#Fucking love those awkward stage hands-

[zealousfandoms]

My new favourite Ben 10 aliens trope this:

Whatever sort of f*cked up chicken awkward stage ghost hands those are I just love em-

Beautiful art from @moxielynx

There so sillie :D

#Fucking love those awkward stage hands- #there just so sillie #awkward baby man's #swampfire #ghostfreak #ripjaws #snare oh #ben 10 #reblog #ben 10 alien force #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 aliens #i love your art so much 🤩

[wlntrsldler]

I keep imagining the first time Luke and Mr. D met after Luke's hickeys/scratches went viral

LMFAOOOOO ANON THIS IS SENDING ME

here is how i think that conversation played out (suggestive content ahead):

"shit, five star, your dad is calling me," luke mumbled, eyes wide as he looked down at his phone. "he never calls me."

connor snicked from his bunk in the tour bus, "well, given that the whole internet is talking about you right now after the show you gave them last night, i'm not surprised."

"ha!" travis exclaimed, sitting up on his bed. "put it on speaker. i wanna hear him yell at you."

you rolled your eyes, "he's not gonna yell at you."

luke turned to you with hopeful eyes, "you think so?"

"well, he's probably not gonna yell at you," you scrunched your face up, rethinking your words, "like 55% chance he won't yell at you."

"i don't like those odds, babe."

"answer the fucking phone, luke."

luke clicked the green button on his screen, chewing on the nail of his thumb. he rolled his eyes, pressing the speaker button as travis kept egging him on. chris and clarisse opened the privacy curtain of chris' bunk to listen in on the drama.

"hey, mr. d," luke cleared his throat, ignoring the quiet giggles from the boys when his voice cracked. "what's up?"

"is my daughter with you?"

"say no," you whispered. so you were wrong about the odds. your dad was 100% about to yell at luke and you selfishly didn't want to get your ass handed to you just yet. you were going to avoid your dad's calls for as long as possible.

"uhh... no?"

"oh jesus fucking christ," you sighed, smacking your palm against your forehead, "that was soooo convincing."

you heard your dad type on his laptop before shutting it. there was some background noise that subsided after you heard the shut of a door. it seemed like your dad went into his office to get some privacy.

"hey, kid," your dad said, no doubt addressing you now.

"hey, dad," you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, leaning down to speak into the mic of luke's phone. "how are you?"

"don't start with me," he said, "would it kill you both to not do whatever it is you do that results in those pictures? pictures that are all over the internet by the way!"

a snide remark was on the tip of luke's tongue, because yes, it would kill him to not do the things that resulted in the pink marks on his neck and the healing scratches on his back, but that didn't seem like the right response.

"dad, you never had an issue with them taking their shirts off during shows before. and luke has gone out on stage like that before."

luke cringed, remembering one too many instances where he'd gone out on stage with hickeys all over his neck. it felt like a lifetime ago now, as if ever since you walked into his life that past version of him was someone he didn't recognize anymore. he much preferred remembering the name of the girl who left him marked up, especially preferring that it was only you who did that to him.

"that was before he started dating my daughter!" he replied, "i don't want to know anything about your relationship, but i'm in an unfortunate situation where i happen to manage the career of your boyfriend's band so i have to deal with it sometimes. so for the love of god, please please, stop."

"i'm so sorry mr. d," luke mumbled, "i completely forgot about them and by the time i realized, it was too late."

you could practically see your dad pulling at his hair, a habit he had when he was in stressful or awkward situations. he didn't speak for a good thirty seconds and then he sighed, "just keep your goddamn shirt on."

luke gulped, "got it."

when your dad ended the call, the entire bus erupted in laughter, including you. luke's face was as red as a tomato as he groaned and buried his head in his pillow. your shoulders shook as you giggled, laying on top of him. he instantly turned his body to wrap his arms around you.

"that wasn't so bad," you cooed, running your fingers through his curls, "and that was a shit apology, baby. you were smug as hell on stage when people pointed out the scratches."

"i wasn't thinking of the consequences of my actions," he said, "i was caught up watching people connect the dots that my girlfriend is not only hot but a fucking animal in be--"

"okay, that's our cue," travis cut off, closing his curtain. connor followed his head, popping in his airpods. clarisse sent you a wink before she disappeared behind the curtain with chris.

"i'll stop leaving hickeys on you," you kissed his face, enjoying how flustered he got. "but i can't promise too much on the scratches."

"i'm gonna stop taking my shirt off at shows, i think," he mused, toying with the hem of the shirt you wore. "i don't think i can take another surprise call from your dad. i think it took years off my life."

"your fans will be highly disappointed," you teased, leaning over to his ear, "but if you're gonna keep your shirt on, does that mean hickeys on your abs is fair game?"

luke licked his lips, tugging on his own curtain to give you two some privacy, "absolutely."

#frances replies #poisoned mercury chats #luke castellan x reader

[queers-gambit]

Fine Line

prompt: ( requested ) going after the same silver briefcase, you and Tangerine exchange more than a few blows. pun intended.

pairing: Tangerine x female!assassin!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 5.2k+

note: got a little outside my comfort zone with this one, so, hopefully it's not 1000% trash but you've been warned now.

warnings: codename "Peach", basically the request with a FEW tweaks here and there, so, some spoilers, cursing, (shitty) slutty smut [spitting, squirting, mean!Tan, PIV, male receiving oral, degrading behavior, talk of tops and bottoms], Tan is a switch i do not care, is this enemies to lovers? yes. depiction of canon-typical physical violence, blood, injury.

There was a fine line between love and hate.

You love your family, but God Almighty, did you hate their behavior in most public settings. You love homemade cake, but hate the entire baking process, especially the dishes. You love getting your nails done and feeling pampered, but hate sitting still in one place for that amount of time.

And you love getting fucked, but hate dealing with people.

The whole meeting someone, getting to know them, getting to a place of comfort to bring them home. It was a hassle, it was annoying to you; akin to an inconvenience and disruption. You didn't mind Tinder, actually - thinking of it as "Dick on Demand", never really needing the awkward stages of acquaintanceship. You didn't like going out places "to meet people", too busy with your work to truly put forth effort. Plus, your job didn't exactly allow for romantic entanglements to become knots; you had to keep loose and available.

This is what made your job ideal: it was remote, kept you busy, on the move, without the weight of baggage attached to people. Plus, it didn't give time nor room for anyone to become attached to you - something that always made you impossibly uncomfortable. A job such as this made life impossibly lonely, but you operated better this way - without anyone needing you, worrying about you, keeping tabs, being in your business. You liked being on your own, it was just easier. It made sense. There was logic behind it.

Didn't mean you were 100% alone, however. You had "coworkers"... Sorta. You had employers, though you were unsure where exactly they were stationed. You, yourself, resided mostly in London, but operated globally, wherever you were needed - or more like wherever you were sent to. These "coworkers" of yours had similar jobs, and while you hated putting a label on basically anything, in laymen's terms, you were a contract killer. Those you interacted with, typically, were other contract killers - but usually working different jobs.

Rarely were multiples from the same organization sent on the same job, yet it still happened.

On the off chance, you encountered a few individuals that were employed by other organizations; making them rivals instead of coworkers.

You were unsure which this all was yet...

You had been contracted by an invisible, anonymous employer to retrieve a silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle, your handler encouraging you to get off the bullet train the moment it was in your possession. But there was a problem: you weren't the only one working this case, if the Ladybug twat and Twins was any indication.

When you located the case, you were instantly engaged by the blonde man with thick, black framed glasses; honestly getting the shit kicked out of you.

Currently, you were in possession of the case, but that was sure to change since it had already switched hands multiple times that chaotic night. You had come to a skidding halt, panting heavily, bent over on your knees in a vacant first class train car after escaping (momentarily) from Ladybug. Spitting blood from your mouth, you dialed your handler with shaking fingers; heaving a deep sniffle.

"You still alive?"

"I'll fuckin' choke you myself, Susan, I swear t'God," you groaned, sliding to the ground in exhaustion; wiping the trail of blood from your nose with a grimace.

Susan chuckled, "What's happening, honey girl?"

"Y-You didn't tell me I wasn't the only one workin' this!"

"Well, I heard rumor the Twins might be on the same case, but you usually beat them to the punch, don't you?"

"Yeah, but not this time," you winced.

"I'm sure Tangerine was happy to see you," you could hear her grin.

"Fuck off."

"He's into you, you know."

"The man snapped my tibia, punctured my kidney, and broke my nose - don't think that constitutes as anything romantic."

"Oh, you're into it," she laughed. "And don't act as if he ever walked away, scot free. If I remember correctly, you've shanked him twice?"

"He deserved it," you coughed. "Listen, fuck Tangerine - "

"I know you want to."

"Susan! Fuckin' listen to me!" You snarled. "They're not alone - there's another guy. For fuck's sake, Susan, I just got my arse kicked by a dude with a manbun!"

"Another guy? With a manbun? They're still in style?"

"Oh, my God - does it even mat - YES, they're always in style. Listen, this guy goes by the name Ladybug. Who do we know that uses codenames like that? What org?"

"Hmm," Susan thought aloud.

"What?" You spat blood from your mouth again, licking at the split lip.

"Could be KBS? They use animal codenames on rotation."

"Fuck all," you groaned. "Well, Mr. Ladybug can throw a fuckin' punch. Think he cracked a rib. But you know what? He's handsome. Almost feel bad for knockin' his lights out."

"Where are you?"

You looked around, "Emotionally? Physically?"

"You know what I mean, Peach. Where's the case?"

"With me," you assured, "uh, and I, uh... I'm not 100% where I am, I missed a couple stops fightin' these dumbfucks. Might be four stops from Kyoto? Five?"

"Get off before the end of the line," Susan warned. "At this point, I don't care if you have the case or not."

"Wait... Susan, what's that mean?"

She paused and sighed deeply, "All right, fine, time to get serious. Some intel came in, Peach... And the White Death bought out the train until the end of the line. I actually care about your safety and this just screams danger, so, get off before Kyoto, Peach, my girl. Hear me?"

"I hear you, mamas," you agreed. "I'll get off next... Stop... Oh, you've got t'be joking! Fuck me!"

"Gladly," Tangerine smirked and jokingly reached for his belt with perked brows, standing in the automatic doorway; looking beat to hell, similar to you.

You glared at him and offered your middle finger, his hands dropping as he surveyed the train car.

"Peach?"

"I'll call you back, Susan," you deflected into the phone, quickly hanging up and deflating. "Jesus fuck, look, I'm really not in the mood, Tan. Can we just make this quick? The fuck you want?"

"Do I look like I'm here t'play fuckin' games, Peach?" Tangerine asked, stalking slowly towards where you were slumped in the aisle, mid-train car, while dripping in his own blood.

"Still look like a clown t'me," you quipped. "I'll ask again: the fuck you want, Tangerine?"

"Gonna need that case, sweet peach."

You scoffed. "Seriously? You're after it, too?"

"'Fraid so."

"How many of us are on assignment? For this one fuckin' case?" You snipped, kicking the case a little.

"You look like you've seen the Ladybug fucker, haven't yah, doll?"

"He with you?"

"Fuck no."

"Where's Lemon, then?"

"Few back," He gestured back over his shoulder, pausing when you got to your feet. "C'mon, love, don't do this," He warned, mustache curling as his lip did. There was a deranged look in his eye, something stirring in your gut; seeing the shine of tears never shed, the anger, a high-strung energy filling the space around you.

"I just want off this train, Tan," you begged quietly. "Look, call it whatever you want, but something else is goin' on here - shit ain't right. Be honest, how much more difficult has tonight been? Why have we all been sent after the same briefcase? When it's supposed to just be a fucking grab job?"

Tangerine cocked his head, "Nah, no, we're on delivery."

"What?"

"Yeah, supposed t'deliver this kid and the case t'his father in Kyoto," his brows knit together.

You scolded, "You dumb fuckin' idiot!"

"I beg your pardon, sweetheart?" He leered, stepping another step closer; knotting your stomach.

"You workin' for the White Death?"

"How'd you - "

"Susan got intel, said he bought out the train, Tan. Fuck's really goin' on?"

Tangerine's jaw flexed, sighing through his nose, "Guess cat's out the bag now, innit? Yeah," he sighed, shrugging a bit, "we're doin' this job for him."

"Which means he's gonna kill us at the end of the line - why else ensure there's no other witnesses?" There was a long pause, both staring into each other's eyes without shifting attention. You shrugged and whispered, "You know, we could just jump off the bloody train. Grab Lem, get off the train before Kyoto, just fuckin' go."

"Who gets the case?"

"Where's the kid you've gotta deliver?"

"Dead - murdered, actually."

"Then you're already fucked and your job's done," you shrugged, "so, I keep the case and we all three keep our lives."

Tan sighed through his nose, offering, "You drive a temptin' bargain, love. Always enjoy our li'l run-ins," his hand extended to rest on your waist, freezing time. "But I can't walk away without that case. Lemon's down, he's been drugged, so, trust me, I'm all for just jumpin' ship, but I need the case, darlin'."

"So do I, I have somewhere else to deliver it."

"Then we have ourselves a Mexican Standoff, then, yeah?"

"No, that'd require a third."

"Kinky, but I prefer t'keep things between us, wouldn't you?" He purred against your lips, not quite kissing you as his hand tightened over bruised skin.

"Tan, don't do this," you breathed in the space between you.

"For whatever it's worth, I do usually feel bad after kickin' your arse - though, I'd much rather prefer t'kiss it."

"We can arrange that later," you smiled prettily, surging forward to kiss him fully. It was sweaty, cruel, bloody, and rough - everything you knew Tangerine to be. Yet right when he seemed entranced enough, both his hands caging your hips to his, you bit his lip in time to bring your knee up into his groin.

It sparked your fight, both exchanging blows without hesitation. You could feel your adrenaline propelling you, but it was quickly dwindling as Tangerine seemed renewed and invigorated by your fight. You, however, fought dirty; you had to - you had no other choice. He was physically bigger, stronger, but you were faster, and dare you say it, smarter. You didn't need integrity when defending yourself, easily using Tan's strength against him to add to the collect of bruises, cuts, and blood smears. But he still managed to manhandle you, sending you careening into empty seats and giving you whiplash.

You managed to swing on his back, preventing him from reaching his gun; legs coiling around his arms and flexing your abs to yank backwards. You grunted when you hit an empty bench, his head bouncing between your breasts; holding him hostage for a brief moment before you felt his hands grip your thighs in an innocently provocative way.

The moan from your lungs was unintentional, Tan flipping you both so you were on your stomach; him hovering over your back with a grunt. But there was a familiar feeling pressed into your bottom, head lifting slightly to struggle under Tangerine's grip; his reaction being exactly what you wanted as he pressed further into you.

"Just - fucking stay still!" He barked, trying to pin your hands behind you.

"Oh, you'd like that, huh?" You snapped, still struggling. "Some submissive li'l bitch?"

"Oh, darlin', I love me a top," he growled in your ear, grinding his swelling cock further into your ample arse cheeks, "but only good girls are so lucky. But don't worry," he chuckled, "I usually have cuffs on me for the bad girls, hey?"

"Fuck off, Tan, get off," you grunted, wriggling; grinding your hips up into him to try and dislodge him. He breathed deeper, and your mind played tricks on you because you swore you felt him grind back.

"I quite like this position, though, love."

"Thought you liked a top?"

"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy my own moments, huh? And you seem like you're far too used t'gettin' your way."

"So, which is it, then? You wanna fuck me or get fucked by me?"

"That an earnest question?"

You paused, "If it means I get the case, fuck yeah."

"That's not what it means, doll, but if what Susan says is true..." He nuzzled your neck briefly, lips ghosting your ear, mustache tickling your skin as he finished, "Might not get another chance."

You know he loosened his grip to let your arms snap back under you; groaning in relief. After panting for a moment, you lifted your head again, feeling his cheek brush yours and pausing to relish in the oddly intimate position. "We can always get the fuck off this train? Find a hotel in a nearby city?" You offered. "Can get me all night if you play your cards right."

"Know I can't, sweet peach," he whispered.

"Then why waste more time?" You mused, hissing when his mouth instantly fell to your neck in an open kiss that scraped his teeth into your soft flesh. "Hey - no! No ti-ime," your word hitched when he licked the sensitive skin in-sync with a roll of his hips, thrusting his hardening cock into the crease of your cheeks; making your spine shudder when his teeth scraped again.

"We got a li'l time," he promised. "Enough for a taste? You as sweet as your name, baby? Huh?"

"Tan, oh, my God," you breathed in disbelief when he reared back and manhandled you so he could unlatch the buckle of your belt and start shucking the material from your hips. "What if someone - "

"Shut up," he snapped, freeing your thighs. "Got me too fuckin' worked up t'worry 'bout someone walkin' in, yeah? Both know what's waitin' for us, don't we?"

"The White Death," you felt him yank your pants to your ankles and then shove your shoes off, pants following to the floor. "Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he roughly fingered your slit over your newly exposed panties, hearing his belt buckle jingle.

"Oi, no - "

"Fuck off," you snapped when you turned over suddenly, forcing him to pull back and glare, "I wanna watch - might as well give me a show, right? Since you're 'bouta get us all killed?"

He scoffed, "You're gettin' off the train, darlin', you're not meetin' the White Death tonight."

"Damn straight," you hooked your panties with your thumbs, lifting your hips, yanking the garment down as Tangerine continued to unlatch his belt, peel down his zipper, then pull both his boxers and trousers down in one motion.

"This isn't gonna be soft and sweet, love," he warned, standing over you on the train seat; pumping his cock to full mast while never lifting his eyes from you. "I've wanted you longer than I'll ever admit, I've got some ideas."

Your eyes rolled and fingers skated down your dampening cunt, "You're on a time schedule, maybe shut the fuck up and just fuck me already?"

He scoffed, lowering himself over you and making you gulp in anticipation; hands gravitating to his blackened waist. "You sure got a fuckin' mouth on you, don't'cha? That's all right, doll, I got somethin' for yah." His hand rose to pop a few buttons on your blouse, exposing your bra, asking, "You got a safe word?"

