last meeting before graduation.

“… i guess so. 🧍🏻 thanksorwhatever.” he spoke fast, as if he’d run out of words before leaving.

- even though he said he hated you on countless occasions, he couldn’t deny that he’d begun to miss you when you weren’t around. going so far as to find your contact and call you up once he started his own agency.

“you want me so bad.” you said as you walked in, your briefcase in hand as you shoved the boy to the side, headed up to your new office.

“no i don’t! just need help. s’all!” he was so easy to piss off it was so funny.

- you made him take modeling gigs when his approval ratings were low.

- one time you both went to grab dinner and people assumed you were on a date and you guys just never corrected them and continued to do stuff like that.

- eventually you fell into a routine, and although he never explicitly asked you out, you’d moved into his apartment, did couple things like kiss and stuff, and were always around each other.

- even he thought you were dating until you got interviewed once.

“a boyfriend?… no.” you were so oblivious it was crazy, he had to tell you afterwards that he thought you were his girlfriend.

“WE’RE DATING?” you were completely shocked and he just stood like like a statue.

“YOU DIDN’T KNOW?!”

[munsster]

rockstar standards

A/N: PLS PLS PLS DROP SUGGESTIONS FOR HOCKEY STEVE/EDDIE im having a total brainfart but i need to break into the hockey au game bc i love it 😻 (gif creds: @cuntyarmand)

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, 90s AU

Summary: Corroded Coffin starts to gain some traction, and you can't help feeling stranded. 1.5k words

Warnings: minor angst/hurt comfort, fluff, pining, pet names (bug, sweetheart, sweets, baby), jealousy, undressed cuddling,

You watch him parade around the stage every Friday night. Sometimes he's playing the home stage, other times he books random amphitheaters and dive bars. But today, he's drenched in purple light on the outskirts of Chicago. It's by far the biggest venue Corroded Coffin has played. You sit by the pop up bar, but bodies are packed like sardines in this place. It's hot and loud, but it's worth it to see him so elated.

Even through his streaky eyeliner, you can tell he's adoring the attention of the pit. You can see their red fingernails and shiny tank tops and free flowing hair. You never thought Eddie would be the kinda thing you were attracted to. You also know he's not the kinda guy to be attracted to something like you. You know guys like Eddie usually go for the Pam Andersons and Courtney Loves. The Party girls. Not the ones who have nothing better to do on a Saturday night than watch a romcom alone.

That Sunday, Eddie pulls onto your street. It's late and he has a ringing headache. He couldn't think of anything better to do after touching down in Hawkins again. You'd headed home the night before, and it made his gut wrench knowing he wouldn't get to see you the rest of the weekend.

Your door creaks open, and he's smiling on the other side. He's already leaning against your doorway with the bouquet he bought earlier from the woman selling them on the corner.

"Missed you, bug," he huffs, "Can I come in?"

You step aside without another word, and he hangs his leather jacket on the coat rack like always. Something feels off when he sits on the couch to find you're on the complete opposite side from him. Usually, you're not shy about cuddling up beside him to watch a movie or share snacks or just talk.

He frowns and scoots closer, leaning in to grab at your ankle playfully. You kick his hand away, brow set hard above your lethal glare.

"Sweetheart," he huffs, tilting his head in confusion, "What's going on? Where's my cuddlebug?"

"I dunno, somewhere in Hollywood?"

His eyes nearly pop out of his head at that. You're his favorite girl and you know that. So why're you grilling him now.

"Tell me what's goin' on. What did I miss?"

And you look serious, too. This isn't some running joke he missed out on while he was away. He's not sure who bruised your confidence, but he's sure he'd like to have a few words with them. He hates the way your lip wobbles and your eyes avoid him cause it gives you away. That's how he knows you're heartbroken.

"Eddie," you whine, swiping a hasty tear from your cheek. "I just don't know why you keep me around when you could have any of those girls at your bon vivant gigs."

"Fuck is that supposed to mean, bug?" He barks it out on accident, sitting back on his haunches with a scowl. "I'm sorry, but there's no way I'm gettin’ rid of you."

"Eddie, please... you're gonna make it big and get shipped off to Tinseltown, and I'll still be here, teddy. Probably being someone's lonely, suburban housewife. It's what I'm made for, and that's not what you want."

"You're wrong."

"And maybe you should go," you whisper, choking back a sob and standing from the couch.

"No, sweets, you're wrong," he says, standing and striding over to you, "You've got me wrong, and you've got you wrong."

You cross your arms over your chest and finally look him in the eye.

"'S that so?"

"Yeah," he tuts. And he has the most charming, most dastardly smile you've ever seen, flashing his canines like a gentle killer. "'Cause I'm gonna take you with me."

"Teddy."

"Nope, I'm takin' you with me wherever I go, and there's nothin' you can say to change my mind. Even if you hate my music forever, fine, I'll fix you up in a nice five star anywhere we go. You can sit and watch all the movies you like. You'll be nobody's housewife, baby, 'cause I'm keepin' you."

You roll your eyes, batting away tears when he grabs your hand to pull you back to the couch.

"And what if I said that's not what I want?" you suggest, testing his rockstar resolve with your big, wet eyes and stubborn quips.

"Then I'll give you somethin' else. Anything else. But you're mine no matter what." If only you knew how proud it made him to call you his girl. To know you support him even if you don't love his genre.  "Now, would you come closer? You're killin' me."

You obey with a frigid pout, letting him drape your thighs over his and brush his ring clad paws over your cheeks, down your neck.

"But what about your groupies and the pretty girls at the bars or in the front row?"

"What about 'em?" he says, just barely shaking his head, "I'll have somethin' way better waiting for me."

You chuckle. "You're crazy."

He cocks a brow. "Old news."

When he notices how close you've gotten, he smiles. Your manicured nails graze over his chest with the only light washing over you from the dimly lit kitchen. He can't resist his palm curling behind your neck, pulling you close for a sweet kiss.

"Where d'you keep your vases?" he mumbles, remembering the tulips resting on the little table.

"Kitchen. Above the fridge," you say with your fingers already slotting between his to pull him towards the warm light. He loves you like this: sickly sweet and tender, holding him all gentle in your hot pulse. You go to reach for a painted ceramic vase, but he wraps his arm around you and turns you away.

"Ah ah ah, drop it, sweetheart. That’s my job," he says against your temple, holding the lip of the vase and patting your ass. He takes the bouquet from your grasp and sets both on the counter by the sink. You hand him a pair of scissors and he carefully snips the stems jagged, filling the vase with water.

His stomach flips when you wrap your arms around his waist and clasp your hands at his belt. He sets the prepared arrangement aside and turns in your embrace.

"All done," he says wickedly, palming your face with his wet hands. You jump back with a squeal, pelting a dish rag at this chest.

"Use a towel, you slob!"

He chuckles and wipes his hands on his shirt, tossing the towel over his shoulder and leering at you like he's starved.

"Come here," he mumbles. You go a little shy under his gaze, dropping your head and shuffling towards his presence. He catches you by the hips, dipping down to catch your mouth in a prying kiss. You grin against him and he groans, tugging you tight against his body.

"Always love how soft you are, baby. Surprises me every time." He shakes his wild mane and purses his lips for you to kiss this time.

"Where d'you want the flowers?" he says.

"Bedroom?"

His eyes light up involuntarily, and he grabs the vase, bounding off towards your room gleefully. You jog to catch up with him, and when you enter the threshold, he's expertly positioning the vase next to a stack of books on your dresser.

"Much cleaner than mine," he says, gesturing around the room, "You keep it nice in here."

You shrug. "Could be cleaner."

"You can never see mine," he teases, knowing full well you already have. He slings his arms low on your hips, adoring you in the blue light of dusk. "Can I undress you?"

You bow your head and whisper, "teddy..."

"Not like that. Just wanna hold you."

You kiss his slanted mouth sweetly, nodding.

He reaches for the edge of your soft cotton dress, pulling it up and over your head. He whistles low upon seeing your undergarments, whipping his shirt off and onto the floor somwhere. You giggle, helping him with his belt buckle. He traces your temple with his lips leaving kisses along the way. He steps out of his jeans and lets you lead him around the bed.

His curls sprawl out against your pillows, and he welcomes you into his side with a lazy smile. Your reach to touch his waist and softly feel over the scar below his ribs.

"Little tender, bug," he hisses. You bat your eyes up at him scared, pulling your hand away.

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "No, please," he whispers, cradling your wrist, his eyes locked with yours. He draws the hair away from your neck, replacing it with his fingers to dance down along your spine. You’re warmer than he’s ever felt before and thankful for it. His hands are cold, but he doesn’t have to worry about it for very long when you bring each fingertip to your lips for a kiss.

“You’re my girl, alright? Always,” he whispers and you nod, “always.”

masterlist

[carmenized-onions]

Do the Thing! | Toilet Repair

logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.

series history; Previous Chapter

portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).

you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.

“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”

This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.

Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.

You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”

She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”

“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”

“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”

“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”

“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”

“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”

She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”

“Good things?”

“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”

You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”

“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”

“The connection?”

“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”

“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”

She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”

Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”

“Ah. N’ then…”

“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”

She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”

“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”

“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”

You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.

“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”

You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”

She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”

Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.

“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.

“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”

“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”

You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”

“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”

“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”

He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.

You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.

Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.

“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”

Tina hums with understanding. ���Feels gutted?”

“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”

“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”

You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”

“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”

That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”

His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...

She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”

You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”

“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.

“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?

You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”

“Did they?”

Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”

You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.

“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.

She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”

This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.

It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.

But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.

On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”

They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”

He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”

“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.

When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.

“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.

“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”

He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”

“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.

You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.

“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”

The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.

He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.

You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”

He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”

Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.

He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.

“What the fuck?”

Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.

“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.

“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”

“In The Beef!”

“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”

He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”

He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”

“The thing?”

You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.

“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”

“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”

You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.

Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.

“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”

He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.

He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.

He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.

He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”

“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.

“Huh?”

You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”

You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.

You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”

You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…

“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.

“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”

You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”

“If you’ll take it.”

“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”

“How’s that going?”

You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”

“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.

“How’s the second day open going?”

“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”

You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”

“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”

Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—

The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”

There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.

The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.

“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”

“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”

He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”

You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.

Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.

You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”

Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.

Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.

Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.

After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”

She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.

It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…

“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.

I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”

“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”

Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”

She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”

“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.

“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”

You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”

You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”

“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.

Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.

You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”

“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”

He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”

He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”

“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”

He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.

“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”

He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”

Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.

“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.

He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”

You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”

He squints. “…How’re you—”

“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.

“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”

With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.

“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”

He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.

“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.

“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.

“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”

You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”

He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”

“Heard.”

You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.

He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”

“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”

“The chaos menu? She said—”

“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”

He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”

He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”

“…No.”

“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”

He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”

He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”

“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.

“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.

You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”

He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”

There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.

“At what? Self-help?”

He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”

You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.

You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.

…

When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”

She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”

“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”

“Oh.”

“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”

“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.

“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.

“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”

She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”

All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.

“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”

You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”

“Does it?”

“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.

She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?

“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”

You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.

“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”

You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.

“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”

You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”

You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”

“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”

“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.

“But?”

“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”

She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.

Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!

Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!

Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!

Next Part

[musings-of-a-college-dork]

First Time With Someone Like You…

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader, brief mentions of Billy x reader

Word count: roughly 10.1K

Eddie and his girlfriend finally put a label on it at last and now they’re feeling ready to take another new step together.

Warnings: NSFW (Minors do not interact), oral (f receiving), protected p in v sex, mentions of kinky shit but no kinky shit, reader’s first time having sex, inexperienced reader, terms of endearment (baby, pretty girl, sweetheart), AFTERCARE INCLUDED BECAUSE YES, fluffy sweet sex. 

Author’s note: I got a message the other day from @wdsara48 sending some very sweet thoughts about Bumpy Ride which is my other NSFW piece currently published and asking if I had ever written Eddie with an inexperienced reader and yes I have! This is that piece! It's again part of the same longer work that most of my Eddie stuff is from! Anyway it's on the longer side and I hope you all enjoy!

The Hideout was never a big spot, never drew a big crowd, but recently Corroded Coffin had managed to get a bigger gig - a going away party for a good friend of Gareth’s. The group had all banded together in order to make sure their setlist was flawless, down to a t, and needless to say, it had paid off. 

Corroded Coffin had just finished their rendition of “Jessie’s Girl”, which had left the crowd more than satisfied and their pockets heavier than usual as they began packing up their belongings. Music blared over the speakers, although it was nothing compared to them live. Eddie was also a little stoked on the premise that his girlfriend was here - something that always made him excited. Up until this point, they had never said the words to each other and had never put an official title on it but now…tonight they were ready to introduce her to the band as the girlfriend. People were still laughing and talking, but Y/N and her friend Jude who she had come with weren’t quite ready for the party to be over.

 “Hey Y/Nnnnnn”, Jude sang as they ran up and poked their friend. “Jonathan’s going to drive Nancy, Robin, and I home. Do you want to come?” 

“Oh,” Y/N said as she looked between her friend and the boy she was now thrilled to call her boyfriend, before shaking her head, “Thank you but…I think I have other plans. I appreciate it though! Have fun! And be safe!” She tacked on to the end despite herself. Jude engulfed her in one last hug. 

“You little freak “ they whispered, before heading out the door with the rest of their friends. Eddie was closing his guitar case and walked over to the bar to collect a few last donations people had left for the band. Once he gathered his money, he smiled and jogged to Y/N.

“Hey you”, he looked down at her. 

“Hey there yourself,” she laughed as she took one of his hands into hers, “You put on a remarkable show Munson. Really.” He blushed.

“What can I say?,” He took a pause before asking, “Seriously, what can I even say to you right now? I’m getting so distracted.”

“Maybe brief introductions to your bandmates who I don’t know and then…” Y/N had to take a little breath to gain the courage to ask, “We go back to yours?” Eddie looked into her eyes with disbelief. He grabbed her hand and started fiddling with her fingers out of nerves.

“For sure, yeah. They’ve been dying to meet you”, he said absent-mindedly, as he pulled her over to the boys sitting on the stage. “Hey fellas, there’s someone I want for you to meet”, Eddie beamed. Y/N stood at his side, his hand still in hers as she gained the attention of his bandmates. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m Eddie’s girlfriend.” God did it feel good to say it at last. The band stood in stillness. 

This stillness lasted for eternity. 

Gareth and Jeff looked at each other, trying too hard to hide their smile. Finally, Harrison broke the silence.

“Wow…” he cleared his throat. “ That’s… excuse me….that’s really cool.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to finally meet this girl that Eddie hasn’t been able to shut up about, since the beginning of summer,” Jeff reached out to shake her hand. Y/N let go of Eddie’s hand to return it only for Eddie to take the free hand on the other side of her with a little squeeze.

“It’s equally as nice to meet his wonderful bandmates at last,” Y/N said, returning the hand squeeze with one of her own. 

“Honestly we thought he was making you up,” leaned Harrison, who leaned on the mic stand in order to properly shake his head. 

“Oh really?” Y/N laughed as she looked at Eddie, “He made me sound too good to be true?” 

“You would not believe it. He said you were hotter than Phobe Caits,” Jeff laughed. “Which you actually are,” Eddie turned to face Jeff with a look on his face that spelled out danger, “Respectfully,” Jeff modified with his hands up in the air.

“No one is actually hotter than Phobe Caits,” Y/N said with a smile, “But I appreciate the compliment. Well, I don’t mean to keep you all from cleaning up, let me know if I can help but if not, I’ll just wait until you’re done.” 

“Hey, no worries at all. Just enjoy the music, we’d be happy to give you a ride home,” Harrison said. 

“Considering that I am the one that drove you gentlemen here, I’ll be the one to offer,” Eddie said with a hint of agitation in his voice. He faced Y/N and winked. “The ride offer is also extended to you. We won’t be very long. Right men?”

“Right,” they barked. Y/N decided to let them work and headed to take a seat at the bar until they were done packing up, enjoying the people still partying around her. It wasn’t very long at all before Eddie slid up next to her.

“Hey,” he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, “Just so you know I didn’t do anything tonight. Like, I’m sober. In case you wanted a ride home. Scout’s honor,” he smiled and put up his hand. “And I am totally down for if you want to come over, but if you….” he faded.

“I really would like to if you want,” Y/N said softly, “I am sober too. I had half a drink and called it quits and…I want that but only if you do.” 

“Legendary,” he chuckled. He took her hand. “By the way, my van smells like armpits because of those little shits. Just so we’re clear,” he led her to the door of the bar. He took her hand and led her out of the bar and towards his van parked at the very edge of the parking lot.

“And the smell of weed?” Y/N teased completely as she enjoyed their hands swinging back and forth together. 

“Yeah…that’s me,” he chuckled as they got closer to the car. “You don’t mind it too much?”

“It’s ok, I’ll just have to sit closer to you since I like the smell of your cologne,” she smiled, making his heartbeat pick up.

“Damn,” he opened the car door for her, and offered his help, “you’re making me feel like a princess tonight.” 

“Simply trying to return the favor since you always make me feel that way,” she beamed at him as she got in the car before the rest of the band brought their stuff out and began loading it in. He shut the door gently behind her and continued to hold her hand through the window. He kissed her hand gingerly and then simply leaned against the rearview mirror, gazing at her. He completely ignored his band’s cries for help and complained. He just sat and looked at her. 

“Nice view?” She asked without looking at him. He said nothing. He lost his smile. His face turned into something else. Before Y/N knew it, he was kissing her more passionately and carefully than she had ever been kissed. 

“EDDDDIIIIIEEEEE” the band cried together. He parted from her regretfully and took one last look in her eyes before he continued onto the driver's side. Y/N was absolutely breathless as she processed it with all her fingertips coming up to trace over her lips. Eddie was opening the driver’s side door before she knew it and she had long forgotten his bandmates were present.

“Do me a favor baby and buckle up,” he said as he reached over and buckled Y/N’s seatbelt for her before not buckling his own, “it’s gonna be a bit of a rough ride.” 

“Hey Eddie, are there seat belts back here?” asked Harrison.

“Nope.” Eddie turned on the ignition and pulled out of the space, “Clench your butt cheeks to the seats and shut the hell up!”

Eddie drove as recklessly as possible, having absolutely no regard for the safety of his fellow bandmates… only becoming careful when he remembered Y/N was in the car. 

“Get out” he would say as he pulled up to their house. 

“I had fun Eddie,” they would say sheepishly.

“Out!”

Finally, when the last member had been dropped off, Y/N could watch the tension leave Eddie’s shoulders. 

“They’re good friends, huh?” She asked. 

“They are,” Eddie pulled his van into reverse and sped off the road towards his castle, “They’re young and can be idiots though.”

The pair fell into a comfortable silence until Eddie deemed that as usual, he had something more he needed to say.

“I am beyond proud to be your boyfriend,” He started making Y/N smile, “But I think, for your sake, we should come up with some kind of protocol. I’m not sure if you’d want anyone else to know that we were dating. It could ruin your reputation.” Y/N looked over at him as he drove, processing for a minute. 

“Respectfully, Eddie, I don’t care about my reputation. But…I do understand if you care about yours,” she said honestly, “I mean having me as your girlfriend kinda ruins the scary guy who hates everyone thing you’ve got going.” 

Eddie shook his head and gripped her thigh tighter. “Believe me, if I had things my way I wouldn’t be thought of as scary. People just fear what they can’t understand. And for everyone else in this dumb hick town, I am an enigma.” He pulled into a lot that had multiple trailers and drove slowly. He pulled up to his Uncle’s trailer and turned off his headlights. “I’m saying that it could be potentially dangerous for you. You could be the target of a lot of hate and gossip. Just promise me you will think about this….” Y/N felt her heart break for him just a tiny bit as she looked at him. Taking his face into her hands and turning her to look at him she nodded.

“I will. I promise,” she placed a soft kiss on his cheek which made him melt, “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

“I got you,” He murmured softly, “Always.” Y/N beamed as she leaned over and kissed him on the lips gently before pulling away. He let out a light giggle before he practically leapt out of the car and scurried to open her door for her. “M'lady," he offered her his hand. She giggled as she took it and allowed him to help her out of the car, shutting the door behind her. 

“Thanks, Eddie.” 

“It’s actually Sir Eddie, to be precise, Lady L/N '', he led her to the front door, puffing his chest out to be the most chivalrous version of himself that he could be. 

“Yes sir,” Y/N said with a laugh as she headed up the steps to stand beside him. Hearing this gave Eddie superhuman strength and he bounded up the stairs to open the door for him. Good to note, Y/N thought to herself.

“Just so you know, my Uncle works nights and I think he’s staying with his girlfriend tonight,” Eddie opened the door and bowed to let her in first. 

“That’s probably for the best,” Y/N said as she stepped inside. She admired the place, the hats that lined the walls, the countertop filled with stuff, and how warm it felt instantly, the warm lighting making her feel at ease. “I mean… never mind,” she cut herself off and stepped fully inside, pushing nerves and fear of saying the wrong thing aside.

“Sorry about the mess,” Eddie said as he moved some things here and there as Y/N continued to take it all in. She thought for a split second he maybe hadn’t heard her remark from before but as he turned to her she knew he had, “And don’t make me laugh. You know what we’re about to do”, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the left of the trailer into the far right room. “This is me”, he opened the door for her, revealing his bedroom. 

“Wow,” Y/N said, admiring how eclectic it was. The walls were crammed with stuff and despite things being fairly clean, she could tell the place was usually messy. 

Maybe I wasn’t the only one hoping for this, Y/N thought as she looked around, admiring the photos and band posters as she stepped all the way into Eddie’s room, missing that he closed the door behind and leaned against it as he watched her. Without thinking much about it she pointed to the blank spot on the wall which was remarkably out of place with the rest of the decor. 

“For your guitar?” She asked. 

“Oh yeah!” He nodded as he took a step off the wall, his eyes trained on Y/N, “You should meet her sometime. Her name’s Roxie and she has the clarity of an angel. But she’s out in the van and…. I don’t feel like she’s my main focus right now”, he grabbed her waist and pulled her in so that her back was pressed against his chest drawing a gasp from her as he moved her hair to expose her neck to him, “No offense Roxie,” he whispered before placing a kiss on Y/N’s neck softly and delicately to test the waters.

