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slut4hee · 2 months ago

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1-800 PHONE A HOE📞 ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

{Paring: Idol Jaehyun x Sex Worker Blk Fem! Reader

{Genre: smut, just jaehyun breaking the bank for that good kitty 🐱💓

{Synopsis: All jaehyun wanted to do was relieve his pent up stress and desire, so what better than calling up his favorite little play thing.

{Warnings: Big dick Jaehyun, desperate Jae rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it, before you tap it), oral (f&m receiving), , multiple orgasms, creampie, squirting, dirty talk, degradation, breeding kink, cum eating, daddy kink. Let me know if I skipped anything:)

Jaehyun bowed, as he thanked the producer and the camera crew, as they wrapped up the video shoot for his new music video. Jaehyun couldn’t be happier that it was finally over, and now he can focus on his very hard problem, that problem being his raging boner that he’s been hiding all day from his staff members.

All he wanted to do was fuck some good pussy and get the best nut of his life, and he happen to know someone that would get the job done real good, and some more. Jaehyun remembers it like it was yesterday, when he first met you. Him, Johnny, and Taeyong had went to a strip club in L.A, just looking to have a good time, have some drinks, and possibly take a beautiful girl home. You were one of the top strippers at the nightclub, swirling effortlessly around the pole, light on your toes as you made it clap nicely in front of all the horny men in the club.

It was your aura, your beauty, and the sex appeal you let off in the air was so addicting, and Jaehyun wanted it all. His knees almost gave out when you made eye contact with him, grinding your curvy body against the pole as you eye fucked the shit out of him. Not long after you came over to his section, introducing yourself and asking if he would like a private lap dance in the vip lounge. Of course he accepted the offer with no hesitation, breaking you off with a $500 tip, and taking you back to his hotel room where he railed the fuck outta you.

Since that day forward, Jaehyun couldn’t get you out of his head, sure he had other hoes on his line down to fuck whenever but they weren’t you. Only you could make him cum so hard, only you had him whining like a bitch when you sucked on his heavy balls, and stroked his hard cock till he came on your face. To say Jaehyun was happy as hell, when his request to film his music video in L.A was accepted he fucking was. Only thing on his mind was seeing you again and fucking your tight wet cunt.

ミ★

Finally he was free, his personal driver dropping him off at his private accommodation. He was so fucking hard, and sexually frustrated it didn’t make any sense. He groaned as he plopped down on his king size bed, the friction from his jeans rubbing against his stiff hard on causing a little shock of pleasure through his body. He needed to fuck asap, so he hurriedly fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts to find your number. He had you saved as “Pink💗” being that it was your stage name and he couldn’t raise any suspicion.

He took a deep breath before typing out his messages and sending it to you, he just hope he doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, or worse you don’t remember him.

Jaehyun: HI 👋 don’t know if you remember me, but we met at the club a few months back uhh we kinda fucked😅…

Jaehyun felt like an idiot, his stomach turning with nervousness and he suddenly feels like he’s made a big fool out of himself. He thinks to himself, you probably fuck plenty of guys, like hell is he special enough for you to remember a stranger you fucked two months ago but you did.. His heart dropped when his phone dinged with a reply from you.

Pink💗: Of course I remember you, that dick was too fucking good not to😏

He felt his cock twitch in the confines of his boxers, beads of pre cum dripping from his slit, staining his boxers.

Jaehyun: Fuck really?😩 figured you forgotten about me since that day. Being that you didn’t text me, even though you gave me your number👀

Pink💗: 😭 I don’t chase no man honey boo, I like for the men to chase me 🤭

Jaehyun: Well shit baby, I’m chasing and I’m currently in LA so was wondering maybe you wanted to slide to my crib?👀😏

Pink💗: Depends baby, how much you tryna spend on this pussy🫦🐱 you know I’m expensive daddy

Jaehyun: $1k? $2k? Name your price baby I’m willing to spend however much to get inside that sweet little pussy of yours angel😅

Jaehyun: I’ll make it $3k if you wear that pink little skimpy lingerie you wore on the first day we met, and if you let me nut inside you 😩🙏��😅

Pink💗: Send the addy💋

Jaehyun: *Sends Address*

ミ★

After he sent you the address, he went and took a quick shower, making sure he smelled nice and clean before laying a fingertip on you. He decided there was no need to dress up, being that his clothes wasn’t going to be staying on long anyways. He decided on a white tank, gray Nike shorts, and his freshly washed hair falling nicely down his face.

Not long after the doorbell rang, he tried to keep his composure playing it cool as he opened up the front door. His breath hitched, and the air being knocked out of his lungs as he takes in the sight of you clad in a baby pink robe, your long blonde bust down frontal flowing nicely down your back, and of course your gorgeous face making him feel hot all over. You smirked at his flustered state, it was just something about a fine ass man like Jaehyun being all desperate for a bad bitch like you that turned you on to the max.

Without exchanging any words, you grabbed his hand leading him up to his bedroom, you pushed the door open, and dragged him to the bed pushing him down on it. He nearly whimpered and you went to straddle him, kissing on his neck and grinding your pussy on his very stiff erection.

“Shit baby girl, that feels so good” he groaned, gripping your waist tighter as he guided your movements of you dry humping him. You bit your lip to conceal the moan that threatens to escape from your mouth.

“Mm did you miss this pussy daddy” you purr, rubbing your hands down his chest, your long acrylics sending a chill down his spine. You stood up from the bed, untying the string of your robe, letting it fall to the floor. Jaehyun literally moans out loud, at the sight of you in that skimpy ass baby pink lingerie set that he loves far too much. You crawl back onto the bed towards him, tugging at his shorts for him to take it off.

He gets the message, lifting his bottom for you to pull his shorts to his ankles. You moaned at the sight of his thick long cock, standing tall and proud angry red tip leaking out pre cum.

“Gonna let me suck your cock baby huh?” You asked, as you stroked his hard length slowly. His hips bucked up, moaning out loud at feeling of your small hand wrapped around his heavy dick.

“Fuck please, please suck my fucking cock” he whined, desperately bucking his hips towards your lips, you chuckled at his desperation before teasing his tip, kitten licking at it while still stroking his shaft a little faster. He lets out a strained groan, grabbing ahold of your hair, as he tries his hardest not to fuck up into your mouth.

“Ohhh my fucking god sugar, please put in your mouth suck on it please” he whimpered, already feeling so sensitive. You obliged, slowly taking him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the base of his cock bobbing your head up and down. He grips the sheets tightly, his fists turning white as he tries to ground himself from busting too quickly.

“Shiittttt, that’s right dirty fucking slut, suck that fucking dick fuck! Nasty little bitch like having a cock in her mouth huh” he grunts deeply, his degrading words turning you on to the max, if it were anyone else you would have told them off, but it’s just something about the way Jaehyun treats you like a whore that makes your pussy throb and leak through your panties.

“Ah shit! Oh fuck- I-I’m c-close I’m so fucking close” he whimpered, when he you started to bob your head faster, giving him the sloppiest, nastiest, wettest head of his life. Spit drips down from the corner of your mouth, your eyes tearing up as you deep throat as much of his dick as you can, looking up at him with your innocent little eyes.

“AHGHH FUCK I’m gonna cum, gonna let me paint your pretty little face white huh mama?” You hummed in agreement at his desperate request, the vibration of you moaning around his cock, sends a shock wave of pleasure through his body. After a couple of more thrusts inside your throat, he’s letting out a guttural whine, as he pulled his dick out cumming all over your face and tongue.

He falls back onto the mattress, chest heaving up and down, and his breathing is uneven as he tries to calm himself down from the intense orgasm he just had. You chuckled at his fucked out expression, climbing back on top of him, as you start to kiss on his neck again and rub your hands all over his abs. You yelped as he suddenly flipped you over, spreading your legs and staring at your wet pussy.

“Fuck you gonna let daddy eat this sweet cunt?” He smirked, putting his face into your pussy sniffing and rubbing his thumb against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You whined, desperately bucking your hips, the feeling of his thumb rubbing against your clit being a little too overwhelming for you.

“Yes daddy please eat my pretty little pussy, wanna feel your tongue deep inside me” you moaned out, rubbing your hand through his hair. He pulled your panties to the side, cursing under his breath when a string of your sticky arousal clings to your baby pink thong. Jaehyun licks his lips before diving into your pussy, licking and sucking on your clit.

Your legs are shaking, you’re pulling on his locks like crazy, and you’re desperately grinding your pussy on his face getting lost in the feeling of his tongue and soft lips working wonders on you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. Jaehyun was eating your pussy, like it was his last meal on earth, fucking his tongue into your tight hole, swirling it all around. A couple more flicks and sucks to your puffy clit, has you creaming all over his face.

“Goddamn you a munch, shit ate that kitty so good baby boy” you breathed out, legs still shaking from your intense high. Before you could even catch your breath, Jaehyun is coming on top of you spreading your legs wide and binding them together. He literally folds you in half before sinking his thick cock inside your tight wet pussy. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, his big fat cock filling you up to the hilt.

“Oh fuck Jae, so fucking big, yes gimme that fucking dick” you clawed at his back scratching him up and holding on to him tight, as he sets a brutal pace fucking into you so roughly, the headboard of the bed slams against the wall.

“Fuuuuck, tight little cunt squeezing the fuck outta me baby I can barely move” he moaned loudly, his thrusts growing more desperate, you whined when he hit that spot inside your gummy warm walls, making your eyes roll to back of your head as you feel your 2nd orgasm of the night approaching you.

“Nghhh shit Jae, don’t stop fucking me please want your big load inside me” you begged shamelessly for his cum, your legs feeling numb and the feeling of his thick cock drilling your tight walls has you seeing stars. He puts his big strong hand around your neck, choking you as he pounded into you like you were nothing but a fucktoy.

“OMMFF damn baby you gonna milk this cock, gonna let me fill this pussy up with my cum” he whined, his strokes grew erratic, desperately chasing his high as he fucked you like his life depended on it. You cried out as your climax hit you like a tidal wave, creaming and squirting all over his dick. The clenching of your tight spent pussy sends Jaehyun into a frenzy, his high approaching rapidly.

“AGHHHH I’m gonna stuff you full of my cum right now baby, gonna plug you up full of my milk precious darling” he delivers a couple more harsh strokes to your throbbing spent cunt before letting out a guttural grunt, cumming deep inside your womb. Your shivered at the feeling of his hot cum flooding your insides, you couldn’t think of a better feeling than getting creampied.

He collapsed on the other side of you, both of you trying to calm down from your intense highs. You smiled weakly at him before laying your head on his chest. It was times like this with Jaehyun that genuinely fucked with your head. You wouldn’t admit but honestly you were falling for Jaehyun. It was the way he made you feel in bed, even though he fucked you like a rag doll he still always made sure you were comfortable and feeling good.

Your thoughts was interrupted, when Jaehyun got up from the bed, his naked body on full display, you bit your lip at the sight of bare ass. Jaehyun grabbed his phone, opening cash app and sending you the $3k he promised. Your phone buzzed out of nowhere, you weakly grabbed your phone from the night stand, seeing the notification from cash app that $3k was deposited into your account.

Then realty hit you, Jaehyun will never see you as anything more than a guaranteed booty call, a hoe on speed dial. You swallowed the lump that started to form in your throat, trying your best to ignore the ache in your chest. Jaehyun got back into the bed, pulling you close to him as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Not long after he drifted off to sleep, leaving you lost in your thoughts.

Just like the first night you guys slept together, you woke up to no sign of Jaehyun but a letter resting on the night stand with a glass of orange juice and breakfast. The letter states the same exact words he said to you the morning you guys first slept together

“𝗦𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱. 𝗣𝗹𝘂𝘀 𝗜’𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗦𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗵 𝗞𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗮 𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗯𝘆𝗲𝘀, 𝗜’𝗹𝗹 𝗵𝗶𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘂𝗽 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗶’𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗟.𝗔 𝗼𝗿 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗞𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗮 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹”

𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝐽𝑎𝑒ℎ𝑦𝑢𝑛.

Tears start to form in your eyes but you quickly wiped them away, you really fooled yourself thinking that Jaehyun would see you more than just a hookup, more than just a stripper and a sex worker. You put on your big girl pants and got your shit and left his place not looking back. You don’t know when you see Jaehyun again, but when the time comes you will always be ready to serve him, because that’s what hoes do.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙀𝙣𝙙…

A/n: Omg my first ever non enha ff🤭 so I know this is not super good bc honestly this is one of my lazy works like I did not even put too much effort into this one😅. But FAWKK I need Jaehyun so bad like! I hope you guys like it and don’t be shy to reblog and leave comments, also this is not proofread🫣

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house-of-lovin · 2 years ago

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legally binded - 3

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. ♣ prev part | next part

Chapter 3: Movie Premieres, SNL and Quarrels

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of hard substances, intoxication, mature language, real people (do not read if any of these makes you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: Otherwise known as the One in New York. What do you guys think about R and Jenna's dynamic so far? 👀 (taking a break for a few days/maybe a week after I post this, I think I've kept you all fed for a bit while I'm gone lol, in the meantime, send asks I'll try to answer all of them!😋)

Word Count: 6.4k+

“You get on that plane and I’ll drop you as a client.” Jake’s voice rings out from your work phone.

“What the fuck, Jake, are you serious?!” You seethe, practically red in the face.

You have been on the phone with Jake for the last hour – Liv refuses to pick up your calls after you blew up the group chat, rehashing your argument with Jenna. Desperately pleading to fly back home because you couldn’t stand being in the same city as the actress, at the moment.

You couldn't even think about her words without it making your blood boil.

“Fuck yeah, I’m serious. Do you know what time it is here?”

Glancing at the clock it read 3:46 A.M. EST, you roll your eyes. “It’s just past midnight in L.A. You won’t die if you don’t get eight hours of sleep.”

“Be quiet. I don’t wanna hear another word from you.” He nearly shouts and you imagine that one vein popping through his forehead. You liked to stare at it when Jake goes off on his shouting tangents at you.

He never notices that you're not paying attention.

“Maybe we should get Liv on the phone or maybe Sarah?” Link glances at you worriedly.

He hates seeing you so riled up, so he often played the middle-man with your quarrels against Jake and Liv.

“Liv says she doesn’t wanna hear it. Sarah says forget it and I’m saying, I’m not fucking around this time Y/N, this is your last chance. I’m over your shit.” He hangs up the phone, leaving the line dead.

You jump face-first into the stiff bed, groaning loudly.

“Looks like you’re outta luck.” He pats you back, leaving you to sulk alone as he shuts the door. “Try to get some sleep.”

There was no way you ended up in this situation.

You guess, it was fair to acknowledge your recent streak of bad behaviour. First, it was tame — ignoring your phone, running away to party, getting mixed in the wrong crowds – eventually, Link had to start dragging you out of bed by the legs (sometimes kicking and screaming) just to make it in time for a gig.

You’re not sure when all of this started. All you knew is that you were so tired. You just wanted one second to breathe; to feel like that young child again, with hopes and dreams. But no, someone was always hovering over your shoulder ready to drag you away to another event you could care less about.

You close your eyes, allowing the jetlag and exhaustion to set in as your body moulds into the mattress.

–

The next day, you find yourself standing in front of Jenna’s hotel room. The large double door looks menacing and faintly, you can already hear a bustle on the other side. You really didn’t want to knock but you know what was on the line so you swallow your pride and raise a fist to knock.

But before you can knock, the door is opening revealing a girl, with dirty blonde hair bearing a semblance to a certain actress. “Oh, hi!”

“Hello.” You greet warmly.

“I’m Aliyah. Jenna’s younger sister.” She holds her free hand out.

You shake her hand, “Nice to meet you, I’m–”

“I know who you are.” She smiled then laughed, “Everyone knows who you are.”

You chuckled, shyly nodding. “I guess.”

“Are you two done?” Jenna suddenly appears, yanking the door wider so you can see her. Her makeup complements her well; the green bustier two-piece looked expertly crafted just for her; and the way her hair fell in soft waves framed her face nicely.

“Hi…” You say a little vacant-sounding.

You don’t say anything else.

From the corner of your eye, you see her sister’s raised brow but you think you’re imagining it because you can’t keep your gaze off of Jenna. The actress raises her brow at you, impatient.

“What did you need?” She asks.

“Uh—I wanted to talk, about last night."

Jenna watches you momentarily before rolling her eyes; pulling you inside with a rough yank. “Get inside before someone sees you — Aliyah close the door.”

You stumble, still a little dazed but the smaller girl’s nails are gripping your arm painfully making you snap out of it.

“Ow, ow, ow.” You whisper, not inattentive to the multiple people scattered around the large room.

“Guys, this is Y/N.” She ignored your complaints and pulled you past the foyer into the living room – her entire team had taken refuge in the room to get the star ready for a day of press interviews.

Various echoes of your name and greetings are sent back to you but you certainly don’t miss the awkward tension in the room started by your sudden presence.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I can just go.” You point behind you.

“Nonsense.” An older woman that looked kinda like the actress waves off. “It’s great to have you here, Miss L/N. Jenna was just talking about you.”

“Oh please, just Y/N is fine.” Shaking your head bashfully, briefly wondering what she could be telling her family and team about what kind of person you are.

“I’m Jenna’s mom. That’s her dad, her other sister Mia, and her brother Markus.” She points and you try to keep up with the names of the people she’s throwing at you; Jenna’s family and team included.

“It’s so great to meet you all. It’s not hard to see that Jenna is so loved.” You say sincerely.

“We try our best.” Her dad says looking appreciative of your words. You smile at everyone and it seems to ease a bit of the tension in the room.

You didn’t see Jenna rolling her eyes again (her favourite to do around you) disregarding the encounter; she hides the surprise she feels from your genuine compliment.

Last night's argument with you, still burning in her brain.

“What did you want to say?" She says a little bluntly.

Watching as everyone turns to go back to what they were doing, you look down at Jenna. “Um… I wanted to apologize for last night. And call a truce, maybe over dinner?

She looks surprised not expecting you to be the first one to give in. “Oh…”

“Yeah…”

“I appreciate it.” Jenna cuts in, “I’m sorry too… a truce sounds good. Sarah got mad at me too, for what it's worth. She even said I was whining.”

Jenna jokes, dropping her walls a bit.

You rub a hand on the back of your neck, chuckling, “Good to know.”

“I can’t do dinner though.” She shuts her eyes as if remembering something.

“Oh, that’s okay. Maybe another time.”

“Or maybe… you can be my date to the Scream cast dinner?” She offers, looking a little hopeful.

“Are you sure?” You chew your lip. Ignoring the word date.

“Yeah! Totally, you can meet everyone, it’ll be great. Not to throw anyone under the bus but they’ve been trying to meet you.” She says sheepishly.

You laugh, dropping your walls just a tad. “Sure I’ll be there.”

She smiles warmly, satisfied with your answer. “Yeah, it’ll be great. I guarantee there’ll be paparazzi, so it��ll be good for publicity. They’ve been hounding me since I landed, my dad nearly pushed a guy in the airport. I couldn’t even walk to the door by myself at the SNL dinner cast party.”

You lose a bit of the smile but Jenna doesn’t see, laughing at her memory of the paparazzi. You blink around, making sure no one saw you, it might give them the wrong idea. “Uh, yeah sure. I’m good with whatever.”

“Okay, cool.” She shoots a thumb up, walking away from you. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Mhmm.” You smile, waving goodbye to everyone and booting it out the door.

Unsure where the tension in your chest is coming from you swiftly walk to the elevator; aggressively tapping the button as if the elevator would come faster that way. And practically throwing yourself in the metal box as soon as it opens.

You miss the entire pandemonium that implodes in the room when you leave.

“Holy shit?” Mia exclaims.

“Language.” Her mom chastises.

“No, holy shit, indeed. Jenna oh my god what did you do to that poor girl?” Aliyah walks past Jenna to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

“What are you talking about?” She looks at her sisters confused.

Mia’s rolling her eyes, standing up from the couch. “Did you not see the way she was looking at you?”

“No? How was she looking at me?” She turns to her mom who had a hint of a smile on her lips as if she knew something. Jenna was starting to feel left out.

“She likes you, Jen.” Her brother speaks up, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

“What? You guys are crazy. We barely know each other.” Jenna starts shaking her head furiously, turning to Enrique, her stylist and close friend. “Enrique, tell them they’re being crazy.”

But he shrugs, sharing that same Cheshire grin her mom had. “God, not you too.” She clamps her eyes shut with her hands.

“Hey! Watch the eyes!” Her makeup artist warns.

“Dad?” She drops her hands, pleading at the silent man, who, she knows is listening. Why do Dads do that thing where they let everyone argue, only stepping in when the Mom asks for backup.

He remains in character – staying silent.

“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. She was literally here for five seconds. How could you possibly think she likes me from that.” Jenna turns to everyone else.

“I don’t know, Jen. The eyes never lie.” Mia says, privy to the way your smile fell when Jenna mentioned being spotted for publicity tonight.

“I’m– I’m late for interviews, I need to go,” Jenna mutters, grabbing her purse and walking to the door.

–

“This is gonna blow up.” Your producer says from beside you.

“I don’t know. I still think it’s missing something.” You sigh, sliding the headphones off as you slump onto the plush leather seats.

You sneaked off to the studio not too far from the hotel in lower Manhattan. See you would have told Link or anyone really, but you were trying to be discreet. And Link is one ‘ol snitch and the personal fun police.

It seems after your fight with Jenna, Jake and Liv put you under strict instructions not to leave the hotel unless accompanied by someone from your team.

You’re not a fucking child. You don’t need a babysitter. So here you are, with your producer in the studio trying to record this damn song you’ve been stuck on for three months.

“Maybe it’s time to scrap the song then.” He offers. “It’s never gonna be done before Coachella.”

Immediately you are shaking your head. No, this song is special, you can feel it. If only you can get your head out of your own ass long enough to find the damn words.

“No, just– just put it on hold. Let’s work on something else.”

He sighs, clicking the screen to pull up another file. “Your call.”

The buzzing of your phone against the wooden table echoes into the silence that grew as you waited. “Ah fuck.”

Reaching over, you grab the phone and are bombarded by a flurry of texts and missed calls.

Some from Jenna, some from your bodyguard and driver, most from Link.

Jenna’s is the first one you click.

The phone rings three times before it gets picked up. Muffled, loud voices are all you hear at first before she eventually speaks up, “Hello?”

“Hey, I am so–”

“Where the hell are you? You’re ten minutes late. We’re all waiting for you.” Her tone is sharp and snipped.

You had fucked up.

“Fuck… I’m sorry, I’ll be right there– there was…. uh.” You stand, gathering your jacket and silently bidding your producer goodbye as he looks on confused. “There was a lot of traffic. I am so sorry, I’m trying to make it as fast as I can.”

She sighs through the phone, “It’s…fine. Just get here as soon as you can, please.”

A little white lie never killed anybody.

You make it to the restaurant in record time. Pushing through the paparazzi camping outside the restaurant doors. Do they have no shame? Clearly not as they shout Jenna’s name at you; asking if you were there to see her, trying to get their piece of the scoop. Thankfully, the security guard had seen you and personally ushered you to the cast‘s table. Someone must have informed them that you were coming.

You’re still blinking away the spots in your vision from the camera flashes when you feel an arm pulling you down to sit.

“What took you so long?”Jenna asked assertively, scanning you.

“I told you. Traffic.” You plaster a smile at all the eyes on you, subtly shrugging Jenna’s arm off yours with a little bit of attitude.

You don’t miss her clenched jaw. Plastering a smile in front of her costars who were trying their best not to gawk at you. "Well, where were you then? No one could get a hold of you, we were worried."

You tried your hardest to school your genuine surprise at her worry. "Sorry. I was working. My phone was off."

“Hi! I’m Melissa, it’s so nice to meet you, I’m a big fan.” A brunette extends her hand from across the long table – interrupting Jenna before she can say anything else.

You make the usual greetings, introducing yourself to Jenna’s costars and colleagues. You felt a bit like a trophy wife if you were being honest. Like eye candy on her arm, serving only to make her look good. Upon that realization, you feel a little flushed. You’re not sure why, that is the whole point of this whole thing.

Her castmates have been sending you two knowing eyes over dinner — giving Jenna inconspicuous smirks and smug grins as if you couldn’t see. You keep your head down after the pleasantries are over and the main courses are brought out.

Grateful, you don’t have to talk about your upcoming projects any longer.

“What’s wrong?” You nudge her elbow, noticing how she was pushing away some pieces of food on her plate.

“I don’t like apples.” She mutters.

You can’t fight the smile that creeps on your lips but you don’t tease. “Just push them off to the side and I’ll eat it.”

She looks at you. “You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.” You shrug taking a sip of your wine.

“That doesn’t gross you out or anything? I know some people are weird about that sort of thing.” Jenna explains.

“Dude, I’ll eat your apples, chill.” You laugh.

“Okay, thanks…” She mumbles, still looking at you but you turn, talking to Mason and his girlfriend.

Jenna feels a nudge on her side. “What?”

“You two are cute.” Jasmin smirks. “And Y/N L/N? Not a bad catch at all.”

“Stop.” Jenna blushes. Unsure if she feels uncomfortable that some of her close and respected friends believe this lie so easily.

–

“Hey, give them some space!” The security guard shouts as the paparazzi come rushing toward the door as soon as the cast steps out.

You were standing in the lobby waiting for Jenna. “Shit…” You hear her mutter, watching as she searches for something in her bag.

“What’s up?” You ask.

“I forgot my sunglasses in my room. The flashes hurt my eyes.” She frowns. Wordlessly, you fish the pair you stashed in your jacket.

“Here, wear mine.” You hold the glasses out, watching as she just stares at it. Rolling your eyes, you push it toward her. “Dude, just take it.”

“Thanks…” She mumbles, sliding them up her hair.

You walk ahead of her, holding the door open as everyone trickles out. You’re regretting giving Jenna your only sunglasses cause the flashes are bright and it’s making your eyes water.

“Go ahead,” You usher, only leaving once everyone’s gone ahead of you. You trail behind ignoring the various men with large cameras chasing you as you walk down the sidewalk.

“Y/N over here, please! Just one photo.”

“Y/N, just one photo of you and Jenna, please!”

“What do you have to say about Vegas?”

You ignore them keeping your head down trying not to fall behind.

“Where’s Y/N?” You hear over the sea of nameless faces.

“Right here.” You say, sliding in beside her.

You miss the subtle sigh of relief she lets out.

“You can’t just walk behind everyone like that.” She grits, frustratedly.

"I tried to keep up." You mumbled like a scolded husband.

The shouting increases when you stand beside one another; practically rendering you blind with all the flashes. “Dammit.”

You place an hand on her back, pushing her forward. “Put on the sunglasses and walk.”

“Y/N, please over here. Jenna!” The shouting is constant and blurs altogether all at the same time.

“Ow.” You feel Jenna tumble when someone bumps her side causing her to bump harshly against you. Firmly, you grab her arm to preventing her from falling and pushed back against the crowd to check on her.

“Are you okay?” you ask worriedly as she fixes the lopsided glasses. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Hey. Watch it–” You grit at the closest person holding a camera. “It wasn’t me.”

The man insists, still shamelessly snapping flashes directly into your face and you begin to grow angry, slapping the camera out of his hands. “I said fucking watch it, asshole.”

You glare for a brief moment as the shouting gets impossibly louder. Knowing if you didn’t pull Jenna out of this, chaos would ensue. You link hands and drag her through the crowd, briskly walking to her castmates who shared looks of concern.

“Are you okay?” You ask, still walking but now barricaded by security and her friends.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I promise.” She squeezes your hand but then sighs, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

You scoff, “Are you serious? That guy pushed you.”

“It was an accident and you kinda overreacted.” She whispers lowly.

You clench your jaw, dropping her hand — Not wanting to blow up in front of her colleagues, you walk swiftly ahead.

You don’t talk even when you are both side-by-side being driven back to the hotel. Her driver has the partition up halfway but you see the nosy glances he keeps making at the rearview mirror as you and Jenna sit in silence; acutely aware to the growing tension between you and the actress.

You refuse to speak, just looking out the window as other cars pass by on the street.

“Are you done ignoring me now?” She speaks up but you still don’t want to talk. “Seriously?”

“Y/N all he did was push me. A little shove, that’s all. I’m okay. What’s not okay is the phone call you know we’re going to get from Liv and Sarah about that guy’s camera.”

“He deserved it.” You mumble through the palm holding your head up.

“I’m not saying he didn’t but you can’t just be aggressive to paparazzi like that. It’s exactly what they want.” She reasons, turning to you. Hoping you’ll finally look at her.