"Tangerine."

"Hmm? What?"

"No, that's my safe word."

"You fuckin' shithead," he hissed over your mouth, lips parting in a silent gasp when his hot cock dropped over your cunt in a tantalizing tease. "Be serious for once, yeah?"

You shrugged, "How's about 'pineapple', or is that one of your buddies names?"

"Pineapple it is," he grumbled, descending to your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath and made your nails curl into his flesh. But a whimper emitted when he pulled back suddenly, standing over you, and moving towards your head. "Open," he demanded, holding his cockhead at your lips. "Don't give me shit about time, you need t'learn. Open your mouth."

You obediently opened your lips and Tan wasted no time in thrusting himself into your mouth; not too deep, not too rough, but enough to make you inhale sharply and readjust your position. Your one hand pumped what couldn't fit in your mouth, the other holding his thigh for balance; choking from the awkward position, but it made Tan smirk.

"That's it, see? Not so hard," he mocked. "Just gotta keep your mouth busy." You whimpered, cradling his balls; giving a playful squeeze that made him moan lightly. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he reached for your cheek and jaw, gently moving his hips - making you pause yourself to let him move. "Oh, fuck, that's - fuck," he seethed, "just let me do whatever I want t'you, won't you? Take a li'l more, good, good, just breathe," he guided, mouth opening in shock when he watched more of himself disappear in your mouth. "Oh, Jesus - you're such a dirty fuckin' girl, look at yah - so eager, willing," he nearly choked when he hit the back of your throat. "Shit - baby, don't," he paused to grunt, hunching over slightly and holding himself up on the back cushion of the train's seating. "Don't hurt yourself," he whimpered, your jaw opening just a fraction more, throat constricting when his cockhead slid against your uvula.

"Oh, my God," he praised, testing the waters and trying to thrust - but your gagging and choking made him pull back. "Okay, okay, too much, sorry, love. Oh, shit," he gasped when you didn't let him pull out all the way, still sucking him as if you were getting paid for it. "Yeah? 'S like that? Oh, you Godsend angel. Gonna be good fa' me? Huh? Keep quiet?" He asked gruffly, making you swallow around him; earning a hiss. "You're fuckin' dangerous, aren't you?" He scoffed, "Too bad I won't get t'take my time, innit? Fuck."

You hummed as he retracted his hips fully. His eyes caught yours as he spread your saliva around his swollen member, hearing you mumble, "Can still get off with me."

He sighed, "Isn't that easy, doll," as he lowered himself back onto the bench over you. "There's more at stake - "

"I know," you nodded, guiding his forehead to yours as you pet his cheeks; the cut he earned smearing against your skin. "Just an offer, ain't it? Just thought if yah did come, could actually have yah in my mouth - like I want." You both paused, you telling him in a whisper, "Can choke me with your cock - hmm?"

He groaned, nuzzling your nose once before kissing you swiftly, deeply. His tongue swept against yours, tasting himself briefly; rubbing his warm cock into your inner thigh as he swallowed your moans of budding pleasure. So caught up in the way he made you feel, you squeaked when his hand suddenly rose and clasped around your throat, eyes popping open as your own hands dropped to his waist in shock.

"Choke me with your dick, Tan," you reminded.

"This works, though, still shuts you up."

"You're so fuckin' bold for this," you accused, gasping when his hand tightened.

"Then maybe shut the fuck up, girl, Goddamn," he seethed, biting your bottom lip, reopening the split, tightening his hand another degree. "You're gonna be a good fuckin' girl, aren't you? Huh? Think you can manage that? Know you got a problem with authority, doll, but you're gonna do as you're told, aren't yah?"

You glared but didn't answer.

"Yeah, that's real good," he mused when you had no words. "Now open your fuckin' mouth again."

When you did, he dribbled a line of spit onto your tongue, squeezing his hand around your throat and jaw when he wanted you to swallow. His smirk was something sinister and devious, peaking down to then paw your blouse the rest of the way open and tug your bra down until your breasts were exposed.

"Fuckin' knew you had great tits," he grit while gripping, twisting, tweaking your breast meat and nipple; not letting go of your throat to ensure your silence. "Not good for much else, huh? Are you?" He sneered, "Only sent on a grab job, weren't you? But look at you now, so fuckin' ready for me, so needy, excited, all distracted, desperate for my cock - aren't you? Answer me right fuckin' now," he growled.

"Yes," you croaked, gyrating your hips up into his; feeling his bare cock drag over your cunt and salivating.

"Good," he spoke to himself, shoving your hips back down as one hand rose to hold his cheek to keep yourself grounded. He chuckled to himself, "Just pathetic, innit? The way you crave me? Dumb fuckin' girl, can't even focus on a simple mission, can she? Huh? Can you?"

"No," you whimpered, "need more. Please, please."

"Shut up, I got you," he rolled his eyes, "but you don't really deserve it, do you?"

"I do, I swear - "

"Told you to shut the fuck up, though, yeah? Can't even do a simple task, got your head all stupid, do I? 'S good t'know, if we survive this."

You glared, seeing his grin widen before he was descending onto you again. You licked through the seam of his lips, being granted access; exploring the other's mouth in feverish motions that made your head spin and cunt contract. He still toyed with your tit, then abandoning the ministration to scale down your bodies to where you needed him most while your hand slid into his hair to grip his bloody scalp. You were so close to begging, yet you'd never give a man the satisfaction... Yet if Tangerine requested you to beg, beg you shall.

"That's my girl," he praised when he pet swiftly up your slit; gathering your slick in a single motion to spread around your clit. "Yeah, there's my girl, look at yah," he laughed over your mouth, "already so fuckin' dumb and I ain't even touch yah yet."

You whined a little, his hand readjusting his grip.

"Oh, fuckin' fine, you greedy bitch," he rolled his eyes, sinking a single digit into your heat; earning a high-pitched moan of relief. Tangerine laughed again, "Yeah? So desperate that just me fuckin' finger gets you like that?"

You tapped his wrist when he held a little too tight, him instantly loosening his grip around your throat. He rewarded you with a few pumps of his finger before adding a second, grinning when you had enough airflow to moan loud and clear.

"You make such pretty noises," he praised, "stupid, but pretty noises. Lemme hear you - that's all I wanna hear, not your fuckin' words, princess. Huh? Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, ready to cry from the anticipation he built in your body. With your bottom lip between your teeth, you let yourself clench around his digits, moaning when he massaged that spongy good spot of your inner walls.

"Wait - Tan - wait, wait," you begged and released his waist to reach for his wrist while he grinned.

"Aht," he let go of your neck to lay across your hips to keep hold, "stay there, be a good girl. Lemme see you - c'mon, love, get there for me," he pumped harder, faster, a small sweat coating your skin. The sounds were obscure and messy, sloppy and frantic, wet and pornographic; his breathing deep and huffy while yours was high-pitched. "So fuckin' pretty like this, under me like this. There's a good girl, yeah, chase that feelin', 's all right, don't run from me."

"Tan-Tangerine, shit, please," you babbled, unsure of yourself. "I-I don't - I don't - oh, fuck!"

"Let it happen," he encouraged, leering over you; only briefly aware of his cock leaking precum on your thigh. "Let that feeling take you, there's a good girl, you're right there - good fuckin' girl," Tan broke his mean streak to praise you briefly, feeling the familiar flutter. "Open, hey, hey, eyes on me, princess," he waited until your half-lidded eyes met his, watching him nod, "open your mouth." You were so blissed out, you didn't think, just doing so and accepting more of his spit. He grinned at you when your eyes rolled back, encouraging, "Go for it, pretty girl, fuckin' soak me, don't hold back - c'mon, wanna fuckin' feel you, need t'fuckin' feel you cum - ohh-hoo, yes, yes, yes," he chanted when you squealed, squirmed, and released a stream of squirt that splattered over you both.

But that wasn't all.

Tangerine was mesmerized, never relenting his efforts and before you had time to recover, he was forcing another wave of cum from your core. His thick body held yours in place, desperately squirming to try and get away from the overwhelming feeling; but he had you and wouldn't let go. "One more, one more, one more," Tan panted, hovering over you as his bulging bicep kept hammering into you without relent. He kissed you messily, "One more, baby, c'mon, I know you got it in you."

"I can't," you sobbed, trying to squirm away under him.

"You can, doll, you're right there, I fuckin' feel you - such a good girl, c'mon," he encouraged, offering a few messy kisses to your lips while you wantonly moaned without control. "One more, just for me, c'mon, baby, you can do it - just fa' me - there she is, yes, oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes," he laughed when you, for a third time, came in his hand and over his crotch.

"FUCK!" You yelped when he used the messy slick of your orgasm to line himself up and plunge directly into you. "Oh, shit - just - a minute, baby, hang on - fuck," you panted, holding his hips tightly with your legs spread. Slowly, you let them fall around his own as you relaxed.

"Got you, baby, 'M right here, take yah time," he whispered, flattening his tongue up your neck as he adjusted himself between your legs.

Half a minute later, you gave him permission to move - and it was the beginning of the end. You were sensitive, tight, gripping Tangerine to a new degree he hadn't felt before; his head spinning and mind short circuiting. You were nearly constrictive, webs of your stickiness coating him as he moved stiffly for the first few thrusts. As you loosened up under him, he gained momentum; your hands directing his face back to yours as you clung desperately to his hulking form.

He kissed you like it was the last thing he'd do (and maybe it was), holding your hips so he could drill into you easier; lifting one hand to pet your throat before gripping it, like before. The other then drifted to hike your leg up his hip, the new angle making him shudder lightly. "I'm there, love," he grunted, looking concentrated and borderline in pain, "right fuckin' there - ah shit, you feel so fuckin' good."

"Yes, yes, don't stop, Tan, please," you moaned, locating your clit to apply pressure and rub in harsh little circles.

"Ah, my greedy girl," he chuckled, "three wasn't enough?"

"Wanna cum with you," you whimpered, gasping into his mouth as you were overly sensitive and careened off your cliff. Your orgasm triggered Tangerine's, who plunged completely into you and held still while his balls contracted; mouths left gaping open against the other. In complete bliss, you shared a laugh of disbelief with sweaty foreheads pressed together - both forgetting reality for a bit.

At the moment Tan opened him mouth to confess something to you, Lemon decided to stumble in through the automatic door, yelling, "Bruv! Oi! Where you at!?"

"GET OUT!" Tangerine roared, barely visible over the top of the benches.

"The fuck you doin', mate?"

You latched your legs around Tan, keeping his cock planted snuggly inside you; rocking upward to hold onto his neck and spy his brother over the back of the seating. "Hi, Lem!" You chirped.

"Peach? Oh, fuck me!" He laughed. "Or - fuck you, ammirite?"

"Give us a minute, honey, would you, please?"

"Only a minute?" He laughed again. "'Cause that's all you need, right, Tan?"

"Fuck off, Lemon," Tangerine snapped. "We got the case, we're gettin' the fuck off at the next stop - just - fuck off a minute."

Lemon shrugged, "You make the plans, mate."

"Be out inna bit, love, thank you," you smiled prettily at Lemon, who finally nodded, held his hands up in defense and backed out of the train car. "Well," you mused when Tangerine leaned back into the seat but kept a firm grip on your hips, "that was only mildly embarrassing."

"He's seen me in worse positions," Tan shrugged, blinking when he realized how that sounded, exactly. "Not like that - no, just, I mean, as my bruva, you know, he's seen - you know what?" He sighed. "Don't fuckin' matter."

"So," you smirked, grinding your hips over his public hair, "you're taking my advice? Gettin' off the train?"

"I knew you were greedy, but this naughty, too?" He groaned, slapping his hands to your hips and guiding your motions. "Just filled you, love, and you want more?"

"That an issue?" You smirked, feeling him swell in you again.

"Not a bit," he smirked.

"Answer me," you demanded. "You seriously gettin' off?"

"Why the fuck not? The kid's dead and whatever's in the case should cover however pissed off this makes the bosses, right? Though..." He trailed off when one of your hands reached around to give a gentle tug on his balls.

"Keep goin'," you whispered with a growing smirk, hips swirling.

"Though," he cleared his throat, "don't think we've ever not finished a job before."

"This is different," you promised.

He gulped harshly, encouraging your motions; stretching up to squeeze both breasts and making you falter slightly into him. "All three of us are gonna get off, yeah?" He whispered, bringing you in closer as your hips began to rise and fall with steady tempo. "Got somewhere fa us t'go?"

"I'll get it arranged," you promised swiftly, arms coiling around his neck to hold yourself in position as you increased your speed. "But we're giving my employer the case."

"Fine with me," he nodded, "just wanna stay alive at this point." You chuckled with him, raising up to keep riding him; his eyes glancing over your shoulder and stiffening. "Uh, love? H-Hang on, hang on," his arms encased you suddenly, making you stop all ministrations.

"W-What's wrong? You okay?"

"Where's the fucking case?"

Your waist twisted to snap your torso around, peering over at the empty benches you had once sat in front of. Your blood was left behind... But the silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle was missing.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

Six train cars up, Ladybug shuddered and told Maria, "Christ, they were at it like rabbits. And, hey, like, is it cool to be mean during sex now? 'Cause he was kinda mean, but she seemed into it, so... That's cool, I guess?"

"Some people like that," Maria eased.

"Do you?"

"You don't want that answer. Do you have the case?"

"For now," he sighed. "How much you wanna bet they haven't noticed, yet? Bet they're still goin' at it..."

"You sound jealous."

"They're both very attractive people... Hm, you know, maybe I am a little jealous."

"Of which one?"

"Not entirely sure yet."

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet train tangerine #tangerine smut #tangerine x female!reader #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine x f!reader #tangerine x reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x oc #bullet train #bullet train movie #bullet train 2022 #atj #tangerine atj #atj tangerine #atj character #bullet train tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train x reader #tangerine x reader smut #requested #queers gambir

[buckyandgeraltsupremacy]

remus x shy!reader (part 3)

author: sj

warnings: fluff; reader is in hufflepuff; uses she/her pronouns; not edited

my masterplan of slowburn is coming together, but its finals so this will take me while <3

masterlist

part 1 / part 2 / part 4 / part 5

---

the first time he realizes that you aren't officially his

remus and you were extremely close. to point that the boys just assumed you two would get married. it was just an unspoken agreement that you were remus' and remus was yours. remus would always be touching you, and it got even worse over the full moon so why wouldn't you be dating?

however, it all changed when another hufflepuff didn't catch that drift. you were all sitting in potions, you and james at a table and remus and sirius at the one behind you two. you weren't fully paying attention, when jordan, another hufflepuff in your year, came up to talk you.

he was obviously very interested in you. to the point where he was stumbling over his words and making you feel bad for him. you reached out your hand to him to comfort him as he stumbled over trying to ask you a question.

"jordan, slow down, what is it that you were wondering?" you ask, empathetically, giving him a soft smile.

"i- was just wondering if you'd go to hogsmeade with me this weekend." your face instantly heats, you nodded your head and responded with a small sure. "great. meet in the common room at 9:30?" you nodded your head and gave him a small smile.

the boys, watching this whole thing happen, were aghast. what do you mean our y/n is going on a date with a random boy. peter was shocked it took someone so long to ask you out. james was most horrified at what will be remus' reaction. sirius was most impressed that you accepted. remus had no reaction. his first thought was you were taken so it was funny jordan was even trying because they are dating and then he quickly realized his mistake. they weren't dating. they just... were.

once back in the gryffindor common room, it was awkward and the tension was so thick, sirius thought he was going to choke on it. "what the hell y/n"

"huh? what do you mean?" you asked, confused why he was upset with you.

"you have a date! can we come? are you just going to ditch us on a perfectly good saturday to go make out with a guy you don't know. you could barley even speak to us when we first met, how are you supposed to snog a rando?" sirius asked you, you instantly curling in on yourself. you wouldn't lie, you were also wondering some of those questions.

"she's allowed to hang out with other people besides us, sirius. and i'm sure she'll be just fine on a date. she'll snog the best she's ever had." james said, sitting next to you and patting you on the back.

remus was still focused on the snog part of conversation. you wouldn't snog him would you? how was he supposed to just be okay with this happening? he didn't want to make you feel bad or make it seem horrible that you were asked out, he just felt so shitty for not asking you out yet.

"no you can't come! that defeats the whole purpose of a DATE you idiot!" you yelled at sirius, exasperated, cheeks flushing red.

"but we could watch from a distance!" sirius yelled back at you.

"sirius. she's right. we can't go with her, that's the whole point of a date. she gets to go with him by herself. it'd be weird if we were just sitting at the next table over." remus said, putting a reassuring hand on your back, supporting you.

"remus! a word??" sirius aggressively stage whispered to him.

sirius quickly dragged remus to the boys hall around the corner and once stoped, hit remus in the chest.

"what is wrong with you? are you out of your everloving mind? your wife is going on a date with another man and all you have to say is that we can't go with her? you're supposed to pull the broody protective card you idiot."

"i'm sorry my WHAT?" remus sputters.

"your wife, your buns or whatever the fuck you call her. the girl that you are desperately in love with!!!!" sirius whispers yells at him.

"i'm walking away right now." remus replies, walking back into the common room that the rest of the group is in.

after a while of yelling and chaos and a few minutes of work, remus and you were left to yourselves for a few minutes.

"hey rem?" you ask from the other end the couch, back against the arm rest, your toes tucked under the side of his thighs. he looks up in response, pushing his glasses up to see your face clearer. "what does one do on a date? like should i prepare questions just in case or will he have questions prepared?" you ask, cheeks flushing, voice small, knowing you would only be able to ask him without dying from embarrassment.

"love, you don't have to prepare questions." he answered, no hint of condescending tones in his voice. "it should just flow pretty naturally. you just get to know each other. no big deal." he responds, rubbing your shins while he talks. you nod.

"but what if we run out things to talk about? like what if the only thing we have in common is being a hufflepuff? then what? and what if he tries to kiss me? i don't even know him! oh my god i should just stay home." you wilt into your hands.

