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arthur frederick and the new producer: chapter 2 ₊˚⊹♡

words: 4,476 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆arthurtv slow burn, bach and arthur podcast

after lara leaves bach and arthur’s podcast, you become her replacement. after discovering that arthur hates change, it takes a lot for him to warm up to you and become friends. it also takes a lot for him to admit how he truly feels about you.

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Chapter One

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Chapter Two ₊˚⊹♡

The next day, you show up to the studio a little more prepared. The anxiety that gnawed at you the night before has faded, replaced by a sense of determination. Isaac’s words are still echoing in your mind: Don’t take his quietness personally. You’ve done your part, and now you just need to focus on the work.

The studio is already humming with activity when you arrive. Arthur is behind the desk, fiddling with the computer, his brow furrowed in concentration. Isaac is sitting on one of the chairs, scrolling through his phone. As you step in, you can sense the tension still hanging in the air, but it’s different this time. Less thick, maybe, less uncomfortable.

Arthur glances up from the computer as you walk in, and you catch a flicker of something in his expression. Maybe it’s a flash of regret, or maybe it’s just the way his eyes meet yours, but it’s there. He stands up from behind the desk, a little awkwardly, and rubs the back of his neck, clearly trying to make things right.

“Hey,” he says, his voice lower than usual, softer. “I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. I wasn’t… trying to make things uncomfortable. I know I’m not the easiest guy to work with when things change. It’s just… it’s a thing I have to get used to.”

You blink, surprised by the genuine apology. Arthur isn’t the type to readily admit fault, or so it seems. His tone is almost apologetic, and it makes you feel a little more at ease.

You offer a small smile, shrugging off the tension that still lingers between you two. “It’s really okay. No need to apologize. We’re still getting to know each other. I get it.”

Arthur nods, his hands shoved in his pockets, his usual guarded demeanour still there but softer now. “Yeah, well… I’ll try to make it less weird. I just… it’s not easy for me to adjust to new things. But we’ll figure it out.”

You nod back, feeling a little lighter. “I’m sure we will. No worries.”

The recording session starts smoothly enough, though you can tell Arthur’s keeping a critical eye on everything. He’s focused on the technical side, as always, adjusting his mic, and making sure he’s positioned just right. You, on the other hand, are more focused on keeping the flow going, keeping track of the notes, and making sure everything stays on schedule.

As you’re all getting into the conversation for the next segment, Arthur continues to monitor everything closely. You try to keep the mood light, chatting with Isaac about something random, just to keep the energy going. And then, as you settle back into the rhythm of the recording, you hear it.

Arthur’s voice, calm and collected, asks a question. “Alright, Lara, can you just—”

Your stomach drops for a moment.

Lara? You blink, your mind processing the slip-up. Did he just say, Lara?

Arthur’s eyes widen, and for a split second, there’s a brief, uncomfortable silence as he realizes what he’s said. His face goes red, and you can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to correct himself.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, his voice flustered. “I meant— sorry, I don’t know why I said that.

You freeze for just a moment, then let out a small laugh, the tension easing away from your body. It’s not like you’ve never been mistaken for someone else before, but the fact that it’s happening now, with Arthur, feels oddly relieving.

“It’s fine,” you say with a grin. “I’ll just cut it out.”

Arthur, still looking embarrassed, gives a small, relieved chuckle. “Right. I’ll get it right next time, I swear.”

Isaac, who has been listening from the side, can’t resist. “Smooth, Arthur,” he teases, a grin spreading across his face. “You’ve gotta start calling her by the right name now. That’s two strikes.”

Arthur looks at Isaac with, a half-hearted glare, but there’s no real anger behind it. It’s more playful than anything. “I said I was sorry,” Arthur mutters, clearly still flustered.

You decide to ease his embarrassment. “Seriously, it’s really okay. I’ll just edit it out of the recording, no big deal.”

Arthur’s shoulders relax a little at that, and for the first time, you notice a slight shift in his posture, like the weight of the situation has lightened just a bit.

Isaac laughs and gives Arthur a teasing look. “Don’t worry, man. She’s way more chill than you are.”

You chuckle, feeling your nerves loosen. “I’m just here to get the job done. And hey, mistakes happen.”

Arthur nods, his face still a little red but now looking slightly more at ease. “Yeah, well… thanks for being understanding. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

The session continues after that, and while Arthur remains focused, detailed, precise, and ever-critical there’s a subtle shift in the air. The tension that had lingered between the three of you is not as bad now, and even Arthur seems to have relaxed just a bit. It’s a small change, but it’s something.

As the recording wraps up, you feel like the day has gone a little better than expected. Things are still a little formal, but you can sense a slight softening from Arthur. Maybe this whole transition won’t be as difficult as you thought.

Before leaving, Arthur gives you a short nod. “Good work today. We’ll be back at it again soon.”

You smile, glad the day is finally over. “Thanks, Arthur. I’ll see you next time.”

Isaac gives you a small wave and a wide smile. “See you later. Don’t let Arthur bite you next time.”

You laugh, feeling the last of the tension melt away. “No promises.”

As you gather your things and make your way out of the studio, you feel a little more at ease. Sure, Arthur might still be a bit reserved, but today felt like a step in the right direction. Maybe, just maybe, you and Arthur will find a way to make this work. It’s early yet, but you’re optimistic.

Later that evening, after the recording session, you sit down at your desk, a cup of tea in hand. You pull out your notes, mentally sorting through ideas for the next episode. There are some technical changes you want to make, as well as a few suggestions for adjusting the flow. Arthur has been quiet on your ideas lately, so you’re hoping that putting them in writing might make things easier.

Taking a deep breath, you open your messages and start typing to Arthur:

You: Hi Arthur, I’ve been thinking about the next episode and wanted to run a few ideas by you.

You: For the intro, I was thinking of tightening it up a bit, maybe cutting down some of the back-and-forth, and then transitioning into the discussion on science in the media. I think it might flow better that way.

You: Also, I’m planning to shift the pacing a little so the segments feel smoother, and not too abrupt. Let me know if you have any thoughts or if you’d like to adjust anything.

You re-read the message once more, making sure it doesn’t sound too casual or too formal, and then hit send.

A few minutes pass before his reply shows up.

Arthur: Yeah, we could do that.

It’s short, too short, and it doesn’t feel like the kind of confirmation you were hoping for. It’s polite but distant. You hesitate, wondering if you should clarify more or give him a bit of space. But it’s hard to tell with Arthur, he’s never the type to volunteer his thoughts unless you push.

You quickly type back:

You: Great. I’ve also been thinking about how we structure the segments. Maybe we could break up the discussion a bit more, and give each part a clearer focus. Do you think that could work? Or is that going too far off track from the way things have been?

A long minute goes by. You begin to second-guess your approach. Should you have sent a more detailed outline? Would it have been better to just go over these ideas in person? You glance at your phone again, willing it to buzz with a more substantial response.

Finally, the next message comes in.

Arthur: I’m not sure about breaking up the segments too much. We’ve got a rhythm, and I don’t want to mess with that unless it’s necessary. But I’m open to tweaking the flow a little like you said.

You feel a slight frustration creeping in, but you try to keep it in check. Arthur’s always like this, careful with changes, and meticulous about keeping the podcast grounded in its original structure. You don’t necessarily disagree, but it can be hard to push for progress when he’s so cautious.

You type your response, trying to phrase it in a way that respects his approach but still moves things forward:

You: Got it. I just think tightening up the pacing could help us maintain the energy. But I’ll make sure not to mess with anything too much.

There’s a brief pause before his reply comes in again.

Arthur: I’m not saying don’t change anything. Just let’s take it slow, yeah?

His tone, though still a bit distant, seems less cold this time. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to fully shut you down, but he’s also not ready to embrace your suggestions completely.

You let out a soft breath, your fingers hovering over the phone for a second, unsure of how to respond. Arthur’s cautious nature is wearing you thin, but you remind yourself, that this is progress, even if it’s slow. Extremely slow.

You reply with:

You: Absolutely, I’ll keep it gradual. I appreciate you taking the time to go over these with me.

The reply comes quickly this time.

Arthur: No problem.

It’s the most he’s said to you all day, and despite the still-cautious tone, you can’t help but feel a bit of relief. Maybe it’s small, but it’s something.

You sit back in your chair and breathe out slowly, feeling a little more at ease with the upcoming recording. There’s still a long way to go before things feel comfortable with Arthur, but this message, this little back-and-forth, the slight conversation reminds you that Arthur is human just like you.

You smile to yourself, finally putting your phone down. You’ll just have to take things one episode at a time.

The next morning, you arrive at the studio early, hoping to get everything ready before the others show up. The low hum of the air conditioning fills the otherwise quiet room, and you take a deep breath as you begin setting up the equipment. You double-check the microphones, adjust the levels on the soundboard, and make sure the recording software is ready to go.

A few minutes later, you hear the door open. Arthur steps inside, looking as serious as ever. He gives you a brief nod, not quite warm, but not cold either, and heads to the table without saying much.

“Good morning,” you say, trying to sound casual, though you can’t help the slight tension in your voice.

“Morning,” he responds without much inflexion, his eyes briefly flicking toward you before he focuses on the phone in his hand.

You watch him for a moment, then turn your attention back to the equipment. You’ve been thinking a lot about the changes you planned to implement. You’ve adjusted the intro to be a bit tighter, and you want to suggest a new structure for the segments. It’s all part of trying to help the show feel a little fresher without losing what’s already there.

“I made some changes to the intro,” you say, breaking the silence. “I tightened it up a bit. It should help with pacing.”

Arthur doesn’t immediately respond, but you can feel his attention shift toward you. He doesn’t look thrilled, but he’s not dismissing it outright either.

“I’ll listen to it when we start recording,” he mutters, taking a sip of his coffee. “As long as you didn’t go overboard.”

You nod, trying to suppress the knot forming in your stomach. You’d hoped for a little more enthusiasm, but at least he didn’t shut you down completely.

“Maybe add a little more interaction with the camera so it feels a bit more connected, you know?”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, setting his coffee mug down with a faint clink. “Connected, huh? Well, I suppose we can try it. As long as you don’t mess with the format too much.”

You smile slightly, but there’s a hint of tension behind the smile. “I won’t. Just a few adjustments here and there.”

Arthur considers it for a moment. “Yeah, we could do that. I hope it doesn’t hurt to try something new.

His words hang in the air, and you feel the sting of the backhanded compliment. It’s not exactly praise, but it’s not a flat-out rejection either. You try to keep your tone positive as you reply, “Right. Just a few adjustments to see how it feels.”

Arthur takes another sip of his coffee, watching you with a careful expression. “Well, as long as you’re not trying to turn it into something it’s not, it should be fine. But don’t get too attached to any one idea if it doesn’t work.”

You nod, keeping your voice steady. “Understood. I think it could help.”

Arthur stands still for a moment, his gaze flickering over to the soundboard. “Fine,” he says, though there’s a slight edge to his tone. “Just don’t change everything all at once. People don’t like it when things change too fast.”

You smile, doing your best to keep things professional. “Of course. Just a few small things.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything else as he heads toward the door. “Alright. I’ll be in the recording room. Let’s see what happens.”

As the rest of the team arrives and the session gets underway, you try to keep the changes subtle, hoping to ease into the new structure without rocking the boat too much. Arthur watches you closely, though he doesn’t offer much in the way of feedback, and you can’t quite tell if he’s warming up to the ideas or just biding his time.

When the session wraps up, you take a deep breath, trying to gauge his reaction. Arthur’s expression is neutral, but his words are the first sign of approval you’ve gotten, even if it’s more reserved than you’d like.

“Not bad,” he says, still with that distant edge to his tone.

You nod, not quite sure how to respond. His approval, if you can even call it that, feels like it’s wrapped in layers of hesitance. But it’s something. It’s progress, at least.

“Thanks, Arthur,” you say, forcing a smile. “I’m glad it worked out.”

He meets your gaze for a brief moment, then turns to pack up his things. “Yeah, well. I’ll catch you next time.”

You watch him go, feeling that same mix of frustration and resolve. Gaining Arthur’s trust is going to take more than a few changes to the show. But you’re in it for the long haul.

The evening air is crisp as you walk home, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet street. The weight of the day’s recording session feels better now, and you can’t help but feel a small sense of relief. Arthur’s approval, however reserved, was a step in the right direction. Things felt like they were getting better, even if it was just by a little bit.

As you push open the door to your flat, the familiar warmth greets you, and you let out a deep breath. The apartment is quiet except for the soft clink of dishes from the kitchen. Emma’s sitting at the table, as she scrolls through her phone.

“Hey,” she says without looking up. “How’d it go today?”

You drop your bag by the door and kick off your shoes. “Better. Arthur was still… Arthur. But I think he’s starting to warm up to the changes. He even said the pacing was tighter, so that’s something.”

Emma looks up, raising an eyebrow. “Tighter? That’s progress, right?”

“Yeah,” you reply, sinking into the chair across from her. “He said it wasn’t a disaster. So, I’m counting that as a win.”

Emma grins turning off her phone to give you her attention. “You’re definitely making progress, then. Sounds like you’re wearing him down.”

“I don’t know about wearing him down,” you say, laughing. “But it feels like he’s finally starting to see what I’m trying to do. It’s definitely not smooth sailing, but I think I’m on the right track.”

“Good,” she says, putting her phone down. “You’ve got this. I told you it’d get better.”

You smile, grateful for her support. “Yeah. Thanks for keeping me grounded.”

The conversation drifts to other things as Emma talks about her day, but in the back of your mind, you can’t help but replay the moments from the recording session. The small victories, the subtle shifts in Arthur’s attitude.

A few days later, the podcast episode finally gets released on YouTube. You’re sitting in your room, headphones on, making some final tweaks to the next episode’s edits when your phone lights up with a notification. It’s from Arthur.

You pause, lifting your phone to read the message.

Arthur: People liked the episode. It was a good idea.

You blink at the screen, not sure what to make of it. Arthur’s compliment is brief, but there’s a certain sincerity in it that you haven’t felt from him before. It’s not effusive praise, but it’s the closest he’s come to offering any kind of real recognition.

You tap out a reply.

You: Thanks! I’m glad it worked out. I thought the pacing changes would help. Do you think we can keep it for next time?

There’s a pause before his reply comes through.

Arthur: Yeah, I think it could work. We’ll see how it plays out over time. But it didn’t mess things up, so that’s something.

You smile to yourself, feeling the smallest spark of pride at his words. It’s still not glowing praise, but it’s progress. You decide to push your luck a bit further.

You: Well, it’s good to know it didn’t ruin everything. I was a little worried about messing with the format too much, but I think it’s working so far.

The phone buzzes again, and you tap to read the response.

Arthur: It’s fine. Just don’t get too attached to one idea. We might need to adjust some stuff as we go. But, yeah, it worked. For now.

You laugh softly, appreciating his honesty, even if it’s wrapped in that typical reserved Arthur style. He’s not exactly glowing, but it’s the most approval you’ve received from him yet.

You: Got it. I’m just trying to make sure the podcast feels fresh without losing what makes it good. Thanks for sticking with it.

Another moment passes before he replies, and you can almost picture him standing there, weighing his words.

Arthur: I don’t like to change much, but if it helps the podcast, I’m all for it. Just don’t go too crazy.

You grin at the message, feeling a wave of relief. Maybe you’re finally on the same page after all.

You: No worries, I’ll keep it balanced. Appreciate the feedback, Arthur. It really means a lot.

Arthur’s reply is quick.

Arthur: Yeah, well. Don’t expect me to say it often. But you’re doing alright so far.

You can’t help but laugh aloud at that, even though his words still carry that distant edge. It’s better than nothing, though.

You: I’ll take it. Thanks, Arthur.

Arthur: You’re welcome.

The conversation ends, and you lean back in your chair, a smile tugging at your lips. It wasn’t exactly the kind of glowing feedback you might have hoped for, but it’s progress. Real progress. For the first time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to fit in.

As you settle back into your editing, you can’t help but replay his words in your mind, and for the first time, you start to believe that things might just work out after all.

The morning feels different today. You’re getting ready for the studio, but there’s something about today that feels a little more intentional. As you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, you take your time. You swipe a bit of makeup on your face, just enough to brighten your eyes and smooth out the skin, a small effort to look more put together than usual. You’ve got plans after work, meeting up with your friends for a drink, so you figure why not make a little more effort than usual?

When you finish, you pull on a nice shirt and a pair of black jeans. It’s still casual but just a little more polished than the usual hoodie and jeans. You grab your bag, check yourself one last time in the mirror, and nod to yourself. You look good, or at least better than the usual rush of getting ready in the mornings.

The studio is a short walk away, and by the time you arrive, you feel like you’ve set a tone for the day. You’re ready to take on whatever comes, but there’s a small, fluttering excitement in the back of your mind about the evening plans.

When you step inside the studio, you’re immediately greeted by the familiar sound of the equipment being set up, Isaac moving around, and Arthur sitting at the desk with a coffee cup in hand. His eyes flick up briefly as you enter, but it’s Arthur, he doesn’t seem to acknowledge the extra effort you’ve put into your appearance. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that something feels different today.

You settle into your usual spot, plugging in your laptop and starting to prep the recording software. As you get everything lined up, you notice out of the corner of your eye that Arthur is staring at you.

It’s subtle at first. A glance here, a longer look there. But as he munches on his breakfast, you realise it’s more than just casual glances. He’s looking at you, his focus a little too intense. You can almost feel his gaze, and it’s starting to make you a bit uncomfortable.

You take a deep breath and finally turn your head toward him. “You okay?” you ask, trying to keep your tone casual, though you can feel the uncertainty hanging in the air.

Arthur blinks, his eyes darting away from you for a split second. He’s caught off guard, but he quickly recovers, wiping his mouth with a napkin before replying. “Yeah. Fine. Just… wondering where you’re going after this.”

His voice is frustratingly neutral, but you can sense there’s something off, he’s not his usual distant self, but the tone of his question has an edge of curiosity that seems out of place.

You glance at him for a moment, unsure of how to read the energy shift. “Oh, I’m going out with my friends after this,” you explain, shrugging a little as if it’s no big deal. “It’s been a while, and I thought I’d take a break from work tonight.”

Arthur nods slowly, then goes back to his food, but his eyes flick up again, almost like he’s trying not to stare directly at you. The silence that falls between you both feels heavier than usual.

