#twist it shake it rock and roll (song)

[chatsukimi]

Well I heard about the fellow you've been dancing with All around the neighbourhood

So why didn't you ask me, baby?

Didn't you think I could?

[lovebugism]

steve finds out reader hasn’t slow danced with a guy before… like maybe she never went to prom with a date and he makes it really sweet for her

when steve finds out you've never slow danced with anybody, he takes it as a challenge (fluff, established relationship, 0.8k)

Languishing on Steve Harrington’s couch, you rest your full weight against his shoulder like you’re trying to melt with him there. You vaguely hear him shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth while you stare unblinking at the black-and-white film playing ahead of you.

“Slow dancing is, like… really weird,” you observe in a quiet murmur, features all twisted in confusion.

“Whaddaya mean?” the boy beside you wonders through his mouthful.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a lazy shrug. “It’s just, like… swaying in place… really awkwardly.”

“It doesn’t have to be awkward.”

You wave your hand at the television across the room, where a couple of Old Hollywood actors dance like both of them’s caught the plague. “Look at that and tell me that’s not awkward!” you argue and turn your chin to look at him. 

Your faces are much closer than you thought. The tip of your nose threatens to brush the chiseled bridge of his. The proximity leaves you wishing it had.

Steve scoffs with a boyish scrunch to his features. “Well, those two have, like, zero chemistry! You gotta slow dance with someone you like, you know? Like, really like,” he explains, gesturing wildly with his hand and jostling you slightly in the process. “Then you got yourself a good time, alright? You’re pressed all close, holding each other’s hands, dancing through the sexual tension—”

“It’s weird,” you insist with a scrunched nose.

“It’s nice!”

“Let’s just agree to disagree,” you shrug.

Steve shakes his wild head and shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Yeah, I can’t do that,” he says, muffled through the food in his cheek.

You snort a quiet laugh in return.

“So you’re saying you’ve never slow danced with someone before?” he wonders with his mouthful, then swallows. “Like, ever?”

Your face scrunches like it’s obvious. “No.”

“Not even at prom?”

“I didn’t have a date at prom!”

“I didn’t either!” he tells you, which you think is only half a lie. Nancy had just broken up with him then — whether he was too heartbroken or too lazy to find another date is still up in the air, really.

Your eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “The entire female class of 1985 was your prom date.”

“I’m just sayin’,” he insists, laughing quietly to himself. “You’re missin’ out here, babe.”

You scoff and reach for the bowl in his lap, stealing a handful of room-temperature popcorn for yourself. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

—————

The sound of vintage violins swells distantly in the otherwise quiet house as the film credits roll. Lit only by the amber stove light, you dump uneaten and unpopped kernels into the trashcan in the kitchen. A record crackles in the room over. A song floats gently on the midnight air.

Everybody loves somebody sometime…

Everybody falls in love somehow…

Your brows furrow when Steve appears in the doorway, rocking his hips back and forth and snapping his fingers to the languid beat. He sings the words quietly to himself, hardly trying but still sounding sort of decent anyway. “Something in your kiss just told me... My sometime… Is now…”

“What are you doing?” you wonder aloud, biting back a chuckle.

“Dancing,” the boy answers.

Your brows furrow as he approaches you — hips still swaying, fingers still snapping. “…By yourself?” you question slowly.

He cages his plush bottom lip between his teeth and shakes his head. With wide, warm palms, he smooths his hands over your sides. “Mm-mm,” he hums and squeezes your hips. “With you.”

His touch urges you to sway alongside him, but you tense almost immediately — a virtually immovable force. “No, Steve!” you scold through giggles, shoving him away with a halfhearted hand. “Steve, don’t!”

“C’mon!” he shouts over your protests as his chuckles entwine with your own. “Just dance with me! It’s not gonna kill ya!”

You make a faint grumbly noise of disapproval but don’t fight about it any further. With your face still scrunched in a childlike pout, you let him take one of your hands into his larger one and rest your other against his chest. With a palpable hesitance, you follow his subtle side-to-side movements.

Something in my heart keeps saying…

My someplace is here…

“This is so cheesy,” you giggle to yourself.

“But it’s nice, right?” Steve presses with raised brows. 

Rogue chestnut hairs fall over his forehead, and you fight the urge to push them back. Your nose scrunches in a silent answer, and he laughs. You can feel the golden sound rumble in his chest. 

“You don’t have to say anything… I know you like it.”

You roll your eyes at his smug grin. “Only ‘cause you’re such a good dance partner,” you tease with a knowing squint in your eyes.

His gaze swims with honey as his rosy lips quirk in a lopsided smile. “Don’t make me blush,” he jokes in a quiet murmur, already leaning down to kiss you. 

Steve swallows your laughter with a pink, petaled mouth pressed against your lips — tasting faintly of popcorn, cheap beer, and adoration.

The song crackles quietly through it all.

—And although my dream was overdue…

Your love made it well worth waiting…

For someone like you…

[steveseddie]

go for it

steddie | rating: t | cw: none | wc: 4,6k | tags: eddie and steve have a crush, they finally do something about it, the hellfire club is there whoops, first kiss, getting together

for my stficbingo: “This is a dictatorship and I’m in charge!”

click here to read on ao3

***

“You drag yourselves out of the tunnels and find what seems to be a friendly tavern in the woods,” Eddie narrates in a low voice, his eyes sweeping over everyone sitting at the Harrington dining table. They’re all at the edge of their seats, collectively holding their breath, looking suitably daunted yet excited as they brace themselves for some other twist in the story. “The innkeeper welcomes you with warm food and offers you a place to stay. She assures you that you’re safe.” 

He pauses for dramatic effect. Watches as Henderson bites his knuckles, Wheeler squeezes his eyes shut, Jeff covers his face with his hands-

“Tonight you get to rest,” he finishes with a flourish of his hand and the party sighs in relief. 

“Thank God!” Gareth says, slumping back on his chair and wiping his brow where beads of sweat started gathering during the final moments of the campaign. “I thought we wouldn’t make it.” 

“Holy shit, me too,” Sinclair agrees, shaking his head in disbelief. He’d been one bad die roll away from dying by the time they finally defeated the goblins that attacked them out of nowhere. “That was brutal!” 

“It was fucking awesome!” Henderson says with a squeaky laugh and everyone around the table heartily agrees.  

Eddie grins widely, resting his chin on one hand and doing a flourish with the other one in lieu of a bow. “Glad it pleased you, Master Nog.” 

The kid flashes him a toothy smile and then he and the rest of the party start discussing tonight’s campaign- the best moments, the ones where they thought they would all die, their predictions for what will happen next week. 

They’re so caught up in their conversation that they don’t notice when Eddie slips away from the table.

The Harrington house is easy to get lost in, bigger than any house Eddie has ever been to. Even after weeks of being friends with Steve and coming over for movie nights and pool parties, Eddie isn’t sure he’s seen all of it. He knows there’s a third garage somewhere and he’s only been to one of the three guest bedrooms and that was back on the first night he slept over. 

(Since then, he and Steve realized that they sleep better when they have company and Eddie never saw the inside of that or any of the other guest rooms again, sharing Steve’s bed with him whenever he spends the night instead.)

Eddie has been to Harrington kitchen plenty of times though, so he makes his way there easily. 

As he gets further away from his friends and their noise, Eddie’s ears pick up on the music coming from the Harrington kitchen, which further guides him in the right direction. He belatedly recognizes the song as part of the mixtape he made for Steve a couple of days ago in an attempt to improve his music taste. When he gave it to him, Steve eyed it warily (“It’s real music, Stevie, not a rabid animal, it won’t bite you!”) before shoving it into his car’s glove compartment. He didn’t bring it up since then and Eddie assumed he forgot about it. Knowing that Steve didn’t forget and he’s actually listening to it now fills Eddie’s stomach with butterflies. 

Those butterflies flutter pathetically when he finally reaches the kitchen and finds Steve doing the dishes. 

He’s standing in front of the sink, his hips moving with the music (not heavy metal but some soft rock that Eddie thought might be more Steve’s style while still being cool) and there’s a flowery apron tied around his waist which matches the rubber gloves he’s wearing. Both were a gag gift from the kids, Steve told Eddie the first time he saw him wearing them, one that actually turned out to be quite useful and now he wears them often. 

For a moment, Eddie lingers at the kitchen doorway, giving himself a few seconds to stare at Steve, filing away how he looks for later when he’s daydreaming embarrassingly domestic fantasies of a life with Steve. Then he raps his knuckles twice on the door frame to get his attention. 

(Eddie knows better than to sneak up on him now. The one time he did Steve had him pinned against a wall before Eddie could even realize what was happening. He thought it was hot more than anything, but Steve had been mortified. He spent the rest of the night apologizing and acting like a kicked puppy around him. He didn’t relax until Eddie reminded him that the first time they met, Eddie did the same thing, only he also held a broken bottle to Steve’s throat. So now they were more than even.)

Steve’s head whips around at the sound and his face lights up when he sees Eddie leaning against the door frame. 

“Hey!” Steve says, grinning like he’s delighted to see Eddie. Like he missed him, like he didn’t see him less than forty minutes ago when they all took a break to have dinner. “You finished early tonight.” 

Glancing at the clock on top of the fridge, Eddie realizes that Steve is right. “I figured they had enough for one night,” Eddie says, stepping into the kitchen and joining Steve by the sink. “Usually the brats would throw a fit, but I think they were actually glad this time.”  

“That bad?” Steve asks with a snort.

“Wheeler rolled four nat ones in a row, Steve, four!” Eddie says, dancing in and out of Steve’s space until Steve hip-checks him out of the way with a chuckle. 

“Four, huh?” 

“Mhm, the odds weren’t in their favor tonight.” 

“Well, it was nice of you to let them off the hook for once, Mr. Dungeon Master,” Steve says, crinkly eyes meeting Eddie’s momentarily before looking down at the sink and picking up another plate. 

“I’m always nice, Stevie,” Eddie says, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

Steve gives him a bitchy face. “Dude, I’m pretty sure I heard you threaten to chop off Dougie’s hand.” 

“That was the goblin, not me!” Eddie protests, wagging his finger in front of Steve’s face. “Who Jeff killed shortly after, so who’s the one that isn’t nice here?” 

“Right,” Steve deadpans. He takes off the rubber gloves after rinsing the last plate and picks up a dish towel to start drying. “You can always get your revenge next week I guess.” 

“Oh I will, Stevie. I will,” he says, grinning manically. Oh the things he has planned. Eddie hops on top of the counter, right next to where Steve stands as he dries plates and glasses and everything else he used to make the most delicious lasagna for the party. His feet dangle from the counter and he lightly nudges Steve with one. “Hey, thanks for letting us play here. And for dinner.”

“You know you don’t have to thank me every time, right Eds?” Steve says with an exaggerated sigh, but his annoyance is downplayed by his playful smile. The lopsided one that makes Eddie want to kiss him stupid. 

After Spring Break, Principal Higgins was quick to shut down Hellfire once and for all, leaving the party with no place to hold their campaigns. Eddie wasn’t surprised but like everyone else, he was pretty fucking bummed about it. No one in their party had enough space at their house to host their campaigns, and the only two that did, Wheeler and Sinclair, failed to convince their parents to let them use their basement for their alleged satanic cult gatherings. 

But just when they thought their club was done for, Steve swooped in like the knight in shining armor that he is and offered up his house, which is why for the last couple of weeks they’ve been gathering at the Harrington residence where Steve not only hosts their campaigns and puts up with the noise and the mess they leave behind, but he also cooks or buys them dinner every week and makes sure to stock up his fridge with each of their favorite drinks, even indulging in Gareth’s weird obsession with Bubble Up soda because he is unreal and the nicest fucking guy Eddie knows. 

So Eddie can’t not thank him every time. Contrary to what people might believe, he has manners. He also likes the pretty pink flush that covers Steve’s cheeks whenever he does it.

“Hm, I think I do,” he says, nudging Steve’s leg again. “Hellfire would be over if it wasn’t for you, sweetheart.” 

“And what a tragedy that would be,” Steve jokes but aha! There it is- that pretty pink blush. 

“Hey! I know for a fact that you don’t hate it as much as you pretend to,” Eddie says, shaking his finger in a reproachful manner. “You sat through the whole session last time and didn’t even yawn once!” 

Last week, Dustin begged and pleaded so that Steve would sit and watch their campaign instead of retreating to the kitchen or his bedroom. Steve held his ground admirably until Eddie joined in on Dustin’s pleas, batting his eyelashes and pouting exaggeratedly until he caved, sighing in defeat and sitting down next to Eddie. He didn’t expect Steve to make it through the whole thing, but he did and while he did look a little confused at times and complained that there was way too much math involved, he also seemed to actually enjoy himself. 

Steve shifts from one foot to the other and bites his lip. “Yeah, I guess, but that’s because I was watching you the whole time,” he shyly says.

Eddie blinks. “Me?” He remembers Steve’s eyes on him while he led the campaign, but he didn’t think much of it then. But now Steve’s shy admission that he enjoyed himself because he was watching Eddie makes his heart stutter in his chest. 

Flushing deeper, Steve keeps his eyes on the glass that he’s drying, not meeting Eddie’s gaze as he says, “Yeah, you, uh. You’re very good at doing those voices and you know, drawing people into your stories. It’s, um, fascinating.” 

Fascinating. No one’s ever used that word to describe Eddie before. He can’t help the way his breath catches when Steve Harrington of all people calls him that. 

“Oh. Well, thanks,” he stammers out, feeling his own cheeks match Steve’s flush. “And here I thought you were going to say I’m just pretty to look at,” he adds with a slightly shaky laugh.

And that’s what he expects Steve to do- laugh it off. Instead, he finally meets Eddie’s eyes and says, “Well, that too.” 

Eddie’s jaw drops. Holy shit. 

Steve does laugh then but not because it was a joke. He laughs at Eddie’s reaction which consists of him gaping like a fish because Steve Harrington just called him fascinating and pretty. 

And it’s not that Steve hasn’t given him compliments before or hasn’t flirted with him before. He plays along most of the time- sometimes with a playful smirk and sometimes with that baffled puppy look that Eddie saw for the first time after calling him “big boy”.

The thing is he’s never flirted like this- shyly, without a hint of a joke. And it’s- 

Well, it’s a lot. 

But if Eddie learned anything after Spring Break is to roll with whatever the universe throws at him, which in this case isn’t an army of hell bats or an apocalypse, but Steve Harrington finally, maybe, possibly making a move. Something that Eddie has been waiting for after weeks of the two of them dancing around each other. 

He couldn’t see it at first, or rather he refused to, afraid to get his hopes up only for his heart to break when he turned out to be wrong. But there are things that not even his cynical eyes can ignore. The way Steve gravitates towards Eddie in any group setting or the way Eddie catches him staring when he thinks he isn’t looking like last week when they went swimming at the quarry and Eddie took off his shirt or like two weeks ago when Eddie tied his hair up to keep it off his face while he played his guitar. Or the way Steve’s eyes seem to dart to Eddie’s lips constantly when he talks and the way he can’t go more than a day without seeing him before he’s knocking on Eddie’s door to spend time with him.

It would be slightly easier to ignore all of this if it wasn’t for the fact that Eddie acts the same way when it comes to Steve. And Eddie is halfway in love with the guy, so. It makes him wonder. 

But despite all of this, Eddie still hasn’t made a move. Steve either. Until now maybe. 

Eddie clears his throat, finally finding his words. “Well, as entertaining as it must’ve been to watch me.” He grins. “You’ll have more fun if you actually play with us. Maybe next time I can finally convince you to join.”

Hazel eyes narrow at him. “If I play, will you threaten to cut off my hand too?”  

“Nah, I promise to go easy on you since it’s your first time.” He winks and Steve’s eyes widen, the blush from before making a wonderful return. 

“I- I haven’t said yes-”

“Yet.” 

Steve huffs. “What makes you so sure that you can convince me?” He asks with an arched eyebrow. “The kids have tried and failed and you know how relentless they are.”

“Yeah, but I can be very persuasive.” He gestures at himself with a hand flourish. “You know, as a cult leader and all.”

Steve hums. “Of course.” He leans his hip against the counter, only an inch away from Eddie’s thigh.

“There’s gotta be something I can do to convince you,” Eddie says, moving his thigh until it touches Steve’s hip. “Something I can give you in exchange. To make it worth your while.”

Steve’s eyes immediately dart down to Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s stomach swoops. There it is.

“You’re right,” Steve says, and in one quick movement, he pushes himself away from the counter and moves to stand between Eddie’s legs. Holy fuck. “There’s one thing.”

Anticipation bubbles up in Eddie’s stomach. “Yeah? What- what is it?” He asks with a suddenly dry throat. 

Steve ducks his head, glancing at Eddie through his eyelashes. “A kiss from the Dungeon Master?” He asks in a shy whisper. 

Eddie stares at him for a second, lips parted in surprise because goddamn shitting fuck. Then-

“Not the goblin?” He asks in his stupid goblin voice. Like a fucking loser.

As soon as he blurts it out he slaps a hand against his face. “Fucking Christ, I can’t believe I just did that. That was so lame. I’m just fucking nervous, sorry.” 

Steve wraps his fingers around Eddie’s wrist, lowering his hand. His eyes are sparkling with fondness. “Don’t be, it’s cute,” he says with a soft chuckle. 

A nearly hysterical giggle bubbles up in Eddie’s throat but it abruptly cuts off when Steve places his hands on Eddie’s thigh and leans in. 

“Eddie.”

“Yeah?” 

“Are you gonna give me that kiss or what?” Steve asks oh so sweetly.

And Eddie doesn’t waste a moment after that, he finally goes for it. He cups Steve’s cheeks and tugs his face closer, pressing their mouths together, feeling his chest explode with warmth as he thinks finally and pinch me and holy fucking shit. 

The kiss is sweet and slow. It starts a little tentative, just lips slotting together, Steve’s bottom lip fitting perfectly between Eddie’s. But then something shifts- Steve’s hands settle on Eddie’s waist, his thumbs digging into his hip bones while Eddie’s fingers find their way to Steve’s hair, scratching at his scalp, tangling with the soft strands, tugging on them. The last one makes Steve’s mouth fall open in a gasp, just enough for Eddie to press in, catching Steve’s lower lip between his teeth and biting down hard enough to earn himself a small whine. Then he lets it go, easing his tongue across Steve’s lip and licking into his mouth. 

He loses track of anything else that happens when Steve’s own tongue licks into his mouth in return. 

After a while the kiss softens again, turning into something slow and tender until it comes to a natural stop, once they can’t ignore the need to breathe anymore. 

Steve pulls back but Eddie doesn’t let him go far, keeping a firm hold on the lapels of his dorky polo shirt. “Definitely worth my while but-” 

Eddie cocks an eyebrow. “But?” 

“But,” Steve says, his red, wet, well-kissed lips stretching into a wicked grin. “I think I’m gonna need more convincing.”

Eddie grins back. “Oh, I think that can be arranged.”

He tugs Steve closer again and he comes willingly, sighing happily when their lips slot together once more. God, Eddie is so fucked. They’ve kissed once and he’s already addicted to kissing Steve. He’s convinced that he could stay like this forever, lazily making out with him on his kitchen counter, tongues exploring, hands wandering.

And he probably would’ve- if a shrill voice didn’t make them jump apart. 

“What the hell is going on here!” Dustin yells.

Steve whirls around so fast he almost faceplants on his kitchen floor and Eddie jumps back and hits his head against one of the upper cupboards.

He lets out a string of creative curses as he rubs the back of his head, seeing black spots when he opens his eyes. Despite those, he can still see the whole party standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at them with expressions ranging from utter shock (Sinclair and Henderson) to disgust (Wheeler) to smugness (Jeff, Gareth, Dougie, and weirdly enough, Erica). 

“Uh,” Steve says dumbly as he tries to find his words, but there’s no lying their way out of this one and they both know it. They were just caught with their tongues down each other’s throats and Eddie’s hands on Steve’s ass. 

“Well?” Dustin prompts in a bitchy tone.

“I was, uh, convincing Steve to join D&D next week,” Eddie says, which is, technically, the truth. 

Gareth snorts, raising an eyebrow. “With your tongue?” 

Eddie gives a gleeful laugh. “As a matter of fact, yes.” 

“Eddie,” Steve hisses, flushing to the tips of his ears. 

“That’s gross!” Wheeler cries, his face scrunching up which is rich coming from him, Eddie thinks, considering he saw him sucking face with El more times than he would’ve liked in the short time she was in Hawkins after everything. So he knows Wheeler has nothing against kissing and it makes him wonder if he might have something against Eddie kissing a boy, or boys kissing boys in general and Eddie loves the kid, he loves all of them but he will sit him down for some tough love if he happens to not be okay with-

There’s a slapping sound as Erica smacks him upside the head.

“Ouch!”

“Not cool, butthead,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Wheeler. “Boys can kiss boys too.”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth tugs up in a smile. Just like that, she’s currently his favorite. 

“What?” Wheeler asks, rubbing the back of his head. “I know that. I don’t care that Eddie wants to kiss guys, I care that he wants to kiss Steve!”

“Hey!” Steve protests with an affronted frown.  

“Eddie is cool and Steve is so lame! And he’s my sister’s ex!” He says with extra snark. 

Eddie can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. Steve’s head snaps in his direction, his offended expression now directed at him. “Sorry, sorry,” he says between giggles. He clears his throat and gives Wheeler a stern face. It’s a much different scolding than the one he thought he would be giving him just a few moments ago and he’s grateful for that. “Steve isn’t lame. Yes, his music taste is shit and he owns more polo shirts than an 80-year-old-” 

“Dude, are you defending me or helping Mike insult me?” Steve mumbles with a pout. 

“But!” Eddie says, ignoring him. “He’s also badass and he’s saved your sorry asses multiple times and he’s nice enough to let you pipsqueaks eat his food and trash his house every week and he’s hot as fuck, so. Show some respect, Wheeler.”

Mike’s face scrunches up. “What does Steve being hot have to do with anything? Ew!”

But before Eddie can reply to that, Dustin takes a step forward, looking between the two. “So this is a thing now? Are you guys a thing?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at them.

Steve and Eddie exchange a look, both of them trying to communicate the same thing- do you want to be a thing? Steve gives him a sheepish smile and a nod, and in response, Eddie wraps his arms and legs around him, essentially hanging off of Steve’s back like a koala and trapping him against the counter. “Yes, Henderson. We are, as you so eloquently put it, a thing.”

Eddie expects more outrage, but Dustin nods solemnly. “Okay, cool. Just- no flirting at the D&D table. And no kissing!” There are nods and noises of agreement from the rest of the party. 

Eddie lets out an indignant squeak. “Excuse me, this is a dictatorship and I’m in charge! And the Dungeon Master decides that there will be kissing, butthead,” he announces, and then to prove a point, he smacks a sloppy kiss against Steve’s cheek. 

There’s a lot of groaning and whining and fake-gagging. 

“Dude, it’s like watching my parents kiss,” Sinclair says and Henderson nods, rubbing at his eyes like it physically hurt him to see Eddie kiss Steve. 

Eddie rolls his eyes- and they call him dramatic.

“Fine, fine, no kissing,” he says and sees Steve pout out of the corner of his eye. “But I won’t be deprived of the joy of flirting with one Sir Stephen.” 

Steve leans back against Eddie’s chest, twisting his neck to arch an eyebrow at him. “Sir Stephen?”  

“I’ve been working on your character sheet for weeks,” Eddie says with a grin. And it’s true, he had the feeling that he would be able to convince Steve to play and he wanted to be ready. If he’d known a kiss was all it took to do it, he would’ve done it much sooner. 

“That’s presumptuous of you,” Steve mumbles, but there’s a smile teasing at his lips. Eddie shrugs, nuzzling his face against Steve’s shoulder. 

“Fine!” Dustin groans, reminding Eddie that he and Steve aren’t alone. “As long as you stay in character.” 

Eddie grins wickedly, already looking forward to flirting with Steve through all his characters, even the goblin. 

“Anyway,” Jeff says, clapping his hands on Dustin’s shoulders. “We were on our way out. We would offer to take the kiddos home, but Dougie’s piece of shit car won’t fit them all.” Dougie protests with a “Hey!” that they all ignore. 

Usually, Eddie doesn’t mind driving the kids around, but right now, a part of him does wish that he could stay a little longer with Steve. The other part can’t wait to get home so he can scream into a pillow. 

“Nah, I got it. Gentleman, lady, grab your things, we’ll head out in a second,” he says, making shooing motions with his hands. 

Sinclair rolls his eyes. “He just wants more time to make out with Steve,” he mutters as they all start to pile out of the kitchen. 

“Correct, Sinclair!”

He and Wheeler make gagging noises, earning a shove from Erica as she follows them. Yeah, she’s definitely his favorite. 

Henderson lingers on the doorway. 

“Any other rules you wish to impose on us, Master Nog?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Dustin shakes his head, curls bouncing. “No, I’m just- I’m happy for you. Both of you.”

Eddie blinks. “Oh,” he exhales softly, touched by the kid’s words. 

“Thanks, Henderson,” Steve says, and he sounds touched too. 

“Yeah, thanks, kid.” 

“And I love you both, but if you get divorced, I will pick sides.” And with one final narrow-eyed look, he turns on his heels and leaves.

“Which side?” Eddie asks, but the little shit pretends he doesn’t hear him. “Henderson! Which side?” His shoulders slump. “Brat.”

“Too bad we’re never gonna find out,” Steve says, turning around to face Eddie without dislodging his arms or legs that are still wrapped around him.

Eddie’s heart stutters in his chest. “Never? That’s presumptuous of you,” he says, echoing his words from before. 

Steve shrugs. “I just know I don’t plan to break up with you- or divorce you like the kid said.” 

Oh yeah, Eddie definitely needs a pillow to scream into right about now. “Um, yeah, me neither, so I guess we’re stuck together.”

Steve nods with a dopey smile. “And we’ll never know who Dustin would’ve picked.” 

There’s a short silence. 

Then, “He would’ve picked me,” they both say at the same time. 

Steve squawks. “Me!”

