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soul-controller · 3 months

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Going All-American

When Arthur Harris first made his way out of his flat to go check his mailbox, the man had solely been expecting to come across unexciting yet expensive content like bills. Upon gripping onto the solid stack of envelopes and beginning to filter through them, the man’s assumptions were mostly proven to be correct. However, it was the very last envelope that Arthur saw that caught his eye. From just the envelope itself, Arthur’s attention was further pulled in by the fact that his name and address were handwritten onto it along with the several stamps running along the top left corner displaying an American flag. Clearly, this was a personal and international piece of postage that he received, but the fact that there was no return address listed immediately piqued the man’s interest even further.

Upon making his way back up to his flat and hastily tearing open the envelope, the man’s mind was running rampant in the possible content of the postage as he pulled open the letter to figure out its contents. To his surprise, Arthur found a piece of paper that was chock-full of text that he cautiously skimmed through. While reading through the first letter, a slight grin emerged on his face as he found himself coming across a professional-looking note that stated that he had won a trip to California. Although he had no real recollection about applying for a contest or sweepstakes, that didn’t matter once he discovered what he would be doing there.

Congratulations, You (Arthur Harris) are the grand prize winner of the sweepstakes to win an all-expense paid trip to Los Angeles! While you are here, you’ll be shuttled to the set of the hit television show All-American, where you will be able to explore the sets and meet all of your favorite actors. Please be ready on the date listed as a car will be waiting for you to take you to the airport for your departure to Los Angeles. We look forward to giving you an “All-American” experience in more ways than one! Sincerely, S-C Productions

“Holy shit!” Arthur said, the letter slipping from his hand as his entire body began to buzz with excitement. Although he wanted so badly to jump up and down in glee and loudly cry out for his excitement, his respect and care for his flatmates caused him to hold back and conceal his emotions as best as he could. Getting a free trip to LA was exciting enough, but the added bonus of getting to travel to the set of All-American was a dream come true. Certainly it would be interesting for the man to witness the entire process of filming given his own interest in film and cinematography, but even more so when one of his biggest crushes was in frame.

Ever since Arthur had first watched Cody Christian arrive on his television screen as Theo in the Teen Wolf TV show, the man was instantly smitten with him. Not only did Cody perfectly play the role of a cocky and self-assured asshole, but he was also incredibly hot while doing so! Every time Arthur watched an episode of the show, Cody was one of the main reasons behind his continued viewing despite the show’s consistent dip in quality. Unfortunately, Cody’s role as a side character that bumped heads with Tyler Posey’s Scott McCall wasn’t enough to keep Arthur engaged though as Arthur ultimately dropped the show before it even finished airing.

As such, Arthur’s thirst for the actor lessened for a bit as he only focused on seeing the hunky man via social media or Tumblr via gif-sets. Luckily though, a renewed interest emerged when Cody landed the role of Asher on the TV show All-American. Not only did the show catch Arthur’s interest because it caused him to fall back in love with Cody, but it also perfectly meshed with his own interests as it was a show about football players… especially since Cody was playing a cocky and materialistic football player named Asher.

Given how much this was a dream come true, Arthur still found himself quite unsure whether this was really happening or if he had somehow fallen asleep accidentally and was thus having the best possible dream. After a painful pinch informed him that this was truly reality, the man tilted his head back down towards the floor to look for the letter once more. Upon doing so though, he saw that the letter was flipped onto its backside after falling to the floor. While this wasn’t anything to write home about, glancing at the piece of paper revealed that there was more important information included onto the back.

Reading through, Arthur quickly skimmed through an itinerary that listed what Arthur would experience throughout his trip. The trip to the All-American set was seemingly meant to take up most of the day according to the list, but Arthur didn’t mind when he read about how the set would provide several meals throughout along with getting to watch several scenes get filmed along with a meet and greet with several of the actors.

As his hands continued to travel down the sheet as he read, his attention soon was caught by the firm slip of paper affixed to the bottom of the paper. Upon looking down, Arthur’s eyes widened as he saw that an airline ticket was already ready to go for him. While it was a relief that the studio had seemingly already worked ahead to get everything ready for the trip, the man was understandably confused about how they knew where he was located and concerned about when he was going to go on this trip. While seeing that the date was on November 22nd, Arthur was quite caught off-guard when he checked his work schedule and realized that he had somehow requested that day off. He had no idea why he would have done that, but he wasn’t going to fret about it too much when it benefited him.

Regardless of how the date aligned so well, Arthur was quite relieved to find that there would be no hassle in terms of getting in trouble at his job. It was a miracle that he had even received this surprise trip in the first place, so Arthur opted to not ask too many questions. In this quick acceptance of his surprise gift, Arthur failed to notice that the ticket was a one-way ticket rather than a round-trip, which would have given him a clue about the fact that his trip would end up becoming permanent. Instead, he quickly made his way back into his bedroom and began filling his suitcase with clothing that would work well with the humid LA weather he would soon be experiencing…

* * * * *

When the morning of the 22nd finally arrived and the alarm of his phone rang out, Arthur woke up with a smile on his face rather than his usual routine of groaning and hitting the snooze button. Excited for the impending trip, the man quickly got out of bed and dragged himself into the bathroom to shower. Upon getting done and tying a towel around his waist, Arthur made his way back into the bedroom. Just as he began to pull the towel off and change into clothes though, a loud pounding against his door caused Arthur to gasp and scream in shock. While trying to catch his breath from the real life jump-scare he had just experienced, Arthur slowly made his way towards the door of his room and took a look through the peephole.

While looking through, Arthur’s eyes caught sight of a burly yet well-dressed man who stood firm with his thick hands at his hips while looking at the door with an intimidating yet stoic expression.

“Uh hello, can I help you?” Arthur inquired, checking for a moment to confirm that the deadbolt and chain on his door were both fully locked. While this was certainly a realistic reaction to seeing the stranger outside his door, the British man let out a deep breath of relief and mentally scolded himself when the man stated that he was from S-C Productions and he was the driver to take him to the airport for his LA trip. Upon telling him that he was in the middle of getting dressed, the driver sternly told him that he had ten minutes before he was leaving - regardless of whether Arthur was in tow or not.

After apologizing and saying he’ll be done as soon as he can, Arthur rushed away from the door and began to change. Given the fact that he would be spending several hours in the cramped seating of a plane, he opted to dress in loose garments that would provide some much needed comfort throughout the hours-long trip. After quickly devouring a small bowl of cereal, Arthur grabbed onto his suitcases and made his way towards the door.

Before turning the knob and exiting though, Arthur stopped in front of the large full-body mirror on the backside of the room’s door to verify that he looked presentable given his haste. As he looked at himself and gave a slight smile to see how others would perceive him, the man was relieved to see that his biceps looked rather impressive given how much skin the tank top revealed. While the rest of his torso wasn’t nearly as buff as his biceps, the man still recognized the fact that he looked better than most people given his semi-regular gym routine. However, the continued staring at his mirror caused him to traverse down a dark mental rabbit hole of self-doubt considering that he would soon be in LA where it seemed like practically everyone would be a 10/10 with gorgeous physiques and perfect visages galore.

Shaking his head in hopes of pushing those intrusive thoughts away, the man finally took a deep breath and turned the handle to begin his journey to Los Angeles. Upon awkwardly introducing himself to the burly driver, Arthur followed the man as he led him down to the ground floor. Throughout the journey from exiting his flat and putting his luggage into the car, Arthur couldn’t help but stare at the impressively-built man. The man, who introduced himself as Wes, had a physique that was filling out the stylish black suit to the brink of having the fabric tear. Following behind Wes was a blessing in disguise for the British man as he got to watch the man’s perky yet firm ass fill out the seat of his pants and bounce with each footfall he took.

Throughout the drive to the airport, Arthur tried his best to make small talk with the intimidating man. Unfortunately, conversations quickly stalled when Wes told Arthur that he needed to focus on traffic to get him to the airport as quickly and safely as possible. Upon arriving at the airport, where Wes quickly told him to get out before speeding off to do another job, Arthur momentarily mourned for the missed connection he had with the man.

But as he grabbed his luggage and began to walk through security and towards his departure gate, Arthur’s mind shifted focus away from Wes and back onto his thirst for Cody. Due to just how excited yet exhausted he was from the early morning wake-up call, Arthur found himself soon falling asleep upon putting his luggage away and taking his seat. As he quickly fell into a state of slumber though, the continued thoughts of Cody Christian and his thirst for the man soon led to a rather erotic sex dream that involved Arthur worshipping the hunk’s muscular body and easily helped the hours-long flight fly by as he felt no desire to wake up no matter how much turbulence he felt.

Upon the plane landing and a young female attendant softly shaking him awake, Arthur moved in a dazed state as he exited the plane. Given his total discombobulation about the new area along with not knowing where to go to pick up the luggage, he opted to just follow the crowd through the terminal towards the correct area. Luckily, Arthur’s luggage was one of the first few pieces to arrive, so he was able to escape the large crowd and make his way towards the taxi area of the airport where the letter stated that someone from the studio would be there to pick him up.

After a bit of getting lost and having to ask for directions, Arthur finally made his way to the correct area where he looked through the long aisle of drivers holding signs with their intended client’s name. At first annoyed that it took two rounds of searching through the crowd of drivers to find the one holding his name, Arthur quickly began to recognize why when he walked up to the hand extended through the crowd and discovered that his driver was a rail-thin man cramped between two chubby drivers.

Upon asking for the men to move, Arthur pulled the mousy man through and revealed himself. “Hey there, I’m Arthur. Are you the driver from S-C Productions?” he inquired, trying to make sure he wasn’t taking the wrong Arthur’s ride.

While he awaited a response, the British man quickly took a look up and down to observe the man he’d seemingly be working with throughout the entire trip. The man was rather tiny, with a height that just barely reached 5’5” and a weight that refused to go past 95 pounds. The man’s face looked rather impressive with the angular jawline, high cheekbones, and bright blue eyes, but Peter’s thick black-rimmed glasses and low weight counteracted those features and instead made him look nerdy and rather malnourished.

“Hey there, I’m not a driver but I am here to pick you up and take you to the studio though. I’m Peter,” he began, stopping to extend a hand out, which Arthur quickly accepted as they did a quick handshake. “I’m an intern at the studio, they needed someone to pick you up and I volunteered. It certainly beats doing coffee runs and dealing with difficult actors, am I right?” he said, his high-pitched and whiny voice shifting into a deep and wheezy chuckle that understandably took Arthur off-guard.

“Oh ok, uh, it’s nice to meet you then Peter,” Arthur responded, returning the chuckle to help the dorky-looking man not feel self-conscious before pulling his lips into a light smile. Although Peter tried his best to appear official by offering to take Arthur’s luggage, the British man feared possibly injuring the man due to how hefty his bags were and thus declined the offer and said he’d carry them himself. At first, Peter seemed a bit caught off-guard by the kind behavior, but when his expression turned appreciative with a wide smile, it was clear that the young intern appreciated not being treated as the help for once.

So upon leading the way to the black Escalade that the studio had told Peter to use to pick him up, Arthur deposited his bags into the backseat before hopping into the passenger seat. As Peter finally put the car into motion and drove out of the airport, Arthur’s eyes widened as the intern surprised the retail cashier with a quick little tour of LA as they made their way towards the studio. It was incredibly exciting for a cinephile like Arthur to get a quick glimpse of famous locales like the Hollywood sign or the Griffith Observatory. Despite the slight intimidation those locales provided in terms of realizing the impact and level of celebrity he was going to be around as a result, Arthur found himself remaining calm as Peter finally made his way towards the studio entrance.

After making a moment of small talk with the security guards out front, Peter showed off an ID badge that allowed the gates to open and for the intern to continue driving. As he made his way through the busy backlot, Arthur’s eyes couldn’t help but wildly dart in hopes of seeing any famous celebrities in the midst of walking to set or coming out of any of the trailers that lined the outer edges of the road. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to see anyone of note beyond what appeared to be some stunt actors decked out in some recognizable costumes.

While he continued to search around, Arthur’s frantic attempts were suddenly interrupted as Peter put the car into park and caused you to violently lurch forward from the fast braking. Upon looking over towards the meek man, who apologized for the abrupt stop, Arthur decided to ignore the whiplash and unbuckle his seatbelt. Before exiting though, Peter quickly ran through the itinerary to remind him of the schedule for the day. First, Peter would give Arthur an in-depth tour of the All-American sets that weren’t currently in use. Then after getting some lunch, Arthur would be ushered to the current filming locations where he’d be able to watch some takes and meet the actors of the show. Upon finishing that, he’d be led to the writers room, where he could discuss screenwriting with them, before heading to get some dinner courtesy of the studio’s lavish buffet. After this was finished then, Peter would drive Arthur to the hotel that the contest had purchased for the night.

With the itinerary for the day repeated to him by Peter, Arthur eagerly smiled before getting out of the car so the tour could finally begin. Luckily, the tour was fairly impressive to Arthur, as evident by the wide smile on his face as he saw the sets of the show and began to recall countless scenes (and gifs from Tumblr) where Cody was involved. Although there were many interesting sets that Peter led him through, Arthur was by far the most captivated by the set of the college gym. The mental images of several workout gifs that he had seen (and even jerked off to) continued to play in his mind as his hands grazed along the freshly cleaned equipment.

In all honesty, it was a bit of a bummer that it was so freshly cleaned because Arthur would have wanted nothing more than to get remnants of Cody’s sweat onto his fingers and catch a whiff of the surely alluring scent. Was it a bit creepy to think about getting off to an unsuspecting actor’s sweat? Sure, but Arthur knew that it was the wholehearted truth and felt no shame as a result.

Upon finishing up with that standout set, Peter followed it up by announcing that it was time for lunch given how hungry the Brit must be after the flight and drive to the studio. Although Arthur didn’t originally think about his appetite due to his excitement about eventually meeting Cody, the sudden gurgle deep in his gut was so loud that it echoed through the empty set and caused him to agree with Peter’s assumption. After following him through the seemingly empty studio, Arthur soon picked up on the sound of several distant voices that grew increasingly more prominent with each step he took. Peter pulled back a black curtain and motioned for Arthur to enter first, which caused him to quickly find himself in the middle of a craft services room. As the intern returned to the front to lead Arthur through the crowd of confused and curious low-tier members of the cast and crew, Peter took a moment to introduce Arthur to everyone and explain the reason behind his inclusion on set.

After Peter led him to the table to get a plate of food, which ended up being a filling yet basic meal of a sub sandwich and some chips, Arthur took the time to walk around and network with the crew members in between bites of his food. Given his own interest in film and the lesson plans that he’s had to do in the past involving cinematography, the man had a decent time talking with the lighting and camera operators to learn directly from them about their job and how they work to create the best possible show.

Although Arthur could have spent much longer chatting with people, the alarm of a clock rang out to signal that the end of lunch had arrived. While several of the crew members had their expressions sour as they returned to their job, Arthur stood out as he grinned in joy due to the realization that it was finally time to move onto his most anticipated part of the set visit - it was time to watch filming commence and meet some of the cast of the show.

As Peter led him through a door, Arthur was caught off-guard when the dense California air hit him. Looking around, the man soon discovered that not only was the set they were filming on was outside but it was a scene being filmed on a replica football field. Although the football field wasn’t completely legit given the fact that size constraints meant that they were shooting on a small plot of land rather than a 100 yard long area, the illusion was certainly still realistic to Arthur while seeing all of these actors decked out in football gear. In fact, the cameras were currently rolling as they filmed an actor sprinting before turning behind him to catch a football. Stunned at just how realistic the play felt, Arthur was utterly transfixed as the director called cut and the football player dropped the ball before sauntering out of the frame and gruffly demanding for someone to get him water.

Given Arthur’s own thirst for cocky and dominant men, his eyes remained trained on the mystery actor while admiring the man’s physique. From just that single take that Arthur observed, he was able to immediately pick up on how buff the man was. While watching that take as it occurred, his attention was instantly caught by the moderately firm set of quad muscles and the sizable ass that tightly bounced against the athletic shorts that he was wearing. Although the man wasn’t a real football player, he certainly could have been one with such an impressive build!

While Arthur watched the still-helmeted actor move to the side and get crowded by a bunch of assistants (where one of them handed him a styrofoam cup full of water), he couldn’t force himself to direct his attention elsewhere. Even as Peter basically dragged Arthur closer towards some of the cast and crew, Arthur remained utterly transfixed by the man’s sweat-soaked skin that glimmered in the sunlight and only showcased an impressive set of biceps that caused the fabric around his arms to bunch up. As such, Arthur endured an incredible shock when the mystery man finally pulled off the helmet and revealed that the man was none other than Cody Christian himself.

“Ho- holy shit,” Arthur said under his breath, although his panic and shock caused it to be a bit louder than he intended as he saw several people turn to look at him confused. Now that’s one way to make an entrance, Arthur thought to himself, instantly replaying the scene he witnessed in his head over and over. Of course, the reveal that Cody was practically next to him elicited a physical response in the form of a sizable bulge that pressed out against his shorts. After moving his hands down to try and conceal the untimely boner that he had sprung, Arthur’s thirsting session was interrupted as Peter caught his attention and told him that it was time to meet some of the cast while they took a break from filming.

Although he meant no disrespect to the other cast members that Peter introduced him to, Arthur couldn’t help but make quick small talk with the people before using his peripheral vision to see what Cody was up to. Based on the few glances he had taken throughout, it seemed as though the man’s personality wasn’t too far from the characters that he often played. From what he could see and partially hear, it seemed as though Cody was having a tantrum and yelling at his assistants and other crew members due to how hot the conditions were outside and how they didn’t respect him enough to keep him hydrated by having water ready for him.

As previously mentioned, Arthur loved himself a bad boy, so while this would be a turn-off to some people, it only made the actor more desirable in his eyes. While the cashier certainly didn’t like how Cody was treated the staff, his mind twisted the man’s behavior and speech into a more sexual context as he envisioned himself intimate with the hunky actor. It wasn’t often that the asexual had vivid sex dreams, but something about Cody just unlocked something deep in him that left him yearning for any kind of physical intimacy imaginable.

This sexual daydream was quickly interrupted by Peter, who tapped Arthur on his shoulder and broke up out of that daze. “Hey Arthur, was there anyone here on set that you were specifically wanting to meet today? If so, I can try to see if I can get a meeting with them. If they’re not here on set today, I could always try to pull some strings by contacting their agent or manager and arranging a FaceTime session with them,” he inquired, giving a reassuring smile that caused Arthur to lean in and whisper Cody’s name. “Ah I see, well let’s see what I can do about that then huh,” Peter continued, smiling and patting Arthur on the back before using that arm to push him forward towards his celebrity crush.

Even though the journey was only a few feet, it felt like an eternity for Arthur as he watched his body traveling closer and closer to Cody. Once he was two feet away from the actor’s group surrounding him, Arthur couldn’t help but gasp as Peter loudly spoke to gain their attention. “Excuse me, excuse me,” he began, smiling as his voice was able to break through the small group and get everyone (including Cody) to turn and look at Peter and Arthur’s direction. “Hey there, this is Arthur Harris, he won a contest through the studio for a special set tour and meet and greet with the cast of All-American. According to Arthur, he’s a big fan of yours Mr. Christian, so I thought it would be nice to properly introduce you two,” he said, keeping a chipper smile on his face even though Cody’s expression remained cold and quite clearly rageful.

“Uh hi there, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Arthur stammered out, which caused a few people in Cody’s posse to pause upon hearing the British accent he was speaking with. “I’ve been a big fan for years, so it’s really awesome to get this-,” he continued, suddenly interrupted when Cody huffed loudly and began to speak.

“Hey dude, it’s great that you won this random contest or whatever, but I’m like really not in the mood for a meet and greet. Plus, I’m like, really in the zone with my acting right now. So even if I wanted to spend my precious time chatting with some obsessed British fan, I really don’t have the right mentality for this right now,” he coldly said, which immediately provided a soul-crushing blow to Arthur given how direct and biting his words were.

Even though the man had never met the British man before, his phrasing was so direct it seemed as though they had been enemies for years! Although he wasn’t the most vocal person around, the cruel words had struck a chord with Arthur and thus he felt a desire to make his opinion heard by the cocky actor. But just as he began to take a breath to speak, Arthur was interrupted as Cody angrily cursed and caused everyone on set to look at the interaction going on.

“Bro, I really don’t give a shit about what you have to say. Like, you’re a nobody and I’m Cody Christian. Everything about you pales in comparison to me. So how about this, why don’t you get the fuck off my set so we can finish our scenes and I can go home. The sooner I can forget about you and your dumbass fanboy behavior, the better!”

Throughout the entire experience, Arthur could feel tears starting to well up in his eyes as he looked around and found that everyone there bore witness to his humiliation at the hands of the actor. Although he wanted so badly to tell the actor off and give him a taste of his own medicine, the fear of further punishment and potentially causing the actor to snap and get violent towards him caused him to back down. Instead, he allowed Peter to lead the way as the intern led the embarrassed man away from set to somewhere more secluded.

This location ended up being a small crew trailer that was quite a bit away from the liveliness of the active film crews. Upon entering, Arthur finally allowed his emotions to show as he began to actively tear up and try to release the pent-up emotions that he was feeling. Throughout, Peter found himself trying his best to console the man and lift his spirits, but it seemed to be no use. Then a light bulb suddenly flicked on in Peter’s head and caused him to smile and look down towards Arthur.

“Hey, don’t get upset about that asshole. What would you say if I potentially had a way to get some revenge on Cody?” Peter inquired, which immediately caused Arthur to stop his sniffling and look up.

