#tv and in papers and magazines
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unlucky-lemon · 8 months ago
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HOW MANY TAGS AND WORDS MUST I FILTER TO HAVE A MOMENT OF HAHA FUNNY FANDOM TIME ON THIS GODDAMN WEBBED SITE
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sunlightfeeling · 2 years ago
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TV Life Premium: 2012.11.3 Vol. 3 (2 Shots)
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biglisbonnews · 2 years ago
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Selena Gomez Responds to Body Shamers After the Golden Globes Selena Gomez is pushing back against the body shamers — once again.As you may know, the 30-year-old Only Murders in the Building star appeared at the 2023 Golden Globes with her little sister, Gracie Elliott Teefey, after being nominated for Best Actress in a Musical or Comedy TV Series. But while the focus should've been on her big achievement, a number of people seemed more interested with the way she looked in her (gorgeous) black and purple Valentino dress. And unfortunately, a lot of the chatter turned out to be less than kind. However, Selena has always hit back at trolls making nasty comments about her body, and this time was no different, with the actress telling her haters to sit back down during a recent Instagram Live with 9-year-old Gracie.“I’m a little bit big right now because I enjoyed myself during the holidays. I mean... right?,” as Selena said in a fan repost of the since-expired clip, which Gracie answered with an emphatic "yeah." “But we don’t care,” Selena added before they both began to laugh, while fans in the comments defended their queen by writing things like, “She shouldn’t have to explain why her body looks how it does."That said, this is far from the first time the "Lose You to Love Me" singer has been forced to revisit this particular conversation, despite being extremely open about her battle with lupus, high blood pressure and kidney issues being a big reason behind her fluctuating weight.Back in April 2022, Selena responded to the hate during a defiant TikTok Live, where she said she was "trying to stay skinny, but I went to Jack in the Box and I got four tacos, three egg rolls, onion rings and a spicy chicken sandwich." “But honestly I don’t care about my weight because people bitch about it anyway," as she concluded. However, she also recently returned to the platform after a so-called "fan" claimed that she was "always skinny" when she was dating ex Justin Bieber, though this time she appeared to be genuinely hurt by the comment, judging by the sad face emoji she left underneath the video.Check out Selena's latest response to the trolls for yourself below. @popnewsdaily She was also streaming Taylor and miley in the car 😭 #selenagomez #bodyshaming #bodypositivity #mileycyrus #taylorswift ♬ original sound - PopNewsDaily Photo via Getty / Matt Winkelmeyer / FilmMagic https://www.papermag.com/selena-gomez-golden-globes-body-2659270738.html
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daily-celeb-photos · 5 months ago
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Kim Kardashian
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gghostwriter · 5 months ago
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One Single Thread of Gold
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Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Part 2 Summary: The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes Trope: Fluff! Just fluff and team banter! w.c: 4.0k a/n: For some reason, my earlier post on this disappeared dunno why. But this is a very self indulgent fic as reader’s background is basically based on the industry I work in. I had a lot of fun writing the team banter and I hope you enjoy it too! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗
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The first clue presented itself on a dull Wednesday night as the team, minus Hotch and Rossi, were leaving the bullpen after a full day of pushing papers. Penelope in all of her sunshine and colorful glory was buzzing about these accessories that she once spotted on a storefront window.
“I saw a pair of earrings and a matching necklace that would look so good with that top you bought the other day, JJ. You know, the blue one with those soft sleeves—they would look great with it. It’s tres boho chic.”
JJ smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but Spencer beat her to it.
“Did you know that boho chic was actually a response to political and social movements?”
“Wait, what?” Emily interjected.
He took her disbelief as a sign to continue on. “Yeah, yeah. There’s an article written about it in Vogue—softness and femininity historically appears in moments of political stress and war. Just like in the 70s with the hippie and anti-war movement that defined their style as a generation.”
They all piled into the elevator and turned to face the boy genius like he grew another head. For all they knew, this could be a clone and a very bad one at that. The Spencer Reid that they knew had absolutely no interest in the realms of fashion.
Penelope was the first to break the silence. “Vogue?”
“Kid, what gives? Just the other time, you didn’t know how many shoes a woman owns and now you’re some kind of expert?” Derek asked with both eyebrows raised.
“Did not knowing activate some kind of button that made you want to read about it?” Emily added on, feeling like she was in some kind of TV prank show.
“What?” Spencer licked his lips, nervous with all the attention on him. He felt like he was about to slip something up that he had been keeping to himself for a while now. A hidden precious gem that was you. “I—I like to read.” A believable excuse except his voice went up an octave, giving him away.
The three women shared a look.
“But you read academic textbooks and classic literature,” JJ stated.
Penelope added on. “Not fashion magazines.”
He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to reading. If it’s interesting—” he shifted his weight one side to another, thinking that the ride down on the elevator seemed to be taking slower than usual. “—I’ll read it.”
Penelope narrowed her eyes. She was no profiler but she could smell a lie from a mile away way. That wasn’t the whole truth. Dr. Spencer Reid was hiding something.
“Okay, see you tomorrow!” he squeaked out as he ran out of the elevator once it hit the lobby.
She turned to the three profilers, stunned with the boy genius’ erratic behavior. “Huh, did anybody else get the feeling that Spencer was hiding something?”
“Maybe, but the kid does read a lot. Maybe he just ran out of books.” Morgan shrugged.
The other two profilers tilted their heads and slowly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t far off on something Spencer would do. He did once pick up a pamphlet in the airport to read as mentioned before to her by Derek, granted it was for a case but still, Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.
So when she arrived home that very same night, she propped up her laptop and got to digging. Boy Genius was hiding something big and Little Miss Oracle of Quantico can find anything with her tech skills. She’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, once and for all.
———
Spencer was glad to be coming home to your presence. Having spied the lights still on from the outside of the apartment, he took the steps two at a time, excited to see his 2nd favorite person after his mother—you.
“Spence?” You called out, having heard the mahogany front door open. “Is that you, baby?”
“Hey, love. I missed you,” he deposited his satchel to the nearby sofa and ran to give you a hug.
You burrowed yourself into his arms. All the muscles in your body relaxing as you caught a whiff of his cedar wood perfume—the same scent you’ve gifted to him during the early stages of dating. “I missed you too. How was your day?”
“Better now with you,” his words coming out muffled as he refused to detach himself from the embrace. “Actually, I almost slipped up today.”
You extricated from his arms to give him an inquisitive look. The slight scrunch on your nose and raised brows made his heart flutter. How expressive, free, and trusting you were. It reminded him of your first encounter. How you teasingly asked him if he was a serial killer when he offered you a ride home in the pouring rain and how you easily accepted regardless.
“Yeah? Did any of them catch on?” you probed as you pulled him by his belt loops to the direction of the bedroom.
He laughed, finding your aggression cute. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Maybe we should schedule dinner with them sometime,” you coyly suggested as you slowly started to unravel his tie. “I mean, we’ve been together for over a year now and I have moved into your apartment, under the guise of watering your plants while you’re away. Which is a lie, by the way—”
“I have plants!” he protested. His hands divesting you out of his sweater, bringing to view his favorite silk set in deep purple that accentuated your skin and the blush on your cheeks.
“—that I brought over, Spence,” you quipped back. “But don’t worry, I won’t spill how the intelligent FBI agent fooled naive me into moving in with him.”
There was a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Love, I wouldn’t exactly call you naive—” his voice going an octave lower. “—not when you’re looking at me with those tempting eyes of yours.”
Giggling, you leaned in for a kiss, one that he quickly took over. His calloused dominant hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively caging you in while his other cradled your cheek—a stark contrast to the other. Kissing Spencer had always felt like a religious experience that you never want to part from.
Reluctantly pulling away, you caught glimpse of his need for you. His hazel eyes now dark as ink, nostrils slightly flared, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his dominant hand dug into the fleshy nape of your neck. It made you feel desirable, like the goddess that he would call you when he’s on his knees tasting nectar from the source.
The discussion of inviting the team out for dinner was long forgotten. No other words were spoken as you pushed him on the bed—only the cries of his and your name and moans of ‘yes’ echoed well into the night.
***
The second clue was uncovered when Spencer walked into the cold windy bullpen with new black cardigan adorning his lithe body. It was non-descriptive to the untrained eye but for fashion enthusiast Penelope Garcia, she knew what those four white lines on the sleeve meant—luxury label and priced well above their pay grade.
She narrowed her eyes. The Spencer she knew wouldn’t dare spend his salary on anything besides limited first edition books. Something was truly up and she planned to get to the bottom of it as her initial online search turned up nothing.
“Reid, that’s a really nice sweater,” she complimented, throwing in her bait.
He smiled. The thought of who gave it to him warmed his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks Garcia.”
Her sparkly pink kitten heels clacking on the floor as she came closer. “Can I see it?” she innocently asked.
The request threw Spencer off the loop but thought nothing of it as he shrugged and handed it to her—still warm from body temperature.
Her squeals caught the attention of the other profilers filling into the office.
“What is it, baby girl?” Morgan deposited his bag on the table and stationed himself beside her. “It’s Reid’s new sweater. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing?”
Garcia rolled her eyes. This was why females are considered more observant that their sex counterpart. Her chocolate thunder was a profiler but how could he not notice what she was deducing?
“Huh,” Emily surmised. “Based on the fibers, it’s definitely not polyester. Possibly a 100% wool, what do you think, JJ?”
“It says here on the tag—100% virgin wool,” she read out loud. “That makes it very expensive, right Garcia?”
The colorful tech analyst smiled. Her girls could never let her down. “Right you are, girlfriends! But it’s not only that, this—” pointing at the four stripes on the sleeve. “—this is a signature Thom Browne detail. Their prices go up to at least 600 dollars—” they all turned to Reid who seemed clearly agitated. “—now why does our boy wonder have a piece that could buy at most five cute heels?”
With his vast intellect, he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of this impromptu interrogation. He couldn’t very well say that it was a gift now could he? If he did, that would lead to another hard hitting question ‘from who?’ He raked his hand through his curly hair, taking the same path as yours did just earlier as you gave him a kiss goodbye.
When you gifted him the cardigan from your last New York business trip, he really thought nothing of its material equivalence, besides feeling grateful and loved. It was proof that you paid attention to even the littlest details about him.
“Hey Spence, I got you something,” you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. The first thing you had done when you got home was run into his arms. A simple act that healed his aching heart from missing it’s other half.
You reached into your luggage, enthusiastically pulling out the black clothing wrapped in tissue paper like some magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. “Here you go!”
“A new sweater!” He exclaimed.
You rocked on your heels, looking bashful as you explained the reasoning behind it. “I noticed you fidgeting when you wore the cardigan JJ gifted you last Christmas, the polyester fibers used on it must have been really itchy so I got you a new one—” your eyes widened at how your explanation could be taken the wrong way. “—not that her gift wasn’t great! No, it was very cute! It’s just—I want you to be comfortable and protected during your cases in cold states. Polyester is a good insulator of heat but wool is still the best.”
He loved how unabashed you rambled about your interests. That was one of the first things he piqued his notice. How you liked to share your knowledge about the fashion industry that you work for but never coming across as stuck up or snobby, you just genuinely wanted to educate anyone who had a wrong perception of the billion dollar commerce. Admittedly, he was one of them but hearing you rave about it’s nitty-gritty details and socio-economic movements changed his mind. It also helped that a beautiful and intelligent woman, such as yourself, was educating him.
He pulled you in for a kiss, stopping all the worries that ran through your head. “I love it. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing at all, baby. I like taking care of you. Just like how you take care of me,” you reasoned. “Plus I got it on sale courtesy of the magazine connections.”
A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Penelope with an eyebrow raised at the subtle smile that graced his face while he replayed the moment in his head.
“Okay,” Morgan drawled. “What’s got you smiling, Pretty boy?”
“Nothing,” he squeaked out, turning to see Hotch make his way across the office. Spencer hurriedly collected his things and started to move even before their unit chief could call their attention.
“We have a case,” Hotch announced.
The remaining BAU members all looked at each other, silently communicating about Reid’s irregular demeanor, before piling into the conference room for another grueling scene of murder.
“He’s been acting weird,” Garcia rushed out. “Definitely hiding something. What do you think, Em?”
Emily nodded. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“A girl?” JJ guessed.
“Yes, must be a special one for him to keep secret for so long,” Garcia surmised. “Do you think he’ll hate it if I go further digging around to find out who she is?”
“Further?” Emily clarified.
JJ laughed. “Probably, let’s wait for him to volunteer the information. Okay, Garcia?”
She sighed, shoulders drooping, before nodding in agreement.
***
The third clue was quite literally handed to Penelope Garcia on the jet after a case when she accompanied the team.
“Cold Alaska is so not good for my skin,” she grumbled as she rummaged her bottomless bag for her favorite hand cream. “I love going with you all on trips rather than being stuck in my own tech cave but the weather wasn’t it.”
Morgan chuckled. “Aw c’mon baby girl, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together?”
“You, my sculpted hunk, and the fireplace were the highlight,” Penelope turned to the other female profilers. “My beauties, do any of you have lotion? I think I lost mine.”
Before JJ or Emily could even utter a word, a tube made its way to her lap courtesy of her seat mate, Dr. Spencer Reid.
“Reid, since when do you carry lotion?” Emily inquired.
He shrugged. “Hand cream has it’s benefits besides from moisturizing the skin, it also provides an additional layer of protection. Depending on it’s properties, it can also repair and undo damage.”
The females all shared a look. This was another unexplainable behavior from their resident genius.
“We know that,” JJ stated. “We just thought you didn’t.”
His brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, besides from the fact that you’ve never shown interest about skincare before, isn’t it a stereotype for men not to know? Unless—” Emily slyly smiled and nodded at Garcia to continue.
“Unless you have a girlfriend that we don’t know about,” Garcia bounced on her seat.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t realize he was walking into a trap before it was too late. “What makes you say that?”
They laughed.
JJ started. “Besides from you suddenly being knowledgeable in fashion—“
“—or having a pricey sweater you’d never buy for yourself—” Emily added on.
“Or, or—“ Garcia reached out to touch his hand. Which made Spencer react with a high pitched call of her name. “—having a shea butter lotion with rough hands!” She waved the tube up in the air. “Plus, this is half empty. So either it’s not working which I doubt since this is a good brand or you keep this in your bag for a special someone to use!”
Derek chuckled. “Baby girl, you could be a profiler at this point.”
“Oh tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped back. “So Reid, want to tell us the truth?”
He sighed, finding no escape. “Yes, yes I have a girlfriend.”
The girls all shrieked with laughter and their own corresponding questions of who is she? How did you meet? How long has this been going on? What does she do for a living? Is she pretty? Oh I bet she is!
“Looks like that cat is out of the bag,” Rossi nonchalantly stated.
Four sets of eyes turned to look at one of the BAU founders. “Rossi, you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Garcia gasped, a hand to her chest at the thought of betrayal.
He laughed. “I caught them on a dinner date once and our boy wonder over here—“ nodded in Reid’s direction. “—begged me not to out him yet, said he wanted to be the one to tell the team the news but that was like what, six months ago?”
“Six months ago?” Emily repeated.
“Wait, wait. Hotch, don’t tell me you also knew?” Morgan asked.
The unit chief smiled. “She was added to Reid’s emergency contact last February.”
“February? That’s almost a year ago!” JJ sputtered out.
The tech analyst turned to glare at the youngest member of the BAU. “Reid, you better start spilling all the details or so help me, I will stalk all your digital footprint when we land until I find out who she is, where she lives, and what her deepest darkest secret is.”
“What about hearing it all from her, instead?” He rubbed the back of his neck. The secrecy had gone on for so long and there was no time like the present to introduce his chosen family to his chosen partner—hopefully until the end of time. “She wants to treat you all out for dinner tonight.”
All four nodded vigorously as they watched him pull out his phone and send a quick text to which you readily replied and agreed to.
“My man,” Derek sighed. “Can’t believe you got a girlfriend without me being your wingman.”
“Answer me at least this, is she pretty and does she make you happy?” Garcia asked. No matter how nosey she may be, she only wanted the best for Spencer and if the recent lightness and smiles were all caused by his mystery girlfriend, she already approved.
“The prettiest,” Spencer gushed out. “She’s my own personal sunshine.”
The three girls melted into their seats. Their youngest was all grown up waxing prose over his lover.
“She makes you sappy too,” Derek teased.
***
[EXTRA - When the mystery was uncovered]
Spencer had never felt any more nervous that this moment as he, with the rest of the team minus Hotch and Rossi, wait for your arrival. He sat with his back to the restaurant entrance and his cardigan laying on the empty seat beside him as a reservation mark. His eyes had been going back and forth to his idle phone and to the conversation the team was having.
Morgan noted his state of distress and chuckled. “You okay there, lover boy? She’s still coming right, your mystery girlfriend?”
“Yeah, yeah. She said she was on her way 9 minutes and 24 seconds ago and based on the route and traffic, she should have been here 45 seconds earlier. Just worried that something might have happened.”
Penelope leaned in, picking on her bubblegum pink choice of drink as she did. “You know, if you just told me her name I could have tracked every movement by now and you wouldn’t be sitting here worrying.”
“What—no Garcia, I don’t want her tracked plus she didn’t want you to know everything about her even before meeting her,” his voice going up an octave in your defense.
She shrugged. “I’m just saying. I mean we don’t know a single thing about her—”
“We do know she exists and you’ve been together for almost a year now,” Emily interjected.
“Actually, it’s been more than year—one year and 124 days to be exact.”
“Buttercup, all I’m saying is we don’t even know how she looks—” Garcia gasped, having spotted a passerby on the window and what she was wearing. “Oh my gosh, that maroon coat is to die for and that textured leather bag—I wonder if I could track her down and ask where she got it.”
“Oh she’s pretty,” JJ noted.
Derek smirked. “Baby girl, tell me if you plan to ask her ‘cause I wouldn’t mind asking for her number.”
The tech analyst’s eyes further widened as she noted the attractive woman going inside the restaurant.
“You weren’t kidding about that coat, Garcia, it looks really nice,” JJ appraised.
Emily squinted her eyes, taking note of the garment in question. “It looks high quality, probably vintage and—is she going near us?”
“Oh gods, she is! Act natural, act natural!” Penelope chanted as she repeatedly slapped Derek’s arm.
The stranger stopped behind Spencer. “Hey handsome,” your melodic voice was a siren that called to his every being. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Penelope’s jaw dropped as she took in Derek’s flustered reaction.
“Me?” He pointed at himself, getting picked up in such a public setting was new even for him—the ladies man of the BAU.
You laughed. “Well, you too but I was more of talking to this lover of mine—“ you bent down, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, Spence.”
A series of gasps were heard all around the table.
The youngest stood up and turned to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, Y/N. I was starting to get worried.”
“I missed the train, sorry I forgot to send an update,” you explained as he helped you into your seat.
Promptly seating back down, he angled his body to yours—all attention on you as if you were the only one in the room. And in a way you were, with how molten his doe eyes stared, alternating between yours and your painted lips that begged to be kissed.
He always felt breathless when you were near. It was as if he found his very own Aphrodite to worship here on earth. Spencer was no believer of fates or destiny but he would pray and light a candle if he needed to, just to keep you his. Your intelligent mind complimenting his, your outgoing personality that draws anyone in, and your face that could launch a thousand ships.
Those eyes that could read the deepest crevices of his fiber of being. Those cheeks that begged to be caressed by his calloused hands. Those soft lips that deserved to be kissed and devoured until you, in turn, were as breathless as he was. He suddenly wished you both were anywhere else but here—specifically in the confines of the apartment where he was free to express his love, devotion, and adoration until you scream his name and beg him to stop. His hand, having found it’s way to your thigh, squeezed the flesh three times—communicating his promise to have your hair laid around you like a halo as you lay under him, bare and writhing with need.
The blonde on the other end of the table cleared her throat, cutting through the tension.
“Okay, Spence,” she smiled. “Mind introducing us to your girlfriend?”
He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a series of sweet kisses on your knuckle. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the rest of the team. Morgan—“ he gestured to each one. “Emily, JJ, and Garcia.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you!” You exclaimed. “So sorry we’re only meeting now. We wanted to stay in our little bubble for as long as we could plus this handsome FBI agent—” you nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “—wanted to keep me to himself. But where’s Aaron and Dave?”
Emily whispered under her breath. “Aaron? Dave?”
“They had prior commitments, love. They did send their regards and Rossi wants to invite you to the next gathering at his mansion,” Spencer explained.
“Love?” Penelope squeaked out. This was really starting to feel like Twilight zone for the team members.
You nodded. “I’ll definitely plot it on my calendar. Now, I heard you had some questions for me?”
“How’d you two meet?” JJ asked.
“When was the first date?” Emily inquired.
Penelope brought out a pen and paper. “What’s you social security number?”
Derek snorted at that. “Do you have any other siblings?”
Spencer’s eyebrows raised further and further up with each question while your shoulders shook with laughter.
“She has all the time in the world to get to know each of you,” Spencer laid out. “No need to make it sound like an interrogation.” He was wishing to keep you forever, if you’d let him.
You smiled as you caressed his cheek, having caught on to the veiled meaning behind his words. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
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Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
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fictionalmenxyn · 3 months ago
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hi can you write rafe x wife. Happily married and have 3 teen kids. Sons friends comes over and talks about mom as milf( idk maybe something else up to u) and Rafe and his wife hear it! Then Rafe f*cks her
of course I can!!