“Very respectful of you to leave her in the van when having another woman over,” Y/N teased as she leaned into him, head tilting back to rest on his chest, giving him permission to continue. He smirked and complied leaving another, and another. 

“She’s a strong and independent woman. I guess I have a type”, he said as his hands slid down her waist, giving a little squeeze to her hips. “I’d never leave you in a car though, to be clear,” Y/N laughed out loud as she slipped off her jacket. 

“I appreciate it,” She said as she turned to face him. “Eddie, I just want to say if you have any hesitati-”. He picked her up between her legs and threw her on the bed. She would have bounced but before she could Eddie wrapped his arms around her thighs, effectively pinning her hips down as he looked at her from between her legs, kneeling on the ground still. He looked at her for a moment before confessing with a sigh, “I’m hesitating like crazy.”

“Because…?” Y/N prompted as she sat up just a bit to be closer to him. He grabbed her wrists and threw them back on the mattress, positioning himself comfortably on top. He paused and looked at her for a moment before his expression shifted and he let out a sigh as he sat up to kneeling, leaning back on his hands. 

“I…I’m gonna be honest here and vulnerable and stuff,” he said, trying to keep his demeanor casual but Y/N could tell he was being serious, “But I’ve never been with someone I actually care for in the way I care about you. Most people want to hook up with me - get the town freak’s dick, learn a bit about themselves so they can get off, and leave - and that’s fine but…I guess I’m worried that since I’ve never been with anyone I cared about beyond wanting to learn…well stuff…I won’t compare to Hargrove,” he said with a little look down before shaking his head, “Which is stupid I know-”

“I wouldn’t know what Billy is like,” Y/N cut him off as she sat up. Eddie looked at her and raised a brow. 

“But you…” Eddie’s eyes went wide as he looked at her, “You and Billy never did it?”

“Nope,” Y/N said, not meeting his eyes, “We did not…we just…made out a couple of times…” His expression changed, it lightened. 

“Oh,” he slowly rubbed the sides of her thighs back and forth. “So… and correct me if I’m wrong. This would be your first?”

“Yes,” She said, looking at him because if she couldn’t admit to him she wanted him to be her first she didn’t deserve to have him as such, “It would be.” He leapt up with a drive she knew only from days when he was really pumped for Hellfire. 

“Well, then this is ALL WRONG”, he paced back and forth looking for something. “Hmmm.” He stopped when he saw his stereo. “Well, we obviously need music,” he smirked and bolted to his cassette shelf, diving in and throwing random tapes on the wall. 

“No! Seriously?” Y/N asked as she sat up, laughing as she took the time to examine his room a bit more to distract herself from the nerves, “Eddie I don’t think that’s…” Her eyes caught on a metal shiny piece hanging from the wall near where he was searching for music and she felt her breath catch in her throat. Why did he have those? Just then “I’m On Fire”, by Bruce Springsteen. The soft guitar played through the speakers as Eddie tried to diffuse the tension. 

“Oh,” he ran to his desk and ripped out a piece of notebook paper. He went to work doing something on it, but Y/N was all too distracted by the handcuffs on the wall. He finally turned around and offered her an origami rose made out of said notebook paper. “Next time, I’ll get you a bunch. Sorry, I only had one,” he sat on the bed next to her and brushed her hair aside, drinking her presence. “Whatcha looking at?”. 

“Nothing,” she said far too quickly as she turned back to him, beaming at the rose and at him. “That’s impressive,” She said, trying to clear her mind and focus on how sweet he was being, despite her stomach being in knots. 

“Well, middle school Munson didn’t have the musical talent or sexual prowess that he does now. So…. I… spent all my time making origami.” Y/N laughed out loud, a smile coming to her face.

“That’s sweet,” She admitted, “Do you do this for all the girls?” She said in an attempt at an old cheesy line, batting her eyes in a mock manner. 

“The other girls haven’t seen my bedroom”, he replied matter-of-factly. Y/N sat in silence, her eyes wide as she took in that information.

“Oh,” was all she managed, her mind drifting back to the handcuffs as she went red. Is that because he has his personal stuff here? Maybe it’s because he didn’t want them to know him…does he want me to know him? Her mind raced and he could tell by the hazy look on her face. 

“You like that?” He got up and started walking towards the wall. He looked back at her with a knowing smile. 

“Yes,” she said, completely honest, “Not to sound like a cliche but…it makes me feel…special-god, that’s such a shit thing to say-”

“Oh no, not at all,” he smirked getting closer to the wall, “I like them too. I only break them out for special occasions.” 

“Oh!” Y/N said quickly as she looked at him, “No, I didn’t mean…I meant that no one else has been here…I didn’t…” 

“Hm?'' he scrunched his face as he turned to look at her again, his hands coming to rest on his heart in mock pain. “I’m surprised at you, L/N. Do you not like it?” He pointed to the Metallica poster right next to the handcuffs. “I thought you loved Metallica- Oh did you think I was talking about…” he trailed off, trying to feign, trying to read her thoughts on the handcuffs matter. But genuinely, he was curious despite the fact he was teasing her to put her at ease. 

He hadn’t considered that they would use those ever, especially not for her first time. He didn’t mind if Y/N was vanilla which would have been his guess looking at her. Sure, she could and did talk back from time to time, something he adored, but he wouldn’t have pinged her as being kinky. But Y/N was unlike anyone he’s ever met. And if she wanted it, he’d be happy to oblige. 

“Oh god,” She said as she buried her head in her hands and laughed, “I’m so sorry, I can’t…I just…” She couldn’t even complete the thought she was laughing so hard. This broke him from his thoughts and completely focused fully back on her at this moment.

“You laughin' at me L/N?” He took this as a challenge. He puffed out his chest. This only made her giggle more as she looked up at him with a beaming smile. 

“I like Metallica,” she started as she continued to smile at him, “I also like the fact that I am the first person you’ve had here, for this…and I do like the handcuffs but not for tonight,” she said as she continued to smile at him but it shifted to a smirk at the end, “You’ve gotta ease me into it.” Eddie’s eyes went wide for a split second. Holy shit. She not only rose to the bait, she baited me back. This girl is going to be the end of me. She batted her eyes up at him and he realized in this moment of shock she had managed to get the upper hand, something he couldn’t allow. 

“Hey now”, he bent down on his knees, looking up at her. “Don’t get cocky”, he flipped her over on her back and pinned her hands down on the mattress. “That’s my job”, he paused for laughter. “Get it? Cocky?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she laughed as she looked up at him, “I get it alright. You’re so…I don’t even have words to describe you!” 

“Ah jeez you can’t think of any?” his eyes ran over her body. “Do I make you that nervous?”

“You don’t make me nervous,” she said honestly, “You make me happy and feel important and…you just make me feel like me. Sex…” She hesitated before shaking her head, “Sex makes me nervous!”. His demeanor faltered slightly. 

“Understood”, he said with the most seriousness he could portray, despite the fact that she had just made his heart explode. “ And we don’t have to do anything at all if you don’t want to-”

“No!” she said quickly, “it’s not that! It’s just…look I’ve made out with people but this is totally different from that,” Y/N said quickly, “Because I didn’t love any of them so this is different because…” She trailed off as she realized what she had admitted to. Sure the thought had been in her mind for a bit but she had never dared to say it out loud. Eddie almost missed that last part because he was concentrating so deeply but he heard it. He wanted to ask her if he had heard her correctly. That was his intention. To ask her and then if he heard her correctly. That was the plan.

But he knew he had heard her correctly. He knew it. And instead of replying, the words were moving too fast in his brain and it was all he could do to pull her into him and press his lips to hers. 

Y/N gasped as he did it, her heart racing before she melted into him, her hands coming to tangle in his hair as he laid her back down. It was only an instant before he was all over her, his lips touched every inch of her he could. He quickly slotted his knee in between her legs and pressed into her, the whine that fell from her mouth like heaven, drawing a sigh of his own. He moved away from her mouth as he pressed kisses down her jaw and to her neck. He was deliberate in his actions, strategically pressing kisses until he felt her grip on his hair tighten, earning a smirk from him. He began to abuse the spot, sucking and gently nipping at her skin as she muffled her sounds with one of her hands.

“Come on,” he coaxed as he pulled away ever so slightly to revel at the sight of her lust-blown eyes as she laid under him, “let me hear it all, baby. Just us, and you sound so pretty.” It was at that moment that he pressed his knee into her even more, drawing a whine from her that she didn’t hide as she gripped his black button-up which was still half done and revealed a couple of his tattoos. 

“Eddie,” she said softly as she looked up at him. 

“Yes, baby?” He prompted with a teasing grin as he leaned down to press more kisses to her neck, trailing lower to her collarbones. 

“Remember when you said it was my next adventure to find out how many tattoos you had?” She asked, trying her best to keep her voice steady as he continued on his course. He hummed in reply, and though he couldn’t see it, a smirk came to her face.

“How can you expect me to do that when you’re still dressed?” The chuckle that fell from his lips had her thighs pressing together, his knee still embarrassingly sandwiched between them so she knew he could feel her move. 

“Trying so hard to get me out of my clothes,” he said in a mock attempt to shame her as he pulled back a bit, “Too bad for you I’m a gentleman so…” He went to his knees once more and looked at her with pupils blown wide, “Ladies first.” Y/N’s smirk only grew as she got up from where she was laying down on the bed and first took off her fishnet tights, setting them aside with her jacket. She reached for the hem of her dress before turning her attention back to him. 

“Sure you don’t want to undress me?” The grin on his face would put the Cheshire cat to shame as he leaned back on his hands. 

“Nope,” he popped the p loudly as he leaned back even further, truly getting comfy, “I want to watch you strip for me.” Y/N slowly pulled up her dress without any more fanfare, his request being more than enough to do her in. She set aside her dress and was suddenly struck with nerves once more as she stood in the underwear she had carefully chosen. She went to meet Eddie’s eyes to get any sense of how he was feeling about it all and felt her breath hitch in her throat at the way he was looking at her.

She had people have crushes on her along the way. She’d made out with a few different people, enough to count on a single hand, and she had had sex before but no one, no one on earth had ever looked at her like Eddie was looking at her now. 

He pushed off of the bed and stood up, taking slow steps toward her as his eyes raked over every single inch of her bit by bit. When he came to stop in front of her, he gently took her arms which had come up on instinct to cover herself, and lowered them at her sides, allowing him a full view. She looked at him as he stared at her body, his one hand coming up to cup her bra-covered breast.

The piece she had chosen was mostly sheer with a few red lace flowers covering here and there and without an ounce of padding, something all too obvious as he ran his thumb over her nipple before giving her breast a soft squeeze. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he felt how soft she was underneath his hand. His eyes then met hers, his free hand coming up to rest on her cheek, “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” Any semblance of the cocky arrogant character he had put on at his show and even the teasing tone she so commonly heard from him had left his voice. As she looked up into his eyes, all she could see was sheer adoration, idolatry even. 

“You’ve seen me in my underwear before,” She said with a soft giggle as she thought back to the night last summer their little group of friends had all stripped down to their underwear for a midnight Lover’s Lake swim. His expression didn’t change as he looked at her. 

“But this is different,” his voice was deep and so full of emotions she couldn’t name as he spoke, “You’re letting me see you, touch you…you’re letting me take you as mine and allowing me to become yours. This is…you, are everything.” Y/N looked at him with that same look of adoration he had been giving her written across her face. Their eyes met again before he pressed his lips to hers once more, softly this time, so gentle it was like he thought she was at risk of breaking. She kissed him firmer, more so to assure them both that they were here, really here, together than anything else. He kissed back with equally as much passion, his hand on her breast squeezing even tighter to match drawing a gasp from her. 

Before she knew it, his hands had come to her hips and he had picked her up, her only option was to wrap her arms around his neck and legs around his waist. He let out a hum into their kiss as she did, his hands coming to hold her ass and giving it a squeeze. 

She gasped not only at the action but at the feeling of his cool rings against her heated body. He made his way to sit on the edge of the bed, resulting in Y/N sitting in his lap as he continued to kiss her. When he pulled away it was only so he could trail one of his hands up to her neck, kissing down the other side as he used his hand to manipulate her body exactly how he wanted it, listening to every little sound she made as an indication of what she wanted. He wanted to learn every single intricacy of her body, mind, and soul. He wanted to know her heart as well as he knew his own. He kissed her neck all over until he found a spot that made her breath hitch. He smiled as he did, beginning to gently nip at the skin there. When her fingers tangled into his hair and she let out a whimper that made him throb in his pants, he all but lost it. 

“You like it when I leave marks on you, pretty girl?” He asked between kisses, his hand that was on her neck coming to grasp her breast and gently pinch her nipple, drawing a moan from her. “Need words, baby.” 

“Yes,” She moaned out, fingers pulling in his hair as her head fell back when he went right back to it at her confirmation. “Feels amazing.” Eddie’s mind wandered momentarily and he pulled away causing her to whimper in complaint. He looked at her as she sat in his lap and a question came to his mind. 

“Y/N, has anyone ever eaten you out?” 

“No,” she confessed breathlessly as she looked at his swollen lips, ones she was sure matched her own. “I um…people have offered but I didn’t feel comfortable returning so I didn’t want them to so…but I’m ready now, with you.” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he praised as he gently brought his lips to hers before pulling away and smiling at her, “All I want in the world right now is to eat you out without wanting anything back. I just want to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before. We’ll have plenty of time to fully explore each other later if you ever want to. And if you don’t that’s ok, alright?” She looked at him and he watched as the tension visibly left her body as she leaned in to gently press her lips to his. As they kissed, her hands came down to the buttons on his shirt and she began to undo them. He let out a hum of approval as she did, pressing kisses to her neck and breasts as she continued until his shirt was fully unbuttoned. He untucked it from his pants when it was and opened it so she could better see him once he had. Y/N pulled away and her eyes ran up and down his body, reveling in the sight. She brought her hands up to where the shirt was on his shoulders and looked to him for permission to push it off his shoulders. He nodded, giving her all the confirmation she needed to expose his torso to her. 

She took this moment to look at the tattoos on his left shoulder, ones she hadn’t been paying that much attention to the first time she had seen him shirtless out of a need to be polite and not stare. But now, she really took them in. There were two of them on the left side of his chest, a spider and a demon. The spider was a bit higher up but they rested very close. She took a moment to trace her fingers over them as he watched her before she leaned in, pressing soft opened mouth kisses to them. Eddie’s hands both flew to her his as she felt him grind up into her, hard as a rock as she worshiped his body. She moved ever so slightly, pushing him to lay down on the bed so she could be on top, trailing kisses down his torso and to the little trail of hair that led down below- 

A little whimper of pain came from Y/N as Eddie’s hands tangled in her hair and pulled her up to straddle him. 

“Shit,” he swore as he moved his hands from her hair and gently cupped her face in his hands searching for any indication, “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry-”

“It’s ok,” Y/N said, pressing a kiss to his lips to stop his worries. She pulled away to find that the concern had partially eased and she felt a little bit bolder, leaning in to whisper to him, “Besides, I like having my hair pulled.” 

“Jesus,” He swore as she pulled back and smirked down at him beneath her, “You, Y/N L/N, are going to be the death of me.” Y/N chuckled and leaned down to continue as Eddie’s hands wound in her hair again, pulling much more deliberately this time. “Baby, this is about you, not me,” He scolded as he sat up, taking his hands out of her hair and running them down her body, “And I’m trying so hard to be gentle so make it easy for me pretty girl. Don’t you want to be good for me?” He knew it was a risk that Y/N might be against being spoken to in such a way but he watched as her eyes glazed over and her jaw dropped just a bit as she nodded. 

“Then do me a favor, pretty girl, and lay down for me.” She complied in a heartbeat, moving out of his lap and laying down on the bed. He smiled at her as he took a moment to admire her before kneeling beside the bed and adjusting her so she was exactly where he wanted her. 

“Spread your legs for me.” She did, a hint of embarrassment and anxiety coming up as she knew he may not like what he saw. She knew people who condemned girls for having bigger thighs and stretch marks and things like that and for a brief second, she let herself consciousness kick in, something Eddie seemed to be remarkably aware of. 

“Hey Y/N,” he said, drawing her gaze to look down on him, knelt between her legs, “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want but I’m telling you now, you are the most stunning person I’ve ever laid hands or eyes on. Genuinely. You have nothing to be nervous about.” She melted as she could see the honesty in his eyes and again he watched her relax. He brought his hands up and slowly parted her thighs, loving the goosebumps that appeared on her skin as his rings came into contact with her body. He had to fight the moan that threatened to slip from his lips at the sight of the wet patch on her underwear with every fiber of his being. He pressed kisses all over her thighs, slowly working his way closer to her still-covered core, his hands finding their place on her hips as he held her on the bed. When he did finally get to her core, he pressed a soft kiss to her heat through her underwear, drawing a gasp from Y/N. 

“Do you want me to take them off?” He asked gently as his thumb ran circles on her lips. 

“Please,” she said, a smile coming to his face as she angled her hips in such a way that he could pull them off. He leaned up and ever so gently removed her underwear, setting them aside. 

“Holy shit,” He whispered as he looked at her. He knew he needed to be slow, to ease her into it, so he tried his best, repeating the kissing of her thighs, this time without her underwear there until finally he got to her core. He pressed a soft kiss to her clit and felt her hips move on instinct, keeping them pressed to the bed. He continued, slowly getting bolder until he slipped his tongue inside of her. 

Soft whimpers and moans fell from her consistently now as she relaxed into the pleasure he was so skillfully giving her. She felt so very at peace and was truly unable to do anything else but think about him between her legs. 

“Eddie-” She moaned out, the man letting out a moan of his own at the way she moaned his name. 

“Yes, baby?” he asked, briefly coming up for air. 

“Can you…can you also…”

“Y/N say the word and it’s yours,” He said as he leaned back to be able to look at her, “Anything you want baby.”

“Can you use your fingers too?” She asked sheepishly. The grin that lit up Eddie’s face instantly melted any worries she had about being needy. He replied with actions not words, instantly slipping two of his fingers inside of her causing her to gasp. 

From their previous encounters - though simple and brief ones - he knew that usually two was her comfort zone but if he was going to actually fit inside of her he wanted to use at least three. The general theory was if he started with two instead of one then three wouldn’t be such a stretch. 

That theory seemed to be working as she whimpered and moaned from the stretch beneath him. 

“You’re doing- so good,” he praised between moans as he put his mouth right back to work, sucking on her clit like his life depended on it and right now, it felt like it did. As much as he wanted to solely focus on her pleasure, he couldn’t help the little grind of his hips against the carpet every time she moaned. It slowly became a consistent rocking until he feared he was going to cum completely untouched just from eating her out. While he’d love to do that another day, tonight they had a plan and if she had gotten herself all ready for it, he refused to spoil it by finishing too early. He had been so distracted by his name coming out in moans from lips that he hadn’t even registered it was probably because he had been fucking three fingers into her for a while. Her hands were tangled so tightly in his hair and he quickly put two and two together on what was coming, leaning it to suck on her clit more as he continued doing exactly what he was doing until Y/N suddenly gasped and moved away from him with a little, “stop.” Eddie’s hands let go immediately and went into the air as he looked at her breathing heavily. 

“I'm sorry-“

“No, no,” she shook her head at him, moving back closer as her chest heaved, “I was just…I knew I was going to…squirt and I didn’t want it to be while you were-“ 

“Oh my god,” Eddie said as he pressed her down against the bed and climbed on top of her. “You were going to squirt and you stopped me!” 

“Yes!” She nodded, “I…most guys wouldn’t want to be anywhere near that!” 

“First off, yes they would,” Eddie nodded, his fingers already back between Y/N’s legs slowly slipping inside of her again, “and secondly, we already know I am not ‘most guys’.” He went back to what he had been doing before and watched as Y/N relaxed under him at his words. He liked this even more because of how at peace she seemed so he kissed his way down her body and got right back to it. Instead of changing anything he was doing, he continued right on with what he had been doing, putting his whole heart into it and reveling in the fact that he was able to get her like this. It didn’t take long until she was crying his name again, her eyes squeezing tightly closed and her fingers tugging at this hair with a vice. 

“Let go, baby,” he commanded and she did. Her release gushed over his face and he licked her clean with a fearless new to him. He had been with others before but never anyone who got this reaction out of him. It was only when she let out a little whimper of pain he realized she was already feeling overstimulated and he couldn’t have that…not yet. 

“How are you, pretty girl?” He asked as he came to rest over her again. She nodded as she looked up at him, a smile on her face as she pulled him in for a kiss. It was gentle and sweet and he felt his heart melt at her sweetness despite what they were doing. 

“So good to me,” He murmured as she pulled away to kiss down his neck. Her hands quickly found his belt buckle and began to mess with it, a pathetic-sounding whine coming from her when she realized she couldn’t figure out how to undo it. He chuckled as he batted her hands away before pressing a kiss to each one. 

“I got you,” He smiled and she returned it as he undid the buckle. He quickly set it somewhere on the floor to be forgotten about as he sat back on his knees. Y/N quickly sat up and ran her hand down to where his hands were on his zipper. 

“Can I?” She asked, looking up at him with complete adoration. He couldn’t deny her anything and nor would he ever want to so he just nodded and sat back, allowing her to do exactly as she wished. She unzipped his jeans with one hand, using her other hand to trail down his body, following the little trail of hair downward. As she finished unzipping his jeans and looked to him to get up and take them off, something he complied with, slipping them off and setting them next to his belt. Now in just his black boxers, he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit of anxiety. What if he couldn’t please her? What if he couldn’t manage to learn what she liked? He stood with his back facing to her for clearly too long as she was out of bed. 

“Hey,” Her voice was soft as she gently turned him to face her, her one hand coming up to turn his face to look at her as her free hand held his hand, “We can stop here if you want or do something else-”

“No,” He shook his head, “I want this. Really. I want you.” Y/N smiled at him and gently pressed a kiss to his lips before it became less gentle. She managed to move both hands to Eddie’s chest and he walked back until his back hit the door with a little gasp at how easily she had taken over. She chuckled as she began to press kisses down his chest, her one hand coming down to palm him gently over his boxers which made him gasp again. 