"bun. you will be great. if he doesn't know how to keep the conversation going then thats his fault. you are the easiest person to get along with so its not your fault at all. and if you don't want to kiss him then don't. you don't have to do anything you don't want to do." he says, bringing your chin up with his thumb and pointer. your eyes met his, and his heart cracked a little with the overwhelming love that surrounds you in his mind.

"can i tell you something? you have to promise to never tell the other boys. ever." he nodded settling his hand on your legs. "promise." you whispered.

"i promise, bun."

"i've never been on a date. and i've never kissed anyone. hence the panicking." you whispered.

"what? how?" remus asked, shocked.

"no ones ever liked me like that i guess." you shrugged, feeling a little awkward with the way he responded.

"no, bun. i didn't mean to ask it like that. you just are so sweet and lovely the boys have missed out. there is nothing wrong with having done neither of those things. i'm not accusing you of anything, i'm mad at the boys of hogwarts." he scoffed as he reassured you.

your lips tipped up into a smile and you giggled at his dramatics.

"do you think he'll think i'm weird that i've never done those things before?"

"no, bun. if he does, then thats his problem, not yours. he needs to get over himself." remus replied, getting irritated at the idea that someone would have a problem with you.

"i'm so nervous, i already feel like i'm gonna throw up." you said, leaning forward and resting your forehead on his shoulder.

"love, you will be great. and he's the luckiest man alive that he gets to take you out." and while all of this was true, all remus could think about is how he would do ungodly things to be the one taking you out. he might just have to fix this.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus x reader #remus x reader fluff #marauders x reader #marauders era #the marauders

[jaebeomsbitch]

Cherry Lips (E.M)

Pt II: in progress

Summary: Your childhood best friend steps up when your baby daddy skips town. Eddie had been with you through all stages of life, what's helping you through motherhood? Or Eddie Munson sucks out a clogged milk duct when you're in pain and eventually you finally sleep together

Pairing: Bestfriend! Eddie x Single Mom! Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, Titty sucking

A/N: Inspired by a reddit thread that I currently cannot find. Will update with link when I do. Smut next chapter!

You were knocked up by some stranger, a piece of shit who ran away as soon as you told him your one night stand ended in this, in the sweet baby girl. Luckily for you, your best friend Eddie was there every step of the way. He held you while you cried holding the pee stick, fuck he drove you to get it. He took you to every appointment, you eventually got tired of correcting the nurses that he wasn’t the father. 

You’d known Eddie for a long time. You were stuck at the hip since fifth grade, you can’t really pinpoint the day you became friends it just kind of happened. Your parents suspected he was your boyfriend, he was met with raised eyebrows when you first introduced him to your parents. After months of seeing you interact they grew maybe less suspicious or more like there was some unrequited love there. He looked at you like you were the sun in the sky and the waves in the ocean. You’d never really noticed or maybe you ignored it and Eddie was always too much of a coward to bring it up. Eventually the time passed where it became too awkward for him to say something…Say it, say anything really. You were friends for too long for him to finally come out with it so, he repressed those feelings. 

He slept around but never had a real girlfriend. Not that he didn’t want it, who doesn't want to have a partner? Who doesn't want to be beloved? His heart ached every time he saw you. Anytime he tried to date they didn’t want you around. They were always suspicious of you, of the way you touched him, the way you laughed around him but most importantly the way he looked at you. 

He held your hand as you gave birth to her, he yelled at your grip like the drama queen he is. His bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat, his mouth nervously spilling out words. What words? Mostly gibberish with a bit of praise about how well you were doing. You couldn’t really internalize whatever the fuck was going on. You just wanted the pain to end, whoever said childbirth was a miracle… it was a miracle anyone fucking did it. But this was your cross to bear, you wanted nothing more to be a mother even if it meant this. If it meant you needed stitches to hold you together, even if you felt bloated, and you didn't sleep most nights. 

Eddie was a godsend, he didn’t need to step up. He was your best friend not the father, the father was somewhere in florida fucking anything with a hole, probably fucking up some other girls life. But Eddie was here, he practically moved in when you found out you were pregnant. He started working overtime and put a downpayment on a house. Eddie… your Eddie the guy who promised to leave Hawkins and never return to this shitty town took on a thirty year mortgage. He refused your money when you wanted to pay rent, said he needed to move out of Wayne’s a long time ago. He didn’t know you were secretly putting money into the principal loan every month as rent. 

He was there and you didn’t know how to feel about it. You loved him for as long as you could remember. A deep rooted seed of love in your heart was planted there since the first day you met him. Since that awkward, too loud, lanky boy bumped into you in the hallway. Your heart ached, it was agonizing. Maybe if you were a different person, if you weren’t so afraid of commitment things would be different. Maybe if you weren’t a coward this would be his baby. A part of you knew though, knew that he saw your beautiful baby as his. You saw it in the way he held her after she was born, the way his dimples adorned his face as he cooed at her, and the way he loaded her in the car checking the seatbelt eight times to make sure she was secure. 

He’d wake up in the middle of the night and change her when you were too tired. He’d come home tired and hold her to give you a break. You can still remember the day you built the nursery. He went with you to the supply store to help pick out the paint, his hand on your back as you argued about which color to paint the walls. The guy working the paint station looked at you both with a bored expression. It all felt too domestic, it felt normal. You couldn’t pinpoint why but you could pinpoint that dull throb in your heart when he mockingly told you wanted to paint the walls with piss because you wanted yellow. Eventually you both decided on white, Eddie got his way. He’d read in a manual that white was productive for babies… How? You didn’t fucking know but you couldn’t argue with him when he looked at you with those big chocolate eyes and pulled you around the store gently, his hand never leaving the small of your back. 

Every night a piece of you feels broken… more like something is missing. Like there’s a tug in your heart and it leads eight feet to the wall on your right. To those ugly gray sheets and black comforter. You pad around the kitchen as she sleeps. You try and make yourself some quick dinner before she wakes up for her meal. There’s a throb in your breast, they feel tender and swollen, something that isn’t unusual but something feels wrong. They ache and feel tight, just as you turn off the stove and grasp the counter Eddie walks in. 

“Honey I’m home~~” He sing songs quietly.

“Eds” You whisper harshly trying not to crumple into a heap as you grip your tender breast. You can hear the thuds of his work boots stomping towards you. 

“What’s wrong?” He says in a panicked voice watching your head hung down in pain. 

“I- I don’t know. It hurts” You say, trying not to cry. You couldn’t freak out right now.

“Where, where does it hurt sweetheart?” He whispers, eyes wide and full of anxiety. His hands reach for you, touching you all over trying to find the source as you gasp for air. The sharp pains in your breast only getting worse. 

“My breast hurt s’bad” You silently cry, your knuckles turning white as you grip the counter harder. 

“Woah,” He says, holding you as you sway, the pain becoming increasingly unbearable like a water balloon about to pop. 

“We have to go to the hospital, somethings not right Eds” You say looking up at him, your nails digging into his forearm. 

“Your breast hurts? I- I read something in the manual about this” He says hurriedly, watching as you tremble. 

“I think I can make it better. I think you've got a clogged milk duct. Fuck sweetheart, okay. I- I have to suck on your nipple,” He says, holding you closer to him bearing your weight. 

“W-what?” You ask, maybe you just hallucinated that. 

“Yes, women have their husbands suck the blockage out all the time. Trust me, It’ll make you feel better and if it doesn't work we’re rushing towards the hospital” He almost pleads as he watches your face scrunch up with pain. 

“Okay, j-just do it” You say, the pain increases more and more. You let of your breast as he lifts you onto the counter, one of his hands on your waist and the other quickly bringing your shirt down. He was used to seeing your breasts because you liked to breast feed but this was different. You can’t even think about it because his lips are engulfing your nipple and he's sucking hard. Your hand comes up to tangle in his hair, holding him in place. The pain hurts so bad, it feels like it's shooting into your skin but also like it could pop like an overinflated balloon. Groans leave your mouth, your fingers pulling at his scalp as he continues to suck on your nipple. Small tears leave the corner of your eyes squeezed shut. 

Finally a floodgate opens and the pain starts to slowly subside. The feeling of his lips around your breast becomes a little more apparent, you blink your eyes open as he pops off your breast. 

“Did it work?” He asks, his lips covered in saliva as some of your breast milk dribbles out. 

“Thank you,” You say, voice cracking as you feel the pain fading away. Your hands not leaving his hair. You become acutely aware of the way his thumb is comfortingly brushing your waist. 

“It’s okay, you’re alright now,” He says softly, wiping the tears away. He looks down for a second before covering you back up. You stay there for a second, his hips slotted in between your legs, your fingers in his hair, and his thumb dragging across your waist. Eventually you let go of his hair, maybe you realized the position you’re in. Eddie clears his throat, stepping back from you, “You okay? We can still go to the hospital and get you checked out” He says, those big puppy eyes looking at you with concern. 

“I’m okay now, thank you for… uhm doing that” You say, your cheeks painted with a blush as you feel your blood run up towards your cheeks. 

“No problem. Just let me know if you feel it again and I’ll help, okay? Don’t feel embarrassed” He gives you a small smile. Without you asking he helps you off the counter, his strong hands holding your hips as he places you down on the floor. He says something about needing a shower as he leaves to his room, stopping by to check up on the baby. 

You stay frozen, your knees weak at your interaction. Eddie was so effortlessly sweet, he’d spent months reading every baby manual he could find in the library. Anytime he was out of town he’d pick up a new one trying to find every tip and trick to help you. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to return to make dinner. Your thoughts full of Eddie, of the grip he had on you. How would his calloused fingers feel on your skin? How would his tongue feel against your sensitive nipples when you weren’t in pain? Fuck, no don’t imagine your best friend like this. He wasn’t your anything, he was just helping. 

You have dinner with Eddie, he tells you about all the new work gossip like nothing ever happened thirty minutes ago. Not that anything did happen, it wasn’t like he fucked you on that counter. No matter how many times you’ve imagined it before, especially the night he brought you here the first time… You were getting sidetracked again. You can’t help but notice the crinkles in his eyes as he laughs about something that happened at the shop or the way his hands move wildly as he tries to speak quietly. That is until there's a cry in the nursery, without taking a second glance at you he paces towards the room scooping up your daughter. You walk into the room watching as he rocks her “Shhh shhh, I’m right here honey. It’s okay” He soothes. 

“I think the little munchkin is hungry,” he coos in a baby voice turning towards you. You walk closer to them and grab her, she’s already suckling on the fabric of your shirt before you can pull it down. 

“Wow, we got an eager girl” Eddie laughs. We. You chuckle pulling down your shirt and adjusting her so she can latch on. Eddie looks away, “Need company?” He asks as you sit down on your nursing chair, he hands you a pillow to rest your arms on. 

“No it’s okay you’re probably tired. Get some rest” You say looking up at him. 

“But I haven’t seen my little pumpkin all day,” he pouts, fingers wiggling towards her. 

“Eds really, you don’t have to. You had a long day at work,” You say feeling guilty for relying on him so much. He waves his hand pulling up a seat and sitting down. 

“I want to hang out,” He says, yawning. You can see how tired he is, the way he’s already started trying to blink the sleep away but Eddie is stubborn. He sits there watching you both for a second but his eyelids get heavier and heavier until he falls asleep in the chair. You try to nudge him awake but he doesn’t wake. It isn’t until she’s finished eating and you've burped her that you are able to stand and wake him up. Your hand gentle on his shoulder as you shake him. 

“Eds, Eddie, time for bed,” You say softly. He groans, slowly cracking his eyes open, you caress his face, “Time for bed.” He nods his head, standing up at a snail's pace. He puts a kiss on her forehead and then yours before he stumbles into his room and crashes onto his bed. You stand there stunned, Eddie was affectionate sure but he’d never kissed your forehead. He was sleep deprived, that’s all that it was. Guilt gnaws at you, knowing he’s so tired because of you. Because his heart is too big and he’ll do everything in his power to help you even when he doesn’t have to. 

You spend some time getting her to settle down and fall asleep again before you leave the room. Your hand hesitates over the phone. It was late, like really late but you needed to tell someone how you felt. God, maybe you needed a therapist. Your fingers work over the buttons, you press the receiver to your ear as it rings, it doesn't click until almost the last ring. 

“Hello?” A sleepy voice says. 

“Robin, fuck sorry for calling so late,” You whisper. 

“No, it’s alright. I haven’t heard from you in a week. I was starting to get worried, "she says. 

“Rob… something fucking weird happened today,” You say, your heart pounding in your chest as you keep glancing over to his bedroom. 

“Oh my god is she okay? Do you want me to drive over there? I’m getting my bag,” She says frantically. 

“Robin, she’s completely healthy. Calm down,” You say in a hushed tone. 

“Oh thank God,” She breathes out. “What happened?” she asks curious as to why you’re calling her almost near midnight. You always called on her during the day. 

“Today… I guess I had a clogged milk duct and I didn’t know but that shit hurt like a mother fucker a-and…God this is so embarrassing,” You groan as silently as you can, not that Eddie could hear, he’s a very heavy sleeper except when it came to your baby’s cries. 

“Oh my god, this sounds juicy. Spill it out, bitch,” She says.

“Eddie sucked on it until it got unclogged” You whispered hurriedly. 

“WHAT,” Robin yells over the receiver. 

“Shh- shut the fuck up you’re gonna blow my ear drum out,” You say biting your nail. Your eyes keep flicking towards his bedroom like you're doing something you’re not supposed to. 

“Holy shit give me the play by play… Actually–. God I just know this is one of your depraved fantasies,” She laughs loudly. 

“Hardy har, I should give you a comedian of the year award. But… He literally pulled me onto the counter, whipped it out and started sucking like it was a normal thing to do. I was in so much pain I didn’t have time to freak out but I’m kind of freaking the fuck out,” You whisper.

“I do deserve an award. So you’re telling me he manhandled you and helped you… Girl that sounds like your wet dream. Weren't you always talking about–” Robin says.

“Shut the fuck up, this is serious! He acted normal when we had dinner but like… I mean he sucked my titty. Is that not supposed to be weird? Like it’s weird right?” You start pacing the kitchen. 

“Or are you making it weird? I think you’re overthinking it. Unless there's something else isn’t there? You like him, I mean everyone in fucking Hawkins thinks he’s your baby daddy anyway. What happened… Oh my god did you like it you dirty dog?” She gasps. 

“Yes, fine okay I sort of liked it and there was this moment,” You hush hurriedly. 

“A moment?” Robin is intrigued

“He didn't move after he helped. He was rubbing my hip until he knew I was okay, he asked me like forty times, and then he pulled me off the counter. Fuck and then he did the thing” You groan. 

“The thing?”

“He fucking went after the baby as soon as she started crying like it was out of instinct. Fuck Rob… I’m in too deep,” You sigh. 

“You wanna hear my opinion?” Robin says, you hum in response. 

“He’s had a massive fucking crush on you since like forever ago. Everyone can see it, he looks at you like you're the next coming of Jesus Christ,” She says

“No he doesn’t,” You immediately deflect. 

“Are you actually serious? He fucking bought a house for you. Eddie Munson, the guy who despises Hawkins, bought a house… for you. He comes home and takes care of your baby, he spends his days off with you two. When was the last time he’s even had a fling? Fucking two years ago? That man is in love with you, you’re just in denial and he’s just a coward,” She rips into you. 

“But what if he isn’t Rob? What if I tell him and he- he doesn't feel the same? I couldn’t live here anymore, fuck I couldn’t even look at him. I- I don’t know I’m just so fucking scared of losing him….” You feel the tears in your eyes spring forward. 

“Hey, hey no one is holding a gun to your head and forcing you to tell him but I’m glad you finally admitted it. I just want you to know that I’m a thousand percent sure he’s fucking more than head over heels for you. He’s like stupidly in love with you… You could have the dream life. The white picket fence, the husband, you know the whole shebang if you just told him.” She sighs. 

“I don’t know Rob. I need him in my life, I can’t fuck this up. He’s like the sun and I’m just some shitty little weed that’ll wilt and die if he’s gone,” You say, trying to get rid of the tightness in your throat. 

“Hey you are not a fucking weed. You are a fucking Magnolia, this huge tree full of love and life. Don’t sell yourself short or I will drive the ten hours there and personally kick your ass,” She scolds. 

“How does one impersonally kick someone's ass?” You laugh. Robin always knew how to make you feel better.

“Don’t change the subject. Now you have to confess your sins. Since when did you start liking him?” She asks like you’re still in high school. 

“Ugh you’re annoying. Uhh… I don’t know I think I always did but it became like a thing in sixth grade. We were at this stupid party, I don’t know why my parents let me go. It was just like a bunch of tweens jacked up on soda playing spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven and I had to kiss some random guy. I kept wishing, praying, hoping it landed on him and it kind of clicked. God and he was so fucking weird looking back then too. Like his arms were too long for his torso,” You laugh. 

“Oh? You’ve been holding out. Now I gotta see some photos of you two back then,” Robin laughs imagining how Eddie looked back then. 

“I was worse, I was going through a weird bangs combed over phase and I had these big chunky glasses. Ugh I don’t even want to think about it,” You groan. Then there's a cry in the nursery, “Shit I gotta go. I’ll talk to you tom- today and you can catch me up on your date. Alright byeeee,” You rush. You hear a faint “Bye” as you put the phone on the hook and walk back towards the nursery.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson / reader #eddie munson / you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson au #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson my beloved #eddie munson fic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #older eddie munson #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson x childhood friend #eddie munson x best friend reader #domestic fiction

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 10/12)

helloooo, here are these two messy cuties once again, i hope you enjoyyy

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: time is almost up but who could deny a good karaoke session?

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use, sexual themes, slight angst, those awkward/cringey scenes where they're singing (i apologize in advance), and lots of mixed feelings <3

word count: 3.9k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

song inspo for this chappy hehe:

Steve and Robin love karaoke. 

Nancy had warned you that the friendly pair practically fiend for a good karaoke sesh, but you hadn’t expected them to be as enthusiastic as they turned out to be.