“Wha- what do you mean?” he said, taking a deep breath in between his words as he tried to calm himself back down.

“Let’s just say that I have… something special that could teach Cody a lesson and make him regret treating you like that. What would you say to that?”

“Say no more then, I’m interested. That asshole has no right to treat people like that just because he’s an actor. I want him to pay for what he’s done, I want him to feel the same intense sense of humiliation and shame that I feel right now…”

In response, Peter reached into the pocket of his pants and searched around for a moment. Upon pulling it out and extending his hand outwards, the nerdy intern dropped his clenched fist and allowed a necklace to unfurl out in front of Arthur’s face. “Well, I think I have something in mind that can do just that…”

Looking at it, Arthur saw that the necklace itself seemed rather simple and basic given the fact that it was a silver key with a small silver chain looped through it. But as he grabbed it with his hands to inspect it, a full body shiver coursed through Arthur’s body, which was seemingly enough to get him to go along with whatever plan Peter had in mind.

“Ok, tell me what’s going to happen then and what I need to do…”

* * * * *

At first, Arthur was quite worried that he wouldn’t be able to find Cody’s trailer despite Peter’s directions, but it seemed as though Cody’s ego made sure that that was impossible. While walking through the backlot, Arthur eventually stumbled in front of a trailer that proudly had Cody’s headshot taped to the front door along with a bold and unmissable text that displayed his full name. According to Peter, Cody often took breaks alone in the trailer around this time to “unwind” and “get in character”, so the duo figured that this would be the perfect opportunity for Arthur to enact his revenge against his tormentor. So after having a moment to take a deep breath and steady himself, Arthur gave himself an encouraging nod as he pulled open the trailer door and quickly walked into the premises.

Of course, as Arthur entered up the steps and made eye contact with the hunky actor as he sat back in a leather recliner, the man’s expression quickly changed from the lax and seemingly happy expression he was displaying. Bizarrely though, the expression it became wasn’t of rage but rather total confusion.

“Wha- who the fuck are you?” Cody inquired, which only furthered Arthur’s annoyance and dedication to his current plan. The asshole didn’t even recognize him even though the interaction just occurred less than an hour ago!

Feeling emboldened by the power that Peter had seemingly gifted him, Arthur found himself standing strong and angrily responding to the actor’s questions. “I’m the wrong guy to mess with, you fucking asshole,” he cried out, taking a few steps closer to Cody and crossing his arms.

“Wait, you’re that fucking obsessed fan from earlier,” Cody sneered, getting a bit uncomfortable being stuck with who he assumed to be a total creep. “How did you find my goddamn trailer? What, did you think you were going to just come in here and try to see me naked or something? Get the fuck out before I call security and get your pervy ass put in jail!”

“Yeah, that’s not happening Cody. You’ve been an asshole to the wrong people, it’s about time you pay for all of the bullshit you’ve put me and this crew through. Luckily, I have the perfect way to make sure that you learn your lesson,” he began, stopping before revealing the answer and thus causing Cody to get a rare shiver of panic to course through his body.

“What, are you going to try and hurt me because I wouldn’t say hi and take a fucking selfie with you? Grow the fuck up! I was working, I don’t have the time for such worthless bullshit!”

“I’m not going to hurt you, but I am going to make you regret the way you not only treated me but those poor assistants of yours. There’s no reason for you to be so stuck up and rude to people. I was a big fan of yours and I just wanted to get the ability to properly say hi and tell you how much I appreciated your work. Instead, you brushed me off and made me feel worthless like those poor assistants of yours.”

“Oh, so you’re making threats now huh?” Cody retorted, immediately pushing himself up from the recliner and sauntering his way over towards Arthur. With each step, the actor tried to make himself appear even more intimidating by clenching his fists and cracking his knuckles, allowing the noise of the popping to fill the empty trailer until he was face-to-face with the fan. “I don’t take threats lightly, so I don’t think you know who you’re messing with. I don’t think you thought this plan through bro…”

“You think so? Actually, you’re exactly where I need you to be,” Arthur responded, a wide grin emerging onto his face as a sudden tingle emerged from his chest.

Looking down at it caused Cody’s eyes to follow suit, which caused him to discover the gem on the necklace that Arthur was now wearing violently shaking against his firm chest. While this originally could have been explained by the jock actor as some cheap gimmick or gag gift, the sudden levitation of the necklace was unexplainable.

“Holy shit,” Cody exclaimed, watching as the key rose up until it was no longer hanging around Arthur’s neck but rather extended straight out towards Cody’s own neck. “Wha, what is that shit? Are you a goddamn witch?”

Before Arthur could offer up a response to the hilarious assumption though, the key suddenly jerked forward and caused Arthur to be dragged along for the ride. Given the fact that there wasn’t much free space for the man to move given Cody standing in front of him, Arthur instinctively closed his eyes and braced for impact as it tugged him directly towards the confused actor. Despite the lack of any physical impact of their two bodies, the tugging seemingly had an unintended side effect as Arthur found himself quickly drifting off into unconsciousness as his newly comatose body remained stuck in place. If he had been awake and looked down at the necklace though, Arthur would have seen that the key had somehow plunged itself deep into the center of Cody’s neck and caused his gasps of shock to become muted.

Although it was painless for Cody, it was still quite terrifying to endure finding himself no longer able to speak as his throat was stabbed by the key. So while his mind originally focused on the fear of no longer being able to speak or deliver lines, a new fear began to emerge as he opened his eyes and watched as the crazed fan was going through an indescribable sight. The longer it looked, it seemed as though pieces of Arthur’s body were seemingly being pulled off of Arthur’s body and turning into particles that were sucked into the thick silver key like a vacuum. It was quite a horrific sight to watch as the man lost limbs and several pieces of his body until only his head and neck remained levitating in front of him. But soon enough, this too dispersed into particles that were also transferred into the mysterious yet magical key in front of him.

Even without a neck wrapped around it, this key remained stuck in place lodged into Cody’s neck. Cody could only gasp in shock and allow tears to fall down his face as he could feel motion emerging with the key. Looking down, he watched as the key somehow turned itself sideways into his flesh and made it appear as though it was unlocking a doorway.

In reality though, the necklace itself was a magical item that promised the ability to transfer souls. Upon getting in close contact of an intended target, the necklace would go into action by inserting itself into the subject’s neck and allowing the wearer’s body to evaporate as their soul was transferred into the necklace as a sort of holding chamber. Upon having the necklace turned, it unlocked the usually impenetrable soul of the human body and allowed for the wearer’s soul to invade.

So as this unlocking occurred, the entirety of Arthur’s soul traversed into Cody’s neck and began to disperse itself throughout all of Cody’s body. With each additional second after this invasion, Cody found himself growing fainter and fainter as he lost all of his motor control and senses. Once every piece of this was taken from Cody and traded to its new host, Cody’s soul lost consciousness and caused the body of the hunky actor to suddenly collapse and fall to the floor. Upon making an impact, the key suddenly popped out of Cody’s throat and bounced across the wood floors of the trailer a few times before finally settling.

Out of nowhere, Arthur suddenly gasped as he was slingshot back into the realm of reality. Upon finding himself on the floor of the trailer, the man grimaced and groaned as he reached onto the end of the leather recliner and pushed himself back up to his feet. Looking around for a moment, Arthur’s eyes widened as he looked around and realized that he was alone now. As he took a look down at himself and saw the firm physique stretched out in the same clothes that he had previously seen Cody wearing, it didn’t take many more context clues for him to figure out what had occurred. “Holy shit, I’m Cody Christian,” he said, chuckling as his cock began to immediately harden at the thought of being in the body of his celebrity crush.

Eager to get a better look at himself, Arthur quickly grabbed onto the necklace on the floor and put it on before pacing through the small yet spacious trailer in search of a mirror. Upon finding a bathroom door and heading inside, the man flicked the light on and smiled gleefully as he saw Cody Christian staring back at his reflection. What soon followed was a rather intimate and erotic session of feeling up his body and admiring the gorgeous physique. As he lifted up his arms and flexed, the man’s cock throbbed and began leaking pre-cum due to just how erotic this all was. He was already a fan of transformation content, but the concept of actually experiencing a transformation of his own into one of his celebrity crushes was truly a dream come true.

“Serves you right you fucking asshole,” Arthur remarked, chuckling while hearing the sound of Cody’s voice saying his words now. “Yeah, I know you’re still down there deep down. A little perk of using this trusty necklace made it so you’re still able to witness and feel everything that I do while I’m in control. You made me feel extreme amounts of shame and embarrassment from just simply saying hello, so I’m going to make every day of your life a living hell now.”

Before Arthur could continue explaining how exactly he was going to go about torturing the real soul of Cody Christian, a knock on the actor’s trailer door caused him to stop. Upon taking a moment to calm down and try his best to adopt Cody’s talking style, Arthur took a deep inhale and exhaled before making his way out towards the door. Pulling it open though, the man smiled widely as he saw Peter standing on Cody’s doorstep.

“Did it work?” the intern asked, trying his best to play it cool in case the real Cody was still around.

While he at first tried to play it cool and pretend as though he was really Cody, Arthur couldn’t keep the charade up long and thus broke character by curling his lips into a devious smirk. “Oh yeah, it worked,” Arthur said with a chuckle. “The Cody Christian that you know is now no longer in control…”

Opening the door wide to allow Peter inside, Arthur quickly slammed the trailer door shut and locked it as he prepared to get a crash course on acting and get a head start learning Cody’s lines before he’s required to head back to set in 20 minutes. Although it was certainly a struggle at first trying to comprehend the intricacies of acting and learning what Asher’s plotlines have been so far this season, it was totally worth it when it was finally time to change into the clothing necessary for the next scenes. When Arthur was handed a hanger that contained Asher’s football uniform, the man was buzzing with excitement as he headed into the bathroom and changed into his clothing. Despite wanting so badly to spend time checking out his new body nude and admiring every inch of his godly new muscles, Arthur was adamant about the fact that the new Cody Christian wouldn’t be tardy or a drama queen in any regard. As such, he pushed aside his erotic urges and instead pulled the uniform on.

While doing so, Arthur still had a blast as he was able to find his two favorite things colliding together into one thing. Not only was he now in the body of his celebrity crush but he was also getting dressed in an accurate football that was quite similar to those that the NFL players he thirsted for wore. It was an absolute dream come true! This was especially true taking a moment to check himself out in the mirror and seeing how the padded football pants helped his thighs and ass look impeccable while the skintight compression shirt fully showcased the strong arms, modest pecs, and broad shoulders that he could now call his own.

Upon pulling on the shoulder pads and then putting on the jersey, Arthur’s cock, which was now a few inches longer, was consistently throbbing as the look was completed and he saw his reflection. He truly looked and felt like a football star! With this much needed boost of confidence from Cody’s previous taunting, Arthur was most certainly in high spirits. This was especially apparent as he looked into the mirror and gave himself a pep talk. “You’ve fucking got this, you’re Cody Christian and you’re even better than that shitty imposter!”

With this pep talk completed while also riding on the high of further tormenting the real Cody trapped deep down inside, Arthur gave an elated grin towards his reflection before exiting the bathroom and allowing Peter to lead him to set.

* * * * *

As shooting for the day was called, Arthur Harris was quite relieved to know how well his first day as an actor went. While remembering lines was one of his biggest worries, it seemed to be seamless for him as if he had gained Cody’s own ability to act and recall lines. The biggest issue actually came in the form of having to do the full-on football scenes that required him to actually run plays and catch the ball while in the role of Cody’s wide-receiver character. Luckily though, a quick refresher from some crew on the show was able to help Arthur fully grasp the plays and successfully nail the scene by rushing down the fake field and scoring the game-winning touchdown. Although it was obviously fake given the field and the numerous takes it took to get it right, Arthur still felt like a star football player when he “scored” and clenched the win for his character’s team.

While his time watching the shooting of some scenes was relatively brief, it was quite apparent that things were dense due to Cody’s diva behavior. But given the fact that the real Cody was no longer around and Arthur was on a mission of turning Cody into a more respectful and calm person, things began to feel a bit less restrained as the crew and cast began to interact more and thus started to create a sense of harmony on set.

This continued into the night until filming was finally finished after doing a workout scene in the college gym that Arthur had often seen hot clips of Cody working out in. It was quite mind boggling to find himself in Cody’s body while in the area that had led him to have plenty of wanking material. Even more wild was the fact that the scene called for Cody to be working out shirtless (something that the crew told him was due to feedback from focus groups that were aiming to appeal to more female viewers). Given the fact that Arthur hadn’t really gotten a great chance to check out his shirtless body, he was more than willing to go along with such a concept and eagerly peeled off his shirt.

While the crew offered to mist his skin to make him appear like he had been sweating, Arthur was quick the shut the idea down. “Nah, I’d like to go method for this scene,” he cockily remarked, giving a wide smile to the director which seemingly convinced him to agree. With permission granted, Arthur spent a few minutes working out on several machines until he was dewy enough for the camera to pick up on it.

Once the scene was shot and filming concluded for the day, Arthur opted to stay back and spend a little bit extra time in the gym set. After saying goodbye and thanking the crew for their hard work, Arthur watched as everyone slowly filtered out and went home for the day besides himself and Peter. Upon waiting a few minutes to verify that there were no stragglers that could return in case they forgot something, the duo finally began to speak and discuss the events of the day.

After Peter gave high praise to Arthur for his performance as Cody Christian, the duo shifted gears to discuss some other elements to their deal. Obviously, given the fact that Peter was able to provide the unbelievable reality of possessing Cody, there would be a requirement to reward Peter for the gift he had bestowed upon Arthur. Although there could have been a sizable monetary requirement for such a priceless gift, Peter’s ask was quite simple. All he wanted in return for giving Arthur Cody’s body was the chance to admire the actor’s physique and achieve his fantasy of getting Cody Christian off however he desired.

Given the fact that Arthur knew that he would surely be horny in the aftermath of possessing Cody, it was a no-brainer for him to accept such a proposition. Not only did he get someone else willing to worship his body, but he also got to cum in the process! With the agreement out of the way, Arthur wasted no time pulling off his clothing and revealing to the both of them for the first time the nude physique of Cody Christian.

As Arthur lifted his arms up and flexed his biceps, Peter was quick to jump into action by peppering kisses along his firm upper arms and running his tongue along the musky pits of the freshly sweaty actor. All through the experience, Arthur had a look of pure elation on his face as he savored the sensation of feeling incredibly strong and masculine. Although he had gained a rather impressive physique from his years of working out, the man was still rather meek and thus didn’t really use those muscles for much when it came to any romance and intimacy. With Cody though, that would all change since he felt like the total package.

To make matters even erotic, Peter was desperate to add more humiliation for the real Cody by moaning his name as he ran his arms along Arthur’s back and firmly used a hand to squeeze each perky ass cheek that he now had. While his hands then traversed back up Cody’s broad back and moved to the front, Arthur even chimed in talking about how great it was to have his body felt up by someone smaller than him. This tit-for-tat continued between the duo as Peter cupped Arthur’s pecs and ran his tongue along the man’s washboard abs while Arthur continued on the slight taunting towards the thinner man.

The idea seemed to be rather effective, as both men were soon rock hard and begging for release. Luckily, Peter recognized this fact for both of them and opted to do something about it. As he got down onto his knees and began to focus on toying with Arthur’s new cock, the former British man fell back onto the seat of the bench press and lifted his arms up while gasping. Despite seeming like a total novice when it came to sex, it appeared as though Peter was an expert as he sensually ran his tongue along Arthur’s new 9.5” shaft and even took a moment run his hands underneath Cody’s sweat-stained shorts to play with the straight actor’s tight asshole. Luckily though, the main event finally arrived as Peter opened his mouth and put his lips around Arthur’s cock. Before long, the two of them were loudly moaning (although Peter’s was muffled due to just how wide his mouth was spread attempting to wrap around the girthy manhood) as they both pushed desperately towards completion. Within seconds, the inevitable finally arrived as the duo came in unison, with Arthur’s thick load taking a quick journey down the back of Peter’s throat while Peter’s own cum splattered against his underwear in an intense fashion.

After Peter finished sucking and pulled his mouth off of Cody’s cock, the duo both laid down for a few minutes to catch their breath from such an erotic and unbelievable experience. When Arthur first received the invitation for the trip from Nate, he had no idea of just how life-changing it would be. Not only did he get to teach a cocky asshole a much-needed lesson, but Arthur also got a new body and life out of it… and the body of his idol no less! It was a dream come true, so much so that Arthur quickly said as much as he logged into his Discord account to send a message to Nate saying exactly that. While he promised to explain more later, Arthur ended the message by saying that the gift was the best thing he could have received.

Now eager to get out of the studio and explore what this new life has in store for him, Arthur said his goodbyes to Peter while talking about how he was excited to see him tomorrow. Although there was certainly no real attraction that Arthur felt for the meek nerd, it was safe to say that they would be friends forever due to the kindness that Peter had done for him. As he finally made his return to Cody’s trailer, Arthur rifled through the rather grand closet that had countless designer brands hung up. Feeling rather proud of himself for such a great performance as Cody Christian, Arthur opted to pull out a luxury suit and put it on. It was quite erotic to see the final result as he looked into the reflection in his bathroom mirror, especially given how form-fitting it was with his muscular build!

“Let’s go see what the life of Cody Christian has to offer huh?” He said to his reflection, lifting his arms up and giving a cocky flex that was punctuated with a wink to just further the humiliation towards the soul stuck powerless in his own body. After grabbing Cody’s phone and wallet, a quick search through the trailer provided a set of car keys. Making his way out of the trailer, the man was quite amused to click the lock button of his key fob and see the lights of a brand new sports car light up.

Upon unlocking it and getting into the driver’s seat, the man oohed and ahhed at the leather seats he had as he turned the car over and felt the car purr to life. As he took a moment to press his foot onto the gas pedal and feel the engine powerfully rev up to the point where his body was shivering, a cocky smirk emerged on Arthur’s face as he felt drunk on unbridled power. Not only was he in a powerful car, but he was also now the proud owner of an even powerful body and life. All of those years of thirsting and blindly stanning the actor had paid off as Arthur was now for all intents and purposes Cody Christian through and through. With a body like this, he could get any man or woman he desired along with any role given his Prince Charming level good looks.

Even though he didn’t have a license or a car back in the UK, the brand new Cody Christian still felt no worries as he sped off into the night. He was a lucky man after all, and there was no way that he’d end up losing when he looked and felt this good!

Like what you read? Please consider signing up for my Patreon to not only support my work but also get access to longer and more explicit stories like this one.

#male transformation #possession #male possession #jock transformation #revenge #celebrity

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

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model!steve and voice actor!Eddie (part 2)

part 1 here | ao3 link here | the temp is up on this one so like... dni if under 18 pls

Steve spends a lot of his spare time at the gym. Comes with the territory of modeling or whatever. Gotta keep himself strong, without developing bulging muscles. Gotta keep himself toned, without becoming too lean. Somewhat of a balancing act to this media fuckery circus.

Times are changing, yeah maybe. But not for puffy-lipped preps with killer bone structure. Steve still falls under the category of stereotypical Pretty Boy, and he’s chill with that. Fucking owns it.

Most days…

He’s currently cooling down on the treadmill - brisk walk, almost a jog. It’s a good pace for multitasking some adult shit that he needs to get done. Staying hydrated, keeping his photoshoot calendar up-to-date, answering a few emails. Yada yada.

Steve takes a swig of his seaweed (more like arsenic) smoothie. Opens the top email that reads:

The Fallen King - Final Commercial Cut

Right. Steve almost forgot about this particular shoot. Well, tried to repress the thoughts of that mega-douche director who kept referring to Steve’s ass as ‘prime real estate.’ Fucking creep.

He scrolls down to the attached file and slides his headphones back over his ears.

The ad opens with a wide shot of Steve draped over the throne, fog swelling around the bottom of the screen. The music is an eerie cello solo, set to a heavy bassline.

Just another oversexualized cologne campaign, he thinks. Probably will barely feature the product because they paid big money for Steve’s body. Gotta get their fill of it (ha, they fucking wish Steve would fill them up).

But then the narration rolls into his ears and the room does a somersault. Practically inverts it’s axis at the sound dripping in Steve’s ears:

‘The mighty will fall from grace…’

“Oh shit.” Steve almost wipes out on the treadmill, has to catch his fall on the side bars. His knees are tingling, calves molten and shaky. Already half hard, which is definitely going to be a problem in these flimsy, mesh gym shorts.

‘Forbidden love and public slander…’

But that voice. That tone. That sinful register set in the minor key of Holy Fuck.

‘Will bring them to their knees.’

Alright, that fucking does it. Steve pauses the video before he’s fully tenting-out in a goddamn fitness center. Packs up his shit, chucks the sludge smoothie in the trash, and finds an empty stall. Emphatically locks it.

“Agh, damnit!” Steve's thumb slips over the screen and exits out of the video. It scrolls back to the top of the email - a new message has been added to the chain.

Seriously, what obnoxious fucker does ‘Reply All’ these days?

The new message reads:

Great work, team. (Sorry for being such a vocal slut.)

(… Not that sorry though.) - Eddie Munson

That’s right - the voice artist. Almost didn’t recognize the voice, but the repressed memory of that day comes flying to the surface when Steve sees the name.

He recalls the guy being objectively cute too. Not in the California ‘sun-kissed skin’ kind of way. More in the Seattle ‘rain forces me to be a pale homebody’ kind of way. His eyes were something else though. They reminded Steve of the sepia tone filters he used in his early modeling portfolio. No way in hell Steve could ever forget knockout eyes like that.