“Is this ok?” She asked as she pulled away from his neck for only a moment, taking in the sight of how beautiful he looked with his head thrown back against the door, his eyes shut in pleasure. 

“Yes,” he replied, a breathy moan following. “You can…you can take it out if you want.” Y/N didn’t reply with words, smiling as she did exactly that. She took it in for a moment, her eyes going wide as for the first time ever she processed the idea of him being inside her. She ran her thumb over his tip gently causing another groan to come from him as his hands grasped her hips with a force. He was so hard and she was impressed that he hadn’t finished yet but god did she feel bad for him. She wanted to please him so bad so that’s exactly what she set out to do. She stroked him gently, seeing what he liked and what got the best reaction from him, reveling in each sound he made. As soon as she started to get the hang of things, one of his hands moved from her hips and took hold of her wrist. Her eyes shot up to meet his which were now open and looking at her. 

“Sorry,” he said gently, “You were doing great…it’s just, I’m pretty worked up so I didn’t want to finish yet.” Y/N smiled at him and nodded 

“I get it…but I mean…you made me-”

“It’s different,” he said as he picked her up again and carried her back to his bed, laying her down gently, “Takes me longer to get back to it.” His choice of phrasing made her giggle and his focus snapped to her, “You’re really laughing at me? Now?” 

“Yes,” she replied as she shook her head. He chuckle and pressed a kiss to her lips before pulling away. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” He said as he leaned over and opened up one of the drawers near his bed. He easily found a condom and held it up to her, his expression going a bit more serious. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes,” she said as she took it from him and opened it much to his surprise, “I’m ready.” He watched with a smile as she pulled it out and rolled it onto him, careful as always with delicate hands before setting the wrapper aside. He wrapped her thighs around his waist and looked down at her. 

“Tell me if you need me to stop at any point, ok?” He said as he lined himself up. She nodded, words escaping her at this moment. Right as he was about to press in, he heard her speak. 

“Just…be gentle. Please?” He felt his heart melt at her plea. Eddie leaned down and kissed her so softly and whispered, “I promise,” as he began to press in. Y/N automatically tensed at the feeling, it was brand new to her and he pulled away from their kiss to whisper to her. 

“I know,” he said as he fought for his own breath as he waited with just the tip in her, “Just breathe for me, baby.” She nodded through a whimper and took in a shaky inhale, causing him to press into her a bit more, “There you go,” he praised. “Just keep breathing.” While she relaxed for a moment, she instantly tensed again as he started to move.

He instantly noticed and without a word brought his hand up to hold hers, pressing them both into the mattress with a gentle squeeze. The tiny gesture and his soft smile allowed her to breathe easily. Eddie smiled as he noticed the calm this brought Y/N, pressing another kiss to her lips as he slowly pushed into her, stretching her out. As he did, her eyes squeezed shut and her toes curled as a moan was forced from her lips. Their one set of hands parted and Y/N’s nails instantly find their way to Eddie’s back. He let out a shaky moan as she left marks he knew he’d love to see in the mirror tomorrow.

“Fuck. I’m not even halfway in and you’re already...so tight...fucking...damn.” Y/N squirmed under him as he attempted to let her adjust, his words causing her to want more than he was giving her. 

“Don’t squirm,” Eddie commanded in a dark stern hiss, causing Y/N to instantly stop moving and clamp around him, forcing a moan as Eddie buried his head into her neck. Interesting, he thought storing the information away for later. He pulled his head out of her neck and spoke gently, “I’m going to push the rest of the way in now, ok?” Y/N nodded at him and he began to slip in once again. 

“Fuck,” He swore as he bottomed out in one fatal thrust causing them both to gasp, “God Y/N, you feel so good.” She managed to give a little nod to him which instantly caused him to check in with her.  

“How are you feeling?” He asked, making sure to remain very still to give her time to adjust to the sensation.  

“It hurts just a tiny tiny bit,” She confessed, thankful that all the rumors she had heard about it hurting a lot the first time were just that. “I just feel...full.” He gave a little chuckle and began to pepper kisses all over her cheeks before kissing her lips again. 

“Well that’s good,” He smiled as he pulled away, “All I want is to make you feel good, baby. You were still a bit tense. Just relax now, pretty girl,” He purred as he ran his hand down her body, “I’ve got you and everything is going to be ok.” Seeing the genuine and kind look in his eyes made Y/N instantly melt and any trace of tenseness was gone. A dull ache soon settled between her hips and she found herself rolling them in an attempt to ease the pressure causing Eddie to let out a little hiss.

“Is that my sign to move?” He asked with a smile. 

“Please,” Y/N begged softly. Eddie can feel his heart melt at her little plea. Instantly, all he wanted to do was hold her and never let go but he quickly brought himself back to the moment at hand. He pulled out just a little before thrusting into her making her let out a little gasp of a moan at the feeling - his own moans echoing along with hers. Eddie then dropped his weight to his forearms on either side of her head which brought them even closer together. He slid both of his hands into her hair lightly as he quickened his pace causing more moans coming from the pair as they began to fully lose themselves in it all. 

Even through the pleasure of it all, Y/N could tell how remarkably gentle Eddie was attempting to be and it made her heart flutter. Despite his best efforts, Eddie naturally became a bit rougher by second nature, but as things speed up and the knot in Y/N’s stomach came closer to bursting, she don’t mind a bit. Her free hand tangled into his hair and pulled causing him to groan into her neck, nipping at the skin there enough to leave even more marks. Call him possessive, he was and wanted her and everyone else in this stupid fucking town to know that she was his now. 

His need to mark her up though was only overcome by his want to etch every expression that crossed her face into his memory, so he pulled away to watch her beautiful face contrast beneath him.

“Fuck,” He swore as she let out a cry as he hit what he assumed was her G spot, angling to make sure he kept that up, “So fucking pretty for me.” Y/N could tell how close Eddie was getting by the absolutely stunning expressions painted on his face and the little praises that he uttered. His one hand slowly found its way to her clit and he softly attempted a couple of different things to see what elicited the best response. After a particular movement, he felt her tighten around him with a high whine and he knew he'd hit the jackpot. He repeated the movement while continuing to thrust into her, causing Y/N to cry out in response as she felt the coil come this close to snapping. 

“Eddie, I’m going to-”

“I know baby, I know,” He moaned as she clenched around him, “Cum for me.” His command was all it took for her to come completely undone beneath him. Her high and the feeling of her gripping him like a vice was all it took to have him finding right along with her, burying his face into her neck to muffle the long whine that came from him as he pressed as deep as he could get into her. He continued to thrust into her, allowing the pair to ride out their highs before finally stilling. They both lay there, breathing heavily a mess of tangled limbs and sweat, glowing with love. Finally, when he caught his breath, Eddie pulled away enough that he could see Y/N’s face. 

She was always beautiful but damn did she look good post-orgasm. He wanted to burn the sight of her into his brain forever.

“How are you feeling, pretty baby?” He asked as he ran his hands through her hair and cupped her cheek. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open and Eddie swore he died and went to heaven as she looked up at him, the love in her eyes and smile on her face all too innocent considering what they just did. 

“So good,” Y/N replied, her voice high and soft, music to Eddie’s ears, “How are you?”

“So good,” he echoed back to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I know I just like…popped your cherry and all,” he smiled as she giggled at the expression, “But I still can’t believe you’re real.”

“I’m real,” Y/N giggled as she flicked his forehead, making him beam, “That real enough for you?”

“Yeah that works,” he said as the pair fell into giggles making them both realize Eddie was still very much inside. “Oh shit,” He swore, “I’m gonna pull out now, is that ok?” 

“Mhm,” Y/N hummed as she gave his hand which was still held in hers a little squeeze. He gave her a small smile as he pulled out both of them letting out little moans as he did. He instantly wrapped her into his arms, holding her so close to him as she buried her head into his chest. She had never felt so safe in the arms of another person before, wanting nothing more than to hold him forever. 

“You did so well,” He praised her, “You know that?” He pressed kisses onto the top of her head as she stayed buried in his chest. 

“Thank you,” came her soft reply.

“You don’t have to thank me for praising you baby,” He chuckled.

“No, for…for everything,” she said as she pulled away ever so slightly so they could look at each other. Her eyes were so sleepy as she looked at him but the adoration was still written all over both of their faces. 

“Oh Y/N,” he said as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “You don’t need to thank me for that at all, baby. I loved it. I really loved it.” 

“Me too,” she replied as she beamed up at him, shifting ever so slightly and grimacing. It was that little grimace that reminded Eddie of what needed to come next. 

“Baby, I’m gonna get stuff to get you cleaned up, okay?” He asked as he gently pulled away. 

“M’kay,” she nodded as she looked at him, “But don’t be gone too long.”

“Getting all clingy on me already?” He teased as he slowly slipped out of bed and slipped off the condom, throwing it away before looking back at her, his eyes going wide.

“Fuck,” He swore as he took in the sight of her sprawled out in his bed completely fucked out. The very worst part of him had never wanted to take a damn Polaroid so bad but his top priority was getting her cleaned up and comfy. 

“Weren’t you going somewhere?” Y/N teased as she realized the effect she was having on him, rolling onto her side to give him a different view. He chuckled at her and gave her ass a little swat as he left the room.

“Little brat,” he reprimanded as slipped on his boxers, “And here I was trying to be chivalrous.” 

“Chivalry is dead Munson,” She said as he walked into the bathroom and wet a towel with warm water, ringing it out before heading back into the bedroom.

“Oh yeah?” He asked as he gently ran the towel over her body, cleaning her up, “Then what, pretty girl, would you call this?” 

“Common courtesy after that,” Y/N giggled as she looked up at him. He shook his head and gently moved the towel to clean between her legs, lifting her one leg as he did and pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. 

“I don’t know,” He teased as he set the towel aside when he was done, “I think I’m a pretty chivalrous guy.” 

“You are,” she said with all genuineness. 

“Anything else I can get for you?” He asked softly as he cupped her cheek again, “Water? Food?”

“Clothes?” Y/N asked as she looked down at her still very naked body. 

“Right,” Eddie said as he got up and walked over to his closet before thinking better of it and coming back over to her, “Wanna come pick out your pjs?” 

“I get to pick?” The joy in Y/N’s voice, as she sat up with a little wince, made Eddie’s heart melt. God I lo… his thoughts trailed off with a little pang in his heart as he made his way over to her. 

“Mhm,” He nodded as he picked her up bridal style in his arms making her smile, carrying her over to his closet, “Take your pick.” She looked through his little t-shirt collection before looking at the Metallica one he had been wearing the second time she had met him. 

“That one,” she said with a point. He smiled and nodded as he set her back down on the bed, grabbing it out for her and bringing it over to her. 

“A good choice,” He said as he watched her slip it over her head. 

“You wore it when Jude first brought me over to your house to pick up their drugs,” Y/N said as she searched for her underwear. “Can you bring me my underwear?” Eddie was frozen and didn’t even register her request. “Eddie?”

“You remember what I was wearing?” He asked softly as he looked at her. 

“Of course,” she nodded, “I thought you looked so handsome. You are so handsome-” Y/N couldn’t even get her thought out before he pressed his lips to hers, pressing her into the mattress again before he pulled away. 

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish chuckle as he wrapped her in his arms again, “I don’t know what came over me-”

“Don’t apologize,” she said with a smile as she pulled him fully into bed with her, “Just stay here with me?”

“Always,” he replied and he meant it with every fiber of his soul. The pair curled up together, limbs tangled, needing to be so close and neither one had ever slept so well in their lives as they did that night. 

So that's the fic! Yay! 10k words bby! As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are throughly appreciated!

[heartiis]

the big apple ꩜ .ᐟ pt.5

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

pairing - ellie x reader

synopsis - you've just moved to nyc and ellie's your new neighbor. she hates you though and you don't know why :((

cw - mean ellie, toxic! ellie, side gig dealer ellie, weed, tattoo artist ellie, texts between reader and ellie, angst, smut

a/n - last part!! bro last part had a bunch of letters which were bigger and I kept fixing it then coming back to see some of them got big again?? it was like playing whac-a-mole I swear. also I just want to say thank you to everyone who read and interacted, it was so nice to share my writing with people who enjoyed it<33

-

Sitting before you was a cappuccino cup with a perfectly formed latte art leaf. You stared at it, slowly inhaling and exhaling the warm, sweet smell. It soothed you, but you could still feel a blade made of pure anxiety stabbing your guts. What were you supposed to do with the cup again?

“Hey!”

You turned your head to see your co-worker holding three iced coffees in his hands, gesturing his head to the pickup counter where a growing crowd of customers waited. It was the afternoon, one of the busiest times for coffee shops.

“Shit,” you muttered, and quickly brought over the cup to the counter and called out the customer’s name.

Your head this week had been either entirely filled with Ellie, that moment in your bedroom with the thumping and moaning, or absolutely nothing but a strong sense of dread you were too fuzzy to understand. And you hated it. You hated how pathetic it made you feel, to have someone who didn’t give a fuck about you occupying your mind 24/7, turning your new life into a mess after only having been in it for a few weeks.

You knew who Ellie Williams was from the start. Dina, one of her best friends, had told you. You knew she didn’t date, didn’t get attached or form romantic connections. It wasn’t like you’d been itching to make things official while you were still talking. You were still getting to know each other. You understood the two of you were not exclusive, and you yourself had not thought of giving a name to your relationship yet.

But you also understood yourself. You knew you’d caught feelings for Ellie because that was how you operated, and because it was Ellie, perfect and strong and raw, with her stupid green eyes and her freckles. The exact type of person you’d imagined you’d fall for. It was achingly, painfully obvious to you where you’d gone wrong. You had let the tiniest seed of hope grow in your heart.

From the way Dina and Jesse had talked about the other girls Ellie involved herself with, it had seemed like she didn’t text them as often as she did you. It hadn’t seemed like she would constantly invite them over, or invite herself over to theirs, or talk until late at night, or give them free weed just so she could get high with them.

But these were all assumptions. Dina hadn’t spoken about the topic since that night, and you hadn’t asked. You two did talk about what had happened the night of the smoke sesh, and about the constant texting and hanging out and occasional sex which had followed, but she never gave you any reason to think this meant more to Ellie than any of her other flings.

The seed in your heart felt like a shard of glass.

-

The walk home was cold and bitter. Your manager had sent you home early because you lacked so much focus she’d thought you were sick. Summer was reaching into Fall, and today was already colder than it should be. Not only that, but you had made the mistake of wearing another of your dresses which only went a little further than your knees and left your ankles bare. You were shivering and feeling glad you were almost home when your gaze fell on the bodega not too far off from your apartment. The bell tinkled as you pushed open the glass door and went straight to the alcohol section, finding yourself some cheap wine.

As you waited for the man at the cash register to ring you up, you stared behind him at the wall of cigarette boxes with graphic images and ‘smoking kills’ labels. You were the same as Dina, who never bought entire packs for herself so she wouldn’t smoke too much. At that point it didn’t matter enough to stop you. You left the bodega with wine and a pack of Marlboro lights, rushing to the elevator, hoping you didn’t come across Ellie.

She’d texted you thrice since that weekend. The first time on Sunday morning, apologizing for not having answered your texts, telling you she was fine. She asked you how you were. You didn’t answer. The second text came on Thursday, asking you if you wanted to hangout, and the last on that same day hours later. A ‘hi’ accompanied with three question marks. It had all been so strange. The lack of texts supplying you with updates on her day or raising questions about yours at the start of the week had made you sure she had, in fact, ditched you. The text on Thursday came as a surprise, but you ultimately knew what she wanted. It was the only thing she had wanted from you all this time. For you to be her fuck buddy.

You couldn’t bring yourself to reply. You couldn’t, because you knew if you did, you’d say yes, and you would go to her apartment and the two of you would have sex because you needed to be next to her so badly that you’d take whatever she gave you, let her have you how she wanted.

So when the elevator opened on your floor and she was nowhere to be seen, you breathed a small sigh of relief. You opened your door and you put your plastic bag from the bodega on the kitchen counter and looked for the corkscrew and singular wine glass. The first portion poured out was thick, three fingers tall. You kicked off your sneakers and downed it quickly as you watched the sky darken from your couch, not daring to come out onto the fire escape which was sure to be all ice-cold metal and biting breeze.

The more you slipped into a tipsy state, the more tears fell from your eyes, until you pushed past that and became the same amount of drunk you had been at that club. Too drunk to mind the cold, drunk enough to crave a smoke and a view of the sunset from the fire escape.

You thumped your feet to the kitchen where you got the Marlboro pack and the Bic lighter you kept in your purse, just in case. An unlit cig on your lips, a half full wine glass in your hands and the lighter interlaced within your fingers, you opened the window and drunkenly stumbled out of it, leaving the glass on the ledge as you flicked on the lighter. The wind and the cold bars of the fire escape against your sock covered feet were a welcome shock to your system.

You took a puff. As you blew it out, you noticed that Ellie was staring at you from her own spot on her window, leaning on the ledge sideways, one leg up. She wore a black jumper and had a pencil and a sketchpad in her hands as well a joint in her mouth. She pinched it with two fingers and puffed out a cloud which flew north, away from you and the sunset.

The two of you said nothing. The sight of her sitting there, the light bathing her in gold and lighting up her eyes was too much to bear. You made a silent prayer that she couldn’t see the redness of your eyes from where you were standing. Then you rushed back to your window, taking the glass in your hands so you could pass without it dropping.

“Hey, wait.”

You froze, half of your body still on the fire escape. There was an urgency to her voice that tugged at you. You wanted to reprimand yourself for being stupid again, but it was no use, you could already feel the glass in your heart smoothing over before it sharpened again, bigger than it was before.

You pulled your body back out of the window and sat on the ledge, taking a drag of your cigarette in search of the nicotine induced feeling of your blood-pressure lowering.

Ellie observed you with knit together brows. When she realized you were waiting for her to speak, she opened her mouth.“Why haven’t you answered my texts?” It was a sentence uttered so softly. It sounded fraught and out of place coming from her, who hadn’t made too much of an effort to contact you.

“I…” you started. “I didn’t think it mattered that much.” You stared at your thighs and the hand which rested there, holding your cigarette.

“Why the fuck not?” Ellie said, her voice flipping from soft and pleading to angry and raw.

Your head snapped to her, then back down, your hands rushing up to dig into your hair. “Just—Please, stop.”

She put out her joint and tossed it along with the sketchpad and pencil into her apartment then stood up, making her way to the railing closest to you. Her hands gripped the metal, knuckles turning white. “Stop? How am I supposed to just stop? I’ve been losing my goddamn mind this week. Why are you ignoring me?”

Hot tears gathered on your eyes, spilling over when you blinked.

“Hey, are you drunk? Are you even fucking listening—“ Ellie’s voice died off when you looked at her and she saw the wetness of your eyes and cheeks. She kept her grip on the railing, but her hunched shoulders slipped and she drew back, standing straighter.

“Hey,” she said breathlessly. “What’s going on?”

Your chest heaved, sucking in a breath only to let it out jagged. Ellie’s eyes were so wide. She was the deer caught in headlights now. The desperation you felt fed into the glass, turning your heart into an irritated and angry wound. It didn’t feel fair, that she should look so worried and broken when you were the one who had been made a fool, the one who had let her affection and hope and yearning become so big it swallowed everything else.

So you went to the railing too, and you let loose all the words piled tight in your throat. “You want to know why I haven’t answered your texts?” You gripped the bar, not caring how frozen and stiff your fingers felt. “Because, Ellie. I heard you fucking that girl that night.” She flinched. “And you know, it’s fine. Dina had already told me how it works with you. And it’s not like we ever agreed on being exclusive. So you did no wrong there. But fuck, It hurt. And I can’t hold it against you. But I also can’t—“ One of your hands flew to your chest, squeezing there at the fabric. You gazed into the distance and shook your head, tears streaming uncontrollably now. “I can’t keep seeing you when I know you don’t feel the same way I do. I have to protect myself.”

When you looked back at Ellie, her eyes were glistening. She stared at you for a second until she stepped back and broke her gaze, rushing through the window into her apartment.

Once she was gone you stepped back as well, a shudder rocking through you. You sat down on your window ledge, defeated. You had stripped yourself bare on that fire escape, made it painfully obvious that you had feelings for her, and in the face of them she had run off.

You were sucking in another drag of the Marlboro light when you heard a knock at your door. You turned your body but stayed where you were, too drunk to think of what to do. Then came three more knocks, hurried and loud. You sprung into action, putting out your cigarette on the kitchen counter, too agitated to think much into it.

You swung open the door, heartbeat coming in quick as you took in the sight of her. Ellie, standing at your door with wet eyelashes and half of her hair in a bun, just the way you liked it.

“Can I come in?” she croaked out.

You nodded and moved sideways, too dazed to speak. She sat on your couch, staring down at the sketchpad in her hands. You pulled up a chair from your dinner table and sat right before her. She lifted it up so you could see. On it were drawings of different items, all in her style. A bottle of wine. A switchblade. Her lighter. An apple split in half, the core of it showing. All of them with the same word written onto them; ‘survival’.

“I kept thinking about what you said. That first time we went out.” She looked at you. “I think you’re a lot like me.”

You wiped at your face, which was now sticky with dried tears.

“I was fucking stupid.” Ellie sighed and set down the sketchbook. “I shouldn’t have fucked that girl, especially when you could hear it—“ She rubbed her hands on her face, her voice cracking. It was solid again the next time she spoke. “But I did it because I was scared. Dina told the truth about how it is with most girls. I wanted it to be different with you.”

“But I’d been such an asshole to you in the beginning, and I didn’t know what to do with that, and I certainly didn’t know what to do with how I felt for you, cause I hadn’t felt it in such a long time and I was so terrified of messing it up that I guess I just thought, fuck it. It’s not going to work out. Let’s just get it over with.”

You had your hands on your thighs, and you were squeezing the fabric of your dress hard.