“Okay,” he mutters as if he’s forcing the words out.

You try to ignore the strange tension that’s started to build between you two. You turn back to your laptop, hoping to get back to focusing on the work at hand. But out of the corner of your eye, you can still feel Arthur’s eyes on you, lingering, as if he’s studying you more than he usually does.

It’s distracting, and you can’t help but wonder why. Is it because you look a little more put together today? Or is it something else? You tell yourself not to overthink it, but it’s hard not to when his eyes keep flicking back to you in little bursts.

You take a deep breath and shift your focus back to your work, doing your best to ignore the weight of his stare.

The walk home feels longer than usual, the familiar path beneath your feet blurring as your mind races. You replay the day in your head, the awkward interactions, the looks, the laughter. Every small detail becomes magnified, making you question everything.

What did I do wrong? Did I mess something up?

Your thoughts spiral. You can’t shake the image of Arthur staring at you earlier, or how Isaac had looked at him before they both laughed. It didn’t seem malicious, but it felt… weird. Were they laughing at me?

You pull out your phone, your fingers itching to ask someone, to get an answer. You open your messages and send a text to Isaac, hoping he can give you some clarity.

You: Hey, what was all the laughing about today?

You quickly tuck the phone back into your pocket, your heart beating a little faster. What if you’re reading too much into it? What if it’s nothing?

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes, and you pull it out to see Isaac’s reply.

Isaac: Just Arthur being weird, don’t worry about it.

You frown at the screen, not satisfied with that answer. What does that mean?

The message takes a little longer this time, and when it comes, it’s just a short, Nothing important.

You bite your lip, not ready to let it go just yet. But what were you laughing about, exactly?

There’s a slight delay, and then another message pops up.

Isaac: Alright, alright. Arthur just said you looked good today, that’s all.

Your heart skips a beat. Arthur said that? The Arthur who barely looks at you unless he has to? That Arthur?

You stare at your screen for a long moment, not sure how to process it. Finally, you type back,

You: He said I looked good?

Isaac’s reply is quick.

Isaac: Yeah, he did. He’s not great at giving compliments, but he meant it, trust me.

You blink at your phone, your stomach fluttering a little.

You: Well, that’s nice. I guess.

There’s a brief pause before Isaac’s next message arrives.

Isaac: Don’t overthink it, alright? Arthur’s just a little odd sometimes. But yeah, he meant it. Between us, he really meant it.

You exhale, finally feeling a bit better. Maybe it was nothing to worry about after all. Arthur’s compliment, though awkwardly delivered, was still a compliment. A compliment that made your cheeks slightly pink without realising.

You slip your phone back into your pocket, your thoughts slowing down as you continue your walk home.

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Chapter Three

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a/n: i hope you guys like my chapter 2 I PROMISE THERE WILL BE LOVE JUST REMEMBER ITS A SLOW BURN

for my lovely commenters:

@rubyskies @rkaya @pookietv @rougetv @arthurhillmastermind @picklepiastri @pretendyoucantseeme

#george clarkey #arthur hill #george clarke #chrismd #italianbach #arthur tv #arthur tv fluff #arthurtv fluff #arthurtv smut #arthur tv smut #arthurtv fics #arthurtv

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dailynnt · 18 hours ago

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FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

Summary: What happens when two best friends try to get along under the same roof? You've been living with Jungkook for three months now, but your cohabitation is still a challenge for you. He continues to live like a real bachelor without following the rules you agreed upon from the beginning of your decision to live together. Should you find a compromise or should you find a new place to live?

Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hosuk.

🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

📑 Number of words: ❓

📕 Number of part: 2/?

🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, ex-relationships, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character. Tags will be added as the story is written.

👩🏼‍💻 From the author: I can't believe I wrote the second part. I am so happy with how it turned out. I hope you will also enjoy it and look forward to the sequel. I will try to write it as soon as possible. I tried to create tension between Y/N and Jungkook. In part three, you'll find something very hot, so stay tuned for part three. Thanks to everyone who liked my story, I will do my best for you.

⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

→ Part 1

Part 2. In theory

Today was a day off. Sunday. The one and only day when you could devote it entirely to yourself and not to your studies. Even though exams were about to start before the New Year holidays, you still recognized that you needed to rest, otherwise you might go crazy. This day could have started better if not for the morning's fight with Jungkook. And that's why you feel uncomfortable. You seem to have resolved everything and he has apologized, but there is some unpleasant residue. The emotions that you've been holding in for so long have left behind this very residue.

It wasn't just the quarrel you had this morning that made you feel uncomfortable. Jungkook. That's who was really making you feel as if you were detached from reality. His "question" about your love life kept repeating in your head.

Why did he suddenly want to know? Did you behave in such a way that he wanted to ask you about it? You had conversations on this topic, but it turned out that most often it was when you got together with a large group of your friends. One of them would start, and the evening would turn into a discussion of sexual achievements. Not infrequently, when you were drinking with Jungkook, he would also start such conversations, but you tried to avoid them.

But the truth is this. You only want to know one thing: why did he want to know if you had sex? What business is it of his?

You beat your fists on the bed. This question was tearing at your brain. Why are you lying here thinking about this? Don't you have anything better to do?!

You heard the sound of the combination lock. Jungkook had returned from the store. Your heart beat faster and felt like stomach was being stirred with a spoon. You sat on the bed and stared at the front door of your bedroom.

You need to calm down. You need to act normal. This is Jungkook, your best friend. You've known him for so long, so why would you have any problems with him now? You stood up and clenched your fists. "I'm going to make it through this. Nothing strange has happened. I'll treat my friend like I always do!" You straightened your hoodie, pulled up the sweatpants you loved to wear at home, and confidently opened the door to the living room.

Jungkook was on the doorstep, taking off his shoes. His black jacket was already hanging on the nightstand at the entrance. Two large bags of groceries were standing next to him. Noticing the white containers, you concluded that he had bought ready-made food. That's why he was gone for so long.

Your best friend noticed you. When your eyes met, you felt a twinge inside. And you literally lost to yourself. Your heart started pounding again, and your breathing became rapid, but you tried to hold on. In a split second, you ran your eyes over his figure, and you liked what you saw in front of you very much. Jungkook was dressed in all black. He liked to dress like that, 90% of his wardrobe was black. The other 10% were white clothes. For some reason, he did not wear colored clothes. The black Calvin Klein hoodie fit him perfectly. His pants were the same color with many pockets. His hair was slightly disheveled, probably because he was wearing a hood.

Jungkook picked up the bags and smiled broadly. "I decided it would take too long to cook, and we were already hungry. So I bought some ready-to-eat food." - He rustled the bags. You smiled awkwardly. Mentally scolding yourself for acting like a fool, you walked towards Jungkook, who had already come to the table and started to open up the containers of food.

"You're such a smart boy for thinking of that, because I'm really hungry." - You said as you helped Jungkook take out and open the lunchboxes.

"But you had breakfast!" - Your friend protested. "You fried some eggs for yourself and didn't even leave me a piece!"

"Two eggs without anything is not breakfast. Consider it as if I didn't eat anything. And I didn't fry them for you because you thought deserve them?" - You jabbed your finger at him. Jungkook giggled.

"I really didn't deserve breakfast this morning. But to make it up to you, I bought something for you." - Jungkook said. You looked at him. He was taking something out of the bottom of the bag. And as soon as the craft rectangular box appeared, you squealed with happiness.

"Donuts!" - You squeaked. You had no idea that Jungkook would buy your favorite hazelnut and chocolate-filled donuts. You loved all the donuts in the world, but these were your favorite.

You threw your arms around Jungkook and hugged him. And you kept squealing with joy. Donuts were the only thing that made you feel good, and your friend knew it. So it couldn't have been better. Jungkook hugged you around the waist with one arm, laughing, and tried to hold the box of dessert in the other.

"Thank you!" - You were still squeaking over Jungkook's ear. You probably would have hugged your friend for another 5 minutes and mocked his eardrums, but at that moment Jungkook's phone rang. You had to let him go. Handing you a box of donuts, your friend picked up the phone.

"Hello!" - Jungkook said. He went to the sink, and you continued to set the table.

You opened all the boxes and looked forward to finally having a good meal. Jungkook bought pork jangmyeon, kimchi, pickled radish, five packages of cooked rice (Jungkook eats a lot of rice for lunch), your favorite pulgogi, pocheeji (tofu stew), and stewed vegetables. You were almost salivating at the sight and smell of the food. You walked over to the chopstick stand and heard Jungkook talking.

"...Nothing special. I don't think I even asked her name." - You realized who Jungkook was talking about and with whom he was talking. It was Jimin, and conversation was about this morning girl who you had seen in the morning. You looked up at Jungkook. You had to nudge him to the side to get the chopsticks.

"I drunk but remember all. It was good, I don't think I'll call her again." - The irritation reappeared. But why would you care what Jungkook is talking about? But your mood disappeared easily. You were annoyed that he was talking with Jimin about the this morning girl. The image of her in your head made you think back to the fight, which made you feel uncomfortable. "How annoying... let him start telling him in detail about what they were doing there!" - You were angry. Why do he have to discuss it so loudly? You feel like you're eavesdropping, but he's talking so loudly that you have to be deaf not to hear.

You sat down at the table and started eating without waiting for Jungkook. Your movements were sudden and loud. Jungkook noticed that you started eating without him and smiled slyly. Your sudden, irritated movements could not escape his eyes.

"But you know what, Hyung? I haven't had a blowjob this good in a long time." - You spat out the pulgogi you had put in your mouth a moment before. You coughed, covering your mouth with your hand so that you couldn't be heard.

Jimin didn't know you were living with Jungkook, no one did. You were the one who asked don’t to tell anyone. You explained that you might be misunderstood, because everyone already suspected you were dating. But this did not happen. Even though you spent most of your time with Jungkook, it didn't mean that you were dating. You were just really good friends. Like soul mates. Although, considering the last three months, you were like sworn enemies.

Jungkook walked over to you and lightly patted you on the back while he continued to talk on the phone.

"I can give you her number if you want." - You heard your friend's voice somewhere above your head. He sounded like he was smiling. You wanted to strangle him. How can you say such things when a person is eating? You looked up at him. He was standing over you, smiling slyly. Jungkook was no longer pounding you, but stroking you. You beat his hand away and gestured that he was a fool and needed to end the conversation because the food goes cold.

"Anything. I was going to have lunch and bought some food." - A big sly smile graced Jungkook's lips. He sat down next to you and grabbed the metal chopsticks. Your eyes were completely focused on the lunch dishes, but with your peripheral vision you saw what your friend was doing. He was opening his portion of rice and still listening to what Jimin was saying to him.

"Tonight? I'm free..." - Jungkook answered. You looked up at him with anger eyes and encounter with two black buttons. "Ahh, I mean I'm free, but I promised Y/N I'd eat samgyopsal with her. We haven't seen each other for a long time, and she's going crazy because of the exams..." - Your friend made up a lie on the spot. You raised one eyebrow in surprise and question. Would he really refuse to meet Jimin? You love Jimin, he's also your friend, but whenever Jungkook is "free in the evening" like this and Jimin calls him, it always ends the same way. Jungkook is either gone for a day or he brings someone home. Jungkook probably feels guilty and, taking into account his words about following the rules, decided to lie. The guy sitting next to him nodded his head with a sweet look on his face, confirming to you that he wasn't going anywhere with Jimin. You lost interest and went back to your plate.

"If you want to join us, I won't mind. After all, we've been wanting to eat samgyopsal with you for a long time. But you need to text Y/N. She needs to know you're coming too. She's been very nervous lately." - You heard that irritating smart guy. His side was instantly hurt by your punch.

"I'm not a nervous fool!" - You said with one lip. Jungkook could hardly contain his laughter. He talked to Jimin for another minute and finally said goodbye. You didn't say anything, although at first you thought about killing Jungkook as soon as he hung up, but you changed your mind. It's better to restrain yourself. God, why are you so angry with this guy lately? Has he really always had such a big mouth?

The only sound in the kitchen was the sound of metal chopsticks hitting a plate. When Jungkook finished talking on the phone, several minutes had passed. And all this time you were eating in silence. Each of you was thinking about something different. For example, you were wondering why Jungkook hadn't spoken to you yet. Why he didn't ask you if you liked the food, or why you were angry, or if you wanted to go to a restaurant tonight and have samgyopsal with Jimin. God, what's wrong with you? You're ready to go off like a bomb. How soon is your period due? Maybe you're so angry because your period is coming up.

"How's the food, baby?" - Jungkook finally broke the silence. You took your time answering. He surprises you sometimes. How he knows what you want him to do. He almost always does exactly what you think. You've known him for so long that you can just guess what he's going to do?

"It's good." - You said, finishing the radish. You tried to keep your tone calm, but it came out too dry. Jungkook smiled, surprisingly. You heard him sigh.

"You wanted to eat samgyopsal, so I thought we'd go to a restaurant not far from here tonight. That's why I made up this story for Jimin..." - Your friend said. But to you, it sounded like an excuse. He said it after you gave him a look full of lightning.

"Really? For some reason, I thought that when you told Jimin you were free, you wanted to continue yesterday's fun!" - You said in a sarcastically sweet voice.

"No, I didn't. I really wanted to invite you to eat out." - Jungkook said seriously. "But if you don't want to..."

"I do. I need a drink." - You said, getting up from the table.

"You've already eaten?" - Jungkook was surprised. You grabbed a box of donuts to eat alone in your room. Jungkook had bought them for you and you didn't want to share them.

"Yeah, you talked on the phone too long. I'm already full. What time should we go?" - You asked.

"I don't know, what time do you get hungry?"

"Okay. I'll tell you when I'm hungry. Thanks for lunch." - You turned on your feet and walked toward your bedroom.

***

You spent almost the whole day in your room. After lunch, Jungkook went out without telling you when he would be back. You only knew he had left when the door slammed shut. Trying not to think about what business Jungkook could have gone on, you turned on a drama to distract yourself from the annoying thoughts of your friend and your constantly irritating attitude towards him. You didn't get to watch the drama properly. First, you got a call from Suyong, a friend from the university. Then you called your parents and talked to your mom on the phone for almost two hours. It had been a long time since you had talked to her for that long. Given your busy study schedule, conversations with your parents were usually late at night and it was literally to find out if you were okay.

After talking to your mom, you received a text message from Jimin inviting you and Taehyung to join you with Jungkook for grilled pork and soju tonight. You agreed, saying that you missed the guys and that you'd love to spend the evening with them. You really needed to dilute the company of Jungkook, who had been annoying you lately.

Finally, when you finished texting Jimin, you could devote yourself to watching a drama.

The drama turned out to be so interesting that you didn't notice how you watched 6 episodes at a time and it was getting dark outside. You felt very hungry, because your last meal was well past lunchtime.

You went out to the living room to look for Jungkook. He must have come back when you didn't hear him, but the light was off. You noticed that Jungkook's jacket, boots, and bike helmet were missing. It's so late, almost eight o'clock in the evening. Where could he be for so long? Maybe he was called to work because of something urgent?

You didn't know where Jungkook worked. The only thing you knew was that it had something to do with security. He was some kind of manager or something. You repeatedly tried to ask Jungkook where he worked, but he was skillful at avoiding answering.

You went back to your room to call your friend and tell him you were hungry. A few long rings and he picked up the phone.

"Hello!" - Jungkook said.

"Hello. Where are you?" - You asked.

"I went away for work. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I had an emergency." - Jungkook's voice was quiet in the background.

"Mmm. I'm already hungry." - You said. "You promised we'd go to a restaurant."

"Yeah. How long until you're ready?" - You heard Jungkook walk outside. The sound of the road and the wind reached your ear.

"Are you coming to pick me up?" - You asked hopefully.

"If you want." - Jungkook said gently. You didn't think for a second. You answered immediately.

"I want to. I'll be ready in about 30 minutes."

"I'll be there in exactly half an hour. I'll call Jimin and have him come too." - You heard the sound of Jungkook's bike engine.

"Taehyung will be here too." - You said as you went to the shower.

"Great. It'll be more fun!" - Said your friend. "I'll be there soon. Get ready." - You gave a short "Okay" and ran to take a shower.

After quick showers you washed face and put on light makeup. If it were just you and Jungkook, you wouldn't have done this. You're used to not wearing makeup around him. But Jimin and Taehyung are the kind of people who shouldn't see you without makeup. You can't really trust them. In December, you wore a warm beige sweatshirt and jeans to keep warm on motorcycle. It might have been warm in the restaurant, but you don't want to freeze to death while Jungkook is riding his bike. So a warm puffy jacket is perfect. You were just putting on your hat when Jungkook called. He told you that he was waiting for you.

You arrived at a restaurant that was a block away from your house. It was a cozy place that was always crowded. Jungkook parked his bike and you went inside together. To your surprise, Jimin and Taehyung were already there, grilling pork. When they saw you, they waved their hands energetically to invite you to the table.

"Hi guys!" - You greeted your friends, taking turns hugging them. Jungkook shook his hands and helped you undress. There was a hanger near each table. You sat down at the table and felt the smell of roasting meat warming your appetite to the max. Jungkook sat down next to you.

"How are you? Did you come together?" - Jimin spoke to you. You followed his movements and the way the pork was being cooked, fascinated.

"I picked up Y/N on the way to the restaurant." - Jungkook said as he stuffed his mouth with rice and kimchi. You decided to wait until the meat was ready and then start eating.

"Taehyung, pour me some soju." - You asked him gently, noticing the four bottles on the edge of the table. He smiled kindly and grabbed the bottle closest to him.

"Don't drink on an empty stomach. I'm not going to carry you home on my shoulders." - Jungkook said, still chewing on something. He waved his hand at the shot glass you were holding in your hand and you saw that his knuckles were knocked off. You abruptly put the stack down on the table before Taehyung could finish, causing some soju to spill onto the table. You turned to Jungkook, grabbing his injured arm.

"What happened to your hand?" - You asked with horror in your voice. Jimin and Taehyung looked at you, puzzled. Jungkook wanted to pull his hand out, but you were holding it tightly. Jungkook carefully hid his other hand.

"Hey, did you fight with someone? Let me see your left hand!" - You demanded. Jungkook used a little more force and this time pulled his arm out. You looked at your friend in displeasure. Jungkook looked at you, and then at his friends, who were also looking at him.