“No, me!” 

“I’ve known him longer!”

“He thinks I’m cooler!” 

And so on until Eddie gets tired of arguing and shuts Steve up with a kiss. Before they can deepen it though, they’re once again interrupted by the kids. 

“Eddie!” Dustin yells. 

“Stop sucking face and let’s go!” Wheeler adds and Eddie can’t see him, but he knows his nose is scrunched up in disgust. 

“We’re gonna be late!” Sinclair adds, urgently, and Erica mhm’s in agreement. 

Eddie throws his head back with a groan. “Jesus H. Christ! They’re so annoying.” 

“They are,” Steve chuckles, brushing their noses together. “Hey, you wanna come over tomorrow? We can work on that character thing together. Just you and me.” 

Eddie’s eyes widen, lips parted in awe. Steve and D&D? There must be hearts in his eyes right now or bursting out of him like he’s a cartoon. “You’re offering to do nerdy shit with me? God, you’re a dream, Jesus Christ!” He says, hands coming up to cup either side of Steve’s face and peppering kisses all over it- his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and finally, his lips. 

Steve giggles. “So, that’s a yes?” 

“I’ll be here,” Eddie says with a grin. 

Steve wraps his arms around his neck. “And since the kids won’t be there I expect there to be kissing and flirting.”

Eddie inches closer, smirking. “Hm, you can count on it, sweetheart.” 

This time they don’t even get to kiss before the kids are yelling again, this time in unison. “Eddie!”

Eddie lets go of Steve’s waist and slaps his hands against his face. “Motherfucker!” He groans. Then louder, “I’m coming!” 

Steve shakes his head with a laugh as Eddie hops down from the counter.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Eddie tells him. 

Steve gives him another dopey smile- or rather the same one since it hasn’t left his face at all. “Can’t wait.”

Eddie sweeps in for a quick kiss, one that the kids can’t interrupt, marveling for a second at the fact that he can simply do that now. Then with a final tug to Steve’s flowery apron, he skips out of the kitchen, turning around at the doorway to look at Steve one last time. He’s leaning against the counter, smile firmly plastered on his face and looking at Eddie like- 

Well, exactly like Eddie is looking at him. Lovestruck, he thinks comes close to describing it. And ain’t that something. 

He gives Eddie one of those little finger waves, and in return, Eddie blows him a kiss. Steve’s cheeks turning pink is the last thing he sees before he leaves the kitchen and joins the kids in the living room. 

“Okay, shitheads!” He says, clapping his hands together to get their attention. “Which one of you am I sending home walking?”

[didhewinkback]

ii most wanted

a post engagement road trip for the something old kids aka i cannot stop listening to this song and ended up writing 2k words of smut about it

word count: see above, warnings: see above

---

The wind was whipping through your hair, the sun streaming in through the windshield, old 70s rock on the radio. The leather of the car seat felt like it was sticking to every inch of your skin but you didn’t mind. The weed you smoked made everything move in slow motion, all your senses heightened. Everything feeling loose, easy, free. Your hand making waves out the window through the wind, up and down in an addictive pattern. 

A warm palm slides on your thigh, his thumb moving up and down before squeezing and you all but melt into the seat, turning to look at him. He smiles over at you before looking back at the wide, empty road. 

“Y’ good?” he asks, lips twitching up into a smile.

“So good,” you say back, laughter bubbling over your words, heart skipping when he laughs with you. You can’t pinpoint what’s funny and maybe nothing is. It’s just… everything feels so warm and right and real. You turn back to look out the window, marveling at the open roads, the way it's just you and him for miles.

“Look good like this.” he mumbles, voice barely audible over the wind.

“What, stoned?”

“Nooo,” he laughs, shaking his head, wide grin on his face as he looks you over once more. “Meant y’ look happy. Relaxed. Look nice with that ring on your finger.”

You hum, holding up your hand with said ring on it, thumb twisting over the band, back and forth, taking a moment to admire it in the light.

“It’s a good one, innit?” you say and you can see the way his eyes roll even behind his sunglasses but he still grabs your hand and pulls it towards his mouth, thumb brushing over the ring once before pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Your man did good, huh?” he says, releasing your hand to slide his back on your thigh. You slide your hand into his hair and he preens, leaning into the touch. 

“Yeah, my man did.” you say and he squeezes your thigh, a soft smile on his lips as you rake your hand through his curls, taking your time to study his profile. The cut of his jaw, the line of the beard he’s been growing out. God, he’s nice to look at. He looks good behind the wheel, too,  the flex of his arm as he casually holds the steering wheel, legs splayed wide, his lips moving as he softly sings along to the radio.

You’re struck for a moment at the view, at this man you’ve loved for most of your life, at the ring he proposed to you with gleaming against his hair and you think you want to have this view for the rest of your life. To get to be by his side till the day you die. You can feel it wash over you, almost bowling you over. Knowing he wants the same.

Your hand slides down his hair, playing with the curls at the nape before resting on the back of his neck, his muscles jumping at the touch before you squeeze once and he hums in appreciation. A deep sound from the back of his throat and - oh. 

It’s been warm all day but you suddenly feel a rush of heat from the inside out. Your eye catches on a bead of sweat falling down the side of his neck, tracing along the tendons until it pools into the collar of his t-shirt and you’re suddenly parched, desperation flooding your veins, overwhelmed by the need to taste, to touch and be touched. You could blame the high but you know it’s him, it’s always him. 

You dig your thumb into the muscle where his shoulder meets his neck, the spot that’s always bothering him. His hand tightens on your thigh for a second before he groans when the muscle starts to give way under your touch. 

“Harry,” you choke out, your voice reedy and he hums in response. “Pull over.” 

He snaps his head to look at you, confused, before he does a double take, brows shooting up behind his sunnies as he reads what must be obvious need all over your face.

“Y’ serious?” he asks incredulously and you nod fervently, shifting in the seat. “Baby, we’re in –”

“The middle of nowhere, we haven’t seen anyone for miles.” you cut him off, quickly undoing your seatbelt and sliding over on the bench seat, ignoring his muttered “jesus” as you press so against his side, his arm going across your lap as a makeshift belt, hand gripping your outer thigh. His eyes flicking between the road and you and you can see the swallow he takes before you’re leaning in to press your lips against his neck, taking your time to kiss along the skin. 

You keep one hand on the back of his neck, the other sliding down the front of his shirt, twisting in the hem before teasing at the waistband of his jeans, sliding down to palm him, biting down on his neck when he inhales sharply.

“Please,” you mumble against his neck, squeezing him once more, his hips twitching up to chase the touch. “Unless you want to keep driving and I can just -” 

You go to duck your head down but he stops you, hand tight on your thigh as he sputters out a “crash the bloody car if you do that” that has you laughing into his neck.

“Jus’ hang on a mo’ - let me -” he can barely string a sentence together as he drives for a bit longer before pulling off the road onto where there’s a dip in the tall grass, in between two cypress trees. You watch as his shaky hands throw the car into park, waiting until he pulls the keys out of the ignition before you’re turning his head towards yours to capture his lips in a kiss that has him moaning into your mouth. 

You kiss him once, twice, three times before he’s pulling back, mumbling a “let me get these -” and pulling his sunglasses off and throwing them on the dash before his hand wraps around your neck to pull you back in. Your tongue darts out to lick at the seam of his lips before he’s opening up, the first touch of his tongue against yours wrenches a moan from the back of your throat. His hands move up and down your sides, squeezing occasionally before they slide to your hips, shifting you both until he’s in the middle of the seat as he pulls you into his lap.

You slide your hand up into his hair, getting a steady grip as you kiss him with everything you have. His hands feel like they’re everywhere, all at once, sliding up and down your sides before they slide around your back and down, grabbing a handful of your bum as his tongue glides over yours. Everything is warm, perfect heat as arousal pools in your stomach, slowly losing your mind with every drag of his lips.

He wrenches away from your mouth, panting as he catches his breath, his blown out eyes darting all over your face. 

“Want me so bad y’ made me stop the car, hm?” he teases and you’re not even thinking of a comeback before you’re nodding and leaning back in. 

You kiss him slowly, taking your time to lick into his mouth, goosebumps erupting at his soft moan, the way his hands grip you tighter, the high making you feel everything ten times deeper. He knows just where to touch you to make you sigh into his mouth, his hands sliding up and down your thighs before resting back on your arse, the other sliding up your shirt to cup your breast. He’s gentle until he’s not, squeezing hard and laughing against your lips when you bite down on his in retaliation. 

You lose yourselves in each other, each taking turns to take over, mouths and hands exploring as you please. It’s when he’s got his hand on the back of your neck, controlling the kiss with an expert flick of his tongue that you can’t help yourself and grind down against him. 

“That’s it,” he says when he pulls away, one hand falling to your hips to encourage their roll as he kisses along your jaw. “Go after it, baby.”

“Need you naked,” you whisper, pulling his head back up towards you to kiss him again. “Need you - backseat.” 

He nods, pressing a searing kiss to your lips before pulling away. You climb off him and gracelessly climb over the backseat, breathless with laughter when you watch him do the same. He cups your jaw, kissing you deeply before pulling away.

“Get naked,” he murmurs and you both pull your clothes off as quickly as possible, hands banging against the roof and sides of the car, grunts from when you accidentally kick each other as you’re pulling your jeans off. He makes to hover over you before you shake your head, pushing him back against the seat so he’s sitting up as you straddle him, feeling his hard length right against your core, his eyes wide as he looks up at you, his hand coming up you cup your cheek. 

“Baby - someone could see you.” he mumbles and you simply respond with a roll of your hips, making him bite down on his swollen lips, his hands sliding up your thighs and resting on your hips.

“Want them to,” you say, reaching down to curl your hand around him, pumping a few times to watch his neck go taut as you line him up with your center. “Want them to know I’m yours.”

“Jesus- fuck ,” he grunts out, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head, his head tipping back to rest on the top of the seat as you sink down on him in one fell swoop, his grip like a vice on your hips. 

You’re not so sex stupid to actually risk getting caught - you’re on an abandoned road in the middle of Tuscany - but there’s something about the idea of someone seeing you that’s clearly working for the both of you. You move your hips forward and back, getting used to the stretch as he leans forward to press a line of kisses down your sternum towards your chest, hands sliding up your back as he sucks a nipple into his mouth and gropes the other, soft hands and tongue making you melt.

“How’s it feel?” he mumbles against your chest, switching sides to your other breast as you roll your hips, both of you moaning at the sensation. 

“Good. Full.” you mumble, almost delirious in your pleasure, sparks shooting up your spine each time you roll your hips just right. “So full.”

You pull his head off your chest and back up to your mouth to capture his lips in a kiss as you start to find your rhythm, what was once rolls of the hips become full bounces up and down, making him groan against your tongue.  He pulls back, one hand falling to grip at your ass as he rests his head against the seat, brow furrowed as he watches you fuck him.

“Y’ so beautiful,” he says, eyes dropping down to where you’re connected. “Fucking - drenching me. In the backseat - shit.”

Your head grazes the roof with every bounce but you can’t be arsed to care, not when he’s looking at you like that, pure want and desire in his eyes, beads of sweat dripping down his chest, his butterfly glistening in the sun. He’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and he’s looking at you like you’re everything and nothing, nothing has ever felt better than this. 

“Y’ so good to me,” he grunts out, eyes following your every move. “Love you like this. So fucking hot.” 

Fire licks up your spine, your rhythm getting sloppier as his words hurtle you towards your finish. You can barely catch your breath as you dig your nails into his shoulders, grabbing his wrist and pulling it up to your face, sucking two of his fingers into your mouth. 

“Fuck. Y’ close, huh?” he asks and you nod around his fingers. “Let’s get you there, baby. Want you to come first, want y’ to come around me.” 

He pulls his hand from your mouth, leaning up to kiss you deep, his hand dropping to your clit, drawing mind-numbing circles that have you crying out against his mouth, your hips driving against his more aggressive than ever. 

“That’s it. Go after it for me. Want y’ to come, my gorgeous girl.” he mumbles against your lips, pulling back to watch your face with brows furrowed in concentration as he flicks your clit just so and you explode around him, feeling like you’re burning from the inside out as you come, moaning out his name as he doesn’t let up until you stop fluttering around him. 

You don’t stop your hips, continuing to grind against him despite the overstimulation, your hand latching on to the back of his hair to kiss along his jaw.

“Need you to come,” you gasp out against his jaw, moaning when he groans and grips you tighter. “Want you to fill me up. Want to feel it.”

“Shit - baby. Fuck. I’m -” He bites down on your shoulder, hands falling to your hips as he rocks his hips up to meet yours, thrusting once, twice, and coming, moaning against your skin as you feel his release coat your walls, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you against his chest.

The two of you breathing deep, panting as you try to catch your breath. He kisses against your collarbone, his hand coming up to brush your hair back behind your shoulder as he leans in to kiss along your neck before leaning back against the seat, looking well-fucked with rosy cheeks, a soft smile on his face as his chest heaves. 

“Got my balls all over the upholstery,” he says and you bark out a laugh as he laughs with you, both of you shaking with it. You lean back to ease him out of you, his hands helping guide you as you slide off his lap and sit next to him, your hands immediately reaching for each other, fingers interlocking as you roll your head along the top of the seat to look over at him.

“Just fucked you within an inch of your life and that’s the first thing you say?” you ask and he huffs out a laugh. 

“Y’ did, didn’t you?” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Can’t believe you just fucked me in the backseat. That was the hottest thing to ever happen to me.”

“Shut up,” you laugh.

“‘M serious. You’ve got no idea what you look like when you’re looking at me like that. Like ‘m the only thing that matters.” he shakes his head, taking a deep inhale before rolling his head to look over at you, deadly serious, his voice rumbling out like gravel. “Makes me feel like I’m on fire.”

He leans over to capture your lips with his, kissing you so slowly, so carefully, you can feel the fire burning in you once more, the fire that never quite goes away with him.

“I love you so much,” you murmur against his lips and he inhales sharply before kissing you harder, letting go of your hand to bring both hands up to cup your face, holding you in place while he drags his lips against yours. 

“Love you too, baby.” he mumbles, kissing you once before pulling back. “Lay back for me. Gonna make you feel how you make me feel.” 

“H, you already - oh” you cut yourself off with moan as he sucks a kiss behind your ear, at the spot on your neck that always drives you crazy as he gently pushes you back against the seat.

“Then we can smoke some more, make some sandwiches and take a nap.” he says, lips dragging against your skin.  “No rush, yeah? We’ve got time.”

“Yeah,” you say, melting against the seat as his lips find yours once more, his hand sliding down your body until it falls between your thighs, making you gasp against his mouth. “We’ve got - we’ve got time.”

You lay back, eyes drawn to the way the sun reflects off his naked back, the pattern his lips draw against your skin making your eyes flutter shut as he presses his fingers into you. Your mind is still hazy but nothing has been more clear. This is all you want. It’s him, it’s him, it’s him. Till the day you die.

---

a/n: no ones dying btw its the song lyrics just wanted to make that clear. havent been able to finish writing someting in literal months, have requests in my inbox for not this, but here we are. my blog, my rules. not sure anyones still interested in reading this but i wrote it so im posting !

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

[berryhobii]

7 Different Sheets (BTS OT7 x Reader)

Pairing: NonIdol!BTS x black!female reader

Word Count: 3,897

Warnings: Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), multiple partners, unprotected s*x(please be safe and speak with your partners before doing this), public s*x, spanking, oral(m and f receiving), doggy style, missionary, riding, mentions of a mating press, reader does a split on someone’s 🍆🫣, intimate s*x, car s*x, múltiple orgasms(m and f receiving), mentions of STD testing, mentions of being arrested, weed smoking(reader is alluded to have smoked but it’s not explicitly mentioned), overstimulation, praise, degradation, choking, gagging, panty in mouth stuffing, restraints(wrists), mentions of a break up, i also might have gotten the tiniest bit carried away with Namjoon’s part hehe, he definitely has me in a chokehold

A/N: Hi there! I’m here with my take on Seven by Jungkook ft Latto! I’m pretty sure someone requested something like this but now I can’t find the ask so hopefully they see this! I decided to include all of the boys in this. I absolutely love Latto and her verse in the song was just so good! And how could I not write gratuitous fuck buddy smut? I’m always open to criticism and please feel free to tell me what you think. Thanks so much. Stay safe💜

~

You had 7 fuck buddies.

Each of them were entirely different. Different jobs, different styles, different ways they liked to fuck you.

Just how did you fit all of them into your schedule?

Mondays were for Jimin.

You met him while out shopping with your friends. He worked at a luxury jewelry store. While your friends were busy staring at different charm bracelets, your eyes were focused on the rings on his hands—the way he twisted them whenever he was waiting for a customer to make a decision, how they glimmered under the bright lights, and especially how they’d look wrapped around your throat. Would they leave marks? Would he finger you with them on? Would your ass sting whenever he laid a harsh smack on it? So many thoughts yet so little answers.

“Does that feel good, my pretty slut?”

No words were in your head, your mouth stuffed with the panties he had ripped off of you. All you could get out were muffled moans and muffled calls of his name. Salvia soaked the material as much as your arousal did when you walked in his job, the fabric heavy on your tongue and slightly choking you which gave you a rush.

A sharp slap landed on your ass, his rings adding a pleasurable burn that made your juicy walls hug him impossibly tighter.

“Fuck.” He groaned out, eyes never leaving how your ass clapped back on him, cock coated in your creamy release. Sweat dripped down your back making your dark skin look like the most decadent chocolate, glistening like the gems displayed in the case below you. But not even those could compare to you when you were bent over like this.

Your hand slammed down on the display case, the sturdy counter shaking under the force.

Your walls spasmed around him, signaling your 5th orgasm since you came to visit him on his break.

His hand that wasn’t holding your hip moved to wrap around your throat, hauling your body up until you were arched. You felt unstable on your feet but Jimin was your rock, holding you up before your knees could give out of you.

He applied medium pressure to your throat, just barely pressing into your windpipe, stealing some of your already sparse oxygen from you. You felt dizzy like you were on a rollercoaster but one that never went down. Only up. And it was climbing and climbing until….

“This neck would look so pretty with a new necklace on it. Don’t you agree?” That low tone was enough to hurdle you right off the edge, eyes rolling back as you shook like a leaf in his hold.

And yes, your neck did look pretty in a new necklace.

~

Tuesdays were for Seokjin.

You met him at a wedding. Your “date” had gotten a little too friendly with the open bar which immediately turned you off. Not that you were that turned on to begin with. The man was nothing to write home about. Just someone who happened to approach you in a coffee shop.

After successfully detaching yourself from him, you were getting ready to leave before you caught the eye of Seokjin. He was tall and broad with a face you’d love to sit on. Respectfully, of course.

Conversation flowed easily between you two. He was a proper gentleman with a goofy laugh that made you smile. He was definitely the type of person your parents would love for you to bring home. Polite and respectful and not bad on the eyes either.

But that gentleman act went out of the window when he got you in his bed.

“Jin! I can’t take it!” You screamed, yanking at the restraints on your wrists that were keeping you stationary. You were surprised you hadn’t broken his headboard from how hard you were jerking. His neighbors were probably tired of the slamming against the wall by now, their own calls for you two to pipe down died down a while ago. Let them call the police. You’d be damned if they put you in cuffs before you got Seokjin’s cock inside of you.

He was nestled between your legs, holding your thighs back to have more access to your cunt. His tongue never stopped its assault on your clit, abusing the bud until your entire body was shaking. Your legs would jerk to try and close with every lick but one firm look from him quickly put you in your place.

His plush lips were soaked with your juices, dark eyes staring at you as if you had just personified from his dreams. You might as well have.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking good. I could eat it all day.” It sure felt like he has been. Your pussy felt both numb and electric at the same time. Sensitivity wanted to push him away but a desperate part of you was pushing you towards another orgasm. “You’ll be a good girl and give me another one, won’t you? You’re always my good girl.”

Fuck yes you were. Fat tears rolled down your face when he dove back in, sucking your clit in between his lips, his tongue flicking over it faster than before. Back arching, you screamed bloody murder as the strongest orgasm of the night engulfed your body.

Placing one more kiss on your throbbing bud, Seokjin backed up to let you breathe, stroking your thighs and whispering sweet nothings to you as you came down. Body still tingling from your release, you could barely blink through your blurry vision before you felt a shift on the bed.

A hand nestled in your sweaty hair, silk press gone to waste. You blinked through your tears, looking up to find Seokjin hovering over you, his knees on either side of your shoulders. His cock stiff and right in your face, the tip leaking precum.

He smirked down at you.

“Open wide, darling.”

~

Wednesdays were dedicated to Hoseok.

Honestly, you met Hoseok on a dating app. He was meant to be a quick one night stand since you were growing tired of your vibrator. After scrolling through a bunch of profiles and responding to a few messages, you came across him. He was a paralegal but apparently, he taught dance classes on the weekends which told you he definitely knew how to move. His photos were a sharp contrast to his job; bright and with him always smiling. He even had a picture of his dog on there which made you smile.

He was cute though and perhaps he’d be a fun night.

The pillow did barely anything to cover your screams, not when there was so much happening at once. You tossed it to the side, allowing your eyes to adjust to the glorious sight above you.

Hoseok’s head was tossed back in ecstasy, lip pulled between his teeth as he needlessly tried to keep quiet. You wanted to hear those noises, the way he cursed whenever you purposefully clenched around him.

“Hmpf, shit.” Just like that.

The pulses of the vibrator in your hand was making your arm numb but it was sending the most delicious vibes through your clit so whatever.

“Hobi…..”You called making him finally open his eyes and tilt his head forward to look down at you. You could have cum right there from how sexy he looked—sweat soaked hair sticking to his forehead, his chest littered in love bites you had obsessively sucked into his skin, and of course, the thin silver chain around his throat that bounced with every thrust. Take the wheel, Carrie Underwood.

He leaned forward, both of his hands moving from your thighs to place next to your head. His hips never faltered, keeping their languid pace rolling into you.

“Yes? What is it?”

“I…..I….can I cum?” Everything was moving so slowly. He had put the vibrator on its lowest setting so it wasn’t doing much for you and with this slow pace, he was prolonging your orgasm further than you wanted it to be. That was the thing about Hoseok. He liked it slow and intimate, going for hours until he brought both of you over the edge.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his chain tickling your nose.

“Not yet, my flower. Hold it a little longer for me.”

A particularly deep roll of his hips caused him to stroke slowly past your sweet spot, pulling a whimper from you.

Your bottom lip quivered, eyes tearing up from your waning orgasm. It kept building and falling but it wasn’t enough to push you over. And with everything that happened today, you think this is exactly what you needed.

A gentle touch.

“But….”

He shushed you with a peck to your lips. “Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

~

Thursday’s were for Namjoon.

You met him at the gym. Don’t get it twisted. You weren’t really there to work out. Those few squats you did every couple of months were enough. That wasn’t the reason you had signed up for a membership.

It was because of the buff and drop dead sexy man that you often saw lifting weights. What exactly was the point of that tank top? Modesty? It looked like it was only soaking up the sweat that dripped down his honey kissed skin but it was failing at that too. Your tongue could do a better job. You’d lick every inch of that man for free and cook him a meal afterwards.

The steam of the shower was making it hard to breathe but Namjoon’s cock was making it even harder. When people told you to breathe through your nose, they factored out the cock being an absolute monster. You thought your jaw was gonna snap off.

Your nails dug into his yummy thighs, feeling the muscles tightened with every push of his cock into your warm and inviting mouth. You were definitely riding these things once you got back to his place.

“Damn, relax your throat, love.”

You happily followed his instructions, swallowing before exhaling through your nose. That allowed him to slide all the way home, your nose tickling the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock. Your eyes watered from the welcomed intrusion.

“Look at me.” He commanded from above you, the low tone of his voice making your pussy clench. Damn. Being a housewife sounded incredibly good right now. Patriarchy be praised.

Your eyelashes fluttered, looking at him and the sight was absolutely glorious. If he didn’t fuck you right now, you’d probably implode.

He must have seen that through your gaze because a dopey smile stretched across his face, adorable dimples indenting his cheeks.

Pulling out of your throat, you coughed and sputtered, swallowing a few times to soothe your sore throat. You barely had time to really cover before he was grabbing your arm and hauling you up. Legs draped over his buff arms, your arms scrambled to wrap around his shoulders. Now this position was the reason why bitches pull up to your mother’s house looking for you. You could feel the head of his cock sliding against your sopping cunt, your walls clenching in delight of finally getting what you want.

“Ready, baby?” He whispered in your ear before sucking on your lobe.

And no, you didn’t renew your gym membership.

~

Fridays were for Taehyung.

Funny enough, you met Taehyung while he was sneaking out of your apartment building. He was leaving a one night stand’s place and bumped into you while you were on your way inside. Of course, you could smell sex a mile away and the walk of shame was heavy on his shoulders. He actually tried hitting on you when he saw you, his eyes never leaving your cleavage.

You thought he was incredibly handsome though—a pretty boy type which you definitely liked. So you stopped him, told him to come back to you with a clean STD test and then you’d talk.

Taehyung had to will himself not to cum when you did a full split on his cock. Your hands kept your leverage on his knees, your head lolled forward from how his long cock was kissing your cervix each time, your legs stretched all the way out to give him the best view of his life.

He’s already cum twice, third orgasm almost painful but he just couldn’t stop. He didn’t want you to stop either(as if you could). You’ve been horny all day and you were going to get your fill of his cock. He knew you needed morning sex to get through the day yet he decided to go in for a shift at work, leaving you sad and desperate. The moment he walked in the door, you grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pushing him on the rug in your living room. You didn’t even prep yourself and he was hard while driving to your place anyway so foreplay was unnecessary today. Maybe you’d ride his face later and you’d use that headband he was wearing as reigns.

Until then, you were going to ride his dick until he gave out. Or until you got tired, whichever came first.

“I’m gonna cum again. Slow down. Please.” He whimpered, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

You whipped your hair behind you, the tips of your braids resting on his stomach. “Hmmm, give it to me, Tae. Fill me up again.” You leaned forward, bringing your hips all the way up to his tip before slamming back down. His cock was creamy with both of your releases, a wet smack sounding everytime you came down.