•———•
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ఌ𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧ఌ
Pairing: husband!rafe x wife!reader
Warnings: SMUT, language, p in v, fingering, no mentions of protection (be safe, wrap it before u tap it!), breeding kink, dirty talk, possessive/jealous Rafe.
Feel free to send more reqs! Thinking of doing dad!Rafe so send me things you’d like to see! Or more husband!rafe idm! Anything!
🝮🝮🝮
Just getting home from work, you got out of your Range Rover. Collecting your handbag, laptop and some papers from the back seat.
You headed into yours and Rafe’s estate. Walking through the front door. You already knew your three sons had friends over. Your eldest, Cody had asked you over text. You slip your heels off by the door and walk through the large foyer and over to the spacious living room. You smiled as you saw your boys Cody (17), Morgan (16) and Ollie (14 1/2). You spoke “hey boys, you all having fun?” They all said their “heys” and “yeah, thanks”.
You subtly noticed the way their friends eyed you up. Teenage boys never really cared if you saw them checking woman out. Well, these lot didn’t. You looked over to the attached large kitchen, smiling as you see Rafe.
You walked over, putting your things onto the counter. Rafe was leaning forward. His elbows on the counter as he watched the tv from the kitchen as your sons and their friends had soccer on. You walked over to Rafe. Smiling as you put your hand on his back. “Hey, love, you ok?” He turns his head to look at you. His famous grin plastered on his face. “Yeah, all good, how’s work?” He pulls you by the waist. Giving you a soft but firm kiss, showing you how much he missed you since you left this morning. You pull away to answer “good, made some great photos today, all I have to do is change the lighting and tone..” he smiled and pecked your lips “good, can I watch it while you do it?”
Rafe loved what you did. You were a photographer for models, perfume/jewellery commercials or fashion designers. You took the photos and edited them to put on magazines or advertisements. He loved how much you enjoyed your job to.
You nodded “of course, Rafey” he smiled “good girl..” you pecked his cheek.
You sat at the island counter, going through the photos on your laptop. As Rafe leaned against the counter, arms crossed, taking the occasional sip from his drink.
You both overheard Cody and his friend talk. His friend, Jack, asked “dude, is that your older sister or something?” Cody asked “who?” Jack replied “the one that’s in the kitchen with your dad.” Cody shook his head “nah man, that’s my mom.” Jack replied “no fucking way?? She’s so hot, dude, your mom is such a milf, no joke.”
Rafe practically chocked on his drink, as your eyes widen and press your hand to your forehead. A quiet gasp escaped your lips. What did Jack just say? You couldn’t be going mad, Rafe heard the same thing.
Cody spoke “shut up! Don’t say that!” Jack shrugged nonchalantly “dude, I’m just saying, I’d tap that if I could.”
Your eyes widen, Rafe’s jaw clenched. Rafe didn’t need to be and wasn’t jealous… not exactly… he just didn’t like the fact that a seventeen year old friend of your sons had just said that about you… his wife, the mother of his children, his childhood friend, his lover…
Through the rest of the day, Rafe stuck to your side. You’d changed into some sweats and a crop top. Once you were done you both sat on the couch; Rafe next to you. He had his arm around you the whole time. Occasionally kissing your cheek or temple. Showing the boys, your his. He’s the one that put that beautiful diamond ring on your finger. He’s the one that put three beautiful and handsome boys in you. He helped you create life. He’s the one that gives you happiness.
🝮🝮🝮
Soon after, the sun started to set. Your three sons had asked both Rafe and yourself if they could stay the night at one of the boys house. Rafe agreed and told them to be safe and have fun.
As soon as he had shut that front door. You were in for a real treat tonight. Rafe walked back over to the couch. He put his one knee on the seat and he placed a hand on the side of your neck. His cold metal of his rings and watch press gently into your warm neck. He crashes his lips into yours like a starved man. His tongue quick to be shoved into your mouth. You knew what he was up to. You could tell it from the exact moment Cody’s friend said what he said about you.
You knew Rafe since day one, knew him better than he knew himself. So you knew what he was doing. And you were definitely not complaining.
Rafe placed one hand one your thigh and guided you so you laid back on the couch. While he stayed on top of you. He groaned against your lips. He mumbled “‘m gonna make you feel so good, baby” you gasped softly when you feel Rafe’s hips press against yours. He puts his free hand from your thigh, moving it to the waistband of your sweats.
Putting his hand down your sweats he could feel the material of your panties and your soft, wet skin. He groaned “you wearing the black lace ones?” You nodded. He grinned “all f’me…mine” you mumbled “yes, Rafey…”
His fingers slowly move up and down against your heat. You moaned softly. You gasp when you felt his middle finger slip in. He tilted his head and started to kiss along your neck. He groaned, his finger slowly pulling in and out. As he inhaled the sent of your vanilla perfume, he groaned once again. He mumbled against your soft skin “feel so good on my finger, want another, babe?” You nodded. He replied “words. y/n.” You whispered “another, please, Rafe” he slipped his ring finger in. Causing you to gasp softly.
After a few more seconds he pulled his fingers out. You whimpered, he grinned “oh we aren’t done, just wanna take you upstairs… prefer the bed.” Your mouth practically waters as you watch him move his fingers to his mouth. Cleaning you off his digits.
He picks you up, over his shoulder. Taking you upstairs and not wasting anymore time.
Placing you down on the bed, he was quick to take your clothes off. All piece of clothing on the floor. While he starts to take his off, you watched in awe. Your reaction to him will always be the same. It’s like looking at him for the first time, over and over. You never got tired of him. Never have and never will.
You watched as he was swift to remove his boxers. His huge length springing free. He moved onto the bed. His lips go to yours as his hand moves to his length. Pumping it a few times, then lining up with your entrance. You gasp as he started to push in. Once he was all the way in he leaned over you. His chain dangles by your chin. His hands either side of your shoulders. His biceps flex as he looks down at you.
“You’re so pretty under me, sweetheart.” You moaned softly as he slowly started to move in and out. He chuckled lowly “you know, what the boys said… was right..” he groaned. “You are a milf… my milf… such a hot momma, baby… I know you want another… want me to give you one?” You moaned as he picked up the pace a little more. “Words, sweetheart.” You nodded “yes, fuck! Want another…”
He moaned hearing your words, “fuck Y/n, I’ll give you another… I’ll fill you up, make your baby bump come back. Love you baby bumps… every one of them…” you moaned. His one hand moves to your lower stomach, pushing on the bulge on your lower abdomen. Causing you to moan, as he goes deeper.
He picks up his pace, he moaned “fuck, gonna make you pregnant again. Wanna see you with my baby in you again.” He goes harder. “Fuck can feel you round me, that make you excited, baby? Thinking of me getting you pregnant again?”
You nodded, grabbing onto his bicep. Nails digging into his tan skin. He groans at the feeling. He spoke “gonna give ya a girl this time, I wanna girl, so I can spoil you both, yeah? Let you two have the world.” You moan “oh Rafey!” He grinned. “Yeah? Like that?” You nodded. He leaned back. Grabbing your hips, guiding you against him as he thrusts into you.
He can feel your close, “gonna come f’me? Let me have it, sweetheart. You do that f’me and I’ll do it for ya..” you placed your hand on his chest. Then holding his chain. Wanting him closer, he knew you well. He knew that meant you were about to finish. He leaned down. You moaned “fuck, gonna-” “do it, finish over my cock f’me, love…” those words hit you like a brick wall. Every. God. Damn. Time.
And he knew it too.
You moaned one last time, then finishing. Causing you to tighten around him. He chased his realise and finished inside you.
He moaned as he slowed his pace. Still thrusting, just slowing down. Chasing both of your climaxes. Once he came to a spot. You had you usual ‘thank you’. He kissed both cheeks, then your forehead, temples, chin, nose and then your lips. He mumbled against your lips “you ok? Feel good, baby? You did so good..” You nodded “so good.”
He gently pulled out, causing you both to inhale sharply. He gently picked you up. Going ahead and doing your aftercare. For all the time you both knew each other. And past Rafe, with his many hook ups. Not once did he do aftercare. But for you? His childhood friend to girlfriend to fiancée to wife to mother of his children?
He’d give you the world, he’d kill for you. Protect you. Die for you, live for you. He’d do anything for you. Even if it’s as simple as aftercare. He loves you. You love him.
🝮🝮🝮
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chelseeebe · 1 year ago
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still into you
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after abruptly leaving hawkins (and you) seven years ago, eddie munson, ex-boyfriend turned rockstar, makes a grand return. how will things pan out when your lives couldn’t be further apart?
this has been in the drafts for god knows how long and you can definitely tell where my writing started to improve as i came back to it.. hope y’all enjoy anyway! this is so long good lord. also includes a bit of bestfriendism with stevie!
18+. mdni. smut. mentions of alcohol. eddie is a dickhead. no use of y/n!
read part two here.
‎♡‧₊˚
‘you know he’s coming back next weekend?’ steve mutters, nodding towards you as you rip the sellotape from the brown box, beginning to stack the cans of soup.
‘is he? oh my god oh my god,’ feigning excitement with a straight face.
you’d already known he was coming back, you’d received the invitation just like everybody else. except, you’d swiftly put the gimmicky piece of paper into the trash and got on with your day. confused why everyone else seemed to be losing their goddamn minds over it.
he huffs quietly, helping you with the heavy tins, ‘are you gonna go?’ steve didn’t actually work in melvalds but came in on his breaks purely to chat and distract you from your work.
‘am i gonna go? hmm, let me think.. no.’
‘he wants to see you.. you should come,’ prodding his elbow into your side, collapsing the box into a flat piece of cardboard.
‘you spoke to him?’ ears perking up. you didn’t care if he’d mentioned you. no, really.
‘yeah.. he called a few weeks ago, y’know when the invitations got sent out,’ picking up the next box to start filling the shelf.
‘oh! it’s nice to know he called you and just hilarious to know i never got a phone call,’ getting frankly quite sick of hearing about eddie fucking munson and his grand return.
once upon a time, eddie had actually been your boyfriend. must’ve been 7 or so years ago by this point.. anyway, that was before he’d got his big break and decided that he was going to completely forget about hawkins.. and about you. you’d still been together after his first tiny tour, excitedly waiting for him to come home when he just.. never did.
he’d had the decency to at least call and tell you that he was breaking up with you.. we’re just in different places right now.. it’s not you.. i don’t want you to ruin your life waiting for me..
it was essentially a whole bunch of bullshit, because the very next month he was spotted with some bottle blonde model looking suspiciously close at some club he’d have absolutely hated the year prior. it was like a punch to the gut, flicking through the pages of the trashy magazine just knowing that you hadn’t been enough for this new lifestyle of his.
from then on, you’d decided to disengage with any and everything about him. turning the tv off when corroded coffin came on one of the morning talk shows, leaving the room at parties when one of his song’s inevitably came on and just completely blanking out of the conversation when his name was brought up. it was easier that way, saved your feelings and the awkward glances you’d get.
at some point things had become slightly more complicated and you’re not sure how exactly it had happened but you had wound up pregnant. and by jason carver no less. maybe it was your shared disdain for eddie that had brought you together. who knows?
but it had happened and now you had to deal with it. and although jason may come in a close second to world’s biggest assholes.. you had gained a beautiful daughter from it all and had become quite content with your single mom life.
people had come and gone, robin jetting off to some fancy college in california.. jonathan and nancy ending up in new york at some hot-shot newspaper.. the kids you’d sort of gathered had all gone off to various colleges, becoming adults themselves. all except for steve.
steve had stayed in hawkins like you, begrudgingly following his father’s footsteps, getting a job at his accounting firm. it was good money and kept his dad happy so he couldn’t fault it really. he’d even got his own place just down the street from your house and at some point you’d just accepted that he was probably your only friend in hawkins.
it had brought the two of you undeniably closer and maybe you’d even call him your best friend now. well, except for right now as he was beginning to piss you off with all this fussing over eddie.
‘you have to come.. it’s not just for him, everyone is going.. it’s a reunion,’ steve continues to pester you despite your efforts to shut him down.
‘steve, i’m not going and that’s that.’
he sighs, staring at you with a blank expression, ‘okay, well.. i’ll tell him it’s a maybe,’ checking his watch before frowning, ‘shit, i’m late.. i’ll see you later,’ throwing the empty cardboard to the floor before dashing off down the aisle, giving you an exaggerated wave as he disappears.
you just knew that he was not going to drop this until you agreed to go. but he could kick and scream as much as he liked, you had absolutely zero desire to go this flimsy reunion and even less desire to see eddie in the flesh.
-
it’s another dull week of stacking shelves and managing a team of absolute morons and before you know it, it’s the day before that fucking reunion and steve is still as incessant as ever that you must go.
‘my mom can look after ella.. please just come,’ he sounded like he was a second away from getting on his knees to actually beg you to go.
you’d started to just ignore him now, getting on with whatever you were doing, choosing to give him the silent treatment. he hated that.
‘you’re so annoying,’ he scoffs, still helping you unbox the bags of chips, ‘will you just come for five minutes.. you don’t even have to talk to eddie, it’s the first time we’ll all be together again.. puh-leaseee,’ breaking into a weird sort of sing-song tone.
you exhale through your nose, visibly frustrated by the man, ‘i’m going to ban you in a minute,’ raising your eyebrows, taking the same tone you used when ella was being a brat.
‘no you won’t,’ furrowing his brows, ‘what if i promise to stand in between you the whole night? i’ll beat him with a stick if he even tries to talk to you,’ completely serious with what he just said.
you chortle, covering your mouth as one of the elderly customers walks past, slightly bewildered by the noise that just escaped your mouth, ‘couldn’t you just beat him with a stick anyway?’
‘ehh.. not really, he is paying for the whole thing,’ straightening the bags of air he’d just placed on the shelf, ‘i mean, i could if you really want me to.’
you roll your eyes, of course he was. he’d rented the fanciest restaurant just outside of town for your gaggle of pals. any chance to flaunt the fact that he’d made it out of this hell hole and left the rest of you in the dirt.
‘i have a child, steve, i can’t just go out and leave her at home.. some of us aren’t free like you are,’ turning to face him with a stern hand on your hip.
‘i just told you my mom’ll look after her.. she hasn’t seen her in so long and.. and you can stay at mine and i’ll take you to her first thing in the morning,’ his eyes are round, glimmering in the harsh overhead lights.
‘i don’t have anything to wear,’ shrugging, you really didn’t. becoming a mother isn’t quite so glamorous and a lot of clothes you’d once fit into had become a little tight.
‘when d’you finish?’
narrowing your eyes at him, ‘two..’
‘great.. okay well, i’ll take a half-day and we can go shopping.. on me,’ wiggling his eyebrows at you. the thing about steve is that he believes that most problems can be solved by throwing money at it.
he wasn’t wrong, of course.
because you reluctantly agree to go shopping with him on the condition that you weren’t definitely going to this thing. you were just going to try on dresses. that was it.
-
you get a cab to the restaurant, there was no way in hell you were doing this sober nor did you want to subject steve to being sober for your sake. palms clammy as you clamber out of the vehicle, immediately regretting your decision.
no one would care if you didn’t go, right? you could quite easily just get back into the taxi and go home without forcing yourself to endure the night.
steve’s one step ahead of you, grabbing your hand so you can’t run away. throwing him an awful glare but you weren’t really mad, just annoyed that he’d succeeded in persuading you to come.
‘c’mon.. it won’t be so bad once you’re in there,’ smoothing down his fresh shirt as he begins to walk up the winding path, dragging you along behind him.
he’s wrong. it’s so much worse inside. the place was huge, extravagantly decorated and full of people you’d once regarded as your best friends, all too busy in their own conversations to notice you and steve walk in.
it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard from them, it had just been through occasional letters and christmas cards rather than seeing them face to face. robin would call sometimes, fill you in on whatever she had been up to and beg to speak to ella who absolutely loved it. you were sure they were on the same wavelength.
you look to steve with wary eyes, digging your fingertips into his hand, ‘we could just leave right now.. no one would even know,’ tugging gently on his arm.
‘hey,’ he whispers, ‘it’s okay.. look, robin’s coming over, we’ll say hi and see how you feel,’ using his spare hand to wave at the bubbly girl, dropping your hand to give her a hug.
‘oh my god,’ she rushes, ‘how are you? you look so good.. and i don’t mean you,’ pulling away from steve to throw her arms around you, her gentle hands rubbing on your back.
‘hah, it’s nice to see you too,’ steve rolls his eyes, grabbing two of the champagne flutes being ferried around by fancy waiters.
she pulls back, ‘i didn’t think you were coming.. how are you doing? how’s ella?’ the words falling out of her mouth at super speed, it was as if her mouth moved before her brain did.
‘i wasn’t gonna but i wanted to see you guys,’ you nod, taking the glass from steve’s outstretched hand and taking a lengthy sip, ‘i’m okay.. ella’s okay.. you’ll have to come and see her before you leave.’
‘i will i will! i literally landed like two hours ago and had to rush but i’m back until friday,’ her hands flying around as she spoke, ‘come and say hello..’ her arm intertwines with yours as she leans in closer to your ear, ‘he’s staring y’know..’
your eyes roll back on their own, not even wanting to search the room for him, ‘i’m not speaking to him so he can stare all he likes,’ straightening up as you approach the group robin had left.
nancy’s talking to max about something in incredible detail but is quite to stop when you approach, mouth in a small ‘o’ as she hugs you, ‘you came? i thought we were gonna miss you,’ grinning wide when she pulls back.
you give an overdramatic sigh, ‘of course i had to come.. you’d all miss me too much,’ waving to the rest of the group.
there are a lot of small pleasantries swapped, asking about their journey’s here and how they’d been.. standard small talk. but then el asks to see a picture of ella, ecstatic that their names were so similar. you’d come prepared, pulling the creased picture out of your bag.
they all gush and coo over her, it was a picture you’d snapped from her first day of kindergarten, cheesing with her pigtails and pink hair bobbles. passing it around the gathered group, still steadily sipping on the bitter champagne.
‘who’s that?’ eddie asks, you hadn’t noticed him sidle over to the crowd, stood peering over lucas’ shoulder at the photograph.
your eyes meet his, seeing his face for the first time in what felt like centuries. he looked older, obviously, still sporting the same long curls except now it actually looked as if it’d been styled. he’s in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, forearms now littered with tattoos and a nice looking watch. your heart just about stops beating when you realise you’ll now have to explain exactly who that is.
‘uh.. that’s ella,’ you nod, not quite meeting his eyes, ‘..my daughter,’ taking the photo from lucas’ hand, the atmosphere had quite suddenly shifted and people begin to scatter, starting their own conversations so they don’t have to bare witness to this one.
‘oh.. oh, right.. well, congratulations then,’ the shadow of a smile on his lips, could he feel how fucking awkward this was?
‘thank you,’ giving him a half nod, startled as steve’s hand brushes the small of your back. he’d seen that you were in conversation and had left dustin to fulfil his security guard promise.
‘it’s nice that you two found each other.. you have a beautiful daughter,’ still not fully committed to smiling but he was getting there.
your face contorts, immediately looking to steve before letting out a god awful cackle, ‘oh no.. she’s not steve’s,’ covering your mouth before another taunting laugh comes out.
steve is trying to stifle his grin but fails, reaching his hand out to shake eddie’s hand, ‘ah man, no ella’s not mine but she is beautiful, isn’t she? how are you?’
you’re eternally grateful that he he’s managed to sway the conversation and you aren’t forced to explain why or how you’d had a child with jason fucking carver. turning back to robin as you hear steve ramble on about work and corroded coffin’s new album, something you had absolutely no care about.
‘shall we get another drink?’ robin asks, eyeing the open bar and your empty glass.
‘please.’
the rest of the night is going.. relatively well. it’s kinda unsettling to watch the younger kids drink legally, getting more boisterous and loud as the night progresses. it’s nice, if not a little sad just thinking about how you weren’t really able to enjoy yourself at their age because you had a newborn.
you must’ve been deep in thought as you don’t even notice eddie creep up to the empty table, standing awkwardly besides your chair, ‘can we talk?’
your eyes shoot up to meet his, baffled by his presence, ‘what could we possibly have to talk about?’
he exhales through his nose, ‘uh.. a lot? we don’t have to do it here.. i have a room upstairs or.. outside?’
‘no,’ gripping onto your glass of wine, desperately trying to grab the attention of someone behind eddie to come and save you, ‘i don’t want to speak to you.’
he’s exasperated, clutching onto his beer with strained white knuckles. how were you ever supposed to move past this when you wouldn’t even give him the opportunity to explain himself. but that was exactly it. you didn’t care about any of the silly excuses you’re sure he’d conjured up, he did what he did and that was that.
‘i’m trying here..’ sounding exasperated, ‘how ‘bout dinner? sometime this week, on me,’ his voice is deeper now, raspier. you figure as a result of constant partying and chain smoking while on tour.
‘i have a child and a job.. i don’t have time for dinner with you on top of that,’ swallowing the rest of the sweet white wine, putting the empty glass back on the table with a forceful slam.
you make brief eye contact with will who was passing behind eddie and decide to take the opportunity to pounce, standing from your chair and rushing over the second he nears your table.
‘will.. hey,’ speeding to catch him up, mouthing a small save me, clinging to his arm as you move away from eddie who was stood deflated at the table.
will thankfully catches your drift, steering you towards the bar, ‘you okay? i was just about to leave..’ placing his empty glass onto the bar with a soft sigh.