“But then…” She wrung her fingers. “Then you didn’t reply. And I knew I’d done exactly that. So I tried to go on with my life.” She scoffed. “It was fucking unbearable. I couldn’t focus at work. Any design I made had you in it. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and how I might’ve hurt you, so I did the stupidest thing and instead of telling you how I felt I just asked if you wanted to hang out. Because I convinced myself that maybe it was all in my head and you didn’t even feel the same way I did.”

She drew in closer. “Look, I won’t lie to you. I can’t promise you I’ll be great for you. I’m not easy. But I do like you. A lot.”

You exhaled. Your eyes landed on your feet, then on her. Another tear trailed down your cheek. “Ellie…”

The look on her face broke your heart. She looked so vulnerable, like she was terrified of what you’d say next. So you just got up and walked over to her, placing your hands on her shoulders. She gazed up at you, keeping her hands to herself. You planted a small kiss on her lips. Then you drew back to look at her.

She was quick to wrap her hands around your waist, pulling you to her, kissing you hungrily. You were about to settle back into the couch when she hoisted you up, guiding your legs to fit around her waist. She stood up and kissed your neck as she carried you over to your room, laying you down gently on the bed.

Then your lips were meeting again, your limbs and torso moving in tune with hers. And there it was again, that sweet nectarine feeling coursing through you. She stopped kissing you just long enough to pull off your jacket while you pushed up her jumper, after which she went back in, ravenous for the feel of your mouth against hers.

Her hand went to your dress, tugging it up, then it was sliding up your thigh and you couldn’t help but let out a pleased groan at her touch. You felt the corners of her mouth move the slightest bit. Her fingers moved to pull at your underwear, dipping inside your folds. It was hard to keep in time with her then, as your body racked through with pleasure, you kept breaking the kiss to let out gasps and moans Ellie seemed desperate to swallow.

“El,” you whispered. She traveled from your cheeks to your jaw, planting pecks along the way, her nose pushing slightly against your skin.

“What is it?” she said, but when you didn’t say anything other than her nickname, she continued the thrusting motion of her fingers, deeper and deeper until she hit a spot which caused you to arch your back and whine. The orgasm built inside you and crashed down your legs, leaving them trembling. You inhaled and exhaled hard. Ellie withdrew her hand and brought her fingers to her lips, licking them. You hid your face, smiling.

She laughed and brought it back so you would look at her. You wrapped your legs around one of hers, so that your thigh was up against her warmth, making her grunt. When you began moving your body up and down, your thigh followed, and she hugged your arms, desperate to feel more of the pressure.

Your moans blended into each other. Ellie came first, and you came right after she started touching your neck and sucking the thin skin there.

Her hands went to your face, cupping it in her palms, her fingers brushing up and down your cheeks so her digits could feel the little parts which were still damp. Your own fingers studied the freckled bridge of her nose, the scar at her brow, the curve of her lips. Her eyes were red, and you didn’t know if it was from the weed or crying or both. Time passed differently. It didn’t matter how much of it you spent.

-

a/n - pls feel free to comment what you think!! I love receiving comments I might not reply to them all bc I don't want to be annoying but I promise I see them and I love them smm

@boobdrug @macaroni676 @appleofmyii @hemmo01 @elsmissingfingers @elliesapple @fatbootymuncher @d1psht @liasxeatt @metrolinha743 @nouvell-vague @salvatoreamoree @bforest

p.s. I love ur usernames...sorry if I missed anyone

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 5

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: We’re going deeper and darker on this one, with an ending you might not expect...

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. TW: attempted sexual assault (not successful), violence, character death, drug use, and a twist.

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Part 5: Eminence Front

Your last conversation with your mother was on a Sunday morning, in hospice.

You sat at her bedside and held her hand. Chris and your father were downstairs in the hospital food court, ordering sandwiches. You hadn’t had much of an appetite for three days.

“I had your father call the whole family so they could watch the music video with you and Soldier Boy,” your mom said. She wore a proud, if weak smile. “He even recorded a few tapes of it. He sent one to your aunt, another to your cousins, and another to our friends Leah and Stan.”

“Pretty sure that’s illegal piracy, Mom,” you said with a laugh.

“I don’t care. You’re my daughter, and you’ve worked incredibly hard to get here,” she said. Her eyes misted over a bit in memory. “We’ve all worked hard.”

You stilled at that. You didn’t know what memories she had filtering through her head, but you were sure your perspective behind the lens was…different.

In your mind’s eye, you saw yourself at twelve years old. Chris had been pestering you all day, as big brothers were wont to do sometimes. With a slap on his arm, you’d screamed at him to leave you alone.

He didn’t speak to you for a whole month. He didn’t go to your piano recital or your choir concert, where you had the best solo. He didn’t talk to you until you touched him again, grabbing his arm, pleading with him.

"Please, whatever I did, I'm sorry. Just talk to me!"

He startled as if he’d woken up from a dream.

Your parents had shared a look, and they’d known then that their gamble had worked.

You remembered being sat down by your mother and told that they had spent their entire life’s savings to make you a hero. So you were going to spend the rest of your young life training to be one.

“We’re investing in your future, but we’re also investing in ours.”

You remembered sleepover invites rejected and summer plans canceled on your behalf. Your mother used her meager retirement fund to sign you up for vocal lessons from a former opera singer. Your high school football coach father drilled you to condition your body like an athlete.

You never had a moment that wasn’t scheduled. You were always exhausted, taking whatever “supplements” your parents gave you to keep you going. (Often it was Adderall, until it started giving you insomnia, among other delightful side effects.)

You were miserable. Then again, you’d be surprised by what you could get used to.

The end goal was always getting into Payback. It was where you’d garner the most fame and make the most money, and therefore, make the most returns on your parents’ investments.

So your father later took out a loan to get you some basic combat training from an ex-Vought employee. Your parents wanted you to be well-rounded and prepared for anything when you got onto the team—and it was always when.

If was not part of the story.

Any small commercials and modelling gigs you landed throughout middle school and high school helped pay for your family’s bills, and later for college, where you double majored in Vocal Performance and Marketing. You would learn how to become your own brand.

Through it all, you always remembered what your mom had said to you on the set of your first commercial. You were crying because the hours were long and you missed your friends, and even your brother.

“Come on, let’s wipe those tears. You don’t want to smudge your makeup,” she’d said. When you couldn’t be consoled, she guided you over to a quieter corner of the set. “Listen, sweetheart. Don’t let them see you upset. You'll get a reputation for being difficult to work with.”

“I don’t care! I don’t want to do this anymore,” you said, sniffling badly as you scrubbed at your eyes. Your mother sighed sharply.

“You’re just starting out. Of course there are going to be growing pains,” she said. “Showbusiness is a cutthroat world, and yes, you’re so young. Maybe too young.”

She wiped your face with gentler hands, then she laid them on your shoulders and made sure you met her eyes.

“But you’re going to be better prepared than most superheroes. You can literally read men. You know what’s in their hearts, and you can control them. As a woman in this world, do you know how damn powerful that is?” she said.

She squeezed your shoulders.

“That’s why you’ll be smarter than any of them, and you’ll only show the world what you want them to see.”

What you want them to see…

“We don’t have to talk about that right now,” you said at last.

Your mom nodded and stroked your hand. Her eyes fell closed in rest. She looked so small and frail in her bed.

“I’m so, so proud of you,” she said. “Always remember that.”

Your lower lip trembled, and your eyes stung. You couldn’t help but feel hollow. What was there to be proud of? You’d failed. All your hard work was meant to give your family a better life, not…this.

“You’re so beautiful and talented,” she continued. “And you’ll get your father out from under these medical bills I put on him, won’t you?”

Deep in your soul, a painful ache twinged.

You ignored it and nodded in agreement.

“I’ll take care of Dad, don’t worry.”

Your mother died the next morning. You wrote a statement about her passing to explain your absence to your fans. It went through Madelyn Stillwell and Arthur before they released the press release and even had it covered in Vought News. Then you spent the next week entrenched in funeral arrangements with your father and brother.

When you eventually returned to Vought Tower after the funeral, it felt like another part of you had chipped off.

Your room was filled with flowers and gifts from your fans, which managed to make you wide-eyed, and even tearfully touched. So this was the power of fame, then?

But there was one vase filled with beautiful scarlet roses. Attatched was a handwritten note:

Welcome home.

You thought you recognized the scrawl. A small smile graced your lips.

You gave into the desire to venture up to the penthouse floor, and knock on Ben’s door. He opened it himself. He was dressed down for once in the afternoon, in a normal sweater rolled up to his elbows and tucked into his slacks. Once he saw you, he was a little surprised.

You held up the note for his view. “Was this you?”

He smiled slightly, but he didn’t answer you. He just welcomed you inside. You followed him into the living room area and sat heavily on the couch. An album was playing on his record player. You recognized Sinatra’s smooth voice singing “My Way.”

“You want a drink?” Ben asked.

“Whiskey, neat,” you replied. He rose a brow, but he fulfilled your request.

While he was busy, you grabbed his forgotten half a blunt from the ashtray on the coffee table, and you lit up. You didn’t often partake in drugs because you didn’t like being out of your lucid mind. You preferred being in control.

Today was different. You needed a distraction. Maybe that was why you were here to begin with.

You accepted the glass he handed to you and took a generous sip, though you coughed at the burn on the way down. And you took a puff, the smoke irritating your throat even more. You practically coughed up half a lung, until he sat down beside you and reached out his hand. You passed the blunt back to him. You two traded off hits until it was more than halfway down to the roach, and he eventually put it out on the ashtray.

“My offer still stands, you know,” he said.

You turned to him. Even in your “enlightened” state, you could feel his intentions. The way he roamed your body with his eyes was unmistakable, but just then, you had a moment of clarity. You couldn’t be bothered to play this game, or hide your true thoughts for that matter. You smiled to yourself, and you stood.

Ben got up with you, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Thank you,” you said, “for finally showing me who you really are.”

His lips slowly pulled into a frown. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“My mom died,” you said. “I know you knew that, but you couldn’t even muster up a basic ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ or whatever the fuck.”

You even laughed through the spark of tears. You wiped at your face. “This place is exactly what I thought it would be.”

The man was silent while you finished the drink in one long gulp. You slammed the glass on his counter, and you left his apartment.

It wasn’t the first time Ben watched you walk away from him, but despite his outward stoicism, it was the first time he felt the sting of it.

You knew it would be difficult at Vought, but you were finding it more and more challenging to keep focused as the months went by.

On one mission, Ben threw a man out of a three-story apartment. He lived, by some miracle, but shattered almost every bone in his body.

On another, Black Noir choke-slammed an escaped convict so hard, her esophagus caved in. And it was a good day if the TNT Twins even zapped the right culprit.

You were increasingly wary of the collateral damage and violence you were being complicit in, just by being there. You had to keep reminding yourself of why you were here. You needed to take care of your father, who was still swimming in your mother’s medical bills and funeral costs. You needed to prove to yourself that you could do this, with or without Ben’s help.

Even so, a day you were called to a full team mission made you more anxious than excited.

It was a drug ring that the police had been trying to dismantle for nearly a decade: Los Reyes. They were the "kings of cocaine," and they were brutal in their retaliations, locked in a turf war with one of the Italian mafias. As Stan Edgar had explained, the police were grateful for any help that Payback could provide.

You guys were sent to a warehouse in Hell’s Kitchen. According to law enforcement intel, it was the base of the Reyes gang's operations.

Infiltrating it was the easy part. Countess blasted right through the front doors, revealing your entire team to the group of men huddled around entire tables and crates filled with product.

When a man aimed a gun at you, Ben threw his shield. It hit the man, who then crashed into a support beam and broke his back in half. Your eyes went wide in horror at seeing his lifeless ones. You gaped up at Ben.

“Was that really necessary?” you asked in alarm.

"Would you rather get shot?” he said coolly.

The others picked off a few men in the room, but the rest of the gang scattered into other rooms within the large building. Ben barked commands for who should go in which direction.

“Sirena, you’re with Swatto. Head east towards the alley and cut off any rats,” he commanded.

You wanted to take issue with being partnered with Swatto. You glanced over at him. After how you compelled him a few months ago, he still had a grudge against you as well. But you two knew better than to argue with Soldier Boy on a mission.

You and your partner ducked out the east side into the alley. Sure enough, you saw blood splatters on the wall from a handprint, and drips of blood leading down the concrete path. After sharing a nod, you and Swatto followed the line of blood.

You turned the corner into a dusty construction site, where a new skyscraper was only partially built. Some walls were up along with the foundation, but it was mostly dirt, bare concrete walls, and piles of brick.

When you turned a corner, you and Swatto stopped short as bullets rained your way.

“Oh, fuck!” Swatto shouted. He pulled out his gun and decided to fly above. You heard more shots and men screaming, and then, it was quiet. You cocked your own gun, though you hoped you didn’t have to use it. The problem with your powers was you needed to be close enough to touch someone to actually compel them, man or woman.

Your last resort was your actual siren song, a power you rarely used. Mainly because it was lethal to any man who heard it. For that reason, it had to be your in case of emergency break glass tactic.

So you crept around the corner to see what Swatto had done. You were surprised to find that he fought well. He managed to kill a few of them, but one large man was still alive. He was on his knees in the dirt with his hands folded behind his head.

“See? Ain’t so fuckin’ tough now, huh?” Swatto taunted. “Get ready to get fucked in the ass in jail, Paco.”

You grimaced in disgust. “All right, that’s enough. Just—”

Before you could realize what was happening, the man raised up from the ground and swept the gun from Swatto’s hands. It flew across the clearing and hit the wall, setting the gun off. A bullet ricocheted and grazed Swatto in the side. 

“Aw, fuck! I’m fucking hit!” he yelled in alarm. His wings expanded from his back, and he raised off the ground in flight. Your eyes widened.

“Where the hell are you going?” you shouted.

“I’m hit! I need a hospital!” His voice grew smaller as he flew away like a fucking coward.

It left you alone with a man twice your size. He seized you up with a smirk.

“Hey, baby,” he said. “You’re the new one, right?”

You raised your gun and fired, but you were too late. He evaded and grabbed the gun from your hands. You held your ground after the first punch, but the second and third made your legs shake. You were more durable than the average human, and you were well trained. Unfortunately, you didn’t have super strength like most of your teammates.

You blocked when you could and gave blows of your own, but this man was large enough that it didn’t slow him for long. He wore a sweatshirt with long sleeves, so you couldn’t easily compel him with a touch.

Okay, this warrants an emergency, you thought in alarm. When you opened your mouth to sing, he shot out a sharp blow to your throat. Maybe he thought you were going to scream for help, but it had its intended effect of choking you into silence.

He grabbed you and proceeded to beat you down, until you felt the sharp breaking of ribs and blood and dirt in your mouth. Every time you tried to slip away or get to your feet and escape, he knocked you back down. He was toying with you, and having fun with it too. You could sense his sick enjoyment.

But then, you felt his intentions shift. Darker, and more carnal. A more intense fear coiled in your stomach, rising up into your throat. A gasp got stuck there as you tried harder to crawl away.

He grabbed your ankle and dragged you back towards him. He took your wrists when you tried to claw at his eyes, or even just touch his face to try and enforce your power over his.

Just a scrap of skin. That’s all you need.

A whimper escaped you as you struggled, but you kneed him hard between the legs. That managed to stop him for a moment as he grunted and cursed. He got a hold of a meaty hand around your neck. Your eyes glowed in desperation.

Suddenly, the man’s weight lifted off you.

You panted for breath and raised yourself up on your elbow. You watched with wide eyes as Ben slammed your attacker’s face into the dirt until he couldn’t breathe. Ben glanced at you, taking in the sight of your bloody face and cut lip, your arm wrapped around your battered ribs.

His frown deepening in displeasure, he bent the man’s arm until it broke in at least two places. His howls of pain echoed into the night. Ben cut it off by twisting the man’s neck, until it released a loud crack.

He threw the body to the ground in disgust. He barely even wiped his gloves before he stood straighter. Then he went back to you.

“You all right?” he asked gruffly.

You stared up at him with tears shining in your eyes. You tried to answer, but it hurt your throat. It was also painful for you to move your body. You tasted blood in your mouth and knew it had dribbled down your chin.

With a rough exhale through his nose, Ben lowered down and slid his hands underneath your body. You cringed and cried out when he moved you, but you were grateful. You were embarrassed. And you were exhausted.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you folded your arms over your battered middle. You couldn't help but lay your head against his chest.

The rest of the team was waiting at the other end of the clearing, except for Swatto. Even Countess was quiet as she watched Ben carry you out of the construction site.

You spent a couple of days in the hospital. There you were surrounded by Vought security fielding off any journalists or tabloids, and you were accompanied by your dad and brother.

Chris especially was angry for you, not to mention worried, but you tried to hide your pain and reassure them that you would be okay. This was just par for the course when taking down the bad guys.

Yeah, that one sounded hollow, even to you.

You were grateful when you got out of the hospital and were sent back to the Tower. Even so, the doctor had you mostly on bedrest until your ribs healed up. You weren’t proud of it, but you wallowed in your embarrassment and a bit of self-pity while you watched a marathon of Cheers and ate from a box of assorted chocolates. You dug around for your favorites, but you kept getting the weird shitty filling ones.

“Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came,” sang the TV show theme song. “You wanna be where you can see, our troubles are all the same. You wanna be where everybody knows your name…” 

“Bullshit,” you muttered aloud. Such was your grouchiness that you had half a mind to change the channel. This godforsaken sitcom was too damn cheery, no matter how much you loved Ted Danson’s fine, rugged ass.

God. Maybe I do have a type.

That was when a knock at the door threatened to disrupt your solitude.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

You’d now recognize that smooth, deep voice anywhere. Sighing, you closed the box of chocolates and hid them under your pillow before you turned off the TV.

“Come in,” you said.

Ben stepped into your apartment and soon found you in your room. It was the first time he’d ever been in here, and he took a subtle look around. He wore his suit and tactical gear.

“Just come from a mission?” you asked.

He nodded and approached your bed. He smiled slightly.

“Eating your feelings in Whitman’s, huh?” he teased, tapping his nose. He could probably smell the chocolate.

You blushed and crossed your arms on reflex, but you grimaced when the motion made your ribs twinge sharply. You made a sound of discomfort and lowered your arms back to your sides. You shifted in the bed as slowly as you could. You’d been in this position for a while.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m peachy,” you groused. When you looked up at him though, you realized that he hadn't needed to come visit you. He was here of his own free will…and there was something you had yet to say to him. You sighed and met him with sincerity.

“Look…thank you, for saving me,” you said.

Ben inclined his head. He lowered down and sat beside you on the edge of your bed.

“You may not like how I run things here, but this is the way of it,” he said, holding your gaze. “This is the real fucking world. If you’re going to stay here, you need to get with that program, or this place is going to chew you up and spit you out.”

That fell between you two for a moment. The more you turned his words over in your mind, the more you realized that he was right, to a point. If you stayed, this was your life. You couldn’t keep handwringing. You had to be smarter.

“I’m sorry, I’m not looking very camera ready,” you said eventually. You meant it to be joking, but your voice was heavy. “I wouldn’t blame you for averting your eyes.”

You half expected him to make a joke about your black eye and torn lip. But to your surprise, Ben picked up your hand with a kind of gentleness. He raised the back of it up to his lips for a kiss. He gave you a reserved smile.

“Rest up,” he said.

He got up and strode out of your apartment. Not for the first time, he left you feeling unbalanced…and this time warm.

It took a few weeks for you to fully heal. You agreed to do an interview with Jason Carver, the anchor of Vought News. It was a bit intimidating being in yet another studio, and this was live.

The cameras aren’t there. This is just a stage like any other. You’re just…having a conversation, you coached yourself. You sat in an uncomfortable leather chair across from Jason at his desk.

When he got the green light from the producer, he kicked off the show by introducing you as his special guest.

“Can I just say, Sirena, we’re all very glad to see you’re all right,” he said, with a very convincing note of sincerity. Your abilities allowed you to read the truth.

Only show them what you want them to see.

You gave him a grateful smile.  

“Thanks, Jason. I appreciate that. It’s just…hazards of the job description, you know?” you said. “But I’m doing much better, and I’m very thankful that my team was there to support me.”

“Yes, the rest of Payback really stepped up to not only apprehend your attacker, but round up the entire Reyes gang. Is that right?” he said.

You nodded, reading the teleprompter. You were meant to go on a mini monologue about how great your team was, and how grateful you were to be a part of it. It was a script approved by Madelyn, and even Stan Edgar.

You paused, glancing over to where Arthur and Madelyn stood in the dark with the rest of the crew. They were both looking at you encouragingly, but expectant.

You took a steadying breath, and you decided to go a bit off-script.

“Well, actually, it was Soldier Boy who saved me,” you said. Jason’s brows rose at your shift in direction, but he reacted with all due interest.

“Really?” he prodded.

“Yes, he did,” you said. The memories of that night filtered through your mind with harrowing detail, including the way Ben stepped in and brutally handled that man. “He didn’t even hesitate. He just threw himself into the fray…and when it was over, he carried me to the hospital himself.”

That part wasn’t exactly true. He’d carried you over to a Vought-owned SUV, and the director of the camera crew drove you over to the hospital. You decided to gloss over that detail, and many others.

“Wow,” Jason said. He shook his head in wonder. “He truly lives up to the legend, doesn’t he?”

You smiled. “He’s more than that. Believe it or not, Soldier Boy was the first one to take me under his wing. He knew I was new to the city, so he guided me all over New York to see the sights like a tourist. Stuff I’m sure he’s seen millions of times, like Top of the Rock and Times Square. Oh, and he was also very gracious when my nephew came to visit. Got me some major brownie points for ‘Best Aunt in the World.’”

That earned you a congenial smile from your host. Your expression faded with a kind of weight in your heart.

“Ever since I got here, he’s been the one to tell it like it is, with that deep, authoritative voice of his,” you said, laughing a little when you tried to imitate Ben’s voice. It got you a laugh, even from those in the studio. “In a way, he’s the one who’s looked out for me the most. I’m very grateful for Soldier Boy, and of course for the rest of my team.”