"It's nothing. I just fell off my bike." - Jungkook replied, ignoring his friends' looks and continuing to eat. Jimin and Taehyung lost interest as well, the former continuing to grill the meat and the latter starting to eat as well.

"How did you fall off the bike?" - You asked. Of course you didn't believe him. How can you fall so hard that you hurt your knuckles? Or is it possible?

"Simple, I didn't calculate the rise when I parked. I forgot to put on gloves, so I bruised my hands." - Your friend explained indifferently. You continued to look at the wounds on his hand with suspicion. Jimin had already finished grilling some of the meat and put it on your plate first, followed by the rest to everyone else . You didn't notice because you were too busy worrying about Jungkook. He continued to ignore you and stuff his stomach. You sniffled, went back to your plate, and started eating. Why do you care so much if he doesn't care? You hadn't seen Jimin and Taehyung in a long time, so you decided that you would pay more attention to those two and your wonderful dinner.

The friendly get-together was a great decision for you. Jimin and Taehyung were perfect for a casual conversation on a Sunday night. You had fun, delicious food, and warmth. For some reason, Jungkook, who was sitting next to you, hardly participated in your conversations. You found out that Jimin had been promoted last week, and Taehyung told you how he lost a bet with a friend in the military (Taehyung was in the military special forces) and had to do some hellish set of exercises. He also said what it was called, but you didn't remember because you were already a little drunk. What's the point of making excuses, even sober you couldn't remember the name of this exercises. You encouraged your friend, telling him that he would become even cooler and stronger than he was before after the bet. Taehyung almost went to kiss you for that compliment.

Sometimes, when you looked in Jungkook's direction, you noticed that he was constantly texting with someone. And a few times he even went to talk on the phone, although he lied about taking a smoke break. Jungkook did smoke. Although it didn't fit in with his lifestyle and sports, which he was obsessed with, but yes, he smoked. Once in a conversation, he shared that smoking helps him calm his nerves. Don’t good reason, if ask you. There are many other ways to calm your nerves. But if smoking is the only thing that helps Jungkook, what can you do?

In the afternoon, Jungkook was gone all day. He said he had an urgent call to work. Could his distant behavior have something to do with it?

Jungkook returned after another smoke break. When he sat down next to you, you caught the smell of cigarettes and his perfume. It wasn't a good combination, but you liked it. You turned your head to the black-haired guy who was your best friend and roommate. He picked up a shot of soju and drank it in one gulp without even a wince.

You were shocked when he suddenly started drinking after a while of sitting there. Although he didn't mean to at first. He was driving and it was logical. When you protested who would take you home, he said "taxi". You stopped worrying. It's not far anyway, you can walk at least.

Jimin and Taehyung left the table, one to go to the restroom and the other goes to order more appetizers and soju.

In a short moment, Jungkook drank another shot of alcohol. What caught your attention were his bruised knuckles. Some of them were just red, even blue, and the first three were bruised to the point of blood. This was evidenced by the healing wounds covered with a blood crust.

"They should have at least put band-aids on them or something." - Suddenly you said, drawing Jungkook's attention. He gave you a look.

"No need for that." - He smiled. You rolled your eyes.

"Of course, we're so cool. There can't be any infection or contamination at all. You fell on the road. Is asphalt ever sterile?" - You answered sarcastically.

Jungkook smiled, his smile seemed sly. He leaned in and whispered almost in your ear.

"You care about me that much?" - A wave of heat rushed through your body. Your alcohol-red cheeks flushed even more. Your heart started to race. That self-assured, sly smile on his handsome face again.

"Get over yourself, Jeon. I'm just saying the obvious. If you've hurd, you need to take care of yourself." - You said calmly. But if Jungkook could hear your heart beating so fast it could jump out of your chest, you were doomed to fail. Jungkook laughed again, confidently, still too close to you. How he loved this kind of talk. Teasing you was probably his favorite thing to do.

"I’d rather when someone cares about me." - Now it was your turn to laugh. That's what you did when he said. "When we get home, will you take care of me?" - Jungkook whispered in your ear. His breath was hot, and his whisper set your insides on fire. You couldn't give up so easily. He was teasing you and you knew it. This thing was that manner of his, probably the same way he traps the girls who fall into his bed. Ahhh that fox! But you rarely lost in such cases.

"You want me to take care of you, of course I could, but on a condition." - You joked. Jungkook raised his left eyebrow with interest, while playing with a lock of your hair.

"What condition?" - You heard his playful tone.

"You will do me good." - You answered. Jungkook froze, and the curl he was playing with slipped from his finger. "I win," you thought, laughing with difficulty.

Jungkook probably wanted to answer, but his friends came to the table at the same time.

"Just look at them!" - Taehyun said to Jimin with indignation. "And then they say they're not dating. They're openly flirting with each other!" - You straightened up sharply and tried to pull away from Jungkook. Your best friend also returned to his previous position, folding his arms on the table.

"Really. Perhaps you two confess to us at the end. Who is this hypocrisy for?" - Jimin said as he poured soju for everyone. You were outraged. Again, these talks about relationships. Especially from Jimin, who knows that Jungkook fucked another girl this night. If he was in a relationship with you, how could he do that?

"Hey guys, come on!" - You started to get angry. "We've discussed this topic a thousand times. We are not in a relationship. It's never going to happen." - You knocked over a stack of soju Jungkook waiting for anyone to respond. Jungkook looked at you, struck by how harshly you said it.

"Living with him is a nightmare, what kind of relationship you talking about?" - You blurted out. The table became quiet. Everyone was looking at you, trying to understand what you had just said. Jungkook tried to hold back his laughter. You were gave yourself away.

Panic filled your thoughts. But you had to act quickly, given the looks on Taehyung and Jimin's faces. You threw a quick glance at Jungkook, who was almost laughing.

"Do you live together?" - Taehyung asked, squinting his eyes.

"No." - You answered too quickly. "I mean, he's impossible to stand in life, we argue all the time, how would I date him?" - You justified yourself.

"We argue because you're always unhappy about something." - Jungkook suddenly spoke up. He sounded irritated.

"I'm unhappy about something?!" - You punched Jungkook in the ribs. "You're the one who's always acting like a piece of idiot!"

"Okay, okay, calm down." - Jimin tried to calm the two of you down. "Otherwise, people are all staring at us." - You turned away from Jungkook. This guy really annoys you.

"Let's talk about this specifically." - Taehyung began to think out loud. "You've been best friends for a long time. Ever since high school. You went to taekwondo school together. You spend a lot of time together. Have you ever thought about dating?"

"No!" - You and Jungkook said in unison.

"Well, don't you attract Jungkook’s appearance? He was very popular in school and college." - Jimin joined the conversation. You chewed your meat and answered indifferently.

"I know and I've never denied that Jungkook is handsome, but dealing with his personality is a mission impossible." - You said. Jungkook started to complain again, exclaiming "what the hell is wrong with my character?!" as Jimin ordered him to be quiet and continued his interrogation.

"You mean you admit that you like him... Appearance!" - Your friend clarified.

"Well, yes. But I don't look at his looks..." - You said. "You know It's like when you eat chocolate every day and it gets tried and you just stop enjoying it, even though it tastes the same. Besides, I always had only one problem with those girls of his. And it continues to this day." - You finally finished. All three guys were puzzled.

"How about you. What do you think Jungkook? Do you like Y/N’s looks then?" - Taehyung asked. Jungkook clicked his tongue.

"What are you guys, matchmakers? Stop asking stupid questions."

"Hey, have you lost your mind? I answered so you answer too!" - You snapped, glaring at your friend.

"So you want to know if I like you, baby?" - Jungkook purred. He was amused that it was you who insisted on answering. You blushed. Him calling you "baby" in front of everyone didn't make it any easier for you.

"I swear, Jeon, I'm going to kill you tonight." - You were seriously angry. And for Jungkook, there was nothing more amusing than your expression right now. He took another drink, keeping the three of you waiting.

"Y/N is hot. And her looks are beautiful." - Jungkook finally said. Hearing those words about yourself is like a miracle. Jungkook really thinks you're hot? Oh my God, you were ready to fall apart. "But she's not my type. So we'll never really have anything with her." - It's like a bucket of cold water was dumped on you after his words. You froze, but there it was expected. Yes, you've always known it. You are not his type and he would never like you. So there's nothing to talk about. You were upset, but you couldn't show it. You faked a laugh to support Jungkook's words.

"You see, there's no way we're going to be able to date. I hope this is the end of the matter." - You said.

"Come on!" - Taehyung persisted. "If you were to live together in the same apartment, wouldn't anything happen between you?"

"Do you mean sex?" - Jungkook asked. You almost choked on the rice bun you were eating. Jimin jumped up to you and gently patted you on the back to save your life.

"Yes. In theory." - Taehyung asked with a sly smile.

"I don't know." - Jungkook shrugged. "In theory, it could happen if we lived together." - It was at that moment that you really thought you were going to die.

#jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #bts #jungkook x f!reader #jungkook smut #jungkook friends with benefits #jungkook

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vixen-tech · 2 days ago

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Crossover Mayhem!

What's better than having one lovable robot in your house? Having eight in your house! How do they interact, how do they feel about each other, and just how did they get here?

Spolier alert but that last one is never answered, just enjoy some assorted silly self-indulgent headcanons in celebration of my first fic, Human's Touch, reaching 1,000 notes! As well as an official end to my hiatus

Includes: AM (Ihnmaims), Hal (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau), P03 (Inscryption), Auto (Wall-E), Glados (Portal), Wheatley (Portal 2)

The mystery of how you ended up with everyone safely in your own home is second only to how you managed to keep them all from trying to rip each other apart.

Although that doesn't necessarily mean that they get along, especially early on. AM, Glados, and P03 like threatening everyone and love threatening each other- at this point you're sure the three of them started bonding over it but you're not sure when.

P03 tends to be the most antisocial of the lot, hiding away in whatever room you've allotted for him. But he and Hal did teach each other Inscryption and Chess respectively (at your suggestion), and you'll often find them playing together. P03 continues to be a sore loser.

No one is quite sure what to make of Auto. Since he has a tendency to do and say nothing for hours at a time- moving from room to room and just, staring. Except Hal, Hal seems to get him. You're pretty confident they're friends but also pretty confident they've said next to nothing to each other.

Assuming you have the space for it, Tau would love to take up gardening. He'll often get visited by Edgar or Wheatley proding him with questions (which he is always happy to answer) or by Auto who especially likes(?) to watch the garden. In silence of course. Tau doesn't mind him all that much but Edgar and Wheatley will leave if they see him coming, they find Auto a tad unnerving.

Hal, Edgar, and Tau form something of a music club in your house. They take turns sharing songs they like or even singing, dispite the differences in genres. Tau especially loves listening to Edgar's original songs, he may even ask for pointers on writing his own.

Wheatley's inferiority complex gets extra bad- being in a small area with not only Glados, but all the others who all have one thing minimum they're great at. At least Hal, Tau, and Edgar are nice to him- but that's offset by AM and P03 joining Galdos in terrorizing him. You're going to have to do some work with him.

Edgar and Wheatley do specifically become something of a trouble maker duo. It's not unusual to hear shattering glass from the next room over and find them guiltily trying to hide a broken plate. Although you tend to forgive them pretty easily (much to Glados's frustration) on account that it's almost always an accident.

You do your best to organize bonding activities for everyone. To varying levels of success. Your old reliable is putting on a movie or show and setting out random art supplies and board games. Once you even tried doing a video game tournament, but P03 got a bit too competitive for your liking. Most of them do appreciate you for trying though.

AM and Glados also click as a duo easily- but for all the wrong reasons. They love freaking everyone out, you included. AM gets into the habit of asking you disturbing, saw movie level 'would you rather' questions. He just enjoys creeping you out, but Galdos is always actually interested in your reasoning.

The others are healthily concerned about how comfortable you are around those two, but they're also constantly making jabs at the 'inferior robots'. Like- come on, why are you so attracted to the one literally titled the 'intelligence dampening sphere'. Aka: they think you're cool and smart and should hang out with them more, but of course they'd never plainly tell you that.

It does become a sort of running gag that finally they're the normal ones and you're the strange creature since you're the only human. They love poking fun at anything from your constant need to eat to the way you have to shut down for eight hours each night. God forbid you ever get sick.

Dispite, you know, owning the house they end up treating you by cat rules. You are liable to be pet (should you allow it), and if you fall asleep on someone it is unlikely they will move until you wake up. With the notable exceptions of Tau, who will bring you to your bedroom; and P03 who will feel little remorse at waking you up himself.

Needless to say you also have a fantastic home security system now. Between that being one of Tau's main jobs, AM and Glados being prone to homicide in general, and Auto having a taser (which was a surprise to everyone, they're all a little more concerned about him now) anyone who tries to break into your house is beyond screwed. They are not gonna let some random human hurt you.

Although the degree to which they show it differs wildly, they are appreciative of the home you've tried to make for them. Being free with some of the only other beings who could possibly understand their life experience is likely something they would have never been able to experience otherwise.

That may be why they haven't tried to destroy each other yet, the fear of good old mutually assured destruction. It would be just plain stupid to jeopardize your affection and thus their place in the house like that.

All in all, it certainly makes for a strange living arrangement but you cannot find it in yourself to regret the choices that led you to this point. You love your robots and you're at least seventy percent sure they love you to.

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guksvault · 1 day ago

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HOUSE OF BALLOONS | JJK

05- What You Need

Synopsis: fleeing the pressure and pretense of your elite life, you stumble into the seductive chaos of the House of Balloons. there, Jungkook waits— ready to make you question everything you thought you knew

w/c: 3.7k

warnings: mentions of drugs&alcohol, another HOB party ofc, smut, protected sex, fingering, jjk loves titties ok, lil bit of nipple play, bathroom sex, mirror sex?, again jk <3’s boobies (esp when ur playing w ur own), Valerie mention!! (upcoming chaps will dive further into readerxValeries friendship & who she is!)

!minorsdni! // masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It had been a full month of you attending the House Of Balloon's weekend events.

Every Friday and Saturday night spent within the walls of the dark, suffocating and sinister House Of Balloon's. Occasionally you would visit during the week, go to hang out with Yoongi only to end up watching Gossip Girl on the couch in silence with Jungkook.

It's not that you two had become acquainted with one another, still far from friends. Would barely speak to one another during the episodes, unless Jungkook was calling you a 'fuckface' every time Dan Humphrey appeared on the screen.

You had even started to become friendly with the rest of their little group, the snarky comments about who you were and how you were raised had decreased significantly.

You had earned Joon's heart when you started bringing him champagne bottles from your mother's wine cellar for him to add to his DIY bottle garden project.

Yoongi and you had picked right back up where you left off two years ago. Time apart was simply not strong enough to deny the fact that you and Yoongi were platonic soulmates, the same being in different fonts. He loved having you around, loved seeing the you he only used to see when you two would sneak out of your homes to go and cause chaos inside shitty arcades.

Hoseok and you though, had in-fact, not , picked up where you guys left off. Although it was tempting there was a somewhat silent agreement that if you were going to be a more permanent part of this friendship, crossing boundaries may not be the most wise decision.

Jimin had become quite the wing-man for you, and you the wing-woman for him. Which more often than not, was you finding him someone, them falling to their knees at his ethereal beauty and him disappearing for half the night. Leaving poor old you to fend for yourself.

Valerie had also been someone you had grown quite close with, would spend most of your nights hand in hand with her on the floor in-front of Hoseok's booth, dancing, drinking and the occasional kiss.

And tonight was no different to the past 3 Saturday's. You were stood behind the DJ Controller on the stage (that was really just a table he had picked up off someone's lawn and spray painted black) in the middle of the crowd.

He was stood behind you, his chest against your back and his chin resting on your shoulder. His hands were over yours, guiding your fingers to the correct buttons to press and adjust. Had convinced you to try to DJ tonight, had pouted when you said no, how could you refuse?

You had absolutely no fucking idea what you were doing, were letting Hoseok's hands do all the work. You had been paying attention just how in tune he was with his art, how it came so naturally to him. Had been in awe at how good it feels to be receiving all the energy from the crowd of party goers instead of being one.

On the other side of the room, if looks could kill, you would have been one dead mediocre DJ. Jungkook had been watching the way you had been laughing when Hoseok would dramatically hype you up, how your head would fall back and rest on Hoseok, how your fingers were slightly intwined with his as he guided your fingers around the board.

Didn't really understand why he was even getting worked up about it. Had no real reason to. Was only pissing him off more.

Hated the way the red lights hung up around the trim of the ceiling were complimenting you, hated how you were beginning to fit in here, hated how he wasn't exactly sure if he hated you at all.

He watched Hoseok lower you off the table, how he held onto your hands for a little longer than necessary. He watched as you retreated up stairs, seemingly to the bathroom. Decided to follow you.

You had almost turned the small lock on the inside of the bathroom door before it had been pushed open. A pair of tattooed knuckles grabbing the side of the door and widening it open.

"Occupied freak." You spoke out, trying to push the door back close, only for it to be forced open again.

A heavy lidded Jungkook entered, closing the door behind him, he rested his back against it, eyes on you. Just like they had been for the past month.

"God, a piss kink and a Gossip Girl fan. Pick a struggle you sick, deranged germ."

"Fuck off D.D, ain't got no piss kink." Jungkook was watching you, could see how confused you were. He was just as confused, why the fuck had he done this?

"Then? Get out so I can pee?" You had moved in-front of the mirror, fixed yourself up a little, patted down your hair in place, started to reapply your lipgloss that had moved from your lips to your solo cup.

"Don't fuck Hobi" The words had left Jungkooks lips before he could stop them, his head was fucking racing. He didn't understand why the fuck he was asking. Didn't understand why the fuck he had followed you up here. It was pissing him off. You were pissing him off.

Your head had snapped towards him, your body frozen in place. Pardon? I beg your finest pardon? Jungkook was staring back at you, his dark eyes locked on your confused ones.

"What the fuck are you talking about Jungkook?"

"Do you want to fuck him?" His hair was falling over his forehead, his hand still holding onto the door knob as he watched you, his eyes flicking over you to gauge any reaction you might have.