“I know…”

“Look at me, please?” She places a hand on your arm.

You turn, keeping your face impassive.

She sends you a shy smile then laughed. “I mean it though, thank you for having my back. My Dad is gonna think this whole thing is hilarious.”

“Why?” You can’t help but join in.

“He’s a cop, so he’s a little protective. He’s been waiting to shove away a pap for the longest time. He’s gonna be so mad you beat him to it.”

You laugh imagining her father’s reaction.

–

“You haven’t seen Scream? Not even the original?” Jenna turns bewildered like it was the most blasphemous thing she’s ever heard. You were in her hotel suite, watching movies. For some reason, Jenna invited you over to her room after being dropped off at the hotel. “How? You’re an actress.”

You couldn’t think of a good reason to say no so you accepted.

“Yeah, sorry. Jeez. Way to sound like a film snob. I didn’t know there was a checklist of movies to watch before becoming an actor.” You snort reaching for more popcorn from the bowl beside you.

“Shut up.” She hits you with the remote. “How have you not seen any of the Scream movies? You’re literally going to my premiere tomorrow.”

You hold up your hands in surrender, throwing a couple of kernels in your mouth. “Sorry, they’re not really my cup of tea.”

She rolls her eyes, snatching some popcorn from your hand, ignoring your protests. “Oh sorry, I forgot we have an action star in our midst.”

It was your turn to hit her arm, “Shut it. I just mean… I haven’t found the time to sit and watch them. They’re not exactly short films.”

“You’re in the MCU and Dune. Don’t talk to me about long movies.”

“Touché…” You can’t beat her there. They are ridiculously long movies. Probably why you’ve only ever seen them during premiere night and never again. “Well, put one on then. Let’s see what all the hype is about.”

She grins scrambling for the remote. “You’re on.”

You wait for her to pull up the Scream catalogue, chuckling at her visible excitement.

“Hey, why did you become an actress? and singer while we’re at it, Miss Grammy winner.” She nudges your shoulder.

You snort, shoving her lazily. “Shut up… Do you want the press interview answer or the real one?”

She raises a brow, immediately deciding. “The real one.”

You nod, feeling like she would say that.

“My mom... She was a rising star in the 80s but something happened and she never got to live out her dreams. When she had me she put me through all of the arts. I bumped and failed with most of them but acting and singing kinda stuck… I guess she saw those were the only two things I could stand so she pushed and pushed, it led to Jake discovering me and here we are.”

Jenna stays silent processing your story, she doesn’t miss the slight solemness your tone had taken. "Why do I feel like there's more to it than that?"

You chuckle, licking your lips. "Caught me... it's why I don't talk to my parents anymore."

"Oh..."

"Yeah. As soon as I turned eighteen I cut ties with them. She got too controlling, wanting money, wanting autonomy over my career so I took Link with me and moved to L.A. and did it on my own. I think... at some point acting became a spite thing with me because of her.

“Spite?” Jenna asks?

“Yeah… it was all I’ve ever known for a long time until I started making music. Probably the only time I’ve ever felt sure about a decision.”

"Oh..." Jenna finds herself saying again.

"Uh–sorry. I didn't mean to make it weird. We can just forget about it." You curl into yourself, tugging the blanket to your lap.

Jenna blinks, feeling dumb that she's made you think her silence is a bad thing.

"No..." She grabs your wrist. "Thank you for sharing with me."

You look into her eyes, feeling a bit small at her kind eyes. You know it's not out of pity but you couldn't help but want to close up again.

Pulling your hand away from her grip, you cough. "Of course, we're friends now."

"Oh, are we?" Jenna ignores the drop in her chest when you pulled away like that. “Okay, what’s the press answer then?”

“That I watched the movie Cabaret when I was younger and wanted to be like Liza Minelli.” You admit.

Jenna scoffs, “That’s literally my answer.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah except, it’s Dakota Fanning in Man on Fire.”

You chuckle, “doesn’t Denzel die in that one?”

“Yeah and what about it?” She raised a brow.

"But see, don’t fight it we’re meant to be friends... we even share the same answer."

"Shut up, dummy. Every actor has some sort of answer like that.”

Eventually, the two of you start a marathon of the Scream franchise. Which in hindsight, is kind of a bad idea seeing as it was way past midnight and the other actress still has a long week ahead of her. It seems like the events of the day catch up to her cause you feel a head slipping on your shoulder; distracting your focus halfway through Scream 3.

Jenna had fallen asleep with her head on your shoulder. You fight the urge to tense up not wanting to wake her up. She looked like she needed the rest and you relate more than anyone to her exhaustion.

“Jenna…” You lightly tap, “You fell asleep, you need to go to bed.”

She grumbles, whining in her slumber. You feels your cheeks warm when she unconsciously moves to snuggle closer to you, throwing an arm over your waist.

Fuck.

Really?

God, I am not your strongest soldier.

“Jen, seriously. Wake up.” You shake her arm.

“What?” She complains, her words muffled by your collarbone.

“You need to go to bed.”

The feeling of her soft lashes brushing against the material of your shirt as she blinks sends a shiver down your spine. “Oh…”

Jenna mumbles mortified. Quickly pushing herself off of you, unable to look you in the eyes. “Sorry.”

You don't mention how she might have punched your stomach and that you were desperately trying not to cough.

“S’okay…” You shake your head softly. You couldn't help but notice the way her hair fell over her eyes messily.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asks once she regains her senses, waking up from her short slumber.

Something tells Jenna she won’t be sleeping with how fast her heart is pounding; uncertain as to where her sudden anxiety is coming from.

“Yeah… I’ll be waiting for you inside.” You stand gathering your belongings.

“Wait, you’re not walking the carpet with me?” Jenna pulled a face.

You raise a brow, “No? At least, I wasn't told I had to. They just said I had to show up.”

“Oh… okay.” She nods then sighed, long and profound.

You continue to raise a brow but don’t say anything. Not wanting to push her. You remember the last time you guys fought and are immediately turned off. No thanks, not trying to open that can of worms.

“Okay. Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” She leans against the door.

Her premiere is a success. After borderline shoving you inside a tinted Cadillac, Link brushes your vintage Prada gown down; making sure you are in tip-top movie-star shape. You don’t walk the carpet, instead heading straight inside – making headlines.

Your every damn move is a headline these days.

Silently thanking whatever God was out there that you didn’t because the way your jaw dropped when you see Jenna was downright embarrassing. Your reaction would surely have been a running piece if cameras were around.

Your managers would love it though.

Link had to forcefully elbow your side as Jenna walks up to greet you.

“Wow…” You manage to say. “You look stunning Jenna.”

Jenna was glad for the dim lights in the theatre, “Thanks.” She blushes, casting her eyes down.

“You look great too.” She scans you up and down, suddenly feeling warm under her gape.

Maybe it was the way her makeup is done or the deconstructed tuxedo for a dress that she had on tonight but she looked more mature, intimidating? Like she could throw you around a little and you’d just gladly ask her to do it again.

Wait, what?

“Thanks… Link and I should head to our seats but I just wanted to congratulate you. This is seriously amazing.” You express sincerely.

Jenna flushes more, waving you off with a huff and a lazy hand. “Please.”

“Seriously!”

Link coughs loudly, interrupting the bubble you and Jenna found yourselves in. “Okay, someone’s a little impatient. We better go.”

A hand reaches out, grabbing you. “Do you wanna, maybe, I don’t know. Sit beside me?”

You turn, surprised. “Oh? What about Enrique?” You glance at her stylist standing just behind her pretending like he wasn’t listening; fiddling on his phone.

“I’m sure he won’t mind switching to sit with Link, right Enrique?” She turns, asking her friend.

He grins widely, “Nope. All good with me!”

“Perfect!” She smiles at you, still grabbing your arm.

“We’ll be down there!” Jenna calls out to Link and Enrique linking your fingers out of nowhere as you walk to beside her costars.

You still don’t say anything when Jenna wraps herself around you when you make it to your seats, waving as people cheer with a large smile before pulling you to sit down.

Only then did she pull herself away, “sorry about that.”

“All good.” You mumble after realizing what happened; turning to face the large screen.

Perfect photo op.

“Hey is that sharpie on your dress?”

“Yes.” She sighs.

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch but you can’t stop the growing unpleasantness in your chest. You decide to brush it off and save face for Jenna’s night. Your sulking and feelings can wait in the privacy of your own four walls and definitely not at a high-profile movie premiere.

By the time you found yourself at the NBC building in a random dressing room at the SNL studio, waiting for Jenna’s monologue you forget all about it. You lay lazily on a stiff and most likely old couch, scrolling through your phone.

A knock on the door has you pulling off your headphones. “Come in.”

“Hey Y/N.” A head peaks in making you sit up briskly. “Aliyah, hey. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just uh– Jenna’s asking for you.” She sends a sheepish smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

“Oh,” Your head perks up. “Is she okay?” You question, following the smaller girl past hallways that all looked the same; trying not to bump into the various stagehands buzzing around.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s kinda freaking out, though and… we can’t get her to calm down.” You both stop at a closed door.

“Oh… why me?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Uh… okay she didn’t exactly say you but I saw your episode and you were hilarious and who better to talk her down than someone who’s done it before.” She flashes a large grin before opening the door and shoving you inside.

The room is empty save for Jenna dressed in a short-legged suit. You force yourself to blink, reminding yourself that you are on a time crunch.

“Jenna.”

She snaps her head at your voice, and a noticeable tremble in her fingers is the first thing you see. “What–what are you doing here? I thought you’d be in your seat by now.”

“Your sister asked me to come.” You admit, walking forward.

“I’m fine. Go to your seat, I’ll see you after the show.” She turns her back to you, looking over sheets of paper with multi-coloured inked notes scribbled on every open space.

“Take a deep breath for me, Jenna.” You walk closer, slowly bringing the hand tightly clutching her notes down. The bones in her fingers relax as she drops the paper. She doesn’t say anything when you don’t disconnect your hands.

You find yourself standing much closer to her.

“Take a deep breath.” You repeat.

Jenna closes her eyes, inhaling a long, deep and audible breath in then out. She clutches your fingers as she does so, unconsciously leaning back against you to ground her bubbling anxiety.

She stays in your hold with her back against your chest: a death grip on your fingers. Your swipe a thumb over the skin of her hand. “It’ll be okay…”

“Thanks…” Jenna looks into your eyes, taking one last deep breath.

Briefly, you hold her gaze feeling tepid under the intense look in her eyes. You can’t tell what they're saying but for some reason, the way her dark pupils seemed softer under the fluorescent lights had you under a spell.

And for a fleeting second, you thought she was leaning in closer to you — eyes flickering to your lips.

“Don’t mention it.” You drop her hand immediately, taking wide steps back.

Not liking the way her eyes flickered down.

You don’t like what that could possibly mean.

Jenna’s turning rapidly, pretending not to notice as you take sizable steps away from her. “What did my sister say?”

You laugh, shoving your hands in your jacket. “That she liked my SNL episode and thought someone who’s done it before can talk you down.”

“Talk me down?” She scrunches her nose.

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” You shrug.

“Your episode was okay.” Jenna turns away to face a mirror, brushing away her bangs.

You take the bait, glad she wasn’t trembling anymore. “Okay? I got the whole cast to break, it’s considered a classic. It was nominated for an Emmy that year.”

“It didn’t win though.”

You scoff playfully, “I’m leaving. You clearly don’t need my help anymore.”

She laughs obnoxiously as you stomp out of her dressing room. “Wait.”

You stop just before you open the door. “Yeah?”

“Thank you… for talking me down.” She tucks a hair backs, a little shy.

The small smile creeping on your face is hard to subdue. “Don’t mention it. Now, go. You’re gonna kill it.” You wink, exiting the dressing room.

“She’s all good.” You tell her team.

“That’s it? She hasn’t calmed down all day, it takes you – what, five minutes?” Enrique crosses his arms. Jenna’s mom smirks, patting his back then walked past him and into the room as the rest of her family slowly trickled in; her sisters staring at you intensely.

“Uh sorry?” You blush furiously, walking off in the other direction to find your seat.

Jenna kills it, but that was never a surprise. You can tell she’s nervous throughout her monologue but after Fred Armisen does his bit – from beside you, which had been a pleasant surprise. She begins to grow confident, feeling pleased with your embarrassment when the camera pans to you and Fred.

You’d get her back for that. Making a mental note to cook up a special revenge plan, just for her.

Eventually, she falls into the role naturally. Nailing her punchlines perfectly, working the crowd like an expert, and exquisitely performing her skits. It’s a shock to you when you overhear someone behind you say she’s never done live stage work before.

She's so natural at it.

It's a privilege to watch her perform.

You nearly die when she changes into a red suit as she introduces the musical guest of the night.

Actually, you begin to slide off your seat when she comes out in a pinstripe suit — a reference to the Addams family you overheard in passing.

When credits roll and the ‘LIVE’ sign turns off. You remain in your seat. Unsure if you are just admiring her or if it’s ‘cause your legs no longer functioned. You can’t fight that admiration as it grows when you see how supportive her family is as they cheer her on and celebrate this win as one unit.

You smile, wishing you can relate. At least some people had that in their lives.

A part of you thinks it makes the whole world’s difference, having a support system like that. But you would never know.

Silently, you slip out the stage doors and back to the random dressing room you’ve decided to take refuge in.

You narrowly miss Jenna trying to find you through the masses; her smile dropping a bit when she realizes you’re gone.

–

You don’t get a chance to personally congratulate Jenna because Link was bursting into the dressing room — after complaining about trying to find you for ten minutes. Rambling on how you’re needed back in Los Angeles and there was no time to say goodbye.

When you catch the other actress it’s by pure stroke of luck. You're going through checkout at the hotel, waiting for Link to do all the work as you wait behind him.

You feel slightly guilty that you're just leaving without warning.

You should send Jenna a text, right? But would she even care if you left so suddenly? She did want you out of the city just a few days ago.

But then, you two literally just, might’ve, maybe, almost kissed/shared a moment in her dressing room, so who knows what you should do at this point.

You feel a migraine forming at the base of your skull, the longer you thought about the other actress.

“Y/N?” A voice breaks your self-deprecating thoughts. You turn to see Jenna with her team and family trailing beside her.

Jenna’s smile falls when she sees your bags. Her family walks ahead but you certainly don’t miss their curious eyes as she stops in front of you.

“Where are you going?” Her eyes keep flickering between you and your bags.

Link avoids her sharp, accusing eyes.

“Back to L.A. sorry I was just about to send you a text, actually.” You confessed, a little ashamed.

It felt like you got caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing… like when you lie to your long-time partner about the real reason why you want some time apart.

“A text?” She raises an unamused brow not liking your answer.

“Yeah, Jake wants me back in L.A. Uh– sorry, was I supposed to tell you?” You ask, a bit confused.

“Tell me?” She scoffs, face dropping. “Yeah, you’re supposed to tell me. I was going to invite you to dinner to celebrate with my family and the SNL cast tonight. But you weren’t even in the audience anymore by the time I finished.”

“Sorry… I thought you’d want to celebrate with your family.” You shrug lamely, torn between feeling guilty and confused at her reaction to the news of your sudden departure.

She made it feel like you were trying to escape.

“Well, I thought–”

She cuts herself off with a huff then looked back as her family waits for her by the elevator.

“Thought what?”

As if remembering she was still out in a very public setting, after hosting one of the most recognizable programs in America; Jenna blinks out of it. Shoving her feelings down.

“Nothing. Have a safe flight back to L.A. I’ll see you in a few days… or weeks” She mumbles with an edginess to her words, walking away before you can say anything else.

“Tough break, buddy.” Link pats a comforting hand on your shoulder as you were rendered speechless. Unsure if you should chase her down and apologize.

Damn can she walk fast in those heels.

But, why would you be apologizing for having to do your job?

But the way her brow creased like she was actually upset caused an unpleasant drop in your chest. Not enjoying how she was upset and that it seemed like it was all your fault. You? Nah. Maybe she’s still dealing with other stuff and is just taking it out on you.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“What. Just. Happened.” You turn, aggressively snatching your card from the hotel worker who definitely enjoyed the show.

“Are you blind?” He scoffs then walks away from you.

“What do you mean? Link… what do you mean?”

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bullet-prooflove · 2 months ago

Text

Love Is A Strong Word: Mike Franks x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @star017 @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms

Companion piece to:

Life Lessons (NSFW) - Mike and you don't play the games other couples do.

Count To Five (NSFW) - Mike comes home to a naked woman in his bed.

Pool House (NSFW) - You and Mike steal a moment alone at the LA Law Enforcement Conference.

Mike is terrible at apologising.

It just wasn’t the way he was raised. His father was a mean son of a bitch and unfortunately some of those traits, they come out in him despite his momma’s influence.

Right now you’re standing at the edge of his crime scene, leaning against your car as you complete your notes in that little black book of yours. It’s part of the protocol when SDPD handover a crime scene to NIS, the detective on call, in this case you, details their initial findings before giving them to the Special Agent in Charge.

Noone knows that the two of you are fucking. You’re both cool in the field, professional. There’s a little humour sometimes but nothing that borders on flirting. He knows that shit like that starts rumours, especially for a woman in law enforcement and he doesn’t want you catching any flack.

You don’t acknowledge his approach, you don’t even register the fact he’s standing beside you until he clears his throat to get your attention. Your eyes flicker up to meet his and the look you give him, it’s enough to burn him alive from the inside out.

“I’m bad at this.” He says into the space between you as you tear out the replicated pages and reset the carbon paper in your notebook.

“Well you’ve been a Special Agent for a while now.” You say indicating to the crime scene. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“No, I mean…” He trails off and you look at him expectantly, closing the notebook and placing it inside your jacket pocket. “I shouldn’t have said what I said last night.”

“You were just telling it like it is.” You say frankly, placing a hand on your hip. “I’m just the girl you fuck when you need to work some shit out right?”

He hates himself for saying those words. He’d been tired, sore and frustrated when he’d gotten home and there you were in his kitchen, making dinner. He didn’t expect it, not after the way you left things at the pool back in L.A. Walking away like that, it had made him feel shitty, like he was nothing to you but a cock to get yourself off on. In the past he would have had no problem with that but now, with you…

It’s a big fucking problem because Mike wants more, he just isn’t great at vocalising it. He’ll never forget the expression on your face when you walked out of his house. That hurt, that frustration, he feels it ten fold because he knows he’s blowing his own shit up.

“We both know you’re more than that.” He says softly as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I’m sorry for the way I behaved last night, it wasn’t… gentlemanly.”

“Maybe we need to address why you did react that way.” You state, leaning against the side panel of your car.

“Confusion mostly.” He admits, his gaze lingering on Randy as he stomps through the muddy crime scene in boat shoes. “You’re making love to me but you’re not sleeping with me. I wake up alone and it’s not a good feeling, in fact it’s a shitty feeling because it makes me feel like you don’t want me, the real me.”

“I thought that was what you wanted.” You tell him, your voice lowering as you lean in close so you won’t be overheard. “When we first started this, you made that very clear-.”

“Well a lot’s changed since we first started.” He reminds you because the two of you have spent a lot of time together, picking locks, hotwiring cars and teaching each other all kinds of illegal shit. Mike’s love language it’s acts of service and nothing says romance like making sure his girl has all the options available to her because the world it isn’t kind to women, especially not towards strong, capable ones like you. “Look, I love you and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that you love me too-.”

“Love is such a strong word.” You say with a hit of humour and he knows you’re starting to thaw. “Tolerate is probably more where we’re at.”

“Leigh.” He says fondly, tilting his head towards you with that knowing glint in his eyes. “Can’t you just give an old man a break?”

“Fine, I love you too.” You say resolutely as you hand him your notes. Your fingers brush across his and he holds onto them for just a little too long. “Now get back to work and I’ll see you later tonight.”

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hellfirenacht · 5 months ago

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Wing Man 15

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: Everyone prepares for take off. The final chapter.

8.5k words

(Master List 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14)

“So, do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

Paige’s voice was professional over the phone, but that didn’t stop Eddie’s stomach from dropping at the question. It had been about a month since the audition, and even though Paige had said that she would get back to Eddie with an offer, the stretch of time had made everyone nervous. Corroded Coffin had been left hanging, wondering if this had been too good to be true.

“Bad news first.” Eddie said, rubbing his forehead.

“WR Records interfered, and they need more from you than the audition.” Paige sighed. “They remember you flaking out a few years ago and they want proof that you aren’t just going to turn tail and run.”

“I’m not!” Eddie protested. “I mean- we’re not! And I didn’t in the first place I just...”

“They don’t care why you didn’t come last time.” Paige continued. “You didn’t show up after I had stuck my neck out for you and that’s why we’re in this position to begin with.”

Eddie didn’t need the reminder. “So, what do they need? Do they want us to go to LA? It was hard enough getting everyone to go to Live Mike-”

“No, they don’t want you all in L.A. Not yet anyway.” Eddie could hear the exasperation in her voice, and he didn’t know if it was at him or the situation.

“So what-?”

“They want to see your stage presence. More than in just the audition tape we used. They want you to put on a show. A real one.”

“I take it that means that the Hideout doesn’t count?” Eddie asked.

“They want to see fans, Eddie.” she explained. “They want to see Corroded Coffin with the real target demographic. Not just a handful of drunks wincing at your latest cover of Paranoia.”

He knew she was right, even if it did suck. When it came to fans, you were the only real one that they had at the moment that would fit the description of what WR was asking for. How the hell were they supposed to suddenly find people to support them, let alone like them?

“Shit.”

“It’s not going to be easy, but it’s not impossible.” Paige said. “You just need to put on a good enough show that they’ll sign off on you with Left Turn.”

“Why does this feel like a punishment?”

“Because it is.”

“Shit.”

“It’s not a lost cause.” She continued. “They didn’t exactly give us a time limit on this, especially since we’re still setting up shop in Indiana. Everything is ahead of schedule and we’ll have everything set up by late May or early June.”

“So we just have to prove ourselves by Summer and we’re in?”

“Plenty of time for you to find some fans.” Page laughed.

“Yeah, finding fans in a town that thinks I’m a satanic cult leader. My fate rests in the hands of people who’d rather run me out with pitchforks than touch a die with more than six sides.” Eddie began lightly smacking his forehead against the refrigerator. “Sounds easy.”

“You’ll figure it out. Besides, there is good news to incentivise you.”

“Yeah?”

“When we get the green light from WR, Left Turn is willing to offer you a two record deal.”

Eddie froze with his forehead pressed against the cool exterior of the fridge for the moment. “Wait,” his head snapped up and he pulled the receiver away from his ear to stare at it, wanting to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “Are you joking?”

“I don’t joke about business.” Her tone was serious. “We discussed it, and we really think Corroded Coffin is going to be the breakout band that gives Left Turn what it needs to no longer be the place where second rate bands play third rate songs for passive income for WR. We want you, Eddie. You all have something special.”

Special. The only time he had been called that was when the jocks called him Special Ed after he showed up for his fifth year of high school. Shit, who was he kidding, they called him that even before then.

“Two records?” Eddie repeated. Did they even have enough songs for that? Corroded Coffin had maybe five original songs, and at least two of them were incomplete.

“It'll be easier to go over the details with everyone in person. But the long and short of it is that if you can pull off a halfway decent show for the label, you’re in. And, okay, I know I said that they didn’t give us a time limit but we’d really prefer to start giving you all studio time next summer.”

“Wow that’s...” An eternity away? Too soon to even conceive? The most exciting and terrifying thing to happen to Eddie Munson, outside of stealing weed from a reefer truck and being in a shootout when he was eighteen?

“The best deal you can hope to get.” Paige finished his sentence for him. “Trust me, we are bending and breaking a lot of rules for you, Eddie. Most bands would kill for this kind of deal that we’re offering you.”

He believed it, because it seemed like every time Paige came to him with any kind of news about his band he felt like he stepped into an alternate universe.

“So do a show, get fans, and get signed.” It was a three step plan that would work in theory, and Eddie had created campaigns and encounters on flimsier ideas. Then again, right now he wondered if fighting a litch would be easier than getting people in this town to like him.

“We’ll talk more about this later. I’m heading back to California tomorrow but I’ll be back in a few weeks for the holidays and we can talk business then. Give the boys the good news and start working on a plan for your show.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good night, Eddie.”

“‘Night, Paige.”

Winter passed in a blur of slush and snow and dreary days, while you found your life suddenly filled with more warmth and light than you had ever expected. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, all came and went with Eddie. You got to know his uncle Wayne, and Eddie spent his weekends more often than not at your apartment, watching movies, listening to his tales from school, and discussing his band.

In January, you found yourself sneaking into Hawkins high on occasion to join Hellfire. You didn’t want to risk coming every single week, but when Eddie needed a sub, or when he said that he would be running a one shot, you were there. He had spent a night at your place helping you create a character, and you had admittedly gone overboard and ended up coming to the sessions with a new character each time because you had so much fun making them. You weren’t always clear on the rules, but you had enthusiasm and that counted for more in Eddie’s book, even if he had killed two of your characters.

In February he surprised you for Valentine’s day by playing you a song that he swore up and down he only tolerated because you liked it. In a card he bought was a paper heart that he had folded himself and had doodled hearts and skulls on.

“It’s not as good as what you make, but you always show interest in my stuff, so...” Eddie had just shrugged.

That was the first time you said ‘I love you.’ to Eddie Munson.

His brown eyes had gone wide, and he had stared at you in surprise at those words. He didn’t say it back, not then. You didn’t need him to. You knew how you felt about him, and by the look in his eyes, you had an idea that he wouldn’t be far behind.

Eddie had kissed you in response, and you don’t think that the two of you stopped kissing until you had to force yourself to pull away to give him his gift; a mix tape of both of your favorite songs and a tape recorder so that he could keep better record of all of the music he was trying to make.

It wasn’t the world, it wasn’t a stage, or a record deal, but it was from you.

You found that dating Eddie was easier in March and April. Spring had come and there was a lot more that you could do together outside of your apartment. The two of you fell into Lover’s Lake a handful of times, courtesy of Rick lending Eddie his boat and the two of you having horrible coordination. One weekend, the two of you drove past the old theater, and found it to now be fully closed and under some sort of construction as a radio tower was put on top of the building.

Fine, good riddance.

You remained Corroded Coffin’s number one fan, and had dragged Steve and Robin to the Hideout to watch them whenever you could. You tried to get other people to go see them play, and put up fliers for the band on the days where Keith wasn’t around. On the odd occasion you had seen a new face at the Hideout, but no one had stuck around for more than one set.

Eddie was getting discouraged by the time May came around, and it was breaking your heart. He was putting everything into this band, and even though the past few months they had worked so hard on new music, they weren’t able to find that spark that would get people talking about them. As much as he believed in this band, in their music, it wouldn’t matter if this town wouldn’t give him a fucking chance.

You... were not doing much better. Actually, if you were being completely honest with yourself, outside of spending time with Eddie and his friends and the occasional movie night with Robin and Steve, you were feeling more lost than ever.

What was it about finding yourself, that made you feel even more out of place? With Eddie you could breathe, so why did it feel like in every other aspect of your life you were treading water?

Because all of those stupid rom coms that you had watched also lied to you. Turns out that by getting a man, it didn’t magically fix anything wrong in your life. Not that it had ever been his job to fix you, nor was that your intention but still.

With Rocky Horror long gone, you had tried to focus your efforts on Corroded Coffin instead. It wasn’t the same. The harder you saw your boyfriend working towards his passions, the more you realized that you had no idea what the fuck you were doing with your life.

Being the assistant manager, who did more work than the actual manager sucked. You were pulling in so many hours with little to no reward. You nearly hit a breaking point when Keith tried to change your schedule so that you had to work on Tuesdays, and even though your day had remained intact, you still felt like you had lost somehow.

Time spent with Eddie was the only time you didn’t feel stuck at work. Even when you were hanging out with Steve and Robin, all they seemed to be able to talk about was work or Steve’s dating life, or whatever movie was on.

Everything came to a head one afternoon in May. It was Saturday, the busiest day of the week and you were staring at the door to your apartment with dread. Outside was the perfect day, finally warm enough to wear whatever you want without it being too hot or too cold.

And yet, you felt clammy all over, you felt frozen in place staring at the door. You could already hear customers complaining about movies, Keith blowing off any responsibility, and-

“I’m sick.” you said bluntly into the receiver.”I’m not coming in.”

You didn’t give Keith a chance to respond before hanging up and unplugging the phone.

The drive to Gareth’s neighborhood was a blur and you pulled up behind Eddie’s van. You sat there for a moment before forcing yourself out of the car and walked over to the garage.