‘what? no.. if i can’t go then you’re not allowed either,’ talking sternly to the boy even though he now towered above you and just about everybody else in here.
he screws up his face, looking over to the dance floor, ‘it’s just..’ sighing once again, ‘awful, isn’t it?’ following his gaze to an intoxicated mike performing an elaborate air guitar routine in the middle of the floor.
it wasn’t exactly the same, but you could empathise with the difficult situation and that foul feeling in your stomach that you were sure he could feel too. you could imagine that it wasn’t easy to see the man you’d once, or perhaps still loved after so long. in fact, you didn’t really need to imagine at all.
deciding it was better to change the subject, distract him from the unraveling scene on the dance floor, ‘d’you smoke?’
he looks around quickly, watching out for a listening jonathan, you assume before he nods quickly, ‘but no one can know,’ a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.
you return the devilish grin before hooking your arm in his, pulling him towards the door where you could get the hell away from annoying men and their long black hair.
-
it’s gone three by the time you get back to steve’s, genuinely having to coax him from the party and into the cab you’d shared with a belligerent dustin, making sure he had got home safely.
‘i wasn’t too mean, was i?’ snuggled up in steve’s blankets, facing each other in the low light of his room.
‘nooo, no you were on fire,’ he laughs, he was still tipsy and slightly reeking of booze as he lay next to you.
‘really? you’re sure?’ he was definitely just drunk and blabbing on but you’d take it.
‘yes.. it was perfect,’ he hiccups, interrupting his sentence, ‘buuut.. and i’m not the only one who said this so don’t kill me..’ kissing the back of his teeth, ‘you’re not gonna like what i have to say.’
‘what? what is it?’ prodding his shoulder with a quick jab. knowing eddie, he’d probably gone round the party whispering some bullshit about the two of you.
‘well..’ holding his hands in the air, ‘there’s still chemistry there.. y’know i could see it,’ raising his eyebrows, hands collapsing onto the blanket.
‘right, i’m going to sleep.. you’re drunk and just saying stupid shit now,’ rolling your eyes as you settle into the soft pillow, closing your eyes so you no longer had to entertain his idiotic nonsense.
he chortles, hiccuping mid-laugh which makes a horrid choking noise, ‘i’m not that drunk.. robin said it too,’ the lamp clicks off, darkening the room, ‘and dustin..’
‘go to sleep steve,’ unamused and tired.
‘okay okay.. goodnight,’ he calls, you can hear the smile in his voice as he turns to face the other way, taking that as your opportunity to rest your head on his back, nuzzling into the soft cotton t-shirt.
-
monday is particularly awful and you’re reminded exactly why you don’t drink often. two days on and you’re still exhausted, half-heartedly filling the shelves and just trying to make it to two o’clock.
in your tired state, one of the bottles of shampoo you were putting out, falls out of your hand and rolls off somewhere down the aisle. you sigh, a deep, fed-up, exhaustive sigh and get up to go and fetch it when the bottle appears before your face, a tattooed, ring-filled hand latched onto it.
‘carver? really?’ eddie frowns, watching you from above, eyebrows furrowed together.
you place the bottle onto it’s rightful spot on the shelf and choose to ignore him. if he’d come all the way down here just to piss you off about your poor life choices then he could get fucked.
‘when’d that happen?’
blanking him again as you continue to put stuff onto the shelves. this was the easiest way to guarantee that you weren’t going to get yourself fired for being rude to him.
‘you gonna ignore me? i just wanna know,’ still poking and prodding, he clearly wasn’t very good at picking up on context clues.
nothing.
‘fuck, can you just talk to me for five minutes?’ your silence was driving him crazy, aggravating him to no end.
‘i’m at work, so no,’ hurriedly trying to finish the stock you had so you had an excuse to rush out the back and away from him.
he was fortunate that it was a quiet monday, the store full of mostly older ladies who had no idea who he was. you sorta hoped that he’d get mobbed and would have to hurry off and leave you alone.
‘why jason? out of literally everyone else in this shithole you choose jason?’ screwing his face up in disgust.
you slam the box cutter down with a loud clatter, causing a few turned heads and raised eyebrows. fuck ‘em. if you had done what you’d really wanted to do, you’d be locked up forever.
‘i don’t know if you remember this but my boyfriend of like, two years ran away and never came home so yeah.. that kinda fucked with me a little and lucky for me, jason carver was there and also hated my ex’s guts.. so it was perfect, you know?’ staring flatly at him, you were not dealing with his shit today.
eddie scoffs, ‘so you had a kid with him? and now.. what? you play happy families just to spite me? is that it?’
‘yes eddie, i had a whole child just to piss you off.’
he gawps back at you, clearly also did not possess the ability to sense sarcasm.
‘no,’ scowling at him, ‘it was an accident and now he’s.. i dunno, coaching basketball at some school in ohio or some shit.. why don’t you go and bother him?’
‘so you’re not together?’
you can only roll your eyes in response, in sheer disbelief that he’d made such a fuss because he couldn’t just outright ask if you were single.
un-fucking-believable.
you’ve had just about enough of this conversation, pulling your little trolley back towards the swing doors that lead to the warehouse. at least he wasn’t allowed in there.
‘wait! wait..’ he grabs onto the other side of the trolley, stopping you from walking off, ‘have dinner with me tonight or.. tomorrow?’ eyes big and pleading.
‘now why would i do that?’
‘because i want to explain myself.. i need to.’
one of the younger shoppers notices who he is and begins trying to talk to him, coming over to where you two stood rather excitedly. eddie is kind enough to smile and give her a few polite words, eyes still latched onto yours despite the ecstatic woman beside him.
‘okay,’ honestly just wanting to get away from all this commotion, ‘tomorrow.’
his scowl subsides, replaced by a gleaming grin, ‘six o’clock.. pino’s, i’ll sort it, okay?’ already starting to walk away from the crazy woman.
‘right,’ you nod, pulling your trolley away and into the back warehouse, leaning against the concrete wall. the whole exchange was tiring, knocking whatever tiny bit of energy out of you.
were you actually gonna go?
absolutely fucking not.
-
by the time six rolls around the next night, you really had forgotten all about it. rushing to get ella her dinner after swimming lessons, already worrying about paying for yet another field trip she’d sprung on you earlier. you’d begun to wonder if they even taught in the classrooms anymore with the amount of permission slips she brought home.
she’s finally settled into bed, after much protesting and a lot of coaxing. you’re just about to finally relax on the couch when someone hammers on your front door. and if you weren’t already pissed off with ella’s whining, you were most definitely about to be with whichever mindless prick was banging on your door.
‘what do you want?’ you hiss, jerking the door open to reveal a pathetic looking eddie on the other side, face forlorn and dejected.
he’s in that white shirt again. it makes you sick to your stomach to admit that it really does look good on him. his arms now more defined, the cotton sticking to his muscles, briefly showcasing the new tattoos underneath. maybe he’d actually got off of his ass and did something other than smoke weed all day.
‘oh so you are alive, d’you forget about something?’ he’s snarling now, having conjured up some elaborate excuse in his head as to why you hadn’t showed, only to find you at home, seemingly with no care in the world.
‘oops,’ the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile, you hadn’t even actually meant to stand him up, you were just gonna call his hotel and cancel but the thought had just completely slipped your mind.
and even if it shouldn’t, it really did feel good. knowing he was the one sat waiting for you for once.
‘oops? i sat there for an hour waiting for you and then spent the last hour trying to convince dustin to give me your fucking address.. and all you can say is oops?’
you shrug, ‘feels pretty shitty to be forgotten about, doesn’t it?’ tilting your head, watching as his face falls. he’d been got.
‘okay.. okay, i get it, and i’m sorry.. there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t feel like shit for how i treated you,’ his head dips low, looking particularly sorry for himself.
and for a second you do too. not that he deserved it. quickly having to remind yourself exactly what he had done to you, which was not at all helped by the fact that he now had everything he’d ever wanted in life.
and you couldn’t fault your life. truly. but fuck did it sting sometimes, to know that your life had stagnated, stuck in the same shitty town you’d grown up in while he was on the other side of the country, more money than sense and a hoard of doting fans that would do absolutely anything he’d ask of them.
‘good,’ you bark, going to slam the door shut only for it to bang against his black boot wedged in the door, ‘if you don’t move your foot i’ll- i’ll call the police.’
‘no you won’t,’ his hand reaches out to grab onto the other side of the handle, he could’ve easily pushed his way in if he’d really wanted, ‘let’s talk.. like adults,’ begging you now, ‘please.’
you huff, this would end with you either letting him in or being forced to wake ella after you bashed his head into the doorframe. it was easier to just accept the first option and you’d find some bullshit to get him to leave later on.
opening the door wider to let him in, keeping your eyes square on the ground as he walks through, peering around at your home. probably comparing it to his mansion in the hollywood hills the pretentious fuck.
‘nice..’ he nods, leaning in to look at the photo of you and ella a few christmas’ ago, she was tiny then, sporting a miniature santa hat.
‘yeah well, she’s asleep upstairs so.. make it quick,’ you frown, closing the door behind him, watching as his eyes take in the cluttered room, smile fading when he catches sight of the singular picture you have up of jason and ella.
‘i can’t believe you chose to fuck jason of all people.. i mean, i’ve made some shitty decisions in my life but..’ he stops himself from going any further when he sees your face, if looks could kill, he’d be long gone by now.
‘did you come here for a reason? or are you here to talk about my life decisions.. because i really don’t want to hear it from you,’ crossing your arms over your chest, wanting him out of your house.
‘no.. no, shit- i’m sorry,’ he shuffles on his feet, banging his head, ‘i wanna talk.. properly.’
you roll your hand to motion for him to continue, ‘go on..’
he inhales, chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to psyche himself up to actually say what he wanted to say. it wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say, he just couldn’t string it together to make sense.
‘i’m sorry for the way i treated you.. it wasn’t right and i know that now,’ his hand coming to rub the back of his clammy next, why was your house so fucking hot?
‘okay.. apology accepted, was that everything?’ you say flatly, glancing up the stairs to make sure ella wasn’t awake and out of her room.
his face falls, ‘can you just.. just let me explain,’ his adam apple bobbing as he swallows, ‘why don’t you sit down..’ motioning towards your ratty couch.
you relent your stern stature, hesitantly going to sit on the couch, trying to ensure that he couldn’t possibly sit next to you by sprawling your legs out onto the empty cushion. so he takes the seat furthest away, running his hands down his tight jeans. designer, no less.. the only person you knew stupid enough to spend thousands on designer jeans just to tear holes in them.
‘when i ended things with you, i wasn’t.. well, it was me, but i had my manager screaming in my ear that it’d never work and he could hook me up with some fuckin’ model.. it’d help the band.. so that’s what i did,’ and for once, he looked genuinely remorseful, fiddling with the loose threads on his expensive jeans.
‘so you sold out? that’s your excuse?’
his head shoots up, mouth hung open with absolute disgust all over his face, ‘i am not a sell out.’
which is incredibly refutable, you’d heard a snippet of one of their recent songs on the radio at work and it had sounded exactly like the commercial shit he used to rag on when you were together. not a touch on the corroded coffin you sat and watched practice for hours on end.
‘oh? so you didn’t break up with me to further your career? you just wanted to fuck hot models? which one is it ‘cause i’m a little confused here,’ completely losing it, springing up from your slouched position.
‘okay, yeah.. yeah i did, i broke up with you because i wanted to fuckin’ make something of my life.. and look at where i am and look at-,’
‘-don’t you dare finish that sentence,’ you snap, gritting your teeth together as you near his face, positively shaking with rage.
‘what’re you gonna do? you gonna hit me? do it,’ his chin tilted to match your elevated position, eyes glued to yours.
‘i should.’
his lips twitch into a smirk, ‘you won’t.’
and before your brain has the time to really process your next movements, he balls his fist into your t-shirt, causing your chest to collide into his as his lips smash into yours, knocking the air out of your lungs.
scrambling to find his shoulders for balance, sliding one hand onto his stubbly cheek. it’s all teeth and tongues, he’s ravenous and unrelenting, letting go of his grip on your shirt to place his hands on your hips, ‘move,’ mumbling against your lips as he attempts to manoeuvre you onto his lap while twisting around.
he slides down the couch, keeping a solid hold of your body as you find the right position. your legs are either side of his waist, sliding into the gap between his body and the couch sitting right on his crotch. wasting absolutely zero time in connecting your lips against, honestly not wanting to run the risk of him opening his mouth and ruining this.
his large hands find solace on your ass, creeping up to remove the oversized shirt you’d thrown on. you place your hand above his, restricting him from moving any further. it’s not that you were embarrassed- okay, maybe you were a little. but your body had changed since becoming a mom and eddie had become accustomed to gorgeous models and perfect women that he’d certainly not want to see your boring, frumpy mom body.
he groans in protest, trying again to lift the shirt further only for your fingernails to dig into his hand, ‘no,’ speaking into the filthy kiss.
eddie pulls away from the kiss, fingers coming to gently brush the hair from your face, ‘you can’t be serious? i’ve seen it all before,’ he grumbles, fingers itching to try lift it again.
‘not like this you haven’t.. i just.. want it on, okay?’
‘no- why won’t you let me take this off?’ fingers curling around the hem, already trying his luck with getting it up again.
you sigh, meeting his blown out eyes with your glossy ones, ‘i don’t even know what i’m doing.. fuck,’ attempting to climb off of his lap while the spare hand he has on your ass clamps you down, keeping you pressed to him.
‘hey.. hey, keep it on.. i don’t care,’ already trying to chase your lips, ‘i’m just saying, you don’t need to,’ the denim covering his growing erection starting to rub against your throbbing clit, the sparse material of your pajama shorts were not leaving much to the imagination.
‘jesus christ, just take it off,’ giving up in your protest, it was useless against eddie’s persistence.
you press your lips to his the second your shirt is off, there was no time to judge your body if he couldn’t see it. pulling at his jacket to get it off, the metal buttons digging into your now bare skin.
‘i didn’t.. i didn’t mean.. what i said..’ babbling through the kiss as he shimmies out of the jacket, landing on the floor with a soft thud.
‘shut up,’ you whine, running your hand along the length of his chest until you reach the hem of his black shirt, gripping your fingers around the fabric and lifting it slightly, exposing his midriff, the soft trail of hair ascending the skin.
his head jerks backwards, allowing you to tug the shirt off, finally allowing his eyes to wander to your chest. ‘holy shit,’ he remarks like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. it’s futile for him to pretend that he hadn’t seen some amazing boobs in his time so you scoff, rolling your eyes.
working your hand at his belt buckle, fiddling with the metal until it pops undone. he’s hard already and it makes you groan, brushing your hand over the raised denim. this week seriously must’ve been difficult if he was getting hard so easily over you.
it doesn’t ever occur to you how much of a mistake this was. and even if it did, you didn’t have much time to ponder on it as his hands are grabbing at your breasts, palming them as his lips suck at your jaw and down onto your neck softly. guaranteed to leave a lovely violet mark that the old ladies at work would certainly gasp at.
he’s helping you with his jeans, one hand gripping onto your waist to keep you steady as he lifts his hips from the couch and the other hurriedly yanking them down just enough to reveal his boxers. that’s the next port of call, fingers grabbing at the thin black cotton, pulling them down his thighs as his cock springs into action.
eddie’s lips are still on your neck while you mindlessly wrap your hand around his cock, pumping your fist as you shuffle upwards. his breath hitches in his throat, still peppering sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin.
‘oh god,’ he whines into your collarbone, feeling his eyelashes flutter against your jaw. for a man who had been painted as womaniser in the media, he sure was still just as pathetic as he used to be underneath you.
you’re a little annoyed that it’s you who’s taking control right now. after so many years of disrespect from his end, you think he at least owed it to you to take charge.
your hand grabs onto his shoulder, pulling his face from your neck, ‘be quiet, okay?’ sitting taller to position yourself comfortably, the harsh fabric of the couch grazing your knees.
he nods, sliding his hand up your waist and back to your hip, taking in the sight of you. you wouldn’t ever admit it aloud, but truthfully, you really did miss him sometimes. missed the way his pretty pink lips looked after being glued to yours or the way he gazed at you doing the most mundane tasks.
you cant your hips, sinking down onto his length slowly, biting down onto your bottom lip as his cock fills you to the hilt. his eyelids flicker, fingernails digging into your doughy hips. it’s been a little while since you’d done this so you have to take a second to become accustomed to the slight stretch. it’s good, in the most masochistic way.
your hands cling onto his shoulders, watching his slack jaw, tiny breaths escaping from his mouth as you attempt to move. painstakingly slow at first, knees beginning to shake as you try to remember what you should even be doing. your cheeks flushing, feeling so incredibly embarrassed. the man was fucking models and then you’re here, pitifully trying to ride him. it’s awful, you know it’s awful.
his arm comes to snake around your waist, taking matters into his own hands and flipping the two of you around, your back suddenly pressed into the couch. holy shit. you appreciate the initiative, wrapping your legs around his waist, readjusting your grip on his shoulders.
‘need you a little faster than that darling,’ large hands digging into the couch either side of your head. you’d feel utterly mortified if you weren’t thoroughly enjoying the sight of him looming over you, his hair falling beautifully into your face.
eddie starts slow at first, moving his hips slowly, obviously well versed. your mouth opens but no noise escapes, well aware that you weren’t the only ones in your house. instead you pant softly, desperate for his lips to grace yours again.
it’s not long before he’s quickening his pace, unable to contain himself when you feel so perfect around him. ‘i missed you- fuck, i’ve missed you so much,’ he groans, keeping his voice low despite wanting to start screaming.
you don’t reply, too fucked-out to even think about words. eyes drooping as his cock nudges against the soft spongy spot no one other than him had been able to reach.
the couch creaks beneath you, the old thing unable to keep up with his rutting hips, the top of your head knocking into the arm rest every time his hips collided with yours. your living room had never bore witness to such filth and as quiet as you were trying to be, the sounds are indistinguishable.
having to bite down onto your lip when his thumb meets your clit, legs tightening around his waist with every soft circle he draws around the sensitive bud. eddie was never bad in bed but holy shit, maybe money had done something right for him.
he sits up, soft sighs falling out of his lips as his hand disconnects from your clit, sliding toward your knee and positioning your leg onto his shoulder. your nails press into his forearm, willing yourself to stay quiet even now he’s seemingly trying to kill you.
and through it all, he’s smirking. relishing the way you’re writhing around, trying not to cum when he nudges against that sweet, spongy spot this position allowed.
his thumb finds your clit again, ‘holy shit sweetheart.. you gonna cum?’ grunting softly with every thrust.
you’re positively wrecked beneath him, face pressed into the couch cushion as your stomach flips. panting into the fabric, incoherent ramblings of eddie’s name and a bunch of curse words fill the room.
‘cum for me baby.. shit,’ struggling to keep his own pace as you tighten around him, leg trembling around his neck as your orgasm takes over. pleasure overtaking your limbs as your hips buck instinctively, thankfully muffled by the couch.
‘oh my god,’ you breathe, struggling to see straight when your eyes eventually reopen, gazing up at eddie above, certain he’s about to draw blood from his teeth digging in to his lip.
‘where.. where shall i- shit,’ he squeezes out, feeling his hips begin to stutter, eyes rolling to the back of his head. he’s just about quick enough to pull out, thick ropes of cum paint your thighs. narrowly avoiding the couch.
if you had the energy to get annoyed, you would’ve snapped, but in all honesty, your brain was still reeling and anger was the last thing you felt.
eddie reaches over, ever the gentleman and grabs his shirt to clean his mess. didn’t matter to him obviously, he had more than enough money to buy another.
and there it is. the bitterness filling your body again the second he’s no longer on top of you, or inside of you rather. you attempt to bite it down.
‘you wanna talk now?’ he asks, pulling his boxers back up to a more respectable position.
‘i’m tired eddie,’ and you are, on a school night like tonight you’d have been fast asleep by now.
he sighs, shoulders slumping over. even after you’d just had the most mind-altering sex, you couldn’t speak to him. ‘please,’ pleading with you almost, desperate for one more chance.
maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe the dopamine still pumping through your brain but you concede, pulling your shirt back over your head before motioning for him to speak.
‘i don’t have any excuses, i’m just-,’ he sighs, turning on the couch to face you fully, ‘i’m sorry for hurting you, i was wrong and i know that,’ his eyes are dipped, peering at you from underneath his spindly lashes, ‘why d’you think i’ve avoided this place for so long?’
‘i don’t know? because you’re a pussy? because you’re too scared to face me?’ letting the words rattle off your tongue without much thought.
‘because i’m embarrassed,’ he corrects, without much offence, ‘because i’m ashamed and feel like i owe you more than some dick and a shitty apology.. i just didn’t know how i could ever make it up to you,’ half-moon eyes glossy in the low light.
your heart thumps in your chest, blood echoing through your ears. eddie munson, world renowned rockstar was sat on your couch, apologising for something you should’ve forgotten about a long time ago.
the years of hatred and avoidance come tumbling down in a millisecond. all you’d ever wanted was to hear him say sorry. to admit that he’d fucked you over for a life of fame and now you had it, you weren’t exactly sure what to even do with it.