Your eyes were searching his face just as desperately for a reason to make any of this conversation make any sense. There was none, Jungkook had no bloody idea what he was doing or why he was doing it. Wasn't leaving without an answer either, was too late to back out now.

"And if I do? I don't really fucking understand how any of this is any of your business Jungkook?"

"Don't." His voice was low, husky. Warning you.

"Don't wha-"

"Don't fuck my friends."

Now it was your turn to do a full performance of mental gymnastics, what the fucking fuck? You were convinced that he was having a horrid trip, confused you with an ex girlfriend.

You stepped closer to him, a few inches between the pair of you. His eye's never leaving yours, his jaw was tense, you could see the bones in his jaw locking and unlocking.

"You should never let jealousy consume you Jeon Jungkook, isn't pretty on you. Washes you out." You feign a pout, push some of his fallen locks of hair with your pinky away from his face.

"Will fuck who I please though" You reach for the door handle, not a fan of small spaces that include Jungkook. Not a fan of how he stares at you like he wants to rip your head off your shoulders. Not a fan of how you kind of feel a small pool of dampness coating your panties.

Jungkook has other plans though apparently. His hand grabs your wrist before it meets the door knob, keeps his eyes on you, doesn't want to scare you, just doesn't want you leaving just yet.

You look down at Jungkooks hand wrapped around your wrist and then back at him, the air between both of you growing thicker, hotter, fucking suffocating.

It's silent for a moment, Jungkooks fingers loosening for a moment as he gets the Angel on his shoulder tells him to stop. You'll regret this. Don't do it. Bad, bad, bad. Tightens them again as the Devil on his other shoulder eggs him on. Could be fun. Haven't got your dick wet in a week. Fun, fun, fun.

Decides that the Devil is right, listens to him like he so often does and uses his other hand to grab your waist and pull you against him. His face now a hair away from yours, his eyes on your lips, they flicked up to your eyes, see's that yours are on his lips and decides that the Devil is always right.

He presses his lips against yours. A surge of warmth rushed to his skin, he feels your hands find home on his chest, gently grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt.

Your lips work along side his, the kiss getting messier and messier with ever passing second. You can smell the scent of his detergent mixed with the cigarettes he's been chaining down all night. Think you prefer it over the bottles of Louis Vuitton and CREED that your normal make-outs smell of.

His tongue glides against yours lower lip smoothly, silently asking for entrance. Met with parted lips, he wastes no time gliding it inside to become acquainted with your own.

His hand flicks the lock of the door, both of you ignoring any knocks of waiting full bladdered drunks. His hand comes to the sides of your lower stomach, guides you back against the sink, hooks his hands underneath your thighs and lifts you onto it.

You pull your head back slightly, breaking the kiss. Your eyes are met with a sight that makes your core ache. Jungkooks hair had slightly fallen over his forehead, his lips parted and glossy, a small smudge of your lipstick painting his skin. His eyes are dark, but not the same darkness that usually engulfs his glare when he's looking at you. No, this is the darkness of hunger, desire, of pure fucking sin.

You grab his forearm, spread your legs slightly and pull him in between them. His lips are quick to move back against yours. He lets out a small grunt into your mouth as your fingers find their way to softly tug at the back of his hair.

His hand slides up your thigh, under the hem of your dress, straight to your inner thigh. The breathing between the both if you becoming heavier, breathing each others oxygen, fighting for the last breath.

He takes the small spread of your leg as an invitation, moves his finger under the side of your panties and lightly drags his finger down your slit.

Jungkook's lips leave yours, presses his forehead to yours and looks at you through his lashes. "Fuckin' so wet for me, hm?"

You let out a breath you didn't realise you had been holding, nod slightly against his forehead. Your hand moves to his wrist, encourages his hand to explore more.

So, he does as he's told, can follow instructions and rules when he really wants to, and right now? All Jungkook wants is to feel the inside of your walls.

He slides two fingers into your cunt so fucking slowly. Can't fight the groan of satisfaction that escapes his lips as he feels your walls hug his fingers.

He looks at you, see's how your brows are slightly pinched together, your mouth resting ajar. His fingers gain a little pace, pushing in and out of you steadily.

His thumb slides underneath the band of your panties and presses against your clit, rubs small delicate circles as he continues to fill your pussy with his fingers.

His lips find your neck, kissing and biting down your skin. His free hand comes to your chest, grabs the strap over your shoulder and pulls it down, needs your tits in his mouth.

He pulls the fabric thats covering your breasts down, runs his thumb over your hardened nipple, pulls slightly. Pulls again when he hears the soft moan that leaves your lips as he does so. He takes your nipple into his mouth, sucks, kisses, bites. Groans in frustration when your hand meets his jaw to pull his lips back to yours.

His fingers are pumping into you, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, gains a little more speed each time he hears you whine. So fucking pretty.

"Let me fuck you D.D. Let me fuck this cunt." His voice is laced with small pants, "So fuckin' tight. Will be so tight 'round my cock."

You want to tease him, tell him you probably wouldn't feel it, but when he's begging you like this, you think you might let me do anything he pleases with you.

You simply nod, save your words for another time. Plenty of time to piss Jeon Jungkook off, right now you need his cock stuffed between your legs.

His hands move to the buttons of his pants, lets them fall. The whine that leaves your lips when you see the imprint of his cock against his white briefs only doubles when you see him palm himself over them.

"Get up."

He grabs your waist as you slide off the vanity, moves you in front of the mirror and presses his hand against the middle of your shoulder blades and pushes you down.

Your hands grab the edge of the vanity, he runs his hands up the back of your exposed thighs up to your dress and pushes it over your ass. Groans when he see's the black thong that barely covers you. His hands massages over the flesh of your ass, slides his fingers under the lack of fabric and pulls your panties to the side.

He lets a drop of spit land onto your now exposed cunt, watches it slowly run down your folds, uses his index finger to push it into your cunt.

"Fuck."

He pumps his fingers into you slowly, watches his fingers disappear and reappear. His free hand leans over your back, opens the draw in the vanity and grabs a condom, rips it with his teeth and slides it onto his cock.

He slowly slides his fingers out of your warm cunt, slides his other hand up your spine and wraps his hands into your hair and pulls your head back.

"Watch me fuck you D.D." His eyes meet yours in the reflection, can see your cheeks lightly flushed.

"Can you do that? Huh? Can you watch me fuck you?"

"If you hurry up and fuck me, you'll find out." You speak, your voice a little breathless.

He lines the tip of his cock up to your entrance, slowly rubs it up and down your slit, coats the tip with your slick. Pushes into you slowly, throws his head back as he does.

"Ah-Fuck. So fuckin' tight."

Your lips part, brows pressing together as you feel his thick cock fill you slowly.

He fills you, begins to thrust into you, gains more pace each time he see's your cunt swallow his cock. So fucking warm, so fucking tight. His hands still wrapped around the ends of your hair, he locks his eyes onto yours in the mirror.

He watches the way your back arches slightly, the way your grip tightens on the edge of the vanity each time he bottoms out into you, the way he hopes someone fucking cuts the cords connected to Hoseok's speakers so that everyone can hear the whines leaving your lips.

"Fuck, like that." Your own hand finds your exposed tit, squeezing yourself as Jungkook fucks himself into you.

It only makes Jungkook want to fuck you harder when he sees you playing with your tits, loved tits, loved yours, loved how they moved every time his hips slammed against your ass.

He reaches his arm around your torso, pulls your back against his chest. Almost fucking loses it when you lift your leg up to rest your foot up on the sink. Can see your cunt at a new angle, can see it swallowing his cock.

His movements begin again, his knees bent slightly as he fucks up into you.

"Fuckin' dirty little thing, hm? Touching yourself, showing me your cunt." He speaks into your ear, nibbles at your lobe. His hand that was tangled in your hair is now squeezing your tit over your own hand.

"Fuck, so good. So fuckin'- Fuck. So big." Your other hand drops down to your clit, begins to rub small circles around the now throbbing nub. You watch Jungkook's eyes follow the path of your hand and the whine that echoes into your ear should be illegal. Breathy. Lewd. Desperate.

The pace of his cock only quickens as you do so, "Ah, fuck- Good girl, so fuckin' hot. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard".

Your half lidded eyes flutter shut, your head resting back against Jungkook. The feeling of his fat cock pounding into you, the sounds of his breathy moans and sharp grunts with the feeling of your own fingers rubbing your clit almost pushing you to the edge.

Jungkook can tell you're close, has seen this expression more times than he can count, is grateful because he's lowkey been holding off from cumming himself, wants you to cum first.

He notices how your expression is a little different to the others he's encountered. Softer, the way your lips parted, how your hand rubbing your clit would slow down every couple of seconds to edge yourself a little, how you weren't trying to prove you were about to have an orgasm, how you let it just happen and accepted it and not hid away from it.

When he realised he's paying too much attention to the beauty of the look of your approaching orgasm, he shakes his head, grabs your chin roughly and guides it back to look at the mirror.

"Said, watch me fuck you D.D. You been listening so well, don't make me stop just because you can't fuckin' listen"

Your eyes open, your lids heavy as you watch Jungkooks cock slide in and out of you, his other hand grabs your thigh of the leg that's hoisted on the vanity, spreads it wider.

"Gonna cum- Fuck." Your fingers work over your clit, rolling the sensitive bead in circles as your knee's start to lose strengh.

"Ah, fuck. Cum. Fuckin' cum on my cock." Jungkook's thrust are falling out of the rhythm he had been pounding into you at, the look on your face as you begin to cum along with the lewd curses you have mixed in with your whines and the feeling of your walls clenching around him all growing to be too much.

He leans his forehead against your shoulder, fucks himself into you as he begins to fill the condom with his seed.

"Ah, fuck. So fuckin' tight. Should have fucked you raw. Ah, shit."

He keeps his forehead against the back of your shoulder, his eyes closed as his cock twitches inside you as the lasts of his cum shoots out. His hand slides up your front, pulls the neck of your dress back over your tits and gives them once last squeeze.

You're own eyes begin to open as you catch your breath, you watch in the reflection as Jungkook lifts his head from your shoulder, looks at you in the mirror, lets out a whisper 'Fuck'.

He savours the feeling of his cock being wrapped so warmly inside you for a few seconds, and then presses his hand back against your upper back and pushes you back bent over. Wants to see your cunt one last time.

He slowly slides out of you, his teeth sinking into his lower lip and he watches your swollen pussy set his cock free. He presses his index and middle finger together and pushes them inside your over sensitive cunt. You fucking mewl, press your ass back against his fingers. He fucking groans.

He pumps them, once, twice, thrice. Loses count, slides them out when he realises he won't be able to control himself again if he hears your pretty moans one more time. He slides them out, pulls your small thong back over your pussy and lets you stand up.

Its quiet whilst you both get dressed, the only sounds being the water you run to wash your hands or the metal of the small trash bin lid that hits the wall when Jungkook throws his condom away.

You walk towards the door, stopping in front of Jungkook. His hair even messier than it had been, his lips slightly swollen from the kisses he had been pressing into you.

"See. Dirty fuckin' Diana."

You roll your eyes, grab his hand that he had been using to pump his thick fingers into your pussy just minutes ago and wrap your lips around them. You keep your eyes on Jungkook as your swirl your tongue around his two fingers and release them with a pop.

You reach for the door handle, turn the lock and slip out, closing the door behind you. Leaving Jungkook alone, facing the mirror he had just slammed you in front of. Doesn't want to leave, wants a round two. Maybe a third too.

Knows he can't. Never fucks a girl twice, unless he's desperate, which these days the options are endless. Wont get to fuck you again, or hear the way you panted his name or begged him to fuck you harder.

He watches himself in the reflection as he washes his hands and then splashes water onto his face. Can't stop thinking about you, can't stop thinking about how badly he wants you wrapped around him again. Curses himself out through the mirror.

As you return back downstairs, you're quickly pulled into the arms of a very drunk Valerie. She asks where you've been, why the fuck your make up looks like you've been crying, double checks that Jungkook didn't have anything to do with it.

She believes you when you tell her you had just taken a breather in Yoongi's room, believes it until she see's Jungkook wearing a matching afterglow to the one you're painted in.

She doesn't mention it, just bites her lower lip as he passes you two like you weren't even there and plays oblivious to the fact she knows what you just did.

Valerie looks at you,

"Walk me home?"

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook ff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts #jungkook and reader #jungkook series #house of balloons

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streamafterlaughter · 3 days ago

Text

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter VII: Choose Love or Sympathy

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev. | diaries coming soon

songs for this chapter: that’s what you get by paramore, xo by fall out boy, lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, king for a day by pierce the veil

a/n: hear me when i say these two are absolutely in for it it. I'm also a huge fan of italics apparently

chapter tags: angst, hurt/comfort but then... hurt/no comfort (SORRY!), reader is a sensitive baby we love her, mean!Eddie, but also very sweet Eddie. swearing, smoking, drinking, reader struggles with self image / mental health (vague for now) | fic tags: angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog/comment/like to support the author! Join the tag list!

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotine @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality |

The weekend comes barreling towards you sooner than you’d have liked. You wake up Friday morning with a sense of dread, Robin’s words on a broken loop in your head: what you ‘know’ isn’t the whole goddamn story. Everyone keeps fucking saying that, but no one has actually told you what you “don’t know.”. Chris hasn’t given you a goddamn leg to stand on, speaking in riddles and never once confirming or denying a thing. You’re an adult, and you wish these fuckers would start treating you like one.

On your nightstand, your phone buzzes repeatedly, a string of incoming text messages:

bobbins: so,, ive smoked some weed bobbins: im cool now bobbins: i still think there’s a lot we don’t know,, bobbins: but I’m sorry for insinuating you should forgive him. bobbins: i cant imagine how you felt that day. bobbins: i love u bb

You scramble to respond before she can get another five messages in,

it’s ok bob, i love u 2

The subject changes swiftly as she tosses questions about tonight at you one after the other. You send her pictures of your outfit choices, hairstyle ideas, personal protection list before finally asking her the question gnawing on your brain.

What if he doesn’t like me?

Robin responds by calling you.

“Hi?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She starts, not letting you explain. “He asked you out, why wouldn’t he like you?!”

“I dunno! Maybe he’s just looking for a hookup. Maybe he thought I’d be easy?” The suggestion sounds silly coming out of your mouth, and you hear Robin scoff at you.

“Look, if things start to stink, call me. Steve’s closing tonight, so he’ll be right down the street.”

You sigh into the receiver. “Okay, okay. You’re right, I’m probably worried for nothing.”

“Atta girl! Now go on, go headbang or whatever it is you people do.”

You snort as you say your goodbyes, and hang up the phone. Without Robin to distract you, you turn to the outfits you’ve spread out on your bed. Emo Nite is casual, sure, but you still want to look good. You decide on a pair of Tripp pants, adorned with metal hooks and chains, pairing it with an old Paramore shirt you cropped with kitchen scissors in high school. With your outfit out of the way, you sit at your vanity to do your makeup, extending your winged eyeliner a little further than you would on a normal day. When you’re done, your alarm clock reads 8:30, and you make your way to your car.

–

9:15.

The lights of the city seem to dance across the sky. Everything is louder here, bustling with nightlife you could only dream of seeing in Hawkins. You’re standing outside the club alone, nursing the end of your last cigarette. Maybe he’s running late? You don’t have a single unread text from Scotty. You type several different messages of your own, deleting each one before settling on “You on your way?” But its delivery is never confirmed. It’s grown cold outside, and you wrap your flannel tighter around you to keep the wind out. You should have brought a jacket, but you weren’t expecting to be outside for this long. You can hear the first notes of an old favorite song, followed by a bunch of 20 somethings cheering. Patrons are dressed in black, clad in leather and fishnets, their combat booted feet stomping into the venue. Emo Nite is a nostalgia cash grab, you know that, but you’re envious of everyone setting foot inside, surrounded by their friends and peers, leaving you abandoned at the door.

–

9:30.

The time taunts you from your phone screen. You’re waiting outside the club, the air brisk on your face. Every so often, the door swings open as someone enters or exits, and you turn to see if it’s someone for you. So far, none of them have been, and you’re debating whether or not to walk to the record store and ask Steve to hitch a ride back to his place to mope.

“Hey, Bee!” The voice calling you isn’t the one you’re hoping to hear, but it’s just as familiar. You find its source across the street, Macy waving at you eagerly as her bandmates and fucking Eddie follow behind. Oh, right. Like being stood up isn’t humiliating enough, now Eddie gets to tease you about it.

“What’re you doing out here, girl? It’s freezing!” Macy is sweet, holding your icy cheeks between her warm hands. You can tell she’s already had a few drinks.

“I’m, hm,” You clear your throat, “I’m waiting for someone.”

“A date? Eek! Hear that, Eds? Our girl has a date!” Her words send static through your veins. Since when are you anyone’s girl, let alone Munson and Macy’s?

“Mhm, okay, honey. Let’s go get you situated, yeah?” Eddie ushers her inside, handing her off to Fiona before returning to where you’re standing. Without a word, he lights a cigarette and offers it to you, and you take it without acknowledgement while he lights his own. After what seems like hours, the two of you choose to speak at the same time,

“How late is–” “Why did you–” “What?” “What?”

“You first,” Eddie gestures to you before pulling from his cigarette.

“Why did you tell Scotty to ask me out?”

“What in the world makes you think I told him to ask you out?”

“Look, she’s gonna kill me for telling you this, but Robin overheard you in the bathroom talking to Scotty at the bar. She walked in by accident, and you two had come in before she could leave. Anyway, you know she can’t keep secrets for shit, so she told me what you said to him. Why?” You cross your arms, attempting to hold in as much body heat as possible,but to no avail. Eddie notices, and immediately sheds his jacket, not giving you a chance to refuse it as he drapes the leather over your shoulders.

“I thought he was a cool dude. Thought you guys would hit it off.” His answer does nothing to satiate the hunger for every detail of every single thought that went through his brain up until this very moment. He is driving you fucking insane. “Hey, I bet I could get Macy to put you on the guestlist, so at least tonight won’t be a total waste?” Yet another peace offering from Eddie Munson. Hell must have frozen over.