The few times you were able to swing by during practice, it was usually a cacophony of music that echoed down the street, but not this time. You heard Eddie’s voice before you saw him with the band, they were all standing around and Eddie had his arms crossed.

Zack was the first to notice you and gave you a wave, and you waved back. Eddie turned around and you saw the way his face relaxed as you approached. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and kissed your forehead.

“Thought you had work today.” Eddie said.

“I...” you shook your head. “I don’t even want to talk about work right now. What’s going on over here?”

“Oh, we’re fucked.” Gareth shrugged, spinning his sticks.

“We aren’t fucked.” Eddie snapped.

“I don’t know man, we seem kind of fucked.” Jeff sighed.

“Fucked like a cheap whore.” Zack added.

“Stop!” Eddie snapped, his eyes narrowing at his band. He removed his arm from around you and crossed his arms. “We aren’t fucked until I say we’re fucked.”

“...Fucked.” you said, and everyone looked at you. “....I felt left out.”

Eddie sighed from deep in his soul. “We have no venue, and no steady following except for you.”

Ah, this again. You had been hearing about this problem for the better part of four months now. You honestly didn’t know what WR Records expected from a bunch of high schoolers with no money and no idea how to put on a show. You’d been here for this conversation so many times that you could practically recite everyone’s responses.

“Let’s just... everyone take five. I need a smoke.” Eddie said.

“Take it to the street, mom is gonna kill me if she finds another one of your butts on the lawn.” Gareth said.

“Right, right.” Eddie grabbed your hand and led you to the side of his van as he pulled out his cigarettes.

“Still no idea about a show?” you asked, leaning against his van.

“Not a clue.” Eddie took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled. “But it’s nothing you haven’t heard a thousand times over at this point.”

“I’m surprised that you haven’t used the frustration to write any new songs.”

“It’s hard to fight demons when they won’t even give you a battlefield.” He gave a subtle laugh. “At this point I’d rather be fighting a real demon.” Despite his smile, you saw the stress in his eyes, and that worried you.

“How would you even do that?” you asked. “Baseball bat with nails? Molotov cocktail? The power of friendship?”

“Obviously through the power of metal. I’d play a guitar solo so sick that a demon’s head would explode.”

“Effective.” You nodded.

“So... why aren’t you at work?” Eddie asked, flicking his cigarette. You watched as the ashes fell to the ground and disappeared on the tar of the street. “It’s not like you to play hooky. Am I really that bad of an influence on you?”

“It’s not important-”

“Please.” Eddie turned to you and looked into your eyes. Sometimes you hated how intense his eyes could be, it was like he could see straight through you. “I’m so sick of hearing about my own shit. What’s going on, Sweetheart?”

Your gaze tilted up to the sky, it was a perfect shade of blue that you’d only see in photo books or inspirational posters in a library. “I... am so sick of feeling stuck.” you started, and from there a dam burst. “I’m sick of being at work, I’m sick of Family Video. I’m so tired of just waking up and going to work and coming home, just to turn around and go back to work. Keith is making my job so fucking difficult, I don’t even get to be on shift with Steve and Robin for more than maybe two or three hours a week, and if I have to hear one more person complain about movie ratings I might actually throw up.” Eddie reached out and rubbed your back. “I just... everyone else has something they can do. Steve does sports, you’re about to record an album, Robin knows like, 5 languages, and I’m...”

You didn’t want to finish that sentence. You didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

“I want to quit.” you admitted. “I wish I could just quit and throw caution to the wind and give some sort of big dramatic speech about sticking it to the man and running off into the sunset. But I can’t.”

“That’s bullshit.” Eddie said, finishing off his cigarette and crushing it under his worn sneaker. There was a small hole in the side of the shoe, threatening to expose his sock which probably also had a hole in it. “You’re smart, you should be able to get any job in town.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, and I know you’re right and that sucks.” You leaned your head on his shoulder. “I want to leave, but I feel stuck, and I feel stuck because I won’t leave. It’s a vicious cycle.”

“Says the girl who kept showing up to my shows after I blew her off at the arcade.” Eddie nudged you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders again. “You had no problem going after what you wanted back then.”

“I knew what I wanted back then.” you looked up at him. “You were an easy choice, Eddie. Right now, I just know what I don’t want.”

There was a look in his eyes that was hard to read. Eddie was always a bit of an enigma, even after almost six months of dating. He was so expressive, and it was usually so easy to tell how he was feeling at a glance but there were moments like this, where he’d look at you with that distant expression and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was really thinking.

“And what don’t you want...?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t want to feel stuck, and I don’t want to hear people complain about movies ever again.” you said firmly.

HIs expression continued to be unreadable and he looked down at the smashed cigarette butt by his feet. “You know... if this doesn’t- I mean if we can’t get our shit together to do this deal then we might be stuck.”

“Eddie-”

“I’m just saying that I get it if you signed up to be with some big time musician. If this falls through, I don’t want you to be stuck with more than just your job.”

“Eddie.” You said again, sharply. “I liked you that first night at the arcade when you blew me off, I liked you the night I first saw you play, and I like you now because you’re you, Eddie. Of all the things I’m stuck with, you are the thing I choose to be stuck with. Everything else in my life might range from mediocre to shitty, but you are the one thing I’m sure about right now.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked.

You grinned wickedly at him. “I’m not stuck with you, you’re stuck with me.” Your arms wrapped around his waist tightly. “Sorry, no refunds. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You are a brave woman.” He said.

“Not brave enough, apparently.” You leaned against his chest and sighed. “Bleh.”

“Are you two done making out yet?” Jeff’s voice carried over, and you remembered that you had technically crashed their rehearsal. “We want to at least play something before Gareth’s mom runs us off.”

“Eddie’s putting his pants back on!” you called back, resulting in a mix of laughter and groans. “Looks like the show must go on.”

The two of you made your way back to the driveway, and Eddie went for his guitar. You took a seat on the driveway, feeling the warm, rough concrete against your palms.

You watched them take off and fly, the same way you had seen over and over again. Despite their frustration with the lack of venue, they lost themselves in the music, using it as a way to battle the demons in their own heads.

You wished you could feel that way too. To be able to feel that power inside of yourself and just let go and lose yourself in the moment. Your eyes closed and you leaned back, tilting your head towards the sky. In your mind, you visualized your own world with their music, one where fighting demons was easy, and that any problem could be solved with some sort of sick solo.

Your mind drifted, as you imagined demons taking over Family Video, and you and Eddie fighting them off while the store was being destroyed. That was a nice thought. There wouldn’t be a lot of room in the store though, it’d be better to take the high ground, maybe fight on top of the strip mall? Once the plaza was thoroughly destroyed in your mind, you moved the battle elsewhere; the old movie theater.

No, you still cared for the old theater. But you did still have it out for one Chris Morrison. You could imagine him with his horrid toe colored hair as some sort of ugly demon and kicking him in the nuts again, only this time in your mind it came with a satisfying pop sound. He’d never be able to harass any women ever again.

You let Corroded Coffin’s music be the catharsis needed after a long and stressful winter. As they played you imagined beating the shit out of every grievance you’ve ever had, and some that weren’t even yours. Eddie’s voice carried such weight as he sang about a demon who had demanded that he drop his weapons and tried to banish him-

The idea struck you like lightning, and charged every single nerve ending in your body. You felt the hair on your neck stand up and your body prickle with goosebumps as your eyes snapped open.

Oh, shit. This was going to be a bad idea. A brilliant idea, but probably a bad one. One that might get you all in trouble.

But it was so stupid, it might actually work.

Eddie’s eyes met yours and he must have seen something in the way you were staring so intensely at him. He motioned for the band to stop after the song they were playing.

“You’re glaring a hole in my head, sweetheart.” He said. “Was it that bad?”

You shook your head. “I have an idea for your show. It’s stupid, and could get all of us in trouble and might be illegal. I can’t say for sure.”

Eddie stared at you, looking slightly worried. “Care to share with the class what you’re thinking?”

“Can’t be worse than some of the schemes we’ve come up with.” Jeff said.

Eddie helped you stand up, and you told them exactly what you were thinking, and how it would be stupid and reckless but that you had an idea about getting an audience, and a large one at that.

They were all quiet as they listened and thought about what you were saying. “That’s... jesus, you’d really help us do that?”

“Do you think you can pull it off?” you asked. “Don’t worry about me. What do you all think?”

The boys looked at each other, and you could feel the air crackling with excitement.

“You’re right, it’s a stupid plan.” Jeff said. “But...”

“Mom would actually murder me.” Gareth said, but despite his words, there was a wicked grin on his face.

“We’re so fucked.” Zack muttered under his breath.

You looked at Eddie. Eddie looked at you. “Well?”

Eddie’s frown slowly moved up into a grin. “That’s pretty risky. You sure you want to do this?”

“It’s easy to go for something when you know what you want.” You grinned back.

The rest of the day was spent hammering out all of the details of this plan. For the first time since your audition for Rocky Horror so many months ago you felt excited, like you were really a part of something. You felt... real.

Eddie’s excitement over this plan didn’t wane for the rest of the day. He followed you back to your apartment after rehearsal, and decided that actions spoke louder than words to show his gratitude towards you.

The sun was just starting to set and Eddie was sleeping on your chest now. Your fingers were running through his hair as he clung to your naked form, while you stared at the ceiling. In a bit you’d probably wake him up for dinner, but for now your mind raced and went over the plan over and over again. The rational part of you was screaming that this would be a bad idea, but when you glanced down at Eddie, and remembered how he looked when he was with his band, all doubts went away.

If you could do one thing right, it would be this.

You arrived at the Munson trailer far earlier than you’d like to help Eddie get ready for graduation. Eddie had spent the morning with you sitting on his bed and him taking off and putting on every single shirt he owned. Normally you wouldn’t mind seeing him constantly removing his shirt, but this wasn’t the time. Eventually you had to step in and hand him his Hellfire Club shirt.

“This is your legacy, Eddie.” you said. “This is what you’re wearing today.”

Eddie’s curls were being especially unruly after he’d showered last night and slept in wet hair. You pulled his hair back into a low ponytail to try and get his graduation cap to stay on, but he hated how it looked. He shook his hair free and you opted to use some bobby pins you had laying in the bottom of your bag instead to keep it on.

Eddie needed to be at the school early, and you rode along with him with the promise you’d save Wayne’s seat. Your boyfriend was practically bouncing in his seat as he drove to the school and parked. The two of you went over the plan one more time, and you both adjusted the walkie-talkies that the two of you had borrowed from the freshmen.

You walked with Eddie to the auditorium where graduates were being told to meet up.

“You got this, Eddie.” you said, squeezing his hands. “No matter what happens today, I’m proud of you, okay?”

He leaned in and gave you a kiss, the tassel from his cap hitting your face as your lips met. “I don’t think I could have pulled this off without you.”

“I know you could have.” you said.

“Maybe, but it’s a hell of a lot better with you helping out.” Eddie hugged you and kissed your forehead. “I’ll see you on the other side, mk? In two hours, you can officially say that you are no longer dating a high schooler.”

“Oh good, because I was getting worried that at some point I was going to be put on a list.” you snorted. “Knock ‘em dead, Eddie.”

“Trust me, that’s the plan.” He said before disappearing into the auditorium.

With that, you made your way to the football field where the actual ceremony was being held while the graduates did one last practice run in the school. You made your way to the bleachers and made your way to the very top, near the announcers booth and set your bag down next to you.

People filed in steady for the next while. In the front row of the bleachers, you saw Steve and waved to him. The freshmen were all gathered in a group a few rows over, and the rest of Corroded Coffin wasn’t too far from them. You kept scanning the crowd diligently before spotting a girl with short dark hair chatting with a few members of the baseball team. Perfect.

Wayne showed up about a half hour later, as the stands were starting to fill up with people. He stopped to speak to a woman you had seen around the trailer park the few times you had visited, as well as the tall woman next to her. You moved your bag as he took a seat next to you, and he looked over the field.

“You know, I never did make it to any football games in my day.” he said. “Too noisy.”

“I went to a few, but mostly stayed because of my friends and the snacks.” you replied. In the months that you had been dating Eddie, you had gotten to know his uncle fairly well. He was a quiet man, a bit stoic, but surprisingly easy to get along with. You had a soft spot for his dry sense of humor as well.

“Didn’t think I’d ever come to one of these.” Wayne continued. “I always had hope though.”

You had a feeling that he wasn’t talking about football anymore.

“He worked hard.” you said. “He really wanted it this year.”

“Well, he finally had some motivation to finish this year.” Wayne pulled a cigarette from his pocket.

“Yeah, the promise of a record deal will do that.” Behind you, people were going into the speaker booth and started playing some filler music before the ceremony started. You took a second to look up, confirming that things were in place.

“I ain’t talking about that.” He shook his head and looked over at you. “My boy isn’t exactly the best at expressing himself, but it was more than just his band that gave him that final push.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you shook your head. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did more’n you think.” he continued. “He used to only talk about his band and his games. He never did talk much about the future, always avoided it. Eddie talks about it now, and he can’t say more than two sentences without including you in it.”

Eddie thought about a future with you? He talked about you in the future tense with his uncle? The idea made you feel flustered more than you cared to admit.

“I’m glad he’s with you.” Wayne concluded. “You’re a good influence on him.”

The music to cue the ceremony started, which was a blessing as you had no idea how to respond to that. Did Eddie really see a future with you...?

Everyone in the bleachers started cheering as the graduates in a sea of Tiger’s green made their way to the field and took their seats in the folding chairs. The next thirty minutes were filled with boring speeches by the faculty as they all stroked their own egos about how amazing the school was and how good of a job they did at teaching the students.

As you watched, you saw someone in the seats move from one row to the row in front. A few minutes later, they did it again, moving down the row this time.

“What the hell is that boy doing?” Wayne said, realizing before you that it was, in fact, Eddie, who was seat hopping from the back row.

It was the strangest game of Frogger that you had ever witnessed as your boyfriend moved from seat to seat for the next ten minutes before finally settling in the third row and not moving from then on.

“What do you think that was about?” you asked, but Wayne just shrugged.

After what felt like an eternity, it was finally time for the graduates to walk the stage. You politely cheered for most of them, but you were here for one person only.

Okay, fine, two people. You hadn’t forgotten that Robin was also graduating. But you knew it your heart that right now you were here for-

“Eddie Munson.” Anyone with ears could hear the waiver of disdain in Higgin’s voice as he called out the name. You had never heard his name said with such contempt.

The cheers for Eddie were noticeably quieter than any graduate from the general crowd. You decided that it wasn’t a bad thing as you and the rest of Hellfire cheered and screamed loudly for him. You were shameless, hollering and clapping as Eddie strode across the stage as if he owned the place and stopped in front of the principal.

True to his word, Eddie snatched the rolled up piece of paper out of the older man’s hand and everyone in the bleachers gasped and laughed as Eddie flipped him off. He then turned to the audience and, in true Eddie fashion, threw up his fingers like devil horns and hissed before cackling like a mad man and running off the stage.

You stood up and asked Wayne to watch your things as you quickly made your way down the bleachers, meeting him behind them. You threw your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

“Congratulations, Eddie.” you said as he hugged you tightly,

“If you hadn’t helped me study, I might not have made it.” he admitted.

“You could have.” you said. “Also, what the fuck were you doing down there?”

“Jocks cut me off in line, and I had to find a way to get to my assigned seat.” Eddie took off his cap and gown and you took the items and folded them up carefully. “Now, are you ready for the most metal concert that Hawkin’s High school has ever seen?”

“Everything is all set up and ready to go.” you said. “Wait for the signal. I’ve already gotten the all clear that it would just take a flip of the switch and everything will swap over”

Eddie’s smile lit up his face, excitement radiating off of him now. “Let’s do this.” he handed you his diploma and you expected him to run off to get in position for the plan, but instead he stayed still for a moment just staring at you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “Don’t tell me you’re getting stage fright now.”

His hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you into a deep kiss. You barely understood what he was doing, but you kissed him back on reflex. You reached up and grabbed his shirt, holding onto him. You had never thought you were the type to make out with someone under the bleachers, but it seemed there was a first time for everything.

“I love you.” he said quickly. “I’ll see you after the show.”

That was when he turned tail and ran off, leaving you dazed and stunned at his drive-by confession.

I love you.

Those three words echoed in your head as you were left speechless and frozen in place.

Oh.. that prick. He thinks that he can just drop that on you and then run away?!

He can and that’s the worst part. You would have to kick his ass and kiss him senseless later. For now, there was still a job to do.

Eddie’s kiss haunted your lips as you made your way back up the bleachers and set his items down next to Wayne.

“What is this?” he asked, frowning at you.

“So, I don’t have any time to explain.” you said. “And you are about to take back everything you said about me being a good influence.”

Wayne’s frown only deepened, but Higgins was now shaking hands with the last student on stage. You turned and made your way to the announcement booth where Dustin was waiting for you by the door.

“Ready to do something stupid and reckless that’ll get us into every sort of trouble ever?” you asked.

“Is that a hypothetical question?” he smiled at you and the two of you made your way into the booth.

Being friends with Steve meant that you were friends with Dustin, Mike, and Lucas. By knowing the kids, you were vaguely aware of their siblings.

You had never officially met Johnathan Byers or Nancy Wheeler. If anything, Nancy was more of a mythical being, the ex of your best friend. You knew that she and Steve had famously dated, broke up, dated again, broke up for good, and now she was dating the man next to her holding a camera. The whole thing seemed messy, but this wasn’t the time for that.

“You might want to get down to the field if you want to get any good pictures of this.” Dustin said to Johnathan.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you asked. This had not been part of the plan that you recalled. You had asked Dustin for help as he had been involved with the AV club, which meant that he knew how to work the booth but Nancy and Johnathan hadn’t been anywhere close to this plot.

“Dustin told us what was going on.” Nancy said, holding a pen and paper. “And we were promised an exclusive if we help.”

“You-” you shook your head. “You want to do a story on this?”

“A graduation being taken over by a small town underdog band that could get signed?” Nancy asked. “Eddie is about to do something so stupid that it could get him run out of town. I’m going to make sure that this gets spun the right way.”

“You said you needed a show and an audience.” Dustin shrugged, making his way over to the booth. “Corroded Coffin needs press. I called in a favor. Now get over here, we’re running out of time.”

Shit, the kid was right. Higgins was in the middle of his closing speech and you didn’t have much time left. You could already see some parents gathering their things to beat traffic.

Now or never.

Dustin flicked a switch and suddenly Higgin’s microphone cut off. He kept talking for a moment before realizing that his voice was no longer echoing across the field. He tapped the microphone a few times before looking up towards the announcement booth.

You pulled out the walkie talkie. “Paper Crane to Corroded Coffin, are you ready? Over.”

There was a beat before static crackled through the device. “Corroded Coffin to Paper Crane. We’re ready.”

“On my signal.” you said, and set the walkie talkie down.

Dustin flipped a switch and music started blasting again, this time instead of the cheesy family safe hits that had been playing before, the screeching guitar of Metallica echoed across the grounds. You had no doubt that this was going to be heard for miles.

With this distraction, Corroded Coffin stormed the stage with their instruments, setting up in record time just like they had practiced. Higgins was too stunned to speak for a moment, before seeming to sputter and yell at the boys.

That’s what you were assuming anyway, as you could only see him and in no way hear him.

Eddie didn’t seem bothered at all as he swung his guitar around so hard that you were sure it would have caused some serious damage had it actually hit the man.

Dustin hit your arm to get your attention. “Introduce them.” he said, pushing the booth microphone towards you.

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked.

“Introduce them! This is a concert, you have to tell everyone who they are!” He said again. “You said you’d give the signal so give it!”

“What are you talking about, that’s their job! I’m just here to push the buttons and-”

“Just do it!” Dustin pushed the button to turn on the mic and shoved it in your face.

For a moment, you were suddenly back on stage at the middle school talent show, with the hot lights beating down on you. You were back in the theater with Chris Morrison before you even had a chance to audition. You were in the back row (fuck the back row) dancing and yelling at a screen with dozens of people as you watched a movie you had seen a dozen times before.

Something inside of you snapped and you grabbed the mic.

“And here they are to close out todays’ ceremony, let’s all put our hands together for Hawkins High School’s favorite Hellions- Corroded Coffin!”

The reception to your introduction ranged from luke-warm to confused. You saw a few people clapping, but most people had no idea what was going on.

If the reception put off the band, they didn’t let it show for a moment. They took off like a rocket, flying high with a bust of energy as they launched into their first song. Higgins stood there, gobsmacked as they played, his face a bright shade of red that you could see even from here. He attempted to yell, but it was no good.

Then, the oddest thing started to happen.

It started with the graduates, as they all stood up and started to cheer. You tore your eyes away from your boyfriend long enough to see people clapping. You weren’t sure if they thought that Corroded Coffin was actually good, or if they all just thought it was part of the ceremony but it was happening.

Higgins turned to the crowd, still fuming with anger, but froze as people started to warm up to the band on the make-shift stage. Slowly, the excitement moved backwards from the Graduates on the field to the bleachers.

Sure, there were some parents who were quickly grabbing their kids and ushering them out of the area as quickly as possible, lest the Devil take their soul for daring to be in the same vicinity of someone playing an electric guitar. But be it by genuine curiosity, novelty, or seeing Corroded Coffin as you saw them, people were staying.

With the court of public opinion swaying in their favor, Higgins had no choice but to storm off the stage in a huff. That’s what you liked to believe at least.

Corroded Coffin flew through two songs without stopping, so deeply in the zone they seemed to forget where they were and who they were playing for.

As the guitar shrieks came to a close, Eddie signaled for his band to stop.

He looked out at the crowd of people, who were (for the most part) cheering for him. His eyes went wide, and you wondered if anyone at school ever gave him any sort of positive attention like this outside of his friends.

Stunned for just a moment, he grabbed the mic and leaned forward. “Thanks everyone, we have one more song before we close out this whole thing.” he said. “For the past, oh, six years, I’ve been fighting my way out of the bullshit that is Hawkin’s High school. It took me longer than expected but now I’m proud to announce that your resident Freak is now going to be set loose on the town during regular school hours.” Eddie grinned wickedly, and you saw a few parents and students shift uncomfortably. “Get ready Hawkin’s because this year Corroded Coffin has officially been signed!”

Cheers and confusion rang through the stadium. You couldn’t stop smiling and you felt your eyes start to water. You were just so damn proud of Eddie in that moment.

Eddie’s gaze moved to the announcer booth, and you could feel that he was looking at you. He extended a finger towards you and called out your name.

“This one’s for you.”

You felt your heart jump in your chest and your face heat up a million degrees. Eddie’s guitar started on a riff that you had heard so many damn times it was nearly seared into your brain.

But, you hadn’t heard them play this song before. The idea had always been three songs, but this song was not part of the line up. When had they learned this one? When had they practiced this one?

You held your hand over your mouth as Eddie started to sing.

“It’s astounding. Time is fleeting... Madness takes its toll...”

There was still a part of you that stung thinking about those days at the theater, but seeing Corroded Coffin on stage, playing something that he knew had meant so much to you...

Rocky Horror. Eddie was singing Time Warp from Rocky Horror.

That absolute jerk. How dare he tell you that he loves you and then runs off before you could respond, and then plays this?!

This just confirmed what you had known for months now. You were in love with Eddie Munson.

When Officer Hopper came up to the booth, looking at you, Dustin, and Nancy, he seemed more annoyed than angry. You quickly surrendered the controls to him, letting him pull the plug on Corroded Coffin. You loved Eddie, but you also wanted to minimize whatever trouble everyone was about to get in.

You were escorted off the campus by Hopper who said that Higgins wouldn’t press charges as long as you and Eddie swore to never step foot on the school grounds again. Easy enough, with Eddie’s diploma safe in hand now.

Wayne had laid into Eddie for being an idiot, but it was clear his heart wasn’t really in it. How could it be with Eddie smiling like a maniac the whole time, still high off the thrill of his takeover of the school that had shunned him for so long?

There were pictures taken. In true Eddie fashion he held his diploma proudly as he flipped off the camera. A copy of that photo would sit on your bedside table for many years after that.

Paige dropped by the Munson trailer that night, cackling maniacally at how insane Eddie had been for using his own graduation for the concert. Eddie, of course, had given you all the credit for the idea.

Corroded Coffin did not get the front page, despite Nancy Wheeler’s best efforts. They did get the starring headline for the entertainment section though. Your name was even mentioned in the article, as Nancy couldn’t leave out Eddie’s dedicated song to you.

That article was also framed and hung up in your small living room, and after reading it at least once a day, it wasn’t long until you had it memorized.

You couldn’t pinpoint the day that Eddie officially moved in that summer. At one point he came over for a movie night and just... never left. It became so easy to just have him stay the night, wake up next to you, fight over stupid things like how late he stayed up to play guitar or what to make for dinner.

And, of course, as Corroded Coffin’s appointed emotional support fan, you were there the day that they stepped into the recording studio, this time as an officially signed band.

When Paige had said that they had been setting up a new studio near Hawkins, the last place you expected for that to be was the old theater. You had froze outside of the building, the marquis had been torn down, and the radio tower now loomed over you instead. You had avoided being anywhere near this area since that day in November, and now here you were with your boyfriend as he got to live out his dream in the theater where you had one day hoped to live out yours.

Jealousy wasn’t the word you were sure you were feeling. There was something there, maybe more akin to disappointment or irony at the situation. Whatever it was, you shoved it down. The past was the past, and were the odds that Chris would be there...?

Pretty high, actually.

Chris was standing next to his dad, glaring a hole in the newly installed carpet of what had once been the theater lobby. Paige shook Papa Morrison’s hand and took some keys from him. You froze when Chis looked up and made eye contact with you, but Eddie squeezed your hand protectively and all Chris could do was cross his arms and follow his dad out of the theater with his tail between his legs.

You’d learn much later from Robin (who heard from Columbia), that Papa Morrison had never intended to keep the theater, just hold it to sell out to someone else. Rage hadn’t been the feeling you had felt, but something between anger and disappointment conflicted with the fact that Corroded Coffin was finally getting the start they deserved here.

Summer had never felt so bittersweet.

It wasn’t all disappointment though, there were certain perks that came with being with the band. Every time they were in the studio, you found yourself talking to the staff, learning more about how studios worked, and that this specific studio was special. The radio tower that had been placed on top wasn’t just for show, Paige had decided that the best way to get Left Turn on the radio was to become a 2 in 1 radio station.

You were enamored instantly.

While Corroded Coffin worked with writing and playing, you found yourself bothering anyone who would talk to you until Paige decided that it would just be easier to allow you to intern with them on the radio side.

You didn’t even bother giving Keith your two weeks notice. Your ugly polyester vest was dropped off with your last movie rental and keys. You hugged Steve and Robin, thanked them for everything that they had done for you and never looked back. Thankfully, you didn’t have to go to that store ever again, as there was a new rental chain called Blockbusters starting up right down the street from your home.

“So, they’re really going to let you play Time Warp as your bonus track?” you asked one night as Eddie restrung his guitar. “I thought there’d be like, copyright stuff or something like that.”

“Paige explained it to me, it’s a bunch of weird legal loopholes but that’s the plan.” He said, plucking one of the strings.

“And you’re good with it?” you asked, taking a strand of his hair and twirling it around your finger. “It’s not exactly about fighting demons or D&D.”

“Maybe not, but it’s the song that helped us get signed.” Eddie reached up to take your hand in his, and you laced your fingers together. “I have a soft spot for it.”

“I hope you all get to shoot a music video for the cover.” you smiled. “I would pay anything to see you in Tim Curry’s lingerie.”

“Not in a million years.” he laughed and kissed your hand before letting go. He fiddled with his guitar, checking the tuning as he started playing. You always found the electric guitar a little funny sounding, especially when it wasn’t plugged in.

Eddie’s voice had gotten better over the last few months since Corroded Coffin started working professionally, but there was something about his voice that was distinctly him. Something raw and real, that couldn’t be replicated or trained.

“I love you, Eddie.” you said, interrupting the chorus. He stopped and looked up at you with a grin.

“I love you, too.” Eddie said back, and you leaned in and kissed him again.