‘okay.. now what? are you gonna make it up to me? because i want to believe you eddie, i do.. but you can’t just traipse in here and expect me to forgive you like that,’ the tears roll over, sliding down your warm cheeks.
he nods, grabbing onto your hands in a last ditch gesture to show his sincerity, ‘i’m going to.. i-i want to,’ he’s still nodding, bringing his face closer to yours, ‘tell me how, i’ll do anything,’ adam’s apple bobbing with every word.
‘stay here,’ your eyes are trained on him, ignoring the blurred vision, ‘not forever, just for now,’ lips pursed, ready to be broken once more.
you half-expect him to come out with some sorry excuse, tell you he had to get back to his hotel so he couldn’t possible stay here.
but he doesn’t.
eddie takes your hand, tugging it gently and with words you don’t register, babbles something about bed. so you follow him, allowing him to guide you to your room and slide in between the sheets next to you.
everything is so gentle, soft and pure. something you hadn’t felt in a long time.
-
‘hey.. sweetheart,’ eddie’s hand gently shakes your arm, whispering into your ear, ‘you awake?’
you squint in the dim light, feeling his hand descend onto your waist, chest pressed against your back, ‘i am now,’ you grumble, it was early.. early even by ella’s standards.
‘i gotta go.. you got work today?’ he asks, making no effort to actually get up and leave your bed though.
you nod into the pillow, rubbing your sleep heavy eyes. in your sleep hazed state, you shuffle, moving backwards against him.
‘okay.. shit- don’t do that,’ strained as you shift against him, unknowingly brushing against his cock, ‘i’ll be back.. after you..’ he’s losing it a little now, ‘after you finish..’ lips pressed to your ear.
you were moving deliberately now, just ever-so-slightly rocking your hips back and forth, you could feel him growing against your ass.
‘i can’t..’ he groans, grip tightening on your hip,
‘please,’ you breathe, reaching backwards to find his mop of curls, taking a fistful for leverage as his own hip’s thrust into your backside, his low growls only spurring you on.
you had been on your own for so long now, could he really blame you?
eddie doesn’t leave for another hour, creeping out of your house with his head low and a shit eating grin plastered on his face.
-
the key turns in your door as you’re loading the dishwasher. you’d given steve a spare for emergencies but it seemed to get used for anything but.
he slinks into the kitchen where you stand with your back to him, ‘hey,’ already knowing who it was.
‘well hello,’ announcing his presence, something about his tone of voice already seemed off, he sounded short, annoyed almost, ‘how have you been?’
‘i’m good..’ you spin to face him, puzzled by his strange demeanour, ‘how are you?’
he’s holding onto something behind his back but you can’t quite catch a glimpse, ‘actually.. i’m a little pissed off,’ you can tell he’s not completely serious by the hint of a smile on his face.
‘hmm? why’s that?’
he looks around the room expectedly, ‘oh i don’t know.. you don’t have anything to tell me, do you?’ shaking his head, still gripping onto this mystery object.
‘no..’ narrowing your eyes, determining whether he knew what you thought he knew.
he did, he one hundred percent did. holy fuck. he’d figured you out already. eddie had opened his big, stupid mouth and told dustin, who would’ve told steve and god knows who else. fucking moron.
‘no? soo..’ his pulls the magazine from behind his back, flipping it to the page he’d already saved, ‘this isn’t real then?’ shoving the glossy pages into your face, ‘because to me.. this looks an awful lot like eddie.. at this very house,’ he jabs his finger at the pixelated image, ‘and this little blob here.. that’s you, no?’
you’re utterly gobsmacked. mouth hung open in pure shock. because that most definitely was eddie.. and your house.. and you. you hadn’t seen anyone with a camera, hell, you hadn’t seen anyone on the street at all.
‘and correct me if i’m wrong, but is this not our friend eddie leaving your house the next morning?’ showing the next image of him leaving your house the day after, hair unruly and messed up, holding his denim jacket in his arms as he climbs into his car.
your mouth moves but no words come out, croaking as you struggle to meet steve’s eyes. completely speechless, there was no feasible excuse. you had been caught with your pants down. literally.
‘i can explain,’ waving your hands around while steve stands smug against the kitchen counter. ‘..no i can’t,’ shoulders slumped as you blink at your best friend, no you really couldn’t. suppose you could’ve come up with some lie about a look-a-like you’d been seeing but that would’ve made you look particularly strange.
‘were you ever gonna tell me?’ he’s almost hurt that you hadn’t ran to him to tell him immediately. this was true best friend gossip and you’d kept him from it.
‘i was! steve.. i don’t even know what happened- he came over to apologise and then we were arguing and then.. then we had sex and it’s not my fault..’ you’re trying, and failing, to contain your smile, flashing your cheeky grin to your best friend in the hopes he would let this slide.
‘i can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ jutting his bottom lip out, ‘so, you’re getting back together?’ his eyes sceptical yet sparkling with a sense of hope. you’re grateful that all he seems to care about is the fact you lied. or actually, withheld the truth as you preferred it.
‘no.. well.. no, we had dinner together yesterday and he might’ve stayed over but no..’ shaking your head, ‘he’s leaving again soon and we both know what happened last time..’ you shrug, leaning back against the counter, ‘i guess i don’t hate him now, that’s good isn’t it?’
steve looks perplexed, ‘wait wait wait.. so you’re just.. screwing around? and then he leaves again, that’s it? what’s the point?’ taking a seat at the small kitchen table, fully engrossed in the conversation.
‘i dunno.. i guess that’s it?’ you hadn’t really thought about the fact that he’d be leaving again, in fact, you hadn’t really had time to think much at all about what was happening.
you’d just sort of acknowledged that at some point he’d go back to california and you’d stay here and whatever was happening would.. end? it wasn’t as if you were going to be super upset about it like you once were. lots of people fuck their ex’s.. this was fine.
because that’s what this is, right?
just sex with an ex?
‘that’s it?’ steve reiterates, looking completely flabbergasted that the woman who once left the room whenever eddie munson’s name was mentioned was now being so casual about this.
‘yeah,’ you shrug, not wanting to make a massive deal out of it though you could always rely on steve to be over dramatic on your behalf.
‘no,’ he straightens up in the chair, ‘all of this can’t be for nothing,’ sounding utterly exasperated, ‘you two obviously belong together so why don’t you go for it? i could see you living it up out in la.. big house, big car-,’
you cut him off before he can divulge into his delusions any further, ‘i think you’re getting ahead of yourself steve,’ shaking your head at his ludicrous attitude.
you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it once or twice but it seemed silly to start imagining this crazy life together after all these years. he’d barely just made it into your good graces again, you were hardly going to run off to california with him. it was utter delusion.
‘okay okay..’ he scoffs, ‘but i still think you need to talk to him. i don’t want you getting hurt again, okay? just make sure that you’re both on the same page,’ nodding as he stands from his seat and begins to rummage through your cupboards for something to eat.
he was probably right and you knew it deep down. you weren’t keen on being the one to bring the conversation up, not after that first night. after you had sobbed in his arms in bed, letting him soothe you to sleep with a bunch of probable empty promises.
-
when eddie lets himself into your house a few hours later, steve’s eyebrows fly up his forehead but he doesn’t say a word. instead, he nods at the man, keeping his opinions to himself.
the pair of you resemble an old married couple, except you’re the grumpy old man with your wife cuddled into your side. your wife being steve that is.
‘oh.. is this uh, something that happens often?’ eddie asks, settling into the empty chair across from you. slightly miffed that steve was nestled into your side.
‘yup,’ you nod, smiling at him your chin resting on steve’s head. he hadn’t a reason to be jealous, you’d really rather poke your eyeballs out with a fork than do anything remotely sexual with steve.
‘right.. yeah okay,’ eddie says, looking perplexed but sitting back in the chair. if he was going to stick around then this would have to be something that he got used to. because you sure as hell weren’t going to stop being so close with steve for the guy that broke your heart at eighteen.
‘you want a drink?’ you ask, realising that you should probably be a good host even if it was only eddie.
‘yeah sure.’
you untangle yourself from steve and trundle off into the kitchen. steve takes this as the perfect opportunity to grill eddie on his intentions, sitting up straight and making sure that you were really gone before beginning his interrogation.
‘so.. you two?’
eddie shrugs, not wanting to get into it with steve after such a long day.
steve sighs, leaning toward eddie, ‘i’m gonna say this once.. but if you hurt her again, i will kill you,’ staring the other man down. contempt in his eyes. he was dead serious too.
‘i’m not- i’m not gonna hurt her,’ eddie sits up, praying that you’d hurry back with this damn drink.
‘i mean it eddie,’ raising his eyebrows, ‘you didn’t see how she was after you left.. i’m not going through that again, i’m not letting her go through that again.’
‘steve-,’ eddie blinks, stopping himself as you re-enter the room. hoping that you hadn’t heard their conversation, he’d only just got you to stop hating him. he wasn’t prepared to go back to that like, ever.
‘what’re you talking about?’ placing the bottle of beer in front of eddie and collapsing back into your spot on the couch.
‘football,’ steve answers quickly, groaning as he pushes himself off of the sofa, ‘i’m gonna head home, got work in the morning but i’ll see you tomorrow,’ he smiles, winking at you from above.
‘okay,’ you utter, sounding more like a question than a statement, watching carefully as he gathers his things without so much as a glance at eddie. you can only imagine what was actually said but that was truly none of your business.
you’d just grill eddie later to make sure steve hasn’t been too much of an asshole.
‘byee,’ you call out behind him, already eyeing a sheepish eddie. this’d probably be it. you’d known it was coming at some point, you just weren’t sure of when.
if steve’s sudden departure was anything to go off, you were probably right.
the door clicks shut and you turn your attention to eddie who was still sat on the solemn chair. oh god. maybe you had got a little used to having him around again and now to know that it’d all be coming to an abrupt end once again.. yeah you felt a tad shit.
‘what’d you say?’ you ask outright, it made zero sense to beat around the bush.
‘me?’ he looks almost offended, ‘i didn’t say shit.. didn’t get the chance to,’ but he’s smiling ever so slightly and your heart relaxes.
christ you were so stupid. letting him back into your life just to let him walk away a second time. perhaps you’d done something horrific in a past life to deserve this same fate twice.
‘so what did he say?’ you press, unsure of if your even wanted the answer.
eddie sighs before coming to collapse on the couch next to you, ‘it wasn’t important.. look, i wanna be honest with you,’ his hand comes to grab yours and you freeze, bracing yourself for what was inevitably going to come next. ‘you mean a lot to me and.. and i don’t want you to think that i don’t care or that i’m just leaving you again,’ his eyes are focussed on yours, full of what you hope is sincerity.
you don’t reply, instead you nod slightly and urge him to continue. this was it. the kicker. 
‘i’ve gotta go back to la next week,’ his grip tightens around your hand, ‘but i’m coming back as soon as i can, okay?’ he’s serious too and you’d like to believe him but if the past was anything to go by, you weren’t eager.
you nod silently. fuck this. once again, you were sat before eddie munson, listening to his plans to jet off to la. it felt like the cruelest case of deja-vu. if anything, you want to kick yourself for even allowing him to wiggle his way back into your heart. most people know better after the first time.
‘it’s three weeks.. maybe a month, but i’m coming back, i promise,’ he pleads, hanging his head low. he knows there’s absolutely nothing he could say to you that would make you believe him but he had to try.
you hum, frowning just a little before finally replying, ‘i’ve heard that before,’ not meaning to sound as snarky as you did, but it was true.
‘i’m serious, i’m not.. not gonna lose you again, i’ve learnt my lesson,’ his eyes are big and pleading and you’re thrown right back to being eighteen, listening to him convince you how going to la would be the best decision.
‘so.. what? you’re gonna come back to hawkins just to see me? i don’t-,’ you sigh, as much as you wanted to believe him, it just wasn’t plausible in your mind, ‘i just don’t understand, are we together or are you just coming back to fuck? you don’t have to, you know? i’ve made peace with it all and i’m fine.. you don’t have to lie to me anymore.’
if anyone was going to fuck this up, it would be you. that’s for certain.
‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, genuinely flabbergasted, ‘this is me telling you that i’m serious about this.. about you,’ he takes your hand into his properly, scooting around to face you fully, ‘i love being here with you, and ella and there is nothing out in la worth more than this,’ you think he might just start crying, or you might. or perhaps both of you.
you sniff, not wanting to speak in fear of bursting into hysterics. it was all just so confusing and weird. you’d grown accustomed to eddie being on the other side of the country and now suddenly he was back in your life with what seemed like a a declaration of love. it was just too much to handle. and maybe you blame yourself a little, for not truly thinking about the implications of fucking your ex that had abandoned you years prior. but now it all just seemed to be hurtling in the most intense direction.
you were the one that had told him to stay after all. because really, you could’ve kicked him out, refused to ever even acknowledge him again. but you hadn’t.
‘are you telling me the truth?’ is all that you manage to squeak out. baring resemblance to a small child.
you really must’ve looked pathetic, eyes brimming with tears, bottom lip quivering as you hold in the implosion of emotions. it’s always scary being vulnerable with someone, let alone someone that once meant so much to you.
he still did. as much as you’re absolutely petrified to admit it, he’d weaselled his way back into your heart and now here you are, a mess of emotions and perplexing feelings that are too complicated to handle.
‘i promise you,’ he sighs, clearly fed up of your whining, ‘i’m coming back this time.’
and maybe you’re stupid. maybe you’re still hung up on some high school relationship that ended long ago but you can’t help it, you nod.
idiotically believing him because what else can you do after letting him into your home and your heart again.
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whorekneecentral · 1 year ago
Text
Tis' The Season
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Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader
Warnings: old friends reappear, flashbacks in italics, complicated relationships, expensive gifts cause it's lew lew duh, uses roscoe as an in, brocedes mention, alcohol and the consumption of, sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), degrading, the use of 'slut' in a sexual context, penetrative sex (p in v), choking, creampie, soft moments at be end.
Word Count: 2,668
Author's Note: love me some lew lew and he gives fuckboy turned lover boy so here we areeeeee
merry smutmas series
--
An old friend finds his way to your front door and no matter how much you try to get rid of him, you can’t. 
A knock on the door startles you as you hung the ornament on your Christmas tree. You shout that you're coming, grabbing your wallet out of your purse, as you jog to your front door. You assumed it was your take-out delivery guy and that's not who it was when you opened the door.
The man smiles at you, bags in hand and puppy between his legs. "Hi beautiful," Lewis smiles at you, bundled up in his winter coat.
You huff, looking at him. "Hi Lewis.. what are you doing here?"
He lifts the bags, showing you. "Happy holidays, y/n. I come bearing gifts."
"Seriously?" You hold back the urge to roll your eyes, Roscoe barks and gets your attention, you crouch down to pat his side, the dog leaning into your hand before waddling his way into the house. Lewis doesn't stop him, smiling at you.
"Are you gonna let me in, love? Roscoe is already inside, it'd be rude to let me freeze out here."
You don't have the heart to let them freeze, especially since you know how Roscoe loves him so much.
You let Lewis in, the man takes his shoes off by the door and follows you down the hallway to the living room. Roscoe had already made himself comfortable, shaking off the cold, and lying down by the fireplace. Despite you and Lewis not talking for years, you had left Roscoe's dog bed by the fireplace, as it had always been, picking it up to clean and setting it back in its spot.
Lewis sets the bags on the coffee table, hanging his coat off the arm rest of your couch. "I didn't know if you still live here."
"Well now that you do, I'll have to move, won't I?"
He chuckles, smiling to himself - nice to see your sense of humour has remained.
"Go on, open 'em." He nods towards the gifts on the table. You were adjusting an ornament on the tree, "I don't want it, Lewis."
"Oh hush, don't be annoying, y/n. Just open it."
You rolled your eyes, sitting across from him on the couch and picking up the first bag, the shape was a give away. Carefully, you pulled the bottle of wine out of the bag, some expensive French wine that you two had once upon a time when you took a trip to France. You read the label, setting it down on the table gently.
"Expensive," you eye him and he smiles. "Open the other one." He says quietly, watching as you tear the wrapping paper.
You freeze, the orange box staring back at you, the signature black and white ribbon around the box; Hermes Paris written across the top.
"Lewis.." You look at the man and he nods, waiting for you to go on. You carefully undo the ribbon, taking the lid off of the box. There's clearly a bag in the box, wrapped in a dust bag.
You feel underdressed and dirty, as if you should have showered before opening such a gift. You take the purse out of the dust bag, a Birkin in Bougainvillea - the same shade you had seen so many years ago.
His arm rested over your shoulders, the two of you cuddled on the couch as Lewis flipped through the tv channels. Formula One had wrapped up for the 2008 season and your dearest friend Lewis was now a Formula One world champion.
You, on the other hand, were still in med school.
Lewis had come home for the holidays, a yearly tradition of trashy Christmas movies and Chinese take out had commenced, Lewis picking out something for you two to watch as you flipped through the magazine.
"This one," you tell him, nudging him with your shoulder. "I want this one." You show him the bright pink Birkin bag - in the shade Bougainvillea. It's unrealistically, shockingly pink but it was the newest colour in the collection and you wanted it.
"I'm gonna get this for myself when I finish med school and I'm a rich surgeon."
Lewis smiles, "I'll get it for you, love. No need to wait so long, consider it your med school graduation gift." He kisses your head.
They don't make this colour anymore, you're sure it must have cost Lewis a fortune. "How did you even.. they don't make this colour anymore." You examined the bag, setting it back into the dust bag carefully.
"I know people, y/n."
You hum, "it's too much."
"It's your gift, y/n. I promised you, didn't I?"
You smiled, nodding as you carefully set the bag back into the box. "Thank you Lew, really."
The man smiles, it's been years since he's heard you call him Lewis. You two had a falling out a while back, right after his first championship win with Mercedes - you didn't like the way he treated you, pushed you off to the side as if you hadn't been there for him through it all. Lewis was and still is career driven, it has and will always take first priority to him but it ruined your friendship and it had ruined the same special bond he had with Nico.
In this moment, you let all that go.
The doorbell rings, intruding on your thoughts. "Expecting someone?" Lewis asks, glancing at you as you set the Hermes box on the coffee table.
"No.. oh wait yeah, the take out guy." You say, getting up. Lewis waves you off, getting up and fishes his wallet out of his pocket. "I'm not a broke med student anymore, Lewis. I can afford to pay for dinner."
"As can I, so hush." He says, making his way down the foyer to the front door, paying the man.
You can hear bits and pieces of their hushed conversation, the man thanks him before the door shuts.
The bags are taken to the kitchen and you see him looking around, clearly looking for something. You decide to put him out of his misery, getting up to help him look for plates. Lewis stops, leaning on the counter as he watches you get the dishes out of the cupboard.
"I'm sorry." He says, his words catching you off guard.
Your brows furrow, looking at him. "What for?"
"For everything. What happened in the past… That was between us and I know that it was my fault, and I shouldn't have said what I said, but I truly am sorry. You don't have to forgive me, but I would just like to start over if you give me the chance."
"Okay," you nod, setting the plates on the table.
"Okay."
He joined you at the table, the two of you sitting quietly and eating dinner like you've done many times over the years. Tonight was different though, there was a sense of relief in the air as if this tension had been lifted off your shoulders after so many years. The quiet sound of cutlery clinking against the dishes and Roscoe's snores coming from the fireplace filled the house.
At some point after dinner, you were putting the dishes in the sink and Lewis asked if he should open a bottle of wine that he brought. You shrug, reaching into the cabinet to get the glasses while Lewis pulls the cork out of the bottle before filling the glasses half way.
The house is quiet as the two of you sit on the couch, Lewis handing you a glass of wine. It's a comfortable silence, Lewis takes a sip of his wine as he looks over at you; he can't help but notice how you've aged beautifully over the years, not in a you look old sort of way but the maturity you've come into seems to suit you perfectly.
Next to him, you seem to make the same realization but with him. Lewis what is a baby faced, starting to find himself boy when you two had you falling out. Now he was grown, and even more handsome than the day you had walked away from him.
You take the first step, setting the glass down on the coffee table before reaching for Lewis's glass, setting it with yours.
The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife, the two of you sitting there in silence, inching closer and closer with each passing second until he finally closes the gap between the two of you.
Lewis's hands find your hips, the man pulling you onto his lap. You settle against him as if you had always been there. His lips trail down your neck, hands slipping under your shirt.
"No," you whispered, your hands wrapping around his wrists. Lewis looked at you confused, wondering if he had done something wrong.
"What?"
"We can't do this here."
"Why not?" He asks and you nod towards Roscoe, the dog still fast asleep by the fireplace.
Lewis can't help but laugh, his forehead pressing to your shoulder. "Love, he's asleep. It's fine."
"Oh my god," you smacked his shoulder, "that doesn't mean we're gonna fuck in front of him."
He raises an eyebrow, "we're gonna fuck?"
"Don't be a fuckboy, Lew." The man ignored your words, his arms wrapping around you, picking you up with ease, carrying you down the hallway to your bedroom. Despite the years he hadn't spent there, nothing's changed.
Lewis drops you on the bed and you propped yourself up, watching him get undressed before he sits next to you, his hand cups your jaw and you smile at him. “Hi,” you whisper. 
“Hi,” he smiles at you, leaning down to kiss your nose and you scrunch it in response. “You’re cheeky.” 
“You love it,” he says, kissing your nose again. 
Lewis leans down a bit more and kisses you but you pull away, sliding off the bed. “We can't.” You tell him, about to walk away but he grabs your hips, pulling you to stand between his legs. 