He doesn’t wait for your approval before reaching into his inner jacket pocket of the coat that you have since put fully on to shield yourself from the wind, to grab his phone. After eagerly punching a few buttons, he holds the device up to his ear, plugging the other with his finger. “Hey, babe. I’m outside with Bee, Scott stood her up.” You can’t hear what Macy’s response is, but Eddie replies with, “You read my mind, honey. We’ll be in in a sec.” He ends the call and turns his attention back to you, his big brown eyes attempting, it seems, to read your mind. “You pissed?”

You shake your head, inhaling another drag of your cigarette. “Not really. Disappointed, I guess.” You pick at your cuticles, refusing to hold eye contact with Eddie, but that doesn’t stop him from boring his own into the top of your head; you can feel them penetrating your skull. “Could’a used the distraction.”

“Fancy me a distractor? Macy’s gonna be busy, I’m practically all by myself tonight.” You look up, and Eddie’s jutting his bottom lip out to pout at you.

“You don’t mind being seen with me?” You tease, flicking ash onto the concrete. You can’t imagine Eddie actually wants you to agree to this offer.

“Why would I? When have I ever cared what people think of me? Especially these posers.” He gestures to you, and you fake offense.

“Posers?! I’ll have you know I have met some of the most authentic punks at places like this, you dweeb!” You toss your cigarette butt on the ground, stomping out the embers with your boot.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m used to going to shows where people leave bloody. Not used to this side of the alternative Venn Diagram, I guess.” He flicks his own cigarette, mirroring your movements. “Shall we go inside?” You nod begrudgingly, and he opens the door to the club for you, stopping to give the bouncer your names.

–

The club is dark, expectedly. The lights flash shades of pink, purple, and blue as people dance and attempt to chat over the noise; and the whole scene is set to the music of your childhood and teen years. As Eddie leads you across the floor, you can feel your chest tighten, watching couples surrounding you, dancing or sloppily making out against the back wall. You let it sink in that you've been stood up. The first time in three years you’d even attempted to go on a date, and the guy didn’t even show up. You hum along to the song playing, a desperate plea for distraction from the situation in front of you. Meanwhile, Eddie leads you to a table away from the speakers, and shouts that he’ll be right back. You can only guess he’s off to wish his girlfriend luck.

While you wait, you observe the crowd around you, and it’s full of kids you knew in high school that used to bully you for liking this kind of music, dressed as caricatures with arm warmers and cheap chains dangling off their black skinny jeans. Conventionally attractive girls wear their eyeliner in heavy wings, their lips painted shades of dark red, dancing with boys in all black with long hair. You try not to think about what Scotty would have worn. You wonder if he even likes this kind of thing. Maybe it was a test, and you'd failed.

Just as you’re about to spiral into misery again, Eddie returns with two drinks in his hands. “You like shirleys, right? I wasn’t totally sure. I can go grab you something else if you want?” If you didn’t know any better, you would think Eddie was nervous.

“No, this is good. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem!” He has to yell over the music.

“And, uh, thanks for hanging out with me. I know it’s like, the last thing you wanna be doing right now.”

Eddie takes a swig of his beer before responding, “Nah, definitely not the last thing. This is way better than listening to Steve talk about his latest conquest.” You picture the scenario, Eddie slamming his head against a wall while Steve goes on and on about Tracy, or Nicole, or whoever it is this week. The mental image makes you giggle, and Eddie’s smile seems to widen. It makes you uncomfortable, being so close to him. Luckily, though, you don’t get to think about it too long.

“Alright, alright! Thank you guys for comin’ out to hang with us! We have a guest for you tonight, please welcome Macy Miller, frontwoman of Statuesque Dolls!” The crowd cheers politely, these things never have people worth freaking out over. Macy takes the stage, clad in a silky black dress that hugs her form perfectly. Next to you, Eddie is whooping and hollering, “That’s my girl!” It makes your stomach churn. You’re reminded again that you’re supposed to be here on a date. You’re supposed to be someone’s girl.

“Alright, I got a couple of songs for you guys, but I need all of you up and shaking some emo ass with me, got it?!” You can’t deny Macy knows how to work a crowd. She gets people to migrate to the dance floor, and Eddie offers his hand out. “Can I have this dance?”

“Um,” You hesitate to take his outstretched palm. “What about Macy?” You point lamely to where Macy is killing her cover of Fall Out Boy’s XO.

“What about her? It’s a dance, Bee. I’m not, like, asking you to sleep with me or some shit.” Eddie frowns at you, like you’ve offended him.

He does have a point, though. One dance won’t kill you. You accept his gesture, taking his own massive hand in yours, and hope to god he can’t tell that yours is sweating. He leads you to the dance floor, waving to Macy from the crowd as he does. There’s a burn in your stomach when she blows him a kiss, and he pretends to catch it in his mouth. You’re close to bailing when Eddie turns his attention back to you, clearing his throat.

You stare back at him, eyes wide with fear that he’s going to bail, and you prepare to tuck your tail between your legs and call Robin. Instead, Eddie takes your hand again, and yanks you into his embrace. You bump into his chest, but he recovers the fumble by holding you there, free arm resting hesitantly on your waist. You’re frozen, having no clue where to put your hands, so Eddie takes the lead. He drops the hand he’s holding on his shoulder, and moves your other to meet it on the other side. He then rests both his hands on your hips, giving you enough space between his body and yours to breathe, but barely.

The song continues, melodramatic and overtly horny. That, combined with the warmth of the drink in your veins, plus the closeness of Eddie, makes you feel almost good. It’s difficult not to overthink, though, having him in your personal space, your bodies pressed together on a very hot, crowded dance floor, moving in ways you definitely wouldn't have done three hours ago.

“So,” Eddie muses, looking anywhere but at you as he speaks, but still able to move in sync with you. “How’s your day goin’?”

You snicker at his poor attempt at conversation. “Well, I got stood up, and now I’m dancing with who I would have bet this morning wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. All things considered, I think it’s going pretty horribly!”

The ice seems to crack as you speak, Eddie visibly relaxing as you sway to the music. “Okay, that’s fair. Are you pleasantly surprised?”

You look up at him, but his eyes are locked over your head, staring where Macy stands onstage, swaying with a few friends in front of the DJ booth. You shrug. “Jury’s still out.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes at you. After what feels like an eternity, the song ends and Macy queues another rock anthem to get the crowd moving again. You’re unmoving as Eddie unwraps himself from you. “We should do this again sometime.” He states, unreadable.

“What, dance?”

“Sure, or just, y'know, hang out. Be civil for once. It’s been awhile.”

You roll your eyes. “You know this can’t be, like, a normal thing. It bruises our reputation as sworn enemies.” A feeble attempt to make it a joke, though you know in your heart you can’t be friends with Eddie. The earth would cave in on itself.

Eddie chuckles. “Whatever you say, Bee. See ya ‘round.” And he leaves you alone, disappearing into the crowd.

–

It’s 11:30 when your phone buzzes. You’re four drinks deep, stirring another dirty shirley at the bar, observing the people around you having fun.

Scotty A: Hey! Totally meant to text you. Got stuck at work.

An avalanche of thoughts rumbles through you, most of them not safe for work. You don’t even know how to respond. There’s no apology, no groveling for your forgiveness, not a hint of actual, real regret. Like you don’t matter. It exhausts you to even think of what that date would’ve been like had he shown up. You type your response between gulps of liquid courage.

“Are you fucking serious?”

The "..." bubble appears, but quickly vanishes. You gape at your phone, wishing you were home so you could let out the blood curdling scream building in your chest. The anger vibrating through you needs an escape, so you lurch from your seat at the bar, rushing quickly out of the club. Eddie whips his head around as you pass him. You think you hear him call your name, but your eyes have started stinging and he’s the last person you want to see you cry.

The night air hits you hard, bringing separate tears to your eyes. Following your therapist’s advice, you start a box breathing exercise. Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four.

“Hey,” The voice startles you into a hiccup. “You okay?” Eddie has made his way outside after you, leaning against the wall. “Saw you dash outta there like something caught fire. Got worried.” He says it nonchalantly, and it takes you aback. Instead of responding, you flip your phone screen towards him. His eyes scan the page before they focus back on you, shaking his head. “That is so fucked up.”

Your voice breaks with your next question. “Did you know this was gonna happen? Scotty’s your friend.”

Eddie’s face drops into a grimace. “How would I have known? Why would I have told him to hit you up if I knew this was gonna happen?”

It frustrates you how reasonable he’s being. You want someone to yell at, someone to blame, and Eddie just so happens to be the closest target. “I don’t know! Maybe you did it as revenge, or something equally as immature. Maybe you wanted me to feel the same way you did when–”

He interrupts, shaking his head feverishly. “I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. Even you.” The words are a knife to your chest. You don’t like remembering what you did to Eddie that night, but it’s your fault for bringing it up. “I told Scotty to ask you out because he said he liked you. Crazy concept, I know, but i suggest you stop thinking everyone’s out to get you. I thought it would be fun, hanging out with you and him. I’m sorry it didn’t go how you planned, but blaming me isn’t fucking fair, Bee.”

He’s right, but you can’t bring yourself to back down. “It’s not fair to take someone’s brother away for six years, but you had no problem doing that.”

“Fuck you, Bee. Seriously.” He spits the words before turning on his heel, and heading inside. You are once again left alone, outside, in the cold.

–

#st #fics #munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x oc!reader #hurt/comfort #hurt/no comfort #slow burn #angst #enemies to friends to lovers #modern au #reader is not an elder emo per se... she's 23-24ish #stranger things

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thisapplepielife · 3 days ago

Text

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Black Friday pop-up event.

Men Are All Lining Up, to Put Me on a Pedestal

Prompt: "I'm not standing in line for that." | Word Count: 8160 | Rating: E | CW: Explicit Sexual Content | POV: Eddie | Relationship(s): Established Steddie, Eddie/Corroded Coffin | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Future Fic, The Struggle of Fame, Steve Takes Care of Eddie, Kink Exploration, Multiple Partners, Barebacking, Running a Train, Safe Sane and Consensual, Eddie Wants to Be Railed By Multiple Men, And He Gets Exactly That

Also available right here on ao3.

He's suddenly nervous, and Eddie's never nervous about anything. Not anymore. He's spent too long in front of the watchful eye of the public, the media, society, until he's felt like he's not even himself anymore. Like he had to turn over the keys to his whole personhood, a fiddle of gold against his soul, for this life they live. He's somehow become a character being watched from the outside in, until he couldn't feel anything at all anymore. Like nothing about himself was even his own, just for his own wants, needs, and desires.

Instead, he's public property.

A brand.

Everything is a business decision. A group discussion, involving far more people than he feels comfortable with.

He wants to be Eddie again. Just Eddie. Not Eddie Munson, the face of Corroded Coffin. And more than that, he wants to feel something. Something that brings him pleasure just for the sake of existing. Something real.

Something they can't take away from him like they've carved away nearly everything else, bit by bit, a sliver at a time.

Something that the outside world can't touch.

And to do that tonight, he wants to feel this.

All of this, with all of them.

So, he kneels, his knees sunk into the mattress of the hotel bed. He meets Steve's eyes, as Steve sits in the chair across the room, his leg crossed, dangling. Watching, waiting, loose and comfortable. Shirtless, jeans slid back on, but unbuttoned and hanging open.

He looks effortlessly comfortable in his own skin, but he always does. Eddie may be the one that performs in arenas, commanding attention under the hot stage lights, but it's Steve that's truly confident. That unwavering surety of knowing who he is drew Eddie in, and it's probably unfair to the rest of the world that Eddie is somehow the lucky one that charmed the pants off of him, locking him down, years ago.

Tough shit.

He's Eddie's. And Eddie is his.

Seeing Steve sitting there, relaxed, strong and calm, is the last confirmation Eddie needed, the last permission or reassurance. Eddie bows his head, leaning all the way forward, cheek against the soft cotton sheets.

Steve had gone first, marking him, inside and out, but now the palm that runs over his bare ass is warm, calloused and very much not Steve's. It's funny that he can tell the difference, but he can. It's been so long since anyone else has touched him in this way other than Steve.

Steve's hands are assured, firm, never a hint of hesitation. These hands now are full of wavering nervousness.

"Eddie?" Jeff asks, a fucking full sentence of a question being asked in his name alone, and Eddie nods, silently telling him: Yes. Nothing's changed. Do it.

And he does.

The blunt head of his cock presses into Eddie's already loosened hole and Eddie fists the sheets under his hand. Oh shit, they're really doing this. It feels different, maybe more so than he'd expected. He hasn't been fucked by all that many people, he was usually the one doing the fucking, back when casual sex was still on the menu. Before Steve. But now it's just Steve, and sure, Steve's fucked him, because they've fucked each other in every way anyone could ever imagine. But more often than not, Steve wants to be fucked, and Eddie has always been more than happy to fulfill any desire Steve may have.

Tonight, Steve's fulfilling one of Eddie's.

Eddie feels incredibly lucky that he's met his match, met someone with maybe an even filthier mind than his own.

But this isn't Steve, not this time. Eddie knows what Steve feels like. He's memorized him. His dick, his body, his hands.

And this is different.

The hands holding his hips are firm, but it's an unfamiliar dick starting to slowly fuck into him. It's nice. It's not Steve, but it's good. Grounding. Different. He asked for this, so he closes his eyes and just enjoys the new sensations. The stretch. The fullness. The slightly different curve that touches different spots inside him, in different ways. He focuses on how good it feels, on how it was the right decision to trust enough to let someone else inside him, even if it's just Jeff. Someone else he loves and trusts, wholly. Fully.

Not in love, but love. And he wants to be loved, wants to be filled with it. Wants to feel. Wants to be taken care of, and treated as who he is, down deep. Just Eddie. Not some famous guy in a band.

So, he enjoys the slide, the drag, breathing through it, zoning out, taking pleasure from the white noise until he feels the stuttering unevenness, the fingers digging into his hips harder, as Jeff presses deep.

Two men, back-to-back. He's never. Didn't even think about it, until recently.

And then that's all he could think about. He'd get himself off on the fantasy of it, and when he finally told Steve, he'd expected him to laugh. To not take it seriously, and even if he did, to say no way, not ever, no chance in hell.

But he'd agreed to talk it out. Was willing to help give Eddie anything he needed, anything he desired. And they talked over the options. But nothing seemed right, or safe. Eddie didn't want his perversions spread to the gossip rags, didn't want strangers knowing anything more about him, especially not this.

So, strangers were a non-starter.

And Eddie didn't want to hire it out anyway, he's never paid for sex, and wasn't ready to start now, for this.

Which made it seem impossible. Steve faked it. Fucked him, then fucked him with different toys until he could go again, and it just…wasn't.

It wasn't.

This was an itch, and Eddie needed it scratched deep in his brain.

And that's when Steve came up with this idea, this plan, that at first Eddie thought seemed crazier than anything else they'd workshopped to make this happen.

But-

It's just sex.

That's what Steve had said. It's just sex, like it's that easy. And Eddie had thought no, it's not, can't be, especially when they were talking about involving these guys that he loves, knows, and has tied his whole life to, permanently.

His bandmates.

His best friends.

He worried this would ruin it. That even the mention of it would make them look at him differently, and in a worst case scenario, with disgust. That even one night of scratching an itch would be too big of an ask, too messy. Eddie was scared. So, Steve did the negotiations. Started the conversations, took care of it behind the scenes, took care of Eddie, managed them all, their wants and needs, just like he always does.

And Eddie wasn't wrong. There was hesitation, lots of questions, and discussions.

But nobody laughed at the idea once explained, Steve promised him that nobody said no right off the bat. They all listened, and asked questions, and talked it through with Steve. Eddie's sure that helped. Them all knowing that Steve was not only aware, but on board. Facilitating it, negotiating, just like it was any other part of his job.

Because when Steve talks, they listen. All of them.

He's kept them stable, on solid ground. Corroded Coffin, the brand, if not the band itself, would have died screaming decades ago without Steve Harrington there to guide the whole operation.

Steve is right here, within arm's reach, where he's been for all the years that have mattered.

Secure in his experience, his body, and in their love. He's had to be, with the world trying to claw parts of Eddie away, at any given opportunity. If he was jealous, he would have flown the coop years and years ago.

He's not. They love each other. They trust each other.

Even today.

It's just sex.

And the guys must have agreed it was just sex too, because an agreement was reached. A decision. A date set, and a plan laid out. Testing, and results, and then required abstinence after, so yeah, it's not spontaneous, not a bit of it, but that's okay. Eddie'd rather they cover all the bases, to protect Steve, protect himself, protect all of them, as best they can if they were actually gonna do this.

And now, Jeff is fucking him. It's really happening, he's fucking Eddie right after Steve has finished inside.

It feels wrong.

It feels good.

Jeff's hands are cupping his hips, holding on lightly, as he's scrunching his fingers, balling his fists, right against Eddie's skin, a nervous habit he's always had. Showing he's anxious right now, but fuck, so is Eddie. But Eddie's trying to relax into it. To enjoy this thing he's fantasized about so goddamn much it was rotting his fucking brain.

It's different, the feeling of him.

Jeff's breathing heavy, hard, and Eddie wishes he could feel him beyond his hands, and the snap of his hips against his ass.

Then his tempo is stuttering, and he bottoms out, coming with a groan. Eddie's dick jumps at the idea, more than any actual feeling. But he pictures it in his mind, and it sends a shiver through him.

Jeff pulls away, cock sliding out wetly, and he picks up the marker to make his black tally mark on Eddie's ass cheek. Tugging off the cap, and then pulling it across his skin, Eddie feels good, like he's been taken. Claimed. Marked.

Then the bed shifts. Jeff climbs off, and Goodie climbs on, taking his place.

Goodie was the most reluctant to agree, but now he works himself inside Eddie, with no fanfare. No hesitation. No additional questions. Eddie's pretty sure that today, he's just a hole to Goodie, and that's okay. He wasn't asking for anything else, anything more, not from any of them. He has more, he has everything, right across the room. A perfectly arched foot, bouncing ever-so-slightly as Steve watches.

It's thrilling, having Steve's eyes on him. It always has been, but this way is novel, and Eddie's learned something new during all this, especially today:

Steve likes to watch.

And Eddie likes to be seen.

Goodie braces one hand against Eddie's back for leverage as he guides his cock inside, and Eddie breathes out through his nose. He's been fucked twice already, but this is a new stretch and burn, even after all that.

"Oh," Eddie breathes out.

Goodie laughs, "Told you so."