If this was how he died, put it on his tombstone.

“Oh shiiiiiiii….”His head thumped back against the floor, toes curling as you forced another orgasm out of him, the pulsing of his cock triggering your own.

You barely gave him time to calm down before you started your pace again.

He’d pick up another shift next Friday.

~

Saturdays were for Yoongi.

It was actually your favorite day of the week when you got to see the weed dealer. Not really because he let you smoke for free but because high sex was just another level. You met him when you were out one night. He catcalled you from his car and before you could even give whoever it was a piece of your mind, your voice got caught in your throat.

Your first thought was: man bun. Long hair in a man bun. Sexy ass drug dealer in a BMW with long hair in a man bun. Your parents always told you not to do drugs but how could you heed those warnings when temptation was served to you on a silver platter like that?

You gripped the headrest of the backseat, your breasts currently under attack by Yoongi’s expert tongue. The same tongue that had just ate you out like a champion a few minutes ago.

He pulled off your breast with a pop, delivering a smack to your ass with the hand that wasn’t holding his blunt. “Faster. I didn’t tell you to slow down.” His cat like eyes were hooded and glazed over from both the weed and the feeling of your tight walls hugging his cock. For a second, he didn’t even think he was high on weed—he was high on you. You were like an addiction; savory and hard to avoid, you were like a forbidden fruit. One he’d sink his teeth into everytime.

He brought his blunt back to his lips, inhaling a deep pull, holding the smoke in before blowing it back into your face. Just that action had you cumming on his cock, the feeling vibrating all the way to your toes. When he felt a splash against his pelvis, he dropped his head to look down at where you were connected. You were still bouncing on his cock, prolonging your orgasm and with each bounce, a small spray of liquid squirted from you.

He tossed his own head back, making sure to put his blunt in the ashtray on the door to prevent any burns to his upholstery before grabbing both of your ass cheeks in his hands and beginning to piston up into your spasming cunt.

“Bout to fill this pussy up. You want it?” He grunted against your collarbone, sinking his teeth into the skin there.

He had knocked all of your words loose so all you could manage was a frantic nod of your head and a drawn out, “yessssss yessssss pleaseeeeee”.

“This pussy is so fucking good.” He landed a slap on your ass, the sting sending shocks of pleasure up your back as another orgasm crashed into you.

You were so absorbed that you didn’t even hear the police sirens as they pulled up next to you.

Wow. You thought you were just imagining the car rocking. Guess not.

~

The end of the week meant only one thing.

You had deep cleaned your apartment, moving slowly since your body still ached a little from sleeping on that bench at the station. Good thing Yoongi had connections that could bail both of you out. Still, you’d probably risk it again if it meant getting fucked like that.

You had just lit a candle and you were about to sit down to have a glass of wine but you were interrupted by the sound of your doorbell ringing.

“Ughhhhhh.” You groaned, placing your wine glass on a coaster before hauling yourself up less than gracefully and shuffling to the door. You didn’t even look at the screen on your intercom, just opening it and immediately trying to close it back after seeing who was on the other side.

A foot jammed itself between the door, stopping you from shutting it completely.

“Baby, come on. I said I’m sorry.”

“Screw you, Jeon! I told you I don’t want to see you again.”

He managed to push the door enough to slip his upper body through. The sight of his face sent a weird rush through you but you didn’t know if it was good or bad. You didn’t like it.

His doe eyes pleaded at you. “Please talk to me. I can’t stand not being with you anymore. Please please. I’m sorry.” He sounded so genuine that it made you break, heartstrings effectively tugged on and strummed by the only man you truly loved.

You shouldn’t let him in. You really shouldn’t.

“Oh. My. God. J-Jungkook!”

His hand whizzed through the air, landing a hard smack on your bruised ass that has taken a lot of punishment tonight.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear a word from you, you little whore.” He spit into your ear, hand coming up to cover your mouth while the other one held your hip to keep you in place as he delivered the deadliest back shots.

Your entire body was lit up in pain and pleasure, both mixing together in a beautiful cacophony that had you ready to propose to him.

Your moans were muffled by his large hand, his grip forcing your head back at an uncomfortable angle but he could give less of a damn about your comfort.

“How dare you let someone else fuck what’s mine?” He uncovered your mouth to slap your ass again in a tender spot causing you to jump, a high pitched scream coming from you as he pushed you into another orgasm. You had lost count a while ago, brain not keeping up with your body. Everything just felt endless.

You didn’t want him to know you were fucking other people. It wasn’t any of his business. You weren’t together anymore but am accidental slip up revealed what happened yesterday and in seconds, you were bent over the arm of your couch with Jungkook behind you.

“Count.”

He had made it to 21 before your knees were buckling, your eyes and mouth begging him to fuck you. To put you in your place and make you remember exactly who you belonged to.

He gripped at your hair, yanking your head back and making your body arch even more. Only your fingertips touched the bed below you, knees spread wide as you began throwing yourself back on his thick cock.

“I expect an answer when I ask you something, slut.” Contradictory since he told you to shut up earlier but logic was not necessary here. You were just a pliant little doll in service to the hunk of a man that was abusing your walls so good that your pussy should file a restraining order.

“N-no….I’m…ah! Fuck! S-sorry…..oh shit, I’m cumming!”

“That’s right. You come on my cock and my cock only. Do you fucking understand me?” He could feel his own orgasm building. He’s been holding back, a hard task with a pussy like yours but he managed. Denying all of your orgasms earlier made it easy enough for him. Then again, he did almost blow his load earlier when you put both of your feet behind your ears and held out your tongue for him to spit in your mouth.

He was an idiot for letting you go.

“I said, Do.” Smack! “You.” Smack. “Understand.” Smack. “Me?”

“YES!!! Oh shit!” Your walls clenched around him so tightly that it forced him out of your cunt, a long spray of liquid soaking the bedsheets beneath you. He brought his hand between your legs to rub furiously at your clit, splashing your juices everywhere. You’d definitely be upset later about your freshly washed sheets but he’d cross that bridge when he got there.

Your body jerked around as pure bliss and pleasure coursed through your veins, legs squirming all around as you both tried to chase and run away from Jungkook’s assault on your clit. He held your hip firmly, trying to keep you still while you rode out the waves of your orgasm.

When overstimulation began to get too painful, you turned over onto your side, pushing his hand away with your own. You twitched in the aftershocks, covering your cunt with your hands. Even the cool air was too much against your abused pussy. You’d probably have to take a break for the week just to recuperate.

When the haze began to clear a little, you slowly turned your head, peeking through your braids that covered your face to peek at Jungkook. Only to find him missing. You didn’t even hear him get out of the bed. Where did he go?

You waited a few moments, trying to catch your breath before Jungkook entered the room with a bottle of water. He was still fully naked, cock hard and angry looking, shiny with your juices.

He came over to the bed, placing a knee beside you to lean over your twitching body.

“Here. Drink some water. You need to be hydrated before I make you squirt again like that.”

Your eyes almost popped out of your head. Again? Was he trying to kill you?

“W-again?”

His lips quirked up into his signature grin, nose scrunching cutely and it made you want to punch him in it and then kiss it better.

“You think that was it? We’re just getting started. This will teach you not to give out what’s mine.”

It didn’t teach you anything though. You’d have to learn your lesson again next week.

And he’d teach you faithfully every Sunday.

[chasingcomets222]

I got bored and decided to decipher Rodrick Heffley's music taste to close this years-long debate once and for all.

This post will be on the lengthier side, but a TLDR is attached at the end of the post if you want the basic cliff-notes.

Disclaimer: this is a dissection of the film adaptation of Rodrick rather than his source material counterpart. Comparisons to the books are welcome but irrelevant to this analysis.

Soundtrack

During the roller-rink scene in the opening of Rodrick Rules, Rodrick and Bill take over the DJ table to sabotage Greg's moves on Holly. The song they play is "Cut Throat" by the all-female heavy metal band, Kittie. Aside from Löded Diper's music, this is the only song in the series explicitly used to establish Rodrick's music taste.

However, there's many songs off of the Rodrick Rules soundtrack alone that can be reasonably assumed to fit his music profile as well — for example, those used during the party sequence.

I wouldn't doubt if one or two tracks were intended solely as crowd pleasers, but let's not rule out the entire playlist.

In order of appearance, Rodrick's party mix includes: "Heart Heart Heartbreak" by Boys Like Girls, "Electric (feat. Miss Amani)" by The DNC, "Wait Up (Boots of Danger)" by Tokyo Police Club, "Shake" by Bikini Machine, "Move Like This" by Hammerwax, and "Jump In The Line" by Karl Zéro & The Wailers.

There's additionally three other, albeit more subtle, uses of background music to nod toward Rodrick's preferences.

The first instance is during the scene in Rodrick Rules in which Greg confides in Rodrick about his embarrassment from his failed "100 Years Ago" assignment. It's so quiet that it's easy to miss without a keen ear, but "Light Love" by Free Energy plays in the background, mixed to fit in with the ambience of Rodrick's bedroom.

The second is directly before the Löded Diper band rehearsal scene (somebody farted btw), in which Frank pulls into the Heffleys' driveway. "Rock and Roll Slob" by The Boneless Ones can be heard from the garage, once again mixed as part of the ambience.

The third again utilizes The Boneless Ones' discography, and is inserted during the opening sequence of Dog Days at the municipal pool. Rodrick explains it's "time to sell some CDs" for Löded Diper, and turns on his boombox (more on this later), blaring "Miss Fresno."

With the last two points in mind, one can assume the film universe is some twisted version where Löded Diper originally wrote and performed The Boneless Ones' discography (or something closely resembling it).

Band Tees

Rodrick mostly wears seemingly thrifted or upcycled shirts and graphic tees with witty/edgy prints, but there are outliers at times. For example, there's not one, not two, but potentially so much as five moments in Dog Days that he's seen wearing merch from Dead Kennedys, The Who, and Ramones.

While most of his band tees simply include the band's logo or iconography, the latter design takes it a step further by being specific to a particular song title: "Rock 'n' Roll High School" by Ramones.

There's another moment which this may be the case, but it's purely speculative on my end. The Ramones also have a song named "I Don't Care," which is a phrase featured on one of Rodrick's shirts. It's not an explicit reference, but likely a reference nonetheless.

Room Posters

Guns N' Roses, Brutal Truth (Evolution Through Revolution), Stars (The Five Ghosts), Buried Inside (Spoils of Failure), and Decibel are the most notable.

I assume Decibel is in relation to the 70's/80's Italian punk rock band, although I can't find any association between them and this particular artwork. If not connected to them, there's a possibility it may be to the metal magazine of the same name, but I have my doubts.

In this image giving an alternate perspective to Rodrick's room, just off-screen is a Metallica poster, based on the stylization of the ending A. Beside it is a Hanson Brothers poster, which was later replaced in Rodrick Rules with a duplicate of the Stars poster for some reason.

Among his collage of Löded Diper flyers, there's Danny Echo posters as well as Denounce and Billy Talent stickers receiving the Hidden Mickey treatment (also a cameo from the iconic cheeseburger phone on the table).

Of course, there are many other pieces of memorabilia scattered across Rodrick's room, but several of them are blurry from the camera's depth of field or are seen at angles which make them difficult to read or for reverse image sites to identify. So for now, this is the best possible analysis of Rodrick's room in regards to music.

Miscellaneous

An easy-to-miss detail lies in the infamous Löded Diper van. Within the final few moments of Rodrick Rules as Rodrick drops Greg off at school (01:31:52), there's a semi-clear shot of the van's dashboard. On it are a set of stickers, including one referencing Huevos Rancheros, an instrumental rock-and-roll group from Canada.

In Dog Days, Rodrick brings a personal boombox with him to the municipal pool. Along the top is a large sticker for Street Machine, a Czech hardcore/metal band.

Cut Content

In the second studio draft of Diary of a Wimpy Kid, on page 23, scene 43, more of Rodrick's favorite artists are revealed.

The nature of this may be written off as not canon, as it was added into the script while it was still a work in progress and the posters themselves didn't make it into the final product.

What sells it to me as remaining "silent" canon though is that TOOL and Slipknot are often lumped together with Kittie (previously mentioned) as they share an overlapping fanbase. This was more prevalent during the early 2000's within the mall goth subculture, but it's remained fairly consistent for other variants of metalheads over the years too.

TLDR

To recap, the various genres across all of the bands Rodrick is canonically into include indie rock, pop rock, punk rock, hardcore punk, hard rock, industrial, thrash metal, heavy metal, nu metal, death metal, sludge metal, and grindcore.

His musical preferences are punk, rock, and metal-centric but quite broad and inclusive of countries of origin and lesser-known underground artists (some don't break even 100 monthly listeners on Spotify). This leaves the door open for endless possibilities in terms of headcanons.

He's not emo despite popular fan belief, but I still think there's a chance some of his musical leanings could cross over with bands considered emo adjacent for their presence in the community. August Burns Red and The Devil Wears Prada come to mind with his music taste accounted for, but that's just my headcanon.

EDIT: 9/9/24

I've since made two Spotify playlists from my findings: one being what I imagine would be Rodrick's regular rotation, and the other being an extension of his party mix. I feel I've channeled him well, since a lot of his music taste is basically mine circa 2008/2009.

If you've read this far, thank you so much for your patience, and I appreciate any and all interactions left on this post. Happy listening!! <333

[alastorsfuckassbob]

With Her Song- 5

AlastorXFem!Reader part 5!

A/N: okay so this is egregiously long and could totally be two chapters (a grand total of 14436 words) but I think I've made yall wait LONG ENOUGH!!!!!!!! a l s o FUN FACT I LEARNED WHILE WRITING THIS, although turpentine is often used as a paint thinner modernly, in the olden days it was used to alleviate ailments such as soreness or pain. IT IS ALSO very very flammable!! It’s one of those old timey concoctions people would just kinda throw on whatever to fix an issue, but it often caused more pain than good. YAY for metaphors teaching me new little things. Shout out to hadestown for teaching me that silly little substance- pls I live under a fucking rock that’s probs painfully obvious. 

Plot: Y/n needs therapy but instead indulges in a few too many dinky drinks with friends-it goes painfully wrong and then painfully right and then with a dash of fan service we get some drunken closure!

Minors get the frick out..thank yew :)

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

-A bit of ANGST

-Alcohol and drugs..duh

-Murder death and violence..the whole nine yards

-A LOTTT OF CURSING (are you surprised)

-we do kiss but its not fun but could be fun in the future

-overuse of thesaurus! (take a shot every time i say enraptured)

✨ WITHOUT FURTHER ADO ✨ (i did not proofread this LMAO)

“I don’t know how I ever managed to love someone stupid enough to waste their soul on nothing more cheap liquor and lust rolled cigarettes.” 

The words echoed through your mind. Each syllable reverberating into the depths of your soul, sowing the seeds of your own corruption. Their tone twists deeper, sharpened and volatile. The desolate look of his eyes was a time drenched rusted knife plunging deep into your skin, it radiated with a sincerity you weren’t ready to meet. 

The memory was soaked in turpitude turpentine, match struck and ablaze with frantic fire. No matter how many times you attempted to cleanse your thoughts of the memory, the words would bubble up from the ashes and form again. It was a festering wound that wouldn’t close. The defiled crimson that poured from your wounded heart manifested as chapfallen tears and somber sniffles.

You reach into your satin lined purse searching for any form of distraction. A box of cigarettes finds space in your grasp, the lighter following soon after. Your shaking hands remove the thin stick from its box, you click the lighter to no avail. It sparks in unspoken flames,  devoid of fuel, unable to battle the recollection displayed; it creeps in deeper both vivid and haunting. In a swift movement the objects fly across the room fleeting from your frustration. Your fingers fumble through the crowded labyrinth of the bags interior in search of your phone.  Your grasp gets tangled on the crumpled receipts of your latest purchases and various tubes of lip gloss before it meets the exterior of the device. 

The urgency of each swipe heightens and you frantically scroll through the contact list. Each name surfaced on the digital roster stirs a sense of unease within you. The majority of the contacts in your collection were nothing more than business associates. In your panicked swipes you come across a small picture of Angel followed by the name “Hot spider from work”. He had chosen the name himself upon entering his number into your phone, you hadn’t bothered to change it.  You dial the number before you can convince yourself otherwise. Your eyes release a rivulet of tears dotting the surface of the screen as you await an answer. Its insistent ring pulses into your hand, mimicking the anticipation of your heartbeat. The longer it hangs in the air the more your hope for connection begins to fade. 

With a soft click angel’s voice carries warmth and familiarity into your ears.

“Hey doll, I’m going out with Cherri tonight, I can’t talk long you need somethin?” He casually chimed accompanied by his typical charm. 

You attempted to speak but the words caught against the burning in your throat. A nearly silent sob wracked against his ears, muffled by the crinkling timbre of the phone line. 

“Oh shit..y/n are you okay?" His voice adopts a concerned cadence, the essence of compassion underscoring the inquiry. You hold back a sniffle as he continues to speak. ”Did something happen?” He pondered your apparent distress, his thoughts racing to find any plausible explanation. His mind shifted to your shared situation, casting an anxious shadow onto his usually brightened facade. 

 “Did.. Val do something?” A mixture of concern and fear manifested within his hesitant tone. 

“No its okay..I just wanted to talk for a bit. I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy” Each carefully chosen word placed a mask upon the turmoil and disorder you felt underneath. He listened through each layer of brightly shined forgery, not buying into its incandescent veneer. Angel was not the “purest” soul in hell by any means, but his heart was imbued with the care he held for his friends. Even if the words you spoke supported a sense of stability, there was no way he would take that chance. 

“Are you still at the club? I’ll be right over. I just need to let Cherri kno-”

“No, no- I don’t want to ruin your plans” You cut him off before the words left his mouth. Despite his borderline celebrity status, Angel wasn’t granted many friendships. With everything Valentino demanded, he didn’t have a lot of extra time to maintain the ones he did have. Whatever unrest Alastor had pervaded you with would have to wait; it wasn’t fair to ruin his downtime.

“I can get drunk off my ass another night from the sound of it you don’t need to be alone right now.” He spoke ignoring your words.Your friendship was the last semblance of normalcy in his hellish life. He would never outwardly admit how much, but he loved you. He would give up a hundred nights of drinking if it meant he could fix whatever had troubled you.

“Can I come with you?”  You asked hesitantly. The fear of isolation haunted you too much to completely drop the issue, perhaps you could just tag along. That way you can avoid your current predicament, and he would still be granted a night of well deserved fun.

“Yeah obviously.” He mocked “Is that even a real question.” A wave of sarcasm crashed against his words, a laugh erupting along with it. 

He took a moment to catch his breath, eventually his satirical outlook shifted into a short apprehensive silence. “Are you sure you’re up for it toots?” He posed, genuine worry at its core.

“Yeah I think it’ll be fun to get my mind off things..its just been a rough day” you say nonchalantly, as if you hadn’t just shattered the majority of your dressing room in your fight with Alastor.

“Kay I’ll let Cherri know we found a third”  You could practically picture the jokingly seductive smirk smearing across his expression through the haze of the phone. 

“Angel-“ You playfully rolled your eyes. You adored his flirtatious sense of humor more than you were willing to admit. Occasionally, the comments could become a tad repetitive, but for the larger majority of time, they were hilarious.

“You know you love me babes, I’m glad you’re coming with us. It took you long enough-you’ve been denying my invitations for months. We’ll pick you up in a half hour okay?” He prattled out, his tone teeming with an enthusiastic thrill.

“Yeah it should be fun..I’ve gotta get changed, see you when you get here” You laugh out, amused by his reactions. You haphazardly click the device off and toss it on top of your bag. You rush over to the disorganized hodgepodge of clothing hung on the rack within your dressing room. You tear through countless revealing outfits in search of something well suited for a night on the town.

 The numerous options you had tried on and promptly threw off piled up behind you. Nothing felt right, if the color was correct, you didn’t like the way it fit you, if the fit was accurate, the color was an atrocity. You were beginning to contemplate not going at all, if you weren’t going to look good there was no sense in going. You anxiously inch closer to the racks end, denying each ensemble until you reach the final matching set, a short ivory corseted top and its matching mini skirt. It wasn’t ideal, but still held a bit more merit than the previous options. The dress you had  been wearing pooled at your feet as you slid the new top over your head. As you stepped into the skirt,  your phone started to buzz again. You pick up the device and read the message.

“Don’t expect us to wait all night for you~ We’re here now babes get your ass out here so we can have a good time”

You hadn’t expected the time to pass so quickly. You briskly check your hair and makeup in your phones camera and the results aren’t appalling enough to justify being late. The skirt’s zipper flies to a hurried close as you grab your things and rush outside to meet Angel. 

Upon exiting the building, you are greeted with the well welcomed sight of the spider demon. He leans against the sleek black car. His eyes are glossed in disinterest, focused on the condition of his nails. As the front door clicks to a close behind you, he glances up in your direction. His bored demeanor fading to that of excitement. You send him a small sheepish wave as you walk towards him. 

“Hiya y/n~” Angel purred, wrapping all  his four arms around your frame. He lifted you into a bit of a spin as he hugged you. “Don’t you just look spectacular, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to impress someone” He lets out a clearly fake gasp. His face shifts into an overly dramatic display of satirical shock. “Is it me? Because I think it just might be me” He pinches your cheeks playfully before ushering you towards the car.  As soon as you’re seated angel’s legs are stretched across you, and his arms rest behind his head against the window.

“Cheri! This is y/n.” Angel spoke enthusiastically, excited to have finally introduced his two favorite friends. You sent her a small hello and a little wave. However, Cheri remained rather quiet. In the few times Angel had mentioned her, she never seemed like the type to stop talking, just so long as she had something to say. It was off-putting to be the source of her silence. It didn’t seem like the two of you were going to be fast friends or even slow ones. Angels face fell as he shuffled awkwardly in his seat. The tension in the air suffocated you, straightening your spine as you drifted in its asphyxiating poison. His confident posture shifted into that of hesitation. The strong smile he usually wore faltered as it cracked into a thin straight line. You noticed the subtle reflection of his inner most thoughts in each anxious twist of his hands. Cheri rolled her eye, and fixated it towards the other window; clearly unbothered by his newfound expression.

“Right..uh..Who’s ready to get fucked up” He asked brightly attempting to fix the mood. Cheri sent him a glare in response, his efforts had fallen flat. You weren’t entirely sure what to say or how to defuse this situation, so you opted for silence as well. Disappointment sank into Angel’s frame. He drew his legs back and shrunk down into his own seat.  The rest of the car ride was devoid of conversation of any sort. The only sounds within the vehicle were the trashy pop songs the car’s radio bothered to spit out, and the hum of the passing cars. 

 To be entirely honest, you weren’t sure why Cheri didn’t seem to like you. You had never met her until this point or truly even spoken a word in her direction, and yet she seemed so bothered by your existence. Angel clearly liked her for some reason, maybe she was just defensive around new people. You could work with that. The car jerks to a heavy stop in front of the neon lined club roughly yanking you from your thoughts. The building in front of you was a bit smaller than Valentino’s own club and yet it held the all the same destructive tendencies.  As the three of you stepped out of the car, it sped off at an inhumane speed, leaving you with no course of escape.

The room was unusually warm. It seemed to pulsate with the thumping base reverberating from the numerous speakers that lined the bar. The dance floor oozed in the addictive scent of expensive perfumes and cheap liquors. The neon glow from the flashing lights above haloed each demon in a glistening sacrilegious sheen. For a moment, you are caught within its immersive daze. The electric buzz of the atmosphere in each tiny connection ties you within its euphoric chains. For a moment, you are nothing more than a spinning cog in the club’s eccentric machine. Twirling. Swaying. Hypnotic within its rhythm, your body reflects that of the environment as you lose yourself in its captivating dance. 

“Y/n babes- we haven’t had a round yet, we’re here to get drunk and dance- not just dance” Angel’s playful voice snaps you back into reality. He grabs your hand and leads you to a quieter table in the back where  Cheri had already ordered the first few rounds of shots. 

Before you can truly sit down in the booth, your fingers grip around the small glass meeting it with your lips, the sharp tingling liquid burning down your throat. Within minutes the first few rounds were complete, despite your slightly stumbling form, you insisted on another. Angel, in a similar boat, gladly agrees leaving you alone in the neon glow with Cheri. As he walks towards the bar you feel the intensity of her gaze pricking into the exposed skin of your shoulders. Her voice officially calls your attention as she pulls out a small bag of miscellaneous pills.

“How about we get things really started”  A sly smile spread across her face as she spoke, dangling the bag between her fingers teasingly. “It’s nothing too harmful just a mild..stimulant” She added as she took two small circular capsules from their flimsy plastic container. She placed one on top of the cocktail napkin in front of you and one on her tongue. 

“What does that mean, what is it exactly” You ask hesitantly. You weren’t opposed to the idea of doing something of this sort, but it was best to know what you were getting into. In all honesty, Alastor wasn’t worth the onset taking something too serious would cause. Even in Hell, actions tend to have consequences.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re too good for this shit” She huffed kicking her legs onto the table, knocking a stray shot glass to the side with a soft clink. Your eyes widen in surprise by her reaction.

“No I wasn’t saying that- I just want to understand what I’m getting into..thats all” You stammered out attempting to diffuse any tension your response may have accidentally caused. She rolled her eye picking up the small white circle on the napkin.

“Don’t worry about that- it’s just to loosen you up so you can have a good time”.  She laughed nudging your arm slightly. “Its not serious..It’ll just help you forget” She sent you a soft smile placing the pill in your hand. Her eyes held a fragment of sadness, she would never mention it, but she had her own issues too. In her own odd way, she was just trying to help, and for some reason you couldn’t explain, you trusted her. 

You swallowed the pill as she pulled out a small circular tube. She pressed its edge against her lips and sent a puff of fruit mingled smoke in your direction. She wordlessly places the device in your hand, and you do the same. Its hazy pink light glows against the corners of your face as it activates. It wasn’t entirely like you to do something like this, but it seemed to help you get along with Cheri. That would make Angel happy to see his friends get along…After all, it was just to help you have a good time..No harm can come from a good time if thats all it is. The speakers of the club somehow grow louder as they sputter out a new, faster tune.