The locker room is empty. Steve reopens the video, raises the volume high enough to mute out the thin hum from the air conditioning unit. Only wants to hear Eddie’s voice. That’s it.

He’s already touching himself when the first phrase falls out of the headphones. Can’t even help it now that he’s alone. It’s all too good. Works himself up all stuffy and sensitive by the time the new part comes up:

‘Drenched in their guilt. Soaked in their shame.’

Fucking christ.

‘Choking on worthless confessions…’

Nope. Nope. Absolutely not. Choking? Worthless? What is this, a sado hotline? Steve feels the heat spreading on his neck, flushed over in a non-exercise way. There’s a thump in his dick, has to squeeze his fingers around it. Like his body needs a reminder to calm the fuck down.

‘Until all that is left of them is desolate darkness.’

Pretty sure the raspy exhale after every phrase is going to do Steve in, saturate his last ounce of dignity with want. Eddie’s breathing is taking Steve’s breath away, and that’s an outright mindfuck. Earfuck.

Something is getting fucked, and somehow, Steve still needs more.

While the song sustains, Steve strokes himself to the percussive rhythm.

‘The Fallen King. The scent of secrets.’

The hiss on the last syllable fades into the music till everything fizzles out, going dead silent.

Well, everything goes silent except for Steve, who is utterly rattled. Can hear his dense breath and it’s way too noisy for a public space. The pulse in his neck is irregular, hitched the fuck up. His smartwatch is buzzing, alerting him that his heart rate is elevated, which duh. His whole body feels like it underwent some sexual awakening in the middle of a fitness center.

And, sure. That’s a common place for people to realize how gay and desperate they are, but not like this. Not with zero visuals of sweaty bodies.

Before he starts the video over to… finish the job, a phone call lights up his screen. Because of course it does.

He reads the name and swipes it open. “What’s up, Buckley?”

“I need coffee.” Robin whines, already pouting into the phone speaker no doubt.

“You always need coffee.”

“Yeah but like… it tastes better when you buy me coffee.”

“Oh, so you want to mooch off of your own client?” Steve teases because he can. They can annoy the shit out of each other and write it off as endearment. “Pretty unprofessional of you, Ms. Manager.”

Robin groans. Makes it a long one too - probably to show off both her annoyance and lung capacity. “Fuck all the way off, you were my friend first. Always friends first.”

“Always friends first.” Steve agrees. She’s right, usually is about most things. Robin has been his manager since his last agency went bankrupt from pouring their funds into promoting Fyre Fest. And everyone knows that turned out to be an entire fuckshow.

Honestly, it’s easier this way - Robin being his manager. They get to hang out more, he has more input on gigs that he’s interested in…

Interested in. Huh. The metaphorical lightbulb flicks on in Steve’s voice-drunk brain. Having his best friend as his manager is also convenient when Steve needs the phone number of a certain co-worker.

“Alright, fine.” Steve has a sly grin on as he talks. “I’ll bring over some coffee.”

“Thank god.”

“If!”

“Ugh.”

He huffs out a laugh. “If you can send me the cast and crew contact sheet from the Fallen King commercial.”

“Ew, why?” Robin asks, sounds totally repulsed. Valid, that shoot was Objectification Station.

But truly, Steve’s not in the mood to make up an excuse. He’s sore and sweaty and half-hard. So he just gets to the damn point. “Look, do you want coffee or not?”

“Okay okay.” That’s one way to speed up the process. Caffeine threats - works every time. “Dropping the file to you now.”

“You’re the best.” Steve sings.

“I know, I know.” And the line clicks dead.

Okay. This is not a booty call, it’s not.

Steve is just texting a semi-stranger to tell him that his voice is potentially the hottest thing he’s ever heard. Okay, he’ll definitely phrase it better than that, maybe throw a few emojis in there to normalize the tone. Soften it up to sound very un-stalkery.

Yeah. Not a booty call. And if Eddie happens to send an audio message, and Steve happens to jerk off to it… still not a booty call, right?

Pathetic, maybe. But not basic, thank fuck.

He types, then re-types the message out way too many times before settling on this:

Steve: Great work on the commercial voiceover! Got ur number from the call sheet. hope that’s cool.

Steve hits send before realizing he didn’t have the goddamn common sense to introduce himself. He’s not even a rookie at hookups, why is he suddenly so frazzled by this guy?

“This is Steve by the way…” he mumbles into an audio message. Hits send, then quickly makes another:

“The… model guy.”

The model guy? What in the flustered hell is going on with him?

A chime notification goes off maybe two minutes after Steve sends the last message. Which is like… hot. Shameless fast texters are a millennial turn-on, for sure.

It’s a voice text, so Steve takes thirty seconds to calm down whatever involuntary throb just happened in his sweatpants. He sucks in some air and presses play:

“Pretty sure all the kids these days just send a ‘u up’ message to people they wanna dick down at midnight.”

Damn. Eddie’s voice sounds totally different, but just as sexy. Like amateur porn sexy. Is amateur audio porn a thing? It should be.

Steve quickly saves the audio file and types back.

Steve: Ok pls don’t mention ‘kids’ while I’m trying to flirt with u

Eddie: Waitwaitwait So we're definitely flirting right now? I actually interpreted that correctly?

Steve: Like u said It’s midnight So… *shrug emoji*

And a phone call comes through. Eddie’s contact name flashing in a harsh light, too blinding and too unexpected. Steve’s heart is hammering at his rib cage, suddenly so fucking nervous. He waits until the last ring to answer, buys himself some time cause god knows, he needs it.

Steve takes a breath and swallows. “He-”

“Okay, so you do realize this is the sewer rat voice actor guy from the commercial shoot, right?” Eddie interrupts, sounds out of breath. “And not like… a fellow model or Timothee Chalamet’s cousin or something?”

That earns a hearty laugh and eye-roll from Steve. “He is so not my type.”

“Thought he was everyone’s type.”

“Nah.” Steve rolls onto his belly, very giddy and disarmed by the ease of the exchange. His nerves are set aside, replaced with his usual confidence. “More into sewer rat voice actor guys.”

“That… is some very specific criteria.” Eddie coughs or maybe it's just a dry laugh. He sounds pleased as hell, so laugh seems more likely. “Holy shit, I’m flirting with a model!”

“You’re cute." Steve should not be so charmed right now, but the impulsive honesty is really doing it for him. "Dorky, but cute.”

Eddie mumbles something incoherent, then clears his throat. Speaks quieter this time. “So why’d you text?”

“So why’d you call?”

“Just, uh… needed confirmation that this is real life.”

Steve lets out a ‘hmm,’ thinks of a proper response to that. “If I was there, I could pinch you. Ya know... so you’d know it’s real.” Okay. Maybe not proper, but whatever. It’s late. His brain is half scrambled from hormones and exhaustion, cut him some slack.

“Would do a lot more than pinch you if you were actually here.” And sure, Eddie might have mumbled that, but Steve clearly heard it. He heard exactly what Eddie just suggested.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Fuck, we’re doing this?” Eddie whispers.

Steve turns onto his back again, lets his hand wander down. “If you’re into that. Like hearing your voice, Eddie.”

“Like hearing you say my name like that.” And Eddie sounds like he means it. His tone is smoothing over, the same way it did in the narration. “You sound so worked up already.”

Steve moans, chest falling hard enough that the phone slips. Has to reposition it to get all that good vocal seduction back in his ear.

“God, wish I could see what you look like right now.” Eddie exhales, getting that nice rasp that Steve likes so much. It’s sultry and rich. Breathless at just the right moments. “Bet you’re lying down, aren’t you? Phone wedged between your neck and ear cause your hands are too busy to hold it properly. Am I right?”

“Yeah.” Steve pushes past the waistband of his sweatpants, then his boxers.

Eddie hums. Growls. “The things I’d do to you like that. Lying down, looking so eager to please. Saw how good you are at taking direction that day of the shoot. Does that apply in the bedroom too, baby?”

“It… fuck.” Steve strokes himself slowly. Can barely get the words out cause it feels like he's chewing on Eddie's voice. Swallowing every syllable. “Yeah, it does.”

“See - that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“Problem?”

“That I don’t know what you’re into. How you like it.”

“Pretty open to… trying things.” Steve reassures, eyes closing to soak in every sensation. “Just keep talking.”

And thank all that is holy, Eddie does just that. He keeps talking. “Can’t stop thinking about that pretty neck of yours. How I’d kiss it, suck on it till your skin goes tender and soft under my lips. Till your head rolls back like it did in that video.”

Eddie's words are syrup. Heavy and tempting. “I’d let you rest it on my shoulder while I get my hands all over you. See what sweet spots drive you wild, get you to squirm for me.”

Steve's grip tightens, pumping at a pace that’s close to getting fucked. A pace that makes it easier to pretend that it’s Eddie’s hand wrapped around him, making his vision blurred and spotty - even with his eyes screwed shut.

“Eddie, you’re… oh my god.” Steve whines, knows it must be pretty fucking loud with the speaker smushed against his cheek. “You’re so good at this.”

Eddie shushes him, sounds like he’s snickering a bit. “I’d tease you like that until your thighs start to tremble. Until you beg me to go further. End the torture.”

“Fucking christ…please.” Guess Steve really is that good at taking direction. Or maybe he’s extra easy for guys that turn his brain into liquor. Too busy begging to know which one it might be. “Keep going.”

Eddie’s laugh is dark and rough. “Sounds nice hearing you beg like that. Like sin.”

Feels like sin too.

Steve’s fingers are slicked nicely with precome. The friction of his palm is making everything warmer, better. And stirring all of those feelings up with Eddie’s voice? Fucking hell, Steve is close. He’s so damn- “Okay, okay. If we don’t stop, I’m gonna-”

“I know.” Eddie purrs, sweetly mean. “Thought that was the point.”

“Cannot believe I'm about to say this, but maybe…” Steve has to dig his hand out from his boxers to complete the sentence. Knocks his head against the wall because his behavior is totally batshit right now. “Maybe I want to see you again first? Is that weird?”

His skin sort of tingles from going this long without finishing. Never solved the blue-balling issue back at the gym either, so Steve’s on the verge of climax insanity right now. Didn’t think he’d discover an edging kink at the ripe age of twenty-five, but eureka. Here it is.

“Not weird.” Eddie’s voice returns back to a calmer one. The one that doesn’t make Steve want to bend over and get fucked so hard that his organs shift around. “I mean, I’m weird, sure. But wanting to complete this in person is not weird. Very un-weird, in fact.”

“You talk a lot.”

“Yeah well… voice actor.” Eddie says, sort of deadpan. “You couldn’t see that, but I just did ‘razzle dazzle’ hands.”

Shit, Steve really likes this guy. He just used the phrase ‘razzle dazzle hands,’ and Steve is still horny for him. Wow.

“Is tomorrow too soon?” Steve manages to say before overthinking it.

“Tomorrow-tomorrow, or like today-tomorrow?” Eddie asks. “Cause it’s past midnight.”

Right. Booty call time moves at an entirely different pace than normal time does. “Today-tomorrow. If you’re free.”

“Free as a dead composer’s anthology of music.” Eddie answers happily.

Steve opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it because what? What does that even mean? Is that a yes or a no? Goddamnit, his head hurts. Too many questions, not enough orgasms.

“Most classical music is royalty-free.” Eddie clears his throat, sounds like he’s tapping on something. “… So yeah. I’m free.”

“Right.” Steve chuckles, hard to believe he’s unapologetically gushing. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”

“Great. See you today, Steve.” Eddie is still snorting at his own joke while the call ends.

They haven’t sorted out any of the details yet, but it doesn’t matter. It’s happening. It’s real.

So real, that he wants an actual date with Eddie before steamy phone sex. He wants to make Eddie laugh before making him come. That's like... unheard of for Steve. Uncharted.

Damn.

Today-tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

#steddie #steddie fic #this is inspired by the unhinged ao3 tag generator #one more part after this #hope that you like it xx

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tigertan · 4 months

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neighborly favors and chicago cigarettes.

uhh late to the bear party but eat up anyway .

probably part one of a slow burn fic im writing .. lmk if the public wants more :3 CONTEXT } you recently moved to chicago with the help of your friend syndey, who's boss-slash-friend-slash-business partner had an open apartment across from him. [word count ; 4k] [ mentions of alchohol, cigarettes, cursing. ]

;; all fluff. awkward first meetings. a lot of fuckin' tension and shared cigarettes.

the blackened mac and cheese in the pot bubbles vengefully on the stovetop and you curse it right back with a hissed out, “fuuuck.”

you’d left the stove on for a bit too long when you went to hop into the shower. as a result your mac and cheese became charcoal black and smoking. it’s a wonder how the fire alarm didn’t go off as you grab the handle with a stained rag and toss it into the sink.

the hot pot emits a dying hiss as it hits the water, and red whines from under the couch. “yeah, i know.” you respond to him, standing square in the kitchen and staring at the pot of your former dinner. “that was the last box too, shit.” you groan, finally stepping forward to peer over the sink edge and now you were staring at the guttering pasta and dairy mixture with furrowed brows. “fuck.” you say once more. instead of red’s usual whine in response your phone buzzes on the countertop and you received a text from sydney. she’s down by the bear if you wanted to stop by and maybe grab dinner with her and some of the staff since closing is in 30 minutes? you respond to her with a swift hell yeah. you didn’t dress up much. neat white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. afterall, the bear was a walking distance of four to five minutes. and you throw on a black puffer jacket, for chicago wasn’t christened the windy city for nothing. again, an entire scene change from the warm, near stagnant winds of southern california.

leaving red in the bedroom as it’s way past his bedtime, you grab your phone, wallet, and keys before stuffing your hands in your pockets and stepping out. but as you do there’s a rustling of paper against polyester and a crumpled sheet inside your left pocket. you already know what it is before pulling it out and every fiber in you wants to throw it away. it’s a photo roll— from last winter— of you and your ex-boyfriend, lucas. you sigh, stuffing your bottom lip between your teeth as you stare at the once over the moon you and him. it seemed so long ago, before he started drinking. you clench your jaw. you’d moped around enough in the past three months. this was a fresh start that everyone said you’d deserved, and it would not be ruined by him. nothing would ever be ruined by him again. a spike of anger wedges between your ribs, familiar and fucking ugly. you heave your chest once, exhaling it out along with the paper roll, tossing it to the floor. you jet down the stairs two at a time and step into the windy streets of the windy city, smelling the air. it smelled of petrol and cigarettes, but you didn’t outright hate it. it smelled like l.a. but then again, every big city probably smelled like gas and smoke.

the walk was quicker than you expected, as you strode down the street, you took in the street signs and flashing lights and other lone passerby who shared the sidewalk with you. a peaceful time of stressful pacing, for many a person walking the streets so late at night.

the bear was an elegant place, with a contemporary touch to the furnishings and finishings that you could see from the outside itself. you stepped inside, warm smells of food filling your nostrils and teasing your tastebuds.

it was beautiful, the ambiance had an aura that screamed both family and stress. but such was to be expected from a place that was aiming for a michelin star. you spotted where staff filtered in and out from the front of house and back of house and was beginning to make a line towards it when you were stopped by a very tall man— in his forties most likely— standing behind a lectern at the front who slid his hand between you and your goal. he wore a crisply pressed, all black suit and a buzz cut. “reservation ma’am,” he asked, a cocked brow as he took in your simple attire. you suddenly felt extremely self-conscious of your sweatpants and plain shirt; probably stained as well. “ah— well, i’m friends with sydney,” you reply, hoping it gets you past him. he doesn’t seem to be budged and you get nervous, even a little pissed from the way he’s looking at you. you’re a decent height, but he’s tall. that makes you shift on your feet. “i moved in next to her uh, friend-slash-buisness partner-slash-executive chef? does that— does that ring any bells?” you add on, shrugging. the big puffer you have on probably is not helping your case. “uh-huh.” he nods over another waitstaff, whispers in their ear and sends them off. you two then stand there for a bit, his blue eyes seeming staring directly into you and you shuffle a bit on your feet. you introduce yourself, guessing that maybe reducing the barrier of strangers would ease the tension of this encounter. telling him your name, you hold your hand out. he looks at it then back up to your face before taking it with a grip like iron. “richard. richie. nice to meet yo’.” “nice to meet you too, richie.” you nod shake his hand. at that moment the wait staff is back and whispers again in richie’s ear. he nods and they go back onto the floor and richie nods towards the back. “guess you’re free to go sweetheart.” he gives you a wink as you pass and you give him a scrunched up side eye. what a weirdo. the kitchen is fast. fast isn’t even the best way to describe it. just standing in the doorway had your palms itching to jump in and help, although you wouldn’t be much help, being a preschool teacher. a waiter was coming at you in long strides, an expensive dish in their hands and you immediately stepped to the side, not wanting to be the cause for someone missing their meal. you spot sydney, at the front of the line and constantly spewing out order after order after order, each one responding with a, “yes chef!” from the cooks in the kitchen.

suddenly another chef bursts into the kitchen from the front and his pale brown hair is flying at the ends, although it looks like he’d tried to slick it back it obviously failed; his eyes are a striking blue and widened, the irises eating away the white sclera. but even though he seemed a tad shorter than you, he was pretty fuckin’ cute. that was, until, he opened his mouth and his voice climbed to a screaming spiel at sydney and anyone who was around, really. rounding the large table of food and preparation in the middle of the kitchen, he grabbed two trays and shoved them at the waitstaff. while you didn’t understand most of it, kitchen lingo was incredibly confusing— why was everyone chef? how do you know who was talking to who?— you could tell that he was practically bursting in anger, the bridge of his nose bunched up with the t-zone of his face.

it was a sight really. a perhaps five seven man in a pressed white chef outfit screaming like all hell was breaking loose. maybe a little scary, but you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. from whatever dramas you’ve seen on chef life and the such— take marco pierre white, for example— head chefs were incredibly demanding, seemingly downright arrogant.

you didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire, being a prime target for your un-chef-liness in the midst of a busybodied kitchen, so you ducked into what looked like an office, one wall plastered with a ceiling-to-floor bookshelf and a framed picture of a baseball stadium. hopefully you were safe in here. you sighed.

but it turns out you weren’t, because that same short angry chef came barreling into the office area and stopped short when he spotted you, the scream dying on his tongue. there was the thick and familiar air of awkward tension and you fiddled with the material in your pockets, swallowing. “hello.” you break in and he blinks. his eyes are huge, you realize. “are you— are you going to yell at me too?” “uh. i’m– i’m sorry, wh—” he replies, brows furrowing as he looks you up and down. “CARMY!” sydney followed in closely after the chef, cutting him off. she looked at you, doing a short double take before looking back at— carmy? “can you just— can you calm down? you’re scaring everyone again.” she sighed, obvious exasperation on her face. it flicked a switch in carmy and he turned to her, all the anger filling his features in an instant. “no syd, the fucking fish is cold again. we have a vip up there and the fish is cold and—” he was like a candle wick, you realized. exploding now and then in violent, flashing flames, only to get doused out with a simple thing or the other.

this time it was sydney circling her heart with a closed fist. and he stuttered, swallowing harshly before doing the getsure back to her. “i’m sorry.” she says, “i was caught up again and it all got fucked. i’ll fix it.” unsure of what to do, you debated doing it too. but maybe that would be weird. so you instead shoved your hands deeper in your pocket and thinned your lips. “uh. sorry,” you shot a look to carmy. “should i go?” you asked sydney. “i thought you guys were uh. done so i like— came over here.”

sydney chuckled lightly, though it sounded more tired than anything. “no, no you’re fine. it’s just the dinner rush. it’s dying out, the kitchen closes in like— fifteen minutes. i didn’t realize you’d get here so quickly.” “well, it’s like a five minute walk, so.” you explain. “i would’ve hung out with red,” you joke. sydney grins. “yeah, he would’ve liked that a lot more.” “okay, who is this?” carmy interjects, hands splayed in front of him as if he tried to physically stop the conversation between you and sydney. your friend nodded as if to say oh yeah, and gestured to you, telling carmy your name. “she’s the one who moved across from you. that’s why i asked you for that apartment information.”

he just nods, then hands you another look before turning on his heel back into the kitchen.

sydney watches him walk away and then turns to you. she shrugs in apology and you dismiss it with a wave. “i’m. so sorry. i genuinely thought you’d take longer. just… hang out in here, i guess.” you laugh and take a seat— gingerly— in the office chair. “yeah, i’ll just hang out in here.” sydney nods then jets back to the chaos that is the kitchen after flashing you another one of her signature smiles. thank goodness you’d downloaded that mind-numbing mobile app on the flight here.