For some odd reason, the city seems less busy today, so you, Eddie, and Eddie's friends can take up as much room as you’d like on the sidewalk. 

In front of you, Robin and Steve are seriously debating what the first song on the queue will be. Walking just a few paces behind them is Nancy, who’s quietly taking in the city's bright lights; and next to you, palm burning a hole through your hand with his addicting touch, is Eddie.

It’s stupid, you think. The way Eddie has seen you stripped down and bare, whining and quivering for him at what could arguably be your most vulnerable state, yet you still find your heart racing 100 miles a minute with this soft gesture of holding hands.

Sure, you’ve held his hand before, but not for this long. Not in public when it’s not the heat of the moment and you’re simply walking around. It’s weird and new, and it makes your stomach twist in a good way, but fuck— you chicken out when Robin and Steve turn to face you, Nancy, and Eddie.

“Steve wants to start karaoke with Queen— like any karaoke amateur would.” Robin huffs as Steve rolls his eyes. You slip your hand from Eddie’s hold before either of them can clock the gesture, and you avoid looking at Eddie when he clears his throat.

“Because it’s the perfect opener!” Steve stresses. “Everybody always does, Queen, Steve! Plus, I’m not even sure I can physically pull through with how long their songs are.” Robin argues. 

Steve’s jaw dropped as if Robin had just said the most foul thing he’d ever heard, “Their songs are not that long. And even if they are, they’re fucking amazing, so what’s your point.” “My point is we’re not starting the night with Queen.”

They’re an interesting group of friends, you’ll admit. Interesting in the sense that you swear they could be a part of some sitcom with how funny and unpredictable their conversations and interactions are.

By the time you reach the karaoke bar, Steve and Robin have an entire list of songs mentally queued up, and they make a beeline to the DJ operating the music as you and Nancy snag a table towards the middle of the room. The bar is to one side of the room while the stage is at the front, and the DJ booth is at the back; the rest of the room is full of tables where people chatter, laugh over drinks, and sing along with whoever is currently doing their performance. Eddie had split off to get drinks the second you entered the bar, so it’s just you and Nancy as you settle at the wooden table.

“Are you going to sing?” Nancy questions from the other side of the table. You pull a face, shrugging your shoulders up to your ears, “I’m not sure, maybe once I get a few drinks in me. How about you?” Nancy softly laughs with a playful roll of her eyes, “Unfortunately, I doubt Robin will let me escape this one.”

As if summoned, Robin slides into the seat right next to Nancy. “I put you down together, but there’s a few people ahead, so start thinking of the song you’ll sing.” She gestures between you and Nancy. You shrug, accepting defeat, and before you can pitch an idea for a song to Nancy, Robin is leaning her elbows against the table and blinking at you, “So, let’s cut to the chase. What’s going on between you and Eddie?” She asks.

Nancy’s eyes widen as she instinctively jabs her elbow into Robin’s ribs, “Ow!” “Rob, you can’t just ask people that— god.” You softly laugh as Robin rubs at her sore side. “Sorry if I’m interested in keeping tabs on my friend!” Robin sarcastically argued.

Nancy rolls her eyes and sends you an apologetic look. “Look, I’m just guessing— based on the fact that you two were in the back of a fancy restaurant— that something is going on. Oh— unless this is, like, a business thing, then you can totally ignore me.” Robin rambles.

“Robin,” Nancy stresses. Your cheeks seem to ache from the amused expression on your face as Nancy turns to you, “You don’t have to answer either way since it’s none of our business.” She says, voice raising near the end as she glares at Robin. Robin rolls her eyes, and you laugh with a shake of your head as you shift in your seat. “No, it’s fine, I understand, but um,” You shrug, “It’s just a business thing.” You finally answer.

And, technically, you’re not wrong. There is a business transaction going on between you and Eddie… and the rest of the band, which is primarily the basis of your relationship, but you’re not sure how appropriate it would be to say, ‘Yeah, I mean, Eddie hated me, but now he doesn’t, so then we fucked yesterday but then his manager basically told us to squash whatever that was, so now we’re kind of in a weird spot because we don’t hate each other but we can’t like each other. Oh yeah, and here’s the kicker, Eddie’s been a total asshole this entire time, and it’s fucked with my head a bit. But apparently, he wants to change!’

It’s a colorful mess of loopholes and twists and turns that probably nobody will fully understand aside from you and Eddie, so…. business thing it is. 

Robin seems to take that as an answer, but Nancy is now intrigued by your tone, “That didn’t sound very sure.” She playfully raises a suggestive eyebrow. Robin hums, “What happened to it being none of our business?” She points out, to which Nancy just waves a dismissive hand in response. “It’s a business thing, but…” Nancy prods. Your face warms as you lift your shoulders in a shrug, “I mean, it’s… it’s complicated.” 

Nancy nods with a shrug as she shifts in her seat, “So, how did you two meet?” 

You take a deep breath as you lean to rest your elbows on the table, “Well, I’m a writer for Rolling Stone magazine—” Robin gasps, grabbing your attention, “No shit? Nancy’s a journalist too— ow!” She turns to look at Nancy with a disgruntled look as she rubs her thigh, “Would you stop bullying me?” She frowns.

Before either of them can get far into bickering, Eddie and Steve come waltzing back to the table with drinks in their hands. Eddie snags a seat beside you and passes a drink to you; you smile as you gratefully take the glass and softly thank him. Steve plops down next to Robin, sliding her and Nancy their drinks as he says, “Alright, I hope everyone has their songs picked out because I plan on battling each and every one of you.”

Although the weather outside is on the more chilly side of summer days, you find your body warm with liquor and laughter as you, Nancy, and Eddie watch a tipsy pair of Steve and Robin sing a surprisingly good rendition of Huey Lewis’ Heart and Soul. You’ve shrugged off your sweater and tossed it over the back of your chair— and you’re thankful to have thrown on a tank top underneath because, most of the time, you hardly bother to wear anything beneath sweaters.

It’s their fourth song of the night, Eddie and Nancy have both gone up at least once, but you’ve been on the observant side mostly, enjoying the ongoing conversations you’ve had with Nancy. There’s a bowl of chips and salsa in the middle of the table, and Eddie’s arm is draped across the back of your chair, heat pouring from him and seeping all around to wrap you up in an Eddie-scented bubble— it’s nicer than you’d care or like to admit.

Nancy has turned around to watch and cheer on the performance; she’s become more animated and loose after a few drinks, and you laugh as Robin practically serenades her from the stage. You lean back in your chair, softly giggling as you slightly lean into Eddie, “So,” you grab your drink and glance at the boy on your side, “What’s the dynamic here?” You ask with a jut of your chin towards his friends.

Eddie hums, leaning further into his chair, and in turn, pressing himself closer to you. His breath is warm against your ear and cheek, curly strands brushing against your skin as he speaks, “So basically,” He dramatically sighs, and you smile at his dramatics as he gestures between his friends, “Nancy and Steve are exes from high school and Robin and Steve are best friends.” You nod, gaze darting between the friends as you connect the dots. “But,” He raises a finger over his glass, “Robin and Nancy are dating now.” Your eyebrows raise at the full circle of events, but you nod as your suspicions are finally confirmed. 

Eddie leans closer, voice dropping to a lower volume, “But at this rate, it’s safe to say Nancy’s playing third wheel for Steve and Rob since they practically share one brain cell.” You tilt your head, “Okay, I see it now.”

Nancy glances over her shoulder to glare at you and Eddie from her seat, “I heard that, assholes… you’re not wrong.” She grumbles. You and Eddie laugh as she turns back to face you both now that Steve and Robin are hopping off the stage.

“Steve’s actually seeing a girl now; she’s in nursing school.” Nancy pipes up, grabs a chip, and pops it into her mouth. Eddie leans forward at that, keeping his arm on your chair as he uses the other to grab a chip for himself,  “Nursing school?”

Nancy nods as she sips her drink, “He goes down to see her like every other weekend. And they run our phone bill up like hell.” 

Robin plops down into her seat, “What are we talking about? Steve’s hot nurse babe?” She asks, humming when Nancy nods. Robin scoffs as she turns to Eddie, “Can you believe they’ve been dating for, like, four months, and we have yet to even see a picture of her? They see each other every week!”

Eddie snorts, “Then who’s he talking to on the phone?” Robin shrugs, “Who knows at this point.”

Steve returns as if on cue, sitting down with a sigh as he glances at the table, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing, just talking about your imaginary girlfriend.” Robin teases.

Steve groans, eyes rolling before glaring at his giggling friends— your cheeks hurt from smiling. “She’s real, okay? She’s real, and her name is Cassie, and the only reason you haven’t met her yet is because she’s literally in nursing school— she has a busy schedule!”

And although you wish Eddie and you had been able to finish your discussion without the abrupt interruption, you find yourself growing fond of this shade of Eddie— sure, you’ve seen him having fun and being unapologetically himself with Gareth and Jeff and even on stage, but this side of Eddie is softer— kinder, brighter— homey. 

You realize as you watch him singing his heart out to some mainstream pop song that Steve somehow talked him into doing. You’re more surprised that Eddie knows the lyrics, but you’re too tipsy to dwell on it because Nancy’s scooting onto the chair beside you and asking what song you two should sing because, “We have to outsing them, obviously.”

And, well, you hardly have the time to stop your lips before you lean in and tell her the song you’d like to sing. Nancy snickers, giggling at the obvious undertone of the chosen song, and she eagerly agrees because “He’s gonna shit his pants.”

You go back and forth on who will take which role— who will sing Tom Petty’s key, and who will sing Stevie Nicks's key— but then you eventually land on just singing together for the entirety of the song. When the boys finish their song, Nancy drags you up to the DJ to request the song and magically persuades him to let you skip the queue of people to go next. She’s a good flirt, that’s indisputable.

You should probably thank Nancy at some point for agreeing to this song regardless of how little information she has about your situationship with Eddie, but before you even get the chance to, you and Nancy are already singing the first line of the song— Baby, you'll come knocking on my front door. Same old line you used to use before— and well, Eddie’s head has never turned his head faster, but you avoid his gaze for as long as you can.

And you’re doing good; you’re doing so good, and then you get to the second chorus and lock eyes with Eddie as you sing along to the track with Nancy— Baby, you could never look me in the eye. Yeah, you buckle with the weight of the world. Stop draggin' my, stop draggin' my, stop draggin' my heart around— and, well… you think you made your point clear.

You and Nancy have a blast singing to Nicks and Petty, and when the song ends, the bar claps and cheers as they do after every performance, and you’re all smiles as you waltz back to the table, sitting next to the fidgeting boy you’d just indirectly serenaded. Steve and Robin are telling you and Nancy how well you did and teasing each other over specific parts of the performance, and they’re all so caught up in one another that they hardly notice as Eddie leans into your space, voice low and gravely as he speaks, “That was cruel, princess.”

You look at him, eyes falling to the ghost of a smirk that dances across his lips before you reach forward to grab your drink, wrapping your lips around the thin, black straw, maintaining eye contact as you shrug, “Did you get the hint?” You tease.

Eddie huffs around a laugh, shifting in his seat, left arm back to barricading the back of your chair, and you don’t fail to notice the tent in the crotch of his jeans. He rolls his tongue over his teeth, snickering when you raise an eyebrow, “Yeah… Yeah, I got the hint.” He nods, and you think you might see a pink tint dusting across his cheeks.

You smile, liquor making you bold as you blink up at him, “Good.”

It’s a long trip to the hotel with a pair of drunk best friends.

They ramble a lot— Steve and Robin— you come to find out, and Nancy and Eddie have become experts at handling them with ease. You realize this as you watch them get their friends tucked into bed. Nancy is tipsy, but Eddie informed you that she has a weird thing with tequila where she becomes highly functioning, so she’s moving about the room with grace and precision.

When the drunk pair is finally tucked into bed, Nancy walks you and Eddie to the door of the hotel room, thanking you for taking the time to make sure they got in safe. “I would say see you at breakfast, but I doubt these two will have crawled from the grave by then.” Nancy gestures back to Robin and Steve. 

You don’t blame them; they’re basically on holiday, and you would do the same.

Your and Eddie’s rooms are on a different floor, and it’s a long ride up to the top, especially with the burning desire for one of you to say something— what, you’re not sure.

“I like your friends.”

That was you talking, you realize when Eddie turns to you with a smirk, “Yeah? They didn’t scare you off with their incessant shithead behavior?” He jokingly questions. You hum with a laugh, “I’ve dealt with worse.” You tease.

Eddie walks you to your room, his intoxicating smell and presence hovering around you as you unlock the door before stepping in. You turn around, hand resting on the edge of the door as you look at the curly-haired boy, “Good night, Eddie.”

Eddie hums, leaning against the door frame, eyes flickering to the twist of your mouth before reaching your eyes again, “Not gonna finish our conversation?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “I hardly believe you’d be doing much talking if I let you in right now.” And you don’t think you’re ready to travel down that path again. Not so soon when you have the events of tonight to digest, not to mention the gift sitting in your bag.

Eddie shrugs with a small smirk, “I can multitask.”

His gentle smile is beautiful. Alluring and unique, and his eyes are taking you with such an intensity that you think you might melt if you stay a minute longer. “I didn’t choose that song for the hell of it, you know?” You ask. “Stevie’s got a mean fucking range. Lord knows if I’ll be covering her again.” You grumble. And really, how high can the woman go with her rasp?

Eddie laughs, turning his head and glancing at the empty hallway before looking back to you, “Yeah, I know,” He softly replies.

You nod and he takes a deep breath, nodding towards your bag slung over your shoulder, “Listen to the tape.” He reminds you.

You tilt your head, clenching the strap of your bag before speaking, “Are you under the impression that this would make up for everything?” You ask.

And you don’t mean for it to sound harsh or hurt his feelings, but you have to let him know that if that’s what he’s hoping, then he’s wrong. This doesn’t fix everything. This doesn’t fix the confused feelings and the harsh words. It’s a start, but it’s not a finish as well.

And although Eddie’s expression falters, he shakes his head, “No. But I still want you to listen.”

You nod quietly, gazing at each other and wishing you could start on a different foot. You clear your throat, straighten your stance, and step back. “Good night, Eddie.” You softly say.

By the time you finish showering and getting ready for bed, the only thing running on your mind is the pending need to sleep. The maids had changed out the seats so they’re not doused with the ghost of Eddie’s cologne and shampoo— but you don’t go long with Eddie out of your mind because there’s a hard object that pokes into your arm when you settle into the bed.

You groan, twisting your arm around your frame to dig out the small object from below you, and when your fingers wrap around the plastic case, you immediately remember the task you’d had for tonight— listen to the tape.

The sleep that weighed down on your body is suddenly gone as you sit up to grab your walkman and headphones before settling back into the comfy sheets.

You try your best to ignore the swirling feeling of nerves and excitement in your gut as you put on your headphones and slip the tape in, but you find yourself nipping at the skin of your nails as the tape winds either way.

It’s silent for a moment, the sound of shuffling and the soft thud of what you think might be someone setting a glass down. There’s a clearing of a throat— it’s Eddie, you can tell— and your stomach twists in anticipation at the first ring of a piano chord. 

The beginning chords are soft and slow, gentle enough to lull you to sleep if you sink into it, and the recording is so vivid that you can hear the dull thud of each key beneath the press of his fingers.

Your heart races when Eddie’s voice seeps into the melody. It’s a ballad, something Corroded Coffin doesn’t have much of, and you wonder why because the softness of Eddie’s voice is arguably one of the most heavenly sounds to have ever touched your ears.

I'm feeling a way, off some kinda drug

Maybe it's lust, maybe it's love

I know I said I'd straighten out a week ago

I'm fiending though, 'bout to reach my peak, you know

The city's got me falling now

It’s… fuck, it’s fucking good, and you haven’t even gotten to the chorus, but god, your heart skips a beat at the following line because it’s a direct callout to you.

I'm fading away, I'm losing my head

I know you said leave, but fuck what you said

As much as you wish you could say you hate it… you don’t.

Even though the song is about you and your twisted relationship with Eddie— which definitely aids to your feelings towards the track— it’s genuinely a good song. Which, okay, is slightly annoying, but you can’t find it in yourself to care as the song carries on.

The future's never looked so bright, it's blinding me

It's hard to see, I'm swimming through dopamine

Your body looks like heaven and

I wanna give up, I just wanna leave

I'm floating away, I'm caught in the breeze

The outro of the song comes and slows down, a softer sound than before filling your ears, and shit— you’re at the edge of your seat now because Eddie is singing so gently, and it has your mind swirling. 

I can't believe this is happening

What did I do? What did she do to me?

…

Mending my brain again

Please don't give up on me

This hurts tremendously

How will this end for me?

When the song dies off, you can hear shuffling again before the track ends, and you’re left with spinning thoughts as you take your headphones off and let the silent and dark room envelope you.

You have to take a moment, yanking the string of the bedside lamp to light up the room so you can see your thoughts more clearly because— how do you feel? You’re not sure, honestly, and the thud of your heart beating in your chest only clouds your judgment even more because— isn’t this what you asked for? For Eddie to be open and honest with you, to tell you his true feelings and where he’s at when it comes to you. And is it enough?

Would it ever be enough for Eddie to give you one simple, stripped-down track to allow him the chance to mend what he’d ruined? 

Your heart wants it to be enough, but realistically, it’s not. Eddie has only just begun his journey to forgiveness, and you have to remind yourself that it’s not wrong to be hesitant to let him in, neither is it bad for you to want him as badly as you do. You’re both learning, and you’re both trying to fix the damage that’s been done, and it might take time, but if you both want it— if Eddie really wants you— then the time and work it takes to fix things won’t be a bother.

You listen to the song two more times, maybe more than twice, and you let the words sink into your bones until you practically have it engraved into your mind, lulling yourself to sleep with the haunting echo of Eddie’s voice and words bouncing in the walls of your skull.

And in your dreams, you meet Eddie, and for the split second you have with him there, everything is perfect— and by the time you wake up, the ticking time bomb to make your choice is now louder than it’s ever been before.