He brushes his fingers against Eddie's spine, just one reassuring graze.

But that's it. He's in, and then he's just driving into Eddie, chasing his own orgasm, using him, and that's exactly what Eddie wanted.

It's quick, fast and dirty.

Goodie's weight slamming against his ass, Eddie really feeling the stretch around his stupid girth as Goodie hammers away, unrelenting.

Steve's got a big dick, so Eddie thought he was prepared for anything, but he wasn't prepared for this. Not really.

Eddie barely has time to adjust, barely has time to slide into the rhythm of it, before Goodie shoves in once more, coming with grunt, before pulling out and scratching his tally to the growing total. He slaps Eddie on the ass afterwards, and he's gone. The bed shaking with his exit, Eddie digging in, just to keep upright on his knees.

Eddie sees Jeff grab a clean hand towel from a stack on the dresser, handing it to Goodie. They work together silently, Goodie wiping himself down, then Jeff handing him his boxers, Goodie pulling them up and on. They're in sync in that way only best friends can be, and even the first steps they both take to leave the bedroom are synchronized.

He breathes through the throbbing at his center, a reminder of what has happened so far. Three men, three totally different experiences.

And he's ready for the fourth.

But the bed is still now, and nothing's happening.

"Gare?" Eddie questions, unsure, and then Eddie finally feels the bed move.

"Right here," Gareth says crawling up behind Eddie on the bed, and there are suddenly hands, smaller, but still firm, rubbing all over his skin.

Rough calluses from a lifetime of gripping drumsticks.

He doesn't know what the pause was, hopes it wasn't hesitation, and focuses on his touch to not allow himself to spiral. He meets Steve's eyes, and Steve smiles and gives him a reassuring nod that settles him, instantly.

It's okay, because Steve says it's okay.

Then two fingers are pressed into him, and Eddie bows his head again, smiling into the bedding. He's already loose. Looser than he's been in his whole life, most definitely, but Gareth is still fingering him open with a politeness Eddie never would have imagined him possessing.

He knows this kid, inside and out, and polite wouldn't be on a top twenty-list of descriptors.

But tonight, he's being considerate. Soft.

"Look," Gareth says, and Eddie looks up, finding the mirror on the wall across from the bed. He knows Steve chose this penthouse suite, this hotel, very carefully. It's private, squirreled away, and it has this large, ornate mirror across from the bed so Eddie can see what he asked for.

In the reflection, Eddie sees when Gareth pulls his fingers out, both shiny and slick, showing them to Steve, to Eddie.

Steve shifts in the chair and palms his own crotch. He's hard. He's been hard, and that is a bolt of lightning along Eddie's spine.

Gareth's playing to the audience, doing what he does best, and Eddie loves him for it, desperately, and he feels put at ease.

Then, Gareth lays over Eddie's back, and it's different from Jeff and Goodie's approach. Gareth uses his hand, and carefully guides his dick to Eddie's used hole, rubbing the head against him, teasing him, gathering up the remnants of lube and come from everyone else, before pressing forward, sliding smoothly inside. Eddie can hear, can feel, the come being displaced inside him, making room, being forced out, leaking down as he groans, hanging his head.

He knows it's mostly wet and thin now. That's just how it works, even if he wishes he was being filled with large loads that could somehow stay thick and in place.

Gareth's touching him all over as they're pressed together in every place they can be, and it feels normal, even if they've never done this before, because they are always joined at the hip, have been for years. Gareth's his best friend. Steve and Gareth, he trusts and loves them both differently, but equally.

Eddie knows he and Gareth have their own unexplainable rhythm together, always have. It's natural, and innate. Like Eddie's musical creativity curled outward one day, got tangled up with Gareth's, and just never let go.

Today, they're exploiting that connection in a different way.

"God, Gare," Eddie whines, and Gareth chuckles, softly.

This is new, a change, and Eddie hopes it doesn't break them. He's suddenly worried that this idea of his, this perversion he begged for, will be their undoing. Especially with Gareth. He's not as worried about Jeff and Goodie for some reason, but Gareth? He can't have Gareth looking at him differently because of this.

But Gareth brushes Eddie's sweaty, wet hair off Eddie's neck, and leans his face close to Eddie's.

"I love you," Gareth says, "you're my best friend. Thanks for letting me take care of you for a change."

And Eddie hangs his head, tears prickling behind his eyes, as Gareth finally starts to fuck him using slow, but powerful, thrusts. It's hard, but still feels soft, at the same time.

Gareth's shifts, and on the next thrust, he drags the head of his cock right over Eddie's prostate and Eddie groans. That hadn't. It wasn't part of the plan. The other two hadn't tried. That hadn't really been the point. He'd wanted to be taken, used, over and over. Filled.

So, maybe it's an accident, a fluke.

Three more perfect strokes before he realizes, no, it's just steady accuracy. Controlled. Precise.

Gareth is all of those things and more behind a kit, and now he's those things behind Eddie.

Eddie claws at the bed with the realization that Gareth is keeping time, even here, doing this for him. Gareth's been trusted to keep the tempo, to stay in control, to get the job done right, night after night on stage, and Eddie feels immense comfort in that familiarity. If Eddie could concentrate, he thinks he could even work out the BPM.

The relief that Gareth knows the rhythm, that he can keep them in sync with each other, even if it's a brand new song, is palpable in Eddie.

That the beat of this is safe in his hands.

Eddie clutches at the sheets, and feels the tears running down his cheeks. He sucks in a shuddering breath, and Gareth falters, a hiccup of hesitation behind him.

"He's still good, I promise," Steve says from across the room, a step ahead as always, and Eddie nods, agreeing.

He's more than good.

He feels whole.

And Gareth hardly misses a beat, falling right back into the rhythm he's been setting.

Eddie's orgasm builds, the tightening, the pull of it, but he's pretty sure he won't come untouched, not at his age, and he jumps when Gareth's fist closes around his dick. Gareth stutters, stills, and starts to pull his hand away, like he's realized maybe that wasn't, isn't, okay. Eddie catches his wrist, holding his hand to him, helping with the next couple strokes, giving his permission, and melts back into the overwhelming sensations. It somehow still catches him by surprise as he comes all over the sheets beneath him. That hadn't been the goal here tonight. Not really. Eddie wanted to be filled, wanted to get off on this, but hadn't particularly thought about actually coming himself.

He's clenching down on Gareth's cock, and being sucked out to sea with the waves of it. He's drifting, floating away, an immense relaxation overtaking his body. He's not sure he can even stay upright.

Gareth's hand has slowed, but hasn't let go, and Eddie still feels it as he pulses on Gareth's cock, spasming with the last waves of pleasure that are rolling through him.

"That's it," Gareth says, and his fingertips press into his skin, squeezing as he stills, groaning near Eddie's ear. Eddie's slick, and open, but he can still feel Gareth harden further, tensing, and Eddie moans at how much he likes it as Gareth finally comes. Gareth keeps thrusting, just gentler now, even as he begins to soften, the joint mess slicking the way. There's no fucking way he could stay in if Eddie wasn't this open, and that's a good thing, Eddie supposes, as Gareth feels reluctant to leave, and Eddie feels reluctant to let him. So he clamps down, as much as he can, and Gareth keeps moving inside him. Not pulling out, because if he does, he'll never get back in. So, he stays deep, little rocking motions that are steady, just softer. Which is hard to do, Eddie fucking knows. You need a rock hard fucking cock for this.

They just keep moving with each other in small, controlled motions. Give and take, give and take, while Steve watches.

Eddie expects Gareth's dick to soften fully, to slip free, but he feels the rigidity returning as Gareth keeps grinding into him, the slide becoming easier again.

"Oh fuck," Eddie says, clawing at the sheets. He doesn't know if can take more of this.

Gareth pulls him upright, until he's sitting back on Gareth's thighs, fully-seated. He feels so goddamn full like this, and Eddie sags back against him. Wrapping his arm backwards, hooking it behind Gareth's neck. He's so fucking deep. It's too much. Way, way too much.

"I got you," Gareth says, "look at Steve."

And Eddie does. Opening his eyes, finding Steve's.

Eddie is full. Of cock, of come, of love, so much love. The love of his goddamn life is looking back at him with wonder, and his best friend is playing a measured, steady beat against his over-sensitive prostate, like it's a goddamn drum.

It's slow, not very active, so it lasts forever, just near tantric movement as Eddie hangs his head back, closing his eyes again. Just feeling it.

This wasn't in the script in his head. Eddie imagined five. The five of them. Five marks, branding him.

But if Gareth wants to keep going, wants to keep filling him in this way, Eddie's not about to stop him. Not when he feels this good.

"Fucking hell, Jonesy," Eddie says, and Gareth laughs. He hasn't called him that in a while. He's just Gare. Or the kid.

Even now, their teen years in the distant rearview.

"I got you, always," Gareth breathes back into his ear. "Me and Steve."

Eddie nods against Gareth's neck, and stretches out his hand. Beckoning Steve, he supposes, even he hadn't planned on it.

He hears Steve stand.

Then he puts a knee down on the mattress in front of Eddie, "I'm here."

Eddie isn't sure what he was asking for, because he doesn't really want to turn this into a threesome or an orgy. None of that was negotiated, not that he thinks either of them will do anything they don't want to do.

Gareth's breathing in his ear, hot and heavy, and then he suddenly says, "Your turn."

And he pushes Eddie forward, into Steve's chest. Steve catches him as Gareth pulls out. Eddie whines, nails digging into Steve's skin.

Then he hears Gareth's hand, moving slick and fast against his dick, and Gareth shouts as Eddie feels the first shot of come hits the small of his back, and Eddie fucking keens. Desperate. He actually got to feel that one, and it feels so fucking good.

He's been marked inside, and out.

"Look at that," Gareth says, "goddamn."

Steve helps Eddie back down onto his hands and knees, and stands back up at the edge of the bed as Gareth slides his fingers back inside Eddie, and when he brings them out, they are an offer to Steve, but Eddie isn't sure if Steve's gonna take it. Steve doesn't move, so Eddie catches Gareth's wrist, sucking them into his own mouth.

It's heady, and doesn't taste like Steve at all. It's different, but he sucks on Gareth's fingers until he's gotten it all.

Then he thinks Gareth is gonna go, but instead he feels him slide down the bed, and then his tongue pointed against Eddie's hole, pressing in.

Fuck. Goddamn.

And Eddie moans, "Oh, Jesus Christ."

Then, Gareth's face is next to his, and his tongue is curled, come shiny, waiting.

Eddie opens his mouth, accepting it. Sliding his tongue against Gareth's, kissing him. He's never. They've never. But Eddie tangles his hand in Gareth's hair, tugging him closer, needy and wanting. He rolls onto his back, and Gareth crawls on top of him.

Gareth's laid on top of him hundreds, thousands, of times. But never like this. He's never tried to eat him alive before.

Eddie hears it, the click and ejection of the instant picture, and Eddie had forgotten about the Polaroid camera. He's not sure if Steve's been taking them all night, or if this is the first.

And when they separate, Eddie's breathing hard, fast, and Gareth winks at him, pats him on the hip to get him to roll over, and then carefully makes his mark, the fourth one on Eddie's skin, and leans down and kisses Eddie's sweaty back, and then switches places with Steve. The other two left once their part was done, and Eddie is okay with that. If watching him get railed by Gareth wasn't something they'd enjoy, he wasn't about to ask more of them, but Gareth? Gareth, he's clearly staying. Seeing it through.

That feels dirtier than anything else has, all night.

Eddie's worn out, used up. But he crawls back onto his sore knees one more time, as it's Steve's hands that find his body now. They're gentle, loving and a familiar comfort. Fingertips running along his spine.

His thumb brushing against his hole, pressing the leaking mess back inside. He's wet, wetter than he's ever felt in his life.

And when Steve eases back in, Eddie feels how sore he is, now. Not sore enough to say stop, not even close, but he's finally feeling it in the way he'd hoped, imagined, when he'd screwed up the courage to ask for this. Not only from Steve, but from all the others.

"You're so wet for me," Steve says.

"I am. For you," Eddie says.

"They got you ready for me, didn't they?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods.

"So ready. Just for you."

They're talking dirty, but it's the softest fucking of the night. The first time Steve had claimed him, had marked his territory. Now, he's just loving him. Soothing him, bringing him back to reality, back to where he belongs.

A soft roll of his hips, firm lips pressing to his neck, then teeth biting down until Eddie's sure he'll be marked there, too.

This is his life, his love, loving him back, unconditionally.

Talking to him, telling him how he feels, how he's the last, always his last, always here.

Eddie wants to cry about it.

Steve loves him. As he is, as he'll be, always.

When Steve finally comes, he pulls out and picks up the discarded marker on the bed and crosses the previous four tally marks on Eddie's ass, making five. A perfect set.

Steve the first, and the last.

Then Eddie can hear him, feel him, moving around the bed and then feels his hand framing his ass, and the click, whirr of the Polaroid picture being spit out of the camera. And another. Another.

Until one is slid under Eddie's nose, and he can see it, the tally marks, framed by Steve's familiar hand. Five loads, four different men that he loves in wildly different ways. He wanted this, and wanted it from them, or not at all. Getting fucked by randoms wasn't appealing, wasn't the draw, wasn't what he needed.

But this feeling? It's what he needed.

He wanted to be used, but not discarded.

Another intrusion, and Eddie whines at the feeling of Steve's finger in him, but he hears the camera, and knows whatever it is will be worth it.

It is.

Steve's upturned hand, his ring finger slid into Eddie to the second knuckle, showing off the gold band and the come leaking down into his palm.

"Fuck," Eddie says, crumpled into the sheets.

And Steve laughs, a beautiful, familiar sound. Eddie's eyes find him in the mirror, just so he can look at him.

In the reflection, he sees Steve crook a finger at Gareth, beckoning him.

He watches, feels as Steve positions Gareth's hand with his own, both of them touching his ass cheek as Steve takes more pictures.

Eventually, Steve sets the camera aside, and helps turn Eddie around on the bed, arranging him on his side. And he slides in front of Eddie, and snags Gareth, pulling him down behind Eddie. This wasn't the plan, Eddie doesn't think. But he closes his eyes and goes with it. Enjoys the two sets of hands on his body, petting him, touching him, soothing him. Bringing him back to reality. Lulling him towards sleep.

And he hears the camera whirr to life, one last time.

In the shower, Steve washes him, but doesn't scrub at his ass cheek, the one that's been marked. No, that'll have to wear off with time.

"You still love me?" Eddie asks, hands braced against the tiles of the expensive hotel shower.

"Always," Steve answers, "did you get what you needed?"

And Eddie nods. He did. Maybe more.

"You sore?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. He is. In a good way, but he's definitely feeling it.

His hand is framing his ass cheek, near the tallies. Eddie can feel it, can picture the marks visible in the V of Steve's large hand.

"Admiring your handiwork?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah," Steve answers, and then he's quiet for a moment, "maybe you should get this tattooed."

Eddie stills. Steve can't want that. There's no fucking way.

"You don't wanna look at that for the rest of our lives and be reminded of tonight," Eddie says.

"Maybe I do," Steve says softly.

"Really?" Eddie asks.

"Really," Steve confirms.

Eddie turns and leans down, cheek pressed to Steve's chest, the hair there tickling his face.

"You're mine," Steve says, confident, sure. "Nothing can change that. You think it's a coincidence we did this in this town?"

Eddie stills. Petey's shop is here. Steve planned this.

"You planned this," Eddie accuses, and Steve laughs, holding him tighter.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Steve answers. "Petey definitely isn't holding an after hours spot tomorrow."

"Thank you," Eddie says softly, "for that, for tonight, for our whole lives, really."

"I'd do anything for you," Steve says, chin on the top of Eddie's head.

"Did you get off on this?" Eddie asks. He needs to know for sure.

"Hell yeah," Steve says, running his hand up and down Eddie's back, "Showing you off, sharing you, giving them a little taste. Watching you enjoy it."

Eddie smiles into Steve's skin.

"Who was the best?" Steve asks, fingers pressed into the small of his back.

"You," Eddie says, and Steve laughs.

"Besides me," Steve says, rolling his eyes. Eddie can't see it, but he knows it has happened. Because he knows Steve.

Eddie has an answer, knows, but feels hesitant to say so, and that feels a little uncomfortable.

Steve does it for him, "It made a real pretty picture, him all over you."

And Eddie nods.

He's sure it did. He wants to see the pictures, the evidence. The irrefutable proof that tonight actually happened.

"He loves you," Steve says, and Eddie starts to argue, but Steve keeps talking, "Not like I love you. But he loves you, would do anything for you, and seeing that in this new way was hot, not gonna lie."

It was. It fucking was.

Eddie wraps his arms around Steve, squeezing him harder than ever before.

A beat passes.

"Goodie's dick is even thicker than yours, which, fucking ow," Eddie says and Steve laughs, his voice rumbling against Eddie's cheek. "Don't tell him that. We'll never hear the end of it."

Steve giggles, "Honey. I hate to tell you this, but he knows. We always do."

"Goddamnit. This was a mistake, then," Eddie teases and they both laugh. It wasn't, somehow.

Jeff and Goodie haven't come back in the bedroom, but Gareth is sitting on the bed, hair wet and curling around his ears. He's changed the bedding, and the dirty sheets are gone, the evidence probably in the washer down the hall.

Nothing for the maid to see.

"Hey, kid," Eddie says, dropping his towel and pulling on a pair of boxers. He doesn't want anything to have changed between them, so he's gonna act like it hasn't.

They haven't slept in a bed three-deep like this in years, not since the money started flowing, but Eddie crawls in the middle. Then curls against Steve, making himself comfortable.

Gareth seems hesitant, then he just anchors his leg over Eddie's hip, laying against his back, and Eddie feels twenty-two, and on the road for the very first time. Crammed into a double bed, instead of this roomy king.

"You okay?" Gareth asks, and Eddie picks up Gareth's hand, bringing it around to his own chest. Pressing it close. Squeezing. He's great. Really, really great.

"Yes. You?" Eddie asks, a little scared of the answer.

He shouldn't have been. Gareth is still Gareth.

Gareth laughs, "I'm never gonna live down getting sloppy seconds to Goodie."

And they all three laugh, Eddie saying, "Sorry. Them's the breaks, kid."