Your hands rest on his shoulders, sliding up to rest on his jaw. His beard tickles the palm of your hand as you look at him. Lewis doesn't have to say anything and all the worries seem to slip away in the moment, it was as if you hadn't spent a single day apart.
The man pulls you down on top of him, his hands sliding down your back to rest on your waist as you sit yourself on his lap. 
“We-” you go to remind him once more but he cuts you off with a kiss. Lewis flips the two of you over, letting you lay on your back when he gets off the bed, he pulls you to the edge of the bed. 
Your eyes fixed on the man between your legs, looking at him in awe. Something about Lewis always fascinated you; you could never put your finger on it but he was always an object of fascination, of desire.
He can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the lace you’re wrapped up in under your clothes and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor. He shifts to sit on his knees between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt.
Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking; he wants you to look at him.
Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair.
Lewis knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more and Lewis gives in.
Two fingers pushing into you, Lewis glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit.
Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much. Lewis pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers on your thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness.
Your chest heaving, your grip on his hair loosening now that you’re right on the edge, you’re almost there and he just has to - he’s stopped. 
“Why'd you stop?” You sit up, a pout on your lips when you look at the man between your legs. 
“Shush, you love hanging on the edge,” Lewis tells you with a smile, unbuttoning his pants. 
He lines himself up with you, and Lewis lets you take him little by little, pulling out almost all the way each time before finally pushing into you all the way. He's in charge and you both know it, letting him set the pace; slow and steady and it was driving you insane.
You needed him.
You didn’t want slow, you wanted it hard and messy, the type of fuck where you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.
“Lew, come on.” Your hand reaches to rest on his hand that’s on your hip. “Need more.”
“Do you?” He hums, moving a little faster.
You know giving him attitude won’t help but you can’t help but roll your eyes, “more than that.”
“Needy,” he calls, pulling you closer by your legs.
Finally, you get what you want, Lewis’s hips hitting the back of your thighs, he leans over you and your arms are pinned about your head, both legs up on his shoulders now. The angle was enough to push you over the edge but he didn’t care.
“Lew please-” you tried to wiggle your hands loose but he didn’t budge. 
“What’s wrong baby?” he asks, mockingly, “isn't this what you wanted?” 
“It is, but-” your head tosses back, back arched when he hits the spot he was looking for. 
“Oh,” he coos, smiling at you. “Is my baby so fucked out, she can’t even tell me what she wants?” His thrusts are sloppy, you knew he was just as close as you were. 
“Gonna cum-” you barely get out between strangled moans. Lewis finally lets go of your wrists and one of his hands has wrapped around your throat.
“C’mon sweetheart, want you to cum for me.” He says, knowing it won't be long more.
He watches as your eyes flutter shut and he reaches for you with his other hand, holding your jaw and pulling you up a little, your elbows holding up the weight of your body.
“Look at me when you cum.”
You’re forcing yourself to keep your eyes open, focusing on him. A few more sloppy thrusts and between that and his fingers, you’re over the edge.  He kisses you, muffling the noise you were making. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, Lewis follows behind you. 
The two of you are still tangled together, laying in bed next to each other. Lewis looks over at you, you look back at him with a sleepy smile on your face.
"Should I.."
"Should you.." you trailed off, waiting to hear what he says. Lewis shrugs, "should I go home?"
You take a moment to think, not about kicking him out - that was never an option but perhaps the things that lead you here.
There's a noise from outside the door, a sort of scratching. Seems like Roscoe had woken up and came looking for you two. Lewis takes the hint, getting up to open the door for the dog. You put on your shirt and your panties and Lewis lets Roscoe in, the dog jumping up on the bed with some assistance from his dad.
Lewis gets under the covers with you, Roscoe settled at the edge of the bed. You look over at Lewis, his hand resting on yours.
"I think you should." You tell him quietly and Lewis's brows furrow, a pout forming on his lips. "I should?" He asks.
You nod, "you should stay."
Lewis lets out a soft sigh, smiling. His hand squeezes yours gently. "I'll stay."
---
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thatrickmcginnis · 2 months ago
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THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS Toronto 1990
John Flansburgh and John Linnell - known as "the Johns" or "the Two Johns" (a joke only '80s alt-rock nerds will still get) - met in high school in Massachusetts but formed They Might Be Giants in 1981, when they moved into the same apartment building in Brooklyn after attending different colleges. They built up a following playing clubs in the NYC area, a duo playing accordion, saxophone and guitar backed by a drum machine or taped backing tracks. They had just emerged from what we used to call the indie circuit and released their third album, Flood, on Elektra Records in 1990, when I was assigned to photograph them for the cover of NOW, the big alt-weekly in the city.
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They Might Be Giants had proved to be deft hands at self-marketing during their years as an indie acts, putting on a theatrical stage show in NY clubs and running Dial-A-Song on an answering machine starting in 1985. Fans could call a number (718-387–6962) and hear demos or incomplete songs from Flansburgh and Linnell. More than a gimmick, it helped establish the band's identity as creative but unpretentious, produced a compilation album and was still in service until 2008 when they had to retire it and the number. (It was revived in 2015 as a toll-free number, a website and radio network.) The band have written themes for TV shows like Malcolm in the Middle, songs for musicals and won Grammys for their children's albums.
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It was still early in my time at NOW magazine when I got the assignment to photograph They Might Be Giants for a cover story, which meant both colour slide and black and white. I have no memory at all of where these photos were taken - probably a hotel room downtown - but I know I brought my single Metz flash on a light stand shooting into an umbrella, and used my Nikon F3. NOW covers were shot to a rigorous formula at this time - the subject squeezed into at most two-thirds of a vertical frame with space at one side and the top for the logo and cover type. It was restrictive and tiresome, but we had just innovated slightly by convincing the paper to drop their unofficial (and baffling) ban on white backgrounds.
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I had obviously found the white wall in whatever space where this shoot took place, and got the band to tuck themselves into my frame. Flansburgh and Linnell were more than cooperative - they seemed to sense what I needed to convey the quirky energy of the band, and provided me with more than enough material for the cover layout - a big deal since I still felt very much on probation at NOW at the time. This is the first time these photos have been published since the story ran almost 35 years ago.
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rebouks · 2 days ago
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Previous // Next
Frankie: Could you pass me that magazine we found? Ivan: Which one? Frankie: Ummm, I think I put it under the TV. [papers rustling] Frankie: Actually-.. wait! [Far too late, Frankie remembered what else was hidden beneath the TV] Ivan: Wha-… Frankie: If you love me even the tiniest bit, you’ll close your eyes immediately. Ivan: S’a bit late for that, Kiki. Frankie: They’re from ages ago! Ivan: But wha-… Frankie: They’re donors, okay?! Ivan: [laughs] I gathered that, but what’re ya lookin’ at those for? [Frankie shook her head, burying her beet red face into her hands] Ivan: C’mon, don’t be embarrassed! I ain’t interrogatin’ ya, I’m just curious. Frankie: [muffled] Isn’t it obvious? Ivan: Aye, but the thought behind it ain’t. Frankie: I abandoned the idea ages ago, so… Ivan: Humour me? Frankie: [sighs] I suppose I was just broody? When I finally left Lee, I thought “Well, I’m not getting any younger and nothing’s stopping me now!” Except the timing never felt right and money was tight and I’m always so busy. It would’ve been selfish of me, y’know? It’s just-.. it was a bad idea, so I shelved it. Ivan: Didn’t get rid o’ those though, did ya? Y’know, I always kinda wanted more n’ all. Frankie: Really? Ivan: Sure-.. figured it’d never happen though, so I shelved it too. … Frankie: We can’t… Ivan: It’s too soon…
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sunkissedscribbles · 2 months ago
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☆ 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸𝑅𝑆 𝑅𝑂𝐶𝐾 – 𝐴𝑅𝐴𝐵𝐸𝐿𝐿𝐴 𝐼𝐼.
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PAIRING: singer!guitarist!mattheo x arabella!journalist!reader TW: swearing maybe, mentions of alcohol, sex and drugs WORD COUNT: 1.2k A/N: I'm in love with singer!guitarist!mattheo who is still a hopeless romantic SONGS: Lovers Rock by TV Girl // PLAYLIST
☆ MASTERLIST PART1 PART2
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✰ Are you sick of me? Would you like to be? I'm trying to tell you something Something that I already said
Mattheo’s been restless ever since you left him there like that, standing alone on the stage as you claimed to work for the Rolling Stone magazine, feeling as if he was in a dream, or on acid – euphoric; the unmistakable feeling wouldn’t have left him alone for even a second for two entire days. However, this euphoria had turned into nervousness over time, but the boys wouldn’t have for god’s sake left him alone. No, they kept teasing him endlessly with you.
“Dude, you need to call her up finally,” Theo started the conversation the other evening, standing by the window, smoking.
Mattheo just hummed at the declaration, reaching into the fridge for the leftover pizza.
“Yeah, man, we need the interview and you need the girl. I mean, it’s a win-win situation,” Dax continued.
Mattheo stayed quiet yet again. He knew this was the opportunity, but also, this was the girl. The girl who made him feel like a giddy teenager again who’d got a crush on the cool, edgy girl. He felt like he was in Freaky Friday, just the other way around. He knew he’d work his courage up eventually because it had been bugging him for weeks. You – you had been bugging him for weeks before he’d even get to meet you. Ever since you had crept into his dreams and he wrote ‘Arabella’, and an only-ever-expanding list of songs.
And he had your number, it was as if the Universe had been shouting at him abruptly to just make that bloody move for a relationship he clearly had been craving.
After a few more minutes of Mattheo’s awful silence, Enzo jumps up from the sofa. “Where’s the paper? I’ll call her if you won’t.”
Mattheo froze. You gave him your number, not Enzo. You wanted him to call, right? Not Enzo. And what if when you heard Enzo’s posh accent you just, boom, fell for him? What if you were into bassists? No, he had to man up and talk to you. And as his insecurities got the best of him, he stepped away from the counter and took his phone out of his pocket, flipping it to take the piece of paper with your pretty handwriting on it out of the phone case. “I’ll call her,” he emphasized the pronoun, maybe a bit too possessively.
☆☆☆☆
“So, how did the name Pureblood Trauma come?”
“We were high,” Theo started but Mattheo took the opportunity from his friend to explain the meaning behind it, shifting in his seat across you, his eyes raking over your features every now and then.
“We had this joke about our parents being obsessed with blue blood and how they weren’t any better than the Aryan or Nazis.”
They all thought back to how Enzo’s suggestion of the band name, who was clearly joking, but still utterly high, had earned giggles turning into hearty laughter from the three other young men.
After a few questions about the band itself, you switched to asking some about their songs which clearly had potential, even if we only looked at the lyrics.
“Your song, Arabella, or a recording of it, has become quite popular on the internet. The muse, Arabella seems quite the mysterious type, and almost over-this-world, and you’ve got some creative metaphors for her personality. How did you come up with her character?” you inquired.
Enzo and Dax managed to keep their cool with only a twitch of their lips and a shared glance, but Theo’s quiet snort came out muffled, muttering a ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ as he looked over at Mattheo whose cheeks had gone a few shades pinker at the question. Because, god, how could he tell you it was about you?
“Um, it’s about a girl I once saw in my dream, and she kept reappearing in my sleep after. The idea of her just had me in a chokehold for weeks. She seemed so real but could never really… grasp her character until somehow I came up with the line ‘And a helter-skelter round her little finger and I ride it endlessly’ after Theo pointed out how this girl seemed to have me wrapped around her little finger,” he explained, carefully leaving out the details about how your hair bounced in his dreams, how your lips wrapped around the cigarette you two shared, and it was you, generally, who had him in that desperate chokehold.
You can’t help but be intrigued by the idea of this girl only being a mere memory of a few dreams, because, hell, she felt like she was so much more than that; real, and you couldn’t help but identify with her vibe, the resonance her personality flooded, what felt intergalactic, almost.
You were also impressed by the way Mattheo expressed his attraction to this mysticism with all the metaphors he used. The one about the helter-skelter ‘round Arabella’s little finger meaning he was under her spell, got him wrapped around her little finger, and also meaning how confusing his love for this girl is. Or how he describes her as prettier than the sunset. You were convinced that was impossible.
☆☆☆☆
You knew doing this, asking him to go out for a few drinks wasn’t very professional of you.
But you couldn’t help it at the same time.
You wanted to know more, and more, and more about Arabella, but also, about the mastermind behind the lyrics. You were certain you could listen to Mattheo talk pretty much all day and night, as well as listen to him sing for the same amount of time.
Or just stare at him.
And you had. Oh, how much you had listened to him and stared at him at the pub, on the way to your apartment, and during the night; while he was rocking his hips against yours and during the aftermath, as in smoking by your open living room window, the candles, the subtle red light of your vintage record player and the end table light by your black leather couch creating an ambient light for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company.
He was growing more and more infatuated with you, and he knew he was walking a dangerous sole, a slippery slope that could lead to heartbreak if his obvious feelings for you had been unrequited.
But they weren’t, and you made that obvious by repeating this night over and over, and by always making coffee for the both of you the next morning, always finding an excuse for him to stay a bit longer, and never missing an opportunity to talk to him.
Sitting by the narrow counter island over your coffee, you glanced over at him while playing with the ring on your thumb that you took off of Mattheo’s index finger the previous night, the one with the emerald-eyed snake. “That night, at the concert. You called me Arabella. Why?” you asked, having no clue how to word it at first.
He took a bit of time before answering.
“Because you are. You are the girl from and of my dreams,” he took your hand in his and pressed his lips to your knuckles.
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tuliptired · 7 months ago
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hi! can i request a egan x complete opposite reader? like someone so different like a model or actress of some sort
Uptown Girl
Pairings: Egon Spengler/Fem!Actress!Reader
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sorry for looking at stantzler yaoi while this was sitting in my drafts
Better formatting on Ao3!
Peter could tell something was up with his friend. Something different from the norm. In the past handful of weeks, Egon’s turned into a fidgety, flighty mess. Misprinting calculations, misplacing tools- all in blue. He was wearing so much more blue. The reticent man never really had a favorite color, something Peter relearned everytime he probed him when bored, but this was just way too out of character. Egon? Color coordinating? Insanity.
He had a discarded newspaper open at his excuse for an office, spacing out while Ray messed around with Janine’s little TV, Winston holding a flashlight over it for him. She had won it when she was small, the faulty wiring spilling out the back panel a testament to its age. 
Janine sat up impatiently, folding her magazine. “It’s almost time Ray, is it working?” 
Ray dropped his pair of pliers. “It should be,” he said unconfidently, screwing the paneling back on as Winston adjusted the antenna. The machine crackled and popped, sounds and images cutting in and out as it gained and lost a signal.
The subject of Peter’s suspicions came down the stairs flinching at the noise, looking to pass and leave the firehouse but too intrigued by the feat of electrical engineering happening at Janine’s desk. “What’s this?” 
Peter’s eyes narrowed at the barely there sight of a shiny, new silver watch. Christ, were those blue diamonds? Everyone who’s regularly stepped foot into the firehouse has tried and failed at attempting to get Egon to upgrade his wristwear, the old brown thing that barely had an audible tick. Peter’s own seasonal gifts for him got fancier and fancier as the years went on, Egon turning down a Timex with an alarm at one point. He insisted that anything he could go out and buy would serve the same purpose as the beatdown leather already owned- regardless of needing to squint to see the arms.  
She opened her magazine back up again, fluttering through glossed pages until she found the right one. “You’ve heard of that one show, right?” Janine held up an advertisement for the program, promoting big guests like Madonna or Robin Williams. “I’ve been trying to catch the reruns-”
“And I’ve been trying to tell her that it ruins the integrity of the show.”
“If I wasn’t locked up in here every Saturday night, I wouldn’t have to. Don’t put down the receiver, Winston.”
Ray watched with his fist under his chin as the signal got closer and closer to whatever channel he had twisted the knob for. Janine sat up straighter, flipping to a different page. “Anyway, there’s a new actress on there, and I don’t wanna miss her.”
Winston leaned over to check if the screen was any clearer. “My sister showed me an article on her. Very fashionable.” 
“I know, her picture was on billboard on 46th,” Janine raved, “you’d like her, Peter.”
He shook his head, licking his pointer finger to get to a different section of the paper. “I’m more into musicians.”
Egon spoke up, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re mistaken, Peter. She’s an incredibly talented actress with an incredible repertoire.”
Looks were exchanged between all of them. If the elephant in the room was offended, he didn’t show it. “What?”
“Nothing,” Ray shrugged, “it’s just…she’s so..”
“Outgoing.”
“Witty.”
“Expressive.”
“And you’re you! Nothing wrong with it,” Ray patted his taller friend’s shoulder.
Egon looked at his colleagues blankly. “I can still enjoy her work, despite certain character differences.”
The TV finally got a stable connection, though not celebrated by anyone in the room as Egon’s anomaly took up all their attention. “I thought you didn’t have a television?” Winston questioned, moving the antenna again and losing the stream.
“I don’t.”
Peter raised an incredulous eyebrow to him from across the room. Something like a realization flashed behind Egon’s eyes, before he turned his eyes from their gaze and cleared his throat. “I’m going home early tonight. Call me if you need anything.”
That certainly didn’t do anything to soothe Peter’s speculation. Egon barely ever went home. If anything, the only reason he had an apartment to his name was because it was expected of him after graduating his last year of university. Even so, he was barely ever there, spending his nights slumped over in a lab- Columbia’s or otherwise. Peter would be surprised if the man was still paying rent.
Ray and Winston must’ve been carrying the same sentiment. “We’ll still be seeing you tomorrow, right Eges?”
 The man stood stiffly, as if under a spotlight. “Hopefully.” He was motionless, before grabbing Janine’s TV and scurrying out the door.
“Hey!”
Strange indeed.
Egon walked briskly under the fluorescent lighting of the hallway. It was almost 7, after all. A warm brown bag of Chinese food sat under his arm as he got closer to the rickety door. He hesitated to turn the key, hearing staticky music on the other side. When he did, there you were, surrounded by brown bags just like his and messing with the antiquated radio by his stovetop. It felt odd, and strangely smug, to have you in his tiny and bland apartment after his friends praised your stardom.
Your manicured fingers turned the volume down. “Sorry! It’s hard to entertain myself here when you don’t have a TV.” The same woman that was all over Times Square was here, in his kitchen, placing a kiss to his cheek. 
“I do now,” he juggled the boxy appliance before you took it from him gently.
“Where’d you get this? It’s adorable,” you smiled, inspecting it. He peered into the bags cluttering his limited counter space as he put down your dinner, some holding groceries and some with wrapped packages.
“A friend. What’re these?” Egon didn’t have to turn to you to see the guilty expression you had while he pulled out containers of takeout. You had a bad habit of buying him luxuries he never thought he would need.
You grabbed a few things from one of the sacks, opening his outdated fridge. “I know we agreed to you bringing dinner, but it’s just a few things for when you’re on your own.” He wrinkled his nose.
“I have food.”
Egon watched you teeter your palm back and forth, grabbing another bag and opening one of his cabinets. “What’s the point of eating-out if you never eat-in?” 
“You shouldn’t have gone through the trouble.”
He felt nice as you smiled at him, folding the discarded paper and tossing it in the bin. “You know I don’t mind.” It would’ve been a sweet moment, if there wasn’t another bag on the counter that caught his attention, which you scrambled to pull away. Before you could, he brought it to his lap, gazing down inside.
He pulled out different wrapped packages, labels from one of the most expensive department stores in the area. “Y/N.”
You put your hands up in defense, lowering yourself into the stool across from him.  “I know, I know. But, look!” You leaned over, showcasing one. “New curtains! And there’s a watch in there, somew-here.”
Egon’s eyes nearly popped out when he found a little box, forgotten at the bottom, with a price tag higher than what two ghostbusters made in a week. “You have to return this,” he decided, hardly opening it before snapping it shut.
“You don’t like it?”
“I do. I appreciate you getting it. But you can’t keep spending your money on me.”
You knelt on your hand, disappointment clearly subsiding as you used the other one to open up the food. “It doesn’t make a difference to me. I was in that area, anyway.”
He passed you a plastic fork. “How come?”
“I had an appointment with my dress guy,” you started. He’d be embarrassed to admit it, but it took him an abnormally long time to realize that you were referring to the people you regularly bought things from, rather than lightly suggesting a polyamorous relationship. “And he showed me the finished product for Friday! Isn’t it exciting?”
You produced a print from your purse, handing it to him with a bright smile. It was a dress on a mannequin- very bold, very you, and very blue. “It is.” Egon grinned sincerely, admiring the idea. “Very beautiful.”
You stabbed your fork into a vegetable, seemingly forlorn as he put the photo aside. “It’s a shame you’ll only get to see it on TV. Unless, you wanna be my date,” you perked.
Egon could feel himself frown. In any other world, he would be at your side every hour of every day- every interview, airing, or red carpet appearance. But he was still Egon, through and through. So you compromised on “waiting until the right time” to make your relationship public.
“Not this time,” he avoided looking at you. You were understanding, you always were, but he could imagine how irritating a constant no could be.
He jumped as your head hit the countertop. “You’ll let everyone know at the wedding,” you groaned. Egon moved to console you, worried about having hurt your feelings, before your head snapped back up.