Let’s do the Time Warp again

Let’s do the Time Warp again.

a/n: Well folks, this is it! This is the official last chapter of Wing Man. The epilogue and post-credit scene will come out on Friday (the one year anniversary of me posting chapter 1!). I'll have more to say about that later, but for now, thank you all for the support. I couldn't have done this without you all <3

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n

@mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea

@vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93

@perpetualmessmachine @thebook-hobbit @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh

@siriuslysmoking @huffledor-able541 @pookiesnatcher @eddiesguitarskills @browneyes-8288

@sheneedsrocknroll92 @kores-mun-son-n-more @eddiebuttcheeks @kirsteng42 @dreamerjj

@moonisu @em022O @cosmorant @kurdtbean

#nacht fic #wing man #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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veronicaphoenix · 6 months ago

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zutto — chapter three | wc: 6.5k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

chapter summary: lia goes back to therapy. When Noah takes her back home after her session, lia's withdrawal symptoms worsen.

tags and trigger warnings: best friends to lovers, angst, conflicted feelings, wet dreams that turn into nightmares, lia goes back to therapy, mentions of couples therapy, mentions of medication and use of it, descriptions of both physical and psychological withdrawal symptoms, heated argument between lia and noah, passionate kiss under the rain.

author's note: this is a hard one that might feel uncomfortable to some, so read with caution. It's rewarding at the end, though 💕

general trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

“Would you consider my suggestion? It would be very helpful if Noah could join our sessions.”

Lia nodded, still scratching her fingers. She’d been locked in her therapist office for the last hour, and she felt exhausted. With the woman’s unexpected suggestion, her nerves shot up, adding to her distress.

The idea of Noah dealing with her therapist didn’t seem very appealing. He had his own and Lia didn’t want to drag him into this. But again, he was already shit deep into her problems, wasn’t he?

So, she didn’t lie when she told Dr. Reynolds that she would consider it.

Outside, Noah’s car was parked right at the door, and he waited inside.

It was the first time since returning to L.A. that they’d been apart for longer than an hour. Matt had picked them up from Lia’s apartment, spending about two minutes hugging her tightly after seeing her. Lia didn’t cry, and although she looked happy to be in Matt’s arms, she assured him she was on the mend and wouldn’t put them through something like this ever again. After dropping her at the therapist’s office, Noah got out of the car and walked her to the door, squeezing her hand and promising he’d be there to pick her up in an hour. Just as the door of the building opened, Noah called Lia’s name. When she turned back to him one last time, he pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her hair. That was the boost Lia needed to face the next sixty minutes.

As soon as Noah was alone with Matt in the car, the questions began to pour out.

“How is she doing? And I mean, for real.”

“What have the doctors said?”

“Is she still taking meds? When can she quit? Why isn’t it that easy?”

“And what about you? How are you coping?”

“Have you talked to her? Have you guys talked about you and… her? About…?”

Noah stopped him there, his face a mixture of fatigue and frustration.

“I’m dealing with this just like Lia is,” he admitted, his voice strained. He was conflicted, torn between telling her he couldn’t live without her touch, that he needed her in ways he had never thought possible, and keeping quiet and giving her the space she needed.

Noah looked out of the window; his eyes distant. He was still having nightmares. In fact, it felt they were just getting started. He was worried sick that they would follow him for days, weeks. Months, even.

Last night, he had dreamt that Lia was straddling him, that his hands were tangled in her hair, pulling her down to him. His grip intensified, perhaps to the point of hurting her, but Lia didn’t complain. Her moans told exactly the opposite. Noah continued devouring her mouth, her lips perfect against his, her tongue slippery against his own. He swallowed her little sounds, hardening against her. When he pressed her down onto his erection, his left hand gripped her waist, marking her. Abruptly, Lia moved away, startled, fear in her eyes. Standing, she lifted the hem of her t-shirt to reveal the marks his fingers had left. With a broken voice, eyes teary, she said, “Noah, you hurt me.”

Noah woke up in panic, accidentally waking Lia, who was sleeping beside him. She immediately turned on the light, threw the covers away, and reached for him. Her hand softly landed on his arm to steady him, her voice calling out his name gently. He didn’t relax until her hands cupped his face. When his eyes, filled with terror, met hers, he began to ground himself in her presence. He had never been held so tenderly. Only Lia had ever been so caring with him, so sweet and soft.

“Noah, it’s okay.” Her voice was hushed, delicate; her heart broke a little more at the sight of him suffering from nightmares. “I’m here. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

His breathing slowed. He closed his eyes, tilting his head a little to feel the warmth emanating from her right hand. Needing her, he grabbed her wrist gently and pulled her closer until he was kissing the skin where her veins pulsed. Her fingers caressed his cheek.

“It’s okay,” she whispered again.

If she said that, while they were in bed together, in the middle of the night, her hands on him, he would believe her.

He would have kissed her and laid her back on the bed, this time closing the gap between their bodies, not letting her stray a single inch away. He was tired of pretending this was like any other time, when they were just best friends sharing a bed. But he was scared. What if he really hurt her?

“Noah?” She noticed him straying away, his mind wandering far again. She needed to bring him back. “We’re in my apartment. We were sleeping. We’re in my bed. It’s ok. We’re all right.”

“Are we?” He couldn’t help and ask.

At the sight of the furrow between his brows, Lia reached her other hand and moved some hair away from his face.

“We will be,” she replied without hesitation. She wasn’t sure, truth be told, but she trusted that they were on the path to mending, both of them, and being there with him in the middle of the night, sharing a bed, sharing covers and warmth, was a sign of that. “Will you—? Will you let me hold you?”

Was he worthy of the sweetness she looked at him with when she asked that question? Maybe. He knew he was good for her. He’d always been. But he was still not entirely convinced he was exactly what she needed.

For now, he would let her hold him until all his doubts faded away.

He fell back asleep with Lia spooning him, her petite frame pressing against his wide back, her breathing caressing the skin at the back of his neck.

Matt took Noah to his house so that he could pick up his car and some clothes. Jolly and Jesse were home, taking the time to catch up on missed hours of sleep. Noah didn’t want to stay long. He updated them on Lia’s condition, drawing a line whenever the boys tried to get too sweet with him. It felt weird to have Jesse wrapped around him, so when he hugged Noah, Noah simply patted him on the back, thanked him for his concern, and assured him that Lia would drop by soon.

After a cup of coffee and a trivial talk with the boys, Matt inquired about the upcoming tour in Japan. Noah didn’t blame him for his insistence. Organizing a tour overseas had required a big budget and a lot of time, so it was natural for everyone to be concerned.

“I don’t know,” Noah replied sternly when Matt asked if they would have to cancel the trip. “I can’t think about that yet. I just need her to get through today’s therapy session.”

Matt nodded as if he understood, but in truth, he was getting restless. If the tour had to be canceled, they needed to start making changes and rescheduling flights and hotel bookings before it was too late.

“Have you talked to her about it?”

Noah lifted his head and shot Matt an almost angry look. “No, I haven’t” he replied sharply. “But I know what she’ll say. She won’t let us cancel the tour, and I’m not ready to have that argument with her. So please, just— Just don’t ask me about Japan for at least a couple of weeks. I know what we have to prepare, but I can’t focus on that right now.”

“Okay. Sure. We still have time,” Matt said, trying to sound reassuring, “and Lia’s well-being is the main concern now.”

“She’ll get through this,” Jolly added, a hint of pride in his voice despite his stern expression, still pained by recent events.

“I’m not giving her any other choice,” Noah concluded. He finished his coffee.

Fifteen minutes later, he was seated in his car, watching Lia fasten her seatbelt beside him. She hadn’t looked at him when she got in, and the distress on her face was evident.

“How did it go?” Noah asked, starting the car.

Lia sighed deeply, letting her head fall back to the headrest for a moment. At her reaction, Noah tried to smile to lift her spirits. “Not so good?”

“No, it was okay,” she admitted, still hesitating to look at him. “She wants to meet you,” she said finally. Her brown eyes met his and Noah’s smile faltered. She didn’t look thrilled about it. “I mean, she wants you to have a session with her, thirty minutes or so, and then she wants us to have a couple of sessions together as…” She struggled to say the words, the feeling evident in the way she drifted her gaze to some focal point on the road ahead. “You know,” she tried, a sigh following her words, her cheeks flushing, “couples therapy.”

When she uttered those words, Noah noticed her shoulders slumping, as if she had just released a weight she’d been carrying on her shoulders.

“Only if you want, of course,” she hurried to add.

“I’d love to.”

Lia’s head turned abruptly towards him, her expression one of surprise. “You would?”

“Of course,” he affirmed. His own previous therapy sessions had probably been far different from Lia’s, but he was aware it would require patience and courage to do this with her. He was willing to do anything, though. For her, he would. “If it means this will helps us get better and strengthen our bond, I’m up for anything.” The sincerity in his words warmed her. She felt exhausted and sleepy, slightly upset about the things she’d had to recall and mention during her session. She had been scared about asking Noah if he would like to attend sessions with her, as a couple. But now that he seemed so willing, so predisposed, her heart fluttered in her chest.

“Thank you”, she whispered. “It means a lot.”

Noah took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “So, one thing’s sorted. Now onto the next. Where would you like to go for lunch today?”

She wasn’t keen on going out, nor did she feel like cooking or letting Noah handle everything, so she let him drive them to the outskirts of the city. They found a cozy restaurant where they could enjoy a healthy meal outside. It reminded her of the times when Noah used to pick her up from school at sixteen. He already had his driver’s license and would collect her every Friday to go somewhere to eat. Back then, he didn’t have his own car, so he borrowed Mike’s, which always smelled weird. Noah would tease her, saying Mike had sex with girls in the backseat, which made her clutch her backpack tightly, worried the stench might cling to her bag.

Sitting at a table outside by the road, Lia tied her hair into a bun while Noah quickly checked his phone before starting to eat. Lia didn’t have much of an appetite, but she made an effort, even reaching for the slices of beetroot in Noah’s salad. Her action earned an offended, playful look from him that managed to coax an honest smile from her. However, after the fourth or fifth bite, her stomach started acting funny. As she tried to understand why, she also noticed it was getting harder to stay present in the moment, her mind wandering away from where it should be. Suddenly, she couldn’t focus on the food. Staring at it for a long minute, she started feeling nauseous and hot. There was a gentle breeze outside, a sign that it was going to rain, but she felt her body’s temperature increasing, her face flushing, which only added to her overall discomfort.

Noah didn’t push her to eat when she told him she her stomach felt weird. Once she confirmed she couldn’t eat anymore, Noah asked for the remainder of her food to be packed away, and they took it home. As she stood up, she felt a wave of nausea rise. Her legs felt unsteady for a couple of seconds, so she clutched Noah’s arm for support.

Her queasiness only increased by the time they made it back to her apartment. When they door closed behind them, Lia’s head was throbbing with a pounding headache, making it almost unbearable to stand the light coming in from the balcony doors and the windows.

“I’m fine,” she told Noah as his worried expression deepened. “I’m just having a horrible headache. It started right after I left from therapy. It’s… really bad now.”

She made her way to the sofa, taking off her jacket, feeling fatigue take over her. She ran the back of her hand across her forehead and noticed sweat beads covering it. She sighed; her vision was getting blurry. She couldn’t focus her eyes—or mind— on anything.

She didn’t notice Noah’s footsteps and was unaware he had retrieved a cloth from the kitchen and dampened it. He knelt in front of her and placed it on her forehead. Lia shivered, her body temperature fluctuating wildly between hot and cold.

“We should check if you have a fever.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his attention and his closeness. “Thank you. I’ll go get changed.” She stood up and moved past him.

“Why don’t you take a shower?” He suggested. “It might help.”

Truthfully, she felt too tired to shower. She wanted to lie down anywhere and sleep, conveniently in an open space, but she feared sleep wouldn’t come easily with the headache and nausea.

Telling Noah she would go to her room to change into something comfortable, he let her go, rising from his crouching position and watching her disappear down the hallway.

It made him feel slightly frustrated, not being able to do anything more to help.

With a heavy sigh, Noah tried to smooth out the lines on his forehead, his frustration growing palpable.

He took off his jacket, dropping it onto the sofa, and grabbed his duffel bag to also change into comfier clothes: shorts and a hoodie. Returning from the bathroom to the living room, he waited for Lia, lounging on the sofa with his MacBook open. There were no plans for the rest of the day. Lia needed slow and he would give her slow. If she wanted to spend hours binge-watching a TV show or baking, he was ready to do so with her. But despite what he’d told Matt earlier, Noah couldn’t resist the urge to check his emails.

Unbeknownst to him, a storm was brewing in Lia’s room; inside of her.

Oblivious to her escalating affliction, Noah hunched over the screen, typing a reply to an email. Meanwhile, Lia paced inside her room, feeling the walls closing in as withdrawal symptoms tightened their grip. She knew what it was, but couldn’t stop it, which only fueled her panic. Her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. Unable to focus, she started to rifle through drawers, tossing clothes aside in a frantic search for something to calm her nerves, her pain. Though Noah kept the bottle of prescribed pills from the hospital, she needed something stronger. The current medication clearly wasn’t enough if she felt this restless, desperate, weak, and anxious.

There had to be something, somewhere. A forgotten blister hidden under her clothes or at the back of her drawers.

With no luck, she left her room and entered the small space she liked to call her studio: a cozy corner furnished with a proper desk, a bookshelf, a guitar that Noah and the boys gifted her one Christmas and that she never played, and walls adorned with her paintings, framed dried flowers, and artworks by other artists.

In a frenzy, she bent down, opening one drawer after another, sweat layering her skin. Dizziness added to her throbbing headache threatened to incapacitate her, but she was determined to find one fucking pill because she needed it. Fuck the doctors. Fuck the therapist. She needed a single damn pill to calm her nerves, quiet the voices, and ease the pain coursing through every inch of her body and soul.

Closing a drawer with a loud noise and muttering curses, she moved to the next one, finding only used notebooks and scattered pens and crayons.

From the living room, Noah raised his head.

“Lia?” He called out, his concern mounting. “What’s going on?”

There was no response. Noah set his MacBook aside and strode towards the studio room. He found Lia crouched on the floor, barefoot, still in her clothes, her bun a tangled mess. Her movements were frantic, hands shaking as she ransacked her space.

“Lia, what are you doing?” he asked softly.

He knew.

Lia avoided his gaze as she stood up, swaying, things moving around her. Ignoring Noah’s extended arm, she moved urgently towards the living room, her eyes wild.

He trailed behind her, his own heart racing at the sight of Lia in that distressed state. He felt a deep sense of fear, a fear not too unfamiliar.

“Lia—”

“What?” She snapped, but her attention was elsewhere. She opened every cupboard and drawer in the kitchen, then moved on to the furniture in the living room when she couldn’t find any blister pack or scattered pill.

Noah stood in the midst of her chaos, watching her with growing panic coursing through his veins. He tried to approach her, reaching out to grab her arm and stop her, to make her focus on him, but she shook him off.

“I need a pill. Just one. And I’ll be fine.”

Noah couldn’t discern if she was talking to him or to herself. She’d already taken her allotted dose for the day; taking more was out of the question. The doctor had warned them about this, explained that withdrawal symptoms would eventually come, varying in severity, and offered advice and coping strategies.

But facing it now, Noah felt utterly powerless. Lia wore an expression he didn’t recognize—a dangerous determination that had nothing to do with the resilient woman she was. This wasn’t her. It was the distorted craving of her addicted system demanding what wasn’t necessary.

“Lia, remember what the doctor said,” he began, knowing his words would likely fall on deaf ears. “If you exceed your dose, if you just have one more…”

“Who cares? Just—Fuck. There has to be a blister pack somewhere,” she muttered, moving away from him and checking behind sofa cushions.

She was losing it.

“I need to find one. Just one. I need to fucking have it. I can’t deal with this.” Her voice was tinged with desperation, rising. Moments later, seeming defeated, she collapsed onto the sofa, bending forward, her hands clutching her head as if she could physically squeeze the pain away, a vein throbbing on her neck. “Where the fuck are they?!”

“Not here,” Noah said firmly, not taking his preoccupied gaze from her. “You’re allowed one pill a day. You had it. You have to go through tonight without it, and you will. I know you can do it—”

“For fuck’s sake,” she busted, looking up at him, her eyes red and watery, “cut the bullshit, Noah.” She stood abruptly. “I can’t. I can’t! Can’t you see me?!” she gestured towards herself, frantic. Her face was covered in tears, her cheeks reddened, her chest rising heavily due to her disturbed breathing.

Noah’s heart cracked a little bit more. He swallowed hard. He could see her, yes, but he wished he couldn’t.

“Where’s your bag?” She demanded, her lips pursed, her nostrils flaring. She was barely blinking. She was shaking.

“You don’t need my bag.”

“I do need it because you’re keeping the bottle I was given at the pharmacy!”

“I’m keeping the bottle for this very reason.”

“Noah,” she took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. The rational part of her that hadn’t yet been swallowed by desperation reminded her of Noah’s care and determination. The man in front of her would do anything to keep her from harm’s way. However, the darker part of her urged her to convince him, to play nice to get him to cave in, to give her what she wanted. “Please, just one. I beg you. Give it to me. Just today. I promise it won’t be like this tomorrow.”

A nightmare was unfolding right before Noah’s eyes. No, it wasn’t a nightmare; it was a memory: He was fourteen years old. His mother was at his grandparents’ house, desperate and erratic, asking for money to feed her addiction. That had been the first and only time Lia had meet Noah’s mother. Neither of them; not him, not her, nor his grandparents, could have imagined that years later, Noah would be reliving a similar scene, the fear even more intense this time.

No matter how much this hurt him, he wouldn’t let Lia become like his mother.

When Lia attempted to move past him towards the room where Noah kept his bag, he blocked her way. Lia looked up at him with wide eyes, as if unable to believe he was denying her something so vital, denying this to her.

“You don’t need it,” he said.

“But I do, to calm myself, to make everything go away,” she pleaded with a sweet broken voice. “I need it, Noah, please.”

“No. You heard the doctor. You agreed on committing to this. You wanted to get better, remember?”

“Yes, but you don’t know how it feels—how I’m feeling. Noah, please, I—.”

“No. That’s the end of it, Lia.”

It took a moment for her expression to shift again, her frustration boiling over, evident on her face, in her beautiful, big brown eyes. She tried to maneuver around Noah again, her eyes blazing, but he stood his ground, for hersake.

“Let me through.”

“No. Sit down. We’ll talk.”

“I don’t want to fucking sit down,” her voice had grown rougher. Where was his sweet Lia? “Move or I’ll move you.”

In another circumstance, Noah might have snorted, raised an eyebrow, or chuckled. But that day, he didn’t flinch.

“Try,” he simply said.

And try she did.

Noah maintained his position, blocking her path. She wrestled with him briefly, shouting, until she stumbled back, tripping over her own feet and knocking over a small ceramic figurine on a low shelf next to the TV, which shattered into pieces on the floor. The sound startled Lia, and the fear in her own eyes transferred to Noah. She was hypersensitive, a sign of an impending emotional tsunami that threatened to engulf them both.

For a moment, Lia stood motionless, staring at the broken figurine as if it had sparked something new inside her. Then, in a sudden shift, she turned back to Noah, her eyes wide open, an ocean of emotion swirling within them. Her anger quickly dissolved into more tears, bigger ones this time. Her desperation remained present; it impregnated the walls of her own home, seeped into Noah’s very soul and heart.

Then, she shouted at him.

“Why are you doing this?!”

She had never raised her voice at him like that before.

“I’m trying to help you,” he replied, his voice strained with effort as he kept it low. Outside, rain began to pour, as if the universe were mirroring the turmoil inside of the apartment, the chaos in their hearts.

“You’re not helping me! You’re making it worse!” Lia knew the weight of her words even as she spoke them, but she couldn’t stop herself. She felt lost, as if drowning, unable to reach the surface. Noah’s steady gaze bore down on her, his presence looming large, making her feel small and trapped. Yet, a voice inside her, a remnant of a younger self, insisted that Noah was her anchor, that everything he did was for her sake, for her well-being. This only added to her frustration.

Why did it have to be this way?

Her tears fell freely, splashing onto the floor. Noah’s heart ached and ached.

“If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t care about this and would let me have a fucking pill!” she yelled, tears cascading down her face, her sobs intensifying. She looked utterly miserable, on the brink of collapsing under the weight of everything.

Noah’s jaw clenched, pain and determination flickering in his eyes. “Exactly. It’s because of what I feel for you that I’m not letting you give up,” he shouted back, stepping closer.

“You can’t save me, Noah. Just—. Stop playing hero. Give me a pill and let me get this over with,” she extended her trembling hand toward him. He moved closer. She moved back. Irony hung heavy in the air.

Her bare feet were dangerously close to the shattered pieces of the figurine. Noah swiftly grabbed her wrist to prevent her from stepping on them, but it only fueled her anger. She wrenched herself free, determined to continue her search, with or without Noah’s help.

“Lia, for God’s sake!” Noah voice rose as he made attempt to grab her again. “Will you stop? Look at your feet!”

But she paid him no heed, only shouted back at him to leave her alone as her bare feet navigated through the broken pieces, her focus solely on finding the pills.

Noah’s frustration reached its peak. He shouted her name, trying to break through her hysteria.

Outside, the rain intensified, as if prompted by their shouting, a torrential downpour that matched the intensity contained in the apartment. Noah knew he had to do something. He strode over to Lia, who was too consumed by her hopeless idea of finding a fucking pill to notice him approaching. In one swift motion, he lifted her, wrapping his arms around her as she struggled against his hold, her back against his chest. Lia’s heart pounded wildly as his embrace caged her in, her protests falling on deaf ears as she kicked and hit him, demanding to be released.

“What are you doing?! Noah—”

“I’m done with this.”

“Noah, put me down! Put me down, I said!”

Noah held her tighter, his own emotions bubbling over. He pushed open the balcony door, stepping outside with Lia still fighting in his arms. The rain immediately drenched them both, the cold water shocking Lia into stillness.

“Let me go!”

“No!” He shouted at her, the water dripping from his face, drenching his clothes. “You want to scream? Scream now!” Noah said roughly, the rain pouring down, washing over them.

He put Lia on the ground, freeing her only for a moment to force her to turn around and face him. Then, he caged her again against him, forcing her to lift her head to look at him, to see what she did to him, to acknowledge his pain and desperation in the darkness that was starting to shroud the city.

Lia fought against him, but when she realized it was futile, that she could do nothing against Noah’s strong hold, her sobs mixed with the sound of the rain, her resistance gradually weakening. He kept on holding her close, his voice trembling with emotion as the rain flowed, soaking them both in its chill embrace.

“I hate seeing you like this, Lia. But I can’t let you do this to yourself. I won’t,” Noah said. His voice dropped, but the pain persisted.

Lia, drenched and pathetic, looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with despair, pushing Noah to his own edge. He tightened his hold on her, their faces inches apart. The eye contact intensified as their heartbeats tried to subside, to sync, struggling to find a rhythm amidst the chaos.

Just when he thought he had heard everything, her next question caught him off guard. Her voice was weak, sad. So sad. Even the rain could feel it.

“Why did you fall in love with me?”

Her anger was gone, but now there seemed to be a void that Noah longed to fill. He didn’t want her feeling like this, feeling like she wasn’t worthy.

No matter how many mistakes she’d committed, how much wrong she’d done; she was worthy. Worthy of entire universes and galaxies.

He couldn’t answer in that moment, though a thousand reasons flooded his mind.

“Your life would be much easier without me,” she continued, her voice a fragile whisper barely audible over the rain.

Agony etched Noah’s features as he fought to maintain his composure.

“Lia… Shut up, please,” he pleaded, exhausted. “Just shut up.”

“Why?” she persisted, her body caged in Noah’s arms, her chest pressed against his. Tears mingling with raindrops streaming down her face. Despite her misery, she looked breathtakingly beautiful to Noah. Her long hair flowed loosely, sticking to her chest and back, framing her face. Her eyelashes held droplets, her lips red and moist, her cheeks flushed. “I’m not worthy of you.”

No, he wouldn’t have that.

“I’ll never be worthy of you.”

“Lia, stop.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

She let her head fall on Noah’s chest, weeping like a child, her arms limps at her side, her knees barely supporting her.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I should have let them take me and keep me away for as long as necessary.”

“No. You’re right where you’re supposed to be, and so am I—” His words came out through clenched teeth, desperate to make her understand, to dispel those thoughts from her mind.

“There’s so much good for you out there, away from me.”

A vein throbbed in Noah’s neck, her words like knives piercing his heart.

“I can’t keep hearing you say these things. Everything you’re saying is wrong. You’re wrong, Lia.”

“I’m not! Why do you keep trying to see the good in me? What good is it doing to you?”

If he had to show her the good in her, the beauty and all her magic, her light, he would. But now, he needed her silence.

“For God’s sake, Lia.”

“I’ve been nothing but a thorn in your side for the last two years. Don’t you even try to say otherw—”

“Lia, I said stop.”

“Why? I’m just telling the truth. Someone has to because you keep glossing over every one of my mistakes. All because you love me!”

Exactly.

He loved her. More than life itself.

“Lia,” his voice was a warning. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to shut you up.”

“You can’t. I’m stating the facts that you won’t—”

“I can,” he cut her off. With resolve hardening his features, he said, “I’m going to kiss you.”

She froze, her eyes widening, a crease forming between her brows. Her lips parted slightly, raindrops causing her to blink as they trailed down her face.

Noah thought that, with all her sorrow and misery, she looked like a nymph, a goddess.

“Noah,” her voice softened, as if the threat of being kissed stirred something within her. She tried to read his intent in the depths of his warm October eyes. “What if… What if you’re just infatuated with me?”

It was the voice of doubt speaking out, the same one that kept telling her a pill was the solution to all her problems. Deep down, Lia knew Noah wasn’t infatuated with her. He had seen the best and the worst in her. He was dealing with her worst, and yet, here he was, dying to kiss her, to ease her pain.

“You’re crazy if you think that,” he retorted. Then, after a pause, “And I’m crazy in love with you. I’m going to kiss you now. If you don’t want me to, say it,” he demanded, his voice a blend of softness and intensity. “Right now.”

Lia’s breath hitched, her words stumbling. But she didn’t refuse him. Noah’s heart raced, overwhelming need to connect with her, driving him forward. With one hand cradling her jaw, the other arm securely holding her close, he lowered his lips to hers.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he urged, his breath caressing her face.

“I—”

“Say it, Lia. No hesitating.”

One intake of breath.

“Kiss me,” she pleaded, giving in, surrendering.

His mouth descended on her.

One moment she was hopeless. The next one, she was fighting against Noah’s hold, desperate to free her arms and tangle her fingers in the wet, silky strands of his hair. The kiss stole her breath away from the very start. Noah’s grip tightened as her hands finally found their way around his neck, her body arching towards him, rising onto her tiptoes. She let Noah devour her.

Despite the cold and the chill of the raindrops on their bodies, Noah’s mouth was warm and inviting as it claimed Lia’s lips. The kiss was fierce and passionate, a tumultuous blend of anger, desperation, and love. Their lips collided repeatedly, caressing, their saliva mingling with the sweet rainwater.

Under his touch and hold, Lia softened, the storm inside her beginning to calm, all need for a substance that would surely damage her slowly dissipating. All of it was replaced by Noah’s intoxicating kiss. His hunger was evident in the way he kissed her, held her face, and pressed her closer, as if he had been starved for days. Lia clung to him, inadvertently pulling at his hair, eliciting a growl from him that sent a shiver down her spine. He nibbled at her lower lip, igniting a fire within her.

Their mingling breaths created a rhythm, a dance of longing and need. Lia’s hands explored Noah’s back, tracing the contours of his muscles as they tensed and relaxed under her touch. Each moment forged a connection that surpassed mere physical desire, a connection that had always existed between them. The world around them blurred into obscurity; nothing else mattered but the intensity of their moment.

And as Lia gave in to her desires, to her need of him, to this consuming passion, she felt a pang of fear.

It clawed at her, a dark whisper at the back of her mind. What if this wasn’t real? What if it was all just a fleeting escape from her troubles? The intensity of their connection scared her, the depth of her emotions for Noah something she hadn’t fully understood until now, as his for her. What if he didn’t really feel all these things? What if he was confused? What if this love was mistaken by his role as her protector since childhood?

She wanted to lose herself in him, but the remnants of doubt lingered, casting a shadow over her euphoria.

She took a moment to breath, her eyes closed, her hands releasing Noah’s hair but remaining at his neck, Noah’s lips lingering on hers, caressing her mouth.

“What if you regret this?” she whispered. He almost didn’t hear her, but when her words did register, he didn’t react. Instead, he moved the arm around her waist to cup her face in both hands. With a slight shake of his head, his lips brushed against hers as he said softly, “Shut up, Lia. Stop talking nonsense and let me keep kissing you.”

After a brief kiss, with her upper lip captured between Noah’s, he sensed her hesitation.