When you finished, Jason nodded and clapped along with everyone else in the studio.

“Well, that’s just wonderful. Well said,” he said, and he looked straight into the camera with two fingers poised at his temple. “Soldier Boy, if you’re watching, we all appreciate you. And we salute you.”

Ben watched the clip from his living room with a small, incredulous smile on his face.

He wiped the remnants of white powder from his nose and sneezed. Blinking the bleariness out of his eyes, he refocused on the screen while you talked about him. He knew you had to be playing it up for Jason and the cameras, but you also seemed so sincere.

“He’s more than that.”

After the segment was over, he enjoyed the climax of his high while sitting back on his plush sofa. He tossed up an old baseball from his collection up towards the ceiling, this one signed by Babe Ruth. He caught it when gravity pulled it back down towards his face.

That was how Donna found him when she let herself into his apartment. She was out of her suit and wearing a little red dress, one of his old favorites. She graced him with a sultry smile.

“Busy?” she asked.

“Evidently,” he said.

She pouted, almost like a little girl. She went to him and curled herself under his arm and against his chest, draping a smooth thigh over his.

“I miss you,” she purred.

He smiled wryly and turned off the TV.

“Really now?” he drawled. “Because by my calculations it’s been…what, a few months since we’ve fucked?”

Donna paused, the smile slipping from her face.

“And I’m not counting that hand job a couple weeks back. That shit was pitiful, and a little chafing,” he said.

For the past few months, he’d been wracking his brain to remember what it was that had attracted him to this woman, besides the obvious outer packaging. He knew the difference now.

In the beginning, she idolized him. Worshipped him. Loved him. These days, she only came to him when she wanted something, and he had gotten bored. Bored of her.

As if sensing his shift, Donna moved her leg off his lap and sat up with a frown.

“Well, then let me fix it,” she said, as she slid a hand up his thigh. Suddenly she was all too willing to use those red-painted lips to service him. 

Ben couldn’t help but envision those lips as yours, a sinful red, while your mouth did sinful things. He’d gotten off more than once to the thought of it alone, ever since he shot that goddamn music video with you.

So he grabbed Donna’s wandering hand and looked at her coolly.

“Look, for whatever reason, I know you’re not happy,” he said, waving dismissively with his other hand. “Neither of us are. So let’s just stop wasting time.”

Her eyes widened. “What’re you saying?”

Ben’s brows furrowed. “Am I speaking fucking English? It’s time to call it quits, sweetheart.”

Donna’s jaw worked as she fought to keep herself under control. He had a feeling she’d be angry. She always was a little spitfire.

Her body was coiled like a spring when she withdrew her hand from his and got to her feet. She gave him an icy look.

“This isn’t going to last,” she claimed, with a prideful tilt of her chin. “In a month, a week, you’ll get tired of her. And you’ll remember that I’m the one who looks best by your side.”

Ben huffed in amusement before he laid back again. He continued to toss up his baseball.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he said dismissively. 

Donna let loose an aggravated breath, but she kept most of her reaction inside. She turned on her heel, prideful as ever, and left his apartment.

When her fingers landed on the doorknob, however, she turned back for just a moment. Silence greeted her.

It wasn’t until then that her tears finally bubbled over.

Days later, a knock on your door drew your attention out of pulling on some jeans. You were intending to go on a walk through the city, take some time to get out of the Tower and just be you for a change.

That had better not be Madelyn at the door again. She had chastised you for going off-script at the studio twice already. She made the point that she and Stan had gone over those talking points for weeks, and agreed that framing your rescue as a team effort would cover Swatto as well.

He was still laid up with a broken leg, long after the scrape of the bullet had healed. He was tight-lipped about how he’d broken said leg, but you’d heard from Tommy that he’d shattered it…somehow.

Arthur had smoothed things over about your adlib though. He pointed out that talking positively about Soldier Boy helped the whole team. He was the leader, after all.

So yeah, you hoped this visit wasn’t another passive aggressive dress down from the head of PR. You sighed and went over to get the door. You were thoroughly surprised to see Ben.

And a Ben that was wearing a regular suit, for that matter. He looked like he’d stepped out of a Hugo Boss catalogue, steeped in charcoal gray with a long black coat draped over his arm. Your mouth parted in soft shock, especially when he produced a single rose from behind his back.

You took it with tentative fingers and a blush rising hotly in your cheeks.

“Okay, what—”

“Let me take you out,” he said. “One night. You’ll get to see what it’s like to be with the most famous man in the world.”

What an opening line that was. You sensed he was in full Charm City mode, complete with a suave smile. Yours was more amused, even though you twisted the flower's soft petals lightly on your chin in contemplation.

After a few seconds to think, you gave him a patient look.

“Ben, nothing’s changed for me. I told you, I–”

“Countess and I are done, for real this time,” he said.

Once again, you were taken by surprise—mostly because he was telling the truth. You felt it.

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “When did this happen?”

“Recently,” he shrugged. “But like I said, it hasn’t been working for a while. It was a mutual thing.”

You weren’t so sure about that, but… 

This is what I wanted, you reminded yourself. In fact, it had been half what you’d hoped for when you went off-script. You just couldn’t believe it had worked this well, so soon. As much as you probably shouldn’t, part of you began to feel bad for manipulating him. For lying to him.

But it’ll be good for my career.

“…Okay,” you agreed, glancing down at your plain shirt and jeans. “Just give me some time to change.”

He raised a brow. “How much time?”

You gave him a slightly cheeky smile. “An hour, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

He sighed, but he agreed.

“Just don’t keep me waiting all fucking day,” he said.

“Come on. What’s a little delayed gratification?” you teased. Then you gave him a more sincere smile. “I’ll see you later.”

Ben nodded, with some added charm in the look he gave you in return.

You slipped back into your apartment and shut the door. You paused there when a thought struck you.

Shit, now what am I going to wear?

AN: Did you see that one coming?

A lot of darker angst and drama in this one, sorry for that. But I think you may like what's coming up...

Next Time:

You slid your hand over his on the table. You felt him stiffen slightly, his body tensing up at your touch. You frowned when you saw the glint of wariness cross his face.

“I won’t compel you again, Ben. I promise,” you said. As long as you don’t give me a reason to.

Your hand traveled up his arm, soothing along his neck, your palm finally resting against his cheek. His green eyes stared into yours.

Soon enough, his wariness bled away into desire.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 6

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[ghoulpiled]

ʟᴏꜱ ᴀɢᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ || Part One

𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞? 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞? 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘?

❧𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Pre-War!Cooper Howard x fem!Reader

❧𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧g: E / MATURE! Minors, DO NOT interact!

❧ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ: Smut with plot, virgin!reader, cheating, lowkey alcoholic reader, oral (female receiving), fingering, penetration

❧𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: ~6k

❧𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: From costars to strangers, it’s like fate keeps bringing the two of you together.

❧ɴᴏᴛᴇ:  Lots of switching from present to past tense as events happen. Also, added new parts from what the teaser had. Realized I wanted to make this a story with more than one part. If I kept just one part... it would be far too long.

You have been in the acting game for far too long. Originally you were advertising royalty. Your mom first put you into commercial gigs at the young age of five. Luckily for your mom, BlamCo Mac & Cheese was looking for the new poster child. Your face was plastered on billboards all around Hollywood. “Nothing says dinner like BlamCo Mac & Cheese. Bring the family together for a dish everyone will enjoy.” This phrase will forever be etched into the grooves of your brain. But as all gigs go, you outgrew BlamCo. Once you hit age ten, you couldn’t be the cutesy little kid telling families to eat the most disgusting mac and cheese known to man. Like many gigs will do, you were dropped from the gig. It paid well. Well, it paid your mom well. 

She would go on lavish vacations without you. Only leaving you with a babysitter. This babysitter ended up raising you. Your mom would also buy herself expensive dresses and handbags. What would you get? Hand Me downs of whatever wardrobe on commercials could give you.  This was a common theme early on in your career. The money you made was promised to you once you hit eighteen. Enough money to go to college and make a name for yourself professionally. After the BlamCo gig, you hit a dry spell. No one wanted a kid going through puberty as the face of their brand. With money getting tight, your mom signed you up for every and any background character role in a film and TV show she could. That’s where Nuka Cola noticed you.

Upon hitting sixteen, Nuka Cola representatives came up to your mom offering you a four year contract to be the face of Nuka Cola. It paid insanely well. So you did it. Another gig with your face plastered everywhere. From highway billboards to full body cut outs of you in Red Rockets across the country, you were back in the limelight. But those four years went by quickly. Once the contract ended, you were eighteen. You were excited to throw your acting career away. Child stardom was too damn much. College was going to be a fresh start for you! To no one’s surprise, you never got your money. To make it worse, your mom kicked you out of the house. She didn’t see you as profitable anymore. Mainly because you are old enough to go your own way. 

Due to all these gigs, you never had time to make friends. So you took to crashing on random old co-star’s couches. You were back to background gigs. Which paid okay but not enough to help pay for college. Sadly, that was a dream you could never catch. It took three years for you to finally get your foot back in the door with big acting gigs. That gig being A Man and His Dog. A film in which you play the main female character who is supposed to seduce the main lead. It wasn’t really a film expected to go anywhere. The lead was a man straight out of the Sino-American War who had never acted a day in his life. This was also your first big gig, you’re not one to talk. Unknown to you, that man would become western movie royalty. A young and disgruntled Cooper Howard. 

First day on set was odd. No one really talked to you. Not even the director. There was no way you were to know if you were doing the role justice. They had you in a wedding dress with white face paint. It was embarrassing. You stand near your trailer, lighting up a cigarette during lunch. Rent was due that night and you had no money to pay it. If this gig didn’t make a lot of money, you’re screwed. With a shaky breath, you look down at the ground. You’re getting cigarette ash all over this dress. Wardrobe is going to kill you. 

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?”

The southern voice takes you out of your thoughts as you look up. You rub your eyes, messing up the makeup you have on. Now your hand is stained white. Great. Cooper walks over to you  before leaning against your trailer. He takes out a cigarette of his own and begins to smoke with you. This is the first person to speak with you and it's the lead of the film. You try to act natural but you’re smitten. There is some charm he holds. Maybe it’s the fact you’re playing weird lovers in the film or the fact you have never been in contact with such a gorgeous man before. This moment right now makes you realize you’ve never had your first kiss. Your life has been acting gig after acting gig. No time for personal relationships.

“Are ya just gon’ stare at me?” He chuckles, voice smooth like whiskey. 

You clear your throat and shake your head.

“Sorry, I’m not used to small talk.” Is all you can truly muster.

He offers you a kind smile. One that feels like sickly sweet honey on a hot day. It makes your stomach flutter with butterflies. He already has you wrapped around his finger. Maybe it’s the southern drawl that burns like a good bourbon. He is one hell of a charmer. 

“Ain’t small talk unless you want it to be.” He takes a long drag from his cigarette, licking his bottom lip.

“You’re killing it by the way. The director is- pardon my language- a dick.” Cooper scoffs, shaking his head. He flicks his cigarette onto the ground and stomps on it which causes you to do it to your own.

You can’t help but chuckle at that. 

“You can say that again.” You turn to face him, leaning against your own trailer.

Maybe this set wouldn’t be as bad as you thought. 

During set, you would crash at Cooper’s apartment. A tiny place near filming. You ended up getting evicted because you couldn’t afford rent. It was only logical you still find somewhere to crash. You’re lucky you became close with Cooper. He’s a gentleman. Made you feel at home. You opened up about your childhood and he opened up about war. War. It was a scary thing. His stories kept you on the edge of your seat. Here you were, thinking you had a tough past. Almost all of Cooper’s friends are dead because of the war. You could only comfort him. 

It’s not like he didn’t have a support system. He had a beautiful fiancé who would stop by sometimes. You couldn’t help but feel a bit of jealousy when she came by. Of course you and Cooper were just friends but no one had shown you kindness the way he had. Maybe you fell for him out of convenience… or the feelings were real; Yet, the way he held her and the way she made him laugh was something you’ll never have with him. 

There were late nights at Cooper’s apartment where he would be on the phone with his fiancé nonstop. But then there were nights just for you. All his attention on you after wrapping. The two of you would share a few drinks and shoot the shit about set. Make fun of the director or one of your costars. There was one night in particular where the both of you got overly excited about drinking.

It was a tough day after set and the two of you were sitting on his couch drinking the stress away. This was after filming an explicit scene with him. The way he was on top of you was burned into your brain. While there was no real sex that had happened, the performance was perfect. Hungry kisses were pressed to your neck and you fake biting his collarbone causing him to hiss in pain… 

While sitting next to him, three rum and Nukas in, you were getting handsy. So was he. He laid a hand on your knee and you have a hand on his chest.

“Never acted out a sex scene before…” You slur, biting your lip.

“It was kind of obvious, darlin’” Cooper takes another sip, causing you to swat at his chest.

“Coop! C’mon. It wasn’t that bad was it?” You whine and lean back against the couch.

“Well… I mean, think of it as if it was real. That should help your performance.”

You look up at Cooper and your cheeks turn red. It took a moment for him to realize what you were getting at. When he did, his own cheeks heated up. 

“You’re not sayin-”

“I am.” You say and he pulls his hand off of your knee. “Never kissed anyone either.”

Maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was pent up lust from the set, but he leans in. Against your better judgment, you lean in too. You could taste the rum against his soft lips. Wrapping your arms around him, you don’t question this one bit. Running his tongue over your bottom lip, you invite him inside your mouth. You run your tongue over his, feeling the rough bumps. He bites your tongue softly, sucking on it. It was enough to make you moan. You curl your fingers in his hair, tugging at it. Cooper pushes himself against you where you could feel just how hard you were making him. He bites down on your tongue once more before you realize what is going on. That this wasn’t acting. That you were actually making out with Cooper Howard. The taken actor. One who’s fiancé, Barb, considered you family.

You pull away and only a trail of spit was what was connecting you. You were going to apologize but he got up, leaving the room. No words were shared for the rest of the night. You feel guilty. But you were too damn drunk for this. So was he.

After filming wrapped, you were thrust into the world of press. The both of you seemed to forget about the kiss. The one you shared with him while drunk. Thank god for that. The press tour with Cooper was something else. The director wanted you two to lean into a facade. He wanted the both of you to act like lovers. This was to sell the film, lean into that romance your two characters had. You couldn’t flirt for shit without a script. Cooper, however, was a complete natural.

You followed Cooper’s lead. You know it was all an act but you were falling for him. Hard. He was the first man to ever give you the time of day. You knew it was fake flirting but every blush that he caused was real. The film ended up being big enough to push both Cooper and you into the spotlight. Now you’re landing gigs like crazy as well as him.

One night you called his hotel room, drunk. You had gone to his bar after a press interview with your other cast mates. Cooper stayed in. At a payphone, you rang him. It was right after a man tried to hit on you and take you to his place. It was less romantic and more forceful. He was a balding older man who seemed to hug his cup of on tap beer. Ultimately, you punched the man in the face. He tried to grope you. You had the right to fight back. Maybe you had a tough relationship with alcohol. You’ll address that later in life. But while at that payphone, you whined and cried to Cooper. This night you barely remember other than the fact that he came and got you. He went out of his way to help you. 

You both play lovers again in another western B-film. This one didn’t have the same success as the prior film but it was still another film you did with Cooper. You loved working with him. It was always such a delight. But mid-this film, he got married. That ruined the tabloid rumors of the both of you together that were thrusting you into stardom with him. Hollywood loved rumors. You weren’t even invited to the damn wedding. That had put a rift between the both of you. He never told you why you weren’t invited. He was supposed to be your closest friend. After getting married, things changed. He didn’t act as friendly towards you. Actually, he ignored you. Barb started showing up to set more and more. You did not know at the time it would be the last time you’d be acting with him.

After that film, you two were no longer casted together. He did a lot more solo cowboy films while you still got put into that innocent lover girl stereotype. But Hollywood really started to make you jaded. Any man who approached you only wanted sex. No one liked you for you. Your personal life was shit. You had no one. But Cooper? He seemed to have it all. A wife, a kid on the way, and a successful career.You only had a career. You yearned for love. 

About three years later, you worked on a western film; one with no relation to Cooper. You were the star. Maybe people started to realize that you weren’t as innocent as films made you seem. You played a jaded mayor who took matters into her own hands when the town,  mainly men, started to turn on your character. The director and writer were women which made the set far more comfortable than anything you have ever experienced. 

Once that film wrapped, you were invited to an after party at the director’s home. Not just for your film but the other films that were filming in the lot. It was about time you had fun. For years you were on your own. No parties, just work. When you got there, the place was packed. It felt odd being dressed in a skin tight black dress, you were getting glares from older men and women. You shared hugs with a few cast and crew members before heading for the open bar. You get a vodka cranberry and find a secluded place away from most people. When you thought you were alone, you heard a familiar voice arguing.

“Did you have to invite all your coworkers?” 

Cooper. His voice is as sweet as the first day you met him. You’d recognize it anywhere.

“If we want to settle that commercial deal, you might as well get friendly with them.” 

His wife.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. Maybe she was nice. But it was almost like she knew you liked her husband. The awkward tension soured any companionship that could have happened. But that was for the best when you think about it in hindsight. You were under the influence at the moment, not exactly in the best state to talk to your ex-costar. Besides, his wife was a higher up at Vault-Tec, something a lot of actors and actresses seem to hate. There was a lot of drama going on with that. You better ignore those two like the plague, for your own sanity.

Looking from your hidden spot, you see his wife had walked away from him. She probably went to grab a drink. It made sense. He stood with a cigarette in between his fingers, still as pretty as the last time you saw him. Cooper’s eyes catch yours and you duck back to your secluded spot. You curse to yourself as you hear his footsteps come towards you.

“Ain’t no way that’s Y/N.” His southern accent is strong, causing you to swoon.

You step out of your hiding spot and sigh, offering him a friendly smile. He hugs you, acting like nothing happened. Like it hadn’t been years since you last saw him. He had a charming smile on his lips.

“Oh hey.” You shrug.

“Seen your latest picture, you killed it.” 

“Thanks.”

You didn’t know what else to say to him.

“How have you been?” He asks. It was a question you’ve been dreading.

“Fine.” You shake your head.

“Fine?”

“Mhm.”

You down the rest of your drink, needing the liquid courage. You didn’t need to hear about how great his life was. How he had a beautiful wife and a child. Cooper seemed to take the hint, getting agitated himself.

“I can tell when I’m not wanted, darlin’.” He teases you. That nickname makes you want to vomit.

“You’re not wanted?” You scoff. You were being a bit of a dick but you’ll blame your actions on the alcohol. “Says the man who decided he couldn’t be my friend after getting married.”

“You think that was my choice?”

That shut you up. You look at him, confused. Then he continues, “She knew, you know.”

The kiss. He had to be talking about the kiss. It’s the only thing she could have known.

“How?”

“I told her.” He admitted, shrugging. “How could I not? She’s my partner.”

“Wow, what a gentleman.” 

He shakes his head, sighing. “If you were in a relationship, you’d do the same. Like, if a guy came and kissed you, you’d tell your partner.”

“I didn’t kiss you.” You defend.

“But you kissed back. You could have stopped me.” Cooper shrugs.

You’re about to explode at him until Barb comes up to the two of you with drinks in her hands. She offers you a fake smile, passing a drink to him and wrapping her arm around his arm. 

“Y/N! I haven’t seen you in ages! How are you?” She asks. You must keep things civil.

“Hi. I’ve been just fine, so busy.” You laugh awkwardly. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here. Cooper and I actually have people to talk to but it’s been great seeing you.”

Just like that, she tears him away.

Good riddance.

You spend the rest of the night drinking. People try to talk with you and it's just useless networking. Networking is great until you have to do that for hours on end. You watch Cooper and Barb, seeing them exchange kisses. The living room becomes an impromptu dance floor for couples. He tries to get her to dance with him but it's fruitless. They leave the living room to go somewhere. You hope they leave for a moment until you look at the time.

You’re about to leave when a handsome man approaches you. Hollywood’s newest playboy. Tall, brown slickback hair just like James Dean, and a killer smile. He wears a designer suit, sliding up next to you.

“You come here all alone, pretty thing?” He asks. 

Fuck it. You take his bait.

“Yes. It's been such a bore here all alone.” You pout, jutting your bottom lip out slightly. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, smirking. “Share a dance with me. Promise I don’t bite, baby girl.” 

You sway with him, hips pressed against his. His hands rest on your hips. You are far too drunk for this. All you can think about is Cooper. It’s wrong to think of Cooper when with another man. But when this man’s hand snakes up to cup your cheek and your lips connect, you think of your first kiss. The one you shared with Cooper. This doesn’t help one bit. But now you’re on the dancefloor, kissing this man as if he’s your reason for living. You moan against his lips, whining when he bites your bottom lip. He takes this as an invitation to squeeze your ass with his other hand. You open your eyes, making eye contact with Cooper. No Barb by him. Just him on his own. 

Maybe it was evil to do this, you keep your eyes in focus with Cooper’s as you kiss this stranger. He looks angry. Why should he be angry? In his words, he’s a married man. You close your eyes again, letting your tongue slip into this stranger’s. Staying like this, you’re content. That is until someone pulls the man away from you. You open your eyes and see an angry Cooper standing in front of you. Whining, you cross your arms.

“Hey, listen, I have dibs.” The man says, rolling his eyes.

Cooper looks at you with a certain flame in his eyes you can’t place.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?” He scoffs.

All he can do is drop mister heartthrob on the ground, grabbing your hand. “We are leaving.”

Before you can protest, Cooper has dragged you outside. It’s only the two of you. 

“Why would you do that?” You whine, leaning against the nearest wall. Your head was pounding.

“I can’t watch you whore yourself out for some low-life’s attention. You’re better than that.” “Whore myself out? What the fuck is your problem, Howard? Don’t you have a wife to get back to?”

“She left.” 

Before you can get any other word out, he hungrily presses a kiss against your lips. He tastes like cigarettes and expensive liquor. You don’t protest. His hands grip at your hair, tugging the strands harshly. He pulls your head back so his lips can attach to your neck. 