————

part eleven

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a/n: OMG HIII, you made it to the end again !!! i would just like to specify that the song eddie has written and sang for birdie in this chappy (23 x chase atlantic) is not entirely a nod towards their relationship! reader is not specifically 23 years old nor is she struggling with any type of substance abuse, the lines that were used in this chapter are the lines that actually adhere to them imo, OKAY I THINK U GET IT I'LL SHUT UP NOW.

also, this is not the last of the songs that eddie has written abt birdie btw🫣

i hope u enjoyed and i love love love reading any and all feedback as well as ur silly thots <3 AND AS ALWAYS, TY FOR READING, I LOVE U SO BIG MWAH <3

————

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@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn @mossiswriting

#WOOOO #TWO MORE CHAPPIES TO GO GUYS HEHEHE #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson au #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things au #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader #journalist!reader #Spotify

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Eleven

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Eleven: Convincing through Son

Summary: Charlie attempts to convince Cannibal Town to follow her into battle.

            Rosie lifted a megaphone and marched right outside to give Cannibal Town her announcement. She had Charlie and (Y/N) under her arms and was quite pleased to be bringing her guests around her territory. Alastor walked behind, pleased with how his plans were turning out.

            “Cannibals and cannibettes!” called Rosie. “Assemble in the square!” She looked at Charlie. “Now, darling, you know I would do anything, anything for my clients, but I can’t exactly command all of Cannibal Town to follow someone else into battle.”

            At least she’s respectful, thought (Y/N).

            “Now, don’t get me wrong, they love carnage and bloodshed, but to get this group in line, you got to win ‘em over.” She spoke through her megaphone again as they arrived at the square. “Settle in!” The crowd had gathered. “Settle in! Important meeting.”

            Charlie cringed. “But how do I—”

            “With sparkle! Razzmatazz!” declared Rosie, and (Y/N) decided they liked her even more now. “And that oh-so-appealing moxie of yours.”

            “Shouldn’t be a problem!” said Alastor. He grinned at Charlie. “It’s not like you’ve ever failed to inspire before.”

            “You can do it, Charlie,” said (Y/N) encouragingly as they walked onto the dais.

            Charlie groaned anxiously.

            “But fair warning, this group sticks together,” said Rosie. “So in order to convince any of them, you’ll have to convince all of them.”

            “Yikes,” said (Y/N).

            Rosie huffed. “And there’s one in particular—”

            “Ugh, Susan,” said Alastor, rolling his eyes.

            “Susan,” agreed Rosie. “Who’s a bit of an, uh…” She considered.

            “Ornery old bitch?” suggested Alastor cheerfully.

            “That!” said Rosie. She leaned down to Charlie. “She’s tough, but win her over and the rest will be easy as pie.”

            “You’ve got this,” said (Y/N), giving Charlie a thumbs-up.

            “Ready?” said Rosie.

            “I guess…” said Charlie.

            “Everyone, we have a very special, very royal guest this evening!” announced Rosie. “Please put your bloody hands together for Princess Charlie!”

            She waved awkwardly from the microphone.

            Instantly, a cranky voice rang out. “Boo! Bring Rosie back!” The crowd parted to reveal an old cannibal in furs waving a walking stick around.

            “Susan?” said (Y/N), looking at Alastor and Rosie.

            “Susan,” they said simultaneously.

            Charlie coughed and accidentally hit the microphone. The feedback squealed, and the crowd cringed.

            “Sorry! Uh, okay,” said Charlie, stumbling over her words. “Uh, my name’s Charlie, and—”

            “Boo!” heckled Susan.

            “Well, I run this hotel with my partn—”

            “Get off the stage you blue-blood bitch!”

            “—well, someone, and—”

            “Boo!”

            “Wait, let me start over.”

            “We don’t give a shit about some hotel.”

            “Angels are coming to kill us all, and we need help defending our realm.”

            “Leave before I eat those big-ass eyes of yours!”

            “So, we, uh, we need your help—”

            “Boo! Get off.”

            This really isn’t going well, thought (Y/N), wincing at how awkward the situation was.

            “With your assistance, we can make a stand for—” tried Charlie.

            “Where’s the showmanship?” sneered Susan.

            “I…I have a dream!” Charlie tried to sing.

            “Where all the finesse? Fucking mediocre.”

            “Fuck you! You old bitch!” Charlie snapped and gave Susan the finger.

            The crowd gasped.

            “Okay!” Rosie rushed up to salvage the situation. She took Charlie by the shoulders and guided her away. “We’ll be back after a brief intermission.”

            “Well, I think that went well,” said Alastor, grinning.

            “For you, yeah, because you got entertainment,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Precisely!” said Alastor.

            “Do you think Charlie can convince them all to follow her?” said (Y/N), looking out over the crowd of cannibals.

            “If she can entertain them enough,” said Alastor. “And Charlie is always quite amusing.”

            “I hope it works. I think if we have numbers, we have a chance against the angels.” (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. “And I really want a chance to fight the angels. I don’t like them.”

            “I’m sure you’ll get plenty of chances to kill them to your hearts content,” said Alastor, grinning widely. “Just make sure to practice defense techniques with your magic. We can’t have you getting killed, can we?”

            “I’d rather not,” laughed (Y/N), and Alastor smiled. (Y/N) looked at him. “And make sure to take care of yourself, too.”

            Alastor laughed. “I am the Radio Demon. It will take more than some angels to harm me.”

            “You’re strong, yeah,” said (Y/N). “But, still, I don’t want you to die.”

            Alastor’s smile froze, and he cocked his head. Instead of getting a reply, though, Rosie and Charlie returned to the square before more could be said.

            “You can do this,” said Rosie gently.

            Charlie looked at her nervously. Alastor held out his microphone, and Charlie’s eyes widened. (Y/N) nodded encouragingly, and Charlie squared her shoulders, holding the staff in front of her. She took a deep breath and began to sing.

(Charlie) “Have you ever wanted something that was so clear in your mind that you could taste it?

            “You mean like human flesh?” piped up Susan.

            “Eugh, sort of,” said Charlie, smiling awkwardly.

(Charlie) “It’s a feeling like a rumbling in your gut that you could finally be faced with a billion needy faces, I guess what I mean to say is For the first time in my life, I might have to be ready for this.”

            She glanced at the others. Rosie clapped and smiled, Alastor gave a thumbs-up, and (Y/N) nodded and grinned. Charlie’s confidence surged.

(Charlie) “Ready to be the one who’s leading from the front, Gotta come into my own, Gotta come into my throne~ Gotta take charge and defend my only home, And although I kinda feel unsteady, Now I need to be ready for this.”

            She stepped down from the dais and walked among the people of Cannibal Town.

(Charlie) “Have you ever felt like you’re willing to die to save the people of your city?”

            “By ‘die to do’ you mean use my teeth to rip flesh apart?” asked Susan.

            “That’s a start!” said Charlie, deciding to let Susan have her fun.

(Charlie) “’Cause right now we need a leader, And it seems to me that Destiny has picked me to be that, If you’ll permit me. So who’s with me?”

            She spun around and grinned.

(Charlie) “Wouldn’t it be super to see more of Hell? Join up now if you like travel, Come on boys hope in the saddle, Lotta sights to see en route to my hotel, Not to mention the camaraderie, Yes, siree, you’ll form life-changing friendships With folks along the way!” (Alastor) “And feast on all the angels you can eat!” (Charlie) “Okay…”

            However, the incentive of food instantly piqued the attention of the crowd. The cannibals were excited, eager to get a taste of the exorcists that had plagued them for so long.

(Cannibals) “It’s time now to act, They’re on the attack! When they move to strike, We will fight biting back!”

            Charlie had done it. Alastor took back his microphone, and Rosie placed her own staff with a skull-head in Charlie’s hand to lead the cannibals.

(Cannibals) “We’ll follow your lead, We’re eager to feed, We’ll sharpen our teeth for the heavenly feast, From this moment on, you can count on us, To be resolute and ravenous! Our appetites are whet, and we’re set to seize the day, So I say, ‘Oh, hey!’ come join the flesh buffet!” (Charlie) “Well, that’s a little violent, Can we tone it down?” (Rosie) “Oh, don’t be put off by their snarlin’ That’s enthusiasm, darlin’!”

            Charlie looked out over the ravenous cannibals as they retrieved weapons and grinned widely.

(Charlie) “Eh, they just seem a little murder-y right now.” (Rosie) “Don’t worry, honey, that’s their thing, Keep singing.” (Charlie and Rosie) “We’re super-duper grateful to have you aboard!” (Cannibals) “We can’t wait to taste an angel’s wings!” (Charlie) “Oh, lord.”

            The crowd grabbed her and supported her above their shoulders, and Charlie looked out proudly, hands on her hips.

(Charlie) “For the first time in my life, Maybe I can be ready for this, I can be the marshal leading the parade, I can come into my own, And I think I’ve always known, My destiny could never be postponed! When Adam brings the battle here, I must appear Like I’m ready for this!”

            Rosie, Alastor, and (Y/N) grinned as they watched.

(Rosie) “They’re dancing along, They’re singing her song!”

            She spun (Y/N) around.

(Alastor) “Surprised, why, I knew she could do it all along!”

            He spun (Y/N) around, and they laughed.

((Y/N)) “She’s bound to pass the test as Princess of Hell!” ((Y/N), Alastor, Rosie) “Like her daddy, she is madly power-fell!”

            Alastor spun Rosie around, and she grinned and held (Y/N)’s hands, swinging them up.

(Alastor) “She’s filled with potential that I could guide!”

            Rosie grabbed him and (Y/N) and pulled them close.

(Rosie) “I concur!” (Rosie, Alastor, (Y/N)) “Stick with her, You’ll be on the winning side!” (All) “For the first time in our lives, We know that we are ready for this!” (Rosie) “We’ll show Heaven a fight they won’t forget!” (All) “It’s to take a stand!” (Charlie) “It’s time to lend a hand!”

            “Huzzah!” shouted the crowd.

(All) “Against all the angels and their deadly threat! We cannot take it anymore, The time has come to go to war, Prepare to fight, we’re ready for thiiiiis!” (Charlie) “I really hope that I’m ready for this.”

Taglist:

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@tagthetrekkie

@amberforest08

#nature of the human soul #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #x teen reader #x teen!reader #found family #found family trope #father figure #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x teen!reader #alastor x teen reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x teen!reader #platonic hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x teen reader #platonic #platonic x reader

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

got any silly voxval headcannons? (Maybe velvette too idk)

like for example who cooks out of the three of them

Of course you can <3 I'm a really angsty girlie so I don't know how silly they actually are but there you go:

None of them can cook, but that's not really a problem for Vox and Velvette. Vox could survive on plain bread and black coffee for eternity, while Velvette could eat only candies. Val, on the other hand, is the ultimate hedonist. He's all about the tasty, full-fat fast food or gourmet stuff, and he's always pushing for takeout. Come on, guys, we're fucking rich, let's order something. Sure, they could hire someone to cook for them, but Vox is too paranoid to let an outsider near their food. He's still on the hunt for a chef who can match Val's extravagant tastes and is willing to sign off soul. If they had to pick someone to cook, Vox would probably be the best bet since he's the only one who can actually follow a recipe.

Velvette is the smartest when it comes to managing finances. Vox technically doesn't like to waste money but he has a taste for luxurious stuff, he can't resist an expensive car, fucking show-off. Valentino basically burns money on every useless shit he likes, I bet those crystals he badazzled his gun with were real diamons.

Velvette helps Val maintain his fluff, and he styles her hair. It's a cute little trade-off they've got going on.

Valentino has a habit of breaking electronic devices and downloading malware. Vox hates him for it.

Vox can easily go 72h without sleep, fueled by coke and rage. Valentino occasionally drugs his coffee to put him down to sleep, because after 68th hour all electronics in the tower starts malfunctioning.

Val used to be a full-time performer, but now he's more like a RuPaul—lending his face to the brand and only occasionally gracing the stage. But every time he does perform, Vox makes sure to be there front and center.

Their schedules are very incompatible and they have to spend a lot of time managing their businesses but they have weekly appointments to do catch up and discuss strategy. Those are usually very unserious, they end up hitting the bong and playing Mario Cart.

There was this one time Vox tried hitting on Velvette because she's totally his type. It was awkward as hell, and they both agreed to never speak of it again. Valentino has no idea about it.

Valentino would really want to have a dog but Vox really likes dogs so he doesn't allow him to get one by imposing strict anti-pet policy in the tower.

Val knows all of Vox's and Velvette's kinks and sometimes produces custom porn for them as gifts.

As much as they love spending time together, Val and Velvette can't stand watching TV with Vox because he gets overly emotional and doesn't allow to skip commercials because he enjoys them

Vox occasionally invites Val to be a guest judge on reality shows, which always skyrockets ratings but sometimes ends nasty for the contestants.

Val's obsessed with textures, especially nice fabrics. Give him a nice fluffy blanket and he will shut up for 15 minutes fixated on touching it.

Vox, with his business and strategic management degree, sometimes tries to pitch these ideas to Velvette and Valentino, he's like Guys, have you considered using the BCG matrix? Ever heard of SWOT analysis? We should discuss KPIs. They mock him relentlessly for it.

Val once tried putting drag makeup on Vox's face, and let's just say the result was... less than glamorous.

During their honeymoon phase, Vox and Val fucked everywhere. At first, Velvette found it amusing, but eventually, she grew to hate it. She finally snapped when she found out they'd fucked on the dinner table and she set it on fire.

Val "secretly" ghostwrote some trashy smut novels (they are absolutely horrible, worst Wattpad shit you could dig out). Vox secretly bought and read every single one, finding plenty of references to himself along the way.

Vox loves it when Val wears stripper platforms, even though it makes their height difference even more ridiculous.

Valentino's wardrobe takes two entire rooms and still expands. Vox doesn't know how to stop it.

Vox owns a few lingerie sets, only because Val loses his fucking mind whenever he wears them. Velvette designed them herself and keeps photos of Vox wearing them as blackmail material, just in case.

#hazbin hotel #vox #valentino #voxval #ask #staticmoth #velvette #vox hazbin #hazbin hotel valentino #headcanon #velvette hazbin #the vees

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Bad For Business: Level Four

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.2K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

There was a boy at the desk asking for you. 

He was tall and a little wild looking, unruly dark curls and tattoos peeking out from under the leather and denim he wore, all ripped off sleeves and silver rings. He was smirking at Steve like he knew something he didn’t, like was in on some sort of secret. 

Steve didn’t like him. 

“She’s on her break,” Steve told him, eyes narrowed like he couldn’t help himself. “Went to the store or something.”

Steve expected that to be the end of it, but the boy with all the rings just grinned, dimples on show before he hoisted himself onto the desk. “I’ll wait,” he said, too cheery. “I’m Eddie, by the way. Munson.”

Steve nodded, keeping his distance as he pretended to tidy away loose rota sheets, used up ticket stubs and a piece of paper Robin and Argyle had been drawing progressively larger dicks on. One had wings and a halo. 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve frowned. He was still suspicious. Why was the local drug dealer coming in and asking for you? The arcade was quiet enough that Steve didn’t have an excuse to leave, and honestly, he wanted to stick around and see. “Just didn’t realise you guys… knew each other.”

Eddie looked smug in an awful way, still acting like he was clued into something Steve didn’t have any idea about. Like he was trying not to laugh at him. The longer haired boy tilted his head to the side, all charm and bravado, still smiling. “Oh yeah.” He nodded, enthusiastic. “We know each other real well. Super close.”

You hadn’t mentioned Eddie before. Not in front of Steve. Fuck, you’d never mentioned any sort of boyfriend at all. But then Steve remembered nights that it rained, when he’d jog to his car only to see you run past him, jacket over your head and clambering into an old van, the windows dark enough that you could never see the driver. 

Maybe he’d been kidding himself all those times when he assumed it was your dad. 

“Oh,” fuck, is that all he could say? “Cool.” 

There was a beat of silence between them, smothered in arcade game jingles and alarm bells that announced a new winner, but the air was heavy enough to be felt, thick with a tension Steve wasn’t used to. 

Was this what being threatened felt like? 

No. No. Steve didn't have anything to feel threatened about. So why was he still talking?

“I guess - I mean - well, I just never knew she had a boyfriend.” Steve cleared his throat, all awkward and he found himself standing a little straighter, chest puffed out, chin held high.  

Thank fuck Robin wasn’t on shift, ‘cause Eddie was laughing and suddenly Steve felt about three feet shorter. What the fuck was this guys problem?

“I didn’t know you gossiped about your love lives, Harrington,” Eddie shot back. His smile was wolfish and it looked like a challenge, it felt like a dare. “You interested in who she’s hangin’ out with outside of work?”

“What?” It was jarring, the way Steve’s stomach dropped. A new kind of nervousness twisting around his guts, a heat that crawled from his stomach to his chest. His cheeks felt too warm. “What? No. Jesus, no, I just— we’re not even friends.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it still tasted like one. Bitter and acidic, like swallowing a too big pill without water. It got stuck in his throat, made him wince. 

Eddie tutted, leaning back in his hands, taking up the majority of space on the counter top. His legs were swinging, rips across his knees in his black jeans, a chain hanging from his belt looks, glinting in the neon lights. He looked like he was having far too much fun. 

“That’s a shame,” Eddie twisted his lips, big eyes looking all sad, acting up like he was on stage or something. “She’s real sweet, isn’t she?”

Steve scoffed, a choked out laugh that made Eddie’s lips twitch up. Steve busied himself with more loose papers, bundling together things that weren’t supposed to be filed with each other, name badges and empty chocolate wrappers stuck between faxes. 

“Uh, sure, maybe,” Steve wrinkled his nose, squinting at the other boy. “I don’t know. She’s never, uh, all that sweet to me.”

And then Eddie was laughing, a full, bright cackle of a laugh and Steve was once again left feeling like he didn’t know the full joke. But he didn’t get to ask what he’d missed, what was so funny, ‘cause a kid who could hardly see over the desk approached him, a sticky hand full of equally sticky tickets that he wanted to swap for some knock off Star Wars toy. Disgruntled, Steve fussed with the glass cabinet where they kept all the ‘prizes’, his gaze flickering between Eddie and the door.  