Noah paused, his breath warm against her lips. His eyes, dark and intense, searched hers for any sign of regret. The vulnerability in his gaze mirrored her own, a silent plea for trust and acceptance. Each beat of his racing heart emphasized how much he needed her; how afraid he was of losing this fragile connection.

“Unless you want to stop.”

She didn’t answer.

“Do you want to stop?” he insisted, his fear evident.

“No,” she said, her eyes full of newfound determination, of love and lust, and Noah felt a rush of warmth, like honey spreading through him, “I don’t want to stop.”

Her affirmation washed over him, soothing the anxiety that had gripped his heart. He could see the sincerity in her eyes, the unspoken promise that she was his as much as he was hers. As he kissed her again, the world could wait. For now, nothing mattered but the two of them, entangled in each other’s arms.

Gradually, their surroundings came back into focus—the chill of the evening air, the distant sounds of traffic and rustling leaves reminding them of the outside world. It was a gentle reminder that life continued around them, indifferent to their shared moment of passionate chaos.

Reluctantly, Noah rested his forehead against hers with a sigh, immediately missing the taste of her.

Lia opened her eyes, realizing her panic had subsided. She shivered.

“We should go inside,” he suggested, “before we catch a cold.”

“You brought us out here,” she pointed out. There was a hint of teasing in her tone.

Noah’s heart threatened to burst. “Yeah, because it was getting suffocating inside. But I don’t intend for either of us to catch a cold.”

Grabbing her hand, he led them inside, touching his hair as droplets fell onto the floor.

“Shit,” he muttered, freeing her, and noticing the puddles him and Lia created as they moved into the apartment. Lia swallowed, looking around, suddenly feeling lost without Noah’s touch, without his arms around her, with the broken pieces of the figurine on the floor staring back at her.

Slowly, the realization of everything she had done and said to him in the last fifteen minutes threatened to overwhelm her again. But Noah wouldn’t let that happen.

“Go shower,” he insisted, “I’ll wait until you’re done and mop the floor in the meantime.”

She hesitated, searching his eyes like a lost puppy. When he didn’t immediately notice, she nodded and started walking to her bedroom.

Two seconds later, his hand grasped hers, halting her movements and claiming her attention back to him.

“Lia,” he said. His rain-soaked face was mesmerizing as his eyes gazed at her with utter adoration. “I told you; you could get through this. You’re stronger than you think.”

She shook her head. “I’m strong because of you.”

“You’re wrong.”

Tilting her head, she sent a heartwarming smile his way.

“Are you going to kiss me again, then?”

He let out a soft chuckle.

“Every time you’re wrong,” he replied.

“And when I’m right?”

“Same.”

“And when I’m better?”

“More.”

They stood there, exchanging satisfied smiles, feeling as though the rain had worked some kind of magic. In truth, it had just been their kiss, that press of lips they’d been both longing for, a kiss that grounded Lia and brought her back to the person she was and to where she belonged.

“Go,” he urged tenderly, letting go of her hand, “we’ll talk after.”

As he watched his girl disappear into the hallway, giving him one last sweetened smile that said, ‘thank you for healing me’, Noah blinked, feeling a relief and ecstasy he hadn’t experienced in over a year.

— prev. chapter | chapter four 🌶️

#noah x lia #the inevitability of love at second sight #zutto #bad omens #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction

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bonesxbows · 6 months ago

Text

Ring of Fire (Cooper Howard x Reader)

Masterlist

You and Cooper are heading to collect a bounty, but it's a lot farther away than you anticipated. He's used to the sun but your pristine and non-irriated skin isn't. Heat stroke is imminent and could end up killing you if Cooper doesn't intervene.

(WARNINGS) - descriptions of heat stroke - descriptions of severe sunburns - descriptions of dehydration

The show reignited my fallout obsession but Cooper's character is so goddamn hard to write in a sorta romantic way since we mostly see him being an ass to everyone after the bombs. I still tried my best so hopefully it comes across okay. I think I also got the hang of his accent the more I wrote for this too

Anyway, I wrote this during a heat wave when I was miserable and needed some comfort lol so if you're reading this I hope it can bring you a little bit of comfort too. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

Banners by @strangergraphics

Whoever said California was a pleasant heat sure as hell hadn’t walked through the desert after a nuclear fallout. Everything burned; the sand, the sun, the air, your legs, your nose. It was unbearable and if it hadn’t been over the promise of a large stack of caps at the end of the road you would have given up a long time ago.

“If I see one more dried-up lakebed I’m gonna fucking lose it.” You mumbled, rubbing the sand from your eyes again.

“Quit your complainin’, we’re almost there. An’ I told ya to stop doin’ that.” Cooper swatted at your arms, making you put them back down at your sides again. You scoffed but obeyed his directions.

“I’m never gonna make it there if I can’t see where the fuck I’m going.”

“Maybe, but you sure as shit ain’t gonna see nothin’ never again if your eye gets infected. Your body don’ have enough moisture to keep your eyes slick with the way you keep yappin’ your mouth off and wastin’ it.” He retorted back, his face snarled up into his usual scowl. You didn't say anything more for a good long while, not because of his fancy way of telling you to shut up but because talking was starting to become more and more physically taxing on you the farther along you went. There was nothing but more sand, more heat, and more nothingness for as far as you could see across the horizon. Every step added another weight to your head, making it feel like it was stopped up with cotton that weighed a million pounds and banged against the inside of your skull like a war drum. Your body felt like mush and your clothes felt twice as heavy. But you kept going, trudging behind your cowboy, using him as a guide through the pain.

That is until you started to see three of him. And what was that whinnying sound you kept hearing coming from? Plus you swore there was a herd of something chasing the two of you what with all the stomping hooves you were hearing too, but every time you turned around there was nothing but sand dunes and the outline of destroyed L.A. on the horizon.

“Wait. I…I think I need to take a break. In the shade preferably.” you stopped and told him after gunfire was added to the list of sounds you were hearing in the distance. One more step and you were sure you were going to end up with a mouth full of sand.

“We don’ got time for pit stops sweetheart, keep movin’,” he replied back, still keeping his pace forward, not realizing you had stopped completely. Or just not caring. He wouldn’t leave you behind, not for long at least, but he still wasn’t listening.

“Cooper fucking listen to me this time,” you shouted, hoping to catch his attention. You succeeded, as soon as his real name fell from your lips he made a dead stop in his tracks. “Please,” you added in a softer voice. You hadn’t meant to shout at him but your body was so overwhelmed and you were tired of being ignored. He tilted his face towards the sky and let out the most audible annoyed sigh you had ever heard from him before finally turning around to face you.

“Alright, I’m sorry for pushin’ ya, just not so loud next time ‘kay? I don’ need the whole goddamn wasteland knowin’ my name.” he said as he walked back towards you. “Well, you’re still standin’ so that’s a good sign. What’s the matter?” you were used to his gruff exterior by now but you were just grateful he was finally taking you seriously.

“I…I’m not sure? My head hurts so fucking much and I keep hearing things…I think. My skin feels like it's on fire and I-”

“Heat stroke. Goddamnit.” He cut you off, not even listening for you to list any more symptoms out loud. He sounded pissed, but you had learned by now that his angry voice and his overprotective voice were kinda one and the same.

“...Heat what now?” you asked, but he never quelled your confusion. Instead he focused on scanning your surroundings. There wasn't much, there usually never was anyway, but he must've found something in the distance that would work for what he had planned.

“Hm, that’ll do,” he said, more so to himself than to you. You weren’t really listening anyway, that whinnying sound was back and it was taking every ounce of energy you had left just to stay standing upright. He turned back to you and said…something, but you couldn't make out any of it. His lips were moving, sure, but all you could hear was muffled static as if you were underwater. Your face must have had a look of confusion plastered on it because it didn’t take long for him to figure out you were unresponsive, the way you just stared at him and blinked also didn’t help.

He approached you and started to pull the sleeves of your jacket off, peeling the leather from your sticky sweaty skin off entirely. You stood there and let him, you may have been hearing things and had all the energy of a newborn sloth, but you could still recognize Cooper, and you trusted him more than anyone else. If he thought your jacket needed to come off then you trusted he had a good reason for doing so, even if the wind was starting to feel extremely cold on your exposed moist skin.

He tried to talk to you again but you just continued to stare at him, watching his mouth move but none of the words making it to your ears. He shook his head and threw your jacket over his shoulder, grabbing one of your wrists and looping it over his back as he grabbed you under your arms and started to half drag you forward towards whatever makeshift shelter he had found. You tried to help, tried to get your legs to move with his, but it felt impossible. At some point, your head began to droop and your temple bashed into his shoulder, making you cry out in pain. He stopped to assess the damage, no doubt cursing you for being so clumsy even though you still couldn't hear him. He tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead where it had made impact with him before placing his hat on top of your head and continuing onward. The new barrier between the unforgiving sun and your dried-up eyes was a small relief to your unbearable discomfort, one you cherished every second of before your vision went dark for good this time.

When you opened your eyes again you were thankfully in the shade this time, your skin still felt like it was on fire but at least the sun wasn't continuously beating on it now. You were sitting on the ground propped up against the side of a half-destroyed barn and you dug your fingertips into the sand, grasping for the cooler sand that usually lay a layer deeper than the surface, an old trick Cooper had taught you.

The memory of that lesson in your mind had you spring up, frantically trying to find your cowboy again. Your jacket was still missing, and his hat was still on your head, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. You wanted to get up, you even tried to, but your limbs felt like jello and you discovered your toes and fingertips were numb. You tried again anyway, kicking at the sand with your feet to find purchase and clawing at the rotting barn boards to pry yourself upwards.

“Hey, now it took a lotta effort to get you here, don’ tell me you wanna leave already.” You heard his voice and stopped, watching him as he came through one of the broken doorways into the barn, his spurs clicking behind him with every step.

You blinked, making sure it was really him this time and not something else you were imagining again. But there he was; scorpion belt buckle, cowboy boots, saddle bags and all. He dropped what he was carrying next to the doorway, where you saw your jacket lying on the ground, and then came to sit in front of you, grunting as he knelt down and made himself comfortable.

“Feelin' better?” he asked. You went to answer but then immediately felt just how dry your throat was. You coughed and tried to lick your lips, but your tongue felt like sandpaper against the already rough skin. You had never experienced a dried-up tongue before and you never wanted to again, it felt like a worm had crawled into your mouth and nested behind your teeth. Cooper was already prepared through and placed a can of water into your hands, already punctured with his knife.

“Here. Small sips though, ‘kay?” he told you. You nodded, disappointingly understanding him even though you wanted to guzzle the whole can down right then and there. But you did as he told you, taking a slow and small sip, relishing the feeling of the liquid making its way down your throat and easing the pain a little. You tried to lick your lips again, this time succeeding in wetting the crusted-up skin.

“How bad is it?” you croaked out, vaguely remembering what he had said earlier. Heat stroke, whatever that was, felt like one of the worst things to ever happen to you.

“Well, you’re still alive, despite losin’ consciousness and being fried up like an iguana on a stick from that there sun. I don’ think I’ve ever seen you with such a tan.” he smirked, poking fun at the lack of time you spent outside before meeting him. It wasn’t your fault life was safer inside a city and behind four walls of a shack, but still, it amused him to remind you of your sheltered past every chance he got. You rolled your eyes, grateful that you were at least still alive.

“Will it scar? Or peel off like your skin did?” you asked, not sure which possibility you hated most.

“Whaddaya mean?” he tilted his head at your question, confused.

“You know, the burns.” you showed him your bright red and blistered forearms as emphasis to what you were talking about. You could only assume your face looked just as bad. He couldn’t help but laugh a little at your question, which only agitated you. “I’m being serious here!” you barked. You creased your brow, which you realized immediately was a huge mistake as the tension on the freshly raw skin caused fireworks to explode in your head and flames to shoot across your skin. You winced from the pain and that got him to stop chuckling.

“Sorry sweetheart, no, neither is gonna happen. You might lose some skin, but not in the way you're thinkin’. It’s just a sunburn, not like you got attacked with a flamethrower. You’ll be fine.” he explained finally. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief, although you still weren’t sure what this so-called “sunburn” was and how it was different from a regular burn. But you knew he wouldn’t lie to you, so you believed him.

“So what now? We still got at least a day’s walk to town.” with your emergent questions out of the way your mind turned right back to business. Caps were on the line and you were itching to claim them, despite the discomfort traveling imposed on you in your current state. He liked that about you, your desire for caps and the willingness to chase after them with him, though he would rather bite a radroach raw than tell you that to your face.

“Now? Now we stay put for a while, at least til those burns heal up some. Ain’t no bit of leather and an ol’ beat-up hat gonna protect you enough from the sun if we try to continue on. Right now the only thing I need you to worry ‘bout is finishin’ that water that’s still in your hands.” he leaned back against the opposite wall from you, kicking his legs out and propping his head up with his hands.

“But-” you tried to rebuttal his decision but he cut you off again before you could.

“Nah uh, don’ even think about arguin’ here. We even try walkin’ and you’ll collapse again ‘fore we even make it a mile. Best to just stay here and try again once you’re not so dehydrated and redder than a tomato. Few days rest won’t hurt nothin’.”

“Yeah maybe except our profits,” you told him, quicker this time so he couldn’t interrupt you again.

“I ain’t riskin’ you over a pile of caps. We’ll make due either way,” he said before closing his eyes, marking the conversation officially over by him. You didn't have a reply anyway, it was rare for him to mention how he felt about you aloud, and each time he did you were left speechless. You stared down at the water can in your hands, tracing your finger gently over the raw edges of steel where his knife had cut through it for you. The metal had been bent back inside the can a little, almost as if someone had shoved a finger through the hole and pushed it back, smoothing out the outer edges where your lips had touched the can. Something in you had a suspicion that if you checked Cooper’s glove you would find scratch marks that would match the size of the hole perfectly.

Your eyes flicked to him. You weren't sure if he was legitimately asleep or not, but his eyes were still closed and he hadn’t moved an inch. He always talked to you more like an old friend rather than a lover, yet you were pretty sure you were the only person he showed any amount of kindness to. Suddenly his hat felt a little heavier on top of your head as you sat there and pondered where your relationship with him stood.

#my writings #fallout #fallout tv series #fallout tv show #fallout tv #fallout the ghoul #the ghoul #fallout prime #cooper howard #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 7 months ago

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Might be pushing it here, but could we get some bi content for ol' Coop?

-Sincerely, a dude trying to thirst but the well is dry

Your shit is still so good tho, keep it up

Oh, certainly not! If Cooper Howard is 100% straight, then so am I...and that is not the case. I'm focusing on Prewar!Coop here, because, frankly, I think most ghouls' sexuality (especially those who have been around for hundreds and hundreds of years) would be "whatever, genitals are genitals". That said, if there was demand for elaboration on bi Ghoul, I'd be open to doing a follow-up.

I think he'd lean more "masc for masc", but overall I don't think Coop is the sort of guy who really cares enough about what someone looks like to let it stop him from getting with them if he finds them desirable for whatever reason. If you two click, if the feeling is right, he's the type to trust his instincts. Because of that, I think he, pleasantly, wouldn't play a lot of games, regardless of his new interest's gender. If he wants to fuck you, he's gonna fuck you.

When it comes to being public about it, you'd definitely get some pushback, but not much more than if you were a new partner who was a woman. Same song and dance (mostly previously elaborated on Divorced Guy Problems™️ and the general desire to avoid the tabloids dissecting every single aspect of his life to death), but with an extra 10% sliver of him worrying he'll be perceived as less masculine for it. Has nothing to do with you or how you present, however that may be; it's all about him and his very much already-present struggles with his own masculinity. Mister "I think about being a real cowboy again" definitely has some insecurities that living the fancy L.A. lifestyle has made him into a soft pretty boy, and that other people perceive him that way.

Overall, though, once you're public, I think he'd be great. He's very self-assured (even if he has to fake it until he makes it sometimes), so I think his attitude if asked about it would be very "Yes, I also like dick. What of it? Aren't there more important things we could be talking about?"

I think his usual type of guy would be of the "old war buddy who gets a little tipsy and jerks me off sometimes and now oops! we're fucking" variety, but he's certainly not above seeing a cute busboy at a party and asking them off to the closest for a few minutes, or striking up a casual friendship with a guy he sees frequently at the gym. You know, the type of casual friendship that ends in going out for a few drinks and then picking a nice place to park and fuck around in that little two-seater of his.

I'd say he leans top, but hey, whatever feels good feels good. He's a switch, so I think on a very subby day you could get an especially enthralling bottom performance out of him. I think he'd also light up like a Christmas tree if you teased him about afterwards...but careful, if you tease too much, he fucks back.

Also, does anyone else get the feeling this man would absolutely thrive in a M/M/F threesome?? I find that to be a very intriguing idea.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #prewar!cooper howard #cooper howard headcanons #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv show #fallout prime #cooper howard x m!reader #submission

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obsessivestar · 2 months ago

Text

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader

// General Warnings: 18+ Fic MINORZ DNI, Reader implied to be afab and under 5'5. \\

// Chapter Warnings: Ted's ex mentioned, (no name drop n not throwing shade), subtlety. \\

// Word Count: 3.5k \\

☆▪︎▪︎▪︎Taglist!▪︎▪︎▪︎☆

@k-k0129 , @callsign-scully & @limecorpse

☆Love Ya To Death!☆

Chapter 15: Rose Coloured

The warmth in my stomach shifts for a moment, and I feel a little nervous. I watch as Ted moves the blankets up to cover our lower halves, sitting up a bit and leaning against his pillow. "I....think hangin' around me is making your pillow talk worse.." I make a light-hearted joke as I sit up as well, trying to ease the tension that was now filling the room. It was a pretty heavy thing to drop out of the blue. What started as a funny little conversation in his Tacoma has begun this big, almost unnecessary mystery. He's choosing one hell of a time to finally talk about it.

"I know, I'm...I'm dogshit at this sort of thing.." Ted gave a soft, nervous sounding chuckle as he lays back against his pillow. "And I hate that I can't do it sober, but....I think I've kept it long enough...from you.." Wow. Fuck. This is really happening. It hits me like a tidal wave, making me place a hand on my bare stomach. I realize that I truly have no idea what this big secret could be. I quietly search my memories of our first conversation, desperately trying to find any context clues that would give me an idea of what to expect. The only thing I knew for sure was that he was at Joe's wedding, but didn't stay for the reception. That gives me...nothing. I have no idea what he's going to tell me, I have no idea what to be ready for. That's making me incredibly nervous.

"Ted...should I be worried?.." The words leave me before I'm able to filter them, my playful smile completely gone. Fuck, this is why I stopped smoking. I'm paranoid for nothing. This is clearly hard for him. He trusts me, I should trust him too.

"No! No...m-maybe? I--" Ted cuts himself off, his usual confidence seems to be slipping which at least assures me he's trying to be honest. He runs his fingers through his dark hair, the usual height of it sticking to his sweaty forehead. "I-I mean...I-I'm probably gonna look like a huge dick for fucking you senseless before telling you, but...I don't know, you...do something to me. You always have, and it..." He pauses and let's out a deep sigh. "...it drives me insane."

That last little sentence is a lot more reassuring than he probably thought it'd be. Even if I'm nervous, I want to make this as easy for him as possible. If we're really gonna have something special, it needs to have honesty in there with all the tension.

"Always? What, are you about to admit you've been stalking me for the last two years?" I ask with a lighthearted smile, trying to ease the tension once more.

"No! Oh my god, no. Never." Ted nearly shoots up out of the bed, sitting up more briefly before letting out another nervous chuckle. "Okay, on Instagram, maybe, but no. I've--I've stayed in L.A., an entire state away from you, I swear..."

"Then it's okay, Ted. It's okay..." I reach for his hand to take it into my own, giving him the most reassuring smile I could muster, looking into his eyes as I speak. "Look, I'm not gonna sit here and claim some sappy shit like 'I know you, you'd never hurt me!', because it's been less than a month of...this.." I pause to gesture around the not-so foggy room, the lingering smell of cannabis still in the air mixing in with the smell of sex. "I mean, I didn't even do any of this...casual shit until I met you, and...I'm pretty sure that means it's real, right? How we're feeling?..." I felt like I was rambling, but I could see that my words were reaching Ted.

"Yeah, yeah it's real.." Ted spoke up with a little nod, giving me a small smile. "I'm not gonna lie and say I've never done casual shit before you, but...yeah, I can feel it..."

"I don't want you to lie, Ted.." I reply, bringing both of my hands down to hold his, shaking my head a little. "I promise I'm going to listen and hear you out, no matter what it is. If it's upsetting, we'll talk about it. If it's not, we move on and...probably have more good sex, imma be real." The tension between us is cut by my little joke. Ted let's out a cackle, looking up at the ceiling.

"Yeah, yeah it's--It's pretty great.." He replies, his tone a bit hoarse.

"Surprisingly good, right?"

"Yeah, it--it fucks with me, dude. It fucks with me."

"And I'm in your bed for a change."

"Yeah, you are."

"You know why?"

"Because the sex is good?"

"Not just that, it's because I like you, Ted. I like you..."

I see Ted's shoulders visibly relax and he turns to look at me again, his amused smile shifting into a warmer, almost infatuated smirk. I watch as his eyes search my face, quietly taking in my features before taking another deep breath, nodding a bit to himself before speaking again.

"Alright, so..." Ted speaks and looks back up at the ceiling again. "When I went to Joe's wedding, I...went with my girlfriend at the time. She was my date. We'd been together for...about a year or two by that point, I think.." I notice that he isn't looking at me as he's explaining himself, but I understood why. Based on the way he was squinting and searching the ceiling, he was trying to recollect as much as he could.

"There was this really nice wine they were serving before the ceremony. I'm not even a wine kinda guy, but I had...a few glasses, so did my girlfriend. Anyways, I..." Ted is holding onto every word a little longer as he speaks, I can't completely tell why. Maybe he's being very careful with how he words this story, or maybe he's stalling for as long as he can until he has to say the part he's clearly worried about.

"I...I used to consider myself a pretty romantic guy." Ted admitted, gesturing with his free hand as he talked. "Like, I liked doing things, sharing stuff. I'd always have some dumb fuckin' date planned every other week. We'd go hiking, we'd go on a road trip, I'd get some fuckin'...stupid expensive restaurant reservation just so we could make fun of how expensive everything was while willingly giving them our money; knowing we were giving them our money. I...I don't know, I liked doing things together, even if they were dumb or didn't go completely according to plan. I guess you could say it's my love language? Or It was? I don't know.." I quietly remind him that everything's okay by giving his other hand a gentle little squeeze. All of that sounded wonderful. I'd love to make all of the dumbest plans in the world with him after this film was done. I'm hoping I can bring that side of him back.

"...What happened?.." I ask after a moment, tilting my head at him.

"Well...maybe my love of sharing experiences was a bit much, cause...I had made some comment about having our own wedding sometime or something..." Ted glances at me as he speaks, shaking his head a defeated sigh. "I-I can't remember exactly what I said, but whatever it was, it was big enough to freak her out. She flipped at me, we got into an argument and then she left.."

Hearing that made me feel both confused and frustrated, visibly furrowing my brows. That sounded like a strange thing to get upset about, especially if you've been dating for over a year or so.

"She left the whole wedding?" I ask, not even trying to mask my confusion.

"And me." Ted replied with a little shrug, his gaze moving to his closed door. "Like, an hour before the ceremony."

If this were any other guy, I'd feel like he was leaving something out, but based on the somber look on Ted's face I know he's telling the truth. That's it. He made a comment about having a wedding with his girlfriend and she flipped out and left him. Her reaction made no sense in my head.

"What???" I let go of Ted's hand to shrug both of my arms out. It's like the disbelief you get when your favourite show or book has the worst, most cop-out bullshit ending of all time. It sounded like bullshit. "That's it? Over a comment about fuckin' marriage?"

"Yeah." Ted simply nodded, placing both of his hands on his bare chest. "I think I had said something like 'another moment we could share' or something, and she just...I don't know, she--she lost it."

"So it wasn't even one of those dumb 'ball and chain, I hate my wife haha' jokes?"

"No."

"What the fuck???"

"Yeah, I know. I-I still don't get it either."

The more Ted won't look at me, the more I have the urge to reach over and touch his face, but I keep my hands to myself for now. I genuinely couldn't fathom a person having such an overreaction over such a cute comment. The only thing I could think of is maybe she was having a bad day? Maybe she was overwhelmed? Maybe she thought he was genuinely proposing then and there and flipped out? Still, why wouldn't she at least hear him out?

"And that was it? You guys didn't talk after the wedding?" I ask, sitting up more. I know this isn't what he wanted to talk about and I felt a little bad for not dropping it, but this was just...bonkers.

"Yeah, that was it. Ended at a wedding." Ted confirmed with another little shrug. "Her friend came and got her stuff from my apartment and that was the last I'd heard from her. Probably could've tried harder, but...I just knew it was done."

I couldn't imagine breaking off a near 2 year old relationship over a simple comment about potentially getting married. I'd have understood if the comment was made before the 6 month mark, but 2 years, man. 2 whole years, thrown out the fucking door. Even I wouldn't be that petty.

"So..." I speak up after a moment, clasping my own hands together. "...How do I fit into this? Do you think I had something to do with it?"

"No, I hadn't even noticed you at that point. It was after she left.." Ted shook his head, resting more on his back as his gaze went back up to the ceiling. I watch him take in a deep, heavy breath. Whatever he's about to say, it's been weighing on him not even since we've met, but since that wedding itself. Whatever it is, I'm ready to hear it. I just want him to be honest with me, and with himself.

"After she left, I was...a pretty decent mess.." Ted explained, moving his hands a little as he spoke. "I drank more wine than I probably should've; way more than I should've. I wanted to look chill, I wanted to look fine, but everyone asked where my date went and I just got frustrated. I sat in my seat, watched the ceremony, watched all the bridesmaids go up on the stage, saw you stand near Joe and then after, I..."

Ted finally turns his head to gaze at me fully once again, his dark orbs meet mine as he trails off. His dark eyes are moving side to side as if they're struggling to pick an eye to look into and I watch his somber expression fade into something I don't recognize, his eyes almost looking glassy. Whatever he wants to say, he's silently struggling with it. I raise my brows a little and give him a gentle smile to try and silently encourage him. I want him to know it's okay, that he can trust me. I hope he knows he can trust me.

"....I...I was too upset to approach you, so I left.."

Ted finally finishes his sentence, his tone simple, almost stern, like a strict parent that had made up their mind. He's a lot more relaxed than he was before. All of the tension surrounding him was gone, as if it were never there. Silence fills the room as I put all of the pieces in my head together. That feeling of disbelief enters me again, my eyebrows furrowing once more. That's it?

"...That's it?" I ask after the long pause, shrugging my shoulders lightly. "You didn't approach me because you were upset?"

"...and because you were just..." Ted breaks his gaze away from me to look up at the ceiling again, slowly shaking his head. "...beautiful. Too beautiful."

"You didn't approach me because you were upset and I was 'too beautiful'."

"Yes."

"So--wait.."

My eyebrows are lowered so tightly I feel like I'm going to get a headache. I close my eyes and sit up completely, sitting up on my knees.

"So you goto your wedding with your girlfriend..." I begin, holding my hands out with my fingers pressed against my thumbs, recollecting his whole story to him. "You goto the wedding with your girlfriend, you drink a bit of wine and you make a comment about having your own wedding, she freaks out and leaves you, you drink more to cope, you see me up with the bridesmaids and because you think I'm so beautiful, you...panic and leave?"

There is another silent pause between us after I repeat back everything he's told me.

"....Yeah...That's it." Ted finally answers, turning to look at me once more. "I..panicked and left.."

I don't know if it's because I'm still high or whatever, but that sounded...kinda dumb. Very dumb. I guess that's a good thing? This is technically best case scenario.

"So...what part of that were you specifically afraid of telling me?" A breathy chuckle leaves me as I ask, feeling the tension in the room begin to fade with the remaining cannabis smoke. "The coming to the wedding with your girlfriend part? Or the 'you were so pretty I dipped' part?"

"You weren't the only reason I left.." Ted gave me a small smile and playfully rolled his eyes at me, sitting up more to face me fully. "I just, I don't even know anymore, it was so long ago..." Ted runs his fingers through his dark hair, getting some of it to stay off his forehead. "I just remember seeing you up there and...it's like I was there for you, I completely forgot I was supposed to be watching two motherfuckers get married, there was just you." Our eyes meet once more. I see the true infatuation Ted has for me in his glassy eyes. I feel like I can see right through him, but I'm only seeing the best of him.