“Kidding.” He let out a sigh he couldn’t recall holding in. “You wanna be there when I get ready? You could help me with the zipper,” you leaned forward, voice teasing him. He couldn’t refuse.
“Of course,” Egon smiled, before it fell. “I’m sorry. That I keep telling you no.”
You shrugged, waving him off. How undeserving he was, to be loved by someone so forgiving. “I know. You’re an interesting guy, Egon. It’ll happen when it happens.” You had his hand in yours, brushing his knuckles as you looked on at each other earnestly.
Something caught your attention, breaking eye contact, Egon shrinking at the loss of connection. You turned in your seat to the rest of the apartment. “I never told you! I noticed you started decorating!”
It was a small place, only one bedroom and older than most people Egon’s age would be proud of. When he first moved in, the only things he took the liberty of situating were: a bed, a chair, various papers and books and scientific projects. It was more a storage space, rather than one to live in. He dawned on this the first time you offered to have him over, realizing that he’d have to return the favor- after picking up a bit. It’s not much right now, save for more furniture and ambience, but there was always something new whenever you visited. “After you told me it had the feng shui of an asylum.”
“Then we both have something to work on.”
“What was this doing in the mail this morning?” Peter bounded the steps to the second tier of the firehouse. Ray and Winston were trying their best to pick up around the kitchen, while Egon was hunched over his workbench, jittery and unorganized. Whatever he was keeping from them, it did a good job at keeping him from work. This would’ve been a nice change for the doctor, if it didn’t mean Peter had to be alert for any sudden fires.
He passed the booklet to Winston, whose eyes widened like a cartoon as the centerfold unfurled into two more pages. “Holy…”
“Maybe it’s Janine’s?” Ray proposed, cheeks pink as he clumsily folded them back up.
Her voice called up from downstairs, before the front door slammed shut. “I don’t read that brand, and if I did I wouldn’t be working here.”
That left the three men, standing in tense silence. Not Peter, he was tasteful with his filth- tucked away in the hidden part of his filing cabinet. 
“Why would one of us order something like this in the mail?”
Peter gently took it from Winston. “Alright, no need to embarrass anyone. My mail is your mail is your mail is my mail.”’ He jumped to a random page, settling into the couch. “We’re all friends here.”
Ray and Winston hesitantly crowded around him, unabashedly eager to view what was inside. Egon, however, was frozen at his desk, lab coat halfway off.
“Donna Rice stuns in a poolside photo…Madonna looks nice here…” The professor was a second away from crumpling. Schadenfreude.
Ray shrugged one of his shoulders, leaning over the armrest. “Some of these aren’t so bad,” he admitted. 
Peter let out a low whistle. “Here’s the girl you like so much, Spengs. Orange dress.” Egon rose then, a bit less catatonic as he shrugged his lab coat off, back to his friends.
“She wouldn’t wear orange this season. Or any season. It doesn’t pair well with anything and it washes her out.”
Peter blinked. Not the angle he was looking for, but a good psychologist never quits when they’re ahead. “Did she tell you this?”
Egon visibly hardened, turning to face them. “No. In a 1986 interview with People, in the second paragraph of the 12th page, she said she’d never wear anything long and orange at the same time.”
Peter slowly revealed the page to him, speaking even slower. “Sorry, superfan. She was wearing green.”
The professor only stared, before clearing his throat and fixing his clothes a bit, Ray and Winston silent at Peter’s side as he rolled up the print. “I’m leaving for the night. And I’m taking the car.”
He was halfway out the room before Ray stuttered, taken aback. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you drive, Spengs.”
“And you can’t take the car.” Peter chided
Egon stilled on the staircase. “I have the keys. And there aren’t any jobs in the morning- you can do without it. Goodnight.”
Peter tapped the shiny paper against his palm a few times, turning to the men at his side. “He’s either selling drugs, or he’s trying to ditch us."
Sure, Egon wasn’t much of a driver. But he’d make the commute if he wanted to see you. Eventually, streets lined with skyscrapers and taxis melted into roads lined with starlight and trees as he carefully recalled the directions to your house just outside the city, surrounded by woodlands. He knew you'd wouldn’t be back until late in the night, so he was content busying himself with your chores until the sounds of a Mustang screeching to a halt in your driveway peeled him away from the last dish in the sink.
Egon carefully peeked out one of your windows, watching as you jumped out the backseat of the hastily parked car. “I probably just left a light on! One sec!” Your door handle jiggled with the turn of keys, before you poked your head in, voice low.
“Wanna say hi?”
He politely declined, and you were halfway out the door again, waving goodbye to your friends, before they skidded off into the night. Your home was a stark contrast to his own, decorated and personable without becoming clumsy. But, many a night you’d crooned to him over the phone about how empty it can get. So, there he was.
“You didn’t have to come all this way,” Egon felt you mummer against his back, arms wrapped around his middle while he finished wiping down the edge of the sink, light fragrance mingling with the smell of dish soap. You always smelt good, after a night out.
“I wanted to. Did you have fun?” he inquired, hearing you hum as you peeled yourself from him, lurking towards the stairs.
“As much,” Egon bent behind you to collect your discarded shoes, “as I could have.”
He caught the earrings you pinched off from your earlobes. ‘They didn’t show you a good time?”
You paused in front of your bedroom door, waiting for Egon to open it, which he did. “It was a great time- I love premieres.” You lowered yourself onto the large mattress, calling out to him as he went into the master bathroom to start a bath. “But, I think you know very well why I wanted to come home.”
“I wonder,” he mused chaffingly, sitting behind you on the bed. His favorite night time routine, whenever he was around after you successfully painted the town red. The events and invitations just got bigger and bigger, increasingly extravagant the longer he knew you. Here he was, getting farther and farther over the hill. In spite of it all, he liked taking care of you, especially when you were wearied from an evening of fun.
You leaned forward as he gently unclasped the jewelry from around your neck, careful not to bust the fastener. “I’m happy you’re here now, Egon.” he heard you coo tiredly and softly. Egon pressed a devoted kiss to the nape of your neck where the metal had lay, drawing out a delighted laugh from underneath him.
“Then I’m glad I came.”
Both of you just sat there, warmth against warmth until Egon remembered that your faucet was still running. He took to unzipping the back of your gown. “Is it safe to assume my friends are becoming suspicious of me?”
“Oh yeah? What’re they doing?” you pondered, helping him as you stepped out of the pooling fabric.
“Pictures of you. Peter got a hold of one of your spreads.” Egon mulled. He carefully collected the material, laying it out on a chair in front of your expansive closet. He really appreciated those photographers, any other time. Particularly, when you weren’t available for so long.
Another thing he enjoyed about nights like these- you in your underclothing. Oh, guilty pleasures. But the sight vanished into the bathroom almost as soon as he took it in. “Did you tell them I was your outgoing, witty and expressive girlfriend?” 
Egon couldn’t help but follow you. “They seemed to have come to that conclusion on their own.” Egon stood against your sink while you sunk into the water- he knew you were pretty clean, but a washroom floor was still a washroom floor.
“I’m sure you have them fooled.” you guessed, leaning on the edge of the tub.
“I think so. But-” he noticed the look you were giving him. “You’re being sarcastic.”
He let you laugh at his expense, handing you various soaps from the caddy above. He’d been meaning to get a similar bottle to keep at his place, if you were ever willing to spend the night. What would your people say- if you didn’t come around when they were expecting you to? “And you? What do your friends think?” Egon queried. 
“They’ve been onto me. And they tell me: ‘bring him around sometime- one night can’t hurt,’” you teased. “There’s a blue suit to go with my dress waiting for you, if you really want.”
Egon felt so defenseless as you gazed up at him, extending the same invitation you’d been extending time and time again. Reservations be damned. The greatest person he knew was letting him spend a night in their arms- and he’d be anything but himself if he let the opportunity slip away again.
“I’ll go.”
“What?”
“On Friday. I’ll go with you. If you’ll have me.”
You beamed, sitting up and leaning impossibly close to him as he let himself kneel against the porcelain. “Oh, Egon! I could kiss you!” Your wet skin dripped onto the dainty rim.
“Why not?” he teased. Before the question could leave his lips, you had the end of his tie in your hand, nearly dragging him into the bath with you.
He could barf. Absolutely lose his cool in the back of this expensive car, or in front of all your famous friends. As happy as Egon was to experience a slice of your life with you, his nerves were on fire. He must’ve seriously underestimated the turnout of this thing- reality settling in as a number of stylists flooded your house as the evening approached. He felt the embrace of your hands on his jaw, as you made him look at you.
“You don’t have to talk to anyone, if you don’t want to. Just keep holding my hand.” You were glowing. “And- you look great. But…something’s missing,” you muttered. He swallowed hard, dreading what he managed to leave behind. He was breathless as you left a quick kiss off the center of his lips, laughing as you parted. “There,” you giggled.
“Mr. Spengler? There’s a call for you.” the hostess told him, peeling him away from the table of A-listers. As he answered the phone by the kitchen, he could recognize a familiar, angry voice.
“Egon Spengler.”
“Hello, Janine.”
The floodgates opened, and he could practically hear her nails digging into the desk. “I could rip your head off. Is that where you go all day? Hanging out with gorgeous celebrities? Why didn’t you tell us? You’re sitting at dinner with Mel Gibson! You should’ve introduced me. Why didn’t you introduce me? I would’ve killed to meet her- if I had met Einstein I would’ve introduced you. What’s next- you’re having tea with Cher? You disappear for weeks at a time, and we have to watch a tiny TV screen to find out you’re at an award show with a red lipstick stain on your face? You-”
“I’m sorry to cut this so short, Janine. But my wonderful girlfriend has an accolade to accept.”
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princess-glassred · 26 days ago
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I'm fascinated by what could have potentially happened had Henry succeeded in killing all the losers. Aside from the obvious of Pennywise never being defeated, and assuming IT doesn't kill him because he's a fantastic scapegoat, imagine how big the fallout of this would be.
Henry would be found out almost immediately, if not from his own incompetance then from IT deliberately luring the cops to him so he'd be arrested. He'd either be sent back to the ward for the crimimally insane, or, worst case scenario, Henry's crime might be so heinous Maine would consider bringing back the death penalty just for him. The version of events told by the media would be that Henry is a lunatic who committed a string of murders when he was a young child, then broke out of Juniper Hills and committed another string of murders. The timeline wouldn't match up at all, given that people were dying before Henry broke out, but the media wouldn't focus on that.
This case would probably make national news (at least for a little bit) given that Bill Denbrough, Beverly Marsh, Richie Tozier, and Ben Hanscom were super famous individuals and them all dying together would be an insane story for the public. Of course pennywise covered things up, but these aren't just abused kids or bums who live in alleys. Bill and Richie have an actual fanbase, Ben was on magazine covers, and Bev was a well known fashion mogul. I can only imagine how messy things would be if Tom and Audra died too and the media added them to Henry's list of victims. Audra was a famous actress/model and Tom was Bev's business partner. This shit would have been everywhere.
The goreyness of the case would bring a lot of attention to Derry and I imagine with how insensitive Derry can be they'd use this in tourism. Before this all they had to make people come to Derry was the canal days, so i'm sure sombody would be eager to capatalize on it. The tourism boom would probably cause Derry to be a little gentrified and thus bring more people to Derry than ever before. It would have a plethora of new meals and probably eat more than it'd ever dreamed it could.
Henry would become a pop culture figure, much of the same way we see people treat Jeffrey Dahmer or John Wayne Gacy. IT would love all of that attention because the more people focus on how fucked it is Henry killed people the less people focus on Derry as a whole. Of course there'd been tragedies in the town before, but none of those victims had been famous, and besides: this is the 80's/2010's, the way media sensationalized things would be a lot worse with the prominince of TV/the internet.
There'd probably be some documentary made about Henry's life using what little information they could gather around town. Nobody had even seen henry since he was arrested and nobody talked to him before, so it was basically gaurenteed anyone who got interviewed was lying for attention. There might be a terrible movie made about him at some point, similarly to how in Carrie the black prom incident got a movie that sucked. Henry would probably lack the ability to understand how famous he'd gotten, if not be totally ignorant to it. A few people would get mad that Mike Hanlon and the other numerous victims of Henry who weren't famous get no attention. Tik tok would do it's tik tok thing. True crime crush community girlies would have a field day with young pictures of Henry (especially in the 2017 continuity).
Henry would become a well known person to arm chair diagnose, the kind of killer you write research papers and books about. There'd be plenty of books about Henry too, discussing his fucked mental state and proposing theories about why he did what what he did, a lot of which based on offensive and outdated views of mental health (ie: homosexuality being a mental disorder).
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biglisbonnews · 2 years ago
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Paul Mescal Responds to Phoebe Bridgers Breakup Rumors Paul Mescal wants the online gossipmongers to mind their own business.On the heels of ongoing speculation about his potential breakup with musician Phoebe Bridgers, the Aftersun actor was asked if he ever felt compelled to address the chatter head on, which he said was definitely something that had crossed his mind.“I definitely feel the temptation to say the status of my whatever — that will always be there,” he recently told Vanity Fair, though he went on to say that he didn't "think that's a wise thing to do." "When 'Normal People' came out, I was very forthright in interviews, and it didn't actually serve me," Mescal continued. "But the temptation still exists to be like, 'Shut the fuck up.'" He added, "This is my life. This is what's going on. Or this is what's not going on.'"The pair got tongues wagging back in 2020 after "Motion Sickness" singer tweeted about being "sad and horny" after watching Normal People, leading Mescal to reply, "I'm officially dead." They then seemingly confirmed their romance after showing up together at the LACMA Art + Film Gala and the Met Gala the following year before making their relationship Instagram official in December 2021, which was later followed up by engagement speculation.However, fans began to suspect that the couple had broken up after listening to Bridgers' verse on SZA's "Ghost in the Machine," which talked about a fight that left her "on my own in an airport bar or hotel lobby." Shortly thereafter, the Grammy nominee was spotted out with comedian Bo Burnham prior to Vogue Australia appearing to accidentally confirm their breakup in a since-amended article that referred to Mescal as Bridgers' "former fiancé."Bridgers has yet to comment on their alleged split. In the meantime, you can see everything Mescal told Vanity Fair about the rumors here.Photos via Getty / Amanda Edwards & Kevin Winter / FilmMagic https://www.papermag.com/paul-mescal-phoebe-bridgers-response-2659421791.html
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charlotteking23 · 8 months ago
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Hello, I know this will seem strange but it just won't leave my mind. Imagine a scenario where Y/N is a Kardashian and she somehow ends up in Gotham and it starts to appear in all the newspapers(magazines) and somehow this makes Bruce a little jealous because there is someone stealing all the attention in Gotham and the boys(batboys) think she more than qualified to be with Bruce and somehow they start a relationship.
Kisses♡ (I imagined this in Ben Affleck's Batman but if you prefer Bale's that's fine)
A Fairytale come true
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As Bruce Wayne stepped out of the car, immediately flashing lights of the paparazzi cameras went off. But Bruce was used to it simply he smiled and waved, ignoring the questions from the people. Stepping inside the gala for some charity obviously, people knew Bruce he was always the highest bitter on the table. Yet their eyes weren't on him but a beautiful girl.
She was wearing a nice red cocktail dress hugging her body beautifully showing off all the right curves. Bruce observes her wondering who is she? and why is everyone looking at her?
It was time for the bitting the next auction was a one and a kind of painting. Many people started biting but Bruce ended up biting a million dollars to his surprise someone went higher.
"2 million dollars", the mystery woman said but Bruce was so shocked they had already sold the girl the painting before he could reply. This girl intrigued him.
Time skip
"Alfred can you believe this", Bruce said pointing at the TV and watching the news carry out about the mystery girl. Bruce had figured out the Mystery girl was one of those infamous Kardashians. Bruce looks over at Alfred only to see him simply ignoring him and continuing to read his newspaper. Upon looking more closely at the paper he saw not his face on the front of the newspaper but Y/n Kardashian.
"Why does dad look like a man baby", Jason laughed walking into the living room, and saw his father pouting on the couch.
"Doesn't he always", Tim said pouring himself some coffee again.
"Wait guys, I think I know why Bruce is acting like this, because he's jealous of Y/n Kardashian and how popular she has become", Dick said on the couch watching Y/n Kardashian answering the paparazzi questions.
Damian said something that no one expected "They would look good together", Bruce looked astonished at his son looking back at the TV where you were shown waving at the Gotham people. You were beautiful, yes he had to agree.
"Master Bruce, we are still going to hold the gala tonight", Bruce was interrupted from his thoughts, "Yes, and make sure Y/N Kardashian is invited".
It was already evening the gala decorations were set up, and looking in awe. Many people were already there wanting to discuss further business with one of the wealthiest businessmen in the world, Bruce Wayne.
Many wanted to talk to him but he couldn't keep his eyes off of Y/n, she was in a champagne color dress outshining the rest of the Gotham elite.
Bruce walked up to Ms Y/n holding out his hand in front of her, "May I have this dance". "You may Mr. Wayne", she responded gracefully taking his hand and heading towards the center of the ball room.
"what brings you to Gotham, Ms.Y/n", Bruce asked putting his hands on her waist as she slid her hands around Bruce's neck. "the usual, business", she replied leaning in closer to Bruce.
Anyone could feel the sexual tension of Y/n and Bruce Wayne. As the song came to an end Bruce put his hand on Y/n's back guiding her towards the garden for some privacy.
As the pair walked together it felt like a fairytale, they laughed talking about everything and anything. To Bruce this was the first time he could be himself he didn't have to try and impress her or play a fake facade it all felt natural. To Y/N it felt like a dream that at any moment she could wake up being brought back to reality. He saw Y/N as Y/N, not some rich Kardashian woman.
They stopped at a swing in the middle of the garden surrounded by flowers and a little fountain on the right it was beautiful. Bruce led Y/N to the swings, having her sit as he pushed her carefully making sure the swings lightly swayed. At that moment Y/N felt like Cinderella with Bruce being her prince charming.
Neither one of them had noticed the time, only when Bruce briefly glanced at his watch. "I had a wonderful time Ms. Y/N", Bruce joined Y/N out from the swings and caressed her hand gently wishing for this night to be forever. "I had a lovely time", Y/N smiled, holding Bruce's other hand and having him face her as she looked up at him. She stood on her tiptoes to reach his cheek, she lightly grazed it with her lips.
"Ms. Y/N would you like to have dinner with me".
" Yes, Bruce I would love to", Bruce took hold of Y/N's hand lightly kissing it with affection, before staring deeply into her eyes.
Time skip
It was morning in the Wayne manor, the boys were doing their own things, Alfred was cleaning, and Bruce was doing some work. Bruce took the remote from the small table beside him, listening to the news reporters. Something particularly caught his attention, someone had taken pictures of Bruce and Y/N in the garden laughing and smiling at each other.
"wow, Bruce I didn't think you would actually listen to Damian and get with Y/N Kardashian", Dick smiled walking towards Bruce.
Ding dong
"Who's at the door"? Damian said walking down the stairs case but was interrupted by Jason running towards the door trying to see who it was.
"Jason, if you're so curious why don't you open the door", Tim said holding a cup of coffee in his hand looking visibly annoyed at Jason.
Bruce cleared his throat gaining the attention of his kids, Bruce swiftly opened the door revealing the one and only Y/N Kardashian.
Immediately the boys all started talking at once trying to understand this situation. Bruce led his kids towards the living room trying to get them to calm down.
Y/N looked at Bruce seeing him be a father to his kids. He was wonderful, she thought originally he was a snobby rich boy like the L.A. people but he was sweet and treated her like a princess.
As she turned away she met face to face with Alfred Bruce's closest friend. "Ms. Y/n, I am so glad you came into Bruce's life, you have made him so happy", Alfred smiled looking at Bruce and Y/N.
Bruce finally finished explaining to his boys and came towards Y/N twirling her around before resting his hands on her waist and she slid her arms around his neck just like the dance they shared before at the gala. It was like a fairytale come true.
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naomikozura · 7 months ago
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Playing with Fire: Chapter 1
Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Fem!Reader (Criminal)
Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Romance
Warnings: Mention of illegal criminal activities, strong language, use of weapons, violence, assassination, mention of drug trade, mention of harassment, ending mentions shooting someone (let me know if I missed any!)
WC: 10K
Summary: It's been six years since you left your past life, finding your way to working with one of Gotham's most known crime lords. You have risen in the ranks but now your position and work is being threatened by the rise of a new criminal taking hits on your Boss' operations. Is this new nuisance a momentary issue or a long-term conflict?
Series Masterlist
Prologue || Chapter 2
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6 Years Later
The buzzing of Gotham brought you out of your trance, the rush of cars and the blurred conversations of the people around you snapping you back to reality. You looked up from the magazine you had been staring at while you drank your coffee, the warmth of the cup burning your hand that you had to wipe it against your pants to lessen the burn. Your eyes focused on the big print on the stack of papers. 
The Dark Knight Saves the City From Chaos Once Again.
Saving the city. This city was far from being saved, and yet people believed Batman fixed everything that was wrong with this place. It’s been six years and the pain still felt fresh. You ignored the burning in your chest from the resentment and turned to look out the window. It was raining, the streets covered in water and filled with people going about their days while trying not to get soaked. You closed the book you had in front of you before throwing away your coffee, pushing through the door as the rain started to downpour even more. You decided against the umbrella, you didn’t mind the rain on your body but your apartment was a close walk away. Close to the corporate offices of Gotham, but far away enough that you could easily sneak into the darkest corners of the city, the parts of the city that were filled with criminals, street dealers, and the underground informants. 