Surely you’d be back soon. Right? To see your boyfriend.  

When the kid was gone, happily clutching his ‘nightsaber’ (even Steve knew that was wrong), Eddie was watching him again. 

“She’s pretty, right?” 

Steve froze. “What?” Was this some kind of trick? Who the fuck goes ‘round asking other dudes if they think their girlfriend is pretty? “I don’t— I’ve never—”

Eddie was grinning. Again. That Cheshire Cat smile, white teeth flashing somewhat threateningly. Steve didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Was this about last week? The powercut? Did you go home and tell your boyfriend how close Steve got to you, how he held your hand and for once in his goddamn life, Steve Harrington didn’t wanna argue with you?

“You don’t think she’s cute?”

Nothing had happened. Nothing ever would’ve. It couldn’t. You hated him, and Steve hated you. Right? Right. 

“Look, dude, I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m not trying to hit on your girl, alright?” Someone got a new high score on the pinball machine across from the desk and an alarm rang, tickets flying out of the dispenser, lights flashing red and green. It felt like a warning. “She— we— we don’t talk, alright? Not like that, god, we’re not friends, okay?”

Eddie didn’t really seem to believe him, but Steve was more than relieved when the boy shrugged and slid off of the counter, dimples on show, beaming at him. He dusted his hands off like he’d completed whatever task he’d come to do before dropping a set of keys in front of Steve. 

“Tell uh, my girl, that it was a radiator leak. No biggie. Car’s out front,” another flash of a smile, too charming now. Steve’s head was spinning. “Catch you later lover boy.”

What the fuck?

Eddie made his way past a crowd of kids, neon signs lighting up his skin in shades of lime green and fuschia. He spun before he got to the door, clapping his hands together and pointing back at the other boy, like he’d just remembered something important. 

Is this where Eddie threatened him? Told him to stop looking at his girlfriend and keep his hands to himself? It was a fucking powercut, it was pitch black, what was he supposed to do? Let her hurt herself? The argument was already playing out in Steve’s head, his defence at the ready. 

Besides, he could take Eddie Munson, right? Sure he was pretty much the same height but Steve was broader, stronger, surely. But maybe Eddie had that trailer park kid scrappiness, that feral sort of energy Dustin said Max exuded when she got ramped up—

“And, uh, Harrington?”

Steve felt his fist tighten around the countertop. 

“You’ll catch more bees with honey than vinegar.” Eddie saluted, a massive skull glinting silver and pink in the light, and then with a wink, he was gone. 

What the fuck?

He didn’t get a chance to ask what Eddie was on about, because Lucas Sinclair and Dustin Henderson approached the desk, ignoring how he was standing with his mouth agape, brows knitted together in confusion. Everything was almost forgotten about as he argued with the two young boys about how no, he didn’t know when Donkey along was getting fixed, and no, he wasn’t prepared to let them poke about at the machine with Dustin’s backpack screwdriver. 

And then you came back from your lunch, a flash of daylight breaking the darkness of the arcade as the door opened and shut behind you. Steve watched you hand a wrapped sandwich to Argyle before making your way around the desk to where he stood. 

Maybe he was staring, maybe that’s why you were looking at him weird. Maybe that’s just the kinda gaze you gave him on the daily. You were wearing a skirt today, black and swishy around your thighs, your staff shirt cut off so it hit just above your navel, much to Murray’s despair. There was a warning written up and stuck to your locker, but you hadn’t seemed to care. 

“What?”

Shit, Steve was still staring. He blinked, shrugged and turned back to the cash machine, despite no customers to serve. “What? Nothin’, god.”

You didn’t argue with him, just narrowing your eyes at his strange mood before pushing your way into the staff room. It was empty bar someone’s leftover lunch and a walkman that lay on the table and then suddenly Steve was barging his way into the too small room, a familiar set of keys in his hands. Your disco ball keychain sent rainbows over the walls, tiny glimmers of light across Steve’s cheeks, his hands, his arms. 

He held them out to you, cheeks tinged pink like something had happened and you’d missed it, ‘cause he couldn’t really look you in the eye either. You stared, taking your keys from the boy slowly, like any sudden movements would scare him. 

Not that you cared. 

Steve spoke before you could say thanks, leaning against Murray’s abandoned desk with his hands shoved in his pockets as he cleared his throat. The air was heavy with something, more tension than you were used to, a weight to it that was more than summer air and teenage hormones. 

“Your uh, your boyfriend dropped them off,” Steve was finally looking at you, brown eyes honeycomb in the too bright lights. “Said it was a broken radiator or somethin’.”

You frowned, confused at the word that was thrown out between you. Boyfriend? But once again, before you could manage to speak, Steve was talking again, all his thoughts tumbling out at once, swimming at your feet. 

“Eddie Munson, huh? I didn’t— I didn’t know you were dating him. Or anyone. Not that it matters,” Steve sucked in a breath, like he was trying to catch each sentence, like he could swallow back the words he’d already said. “It doesn’t matter, obviously. Why would it? I mean, fuck, s’not like we share updates on our love lives or shit—” 

“Harrington.”

“—like, I don’t care if you’re dating him, I just didn’t, like, except it, you know? Munson? Didn’t think he was your type, not that I know what your type is, s’not like I think about it or anything—”

“Steve.”

The boy stopped talking, jaw snapping shut as he looked at you, a little wide eyed. He was breathing a little heavier, hands leaving his pockets only to take through his hair. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You played with the keys in your hands, disco ball keychain clinking prettily between the silver. The reflections scattered, rainbow coloured freckles on Steve’s cheeks. “I’m not dating Eddie, we’re just friends.”

You weren't sure why you were explaining this.

“But Munson said—” Steve stopped mid sentence, the abruptness of it hanging in the air between you. Eddie hadn’t said you were dating. Eddie hadn’t called himself your boyfriend, had he? No. That was Steve’s doing. “Uh, he called you his girl… I just assumed…”

You snorted, eyes rolling in a way that held a lot more affection than what he was used to seeing when it was directed at him. You shrugged, dropping yourself into a chair at the table, eyeing Steve with a new sort of curiosity. He really was acting fucking weird. 

“We’re close,” you said, copying Eddie’s words from earlier without even knowing. “Best friends, you know? Nothing… nothing more.”

“Oh.” Steve’s lips were a pretty ‘o’ shape, pink and pouting and you practically saw the gears inside his head whirring. “Right.”

“He was probably just trying to be funny,” you explained, unwrapping a chocolate bar you’d taken from your bag. You bit into it, licking caramel from your lips. “He’s not though. Despite what he thinks.”

Steve nodded, looking a little dazed, but he pushed himself off of Murray’s desk and sent you another look you couldn’t really decipher. Before he made it back to the door that led to the arcade, you stopped him, an edge to your voice that wasn’t there before. 

“Did he, uh,” you winced when your voice cracked, staring at the table instead of the boy. “Did Eddie say anything else?”

Steve almost kicked the desk leg, swearing as he spun back to you, eyes darting over your face, like he was trying to work something out. He thought about Eddie’s questions. 

If Steve thought you were sweet. If Steve thought you were pretty. 

“What?”

‘You’ll catch more bees with honey than vinegar.’

“Did he say anything? You know, stupid shit.” You licked your lips again, chasing sugar, looking nervous. 

Lover boy lover boy lover boy. 

“No,” Steve lied, feeling something burn in his chest. Maybe it was the breath he was holding. “No, he didn’t say anything else.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb

[bluhourz]

when you argue

-

You sighed heavily when the time to go home finally came. You were always super excited to go home after work as your boyfriend would be waiting for you there, happy as ever to see you. Today was a bit different though. Last night you got into an argument with your your boyfriend. A lot of mean words were thrown about as you both got more and more frustrated. He ended up crossing the line at the end of the night as he brought up a big insecurity of yours. You haven't spoken to him since.

The idea of going home and seeing him just made you tired and upset at this stage. You hated fighting with him and missed him so much already. But you had to stay strong.

After finally making it home, you entered your shared apartment and pulled your shoes off. You heard the TV playing some or other anime he was probably watching but you didn't look up as you passed him on the couch, keeping your eyes on the ground and quickly walking to your room.

Another heavy sigh escaped you as you started undressing. Getting into your most comfortable clothes, you made your way to the bathroom to wash up. The silence surrounding you lasted only a few seconds before you sensed someone in the doorway. Not wanting to acknowledge your boyfriend's presence, you continued on with your routine.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hi Beomgyu," you forced out, suppressing a sigh.

Silence. He stood there for another few minutes before speaking up again.

"How was your day?"

The awkward small talk was killing you, but you entertained your boyfriend as he tried mustering up the courage to speak to you about what he said.

"It was okay. I'm just tired now," you mumbled as your started finishing up.

"Me too," he whispered, eyes flickering between your face and the ground.

An uncomfortable silence fell over you again. You finished drying your face before walking past him and into the kitchen this time. You could hear the shuffling of his feet as he softly followed you through the house. While you were making ramen for yourself to nibble on, Beomgyu stood by the counter and watched you closely. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head as we formulated his sentences. Standing with your arms crossed, you leaned against the counter and looked at your feet, waiting for the ramen to start cooking. This was unbearable, but you weren't going to crack first.

You only realised Beomgyu was infront of you when you saw his slippers come into your view. You looked up slowly and made eye contact with those same eyes you love looking into. Only this time they were filled with so much sadness.

Beomgyu reached out and slowly took your hands into his. He didn't speak for a while and only looked at your intertwined hands. You let him hold you, sensing he was getting his thoughts together.

"I really am so sorry Y/N," his shaky first words came, "I fucked up so much last night by saying that to you. I don't know why I said it. It's not even true. I was just upset and I spoke without thinking. I am so sorry baby."

By the end of his little speech, he was in tears. He still hasn't looked at you since he started speaking. By now his thumbs were rubbing anxious circles on your hand.

A few tears have now made their way down your cheeks as well. You were exhausted and just wanted to be in his arms. So you put his arms around you and wrapped your own around his neck to bring him closer. Your boyfriend tightened his arms around you and cried into your shoulder.

"I'm so sorry jagi," he whimpered softly.

"It's okay Gyu," you murmured, rubbing a comforting hand over his shoulder.

You stood there long after the ramen finished cooking, just glad to have made up with each other.

#tomorrow by together #tomorrow by together imagines #tomorrow x together reactions #tomorrow x together #txt #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt reactions #txt scenarios #txt x reader #txt soobin #txt yeonjun #txt beomgyu #txt taehyun #txt heuningkai #choi beomgyu #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu #txt beomgyu x reader #txt beomgyu fluff #txt beomgyu imagines #kpop #kpop imagines #yeonjun #soobin #taehyun #heuningkai #txt blurbs #txt boyfriend

[morganski-19]

Robin hates that she’s even here right now asking this question, but she has to. She has no frame of reference for what to do and her nerves are spiking all over the place. And the only person she can think to ask is Steve. Which shouldn’t be awkward because he is her best friend and they’ve talked about uncomfortable topics before but this is different. She’s never really wanted to know the details of his sex life before, especially when it’s about his ex now her girlfriend, but now she’s actively asking about it. Just because she has no idea what to do when she and Nancy eventually have sex. 

“The hottest thing you can do is put her hand on your head and tell her to show you how she likes it.”

Robin nods, a little skeptical. “Would Nancy even want that”

Steve nods. “She can be very demanding in bed when she wants to be.”

Eddie walking by this conversation, “Wait, what.””

“Yeah, sometimes she likes to call the shots. Most of the time actually, once she’s comfortable with it she likes it more that way.”

“You mean she topped you?” Eddie asks, a little stunned.

“I mean, sort of, she didn’t peg me or anything, except for that one time, but she was in control.”

“Didn’t need to know that,” Robin says covering her ears. “So do you think she would want to do that with me too?”

“Probably, like I said, she liked it a lot more that way. I did too, to be honest.” He says it so nonchalantly like this information isn’t making Robin so uncomfortable. 

“That was too much information.” Robin shakes her head, picking and choosing which words she wants to remember from this conversation.

Eddie bursts out laughing. “You like being topped by nerds.”

“Hot nerds,” Steve corrects.

“I feel like I’m learning too much about your sex life.”

“You asked, I answered. And like you already didn’t know I was a switch”

“What,” Eddie says a bit too shocked. 

“Yeah I’m a switch, thought you knew that.”

“How would I know that if we’ve never switched, we could have.”

“Yeah but I know you haven't liked that in the past so I didn’t bring it up”

“Yeah but I didn’t love those guys, this is different. Sure of won’t be like an all the time thing, but it can happen every once in a while”

Robin smacks Steve’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you were at the love stage, dingus?”

Steve has a wide-eyed expression while looking at Eddie “You love me”

“Oh cause that was the first time,” she says, connecting the dots.

Eddie’s eyes widen with what he just said, cursing to himself. “I didn’t mean to tell you like that. Especially with Robni. Here.”

Steve gets up and kisses him. “I love you too.” They kiss again, seeming to forget that Robin is in the room as it is obviously leading somewhere.

She gets the cue and grabs her stuff, heading for the door. “Well, this was nice. Happy for you, I’m just going to see my way out and call Nancy to come pick me up. Happy fucking.”

“You too,” Steve yells out as she shuts the door.

#steddie #ronace #i'm not sure what this is #just popped into my head one day #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

SET FOURTEEN - ROUND ONE - MATCH FIVE

"Noonday Heat" (1903 - Henry Scott Tuke) / "La Dame à la licorne (The Lady and the Unicorn)" (c. 1500)

NOONDAY HEAT: I just love it because... the sort of subtextual queerness of it, or at least boyish love, whether platonic or romantic or sexual. The quiet intimacy of a good day with another boy in that so-often awkward stage of adolescence but it's not awkward here in this moment. It can't be. When you're faced with such a true call to love another sort-of-boy, sort-of-man as a sort-of-boy, sort-of-man, it can't be. (@skamortuus)

LA DAME À LA LICORNE (THE LADY AND THE UNICORN): You are in the Musée de Cluny. There is a room, separated, and dark, but people walk in and out so it is not a closed room. It must be investigated. You walk in. The lights are dim, but not dim enough to hide the huge panels of fabric facing you, and your eyes adjust anyway. Each is over ten feet tall and most are wider. A semi-circle of reds and blues. They are labelled with the five senses, and so too the tapestries portray them. Touch; a young lady holds a pennant and gently cups the unicorn's horn. Taste, Smell, Hearing. Sight, the lady holds a mirror to show the unicorn itself, with one hand on the unicorn's neck. They are a semi-circle, facing the last one. À Mon Seul Désir.

The unicorn and the lion hold the tent flaps, while the lady holds her necklace. And you are left to wonder. What about the necklace is her sole desire? But then, maybe you're not THAT fluent in french and that's not what it actually means. Is desire a sixth sense perhaps?

And you're also struck with the memory of the opening of the Last Unicorn. These aren't those tapestries, of course, but the riot of flowers and the docile unicorn interacting with the young lady reminds you anyway.

The rest of the museum calls you away, finally, but the ivory statuettes do not stop you from thinking about weavers on looms, six hundred years ago, weaving flowers and unicorns. (@kaerran)

(”Noonday Heat” is an oil on canvas painting by Henry Scott Tuke. It measures 91 cm (35.8 in) by 143 cm (56.2 in) and is located in the Falmouth Art Gallery in Cornwall. Another version of this painting has both the figures naked; Tuke was known for painting nude boys and men and his work remains popular among openly gay artists.

"The Lady and the Unicorn" tapestries were woven in Flanders out of wool and silk. The six pieces range from 3.10 m × 3.30 m (10.2 ft × 10.8 ft) to 3.80 m × 4.64 m (12.5 ft × 15.2 ft). The tapestry portrayed above is of the "À mon seul désir" tapestry, the other five being themed on the five senses. They are exhibited in a purpose-made room in the Musée de Cluny.)

#art that fucks you up tournament #polls #atfyu polls #id in alt text #cw nudity

[roosterbruiser]

idk if you’re still taking requests, but i would love somethin about hangman and his wifey getting caught by their teenage kid in the middle of sex and then getting absolutely grilled about it later because we all know they have jake’s sense of humor

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

you're both smarter than this. Really, you are. You both know better than to get busy in the kitchen on a Sunday morning.

but in your slight defense...your husband is Jake fucking Seresin. Not only that, but his beard is starting to get delicious gray hairs and he's letting it grow out just enough to make the delicate skin of your thighs clench.

plus, your son usually doesn't wake up early. he would wake up at noon if you let him.

so, against your better judgement, you let your husband bend you over the nice marble countertops you picked out a few years ago.

it's very romantic for a solid ten minutes. drenched in the early light of the morning, the scene is actually quite peaceful. the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the air, your husband is whispering your name like a goddamn prayer as he brings his hips against yours fluidly, and there's an old Carole King record spinning lazily in the living room.

you're so lost in each other, gasping quietly and muttering your affection for each other as he buries himself inside you just right, that you don't hear your son's thunderous steps down the stairs or when he calls out for you guys.

no, no...it isn't until your son genuinely screeches that the two of you look up and catch those wide green eyes filled with absolutely terror.

then of course it's you and Jake scrambling to get decent, trying hard to not traumatize your son even further, both of you blushing and stuttering excuses.

and then it's you and Jake looking at your son as he goes through all five stages of grief in mere minutes.

it may be early in the morning, but he is sure as Hell wide awake now.

"family meeting. now," your son says with all the authority of a parental figure, pointing to the living room.

and for some reason, you and Jake blindly follow him in there and take a seat on the sofa. you two have never been caught by your son--you feel a little out of your element.

you and Jake sit at opposite ends of the couch like awkward teenagers caught by their parents. your son paces before the two of you, hands clasped behind his back. for a fifteen-year-old boy, he could actually come across as much older. he was broad and tall like your husband, with an identical wit.

"what am I going to do with the two of you?" your son mutters disappointedly.