"But, at the end of the day, you were Joe's Maid of Honor and I was some fuckin'...stupid wine-drunk asshole who had just been dumped, so...that's why I didn't approach you." Ted glanced down at his lap. Everytime he's paused, it's like he's been thinking about exactly how to put it, purposely choosing particular words carefully. It's not that he's speaking slowly, no. He's speaking carefully, almost cautiously. I'm aware of it, but I figured it's because this is a lot for him to talk about. "I guess I just thought you'd think I was...pathetic. It worried me."

"What, you were worried I wouldn't think you were cool anymore?" I let out a soft chuckle, inching a bit closer to move some of Ted's hair out of his face.

"I...like having a good reputation..." Ted expressed with a warm little smile, taking my hand in his to rest it against his cheek. "It was stupid to hide, I know."

"Yeah, it was. It kinda was." I confirm with a playful little laugh. "I don't know why Joe was so adamant on you telling me that. I'm not offended or anything, it's...kind of sweet."

As I mention Joe, we both lay back down and pull the covers over our bare bodies. Ted's smile fades a little as we lay down, furrowing his brows at me. "Joe wanted me to tell you?" Ted asks, his tone a little hoarse again. He seemed a little confused by that. "He wouldn't tell you anything?"

"Yeah, I asked him about it first. He insisted you tell me." I emphasized, shifting a bit close to loosely wrap my arm around him, taking in how his warm skin felt against mine. "I guess it's a pretty romantic story if you think about it. As much as I wish I had met you sooner, I think you made the right choice to leave.."

Silence fills the room once more. They're starting to make me a little uncomfortable, like he's going quiet because of what I'm saying. I hope I'm not upsetting him. "...and we're together now, right? That's what matters.." I give him a fond smile, feeling my bare chest lightly brush against his. I see him relax fully again, slowly wrapping both of his arms around me to pull me into a warm, almost possessive hug.

"Yeah, that's what matters..." Ted whispered to me as I laid against him, feeling him give me a gentle peck atop my head. "I wouldn't of been good to you then. I think this was the perfect time..."

"You think so?.." I glanced up a little from his prickly chest to look at him, watching as he gently shook his head.

"After I got dumped, I got...I got stupid.." Ted admitted, another deep sigh escaping him. "Said things, did things...I-I wasn't myself. I wasn't who I wanted to be, connection wise, y'know what I mean?" I give Ted a small nod and a reassuring smirk, continuing to listen as he spoke. "Like, even before we met, even before we really connected I'd been...." Ted pauses and stammers a little, a half-chuckle leaving him. "It's gonna sound sappy as fuck, but I'd been working on myself a lot. Yeah, I'd look at your Instagram every so often, pretty sure I've been following you since that wedding, but I wanted to be my best self, even after I'd accepted I'd probably never see you again; that I had fucked up my chance. I couldn't do hook ups and, what do they call them?...'situationships' forever."

Ted's confession is genuine. I think this is the most honest and vulnerable he's been with me since we've met. I appreciate it more than he'll probably ever know. "So when you stepped into this fuckin' house with Tanner last week, I..." Ted exaggerates his tone, looking down at me with a smile. "I can't begin to describe how fucking terrifying that actually was."

"Terrifying?" I let a laugh leave me, raising a brow at Ted. "I'm terrifying now?"

"You are. You're fuckin' scary, dude."

"I'm scary?"

"You're hair-raisin', yeah."

"How am I terrifying? I'm half your size."

"Well, it's how I feel that's terrifying, actually."

I feel my cheeks go a bit warm from the subtle blush spreading along them, exhaling a quiet scoff out my nose.

"Because...now you're here." Ted continued, a nervous smile curling up the corners of his lips. "You know me, you've talked to me, said my name, kissed my lips, and if I somehow fuck this up..."

"Ted, you're not gonna fuck anything up.." I scoff a little at him again, bringing one of my hands up to caress his cheek, having him look me in the eyes once more. "Maybe most people would probably think it's a little fucked up that you got them high and slept with them before confessing all this, but what matters is that you trusted me enough to be honest and I'm not upset. I'm not uncomfortable or offended and I've always thought you weren't cool, so you've got nothing to worry about."

That last comment succeeded in getting a good laugh out of Ted, watching him shake his head a bit. "My point is that I...I believe in us, I guess. I believe in you." I give him a reassuring grin, caressing his cheek with my thumb. "I'm proud of you for finally sharing that with me. I'm as ready as you are to stick together. I'm not going anywhere, I promise. You can tell me anything, alright?.."

Ted leans a little into my touch, his worried expression softening into one of infatuation and tenderness. He pulls me into his prickly chest once more, lightly nodding before resting his chin on the top of my head.

"Yeah...anything.."

I hear a little waver in his voice as he speaks, but I figured it's just cause we're tired. I don't even think we're high anymore, though I can't recall where it would've worn off. All I know is my throat is sore and my legs are shaky but my body is warm and my heart is content.

I fall asleep to the feeling of Ted's hand slowly caressing my bare back, my dreams filled with wine glasses and roses.

__________________________________

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 ||

#ted nivison #chuckle sandwhich #jschlatt #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison x you #ted nivison fanfic #allaromcom

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coneyislandbabey · 2 years ago

Text

going to california. -> e. roundtree

WARNINGS: some swearing, alcohol, sappy shit, use of my own personal headcanon that eddie's full name is edwin.

SYNOPSIS: you move to Los Angeles, and are surprised to run into an old childhood friend. word count: 3,351

The heat was different in Los Angeles. Not like New York City, where you’d spent the last few years of your life; all humid, thick walls of wet air that cloy inside your lungs and make you hot from the inside out, relentless, merciless warmth even in the dead of night, even with the windows open laying naked on the bed. No, here the air was thin and dry, the egg-yolk sun warming but not ruthlessly so. You stepped out of the car, joints creaking, and swallowed up a great lungful of that thin bright air, felt the clean glare of the sun bouncing off the hot car and onto your face. New. Everything you’d been hoping for already.

After graduating from your Pittsburgh high school a semester early, you had booked it onto a train to Manhattan about five seconds after your diploma was in your hands, getting a job in the mailroom of a newspaper and crashing on your cousin’s couch, sleeping only a few hours a night and spending every other waking moment writing or wandering the five boroughs sniffing out experiences to write about. Writing was your lifeblood, and it had been practically since you’d first learned how to hold a pen. You never knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life– where you wanted to go, what you wanted to see, where you wanted to end up– you only knew that you’d be writing the whole way through. And that’s what you did for those few years in New York. You wrote feverishly, a woman possessed. Your cousin complained daily of the little green desk lamp you kept on at all hours of the night, sitting in your sleep shirt with your notebook propped on the arm of the couch, fingers bruised from the ever-present pressure of pen against skin.

It worked out for you, though. All those sleepless nights, accepting strangers’ invitations to parties in Brooklyn or Alphabet City or even the Rockaways, dropping acid in people’s basements or getting drunk on the subway, even rising in the ranks of your job at the paper until you were a real and true reporter: after a year and a half, you had a half-presentable essay collection and a publisher who wanted to make your wildest dreams come true. And that was that; your essay collection was published a little over six months later, and every week it climbed higher on the best seller’s list. In the wake of your immediate success, your publisher wanted to start working on a second publication, another collection of essays or short stories or a novel, whatever you wanted, they just wanted your name on another book in their arsenal. You readily agreed, of course– this was the only thing you’d ever wanted to do. But you walked out of that meeting, and onto the streets of Manhattan, and all you felt was suffocation where there used to be inspiration.

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone in the city who knew you, and therefore knew your more impulsive tendencies, when you told them you’d bought a shitty old car for a hundred bucks and were planning to roadtrip your way to L.A. You hadn’t been behind the wheel of a car since before you’d moved to New York, but you’d seen the old thing with the ‘for sale’ sign tucked into the dash and you knew you had to have it. Already the inspiration was pouring in; a novelized account of your roadtrip across the country and ensuing introduction into Los Angeles society. The idea consumed your brain until there was room for nothing else, until you turned right around on the sidewalk and bought the car then and there. You spent the next 24 hours on a goodbye tour, visiting everyone you had come to love in those last few years, and then your meager belongings were all shoved into the backseat of your new acquisition and you were sitting in the driver’s seat, hoping to god you still remembered which pedal was the gas and which was the brakes.

You made it to the opposite coast after two weeks of seedy motels, eating roadside burgers with strangers, and climbing up to the roof of the car every night to lay out and see the stars the way you never could living in the city. And here you were, a week into your new Los Angeles life, having just spent most of your book earnings on buying a tiny, dilapidated house in Laurel Canyon with huge windows and the perfect little overgrown backyard for you to sit and write in. You felt it in your bones already, that this was where life would start to become important for you.

***

You had met Brandi the day you moved in. She and a few friends lived in the house across the street, and being the only one home at the time, she came over to help you move your stuff in when she noticed you unloading the car in the morning. She had a golden California tan and big blonde hair, and the kindest smile you’d ever seen. She was your best friend five minutes after meeting her.

“You have to come by tonight,” she said by way of greeting as she let herself in the front door. It was late afternoon, and you were stretched out across the couch on your stomach, editing something you’d written in your notebook on the road trip here. Old habits die hard. She worked as a cocktail waitress at The Troubadour, and in the few weeks you’d been living in Laurel Canyon, she’d tried to get you to go nearly every time she had a shift, to no avail.

“I don’t know, Brand–” you started, flipping your hair over your shoulder shifting to face her.

“No, man. Enough of this writing bubble thing you got going on. You’re coming out tonight,” she said sternly. You couldn’t help the laugh you let out– Brandi was spot on. Every time she asked you to go out, you told her you weren’t interested because you were trying to double down and polish up the road trip writing you’d done on the way here. “How are you supposed to– how did you say it? ‘Be inducted into Los Angeles Society’ if you never go out and see Los Angeles society?”

“Okay, fair point,” you responded, sitting up. “I’ll go tonight, alright? You got me.”

Brandi grinned, clapping her hands together in delight. “Okay, Yaz and Lynn will walk over and get you and you’ll all drive in together, alright? And I’ll see you there.”

“Sounds good,” you nodded.

“That was a lot easier than I thought it would be. I’ll see you later!” With that, Brandi disappeared down the front steps just as fast as she’d arrived. You sighed, closing your notebook and falling back onto the couch. After your few weeks of relative seclusion, you were more than ready to get back out into the world and have some fun, and yet, there was something uneasy growing in your chest. Actually going out in the city, that meant really starting this new part of your life, and well, honestly, that was a little terrifying. Better to rip the band-aid off now instead of rotting inside the house any longer.

***

A few hours later, you were dressed in a pair of bell bottoms and a sheer orange tie-front top with big bell sleeves, your makeup and hair more done and put together than they’d been in months. You observed yourself in the mirror one last time, before lighting a cigarette and loping down the stairs to where Brandi’s two roommates were waiting, equally glammed up, for you. You sat in the backseat of Yaz’s car on the way over, window all the way down and your chin resting on the sill. You were used to city sights, you knew your neighborhood and so many others in New York intimately, but L.A. was different, and so thrilling.

The Troubadour was different from the clubs you’d frequented in New York, but it still held some level of familiarity, and you were hit with an unexpected pang of nostalgia when you walked in with the girls. You grabbed Yaz and Lynn’s hands and pulled them farther in, toward the stage where an upbeat band was in the middle of a song, and immediately began dancing, trying to shake off the more complicated feelings of being here in this new place. When the song ended, you whistled loudly for the band, who were packing themselves up and off stage, making way for the next one.

“Our next band is one we know and love here, give it up for The Six!” a silky-voiced man announced into the microphone before vacating the stage. In his place, a band made up of four guys and one blonde woman took the stage, setting up their instruments and getting ready. You cheered with everyone else in the crowd, though you weren’t familiar with them the way the locals clearly were. Within a few seconds, the guitars had struck up, and the front man was at the microphone, lashing out the first lyrics of a song.

And you realized. No, you didn’t know them the way the locals did, but you knew them. The boys, at least. You recognized Graham Dunne first, that cherubic face and big baby blues the exact same as you’d last seen him in high school. Warren Rojas was behind him on the drums, unmistakable mop of curly black hair dancing as if it had a mind of its own on top of his bobbing head. The front-man, you guessed, was Graham’s brother Billy, just familiar enough to place the face despite never knowing the older boy back home. And, sure enough, there was Eddie Roundtree on bass. The last time you’d seen him, he was just a lanky kid with a guitar that he still gripped awkwardly in his too-big hands. (‘Not ‘too big”, you remember him telling you back then. ‘The rest of me just hasn’t caught up yet.”) He’d grown his hair out, you noted. Grown broader in the shoulders, too. His hands were no longer comically large, compared to the rest of him. He had such an easy command of the bass he was playing, so relaxed on the stage, like he belonged and he knew it. It was kind of hard for you to reconcile this version of him with the juvenile one you used to know.

And they were good, too. You could see the way a group like them could become something great, something once in a lifetime. They weren’t there yet, but you could vividly see just how it could happen for them. Eddie Roundtree and the Dunne boys and Warren Rojas, all in Los Angeles at the same time as you, all of you so far from home. You couldn’t help the startled laugh that bubbled up and out of you. Lynn turned a questioning look on you, but you didn’t have time to turn and start explaining yourself before Eddie’s eyes swept your way, probably drawn by the laughter. Those brown eyes settled on your own, lazily, for a few seconds, before widening ever so slightly. His hands slowed, but never faltered, on the strings for just a second. Something zinged through your chest when you realized that he recognized you, too, even after all these years.

You watched Eddie for the entirety of his band’s set. You couldn’t help it– his fingers dancing across the strings of his guitar were mesmerizing, and besides, you couldn’t get over the fact that this was the same boy from your childhood, that all of them were boys who’d slept through your shared classes, who had walked to your house after school to drop off your homework when you were home sick, who you commiserated with about running the mile in high school gym class.

Brandi found you during the last song, pulling you into a hug and squealing about how happy she was that you actually came. Reluctantly, you tore your eyes from the stage and gave your best friend your full attention, allowing her to drag you back to the bar so she could buy you a drink. By the time you had a drink in hand, The Six’s set was over and a new band was coming on, so you stayed back by the bar even after Brandi had to leave you alone to go do her job.

“I knew it was you, bluebird.” You whirled around at the nickname, coming face to face with Eddie. He was a few inches taller than you remembered, smiling down at you with a curious mix of surprise and something else swirling in his brown eyes.

“I haven’t heard that nickname in years,” you laughed. “Hi, Edwin.”

He groaned. “Nobody calls me that, woman.”

“I always have,” you pointed out, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s true. What are you doing in L.A?”

“Writing, mostly,” you shrugged. “I’ve got one book out and now the publisher wants another. You know how it is.”

Eddie’s grin grew wider, if possible. “Glad to hear you’re still writing. I remember you back in high school, always carrying that notebook around that you’d never let anyone look at.”

You laughed, recalling the notebook yourself. You had treated that thing like it was your baby. “Yeah, well if you’re curious about my writing, you could buy my book and see.”

“First thing on my agenda tomorrow is to go out and get a copy,” he said easily, and you snorted.

“Good, you better like it. And what about you guys? When did you get here?”

“Few months ago. We’ve been playing gigs at a few regular spots while we put together an album.”

“I want a copy of that record as soon as it comes out!”

“You’ll be the first one to get one outside of the band,” Eddie grinned. “Where are you staying?”

“I bought a place in Laurel Canyon a few weeks ago. It’s tiny, but still a hell of a lot bigger than the living room I was sleeping in in New York,” you laughed.

“That’s where we are, too,” Eddie said, jerking his head in the direction of backstage. “And, New York? What have you been up to since high school?”

“Many things, Edwin, many things,” you grinned.

Eddie stayed quiet, all soft smile and soft eyes aimed in your direction. You felt something long dormant start to shift in your chest.

“I’m really glad to see you, bluebird,” he said after a moment, voice quieter than before. A sentiment just for the two of you to hear.

You nudged his shoulder affectionately with your own. “Me too, Roundtree.”

“What do you say about us getting together some night soon? You can fill me in on this whole New York story,” Eddie suggested.

“Only if you tell me how you all wound up here, doing this,” you responded.

“Deal,” Eddie said, sticking out his hand to shake. You took it; his palm was warm and calloused beneath your own.

***

“It was not like that!” you insisted through your laughter. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Roundtree.”

Three nights later, and you and Eddie were sitting on your living room floor, bottle of scotch between you, very much on your way to being drunk and well into reminiscing about your shared high school days. He had shown up at your door a few hours earlier with a smile on his face, and the scotch and a copy of your book in his hands. You laughed so hard at the fact that he’d actually gone out and bought a copy of the book that you almost forgot to ask him how the hell he knew where you lived. Sheepishly, he told you that he’d seen you talking with Brandi and asked her after you left that first night.

“I promise, birdy, Jimmy McKenna was gone for you for years. You drove the poor kid crazy because he would try to flirt with you all the time and you just never picked up on it,” Eddie explained through his own laughter. You sorted quickly through memories of the boy Eddie was talking about, and as what he said slowly clicked into place, you only began to laugh harder.

“Oh, god,” you said, throwing an arm over your eyes. “I have always been such an idiot.”

“Not an idiot, just oblivious,” Eddie countered. “You were too wrapped up in your writing to notice anyone around you.”

“Not true! I noticed you,” you said defensively.

Eddie’s eyebrows raised slightly, a split second look of surprise washing over his features before they settled back into that soft smile he always seemed to be wearing around you. He took another swig of whisky, humming. “Lucky me, then.”

You scoffed, trying to cover the way your heart stuttered with another drink of whiskey. “You were one of the only people I liked hanging out with back then, Ed. I liked stopping to watch you and Graham and Warren mess around with your instruments in the garage whenever I walked by. When I took off to the city, I really did miss you.”

“Well, if it means anything, I missed you, too. We all did,” Eddie said. His voice was softer now, more serious, matching your own. “Nobody knew where you went, you were just gone when we got back from winter break.”

“I just had to get outta there, you know?” you sighed. “I worked my ass off so I could graduate early. I had all these visions of the life I wanted to live, and it was so big. I was so focused on getting there that I didn’t even realize there would be anything to miss until it was all gone.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. Don’t tell the guys this, but even now I sometimes miss Pittsburgh,” he admitted.

“Me too,” you nodded. “I just keep collecting places to miss. Pittsburgh first, and now New York, too. I felt so suffocated there by the end, too, and now? Some nights I can’t even sleep because I’m not back on that awful couch in my cousin’s apartment, listening to the Manhattan traffic.”

“Guess that’s life, right? You just keep collecting things to miss,” Eddie said. At some point, he had shuffled closer to you, both of you sitting with your backs leaning against the bottom of the couch. You leaned your head on his shoulder. “I’m really happy I don’t have to miss you anymore, bluebird.”

You looked up, and there were those eyes, big and brown and full of affection, so close. Looking right at you, right through you, like he could see all your guts and bones and thoughts and desires all at once. Riding the tide of whiskey-fueled courage and extreme affection you were feeling for the man sitting next to you, you reached out, palm against his cheek, and pulled his face to yours. The kiss was slow and languid, noses nudging softly against skin, Eddie’s mouth gentle against your own. His hand moved to rest on your hip, a warm and comforting pressure against your skin.

When he pulled away, your breath catched at the sight of the silly little smirk gracing his face. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do that the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Oh fuck off Eddie, don’t tell me you had a crush on me in high school too and that’s just another thing I was too oblivious to realize,” you said, lightly shoving his shoulder.

“Okay, I won’t tell you if you kiss me again,” he said, grinning. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed his collar and pulled his face back to yours. You could feel his smile against your lips, which only made you want to hold him closer, to make up for all the years you’d gone without him in your life.

#daisy jones and the six #djats #eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie loving #eddie loving x reader #warren rojas #warren rhodes #graham dunne #billy dunne #camila dunne #daisy jones #karen sirko

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honey-comb-xox · 10 months ago

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Greened out

Nick Sturniolo x male!stoner!reader

Warnings: Weed, greening out, throwing up, peer pressure, driving while high (don't do that brothers!! Be safe!) - sorry if i missed anything pls lmk if I did!!

A/n: y’all be gentle w this one it’s my first actual writing that isn’t a joke 😭

Summary: y/n greens-out 😶‍🌫️

Y/n sighed as he leaned further back in the lawn chair he found himself in about 3 hours ago. The hot summer air in L.A. was completely different then what he was used to in New York, for some reason it just made blunts hit 10x better.

“Dude you gonna hog that shit or fuckin pass it”

Y/n snaps out of his daze and keeps the smoke circle going, it had been a stressful day. The majority of his day so far has been spent running errands, bringing Nick back and forth to the post office for Space Camp orders, and making sure the Triplets didn’t starve while signing cards for their 6 mil merch drop. It doesn’t sound like a whole lot, but it was definitely draining. Hence the predicament he’s in now.

“Bruh I got one more blunt! Who’s up for a third?”

“Nah man i’m good i gotta drive back to Nicks soon”

“Dude look it’s skinny as shit you’ll be fine, unless you’re pussy”

“Seriously man, i’m not falling for your shit right now”

Y/n did in fact fall for his shit again. Which has led him to his current predicament of how the hell he was supposed to get home, if this was any other area in town then he’d just leave his car. But of course it wasn’t and on top of all that there was not a single sober person he trusted to drive his car to Nicks. There’s really only one option…

“Alright guys I think imma head out” Y/n groaned while stretching up

“Be careful driving back man!”

Y/n sighs as he starts his car preparing for a long ride back home.

~Timeskip~

Y/n stumbles out of his car while trudging up to the front door. After messing with his keys for a few minutes he finally finds the key Nick gifted him a couple of weeks back.

“Nick! I’m back!” Y/n exclaimed

“Hey! Matt and Chris just went out to get dinner. Did you eat?” Nick says going in for a hug.

“Nah I just got back from Jetts place”

“Yeah I can tell. How much did you guys smoke?” Nick coughs from the stench of weed radiating of off Y/n

“I don’t know…like three, 2 ½ blunts” Y/n responds nonchalantly

“THREE? Please don’t tell me you drove back here right after”

“Well I didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t just leave my car there” At this point that ‘mini’ blunt is starting to hit a lot more than Y/n expected it to. Nick keeps rambling on, but this all goes through one ear and out the other because now it’s either he focuses on what Nicks saying or not throwing up.

“Are you even listening to me right now? You know what, whatever just tell me what you want from Canes so I can tell Matt and Chris”

“Nah I’m good I think, I actually gotta go to the bathroom real quick” Y/n paled. The thought of food was enough to send him over the edge.

Nick looks questionably at his boyfriend, but then brushes it off and rolls his eyes. The moment of silence is broken by groans from the bathroom.

“Babe you okay?” Nick hollers

Y/n doesn’t respond.

“Babe!” Nick shouts once again

Again no response. Nick runs to the bathroom to find his boyfriend curled up near the toilet.

“Oh my god! Babe are you okay?”

Y/n only groans in response. Nick sits down and rubs his back soothingly. Y/n goes to turn to Nick only to find the room rapidly spinning around him which only furthers his nausea. This carries on for another 5 minutes.

“Oh my god. I’m never smoking weed again” Y/n whines while slumping against Nick

“Yeah right, I’m gonna go grab you some water and your toothbrush from my room” Nick laughs

Y/n nods, while adjusting his position to lay on the cold tile .

“Aww poor baby” Nick says smugly

“Oh shush” Y/n says as he sits up against the bathtub

“Seriously though, are you okay?”

“Yea, I mean I’m still a little dizzy but the nausea is gone” Y/n yawns as he curls into Nick.

~Timeskip~

Chris runs up to the door without waiting for Matt.

“Dude seriously! Not even gonna grab the drinks or anything?” Matt hollers from the van.

“I getting the door for you, duh” Chris says meekly

Chris goes back to the van to grab the drinks from Matt, and holds the door for his brother.

“Nick!! We’re back! We got food for Y/n too!” Matt yells as he passes the stairs.

“Matt look at this” Chris whispers

Matt sets down the food on the counter, and heads over to Chris. The boys have their heads peeking into the bathroom only to find Nick and Y/n peacefully sleeping against the bathtub all snuggled up together.

“If they don’t wake up in like…thirty minutes then we’ll wake them up so their food doesn’t get too cold” Matt whispers to Chris

Then a sudden flash comes from Chris’ camera with the image of Nick holding Y/n in his arms sleepy glaring as his brothers.

A/n: okay how was that? Again please be kind it’s my first time writing smth like this but if you have any tips for me i’m definitely open to suggestions!!

#nick sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x male reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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sweetbillwriting · 3 months ago

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The Key To His Heart - IV

Characters: AU Bill Skarsgård where his life changes in 2013 and later 2019.

Setting: L.A, 2024 but in an alternative universe with Bill having a completely different life.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Bill's Guests:

Maria: Writer, 38.

Violet: Entrepreneur, 22.

Camila: Engineer, 31.

Sandra: Fashion designer, 36.

Esmeralda: Model, 27.

Rose: Personal trainer, 22.

Tiffany: Actress, 30.

Sienna: Painter, 28.

Brigitte: Chef, 29.

Julie: Model, 25. (Left in episode 2)

Odette: Pediatrician, 33. (Left in episode 3)

Victoria: Shop assistant, 34.(Left in episode 3)

The sun shone through the blinds at Bill, who sat on the edge of his broad bed, and it made his skin appear striped. He sat in just a pair of black boxers and held his head with his hands with his elbows on his knees. He had a bit of a headache after drinking a few too many glasses of whiskey the night before, and he looked at the empty bottle on the nightstand with a sigh. He had had some anxiety after having sent home Odette, not because he regretted his decision but just because he felt mean. It was the second woman who was upset at him, and he knew it would get worse and worse to send them home. He fooled them into believing he had felt interested, then he ditched them in front of the cameras. It was brutal. Just when he stood up with a sigh, there was a knock on his door. It could be someone from the film team, but it could also be one of the girls.

“Yeah?” He said, while he looked for a robe or something but couldn't find anything.

“Can you open? It's just me,” said Herman, a bit irritated, like he had waited for ages. Bill rolled his eyes to himself before opening the door.

“How the fuck should I know it's you?”

“Why do you lock the door? You really think someone will dare to visit you in the night? You're bigger than all of us.”

Bill shrugged his shoulders and sat down on the bed again.

“How are you? You look tired,” said Herman who sat down next to him.

“Yeah… It's harder than I thought…” said Bill, looking down at his bare feet.

“What is?” Herman looked at him confused.

“This! They get hurt for real.” Bill dragged his hands through his hair.

“Yeah? You should be happy. I worked on a similar show, and the women didn't feel a fuck for the guy, so we needed to tell them to act, and few of them knew how.”

Bill grimaced and shrugged his shoulders.

The men sat in silence a while before Herman cleared his throat.

“Today is two single dates, then you all have the weekend for yourself. I heard that one of the girls' dads had been in an accident.”

Bill looked at Herman with furrowed brows.

“Sandra’s. He's a bit older and fell down the stairs.”

“Oh shit. How, how is he? What will she do? Is she going home?”

“No, no. Just today and the weekend, so you can't pick her for a date. That was our plan, but now that can't happen.”

Bill scoffed and leaned back in bed with his hands pushed against his forehead. He had some pain over his eyebrows.

“So you decide everything?” He asked, irritated.

“It's so it will be good TV. So you will pick-”

“‘I will pick’...” Muttered Bill, and Herman gave him an annoyed look.

“Your dates will be with Brigitte and Sienna.”

Bill was quiet for a while because Brigitte he would have probably picked for himself, but…

“Sienna? Really? We have nothing to talk about.”

“That's just it. Your awkwardness with each other is quite fun to look at, and sometimes she looks straight into the camera when you don't notice and makes a face.”

Bill looked at Herman, who laughed, but Bill didn't look as amused.

“She makes fun of me?”

“A bit.”

Bill looked offended and sat up again.

“What the fuck? You get that I will send her home now?”

“Yeah, but first we just want to have that awkward date where she imitates your 'sexy stare’, she's quite good at it.”

Bill still looked offended. He might have thought it was funny if he knew about it, but it had been done behind his back. A girl who said she wanted to date him made fun of him like that; it wasn't okay.

“See it as your chance to act again. I know you can do it, and you can have a nice date with Brigitte as a contrast.”

Bill sighed and stood up, but let his brows relax.

“Yeah, yeah. Who cares? You will make me anyway.”

Herman smirked and didn't say anything. Bill had finally understood the rules.