-- you could hear the unwinding of the kitchen from the office. it was evident; the defeated hiss of fired pans falling into a sink, stoves clicking off, and the urgent yells of the staff had reduced to inaudible chatter. carmy walks back into the office, and he seemingly forgot you were there, from the way he stopped in his tracks and blinked at you. he was no longer in a chef uniform, eight sets of buttons across his chest were swapped out for a plain white t-shirt and black jeans that were too tight around his calves. the shirt also was fitted around his chest despite the bagginess it held around the rest of his frame. did he have a thing for too-tight clothes? you looked up, and immediately stood from the chair, apology written across your face. “ah. sorry. syd said i could wait in here after… all that.” “yeah, no no, it’s… it’s fine. i just need, uh,” he pointed to the jacket hanging on the seat of the chair. the one you’d been half sitting-slash-leaning on, and had noted mentally that it was a pretty ugly shade of brown. “oh. yeah.” you fumble the pickup, fumble the fucking delivery, but the jacket ends back in carmy’s hands and he slides it on. only then you realize he had tattoos. all over his arms.

you’d always wanted a tattoo, maybe one of red. you’d seen other dog obsessed people on tiktok get tattoos of their dog’s paws and noses. carmy’s ink peered out from his jacket, littering his left hand in numbers and other stray marks. you sort of stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do until he speaks, “are you um— you’re sydney’s friend?” he asks, blinking voraciously. you nod. “yeah. that’s me.” theres a bit of a chuckle to it, in the hopes of the labored tension between you two will dissipate.

unfortunately it doesn’t.

you’d heard many things about this guy, everything but his name, surprisingly. sydney had raved about him being named the ‘best chef’ in the ‘best restaurant’ in america. in socal, with the budget you had, the best you’d get was souplantation. it’s a shame they shut down.

maybe he should win an award for most awkward man ever, you thought with a bitter edge, swallowing hard. “are you going to the bar too?” you ask. he seems almost surprised you decided to continue to talk to him and he looks behind him then back to you in rapid succession. “oh. yeah. just for, for a few.” he replied. you nod back, and jump at this newfound opportunity. “how far is it?” “huh? oh, like, a ten minute drive.” carmy responds, taking out a rung of car keys from his left pocket. perfect. you think. “do you think—” you begin, on the path to ask him for a ride, maybe you’d break the awkward silence between you two and you’d be friends. but it never happened on account of sydney walking back into the office, changed into her large trench coat and grins at you as she calls your name. “you ready? we’ll take the subway,” she nods to the door, and waits as if you were to follow. you sigh internally. oh well. maybe he’d drink enough and they’d loosen up and you could ask him if his name was really carmy and why the hell he was so mad earlier. you side step carmy with a muttered, “excuse me”, and follow sydney out the back and around the corner and to the subway. —

the bar is quaint, some local pub with local teams and references plastered from wooden mahogany wall to wooden mahogany wall. it smells strongly of beer and grease, so thickly it lays gently on your tongue and makes you immensely hungry.

sydney walks to a table in the far right corner. a tall man and very short woman sit side by side, joking as the woman grins widely. a pudgy guy with a braid sits beside— great. richie is here too, you realize with sullen realization and swallow the sour bile in your throat. he just radiated a terribly immature aura. the other side of the table were four seats, the two on the right side filled by another tall man in a beanie and beside him sat carmy. you wonder in passing how he got here so fast. “sydney! you’re late,” richie booms, beer glass in his hand. the image is crude and you cringe by the slightest. sydney scoffs playfully, rolling her eyes. “shut the fuck up richie,” she retorts. you sit on the side next to carmy and sydney takes your right. he raises his hands in mock surrender, and passes two untouched beer glasses to you and sydney, you take it slowly. you hadn’t drank since— well, since you realized why lucas acted the way he did. so you held the beer glass between you hands on the table and watched the witty banter of the staff members unfold, so natural and so familial it felt warm and fuzzy— for lack of a better, less cheesy term— in the deepest parts of your heart.

but it was broken, momentarily, by carmy standing up in a bit of an abrupt manner and muttering something along the lines of “smoke break,” and you watch him leave with some sadness. he hadn’t talked much, during the whole show, whenever he did it was a sideish chuckle or a shut the fuck up to richie. a lot of people were saying that, you realized. the break let everyone take a hearty swig from their glasses, and the silence brought the attention to you. tina— the short woman with an underlying spanish accent— asked you where you were from. “california,” you replied. “it fucking sucks out here,” you joke, and feel a sense of social accomplishment when the staff laughed alongside you. it grants you that moment of courage for you to take a sip of ‘liquid courage’. you hadn’t drank in so long. you were never a heavyweight, but the long gap between your last taste of spirit let the alcohol in the drink go immediately to your head and opened the metaphorical floodgates of your surprisingly dirty mouth and quick whips that were always the highlight of your college party experience.

“so why’d you move out here, then, sweetheart?” [“you can’t just call people sweetheart, richie,” sydney scolded almost subconsciously, but was brushed off by richie with a wave.] you held the beer glass in both your hands, a brow lifting with the side of your mouth in a half-disgusted-half-scorned look. “um. california’s too fucking expensive?” you offer in a ploy to change the subject but he shakes his head as he follows through with his question, staring at you. “don’t believe that.” he retorted almost immediately in between a swig of beer. you glared at him. “okay, fucko. i needed a new job.” “and what are you?” “... a preschool teacher.” “not with that mouth!” ebra interjected with gibelike laughter, the other members of the beef chiming in. you had to admit, that was true. you’d always had a bit of a sailors tongue, something your fellow teachers berated you on during your days as a TA.

“okay, okay, yeah, i have a filthy fucking mouth, but i’m still a preschool teacher.” you shrug, taking a sip with a snarky smile. “okay, but preschool teacher pay is worse in illinois.” richie pressed you. he knew there was something, you knew he wanted it out of you, like the nosy fuckin’ bitch he was. “okay, but—” “come on, what is it really?” he interrupted you with a plaguey tone of voice that made your stomach curdle and your mouth twist in an annoyed grimace. “you fuck the wrong principal? buy the wrong drugs? bad fuckin’ boyfriend?” when your grip on the glass tightens, the beer sloshing the sides at the miniscule impact, richie knows he’s won. and like the loud mouth he is, he makes it known. “oh HO, so that’s your fucking pandora’s box. come on, what kind of asshole was he? the tight assed asshole? the—”

he doesn’t get a chance to finish because you slam your beer glass down onto the honey-washed wooden table and it spills, getting your hand and the sleeve of your puffer damp. you glare daggers into richie, the familiar javelin of rage fitting in your chest almost familiarly. “do you fucking mind? ever hear of privacy, you washed up gossip whore?” you damn near snarl, shoving the chair back as you stand and cock your head to one side. the bar had quieted; curious, nosy bystanders had taken an interest in the sudden spike of aggression and noise that radiated from you. sydney gingerly tried to lay a hand on your arm, but you pulled away from her as the pressure fell on your bicep. you didn’t mean to snap at her, but as of that moment, you’d snap at anyone. you felt cornered, like a wild animal being poked through the bars of a cage by jeering children. the teeth in your jaw ground together, and you pushed the chair back further with your legs to untangle yourself from the situation, taking long, deliberate strides to the back door, the one carmy had gone through. shoving through the heavy metal door, it didn’t take you long to find carmy. he stood a few paces away from the door, under a flickering street lamp that flirted with various winged insects. it splayed over him, illuminating the chef in harsh yet complementary light.

he looks almost surprised you’re there, a cig pursed in his lips, the case in one hand with the lighter in the other. “uh. hey,” he nods to you. was it routine for these awkward silences to find a home between you two? you nod back, the flush in your cheeks hopefully falling out. then you nod to the cigarette case in his hands. “enough to share?”

–

you two stand; around a foot or two apart, cigarettes in your mouths. one looked up and the other looked down. the sky was shittily pretty, you noted. city pollution obstructed the sight of any stars, but the neon glows of various billboards and street signs rose into the air and tinged the edges of the purple-black canvas.

you exhaled heavily, the smoke burning your nostrils on the way out. it’d been, what— two, three months?— since you’d “quit” smoking. it didn’t fit with the whole preschool teacher-esque you needed. but tonight was just getting worse and worse and you wanted to go bash your head against the brick alleyway until god herself would come down and take you away. “richie?” he speaks, and it startles you. the cig nearly falls from your mouth, but you take it away between your index and middle finger. you look back at him, blinking then nodding slowly. he nods back in acknowledgement. “what uh– what he’d do now?” “other than be a big fucking nosy bitch, nothing, really.” you reply, taking a long drag on the cigarette, the spike in your ribs chipping away with each wash of nicotine.

carmy makes an o with his mouth and nods again. he looked like a bird, you realized. but not in a bad way, or anything. like a flighty falcon, the kind you saw on those nature rehabilitation shows on animal planet. you just needed to hold them the right way, maybe say the right cooing words. maybe find something in common if you did that right. you give a slight look to him from the side. the cigarette was cushioned in his lips, and while they weren't very large, from here alone you could tell they were plush pink and soft, from curve it held around the butt of the cig.

“why’d you come out then?” he asks another question, snapping you out of your creepy lip-admiration. the fact that he was asking you more questions made you think this was either progression or unsettling, but it was hard to decide. you shrug in response, however. “i was hungry, actually. burned my mac and cheese.” there was another few moments of silence, filled only with the city life of chicago and your noisy exhale, blue gray smoke tendrils curling in the air.

“i could make you somethin’.” he offers, his voice nonchalant and passive, even though his big fuckin’ eyes stared at you like he was some lost puppy.

it was kind of endearing, actually. no one had ever cooked for you. why'd it make your chest tighten pleasingly?

you laugh. “sure. one day, when you can, neighborly favor of sorts if you’re into that.” you jest, unaware he was being serious. you take another lung filling puff of the cigarette, nicotine thick in your senses. “chicago cigarettes are strong,” you remark.

he nods. “like em’ better than the new york ones.”

you raise your brows in acknowledgement. he swallows some air, not for the cigarette, you realize as he begins to speak.

“i was, uh, being serious, by the way. i fucking hate mac and cheese.”

you grin, looking over at him, the dim glow of the cigarette hanging from your lip. “me too.”

...

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bonesandchalamet · 1 year

Text

poolside- t.chalamet

masterlist

pairing: Timothee chalamet x fem!reader

warnings: hints of nsfw ideas + mentions of leaving hickeys and sexual thoughts + kind of a cliff hanger(?)

the summer heat is thick. with the air being stale, and the temperatures rising along the coasts of California, you’re bound to jump in that crystal blue pool any moment.

it’s a summer vacation, away from work and time with friends. it’s a vacation for the young 20-something year olds, where the alcohol flows and the tan lines form in the unbearable heat of California.

he’s watching from afar, on the top deck of the pool. he lays against his chair, allowing the warm rays to glisten his skin. it’s impossible for him to relax with the giggling of your friend group, but he doesn’t mind. he’s got his eyes on you, watching you stumble across the deck, sing the lyrics to your favorite songs, and mess with the material of your skimpy bikini bottoms.

after at least an hour of watching you out the corner of his eye, he toughens up, making his way down the stairs to the pool. all eyes are on him, they range from young girls to older women, he doesn’t mind the stares, your eyes are the only ones he wants on him.

you glance over from your phone when he walks by. the small pink swim trunks are a little baggy on his waist, but it’s a beautiful color against his skin. you can’t help but look a little longer, his curls bounce with each step as he sinks into the cool water of the pool.

you find yourself following his lead. getting into the pool yourself, the cool water hitting your skin makes you shiver, but you sink further in despite the shock and chill reactions your body is giving.

“cold?” he asks moving closer to you, his knee nudges yours. you just nod and swallow, you’re so intimidated by his beauty up close. those beautiful big eyes, thick bouncy curls, and a dashing smile.

“don’t need to be shy, love.” a smirk forms his lips as he moves a bit closer to your body, more than legs are just touching now, “I don’t bite.” his mouth hovers your ear, his hot minty breath sends a shiver down your spine making you, unconsciously, pull yourself closer to him.

“what does that mouth do then?” you ask, the thought wandered your mind, it gave you no time to filter through before saying it. heat rushing to your cheeks once the words flow into the air.

“lots of things.” the pair are like a ghost over your skin, you can feel them but it’s so faint. he’s waiting for a signal of approval from you, the green light to really show you.

“show me.” your whispered plea sounds like a moan. his lips ghost your neck once again, this time instead of pulling away they land softly against the coconut scented sunscreen skin, teeth sucking softly against you. your arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer to you, “do that again.” you whisper in his ear, your own lips faint against his skin now.

he does as you ask, soft sweet moan escapes your lip into his ear, it’s so silent, not even your own drunk friends could’ve heard it, but it was just loud enough for him, “been watching you,” he says in between breaths, lips moving closer to your breasts, “you’re beautiful.”

you chuckle, eyes closing, feeling his lips touch a sensitive parts of your skin, lips move closer to your nipple, where the cloth covers you, “not here.” you say, watching those big eyes flicker up at you, full of lust and begging for more, “later.”

his smile turns into a smirk once again, “there’s a later?”

“there’s always a late night dip.” your finger tips graze his sharp jawline before you finally pull away and climb out the pool. he’s left with nothing but a hard cock and excitement for midnight.

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audreyscahier · 1 year

Text

Off the Record (Pedro Pascal x OFC)

Word count: 4,560 words

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Content warnings: Daddy kink (not ddlg; she just calls him daddy a lot), oral sex (m receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, (slightly) rough sex, sweet sex, Big Dick Pedro, Soft Dom Pedro, alcohol, lingerie, a little bit of slapping, dirty talk, a hint of sugar daddy vibes

Summary: Rae is an entertainment reporter who has developed a playfully flirtatious professional relationship with Pedro over the years. Totally professional. Until he invites her to hang out in his hotel room one night after an event—strictly off the record.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and written just for fun. If RPF makes you uncomfortable, please do not continue with this post.

The convention is so crowded that it feels like an act of fate when Rae steps out for some fresh air and happens upon Pedro, alone behind one of the side buildings. He’s smoking a cigarette and he gives her a playful, guilty grimace when he spots her, gesturing with a flick of ash.

“You caught me,” he says.

“You’re such a bad boy,” she teases.

He laughs.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks. He’s looking her up and down and she sees his eyes linger on her bare legs before drifting their way up the rest of her body. The attention makes her stand a little straighter.

She’s used to California weather. This is a rare travel assignment and she hadn’t packed well for the climate.

“Fucking freezing. But that’s the cost of beauty,” she adds loftily, like she’s done it on purpose.

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “Well, it’s paying off,” he says. “You look gorgeous.”

She gives him an appreciative smile. “It’s too bad you didn’t put any effort in; we could’ve looked good together.”

It’s a joke. He’s wearing a cozy, well-fitted cashmere sweater and designer trousers, with a one-inch heeled suede boot. His dark hair is styled at the perfect in-between point of messy and coiffed, with well-defined curls that you could still run your fingers through.

Not that she’s fighting back the urge to touch him. That would be unprofessional.

He’s playing along with the joke, narrowing his eyes at her and shaking his head, ruefully. “You’re always fucking showing me up.”

Her phone vibrates and she glances at it. It’s a text from her producer, giving her a 15-minute warning for their next interview.

“Three more hours,” she sighs. “And then I’m going to go back to the Fairmont and climb under all the covers and stuff myself with room service.”

“I’m at the Fairmont, too,” he tells her. “Don’t order the crab cakes—they’re dry.”

“You should invite me over to hang out,” she says. “I can help you raid the minibar on Disney’s dime.”

He takes a drag on his cigarette and blows the smoke out of the corner of his mouth, away from her, considering it. “What’s your poison?”

“That depends,” she muses. “If you want me to stay good, I like vodka. Tequila? My clothes come right off.”

He barks out a laugh, slowly shaking his head. “Well, I’m in…” He digs in his pocket, pulling out a slim wallet and rifling for his hotel key card to find the room number. “Room 512, if you want to stop by. We can call down for salt and limes.”

It makes her heart beat a little faster, that he’s taken this past harmless flirtation and turned it into… This was an invitation, wasn’t it? Rae schools her expression, trying to remain playfully aloof.

“Maybe I’ll see you later, then,” she says, and gives him a wink as she turns to go back inside.

He opens the door on her second knock. The room is nicer than hers—it’s a king suite with a huge tub that she spots through the open bathroom door as she steps inside—and he hasn’t been in town long enough to make it very messy. The lighting is muted, just a couple of table lamps on in the corners and a golden sheen from the setting sun filtering through his open curtains. He’s kept on the nice sweater, but changed his trousers for a pair of dark, comfy-looking sweatpants, and abandoned the shoes in favor of bare feet.

Rae slips off her flats by the door, making herself at home.

“I thought you might stand me up,” he observes.

“Of course not,” she says. “It’s not like I can afford to break into my own minibar. I needed to get to yours.”

Pedro clicks his tongue, mock-hurt. “You’re using me. You know, Meryl Streep warned me about this. She said the more famous you get, the less you know who you can trust.”

He’s joking around, she knows, playing off of her comment and name-dropping the most absurd famous person he’s acquainted with just to make her laugh. But the sentiment still makes her feel a little sad, and it probably comes out too earnest when she tells him, “You can trust me.”

He looks at her and gives her a quiet smile. “Yeah, I know.”

There’s a plate of lime wedges and a shaker of salt already sitting on the counter with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. She raises an eyebrow, delighted he’s chosen her favorite vice.

“I warned you about the tequila,” she reminds him.

He makes a face, dismissive. “You don’t scare me.”

She waggles her eyebrows, like, maybe you should be scared, but he just shakes his head, amused, and pours them each a generous shot.

“Salud,” he says, clinking his glass to hers.

They don’t go overboard. A 7:00 AM wake-up in this time zone will be 4:00 AM as far as her west coast-attuned body is concerned, and she likes her job too much to sabotage it by getting seriously drunk the night before a long work day. But with two or three shots apiece, they make it through a few of the tiny, overpriced bottles, and they each have a pleasant, relaxed buzz going.

Pedro makes for good company. Off the press line and away from any cameras, inhibitions lowered by the tequila, his sense of humor comes out a little dirtier. Every time one of his jokes lands, sending her into a fit of laughter, he grins, looking pleased with himself. Not for the first time, she finds herself thinking that it’s almost maddening how charming and charismatic he is.

“You know,” Rae tells him, “A lot of fangirls out there would pay good money to take a shot with you. I’ll never be able to tell anyone about this because they’d rip me apart out of jealousy.”

“Oh please,” he teases. “Don’t pretend like you’re not right there with them, getting all hot over the Mandalorian every week.”

Her jaw drops, but she swiftly recovers. “Actually, I belong to the camp that believes Din Djarin is a virgin. I don’t think he’s probably even that good in bed.”

He’s offended. He goes from a lazy sprawl to sitting upright, just like that. “Excuse me?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a take on this? It’d be an amazing scoop if I could get a quote from you.”

“Hey,” he says warningly. “This evening is strictly off the record.”

“Of course,” she agrees. He holds up his hand, pinky extended, and she scoots closer on the couch and hooks her pinky around his, promising. “So?”

“Din Djarin is not a virgin,” he says decisively. His tone says he thinks the mere concept is ridiculous.

“Well, who has he had sex with?” she challenges him.

He counts off on his fingers. “He fucked that twi’lek girl with the knives—”

“Xi’an,” she supplies.

“Of course you remember her name,” he laughs, but not unkindly. They both know she’s nerdier about Star Wars lore than he is. He ticks off the next finger. “He fucked Omera. He obviously fucked Cobb Vanth, if you can’t see that you’re blind.”

He has to raise his voice to be heard over her laughter. He’s holding back his amusement, too.

“I can’t believe you’re questioning Mando’s sex life when you’re the one calling him a daddy all the time.”

“Uh uh,” she corrects him. “I think you’re a daddy.”

Over the course of the conversation she’d continued to unconsciously slide closer to him, and now as he watches her in amused contemplation, they suddenly feel very close. The realization of it, in the silence following her overtly flirtatious statement, makes her smile fall and her pulse pick up. She looks down, taking a breath, and when she glances up he’s still looking at her face. His voice has turned husky when he speaks again.

“Can I kiss you?”

She bites her lip, trying to stay cool, and nods. He leans in closer, lightly gripping her chin under his thumb.

“Yes?” he checks.

“Yes,” she says breathlessly.

His lips are soft, and dry, and a little tangy from the salt and lime they’ve both been consuming. He slips his tongue lightly over her bottom lip, adding a little glide to the kiss. She follows his lead, melting into him and feeling flushed. He’s cupping her face, and the firm press of his hand on her cheek is simultaneously grounding and makes her feel like she’s caught up in a dream.

“Can I—” she starts. She curls her fingers, closing around nothing. His eyes are dark, watching her patiently. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” he murmurs. He takes her hand in his and guides it to rest on his upper thigh, close enough the permission is clear—not so close that he’s making her move too fast.

He kisses her again, and she closes her eyes and lets herself follow her instincts. Her fingers inch higher on his lap until she feels his bulge, stiffening under the soft fabric. She runs her fingers along him and his breath hitches. She squeezes, lightly, and he grunts, shifting his hips up into her touch.

“Can I—” she starts again. He cuts her off, answering against her skin as he works his mouth down the length of her neck, telling her, “Yes,” before she can finish the question. “Yes.”

So she makes her way to the edge of the couch and sinks onto her knees on the floor, pushing his legs open to settle between them. He’s looking down at her there, looking turned on, looking like he likes what he sees—but when she reaches for him he stops her, grabbing her wrists in one hand.

“Wait,” he says. His voice is lust-rough. With his other hand, he picks at the fabric of her top. “Take these off first.”

She bites her lip, feeling a rush of arousal pulse through her to pool between her legs. She misses his grip when he lets go of her wrists, but she stands obediently and strips off her clothes, until she’s down to just her underwear. Pedro’s mouth falls open, taking her in. Focusing in on the matching bra and panties.

“You brought this for a work trip?” he asks, sounding awed.

Maybe she hadn’t done such a bad job of packing her suitcase, after all.

“I just… like lingerie. I like to wear it under my regular clothes,” she tells him. “It makes me feel sexy.”

She does a slow turn, letting him see the cheeky cut of her panties.

He looks a little dazed. “It’s very sexy.”

His gaze follows her breasts, perched filling out the lacy, balconette cups of her bra, as she kneels before him again. This time he doesn’t stop her when she reaches forward, brushing her hands over his growing bulge as she grasps his waistband and tugs it down to unveil him to her.