“Fuck I love this song” Cheri practically yells standing up from her seat. Before you can object, her hand takes yours, and you are dragged into the middle of the dance floor. She spins slightly as she rolls her hips yelling out the mumbled words of the song’s melody. It wasn’t long before your limbs began to echo the beat of each rhythm in tandem with her movements. Your mind glowed in a different sort of euphoria, your limbs seemed to float, slowing gliding through the tempo of the resounding pulse of your heart beat. Each person in the room seemed to blend together in watercolor warmth and decadent dancing pleasure, painting the picture of pure energy. With each spin you felt the weight of each memory sizzle off of your skin and evaporate into the air. You glance at Cheri beside you as her body swings under the  influence of the pure “ecstasy” of the moment. 

“I thought you were just gonna be another one of angel’s depressing friends-but fuck do you know how to party” Cheri laughed throwing her hands above her head as she swayed to the beat of the music. (White girl wasted asf) 

“Where did I go wrong to make you think that” You laugh with her spinning her around. 

“It doesn’t really matter, you just had that vibe” Her eyes drift to the demon behind you “More relevantly, I think ears over there is picking up a different vibe”

“What do you mean” You ask as she subtly points to the cat demon across the bar. His white fluffy tail resembled freshly fallen snow. On first glance, he held a gentle exterior. Golden chains strung from his neck dipped between his low cut lacy top and suit jacket. As your eyes wandered upwards, his seemingly innocent appearance was betrayed by his piercing red eyes. They soaked into his skin like freshly spilled blood. He glanced back at you, noticing how deeply your eyes were trained on him. He smiled revealing his razor sharp teeth and the edge of his forked tongue. His eyes raked up your figure, stopping just below your lips. His tail twitched as his sharp claws flexed against the metal countertop of the bar. He slid across a few dollars to the bar tender in exchange for two shot glasses. 

“Y/n- are you blind- do you not see how he’s looking at you?” Cheri’s teasing voice stole you from your observations. It was getting a bit harder to focus. theatre music blared against your ears breaking your concentration at every available instance. 

“I don’t know” You mutter out, unsure of what to make of the situation. It wasn’t like the demon wasn’t horrendously ugly, with his tall pointed ears and softy fuzzy exterior one might even refer to him as cute. 

“Well I do! I basically live here- so he’s not going to reject you or anything, you should go for it” Cheri said nudging your arm playfully while shooting a sly wink to the object of the conversation.  

“I’m not really here for-“ She cut you off before the uncertainty in your mind could hold the physical space of your words. 

 “Why not he’s cute right?” She quipped twirling a piece of her hair. 

“I guess.. he’s alright, I just don’t know if I’m ready for that..I know it’s not important but- ” You stuttered out. The amount you had already drank and the pressure Cheri seemed to apply made it much harder to express how you truly felt. You had come out with them to forget what had happened and more importantly your feelings for Alastor, but now that that sentiment had phased into reality, nothing about it felt right. You wanted to drown your sorrows and slip into a blissful moment of peace, not fill the hole he left in your heart with the pursuit of another demon. 

“Y/n don’t drag down the night with whatever bullshit is going on in your head. Don’t prove me wrong, I was just beginning to like you. Go dance with him, it’ll keep your mind off whatever you’re stuck on” Through the rough tone of her voice, there was almost a hint of desperation. She sent you a soft smile and nudged you further in his direction. The world seemed to slow down as each passing face lingered in your peripheral vision, each step tapering into slow motion as you walked in his direction. You had hardly given him a hello, before he shoved another shot glass into your hands.  He spoke mostly of himself as he ordered yet another round. The world started to feel less and less real as he whispered utterances of “baby” and “darling”  denying you the autonomy of a true name. He was enraptured with the beauty of your form, he couldn’t care less to anything that lived below that exterior. His hands rested against the exposed skin of your back as you pulled him to the dance floor.

You spin around giggling wildly as his fingers grip tighter into your flesh pulling you closer. His hips grind against your own, as his tail thrashes with the beat. With each sway, the world around falls into disarray. You can hardly make out Cherri’s grin and less than subtle thumbs up as she begins dancing with another demon she had come across throughout the entirety of your conversation. She grabs their hand and leads them out the door. Your dance partner senses your attention falling elsewhere, he places his thumb against your chin tilting it back in his direction. For just a moment, his deep red eyes seem to encapsulate a glimmer of  Alastor’s own. The longer you gazed into his eyes the more apparent it was that their darling shade of crimson was their only similarity. Alastor had never looked at you in such desperate hunger. His eyes always held an aura of care. 

“What do you say we get out of here baby? You’re a fantastic dancer, but I’d like to chat with you more.”

He whispers into your ear as he places a hand behind your neck. The two of you are impossibly close, teetering on the edge of a kiss. His hands trail down your back and underneath the hem of your skirt. You take a step back but his grip grows tighter, keeping you within his grasp.  Angel, who had been viewing the scene from afar, practically bolted in your direction. 

"y/n- who the hell is this?” Angel steps between the two of you sending the man a glare. 

 “Give us some space” You whisper, your eyes locked with Angel's. He rolls his eyes in response, turning his focus to the man you had been dancing with. “Yeah.. give us some space” he adds in his direction, bitterness overtaking his normally sweetened tone. 

“That’s not what I meant.” You retaliated taking a step away from Angel. "I promise. Its fine." 

 “It’s what I meant though…I’m all for blowing off steam at the end of a long day but this is going too far”  He huffs grabbing your wrist and leading you off the dance floor and towards the front of the building.

“Oh like you’re one to talk. You’ve been throwing back shots since before we got here. We were just talking” You mutter, as he opens the door to the exterior of the club.   

“No you weren't and you know it- Also Y/n.. I hate to break it to you, but you are like maybe five feet tall” He laughs, placing his arm on your shoulder. 

“Angel-“ you cross your arms, shrugging him off.

“MAYBE” He places his finger against your lips, effectively shushing you. “MAYBE with a few inches tacked on the end...Your tolerance isn’t going to be as high as mine” He sends you a playful wink. 

“Bullshit- I’m just having a good time” you retort slapping his hand away. 

“No, you aren’t. Nothing about your body language or your face or fucking anything about you even hinted that you were enjoying that” he huffs flinging his arms out dramatically. “What’s really going on with you?” he asks pointedly, the tension in his body visible as the fur on his chest puffed out a little more. 

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t see why you care Cherri is doing the same things I am go bother her if your savior complex needs a new victim” you snap back at him. For a moment his face falls, his heart fragmented in the reflection of his eyes.  

“Babe- you’re wasted, you don't really mean that" he said with a small laugh in the attempt to mollify the situation on both sides. 

“everyone here is” you retort. You ignored the look in his eyes, tears pricking in your own as you turn back to the entrance of the bar. "Leave me the fuck alone Angel. We work together, you don't need to pretend to be my friend because you feel bad about yourself. I don't need pity especially not yours." you seethe placing your hand on the door in front of you. You knew you were being unreasonable, but whats said and done cannot be changed. Even if the rage you directed at him was not his to carry, fire does not care what it burns and bridges are not often rebuilt. Whats done is done, if Hell had taught you one thing, there was no way around that fact. 

“Can you just cut the shit and tell me what’s going on” He yells grabbing the sides of your shoulders. Your eyes grow wide shocked at his reaction. He lets out a sigh ”Look.. I'm sorry Y/n...I’m just worried about you.” his voice is barely audible. "I know I'm not the best friend in the world or even a good one, but you're all I've got. You don't get to tell me thats not worth anything so just cut it out and tell me whats wrong..this isn't like you." His grip on your shoulders softens and eventually falls as takes a step back.

“My ex-fiancee showed up at the club, its stupid I know its not important but that asshole knows how to get to me" you finally admit. 

“Oh realllyyy" His eyebrows raise suggestively. "Was it that cat sinner who used to work there- y/n i think you have a type," he laughs "but I always thought you two would be cute together” he smiles attempting to lighten the mood. 

His smirk drops as your face remains stagnant, clearly unamused. He sends you a more genuine smile, taking a seat on the curb patting the ground beside him.

 "It must be really bad if you've lost your taste for my impeccable sense of humor" he adds as you sat next to him indulging his invitation. 

“I knew him in life..he’s kind of the reason I ended up here.” you confess wiping the ghost of a tear from your face

“Oh.. y/n I’m sorry” Angel slings his arm around you offering a bit of comfort. 

“No-no don’t be I don’t want to ruin your fun with my sh-” 

“Y/n you aren’t ruining things,” He says resolutely, grabbing your shoulders with a playful shake "Just talk to me..if you want” His eyes house a desperation you were all too familiar with. Each shimmery pink spoke of his iris held tightly against your skin, begging for a fragment of honesty. 

“It’s fine really…He just.. didn’t have many nice things to say,” you mutter out, tearing away from his gaze and settling your own against the floor. 

“Shit, that’s rough.”  He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, a half-hearted smile tugging at his lips as he tried to mask his discomfort with humor. He was never great with words, but that would never stop him from being there for you.

“Tell me about it” you laughed attempting to distract from the unmistakable break in your voice.

“That’s definitely a drinking to forget kinda night..” He let out a short laugh in response, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of genuine sympathy before they darted away to the ground between the two of you. His brow furrowed as he searched for the right words to say.

“I didn’t mean to get so upset with you..You’re your own person and obviously, you can handle yourself-you just aren’t used to this scene and I didn’t want you to end up in situations you’ll regret tomorrow- like I used to do..” He sighed deeply, running a hand through the fluff of his hair.

“Angel,” You said softly, your hand reaching out to gently touch his arm. 

“You’re better than I am y/n…I just didn’t want anything to happen to you..” His voice wavered rendering it nearly unrecognizable. His casually confident demeanor dropped, as he reflected on the details of his past. Your eyes met his in a moment of understanding, your smiles stretching within them, it was clear you cared for each other even if you had a hard time expressing it. 

“I’m really not. If anything you’re better than me, at least you know when to quit” You chuckle lightly. You take a deep breath unsure of how to accurately express much of anything. The whole night had been a rollercoaster packed with invisible turns and twists divulging into one fucked up experience. “I’m sorry Angel. I shouldn’t have said any of that to you..You’re my best friend it’s important to me that you know that”, your voice softens as you try to convey how much he truly meant to you.

“Don’t go all soft on me Toots, it’s just what friends do.” He says, his overtly confident tone returning as he playfully nudges your shoulder “What do you say we head back to the hotel and raid the bar? It doesn’t matter how shitfaced you get in the comforts of your own home.” The act he so obsessively put on would never drop for longer than a few moments, but it was always comforting to be within his company when it did. You could be yourself and who you had to be all at once as long as you did it together. 

“Self-destructive and Safe? Oh, count me in” You giggle, pulling a few small shot bottles you had smuggled out from your pockets. He takes one, clinking it against the one in your hand. 

After a slight walk, the two of you arrived at the steep entrance to the Hazbin Hotel. It had clearly seen better days, although not the eyesore it used to be, it still projected an aura of delapidation. Not that the two of you cared, it had been a long night and you weren’t done yet, this was just another place to keep the party going. Between stumbling fits of giggles you slumped against his side, taking his hand in yours he opened the large wooden doors into the building. 

“Welcome to The Hazbin Hotel a place where sinners don’t sin for a place to stay unless you ain’t being watched then anythings free game” Angel smirked lifting his arms out like some sort of circus showman. 

Alastor stood on the balcony of the hotel, his gaze fixed on the foyer below. The dim light from Hell’s perpetual sunset illuminated the scene, casting long shadows across the marble floors. He couldn't quite remember how he'd gotten back here after the fight. Each haunting memory of the argument was hazy, fractured like a broken radio transmission. One moment, he had been facing you, anger flashing between you both, and the next, he found himself back at the hotel.

“Must’ve been some form of magic,” he thought, though magic had never been something he entirely trusted, it was a necessity. Magic is synonymous with power, any and all magic was of use to him—he had long since mastered every trick of the trade—but you, you were something else entirely. How had you managed to fly under the radar for that long if your power was great enough to transport an overlord like himself against his will. 

His eyes narrowed slightly as his shadow slinked from the corner of the balcony, creeping along the edges of the stone like a living thing. It murmured softly, darkly.

“You could use this one, you know. A means to an end. You’ve already hurt her once…she could never love you again but you could still have her.." it hissed.

Alastor scoffed, shaking his head. “Do you never tire of your incessant suggestions, my dear shadow? She is more than that. Much more.”

"You could still use her to your advantage. She's weak, vulnerable, and she's already in your grasp..."

Alastor’s lip curled in irritation, a deep chuckle escaping him. “Do you ever shut up, you little wretch? She is no pawn.”

But the shadow’s words stuck with him, like a splinter in his brain. He could use you, he knew that. But something about it felt wrong, something he couldn’t quite explain.

He wasn’t naive. He could see the way the world operated—power was everything here. Yet as his eyes moved to the figure below, standing in the center of the lobby a pang of something softer tugged at his chest. It was you, severely intoxicated you, but still you. Always appearing when he least expected it. You had this uncanny way of showing up, out of nowhere, like some divine force ensuring he never quite lost sight of what he wanted.

And you were so... gorgeous. More so than anything he'd ever seen in this twisted hellhole.

The sight of you—draped in dim lighting, your features a perfect mix of both beauty and something darker, something uniquely you—left him breathless. His heart pulsed in his chest, almost painfully, as he watched you. He loved you, deeply, madly. The thought of it was strange, disorienting. For a being like him, who had long since abandoned all notions of softness, of attachment, it haunted him. Unfamiliar. But undeniable.

So there he stayed, out of sight and watching you with an intensity that could only be described as obsession. Your presence had shifted something in him, something he couldn’t quite control, and for once, that didn’t frighten him. It was almost... comforting.

The sound of footsteps echoed on the grand marble floors as you and Angel made your way toward the bar, Alastor watched you both intently from the balcony. The hotel loomed over you like a cathedral of excess, its luxurious interior drenched in shades of red velvet and deep crimson. The carpets were stained with the color of blood, and the chandeliers overhead seemed to catch the light in strange, angular ways, like broken glass. Despite the decor’s opulence, there was something unsettling about it all, a sense that everything here was just a little too perfect.

And then there were the windows. Stained glass windows lining the walls, depicting flowers—strange, foreign flowers whose forms never quite seemed to align with anything you knew. They were beautiful in their own right, yet so alien. They spoke of a beauty that was unattainable, untouchable, much like the lives you led here, in this place. They didn’t belong here... or maybe they did.

From your perspective, the hotel felt both too real and not real enough. It was alive in a way that made you uncomfortable, yet at the same time, it felt like you’d stepped into a delightful dream, one where you didn’t quite belong, but didn’t wish to leave.

Angel, sensing your quiet discomfort, nudged you with his elbow. “Relax, doll. It’s just another night in Hell. Let's grab a drink, yeah?”

His voice snapped you out of your trance, and you nodded, your gaze flicking back to the bar. Husk was sitting there, nursing a drink, his tired eyes flickering up at the two of you as you approached. He didn’t say anything but there was a knowing look in his eyes that made you wonder if he knew more about your situation than you did.

“Hey Husk, this is my dear friend Y/n who is in desperate need of a good drink” Angel practically yells grabbing a seat in front of the all too familiar bar of the Hazbin Hotel. 

“You’re just bringing everyone home these days” Husk mutters sarcastically glancing your way as he grabs three glasses from the shelf and a variety of bottles from the back of the bar. 

“Oh shut up, she’s a good one” Angel’s body slings over the bar as he speaks, he begins giggling at nothing or so it seems.  Husk’s typically bored eyes catch on the curve of Angel’s smile and the messy tousled hair that framed it.

 There is nothing more cruel in hell than the prospect of love.  His eyes filled with a pure haze of adoration, teeming in unyielding clouds of desperation. His smile grasping fervently at the raw precipice of vulnerability; entangled in the fear it could all slip away into the abyss of logic. These moments of observation became his own clandestine affair, a silent ache for an authenticity that Hell would never allow. He knew the way he felt for the spider demon was nothing short of love, yet their hearts were forbidden to intertwine openly. Angel had Valentino to deal with, and he had to deal with Alastor. It could never be anything more than lingering stares and passing glances, but oh how deeply he craved it. 

“How’d you wind up with this one? He’s not exactly a peach to be around.” Husk asks, tilting his head in your direction as he slides a glass to each of you.

“He’s the one good thing to come from working with Val” You boasted patting Angel’s head lightly. 

“Yeah yeah I’m great I know” Angel cuts in wrapping an arm around your shoulder “But how did a bombshell like you end up with a shitbag ex? I’m dying to know” Angel teases tousling your already messy hair. 

"We met when we were basically kids," you said after a long pause, your eyes never leaving the glass. "Teenagers, you know how it is." you shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "It sort of just went from there."

Angel's gaze sharpened, his smirk widening. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with a knowing look. "It’s always the ones you know the longest that turn out the shittiest."

You rolled your eyes, chuckling  dryly "Right? We worked together later on his stupid show," you added a bit  more forcefully, as if the words themselves could push the memories away.

Angel made a low noise, almost a scoff, and took a slow sip from his glass, his fingers tapping lightly against the rim. "Well, you should’ve known better than to mess with someone in show business."

you glanced up at him, your brow arched in amusement. "We're in show business."

"Exactly." Angel’s smirk was quick, knowing, and laced with the kind of dark humor only he could pull off. “go onnnn” he says with a slight shimmy.

You slump back against the bar, your glass swirling in your hand as the ice cubes clink together. The amber liquid inside your glass has begun to lose its chill, but you don't care. You've had enough to drink to not give a damn. You can feel the heat spreading from your chest, and for once, you don’t mind it. It’s been a while since you’ve felt anything other than numb, and tonight—well, tonight is different.

“Well, there really isn’t much else to say,” you mumble, staring into your glass. Your fingers circle the rim absently as you speak. “I’d loved him for years… I don’t know if it was love, but that’s how it felt. I guess you can’t really call it love if it doesn’t go well. You know how it goes. Eventually, people leave…” Your voice falters for a second, and you can feel the weight of the words like a stone in your gut. You take another drink, feeling the burn slide down your throat. “I’ve never been good at that part, so I waited. A lot of good that did.” You laugh bitterly, staring at the glass in your hand like it holds all the answers. “Eventually, I had to find someone else. Worst decision of my life, but I’d make it again every single time.”

You take a deep breath, then lean your head back against the bar. Your head spins slightly, the liquor mixing with your emotions, making it all blur together. You hear Angel shifting in his seat and you feel the heaviness of Husk's eyes on your form. The weight of the silence seems to press in around you.

“On the house,” Husk grumbles from behind the counter, his voice rough as always. “Take whatever else you want. Just don’t touch my whisky. It’s late as fuck, I’m going to bed”

“Bye,” Angel mutters, not even bothering to acknowledge Husk’s sarcasm. He flips his cigarette between his fingers, eyes glinting as he focuses on you instead.

Your attention shifts back to Angel, and you lean in, squinting your eyes like you’re trying to make sense of him. “So, you and the cat demon?” you ask, a teasing edge in your voice. “I think it’s you who might have a type.”

Angel huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Shut up, Y/N.” But there's a softness in his words, like he’s not as defensive as he wants to be. You catch it, and it makes you press him further.

You tilt your head, genuinely curious now. “What’s going on with you two? I didn’t think you cared about anyone like that.”

Angel leans back on the bar, staring at his cigarette like it’s the most interesting thing in the room. He drags in a slow breath before answering, the weight of his words sitting heavily between you. “I don’t know, okay?” He mutters with a shrug. “I just think he’s cute. That’s all. It’s stupid, I know. But when I’m around him... I don’t feel like just an object. Like I’m not just some... disposable thing to be tossed around.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. You weren’t expecting that—that vulnerability in Angel, the crack in his usual cocky facade. You lean forward, trying not to let your surprise show too much. “You think that’s stupid?” you press, watching his eyes flicker as he looks away. “I don’t think it is. I think you deserve to be treated like you're more than that"

Angel doesn’t meet your gaze, instead fiddling with the edges of his empty glass. He lets out a long, slow breath. “I don’t know. I’m just... maybe I’m just hopeful. Maybe one day it’ll turn into something real. But who knows, right?” He lets the words trail off, his tone growing quieter, almost uncertain. “It’s dumb, I know.”

Before you can say anything more, Angel stands up and heads to the shelf, grabbing another bottle of whatever's closest to him. But as he moves, his elbow jostles the shelf, knocking something off the counter. You both watch in horror as Husk's prized bottle of whisky tumbles off the edge of the counter and crashes to the floor, the glass shattering into a dozen pieces.

“...He is going to be so pissed,” Angel says, his voice almost panicked as he stares at the mess. He turns to you, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “Do you want to hide out in my room for a bit?”

You don’t hesitate. The last thing you want is to deal with Husk’s wrath, especially not with the way the night is going. “Yes, of course,” you say, grabbing another bottle of liquor as you push yourself off the barstool. You head for the stairs, Angel following closely behind. The idea of getting away from this scene, just for a little while, feels like the right decision.

But as you reach the stairs, you realize something.

“Shit-I forgot my bag,” you murmur, turning back to Angel with a small shrug. “I’ll be right back. Don’t wait up.”

Angel nods distractedly, already heading up to his room, and you hurry back down the stairs. You push through the hallway, your footsteps echoing off the walls as you make your way to where you left your bag. Your mind is still spinning, and the alcohol isn’t helping, but you need to get it—need something familiar to hold onto.

That’s when it happens. You’re rushing, trying to get in and out quickly, and you don’t see the vase on the floor. Your foot catches it, and the next thing you know, the world explodes with a deafening crash.

The sound of breaking glass fills the hallway, and you freeze. “Shit,” you mutter, dropping to your knees as you scramble to pick up the pieces. You glance around, heart racing. The last thing you need right now is someone catching you in the act.

But then, from the shadows, you hear it—a soft, almost deliberate rustling. You tense as Alastor appears from the darkness, his sharp eyes gleaming as he watches you for a long moment.You freeze. Alastor. Of course, it’s him. In your hazy, frustrated state, confusion takes over. Your vision is still blurry, and you’re not sober enough to deal with this. Why is he here? What does he even want from you now?

“Why are you here?” Your voice comes out more hoarse than you intended, but it’s sharp enough to make the air between you crackle.

“I live here, dearest,” Alastor responds smoothly, his usual theatrical charm present, but his eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place.

"I heard she sang a good song"

“Since when?” You stare at him, trying to make sense of his words. He wasn’t here before... Was he?

“Never mind that,” Alastor interrupts, a faint flicker of something darker crossing his features as he steps closer, his shoes clicking rhythmically against the marble floor. “Just let me help you.”

You scoot back instinctively, pushing yourself up from the floor, the shards of the vase still scattered around your feet. 

You can't think straight—your emotions are too raw. Without thinking, you say, “I’m leaving.”

But before you can take a step, Alastor’s eyes catch something on your hands. His gaze sharpens. There’s a softness, an unexpected concern, as he moves toward you, his usually composed demeanor slipping for a second. He notices the faint scratches on your hands—small but still enough to catch his attention.Before you can react, he reaches out and softly grabs your arm, pulling you back a little to inspect the damage. The gentle touch is disorienting, but you don’t pull away.

“Please, mon cher,” Alastor says quietly, his voice softer than you’re used to hearing, but it carries the weight of sincerity. “Just let me help you... It’s the least I can do after all I’ve..caused you. Let me help you, and I’ll stay out of your life as long as you wish me to.”

"I heard she had a style"

Your brow furrows, suspicion creeping up again, but you don’t pull away from his grasp. “Is that supposed to be some sort of deal?” you ask, your voice sharp, your words coated in disbelief.

“Not at all,” Alastor responds, his tone almost too calm. “Just an agreement. It doesn’t need to fall into writing. Besides, in your current state, I doubt you could accurately hold a pen.” His lips quirk into a half-smile, the usual teasing glint returning to his eyes.

“Shut up.” The words are out before you can stop them, frustration boiling over.

Alastor’s smile falters slightly, but only for a moment. He releases your arm, though his eyes stay fixed on you.

 “There’s no need to be rude, dear. I am merely trying to help.” The words are gentle, but there’s a coolness underneath, like he’s waiting for you to take the first step.

You don’t want to engage. But still, you can’t help yourself. “And what good would that do? You’ve already told me all I need to hear.” Your voice is brittle now, the cracks in your tone betraying the hurt you’ve been carrying. 

Alastor’s expression shifts, a flicker of frustration crossing his face before he sighs, leaning back slightly. “You said some pretty nasty things too, dear, if I recall.” He huffs, a playful edge to his voice that’s trying to cover up the heaviness between you both.

“Nothing unwarranted,” you reply, a small bitterness lingering in your words.

There’s a brief silence as Alastor steps back, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveys the mess at your feet. He eyes the broken vase with something resembling disdain but then looks back at you. “Let’s call it a truce for now, Y/N,” he says with a smirk, his voice smooth and composed again. “It’s the least you can do after breaking such a valuable decorative asset on my property.”

"And so I came to see her, and listen for a while"

You blink, confused, your eyes narrowing as you glance back up at him. “You own this place?”

Alastor chuckles lightly, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling for a moment. “I think of myself as merely a benefactor. But yes, you could say that.” He looks back at you with a glint in his eyes, his smile returning, this time with a little more sincerity. “A truce for tonight, and we can go back to being at each other’s throats tomorrow morning. What do you say, dear?”

You’re about to protest, but the exhaustion finally catches up to you, and you sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. “Fine. Let’s just clean this up.”

You both move silently to gather the broken pieces, each of you moving in tandem, a strange sort of quiet cooperation filling the space. Every now and then, your hands brush against each other as you both reach for a shard, and though you try to ignore it, it doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you.

Alastor catches your eye as you shiver involuntarily, the chill of the lobby creeping under your skin. Without a word, he shrugs off his coat and gently drapes it around your shoulders. The soft fabric is warm against your skin, but it’s more than that—it’s a gesture of care that you didn’t expect.