You can’t deny the feelings you still hold for him. He’s the reason you haven’t been with anyone else since. The reason you’re in your late 20s and still a virgin. He bites down softly on your neck just to cause a reaction. You moan, tugging at his hair. Cooper finally pulls away, smirking. You look at him, face red. It’s easy to tell that the both of you are under the influence. 

“How many men do you fuck when you go to parties?” He asks, moving a hand down to cradle the small of your back.

“None.”

That causes him to snap out of whatever haze he was under.

“None? Nice lie, darlin’.”

Would it be embarrassing to tell him you’re still a virgin? 

“Not a lie, Coop.”

You look at him, eyes innocent in this moment. You’ve been waiting for him, as embarrassing as it may seem. Cooper looks you up and down, a sickly sweet smirk plastered on his face. Maybe his wife doesn’t touch him anymore. That’s the only logical thought on why he’d be acting like this. But nothing is ever logical with Cooper Howard. 

“You’re hopeless.” He chuckles to himself before letting you go. Next thing you know, he’s turning to walk away.

You rest against the wall, not wanting this moment to end. You grab his wrist, pouting.

“Don’t leave me this time.” You beg.

“I gotta get home…”

“Fuck home.” You’re feeling gutsy.

“No. I have to go. If I stay, who knows what I’ll do, doll.” Cooper shakes his head, pulling away from your grip. He walks off to the end of the driveway, signaling a cab. 

Just like that, he’s gone.

A week later and Cooper’s face is already plastered on billboards for Vault-Tec. He’s in a stupid blue and yellow suit. His signature colors. It didn’t matter where you went, Cooper was there. It’s a sick reminder of what you’ve been through. As more time passed, the more jaded you became. You lived in a shitty studio apartment in the hills. At night you’d drink away your sorrows. You had enough money to buy your own place but a big mansion would feel like you were overcompensating for something.

Roles started to stop coming in. No one wanted to hire you. You were this close to going back to ads. No offense to ads but you were over that. You were nearing your thirties. One evening your agent called, you thought he was going to drop you right then and there. Instead, he wanted to introduce you to someone. Being single this long and being in the spotlight makes rumors spread. A single woman? Label her a communist. That’s what started to happen. 

You meet this man your agent wants you to meet. Low and behold, it’s mister James Dean look-alike. His eyes light up, pressing a kiss to your hand when you meet again. Just like that, you were dating him and getting roles. You played his lover in a film about greasers. You were the innocent good girl next door. Tabloids ate that up. You moved in with him in his mansion. A big beautiful place with a hot tub and inground pool. You were arm candy for him. For you, it was almost like you had never aged. The only thing about you that made it noticeable that time passed was that you became more and more jaded.

One night you have to head to your boyfriend’s premiere for a western he was in. You wear a long red dress that hugs your curves and shows off your breasts. From all directions paparazzi called for the both of you. Now your boyfriend never told you what this film was about but you damn near had a heart attack when you saw Cooper Howard on the carpet with his wife in his arms. He was wearing a black velvet suit with his hair slicked back. Just the sight of him made you nearly choke on air. When he catches a glimpse of you, he bites his bottom lip; however, he notices the man who is holding your waist. That smirk of his falls. Who is he one to judge? 

You find a spot in the theater and sit down. Looking around, you see Cooper with his wife. They’re overly flirty together tonight. Something you have never seen throughout your whole time knowing him. Once the lights dim in the theater, you lean over to your boyfriend and whisper something about going to the bathroom. You make it out of the theater and you never realized how jealous you were. Your relationship now? All forced. You didn’t even like the guy. Hell, he kisses like a fish out of water. 

Going to the family bathroom, you nearly kick the trash can in anger. In this moment you are hit by how fake your life is. How much shit you’ve been through and how love is not real. Well not real for you. You grab the sink and look at yourself in the mirror. You’re wearing more makeup than normal. It’s like you put makeup on a goddamn pig. Right now you have to play the role of a loving and loyal girlfriend. But is that you? Do you love him? 

Before you could continue questioning everything, the bathroom door opens. You must have not locked it.

“My bad I-” 

That fucking voice. Just hearing it right now is like the universe is taunting you.

“Darlin’.” 

“Cooper.”

You face him, a frown on your face. He doesn’t look any better. It’s like he’s seen a ghost. He comes into the bathroom, locking the door. Why would he do that? 

“Haven’t seen you in months… glad to see you’re doing well. I’m sorry about that party. What I did was wrong.” He begins to apologize. “If I knew you two were-”

“We weren’t.” You cut him off. “I should be going.”

You’re about to push past him and out of the bathroom until he grabs your wrist.

“Listen, I miss you. You were my best friend for a while an’ I just threw ya out like an old toy.”

You don’t answer.

“You look so pretty tonight. That dress… you look so good, sweetheart.”

“Don’t.”

“I-”

“I don’t get you, Cooper Howard. I don’t understand how you work the way you do. You’ll kiss me and then act like nothing ever happened. You make me feel insane! What is it with you? Do you do this with any woman you act with? If you do, I feel horrible for your wife.”

His soft expression sours. You know what’s to come next.

“You are not one to talk.” He starts, “You know it’s crazy, I used to like you.”

That makes you laugh. Of course he did. “Oh sure you did.” You roll your eyes.

“I did!” He defends.

A part of you wants to believe him but he has been nothing but in love with his wife since day one. What makes him think now it is okay to say this? Is it because you’re with a guy? That you’re not single? At this moment, the tension in the room is too tough. You couldn’t even cut it with a knife. For once, you kiss him. You’re the one pressing your lips against his. Both of you are sober at this moment. Kissing him sober is so much better than before. Your cherry red lipstick is smearing across his lips. Neither of you seem to care. He has you pushed up against the sink, you can feel his arousal in his pants. You push your hips into his, moaning as he bites down on your lip. This time feels different than any time before. It’s like you know you’re going to cross a line. He lifts up your dress, pressing a finger against your soaked panties. He nearly growls at the feeling. 

“Can I?” He asks and you nod.

He instantly drops to his knees leaving you confused. In one swift motion, he pulls down your panties. Before you can look down, his tongue runs over your clit. You twirl your fingers in his hair, tugging at it softly. All the times you’ve almost had him have led up to this moment. Softly, he sucks on your clit. You’re about to moan his name but something else takes your attention. He’s shoving two fingers into you. 

“Coop!” You hiss, grinding your cunt against his face. 

He chuckles, swirling his tongue over your clit. You swear you’ve died and gone to heaven. No one has ever made you feel this good. There’s a fire in your core. He curls his fingers and starts to rock them in and out of you. This just started but you swear you’re going to cum soon. He nips at your clit, playing with it between his teeth.

“Close. Fuck, I’m close.” You moan out.

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out of you. Pressing a kiss to your thigh, he looks up at you. Without his fingers inside of you, you whine. Looking down at him, you meet his eyes.

“You’re going to cum on my cock, got it?” 

He stands up, struggling with his belt. You try to help him take it off but he swats your hands away. Once the belt is off, he pulls his pants and boxers down in one swift motion. He’s big. You don’t know how he’s going to fit inside of you. It’s possible but it looks like he could split you in two. Who knew he was packing this whole time?

Cooper lifts you up onto the sink so you’re on display. He pulls your dress up around your waist before coating himself with your arousal. 

“Beg for it.” He demands, “How badly do you want me?”

You’ve never begged before. But fuck it. “Badly.”

“How badly, darlin’? Use your words.” 

He’s constantly rubbing himself up and down your slit. Everytime he brushes against your clit you lose it, a tiny moan slipping past your lips.

“I want you to fuck me, Cooper. Like all those times you’ve kissed me. I need you. I ache for you.” You whine.

He accepts that, slowly pushing into you. It hurts. It’s bigger than any toy you’ve used on yourself. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, whimpering. Cooper doesn’t seem to pick up on the discomfort because he’s already starting to thrust in and out of you. He rests his forehead against yours so he could look into your eyes and he fucks you. His jaw is hanging slightly as it seems he’s thinking with his cock rather than his head. Every time he hits a certain spot inside of you, you moan louder. 

“You’re tight, sweetheart. Bet your boyfriend doesn’t fuck you like this.” Cooper grunts, pressing a messy kiss to your lips. 

“Bet he doesn’t know how to make you cum.” He taunts.

You’re already starting to moan again, head tilting back. Maybe once this is over you can tell him that he’s your first. That you’ve been waiting for this day. To avoid saying anything stupid, you press a desperate kiss to his lips. It’s mainly to shut the both of you up. You’d never let your boyfriend touch you like this. He’s not Cooper. He’ll never be him. You feel nothing but bliss right now as Cooper fucks you. His thrusts are getting faster, messier. Pulling away from the kiss, he rests his forehead back on yours. Using a free hand, he starts to play with your clit. You feel like you’re on fire.

“Gonna cum. Fuck, Coop.” You moan.

This seems to encourage him, he’s getting sloppier. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Make a mess all over my cock.” He nearly growls.

You feel a knot explode in your lower stomach as you hit your climax. You’re digging your nails into his suit as you scream his name. Anyone outside the bathroom could hear the both of you. This was a risky game the two of you were playing. You clench down on him as you orgasm. His cock twitches inside of you as he quickly pulls out. You’re trying to catch your breath and he’s jerking his cock off. It’s aimed right at your clit. 

“Gonna cum all over your pretty pussy. Fuck.” He grunts, rambling to himself. 

His head falls back as he cums. It’s a lot. Some of it lands on the sink, your pussy, and your dress. You’re covered in his cum. Still trying to catch your breath, you look at Cooper. His hair is no longer slicked back, it’s falling into his face. Not just that but he’s drenched in sweat. He’s made a mess of himself. Made a mess of you. 

While the both of you catch your breath, you feel the urge to blurt something out. 

“I was a virgin.” 

He looks at you, confused and horrified. Confused because he could have sworn you’d have had sex by now and horrified because he took your virginity in the bathroom of a theater. Quickly, he pulls back up his pants. 

“I’m sorry.” Is all he can muster. He’s ashamed that your first time was here. That it wasn’t special. To him, you deserve nothing but the best in life. That’s why he was always scared to hurt you. 

His reaction is making you feel sick. This isn’t how it should be. It should be a cute moment shared between the both of you. You’re about to open your mouth but he quickly leaves the bathroom. Now you’re feeling ashamed. 

You take a few minutes before getting up. You wipe whatever bit of his cum off of you that you can. Next thing you do is leave the bathroom and go back to the theater. Sitting next to your boyfriend, the only thing on your head is that you smell like sex. 

You smell like Cooper Howard.

tag list: @djarinsgirl27 , @cupid-club

part two coming soon

[redroomreflections]

Hotel California | Track 1: Smoke and Mirrors

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 7k

Chapter 1/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: I was going to wait to post this since I have fifty-leven WIPs but to make up for me not being able to write for a while and also finishing two stories in the coming weeks - here we are. I'm nervous about posting this one for some reason. Hope y'all like it.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

Track 1 - Smoke and Mirrors (each chapter is a track)

In the world of music, there's no denying that Velvet Rebellion's sound is electric, their melodies are undeniably addictive. But offstage, the drama and chaos surrounding this band have been the subject of endless tabloid fodder. It's a classic case of the music being sweet, but the rest of the package is a tad sour. Will their rock 'n' roll lifestyle ultimately overshadow their undeniable talent? That remains the question on everyone's lips.

The TV channel flicking produced a rapid succession of blips and static.

"You know, when it comes to Velvet Rebellion, it's clear that Natasha Romanoff is the best thing about the band. Her vocals are just on another level!"

"Oh, absolutely! Natasha's stage presence is incredible, and her voice, that raw emotion she pours into every note, it's what sets them apart. But let's not forget the rest of the band; they bring their own magic to the mix!"

Another press of the button. Another channel emitting the same rhetoric. 

"So, what are your thoughts on Velvet Rebellion, the band that seems to be taking the music scene by storm?"

"Look, I won't deny that they've had their moments. Natasha's got a powerful voice, and they've had some catchy tunes. But let's not forget, there's more to rock 'n' roll than just one person. We bring our own unique sound to the table, and we're here to show that rock isn't a one-trick pony."

Suddenly, the screen goes black. The television has been turned off. The room is silent. 

“Whatever,” The mysterious person tsks. There are better things to do. 

In the dimly lit room, the first flicker of a cigarette lighter illuminated a shadowy figure, and a guitar's haunting melody echoed through the air. It was a simple beginning, a humble birth of sound that would eventually become the anthem of a generation.

Images flashed in rapid succession—a chaotic whirlwind of memories and moments that had defined their journey from obscurity to stardom. The flashing lights of a small, dimly lit club, the very place where they had played their first gig, gave way to a sea of screaming fans, arms raised in fervent adoration.

“Bucky! Bucky!”

“Steve, we love you!”

Talk show interviews brought them into living rooms across the nation, their faces beamed into millions of homes as they shared their stories and their music with the world. The camera panned to Natasha, her fierce gaze unyielding as she answered questions with poise and grace.

And then, there were the guitars. Guitars being smashed in a blaze of glory on stage, a ritual that had become their trademark. The destructive catharsis of the act symbolized the release of their raw energy and passion into the world.

Groupies and fans clamored for their attention, their devotion evident in the longing looks and outstretched hands. Each face in the crowd told a story of how Velvet Rebellion's music had touched their lives.

Late-night studio sessions followed, with the band working tirelessly into the early hours, crafting the songs and lyrics that had earned them their place in music history. In the dimly lit room, the flicker of a cigarette lighter once again marked the beginning of a new song.

Magazine covers splashed with their images adorned newsstands across the country. Excerpts from clippings of their first studio album, "Velvet Love," told a tale of raw, unbridled emotion set to music—a story that had resonated with countless souls.

The montage painted a vivid picture of a band that had journeyed through the highs and lows of fame, never losing sight of the music that had brought them together. Velvet Rebellion had carved its path through the music industry, leaving an unforgettable mark on the hearts of those who had listened and loved.

*************

Sunlight filters through the curtains of Natasha and Wanda's cozy Los Angeles apartment. Disheveled yet determined, Natasha sits on the edge of her bed, cradling her guitar. She strums the strings absentmindedly, searching for that inspiration that once fueled Velvet Rebellion. Her fingers danced over the strings of her trusty guitar, each note a whisper in the quiet solitude of the bedroom.

Natasha's hair framed her face, and frustration lined her expression as she strummed the chords once again. The next album's melodies were meant to be born here. Yet, inspiration remained at arm’s length, teasing her like a fading dream.

"Come on Natalia," she whispered gruffly, remembering the name she had left behind long ago.

With a sigh, she shifted her gaze to the muted TV on the dresser. A NEWS REPORTER's face appeared on the screen, accompanied by headlines that could never escape the relentless clutches of the media. She searched for the remote to turn up the volume as the face of one of her bandmates, Tony Stark’s pictures appeared. 

NEWS REPORTER

(on TV)

“In a surprising turn of events, Velvet Rebellion's Tony Stark was arrested last night for public indecency.”

Natasha's eye-roll was instinctive. Tony always had a way of making headlines for all the wrong reasons.

NEWS REPORTER

(on TV)

“...fans and critics alike have noted the band's gradual decline, and it seems the once-revered punk rock indie sensation is now on the verge of falling apart.”

The reporter's words cut through Natasha's indifference, a scalding reminder of the shadows that had been gathering around them. She couldn't deny it; the band had been stagnant for too long.

Fury sparked in her eyes, and she clenched the neck of her guitar, momentarily abandoning the song. The Velvet Rebellion of yesteryears, the band that had ignited stages and won hearts, couldn't be reduced to this—a spectacle of controversies and dwindling star power.

Returning her attention to her guitar Natasha sighed. The room's stillness hung heavy as she gently laid the guitar down on the floor. It felt like a futile effort, the muse remaining frustratingly out of reach, leaving her with an empty canvas and an aching desire to create.

Her gaze dropped to the small, black notebook, its pages filled with aborted attempts to capture the essence of their experiences and emotions in song. But today, those pages mocked her, an unforgiving reminder of the creative void that had taken its home within her.

Just as her frustration reached its peak, the bedroom door swung open with a soft creak, and in walked Wanda, a bowl of popcorn cradled in her hand. She plopped down on the bed beside Natasha, her eyes rolling in a knowing, teasing manner.

“How’s writing going?” Wanda asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn to plop into her mouth. 

Natasha let out a weary sigh, her notebook momentarily forgotten as she shared her woes with her best friend.

“You have no idea. It's like I've hit a wall, and I can't seem to find my way around it.” Natasha said. “How are we supposed to come up with another album with no songs? It’s been two years. We’re going to be known as one-hit wonders.”

“First off that’s a bit dramatic,” Wanda attempted to calm her down. “We made the hot rock and alternative songs billboard charts for our debut. I think the momentum is still there.”

Wanda cast a glance at the muted TV screen, where a news reporter was still busy dissecting Tony's latest escapade. She couldn't help but roll her eyes, mirroring Natasha's exasperation.

“And of course, our dear Tony adds another branch to the publicity tree. It's almost impressive how consistently he manages to get into trouble.” Wanda shook her head. 

After placing her bowl of popcorn on the dresser, Wanda decided to abandon her sitting position and instead flopped onto her belly, propped up on her elbows. She grabbed Natasha's small notebook, a curious glint in her eyes as she skimmed through the handwritten lyrics and scattered notes.

“You know, Nat, I think I see where you're stuck.” Wanda hummed to herself for a moment. 

Turning her attention to Wanda, Natasha felt her frustration momentarily ebb away, replaced by curiosity.

“Oh?” Natasha eyed her. “Please, share your wisdom.”

Wanda's eyes sparkled with an unexpected idea, and she pointed to a particular verse in the notebook. Her voice took on a sultry, poetic quality as she suggested a new lyric.

“How about this: "In the shadows of desire, we ignite the night."

Natasha's eyes widened in surprise as the words resonated deep within her. She quickly reached for her instrument and strummed the guitar, incorporating the new lyric into the melody, and in that instant, it all fell into place. A smile grew on her face, and she turned to Wanda.

“Wanda, that's brilliant! Thank you!” Natasha leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I know why I keep you around.”

Wanda beamed in response. 

"Speaking of," she began, her voice casual yet laced with an underlying purpose, "we've got a gig this weekend. It's a birthday party for Harley Jameson, you know, the producer's daughter."

Natasha's response was swift and uncompromising, her will clear in her refusal. Her head shook slightly as she firmly voiced her decision, her thoughts already drifting toward the disturbing pattern of her bandmates taking liberties with decisions without consulting her, the lead.

"Absolutely not, Wanda," Natasha declared, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Aren’t we better than performing for snot-nosed brats?

Wanda, ever patient and understanding, propped herself up on her elbows. 

“Well, when that snot nose brat is paying us fifty thousand dollars plus a retainer,” Wanda shrugs. “And all the booze and food we want.” Her words were measured, spoken with the calm that came from knowing this conversation was inevitable." Nat, remember," she began, "you're the lead, not the boss. We haven’t been taking gigs because you've been declining. You know we need to keep the momentum going."

Natasha's jaw clenched in frustration. She leaned back, her gaze shifting to the ceiling as she contemplated her response.

"There's a reason, Wanda," Natasha explained, her voice tinged with concern. "Our brand has taken a beating lately with all the scandals we've had over the years. It’s not a good look being so new. I want us to lay low for a while, let the storm pass."

Wanda sighed, her eyes reflecting her understanding of Natasha's concerns. But she also recognized the band's need to keep going ahead despite the challenges.

"Nat," Wanda said, her voice gentle and reassuring, "I get it, I really do. But we'll be fine. Harley's party should be a breeze, and I promise we'll stay out of trouble. We'll stick to the music, no antics."

Natasha's hesitation lingered. Ultimately, the trust she had in Wanda, her lifelong friend and partner-in-crime, began to outweigh her reservations. She finally nodded, a reluctant but willing acceptance of the gig.

"Alright, alright," Natasha conceded. “We'll do it. But just this one, and we'll play it safe."

Wanda's eyes sparkled with a victorious smile, recognizing that she had won this battle for now. With that agreement, they returned to their songwriting. 

**************

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn of Harley Jameson's grand estate, Velvet Rebellion gathered on the makeshift stage. Around them, staff and party planners began to decorate the backyard. Their instruments glistened under the setting and stage lights. 

Natasha, her guitar slung securely across her shoulder, couldn't help but notice Tony, seated behind the drum kit, his sunglasses doing little to hide the lingering effects of his earlier indulgence. She approached him with a stern expression, a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Tony, you better get it together," She warned. "We're not messing this up tonight."

Tony, ever the charmer, brushed off her concerns with an easy smile and a wave of his hand.

"Nat, I promise, I'm fine. See?"

With that, he launched into a lively drum solo, his sticks dancing skillfully across the drumheads. The rhythm was tight, the sound electrifying. Natasha couldn't help but acknowledge his undeniable talent, even as she sighed in resignation.

"Great," she muttered to herself, "the sunglasses are his secret weapon now."

Standing beside Natasha, Steve placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. His quiet and calming presence was a balm to her nerves.

"It's alright, Natasha," He reassured her, his voice steady and comforting. "We'll get through this gig, just like our old days. Tony’s recovering but he seems fine."

Together they glance back to their bandmate who was more than likely inebriated. Tony chugged a bottle of water, before crushing it and dropping it down onto the floor beside him. 

Natasha's gaze softened as she looked at Steve, a small smile forming on her lips. “Yeah, he’s the epitome of fine.”

“Okay,” Steve pulled her gently to the side. “What’s the problem?” 

“Nothing,” Natasha shrugged. “I just can’t help but think that gigs like this are beneath us. I mean we went from performing at the MTV Video Music Awards to this? A sweet sixteen?”

Steve looked at her. He had been through thick and thin with Natasha and knew the depth of her concerns. 

“Natasha,” He replied. “I get your worries, but I promise this is a good thing for us. Todd Jameson is one of the biggest music producers in Hollywood right now. There will be a lot of executives here just to support his daughter. Think of what that could mean for us.”

“Fine,” Natasha nodded. “But if he fucks up I kick his ass.”