She was certain it would be big, but the sight of his cock still makes her mouth drop open and her eyes widen as she takes it in. Her hands look small, touching him, wrapping around his length. She feels that rush again, pussy going wet and her mouth watering for him. She licks her lips, purses them tight, and leans in to slide her mouth open around the tip of his cock.

He swears.

She sinks her hot mouth onto him, sucking him off and savoring it, her saliva mixing with the mild salt-tang spurts of his pre-come spilling onto her tongue. She slides her hands down to the base of his cock where she can’t reach her mouth, slicking him up and working over his length in firm strokes.

Rae pulls back for a moment, wanting to watch his face while she jerks him off. She has one hand wrapped around his shaft and she reaches the other down to massage over his balls. His eyes are heavy-lidded, watching her, and his breath is unsteady, hips twitching like he wants to thrust hard into her heat. He grabs the back of her head with one large hand, tugging her forward just gently, telling her without words that he wants her mouth back on him. When she doesn’t take him in immediately, he taps his cock lightly against her cheek, nudging at the corner of her mouth.

Her eyes flutter closed. “You can be rough with me,” she tells him. “I like it.”

“You like it?” he repeats. There’s a pause, as she meets his hot gaze and silently nods. “Then take it.”

Pedro’s grip is tight on the back of her neck as he forces his cock past the seam of her lips. He fills her mouth, hitting against her throat, and she moans, focusing on avoiding him with her teeth and distracted by the way her clit throbs from the rough treatment. Her body is rocking, legs pressed tight together, head bobbing on his dick, all her senses overwhelmed by the taste and smell and sound of him—by his soft stomach where she’s braced one hand, tucked under his shirt, and the ache in her jaw and her vision blurring with unshed tears from taking him too far and starting to choke.

He pulls her off, to let her get her breath back, and squeezes his fingers around the base of his dick, steadying himself as she runs the back of her hand over her wet mouth, wiping away the drool that’s gone running down her chin.

“Come here,” he says, gentle again. He pulls her into his lap, straddling his legs, and kisses her softly at the corners of her mouth, soothing over her swollen lips.

He runs his thumbs delicately along the tops of her bra cups, feeling the lace bordering her soft skin, then smooths his hands down her sides to her hips. He looks up, watching her face as he slides one hand over the thin fabric of her panties, but his controlled expression changes as much as hers does when he touches her and feels the arousal soaking through.

“You got that wet for me?” he rasps. “From sucking my cock?”

She nods slowly, feeling exposed and shivery under his gaze, turned on even more by hearing those words in his deep voice.

“I told you I liked it,” she whispers.

His jaw clenches. He slips his fingers under the fabric, teasing over her skin, feeling along her folds—watching her gasp when he finds her clit. Then he pinches it, hard enough to make her cry out and buck her hips in his lap, and her breath comes out unsteady when he lets go.

“Rae,” he says. “Go get in my bed.”

The command sends a wave of calm through her system. She takes a deep breath. “Yes, daddy,” she murmurs, and climbs carefully off of his lap.

In the bedroom, she follows his instruction, stripping off her lingerie and tossing it aside before climbing onto the plush bed. She leans back on her elbows, legs demurely crossed at the ankles, and watches him pull his sweater over his head, revealing his softly toned body and broad shoulders. Then he shoves the sweatpants off his hips, stepping out of them where they pool at his feet, and her gaze is drawn back to his cock, bobbing enticingly between his legs. Her eyes glaze over, hypnotized with want.

He kneels onto the bed, reaching to uncross her ankles and make space between her legs. His eyes rake over her, drinking her in, absently biting his bottom lip as he lingers on her pussy. Then he makes his way up, straddling her thigh, one knee by her hip and the other just below her cunt, not quite close enough for her to grind against his leg like she thinks she might like to try. He kneels over her like that, leaning forward to brace one hand next to her shoulder, and caresses her face with the other, running his fingers lightly over her cheekbone. She melts under him, meeting his dark eyes, taking in his handsome face and his lush lips and thinking maybe he’ll kiss her again.

Pedro slaps her face, just hard enough to send a jolt through her, making her gasp. Her eyes snap back to his, pulse racing.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, voice gone husky.

“I—I want your cock,” she moans.

“Tell me,” he says. “Say it again.”

“Please,” she begs, “I want your big fucking fat cock, daddy.”

He laughs, a low, dirty chuckle. “Where do you want it, baby?”

Her face is flushed; her whole body is on fire, all hot and needy for him. “In my pussy.”

“Yeah?” He rubs his hand over her mound, warm on the smooth-shaven skin, then feels down into her slick folds where she’s soaking wet. “Your pretty little pussy? You think she can take it?”

“Yes,” she whines. He pushes three thick fingers inside her, making her cry out and tilt her hips up, greedy for it. His knees are spread wide to balance himself and hold her legs pushed open with his own. When she writhes under him he sets his weight down harder, pinning her.

With his free hand, he slaps her tit. The sting makes her yelp and her cunt clenches tight around his fingers. He twists and pulls them free, then thrusts inside her again, working in and out until she feels like she can’t form a full thought, head all empty but for the sound of her moans and his hot, heavy breath, and the fast, dirty squelching sound her pussy makes as he fucks her hard.

When he pulls his hand away she can see her slick coating his fingers, shining wet in the dim lamplight. He falls forward so that he’s hovering directly over her and feeds his fingers into her mouth, making her taste her own arousal. Her eyes flutter closed as she sucks them clean.

“Dirty girl,” he murmurs. He pulls his fingers gently out and lowers his face to hers instead, giving her a deep kiss to chase the taste of her with his tongue.

He grinds his hard cock into her hip and eventually pulls out of the kiss, murmuring against her mouth, “I have to grab a condom.” He brushes his thumb over her mouth as he pulls away, tender. “You still good?”

“Mmm,” she breathes. “So good.”

He rifles in his travel bag, unzipping a small pouch and retrieving a condom packet. When he returns to the bed, he runs his hand along her thigh and then slaps her flank. “Get on your knees.”

She rolls over, pushing up onto her knees, and braces her forearms on the bed, arching her back. It feels primal, presenting her cunt like this for him to take, and behind her he growls with want.

She feels the head of his cock press blunt and thick at her entrance, and he starts working his length into her in shallow, prodding thrusts, a little deeper each time. He starts slow—he has to, she’s so fucking tight around him, and it’s only because she’s so turned on that the stretch isn’t too much to take. Gradually, he pushes his cock into her hot, slick center, and it leaves her gasping for air, like he’s fucking all the way up into her lungs.

“Christ,” he groans. His voice has gone impossibly deeper. “You feel so fucking good, baby. How does that feel?”

She tries to speak and it comes out a strangled moan, incomprehensible.

He withdraws a little, fighting against the grip of her pussy trying to keep him inside. His hands are strong on her hips, holding her in place.

“Tell me,” he commands. He thrusts in again as she opens her mouth, and she cries out.

“Tell me, baby. Tell me how this cock feels in your sweet—little—pussy—” He emphasizes each word with a deep thrust. She feels lightheaded from it, but it’s like it breaks something inside her and her tongue finally works again, babbling needy words at him.

“It’s so good, fuck, it feels so good, daddy,” she moans. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—” The friction is easier now, with her body opening up to take him, and he’s moving faster. She’s gripping desperately into the bedsheets above her head, moving with the push-pull rhythm of his sex, and she’s starting to feel almost high from it, a little spaced out on the sensation of his dick driving into her.

He leans forward, draping hot over her back, and it shifts the angle of his thrusts, so that he’s suddenly hitting a spot that makes her see stars.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit—” He probably can’t make out the words; her voice is muffled in the sheets. Her body is trembling, on that pre-orgasmic high, pure pleasure running through her with every stroke of his huge dick. She wishes she could stay suspended like this forever, in this luxurious bed being fucked by this perfect cock, balancing right on the cusp of ecstasy.

When she comes, she collapses flat onto her belly, shattered, and he follows her down, pinning her to the bed and continuing to fuck her just as hard. She cries out, the sounds of her orgasm tearing out of her throat and ringing in her ears as her pussy pulses and flutters around him. Finally, he slows and pulls out of her, and the sudden emptiness feels too big, like he’s left her hollowed out in the tender space of her cunt. He turns her over, onto her back, and braces over her, eyes focused on her face when he slides his dick back inside and fills her in again. She whimpers, needy and overwhelmed, feeling every long, slow inch of his cock dragging through her.

He kisses her, languid tongue matching his steady thrusts. It’s intimate in a way Rae’s not sure she’s earned the right to be with him. But it doesn’t surprise her, learning he’s sweet like this. He’s always looked at her like he wants the eye contact, like he wants to be close, like he thrives on connection. She’s always seen him act kindly to everyone in the room, and it only follows that when you’re the only one in the room with him, he’d devote himself to you and take his time.

She wants to make him feel good. To see him lose control and let go. She squeezes her cunt around him, experimentally, and he breaks their kiss to exhale a gasping breath, rhythm faltering.

“Fuck,” he breathes, mouth on her chin. “Do that again.”

She clenches again, running her hands down his body, teasing at him with her long nails and feeling him tremble. “You feel so good, daddy,” she whispers. “Your cock is so big, I don’t—fuck!” she exclaims, when his pace picks up and he rams into her, harder. “I don’t know how you even fucking fit inside me, your big—fuck—fucking cock—shit—”

He’s panting, making ragged, desperate sounds, pushing up into her like he can bury himself even deeper. Teeth sharp, biting at her jaw. She’s not even thinking about the words spilling out of her, just lets every filthy thought slip free, riling him up. “Fuck me, daddy, fuck—you’re fucking splitting me in half—I want you to come inside me—fill me up—I want it, I want it, I want it—”

He groans, hiding his face in her neck, stiffening and releasing inside of her. She wishes, insanely, that he had fucked her bareback so she could feel it coating her pussy, dripping out after. She would have let him if he wanted to, she thinks, and it’s a terrible thing to realize about herself.

It doesn’t stop her from holding him in place before he can pull out, keeping him deep inside her cunt, and rubbing at her swollen clit until she comes on his dick one last time, savoring the orgasm and the rumbling sound of his groans in her ears.

He doesn’t try to kick her out after—in fact, he orders a slice of caramel cheesecake from the room service menu and asks if Rae wants something, too—but in the end, she reluctantly says that she should go.

“I have to be up early to interview that kid from the new Marvel movie,” she sighs.

Pedro laughs, unsympathetic. “Oh, your life is so hard.”

“Yeah, harder now,” she complains. “I’m gonna be walking funny on the press line tomorrow.”

He bites back a laugh, but then furrows his brow in concern. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

She hums, giving her nude, exhausted body an experimental stretch. “That was the biggest dick I’ve ever taken,” she tells him. “And… it was the best.”

He relaxes again, looking like he’s not trying very hard to hide a satisfied smirk.

“Don’t let it go to your head or anything.”

“Oh,” he says, shaking his head dismissively, “Way too late for that, sweetheart.”

When she sees him again they’re back in LA, at a premiere for his new indie film. He greets her with a familiar, professional smile, but she can see the change in how he looks at her now, the new, interested sparkle in his eyes and how he lingers on her longer. He gives her a tight hug goodbye, murmuring, “Bye, baby,” too quiet for the mic to pick up, and she slips a folded note into his hand as she pulls away.

I had to buy a bigger toy—you’ve ruined me. Asshole.

She hears his dirty, delighted cackle and she fights to school her face, tamping down the light, giddy feeling in her chest as she turns her focus to the next guest on the press line.

She’s not sure how he got her home address. It probably wasn’t that hard, she supposes, to have his agent contact her company and sweet talk it out of them with the promise of exclusive promo material, or something of that kind. It’s probably not worth questioning how one of the biggest rising stars on the planet can get something he wants. In any event, she’s grateful he did, because she might have received this package in the middle of the office, otherwise, and that would have been more than a little embarrassing.

He’s got her size right. She wonders if he’d snuck a peek at the tags before she put her underwear back on—if he was already planning this even then. The thought of it makes her feel—something. She’s not sure what it makes her feel. She’s walking a tightrope between a dangerous mistake and total euphoria and it’s all she can do to keep her balance, because she can’t risk taking a misstep.

The set is from a luxury brand so expensive she would never buy it for herself. It’s an ethereal blend of ribbon and tulle, the thong nothing more than a scrap of beautiful fabric, and she knows it will have cost him several hundred dollars.

There’s a gift note, sitting on top of the tissue paper-wrapped goods.

A ‘sorry for ruining you’ gift. So you can feel sexy at the season 3 premiere. Show me after, if you want.

-P

Her stomach swoops, as she tries not to fall.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal rpf

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captaincaliair · 1 year

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Goodman Air Conditioner Sales, Service & Installation Torrance, CA 90504

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blogs-hvac · 1 year

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aplaceforyourhearttorest · 6 months

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Add One More ୨୧ James Hetfield

The screeches of gleeful and partially muted laughter reverberate through your underprepared eardrums as you exit your car, the anxiousness pulsating through you causing your expression to come off as unnecessarily guarded and closed off. Dry California air scuffles its way up to you and caresses your bare calves as you slowly make your way forward, the large estate of the private elementary school in front of you coming off as far more intimidating than you had originally hoped for with each step you take.

You tightly clutch onto the folded files in your slightly trembling grasp, the repetitive sound and rhythm of your heels making loud contact with the uneven terrain of concrete underneath you somehow helps ground you, as you make your way to the top of the walkway. Before you could even test the doorknob or raise your hand to notify the office to the left of you of your presence, the door slams open, and nearly collides with you.

"Sorry, sorry!" A youthful voice shouts out, as a clumsy hand grabs onto your shoulder, immediately halting the process of you beginning to stumble back in shock. A dark and widened pair of brown eyes stare back at you unblinkingly, wild and curly hair hiding half of his face as he waits for your reaction. "In a rush, y'know. Part of the cool uncle duties." You allow a small and hesitant smile to grace your face at his words, and an empathetic feeling rushes through you as the man no more than a few years older than you lets out a sigh of relief and rests his head against the now closed and heavy wooden door.

"Thank you for not spitting on me." He says in a dramatic tone, causing your eyebrows to raise in bewilderment as he lets you go. "And why in the world would I want to do that?" You ask him, feeling incredulous as the man in front of you sarcastically grins in response and lets out a weighted laugh. He wordlessly gestures down to his outfit, causing you to feel even more confused as you obligatorily take in his attire.

"Nice, you like rock music. But that doesn't answer my question." You muse, before nervously glancing through the nearest window to look at the clock. You straighten up as a monotonous warning bell rings out, signifying that you've got less than ten minutes to prepare yourself for your very first day of teaching and your very first class. "My type of clothing doesn't really blend in and mesh well in this part of town, especially with the parents that can afford this type of school. Usually I'd dapper up, but we were in a rush. Her dad and I and the rest of our band just got back from the last leg of our tour, and we all wanted to see her as soon as possible."

You take in his words with all-intent listening ears and full attention, despite the risk of you running late. "Seems to me like you all really care for her, which means a whole lot more to me than what you wear," you state, before reaching over to grab ahold of the other doorknob nearest to you. Your arm and upper back protest as you strain and tense to keep it agape, the stray tendrils of hair falling out of your bun from the wind tickling the nape of your neck as you turn to give him a quick and meaningful glance. "And if anyone gives you slack for how you dress instead of how you are as a person and how involved you are in your friend's child's life, then maybe they shouldn't feel welcome around here instead of you."

You send him a soft smile before taking a deep breath and moving forward, wincing as the door shuts harshly behind you due to a rough gust of wind, the sound culminating the attention of everyone in the office with a resounding whack! Multiple pairs of eyes focus in on you at once, causing the already uncomfortable long sleeve you're wearing to begin to feel even more suffocating. You go to open your mouth and say a greeting, before pausing as an indignant huff filters throughout the room instead.

"You cannot just come in here minutes before the homeroom bell, especially when you already missed the welcoming assembly yesterday." You hear an elderly woman scold, causing you to turn around to find the source of the harsh tone. The awkward smile you had resting on your face quickly turns into a frown as you take in the clearly displeased child in front of you, their expression filled with distaste and their right leg beginning to bounce off the ground with unhidden agitation and impatience. You instinctively move forward before you could give yourself the chance and the time to second guess it, making your way into the large gap between the two and kneeling before the younger. Bright blue eyes stare up at you as you place your weight onto the tips of your heels and make way into her line of vision, the lace on the bottom of your skirt raising itself up to rest against the tops of your now reddened kneecaps.

"Well, if that isn't the prettiest bow I've ever seen," you start, making sure to maintain eye contact with her as you raise a hand to tap it against the top of your head. "I usually wear one of my own, but I didn't think it'd go so well with the lack of pants and this super long blouse." The distasted look on the blonde's face slowly melts into mild interest as she keeps her gaze on you, before finally letting out a drawn-out breath and reaching down to grab ahold of her multicolored and embellished school bag. You tune in with slight relief as you watch the uneasy expression on her face slowly turn into a look of determination, as she searches through the now jumbled contents of her bag.

The older woman behind you lets out an exhausted exhalation, and you slowly begin to relax your body as you hear her start to make her descent away.

"Here," the young girl offers, her hand shyly holding out an identical looking accessory, the new and improved attitude behind her action much softer and more welcoming than before. You widen your eyes in an obvious dramatization, and you grin to yourself as she lets out an animated giggle, before twisting around to face the front desk and placing your hands on your legs to stabilize your balance.

"Would you be so kind to do the honors?" You ask in a faux serious voice, helpfully tilting your head back as you hear a small shuffle behind you. An amused hum follows the sound of movement, and you feel accomplished and proud as the bow is placed crookedly in your mane. You tilt your head side to side to make sure it's secure, and reassuringly nod to the receptionist as she sends you a hesitant and inquisitive look from behind a pile of unfinished paperwork.

"Thank you so much, princess!" You cheerfully gush out, turning back to face her with a genuine smile adorning your lips. Your chest tightens as you watch her eyes fill up with newfound happiness at the nickname, her uneven and endearing smile making you feel warm. "Eden." She announces, the ends of her hair smacking against the middle of her back as she kicks herself off of the chair and onto the carpeted floor with unconcealed vigor.

"Eden." You mimic back softly, reaching down to gently squeeze her hand in a comforting manner before fully standing back up once again. You glance out the window once you hand over your identification and grin as your eyes latch onto another familiar looking pair.

The young man from before sends you a grateful and beaming smile, before pointing down to Eden and giving you a thumbs up as he begins to walk backwards in an attempt of the moon walk. Eden lets out an amused chortle at his antics, before whispering out a still fairly loud farewell. "G'bye, Uncle Kirk!"

You make sure to repeat the name back to yourself quietly as you're handed a directory and the official bell begins to ring.

"Hey!" You look down as Eden comes over to stand beside you, her insistent fist finding purchase on your crumpled skirt as she tugs at it for your attention. The young girl seems to freeze in place as she tries to find the words to show her gratitude. Finally, she lets go and sends you a heartwarming smile, her hands gripping onto her backpack's straps with an excited haste. You continue to look down in her doe eyes as she seems to find her words, and you send her an amused look as she opens her mouth to speak intentionally slow. Instead of a proper full-length sentence, she instead playfully just says, "Thanks for everything."

"Don't even mention it, kiddo. And thanks for the new sick bow. Maybe it'll even give me some actual street cred and my fist graders might show me some real respect." Eden lets out a sound filled with mirth as she follows you out of the main office and into the now packed and frenzied hallway.

"Yeah, maybe. See you later, miss!" She yells out, the now loosening bow scrambling against the neckline of her oversized vest as she runs forward to her friends, her hands thrown up in the air, one waving back at you fervently. You watch her filter into the crowd, before turning around and carefully following the directions messily written on the top of the map in your hands, on a bright and highlighted sticky note. Looking up as the children in front of you giggle and smile and hug each other, the anxiety you felt earlier on your way on in becomes easily forgotten and long gone.

If the children are truly as happy as they seem and are as half as decent and sweet as Eden is, then you think you'll end up being just fine.

Dozens of feet excitedly pitter out of the classroom as the last bell of the day rings with finality. You groan out as you lie back on the hardwood floor beneath you, refusing to acknowledge the learning numbers blocks digging in the base of your spine. You hear a chuckle come from the doorway, causing you to twist your neck to the side and pop open a bleary eye.

"Still bouncing around with all that new teacher energy, I see." The woman you saw earlier from across the hall muses as she makes her way inside of the messy room, her feet expertly avoiding the toys on the ground without even having to look down. You let out an exhausted sound before slowly inching your way back up into a sitting position, your sore back from bending down all day cracking out loud in a painful protest. "I am the pinnacle of health and vitality, and I love my job." You deadpan, a laugh rumbling out of the two of you as you watch her catch onto the obvious, fake monotonous tone with matching energy and amusement.

"I think the only thing that makes the first day of teaching tolerable is the parent-teacher conference at the end of the day," she starts, her heavily ringed fingers reaching down to haphazardly toss the small and surrounding toys into the nearest bucket. You smile at her gratefully before standing up to do the same, and within minutes, the floor begins to look brand new. "The amount of fine, single rich men that send their children to this overpriced castle should be illegal."

You shake your head in humor-filled disbelief as she fans herself, before briefly leaning against you as another round of laughter runs through her trembling upper body.