×××

The irritation had once again awakened among the girls, this time it was Violet who spilled her feelings over Rose. They had just met Bill over breakfast, and he had shared what girls he would go on dates with. Violet didn't get picked this time either.

“Sienna was at the group date, and Brigitte got so much time with him yesterday. Why doesn't he see us all?”

Rose, who had been on a single date with him, didn't know what to say. She hadn't even thought about if Bill picked the same girls, she thought it was even. She instead thought about how close she had been to going home. She didn't understand why he didn't say her name earlier. Their date had been great.

“I don't know…” she said, distracted by her own thoughts, and opened the fridge in her search for a water bottle.

“Has he already found his favorites? He just plays with the rest of us?” Violet looked at Rose with big eyes like she had the answer, but Rose just looked at the water bottle in her hand like she didn't know what she was looking at.

“In that case, who am I? I'm the only one he has been on a real date with, but I got called last in this ceremony. I will probably leave the next ceremony, even if our date was great.”

Violet listened to her but didn't seem to be so interested in talking about her problems and instead started to talk about other things.

“Do you think he has kissed Esmeralda? They seem really comfortable with each other.”

Rose put the bottle in the fridge again and closed it. She didn't answer Violet; instead, she walked up to her room on the second floor. She looked to the right, in the corner, was the door to Bill's bedroom. It was closed as always, and she thought for a moment about what he did in there. He probably made himself ready for his date. His date with Brigitte. They hadn't gotten to know what they would do on the date, so all of them were curious in their jealousy. She walked into her room and laid down on the bed. It felt like she was in love with Bill, and the thought of him with the others made her throat dry. Their date had been so good, and still he didn't seem interested in her, it was heartbreaking.

Violet looked after Rose but realized she also probably had many feelings about the situation, and they were not friends; they were competitors for the same man.

×××

Bill stood leaned against the car of the day. It wasn't his; it was a car that the production had arranged, but Bill dragged his hand over the door and wished it was his. It was a Ford Mustang Cab; he guessed it was from the late sixties but looked like it was new.

He waited for Brigitte to come, then they would go for a ride, then to the secret destination. Bill had just gotten the address. It was a little exciting, and it maybe affected him more than he thought because when Brigitte walked towards him in a short black floral dress, he felt butterflies in his stomach. He smiled brightly at her, and she smiled just as brightly at him.

“Hey,” he said softly and pulled her in for a hug.

“Hey,” she said with a giggle and sniffed his perfume. “What's the plan for the day?”

She dragged an admiring hand over the car, and Bill smirked proudly like it was his own.

“I don't know; I just have an address.”

Brigitte looked up at him with eyes as blue as the California sky.

“That sounds mysterious.”

“Mhm,” he said with a smirk before opening the car door for her.

They speculated about the day and talked about the car until Bill drove onto the highway and could speed up. Brigitte laughed next to him and let her hair free from the tight braid she always had her long hair in and let the wind play with it. Bill smiled at her behind his sunglasses. The wind played with his hair too, even if he had slicked it back, but it just made him look more attractive behind the Mustang's steering wheel. Both their hearts beated heavily in their chests with a rush of adrenaline, but it was easy to mix it up with romantic feelings, so Bill took her hand in his and kissed the back of her hand several times. Brigitte blushed and looked at him with even bigger eyes. Bill could see how she licked her lips over and over.

After a while, they were forced to drive towards their destination, but their hearts were still beating against their ribs and made their blood rush through their bodies. They jumped between subjects like music (she was a country girl, he was a moody folk rocker), movies (who the fuck doesn't cry to Titanic?) and food (meat, Asian fusion, and Swedish cod). They talked like two puzzle pieces had clicked together, and they enjoyed looking at each other just as much.

Their destination was a house by the sea but with a full outside kitchen where they could cook together. They had the best products you could buy in L.A. to make the best lunch. They also had an expensive bottle of champagne, and Brigitte didn't say no to alcohol like Rose had done so they could cheer together.

Bill looked at her cook easily. She was better than him, but he liked it. She taught him tricks and told him anecdotes from the restaurant world. He looked at her with big eyes and tingling lips, so when they had eaten, he leaned over the table and kissed her soft lips. She looked at him with glittering eyes while his eyes had darkened. It had been a great date, and a great date needed a kiss.

“Thank you for today…” said Brigitte when they stood on the porch. Both of them knew some of the other girls were probably watching them, but Brigitte still took a hold of the hem of Bill's white t-shirt and pulled him into an intimate hug. Both of them thought about the kiss, but they couldn't do anything now; they had an audience.

“Thank you… You're a great cook,” said Bill while playing with her hands in his.

“So are you. You're good at many things,” she said cheekily and made Bill laugh and even get a bit pink in the cheeks.

“I'll see you tomorrow.”

Brigitte gave him a final smile before walking away to the guest house. Bill stayed on the porch for a while with a small smile on his lips. It had been an amazing date, and he got a bit embarrassed over himself and how he just stood there and smiled. He walked in after a minute or so; he had another date to get ready for. The date with Sienna.

One of the girls who had watched him with Brigitte was Sienna, who had seen them from her room. She had looked at Bill's big smile and how he held Brigitte's hands in his. He looked like a man in love. Sienna breathed out and made her decision then and there. She looked at her phone, the screensaver of her and her son on a carousel horse together, and then pulled out her suitcase from the wardrobe.

×××

Bill had dressed down to boxers and laid down in bed to rest. Just in two hours, he would need to be ready for another date. He didn't feel ready for it, mostly because he was still living on the high from the date with Brigitte and didn't have time to think about another woman, and especially not for a date he knew would be bad. He thought about sneaking down to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, so he pulled on a pair of sweats; it was then there was a knock on his door. He sighed to himself.

“What is it now, Herman?” He said, unlocking the door and opening it a bit aggressively. Instead of meeting Herman's blue gaze, it was Sienna's hazel eyes that looked back at him. He looked at her confused and then right and left to see if there were any cameras, but there were none.

“Hey?”

Sienna dropped her gaze to his naked torso by reflex but caught herself and looked up at his face again.

“Can we talk?” She said it carefully. Bill looked at her with big eyes. He wondered if it was about the date, but in reality he could just come up with one reason why she would want to talk with him like that, a reason that matched her serious face. He nodded a little and moved away from the door opening so she could walk into his bedroom, even if he otherwise wouldn't let someone in like that, but he forgot that with Sienna.

She looked around in his bedroom. It wasn't meant for any of the girls to be there. She had thought about how it would look inside if there were still signs of a woman there, but the room was decorated sleek and masculine in black and emerald tones. There was just one picture on the walls, a still from a black-and-white movie she couldn't place. Opposite the wall was a big screen and shelves full of DVDs. Someone liked to watch movies in bed.

Bill looked at her a bit awkwardly while she looked at his bedroom with big eyes. He pulled on the t-shirt he had worn earlier that day and sat down on the bed, waiting for Sienna to say something, he didn't have much to say.

“Ehm…” To his surprise, she sat down on the Persian rug and put her dark hair behind her ears. She was dressed in a big gray hoodie and leggings and didn't at all look ready for a date with him.

“I've decided to leave the show… I wanted to say it to you, the production wanted me to just disappear and leave you waiting for me on the porch, and then I didn't show up… I'm not that kind of girl.”

She looked at him sincerely, and Bill swallowed hard and looked down on his hands that he flexed. Fuck, he was tired of this shit. They wanted to make a fool of him. They wanted him to stand dumped and alone in a suit on his own porch. Herman wanted that to happen.

“Okay… Thank you…” He said it distractedly but then looked at her with worried eyes. “Why do you want to leave? Has something happened? Have I done something?”

“No, no. I… I feel like I don't have reasons to be here. It's not a secret you and I don't have the chemistry you have with some of the other girls.” Sienna laughed a bit uncomfortable while dragging her finger through the rug's pattern. Bill sat quietly because, for some reason, he got a bad conscience. Did other girls feel the same? While he sat in deep thought, Sienna stood up and looked through his shelves with movies.

“To Kill a Mockingbird... I love that movie. I did a project inspired by that movie,” she said with a dreamy voice, mostly for herself. Bill looked at her from behind. He didn't really like having people in his bedroom, it was his safe place, but for some reason it felt completely normal having her there. He didn't think much about it, just let her comment on the movies, and slowly realized her movie interest was bigger than he had expected.

She turned to him with red cheeks when she realized she had stayed too long by his shelves.

“Sorry… I should go. I have my man waiting for me at home.”

Bill looked at her with furrowed brows.

“My son.” Sienna smiled a little, said goodbye with just a wave with her hand, and then she sneaked out from the door so no one in the production would see her. Bill walked slowly after her, his head full of questions, and locked the door after her.

×××

The hot water hit his broad back and made his skin burn. The plan was just to take a shower before calling Herman and saying he knew about their plan, but instead he had stayed there with his forehead pressed against the wall. He didn't want to be a part of the circus anymore. It wasn't about him founding love; this was all about making TV. He had been naive, just because Herman was his friend, but there was also something else that bothered him, but he couldn't say why. He felt anxious and like he had forgotten something. He thought about the day with Brigitte, but looking back at it, it didn't make a big impression anymore; instead, it was other small things that had gotten stuck in his brain.

“To Kill a Mockingbird… I love that movie…”

“Sometimes they feel a bit try-hard…”

He became annoyed at himself that he would now start to romanticize Sienna just because she chose to leave. It was typical of him, so instead he tried to think back on how beautiful Brigitte had been in her floral dress, but pictures of how Sienna pulled down the hoodie sleeves over her hands were the only thing his brain wanted him to obsess about. The smallest details, about Sienna.

He dried himself with a black towel when he came out of the shower but didn't do it for long before he felt it was too hot in the bathroom, and he walked out to his bedroom again with the towel around his slim hips.

His bedroom was not a place he let anyone into, especially not when he had a film team there. To his surprise, he had let Sienna in without a thought and had let her walk around, looking at his stuff. The whole thing had confused him, so now when he saw Camila in his bed, he just looked at her and scratched his neck in disbelief.

“Hey…” she said and stood up in bed so she became taller than him. She had just a lacy nightgown on, and he could see her nipples through the fabric. He looked at her up and down and felt a tingle feeling spread down from his stomach down to his sex.

“Hey,” he said with a small smile. He thought about the dirty thoughts that he had had about her and felt his heart beating hard. She was in his bed now. He moved closer to her so she could lay her arms around his neck and he could lay his hands around her waist. He looked at her with dark eyes, and she smirked, like she knew what an effect she had on him. She dragged her fingers through his wet hair and then pressed her red painted lips against his. Bill could feel his blood rush to his groin, and he moaned into the next kiss she gave him. Camila dragged her hands down his naked chest, and Bill took a harder grip around her waist, so they were even closer. It was amazing having her that close, but his head hadn't settled down from the earlier chaos, and it showed him pictures and scenes from the day. Sienna's smile, her hazel eyes, her back when she left his bedroom, him locking the door…

“Why do you lock the door? You really think someone will dare to visit you in the night? You're bigger than all of us.”

Softly, he pushed Camila away and looked at her with big, confused eyes.

“How did you get in? The door was locked?”

Camila looked at him for just a few seconds before smiling teasingly and shrugging her shoulders. She tried to kiss him again, but now the question pounded anxiously in Bill's chest. He took a step away from her.

“How did you get in?”

It wasn't like he was afraid of her, it was just a really creepy feeling knowing she had been able to get into his private room, his locked, private room.

“How did you get in?” He said, much more forcefully when she didn't answer. Camila stayed standing in bed but leaned down to be able to lightly pull in the towel around his hips.

“I felt that you grew-”

Bill pushed away her hands and took a hold of the towel. It was then he saw a key laying on one of the DVD shelves. A key to his room.

“Where did you find this?” He said it and took it in his hand.

Camila sighed, jumped down from bed, and pulled on her black kimono that was lying on an armchair in the corner of the room.

“Is that so important? I thought you would like having a guest like me?”

Bill shook his head in disbelief while playing with the key in his hand. Camila stood and looked at him, but when she didn't get an answer, she left the room, closing the door with a loud bang. The sound made Bill jump but also made the pain in his chest worsen. It had been an awful day, and all he wanted was to have his normal life back and get all the women out of his house.

×××

His stomach growled like a hungry bear. It hurt every time it moved around in there. He needed to eat something, but he really didn't feel like walking out of his room. Herman and others in the production had knocked on his door, and the girls were spread out all over his house, as was Camila. He just wanted to be alone, but his stomach pains worsened.

Bill stood up from bed and dressed again. He took a look at himself in the mirror but didn't feel a need to do anything with his messy hair. The clock was 10 PM, so he hoped most of them had gone to bed or gone home from their work. He needed to eat, and he knew they had delivered meatloaf to the girls today.

Just as carefully as Sienna had moved out of his room, he walked out and looked around in the hallway. He looked down the banister to see if someone was near the stairs, but he couldn't see anyone. In relief, he started to walk but became distracted when he saw one of the bedroom doors standing open. He knew it was Sienna's room because he had seen her leave the room a couple of times. When he walked by it, he stopped to just look inside. It was a guest room otherwise too, and the room looked like it had been done before the girls had moved in, just that she had pulled off the covers from the bed. It looked nice and clean, but for some reason it left an empty feeling in his chest. He hadn't talked with Sienna much, but now it started to feel like a real loss to not have her there.

“Bill?” Said someone behind him, and he looked back at the person. He had moved into the room, and in the door opening stood Tiffany in a light blue lounge set.

“Ehm… Hey,” he said awkwardly and scratched his elbow.

“Has Sienna left?” She asked, entering the room and looked around.

“Yeah…”

Tiffany nodded.

“I think she missed her son. They seemed to have a close bond.”

Bill nodded too, even if he didn't have a clue. It felt weird she had left before he even got to know her. Or even knew anything about her.

“I must make something to eat. Do you want anything?” He asked Tiffany, who smiled brightly.

“Yeah, I could eat again. The meatloaf was really nice.”

×××

Tiffany looked at Bill making potato wedges. He thought the mashed potatoes looked sad and clumpy, so he decided to fix new potatoes for them. His black sweatpants sat low on his hips, and the t-shirt was a bit too short, so in every movement, she could see the black Armani elastic of his boxers. She smiled to herself; she felt lucky she was the one running into Bill like that. He rarely showed himself that late and was never dressed this relaxed. She could smell the scent of amber and oak from his skin. He looked like the boyfriend she always wanted. Tall, fit, beautiful, but cozy and relaxed.

Bill put the potatoes in the oven and turned to Tiffany. His brain felt as messy as scrambled eggs, but still he tried to smile charmingly at her, but probably mostly looked tired.

“A long day?” She asked when he sat down by the kitchen island with her.

“Too long. It has been a lot,” he said and massaged his own shoulders. He was tense after it all.

“Should I give you a massage?” Asked Tiffany and stood up. Bill looked at her unsurely. He had kissed two women that day; it felt wrong being so close to one more, but Tiffany smiled and walked around him and started to massage his shoulders and neck skillfully, and Bill made an uncontrolled moan. The moan spread like a warm liquid in Tiffany, and she could feel it drip down between her legs. Bill moaned again and leaned forward on the island so she could reach better. Tiffany took the moment to touch his back, and when her hands crept under his t-shirt, he didn't protest; the massage was too good.

When the alarm rang from the oven to tell them the potatoes were done, both of them sighed a little, but Bill was too hungry to not take them out.

They ate in silence but smiled at each other a bit. Bill could feel a strong attraction to her, but when they had said goodnight, he once again heard Sienna's voice in his head.

×××

There was a knock on his door the next morning. Bill started to feel like there were a bit too many people visiting his bedroom, and he pulled the covers over his head.

“Bill? Come on, open! You know you break the contract if you don't do what I say!” shouted Herman through the door. Bill kicked off the cover aggressively, threw the door open, and looked down at Herman with a menacing stare. Herman swallowed hard.

“Hey?”

Bill laughed unamused and shook his head when he walked into the room again.

“Herman, I thought we were friends, but fuck man, I don't even know who you fucking are.”

“Hm?” Herman clearly expressed he was worried. It was obvious he thought he would be able to be a good drama starter and a friend to Bill at the same time.

“Sienna told me about your plan. You know, make a fool out of me.”

Bill pulled on the sweatpants he had the day before but left his upper body bare. Herman stood and looked at him in regret. They were friends, but maybe he had forgotten about Bill's feelings.

“I just… It was just a good story, you know the female viewers would feel so sorry for you and hate Sienna and-”

“But that's not fair to her either! She just wants to go home to her son!”

"Yeah, but she also knows this is a TV show; we need to create a good storyline.”

Bill scoffed and shook his head.

“But now that didn't happen, Sienna has left, and we can inform the viewers and girls nicely that she has left, okay?”

Bill was quiet; he just sat down in bed, stretching out his long legs with his fingers entwined on his head.

“Okay?” Said Herman again with worry. He didn't want to hurt his friend, even if it maybe seemed that way. Bill didn't even think about what Herman had done anymore because he couldn't get rid of the anxious feeling—the feeling that he had lost something.

“Okay,” he said lowly and then sighed. He wasn't amused by the thought of continuing this journey.

“Camila broke in here yesterday,” he continued, mostly to think about something else.

“What?” Said Herman with a little laugh. Bill smirked and shook his head in disbelief. “She wanted me badly,” he joked, but then looked at Herman more seriously. “She had a key; I don't know where she got it from, but she broke in here.”

“That's fucking crazy!” exclaimed Herman as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “But… Did you do anything with her?”

Bill side-eyed him.

“Of course not! She broke into my bedroom; who knows what other crazy shit she can do?”

Herman nodded with big eyes.

“She has broken the rules, you know. Do you want us to send her home?”

Bill sat and looked up at the ceiling. He hesitated; he had already lost a girl he hadn't given a fair chance to, but this was different, so he nodded.

“Yeah, she's fucking crazy.”

Herman nodded.

“I guess this breakfast will be really strange. Two women leaving, one missing.” He then smirked at Bill.

“You make some great TV, man.”

×××

Around the big table in Bill's dining room sat just six women; they all looked confused at each other. Three women were missing, and the table wasn't even set for them. Bill walked into the room awkwardly, dressed in a cream cuban shirt and dark jeans. He smiled a little, even if the girls mostly looked confused. Some of them wondered if the three women already were at a secret location for a group date, but Bill's awkward, bothered look told them something else.

On his plate lay a white envelope with a red heart, screaming to be opened, but he didn't feel like reading it. He sat down and took the envelope in his hands, opened it, and then read it silently to himself. He could feel all six pairs of eyes on him. There wasn't anything secret in the letter, and he really didn't want to read out loud what it said, so instead he gave it to Tiffany, who sat closest to him. She gave him a confused look.

“Should I read it? Out loud?”

Bill just nodded a little and leaned back in his chair.

Tiffany looked down on the letter but started to read it without doing it for herself first.

“Good morning! As you all notice, we’re missing three women around the table.

Sandra will be back for the next ceremony. She was forced to go home because of a crisis in her family.

Sienna chose by herself to leave the program because of private reasons.

We sent Camila home early this morning because of rule-breaking. We want to remind you all that this production demands respect for everyone involved, especially towards Bill who is our host. Any rule breaking will lead to elimination.”

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #key to his heart

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ice-ice-lizzie · 6 months ago

Text

Translation of the Thomas Bordeleau interview on episode 329 of the Sans Restriction podcast hosted by Kevin Raphael. Bold text was originally in English and translator's notes are in brackets. Additional notes are at the end.

Host: Tommy B on the podcast. Tommy B, do you have a new tattoo?

Thom: Mmmm. No. No. Not so far.

Host: It's the same? I haven’t seen [unintelligible].

Thom: (shows him the tattoos on his shoulder)

Host: Okay, ehhhhh.

Thom: I’ve got ‘Bordeleau’ like that (shows tattoo on his bicep) and ‘Bordeleau’ over here as well (shows tattoo on the back of his arm).

Host: Ohhhh. Ohhhhh. It’s like La Valle*. How’s it going Big Dog? Happy to see you, happy to see you, man. How’ve you been spending the summer? You’ve been training here [in Montreal]?

Thom: I’m doing alright. I haven’t seen you too often lately.

[both talking at the same time]

Host: We should go to L'Alliance. I have tickets. I have tickets for L’Alliance.

Thom: Yes, yes.

[both talking at the same time again]

Thom: But ummm, no, it’s going well. Just taking a break and then training. Our season ended early in (he pauses to think) mid-April?

Host: Yo. That’s on paper. (Laughing) Your season ended in mid-February.

Thom: Exactly. Yeah, unfortunately. [Making playoffs] was not in reach that early in the season, but, uh, no, it is what it is. I took a month off.

Host: What did you do? When you were in San Jose and the season ended, you guys had your meetings or whatever the next day I guess?

Thom: Mmm yeah. On the next day maybe, or to give it some time, two or three days later.

Host: So you take care of business and then you come here?

Thom: They can ship your equipment.

Host: Oh! They ship your equipment?

Thom: It’s the teams who do it. It depends on the equipment manager and what they want. We’re lucky. But uhh I ship my car and I keep my equipment in my car so it doesn’t really matter.

Host: So you put your gear in your car and you send it all in a boat?

Thom: No, it’s just on a truck that drives it across country.

Host: Shit, Quebec is [unintelligible] man.

Thom: It’s expensive. Really expensive.

Host: Oh yeah? It’s bad eh?

Thom: It’s a little insane. Having two cars might be worth it. It’s a shit show shipping everything across the continent.

Host: Because you ship everything before [the season] and after [the season]?

Thom: Yeah. Now the team helps but at the beginning, (giggling) at the beginning I did it all.

Host: What’s the thing, that right now, you know, there’s the team, but did you ever think to yourself did I really pay for all of that at the beginning, for real man?

Thom: Oh

Host: There’s plenty of things in this job that I have to do myself, there’s a lot. There’s a lot.

Thom: Sometimes, just for simple things, like food or supplements anyways, like [unintelligible] for nothing. It’s funny I was talking to my dad and he said ‘when you’re playing everyone wants to give you everything for free but you don’t appreciate it until after your career is over because that’s when you need the paid promotions but no one wants to give them to you.

Host: My method is to buy clothes that I like, but after I put them on, I take a photo, or someone takes a photo, it’s on Instagram, put it on Instagram stories, and it’s like yo Kev’s wearing these clothes.

[both taking at the same time]

Thom: For free.

Host: I’m like I ain’t no bitch. Send the goods!

[both talking at the same time]

Thom: It helps to wear the clothing that they give you. Shout out Elwood. They sent me-

Host: Who?

Thom: Elwood.

Host: Where are they from?

Thom: L.A. It’s a brand from L.A. They’re good.

Host: Shout out. (looking into the camera) Yo Elwood! (looking back at Thom) Elwood?

Thom: (laughing) Elwood.

Host: (looking into the camera) Elwood L.A. Yo yo yooooooo. Sans Restrictions podcast needs some Elwood.

Thom: Thanks guys.

Host: Tommy B needs some Elwood.

Both: (laughter)

Host: Ok, so the season ends and you come here but you’re not on vacation.

Tom: Yeah, I had to stay here for a bit because my grandmother has health problems that made it so we needed to stay here with her and my grandfather, then three weeks after we came here, we took a little trip to South Carolina to golf. It was nice. Incredible temperatures.

Host: It’s only me who can say ‘that shit white.' [Host is black]

Tom: Oh yeah. Yeah yeah yeah. Real white.

Host: South Carolina, bro? Like the people there are called Corwin. There’s no Mustafas, there’s no-

Tom: Yeah, there’s not a lot.

Host: There’s like ‘John’

Tom: (snorts) Richard.

Host: Richard. Paul.

[both giggling too much to say anything]

Host: But how’s the golfing down there?

Thom: Insane.

Host: You’ve seen my swing, man?

Thom: On the ice, we’d call it a slapshot, but that’s- that’s not-

Host: It goes straight.

Thom: Yeah, yeah it goes straight.

Host: I can still hear the sound of it-

Thom: But it can actually go too far. It can go too far.

[both talking at the same time]

Host: What’s your [furthest distance]**?

Thom: Not too far. 250? 300?

Host: That’s a lot. That’s a lot. What’s your problem?

Thom: Well, you’re right. I [unintelligible] yesterday. At the tournament, I mean not tournament, at the Benjamin Saint Just Foundation ummmm yeah. They did 400 for the longest drive of the day.

Host: You’re shitting me. This guy is fucking with us. Josh, we invite him on the podcast and he’s fucking with us a little. It’s laughable, Josh. Ok. So the season ends and you’re training how many times a week?

Thom: Everyday.

Host: Every day on the ice?

Tom: No, everyday in the gym. On the ice at the beginning, two times a week, later in the summer three, four, five times a week.

Host: Then how… The season is long. Bro, I listened to the games. I looked for you.

Thom: (laughing through his nose)

Host: Shit, it’s long bro. How is it so long?

Thom: The hardest game of my life was the one that was 10 to 1 against the Oilers at the end of the year.

Host: It was 10 to 1?

Thom: It was bad in every sense of the word. They were just getting through us all over the place.

Host: Oh shit.

[Both laugh]

Host: Ok admit it, admit it, it was 7 to 1 there, and-

Thom: No, but it was 4-0 after like five minutes and we were like oh my god.

Host: How does that happen? 4-0 after five minutes.

Thom: Well, we had a lot, we had a lot of our players who weren’t playing.

Host: Bro, 4-0 after five minutes is classic but [something I can’t make out about comedians in the NHL]

Thom: Yeah, It was tough. It was tough. A tough game. I think that-

Host: When it got to 9 to 1, was there any chatter on the bench?

Thom: Well, no.

Host: Was anyone talking?

Thom: No. We were trying to do something. We were trying to play well. We were trying. The worst thing, I think, was, if I can remember, I think I’m right, but I think, it was 9-1 at the end of the second.

Host: Impossible.

Thom: Or maybe the beginning of the third, because I remember there was a good moment at the end of the game where we didn’t score but, like, we could have had, we could have had it.

Host: Bro. Did you ever have a game this shitty at Michigan or..? (trails off laughing)

Thom: Yeah… I’m sure. I’m sure. It’s tough. You don’t want to get into the habit of losing. You don’t want to develop that kind of mindset. I’ve never had that mindset. Each loss really pisses me off***. It happened so often, but it’s hard to develop an ‘ok, onto the next day’ mindset when it really pisses you off, when you want to win.

Host: At least this year they played you more.

Thom: Yeah, they used me a lot at the end of the year. I really, I found my game in the NHL. I found the optimal place for me, how I see the game, how I think about the game. It clicked.

Host: What was your favorite moment from this year? Not necessarily a goal but like was there a moment there that made you go nice?

Thom: Damn. Umm there’s a lot. Well, at the beginning of the year when we took our team trip to Napa, when I made the team after camp, after I made the team at the beginning of the year, then we took the team trip to Napa. It was my first team trip in the NHL. It was fun. I found it really fun. Ummm, then another moment, another good moment, it was really nice. it was one of those games where I scored twice.

Host: ��One of’ (laughing).

Thom: No, but it was against Chicago and it was really nice because it was rare this year. It was tough for the fans because of how often we lost and even at the end of the year they showed up. It was really packed. It was a nice feeling, especially at home.

Host: Tell me about the Connor Bedard effect. You’ve played two games against him, right?

Thom: Yeah, two games.

Host: So what’s it like, the Connor Bedard effect?

Thom: It’s crazy. Everyone is already a fan. He’s like the next big thing****, he started with fans, like he already has a fan base. I guess everyone is talking about him, even the journalists.

Host: So, when you see him you want to give him [unintelligible but he does a hand motion like a punch].

Thom: (laughing) No, well, we have lots of friends in common.

Host: You have friends in common?

Thom: Kent Johnson, who I played with in Michigan.

Host: Ohhhh, true. So you’ve already seen him.

Thom: We’ve crossed paths at NHLPA events and things like that.

Host: There’s going to be rumors, you know. They’re going to say ‘Yo, Tommy B is boys with CB’.

Thom: (laughing) No, no, we’re not boys.

Host: No, but do you have boys, besides Kent Johnson, that play with you guys, that you play against in the NHL? You know, a lot of the time in basketball you play against someone a little and there’s a respect that develops and he becomes your boy, right?

Thom: Yeahhh, uh, not lately, just because I was moving up and down between the AHL and the NHL.

Host: You were up more than you were down this year, right?

Thom: I didn’t play badly, but I did play more down than I did up. I spent a little over half the season down [in the AHL]. They brought me up just before the deadline. [Unintelligible] playing with all these teams like that. In the AHL, the players, the roster changes so often. It’s really the guys from Quebec that stick together.