This side of the city could possibly be the worst possible place for anyone to be, but you weren’t worried about getting caught in anything that could harm you. With your position, you were practically untouchable. 
You pushed the door to your apartment open, throwing your bag on the brown coffee table and kicking off your shoes. The apartment wasn’t anything crazy, it was a simple one bedroom that gave you somewhere to live and spend your days off at. It was more than enough for just you. You walked over to the small living room, turning on the TV to have some background noise as you turned back to the kitchen to wash the dishes. 
The news reporters scripted another story about the crime rates dropping and dramatically pushing the vigilante stories for years, only specific names standing out to the general public, especially the Dark Knight himself. You found yourself annoyed by the constant stories about the man, but you had to hand it to him, he was doing what no one else could and for that you had to commend him. Though, you’d never say that outloud considering your position. Saying something like commending the Batman in front of your boss would get you killed. Tortured even. 
You had to play the game, deal your hand correctly in order to survive. And for the past 6 years that’s exactly what you did. You trained, became smarter, more skilled, more manipulative, more strategic and calculated. Everything you did was to survive. Your loyalties to no one but yourself and the man that took you off the street when he saw your potential. You owed it all to him. Afterall, he was the reason you had some sort of freedom and rights in the underground. Working with men like him, people like him, made living in Gotham tolerable. 
You had protection, a stable income, respect from the underground workers, and a hand in every meeting and operation your boss ran. You had quickly become his right hand woman, it gained you a lot of respect from his partners while many others despised that a kingpin could let a woman rise in the ranks so easily and be influenced. Some questioned the integrity of your upbringing and loyalty, suspecting that you manipulated or seduced the man, but both you and your boss knew you didn’t need to manipulate him to prove you were a genius, skilled and talented in the art of deception, technological systems, and most importantly: killing people. 
You gazed over to the clock on the counter, the time having slipped from you as you turned off the TV, heading to your bathroom to change into your night attire. You pulled out a pair of leather shorts, lifting them as they hit your waist and pulling on a tight fitting white shirt that showed off the tone of your stomach. You quickly pulled on your black combat boots before tugging on the black leather jacket hanging from the coat rack by the door. You liked to dress in dark clothing, helped keep the mystery alive and gave you more confidence to reject disgusting men if they tried to get near you. 
You found your way out the window, dropping down into the back alley that led over to the east-side of town, making sure you had your gun strapped to your side under the jacket, your collapsed bow staff in the hidden compartment of your belt and your dagger in the sheath on your thigh. Even with your protection, you stayed prepared, afterall you were still a woman in a crime ridden city where you worked for one of the kingpins of the underground. Anyone could target you at any given second. You getting to the Boss alive was important, but staying alive through all the jobs he had you do was even more dire. 
You reached the dark building, the blue lights illuminating the outside as you walked in through the secret entrance behind the building. Only the closest workers to the Boss knew about it and even then you needed access in. Luckily for you, you had access to everything having to do with the Boss, even his own personal records and will. 
You let the music vibrate all around you, the smell of alcohol and smoke filling the air as you try to move through the hallways of the nightclub. Once you reached the far side of the room, you wandered up the staircase, following the long set of stairs up to the room hidden at the top of the building. You waited patiently before looking and seeing the guards as they opened the door for you, the dim light inside welcoming you as you stepped through the door, the guards closing it and remaining outside as you walked over to the circle of couches that were organized meeting style. 
Boss sat in one chair while he had a guest sitting across from him. An ugly, charred looking man who was no stranger to you, but you remained distant for a reason. The Boss didn’t know of your resentment, that was better kept for yourself. Better to keep your enemies far away, especially when it comes to the crime lords of Gotham.
“Y/n”, Boss called out your name, your eyes meeting him as he raised a hand, a glass of whiskey in it as he motioned towards you then took a sip. “Come sit.”
“I wasn’t interrupting was I?”, you asked as you made your way around the sitting area, the Boss sitting in the middle of the couch while you sat on the arm right next to him, your body in a neutral stance. Relaxed but ready to move if need be. You always had to stay prepared no matter how trustworthy someone might seem. 
You watched as the man in front of you stared at you, not hiding the obvious skim he did over your body before meeting your narrowed eyes. Disgust filled you and you could tell the son of a bitch took it as a gamble, a sign to ask your Boss in the cockiest tone for your time. 
“How much to have her keep me company for the night?”, he asked as he took a drag of his cigar. 
“She doesn’t do private sessions or take clients.”, Boss pressed, his voice friendly but had an edge, signaling for the man to not push him on the topic. You watched as the man, who was dressed perfectly in a suit, focused on you. Your eyes locked in a glare off, something you were used to doing with the filthy men of Gotham.
This man, though, was the opposite of filthy.
He was rich, coordinated, a businessman, and he’d have brainless women throwing themselves at him but you knew the game. You’d rather cut out your tongue than let someone like him get near you. 
“I’ll give you triple the price that you’d charge for any other one of the girls here. I’m sure she’d like a good paycheck.”, his voice filled with an edge, a desire that made you revolt.  You were surprised he didn’t recognize you, then again, it’d been 4 years.
“She doesn’t do private sessions. Put some respect on her. Ask again and our meeting will have been for nothing. The boys can show you the way out, Sionis”, Boss stood, shaking his hand as the man stayed focused on you. His eyes dark before we turned and said his goodbyes and left the room. 
You watched as the Boss picked up a folder, opening it and letting the contents spread out on the table. You leaned forward, soaking in the photos and papers that were laid out.
“Who was he?”, you asked even though you were no stranger to the man, keeping appearances as you skimmed through the images and articles. 
“Roman Sionis, the Black Mask, came in with a proposition for a new street rat that’s been making hits on his drug trade. Asking to combine men to take him out, asking for a $500,000 bond on his head.”. Of course the name sounded familiar, you’ve heard Black Mask’s name in meetings and throughout the city, but meeting him in this lifetime was a first. You looked at the Boss, wondering who could possibly be trying to get in on the drug trades that have already been pre-established in the city. They couldn’t be so dumb as to get mixed in with the men that lived in the underground of Gotham, the men who ran the streets with fear and power. 
“How do you think Two-Face will do with this? Do you think he might ask us not to help Black Mask?”, the Boss turned to you before stretching his hand out, handing you a small stack of photos..
“Depends, he might tell us to help, especially since it seems this rat is trying to get involved with Carmine’s ring, already busted two sites in up-town.”, you hummed in response. You looked through the stack, taking in the images. 
Two Face and Black Mask were on opposite ends of the crime grade, but kept neutral grounds because of their alliance with your boss: Penguin. Penguin was a businessman, used for everything having to do with organized crime in Gotham. If you needed someone with a hand in Gotham’s business, Penguin was the guy. It seemed since this new nuisance had surfaced, the big names were coming together to try and wipe him out. It would be the first time in years since the high profile crime lords called a ceasefire. 
The images were of all the operations that had been busted, blood all over the ground, bodies hanging from ceilings or decapitated on the ground. There were other photos showing missing cargo, hostages, and the papers on the table were full reports of every incident from the past three weeks. Who could possibly have the guts to do something at this caliber? 
Who would possibly have the guts to target the crime lords of Gotham so casually?
“Do you need me to investigate?”, you asked, selfishly wanting to know more about who this mystery person could be. Why were they doing all of this? 
“For the time being, no. If anything comes up or the situation gets worse you know you’ll be the first one contacted.” he motioned as you nodded once then stood, walking over to the cabinet he’d just pointed at. 
You pulled out a package, handing it to him as he opened it and pulled five stacks of bills out and passed them to you. 
“Your cut for last week”
You skimmed through it quickly, counting the money in your head. $15,000. As promised. 
The upside of working in organized crime within the underground was the pay. You worked one or two jobs a week and you got 4 months rent in a night. High risk, high reward. 
You stashed the money in your jacket, securing them on the inside to ensure you’d be able to put them in your safe back home once you left the Lounge. 
You stayed around to help Penguin with some admin work, getting a few hours into the night before deciding to go home. You gathered your things as you stepped out through the hidden entrance, your senses going off as you looked around. 
Someone was watching you. 
You pulled out your gun, holding it in your hand as you moved through the streets, examining every corner above your head and below you once you reached the roof of one of the buildings. The roof was empty, everything around you as though it had been left abandoned. 
You walked over to the ledge, noticing a small piece of fabric, a fresh scent lingered in the air. A musky type of cologne you’d assume. 
Whoever was here was gone. 
But why they were watching you was your main concern. 
You turned, heading back towards your apartment, the mystery person still fresh on your mind as you settled in for the night. 
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“Penguin”, Black Mask started out, putting out the ash of his cigarette in the tray, “How are we going to handle this street rat? He’s starting to destroy the outer locations of our operations.”
The Boss looked over at Sionis, pulling up the papers of the file he was given a few weeks ago. You looked over at Falcone, who kept looking at your movements but looked away when he saw you draw your attention to his intrusive eyes. You felt your body move closer behind Penguin, knowing if something happened he would step in. Boss looked at you and handed you a key from his pocket.
“Y/n, can you grab the black packet in the office?”, you took the key from him and walked towards his office that was just across the room. As you walked by the three men, you felt Sionis staring at your legs, your outfit more revealing than usual, just spandex shorts and a crop top, but nothing too out there. You knew your legs were toned and drew the attention of men all the time, that’s how you were able to draw them in so easily, men were easy to fall victim to your charm. 
You unlocked the drawer on the desk and pulled out the packet that the Boss told you to grab. You walked back out and handed over the packet. Penguin opened it and pulled out the contents. It was a few photos and a document holding information on the suspect of the crimes being held against the drug ring in Gotham.
You saw the photos, the frame showing a man with a muscular build wearing a red helmet, his body covered in what you recognized as Kevlar plates. At least he’s smart enough to know to wear some protective material with half the criminals in Gotham looking for him for the delicious bond prize. “He goes by the Red Hood, he’s only been around for a few months, just started hitting the ring a few weeks ago. My guess is to work his way up from the bottom by getting at the heaviest hitters.”
Both Carmine and Sionis looked at the photos of the new vigilante running loose on the streets. You heard Sionis slam his fist on the table in front of him, shattering his glass full of scotch due to the impact. “I want his head on a fucking platter!”, he yelled, the anger eating him from the inside out. You watched his outburst carefully, ready to exit the room if the situation called for it. You have been in these types of meetings long enough to know when to exit and when to stay. The Boss only trusted you to be present during these types of things, especially when it came to meetings with his VIPs. 
Carmine took a deep breath and stood up, buttoning the middle of his suit, “I want to know what exactly this man has in mind for trying to get in on our operations, I’ll hire my own private investigator to get more on this.. Red Hood character. In the meantime, if anything more progresses, I want to know.”, and with that he excused himself and was led out the side of the building by the two guards at the door. 
Sionis stayed a moment longer, his hand having glass in it, but no serious amounts of blood coming out. He stood and wiped his hand, picking out the shards like it was nothing before he flipped the table over and breaking everything in the process. “I want this guy dead. Not shot dead or stabbed, I mean tortured, murdered, his head on my desk type of murdered, you hear me Cobblepot!”, you quickly moved forward, your small hand held in frame, aiming at the center of his head.
“Show some respect..” you said slowly, your tone laced with warning. You could handle a lot, but violent outbursts where the situation didn’t call for it irked you. Grown men needed to get some sense of control. Sionis looked at you, his eyes narrowing and you never breaking contact. 
He just laughed before raising his hands up, “I apologize. Penguin. I want his head on my desk.”, he kept staring at you, his eyes trailing down your neck and chest, your arms still in position, the muscle noticeable due to your constant work out schedule. 
Sionis walked by, stopped just in time to whisper in your ear, “I look forward to spending more time with you”, and he excused himself and left. Your arms to your side, uncocking the gun and turning back to Penguin. 
“You don’t need to be so assertive.”, you looked at him before placing the gun on the back of your shorts. “He needs to know his boundaries. He can’t act like a fucking child in a meeting asking for your connections” You grabbed the tray off the table and took it back to the other room. “Take the night off, you haven’t taken off in almost three months.”
“You don’t need me for anything?”, you raised an eyebrow at him. 
“Not tonight. Once we get a better idea on what we’re dealing with, I’ll send you to do your own search.” You nodded at him as you watched him walk into the office, pulling on your leather jacket, grabbing your money, and heading back to your apartment for the night. 
Red Hood.
You let out a laugh under your breath.
What an idiot.
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Two weeks later
It was chilly tonight, the perfect night for you to get in field training since Penguin had given you the night off. You hadn’t gone through the city in weeks so the change of pace was nice. You hated not being able to get exercise and train in the field since that’s where the majority of your jobs took place. Scoping out the land, dropping in from roof tops, or running away from people chasing you to get back what you’ve stolen. It was nice to get out and run through the streets and rooftops of Gotham for once.
You launched yourself across the air, letting your body land perfectly on one of the rooftops before you headed towards the other edge of the building, heading towards where one of the major museums were, scoping out to see if there was anything that caught your eye enough to go in and intervene or get some action. You were about to push yourself off the ledge before you felt a crashing weight ram into you like a bull. 
You felt your body go flying and skid on the roof, your arm getting scraped up as you tried to focus yourself. 
What the hell?
You looked up, your eyebrows rising in shock as you tried to get your footing, pushing yourself back as the monster of a man kept aiming kicks at you. You finally got your footing, barely dodging the heavy, black boot that came swinging at your face. You launched yourself over the person attacking you, running to the other side of the building and jumping to the other one across the street. 
Your biggest mistake was looking behind you to see if you lost him because you ended up being met with the body of a bull chasing after you. 
Fuck! What’s this guy’s problem?
You decided you needed to attack, running was only going to make things worse or get you stuck in trouble. You turned, taking out your dagger and started trying to get at him, his body movements quick and calculated. For such a big guy, he was almost a little too fast. You watched as his arms tried to get you in a chokehold, twisting your body to ensure he couldn’t grab you. 
“Hey! What the hell is your problem?!”, you yelled as he continued trying to reach you, your dagger grazing his arm, cutting through his kevlar plates before you jumped, only to feel his hand wrap around your ankle and slam you into the ground, your dagger falling out of your hand as you tried to get yourself back up. You looked at the man, he was huge. Tall, muscular, but as he stepped into the light you felt yourself freeze for a moment.
Red Hood.
He didn’t answer, but you needed to create some distance. You needed to find an opening. 
“Who are you anyway? I’ve been hearing a lot about this infamous new rat running around Gotham, care to show me what the fuss is all about?”, you stood meters away from him, ready to lunge if needed. You watched as the deep red reflected from his helmet under the lights that lit the rooftop with a yellow cast. “Turns out I might be disappointed”.
There was a long pause, before you noticed he stopped moving, holding distance as he stayed focused on you, ready to attack if needed. When he spoke, it surprised you. 
“Well, I’ve heard a lot about you sweetheart.”, his voice rang out, distorted by the voice transmitter in his helmet. “The little errand girl that works under Penguin, does his dirty work while he sits on his ass all day cooped up in that piss poor club he calls a hide out.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, unsure of what to say or do. You saw his file, he was dangerous, smart, fast, and everything in between that you could possibly think of. He was a walking human weapon, the way his body was built, the weaponry he had, the way you couldn’t catch his next move. 
“What’s a lowlife like you doing trying to make deals with the street dealers of this city? Can’t take down the big guys so you go after the bottom-feeders?”, you taunted, needing to find a way to get him off his game. You were at a disadvantage, you didn’t think you’d be in hand to hand combat with the most wanted vigilante in Gotham, your only weapon now was your gun. You had your hand ready to take it out at any second. 
“Oh trust me, I’ll get to the big guys soon enough.”, you glared at him, noticing his stance. You quickly pulled out your gun, cocking it as he held his own aimed at you. You flickered your eyes down at his foot, noticing the twitch before he lunged forward, giving you a split second to move out of his way. You kicked him in the back, forcing yourself over him in order to place more space between the two of you. 
You shot your gun at him, his body turning as the bullet grazed his shoulder and you heard the sound of his own pistol discarding the bullets in its case. Your feet moving quickly, the bullets barely missing you as you ran toward him. You quickly tried to make a run for the ledge, only for a strong hand to grab your wrist and twist it behind your back, keeping you stuck in place before you could make your escape.
“Tell the fat bird to get his men ready, don’t leave me waiting.”, the deepness of his voice rang through your ear, his body pressed behind yours as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp. 
His grip released, his slip from the roof almost too fast for you to turn and try and fight him. You let out a heavy breath, fixing your clothes and placing your gun back in your waistband. 
You quickly gained your composure, forcing away the shock before you ran through the streets of the city. You needed to warn Penguin. You didn’t care about the risk you were taking running through the streets so exposed but notifying Penguin was priority one.
You reached the abandoned alley where you stashed your bike, kicking your leg over it and driving down through the streets of Gotham like crazy until you reached the Lounge. You pushed the door open as you acknowledged Black Mask and his men. Black Mask had reached out to Penguin about the new arising problem overtaking Gotham’s crime lords, stealing his territory right from under him like it was child’s play. 
“I have some intel.”, you breathed, every head in the room turning as you spoke. “He’s in our borders.”
“The Red Hood?!”, Black Mask’s voice boomed through the room as you stepped back, not knowing if this was his name. You just knew about the previous holders of the name, the identity dying out around the same time the Joker went back to Arkham. 
“I saw him. The .. Red Hood.”, the name rolled off the tongue almost too smoothly, still leaving an ill taste in your mouth. “He attacked me while I was on patrol, told me to tell you to prepare your men and…to not leave him waiting.”
“Who does this piece of shit think he is?!”, Black Mask was overflowing with rage, he’d already faced 3 hits on his trades, he’d surely lose it if he got another. 
“Then, I guess we’ll have to wait and see where he strikes.”, Penguin voiced calmly. “If he wants our attention, then he’ll get it soon enough.” 
You stared at him, unsure of his decision but didn’t question it. “What if he does more damage?”
“That’s where you’ll come in. I want you to find this rat, track his every move and report back to us. No one is better at this job than you.”
“I won’t disappoint you.”, you nodded to him, accepting his task as he turned towards Black Mask, trying to establish a framework to track, lure, and catch the Red Hood. 
You felt a sense of adrenaline through you, knowing this could possibly be the biggest job you’ve had yet. You’d been working with Penguin for the past five years, slowly gaining his trust and proving yourself to him a little at a time. You might’ve been doubted by every other high ranking mobster and crime lord in the underground, but having Penguin vouch for you led to many others wanting you to work for them, wanting to acquire your level of expertise. 
You watched as Black Mask stood, buttoning his suit jacket as he dipped his head slightly at you to signal a goodbye. As much as you disliked the man, he had been more laid back than usual which was strange but you didn’t begin to question the reasoning behind why. You waited until the door closed before redirecting yourself to Penguin.
“Boss.”, you paused, watching as he turned to look at you. “Are you sure about this?”
“(Y/n), you’ve proven yourself many times to me, I have no doubt in your capabilities.”, He was right, your skills and success rate made you undeniably good at what you did. No one ever questioned your methods, your skills, you had enough credibility that anyone who wanted to question your work were quickly met with looks or whispers of disappointment. You have solidified yourself as one of Penguin’s best workers, your reputation impeccable. 
Even so, the task of going after Red Hood threw you off. 
Maybe it was his quick rise through the rings in the underground, maybe it was his high profile, maybe it was the way he knew who you were even though he’d never met you before.
Everyone in Gotham who was remotely close to Black Mask and Penguin’s power bracket was after him, especially Black Mask. You could already imagine the type of press it would bring in for you if you took down the infamous new vigilante breaking apart the crime rings and reestablishing them as his own.
You shook the thoughts, hardening your resolve.
You needed to find and lure in the Red Hood, even if it meant killing him. The bond on his head would be more than enough to leave Gotham forever. 
Guess Red Hood’s my ticket out of this hell hole.
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The next few days seemed to drag on, you spent most of your time using your sources to get more information on Red Hood. You went through every security footage within every major territory, dipped into police records, planting information in order to gain insight in other rings. You even planted recording devices throughout many of the hidden meeting places throughout the city and every outlier neighborhood that could be connected back to the crime rings in the city. 
You had three leads, three possible ins that could lead you to find the Red Hood and his next target for a bust. You noticed how he was already starting to pick up traction, apparently holding an anonymous meeting with some of Black Mask’s outer connections, giving them a duffel bag full of decapitated heads of some of the main operators. They quickly fed into the funnel of giving Red Hood a cut of the profits. You realized then that that was when Sionis had contacted the Boss and offered a partnership in the process. 
Leading to now.
You sat in front of your computer with all the records and reports in front of you, security footage and photo stills of him all over the city. You realized his two favorite weapons to use were an AK-47 and Jericho 941’s. He liked to use his little Scorpion Evo 3 A1 if we wanted to be theatrical but he rarely reached for it. You found shell casings of his 941 around some docks, the .40 S&W casing by where the dock ended. A single shot. 
He likely shot once and let whoever it was float in the lake until someone dug them out. 
And you were right.
Black Mask’s main operant had been found shot and killed by the docks. 
One bullet to the head.
Courtesy of the red hooded vigilante. 