"Anyone catch your eye yet?" You ask as you make your way around the classroom, your fingertips neatly rearranging the name cards on each of the assigned desks. "James Hetfield, man is all legs and fine and a half. Has a crazy daughter that likes to speak her mind and run about, but that doesn't deter me," you hum halfheartedly as you only half listen, your hands grabbing onto your files and unworn jacket over your already clean desk. "Her name is Eden, chaotic little thing. Runs around the entire school like it's her own home." The fellow teacher scoffs out, her voice still lighthearted but her expression showing a small bout of hostility and irritation. A fierce and unrelenting amount of annoyance runs through you as the younger girl's smiling face paints itself behind your eyelids, the strange protectiveness that pulses through you shocks you at the fact that you feel so strongly for a little girl you barely even know.

"Children are supposed to be excitable and energetic, that's how you know they come from a happy home." You defend, making sure to keep your tone neutral as you turn off the lights and allow her to walk out of the classroom first. She lets out a sound of acknowledgment as she walks past you but doesn't verbally answer you or care to elaborate. You let out a muted sigh as you follow her down the now secluded and empty hallways. Awkwardness begins to surround the two of you as you travel in silence, before a sudden and loud cheer echoes its way down the corridor as the auditorium's doors are pushed wide open.

"This way." She announces, her flat covered feet obnoxiously smacking against the linoleum as she quickens up her already hurried strides. You let out a puff of exalted air as you stop to take a break, your chest nearly heaving as you finally get to and enter the overly lit room. Multiple lines of cushioned chairs greet you and snugly fit around your hips as you make your way through the overcrowded pit of teachers and students and parents, your eyes widening as you lose the teacher from earlier in the crowd.

"Shit." You whisper out, your fingers wrapping around the cuffs of your long sleeves as your eyes frantically search for any familiar looking faces. Relief floods through you in a heavy wave as your eyes pick up a wild mane of curly hair in your peripheral vision, and you make your way over to Kirk on autopilot, your sweaty palms cloying against the irritating silk of your shirt. "Kirk, right?" You ask, your voice coming out as soft and anxious ridden as his head snaps your way at the sound of his name. Kirk's eyes light up as he recognizes you, and you sigh out as he gently yanks you forward and toward a much quieter and less crowded part of the room.

"Good to see you! You look about ten seconds away from shitting yourself." He greets, his tone welcoming but borderline teasing. You send him an exasperated smile as you take in his new outfit. "And you look like a brand new man! Trying to fit into the overbearing stereotypes around here, huh?" Kirk grins, welcoming in the much-deserved snark with open arms, before turning around to lightly push two other men forward. "These two hot messes are Lars and Jason, drummer and bassist of our very new and upcoming band," The man introduced as Lars sarcastically rolls his eyes before greeting you with a sly grin and a raised cup. Jason gives you a heartwarming smile and an excited wave, before bending down and going on to talk animatedly with a just as invested looking little boy. "Our frontman is around here somewhere, probably getting swarmed by a bunch of middle-aged married women, with more artificial estrogen packed up inside of them than an obgyn's office." A rough petal of laughter bursts from in between your lips at the unexpected jab, and you flush as unknown and judgmental eyes dance their way over to you and spectate.

Before you could fret over it, a small bound of energy collides into you, causing you to let out a punched-out breath as Eden grins up at you. "Miss, you're here!" An unfightable smile makes its way onto your face as you feel her jump against you in excitement, the crown of her head barely brushing above your bellybutton and one of flapping hands smacking against your inner elbow. "Hi there," you coo down at her, your hands instinctually coming up to flatten and rearrange her now messy and windblown hair. "Been having fun, haven't you?" You ask, mirth filling your tone as she nods against your palms. You pause in place as a throat clears itself near you, and your breath catches in your chest as you look up and lock eyes with a clearly handsome and attractive man making his way over to the two of you.

"Daddy!" Eden all but screams out as she looks over at her father, who is too busy staring at you. Deep ocean blue eyes catapult themselves into your own as you stare up at the frontman in front of you, your eyes becoming heavy and lidded as he looks into yours with enormous expression. James begrudgingly breaks the eye contact as his daughter calls out for him once again, and a smile creeps on his face as he takes in her content and happy body language and attitude. "Hi, my little bug!" He exclaims, laughter ringing out from the both of them as he lunges forward and brings her into a joyous hug. You place your now hanging hands on the top of your stomach as you gulp in a deep breath of much needed air, your heart pounding in your chest as you watch the two of them lovingly greet each other with butterflies raging in your middle.

"This is the teacher I told you about earlier," Kirk says once James has Eden cuddled up in his arms, said daughter with her head resting on his broad shoulder and a dopey grin encapsulating her entire face. "Calmed the little terror down faster than I've ever even seen you do it." James' eyes flicker over to yours once again, and you exhale shakily as his gaze slowly takes in the entirety of you and your figure.

"We even match with bows now, daddy." Eden says against his brown and fur-lined jacket, her voice now lilted and tinged with slowly creeping up exhaustion. You shyly smile before absentmindedly reaching up to touch the accessory with unsteady fingertips, trying terribly hard to fight back the blush trying to break out on your already heating up cheeks.

"Looks beautiful." James responds, the timbre in his voice causing a shiver to caress itself down your spine, and you have to look away from the duo to catch your bearings. You send Kirk a halfhearted glare as he beams back at you with a knowing and shit eating grin. Lars raises an eyebrow at your look of fluster, before returning his attention back to the woman hovering close next to him.

Before anyone else could speak up, a loud static-filled sound blares out from a nearby speaker, causing you to flinch and for Eden to jolt up and let out a shocked cry. James lets out a curse and glares toward the apologetic looking principal holding a microphone, who then ushers everyone to sit down as the lights begin to lessen and dim. You purse your lips as you look around in worry, you quickly noticing that all of the chairs surrounding you were currently filled. Before you could back away and find a seat elsewhere, James suddenly stands up and beckons for you to come over. He sends you a gentle smile and shakes his head as he takes in your hesitant expression, shifting his now relaxed and once again nearly sleeping daughter on his hip as he lowers himself to sit on the ground near your feet.

"I can't let you sit on the ground, especially with Eden in your arms." You protest quietly, leaning downward as you watch her eyes fully close. "I'm not letting you do anything, doll. I'm simply volunteering." James rebuts, the teasing grin on his lips causing you to bite your own to hide a smile from the spontaneous term of endearment, and his eyes follow the movement before jumping back up to yours. The air seems to dense and thicken as you two continue to look at each other, and you begin to feel overwhelmed as a variety of want and need and interest paints itself of James' face as he stares up at you in the now barely lit room. His body warmth purges against you with how close he is, and you have to stop yourself from jolting as Jason faces him and starts up a brand-new conversation, the bassist unknown of the tension in between the two of you and what he just broke.

James sends you a barely concealed wink before resting back against the front of your legs and turning his head to join in on the quiet conversation with Jason, who's sat next to him with a hand comfortingly rubbing small circles into his niece's relaxed back.

You try to focus in on what the principal is droning on about, but the effort turns futile as your legs begin to vibrate from the father's answering laughter and your eyes keep compulsively checking up on the now sleeping young girl, who's quickly beginning to grow on you, her father and his bandmates included. Smiling tiredly at the thought, you fight back a yawn as you feel James place some of his weight on the tops of your knees, the strangely comforting addition and gesture making the urge to close your eyes too strong to resist as time goes on.

A large and loud collection of relieved sighs echo out around the room and land beside you in a cacophony of noise, causing you to open your eyes and slowly readjust to your surroundings. You wince as the light in the auditorium begins to brighten once again, and you furrow your eyebrows as you realize you're unable to use and move your legs to fully sit back up. Looking down, a smile begins to grow on your lips as you take in the sight before you. James' head lies and rests back on your kneecaps, his lips partially open as he steadily breathes in and out, with his left arm and hand wrapped protectively around Eden, who's still asleep on his shoulder and chest.

You shift over to try and nudge Kirk to share the view with him of the father and daughter duo but have to end up holding in a laugh instead, as soon as you see him sprawled out and deeply asleep in the seat next to you. Lars sends you a gentle smile as he makes eye contact with you, before nodding down at your lower half.

"It's been a long week for all of us, especially James. Damn near tried kicking his own ass when he wasn't able to be the one to drop her off on her first day." He whispers, his accent soothing in the low tone and his eyes softening as he watches his bandmate and close friend sleep. You look down at the man's face resting against you and feel sympathy as you take in the slight bags underneath his eyes, fighting back the urge to run your fingers through his long hair sprawled out against your hips and thighs.

You hold in a gasp as you feel his fingertips twitch against your ankle, his right hand seemingly wrapped around your limb in a subconscious embrace the entire time the both of you had drifted off and slept.

"I probably shouldn't tell you this, and I'll most definitely blame this on the vodka I snuck in here about three hours ago, but," your eyes widen in shock as the drummer grins at you tipsily, before shrugging carelessly and continuing. "They've had a rough last couple of years, with the band blowing up and us having to leave intermittently to go on tour states away and overseas. They both get attached real easily, and Eed is getting to that age where she's starting to question why people stop showing up at their doorstep. I know you're just a teacher at her school, and not even specifically her own, but if you're going to just hang around for a little while and then end up leaving in the end, I recommend you do it now. She's already lost a mother figure, and she doesn't need the other one to be fully gone off after another woman leaves again either."

You try to blink away the sting enveloping in your eyes as Lars' tone of voice becomes more weighted and serious, the drastic change in conversation and topic making you feel uncomfortable and on edge. "Where is this coming from? I don't understand." You trail off, the lighthearted feeling in your chest now gone as your hands reach up to wrap around your forearms in much needed self-comfort.

"I'm not saying this with any ill intention. I think it's great that you've been able to bond with the kid so quickly and easily, and I genuinely like you. But you're new, and you're the youngest teacher who's been accepted to teach here in the past few years we've been visiting. Getting too close to a student so fast and having their father be so attracted to you on the jump isn't the smartest and best thing for you to get yourself involved in. And it won't be easy either, so if this isn't what you're prepared to sign up for, it's your time to leave."

"I don't think that's your place to say, man." Jason adds in from below, his face set in a grimace as he looks up and sees the carefully placed neutral look on your face. You take in a deep inhalation and send them both a fictious smile, before gently tapping the father on his back to wake him up.

James sits up straight as you come into view, and confusion immediately sets in as he sees the downtrodden and uncharacteristic expression on your face. "What's going on?" He asks you, looking down at Eden and letting out a relieved breath as soon as his eyes land on her still sleeping form. "Excuse me." You whisper out, before hastily standing up and trying to make your way through the crowd.

Lars lets out a scoff as he watches your retreating figure disappear in the pit of people, ignoring the feeling of his heart dropping in his chest as his eyes catch sight of your hiccupping and rising and falling shoulders. "Figures." He grits out, hiding his dismay and disappointment behind his raised cup as he finishes the rest of its contents. Kirk groans as he stretches out his tense joints, his eyes immediately darting to your now empty and cold chair. "Where'd she go?" He asks innocently, his question going unanswered as James' sight zeroes in on his abnormally quiet and fidgety bandmate.

"What the hell did you do?" James asks the drummer, now wide awake and glaring at his guilty looking, long time best friend. Jason reaches forward to carefully detach his niece from his friend's shoulders, and places her in his arms instead. Kirk perks up as the bassist cocks his head to the side, insinuating for them to move and make some distance from their other bandmates. "Lars said some shit to the new teacher that he shouldn't have. It was way too soon." Jason explains, saving the man beside him the wasted breath of asking what was going on again.

Kirk sends Lars an exasperated look, the drummer catching it and looking down at his feet as James berates him from only a handful of feet away. Letting out a sigh and leaning against the tiled wall behind him, Kirk sighs out and glances at your empty seat once again.

"What else is new."

James lets his shoulders slump down in automatic reassurance at the sight of you alone, the relief hitting him full swing as he finds you outside and not already running for the hills.

"He didn't have the right to say all of that to you." James says in greeting, making sure to maintain a few feet of distance in between the two of you as he watches you tense up and only partially glance his way. "He's just looking out for you, I get that. The harshness of his tone is what got to me, is all." you breathe out through a forced, shuttering laugh. The frontman's eyes widen as he takes in your tear tracked and stained cheeks.

"He saw me break down after Eden's mom left, and he's been overprotective of me ever since." You shake your head and send him a small smile, before lifting yourself up to sit on the freezing cold brick wall behind you. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, James. You don't owe me anything." James fights back a shudder as he hears you say him name for the first time, the calming and stabilizing tone giving him enough bravery to step forward and closer to you.

"I do owe you, a few things, actually. This morning I was stuck in a meeting, almost close to tearing my own hair out while talking about the next album release and feeling like absolute shit at having to beg my clearly exhausted bandmate to take my daughter to school, because I couldn't. The very same bandmate of mine who feels like he's always being judged when he comes over to this side of town. So, while I'm stressed out and pacing around and hoping to God that my daughter makes it on time to her first day of the new school year, I get a call from one of my best friend's and immediately start to feel better."

You listen to him vehemently, unable to hold his intense eye contact as he stops only a few inches away from you. James has to physically stop himself back from reaching out and holding onto you and pleading for you to look up at him.

"Kirk tells me that he meets an amazing girl, pretty close to us in age range. And not only does she make him feel welcomed and understood within the first few minutes of him meeting and speaking to her, but she's also able to easily calm down my clearly distraught and upset daughter, who just wants to stay at home and spend some time with her irresponsible dad."

You let out an airy gasp as he places his left hand on top of yours and interlaces your fingers together. You look up in his eyes and remain that way until he begins to speak again, and even after that.

"And then I make my way over here once classes are done. And I'm stressed out and running all around the school looking for my little girl, who I just so happen to find in your arms and looking up at you like you just stole the sun and handed it to her on a silver platter. I haven't seen Eden look so relaxed and content with anyone who isn't part of the band or an immediate family member. And then I see the way you look at her, all unassuming and caring and understanding. So, when Lars said I'm attracted to you, he wasn't wrong with that. I think you're beautiful, but not just in the physical sense. I think you're light, and I think you're the positivity that the both of us may just need."

James moves forward until his chest is pressed against yours, and you blink back tears as you stare into his honest eyes. You take in a deep breath before you begin to speak, your heart pounding just from the close proximity.

"I think you're a pretty good dad," You start, letting out a wet laugh as James' eyebrows furrow at your words. "Let me finish. I think you're too hard on yourself, and I think if I went up and asked anyone who knows or knew you, they'd immediately agree. Your eyes lit up as soon as you saw Eden, who then met with you halfway with so much enthusiasm and glee. If you were an absent or poor parent, she wouldn't have reacted that way towards you. I've been around enough bad parents to know that, at the very least. You care so much about her education and her being on time for her first day of school, that you sent Kirk over to take her, even though you knew that you would feel guilty after by just having him drop her off." You place a light fingertip on the bottom of his chin as he looks back at you with wide, encapsulating eyes. You hold back a smile as the stubble of his facial hair tickles the tip of your finger.

"I think you need to give yourself some more credit. Because you barely know me, and yet you're standing out in the middle of the freezing cold with me in the pitch black, making sure that I'm okay." James grins at you softly and shakes his head to ground himself and to remind himself that this moment is real, before reaching up to encircle his large and calloused hand around your wrist. He presses a warm and reassuring kiss on your fingertip and watches intently as a bright flush makes its way up to the apples of your cheeks.

"I'm not sure where pursuing this is going to take me, but I hope it takes me somewhere with you. From the moment I heard about you, I was interested. But from the moment I saw you, I was completely fucked," you laugh loudly at the vulgarity of his words, causing James' smile to increase tenfold and his dimpled cheeks to become sore from the stretch. "So, if you would allow me, I'd like to kiss the ever-living shit out of you, and then get my daughter and go get us some dinner."

"You're going to take your daughter out to dinner and leave me here alone? A table for two?" You tease, letting out a shocked inhalation as he loops his fingers inside of your skirt's belt notches to yank you forward.

"Add one more." James murmurs, before grabbing onto your waist and leaning forward to attach his smile to yours. Warmth fills you as the hands gripping your waist slide around your middle and envelop you into a tight hug, your lips parting as his tongue sneakily peeks out to taste the bare skin of your bottom lip. James slides his tongue against yours and groans at the taste of you, before letting out a guttural moan against your mouth as you intertwine your fingers in the strands of his slightly curled hair and yank. You smirk against him before slowly leaning back, feeling triumphant as you take in the drunken and swept away look on his face.

"So, where are you taking us to dinner?" You breathe out cheekily, watching with humor-filled eyes as the man in front of you has to visibly collect himself. "Wherever you want and whatever you want, just so long as I can experience that again."

You bite your bottom lip and grin widely at him, glancing away from James as the opening of the main doors momentarily steals your attention. Jason makes his way out first, his expression turning hopeful as he takes in the happy looks on your faces, Eden slowly coming back to in his arms and letting out a quiet yawn against his jacket. Kirk comes out next and hot on his tail, his face lifting as he looks in between the two of you, before suddenly turning smug. "I knew leaving the two of them alone would be a good idea." He announces into the cold and frigid air, his adorable and crooked smile a contrasting brightness in the night's dark.

"And none of this would have even happened if it wasn't for me and my inability to keep my fucking mouth shut," Lars nearly shouts, looking over at you with an apologetic and small smile as the door behind him slams shut. "Sorry about that, by the way." You wave a hand at him and gently guide him out of the way as other attendees tiredly make their way out, and you hold back a laugh as the teacher from earlier gapes at the position you two relax in.

"See you on Monday!" You say to her as a farewell, quiet and unmanageable laughter jostling you to the core as you watch her nearly stumble as she shakes her head, before walking forward with a disbelieving grin on her lips.

Eden beams at you once you come into her line of view, after she fully raises her head and looks around. She hurriedly taps on Jason's shoulder to be let down, nearly running over to the two of you before her feet are able to fully hit the ground. You lift her up to sit her on the brick wall beside you and quickly place her hands in the large pocket of your coat nearest to her. "Warm enough?" You ask her, a seemingly permanent contentment filling you to the brim as she smiles up at you and nods enthusiastically.

The other men all quickly say their goodbyes in order of who they're closest to and turn to run towards the SUV they made their way over in, while you encircle your arms around the younger as the three of you hastily make your way over to your car. You quietly thank James by placing a kiss on his cheek as he takes Eden from your arms and guides her into the back seat. You smile widely as the man before you turns bright red, before hopping into the driver's sides seat as the wind begins to pick up.

"So, where are you taking us to dinner?" James mimics you from earlier, causing you to let out a huff of laughter as you turn the temperature dials to the right to blast the heat. You look in the rearview mirror and smile to yourself as you watch Eden strap herself in and make herself comfortable. You lean over to place a meaningful kiss on James' lips as a response once you're sure the younger isn't looking and find complete and utter fulfillment in the look of bliss on your handsome man's face.

Wherever the two of you will and may be, just add one more.

#metallica #james hetfield #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield smut #james hetfield x reader #kirk hammett #jason newsted #lars ulrich #metallica x reader #metallica imagines #metallica smut

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dragonfirerogue-writes · 1 year

Text

At Last

Wednesday x Kitsune!reader

"Ma, I'll be fine."

"You've never traveled this far with your flames before, my kit. I'm just worried."

The bag on your shoulder slipped as your mother fussed over you. Within the two months of your impromptu vacation from school, you already visited Enid and Yoko. Now that the new semester is nearing, it was decided that you would stay with Wednesday and the rest of the Addams brood before going back to Nevermore together.

Together. That word made your heart flutter like a leaf in the wind. But it made you anxious as well. While you both stayed in touch, there wasn't much of an indication of a forward path in your relationship. Sure, this was probably Wednesday's first real relationship so you tried to chalk it up to taking things slow but it still made you unsure. It was hard enough to convey emotion through text. To add in an emotionally stunted person made things near impossible. But you're trying. Maybe things will change once you're within the same space.

Your phone rings, finally making your mom stop her fussing. With a silent thanks, you answer, already knowing who it was.

"My dark spirit! I'm ready if you are." Silence greets you. Long enough that you're slightly concerned. "Wednesday?"

"Yes, we're ready for you, m-mia volpe." There's a sudden burst of muttering through the phone. The only thing you can really catch were Wednesday's threats of death to whoever it was. Eventually, her voice turns back towards you. "We are ready. My family insisted on greeting you as well, so be prepared."

"You got it. I'll see you in a bit."

With the call ended, you take a hold of your luggage and wait for the familiar pull. While you never traveled this far, you and Wednesday tested the spiritual attraction whenever you could. Even when you were in California with Enid, it seemed to work from across the country. Maybe you'll test a cross-country travel one day.

It doesn't take long before you feel the pull in your heart. You turn to look in the direction with a soft smile which draws the attention of your mother.

"You care for this one, don't you?" You respond with a nod.

"I do. I don't know where it'll go, but... I'll follow as far as I'm allowed."

You turn to face your mother and give her a hug. She pulls you close, petting your head gently.

"Take care, my kit. I love you."

"Love you too, Ma." With a smile, you back away to give your flames some space. "I'll talk to you later."

Your eyes close as your body turns to face your heart's direction. Making sure you have a tight hold on your suitcase, you leap into the air and surround yourself with your foxfire. In a whirl, you shoot forward towards your destination.

-----+++++-----

Wednesday keeps her eyes trained on the sky as she waits for any sign of your arrival. The both of you weren't sure how long it would take. She tried to tell that to the rest of her family, but alas they stood just behind her, watching as well.

The wait gave Wednesday some time to think. Time to think about you and your relationship. This was an entirely new concept for her. The physical aspect of the relationship was easy, even if it was a while since you've touched. That was just a response to stimuli. The emotional aspect was the troubling part. These new feelings made her nauseous and self conscious. Watching her parents made her think about you, even if it still grossed her out. She missed your presence and when she saw pictures of you, Enid and Yoko, she was jealous.