“That should do it for the mess, dearest,” Alastor murmurs after a moment, his voice quieter now, as though he’s aware of the fragile truce between you. “Now to get you cleaned up.”

"And there she was this young girl

A stranger to my eyes"

You blink, feeling more disoriented than ever, before the world around you shifts. Without a second’s warning, Alastor teleports you both—your surroundings blurring, the air suddenly thick with the scent of damp earth and moss. When you open your eyes again, you’re no longer in the sterile lobby. Instead, you’re standing in a room that seems to stretch beyond its walls into a lush, almost dreamlike forest.

The scene around you is breathtaking—towering trees draped in moss, thick vines curling around branches like old friends. The atmosphere feels alive, warm, as if the land itself is breathing, and the soft whisper of the wind through the leaves is so familiar, it aches. It reminds you of home—Louisiana, the bayou. The air smells of wet earth, pine, and the faintest scent of honeysuckle. It’s not just a room; it feels like a part of you, like the land that cradled your soul in life.

You walk carefully toward one of the trees, reaching out and brushing your fingers against the moss that coats its trunk. The sensation is calming, and you feel a small lump form in your throat. “It’s just like home,” you mutter softly, your fingers tracing the edges of the moss, which decorates the trees like lace trim on an evening dress.

"Strumming my pain with her fingers"

Alastor steps up behind you, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Indeed it is... it helps me feel... real.” There’s a rare vulnerability in his voice that catches you off guard, his usual radio demon facade beginning to crack, just for a moment. He steps aside and moves toward the other side of the room, his demeanor shifting back to its usual composed self. “I’ll fetch you some water... and a painkiller.”

"Singing my life with her words"

The silence that follows is deep, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. The only sound is the soft rustle of the bayou outside. You’re not sure how long you stand there, but the stillness makes your thoughts feel sharper, like you can hear your own heartbeat in the quiet.

Finally, you break the silence. “Why wasn’t I good enough for you?” The words slip out before you can stop them, and the rawness in your voice is so vulnerable, so unguarded. “Why couldn’t you just say that? I understand why someone like you wouldn’t want me... Did you think I was too weak to talk to about it?”

"Killing me softly with her song"

Alastor freezes. His back is turned to you, but you can feel the shift in the air as his posture tightens. He says nothing for a long moment, and then, his voice breaks through, quieter than you’ve ever heard it before. “No one will ever be good enough for me not if they aren’t you.”

The words hang between you like a fragile thread, and you can hear the underlying sadness beneath his calm facade. But you need more. “Then why didn’t you stay?” you ask, the question a raw echo of everything that’s been haunting you.

Alastor’s shoulders tense as he turns slowly to face you, his eyes unreadable, though the weight of his silence speaks volumes. 

"Killing me softly with her song"

The night air is thick with the sounds of crickets, their steady chirping filling the silence between you and Alastor. The aftermath of the broken vase still lingers in the hallway, but it feels insignificant compared to the weight of the moment between you two. It’s one of those rare moments when words hang heavy, the space between them charged with something deeper.

Alastor stands a little apart from you, the soft glow from the distant lights casting long shadows across his figure. The red in his eyes has dimmed slightly, but his presence is still undeniably imposing. The air feels charged with the weight of everything unspoken, and it presses in around you like a thick fog. You can feel it closing in as he finally speaks.

"Telling my whole life with her words"

“I couldn’t, Y/N… I died.”

The words land like a heavy weight, and you freeze, the chill of them settling over your skin like ice. Your chest tightens, the breath you didn’t realize you were holding slipping out in a slow exhale. Your mind spins, and for a moment, it feels like time has stopped.

The crickets continue to chirp in the background, a constant reminder that the world is still moving, even though you’re stuck in this small, suspended moment of time.

“Oh... I... I didn’t know that.” Your voice is quieter than you intended, the confession stirring something raw in you that you weren’t prepared for. The realization that Alastor had died—that the man you once loved had been gone all this time—hits you harder than you care to admit.

“That’s entirely my fault.” Alastor’s voice is softer now, the edges of his usual control slipping. He seems almost… remorseful. “It was a bit of a hunting accident, as you know I’ve been involved with... some unsavory things.” His words trail off, like he’s trying to give you space to process the details. But you don’t need them. You’re already piecing it together—the life he must have led, the dangers of his world. “Quite frankly, I made a mistake. But there was not a second of this afterlife that I did not long just to see you again.”

He steps closer, and the shift in his presence is enough to make you look up, meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes—vulnerable, open, raw. It’s a side of him you haven’t seen in what feels like a lifetime.

“I am a vile and selfish man, Y/N,” Alastor continues, his voice low, tinged with regret. “Being here has only exacerbated that. But you... you make me different. I don’t know how else to describe it.” His shoulders sag slightly as if the weight of his own confession is a burden too heavy to carry alone. “I feel like I have purpose again... just knowing you’re here too.”

The words hang in the air between you both, the soft whisper of the bayou outside suddenly feeling miles away. For the first time in a long while, you feel the urge to speak, to let the thoughts and emotions that have been building in you come spilling out. It’s reckless, and yet, it feels necessary—like the truth you’ve buried under layers of hurt and bitterness is finally clawing its way to the surface.

You lean against the wall, your head spinning with the alcohol coursing through your veins, your tongue loosened by it, and the raw honesty that comes with it.

“I just figured you went and found something better,” you mumble, almost to yourself, though the words hang in the air for him to hear. Your voice is quieter now, quieter than you intended, and a small laugh escapes you—a bitter, hollow sound. “Out of the two of us, you were the one who had potential. I was just your assistant. I figured you went and found better.”

"Killing me softly with her song"

The words leave your mouth like a confession, as if it’s something you’ve held in for far too long. You can’t quite tell if you’re seeking closure or if the alcohol has just made everything too raw to keep inside. Either way, you can feel the vulnerability in your chest, heavy and uncomfortable.

Alastor’s posture stiffens, and for a long, painful moment, neither of you speaks. But you notice the shift in him. His broad shoulders sag just slightly, and for a brief moment, you can see the crack in his polished facade. Had he known that his death, his disappearance, would instill so much doubt in you—would leave you questioning everything between you both—he would have found a way back to you. There’s no other way to put it. If he could have, he would have crawled his way out from the depths of hell to find you.

His eyes soften, and you see the conflict in them. His words—those dark, twisted truths—make him feel like he's trapped in the aftermath of his own actions. The power he gained in this afterlife, his position in Hell—it had all made him feel secure, yes. But that security didn’t mean anything without you. It never had.

None of it mattered in the way it should have. Not if it meant leaving you to carry all that doubt, to wonder if you were never good enough to hold his attention. The weight of it presses in on him like a vice, but he’s too proud to show it completely. He is a demon—he doesn’t show weakness. But in this moment, there’s no mistaking it.

 “You were always and have always been so much more than that.” There’s an intensity in his words, a plea beneath the calm exterior.

You can feel the air between you both shift. The space between you shrinks with every passing second, each of you wrestling with the emotions that have lingered for too long. You want to say more, ask him more—but all you can do is stare at him, at the man who’s been gone from your life for so long. The man who came back from the dead, and yet, somehow, it feels like he’s never truly left.

You swallow hard, unsure if you’re ready to hear more—if you want to hear more. But you know that the truth, no matter how painful, is what you both need to face.

“Y/n.. for god's sake we were almost married, from the moment you tumbled into my life, you’ve flipped everything I thought I knew upside down in such a beautifully tragic way. Your voice even if it holds animosity, is pure music to my ears. It calls such a deep desperation within my heart to the surface. I wish I could capture the essence of your smile in stone, that way it would never fade or change. In your presence I feel alive in a way I never thought possible. I truly do love you, and I truly am so very sorry I said those things to you. It is the most important thing in this world to me that you know that none of it was true..I am so sorry for what you’ve been through. I wish there was something I could do or say to erase it all bu-“

You cut him off capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. For a moment, he leans into your touch. Reveling in the warmth of your form and the subtle caress of your thumb against his cheek. Your lips brush lightly against his his eyes closed tightly. As he begins to consciously process what was truly happening he pulls away pushing you further from him.

Your eyes swirl with tears as they fill with hurt, you could not comprehend why he would say such things and then reject your affections. He places his hand on top of yours, sending you a loving smile. 

“My dear, please do not misunderstand me..I want nothing more than to bask in your affection, but it isn’t right to do so currently. You aren’t within a solid frame of mind..If you still desire to do so once your mind returns I will welcome it wholeheartedly, you are all I want, just not like this.” His hand travels to your face, his thumb pushing the tear from your cheek.

“oh okay,” You whisper out. “I’m sorry” you muttered unable to pull your eyes away from his crimson ones.

“Please, don’t be, you haven’t done a thing wrong.” His apology stretched further than the situation required. Its melancholic timbre expressed decades of regret in a single instant. The words held you in the palm of their hand offering a comfort that you had not felt since his disappearance. 

“I’m going to try and find something different for you to wear alright?” He added before his expression could find the opportunity to fall. Reputation was his only strength and he would not dare disregard it, it was all he had to hold onto with you still at a distance.

“What you don’t like my outfit?” You say slightly rolling your eyes, gesturing to the lace lining the bottom of your skirt.

“No, on the contrary, I think you look lovely, I just assume it wouldn’t be the most comfortable to sleep in” He shrugs “Let’s get you cleaned up” He adds taking your hand and leading you up to a spare room.

With a snap of his fingers, a comfortable set of silky carnelian pajamas appears along with a silver-plated hairbrush and a warm cup of tea. He hands you the cup as he wordlessly runs the brush through your tangled hair. Naturally, it reminded you of the life you used to live together, he had taken the time to learn how to care for your hair and committed it to memory. It was an aspect of your nightly routine you had forgotten how deeply you missed. The porcelain teacup warms your hands as he hums a familiar tune. A few minutes passes and for once silence feels comfortable. Finally, he twists the newly detangled h/c strands of your hair into two neat braids, tying them with matching red ribbons. With another snap, he manifests a cloth and a bowl of water wiping the smudged sparked eyeshadow from your face and the red-stained gloss from your lips.

“I’ll leave these here for you to change into if you’d like dear.” He says setting pajamas into your arms before placing a key in your hand. “I’m just next door if you need anything, this will unlock it. Nothing is too large or small darling.” His smile radiates in authentic charm as he closes your hand around it and his own. “Sweet dreams Y/n” He whispers before closing the door hoping you don’t notice the soft blush painting his cheeks a lovely shade of pink. 

“Goodnight Alastor” You murmur as a smile of your own creeps onto your face. You quickly discard the (quite frankly stained) ensemble you had worn to the club in favor of the pajamas he had given you. The room feels a great deal larger without him here, however, exhaustion overpowers your newfound loneliness. You hold the key in your hands for a moment before placing it down on the bedside table and crawling into the downy sheets that had been calling your name since the moment you had seen them. 

Your body drifts within the realm of the subconscious, losing itself in each kaleidoscopic illusion of memory it pressed upon you. Your ex-husband, the dreams that had plagued you since his death, nothing more than thoughts and feelings to the conscious mind divulged into a twisted wasteland. Each flickering falsity fractured into the dissonant landscape. The shadows of your past contorted into grotesque faceless caricatures sketched with ghostly whispers and regretful choices. The figures fought against the edges of your sanity pushing you deeper within the disquieting chaos. You felt the blood soaking your dress corrode your skin until it shattered into the image of his body against the floor. His green eyes glint with the weight the irreversible act bore. His mouth parted to match the ill-fitting angle his head spun itself in. The halo of deep crimson spread from his center like the delicate spines of a cornet clashing against the fading carpet. 

The moment rewinds, twisting into another distorted tapestry before you can resist. 

“Without me, you’d be nothing. You owe me this”

The man you had regretfully married screamed into your ear, shrill and desperate. His words form tendrils around your wrist, dragging your hand to the kitchen knife clenched into your fist. His gasps polluted the air in whiskey-scented poison as you punctured his skin. His body falls in a cascade with your distorted thoughts, blurring the thin line between paranoia and relief. His eyes, once drenched in an ocean of fury now rest in a gossamer pool of milky white. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean it- I didn’t mean to-“ his body made contact with your floor before you could stutter out the end of your sentence. The hypnotic image swirls within a hypoxic cacophony, suffocating you in its remorse-ridden blaze.

Before the flames could truly engulf your form, your eyes shoot open meeting the deeply concerned ones of the radio demon. His ears lay flat against his head, gently wisped in vulnerability. Your trembling arms reach up and cling to his without another thought. He sits down beside you gently guiding you into his lap. 

“It’s alright dear, I promise you are safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. It was just a nightmare mon coeur.” He whispers into your hair as he holds you close. You sob helplessly into his arms, your face pressed into his shoulder. You weren’t used to the aspect of comfort after a nightmare, you clung to him as if he would suddenly dissipate if you didn’t hold the pieces together. 

“My dear..please, it was just a nightmare. You’re safe now I promise you” His tone is softly desperate, wanting nothing more than to take this away from you. Somehow, he manages to pull you closer into his arms with a tenderness you had yet to experience within your expansive time in Hell. 

"Would it be helpful to talk it through?" Alastor asks, his voice calm, gentle in a way you rarely hear from him. His eyes flicker with that strange, unsettling depth, as though he’s anticipating something, but he isn’t pushing. He’s merely offering.

You hesitate, unsure if you even want to go there. Your heart is still racing, the lingering echoes of your nightmare digging at the edges of your mind. It’s hard to focus, hard to make sense of everything swirling around in your head. You glance down at your hands, picking at the edges of your sleeve, avoiding his gaze.

"I don’t know…" You swallow hard, trying to calm the sudden tremor in your voice. "I’ve never really talked about them before." The words feel strange in your mouth, like you’re admitting something you’ve buried for years. "I don’t even know why it affects me so much. It just does."

There’s a softness in Alastor’s eyes as he steps closer, but still, he doesn’t try to touch you. It’s as if he’s giving you space, waiting for you to find the words.

"If you wish, I am here to listen." His voice is steady, like the gentle hum of a distant radio, but there’s a sincerity in it. Something rare, something you’ve never expected from him.

For a moment, you just sit in the quiet. The weight of the past is pressing down on you, and you almost feel like you’re suffocating. But there’s something in Alastor’s unspoken presence—something that draws you in. Maybe it’s the way he seems so patient, so understanding despite everything between you. You take a deep breath, your mind still racing.

"Alright..." Your voice comes out softer than you expect, barely a whisper. You wipe your hands on your pants nervously. "It’s nothing really... I don’t know why it affects me so much." You shake your head, frustration making your words come out faster. "It’s just a reminder of why I’m here. Why I ended up like this."

Alastor doesn’t interrupt, just watches you closely, his sharp eyes never leaving your face. His head tilts slightly, like he’s trying to understand something deeper—something you haven’t said yet.

"How do you mean, dearest?" His tone is curious, but it’s not prying. It’s soft, inviting you to share without forcing the issue.

You exhale slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze on you like a heavy blanket. Your chest tightens, the memories threatening to rush in all at once, but you push through them. For some reason, talking to him feels... different. Almost like he understands, in a way no one else ever did.

"After you left…" You pause, trying to steady your voice, trying to get through it. "I got married." You don’t know why you say it like that—it sounds so... final. But it was, wasn’t it? A chapter of your life that should have ended long ago, but you never knew how to turn the page. "Things weren’t great." You shrug, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. It feels too absurd to even mention.

Alastor doesn’t react, just stands there, waiting for you to continue. He doesn’t need to say anything—he’s not pressing you, not making you feel like you have to hurry. He’s simply giving you the space to speak. And somehow, that’s the hardest part. It’s easier to keep quiet, to bury everything. But now, with him standing there, watching you with an almost disarming patience, you realize it’s time to face it.

"It was purely out of necessity." Your words come out clipped, almost too fast. It’s like you’re rushing through the confession, trying to distance yourself from the pain, but you can’t stop the words from tumbling out. "I didn’t love him. I’m not even sure if I’m capable of such a thing anymore."

The air in the room feels thicker now, charged with the weight of everything you’ve just said. You realize how heavy those words were, how long you’ve carried that silence. 

"That... that doesn’t sound like a life well-lived." His voice is quieter now, more thoughtful, saturated with regret. He speaks as though he’s reflecting on your words rather than speaking from his usual position of authority.

“He was cruel in ways description can’t really do justice to.  We had a child together, my daughter, Elise.. He never laid a hand on her..not usually. I would never allow it, I figure it’s better me than her...I’m the part of the reason why she existed in the first place, Its only fair I take that on.”  The nightmare still lingers like a fog in your mind, and the silence around you feels both suffocating and comforting at once. Your gaze drifts aimlessly across the room, but you can't quite focus—everything feels distant, almost dreamlike. A knot tightens in your chest, but you force a slow breath to steady yourself. You want to look at him, to see if there's any understanding in his eyes, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you trace the edges of your nail with your finger, the small, repetitive motion grounding you, keeping you tethered to the moment.

“I don’t really know what happened, but it sort of changed one day.  She was nine or so.. He had come home drunk as he often did and things turned violent. She was only a child, naturally she couldn’t withstand as much as I could..And.. and He had killed her..and so I returned the favor.” You open your mouth to say something else, but the words get stuck. Instead, a broken, strangled sob escapes your lips—soft, almost imperceptible, but heavy with years of hurt. It's not the kind of cry you can control. It’s hollow, void of all the sharp edges of pain you'd grown used to; just a quiet, numbing release of everything you’ve kept locked inside. Your chest feels tight, your breath shallow, but the tears don’t come in a rush. It’s like your body can’t remember how to mourn properly. All you can do is sit there, head hanging low, shoulders trembling with that quiet, aching sob that feels as if it’s made of pure exhaustion. You want to scream, but you can’t. You can’t even look at him as the silence presses down on you, suffocating

Alastor's sharp gaze softens as he watches you. He’s used to control, used to being the one in command of every situation, but this—this is different. Your fragile, broken sobs cut through his practiced exterior, and the smallest flicker of something unrecognizable crosses his face.

His body is torn between wanting to comfort you and not knowing how to offer it without making everything worse. His voice, when it comes, is low and almost strained, as if he's fighting the instinct to raise it—something he’s done to keep his own emotions at bay.

"Y/N..." The name falls from his lips like a whisper, the sharp edges of his usual tone dulled, softened by something far more human. He reaches out, but hesitates, his fingers just shy of brushing your shoulder. He doesn't touch you, but his presence looms—close, suffocating in its weight. "I didn’t mean for it to be like this." His voice cracks slightly, a faint tremor you wouldn’t normally hear. "I’m… sorry. For what it’s worth."  He’s not used to offering comfort—it feels foreign to him—but the sight of you like this, unraveling in front of him, tugs at something deep inside him. 

“Please don’t be..I’m not. I regret so many things.. but I can’t force myself to truly regret those actions, and yet their memory haunts me.” You whisper as tears well in your eyes once more. The weight of your confession hung heavily above your head, threatening to crush what was left of your fragmented heart. You let out the yawn you had been holding in, revealing your tired state.

“Perhaps it’s best to try and get some rest” He softly laughs out, lifting you from his lap and placing you onto the bed. As he stands, his eyes can’t help but linger within your own. A few moments pass as you each have the first true chance to observe how vastly you both have changed. His hair still held the same wave it used to, flopping delicately around his face. The curled strands framed each expression that wandered onto his face in a deep softness unlike any you had encountered before. His smile, however, was nothing more than a diaphanous veil. His eyes drenched the rest of his face in a somber sodden mask. His eyes drifted to the ground as he turned to walk out the door. 

“Wait” Your voice is small as you grasp onto the cuff of his sleeve. “Please don’t go” His eyes bore into yours, his soul reflecting the love he held for you through the crimson-boarded windows of his eyes. His smile was soft and genuine, like those he used to give you so often in your time on earth. He ponders this proposition for a moment before he lets out a small breathy laugh.

“Of course mon coeur.. I  promise I will stay as long as you wish me to” He took your hand in his squeezing it lightly. 

“However, you may not remember this whole ordeal in the morning as well as you do now. Considering our previous argument, I think it’s best I maintain a small bit of distance to not worry your sobered self in the morning.” He whispers placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. He sat himself within the slightly tattered scarlet chair that was placed next to the bed. 

“M’kay” you murmured out sleepily. The exhaustion of the night had finally begun to enrapture your form as you tucked yourself under the covers. Before you could protest, your eyes began to droop into a more peaceful slumber. 

Alastor kept his promise, he remained perched in the armchair beside your bed throughout the night. His hand found itself placed against your back. He began to trace the lines of your history together into your skin, as his thoughts started to shift to the past. 

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

1929: The bookstore next to Rosie’s shop.

(shush they’re alive at the same time on the grounds of I SAID SO also Rosie's Dialogue is pink in this segment!)

Alastor’s legs carried him to the bookstore faster than he could commit to telling them no. The shop was their secret meeting space, it offered the close comfort of a good book and the privacy Rosie’s store could never offer. Rosie was a slender woman who despite her youthful age and progressive spirit, was a ghost of his past. They had grown up together, she had watched the disillusioned spirit of his youth rot in tandem with her own. With each passing year, their golden facades had been tarnished, corroded by the cruel hands of experience. Their connection flickered with the dimming light of nostalgia and the glow of understanding.

 If he was conflicted, there was no reality in which he wouldn’t rush to her opinions and overwhelming honesty, and boy was he conflicted. The object of this confusion was none other than you. Something about your presence seemed to reverse the rot in his heart. It made him softer in ways he didn’t truly understand. He would cancel every meeting and appointment within his schedule if it meant he could spend another few moments with you. On some level, this was normal. He had always held a drastic level of care for you, but through the years it had begun to shift to something more. 

He twirled a small golden ring in his fingers each movement dancing within the fabric of his coat pocket. It was almost as if the ring had begun to solder itself to his skin, constantly conducting the electricity of the desire and love that coursed through his veins. He would tell himself the only reason he had bothered to purchase such a thing was a drunken mistake. He had drunk a bit too much on one of your dates years ago, and had purchased it on a whim…that was all, or at least that’s all it could be. It was unrealistic to think something along those lines would work out between you two. Yet, he still kept the damned thing in his pocket, maybe you would mention marriage in passing, and maybe that would be enough to lift the ring from his hand and place it onto your own. 

He knew thoughts like that were silly and unprecedented. Marriage could never be the result of his feelings, it would make them too real. He couldn’t seem to get rid of them, no matter how deeply he knew it would benefit you. If he did marry you, there was no reality in which you would not discover the horrors of his secret life. He had always been selfish on some level, but in this situation, it would never feel right. He could never hurt you.

 His conflict had driven him to Rosie’s doorstep and promptly next door to the bookstore. If anyone would know how to deal with this, it would be her. She knew you both evenly, naturally her perspective would hold some merit. He had brought you to one of his weekly lunches with Rosie a few years prior after you mentioned an interest in meeting his other friends. The two of you were practically attached at the hip from the moment he introduced you. If anyone would know how he should proceed, it would be Rosie. She was far more trustworthy than most gave her credit for, he wouldn’t have to worry that she would tell you his thoughts like he would if he had spoken with Mimsy or one of your friends.

The bookshop was quaint, filled with antique furnishings and the scent of aging paper and well-weathered leather. Dust dances lazily in the golden beams of the sunlit window behind him. Alastor sat restlessly in the reading nook anxiously fiddling with his hands as Rosie browsed the books in the store’s eclectic collection. She kept a subtle distance as she knew he would have an easier time with honesty if he did not have to meet it face to face. He kept his eyes trained on the floor as he rattled on about his dilemma.

“She’s my Terpsichore Rosie…She could command me to drown myself with her song and it wouldn’t have mattered because I would have already done it anyway…Everything about her just entrances me. That’s dangerous…I’m dangerous. I can’t involve her with something that could bring her harm..especially if I would be its catalyst… I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself from her. Perhaps I need to remove myself from her company for the safety of-“ 

She cut him off turning abruptly, as she placed the book in her hands back on the shelf.

“Alastor- Darling you should do anything but. You can’t be so caught up in the past that you miss your future”. She sat next to him on the aging loveseat. Her eyes did not meet his, instead, they remained focused on the world behind them through the window.

“Rosie I don’t think you fully understand my “tendencies” He murmured, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He nervously twisted the ring in his pocket, a silent reminder of the question that begged to burn into reality. 

“I know all about the little stunts you pull darling. I just think you’re giving them too much power over you” She replied gently, shrugging her shoulders. “Y/n is a wonderful girl, she is the kindest and most understanding person I’ve ever met this side of the city. Don’t let the right person slip away because you are determined to make it the wrong time. If you don’t want to hurt her, then don’t hurt her. It’s that simple. Even if you are “dangerous” then make the choice not to be for her, she is worth it.” She said firmly, her words embalmed with conviction. She gingerly placed her hand onto his shoulder in silent support of his uncertainty. 

“I hadn’t thought about it that way” He mumbled, mulling over her words. As he thought on this, the tension in his body began to dissipate. He took a deep breath, finally able to release the weight he had packed so heavily onto his shoulders. 

“Of course, you hadn’t-“ She giggled, getting back up to fetch her book. She flipped through its pages as she spoke.“What better place to protect her from so-called “dangerous things” than from by her side? You might consider yourself to be dangerous, but there are people in this city that could do far worse to her.” Her words were nonchalant but their meaning resonated within his mind with great urgency. 

“I need to see her” Alastor declared. The surge of desperation in his voice was almost palpable. His heart pounded harsher than it ever had before at the intensity. He flew from his seat and rushed towards the door. 

Before he could leave, Rosie called his name dragging his attention back to his current location. “Oh one more thing, Alastor?” Rosie spoke plainly with a hint of malice tucked in her tonality. 

“Hm?” He hummed, confused as to what she could possibly want at a moment like this. 