“Oh, you bet. Right after I’m done kicking it,” Steve joked causing Natasha to burst into laughter. 

Natasha steps back over to the mic. “Alright let’s take it from the top.” 

As Natasha prepared to lead the band into their rehearsal of the first song, the peacefulness of the backyard rehearsal space was abruptly disrupted by the arrival of Harley Jameson. She swept onto the scene with all the extravagance befitting a Hollywood princess, accompanied by a harried-looking party planner and another woman, who appeared to be a guest.

Harley, the embodiment of a spoiled heiress, immediately began issuing orders with a sense of entitlement that left the party planner flustered.

"No, no, no! These decorations are all wrong! Change them around! The mirror ball should be over here. And I want a live peacock by the pool. It's not too much to ask, is it?" Harley demanded impatiently.

The party planner, clearly overwhelmed, tried to keep up with Harley's demands. "Harley, we only have a few hours before the party starts. It's going to be challenging to make all these changes in such a short time."

Harley huffed, uninterested in the logistical challenges she was causing. "I don't care about that. Just get it done. My dad said I could have whatever I wanted."

Meanwhile, Harley's attention shifted to Velvet Rebellion, her face lighting up with enthusiasm.

"Oh, my God! I've been dying to meet you! I'm a huge fan!" she exclaimed with excitement. “I’m so happy I could get you here.”

She bounded over to the band, seemingly oblivious to the chaos she was creating, and introduced them to the party planner and you.

"This is Velvet Rebellion!" Harley introduced with enthusiasm. "Steve, the keyboardist, Tony on the drums, Bucky on the electric guitar, Wanda, the second lead singer and bass guitar, and Natasha, the incredible lead singer!"

You and the other woman exchanged glances, your expressions a mixture of frustration and amusement at the whirlwind that was Harley Jameson. You gave a small wave, opting to be in the background of this exchange. 

Wanda, ever the peacekeeper, managed to maintain her composure and put on a friendly smile despite Harley's overwhelming energy. She nodded graciously at Harley's enthusiasm.

"Oh, thank you so much, Harley!" Wanda replied with genuine warmth. "We're thrilled to meet you too. Your party looks like it's going to be incredible!"

Harley's energy showed no signs of waning as she delved into the details of the band's performance. When Wanda mentioned their planned first song, "Smoke and Mirrors," Harley immediately piped up with an alternative suggestion.

"No, no, no," Harley interrupted with fervor. "I want you to start with 'Ink and Whiskey.' It's my favorite!"

Natasha, who had been preparing to protest the sudden change to their setlist, hesitated as she saw Wanda's meek demeanor. However, it was clear that Harley's demand had disrupted their carefully planned sequence.

Natasha began to voice her concerns, but Harley's retort was swift and smart-mouthed. 

“We’ve already planned this out for-” Natasha began. 

“Oh, you can change it, can’t you? It’s just a silly setlist,” Harly questioned. 

Before Natasha could respond, you intervened with a calm yet authoritative tone.

"Harley, let's tone it down a bit," You advised, your demeanor oozing an air of authority that surprised Natasha. Harley listened, her earlier defiance giving way to a more composed demeanor.

“Sorry, I’m just excited,” Harley shrugged. 

Natasha found herself intrigued by your presence and the respect Harley seemed to show you.

"Alright," Natasha conceded with a smile, "since it's your birthday, we'll start with 'Ink and Whiskey.'"

Wanda offered a nod of agreement, and the tension in the air began to dissipate.

Harley, feeling triumphant, turned her attention to the party planner.

"Sarah, darling, let's make sure everything is perfect. I want it to be a night to remember!" Harley changed the subject, pulling you both back into a conversation with ease. 

Sarah, the party planner, nodded and tried to hide her relief that the brief crisis had passed. 

"Of course, Harley. Everything will be just as you want it."

Natasha watched the exchange between Harley and Sarah, her curiosity piqued more by you. 

“Who’s the chick?” Natasha pointed over to you with a tilt of her head. She got shrugs from Steve and Bucky. Tony was way too distracted to answer as he flirted with one of the staff. Wanda squinted to see if she could guess. 

“I don’t know,” Wanda said. “She looks vaguely familiar, but I’m guessing it’s not her mom.”

“Interesting,” Natasha mumbled to herself. She shook her head. There was no time for whatever the thumping in her heart was proving to be. She was here for the band and for the music. Also for the money, she couldn’t forget the money. 

As the preparations for the party continued, your cell phone suddenly rang, breaking the conversation flow. You excused yourself with a polite smile and stepped away from the group, heading toward a quieter corner of the backyard a few feet away.

Natasha couldn't help but overhear snippets of your conversation, the tone of your voice suggesting a heartfelt exchange, likely with a significant other. Natasha discreetly glanced in your direction, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Your voice held a gentle warmth as you spoke softly into your phone, your words filled with affection and longing.

 "I miss you too, sweetheart. Yeah, the party's getting started here in a couple of hours. It's not the same without you. Can't wait to see you soon." You smiled. 

Natasha couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but the tenderness in your voice painted a clear picture of a loving connection between you and someone special.

Meanwhile, Harley, always the inquisitive host, began questioning Steve and Bucky about the band and its music.

"So, guys," Harley started, her interest genuine, "Have you ever thought about going solo? I am dying to know the secret."

Steve and Bucky, accustomed to answering these questions, engaged in a friendly chat with Harley, even if they also found her annoying. 

As Natasha discreetly observed you from the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but be captivated by your natural beauty. You were dressed in a simple white t-shirt and form-fitting jeans, a look that should have been unremarkable, but on you, it was utterly captivating.

The way your hair was styled, framing your face in soft waves, added to your appeal. Your skin had a radiant glow, and your features held an understated elegance that drew Natasha's attention. Despite the casual attire, you exuded a timeless charm that was impossible to ignore.

Natasha found herself admiring the effortless beauty that seemed to emanate from you and she wanted to know more. 

Just as Natasha started to pretend she wasn't eavesdropping, you turned around with a warm smile, catching her off guard. She quickly toyed with her microphone stand, feigning indifference.

You found her reaction amusing but were soon drawn back into your phone conversation. Natasha couldn't help but wonder about the person on the other end of that call and what had sparked such a genuine smile on your face. 

She toyed with the mic stand for as long as possible, physically forcing herself not to look your way. It’s a few more minutes before you returned to the group. You turned your attention to Harley and Sarah.

"Harley, don't forget, you have that hair appointment in an hour," You reminded her, glancing at your watch. "We need to make sure you're all set for your big night."

Harley, momentarily distracted by the band's presence, nodded in agreement.

"Oh, right! Thanks, y/n. I'll head out now," Harley replied with a grin. She turned to the band and offered her farewells. "Catch you all later!"

With that, Harley and Sarah departed, leaving Velvet Rebellion alone in the backyard.

As the group began to disperse, you took a moment to say goodbye to the band. 

“See you guys tonight,” You said. “I’m sure you’ll do great. If you need refreshments just ask one of the staff and they will be happy to help you with anything you need.” 

Natasha responded with a small smile and a nod, a subtle acknowledgment of the brief but pleasant interaction.

Once you, Harley, and Sarah were out of earshot, the rest of the band couldn't resist teasing Natasha. Wanda, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, chimed in.

"Uh oh, I know that look," Wanda teased, earning a knowing chuckle from the others. Natasha's momentary fascination with you hadn't gone unnoticed, and her bandmates were more than happy to playfully nudge her about it.

“There’s no look, I don’t have a look.” Natasha rolled her eyes. 

“Sure, you don’t,” Wanda grinned. “Any bets on how long until she gets her number?”

“I say within the hour,” Tony raised his hand pulling out a single, crinkled five-dollar bill from his back pocket. 

“Fifteen says they sleep together after the show,” Bucky shrugged. Steve is the only one to remain silent. 

“I don’t know,” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “I think I’ll save my thoughts for later. The girl barely said two words to any of us.”

“Thank you,” Natasha said. “Now, can we rehearse like a proper band?” 

She tried to erase your image from her head as she positioned herself in front of the microphone. 

From the top. 

*****************

The night was alive with energy as Velvet Rebellion took the stage, the crowd gathered around, eager to soak in every note of their music. Natasha oozed confidence and charisma, a star in every sense of the word. The opening chords of "Ink and Whiskey" filled the air, and the crowd erupted in cheers. This birthday party was a rager if she’d ever seen one. Natasha always considered rich people stiff and uptight. Going to plenty of parties once their debut kicked off their careers. Stiff drinks, weird pleasantries, and even more drugs. She was being proven wrong with this particular shindig. 

She moved to the edge of the stage, her presence magnetic. She sang with a passion that could be felt in every corner of the space, her voice carrying the weight of their lyrics. The audience couldn't help but be drawn into her performance, and they eagerly joined in, singing along and dancing to the beat.

Wanda, standing beside Natasha, bled a different kind of cool and calm. Her steady presence provided the perfect balance to Natasha's fiery performance. It was clear to anyone watching that their dynamic was the secret to their success.

Natasha lowered her head, giving Wanda the floor to sing her part of the chorus. Wanda’s hands moved steadily between the chords as she sang into the microphone. 

Ink and whiskey, the pages of our hearts,  

Tangled in the chapters where love starts,  

In the darkness, our secrets we confide,  

With every word written, our souls collide

Natasha steps forward, moving close enough to the microphone so that she and Wanda could harmonize the last verse. Her eyes travel from Wanda’s, smiling as they share in the energy and joy of being on stage before she maneuvers herself to face the crowd. 

In the night's embrace, our love's sweet refrain,  

Ink and whiskey, like a runaway train,  

Through the highs and lows, we'll find our way,  

With every word we write, love's here to stay

In the front row, Harley danced with her friends, reveling in the music and the excitement of the night. The atmosphere was electric, and the joy was contagious.

As Natasha sang, she scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on familiar faces among the sea of B-listers and music enthusiasts. But the one that stood out the most was you. Your eyes locked, and Natasha couldn't resist a playful wink, a silent acknowledgment of your earlier encounter.

You raised your glass in a silent toast and clapped enthusiastically when the song came to an end. You weren’t a huge fan of the music genre but you could see why Velvet Rebellion was such a rising star amongst new artists. Their stage presence was undeniable, the song was catchy and the beat was electrifying. It helped that Natasha was cute. All good things in your book. You can’t take your eyes off the stage as they move into their next song. It’s a bit disjointed considering Harley made them change the setlist around the last minute but it seems smooth either way. Natasha dances a bit for this one, her body movements fluid and effortless. Almost as if she’s had some training. 

You’re momentarily distracted when a distant family member comes to say hello. 

The show must go on as Natasha continues to sing her heart out. 

**********************

The final notes of their setlist rang out, and the crowd roared in appreciation. Velvet Rebellion had given their all, and now it was time for the DJ to take over and keep the party going.

Wanda had convinced Natasha to stay a while longer, promising that the night was still young and full of possibilities. Tony, ever the charmer, remarked with a grin, "I see a few MILFs in the crowd that I wouldn't mind mingling with." He slipped into the crowd with ease, chatting up the first single woman he saw. 

Natasha, however, remained all about business. She stood at the bar, surveying the party and keeping a watchful eye on her bandmates. The chaos and revelry around her seemed to blur into a colorful swirl of dancing bodies and laughter.

It was then that you approached her, catching Natasha's attention. Your presence was a welcome change of pace, and Natasha couldn't help but appreciate the genuine compliment she received.

"You guys were incredible," You said with a smile. "I'm impressed."

Natasha, always a woman of few words in such settings, offered a gracious nod of acknowledgment. 

You extended your hand with a warm smile as you introduced yourself, "I'm y/n. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Natasha shook your hand firmly and replied, "Natasha. Likewise."

You couldn't help but notice Natasha's reserved demeanor. Almost as if she felt too cool to be here. 

"I couldn't help but wonder," You began, your curiosity evident as you raised your voice above the music. "why aren't you out there dancing like the rest of your bandmates?"

Natasha offered a wry smile and shot back, "I could ask you the same thing."

“Touche,” You nodded. “I’m not much of a party girl.” You turn towards the bartender. “Do you want a drink? Eric here makes the best mojitos.”

“Sure, I’ll have a sex on the beach,” Natasha asked. 

“You heard the woman,” You jokingly said to Eric as he began to make your drinks. As you focused your attention on grabbing a few napkins, Natasha gave you a once-over. Your party dress was a delightful balance of simplicity and style. The knee-length and backless dress showcased a flattering silhouette, hugging your curves in all the right places. The deep, midnight-blue fabric was decorated with tiny, shimmering glitter that seemed to twinkle with each movement you made. Its sweetheart neckline and delicate spaghetti straps added a touch of femininity to the ensemble, while the mid-thigh slit allowed for easy movement as you moved. The overall effect was a cute yet elegant dress that perfectly suited the festive atmosphere of the party.

Natasha's observant eye caught the jewelry adorning your wrist. It was subtle but tasteful, hinting at a level of refinement that didn't go unnoticed. It was at least half of her salary for tonight’s show. This only interested her more. She needed to know who you were. She wanted to know the mystery behind you and your name. 

“Here you go,” You step back over to Natasha to hand her a drink. “I hope I’m not being too forward.”

“Not at all,” Natasha shrugged. 

"You know, if you're looking for a bit more quiet, we could step inside for a breather." You suggested, tilting your chin towards the house. 

Natasha considered the offer, realizing that a change of scenery might be a welcome respite from the party's chaos. With a small smile, she agreed, "That sounds like a good idea."

You led Natasha through the sea of people and inside the mansion to a nearby office where the music's relentless thump was muffled, and the atmosphere was quieter. It was a welcome change from the frenzied party outside.

As you settled into seats close to each other on the couch, drinks in hand, Natasha couldn't help herself and began to ask you questions. 

“Why did you ask me in here tonight?” Natasha asked. “Not that I’m complaining. I have been invited into much worse places.”  

“Thanks, I think,” You chuckled. You sensed Natasha's curiosity and offered a simple explanation, your eyes holding Natasha's in an unspoken connection."I enjoy meeting new people," you confessed, your voice soft but sincere. "And I've decided I wanted to talk with you."

You took a sip of your drink, your gaze thoughtful. "I also wanted to apologize for Harley's behavior earlier. She can be... spirited at times."

Natasha waved off the apology with a small smile, understanding that spirited was one way to describe Harley's antics.

You went on to explain, "Usually, I don't speak up like that, but my uncle has a way of spoiling Harley. It's... complicated."

Natasha's curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "Your uncle? He’s Todd Jameson?"

You took a moment before revealing, "Yes. He and my dad are half-brothers. Making Harley my little cousin. I don’t admit it often."

The revelation left Natasha intrigued. She had heard the name Todd Jameson before, a figure of significance in the entertainment industry. The connection between you and Harley was now becoming clearer, and Natasha couldn't help but wonder about the family connection.

“That would make your dad…” Natasha began. 

“Nick Fury, the one and only,” You finished for her. “Different fathers. My dad is somewhere out there tonight. It’s a thing I don’t like to admit to strangers.”

“I get it,” Natasha nodded. 

The revelation about your family connection to Todd Jameson made Natasha pause for a moment. She had always admired the award-winning jazz player turned talent manager, Nick Fury, from afar. His contributions to the music industry were legendary, and Natasha couldn't deny that she was a fan of his music.

She decided not to fangirl, though, and instead offered a genuine smile. "Your dad is a legend. I've always been a fan of his music."

Your eyes lit up with appreciation. "Thank you, Natasha. I'll be sure to pass that along to him." You set your half-empty cup onto a coaster, before turning back to Natasha. “So, watching you on that stage. Not many people have that star power. I was wondering if you have experience dancing? You were incredible.” 

Natasha's eyes sparkled as she recalled her performance. "The way I danced on stage during our set, it's a part of who I am. I guess you could say it's a bit of my background showing through."

Your curiosity piqued, and you guessed, "Ballet, then?"

Natasha nodded. "Yes, I did ballet for sixteen years as a child. I even got into Juilliard."

Your eyes widened in admiration. "That's amazing, Natasha. How did you get into singing and music?"

Natasha took a sip of her drink and smiled as she delved into the story of how she got into music. It was a story that she didn't often share, but there was something about her conversation with you that made her feel comfortable opening up.

"It all started back in high school," Natasha began. "I was really into dancing, and it was an elective at my school. But then, one day, I decided to join the choir on a whim. And I fell in love with singing and songwriting. I grew up in a rough neighborhood. I needed something to keep me out of the house and off the streets."

She paused for a moment, reminiscing about those early days. "So, I started writing songs, and my friends Wanda and Steve would go over to Steve’s small bedroom. We'd play our rented instruments and experiment with different sounds. It was just a fun little hobby at first."

Natasha's gaze drifted, lost in the memories of those simple beginnings. "Then Bucky, Steve’s best friend well, he's always been a bit of a troublemaker, but he's got a talent for the electric guitar. And Tony...his dad's pretty wealthy and bought us all our equipment. Plus, he's good at the drums."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "It was a bit of a motley crew, but that's how Velvet Rebellion came to be. We started playing in small venues, dive bars, and country clubs. And somehow, we made it here."

Natasha's usually guarded demeanor had softened in your presence, and she found herself enjoying the opportunity to share a piece of her journey with someone who seemed genuinely interested in her story.

“I love that,” You nodded. You and Natasha share a smile before she asked. 

“Is your boyfriend here tonight? I don’t want to keep you too long,” She fished for more information. 

“No, no,” You shake your head. “No boyfriend. You?”

“Not really into monogamy at the moment,” She shrugged. She doesn’t know if this statement will bite her in the ass later but for some reason she trusted you. “Tell me about you. Are you in the family business or?”

"I've always had a bit of a connection to the music world," You began. "As a teenager, I sang a few backup vocals for artists my uncle produced. I guess you could say I almost pursued a career in music, but life had other plans for me. I got pregnant at seventeen. Dedicated to finish school and go to college."

You took a thoughtful swig of your drink and continued, "Now, I'm a publicist. I don't mean to brag, but I'm good at what I do.When I'm not working, I'm taking care of my daughter, Isabella. She's nine years old and the light of my life."

Your face softened as you spoke about your daughter, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and joy. "She's with her dad for the weekend," you added, "and we co-parent quite well."

Natasha was genuinely interested in your life outside of the party scene, and she couldn't resist asking, "Do you have any pictures of Isabella? I'd love to see her."

Your eyes twinkled with delight as you pulled out your phone and began to share a few adorable images of your daughter. Natasha couldn't help but smile as she admired the photos, enjoying this glimpse into your world beyond the music and the party.

“Here she is at gymnastics practice,” You flipped through a few pictures of Isabella’s smiling face. “And swim. She is a little spitfire and she wants to do it all.”

“Wow,” Natasha smiled as if Isabella were her own child. “Do you ever want more?”

“Maybe one day,” You said wistfully. “For now I feel pretty full with everything in life. You?” 

You noticed the change in Natasha's expression and asked, "Is something on your mind?"

Natasha sighed, leaning back into her seat. "I just don't know if I'm cut out for motherhood," she admitted. "I have a younger sister, Yelena, she’s attending the University of Cambridge in England now. She's even developed a bit of a British accent." Natasha couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

"But," she continued, "I enjoy the fast-paced life, the music, the performances, and the constant movement. A significant other won’t quite understand that I don't always have the time. Not that I don’t ever want that someday but…” Her voice died down. 

You listened empathetically, understanding the complexities of Natasha's life as a musician. "I get that," you acknowledged. "But it's essential to find the right balance for you, whether it's in your music career, personal life, or something in between. My dad was able to do it. When he crossed over into hip-hop there was definitely a lot he missed but he still made things happen"

“Really? Well, I will have to ask him for pointers.” She grinned. 

Just as the conversation was reaching its peak, there came a polite knock at the office door. A member of the party staff popped in to inform you that they were ready to sing "Happy Birthday" to Harley.

You turned to Natasha with a warm smile. "It was nice meeting and talking to you, Natasha," you said genuinely.

Natasha, not wanting the connection to end, began, "You know, I'd love to..."

But before she could finish her sentence, your cheeks flushed, and you interrupted already knowing what she was going to say, your voice bold, "Are you going to call me, or are you going to leave me hanging in the wind?"

Natasha couldn't help but laugh at your sudden assertiveness. It was a pleasant surprise. "I’m not that type of woman," Natasha said. At your look, she laughed again. “You got me there.”

You returned her smile and handed Natasha your phone, saying, "You'll just have to trust me with your number instead, and I'll call." Asking for her number instead eased the pressure off Natasha, and also your nerves at hoping she’d call. 

You gave Natasha a wink and chucked a thumb over your shoulder to indicate you were going back to the party. Natasha nodded and watched you walk away. When her eyes trailed lower she doesn’t even feel guilty about it. 

Natasha left the office, rejoining her bandmates outside in the backyard, just as they were preparing to sing "Happy Birthday" to Harley. The festive atmosphere was in full swing, and the energy of the party was infectious.

As the crowd gathered around Harley, Natasha's eyes scanned the faces, and they landed on you, who was standing among the partygoers. Your eyes met, and you shared a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you had developed.

Tony, always quick to pick up on things, couldn't help but tease Natasha when he noticed her grin. "So, did you get her number?"

Natasha rolled her eyes at Tony's assumption but then burst into laughter. "No," she replied with a playful smirk, "she took mine."

The party was still in full swing when someone on stage stopped the music with a loud, "Hey, everyone! Can I have your attention, please?"

The spotlight shifted to the stage, and all eyes turned toward the source of the interruption. It was a friend of Harley's, and he had a mischievous grin on his face as he spoke into the microphone.

"I have a special surprise for our birthday girl tonight," he announced. "We have someone here who's agreed to sing 'Happy Birthday' to Harley, and I think you're all in for a treat."

A collective cheer and applause erupted from the crowd as they eagerly anticipated the surprise. The spotlight moved to you, highlighting your face and putting you on the spot. You managed to not look like a deer in headlights which was a feat in itself. Natasha's curiosity was piqued, especially considering you had mentioned you weren’t much of a singer.

You tried to protest shyly, but the crowd begged you to come up on stage. Encouraged by their cheers, you reluctantly made your way up to the spotlight.