Host: Do you talk to each other very often on the ice?

Thom: Yeah, sometimes. It depends on how you know each other, but there’s even times when you know each other really well but you won’t talk on the ice, just before or after.

Host: In San Jose, you’re the Barracudas?

Thom: Yeah, Barracuda. Yeah. It’s a really good place for the AHL. A new arena, a new dressing room. Listen, for me, the jerseys are good quality, everything is beautiful.

Host: Did you keep a jersey? Did you keep a Barracuda jersey?

Thom: I have a couple, I think.

Host: So you went to Napa, and you also played in the opening game.

Thom: It was a good moment, the opening game.

Host: They said your name!

Thom: It was nice. My first opening game in the NHL. It was really cool.

Host: What do you say, [unintelligible] up in the NHL?

Thom: Uhhhh yes. Yes, but it’s just… It was the first time that I really did that up in the NHL and I want to appreciate it as much as possible.

Host: Were you able to sleep before the opening game?

Thom: Yeah, yeah I had a nap, yeah. Each game day I take a nap. We had a morning skate that morning, after that I went back to our house. I made myself eat. A lot of the time I’ll do normatec^, like I do a lot of things for my legs, just for recovery things for my legs, then I make myself eat. Just pasta all the time before I go to sleep.

Host: The same thing?

Thom: Bolognese. All the time.

Host: All the time?

Thom: Spaghetti Bolognese.

Host: You eat that before going to sleep, bro? That’s the sort of thing my coach told me never to do in gym class. Here comes Kev, you’re already a fat fu-

Thom: It’s a forty minute nap.

Host: A forty minute nap?! [He says something about 20 minutes that I can't make out because they're talking over each other]

Thom: Quick, quick, quick. 45 is perfect for me.

Host: Now we know the demands of the NHL. Pasta and then sleep!

Thom: No, but everyone sleeps before they eat. Everyone has a pre-game meal in the NHL. I’ve done it ever since I came to the NHL.

Host: Oh, yeah?

Thom: Like, the pre-game meal is at one in the afternoon, two in the afternoon. You eat, you take your nap, you have a snack.

Host: Do you have a place far away from the arena or are you close?

Thom: Close. Just beside it. I live downtown. Right there in the middle of it.

Host: Are there guys who stay there because they live too far away?

Thom: Where? At the arena?

Host: Yeah.

Thom: Oh, no, no. Morning skate is over at ten in the morning and we don’t have to be there for the game until 4:35.

Host: So your favorite game was the first game, but you had two goals against Chicago and then who else?

Thom: Ottawa.

Host: Ohhh, but Ottawa… [trails off with the implication that he thinks that Ottawa won the game].

Thom: Oh but us (starts laughing).

Host: (laughing harder)

Thom: Like, we really played well that game, like we were good in that one^^.

[talking over each other]

Host: My guy said ‘us’. (lots of laughing) What song would you choose to put over your goal highlights when you put them on insta reels?

Thom: Damn. Right now-

Host: Not Like Us, by Kendrick Lamar. Yes!

Thom: (laughs) One of Wun.

Host: What’s that, One of Wun?

Thom: From Gunna’s new album.

Host: Oh.

Thom: Mmm-hm.

Host: Oh, yeah?

Thom: Mm-hm.

Host: Okay. That’s not North Carolina. [I think he’s trying to reference earlier when they were talking about South Carolina].

Thom: Nope. Not at all. Not at all. It’s far away.

Host: (mimes playing a banjo) Dinga-linga-a-ling, dinga-ling-a-long. Banjo!

[both giggling]

Host: So, do you celly? When you-

Thom: I could but no. I don’t really do a big celly.

Host: You do the- (badly mimes the heart breaker celly)

Thom: Not really, no.

Host: Who does that one?

Thom: Kane.

Host: Ohh, it’s Patrick Kane who does it.

Thom: Yeah, the heart breaker (mimes the heart breaker celly very small).

Host: Yeah. Ohhhh, you know the name?

Thom: Yeah, you make the heart and then you break it after. (mimes the heart breaker celly).

Host: It’s a heart, bro?

Thom: Heart breaker. (mimes the heart breaker celly).

Host: I thought he was swimming!

Thom: No, no, no, no.

Host: I swear to you, no one knows that.

Thom: Well, that’s what it is. The celly is called the heart breaker.

Host: That’s a team USA thing.

Thom: Everyone who plays hockey knows about it.

Host: (to the producer) Bro, did you know about that? No one knows that it’s called the heart breaker.

Thom: Wow.

Host: We’re going to put that on tiktok. Who knew it was the heart breaker? What’s your favorite celly?

Thom: The heart breaker is beautiful. I’ve never done it but I think it’s great. When someone does it, it’s hockey. But it’s Kane who came up with it.

Host: Oh, he came up with it?

Thom: [He says something about Kane and showtime that I cannot make out]

Host: I like it when you jump. When you jump in your cellies, it’s nice. It makes for good photos. But do you guys celly after every goal?

Thom: A lot of the time I lift up one leg or go to my knees.

Host: Ok, that’s a celly. When someone scores and doesn’t even raise their arms, I’m like, man why don’t you, it’s fucking difficult in the NHL.

Thom: Yeah. Sometimes I do that, but it also depends on the goal and the game.

Host: Even if it’s 10 to 1-

Thom: I guarantee you when Edmonton was beating us 6 to 0 and we scored, I did not celebrate much.

Host: Ok. Are you satisfied with your season? What’s your evaluation? Your first real season.

Thom: My second. For the first one, I spent the majority of the year in the AHL. That was my first real pro season.

Host: So it’s your third year?

Thom: My second full year. My second year that I finished. So I burned that first year when I signed after Michigan and played some NHL games and then after summer.

Host: Oh, it was games at the end of the year.

Thom: Yeah. Games at the end of the year.

(Both laugh)

Thom: Prime time! Prime time!

(they toast with their mugs)

Host: [He says something in English but I can not understand him] (pointing at Thom) He has good people giving him advice! He burned a game!

Thom: No, well, when you sign your contract after you’re 20 and you play a game in the NHL you burn a year.

Host: Mmmm.

Thom: But if you sign before you’re twenty, it’s ten games.

Host: Oh, so you did ten games.

Thom: No, for me it was one game.

Host: Yo, that’s crazy bro. I need your agent in my life, man.

Thom: Pat Brisson. Shout out.

Host: Yo, shout out Pat. Okay, there are lots of comedians who listen. Do you have some advice for them, because I have a problem with you. You, you’re so chill until the third period and then you go crazy. You go crazy! If there’s only 5 minutes left, we’re still sitting on the bench because we can’t play without you. What advice do you have, not for me, because I have a good shot like Antony Duclair, but if you had one piece of advice to give, what would it be?

Thom: Find… umm… the spot on the bench that’s the most comfortable.

Host: (shocked laughter) WOW.

Thom: I’m sorry. (big laughter)

Host: WOW. You there on the ice, such trash talk.

Thom: No no no. (laughing)

Host: It’s impossible. It’s impossible that you don’t trash talk. First of all at Michigan, you trash talked.

Thom: Oh totally.

(both laughing)

Host: Ok. Ok there. We’ve got to be PG, but what is your best trash talk? Your best PG trash talk?

Thom: The best trash talk was our student section at Michigan. They’d look for the families of the players, and they’d get their pictures and social media, ex girlfriends, tinder profiles, all of that.

Host: Shit. You dodged the question by saying that.

Thom: (laughter)

Host: It’s good, it’s good, it’s good. You’re nasty, man.

Thom: PR trained.

Host: You’re nasty. That’s how- no one was talking about it when you came into the league. You explained that it’s not a big deal, but after that, after three years, how do you manage the PR and all of that?

Thom: Uh, well for me, I’ve been lucky with my agent, Pat Brisson. The year before the draft, he had a camp in L.A. We did a practice draft. He made us watch a practice about the news about new supplements and then someone caused a concussion and at the same time-

Host: I caused a concussion..

Thom: (laughs) And at the same time there was an actor from Grown Ups-

Host: Oh yeah?

Thom: -who did our PR training about how to like, show your personality, without putting yourself in a bad spot. He prepared us really well. And then there was a little bit about how to do social media.

Host: It’s not a big deal but that’s not what Jean Sebastian [Dea] said. [Jean-Sebastian Dea's NHL contract was terminated shortly after he appeared on the Sans Restrictions podcast].

[both laughing]

Thom: No comment.

Host: I’m the only one that’s going to lose his job after this podcast. (laughing) Oh man. Okay. It’s true [unintelligible] after the podcast.

Thom: I don’t know about that, but I’ll be surprised if that’s what happens.

Host: Bro, man, [Jean-Sebastian Dea] texted, bro bro [Dea] goes all out for the podcast, okay? Then me, each time I feel like going all out-

Thom: Did you fact check it?

[I’m omitting like three sentences here that make no sense to me]

Host: He came on the podcast.

Thom: He came on the podcast at Christmas?

Host: No at the end of the year. The end of the year. Anyways, he said things, bro. I said what am I going to do with you, man. I said to Bruno [the producer], can we do that? Is that something we can put out? And he said yeah, we can put that out, so I did it and he lost his job. I felt so bad. They said terminated or whatever. I felt bad. I panicked. I texted him, not at the beginning, I texted him two days later, I said yo, my bad, man, he said no, it is what it is, I wanted it. I wanted to sign with the KHL. I said Man, fuck this mother fucker, man. I couldn’t sleep!

Thom: I felt bad!

Host: I couldn’t sleep, bro! But he comes on the pod all the time. He’s welcome to go all out on the pod, the Russians don’t blink, you can say whatever you want^^^. Ok, so what’s been the hardest thing for you right now during your transition from your first year as a pro to your second year? What was the hardest thing, apart from losing 10 to 1?

Thom: Getting sent down to the AHL in my second year.

Host: Oof.

Thom: Yeah, that felt bad.

Host: Did they call you? (mimes putting a phone up to his ear)

Thom: No, it was- At training camp, I made the team, and then I played, mm (he’s counting in his head) eight games? Nine games?

Host: But that went well, didn’t it?

Thom: Personally, I thought it did, but we went zero for ten in the first ten games.

Host: (giggling).

Thom: Something had to give. But you know, obviously, I was the youngest on the team, besides Eklund. And it was me, then Eklund. They wanted me to go back to the AHL. They called me on a road trip that was like seven games, which is a long time to be on the road. We went from California to Florida with stops in Nashville, the Hurricanes, all that. We were on game seven of the road trip and there was a rest day after game six, but before the morning of game seven, at the hotel, the GM called me and came and met me in the lobby. I’d been in the middle of taking a walk, because when we stay in Washington, it’s really beautiful in Georgetown, like around the Four Seasons. It’s really cute. So I was taking a walk, and I was like 15 minutes away from the hotel and he called me and I turned right around and I had a 15 minute walk back and I called my dad because I was sure they were going to send me down. They had just scratched me the game before. I played like 6 games, then I was scratched, then they put me back in the line up for two games, then my last game in the NHL before they sent me down, I remember it was against the Tampa Bay Lightning, we lost, like 8-0. We were more dominated than the game where we lost 10-1. It was horrible. I can’t remember anything except for one zone exit. I think that for me, that was a traumatic NHL game.

Host: He was traumatized!

Thom: One of the things that made me like that, [the zone exit] didn’t bother me until they sent me down.

Host: But that’s crazy, you didn’t have a chance-

Thom: Oh, no, no. Not at all, they tried things-

Host: But that’s not what you told yourself because, for me-

Thom: There was nothing to do, I was just trying to grind it out.

Host: I coach soccer. When the other team drives the ball to us there’s a moment where someone gotta do something.

Thom: Yeah, but…

Host: Hey. Hey.

Thom: But we didn’t necessarily have the tools to-

Host: There wasn’t someone to do something.

Thom: We had Hertl, who did everything for us, but-

Host: Yeah, yeah, but he was all alone.

Thom: Yeah, and Couture was injured the entire season. He had a rough year, unfortunately. He came back for seven games. The seven best games for the Sharks by far. He’s a big piece.

Host: His impact is crazy.

Thom: He’s incredible, a great guy. The best dude ever. He’s really [unintelligible] you can’t replace him. He’s just there to help. He’s like another coach. If you have a question about anything you can ask him and he’ll answer you. He’s my go to when I have a question about anything, it’s him that I ask. He gives me an answer every time with pleasure. He really comes in clutch.

Host: Ok. You lost 8 to 0 and you were at the Four Seasons…

Thom: Yeah, 8-0 and we were at the Four Seasons, I took my walk and they called me, and when I got back then they started talking to me, and I said I think I know where this is going, eh they said unfortunately-

Host: That’s how they welcomed you?

Thom: Well, you know. I didn’t want… I didn’t want… There were other, really good players in the NHL, it’s a tough league. I didn’t want to seem like I had a bad attitude especially because I wanted them to call me back up as fast as possible. Just like, I wanted to play in the AHL and play good minutes, the power play, 5 on 5, and I did that, and when they called me back up to the NHL I wasn’t sent down again because at the end of the season I was playing my best hockey.

Host: And how did they announce that you were being called up again?

Thom: My AHL coach called me and told me, yeah you’ve been called up, you’ll practice with the others tomorrow.

Host: Ok, but talk to me about how it felt! When you were sent down you went from taking the jet to taking the bus.

Thom: Yeah. Yeah.

Host: What takes 2 hours in the NHL takes 12 hours in the AHL.

Thom: Exactly, yeah. It wasn’t that bad but my back did hurt.

Host: So they called you and told you you’re going back to the NHL. How did you react?

Thom: Ah. I was miserable because it was late at night and I just wanted to go back to bed, so I was miserable, but then they told me and I was really excited. And then I didn’t want to go back to bed because I, like, wanted to enjoy it as much as possible before going to bed because I knew as soon as I woke up in the morning it would be like boom business, so I went to bed trying to savor it.

Host: (pretending he’s Thom) Yay! They called me up! [unintelligible]

Thom: Yeah. You switch to a different mode. You enjoy each day. I spent a lot of time with the boys, all of them, even the older guys. It was good to see them again.

Host: So how does like, you’re the smallest one there, right?

Thom: Mmm hmm.

Host: You play like (gestures and makes zooming noise). I have season tickets for the Rocket [the Canadiens AHL affiliate]. Jesus Christ, those guys don’t look where they’re going. I said to Jean-Phillipe Vautier at the celebrity game when he landed a big hit on me, you saw that?

Thom: No.

Host: When he hit me?

Thom: Oh yeah, I think I did see that.

Host: He laid me out, I was like disrespect.

Thom: Me, I’m lucky. I have a guy called Bokondji Imama who changed division.

Host: Oh! You played with Boko?

Thom: Well, I played against him in the AHL.

Host: You played against Boko? Toughhhhh. Was Boko still there when you got sent back down?

Thom: (laughing) Oh, Boko, he’s my boy.

Host: he said, ohh, Boko he doesn’t fuck with me.

Thom: I hope. [unintelligible because he’s laughing so hard]

Host: I know that Boko switches.

Thom: Oh yeah, you see it. Alright, I remember looking for someone else and then, next thing you know, he’s suspended for three games. Damn. Boko’s a different beast.

Host: The toughest guy that I’ve ever met is Boko Imama.

Thom: He skates really fast, he’s the whole package. Shout out Boko Imama.

Host: I saw him at a Rockets game and he was punching guys. Everyone was like eh I’m good. He was pulling on their jerseys like this (pulls the collar of his shirt away from his body). I’m good, I’m good. You’ve never fought, right? You’ve never dropped gloves?

Thom: Me? No, never. I’ve never fought.

Host: You don’t have the taste for it? What’s the closest you’ve ever been to fighting?

Thom: Ah, uhh, there was a moment in the AHL during a back to back where I threw a punch but I didn’t finish it.

Host: It’s what you’ve got to do. I don’t want you to fight because it’s dangerous. (Looks to the camera, pointing) [unintelligible] you ain’t doing this shit. (back to Thom) But you’re capable and say you’re on a team and everyone is squaring off with someone, ok?

Thom: (barely holding back laughter)

Host: Do you look for the smallest guy? Do you scan the crowd or is it really-

Thom: It’s really- It’s the closest guy and if the closest guy is the biggest, you’re like fuck. If the closest guy is the biggest one I just try to keep- I just try to-

Host: What do you guys say to each other when you’re squaring off like that? Like, yo, We’re not the same weight class. You’re heavyweight, I’m lightweight. Do you say, 'it’s not my problem, it’s not your problem, we good? We good'.

Thom: A lot of the time, a lot of the time it’s like that, except for when the other guy did something cheap.

Host: Right, except for that.

Thom: Then there’s no choice. But like if a guy comes out of the penalty box, for something like a back check [laughing too much for me to understand him] (makes a fist and mimes punching someone)

Host: I have a concussion guys! Zach Patterson gave me a concussion. Ok ok. So the AHL, is it, I won’t say easier because there are people who don’t give full respect to the league, but-

Thom: It’s harder.

Host: Yeah. Oh It’s harder, eh? A guy like you has a good way of seeing things. You have good hands. Do you feel like you have more of a place in the NHL than the AHL?

Thom: A little. In a sense, yes just because there’s more finesse in the NHL. In the AHL I’m not a playmaker, I don’t decide games, whatever. There’s less control, it’s just less of a league, but at the same time, there’s enough skills guys on each team, it’s a very good league, but it’s a war every game. Fist after fist.

[someone off screen says something]

Host: You won’t watch AHL games?

Thom: It’s scary.

Host: Oh yeah, it’s more scary.

Thom: Yeah.

Host: Even when I watch the boys play, I text them during the game. (points towards the camera) Yo, by the way, if you play professionally, and you text me back while you’re playing you are a vagabond, ok?

Thom: Yeah that’s weird.

Host: Yo there are so many guys. Yeah! You don’t do that in San Jose?

Thom: No.

Host: You better not.

Thom: (laughter) Put your phone away for the whole period.

Host: I won’t say who it was. I’m not going to snitch, but there was a guy who was texting me for two periods, who is in the NHL, during a very important game. I was working and then I saw a text from him and I was like, are you insane? And then he stopped responding. Do you get on your phone [during a game]?

Thom: No, but there are guys who listen to music on their phone, but no one is like texting (mimes holding a phone in front of him). Maybe sometimes there’s a guy who’s checked out of the game because he wants to text someone.

Host: Oh, huh. Are you going to go to Michigan?

Thom: No, but I went back at the end of last summer. It was really nice to skate with them, they’re a good group to skate with. I’m going to go back before the end of the year.

Host: But you’re not going for a game, for a presentation or anything like that?

Thom: No. No. Michigan, the regionals are in Saint Louis.

Host: Oh, yeah, I saw that.

Thom: We won against North Dakota.

Host: You won a national championship, right?

Thom: No.

[talking over each other- I can't make out what they're saying]

Thom: We lost the frozen four. Yeah. Tough game. One and done man. Tough game. All our season for one game, man.

Host: With all the talent you guys had?

Thom: Yeah.

Host: When you went back to the room and looked around you at all the talent-

Thom: Yeah.

Host: -did you say the fuck happened?

Thom: There were a lot of things expressed in that dressing room by the players there, unfortunately.

[both laughing]

Host: Yes! This is just for me. This is my overtime. What are you watching at the moment to relax?

Thom: I started-

Host: Rookie?

Thom: Alice in Borderland.

Host: What’s that?

Thom: (asking someone off screen) It’s what, Chinese? It’s like, like the same type of thing as Squid Games, but different.

Host: Would you do the Squid Games?

Thom: No, are you insane? It’s too much up to chance.

Host: But the game show version, would you do that?

Thom: Oh, the fake one? Oh yeah, well sure, I would do that. Will there be a Squid Games Quebec?

Host: Don’t give them the idea, man. They’re always looking for ideas. They have 100 USD hidden, what game do you think, without a team, which game could you do?

Thom: I’m trying to remember what the games were.

Host: There’s marbles, the one where you lick a cookie, there’s the, uhh, ice that you have to jump.

Thom: For me, I think the cookie one, or the first one where you have to turn around.

Host: Oh yeah.

Thom: It’s easy.

Host: Really, the cookie one?

Thom: Yeah, the cookie one.

Host: You’re not meticulous enough for that bro.

Thom: I’ll manage.

[both laughing. The host stands up and doubles over]

Thom: I have a wet mouth.

[both laughing more]

Host: Wooo. The podcast is almost over. The podcast is over, huh? Oh shit. I try to talk about business, because that’s what the podcast is for, but I also try to discover the person.

[Both of them laughing too hard to talk]

Host: You can’t make this shit up.

Thom: (takes a sip of water)

Host: I’m trying to reflect. I’m in a wedding, ok? (starts laughing again because Thom looks at him) Hold on, I’m trying to tell you. I’m in a wedding, and it’s all the same people together, and I’m in their wedding and at their wedding they have so many hockey players and I didn’t really know what was happening in the conversation but they explained to me, you know do your thing. Come on, Kev, do your thing, and after that I had 20 pros who were coaching me. Bro.

Thom: Like uncles.

Host: Best moment of my life. Best moment of my life. So I took their advice, you understand? It was theoretical, it was practical, right?

Thom: Yes.

Host: I did my thing, bro.

Thom: So you’re a pro now, or?

Host: No, no, no. My lady and me. She did my thing, bro. It was totally crazy. I woke up and I went to hide in the bathroom, and I texted my people like ‘yo, that worked!’

Thom: No way.

Host: Bro, since that day, bro, my game is at another level bro.

[both laughing]

[both talking over one another]

Host: (pointing at someone offscreen) You go out there (pointing at the door) and I’ll tell you (looking at Thom) something after.

Thom: Okay, okay.

Host: Okay, to finish, if they made a movie out of your life, what type of movie would it be? A romantic comedy, a thriller, what type of movie would it be and who would play you?

Thom: Damn.

Host: And don’t say Tom Holland, you’re too beefy for Tom Holland.

Thom: I don’t know, Tom Holland is pretty beefy.

Host: He goes to the gym?

Thom: Yeah, have you seen him?

Host: Tom Holland does not go to the gym.

Thom: He goes in Spiderman.

Host: Bro, that’s the wish version of Spiderman.

Thom: [unintelligible] Spiderman.

Host: Tobey McGuire is Spiderman bro. What are you talking about? I watched Endgame.

Thom: I have a special love for Tony Stark. I don’t know why, because Spiderman [unintelligible] Tony Stark.

Host: Really, Tony Stark?

Thom: Yeah.

Host: Really?

Thom: Yeah. Iron Man is just a different breed, different aura.

Host: Iron Man’s a little bit of a bitch.

Thom: You think so?

Host: Out of all the superheroes he’s the least powerful.

Thom: The least powerful?!

Host: Bro, he’s a robot.

Thom: But at the end- did you watch the movies? It’s because of him that everything works out!

Host: It might be because of him that everything works out but-

Thom: The technology is insane. Insane.

Host: Alright, moving on.

Thom: He was able to beat Hulk.

Host: Hulk? Hulk isn’t that strong by himself.

Thom: Iron Man isn’t in the same division as the ones that can change reality-

Host: Oh those are whack, those are whack, man, Dr. Strange is a bitch, the day he’s not happy with the way things are he fucks off. The best one is Black Panther.

Thom: Dope. Dope.

Host: Wakanda! My king!

Thom: (into the camera) RIP. RIP.

Host: Ok so who would play you in the movie?

Thom: What type of movie?

Host: Clearly it would be a superhero movie.

Thom: Oh well, maybe. [unintelligible]

Host: [laughing too much for me to understand him]. Ok, so who would play you?

Thom: Who would play me? Uh, I like…

Host: (pointing at someone off screen) Help him.

Thom: The guy that played Harvey Spector, but like in a comedy movie.

Host: Harvey?

Thom: Harvey Spector.

Host: That guy is like 45.

Thom: You want someone that’s my age?

Host: Oh no, but I didn’t expect to hear ‘Harvey Spector’.

Thom: Okay but I don’t know actors that are my age. I think, in the world, like-

Host: Harvey Spector could work.

Thom: Yeah, I think for an adult me.

Host: Like a future you?

Thom: Yeah.

Host: And what would the title of your book be?

Thom: The title of my book? Damn.

Host: I wrote a book, you know.

Thom: Oh really?

Host: I wrote a real book.

Thom: Nice. Is it good?

Host: This book is insane.

Thom: What’s it about?

Host: I can’t say.

Thom: Oh, so it’s not out yet. I’m sure I would have seen it otherwise. You made me think I missed it.

Host: Have you seen the Stanley Cup?

Thom: Seen?

Host: Yeah.

Thom: In my life, I think, yes? But I was young. As for my book, I’d call it bwater^^^^.

Host: bwater?

Thom: (holds up his glass of water) Bwater.

Host: Be water?

Thom: Be water.

Host: Why?

Thom: Adapt. Change form according to your container.

Host: That’s fucking nice. Bwater I like that.

Thom: With a little b-

Host: Like a type of water? That’s great.

Thom: Marketing.

Host: Marketing, yo bwater. That’s a classic, you take off your jersey and underneath (he mimes opening up his shirt) bwater. Okay, last thing. Why are you wearing that hat? Are you a 49’ers fan?

Thom: Yeah, in San Francisco, San Jose-

Host: But are you a fan of the team?

Thom: Of course. I went to two games this year.

Host: A fan of the team for real?

Thom: Yeah.

Host: Y’all like to lose, huh?

Thom: (laughter) It was a strong year for them.

Host: A strong year?

Thom: We’re doing good over here.

Host: You had two super bowls but you’re not in the Stanley Cup finals, you understand, so what are your extension requirements.

Thom: I remember we watched [the Superbowl] live in a restaurant as a team. We watched the TV like (leans forward and stares, eyes wide) what’s happening. I didn’t come back after they lost like that. But shout out to their insane season.

Host: Have you already told the guys on the team?

Thom: I haven’t said anything. I’ve seen Deebo [Samuel] at a shopping mall.

Host: You just crossed paths?

Thom: Yeah. He had shopping bags. He was with someone else.

Host: Did you say ‘What’s up’ to Deebo?

Thom: No, I didn’t say ‘What’s up’ to Deebo at that time. He was on a mission.

Host: In and out. (Laughter). I pass through that neighborhood sometimes.

Thom: Oh really?

Host: There’s [an In-N-Out Burger] in Montreal, did you know?

Thom: Is it uptown?

Host: No, it’s like, on Mansfield. There’s one over there.

Thom: But, no. The guys on the 49’ers I don’t know where they live, because the stadium is ten minutes from San Jose. It’s not in San Fransisco.

Host: I don’t know where the guys are, but the stadium is insane, for example-

Thom: The stadium is sick but it’s ten minutes from San Jose, so it’s 35 minutes from San Francisco, you know?

Host: Have you had any other encounters with celebrities during the season?

Thom: During the season? Who have I met… (thinking)

Host: You don’t have a lot of celebrities in San Jose.

Thom: Uhhh, no we don’t have a lot in San Jose. At times at games we’ve had a couple.

Host: [something about Montreal]

Thom: We only come to Montreal once a year.

Host: Oh poor guy.

Thom: We come in the night before a game, maybe like 1 am and after we play, we leave.

Host: Tommy B?

Thom: Yo.

Host: Thanks a lot for coming on the pod. Do your thing. Off season. There’s no reason to work too hard.

Thom: Yes sir.

Host: Don’t say anything (turning towards the camera) PAY THE MAN.

Thom: (giggles)

Host: PAY. THE. MAN. Put the cash in his account! That’s all I’m asking! Lots and lots of cash! Alright. Pay the man.

Thom: Help your employee.

Host: (laughter) Help your employee. I said not to say anything and you say ‘help your employee’. [unintelligible] the poor thing. Shit.

Notes: *I'm not sure what La Valle is, or if I'm spelling it right. **I'm not sure how to translate this because I'm not familiar with golf terminology in English. ***The french phrase I’m translating as ‘pisses me off’ literally translates to ‘makes me shit myself’. Just a little french lesson for you guys. ****Thom said ‘le nouveau Kid’ like referencing Sid the Kid but translating it to ‘the new kid’ has different connotations in English than it did in French. ^a type of compression therapy ^^The score of the game that Thom is talking about was San Jose 2, Ottawa 1. Thom scored both of San Jose’s goals. ^^^The host is probably unaware but Dea’s KHL contract had already been terminated by the airing of this podcast. ^^^^This is probably a pun. L’eau is the French word for water, like in Bordeleau.

#thomas bordeleau #san jose sharks #kevin raphael #sans restrictions podcast #translation

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