“I swear to god if you harm a hair on that sweet girl’s head you’ll end up worse off than your victims” She smiled fiercely, and he returned it. He hurriedly closed the door behind him with a soft thud, the bell on top of it reverberating within the space. He had no intention of letting any harm come your way, especially not of his own volition. Tonight would be the night he finally allowed himself to fully care for you without his own self-determined repercussions. 

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

You let out a soft hum in your sleep snuggling deeper within the sheets. He glanced back at your sleeping form, your softened breaths filling his ears as his heart tinged once more in his eternal regret. He brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear, and for the first time in decades, his plastered-on smile truly felt real. In that moment he had allowed his soul to fully tie itself to your own.  Even if you would never accept his apologies, he was going to love you until his body betrayed its physical form and faded to dust, and if it were possible he would love you long after. He would revert hell to nothing more than ashes and rebuild it in your image even if you could not bear the sweetened saccharine of his words or the touch of his hand…He would suffer through any despicable action just as long as it granted you a fraction of happiness.

It didn’t matter if forgiveness was within the cards, even if it meant bargaining his soul, he would help you get your own back. 

so y e a h that happened! uh that was lowkey kinda garbo but yk what im back upon my bullshit so y u h its fine (the sad part on a personal level is that 95% percent of this was already done i just had to add like 5-10 action lines and a couple of descriptions here and there-)

[jxtina-86]

The Request

Part of the Roman/Katherine series. Started writing this ages ago and finally finished it after many, many attempts and changes.

Thank you to @thesamoanqueen for being the best sounding board the other day. And for digging out the photo.

Songs referenced:

Skunk Anansie 'Weak' Lethal Bizzle 'Fester Skank' Remix Ft. Stormzy, Chip, Fuse ODG & Wretch 32

Warning: Sexual content

Rating: MA

Likes/reblogs/comments always welcome...

****

As he enters the apartment, Roman can hear the faint beat of music coming from beyond the lounge. He shifts his suitcase into its usual space by the door and slides his backpack to the floor. 

"Kat?" he calls out. But there's no reply from wherever she is.

Heading towards the kitchen, he opens the refrigerator and then closes it when he says the open bottle of red wine and an empty glass on the kitchen counter. He takes the invitation and pours himself a glass before taking it, and the bottle, in search of Katherine. He follows the sound of the music, passing the room she uses as an office. The door is open - her laptop glows softly in the dimness. He can see an open document on the screen and the remains of a late snack on the desk.

He continues towards the music and nudges open the half-closed door to Katherine's bedroom. It's empty, but there's a path of discarded clothes that must have been hastily removed leading him to the bathroom and from within, he can now make out the music - and her voice.

Weak as I am Am I too much for you? 

He crosses the room as quietly as he can, but there isn't any need as she's too wrapped up in the song to notice anything else. He pauses at the bathroom door and slowly eases it open.

The smell of oranges hits him, a scent he's all too familiar with from pressing his face against her neck, breasts, stomach, thighs. Fuck, he's missed her. Leaning against the doorframe, he breathes in both the smell and sight of her at last.

The bath is luxuriously deep and he can see her sunken in its depths, only the top of her head and hands visible. It takes all his strength not to join her - not yet anyway. So instead, he watches her hand twist in the air to the beat of the music whilst the other cradles a half-drunk glass of wine.

The song fades into another and he chuckles to himself - her playlist choices are certainly eclectic. As he discovered a few months ago when she picked him up from the airport one evening, her playlist can flow from 90s rock to hip-hop to ballads to pop in the blink of an eye and it seems her bath time soundtrack is no different. He shakes his head in amusement as Katherine shifts in the bath, her head nodding along with the beat as her voice picks up the lyrics.

He takes a swig of wine, enjoying watching her uninhibited. He rarely gets an opportunity to see her unaware of his presence. Usually, when he arrives back, she's opening the door before he's even up the stairs and they are wrapped up in each other for the rest of the night and the few days they have together. He half-wonders why tonight is different, but at the same time, he's happy to watch and observe for a few moments longer.

Katherine raises her glass, swirling the contents for a moment before she decides to drain the remains. Her head rolls back against the edge of the bath for a second as she nods along to the beat, biting her lip, before she smirks to herself, the lyrics to the song spilling from her mouth with ease.

Tryna stand her ground, make her knees cave in  That ring says she must be married  When I was banging her to Drake, she said "trust mi daddy" 

A hand slips over hers and she shrieks. "FUCK!"

The bath water threatens to cascade onto the floor as her eyes flash open and she sees Roman looming over her.

He chuckles, unabashed. "Sorry, sorry." He slips the glass from her grip with ease and refills it for her.

Katherine takes a shaky breath, her heart still doing double-time from the shock. She leans over the bath and finds her phone to hit pause on the playlist. Straightening, she accepts the now full glass of wine back from him. "How long have you been stood there?"

"A few minutes," he grins. "You were in your own little world and I didn't want to interrupt."

He settles against the vanity, placing the bottle next to him and taking a sip from his glass. She takes a longer drink, her eyes not moving from him as she takes in his trademark dark sweats, the beanie, the hood pulled up over his head - his usual travel get-up. Whilst she fully appreciates how damn fine he looks when suited and booted, there is just something even more delicious about him in casual gear.

She catches his eyes drift from her face briefly and they darken as they flicker over her body only half-shielded by the bubbles in the bath.

"You wanna join me?" she asks, bending her legs to show there’s room for him. "It's still warm…"

She barely gets the words out before he reaches for the back of his hoodie and tugs it up and over his head. The beanie comes with it, exposing the thick knot of hair at the base of his neck. She laughs as within quick succession, his sneakers are kicked off and his pants are pushed to the floor.

Katherine drops her head to one side, taking in his height and breadth - a sight that she hasn't seen in person for almost a month. She bites her lip as her eyes drift down his body and she catches a glimpse of something else she's also missed. The video calls and photos she's received from him, really do not do him any justice, she thinks with a smirk.

As he steps into the bath, she scoots back to make room for him but it's a pointless move as the second he's sat opposite her, he's reaching for her. Pulling her upright, he brushes a loose tendril of hair from her cheek and then cups the back of her neck as he pulls her closer for a kiss. She sighs against his lips, her hand sliding over his shoulder.

"Fuck, I've missed you," Roman hears himself murmur as he pulls back at last.

"I missed you too," she replies, her fingers brushing over his beard.

As she shifts back into her previous spot, Roman's hand slips under the water. He finds a foot and tugs it up onto his chest, his large hand holding it firm as his thumb presses into the sole in slow, deep circles. He watches Katherine's eyes close for a second, her head dropping back against the edge of the bath.

"I didn't mean to still be in the bath," she murmurs, her eyes still closed.

"Do you see me complaining?" He lets go of her foot, but it continues to rest on his chest as he reaches into the water for the other. He works the flesh slowly, watching her features relax.

She nods. “I lost track of time.”

“The same work in progress you mentioned the other day?”

She nods again, opening her eyes to look at him. “It’s not as forthcoming as I’d like.”

“Well, I’m here for inspiration,” he winks at her.

“You might regret saying that.”

“I’ve never regretted fucking you, baby girl.”

She chuckles. “Are you serious?”

“About what? Fucking you? Deadly serious,” he grins.

“No. What you said about being here for inspiration.” She eyes him carefully. “Because I could do with that.”

“I’m here, ready and waiting,” Roman replies, dropping his voice an octave lower and smirking as he sees her eyes darken. “What d’you need, baby girl?”

She chews her lip. “What’s the freakiest thing you’ve ever done?”

“Excuse me?” He chuckles. “That’s what you need? My past escapades?”

She pouts. “I’ll tell you mine.”

“And will that be something you’ve written about or…” he grins as she pokes him in the chest with her toe. “Alright, alright.” He scrapes a hand over his face. “I mean, how freaky do you want?”

“You tell me.”

He eyes her carefully as he licks his lips debating whether to tell the truth or hold back. He buys time by reaching for his wine glass, but something about her eyes makes him opt for the former. “I… I had a threesome.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Now that I wouldn’t have guessed. Two women?”

He has the good grace to blush. “Okay, I’ve had two threesomes. Once with two chicks. Once with a chick and another guy.”

“Interesting.”

“Is this some kind of test?”

“I love how you ask that after telling me,” she chuckles. “No, it’s not. I’m just trying to work out the baseline.”

“For what?”

“I gave a blowjob in the back of a cab.”

Roman almost chokes on a sip of wine at this revelation and Kat grins over the rim of her glass. “Okay, c’mon, tell me. Why are you asking about this? A baseline for what?”

“I want you to do something for me.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just holds her gaze, willing her to spill the beans.

“I want to explore something,” she continues and he can sense the slight hesitation despite of what they’ve just shared with each other. “And I just wanted to work out whether you’d think I was crossing a line.”

“You’re worried you’re gonna corrupt me?” 

“More that you’d think I was a freak.”

“Not a chance.”

She chews her lip. “Okay.”

He slides his hand gently over her foot once again as he drains his glass. “Tell me.”

She takes a deep breath, her eyes closing for a second, steadying herself before she opens them and holds his gaze as she speaks. “I want to not be in control.”

“Not in control of…” He’s already putting two and two together but he wants to hear her say it.

“I want you to control exactly when and how I can cum.”

“Like tease you?”

“More than that.”

“Edging?”

“Yes and more.”

“You want me to stop completely just before you cum?”

She nods. “My new character. She meets this guy. It’s what he does. And as much as I can do it myself-”

“That I’d like to see,” Roman grins and she rolls her eyes.

“Please?”

Without breaking eye contact, he drops his arm over the bath to place the wine glass back on the floor. With both hands free, he lets them slide over her feet and legs to slip under the water. Her thighs tense at his touch, her eyes widening slightly.

“I think that,” he murmurs, “will be a word you’ll be saying a lot then.”

She stares at him. “You’ll do it?”

“There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you.”

The words hang in the air for a second longer than feels comfortable.

“Ro…” she breathes.

“I mean it. And not just this,” he says quietly.

“That… that means a lot,” she replies softly.

A silence blossoms between them, Roman’s hands still resting on the curve of her thighs, fingers splayed out across her skin. He wonders if he’s ruined the sexual tension that had arisen from her request, but as he swallows and then licks his lips, he sees her eyes flicker to his mouth. He lets his hands sink further up her thighs, easing them apart.

“Tell me how you did it to yourself.”

She blinks at him. “I… I just touched myself and then stopped.”

“What did it feel like?”

She sighs, her read rolling back on the lip of the bath. “Tortorous.”

He chuckles. “How many times?”

“A few…”

“And did you cum?”

She nods.

“How did it feel?”

“Amazing,” she breathes.

“I wasn’t joking when I said I wanted to see that,” he murmurs.

“Pervert,” she smirks.

“Your idea,” he replies. “You know this is gonna be as hard for me as it is for you?”

“How’d you figure that?”

“Making you cum is one of my favourite things,” he groans in mock-agony.

“I’d have thought all of this would play into your dominant side,” she cocks her head to one side.

He licks his lips, daring her to look at them. “Perhaps.”

“See,” she breathes. “You can’t help yourself.”

“I mean… The thought of you begging me… it is pretty fuckin’ delicious.”

She bites her lip. “What about the opposite?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“One idea,” she confesses. “Was that in the book, he tells her that if she makes a sound, he’ll stop.”

“Any other ideas?”

“Plenty,” she grins. And then she’s slipping from his grasp and standing. “C’mon, we gotta eat.”

He slides forward, hands on her legs, curling around to grip the back of her thighs, fingers brushing the curve of her ass. He stares up at her and then slowly drags his gaze down her body to his eye-level. He tips his head to the side and then looks back up at her with a glint in his eye.

“Behave,” she grins as she pushes his hands away and then steps out of the bath. Reaching for a towel, she hears the water splash and then a hand on her wrist, pulling her back.

His chest is solid behind her, hands sliding to her hips as he pulls her firmly against him, moving her so they’re both in view of the mirror above the vanity. Heat burns in the pit of her stomach as she watches him drop feather-light kisses to her shoulder. His hands slide over her stomach, up to her breasts and she inhales sharply as he cups them, his thumb and forefinger rolling her nipples until they tighten.

“Food can wait,” he murmurs against her throat, in between soft kisses.

“Ro…” she twists her head in an attempt to catch his lips.

Long fingers grip her chin, turning her head back to face the mirror.

“You said you had plenty of ideas.” His voice is dangerously low. “Well, so have I.”

She lets out of a soft whine as he raises his head and meets her gaze in the mirror.

“Starting with this.”

His hand slides over her stomach, whilst his foot nudges hers wider.

“If you look away or even close your eyes… I’ll stop.”

She nods, a shaky breath escaping her. His hand grazes her inner thigh and he smirks as he feels her body tense and her eyes close for a split second. He stills his hand and she whimpers softly as she holds his gaze again.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he breathes, his fingers finding her wet and warm. “Good girl…”

Fin.

Yes, I'm a tease. Sorry...

[in-death-we-fall]

Murderdolls

Love at First Sight

Metal Edge 48-11, March 2003

By Roger Lotring Photos By Eddie Malluk

(google drive link) Slipknot interview here – Stone Sour interview here

There are probably less than two hundred people at the Webster Theater. It’s Tuesday night in Hartford, CT, and the Murderdolls are in town to tutor a whole new generation on the fundamentalism of real rock ‘n’ roll. Without the vacant hype of Madison Avenue trendiness, their renascent timelessness is lost so far on the youth of a nation. But that’s about to change. They seize the stage with an adrenaline overdose that probably hasn’t happened since Mötley Crüe first molested Hollywood’s Sunset Strip over twenty years ago. The Murderdolls are glorious rock ‘n’ roll sluts in a manner desperately lost from contemporary music, and definitely lost on those two standoffish fuckers provoking the band with drunken taunting. Vocalist Wednesday 13 swings around to leap to the edge of the stage, leaning forward to dare them with confrontation. But they don’t respond—They can’t, even if they had the balls, because the kids are right in their faces. That pissed-off look in those kids’ eyes, their vehement willingness to defend their band, it’s a defining moment that marks this band as something special. For those couple hundred kids here in Hartford on a Tuesday night, they believe in the Murderdolls. Love at first fright, indeed, and it’s only a matter of time before the word spreads.

“There’s nothing better than that first time seeing a band,” enthuses guitarist Joey Jordison, recalling his own formative rock ‘n’ roll indulgences. “It’s so special, when no one else knew who the fuck they were, and they were your fucking band.” The impact of his influences–and those of the whole band, really—are just as prevalent today as they were back then. It’s obvious as the band prepares for the show with their battle cry of KISS Alive II shaking the dressing room walls. KISS, Alice Cooper, Hanoi Rocks, Twisted Sister—That is the essence of the Murderdolls. “We wanted him to come out and do ‘Twist My Sister’ with us,” guitarist Acey Slade says of Dee Snider, disappointed that he is no longer broadcast on Radio 104 WMRQ in Hartford.

Metal Edge sat down with Joey, Wednesday and Acey to discuss the Murderdolls. And while the conversation touched on numerous topics including their Beyond The Valley Of The Murderdolls debut, touring Europe, and drummer The Ghoul’s exhibitionism with two women in a crowded Japanese bar, at the heart of it were rock ‘n’ roll fans sharing their obsession with a sound that the Murderdolls are single-handedly determined to resurrect.

METAL EDGE: Where does a band like the Murderdolls fit within contemporary hard rock? Or is it more important to go against the grain of popularity? JOEY JORDISON: That was our point, exactly what you just said. The whole thing was–especially with me coming out of Slipknot—I did not want to do anything even remotely where music is right now. I wanted to come out completely different, and just create music that’s a little bit more fun, because everything right now is stagnant and stale. I think, really, the nu metal scene, where hard rock is right now, is almost like a dead scene. We wanted to be completely removed, as far as possible, from all that stuff. WEDNESDAY 13: It wasn’t that hard, either, because we really didn’t have to try. We just wrote the songs, recorded them, and didn’t think about anything outside the studio. JJ: What he was doing in the Frankenstein Drag Queens was pretty much a lot of what we’re doing now. Wednesday was one of the only people I saw in the underground scene that was doing what I was doing. That’s cool, because he doesn’t know about many bands that are out right now and really big—All that stuff that Slipknot gets lumped into.

ME: Joey, being the writer, producer, and principal musician on Beyond The Valley Of The Murderdolls, was it hard to be objective toward the songs? JJ: I was having a hard time, like is this even worth putting out or not? That’s why I wanted to get a songwriting partner. I really liked Wednesday’s voice, and the way he looked. His songs were very similar to what I was doing, but had a little darker feel to ‘em, and the sense of humor was a little bit more tongue-in-cheek. If I was not sure on something, he'd give me an opinion. If he wasn't sure on something, I'd give him my opinion. It made it a lot easier for the recording process, for sure.

ME: What's the most surprising reaction so far to the Murderdolls? What have you seen that you just kind of stepped back and said, "I don't believe I just saw that?" W13: We got a human heart given to us by a girl who had all our names carved into her arm—Even the band name. But, with me, she told me, "Well, I couldn't write your whole name, so I put a 'W' and a '13'." JJ: She's like, "I want to give you my heart, 'cause my heart belongs to the Murderdolls. Hold onto it safe, "cause I might need it back someday." And it had a picture of her and me with it in a fucking jar… W13: Floating around in the formaldehyde.

ME: To what degree has there been any moral backlash as a result of misinterpretation of your lyrics? ACEY SLADE: When we were in Germany, there was a Christian group that went around and put Show Cancelled (sic) over the top of our posters, so people won't (sic) show up for the show. I saw the shit [written] in German, and I was like, "Sold out! Right on, that means sold out!" They're like, "No, Show Cancelled (sic)." [Laughter] W13: But nothing really, really good has happened, though. We're still waiting… And hoping, keeping our fingers crossed. [Laughter]

ME: Do you think that will eventually happen? JJ: Most of that backlash stuff is an American thing. Over in Europe—actually, anywhere besides America—is way more open to the fun aspect. They see the humor in what we're doing, especially the U.K. Their type of humor kind of goes along hand-in-hand with our type of lyrics.

ME: It would seem that as far as any controversy, there's been more uproar over the "body snatching,” so to speak, of Acey from Dope. [Acey laughs] It's almost like one of those jokes: How many Dope guitarists does it take to screw in a Murderdolls lightbulb? [Laughter] JJ: Y'know, that's weird, 'cause I liked Dope. I was actually a fan of theirs. I really enjoyed them a lot, [and] thought they were great. And it was never a thing like, "Oh man, I want to get people from that band." I just hit it off well with them. Tripp was a great guy. It just came down to the time when we were going to tour, and he comes up with news that he had to go back to Static-X. Well, that's cool, but he wanted to stay in the band and play some [select] shows. I just didn't want to have a revolving door and confuse the fans. Acey was actually a choice to be in the [pre-Murderdolls] Rejects, as well, just Tripp came into the band first. Me and Acey kept in touch, so the only choice we even considered was Acey. Luckily enough, he came in and did an amazing job. He had like six days rehearsal just before we started our tour. AS: Not even. I came in on a Wednesday or Thursday. We left [the following] Monday. [Laughter] W13: Plus, me and Acey, we used to play in bands together in Philadelphia, before he was in Dope. We knew of each other, so we were into the same kind of music then. I met him back then, then when he was in Dope, I met him again and we started talking. AS: Back in ‘96 or ‘97, we were the only two guys on the East Coast with dreadlocks and eyeliner, so it wasn’t too hard for us to cross paths. So I’ve known him for years and years.

ME: From a musical standpoint, people don’t realize that what the Murderdolls are doing is very fundamental, but it’s a lot harder to learn because there’s a lot of intuitive stuff. AS: The thing is, we all have the same musical roots. For me it was like, “Alright, this part’s kind of like ‘Rock And Roll High School,’ this part’s kind of like Hanoi Rocks’ ‘Mental Beat.’” All three of us have the same point of reference. I think it would probably be a little harder from the nu metal school to come in and learn the stuff, ‘cause it would be so foreign to them.

ME: In a fatalistic kind of way, then, Murderdolls has actually been coming for a long time. JJ: Yeah, there’s been a bunch of links, but it’s not like this was just all of a sudden really formulated. It’s like, everyone knew each other in a weird, different way. We just didn’t all meet as a band until last year. But everyone knew each other through different people.

ME: But isn’t that how it’s theoretically supposed to happen if you’re going to do it right, so it’s not contrived? JJ: Exactly, man. People might think that, all of a sudden, it was just put together really quick, this little project that’s only going to be one album, and that’s it. It’s really not like that.

ME: Media comparisons have been to Mötley Crüe and the Misfits, but there’s so much more going on. Is there a predominant underlying influence behind the Murderdolls that might not be readily apparent? W13: I think we all have our different things. Me, it’s Alice Cooper, totally. And Acey, Hanoi Rocks, and Joey, KISS. I mean, it’s a lot of the same stuff, but I don’t think you can really pinpoint it al.

ME: Similarly, media focus is on Wednesday and Joey—and now Acey, coming from Dope. In all fairness, what do Ben [Graves] and Eric [Griffin] bring to the Murderdolls? AS: Well, first of all, Ben’s not Ben… He’s The Ghoul. [Laughter]

ME: Is that a capital “T” in the word “the”? AS: Yes, The Ghoul. JJ: I had the hardest time finding people that I actually wanted to bring into the band on bass and drums—Especially with drums. It took a really long time, and they just seemed to fit. I can’t really explain, but hey just brought that attitude—I guess the cockiness, in a way. Ben’s like the hardest hitting drummer that I’ve ever seen in my fucking life. He is so fucking loud. W13: I’ve played with some hard-hitting drummers, but he is so loud, and so hard. JJ: And that’s great! I mean, it drives our fucking music.

ME: But you’ve got to have that for this type of music to work. JJ: Exactly! He’s fucking great, man, as far as just slamming it home live. You can feel it. I mean, the energy is amazing that comes off that guy.

ME: Is it harder for him, in the sense that you’re a drummer, and going to be his worst critic? [Laughter] JJ: He’s cool about it. Actually, he doesn’t really even get that nervous. When I was working with him in rehearsal, I did kind of drill him, ya’ know? He did get it worse out of all the guys in the band, for sure. But he just worked his ass off, really, and he pulls it off amazing. W13: And [Eric] brings a lot of hairspray. [Laughter] AS: He brings a lot of hairspray, some good makeup products, and no less thunder. JJ: And tardiness. W13: This guy’s just really got the whole image of the rock ‘n’ roll thing down. AS: It’s kind of funny, how people ask us about the image of the band. To me, if you wake up and look the way you do, then it’s not an image. An image is something that’s formulated and calculated. We don’t have a consultant telling us, “Alright, track suits aren’t in as much as they used to be.” This is just who we are, ya’ know?

ME: But does your look empower you, as far as performing the music? If you think about it, you must feel differently than if you were going onstage wearing sneakers and levis. W13: It definitely turns something on for me when I go onstage. I mean, it definitely helps. It’s like, it turns it on. It’s just a switch.

ME: Being that Joey was responsible for pretty much all the performances on the album, how have the dynamics of these songs changed, now that you’ve got five individuals interpreting them? JJ: The album is really good, [and] I’m very, very proud of it. I think it turned out phenomenal—Actually, better than I expected. It is different, though, much more of a chemistry with the five guys, as opposed to me. Not necessarily completely different, but the vibe of the five different personalities playing some songs.

ME: Almost like the songs taking on a life of their own that they didn’t have before? JJ: Absolutely, yeah. AS: What Joey’s been really cool about is letting it become a chemistry, letting it become the Murderdolls. When I came into it late, I was looking at the CD, going, “Well, Joey played all these guitar parts.” When we sat down in the [rehearsal] room together, I was intimidated! But he was like, “Well, yeah, that’s cool, I like that accent… What do you think?”

ME: So you’ve been able to make your impact on the songs. AS: Yes, but keeping the original continuity. But it’s the same with The Ghoul, or with the other members.

ME: Are the songs continuing to evolve, even after being recorded? Watching you soundcheck “Love At First Fright,” that looked like you just stumbled across something brand new right there. W13: [Laughter] We did! That was the first time we did a different intro.

ME: How different has the reaction been in Europe than here in the United States? W13: We’ve really been touring there a lot, so we’ve built up a thing there—Especially in the U.K., man, it’s just insane. Hundreds and hundreds of kids, and they all look just like us. But we really haven’t worked it here, though, so this is like we’re just starting from the ground up. JJ: But that was kind of what we wanted to do, concentrate on everywhere else in the world first and establish the band. Those people [in Europe] really appreciate when you do that over there. Some bands, like American bands, nu metal bands, wait two years before they even go to Europe. We’re like, fuck that! And it’s already paid off. It’s only now that we are really going to start hitting America.

ME: Does it make it a little more difficult, though, having gotten such a reaction, then coming back to America? You must have known going into it that you are going to be playing to smaller audiences at first. W13: I prepared myself for it. I knew it was going to be hard. I know it’s a lot different, maybe for Joey, who’s in Slipknot. But before this, i was driving ten, twelve hours to play in front of ten people. That’s never going to leave me. I’m always used to that, so I can work an audience, whether it’s ten people, or ten thousand people, it doesn’t really matter. JJ: Doing what I do in the other band that I play in, it’s basically playing in arenas. But it doesn’t matter, man. As long as people appreciate your music, or want to come out and see you, i can still play in front of two people. AS: It’s weird, even though we’ve done dates, i still don’t feel like we’ve done a proper U.S. tour yet. And so, when we do that—probably February—I think all bets are going to be off. It’s gonna be off the hook.

ME: You’re going out with Papa Roach? Or are you going out on your own? JJ: We gotta get a (sic) on a support slot for a band, obviously bigger than us, to take the band out to a little bit wider of an audience. Papa Roach is an option, [and] there’s a couple other things that are in the works.

ME: Do you look forward to the fact that it’s going to be a challenge? If you’re out with a band that isn’t necessarily similar to what you do, you’ve got that challenge of winning over an audience. W13: We did. We did it with Papa Roach in Europe. We toured with them, five, six weeks, [and] every night…

ME: You’re getting the looks on faces, the “What the fuck is that?” look. W13: That’s exactly it. JJ: It was every night. And like, four songs in, they’d be smiling, singing the words, ‘cause our shit’s singalong. It’s so anthemic live, it’s so hard not to get into it. One of the big things about our band is that it’s a fun show. It’s fucking fun again. It’s something that’s been really missing [from music], probably like fifteen years.