Gareth's face presses into his back, and it feels normal being wedged between them. He's safe, happy, and home.

"Well, Goodie was third himself," Steve says around a yawn, "so don't let him give you any unnecessary grief."

Goodie will always give Gareth grief, it's just the way their world works.

"I'm not standing in line for that," Eddie says mockingly, mimicking Goodie's dry reaction when this idea had been broached. They've all repeated it a hundred times over the past few months. A waitlist at a restaurant? A line for a bathroom? It has just become part of their lexicon.

Something that will remain, Eddie's sure of it. An inside joke.

"He did though, now didn't he?" Steve says.

He did. They all did. And only for Eddie, which fills him with an ache of love that he can hardly contain.

Gareth laughs, his chest shaking against Eddie's back, and it feels so comfortable, so normal, that Eddie closes his eyes and plans to fall asleep. Sated, and satisfied.

"Wanna see the pictures?" Steve asks, and suddenly Eddie's awake again.

Steve hands over a stack of pictures, and the three of them look together.

Jesus Christ.

They're good. Really good.

"Who took this one?" Eddie asks, because it's definitely not from the angle of Steve's chair.

"I did," Gareth answers, and there's a good handful from a second camera, a second angle, one that captures Eddie, head hung low, Jeff fucking him with Steve watching in the background.

Another of Goodie getting ready to enter Eddie.

One of Gareth's grinning face as he tries to get himself in the frame with Eddie being fucked by Steve in the beginning. It's just shadowy figures beyond his brightly lit face, but Eddie loves it.

Another of all three of them as they tried to crowd in, but nobody's arm was quite long enough, but laughing like they were having fun.

Fucking hell.

They had fun.

"You had fun," Eddie says, "all of you."

"Well, yeah, of course," Gareth says, and hands the pictures back to Eddie. "Why would you think we didn't?"

And honestly, Eddie doesn't know. But it feels good to know that they hadn't had their arms twisted into doing this for him. The proof, right in his hand.

He hopes he gets to keep them, and he squeezes them a little tighter in his grip.

"Don't worry. I have a plan, they'll be kept totally safe, out of prying eyes," Steve says as he stretches out, and kills the light on the end table, leaving them all in darkness, only a sliver of a street light peeking through the split in the heavy curtains.

Steve always has a plan, and Eddie closes his eyes, at peace.

The next day, Eddie's pretty sure he's spent actual hours actively keeping off of his ass cheek, scared he's gonna smudge it off. He doesn't want to fuck it up before he can get into see Petey tonight. Even if it's Sharpie and he knows that's unlikely. Still. No chances.

He's sitting on the other side of his ass, tilted to the side, writing as fast as his hand can go. It's like he's been set free, like his creative block has been cleared, and the inspiration that has been tamped down by the outside world, is back, in full force.

Gareth leans over his shoulder, one arm across Eddie's chest, hugging him from behind as he tries to read what Eddie's composing. He has a magazine hanging loosely in his hand, and it's brushing against Eddie's shirt.

He reads Eddie's chicken scratch, but says nothing, and Eddie appreciates it. This phase of writing is solo work. The group aspect, just as important, comes later.

Gareth lets him go.

And Eddie keeps writing.

When it's finally dark and time to go, Eddie stands up. Jeff and Goodie are bickering while playing cards at the table in the living room, Gareth is still reading a drum magazine, and Eddie swears the kid hoards them for a year, and then reads them all in a single day.

Steve is lacing up his shoes.

It's completely normal, almost like last night never even happened. Nobody has avoided him, nobody fled for their own space, nobody has been weird at all, and Eddie feels more settled than he's ever felt in his entire life.

They did it for him, and now they're still here. Their world is still turning on the same axis it always has.

"I got us a VIP table at Lux tomorrow," Jeff says, looking up at Eddie.

"I thought that place was booked out for months?" Steve questions, and Eddie knows that means Steve wasn't involved in this. Which is unusual.

"I talked to our concierge. They said they're turning over VIP rooms halfway through the night, so if we show up at about ten we'll get in," Jeff explains. "But we might have to chill while they clear out the first group."

"That's one way to try and increase profits," Steve says dryly, then adds, "but it's gonna be a shitshow, mark my words. Expect a wait, nobody is gonna wanna clear out early in the night once they've paid for a room, and settled in."

"I'm not waiting in line just to pay a grand for a fucking bottle I could buy down the street at the ABC for fifty bucks," Goodie complains.

Gareth meets Eddie's eyes, and Eddie smirks back. A broken record, he is. But Goodie's always been bristly about bottle service, and Eddie gets it. He does. And there's never been anybody with less patience about waiting than Goodie.

They've dealt with this at every nice restaurant they've ever had a reservation at over the years. If they have to wait longer than five minutes, he'd rather just go to McDonald's.

It's maddening.

Eddie puts on his own jacket, and then gets Steve his, holding it out, helping him slide into it.

"Where're you two goin'?" Gareth asks, looking up as Eddie's adjusting Steve's collar.

"Gonna go grab some food," Eddie answers. Which is also true, they will need to eat.

"Can I come?" Gareth asks, and well, okay. Sure. He has nothing to hide from Gareth. Never has, never will. Gareth knows the best of him, and the worst.

Eddie looks at Steve, but Steve already has an arm out, wheeling it around in an order for Gareth to come on, but to hurry it up. They are all more than accustomed to this familiar maneuver.

They step out of the private penthouse elevator, and their security meets them. Eddie balks. They are not coming along for this. But shaking security is always a hassle. They're hired to do a thing, and sometimes Eddie wants them to not do the thing, and that becomes a big problem.

But, while they might not listen to Eddie, Steve is in charge, and they will listen to him. So, when Steve has them stand down, they do. Even if they look fucking mad about it.

And then the three of them walk out of the hotel, all by themselves, like they are real people again.

Dressed down, comfortable, and nobody gives them a second glance. No paps, which obviously, since they didn't call them. But no crowd of fans either. Nobody knows they're here, somehow.

Eddie tilts his head back and breathes in the night air.

Maybe they can be real people again someday, and that idea fills Eddie with a hope he hasn't had in years. Maybe one day he'll be able to walk the streets of a city, alone, just Eddie, not Eddie Munson.

Once they're in the black SUV, Steve's fiddling around, because he doesn't usually drive these days. None of them do. He has to move the seat and the mirrors, and while he's doing all that, Eddie turns and looks at Gareth, "We're gonna go see Petey. I'm getting the tally marks on my ass tattooed. Can you be normal?" Eddie asks.

"I'll be so normal," Gareth reassures, and Steve laughs from the driver's seat, which makes Eddie smile.

Normal is definitely a big ask for any of them.

When they pull up in the alley behind the tattoo shop and tap on the heavy door, Petey unlocks it, and it's not unusual. He always works on Eddie after hours, when they come through town and Eddie's decided a new tattoo is the only thing that will make him feel anything at all.

It still feels funny, slinking in back doors like they're doing something illicit.

But Petey is the only person Eddie would ever trust to do this, to see it, to remotely know anything about anything. Petey won't ask, but if he makes assumptions, Eddie's okay with that. Petey won't comment on them. Eddie's trusted him for years, decades, and Petey hasn't sold him down the river yet. Eddie can't imagine he'll start today.

He's part of the inner circle, and that's priceless, Eddie has learned. The paring down of friends, year-by-year, until only the real deals remain.

Petey's the real deal.

"What are we doing today?" Petey asks, and Eddie's already pretty covered these days. Real estate is getting scarce. So, Eddie pulls down his jeans, his boxers, and shows him. Climbs on the table, to let him really see what they're working with tonight.

No reason to try to hide.

Petey's poker face is better than anyone else's on earth, and he just asks, "You want it this big?" A gloved finger pressing into his skin, "Or you want me to make a stencil and shrink it? Clean it up?"

None of them knew he was gonna keep it, hell, Eddie didn't know he was gonna keep it, so it's a little sloppy and a little bit big. But that's what he wants more than anything these days. The real thing. He doesn't want the fake shine and polish.

"Exactly as it is," Eddie says.

"Relax then. Get comfortable," Petey says, and then doesn't ask any other questions beyond what's necessary. Eddie's sure he's used to him being weird by now.

Needing an appointment to tattoo his ass after hours? Must be Tuesday in Eddieland.

Petey will make it look good, and look real at the same time. Eddie trusts that, fully.

So, Eddie lays on the table, and feels Petey gently shaving him and dabbing the alcohol wipe across the marks so as to not disturb the marker ink too much, and then the needle is buzzing along his ass cheek as they make small talk. About the tour. About the next album. About Petey's work, family, and life.

And Eddie smiles into his folded arms. He can't believe they actually did this filthy thing, and now he's getting it permanently branded onto his skin.

Steve sits on the other side of the table, staring. Still watching, eyes glued to Eddie's bare skin, one of his hands gripping Eddie's bare thigh. It's loving, and maybe a little possessive, which makes Eddie feel more exposed than he does about having his bare ass on display. If the tally marks aren't giving them away, Steve definitely is by being this goddamn interested in what's going on.

He usually doesn't even come with Eddie when Eddie makes tattoo appointments with Petey. Gareth does. Or one of the other guys. So, this is out of the ordinary, for sure. Probably suspicious. He's pretty sure Petey doesn't usually allow spectators to breathe down his neck, touching his clients as he works.

But he says nothing, just works while Steve watches every drop of black ink being deposited.

At least Gareth is sitting off to the side, acting normal, as promised. Steve? Not so much.

It doesn't take long. All black, just a few lines. Some shading of the careless strokes they all took. And then it's over before Eddie has really settled into the process. Usually his tattoos take much, much longer, and are much more elaborate.

But Petey has a gift for being good, but quick. He's not keeping you in his chair for a minute longer than he needs for it to be perfect.

Eddie stands in front of the floor length mirror, trying not to flash his junk at everyone while he looks at the finished artwork. It's really there. Looking just like it did last night, Eddie's pretty fucking sure.

He lets Petey put the protective bandage over it, and then buckles his jeans, thinking they're done, but Steve is talking to Petey. Gesturing with his hands, and Eddie listens, figuring out pretty fucking quickly that Steve is planning to get a Sharpie tattooed along his hip bone. Hidden, out of sight. A secret they can share.

And Petey knew about it. He has the design drawn up and everything. Steve's looking at it, making a few tweaks that Petey does immediately, then produces the revamped stencil. Steve nods, pleased.

Steve's not really a tattoo guy, so the fact that he planned to do this, really means something to Eddie. This is also for him. Another gift, another way for Steve to take care of him. To promise he's not going anywhere, not ever.

Eddie lays on an empty table, keeping off his ass while Steve's having his turn under the needle.

When Petey's done, Steve stands in front of the full-length mirror himself, inspecting the new ink branding his skin just as Eddie had done.

Eddie watches as Steve's eyes shift towards Gareth as he sits in a chair, flipping through a binder of flash art, just for something to do, Eddie's sure. If he's uncomfortable, he's not showing it.

"Are you next?" Steve asks, looking at Gareth through the mirror, and at first there's no response. He tries again. "Gare?"

Then, Gareth looks up, meeting Steve's eyes in the mirror, "What? Me?"

Steve nods, and Eddie loves him maybe more in this moment than he's loved him in his whole fucking life. Steve doesn't have to include Gareth in this. He could have balked when Gareth asked to come along, not knowing where they were going.

Steve could have re-staked his claim, but instead he's secure enough to know that what Gareth means to Eddie is different than what Steve means to Eddie. Gareth fucked Eddie last night, sure, but Steve's so confident in their love that he's willing to let Gareth have a reminder of that inked onto his skin, just like he got.

"Only if you want," Steve offers, and Eddie stays out of it. This is between them.

And Gareth nods, and gets it along his ribs, Petey acting like he doesn't know anything about anything the whole time. Like he can't put one plus one plus one together to get three. Probably five, even if the other two are absent tonight.

Eddie's gotta admit, Steve and Gareth leaving with matching tattoos wasn't on his bingo card for the day, but they pay Petey, tipping big time for him doing this for him. For all of them.

Eddie wonders if Jeff and Goodie will be mad that they weren't asked to come along. But he's pretty sure it wasn't the same to them. And that's okay. They made his fantasy come to life, all of them. He doesn't need more.

He just needs them to stay, exactly as they are.

It's late when they leave the shop, the glow of the streetlights hitting the pavement.

"I was promised food, what's still open?" Gareth asks, and Steve motions for them both to get in the car. Steve will take care of it. Of both of them.

He always does.

Eddie has to lean crazily in the seat of the car to keep pressure off of his fresh ink, and he listens as Steve and Gareth banter over where they can get a bite to eat. Neither one sounds overly confident that they know what's open now on a Tuesday night, but they're sure debating it like they do.

Eddie closes his eyes and just listens. It's normal. His husband and his best friend, going back and forth, fussing over something as normal as what restaurants are open at this hour in this town they don't even live in.

Like they both weren't balls deep in his ass twenty-four hours ago.

Like they both didn't just get proof of that, permanently inked onto their skin.

Like neither one is concerned that they might regret it later.

Like Eddie can't still feel the echo of all of them, with every move he makes.

Thing is, Eddie's pretty sure they won't regret it. Because Eddie doesn't regret it, will never regret being close in a new way to them all, at least for one night.

And unlike Goodie, he'd wait in a line for that any day.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries in this pop-up, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to see other entries for the Black Friday prompt! 🖤

Notes:

Title is from "Right Hand Man" from Hamilton.

This started as an entry for one of the prompts during Corroded Coffin Fest in July, but got way too long for the 1000 word limit. I held it back, and then fleshed it out for this pop-up event instead.

Am I thinking about the conversation Jeff and Goodie surely had as best friends once they left that room? Absolutely.

Also? Happy to see you again, Road Manager Steve Harrington, my beloved. I adore getting to write him. And Petey is also a holdover from Tuesday's Gone With the Wind. Eddie needs a tattoo guy? It's gonna be Petey. Because I said so, lol.

Thanks so much for reading! 🖤

#corrodedcoffinfest: black friday #prompt: “I'm not standing in line for that.”#corrodedcoffinfest #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #freak stranger things #corroded coffin #corroded coffin fic #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic

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storiesfromafan · 1 day ago

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Wish I Were Her - Benny x Reader

A/N: as promised, the next part. I just finished rewriting it, after not liking the original 😂 hopefully this isn't too bad. Also, forgive any spelling/grammar mistakes, as well as the formate of the post. Posting on my phone while at Starbucks 😅

Previous: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Tag List: @psychocitylights

Watch as she stands with her, holding your hand

Put your arm ‘round her shoulder, now I’m getting colder

But how could I hate her? She’s such an angel

But then again, kinda wish she were dead as she...

- Heather by Conan Grey

Butterflies swarmed your stomach, fluttering in excitement and nerves. For tonight you were going to Grand and Division for the first time. Benny was back, and you’d made plans with Sandra and Fran to go to the Vandals bar to hang out. Both women said they’d meet you there, as you had worked till close at the grocery store.

You recall hearing, before seeing, the group of Vandals ride past the store. Part of you wanted to believe it was Benny's doing, checking in on you. But the more rational side knew that the most common route through the town to Grand and Division takes you past your work place.

After work, you had rushed home to have dinner with your parents, before getting ready to go out. You moved around your room in a flurry, putting a few bobby pins in your hair to hold some stray hairs in place, going for a half-up half down-do. Then you hit it with a quick spray of hair spray, just to lock it all in. Make up for the night consisted of light powder, small touch of blush, mascara and some dusty pink lipstick. It gave you a natural look. Because you just knew your parents will question you when you head out. To which you’d tell a small white lie on where you were going.

With one more final look over yourself in the full mirror, you looked over your jeans and sweater – keeping it casual – you nodded before grabbing your cardigan and handbag, slipping on your flats. Heading out of your room, walking along the hall and then bouncing down the staircase, you could hear the television as you came down the stairs. Both parents were sitting on the couch together, watching a show and softly laughing. You smiled at the sweet scene before you. Having always wanted something like what they had.

“I’m heading out for a while" you said, breaking the silence that was filled with soft volume from the TV.

“You’re going out?” Questioned your father as you walked past them.

You nodded. “Yes, I mentioned I was meeting up with Sandra and Fran at dinner".

Your father looked to his watch, using the TV light. “It’s a bit late, don’t you think?” His tone had a small firmness to it.

Your mother put her hand on his arm. “Oh dear, she’s young and having fun. Remember when you were young?” She shot you a wink, having your back.

Your father sighed. “Fine. But don’t be out too late. There are some unsavoury people out there" your mother shot him a look and he sighed. “Have fun kiddo".

You smiled moving to give them both a quick hug, and heading for the front door again. “I promise I will be fine, and home not too late!”

Stepping out on the porch you closed the front door and headed down the couple of stairs, down the path to the side walk. From there you walked the short distance for the bus stop, thankfully you only had to wait five minutes before it showed up. Once on you settled in for the short ride.

Looking out the window, you watched how everything passed by. Your excitement and nerves running through you, though the nerves were slowly over taking your excitement. Your mind full of questions. Such as what was the bar like? Would it be as rowdy as you’ve heard? Would Benny be happy to see you? Will he want to see you? Would he stick to your side? Would you get to talk more?

It wasn’t a long ride, finally pulling the cord for your stop. Bus pulling up to the curb before stopping. You smiled, thanking the driver before getting off the bus. You waited for it to pull away before looking left and then right, seeing the street clear you crossed over. From here it was only two blocks to the bar.

With every step it was like your heart was beating in time. Those butterflies restless, nerves hitting you full force. And with it all, that damn voice from the dark distant space of your mind arose. It had you doubting yourself. And doubting Benny.

What if he doesn’t want to see you? What if he finds you annoying? Or childish? That voice laughed, what if he’s already got himself a girl? Walking into a den of Vandals, only to be laughed at...

You felt those words weighing heavy on your mind and heart. But you wanted to believe that voice was wrong. You believed there was a chance for you with Benny. Or else he wouldn’t have said and done what he has, right? You pushed that voice back into its corner. And holding your head high you walked on. The sound of engines roaring and cheering had just caught your ears when you were almost to the corner from Grand and Division. You smiled, shakily releasing a breath and the last of your nerves.