Once on stage, you cleared your throat and took a deep breath, your nerves palpable. You began with a little birthday speech, your voice tinged with affection and humor.

"I want to wish a happy birthday to my cousin Harley," You began, your smile directed at the birthday girl. "Even though she's a bit of a brat," you teased, earning laughs from the crowd, "she's my brat, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Then, as expected, you began to sing "Happy Birthday." Your voice, which you had modestly downplayed earlier, was nothing short of remarkable. It was soulful, sweet, and filled with a depth of emotion that resonated through the entire backyard.

The crowd, including Natasha, was utterly blown away by the unexpected talent that you possessed. Your voice filled the air, making the birthday celebration even more special and memorable. It was a moment of pure magic, and Natasha couldn't help but be captivated by your incredible singing ability.

Natasha decided two things then and there. One, she really liked you, and two, boy, was she in for a ride.

---> next part

[luvrxbunny]

fame

pairing: ex-bf!Eddie Munson x f!reader

summary: Eddie makes a grave mistake.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, insecurity, 'do i wanna know' (lmk if i forgot anything)

wc: 3.6k

a/n: a few things! Id suggest listening to the song before and/or after you read the fic! I wouldn’t suggest during because obviously it wont be on tempo. this can either be modern!Eddie or we can just pretend that “Do I Wanna Know” came out back in 1980. also idk anything abt instruments so shut up if i messed up anywhere— this is one of the worst ones ive written im sorry i just wanted to post

You and Eddie were happy. You guys got to see each other all the time since you became the lead singer of Corroded Coffin. The band supported you two going public endlessly due to the amazing on-stage chemistry you both brought to the shows. The more touchy, and lovey you guys were, the more people would come to the next show. But with this new, larger crowd came a new wave of women wanting to sleep with the hot lead guitarist, Eddie. 

You had no problem with it before. You know he wasn’t very popular in high school and it took you months to convince him that you honestly found him attractive, that you weren’t playing some practical joke, or just trying to bait him into embarrassing himself. So you were pretty happy to see all the attention he was getting, the attention he deserved. You could see his confidence rising, he would smile at the crowd more, play more impressive riffs and you’d get to watch his chest puff up in pride as the crowd uproars for him. 

But as he got more attention from the crowd, his attention was on you much less.

After shows, instead of hanging back with the rest of the band and relaxing backstage, he’d be out in front “entertaining the crowd” as he lovingly put it. It bothered you a bit because this is where you and Eddie got most of your quality time from but you would never take his little fanbase away from him so of course you never said anything. But there was this one week, gig after gig after gig. 

You got no love from Eddie on stage and assumed it was because he was too tired to put on such a show. He wasn't too tired for his guitar riffs, but you let it slide. It’s Eddie he’ll make it up to you backstage, or later than that if necessary. 

Then came time to head backstage, and Eddie didn't follow. You decided to let that slide too. He needs this interaction with his fans! He needs and craves that connection to people who are similar to him, maybe he’ll make some more friends around his age! You’d never want to do anything to stunt that. 

But three hours later, you Jeff, Gareth, and Doug aren’t in a forgiving mood anymore. You’d all joked about how once Eddie got a taste of fame he’d just leave you all behind but it’s starting to feel like less of a joke and more of a reality. 

You guys drink and complain, roll up, smoke, complain, and down a few more drinks before you all decide to take a stand. It’s a half-joke, that you’re all going to head out to the front and demand that Eddie come backstage to spend time with his band, with his girlfriend at least. The boys talk about inviting some girls backstage with them to make a party out of the whole ordeal but all those thoughts are gone and replaced with sober, solemn ones at the sight of what's happening at the front of the bar. 

Eddie’s sitting on a barstool, leaning back against the bar like he’s some god, he has his arms spread wide, resting on the bar and surrounded by women. Most of them are taking unpermitted selfies with him— not that he minds, but three women are draping themselves over him. One is at his side, sitting in a seat and resting her head on his bicep as she rambles to him and he’s listening.. intently. There’s another who’s on his other side, stroking and running her fingers through his hair, complimenting his curls, the ones you taught him to take care of. The third woman is standing between his spread legs, leaning over so that her cleavage is perfectly in his face under the guise of looking at and complimenting his necklaces. 

The smile on his face is one you’ve been missing, one you’ve been seeing less and less due to the stress of booking gigs but there it is… beaming for another girl.

Your heart stops when Eddie finally notices you guys standing on the other side of the room. You feel as though it’s about to jump out of your body and crash through the ground. Eddie pulls his arms in and pushes the girl between his legs away from him with a wide smile. “Oh. Hey, baby!” 

He’s getting up, explaining himself, and walking towards you all at once but you can’t even process what you’ve seen yet, let alone hear his bullshit explanation so you walk away. 

You turn and head backstage, already planning on packing your things and leaving. You’ll have to call an Uber because there is absolutely no way you’ll ride in the same van as him. You’re shoving your weed and rolling tray into your backpack when your head clears enough for you to listen to your surroundings again. 

You can hear Gareth and Doug scolding the girls, making them leave. You can also hear quick, sharp footsteps heading your way. Your breathing jumps and tears spring to your eyes, ones you quickly squeeze out and wipe away before Eddie comes through the door. 

You don’t look up at him, you just keep collecting your things and internally make a note to yourself not to leave your things scattered across an entire room. 

“Babe? Wait. Wait, wait you have to listen to me first.” You hold back a laugh and settle for a scoff at his statement. 

“I don't have to do anything, Ed.” His heart stops. You’ve only called him Ed once before; it was the biggest and only fight the two of you have ever had. His hands start trembling at their sides and his heart is beating roughly, rushing blood in his ears. He’s stunned to silence, watching you gather your things in a rush. 

You look around for your phone charger and spot it by the doorway, on a chair next to where Eddie is standing. He notices your gaze and quickly grabs the charger, holding it to his chest. “Listen.”

Your eyes slowly raise to meet his. He looks scared and desperate. You give him a chance. 

You put your bag down and lean against the back of the couch, staring at him and waiting for what you’re supposed to be listening to but he seems stumped. 

He didn’t have a plan or know what to say, he just needed you to stop. He tries to piece together a speech but his train of thought is disrupted by a disappointed sigh from you. “Look, Ed—”

He finally finds words. “Please don’t call me that.” His voice is strained, and you almost feel bad. 

“Why? It’s the title you deserve right now. You’re not my Eddie so I’m not going to address you like you are.” You start walking towards him, tears bubbling in your eyes despite the screaming in your head not to cry. 

“You sat there while those women laid themselves all over you, while the rest of your band, and your girlfriend sat backstage and waited for you. I’m your girlfriend. Do you realize how fucked up that is? You had me waiting and waiting for you, thinking you were just interacting with fans…” You think about how easily he fooled you. 

“I’m an idiot, huh?” You trail off, lost in your thoughts of despair. You’d always been so cautious of men, of giving your feelings, always keeping your guard up so you don’t get hurt, and the one time you decide to bring them down. 

“Okay! I’m fucked up for making you wait, I know that. I- I didn’t realize how long it’d been. I’ve been drinking a-and--” 

You cut him off. “Oh, you were drinking with them too! That’s great, Ed. Just the info I need.”

He sighs defeatedly. “I- It- But they don’t mean anything to me. They don’t! Why does it matter that I was drinking with them? It’s not like I was gonna do anything, baby. You know that.” He steps in your direction but you back away and wrap your arms around yourself. 

It breaks his fucking heart. 

“I don’t know that though, do I? Because never in a million years would I have ever thought that Eddie Munson, my boyfriend, would leave me waiting because he was entertaining other women. Do you understand? How- How nerve-wracking and shocking it was to see you out there like that?” 

You take another shaking breath as you avert your gaze from his, tears spilling from your eyes. “The worst part is that- that I believed you when you said you just wanted to interact with fans. I really— God I was even happy for you. I trusted you, Eddie. Co-Completely. You know how big that is for me and you manipulated it.”

He’s rushing towards you now, dropping your charger and taking your hands in his. “No. No, listen, I- I didn’t realize, I didn’t know it- Baby, I thought it wouldn't matter, I thought you wouldn’t care because I’m yours. We’re together so why does it matter? I- I won’t date them, I won’t fuck them, I don’t love them, baby. I love you.”

You sigh and look down at your feet, unable to watch as his eyes fill with tears. 

You wish he hadn’t said that. The first time you get to hear the words ‘I love you’ coming from his lips and it’s in a setting like this..

“Okay. I believe you, Ed, but… You broke my trust, you technically ch- cheated.” His eyes widen almost comically and as his mouth starts to shape the word ‘No’ you cut him off again. “You say you didn’t but just because you weren’t going to have sex with them doesn’t mean that you should let them all over you like that!” 

Your anger bubbles up again and you finish packing, grabbing your charger and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “You’re not that stupid, Ed. You know what you did was wrong otherwise you wouldn’t have pushed those girls off you when I showed up.” You turn to leave the room but you’re compelled to ask him one more question. 

“Did you how this makes me look? You’re supposed to be mine yet there are girls all over you. It looks like I can’t satisfy you, like I’m not enough. And you know I have shit with what. Or it looks like I’m a fucking idiot letting my boyfriend get felt up by fucking groupies while I’m in the back, none the fucking wiser.” 

His tears are spilling now, one currently streaming dramatically down his cheek. “But we- Like we don’t— You don’t have to leave me. We- I’ll be better. I love you, I don't love them I just.. I’ve never gotten attention like that.. I- I just wanted to know what it felt like.” 

You know he’s trying to get through to you, that he’s trying to explain away and excuse what he did but he’s just hurting you further. Why wasn’t my attention enough? 

“Yeah no, I figured that and um… Ed, I think we should take some time apart.” All you get from him is a badly veiled sob. 

“You can flirt around all you want and… and we’ll see if we still have anything between us by the end of it.”

It’s been a little over a month now. 

He called off band practice until further notice. 

You miss him. 

You took the first week apart to come to terms with what you had just done. It was a smart move. You’re not stable enough to let Eddie flirt around with your trust, especially since it had started behind your back. This way was better. You could take some time to yourself while Eddie does whatever he wants. You decided he could come back whenever he was ready, as long as he didn’t do anything with anyone. 

You meant what you said when you left him but you started regretting it after seeing the obvious dip in Eddie’s happiness. You’d see him in school with his head perpetually down. He doesn’t interact with you at all, he doesn't look at you on campus, he sits on the opposite side of the classroom for any class the two of you have together, and makes it a point to never turn in your direction. 

You truly wanted him to relish in the fame without any guilt on your part. You figured it’d hurt you but you wanted Eddie to be able to experience the popularity he never had before. He was supposed to take his newfound freedom and spread his wings however he wished but instead he just wallowed in what he had lost. 

You hoped he’d come to you in the third week, let you know he doesn’t want he freedom you’ve granted him and he’d beg for you back. But it never happened. You thought about going to him, letting him know that you can see him struggling and you forgive him and you guys can get back together like nothing happened. But your pride couldn’t let you. He hurt you and now he’s hurting, it's fair but you shouldn’t have to be the one to concede. 

After the fourth week, you realized your mistake. You should’ve known Eddie would never have the confidence to come back to you, to ask you for another chance, to ask you to forgive and forget his past crimes. You should’ve given him a set timeframe, you should’ve told him he was free to come back when he was ready. 

In the fifth week, Gareth called a meeting. He’d had enough of the missed practices and awkwardness amongst the band. You all responded to his email in agreement. Except Eddie. 

You thought about going over to his house before practice, just to see if he was planning on showing up, to see if he was okay. But you didn’t.

You were actually quite happy to catch up with the others. You joke about how badly all your skills have diminished without a month of practice. Doug jokes about how he mostly misses the DnD nights. As if on cue, Eddie walks in. 

He’s silent and his hair is a mess, obviously not taken care of and it breaks your heart. The room falls sadly silent as Eddie unpacks his guitar and takes a seat. You feel the tension in the room suffocating you and before you can think the action through you spit out a quiet. “Jesus, Eddie.”

The boys laugh beside you and you roll your eyes before making your way over to him. Eddie looks star-struck, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide as he stares up at you, admiring the olive branch you’re extending. 

You take in his bloodshot eyes— high, and his dark circles. Your heart clenches in your chest, recalling the various late-night calls with Eddie as he complains about his insomnia, and how he would wish you were there to soothe him.

You stand beside his chair, shake your head in teasing disapproval, and run your fingers through his roots. You sigh at the immediate tangle that meets you and lock eyes with him, a playful smirk on your lips. “Where’ve you been, Eddie?”

He sucks in a soft breath to answer before Jeff cuts him off with a loud clap. “Alright, positions everyone. What’re we practicing?” You smile at him one last time before heading for your mic. 

“We could start working on “Do I Wanna Know?” Doug suggests and Eddie immediately groans out. He is very open about his hate for the song, about how he thinks it's overplayed and has no substance. In reality, everyone knows he’s just frustrated with the chords. He always wants his hands busy and the chords to this song just aren’t stimulating enough for him, he thinks they’re “boring”.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Ed. This is what the people wanna hear.” Doug defends as he picks up his bass. You clear your throat and Gareth situates himself behind his drums. Eddie is the only one who doesn’t get in formation, staying seated across from you to your left, almost in your line of sight. You make an effort to keep your eyes forward as Gareth starts the beat, pretending you can’t feel Eddie’s eyes on you as he starts his riff. 

You do your best to keep it together as you notice how easily his hands glide across the guitar, you don’t even see him look down once. You rock in time with the drums before singing out the first line. 

It feels shaky and your voice is scratchy but you power through, the boys know you need some warm-up. Your voice evens out by the next pause and you’re starting to feel more confident. 

“Are there some aces up your sleeve?” 

You see Eddie nodding in approval in the corner and you try not to let pride bleed into your voice. 

“Have you no idea that you’re in deep?”

You look over at him to see him still watching you. 

“I dreamt about you nearly every night this week.” 

You note the recognition in his eyes before you break contact, looking back at the base of your mic stand. 

“How many secrets can you keep?”

You think about how the first time you heard this song it reminded you of Eddie. It almost perfectly encapsulated how you felt for him prior to dating, and it ironically relates to how you feel about him now. Still obsessed but too prideful to do anything about it. 

You can see Eddie still staring at you from his corner, unwavering. He always gets a little more confident with his guitar, but it’s been so long since you’ve been around him you feel stupid, like a little girl with a crush. 

Doug and Gareth come in as your backing vocals. 

“Do I wanna know?”

You take your eyes away from the mic stand and look straight ahead. 

“If this feeling flows both ways.”

You see Eddie sit up in his seat.

“Sad to see you go”

“Was sorta hopin’ that you’d stay.”

You start swaying with the beat, getting more loose, and feeling the song. You switch from foot to foot, swinging your hips gently with a smile. 

“That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.”

You look over at him again. 

“Crawling back to you.”

You say the next line as a genuine question, openly targeting him now. 

“Ever thought of calling when, you’ve had a few?”

You glance away from him, nervous under his penetrating stare. He hasn’t looked away from you once. You’re wondering where all this confidence was in the past few weeks. All he needed was for you to speak to him. You study his face, his reaction to the next line. 

“Maybe I’m too, busy being yours to fall for somebody new. Now, I’ve thought it through. Crawlin’ back to you.”

Eddie’s hands finally rest and he leans forward in his chair, cocking one eyebrow at you as if to ask ‘Really?’ and you respond with the next line. 

“So have you got the guts?”

Eddie takes a deep breath before sitting back and adjusting his guitar strap. He runs his hands down his thighs, wiping his clammy palms on his sweatpants as he watches you perform. It’s been so long since he’s seen you, even longer since he’s seen you without it hurting his heart. He’s missed you. 

He takes you in. He notices the pink on your nails, a different shade than the last time he noticed. He can’t help but run his eyes down your body, loving the way you move to the beat, the way you’re shimmying your shoulders. His eyes focus on your lips. 

“Simmer down and pucker up”

He gets entranced with the way they form around your words. He misses feeling them on his, on him. He remembers how soft they are, how raw they get when you’ve bitten them bloody. He watches them stretch over your pearly white teeth in a smile. He can feel your eyes on him again but he can’t pull himself away from your mouth. Not even to look at his guitar as his time comes up. 

You watch Eddie pick his guitar up and start playing again, zombie-like movements as he zeros in on your lips. You try to focus on the words, to stay on key, not stutter or slip up. But Eddie's eyes snap to yours. 

“But we could be together… If you wanted to.”

He takes a deep breath after your last line, as if he was waiting to hear it, like it’s confirmation. You can’t help the smirk that your smile morphs into and Eddie looks down. It looks like he’s focusing on his chords but his eyes are closed, deep breaths filling his lungs as he tries to calm down. 

You’re sure that your performance is mediocre due to the lyrics and pitch being the last thing on your mind. You watch Eddie’s hand slide lazily across the guitar, his ringed fingers moving faster than you could comprehend without even a fraction of his attention. You ignore the pooling in your stomach and look away from him again, trying to focus on anything else. 

“Crawling back to you.” 

You pretend not to hear the smirk in Gareth's voice. You see Eddie looking up at you again in your peripherals. He sits back and adjusts himself, lifting his hips, lowering his guitar and when you glance over you can see a lip tucked under his teeth. 

“Maybe I’m too—”

You see Eddie leaning forward as he stares at you, begging for your attention so you turn to him. His eyes soften and you can see his chest heave ever so slightly. 

“-busy being yours to fall for somebody new. Now, I’ve thought it through. Crawlin’ back to you.”

You go through the motions for the rest of the song. You keep eye contact with Eddie through all of it. 

Everything around you is forgotten as he looks into your eyes. You’ve missed him so much.

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist or send me some motivation here!! reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated!

[tojifile]

@Satosugu . . . ( ´ ꒳ ` )

Tags: NBAstars!satosugu, model!reader (f!), fluff, pining, competitive!satosugu, no curse au, 2018 style plot, surreal (obvious-fucking-ly)

A/N: I can’t stop thinking about Satosugu x reader fics.. I want them so bad, need them.. ☹️☹️ I will write the most self-indulgent fics about them. They’re my babies (especially Suguru). Someone get me a bf that looks exactly like Geto Suguru and another like Gojo Satoru!!!!!!!! Pretty sure most of the Geto pics I used are from a Satosugu manga fanfic but I can’t even find the original. (I don’t know a lot about bball, so I’m sosososoososososo sorry if this a bit inaccurate)

Links: Masterlist

Gojo Satoru

Geto Suguru

NBAstars!satosugu who always immediately look for you after their games. They know you’re always there to watch and support them.

“Princess!” Satoru yelled from across the court as soon as his eyes met yours. He was more than glad to see you. The ball game had just finished, he and Suguru then looked for you in the crowd. Satoru was delighted to be the first to spot you.

Like always, you happily ran to Satoru. He caught you, picked you up, and hugged you tightly. “You’re covered in sweat.” You huffed into the crook of his neck to which Satoru chuckled softly. He loved your little complaints, especially when your arms were wrapped around his neck.

Suguru then spotted the both of you. He walked over then whined with a faux pout. “Darling.. don’t you think it’s unfair that you’re only hugging Satoru?” He said as he gave you a kiss on your cheek.

NBAstar!suguru who always makes sure to receive a kiss from you before their games. It’s his “lucky charm” he says. You don’t want to jinx the game, right?

“Give me a kiss baby..” he whispered low in your ear to which you happily obliged.

NBAstar!satoru who popularized the “this is for you” look before shooting the ball. The camera that broadcasted the game got the perfect angle of you watching him play and him pointing at you before finishing the quarter. Satoru never missed a shot after looking at you.

NBAstar!suguru who likes to blow you a kiss during games. It makes Satoru jealous and pouty when you blow a kiss back. He was the one who shot the ball!

“That’s supposed to be my kiss!” Satoru whined, “You wish.” Suguru mocked.

NBAstars!satosugu who would sometimes model for companies with you. They’d do brands like Onitsuka Tiger, Calbee, Uniqlo, and other brands that you model for. The public love to see you all together and companies love milking that for publicity.

NBAstar!suguru who always makes sure you have a seat, specifically one he can see you in from the court. He wants to be able to see you and blow those kisses whenever he pleased.

NBAstar!satoru who was the one to convince you to move to the states with them. He didn’t want to leave without you but he also couldn’t deny that getting drafted to the states is a big leap in his career. Satoru made sure you were taken care of in the states and he made sure to hire someone to dote on your needs when they couldn’t.

NBAstar!suguru who was the one who helped you get a modeling gig at a large shoe company.

After training, Suguru was approached by a scout from the brand. He was told that they wanted him and Satoru to model for them. Suguru then called you and Satoru over and he said in full confidence, “We won’t do it if she’s not in it too.”

Soon enough, the three of you got more and more calls from businesses. You became more and more popular, especially with clothing brands.

NBAstar!satoru who loves posting you on his instagram. He makes sure you two look like a couple (he specifically loves this, this, this, and this). Satoru loves being touchy with you and he gushes about it when he talks to Suguru. He loves to brag about you.

His favorite picture of the two of you is when you were laying your pretty little head on his bare chest while taking a nap. He was giving you a soft kiss on the top of your head in the picture. It was so cute and your shippers thought so too! 700k likes in just an hour, breaking his notifications.

NBAstar!suguru who doesn’t post you as much but when he does it’s those intimate and sophisticated pictures. You guys in photoshoots, dinner dates, traveling, teasers (another teaser). He doesn’t love sharing his life to millions but he loves showing you off. (Agora Hills much?)

NBAstars!satosugu who overwhelm you with affection that you just can’t choose one or the other. Lucky for you, they sometimes find a way to share.

However, it’s different with the fans. Some of them say if they were in your situation they wouldn’t know who to choose, others would say you’re leading one of them on, and there would be people who just argue about who you should end up with.

At the end of the day, it’s still your choice. But god do they make it hard. You grew up with them both and you learned to love them both. How could you even decide between Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru?!

@toxicramune @oh-my-beel @nymphsdomain @morinuu @sweetcoorpse – Comment 🪩 to be on my taglist ! (Part 2?)