ME: From that standpoint, I get it because I remember. But does the 14-year-old kid standing in front of you, wearing the Slipknot shirt get it? JJ: Good question. I think yes, by the end of the set, he does. You don’t have to be a fuckin’ brain surgeon to understand what the fuck we’re doing. But I think that’s what’s great about it. It’s simple, and it’s anthemetic (sic). The lyrics are fucking cool, and it’s not about fucking childhood trauma, or war, politics, or bullshit like that.

[moonlight-rider25]

Evil Temptress

Inspired by S1 e15 Wentworth Prison Wordcount: 2652 Warnings: Adult content, swears, rough sex... This is just Jamie Fraser Smut and that’s about it!

(Jamie is next to hang, next to Taren MacQuarrie…)

You roll beneath your blankets, feeling Jamie shift and twitch around beside you.  You reach over and carefully shake him. “Jamie.” You ask him, trying to pry him from his sleep. “Jamie?!” He shifts beside you, thrashing as the blankets roll beneath him. “Jamie!” You say sitting up in bed shaking him gently.

He jolts awake from his slumber and rolls to face you.  His chest heaving heavily as he finally comes to, you wrap your hand around his damp forehead.   “Jamie, baby.” You try to reassure him; wiping the sweat from his forehead. “What is it?  Another bad dream?”

He huffs and settles, staring back into your familiar safe gentle eyes. The corners of his mouth slowly turn up into a curl of a smirk before he lays back heavily against his damp pillow; “Aye, Sassenach” He says with a heavy sigh. “A bad dream indeed!”

You smile down towards his sweet damp face still patting at him, reassuring he is safe and sound with you. “I told you this would happen when you partake in too much ale.” you tell him wiping the wetness from his forehead as you speak.

He lays still in bed as you cater to him, and you allow a moment of silence to pass before pushing further about the matter.

“What was the dream of this time?” You ask, grasping his hand softly in your own.

He smiles for a brief moment looking towards you. You feel the light touch of his big calloused thumb rubbing back against your soft hand as you do and bite back a smile against his chest. You feel him breath in deeply and bite back your words as you do.

“Ye recall the fellow… Mr. MacQuarrie?...:” His voice trails off against your head, his hands now clasped firmly around your shoulders and his words lingering in your hair. “Of course..” You reply faintly. “...I was to hang with him…” He says with a harsh swallow in his throat. You stir gently and grasp his hand tighter as he squirms against you. “I was up there, in handcuffs with him, to be hanged beside him.”  A heavy exhale escapes his lips as he speaks. “It all felt so real Sassanach….I could feel the weight of the cuffs on my hands, …and the cold air against my face…”  

You squirm against him gently repositioning yourself against him. “Well you’re not.” You tell him reassuringly.  “You’re here, James Fraser, with me…all alone…in this big warm bed..” You feel him stiffen against your warm thigh as you settle back against him. You trace your soft hand up song side his chiseled jaw and allow your finger to linger for a moment at his pursed pink lips.   He takes a sharp inhale, and holds it before peering down submissively into your eyes tearing daggers through him.

You roll slightly towards him and reach your hand up and gently stroke the slight indent on his temple with your thumb. Your other hand tracing the deep impressions of his chiseled chest warm and damp.  He grips your hand and brings it to his lips, you let out a little giggle as you feel him stir beneath the covers. Your hand trails down to his shoulder and you twist yourself over on top of him. Your soft thighs straddle him as you climb on top of him and his eyes shoot you looks of pleasure and suspicion.

“Aye, Sassenach ..” He breathes quietly against you.  “...Safe with a she-devil like yourself… not likely!” He says with a smirk.

You reach down between your thighs and pull his ready member from his trousers, slowly you begin to stroke it up and down in long gentle motions. You watch as Jamie lays back against the pillows and his chest begins to heave at your touch. "You are here James Fraser!" You tell him in a stern voice.  “In the control of the most tempting, desirable and powerful witch..”

He groans happily between clenched teeth under you. "Do you feel that?" You ask him, stroking his rock hard member in your soft little hands.

You pump him up and down watching his breath quicken and his stomach constrict beneath you. His eyes flick shut, unable to answer with the pleasure running through him as he lets out a long low moan. You feel your own heat begin to burn between your legs and inch your wet center closer up against his pulsing cock.  You rock and buck gently against him, still pumping up and down rhymically.

"Feel me James Fraser!?" You ask him louder this time.

You keep stroking up and down quickly watching his high rise in him.  You dig your hand into the soft damp skin on his chest and position yourself better against him, grinding and bucking against him. He lays restless beneath you panting. "Yes.. you rotten fifthly woman!" He groans with a smirk.

You watch as he tries desperately to hold himself back from erupting in the moment. "What does it feel like?" You ask him, trying to push him over his edge. You twist slightly and continue to work his member harder and faster now. He moans loudly before quickly throwing you off him and on to the bed where he was just moments ago. Your breath catches in your throat when his lips meet yours hard and eager. His tongue darts out in your mouth and you accept it eagerly; entwining yours with his as you moan against him and thrust up towards him. Reaching down for his pulsing cock beneath his perfectly sculpted body arched just over you. “Tell me!” you ask in a silky whisper. “What it feels like!”

He hesitates trying to compose himself while you search his eyes for the answer. “It feels like..” He reaches a hand down between the two of you, and you try desperately to lock your thighs closed.  His fingers trapped tightly between your clamped thighs, he smiles and looks up towards your eyes filled with their own dowsing of lust. “...Aye, it feels like the devilish she-witch has a weakness of her own..!” He says in a husky low voice.

You reach down to grasp him and he rolls his hips out of reach.  His hand tangles behind your head, gripping a fist full of hair and he leans against you hard, his tongue scours your mouth, tasting your weakness while his hand digs hard between your thighs.  His huge warm blunt fingertips, inch closer and closer to your aching core. “Jamie!”  You gasp against him.

You feel his smile draw up on his mouth for a moment. His hand pulls your head back from his as you arch up against him, exposing your soft neck to his mouth. He pauses for a moment, his hand resting gently against your wet core. He stares down at you with lust dancing in his eyes; both of you heaving breathlessly, entangled in one another.

You reach your hands up and begin to untie the front of your slip, slowly.  He watches your hands as you pull it apart and expose your bare chest to him.  He tightens his grip in your hair and you moan while he gently pulls your head further into the pillow, exposing more of your soft bare skin to his wanting eyes. You lay still beneath him panting while your core aches, anticipating his next move. His mouth gently captures your neck, sucking softly at the sensitive skin. You groan against his hand and grip yours deep into the sheets; trying to hold out is no longer working in your favor.

You shift slightly beneath him, relaxing your legs and feel his hand graze your wet entrance. You let out a loud moan and thrash as his touch sends shivers up your spine.  He chuckles low against you while peppering kisses along your soft neck and chest, making his way down towards your perky budded nipples. He laps his tongue around them before gently pulling them into his mouth, you moan louder feeling your core burn hotter at his touch. You squirm beneath him, your hands gripping tightly at his long wavy red locks. You feel him hum against you as he gently slips his fingers into your gushing core.   “Fuck Jamie!” You try to bite back your moan and reach desperately for his hard cock pressed against your thigh.

He breaks his latch with your sensitive breast and looks at you, panting and waiting for a moment, his fingers darting in and out of your core as he does. “Have me Jamie,” you moan at him trying to control your squirming. “Tell me what it feels like to be inside of me..”

He swallows hard, his breath pauses for a moment before he casts a devilish smile down at you. “You'd like, that wouldn't ye?” He grunts in his thick Scottish accent. “Ye devilish little witch… I’ve got ye right where I want ye!”

You groan happily as the smile creeps across your face.  He releases his hand from your hair gently, while laying a hungry firm kiss on your mouth as he does. “I’ll give ye what you want, ye sexy temptress…” He sits up, leaning over you, and tears open the front of your nightgown. You let out a low giggle and prop your feet up on the bed, giving him a full view of your slick glimmering entrance.

He sits back pulling his night shirt off him in one swift movement. His chest huffs up and down as he wipes the dampness from his face as he watches your exposed body squirm for him. He crawls towards you, his mouth leaving little teeth impressions from your waist up to your chin. His hard cock pressing gently against your eager awaiting core, his face meets yours and he whispers against your heated neck; “I’ll give ye what you want… but I’ll be taking what I want as well..” He presses the tip of his cock firmly against your slick folds and pushes deep into you, staying there a moment and watching your expression.

You let out a long, held in moan and your eyes lock shut as you finally feel him deep within you. He holds his huge muscular chest above you with one hand, his strong arm muscles slick with sweat; flexing as he pumps himself in and out of you. His other hand comes up and grasps your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he does.

“Ye like that, dontcha’ ye little harlot!” He says as he rams hard into you. His thumb creeps its way into your mouth prying your clenched jaw apart and you suck at his finger. “Is this what you wanted, ye wee devil woman?” He rams inside you with long slow strides. Your core begins to wind and twist with each thrust and your panting turns to labored groans.

“Yes Jamie!” you cry out feeling your walls constrict and about to overflow. You gush against his huge hard cock and twitch beneath him.  He doesn't stop, he picks up his pace, both hands under him as he rocks back and forth against you.  Your body begins to tighten and spiral again. “Take it, ye little witch!” he says, thrusting hard against you.

You groan against him, unable to control the quivering of your body coming undone again so soon.  You grasp desperately at him, but he only thrusts in harder against you.

You moan and buck against him as your climax reaches its peak once again. “Fuck, Jamie!” You scream out. Your words only encourage his movements and he rams one final time as you spill against him. “Yes, ye little Sassenach witch! Cum for me!”

He takes your chin in his hand and brings his lips to yours. You moan against him, still tingling all over. “I know that's not all ye got in ya, Sassenach .”

He pulls himself from your wet aching folds, his hard cock springs up. You groan helplessly against him as he flips you over onto your stomach. You lay there in a ragged heap, Jamie presses himself against your back leaving wet kisses on your shoulder.  He reaches down between your thighs and ass, spreading your legs apart.  He pets carefully at the slick wet mount between your legs, you groan into the pillows. He pulls your head from them while still planting wet kisses on your skin. “Don’t hide those sweet little noises.” He says against your hot skin in a deep whisper.

Your body tingles from all the sensations rushing and being shot through you.  You feel him line himself up with your swollen wet core once again and cry out in pleasure when you feel his hot tip pressed against you again. “...So wet..and tight.. Sassenach..” You let out a moan as he pulls your hips up to him and you curl your legs underneath yourself, making it easier for him to access. “Give me that ass, Sassenach!” You obey and thrust against him, you head down and back arched up towards him.  He thrusts slowly and carefully at first, still making you spill moans as he does.

His hand roughly smacks your asscheek, and grips a handful tightly. “This firm round ass of yours…” he says “...I want to take a bite of it..” You feel his wet teeth sink gently against your asscheek and cry out against the bed.  His hand gently grips a handful of your hair again pulling your head up from the pillows and you arch your back more as he does. “I told ye…I want to hear those, ye little temptress.” You moan out for him “..Fuck me Jamie!” Your voice ragged and squeaky, “Fuck me like the evil little witch I am!”

He begins thrusting hard and fast against you. Your breathing catches up with his as you allow your moans to escape out in the air; he grunts against you as you do.  You feel your stomach tighten for a third time as he thrusts and grinds against your soaking swollen entrance. “I knew you had one more in you..” he moans through clenched teeth.

You feel him pick up his pace and ram sporadically against you.  Your ass jiggling against his thrusts, your moans spill out as you feel yourself stiffen against him.   “Christ , Sassenach!” He moans, “You evil, little witch! Take me!”

He thrusts hard against you, groaning with his own pleasures. You feel your climax building heavier in your stomach and your muscles constricting around him. “I’m gonna…”  He only pounds harder against you, till you feel yourself coming undone yet again, his words taking you right to the edge. “Líon leat teh neamh, leat beag, cailleach!” He cries out with one final thrust.

You pant and buck against him as your climax spills from within your walls. He keeps himself buried deep within you as you both bathe in ecstasy. You roll to your side and he drops next to you, both of you still catching your breath.  You smile shyly at him “...Your dirty little temptress, huh?...” you say with a coy smile. “...I don’t mind being that..” “Aye, I could tell, Sassenach” He replies between breaths.

You scoot closer towards him and wrap his huge arm around you and rest your head against his fast beating chest. He grabs your hand in his and softly strokes your wrist with his big calloused thumb. Your breath comes back to normal as you intertwine your leg with his.  He chuckles and presses a soft kiss on your head.

Your eyes flutter open and shut on the verge of sleep, before you recall something.. “What was it you said?” You ask in a giggle Jamie chuckles for a moment before answering you… “Fill ye to heaven, ye little, witch!”

[seospicybin]

SEOSPICY UPCOMING POST!

THAT SONG: PART I PREVIEW

Han x reader. (s,f,a)

A chapter of On Tour.

Synopsis: Han forms a rock band with a help from you, his muse who is so cynical of love.

Preview under the cut!

...

Han is happy as long as you're around him, just like now. He's sitting with his back against the headboard, a guitar on his lap, and been aimlessly playing it yet you remain unbothered, lying sideways with a hand propped under your head while reading a book, occupying the end of the bed.

Even sharing the silence with you isn't boring, it's comfortable and nice. How can it get boring when he gets to see your beautiful face as much as he wants?

"Babe?" He calls.

You look away from your book, "yeah?"

"Want to hear a song I wrote about you?" He asks with a sly grin.

You exhale and close your book, "Okay, let's hear it."

Han takes a breath and memorizes the chords he's going to play, he begins by placing his fingers on the guitar fret to form the A chord.

He strums and starts singing, "Spinning on that dizzy edge. Kissed her face and kissed her head. Dreamed of all the different ways. I had to make her glow.”

Once he finds the rhythm, he can confidently look at you as he continues singing and playing his guitar.

"'Why are you so far away?' she said. 'Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you, that I'm in love with you?'"

With such agility, his fingers seamlessly change their position based on the chords he's playing on the fret.

"You... Soft and only. You... Lost and lonely."

He smiles as he sings and stares at the expression on your face as you intently listen to him.

"You... Strange as angels. Dancing in the deepest oceans. Twisting in the water."

He raises the note at the end and croons, "You're just like a dream. You're just like a dream."

He aggressively strums the strings to end the song and lifts his guitar in pride.

"It's good, right?" He asks with a subtle eyebrow raise.

You turn and lay on your stomach, not sure if you know that in that position, he can see your cleavage as your breasts almost spill out of your black tank top. He shouldn't be seeing those but it's easy to tell you're not impressed with the song he played.

"Three things," you simply say.

"Go ahead and tell me," he allows you with a hand gesture.

"First, you think I wouldn't know that it's The Cure song?" You ask with a hand under your chin.

He looks up and shrugs, he can't find any reason why you wouldn't know such a widely known band, "Well..."

"Second is I don't like love songs," you share with an apologetic smile.

It hits him just now that he should know you're not a fan of love songs. He agrees with a nod, "Okay, noted. The third?"

"I don't want you to write a love song about me," you say.

"Oh, come on!" He groans in complaint.

"I haven't been dating anyone in a long time and now that I have a girlfriend, I have so much to get off my chest so let me be gooey and cheesy!" He rambles and runs out of breath at the end of the sentence.

"I'm not saying you can't write love songs," you say with a subtle eye roll.

"You want me to write love songs about... someone else?" He asks with confusion.

"Or about something like your faded and worn-out Supreme t-shirt," you answer.

Han can't tell if you're trying to mock him, make fun of him or completely joking, either way, he's feeling offended.

"Can I write a hate song about you then?" He asks.

You scrunch your nose and ask, "A hate song?"

"Yeah like things I hate about you," he says with a sneer.

He picks up his guitar and places it on his lap again, "You know what? I wrote one already just now," he says.

You stifle a laugh and lightly shake your head, "The stage is yours."

Han lies about making a song in his head just now but he starts by strumming his guitar and plays a combination of chords.

"I hate your hair..." he begins, strumming two chords in between as he thinks of another lyric.

"The way it always falls perfectly in place and makes you look like a girl in a shampoo ad," he tries to fit the melody to the chords he's playing.

"Hate it when you fix my grammar and insist that it's pronounced keen-wah instead of queen-noa," he continues while thinking of another thing he hates.

"I know you're right but god please let me be a man with pride."

You dramatically roll your eyes at that one while keep listening to him as he goes through a bridge which is just him playing the same four chords on repeat.

"Hate it, hate it that I'm your boyfriend," he keeps going.

"Now people going to compare us and say you have the prettiest smile," He slips two chords in between, "but that's okay... because I have the bigger brain."

You frown at that one and throw daggers with your eyes, he takes that as his cue to stop with his make-up song and ends it with a slap on the guitar.

"So..." he drags the word as silence hangs in the air, "what do you think?"

You tilt your head to one side and stay quiet for a moment. You rub your temple is never a good sign and he prepares himself for the worst.

Then you suddenly ask, "Want to make out?"

He repeatedly nods like a happy puppy, putting away his guitar as you crawl on the bed towards him. You put your leg over his body and sit on his lap.

You smile as you look down at his face with your hands holding his face, and then you slowly put your lips on his lips, kissing him with fondness.

He no longer hesitates to touch you, he puts his arms under and around you, angling your head so he can kiss you deeper, and when he pulls away from the kiss, he drags his mouth down the column on your neck.

"Han?" You softly call.

He hums and answers your call with a kiss because that's most likely what you're going to ask him which is to kiss you again.

The hand on his chest pushes him away and keeps a few inches between your faces, "I read your journal this morning," You suddenly confess and hurriedly kiss him, knowing that he's going to be mad about it.

It's his turn to push you away with his hands on your shoulders, "You went through my underwear drawer?"

There's a surprised look on your face, "Ew, no. It was lying near the window sill," you say.

It's his habit of forgetting things, where he puts them, and forgets to put them back in its place. He's bad with his memory but the thing is you read it.

"Another thing on the list of things I hate about you," he remarks.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," you sigh.

"I wrote about my most personal things there," he says with his hands resting on your shoulder blades.

"Like how you lost your virginity in the backseat of a car while Radiohead's most depressing song is playing in the car stereo?"

"Exit Music For A Film is not depressing," he defends himself.

"They wrote it for the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack and they didn't even play it in the movie because guess what?"

"It's depressing?"

You nod and put your hands on his chest, it's time to turn the conversation back on track, "No one wants to listen to a song about how you lost your virginity but your other songs are good."

"You should let them out to the world," you say with eyes that sparkle and make his heart leap.

He turns away to not let your charm win him over, "You know how I feel about being a singer, by myself on a stage... it's awkward," he explains.

You turn his head back to look at you, "Okay then let's make a band!" You simply solve.

"Unless you want to join then I don't have anyone who wants to be in a band with me," he says with a defeated sigh.

You turn his head back to face you again, "how about a one-man band?"

"That's even lame. I never heard a successful one-man band," he says with a chagrin.

You put on a shocked face and start to list all the one-man bands you know, "Paul McCartney, Prince, Phil Collins, Bon Iver, Tame Impala, LCD Soundsystem, M83, Sufjan Stevens... and Dave Grohl basically started The Foo Fighters by himself," you finish with a proud smile.

"Dave Grohl and I are different entities, he is in Nirvana and I'm just... me, loser," he gives another explanation that makes him not pursue music.

"Being dramatic again," you sigh and rub your temple again.

He slides his hands down your arms and squeezes your elbows, he understands that you're trying to be supportive of his passion but he's not sure of his talent.

He sees your disappointed face and lifts your chin, "I'm not that good," he says.

You don't even try to deny him, probably have enough of doing it for him.

"And I'm still mad about you reading my journal," he says with a pout.

You put your hands around his neck and draw him close, "How about I give you head to make up for it?"

That gets him hot and bothered in a second, he plays it cool as if your words didn't affect him at all.

"Well, if you insist," he says.

You chuckle and kiss him, continuing the make-out session that is put to a halt by an argument. Your hand swiftly works open his jeans and slips inside, palming his hardening member with your hand.

"I'll make you forget that you were mad at me," you whisper before kissing him down his chest and pulling his jeans down to let his cock out of its confine.

...

Full fic will be posted tomorrow!

[blacksupremacy86]

The New Man Of The House - Universe

In honor of my 3,000 followers as of yesterday

Why is it after I finally get my shit together in life it’s in a newly created neighborhood of a certain style like never existed before in this world.

The head of this neighborhood lives in the center of the area proudly dressed in a tight two piece suit, dress shirt, and black shiny shoes to boot.

Patrick is his name the head of this inventive neighborhood invites me over for a welcome drink and i cross the street knocking on his door he opens it.

I enter the hallway as the door shuts close in my face I feel a shift in the air and he offers me a drink glass cup of ice tea taking a sip between his lips.

He tells me I can take a seat in the living room which I do, I snap my finger in a whiff of his scent, and I notice him return to the room.

I am pretty evil at the moment checking all of the corners he sits down, I manage to dig out a new blend of Hypno drops I pour a few in my hand.

His toaster oven goes off alerting him to take out the goodness of dinner he prepares

for us happily I pop the fork off dropping in a few pills.

I twist the cork closer tightening it removing it into my palms and then shaking it up in the air as the alcoholic beverages mixes

all together.

He returns to my side sliding in the seat next to him he sighs heavily with dirty and super withering hands grabbing the bottle then he flips the top off.

The bottle lifts curling in between his lips as they close around it taking a sip of the drink I can see it burn down his throat I can see it get to work.

Narrowing, constricting and releasing all in one go downing it there is a buzzing reality type of situation causing his body going in to a state of shock.

He froze instinctively by a short, small and an odd stimulating response touching him to the side and I laugh waving I hand in his face.

My hand moves faster like the wind tapping his tiny head hitting him on impact as he fell back into the couch and I shut down the house.

The window blinds drop, doors lock and the window shut throughout the house leaving us utter alone the place is so dark but perfect.

I walk into the kitchen taking the well done meat, finish the rice and completed the rest of the meal and I let the aroma fills through the home.

I notice upon my return Patrick is awoken in heat from his deep slumber his clothes are spread onto every surface and he his drunk off his ass.

Music on playing loudly, dancing and blindly singing his next rock and roll song jumping up and down as he slid across the floor in his underwear.

He does some more dancing smiling at me he can’t believe it the smell of such delicious food hits his nose thralling his senses I hand him a bottle.

“What you don’t know mother fucker.”

“Mwahahahahaha…mother fucker”

“I need you to do me a favor “

“Use all of these seasoning”

“On every inch of your food”

“Only the food on your plate”

“Yyyeeesss! Whatever you wish!”

“I won’t displease you “

“Hurry your ass up”

“Stand still bitch”

“My hand is about to have a adventure “

“We can eat after “

“All I deserve is you “

“All I need to give me nutrients “

“Is me?”

“You are hilarious “

“Hardly”

“I am your maker”

Daddy is no longer home I think that is very clear to me I think as he gobbles down his dinner.

J let him continue to surprise me once more in a frantic motion he falls to his knees in awe of me.

He belts a toon reaching for a remote to use like a microphone singing in repeat a whole a cd worth of songs.

A minute ago he would look at me with a lot disgusting facial expression on his face in an overwhelming feat.

His body slips in between my legs rubbing my knees down my legs to under his feet and he inhales it.

He sucks my toes up along with kissing and licking them up in every inch and crevice of it.

“What the fuck?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh! Hey son”

“That’s all you have to say”

“Explanation now”

“Charlie help him”

“Fine!”

“Get over here”

“Dad! Why?”

“Ssssshhhhh! Relax”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Did I do well sir?”

Apparently he mixed a few of the pills and the seasoning in advance to make a nice serum concoction.

The needle digs injecting under his skin in a state of bliss he is instantly dropping into a deep sleep.

Eyes falling back into his eye sockets they closes causing his body to fully collapse in his arms.

“Oh Master! He is ready”

“Stuff his face full”

“Yes Sire”

“Chew it up bitch”

“Yyyyuuuummmm”

“Fucker”

“Master the army brat walks in”

“My brother”

“You two”

“Hide behind the door”

“Hello Henry!”

“Stand down I have a gun”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Guys make use of him”

“Dad hold him”

“What are you two doing ?”

“You smell good kiddo”

“That’s gay Dad”

“Wow! I raised a weakling”

“More like a bitch”

“I am not either! Let me go”

“This won’t hurt then”

“NO STOP!”

“Uuuugggghhh…uuuughhh….ooooohhhh….aaahhhh”

“Hey bro!”

“What are you doing here?”

“Why should I not be?”

“It’s my work”

“Fuck that!”

“Shut up and kneel”

“Bro!”

“I said kneel”

“Inject me”

“Hold him”

“Bro’s stop”

“ZIP IT!”

“Aaaaahhhhhh!”

“That hurts”

“Grow a pair”

“Bastard”

“Nighty night”

“Sleepy time”

The end

[deliasbabe]

Take Me Back To Eden- Venable x Reader- Chapter 1

I feel bad that I haven't given you updates to my other stories, so here's the first chapter to a fic I've been working on for over a year (it's going to be like 35 chapters long, so bear with me plz).

(Also I know this is my second fic with this song title, let me have it)

Enjoy!

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: Mentions of sexual acts, language, blatant misogony, mentions of drugs and drug use. I think that's it????

You should’ve won.

It was a bet, a stupid bet to make your coworkers shut the fuck up about your boss. You were good at pool, you thought you had it in the bag, and you did, right up until your opponent bumped the table during your shot, and you sunk the 8-ball. You accused him of cheating, he accused you of being too much of a pussy to hold up your end of the bargain. A deal’s a deal.

It was some kind of twisted fate that the object of your disagreement would walk through the door only a few moments later, a scowl on her face as she spotted you all, brushing past the lot of you and sitting down at the bar.

“Look who it is.” Your coworker, Nate, laughed, “Time to pony up, princess”

You rolled your eyes, “This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“For you or her?” Another, Scott, asked.