"we were just--!"

your son cuts you off with one sweeping motion of his hand, holding his palm up to you and turning his cheek. your cheeks grow red.

"oh, I know what you were just doing," he says. "don't worry, I won't forget it. neither will the therapist you're gonna pay for."

you purse your lips. Jake is shaking his head softly.

your son resumes his painting.

"and, really, I hate that I even have to say this, but--were you two being...safe?"

Jake breaks out in laughter and you gasp, furrowing your brows at your son who stares back at you incredulously.

"August Seresin," you reprimand, tutting.

he throws his arms up defensively.

"what?! it's a valid question to ask! you really want another me running around here? yeah, no thanks!"

that's when you finally break down laughing, too. you can't help it. it's an unfortunate situation, one you can honestly say has been one of your most embarrassing moments. but the three of you laughing about it makes the knot in your throat lessen.

"well, that oughta teach you to knock," Jake says with a smirk.

August glares at him.

"it's the kitchen! what, am I gonna have to knock before entering every room in the house?"

"well, unless you want a repeat of this morning, then yes," Jake sighs with a grin, crossing his arms over his chest.

your son is turning green.

"is there any safe space in this house? my bedroom?" your son looks near tears at this point.

your husband is only teasing--you know this. but August sure doesn't. you're fairly certain August is about to crumble to the floor.

"is nothing sacred?!"

"just your mama's smokin' hot bod--!"

"NO!" August firmly presses his palms over his ears and shakes his head. "I CAN'T COME BACK FROM THAT!"

here is my tag list!!

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬! 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐛!

if you liked this, consider checking out my Jake x You story!

#hangman?? more like hang that man's penis...in my mouth #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman angst #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman imagine #top gun maverick hangman #jake hangman fic #hangman fluff #hangman x y/n #jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin headcanon #hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin imagine #hangman seresin fic

[cowgurrrl]

i love oftm fam so much 🥹 i would love literally any updates on them :)

OFTM GANG RISE UP 🗣️🗣️🗣️

How Could I Not Love You?

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: this isn’t my favorite but I miss them desperately

Summary: “You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” [2.5k]

Warnings: newborn stuff, angst, the Garcia-Long family coming in clutch, god they are so in love it hurts, smutty dialogue toward the end but no smut because I chickened out

You don't know that you've ever been this tired. The girls have been in the world for a whopping two and a half months, and you feel like you've been awake for the entirety of those two months. None of the Miller kids are particularly good sleepers— even Sarah didn't sleep through the night until she was two and a half, which Joel conveniently forgot to tell you when you talked about having kids— but with the addition of the girls, it feels much harder. They wake up at different times throughout the night to feed, get changed, or be held, which complicates the rotation. Also, Sam's sleep schedule has regressed, and he's up at random times. Having three under five is not all it's cracked up to be.

You love Joel, and you love watching him be a dad, but your relationship has suffered through the just-barely-surviving stage of having newborns. You try to make time to watch a movie or just talk, but whenever you do, someone starts crying. Even if you're able to sit down for more than five minutes without a kid needing something, you're half-asleep and in no shape for a conversation. 

It didn't hit you how much of a toll it's taken on you until you were up for one of the late-night feeds with Violet, and he lay there, watching you through the darkness. You turned to look at him and reached out with your free hand to smooth down some stray hair. He smiled sleepily and turned to kiss your wrist before whispering, "I miss you." You wanted to say that he doesn't need to miss you, and you're right there, but you weren't. Not really.

"I miss you, too," you whispered back, feeling the sting of the truth on the back of your tongue. You wanted to say more—to remind him how much you love him and tell him how you couldn't do this without him—but Sophia's tinny cry closed the window of opportunity before it could fully open. 

You love your kids. You couldn't imagine anything better than watching them grow and interact with each other. They are so wanted and loved, but it still feels really fucking hard. You're sitting on the couch, feeding a baby while Joel bounces another and plays Army men with Sam, feeling like a horrible wife and mother, when the lock turns on your front door and your second family enters.

Carolina, Ryan, Elizabeth, Victoria, and Penelope descend upon your living room like well-meaning vultures, and you give them a confused look. Penelope immediately runs to Sam, and they embrace in their awkward toddler way before they scurry off to his room to play. Victoria, now nine and looking more like Carolina every day, gushes over Daisy. Elizabeth, in her teenage grace, plops down next to you on the couch and squeezes you, trying not to disturb Sophia too much.

"What are you doing here?" You ask Carolina, looking at her like she's a saint, and she smiles. 

"I heard you could use a break," she says. You're about to argue with her and insist that you've got everything under control, but she stops you. "We have two and a half adults, play buddies for Sam and Daisy, and nothing to do for the rest of the day. Plus, I've been itching to hold a baby." She explains. You turn to look back at Joel, who is now babyless and standing next to a baby-equipped Ryan, and give him a look.

"Did you do this?" You ask.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world if we went to dinner alone?" Just the idea of an actual dinner is enough to make you waver. You've both been living off of takeout and Sam's leftovers since the girls were born, and you're dying for a change of scenery. There's more than enough frozen breastmilk in the fridge for the girls, and they're at ease with their aunt and uncle. Sam is ecstatic to have someone to play with, and Daisy looks excited to get some attention. Surely, a few hours couldn't hurt. 

"Fine, but you can't make me wear pants." 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Joel says. Once Sophia is done feeding, you hand her off to Carolina and show Elizabeth where everything is. They don't need a rundown of everything a newborn needs, but it makes you feel better to ramble about their routine to make sure it all gets done. 

With all the kids placated, you and Joel sneak off to your room to change out of the clothes you've been wearing for God knows how long. You put on a maxi dress and spray dry shampoo in your hair while Joel buttons up a nice shirt. 

"Thank you," you say as you put on earrings, glancing at him in the mirror. “You didn't have to do this." He gives you a confused look but shakes it off with a quick kiss to your cheek.

"I wanted to. You deserve a break."

"We deserve a break," you correct, and he hums as he wraps an arm around your waist. Even though he hasn't been dealing with postpartum and breastfeeding problems, he's still been in the trenches with you. For a quiet minute, you stand together and take a breath for the first time in months. Yeah, you desperately needed this. 

You quickly finish getting ready before your plans can get thwarted and are shooed out of the house by Carolina and Ryan. They promise to text you updates and have everyone in bed on time, but don't pressure you to come home early. "We've got this," Carolina says with enough conviction that you can believe her. Still, your anxiety spikes once you're down the driveway, and you have to convince yourself that everything is okay. Joel grabbing your hand and asking you a question pleasantly distracts you. 

The autumn sun slowly sets over the California hills and casts a golden glow over Joel's face, catching the grays in his hair and beard beautifully. He's fifty now and older than he ever thought he'd be. He told you as much on the night of his birthday, along with his fears of being an older dad and husband. "I just don't wanna miss anythin'," he said. You reminded him that he was only fifty and he's in exceptional health for someone who spent most of his thirties and forties making music and bouncing around the world on tours. Plus, aging looks good on him. 

You talk about little things like how he's scribbled lyrics onto a notepad he keeps beside the bed or how Daisy has adjusted to having three little kids around instead of one. You're in the middle of saying something when he makes a familiar turn, and you can't stop the laugh from leaving you as the restaurant comes into view. 

"Are you serious?" You ask, looking at him with a big smile, and he shrugs.

"What?" He asks, as if he's not stopping in front of the restaurant where you had your first (contractually obligated) date. 

"Joel, we haven't been here in…" you trail off as you do the mental math before gasping. It's ten years to the day of your first date. Guilt immediately pools at the base of your spine, but Joel just sits there with a smirk on his face. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't even realize. I've been so caught up with Sammy and the girls and-" he leans over the center console and kisses you before you can continue rambling. 

Normally, you make it a point to remember days like this. Your first date, breaking up, getting back together, getting engaged, getting married, all of it. That's why it's so shocking that you forgot about it, and on a milestone year, no less. 

"I'm so sorry." You say, and he shakes his head. 

"I didn't say anything, so it could be a surprise," he says. "I called Caro and Ryan about a month ago to set this up, and I rented out the whole restaurant, so it's just us. We don't have to worry about cameras or fans or anythin'." 

Of fucking course, he would do something like this. You sigh and drop your head to his shoulder. 

"I didn't even get you anything." You mumble guiltily. He chuckles and kisses your temple.

"You just had two of my kids. I think that's more than enough." He says. You could spiral about feeling like a bad partner (how could you forget when your life together started?), but you have plenty of time for that. For dinner, however, you're on the clock. So, you push the thoughts away for now and stare at your husband fondly.

"I love you so much it's stupid," you say, and he smiles.

"Right back atcha, baby." He says. Much like he did on your first date, he gets out first and gives the car keys to the valet before opening your door for you. You take his arm and walk into the restaurant with him. There's no need for a hostess since there's only one table set up in the space, and it's impossible to miss it. Beautiful flowers surround the table, already set with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of red roses like the ones he turned up at your door with. He pulls your chair out for you and steals a kiss before moving to the other side of the table. Light, romantic music plays over the speakers, and the candle flickers in the middle of the table. It's perfect. 

The bottle of wine is from the year you were married, and it has a special label bearing both your names. You haven't had any wine for almost a year, and Joel, knowing this, evidently pulled out all the stops. He pours each of you a glass and raises it in a toast. "Thanks for going on a second date with me," he says, and you laugh. 

"Thanks for giving me a reason to." You say and clink your glass against his. The wine is amazing, and it's not just because you haven't had any in so long. You spend some time catching up with each other and talking about nothing important until a very nice waiter comes by to take your orders. Besides the waiter coming and going, you're left alone with Joel, with nobody crying or asking you for anything. It's nice, if not a little strange. 

You take your time eating and drinking and giving Joel your full attention. You laugh together and get butterflies when he kisses your hand or brushes his knee against yours. It's a little silly to get so worked up over such small gestures, but it's been a hot second since you've had adult time, so you figure it's fair. God forbid you still find your husband attractive. 

In the middle of dessert, a special request of Texas Trash Pie— which doesn't come close to his mother's but is still delicious— you look up from the dish and find whipped cream in his beard. You snort a laugh at the sight, and Joel furrows his brows.

"What?" He chuckles. You gather your napkin in your hands and reach out to wipe his face, not unlike you do with your son, and he blushes a little when he realizes what was making you laugh. "Can't believe you still like a mess like me." He says before taking another bite and somehow getting more on his face. Once you're full and pleasantly tipsy from the wine, you scoot your chair closer to Joel, and his hand finds a home on your thigh. 

You can't stop staring at him. You track the changes you've watched unfold over the past decade: a little more grey on his temples, the creases next to his eyes a little more prominent, and his hair a little longer. He still has that indescribable sparkle in his eye that you think can only be a product of his joy. Your heart squeezes when it only intensifies as he looks at you. 

"We've been together a long time," you say, and he hums. "Ten years, five kids, one dog, three finished albums, and one in the works."

"And four movies, an Academy Award, and how many others?" Joel chimes in, never the one to just accept praise, and you roll your eyes playfully.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," you say, making him smile. You grab his left hand and trace his gold wedding band back and forth and back and forth a few times before you look at him again. "I mean, considering everything, we've done pretty well for ourselves. Can you handle ten more years with me?"

"I'd take a hundred more years with you." He says so quickly it takes your breath away. "I'd do it all over again if it meant this would be our life." 

"Even though we have to change shitty diapers and get no sleep?" You ask, the question betraying the sudden tears, and he laughs.

"There are worse things." Like thinking you'll never see each other again. Like running out of time. Like never seeing him in our children's faces. Yeah, there are much worse things. You take a deep breath and squeeze his hand. 

"I love you." You whisper like you told him you missed him not even a week ago. 

"I love you, too." He whispers back as he kisses you sweetly. The waiter lets you linger for another half an hour before dropping the check and very politely tells you they'll be closing soon. Joel leaves a big tip as an apology for staying so late and personally thanks all the staff who worked to make this possible. He's all Southern charm and manners, even as you leave the restaurant and wait for the car. 

"Thank you for tonight." You say, and Joel gives you a look. 

"Y'know, we don't have to go back just yet. The kids are all in bed. Carolina and Ryan said to enjoy each other." He says, and you squint at him, a smirk pulling on your lips.

"And what would we do with all that extra time?" 

"I might've reserved a room in a hotel nearby, just in case. We can order breakfast to the room early and be home before the kids wake up." 

"Do Caro and Ryan know about this?" You ask, but you already know the answer. You scoff a little and shake your head before stepping close to him. "You must've been really desperate to fuck your wife to plan all this, huh?" Your lips brush against the shell of his ear, and you swear, you feel him shudder. 

"Don't worry, baby. I'm gonna take such good care of you."  

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethksplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01 @acupofhollie

#one for the money two for the show #oftm #oftm family #rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader #rockstar!joel miller #joel miller au #joel miller #tlou au #the last of us au #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #dad!joel miller #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fluff #tlou fluff #the last of us angst #tlou angst #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader

[moonlezn]

Try Hard III

punk bassist!jeno x reader genre: fluff wc: 1.7k part I & II a/n: can't believe this baby has come to an end. I had so much fun writing it. honestly, I didn't expect getting any attention, so thanks a million if you've read it and interacted in any way. once again, this is some mindblowing fluff. enjoy <33

Immediately after the boys left the stage, you handed the camera to Chenle. Finding your way backstage was easy, but you couldn't say the same about finding Jeno. Even following the unmistakable noises from the band, you only found three of them. Then, a few doors were opened and... he wasn't in the rooms.

Giving it one last shot, you ran to the back exit, finding him in the dark alley the door led you to.

"Found you." Winded, you let out a gasp. He chuckled fondly. "Heard somewhere you wanted to tell me something?"

"You did? Where?" Jeno joked, hoping to God he would relax a bit. After coming down from the performance high, he panicked slightly. So he hid, knowing you'd look for him. It'd give him sometime. You were quicker than his guts, though.

"Just... at the coolest concert I've just watched." A grin plastered your face.

The atmosphere was tense, awkward. The expectations racing faster than words made the hands tremble, the glances focus anywhere else but each other's eyes.

Enough is enough, fuck it.

"I like you." He blurted out. "Have. For a long time." It was like his shoulders were free from months of tension. His steps towards you felt right, so he kept going until you had no option but look at him. His arm supported by the wall behind you, his free hand took yours delicately. Small waves of electricity hit your cheeks, your belly, your knees.

The dim lit space made it easier to connecting your orbs to his. They were sweet, loving and God, were they beautiful. The sight of his features upclose so fluttering.

"I have, too." Your fingertips played with his, but it wasn't enough. You touched the arm supporting him. The alcohol rushing through your veins offered you some help. "I want to take you out."

"Like on a date?" He asked, feigning confusion to make you giggle. Jeno could hide his erratic heartbeat, but not the scarlet tint on his cheeks. "And where will you take me?"

The small jewelry hanging on his bottom lip spoke to you very clearly, and his skin under your digits was tingling. You lightly connected your lips for a brief minute. The urge won over your reason.

"I'll let you wonder." Pecking his lips once more, you left the alley. The feeling lingered right there as you found your friends again, not allowing to think it was just a dream.

Louise and you arrived at Renjun's party together after you'd spent the day together. You hadn't been much for parties lately, but you must admit your friend really helped you get hyped while you got ready together.

As soon as the girl stepped into the room, Renjun took her away from you. She apologized a few times, but you couldn't get mad when they had those lovey dovey eyes. Left alone, the first thing you did was scan the room looking for your best friends.

"He is upstairs, weirdo." Jisung's voice startled you, and you almost punched him. "I'm a bad bitch, you can't kill me."

"Nobody gets vine references anymore, Jisung. Let go." Chenle reprimanded, offering you some of his beer.

"Well, I do." Jisung looked at you significantly. "We do, right?"

"Yeah, totally." You answered sarcastically and sipped from Chenle's cup. Jisung sighed in betrayal.

"She does get it. She only wants to be nice to you."

"Jealous much?" You eyed the tallest. He mumbled the cutest 'whatever'. "I'll look for Jeno and meet you here later?" Chenle forced a laugh and you frowned.

"I doubt we'll see you again tonight." He said, tapping your shoulder to let you know it was just a joke. "Go get him!"

You had never felt more like a little girl than at that moment, when you found Jeno by the pool gazing at the stars with a drink in his hand. The view was so mesmerizing you wanted to tattoo it in your memories.

"Hey..." You approached Jeno carefully so as not to alarm him. "Are the stars so much better than the party downstairs?" Rhetorical question. You knew for a fact the boy wasn't a crowd person, apart from concerts.

"I have the best view now." He said as you were sitting down beside him. He heard you snorting and thought of how much time he'd lost by letting his insecurities get the best of him.

"Is that the best you got?" You asked, trying to play it off. It felt like you unlocked the dork inside him last time.

"Ouch." His hand flew to his chest, but shortly after, his eyesmile was seen.

His grin was so pretty, and once again you couldn't help being drawn to his labret. It made you weak. It wasn't until he touched it with his tongue that you noticed he had caught you red handed. Jeno shortened the distance between you a bit, allowing you to feel his breathing intertwining with yours. He licked his bottom lip slowly this time, just to watch your reaction.

"Don't try me." Your voice came out in a whisper. His eyes became little crescents again, as his face got even closer.

"Or what?"

Just like that, you kissed him for real. As slowly as you could, you captured his lips in yours repeatedly. While touching his tongue ignited you, he melted in your hands stroking his nape and shoulders.

"Gotta be careful." You teased his piercing this time, not wanting to hurt him.

"Don't be." He murmured before kissing you again. And again. And once more.

As much as you didn't want to give Chenle the victory, he was right. You didn't see your friends again that night.

After promising you'd never hear the end of this, Jaemin actually gave you some nice suggestions for a date with the bassist over text.

jaemin: just take him on brunch date lol jaemin: he loves it finds it romantic and shit jaemin: he's been blushing non-stop since you sucked face you: will do you: u mad he got bitches ((only 1

While waiting for you, Jeno admired the sun kissing sidewalks and cars outside the cafeteria you had chosen. His feet tapped the floor, his fingers played with the seat, he glanced at the door for what seemed like a thousand times.