But she used this time away from you to filter through her feelings. She even talked to Thing about it when it bothered her to that extent. Her mother tried to pry, but Wednesday shot that down almost immediately. This wasn't something she wanted to talk about with someone whose opinions are skewed to those positive feelings. She needed to think about things logically.

Her traitorous heart, however, leaps when she sees the flicker of flames in the distance. Her feet move on their own as you soar closer. The eyes of her family burn at her back, but she doesn't seem to care. You were almost here.

The fireball lands and whirls for a moment before revealing your form, tails waving the flames away as it dissipates. After patting yourself and making sure there weren't anymore embers, you look up to see Wednesday.

It's quiet as you stare at each other. The Addams brood wait with bated breath as the two of you walk towards each other. When you are face to face, you just bask in each other's presence. Afraid to break whatever spell residing in the space, you can only whisper a soft, "Hi." Wednesday doesn't reply in kind. Her stare, as always, comforts you.

Eventually, the goth steps closer and just leans against you. Your hands move up to gently caress her arms. Not quite hugging, but close enough to satisfy that urge. You take a breath, letting Wednesday's scent fill your senses. You both didn't part until you let yourself gently nuzzle against Wednesday's cheek.

"Guess I should meet the family. Been letting them wait long enough." You look over at the rest of the Addams and see them near bursting with excitement. A stark contrast to Wednesday herself.

"I suppose," she responds. "The sooner we do this, the sooner I can get you alone."

A pleasant shiver runs up your spine as you follow the pigtailed goth. It seems you really didn't need to worry about your relationship. Wednesday seemed to miss you as much as you missed her.

As soon as you are in front of him, Wednesday's father, Gomez, grabs your hand in a brief shake before pulling you into a massive hug.

"It's so wonderful to meet you, Y/N! Welcome to our humble abode!" You just let your gaze travel to the massive manor over Gomez's shoulder. 'Humble, huh?'

When he releases you, you move towards the matriarch, Morticia. When she reaches her hand out, you take it and lay a soft kiss on it. She lets a soft smile grace her beautiful features, her eyes glancing at Wednesday knowingly.

"My, my. What manners." She takes your face in her hands and gives you a couple of air kisses.

Next is Pugsley, Wednesday's brother. When you shake his hand, he immediately asks whether you would help him with some experiments. Wednesday just gives a tiny shrug when you look at her for guidance.

"Uh, if I have the time, sure." The young Addams smiles wide in response, reminding you of Eugene.

The towering butler then walks up and grabs your belongings with a low groan.

"This is Lurch," Gomez says, introducing the large man. "He'll take your things while we give you a tour of the house." Wednesday steps in at those words.

"Father, the tour can wait. I'm sure Y/N is tired from their trip." She gives you a meaningful gaze. You nod in response and offer a regretful smile.

"It did take more outta me than I thought." You rub the back of her head, a little embarrassed at the attention. "I would like a moment to chill, if that's all right."

"Of course, my dear," Morticia responds. "We have plenty of time for you to see the house." She pats your head and gestures to Wednesday. "Now go. I'm sure you two would like to catch up."

You weren't sure if you saw a knowing glint in her eyes, but regardless, the implication makes you blush. To save you from further embarrassment, Wednesday takes your arm and leads you to her room.

As soon as the door to her room closes, Wednesday is on you. She pulls you close, hands finding their place on your cheeks. When your foreheads touch, you close your eyes, letting yourself feel Wednesday near you. Again, with a crooked smile, you let out a quiet "hi" before feeling her lips on yours.

Spirits, you missed this. The way Wednesday's body melts into yours. The way your hands found their home on her waist. The way you move in sync with each other despite this being only the second time you've done this.

+______________+Tag List+______________+

She's practically pinned you against the door and you've no intention of breaking free.

When air calls for you both, you part but still within the same breath. Your nose brushes against hers gently, your smile dopey and lopsided.

"This time without you had been torture," Wednesday whispers. "How you've come to claim my entire being has confounded me."

"Well," you begin. "It's not like you haven't affected me. You already have a hold on my heart and I didn't even realize until you were dying."

You two take another breath before Wednesday pushes away with a soft groan.

"We're beginning to sound like my parents. It's disgusting."

You let out a laugh before letting yourself take in Wednesday's room. Before you really could, something plops on your head and gives your hair a ruffle. Almost immediately, you know who it is.

"Thing! My main hand." You give him a fist bump before catching up. His excited signing recounting story after story. Wednesday looks on with fondness. You've already become a major part of her life and she looks forward to seeing what the future brings for you.

@screechcat @trishatheotaku @halleest @ashlynnmalfoy @a-trash-person @rainbow-love4ever @ognenniyvolk @spadesinfodump @maria-403 @simonsbluee @awolfcsworld @wizardofstories @alexandra-001 @leafanonsforest @daddy-jareau @anxietylemonice @tundra1029

#a dragon tries to write #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader

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porto-rosso · 1 year

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Ok real quick PSA regarding the smoke in New England/Southwest Canada (from someone who lives in California)

For those who don’t know, standard surgical masks (the kind most people use for covid) will not protect you from smoke. They aren’t made to filter particles that small. Please check and make sure your masks have an N95 rating or higher if you’re trying to protect yourself from smoke in the air, especially if you have respiratory problems.

You can get them at hardware stores and they usually look like this:

#every year we have fire season in California and every year I see people wearing surgical masks still #uh not sure what to tag this with #air quality #smoke safety #fire safety #new york #new jersey #ottowa #toronto #canada wildfires

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 6 months

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1932 Ford

Magnificent Hot Rod built by "Socal" in California on a real 1932 Ford base, it is equipped with a 350ci V8 engine from Oldsmobile and a TH 400 automatic transmission. It also has 4 disc brakes, adjustable shock absorbers, air conditioning, heating and electric windows, all mounted very discreetly. Its complete interior as well as the headliner is in custom-made aged leather, VDO meters and gauges are present as well as a discreet CD radio. The engine is fitted with a large "Weiand" intake pipe, a 4-barrel "Demon" carburetor, a special air filter, electronic ignition and coupled 4-into-1 exhaust manifolds. to a double "Flowmaster" line. This Hot Rod has won many competitions in the USA, it is in perfect condition, everything is functional and it has been designed so that it is very pleasant to drive.

#car #cars #ford #hot rod #oldsmobile

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yetanothersparrowofthedawn · 5 months

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Secrets From a Girl

Masterlist

Word Count: 7.6k

Pairing: Jake x Reader

Genre: Angst, slight hurt, ex!Jake

Context: Y/N, a very successful singer-songwrite has been close friends with the members of Greta Van Fleet for several years. She once had a tumultuous yet terribly passionate relationship with Jake that ended painfully (you’ll see…). They eventually figured out how to remain on good terms for everybody’s sake. Only, seeing each other move on isn’t the easiest thing.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes and awkward wordings to come. Also, I guess this fic could be triggering for some because it’s kind of sad and angsty.

Previous Track: California

Chapter soundtrack: Secrets From A Girl – Lorde

Baby girl, no one's gonna feel the pain for you. You're gonna love again, so just try staying open, And when the time comes, you'll fall. Yeah, when the time comes, you'll fall. … Your dreams and inner visions, all your mystical ambitions. They won't let you down. Do your best to trust all the rays of light. Everybody wants the best for you, But you gotta want it for yourself, My love.

(By the way, for every ‘Chapter Soundtrack’, basically the idea is that it’s a song that YN eventually wrote with that chapter of her life in mind)

Alright, let’s get into this.

________

Breathe me in, breathe me out I don't know if I could ever go without…

The dim glow of the living room greeted Jake as he stumbled in, still half-asleep. The boys huddled around Danny's iPad, their animated discussion creating a low hum in the room. An air of disagreement hung over them, their faces etched with differing opinions.

“I’m telling you there’s no way-” Josh's voice cut through the murmurs, his conviction triggering another round of mumbles from the others. Jake, now fully awake, couldn't resist the urge to join the fray.

“What are you all looking at?” he inquired, his curiosity piqued. The collective gaze shifted toward him, finally acknowledging his presence.

“It’s this thing,” Danny turned around to face him, eyes still glued to the tablet in his hand. “There’s a music video that came out yesterday, and the press online is freaking out, saying Y/N’s in it-”

“I mean, it could be her,” Sam interjected, grabbing the iPad. “It’s not like it shows that much-”

“I've been telling you there is no way that’s her,” Josh rolled his eyes, exasperation evident in his tone.

“I mean,” Danny added, a hint of skepticism in his voice, “we see what? A waist? A neck? That could be anyone.”

“Thank you,” Josh said, his response laced with vindictiveness.

Jake grabbed the tablet from Sam, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the bright screen. The video unfolded before him; each frame scrutinized in his quest for confirmation. Emotions stirred within him, a blend of curiosity and a hint of something he couldn't quite put into words.

The woman in the video did seem to move with an uncanny familiarity, a subtle recognition tugging at Jake's senses. A quick exchange of glances with Josh only added to the intrigue. “What’s the name of the song?” Jake asked, nonchalant.

“Uh, it’s—” Sam replied, “something- fruit salad whatever—”

“Title’s here, see?” Danny pointed out, “Watermelon Sugar.”

The words unexpectedly struck Jake like a chord. He cleared his throat, a feigned nonchalance concealing the memories creeping the back of his mind. "I don’t know,” he mumbled, “could be her." He returned the iPad and casually making his way out the door.

"Where you going?" Sam asked.

"Gotta piss," Jake replied, his footsteps echoing through the corridor.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind him, enclosing him in a small space. Resting his hands against the sides of the sink, he let out a deep breath before meeting his own gaze in the mirror.

************

The living room had been bathed in the warm glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains, that day. The faint crackling of the record player added a gentle melody to the lazy ambiance.

They were entwined on the couch, the vinyl spinning tales of bygone eras as if time had slowed down just for them. He felt the subtle weight of her against him, a comforting presence in the hushed tranquility.

Her soft hums danced in the air, a serenade that painted the room with a touch of nostalgia. It wasn't often that their hectic schedules allowed for such tranquil moments, making each second all-the-more precious.

As the last notes of the song played, the spell was momentarily broken. She stirred, a reluctant movement signaling an impending departure.

"Alright,” she announced, a practical reminder of the outside world, “I’m gonna be late." He caught her wrist, a silent plea for just a few more moments in this pocket of calm and pulled her back onto his lap. She let out a playful giggle, the sound a melody in itself.

"Five more minutes," he pleaded, a pout playing on his lips.

"Patty will be mad," she teased, rolling her eyes.

"Patty’s always mad," he retorted, nuzzling into the soft curve of her neck, losing himself in the intoxicating fragrance that was uniquely hers.

He lowered his head, and their lips met in a lingering kiss. The warmth shared between them seemed to suspend time. There was a quiet intimacy to the way their mouths moved together, a silent language only they could understand. After a moment, she gently pulled away, and he playfully protested with a melodramatic whine.

He looked up as she was grabbing her shoes. "Your lips always taste so nice," he mumbled, "How do they always taste so nice?" The question was posed with genuine curiosity, as if he were unraveling a mystery that had been haunting him.

Blushing at the compliment, she chuckled softly. "I don't know," she admitted, feigning innocence, "probably just my lip balm." Retrieving a pink stick from her pocket, she tossed it to him.

With a smooth catch, he examined the innocent-looking tube. Opening the cap, he took a moment to savor the scent.

He raised an eyebrow at the name on the label, "Watermelon sugar?" he said, "Doesn't smell like watermelon” he remarked, “or sugar, for that matter."

“Yeah?” she asked with a grin, “What does it smell like, then?”

He considered for a moment, tempted to confess what the scent truly evoked for him—her presence, her essence, everything that made her uniquely YN. However, with a sly grin, he opted for a less sentimental response.

"Strawberry," he replied, keeping his more poetic thoughts to himself. "It's nice."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she laced up her shoes. "Well, keep it," she suggested, a playful glint in her eyes. "I have, like, two hundred sticks hidden everywhere."

"I don't use lip balm," he stated.

“Not rock 'n roll enough for you?" she teased, slipping into her jacket. "Still,” she added, a playful glint in her eyes, “that way you can remember me when I’m gone.”

A quizzical arch of his eyebrow prompted him to play along. “Are you planning on leaving me, Y/L/N?” he inquired with a mock-serious tone, leaning into the charming act.

“Depends,” she retorted, her eyes dancing with mischief, “are you in any hurry to be rid of me, Kiszka?”

A soft chuckle escaped him. "Well, I wouldn’t say I’m in a hurry, per se, but—"

“Oh shush, you.” With a swift motion, she tossed it at him. “I’ll call you when I get out of the studio,” she declared, leaning in for a quick peck on his lips.

With a final lingering glance, she headed out, leaving him staring at her disappearing figure with a stupid smile, the sweet taste of her kiss still lingering on his lips.

If only he’d known merely two years later, they'd find themselves almost estranged, maybe, just maybe, he would’ve forced her to stay, maybe he would've held onto her a minute more.

******************

Kneeling on the cool bathroom floor, Jake opened the cabinet under the sink, his hands sifting through an assortment of Josh's hair products. His fingers finally closed around it—a small, inconspicuous pink stick.

A momentary hope flickered that perhaps his memory had failed him, but as he held it in his hands, the label staring back at him, reality set in. The words on the label mirrored those etched in his memory. Unease settled in his chest as he was reminded of the fact that, once, he’d been the one not wondering if he could ever go without Watermelon Sugar.

_____________

Jake returned to the dining room, the echoes fading away as he rejoined the ongoing conversation among the boys.

"Well, I mean, I guess we’ll find out soon enough, right?" Sam's casual tone filled the room.

"Oh yeah, when is she landing?" Danny's curiosity sparked.

"It was supposed to be at 3, but her flight’s been delayed, so she’ll have to come here straight from the airport," Josh informed, his voice carrying a mix of excitement and anticipation, "and you’d better be ready by then because we’re leaving for the venue right after."

"Sure,” Sam deadpanned, rolling his eyes at his older brother, “we’re going to take lessons in punctuality from you."

The American Music Awards were taking place in Nashville that year, providing a perfect opportunity for YN to reunite with the band. As Jake listened to the details, he couldn't help but feel a sense of strange apprehension. No matter how much time went by, how many girlfriends he went through, the prospect of YN's return always stirred up memories he had buried deep within.

The anticipation in the room grew, mirroring the excitement buzzing through the city. As they prepared for YN's arrival.

_________

A few hours later, a caravan of cars eventually rumbled down their street, an entourage of professionals descending upon the Greta headquarters. Security personnel, stylists, makeup artists, and hairstylists orchestrated a controlled chaos, transforming the residence into a bustling hive of activity.

Amidst the organized frenzy, Josh stood ready to greet YN's manager, a familiar face accustomed to the whirlwind that accompanied the life of a pop star. "Patty! It’s been too long,” Josh hugged the imposing woman. “Where’s YN?" he inquired, slightly concerned at YN’s apparent absence.

Dramatic as ever, YN's manager responded, "Pop stars, my darling, you know the drill. The airport was flooded with people."

"Is she still coming?" Josh pressed for reassurance.

"Of course she is. The show must go on!" she exclaimed with theatrical flair, "We just had to resort to... unusual methods," she added with a mysterious grin.

"Jesus,” Josh quipped, a hint of exasperation in his voice, “is she in a car trunk again?"

"A magician never reveals their tricks, sugar," she replied. "Anyway, in the meantime we can zhuzh y’all up,” she seized the boy’s face in her manicured hands before adding with a wink, “YN insisted."

The ambiance in the house shifted, embracing the essence of a backstage prelude before a grand performance. The rooms echoed with laughter, snippets of conversations, and the occasional hum of hair dryers. The scent of hairspray wafted through the air, blending with the underlying excitement that filled every corner of the space. The members of Greta Van Fleet, caught between the surreal and the routine, allowed themselves to be swept into the whirlwind.

The boys navigated the hustle and bustle of preparation with an air of practiced nonchalance. Their planned outfits, carefully curated for the grandeur of the Billboard Music Awards, exuded a sense of rock-and-roll sophistication. The expertise of YN’s staff worked wonders, transforming the brothers' already charismatic looks into something ready for the dazzling lights of the red carpet.

Suddenly, the house erupted in noise and stir as YN's arrival was announced. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as she was ushered inside, immediately surrounded by a flock of stylists and makeup artists. Their mission: to seamlessly transition her from airport-casual to red-carpet-glamour in 40 minutes time.

Amidst the organized chaos, the brothers found themselves fighting to get close to their old friend, a playful struggle that Sam punctuated with a groan. "Hey, folks, this is still our house, you know?" he protested with a grin.

YN's eyes lit up as she looked up, her gaze finally meeting theirs. Her face broke into the brightest smile. "Hi!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying genuine warmth and excitement. The air crackled with a blend of familiarity and anticipation while they shared a collective greeting. Josh pulled YN into a tight hug.

Jake, with his trademark laid-back charm, extended a casual yet heartfelt greeting. "Hey there," he said, a lopsided grin playing on his lips.

Sam patted YN's head, "What's up, popstar?" he teased, a cheeky grin accompanying his words. As the hellos and laughter echoed in the room, it became evident that despite the divergent paths they had taken in the music industry, their connection remained unshakable.

"So sorry for the commotion, guys," YN said, an apologetic smile tugging at her lips, “I was stuck in JFK for hours.” Her eyes flickered with gratitude for their understanding, acknowledging the huge mess that had taken over the place.

"No worries," Danny chimed in with an easygoing shrug, brushing off any concern.

"Yeah," Sam nodded in agreement, “besides, it’s no more chaotic than any random Sunday morning at Josh's place.”

Josh, smiled tightly, “And guess who is not invited to my next brunch?”

YN laughed, appreciating the lighthearted banter. "I’ve missed you guys." She was suddenly called into another room for hair and makeup and disappeared into the whirlwind of her glam team.

___________

Josh made his way to what had once been his bedroom, now turned into a makeshift beauty salon. He settled into the chair beside YN, the room buzzing with the orchestrated chaos of hairstyling. She was sat, draped in nothing but a towel, her hair in the careful hands of a stylist. Amid the whirlwind of beauty products, Josh initiated their exchange.

"So…" he began, leaning closer to be heard above the loud blow-dryer, "anything new with you?"

With a radiant smile, YN responded, her voice rising to match the decibels of the styling tools. "Well, I'm excited for tonight," she shared, the anticipation of the upcoming event evident in her expressive eyes. Her words touched on the delicate balance of managing expectations in the spotlight, a window into the intricacies of fame that often lay beneath the surface. "What about you, love?" she asked, inviting him to share his own slice of life.

"Nothing much," he replied casually, though the inquisitiveness in his eyes betrayed a deeper curiosity. “Anything else?” he insisted, his probing question hanging in the air—It was a subtle dance, an attempt to delve into the unspoken realms between them.

YN eyed him with suspicion, a momentary pause of understanding passing between them before he met her gaze in return. She finally spoke, “You saw the articles, didn’t you?”

Josh grinned at her, his reply laced with a hint of playful sarcasm. "Well, I'm pretty sure a blind man could've seen the articles, babe," he quipped, drawing a light chuckle from the hairdresser immersed in her task.

"Damnit," YN sighed, a touch of disappointment in her voice. The weight of public scrutiny and speculation was always an unwanted companion for her.

"So…?" Josh inquired, a mix of curiosity and disbelief in his voice as he awaited her confirmation or denial. YN remained silent, but a delicate smile betrayed her thoughts, a revelation that left Josh stunned. "Shit, it's true?" he uttered, the realization settling in.

“Our Y/N settling down,” Sam chimed in, entering the room, “I guess now we’ve really seen it all!” YN rolled her eyes playfully, the smile on her face still lingering.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Josh asked, his tone a blend of confusion and mild reproach, “We were on the phone literally a week ago.”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions under the bright lights of the makeup room. The soft hum of conversation around her, the subtle fragrance of cosmetics in the air. "It all went really fast. We met at a party in LA a few months ago and,” she paused, “I don’t know, we just hit it off, I guess?”

“Hit it off?” Sam remarked, glancing at his own reflection in the mirror, “I’d say it’s more than that.”

“Well,” A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she ran her fingers through her partially styled hair. “We weren’t planning on going public anytime soon,” YN explained, her gaze meeting Josh's, a sense of vulnerability lingering beneath the makeup and glamour, “but with the whole- music video thing, I guess it’s already happening.”

_________

Outside the room, the atmosphere was charged with a mix of excitement and tension. The hallway buzzed with the hurried footsteps of stylists and assistants. Jake, however, stood still, his eyes momentarily lost in thought after overhearing the conversation. The ambient light cast shadows on his face, revealing the subtle furrow of his brow.

As Danny approached, he could sense the undercurrent of unease in his bandmate's demeanor. "You, okay?" Danny asked, concern etched across his face.

"Mmh? Yeah, sure," Jake mumbled, but his voice carried a weight that contradicted his words. “I gotta go get dressed” he added, walking away.

__________

Back inside the room, the air carried a mix of emotions—joy, surprise, and a hint of playful banter. YN's eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and nervousness. "So, everyone knows?" she asked, nervously glancing at Josh, who nodded affirmatively.

"I still can’t believe it," Sam laughed, injecting a playful tease into the atmosphere. "Going from rockstars to boybands?” he teased, “I gotta tell you, YN, that’s- that's quite a downgrade."