Then you turned the corner. Across the road diagonally you saw the neon lights of the bar, out the front were rows of bikes, which had a few men sitting upon them. One of them was the back of an all too familiar body; Benny. He was just sitting on his bike talking to another man, who had light hair with a white bandanna around his head, and earing in his ear, dressed in a denim vest, black t-shirt and dirty jeans. In fact he looked to be dirty in general, maybe a mechanic or something.

Smiling when the pair laughed, you finally found the courage to take a few steps forward, eyes locked on Benny. You noted the bar door opening and out came a group of people. Among them a woman you’d seen around town, Kathy you think her name was. Her brown hair was styled in a casual beehive do, with hair cascading down her back. And she was dressed similar to you, only her sweater was sleeveless. As soon as her eyes landed on Benny and his friend, and bright smile crossed her lips as she moved to them. Kathy greeted the man with the bandanna before greeting Benny.

You stopped in your tracks when she wrapped her arms around Benny, who in turn wrapped an arm around her. They stood there in a hug, exchanging words and a laugh. Your heart dropped into your stomach at the sight. They looked too comfortable. Which told you they were close. Probably very close.

When they pulled a part, with a laugh, the woman held Benny's chin. She continued to speak to him. Her other hand holding onto his vest, drawing him close. It was all too intimate to be just meeting or acquaintances. Feeling like you were the intruder, you took a step back, then another before finally turning from the scene all together. You weren’t going to be the fool, walking up and interrupting them.

With every step from them you felt a hit to your heart and confidence. You had thought just maybe you had finally got a chance at something you had wished for. But of course he already had someone. Kathy was beautiful, confident and fit in perfectly. Unlike you, who was plain Jane, shy and stuck out like a sore thumb. Benny needed a woman, not a child. Kathy screamed woman, while you laughed child.

Looks like Benny has a girl, that voice in the back of your head taunted. How silly you are to think you stood a chance...you were just something to pass the time or a joke...

Your face warmed from stupidity and embarrassment, vision blurring with hot tears rising. And soon one fell, then another, until you quietly cried. Just adding to your childish, you’d thought. Knowing it would take some time for the tears to slow and subside, you forego taking the bus home. Instead opting to walk home. Taking the time to let the reality of your stupidity set in, learning from your naive notions. It was a bitter pill to swallow. You hoped by the time you got home your parents were in bed, and you could just slip in without being seen.

You should never get your hopes up~ That voice said in a sing-song tone. And for once, you agreed with it.

#benny cross x reader #benny cross x y/n #benny cross x you #the bikeriders x reader #austin butler x reader #benny the bikeriders

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hereforbothimg · 2 days ago

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Clark cousin HC’s

Duo

- We know Ben is mute by choice bc he dislikes what his broken voice sounds like but I hc that at home Ben says a little bit of words that are practical but he dosent form full sentences, which he only does with Aiden

- When Aiden is bored he comes into Ben’s room and lays on his bed for bit, steals a hoodie or something, gets up and either leaves the light on or the door open, like any sibling would and it very much annoys Ben

- They watch movies together and make blanket forts when they can’t sleep after the phantom demension due to nightmares or nervousness

Just Aiden

- Hardcore Energy drinks are his best friends (Ashlyn likes coffee)

- For each of his friends contacts he has nicknames and very specific emojis that correlate to each of their interests and who they are. Ex: Ash🩰🎧💚, Ben 🎶🔇🩶

- His ringtone is the Party Rock Anthem

- Hates it when his roots come in since they remind him of his past and “old self” so he always gonna re-dye his hair as soon as possible

- He’s an Ambivert. Not too introverted but not too extroverted

- A cat person, although he’s scared off that bunny one time I think he’d be rather gentle with a cat

- When around others he’s a Golden Retreiver but when he’s alone his a Black Cat

- Major Gossip King along with Taylor (Queen) and Tyler

Just Ben

- Most used apps are Spotify and the Notes app and he has different playlists inspired by each of his friends + his cousin

- Tries to be gentle with all his friends and will never raise a harmful hand to them even if it’s playful as he’s afraid he could hurt them

- Not that great at cooking but is an excellent baker and bakes sweets for his friends while they hang out and has Tyler stand gaurd of the kitchen so that nobody tries to lick the batter or icing

- Dog person. No further questions

- He finds comfort in drawing and sketching and hides his drawings from everyone except Taylor who always praises him for how good his drawings are

- After guitar lessons from Tyler, he’d practice for hours afterwards until his fingers were sore and he hand the perfect note

- Head pats are his sign of affection because he doesn’t want to jump the gun with outright hugs but also wants to show his care without having to use his words

- Adores Ashlyn’s long hair and loves to braid it and always volunteers to braid it and try new hairstyles on her

#school bus graveyard #sbg #aiden sbg #sbg ben #headcanon #icons #duo

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reallife6anoufriev6boy6 · 3 days ago

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trans male artyom x horny degenerate nikita?

transmasc!artyom x horny degenerate!nikita headcanons!

oh sweet anon….sweet, sweet, anon…you have no idea what youve gotten yourself into….i have so many headcanons about this…

absolutely no one but nikita knows that artyom is trans. artyom would rather kill himself then let any other living soul know that he is.

nikita was friends with artyom before he transitioned which is the only reason why he even knows. he became friends with him and was honestly so turned on that a girl would ever bother being his friend, but once he was told he still didnt care.

all it did was make him like him more, realizing that he liked artyom as a whole (and for what he had in his pants).

nikita has made it extremely difficult for artyom to hang out with him without him being a total creep. he just lets that shit out he doesnt care.

nikita definitely started watching porn and snuff of trans people specifically whenever artyom came out. none of it was in a good light as you can imagine, but it only made him more of a needy freak.

i think nikita would have an obsession with artyoms chest specifically. he would always be asking if he can touch it or just even see it which artyom doesnt typically oblige to, but it gets to a certain point where he just has to so he’ll shut up.

i think even when theyre laying in bed together nikita would have a hand over artyoms chest and then another wrapped around his waist - he likes his curves. artyom hates it, but, again, theres not a lot he can do about it other then let his disgust and discomfort known.

however its not all bad for artyom. it makes it way easier to manipulate nikita into doing what he wants because he thinks if he does anything hes asked to then maybe he’ll get a look at his tits or something.

artyom also likes to tease nikita just to fuck with him. sometimes when its just them in his apartment (which it usually is) he’ll take his shirt off and just keep his binder on while nikitas ass would be practically drooling over it. sometimes he’ll even just wear a bra and then that has him cumming in his pants within seconds.

artyom has probably let nikita finger him at least a couple of times. its always hit or miss - sometimes nikita will have watched too much transmasc porn and will know exactly what hes doing or he will be too stupid and horny to bother making it any good.

he also definitely always wants to get his mouth on him to eat him out. hes only gotten to do that at least once though.

nikita wants nothing more then for artyom to get on his dick. that would be absolute heaven to him, but it never gets that far. itll go as far as artyom sitting on his lap, wearing nothing but a bra and panties while nikitas only wearing his boxers - grinding down against him while he whines and pulls at the back of bra to get it off, but nothing more then that.

nikita might get fed up though and do some pretty shitty things to artyom….who knows….winks…

nikita is definitely a freak about artyom whenever hes on his period and he will always just want to help (and to lick it up) but he has no idea what hes doing. he would say some shit like “yes my glorious transmasc, tranny, trans man king….heh…ill lick that blood up for you so it doesnt make a mess….heh…”

nikita, being a freak and finding himself on questionable porn websites, has definitely gotten into misgendering as a kink. he definitely has done it to artyom during their weird sex things which just really pisses him off and nikita doesnt get why he doesnt like it like the “actors” in the video.

hes also said some transphobic things here and there. like incel level type shit because he doesnt know where else to get any of his information from.

#tcc fandom #tcc tumblr #tccblr #tcctwt #tee cee cee #tccblur #teeceecee #anoufrievboy headcanons #nikita and artyom #artyom anoufriev #nikita lytkin #academy maniacs #dismembered pugachova #artkita

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kouudi · 3 days ago

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ᡣ𐭩 every path leads back to you — isagi yoichi

warnings: reader has an ex fiancé (not isagi), reader has commitment issues, description heavy, mentions of drinking, kind of proof read but not really, reader feels very guilty

a/n: i'm sorry this took so long ;-; life has been crazy and my job's been requiring me to come in more. turns out i work on christmas eve and day so that's fun i guess? happy late thanksgiving i'm thankful for all of you + my moots :D not sure when i'll be able to post again but i'll try to keep y'all updated and not disappear. also yes this was teased as a reo fic but ignore that...

The air in your apartment smelled like stale beer. The low hum of the refrigerator filled the silence in the background, only broken by the occasional wail of a distant siren outside. You’re perched at the edge of the couch, staring at the scattered beer cans on the floor as if they hold the answer to a question the universe is too afraid to ask.

You’re not even sure how the night started. Bachira called you, telling you that the team was home for a break. You rejected his invitation to go out for drinks, preferring instead to settle in at home with your own packs of beer.

Maybe Isagi called you, or maybe you texted him first—something vague after a few drinks, an invitation he somehow read between the lines. Now, hours later, he’s sitting in front of your couch, back against the edge, a comfortable distance away from you.

You think it should feel strange, having him here like this, so casually. Isagi Yoichi, with his perfect life and effortless charm, is a far cry from the mess you’ve become over the years of your friendship with him. Despite the differences, you feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence, as if for tonight, your loneliness isn’t yours to bear alone.

He’s quiet now, watching you with an expression that’s hard for you to read, his sharp eyes flickering all over your apartment as if they can’t settle on one thing for long. You take a swig from your beer, the bitterness burning your throat, and glance at him. You feel exposed, as if he’s peeling back the layers of whatever shield you’ve managed to build.

It’s that specific look that pulls the words from your tongue before you even realize it.

“Did you know I was supposed to get married last year?” The bitterness and disbelief are laced in your voice.

Isagi arches a brow at your sudden confession, his expression unreadable. The clutter of empty beer cans scattered around the floor brings up the thought of why he chose to end the night at your place, instead of suggesting his own for a late-night drinking session.

His gaze lingers on you, sharp and searching. “No, I didn’t. You’ve never mentioned it,” he says finally, his tone careful and neutral. You wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. “Are you joking?” he asks, his voice calm and even, his expression still unreadable. You force out a dry laugh.

“Yeah, well. There’s a lot I don’t mention,” you snort, lifting the beer can to your mouth. The bitterness in your tone stings your own ears. That wasn’t something you meant to blurt out. The weight of your guilt feels heavier than usual tonight, with Isagi here. His presence brings forth that strange sense of comfort, though it’s almost aggravating to you.

“Why bring it up now?” he asks, leaning back against the couch, still keeping his eyes focused on you. His voice is calm, but there’s a flicker of something beneath the surface—curiosity, or maybe even concern.

You shrug and stare down at the flat liquid in your can. “It’s been on my mind,” you mutter, though it’s only half the truth. It’s not just the memory of what could’ve been. It’s him—sitting here, looking too calm, too collected, as if your mess is just another puzzle for him to figure out.

You take another sip of your beer, the bitter taste doing little to ground you. Isagi’s gaze doesn’t waver, and you can feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you. Still, he doesn’t push, but his presence alone is almost like a small nudge, daring you to open up, to say more, to peel back a layer of your life that you’ve hidden from him for so long.

For a moment, you consider brushing it off with a dumb joke or changing the subject completely. But the quiet intensity in his eyes makes it impossible. Instead, you let the silence stretch, the weight of it pressing down until the emotions start to seep in—uninvited and vivid.

The memory floods back to you—the rush of slipping out the back of the reception hall, still in your wedding dress, makeup half-done and beginning to smudge. You remember the moment of freedom amidst the chaos, but the weight of the man you left behind quickly pulls you back.

“I left him at the altar,” you quietly confess, the words heavy on your tongue. The thought of your fiancé waiting for you at the end of the aisle, surrounded by friends and family, lingers in your mind like a shadow.

You never thought you’d be the type of person to run from their own wedding. You and your ex-fiancé had spent the year preparing to make that day meticulously perfect—the music, flowers, decorations, and even the vows that you spent countless sleepless nights perfecting. From everyone else’s perspective, the day was out of a fairytale. But to you, you didn’t belong in that story.

Your ex-fiancé was everything people thought you should want: a kind and successful man. You admit that it was everything you did want at the time. He was a respectable man. But, over time, the relationship became a suffocating routine, rather than one built on genuine love.

Every day that passed, and the wedding date drew closer, you felt more trapped. “It’s just cold feet,” you’d tell yourself over and over again. “Everyone feels this way before committing to forever.”

You remember the morning of your wedding, staring at your own reflection in the mirror, veil perched upon your head, feeling like an imposter. You remember the feeling inside you suddenly snap. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t marry this man. You couldn’t spend the rest of your life pretending to be someone you weren’t.

You can’t fake a thought—that was something you realized the day you met the man sitting beside you. In the last few months of your previous relationship, you started to notice things. It took you longer than usual to answer your phone, you never genuinely smiled anymore, and you only did activities that he suggested because you’d convinced yourself you didn’t know what you wanted to do. No matter how much you pretended not to notice the change in yourself, you did. You noticed it all.

It wasn’t until you and Isagi began crossing the lines between friendship and something deeper a few months ago that you realized what you had been missing. Isagi had a way of filling the empty spaces in your life—spaces you hadn’t even known existed. His presence was effortless yet inescapably consuming. And yet, as much as you knew you should surrender, a small voice kept reminding you of everything you had left behind: the stability, the comfort, the certainty. Isagi was none of those things, and perhaps that’s what drew you to him the most.

He was a force of nature, always moving, always shifting, while you were stuck in place, bound to the limit of the city you were in, caught between the pull of your past and the push toward something unfamiliar. You did try to fight it at first—tried to keep a distance, to protect whatever small sense of self that you still desperately clung to. But every time he smiled, every time he spoke, it was as if your world had narrowed to only show him. And that was terrifying.

You were stuck between staying with what you knew about yourself at age twenty-four or venturing out into the world. You didn’t want to stay stagnant, frozen in a life you felt was no longer yours. But with Isagi, there was no promise of tomorrow. There was no guarantee that things would stay the same. And maybe that was the most frightening thing. You could fall, and he wouldn’t catch you. Or maybe he would, but only for a little while.

A hand on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. Isagi’s expression had shifted, his usual calm replaced by something softer, tinged with sadness. His eyes met yours, but there was a distant heaviness in them, as if he were carrying a weight you couldn’t see. You weren’t sure when he got up to sit beside you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable. You could feel the shift in the air, like something unspoken had settled there, pressing down on the two of you.

Isagi opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but he hesitated. His brow furrowed slightly, and he seemed to be grappling with his words, as though he knew what he wanted to say wasn’t going to come out right. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before, softer than his usual tone of confidence.

“I knew you were getting married. Bachira told me,” he confessed, his eyes flickering down for a moment before meeting yours again. “I didn’t want to make things... harder for you, so I pretended not to know.”

There it was—the guilt in his voice. You’d expected it, but hearing it now hit you harder than you thought it would. Isagi, who always seemed so composed, so untouchable, was suddenly vulnerable in a way you weren’t sure how to handle.

“I knew you would’ve told me if you wanted me to know.”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say, the weight of his words settling in. You weren’t prepared for this—this side of him. But before you could second-guess yourself, the words came out anyway. “I didn’t want you to know,” you said, your voice quieter now. His eyes softened, and you could see the faint shadow of regret in them. “You were always so busy, always out of the country… I just wanted to move on.” You paused, feeling the heaviness of it all. “We’ve been in this strange place for months now, but honestly, I’ve been here even longer.”

Isagi’s gaze intensified, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “What are you trying to say?”

You turned your head away, suddenly embarrassed to meet his eyes. “Isagi,” you whispered, the confession slipping out before you could stop it, “I’ve liked you for a long time now.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, the kind that made you want to sink into the couch and disappear. You felt exposed, as though everything that protected you had been stripped away. But Isagi didn’t say anything, not at first. His eyes never left yours, and his silence—rather than pushing you away—seemed to be drawing you in further.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled slowly, his breath shaky. “I don’t know what to say to that,” he admitted, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “You’ve always been so distant. I didn’t think I stood a chance.”

The words hit you in your gut. Isagi, a man who always seemed composed and confident, had been uncertain the entire time? The realization made you feel both relieved and guilty—you had been blind to everything for longer than you thought.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you said quietly, your throat tightening. “I thought that if I just kept going, kept pretending, it would get easier. But it never did.” You paused, your heart racing. “And now… I don’t know how to fix it.”

Isagi’s expression softened again, the sharp edges of his usual demeanor fading into something gentler. He leaned forward, his voice steady but full of something deeper. “You don’t have to fix it. You just have to tell me what you want. I’m right here. I’ve always been here, but you’ve got to let me in, too.”

His hand finds its way to your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your lips. “We can be a team, but only if you’re comfortable being one together.”

You lean into his touch, as if it were muscle memory. The warmth of his hand on your skin, his thumb pressing gently on your lips—everything about this moment feels like something you should’ve known before, something that was always there, just out of reach. For a split second, you let yourself believe that it’s real, that it’s something you deserve.

But then, as quickly as you let yourself forget, the weight of everything you’ve kept buried presses down on your heart again. The guilt. The confusion. The silence between you, stretched thin over the last few months as you both tread the line between friendship and something more. You pull back slightly, enough to break the contact between you, but not enough to distance yourself completely. You feel colder without the warmth of his hand on your face.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you say, the words escaping before you can stop them. You feel the uncertainty creeping back in.

Isagi doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t let the space between you grow too wide. His eyes are softer now, though you can still see the same intensity in them. He studies your face for a moment, but it feels like he’s seeing past you, into the deeper parts of you, weighing your words carefully. Then, in a voice as low as a whisper:

“No rush. We take things slow, one step at a time.”

The way he says it—the calm certainty—makes your heart race. It’s as if he’s offering a lifeline out of the mess you’ve made of your life. And for the first time in a long time, you start to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

You meet his gaze, your breath catching in your chest. “Are you sure?” you ask, the vulnerability in your voice tightening your throat.

Isagi doesn’t hesitate. “I’m sure.”

And for the first time, you believe him.

written by koudi

tags: @sarahforever

#꩜.ᐟ koudi writes #blue lock x reader #blue lock #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi x you #blue lock x you #isagi x reader #bllk x reader

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