You narrowed your eyes, watching the screen as you decided to follow up on your first lead. Another meeting by an abandoned warehouse about 45 minutes outside the city. If you left now you would be able to make it in time to get in on the trade, see if it was a good lead to follow up on and if it was, then you were one step closer to getting in touch with the Red Hood.
You quickly changed, putting on a pair of cargo pants and lacing up your combat boots, throwing on a long sleeve fitted shirt and pulling on your leather jacket. You grabbed your goggles off the counter, knowing they’d be helpful for infrared and night vision since the trade would be happening around 2am. Stealth was of importance. If you got caught the entire thing would go to shit, you would lose your lead and tip off the very person you were looking for. You always needed to be careful even if you knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t be there. You had to treat every situation like he would be present. You’d be able to catch him faster that way.
You pulled your mask up over your nose, pulling the hood of your shirt over your head before jumping out of your apartment window and into the alley where you had your bike hidden. You strapped your guns to your holsters, ensuring they were secure and your daggers were accounted for before you turned on the motor and sped through the street to the isolated location. 
You left your bike off to the side, hiding it somewhere you could easily get to in case of any emergency. This lead wasn’t just to see if the Red Hood would appear, it was also a job Penguin had asked you to look into. Black Mask had requested a deep search of his suppliers to see who was slipping money and information to the Red Hood under the table and so you were put to the task and turns out the supplier you were after was that loose end. Two birds, one stone. 
You watched as the supplier and his men were moving cargo boxes of illegal weapons, the kind you’d only find on the black market and could only inquire through the illegal trades within the underground. A group of men loaded everything into a line of trucks, two of them directing everyone while shouting the deadline for shipment, rushing the workers. 
You used your goggles to zoom into the field, taking out a small dart gun you had to send a small transmitter to the inside of one of the trucks so you could get a better listen. 
“Hurry up! If we aren’t on time with this shipment we don’t get our money!”, one of them yelled. He was muscular, tall, but not the man you were looking for. 
“We’ll make it, don’t worry. The Hood’s gonna get our payment. The shipment won’t be delayed.”
You scoffed at the mention of Red, annoyed that he had these fools believing it was worth betraying Black Mask just to dip into Red Hood’s protection.
The final trucks loaded with all the weapons inside, taking note of the time as they would head out soon. You moved closer to the door, following behind two of the shipment trucks as they pulled out of the warehouse. You planted a small tracker on the truck before silently moving back towards your motorcycle, following closely behind as the trucks went off through the secluded streets. The darkness and bareness of the roads make it easy to get through without being detected by any of the underground criminals or any of Gotham’s Police Force.
The trucks turned into a dark alley, your bike merging down the street to avoid being seen as you noticed they were heading towards a shipment dock. You stayed a good distance, knowing your destination was only a few meters ahead. Just as you managed to turn into the road, the crashing sound of metal scraping on asphalt and the dirt mixing into the air filled your senses. Your ears rang as you felt your arm burn from the road tearing into your skin. Blood dripped from your forehead, your arm burning from the sensation of raw flesh being ripped open. 
You lifted your body, struggling to focus as you turned to look at the very person you were here for. 
“Well, fancy seeing you here sweetheart.”, that distorted voice rang out as you stayed focused on him, your hand ready to reach for your pistol if necessary. “Did you come out here to find me?”
You tried to force your body off the ground, only to be met with the heavy weight of his combat boot kicking into your gut at full force, shoving you to the ground with another kick to your back. Your body twitched from the sudden impact but you quickly rolled out of the way, leaning on your arms as you pulled out your gun and aimed it at him. 
“Do you even know how to use that thing?”, he mocked, his muscular and ominous form standing over you like a predator ready to devour his prey. You were not this fucker’s prey. You were the hunter and he needed to be hunted. 
“Want to take your chances and find out?”, you spat back. 
“You sure have a smart mouth for someone at a disadvantage”
“What makes you think I’m at a disadvantage, asshole?”, you narrowed your eyes, daggers digging into him as you rose from the ground, your gun still pointed to the middle spot on his head.
One shot. 
That's all it would take to take him down.
He walked over to you with a swiftness, your body twisting as you tried to get out of his grasp and pushed yourself back but his brute force swallowed the space between you as he snapped his hand around the collar, bringing your face close to his as the red glow of his helmet illuminated under the moonlight. It gave him a murderous glow.
“Go home to master before I send you back in a body bag”, his threat was serious, you knew he was serious. He had decapitated 5 people in the span of a few hours. You knew he’d gladly send you back to Penguin dead just to send a message. 
You stared at him, jaw clenched as you felt the anger radiating off his body. You couldn’t see his face but you could tell you were the absolute last thing we wanted to deal with tonight.
“Too bad I don’t listen to wannabe crime lords. My connections come in high places.”, you spit out as he forced himself into your space.
“Your connections wont do anything for you once I snap your neck in half, so I suggest you stop with the smartass comments before I go ahead and send you back one limb at a time.”
You laughed at his comment. He was dangerous, lethal, could snap your neck in a second and you just laughed at him. 
“Why do you care so much about Black Mask’s crime ring? What do you have to gain from any of this?”
“Revenge. Payback. Pest control.” he warned. “The more of these lowlives I get rid of, the better, the faster I get my message to that psychopath the better. Even if it means chopping you up into pieces to get my message back to that fat pig”
You had enough of his empty threat. Three times and he still talks in circles. You quickly twisted your body, using your taser to shock him into letting you go and moving your body to land a hit to his stomach and another to his chest. Those kevlar plates were going to be the death of you. You needed to find an opening, anything to just draw some blood. You could get a sample and expose his identity in a few hours. 
He turned towards you, his body upright as he pulled out a serrated knife, ready to tear through flesh and rip you to shreds. His stance was guarded, ready to attack but the distance never closed.
“Haven’t you ever wondered why it’s you he sends out to do his dirty work?”, taunting you seemed to be his favorite method to try and get a rise out of you. “It’s because he doesn’t care about you. You’re replaceable, if you fail he can find someone else, you’re just another piece of shit lowlife who is being used to do the dirty work of the biggest kingpins in Gotham”, 
You narrowed your eyes at him, calculating your next move by observing your surroundings a little at a time, not letting him have the first move. 
“You think you’re special because you get to sit in on his little meetings? Because he pays you more? Trust me sweetheart, you’re anything but special. You mean just as much to him as the rats to run around in the sewers, you’re nothing.”
“You don’t know shit.”, you barked back, watching as he ran towards you and aimed his knife at you, the blade missing as you continued to move around, landing a few punches and kicks to his body, failing to slow him down. 
You focused on knocking the knife out of his hand, but his body was quick, almost super human. You were fast, but he seemed calculative, like he knew your next move even before you did. You lifted your leg to kick at him, his body moving as you continued to lunge at him and grab his knife. He pushed himself back, crossing his arms to block the full force hit you tried to deliver. You managed to close the gap, reaching to his belt as you felt the blade rid through your arm. 
You let out a grunt of pain, a second to recoil from the knife tearing through your flesh was all he needed to get you off guard. He shot his arm forward, tightening around your neck almost crushing your windpipe. You tried to force yourself out of his grasp but his grip tightened with every movement. He was suffocating you.
“Let’s see that face of yours”, he breathed before he grabbed the edge of your mask and ripping it off your face, revealing your face to him fully, red and sweaty from the fight you two just had. “Well, at least you’re easy on the eyes”, the humor in his voice angering you. 
“Go to hell..”, you struggled against his grip, feeling yourself lose oxygen again. 
“Sweetheart, we’re already there.” 
You were not about to get choked out by this son of a bitch twice in a row. You struggled agaisnt him, stopping when you heard the sound of nearby vehicles, the red and blue lights passing by down the street. 
It was Gotham PD. 
You took the split second of his hesitation to break from his grip, your body tumbling slightly from the lack of oxygen before you ran to your bike that had skidded only a few feet away. You quickly turned it on, pressing down on the gas, hoping to get away but when you turned around you could see him only a few meters behind you. 
That fucker. 
You turned down an alley before breaking through the window of an abandoned building, riding through it to the other side to get him off your trail. You needed to get rid of the loose end before you went home for the night. It was the only chance you had to get the money he promised you. 
The lights passed with every second, your gut instinct telling you to go down a dark alley. Once you turned, you heard Red’s bike go down a different alley, getting him off your trail for a split second. You pulled over to the path that led to the meeting area, abandoning your bike and climbing to the roof of the building across from the site. Far enough to not be seen, close enough to make the shot. 
You waited, noticing the men unloading the weaponry into the truck on the other side of the walk way. there. 
You watched silently from the room, watching as Black Mask’s traitor was talking to one of Red Hood’s partners. You recognized him from your background search, he had switched out of Carmine’s ring and started working under the Red Hood when he heard about the decapitation debacle. He didn’t want to be another dead body so instead he switched sides. 
You watched through your goggles, noticing the case. Probably over $100,000. Enough money to lock away and never have to come back to Gotham. One could only dream. 
You pulled out the sniper you had hidden away for trades like this. You had your own weapons hidden around Gotham for your night jobs. Only in places you could find. You aimed from the roof, waiting for the perfect moment to shoot. You only needed to get rid of the traitor, Red’s little buyer could live another day to warn his boss. 
You waited as the men turned away, your finger on the trigger waiting for the buyer to turn back towards the trucks. Just a few more feet. You felt your finger flex, you controlled your breathing, steadied yourself, and pressed the trigger. You saw his body go down. You quickly pulled away as you saw the men rush to the dead body. You quickly hid the sniper back between the boxes and ran to the other side of the building, jumping to the roof across and sliding down into the alley way. 
You felt your heart racing as the shouts behind you slowly started to fade and kept running until you found the alley where you had left your motorcycle. You hopped on and sped away from the scene, trying to reach the lounge to let the penguin know that the job was done. 
You headed towards the nearby bridge as a shortcut, only to hear a slight beeping below you. You screeched to a halt, leaning over to examine your bike to be met with a flashing red light. 
Mother fucker. 
You grabbed the tracker, pulling it off and crushing it under your boot. the annoyance eating you alive festered until you needed to punch something. You didn’t have time for this shit. You triple tapped the small transmitter on your wrist. A small signal letting the penguin know your job was complete. You looked behind you, feeling the sense of someone watching, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You got a small transmission back, Penguin confirmed. 
You hummed softly, turning back towards the road and heading back home. 
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One Week Later 
“This brat has gotten two, TWO, of my operations shut down and I am losing money, Penguin! We need to get his pretty little body off the streets and in my trophy case or I will burn this entire city down.”, Roman had anger issues, severe anger issues, and he had no intent of trying to hide that fact. You tried to ignore him as you placed the last of the money in the bag and handed it back to Penguin, telling him the $50,000 count inside and he gave you $20,000 of what was inside. You grabbed the two bands and placed them inside your jacket before walking to the other room to grab the men a drink. 
You grabbed the top shelf scotch, bringing it back over and pouring the amber liquid into both of their glasses. You bent over and placed the glass down in front of Sionis, who looked at you with lustful eyes, and you returned his gaze, only you were glaring daggers at him. Silently he grabbed the glass before shooting it back and pouring some more. You couldn’t help but feel revolted by him, but you walked out of the room in slow strides, your hips moving side to side, already knowing that he was staring. 
“We need more patrols, more people out on the field. Whatever it takes to get this fucker off our shipments!”, Sionis growled as he slammed his amber glass down on the table in front of him. Penguin looked at him with an annoyed look, his body language tired of Black Mask’s antics.
“We’ll get the men we need, and I think we need to be more strategic than strength.”
You crossed your legs as you looked over Penguin’s shoulder. He had a folder with the name of one of the current operations on it. The kryptonite shipment. You’d heard Sionis and some of his partners talking about this multi-million dollar shipment. 
“If he gets in on this, I am gonna kill somebody. I don't care who.”, Black Mask grabbed the file and tucked it inside his suit pocket before heading towards the back door and leaving. 
“You know he’ll find a way to get in on that shipment, right?”, you muttered. Penguin stood, walking over to the office drawers and pulling out a small sheet of paper. He looked it over before walking back and giving it to you. 
“I don’t think he will.”, he smirked as your face contorted into shock as you read the paper's contents. 
“He.. How?”, the question left almost pleasingly. Penguin was spinning the small dial on the safe in the office, listening to each click as he put in the combination. 
“We found friends on the inside, it wasn't difficult to contact him and he’ll get back to us shortly.”, he pulled out a package, handing it to you as you opened it and examined the contents. 
You eyebrows furrowed at the information. 
“What’s this?”, you question. 
“His name is Calvi Calbera”, Penguin motioned. “He’s a luxury goods trader and has a hand in not only the black market but up scale Gotham trades too. He gets a lot of money from those luxury stores and rich clients from the upper city”
You raised an eyebrow at him. 
“I want you to convince him that having ties with me is beneficial. We get more streams of income from Upper Gotham, he gets business trade and protection. He’s stubborn, but this is his file. You can tail him as long as you need to do what you can”
“Is this related back to the Red Hood?”
“This has nothing to do with him. Consider it a side job I want you to do.”
“What if he already has protection and a business partnership?”, you quickly mentioned as you continued reading his file. 
He had some of the most expensive, luxury jewels under his name. Million dollar jewels. He was also a dangerous card to have in your hand, he had underground connections. This would be a great way to get the money you needed to disappear. 
“That’s what I’m worried about, but I trust you’ll find a way to convince him?”
“I can do my best”, you nodded at him. “Is there a timeline for this?”
Penguin shook his head, pouring himself another glass to drink. “No, I just want to have him on our list of ties, so take however long you need.”
You nodded again, shoving everything into the file neatly before tucking it into the inside pocket of your jacket. Watching as he disappeared into the office. It was still early, only around 2am. You went to the back and organized a few documents Penguin had received from Black Mask, looking through them and gaining more insight of the entire situation with Red Hood as a whole. 
Damn. 
He really had busted through two of Black Mask’s operations, killed more than 13 of his men, stole more than 20 of his workers, and burned down two of his warehouses. Carmine was also getting hits on his operations. 20 men killed, 15 workers taken, loss of $50k in profits. 
You skimmed through some of the papers in another cabinet, pulling out everything on Penguin’s partners, their ties and where they’ve had losses. 
Red Hood really was doing a number on these organized crime rings. Dipped his foot into each one and stole men, territory, and money. It surprised you how much ground he’d covered since he came out of nowhere. 
You finished looking at the files, placing them back neatly in the filing cabinet and headed to your small locker holding your personal belongings. Just as you were about to close the small door you heard a shuffling sound from Penguin’s office. Your senses on high alert. 
You grabbed the door handle, lightly turning it before pushing the door in and seeing the Boss being held at gunpoint. Your blood boiled at the sight. 
This piece of…
“Well, how unexpected”, Red voiced out, humor in his voice. How did this man get in the hidden lounge area?!
“Y/n. Come in. Come meet our… guest.”, he said nonchalantly, your eyes focused on him as you burned with annoyance. He couldn’t just leave you alone and stay on his side of things. What a fucking nuisance. 
You watched as Red focused on you, his gun still pointed as Penguin sat in his chair. You flickered your gaze to Penguin quickly before looking back at Red, noticing how he walked towards you. He towered over you, his muscular build guarded in kevlar made him seem bigger but you knew he was strong. You’d gone head to head with him twice already. He was a powerhouse of a man. 
You moved back slightly when his hand rose, pushing a piece of hair out of your face. You didn’t break eye contact, you needed him to know you wouldn’t back down from him and the possibility of him harming your Boss. You looked over to Penguin, giving you a look, blinking twice, and said nothing.  
A simple signal, but one that let you know he had already alerted the guards. You looked at the masked man, before he turned to the Boss and spoke out. 
“She’s a pretty one, Penguin.”
This motherfucker. Pulling this shit again.
You thought silently, before standing up and turning towards the door, the Red Hood looked at you intently. 
“Don’t move.”, you heard a gun cocking and stopped. You already knew he had his handgun pointed at you. Your intuition alerting you to move out of the way, especially since you knew the guards would be here in less than ten seconds. 
You turned to look at the Red Hood, his gun pointed at you while he had the other pointed at Penguin. you heard the click to the door, and you were sure he didn’t hear it.
In one fluid motion you pulled out your gun and shot at him, which missed and he shot back at you but you had jumped out of the way and the guards came in, blocking the exit. He shot at the both of them and they pulled their own pistols out. The room was big enough for the four of them to face off, but Red jumped over the two of them. Running out the door and closing it behind him. 
He ran past you, and you saw him go out through the side door, and you pushed yourself off the ground and ran towards the door. You ran behind him, placing your gun on the inside of your shorts, seeing the man run and turn around to glance at you. You weren’t too far behind him, your stamina good enough to keep up, but not sure if you’d be able to stop him without the use of your gun. 
He ran through the hallway but ignored the stairs leading outside but took the ladder out the window to the roof. You saw him jump through the window of the second story and cling to the ladder, you jumped out and grabbed the side, slipping a little, and holstered yourself up. You both reach the roof and you were able to pull out your gun and shoot at his feet, making his trip just a little bit enough for you to catch up and push your leg through his and trip him over completely. 
He rolled on the ground and you pushed yourself on him. Your leg on his chest and your gun pointing at him. You heard him groan before he looked up at you. 
“You’re pretty fast, sweetheart. You sure you know how to use that thing?”, his voice was deep, you could tell even through the voice changer. You cocked an eyebrow at him before scoffing. 
“Do you want to find out?”, you answered back. You could hear the guards yelling, noticing the broken window below. There was only a minute before they would try and come up here, or ask you if you caught the hooded vigilante. 
“Looks like you finally have the upper hand. Tell me Y/n, what are you doing working for Penguin knowing he’ll never use your full potential?”, he asked, and you pushed your foot onto his arm to keep him from talking. He groaned a little and you didn’t falter. 
“That’s nothing you should concern yourself with. Tell me Red, why risk going after the big dogs when you can barely keep up?”
“I think I’m keeping up pretty well”, he mocks. You narrowed your eyes at him, your gun still aimed at his head. You kept his gaze, locked on him as you contemplated in your head. 
“(Y/n)! Are you there?”, you looked behind you before yelling back. 
“Yeah. I’m here!”
“Did you get him? The Red Hood!”
“Yeah, doll. Did you?”, you narrowed your eyes. You knew the price on his head was more than enough to get you out of this city. Enough to survive for the next five years if need be, but there was something that tipped you off. There was a tug in your gut, you couldn’t be sure if it was worth it and yet… 
“(Y/N)!”
A moment of hesitation and you pushed yourself off of the Red Hood, yelling back, “No, he got away!”
You stood and he stayed laying there for a moment before he also rose to his feet, his gaze still locked on you. What were you doing?
“I’ll be down, go tell Boss to warn Black Mask and Carmine!”, they yelled back a simple okay and with that they left. 
“How sweet of you.”
“I’m not doing this for you. I have my reasons” you answered harshly before uncocking your fun and placing it back in the small holster on your waist. 
“Does this have to do with that ugly faced Black Mask?”, he asked, cocking his head as he rolled his shoulders. 
You narrow your eyes at him, hesitating before answering. “It doesn’t matter who or why. Go before you make me regret not having our men torture you”
He laughed. “Our men. Sweetheart, those are Penguin’s men. There you go again assuming you’re of some value to that fat bird.”
“You underestimate me, Red”, you said through clenched teeth. Anger radiating off of you like fire. “Go before I end up shooting you” 
“Always so protective of the men that own you”, he said under his breath. 
You pulled your gun out again swiftly, pushing it under his jaw and holding his gaze with your own. “I don’t belong to anyone motherfucker. Now leave before I fucking shoot you”, you growled. He raised his hands, showing a simple surrender. 
“Okay, noted.”
“Why play such a risky game? You know you’ll get caught eventually.”, you looked at him and he shrugged, “Never been caught before. I think I’ll be alright”. 
You couldn’t tell if this man was being serious or if he was just taunting you. Most people who were raised on the streets knew how to hold their own, so you expected that he would know too and was just another power hungry nobody. 
“Okay fucker. Now leave before I put a bullet through that brain of yours”
The man took a long stride towards you, the gloss of the helmet obviously ruined, but still a bright crimson red that made him noticeable in a crowd. You could sense his breath, steady and controlled but gave away that he had no real intent to hurt you. He was painfully close, but working somewhere like the club, you were used to the invasion of privacy time and time again. 
“Sweetheart”, you looked at him, raising your head a little since you were far shorter than him, “Don’t start something you won’t be able to finish.”, he challenged.
“And what if I can?”, you countered just as fast. He stared at you, before stepping back, your heart beating in your chest. 
“I’d be more than interested to see that, but your master is calling.”, you glared at him, and not even two seconds later, your small alarm went off, indicating Penguin’s call. You looked at the Red Hood who placed both guns in his holster that seemed to wrap around his muscular thighs perfectly, cursing yourself for even noticing his build in the first place. 
“Well, (Y/n), can’t wait for our next date.”, he said before jumping off the roof and heading towards the opposite direction of the club. You stayed a moment longer before heading back down towards the Boss’s room.  
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A/N:
I received such great response to my prologue for this series and I am very excited to keep it going. I’ll be posting updates every week on either Fridays or Saturdays depending on my work load! If i’m delayed or cannot post on those days I will post saying so. Please be patient as I am also in Uni and am doing this series as a way to distract myself from school and have a little hobby that is fun for me. I do have chapters planned a week in advance so I can keep a good posting schedule. But again, please be patient with me!
I love writing these so and I hope you enjoy reading them!
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