“You haven’t been on the receiving end of Venable’s wrath yet,” Nate said, “But you’re about to.”

“Not likely.” You sneered, “I’m not stupid enough to code the firmware update in java instead of python, unlike some people.”

“I was a rookie.” Nate scoffed, “You’ve made it two years without being on the receiving end, it’s time you get baptized.”

You could hear the murmurs of the other men, a quiet chant.

One of us, one of us…

“Maybe because I’m actually competent.” You fired back.

“Well, competent or not, nothing is going to save you from this.” Scott chuckled, “Might as well rip off the band aid and get’er done.”

Oh yeah, you were definitely about to be fired.

“Who knows, maybe she’s really into the bosses sleeping with their assistant’s thing. Might feed her fantasy.” Nate joked.

“Or yours.” You spit.

“Listen, as hot as lesbians are, if I ever start fantasizing about Venable getting her rocks off, please shoot me in the head.” Nate said seriously.

You downed your drink and turned on your heel, willing to do just about anything to get away from the current conversation. You knew what you had signed up for when you took this job, a staff of 95% men, all of whom hadn’t fucked a girl in at least 10 years and were proud members of the boy’s club, but you still didn’t want to subject yourself to their blatant misogyny any more than you had to.

Obviously, you weren’t going to do it. It was cruel and unnecessary, but you knew your colleagues well enough to understand that it had to at least be believable. You walked up next to her, making sure you were facing the group so they couldn’t see her face.

The bartender looked over at you, “Another round?”

“Yea, same thing.” You said, nodding in Venables direction, “And put whatever she’s having on my tab.”

Venable turned and glared at you, but you ignored it.

“Just this round?” The bartender asked.

“All of it.” You said, shaking your head, it was the least you could do after what you were about to put her through.

“Well, I guess it’s payment for forcing me to witness you traipsing around with those men like a whore.” Venable sneered.

“That’s a funny way of saying thank you.” You laughed, “There’s nothing wrong with grabbing a few drinks with colleagues. You should try it sometime.”

Venable scoffed, bringing her martini to her lips, “Workplace relationships are forbidden.”

You smirked, “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not into men.”

Venable sputtered around the rim of her glass; eyes wide as she choked on the burning liquid. You reached for your new drink, taking a sip as you winked at her and walked away.

“What happened?” Nate asked, “It sure didn’t take long.”

“Nothing, yet.” You said, “I walked away before she could give me an answer.”

“But the dare…” Scott interjected, but you were quick to cut him off.

“The dare was to ask her on a date, which I did.” You retorted, “No one said anything about her giving me an answer.”

“But she has to give you an answer, that’s how this works.” Nate said, and you shushed him.

“Cool your jets.” You groaned, “Getting someone to agree to a date is more like a game of chess than checkers. Good things take time.”

Nate and Scott laughed, “You are so getting fired on Monday.”

“Don’t I know it.” You mumbled over the rim of your glass.

In typical Venable fashion, you didn’t have to sit with it for long, a sticky note taped to your monitor on Monday morning for an eleven o’clock meeting. Working under Venable for as long as you had, you knew her habits. Meetings with clients were always first thing in the morning, before Jeff and Mutt had enough time to sniff themselves into a stupor. Staff meetings were after scheduled hours or during lunch, unpaid, of course. The eleven o’clock time slot lived in infamy, it was right before lunch, giving you just enough time to pack your things and do the walk of shame as everyone walked back through the doors. Clearly a genius move, or one of an absolute psychopath.

“What the fuck was that?” Venable sneered before you were even able to fully shut the door.

You pushed the door the rest of the way closed, “What was what?”

“At the bar.” Venable said, rolling her eyes, “Don’t tell me the alcohol killed what little brain cells you have left. I should fire you for speaking to me that way.”

You shrugged, “So fire me.”

Venable sighed, her words biting, “I don’t want to fire you. I want an explanation.”

That was a lie, she absolutely wanted to fire you, and she probably would have, if you hadn’t overheard that Jeff and Mutt were considering placing her on a firing freeze. She had hit an all-time record, canning 17 employees in the span of two weeks, and now she was doing damage control. But she didn’t know that you knew, and you weren’t going to let her figure that out. A loss of control was seen as weakness to Venable, and if she found out that you knew, nothing Jeff and Mutt could bring down would stop her from getting rid of you.

You shook your head, “It’s better if you don’t know.”

Venable grit her teeth, her nails digging into the soft wood of her desk, “I asked a question, I expect an answer.”

You threw your hands up, “I lost a game of pool.”

Venable cocked her head, very slightly, and chewed on her words, “You… lost a game of pool?”

“Yes.” You said, hoping if you danced around the topic enough, she would eventually get bored and leave it alone, or just assume you were too stupid to get any viable information out of.

Venable’s eyes raked over you, before zeroing in on some invisible crack in your armor, “And?”

“And?” You asked, trying to play dumb.

“I assume there’s more to the story, given the way your feet are dancing like you’re stepping on red hot coals.” Venable said, eyes following yours towards your feet, “Spit it out. I don’t have all day.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, “We bet on the game. I lost the game, so I had to hold up my end of the deal.”

“Which was?” Venable asked, growing tired of your antics.

You sighed, “To ask you on a date.”

Venable cocked her head to the side, studying you for a moment, “You didn’t ask me on a date.” You nodded, “So then you didn’t hold up your end of the deal.”

You nodded again. “I’m not going to ask someone out for a dare, its cruel and juvenile. I just needed them,” You said, motioning to the row of desks opposite the frosted glass walls, “To think I did.”

“You risked your job,” Venable sneered, “For a childish dare?”

“Actually,” You began, cocking your head and smirking, “I risked my job so I wouldn’t have to do the dare. Men are stupid, and extremely gullible.”

Venable’s eyes narrowed, “Why would they dare you to ask me out?”

You rolled your eyes, “Because they’re intimidated by strong women, and they wanted to humiliate you.”

She pursed her lips, “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It isn’t flattery,” you chuckled, “You scare the shit out of them.” Venable tried her best to fight the smirk on her lips, but you still caught it, and you thought you should get out while you were ahead, “Now, am I fired, or can I get back to work?”

Venable looked confused, “I haven’t assigned you anything.”

“Jeff and Mutt want me to work on their “super-secret project”. ” You said, rolling your eyes and making air quotes with your fingers, “I have to go through security clearances.”

“Why would they need you?” Venable asked, her voice dripping in condescension. While it wasn’t unusual for Jeff and Mutt to borrow her employees, it wasn’t typical to borrow assistants, and certainly not on a project so secret that even she was being kept out of the loop.

You shrugged, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Very well. You are excused.” Venable said, her face setting. “And Y/n?” You turned, looking back at your boss, “Don’t let it happen again. Next time, you’ll be lucky to be a dishwasher at McDonalds.”

You smirked, “McDonalds doesn’t have a dishwasher, but I get the sentiment.”

Venable rolled her eyes as you shut the door, cursing Jeff and Mutt for putting her in this position. Had she been able to do what she wanted, you never would have felt comfortable enough to make such a statement, let alone challenge her. She didn’t have too much time to dwell on it, the most recent delivery of a certain white substance being delivered straight to her office, and she knew the boys were already itching to reup on their dose.

“The woman of the hour!” Jeff yelled, fist pumping the air as he spotted the giant jar firmly planted in her arm, “Have I told you I loved you lately?”

“Save it.” Venable sneered, dodging his grabby hands and keeping the cocaine just out of reach, “What’s going on with this secret project?”

“Nothing you need to worry your fiery little head with.” Mutt said, “Just know it’s going, full steam ahead.”

“How can I manage it if I don’t know what it is?” Venable asked.

“You aren’t managing it.” Jeff said, “We are.”

“You two,” Venable said carefully, “Are managing it, all on your own?”

Mutt laughed, “Yeah, it’s going to be fucking sick.”

“So why are you stealing my employee?” Venable asked, the two engineers sharing glances.

“We need her skillset.” Mutt finally answered, obviously dragging his feet.

“She’s an assistant.” Venable stated.

“Yeah,” Jeff said, “She’s also an engineer, and she’s not bad to look at.”

Venable scoffed, “You’re stealing my employee because she’s attractive?”

“No, were stealing her because we need her brain.” Mutt said, “The fact that she’s a babe is just a bonus.”

“So, you aren’t going to tell me anything?” Venable asked, Jeff and Mutt staring back at her.

“It’s not that we want to not tell you anything, we just can’t.” Jeff offered apologetically, conveniently reaching for the cocaine at the same time with pleading eyes.

Venable huffed, swinging the cocaine out of his reach at the last second, and placing it on the farthest table as she stomped out of the room, ignoring the string of apologies from her bosses. This just wouldn’t do. She had always been in the loop, from day one. Those idiots couldn’t be trusted to run an entire project by themselves, they could barely remember their own addresses. Quite literally, Venable was the one who had to give the addresses to their cab drivers because they were too blitzed to form a coherent thought.  She sat and she stewed for the remainder of the day, before she settled on a plan. She was tired of being on the outs, she needed to regain her power.

When you got the message on teams, you worried she had changed her mind, and you felt your palms begin to sweat.

My office. Now.

You trudged past your coworkers and towards her office, Nate and Scott snickering behind you.

“Someone’s in trouble.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but feel like they were right. She was playing with you, the same way she did to every other employee, making you feel safe and then yanking the carpet out from beneath you. Still, you opened the door and stepped into her den, her eyes flicking over you for only a second, “Close the door.”

You shut the door behind you, asking hesitantly, “What can I do for you, Miss Venable?”

Venable didn’t even look up, “It’s more so what I can do for you.”

“Pardon?” You asked, unsure of the direction this conversation was heading, and there was no way you could prepare for the words about to leave her mouth.

“I’ll speak in plain terms so that you understand.” Venable sneered, “I’ll let you fulfill your little dare, and in turn, you give me information on whatever it is that Jeff and Mutt are stealing you for.”

“The project?” You asked, your head spinning.

Venable sighed, glaring at you, “Is there anything else they are stealing you for?”

“No?” You said, shaking your head, “But why would you need me to gather information?”

Venable rolled her eyes, “Jeff and Mutt have decided they will be handling it themselves; they don’t want a grownup’s help. I need to make sure they don’t royally fuck it up. I’ve spent far too long building a reputation for this company, I don’t need them snorting it away. Now do we have a deal, or will you be looking for a new position?”

You shook your head, still unable to process what she was asking of you, “You do realize they’re only doing this so they can make fun of you, right?”

Venable arched a brow, “I’ve never cared about men’s opinions before. Why start now?”

“Yea, but, those coconut heads design sex robots.” You tried again, “For all I know, they could want me to code for a doll that gives head.”

Venable stared at you, clearly annoyed with the conversation, “You have a week to gather as much information as you can. That will be all.”

You stared at her as she refocused on her work, completely ignoring your lingering presence, before you shook your head incredulously, “Ok.”

You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you left her office, beelining straight for Nate’s desk and whispering in his ear, “Just to be clear, you’re my bitch now.”

[r0se-miller]

Soaked

JJ comes home to find Emily caught up in a song. Song 'SOAKED' by Shy Smith

warnings: dirty song?, dancing and singing, mostly fluff

I swing open the door, kicking it gently to stop its return. Shifting the bags in my hand I kick off my boots, aiming them vaguely in the direction of the shoe rack. I dump my work and go bag on the entryway bench and carry the groceries into the kitchen. Before I make it through the arch leading to the dining and kitchen area I hear fast rhythmic panting, followed by a quiet voice singing

“This heat is gettin' to me

I want you all over me

Baby, you get me so

So soaked

So hot, I'm 'bout to explode

Our bodies movin' for sure

You get me hot, I'm soaked”

Arousal floods my core as I take in the lyrics, stepping slightly into the room I see Emily doing dishes at the sink, her ears covered in her large black headphones. My eyes are trained to the section of midriff visible between her jeans and tank-top. Her hips rock and twist to the beat of her words. I find myself entranced and feeling suddenly jealous of the cabinets below that are getting the attention of her body.

I release my grip on the bags not even registering them, my entire focus still on the woman in front of me. I step quickly behind her grabbing her wrists from behind as I slot my hips behind hers, working them in time with hers. She jumps, startled at the contact, but after a slight glance over her shoulder she grins at me before returning to her dancing with even more energy. She reaches one bubble clad hand up to power off her headphones, allowing the music to switch to her phone on the nearby bench top. I reach over to turn the volume all the way up and pull her away from the counter top to dance with her properly.

“Get down on the floor

You know I'm gonna shake my ass, ah

My body's drenched in sweat, but

My clothes ain't comin' off yet

(But baby it's wet, come on and sweat)

I just like movin' my stuff, babe

Wanna do it right?

Get wet all night?

Let's get to movin'

Just how I like (I like that)”

She continues to sing as I lead the movements, pulling and pushing her hips before spinning her in my embrace, slipping a thigh between her legs and grinding on to her. Her hands come up to my hair, tugging gently to open my neck to her. She breaths the next set of pants right onto my neck, her hot breath nearly making me moan. Before she can continue to sing I pull her into a crushing kiss whilst rolling my hips again, pulling a growl from her. Simultaneously she moves her hands to my ass as I pull back to sing to her:

“can move it like that

I want you all over me

I need to get some air

'Cause, baby, you get me so…”

We continue to dance sensuously, the movements gaining desperation as we both grind and touch each other into a frenzy. The music ends so abruptly we are both left panting, heads close holding each other tightly. I start to giggle at our little impromptu club session in the middle of the kitchen.

“Babe why were you listening to that?” I question with a laugh.

“I heard it the last time we went out and it’s been in my head all day so I decided to play it while I do some chores.” She responded beaming, her dark eyes still fluttering from her arousal.

“I like it, you should add it to our sex playlist.” I give her a quick peck then move over to the doorway to collect the discarded bags that need tending to. “This just proves we don’t need the club atmosphere or LBD’s to be dancing hot and heavy.” I quip as we both return to our respective jobs.

“Oh baby with just a look you get me soaked.” She says throwing a wink over her shoulder.

“Charmer.” I reply with an eye roll.

[flys-writing-drabbles]

SOBS. this. this is just gonna be an impulsive little thing. im not too sure what plot im gonna end up with 💔💔💔

The twists and turns in the road were almost enough to lull him to sleep. Key word being almost. He was trying his best to stay awake, trying desperately to savor this moment. The sound of his favorite music coming from the radio, the comfort of being able to lean against one of the men he’s come to know as ‘dad’, and the beautiful starry sky that twinkled down on them, the moon gracing them with its silvery shine, making everything seem to glow.

His gaze drifted out the window, eyes partially lidded and fighting to stay open, trees and roads stretched as far as he could see. Everything was a bit blurry without his glasses, sure, but there was always something special to him about how pretty everything looked at night. The branches dappled in moonlight, the rolling fields covered in shadows, even the occasional car light was a welcome addition to the scenery.

“The greener grass grows where the wild fires fertilize, with ashes of sparrows, peppered moths, and butterflies.”

William perked up a bit. One of many songs he adored from that album. He was listening to it through the speakers of the car without a speck of shame for once, no one made him feel like he was weird for liking this music. Jake and Steven didn’t even put up a fight when he asked if he could hook his phone up to the car and play it. That’s why he loved it here. That’s why he was trying to savor the moment. He felt safe.

His head fell back against his dad, earning a soft chuckle from him. His chest swelled with joy. Despite how tired he felt, he couldn’t help but laugh along. He would kill for everyday to be like this. These gentle moments where he can feel like a kid again.

“Ghosts of trees and termites, bloom in the beanstalk, and if you get light-headed when standing too fast, as if from shaking off the weight of phosphenes and past, salt deposits on warm little rivers that burst from our words.”

His eyes finally shut, the music filling his ears. He could faintly hear his dad humming along to the tune with his ear pressed against him like this, had he been listening to his son’s music taste to get a better understanding? The thought alone brought tears to William’s eyes. The thought that someone would care enough about him to try and get to know the things he likes better.

His breathing eventually slowed, the music dying into the background and his attention focusing on the beating of Steven’s heart and the feel of the road. The occasional bump had him involuntarily jumping out of his seat, but other than that, he was quickly drifting off. It was almost like the car was a cradle, holding him close and gently rocking him to sleep. He was just glad to feel safe and comfortable. He was just glad to have his dads and to have someone who genuinely cared.

[tellmealovestory]

Kiss Me - Chapter 1

Summary: 4 times you and Eddie kissed and it meant nothing and the 1 time you kissed and it meant everything.

Warnings: Some minor second hand embarrassment, Eddie being a menace (but we love him for it!!)

“Woohoo!” Your shout is full of excitement and loud enough it can be heard over Eddie’s dying guitar riff. 

Catching your eye he gives you a wink and slings his guitar over his back before giving a dramatic bow as if he’s playing to a crowd of a thousand screaming fans instead of just you and the few drunks sitting around the bar.

It’s over the top and ridiculous, but somehow so Eddie and it fills your heart with joy seeing the sheer delight being on stage and performing brings him.

Tossing your head back you laugh and you don’t need to be looking at him to know his smile is beaming because you both know making you laugh was his goal all along. 

Bouncing on the balls of your feet near the stage it’s not lost on you or the rest of the band that you’re the only one paying attention. The bar is full of regulars. Middle aged men who are enjoying a few beers before heading back to their wives and girlfriends. A bartender who looks bored as they flip through the few available channels offered on the lone television that hangs above the bar.

If it wasn’t for you singing the praises of Corroded Coffin during most of their gigs you doubt they’d get any kind of attention at all.  

But you know it’s just a matter of time before they hit it big especially after the two new songs they debuted that stole your heart. 

“Hands down your best show yet!” you gush when Eddie walks over to greet you. 

Sweat glistens on his forehead and dampens his curls. His cheeks are flushed pretty in pink, but there’s no denying the happiness that wafts off him. It’s contagious and you find yourself breaking out into a large smile that matches his own.

“That mean our number one fan enjoyed it?” He teases before wrapping his arms around you in a tight bear hug. Wrinkling your nose in disgust you try to wriggle your way out of his sweaty hold, but that just makes him hold you tighter. Nuzzling his face in your neck his curls brush against your cheeks and you’re set off on another giggling fit.

“You’re gross and you need a shower,” you laugh before he finally releases you. 

“Don’t lie. You know you love me all sweaty. I know I’m your number one fantasy,” he croons.

Rolling your eyes you playfully swat his chest and it’s only then that the teasing turns to something more serious; a breakdown of their show and the new songs. 

“So,” Eddie starts, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back. “What’d you think? Too girly? Gareth thinks the lyrics could use some more work.” 

You shake your head no at both of those statements. 

“The titles could use some work. I’m not sure how popular a song called ‘Die in Your Sleep’ is going to be, especially around here.” You wave your hand in the air to indicate not just the bar, but the at times small mindedness that resides in Hawkins.

“The title is perfect,” Eddie shoots back. “But go on, princess, tell me what else you thought.”

“The lyrics are great. Not too girly at all so you can tell Gareth to shove it.” 

Eddie chuckles at the slight venom that laces your words, you’ve never been one to hold back your opinions when it comes to the band or the music and he appreciates that about you. 

“The second song, the slower one,” you start, having already forgotten what it was called. 

“Yeah,” he says, dragging the syllables out. “Gareth’s idea again. He thinks we need something slower to bring the chicks in and to our side.” 

You ignore that with another shake of your head and wrinkle your nose.

“That song is… it’s magic. The lyrics are so good and that guitar solo of yours at the end? I just…” It’s impossible for you to put your thoughts into words or complete a sentence and Eddie lets out one of those throaty laughs that lately has been making your stomach twist around itself. “C’mon now. You’re the smart one in the group. Use those big girl words and tell me what you really thought of the song,” he jokes, shoulder bumping against yours. 

Any other time you would have playfully slapped his chest and told him to shove it for saying something like that, but you don’t. Not this time. 

“It’s…” you start, but give up rather quickly, letting the word hang in the air between you.

If you’re honest with yourself you aren’t quite sure what comes over you.

Maybe it’s the music you got swept up in or knowing that summer is almost over and you’re both about to start senior year, a year bound to bring changes or maybe it’s even a lack of sleep.

All you know is one second you’re trying to have a conversation about the show and the next second you’re getting lost in those familiar chocolate brown eyes. By the third second logic and reason have been thrown out of your brain and you’re launching yourself at him. 

Without thinking about the consequences or anything for that matter you close the gap of space between you by wrapping your arms around his neck and attempting to kiss him. It’s more than awkward at first, your nose bumps against his making you both wince at the slight pain, lips landing closer to the corner of his mouth than the center before you think you get the hang of it and your lips finally meet his. 

He doesn’t kiss you back or even try to touch you and you aren’t sure if you’re relieved or disappointed.

You chalk it up to him being too stunned and try not to take it personally. After all, you were the one to throw yourself at him with no prior warning. If the roles were reversed you’re almost positive you’d be acting the same way he is. 

The seconds tick by and slowly you come to your senses. Horrified at what you just did you pull back and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Taking a few steps back to give you both some space to process what just happened you have to resist the urge to flee.

“Was it that bad?”

It takes your brain a few seconds to process what he’s asking you. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion and it dawns on you, albeit slowly, that he’s referring to you wiping your mouth. 

Another round of embarrassment crashes into you and you visibly cringe, eyes slamming shut for a second as you suck in a shaky breath. There’s no way to explain that the kiss wasn’t bad, it just… was weird, but even vocalizing those words is only going to make things worse. 

Definitely better to ignore the whole situation and pretend it didn’t happen and pray he goes along with your plan.

Saved or maybe ruined by the approaching footsteps of Gareth you take another step backwards.

“When you two get done making out you wanna help us pack up, Eddie?” 

You have to bite your tongue so you don’t snap that you weren’t making out. Unable to meet Eddie’s eyes or to even look in Gareth’s direction you stare down at your shoes and the sticky hardwood floor hoping that if you concentrate hard enough it will open up and swallow you whole, putting you out of your embarrassment.

Eddie senses your discomfort and he teases, “It’s not that bad. Least he didn’t tell us to get a room. Though we can if you want.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you’re met with the urge to slap him across the chest or let the floor swallow him whole.

“I hate you,” you mumble, but you both know it’s a lie. 

He chuckles before turning around to tell Gareth he’ll be right there and you hope that means Eddie will forget about what just took place.

Once Gareth leaves however Eddie decides it’s time to torture you a little more. 

“If that’s how you’re gonna react after every new song we perform I’m gonna have to start writing material faster.” 

He’s only teasing, but that doesn’t stop heat from crawling up your neck and face. Burying your face in your hands you mumble an apology and tell him you don’t know what came over you because you don’t. Eddie’s your best friend, you don’t like him like that, you got carried away in the moment and it happens to everyone, right?

He steps closer, arms wrapping around you he pulls you back into his sweaty body where you bury your head in his chest and breathe in the scent of stale cigarette smoke and sweat.

“Hey, don’t apologize. You think this is the first time I’ve had women throw themselves at me after a show?” 

“Shut. Up.” 

His chest rumbles with laughter and he squeezes you tighter. 

“C’mon princess it’s not a big deal.” He pulls back making you look into his eyes. You try to look anywhere else, but his fingers grasp your jaw forcing you to stare into those dark, familiar depths. “Was that your first kiss?”

You scoff and roll your eyes, wriggle yourself out of his embrace and refuse to look at him. Your feet shuffle and you glance around the bar before your gaze lands back on the stage to Gareth and the rest of the band as they begin to pack up their gear, a task that Eddie was supposed to be helping them with, but instead decided torturing you was a better use of his time. 

“No. I’ve had loads of kisses. Like… so many. Just… making out with everyone all the time. You know how I do.” 

Eddie arches his brow and crosses his arms over his chest and you try hard not to stare at the way his shirt is stretched tight over his body. But the more you try not to stare the more that you do. You should not be thinking or looking at him like this. God, one kiss and you’re turning into a horndog.

You can tell he doesn’t believe you, but instead of trying to be honest you dig yourself an even bigger hole. 

“Your uncle was actually my first kiss. Great guy, but too much tongue. You, however have the potential to be way better. Glad to see it doesn’t run in your family, Munson.” 

A smirk bigger than the grand canyon stretches itself across his face and you’re tempted to kiss him again if only to wipe that stupid look off. 

“Always knew you had a thing for musicians, but older men too? You’re full of surprises, princess. I better not introduce you to my grandpa or I might lose you for good.” 

He waits a beat and chuckles at the death glare you give him, but that doesn’t stop him from tossing in one more quip before he goes to help the rest of the band.

“Hey, aren’t you volunteering at the senior center this year? You think that’s a good idea considering your… taste? If you end up getting married to one of those fine men I call dibs playing your wedding. Corroded Coffin would make a great wedding band.”

The groan you let out can be heard by the bartender halfway across the room and this time when you tell him to shut up he does, leaving you alone with your thoughts as he makes his way back to the stage.

The rest of the night passes without incident.  

After dropping the rest of the band off it’s just you and Eddie, parked outside your house. He lets the current song on the radio finish playing before he shuts the van off and the sudden silence is jarring. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel you steal a peak at him. The streetlights hit Eddie in the driver’s seat, illuminating his curls and making him look like a dark angel. The thought brings a small smile to your face.

“Thanks for coming out tonight. Gotta say it was one of our more… memorable shows.” 

“If I tell you to shut up again, are you going to do it?” 

“Nope.” He says popping the p and smirking at you.

“Didn’t think so, but thought it was still worth a try.” Your smirk matches his and you unclick your seatbelt, hand hovering on the door handle before you turn back to him for one more glance. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Before he has a chance to say anything else you’re slipping out and gently closing the door so as not to wake your neighbors and give them something else to complain about.

You only make it a few feet before he’s rolling his window down, sticking his head out and calling your name. The volume of his voice makes you flinch, but you turn around to face him, expecting him to tease you again about the kiss, but he doesn’t.

“Hey,” he pauses, sucks in a breath, fingers gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white he swears beneath his breath. “Not that it matters, but uh it was my first kiss too.”