Rolling her eyes, YN couldn't resist the opportunity for a retort, "Oh, shut up." With a smirk, she grabbed a hairbrush and tossed it in Sam's direction, "I'll have you know he’s doing very well with his solo career."

"Not wrong,” Danny joined the conversation, “and if I remember correctly, you were the one insisting on playing 'Sweet Creature' in the car last year, Sam."

"We've all got our flaws," the youngest retorted dramatically, drawing a collective chuckle from the room.

"Come on, now, I’m serious.” YN said, her tone lighthearted yet somewhat defensive, “Be nice."

Josh was surprised by the protective edge to YN's tone, prompting him to consider the depth of her new relationship. "We're just joking around, don’t worry," he reassured her, "I'm sure he's great."

Sam, never one to back down, continued, "now, whether he's actually cool enough for you is a different matter."

With a nonchalant air, YN replied, "Well, you'll get to find out soon enough." Her words hung in the room, creating a brief lull in the conversation. Curiosity and a touch of concern crept into Josh's expression.

"How… soon, exactly?" he eventually asked.

“Well,” she giggled nervously, “now that you mention it. How would you feel about- um," she paused, "I don’t know,” she toyed with the hem of her towel before mumbling, “tonight?”

“Tonight!?” the three boys exclaimed simultaneously, their expression registering shock.

“Well, he is nominated-” she began to explain.

“Tonight, as in, two-hours-from-now-tonight?” Sam asked, trying to process the unexpected revelation.

“Well, what’s wrong with tonight?” she asked, her voice slightly trembling as she tried to stay calm, “it’s a night—a good night, I- I would even say it’s a- a great night, right?” she looked to Josh for backup, “Right?”

“Holy shit,” Danny muttered, uncharacteristic reaction for the usually composed musician.

"Alright," YN’s manager burst into the room, punctuating her entrance with grand gestures. "Everyone who isn’t working towards turning our girl into a couture creature, out!" she declared with theatrical flair. "We are out of here in twenty minutes!"

The room quickly cleared, with only YN and her stylists remaining in their spot. YN grabbed Josh’s wrist abruptly as he got up to leave. “Can you, uh-” she hesitated, avoiding eye contact, “can you give him a heads up for me?”

Josh nodded, gently. No clarifications were needed. “Of course,” he replied, before exiting the room.

___________

Josh had the finishing touches added to his hair before approaching his twin brother, who was engrossed in the meticulous process of tying his dress shoes. He hesitated before breaking the silence, "So, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but, uh-"

“I heard,” Jake cut him off, his eyes still focused on the task at hand, hands moving with a precision that seemed almost automatic.

“And,” Josh paused, choosing his words carefully, “you alright?”

“Sure,” Jake responded with a nonchalant shrug, his gaze shifting momentarily to the mirror as he fine-tuned the arrangement of his jewelry. Josh couldn’t help but feel a sense of surprise at the lack of reaction from his brother. It left him questioning his instincts. Maybe they truly had both moved on. After all, it’s true that Jake had been the first to get into other relationships.

___________

After twenty minutes, YN finally stepped out, a vision of elegance in a custom gown that could rival the most iconic looks from the fashion archives. The dress seemed to embrace her figure like a second skin, and Jake couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as he took in the sight.

The room fell into a momentary hush as everyone's eyes were drawn to her, and even Josh found himself momentarily silenced by the sheer presence she exuded. YN's confident strides and poised demeanor demanded attention, making it clear that she was more than just a musician – she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Gucci, huh?” Sam smirked teasingly, “Someone's living the high life now."

“Well, Samuel,” YN shot back with a sly smile, "someone had to bring a touch of class to this crew."

"So, this is what happens when one sells their soul and upgrades to mainstream, huh?” Sam retorted playfully.

YN, always ready with a quick response, turned to Josh, "I’m sorry, is the person dressed like the Messiah talking to me?" she asked, gesturing toward Sam’s attire. Her comment elicited laughter from the room.

"Shots fired," Danny declared.

In the midst of the banter, YN stole a glance at Jake. His black suit complemented his rugged charm, an open shirt revealing a glimpse of his chest adorned with dangling necklaces. He looked good.

As YN hurriedly climbed into the awaiting car, a sleek black vehicle poised to transport her to the event, a flurry of stylists and assistants encircled her. In a synchronized dance, they meticulously attended to the final details of her immaculate ensemble.

Several assistants, keen on maintaining the gown's pristine appearance, worked in harmony to ensure it cascaded flawlessly around her. Every fold and movement were handled with the precision reserved for a precious work of art. The atmosphere hummed with an undercurrent of excitement as YN gave a wave and a spirited shout, "I'll see you there!"

Meanwhile, the members of the band swiftly jumped into the back of their own designated car, the car door closing with a soft thud. The convoy of vehicles, an orchestrated ballet of anticipation, set in motion, leaving the house behind and heading towards the event that awaited them.

______________

The sleek line of black cars glided to a stop, marking the arrival of the band at the glamorous event. As the car doors opened, each member emerged into the dazzling spectacle of camera flashes and the cacophony of enthusiastic screams from fans and journalists alike. Stepping onto the red carpet, they were immediately swept up in the chaotic energy of the moment.

The band, accustomed to the electrifying rush of performing on stage, felt a subtle discomfort in the spotlight of the red carpet. The controlled chaos of a live performance was far more natural to them than the orchestrated poses and smiles demanded by the array of flashing cameras. Despite this, they maintained a polished facade, exchanging smiles, waves, and nods with the eager crowd.

Navigating the sea of journalists, each band member expertly fielded questions and posed for photos, their years of experience having honed their ability to navigate the less comfortable aspects of fame.

The sudden surge of screams reached a crescendo, capturing the band's attention as they turned to witness the arrival of YN. Her presence, ethereal and captivating, stole the spotlight. The custom gown she adorned seemed to possess a life of its own, catching the glow of the venue's lights.

Her assistant fussed over the gown's train, making sure it trailed behind her effortlessly, as she stepped onto the red carpet, met with the undivided attention of everyone present.

YN was a natural at all this. Of course, anyone who truly knew her could see the slight tremor in her hands and the discreet heaving of her chest behind her composed appearance, but she played the part with finesse, engaging effortlessly with the cameras, flashing smiles, and striking poses.

With a radiant smile, YN gracefully walked towards the band. Deciding to seize the moment, she posed for a couple of photos with the band, creating a visual feast for the delighted fans whose cheers resonated in the background.

The intimacy was palpable as they exchanged smiles. After a brief interlude, they parted ways, the band venturing a little further to engage with journalists, while YN lingered, extending her time to pose for additional photos.

The band continued answering questions from journalists, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement. Suddenly, a surge of deafening screams erupted from the crowd. Heads turned, and there he was – Harry Styles. Screams and gasps spread through the onlookers, all wondering if they were about to witness the confirmation to what they had all been speculating about.

Anticipation reached its peak as Harry walked over to YN. He gently grabbed her by the waist, and together, they posed for the cameras, effectively hard launching their relationship to the public as the flashes illuminated their smiling faces.

The band members exchanged discreet glances, a mix of surprise and curiosity evident in their expressions. As they continued answering questions, their attention intermittently diverted to the unfolding scene. Fans were ecstatic, their screams echoing in the air, and journalists feverishly snapped photos of the unexpected couple.

Jake stood with a thoughtful expression on his face. The turn of events seemed to have unexpectedly caught him off guard. As he continued with the interview, his responses held a subtle undercurrent of distraction. The unfamiliarity of seeing YN in the arms of another man had stirred quiet contemplation within him.

______________

The prestigious event started with grandeur. Seated at separate tables, the band and YN navigated the star-studded gathering, each absorbed in their own conversations. The vibrant energy of the venue resonated with the collective excitement of attendees, a mix of industry luminaries, celebrities, and devoted fans. The stage, adorned with dazzling lights set the scene for a night of celebration.

As the ceremony kicked off, artists from various genres took to the stage. The evening unfolded and the band couldn't help but exchange amused glances and subtle eye rolls. Clear instances of lip-syncing from certain artists drew their collective skepticism, a sentiment seemingly shared by few others in the room.

The audience responded to each performance with cheers, applause, and sometimes even tears. Greta Van Fleet eventually took the stage with an electrifying energy that reverberated through the venue. The unmistakable sound of roaring guitars and thunderous drums filled the air as the band launched into one of their signature hits.

As Jake's fingers danced across the frets of his guitar, delivering powerful riffs that cut through the air with precision. There was a noticeable intensity in his playing, as though he’d been compensating for something unseen.

As the members of Greta Van Fleet walked through the backstage area, the exhilaration of their performance still coursing through their veins, they stumbled upon YN. Her eyes sparkled with genuine excitement and pride congratulating them enthusiastically. "You guys killed it up there, as usual," YN exclaimed, as she pulled them into a tight hug, always their number one fan. “I’m next, I have to change, but I wanted to see you all first.”

They were suddenly distracted by the sight of YN’s assistant carrying a ridiculously massive bouquet of roses into her dressing room.

Sam to playfully inquired, "Loverboy?"

A shy smile tugged at YN's lips as she nodded, "He's- a little extra," she admitted.

Jake couldn't help but recall that YN had always preferred daisies to roses but chased the thought away immediately.

With a gentle nudge from Josh, YN snapped back to the present. "Alright, we’ll leave you to it then,” he said, “Give 'em hell," he added, maintaining a long-running tradition.

"Sure will," YN replied as she headed off to prepare for her own performance.

As YN's name echoed through the venue, the crowd erupted into a symphony of screams, their excitement palpable. YN gracefully ascended the stage, adorned in a simple silk slip. A genuine smile played on her lips as the frenzy of the crowd intensified.

The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as she settled behind the piano, her fingers poised above the keys. Once the audience calmed down, she started playing.

The audience fell into a collective hushed reverence, hanging onto every note and every nuance. Throughout the performance, glances exchanged among the crowd spoke volumes.

Amidst the sea of enraptured faces, Jake found himself descreetly drawn into the universe crafted by YN. From his vantage point, the stage lights framed her in a soft glow, casting an enchanting aura around her figure.

His eyes followed her every movement and the crowded venue seemed to fade away, leaving only YN and the echoes of her melody. The vulnerability in her performances always tugged at something within the guitarst, a reminder of the shared history that lingered between them.

As the final notes hung in the air, the applause thundered through the venue. Brought back to the present, Jake joined the enthusiastic ovation.

___________

The glitz and glamour continued to sweep through the venue. The stage saw a procession of artists and creators, each claiming their well-deserved accolades. Awards were handed out, speeches were delivered, and the audience reveled in the collective spirit of recognition. In this whirlwind of excitement, the moment for the most coveted award approached, adding a layer of suspense to an already dazzling night.

The atmosphere in the venue crackled with tension as Kelly Clarkson announced the nominees for the highly anticipated "Artist of the Year" award. YN's heart raced, and she fidgeted in her seat, her nerves palpable in the moments leading up to the reveal.

As the presenter uttered YN’s name among the nominees, a surge of nervous energy gripped YN. Seeking solace, she glanced over at Josh, finding reassurance in his playful encouragement from two tables away—two thumbs up and an exaggerated, silly expression that managed to coax a smile from her. The room held its breath as Kelly Clarkson opened the envelope, unveiling the winner.

The cheers from the crowd enveloped YN as her name echoed through the venue, and she sat there, momentarily frozen, the magnitude of the recognition sinking in.

YN eventually rose from her seat, a mixture of shock and joy playing on her face. She took the first steps toward the stage. The anticipation of the crowd created a surreal ambiance, the cheers and applause merging into a harmonious melody of celebration.

However, as she reached the bottom of the stairs, a momentary panic seized her. The elegant expanse of her gown posed an unexpected challenge, leaving her unsure of how to navigate the ascent gracefully. In that heartbeat of uncertainty, a comforting touch enveloped her arm, and she turned to find someone had rushed to her side. Jake.

His presence, as reliable as ever, was a silent reassurance. Without uttering a word, he linked his arm with hers, a subtle gesture that conveyed both support and familiarity. Together, they embarked on the climb, the cheers of the crowd still in the background.

“Congrats,” he breathed with a prideful grin once they reached the stage.

She mouthed a “thank you” in response, her own smile mirroring his.

As Jake settled back into his seat, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on YN, who now stood poised at the stand, a mix of nerves and excitement dancing in her eyes. The room hushed in anticipation, the spotlight now solely on her.

As YN began her thank-you speech, all words seemed to momentarily vacate her brain, leaving a genuine vulnerability that resonated with the audience. The microphone in front of her captured the tremor in her voice as she expressed gratitude and humility.

"I-I uh, want to first extend my heartfelt appreciation to my incredible fans," she began, her eyes scanning the sea of faces before her. "I'm endlessly grateful for your unwavering support, God knows I’ve needed it lately," a chuckle erupted in the crowd.

The room hung on her every word, and Jake, from his seat, felt a surge of pride for the woman who had once shared her dreams and fears with him.

As she navigated the speech, a captivating blend of sincerity and humility. “Oh, gosh, so many people to thank, I already know I’m going to forget a bunch” she rambled nervously, and slight laughter erupted in the room.

“I’d like to thank my manager, my crew, of course, my friends, my, uh,” her gaze instinctively found the members of the band, seated proudly at their table, “my family,” she winked at them with a chuckle. The boys shared a collective moment, blowing a kiss her way, their eyes gleaming with shared triumph.

She continued expressing gratitude to key figures in her life and career, the room buzzed with a contagious energy. With a confident smile, she concluded her speech, leaving the audience with a poetic resonance that lingered in the air.

__________

The grand finale of the event unfolded like the crescendo of a spectacular symphony. YN gracefully danced through the maze of flashing cameras to reach her awaiting car, a modern-day muse amidst the paparazzi chaos.

The band, too, exuding the effortless cool of rockstars, threaded through the sea of lights in a rhythmic procession.

The engines hummed in harmony, syncing with the pulsating energy of the night as they embarked on a journey through the neon-lit streets, where every flicker tells a story of fame, music, and the allure of the after-hours. The fleet of sleek, tinted cars converged, creating a glamorous caravan destined for the city's heartbeat—the long-anticipated after-party.

____________

The club's entrance radiated a neon glow as the members of Greta Van Fleet strode through the entrance, greeted by the pulse of bass and the vibrant hum of the crowd inside.

The venue, a chic downtown club, pulsated with an electrifying energy.

The band navigated through the throng of A-listers, the air punctuated by laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional flash of cameras capturing candid moments.

As the animated chatter and laughter enveloped the venue, Jake engaged in a riveting conversation with none other than Jimmy Page.

They were exchanging anecdotes when suddenly, the entrance erupted with cheers, prompting Jake to glance across the lively crowd. There, making a striking entrance, was YN, adorned in a sleek black dress, accompanied by her new beau. The cheers amplified as the couple embraced the spotlight, and Jake watched from afar.

Retreating from the buzzing atmosphere of the party, Jake immersed himself back into his captivating conversation with the guitarist. The exchange of musical tales continued to flow, momentarily sweeping away any unease lingering in his mind. However, after a while, he sensed the need for a change of scenery.

Making his way to the bar, he sought solace in the company of Sam and Danny. Ordering himself a whiskey, Jake leaned against the bar, the amber liquid a familiar comfort.

In the lively chatter of the party, he appreciated the anchor provided by his bandmates. Despite the external facade of confidence, Jake had never been much of a socialite, leaving that to his twin brother.

Events like these had a tendency to leave him longing for something stronger than whiskey, an itch he'd been trying to steer clear from for over two years now. Ever-mindful of the shadows that lingered within, he found relief in the presence of Sam and Danny.

Suddenly, Josh’s voice cut through the ambient noise. “There they are!” He led YN and Harry towards his bandmates, a grin on his face. As the trio made their way through the crowd, the anticipation among the band members heightened. Jake shifted slightly, his attention now fully on the approaching trio.

"Hey!” YN announced with an infectious enthusiasm as they reached the bar, “So, this is Harry," she squeezed her boyfriend’s arm, nervously, “And, Harry, this is the band.”

The boys exchanged pleasantries, Sam and Danny offering friendly smiles while Jake, not one to be overly expressive, extended a nod of acknowledgment.

Harry, ever the charmer, reciprocated the introductions with genuine warmth. "Pleasure to meet you all. YN's told me so much about you. Big fan.".

The exchange was cordial, and as it flowed, YN ensured everyone felt included. Harry, charismatic and engaging, effortlessly integrated into the circle, which seemed to make YN ecstatic.

As the conversation meandered through various topics, Harry turned to Jake and decided to share a common experience. "Love the long hair,” he remarked with a friendly grin, trying to strike a chord of camaraderie, “I used to rock it too, miss it sometimes."

Jake, initially caught off guard, responded with a hint of indifference, "Do you, now?" His tone, unintentionally brusque, drew a subtle side-eye from Josh, who discreetly stepped on his brother's foot, a non-verbal prompt to play nice. Caught in the act, Jake quickly corrected himself. "Well, short suits you, man,” he said softening his tone, “I've just always been too lazy to bother with haircuts, I guess."

“If only Josh was the same,” Sam joked nudging Josh playfully, “I swear that one spends more time at the salon than the studio.” The tension diffused, and the conversation continued, albeit with a newfound awareness from Jake to navigate the social waters more gracefully.

The night continued its crescendo, the pulse of the party echoing through the lively venue. As Jake continued to sip on his drink at the bar, his gaze inadvertently gravitated toward YN and Harry. The duo, wrapped in the warmth of each other's company, seemed to float through the crowd.

The sight tugged at a spectrum of emotions within Jake’s inebriated mind. Harry's hand rested casually on her waist, a gesture that spoke volumes. Laughter flowed effortlessly between the two of them, creating an aura of intimacy that eclipsed the surrounding revelry.

The party unfolded in layers, each moment a brushstroke in the canvas of the night. Yet, beneath the surface of celebration, Jake couldn't shake the complex emotions that swirled within him. The alcohol served as a temporary buffer, but the currents of his contemplation ran deep, hidden beneath the veneer of the lively gathering.

Jake felt a sense of relief wash over him as he stepped into the cool night air, the bustling sounds of the lively club gradually fading behind him. Pulling out his phone, he swiftly ordered a cab to take him back to his sanctuary of solitude. Just as he confirmed the ride, YN's voice cut through the night.

"You're leaving, already?" she asked. Surprised, he turned around to meet her figure. Her eyes reflected a mix of curiosity and disappointment.

"Yeah,” he admitted, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I'm exhausted."

Her gaze lingered on him, a subtle worry lingering in her expression. "You're not driving, are you?" she inquired after a moment, her concern tethered to memories of a past filled with reckless habits.

The weight of the implication made him sigh. "I ordered a cab," he reassured her, hoping to ease the concern etched on her face. Despite her attempts to appear nonchalant, the genuine worry in her eyes didn't escape him.

"Good," she nodded, a soft exhale escaping her lips. A brief pause filled the space between them before she added, "It's a shame you can't stay longer."

As the night air embraced them in a cocoon of quiet, Jake sensed the nervous energy radiating from YN. No words were needed to decipher the unspoken thoughts swirling in her mind. With a knowing smile, he addressed the unspoken concern.

"Tell Harry bye for me,” he said, his tone light and reassuring “he's a cool guy."

YN's face immediately lit up, gratitude and relief washing over her. "I will," she responded.

In the ensuing quiet, a gentle moment lingered between them. "Alright," Jake said, breaking the silence, "you should go back inside; you'll freeze to death out here."

"I'm okay," she insisted, a subtle shiver instantly betraying her words. Without hesitation, Jake peeled off his jacket, but just as he handed it to her, Harry's voice echoed from within the club, disrupting the tranquility.

"YN, love, are you coming back in?" Harry's call prompted a sudden pause in the exchange.

Realizing the implications of his gesture, Jake hesitated before gently urging her, "You should go." She looked at him hesitantly. "I'll be fine," he insisted, his eyes holding a quiet reassurance.

As she pondered, a gust of chilly night air swept through. The glow from the club's entrance cast a soft halo around her silhouette. The distant sounds of laughter and music from the after-party lingered, creating an ethereal backdrop to their conversation.

"Alright, but-” she hesitated, looking down, “that means I won’t see you before flying back,” she confessed, her voice holding a note of longing, the unspoken yearning for more time evident in her eyes.

“You’re not staying at the house?” Jake probed gently.

Her response wavered, caught in the delicate balance of unspoken truths. “No, I- uh,” she stumbled over the words. Realization dawned on him – Of course she would be staying in a hotel with Harry. “I-”

“Gotcha,” he interjected, sparing her the need to articulate the unspoken details. The ambient sounds of the night heightened the tension, the brief pause heavy with unspoken sentiments. A distant laugh, the muted beat of music, and the cool breeze carried a collective weight.

“YN?” Harry's voice echoed once more, a reminder of the reality waiting inside.

“I’m coming!” she shouted back. She turned her attention back to Jake, “So…” she said, “I’ll see you soon?” He nodded in response and she retraced her steps toward the illuminated entrance.

She stopped in the doorframe. “Jakey?” she called once more, her hesitancy palpable as he turned to face her again, “Take care, okay?”

He smiled. “You too,” he replied as she disappeared through the door, leaving him in the embrace of the quiet night, his thoughts as contemplative as the stars overhead.

Next Track: Style

Masterlist

Hope you liked it! Once again, I am begging you all to interact and leave comments it makes me so happy to get feedback and reactions xxx

Also, this is only the beginning lol. I have a billion drafts for other chapters so stay tuned, peaceful army.

Taglist

@aintthatapity

@sinarainbows

@vanfleeter

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