It went without saying he was nervous. And yet, it was the very first time he looked forward to a date. He couldn't put a finger on whether it was only because of you, or also for the fact he hadn't been the one in charge of it. He really felt the pressure off his shoulders this time, and honestly he enjoyed taking steps after you.

"Have you waited long?"

"No, not actually." He broke his trance, smiling widely at you. "I already ordered, though. Hope you don't mind. They have this thing here... chef's kiss."

"It's fine!" You said, laughing at his hand gesture following his words. "Let's see if you have good taste."

"Of course I do. I like you." Bold of him. But when he saw he could make you chuckle as easily as that, he got a huge wave of confidence.

"JENO LEE!" You played around, watching him shrug. But then, he reached for your hands over the table and you blushed even more.

In fact, Jeno had taste. His order was delicious. You wouldn't forget the expression on his face when you first tried it, the smug smile and the small claps. He was proud of himself.

You talked for what seemed to be only a minute, but you shared so much. He made your ribs hurt over the simplest jokes. As a matter of fact, you had so much in common – music, series, fashion, hobbies. Every new discovery made you wish you'd been closer before.

"Wanna go for a walk? We could check this exhibit near here..." You didn't even finish your sentence and he grabbed your hand to leave.

"What kind of exhibit is it?" He questioned and you just smiled, hurrying through the streets.

"I promise it's gonna be worth it."

Jeno seemed fascinated by the immersive experience. He was never one to look into Art, however, each painting seemed to be tangled with your bodies and it was so different. Good different.

Enchanted, he watched you jog to your favorite composition. The canvases were splashed all over the walls, and the brushstrokes gained life as the aroma of water lilies and lavender wafted in the air.

He didn't fight back the urge to take pictures of you, whom was covered with Claude Monet's colors. When you found him again, he registered your precious smile in his phone.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Your eyes never stopped exploring the place. "Let me see your pics."

"They're nothing compared to real life." He chuckled, showing you the last picture of you, giggling like a child. "You'll have to teach me some photography, though." He said, seeing the blurry memories. "Good thing you're so beautiful."

"The rumors about bassists are true, then..." He gazed at you tenderly. "They're the flirty heartbreakers of a band."

"I won't break your heart."

Why resisting to kiss you when you already knew he was so into you? That crossed his mind before he swiftly took your lips in his again. It all happened so fast, but he couldn't bring himself to say he disliked it. Both of you had been holding back for so long, it was only right that you made the most of your precious time together.

Jeno desired to let you know how much of a fool he was becoming for you, so he poured his everything into the kiss. He hugged you tight just as your own hands carressed his back for support. He pecked your lips several times, smiling with those cherry lips you were learning to love. He made you feel like the only girl in the world, just as he would from that day on.

Slowly you got used to being Jeno's. Whenever he confided his sweet, sweet words to you, he knew your heart was his as much as his was yours only. Whenever you held his hands to play with his calloused fingers, or whenever you smooched his whole face in the middle of campus, shamelessly telling him how cute he was, or even when you roamed around sharing earphones, holding hands... You both knew you were safe. You'd never have to try so hard again.

#nct fic #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fic #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct timestamps #nct dream timestamps #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #jeno x reader #jeno fluff #jeno scenarios #jeno fanfic #jeno fic #nct dream college au #nct college au

[writingjourney]

honey and venom | papa iv x fem!reader

Or: The four times you fell for your best friend without noticing and the one time you did.

Summary: You’ve been Copia’s best friend for years, unaware of just how deep your feelings go. It's only when he shows you his new stage outfit, that you realise friendship is not all that you feel for him. A difficult conversation leads to confessions… and exploring how easily (or not) the outfit can be removed.

Content: ~9.5k words (i know, i'm sorry), lots of fluff and pining, kinda slow-burn, best friends to lovers, part v contains smut (18+ only, MDNI, mostly sweet, some marking, oral sex f receiving, vaginal sex, nothing too specific) tldr: two oblivious idiots in love

Ao3 link – Masterlist

I.

The first time you fall for your best friend without noticing it… well, you have technically already fallen – and he isn’t your best friend yet. You’re lying on the floor, covered in dust and the fifteen library books you had been carrying in a terrifyingly high stack. Not innocent but feeling very much betrayed, you glance at the perpetrator and find…

A tricycle?

„Oh, no, no, no,“ is all you hear before you see a whoosh of red fabric crouching down beside you. „I just parked it for one second! Are you alright, sorella?“

In hindsight, you’re laughing about it and so does Copia. All of it happened three years ago, when he used to be an awkward Cardinal who was riding his tricycle around the abbey, bumping into all kinds of corners – and you. The resounding noise of the falling books echoed through the halls of the abbey like it continues to echo in your mind whenever you think about that day. Just like you still see his mismatched eyes staring into yours in absolute horror when he leaned over you in the following quiet. You only fell for him an hour later when you saw those eyes shining, lashes meeting in the corners as he gave you his first genuine smile. Not that you’re aware of it just yet.

„What are you thinking about?“ 

You look up. „Hm?“

Your Papa, in full make-up and his robed, mitred glory, does not look like the shy Cardinal you met at all. No, he stands before you like he commands every room. And he will command the congregation in ten minutes when Mass begins, once you helped him put on his robes. Not that he needs you to do it, but it has become some sort of ritual.

„Your mind seems to be somewhere far away,“ he explains.

You hand him his gloves. „I just thought about how we met. And how far you’ve come.“

He smiles. „One of the best days of my life, no doubt. I would not be here if you had not stumbled over my little vehicle, amore.“

You shake your head. „You would be, Papa. I have no doubts about that. All I do is listen to your thoughts and hype you up. I am practically a cheerleader.“

With practised movements he yanks the gloves onto his hands, sprawling his fingers like a surgeon as he pulls them down. You watch him round the table, now in his full outfit, an unusually stern expression on his face.

He stops before you, one of the gloved fingers tilting your chin up. „I won’t hear any of this, amore. You do so much more. You are so much more.“

“Copia–“

„You understand your Papa?“

You nod. „Yes.“

The solemn expression turns into a laugh and he clasps his hands together. „Then let’s fucking go. I have some ministering to do and I better see you in first row with some pompoms, doing a sexy little dance, eh?“

You roll your eyes at him but follow his cackling out of the door anyway. He may be the most powerful man in the church now, but deep down he’s still your silly best friend.

II.

The next time you fall for your best friend without noticing it starts with a touch. A kiss, to be precise.

The smell of food in your nostrils is unbearable, stomach growling as you wait for what feels like an eternity in front of the heavy wooden door. You’re about to fish your phone out of your hoodie’s pocket when he opens. „Amore?“

Copia calls you amore whenever you’re alone, rarely ever using sister or sorella anymore unless someone is with you. You are not… a couple. But he insists it’s the only name that feels right for you. Not your name, not a random nickname. Always amore.

„Papa,“ you say. „I brought food. How does dinner together sound to you?“

He smiles gratefully. „How did you know I was not in the mood for company?“

„I am company.“

„Yes, but… good company.“ He steps aside to let you in. „The best.“

Copia’s quarters, now that he’s Papa, are much nicer than before. You had to convince him to get some new things because you were tired of eating on the floor whenever you came over for lack of proper seating. The first thing he acquired was a comfortable couch that you helped him choose and that you settle on now, unpacking the Chinese food you brought on a similarly new coffee table.

„How was your day?“ you ask when he sits down next to you. „Stressful?“

One glance at him is answer enough. Even though the Papal paint hides the shadows under his eyes you can see how tired he is. He’s stripped off most of his robes apart from a black frilly shirt and his regular black pants. His hair stands up at odd angles and there are ink stains on his ungloved hands. When you glance over, you notice a huge stack of papers on his desk.

„Actually, I should still be working,“ he says, grabbing one of the paper boxes with food.

„No, actually, you should eat something,“ you correct him. „And let me take care of you for a bit before you collapse. You’re no help for the clergy if you work yourself to death.“

Copia sighs, a timid smile working its way on his face. „What would I do without you, amore?“

In a lapse of self-control you lift your hand and comb one of the stray pieces of his hair down. The touch makes him freeze which in turn makes you freeze and you only realise your hand is still on his face when he leans into your palm, his soft cheek warm against your skin. He looks so weary, so utterly exhausted.

Your throat is suddenly dry and you swallow. „I don’t like seeing you so overworked, Papa. It worries me.“

„I’m fine, amore, I promise,“ he says. „It was a long week.“

„What can I do to help?“

He huffs out a laugh. „You are already doing more than you should.“

His hand finds yours where it rests on his cheek and he brings it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. Your heart clenches, overwhelmed by the tender gesture, by the warmth of his bigger hand covering yours. His soft lips leave a wet imprint on your skin and when he lets go of you in favour of eating, you remain dazed, puzzled. You struggle to grab your own food box, scared of losing the ghost of his kiss on your palm.

Copia, seemingly unaware, munches on his spring rolls. „What do you say? We watch a movie and relax together? I think that would make me feel better and it would ease your worries.“

You nod with a smile, trying to shake the tingling sensation in your fingertips. In that moment, you feel another tickle but this time on your leg. Looking down, you see one of Copia’s furry friends trying to get your attention. „Oh, what are you doing here, Fagiolo?“

„Ah yes, I forgot I had him out of his cage,“ Copia says. „He was keeping me company. Well, chewing on my papers more like.“

You pick up the rat, letting it settle into your lap. „You want our leftovers, huh? Have to wait a bit longer, my love.“

Fagiolo doesn’t mind. He’s Copia’s most patient rat, the most well-behaved, too, and he loves sleeping in pockets so much that you’re sure he’s gonna bridge the time with a nice little nap. Just like expected, he climbs into the pocket of your hoodie and gets comfortable.

„Look how cute he is, Copia! Look at his lil face peeking out!“

„He is,“ Copia agrees, but he’s not looking at the rat. Instead he’s smiling at you with so much warmth in his eyes that you’re melting. „He is, amore. Just like you.“

III.

You sit in the refectory for a late lunch, eating a sandwich and scribbling down notes for an upcoming lecture you’re doing for the new initiates You hoped most of the clergy was finished with lunch by now, but it’s still noisy and distracting. There is a group of Siblings at the table next to yours, in particular, who are chatting and laughing and gossiping with no shame. One of the Sisters in particular seems to be the object of interest. As soon as she sits down with them, everyone’s eyes focus on her.

„So who were you with last night? You never came back to your room,“ one of them says.

The Sister giggles. „I can’t tell you. No. I just can’t.“

„Come on. That Brother who’s been flirting with you for the past month?“

„No, you’ll never guess. Don’t even try!“ 

It’s clear she wants them to try anyway. The others indulge her, loudly complaining, urging her to disclose her secret until she relents. The table goes quiet, preparing to catch her speaking under her breath. „I was with… with Papa.“

The supposed whisper is so loud that half of the room can hear it and they all glance at you, knowing you and Copia are friends. So you pretend you haven’t heard it. Pretend you’re focused on the notepad right next to your plate, scribbling random letters down to appear busy.

„How was it?“ someone asks.

„It was great,“ she says. „I got to try out that thing I’ve always wanted to try out. I think he was really impressed. I won’t be surprised if it happens again!“

Your pen gives off a pained cracking sound and you realise you’ve used so much force that it nearly snapped. When you glance down at the notepad, there are only four bold letters where you were tracing the lines over and over until the paper is stretched so thin it threatens to rip.

FUCK.

Your day is ruined and you’re not even sure why. You’ve wanted him to find relief for some of his stress for a while now and what better way than a night of passion? The sister was beautiful, she seemed to be a real sweetheart. Maybe he has genuine interest in her, maybe this could mean he’s on his way to finding happiness. You’re happy for him. So happy.

But why do you feel like someone kicked you in the guts, multiple times, with combat boots?

You’re lucky you’re on library duty this evening because you’re not sure you could be a polite member of the clergy right now. Something is wrong with you and it unsettles you. What is it about the situation that bothers you so much?

You nearly jump out of your skin when you suddenly hear steps coming up to the desk you’re nearly falling asleep at. It’s Papa, wearing a dark cassock, Grucifix jangling in front of him as he approaches. But he’s not in the exuberant mood you expect him to be in. Instead of a warm glow he exudes a depressed energy. He seems tired, unsmiling, almost hungover, really. Pale and jittery, he looks like he needs to throw up.

„Co– eh, Papa,“ you greet him.

You still struggle not calling him Copia. He doesn’t mind you not addressing him by his title but you don’t want any privileges. Being friends with him already makes it harder to connect to the other Siblings. They would be even less accepting if you lost all propriety.

„Hello, amore,“ he says, a tired edge to his voice. „I have some books to return to you.“

You give him a kind smile. „You know you don’t have to do that yourself, right?“

„I wanted to. I knew you’d be here and I felt like seeing you.“

„What’s wrong?“ 

He raises his brows. „What do you mean?“

„You look like you’re getting sick,“ you say. „Are you unwell?“

Copia shakes his head, waving you off like he often does when you show concern. „No, no. I am fine. Not in the best of moods today, maybe.“

„I would expect you to be elated today,“ you say. „Floating, really.“

„Why?“ He hands you the two books he’s been carrying under his arm, still staring at them as you reach out to scan them. „Did I miss something?“

„Well, how was it?“

„How was what, amore?“

„Your… company last night. I heard some Siblings talking earlier.“

He looks up, clearly surprised and overwhelmed by the question. „It was… ugh… okay. It was fine.“

Your eyes meet. „Fine?“

A shrug. „You know.“

„I know?“

He’s flustered, uncomfortable, but you cannot go back now. So you tilt your head to the side in question.

„Sometimes you need to… to scratch an itch,“ he explains. „And it feels good in the moment, but when you’re done… you realise it was not the right way to go about it and then the sting hurts more than before. It actually becomes really fucking painful.“

Brow furrowed, you take in his tense stance, the way his ears are red, how he avoids your gaze. He doesn’t want to hurt you, you suppose. He knows you’re not… getting a lot of intimacy. Of course he wouldn’t brag about having an amazing night, he is quiet about these things, discreet.

„So, she wasn’t…“ You try to find the right words. „Not… what you thought?“

„Oh, she was great. No, she was really… beautiful. And all of that.“

That answer is enough to make you regret ever asking. What did you think he would say? You don’t want to hear any of the juicy details. In fact, you would rather rip your ears off than hear any more about it. So you backtrack, using the opportunity to finish with his books. „Sorry, I mean… it’s none of my business really.“

Copia waves off. „No, you’re my best friend, of course you are interested. You would tell me, too, right?“

„Yes, of course. I would… I would totally tell you if there was someone.“

Copia looks at you expectantly when you don’t continue. „So?“

„So?“

„So, is there someone?“

„No. No one.“

You stare at each other for a moment, then. It’s hard to hide how this is affecting you. The thought of him with literally anyone seems wrong and you have to admit that you can’t imagine being with anyone right now either. This friendship with him is all you really care about. Maybe that’s enough for you. It doesn’t seem to be for him. If he starts seeing someone for real, what will become of it? Will he forget about you?

„Mi dispiace,“ he says. „I know I am overly worried again and you don’t like that, but, amore… you seem…“

„I’m completely normal,“ you interrupt before he can pinpoint what’s wrong with you. „I don’t know what you mean.“

„So there is nothing weighing on your heart?“

You shake your head, forcing out a smile. „No, I’m okay. I’m great, actually.“

„Good, then give me a hug,“ he says, opening his arms widely in a theatrical gesture. It’s one of his strategies, a last resort, asking for hugs whenever he feels like something is off with you because it’s the only way you’ll soften up to him. The only way you don’t shut down.

This is something that started way back when he was still Cardinal. You’d been relatively new as well and struggled with loneliness. Opening up to anyone, making friends, it’s always been hard. After your fateful encounter, meeting the bumper of his tricycle by accident, he almost begged you to make it up to you by carrying the books he made you drop. That day you felt awfully lonely and so you let him trail after you, glad to have some sort of company. You talked to him all afternoon, realising how much you had missed easy conversation, and at some point you just randomly started crying because it felt so nice to have someone listen in earnest. He’d tried to coax the reason out of you, but you just assured him you were okay. Of course he didn’t buy it, but he also didn’t pressure you for details. Instead he asked if a simple hug would help.

He’s been hugging you when you’re trying to shut him out ever since.

And it makes your walls crumble every single time.

You step out from behind the desk and let him embrace you. Initially, you struggle not to imagine him holding the other Sister in his arms like that. But then his hand moves into your hair and he starts scratching your scalp just how he knows you enjoy and, in an instant, all of that is forgotten. You exhale slowly, then breathe him in. He smells heavily of incense and smoke. You get lightheaded from the heady scent, melting into him. Or maybe it’s just his proximity, the way he’s surrounding you so completely.

„Come over tonight?“ he whispers. „We can watch that movie you wanted to see before you fell asleep on me last time.“

Your stomach drops like you’re on a rollercoaster, heat rushing to your cheeks. You whimper into his neck, the sound muffed by his collar.

„Is that a yes?“

„Yes.“

IV.

The last time you fall for your best friend without noticing it he stands you up for dinner. 

It is not like you have a fixed appointment or that you always have dinner together. But most evenings you simply end up at the same table in the refectory, eating together like an old married couple, talking about your respective days. The domesticity of it is your favorite thing. It just feels so natural. And now, sitting by yourself because no one really dares to be your friend, you just feel pathetic.

So after dinner, you end up looking for Copia anyway, convinced that he’s still working somewhere and just forgot to check the clock every once in a while. You forgo getting him food, deciding to just fetch him something later in case he hasn’t eaten yet. The man really needs to take better care of himself, but he’s so bad at accepting it.

You find him on a blood-red chaise longue near one of many fireplaces that keep the library warm and the books dry. At this hour, he has swapped the papal robes for his lighter black cassock that reminds you of his Cardinal days. He reclines comfortably with an old book on his lap and a notepad beside him. Of course he’s still working.

„Amore,“ he says, looking up when you approach.

„Oh, I didn’t think you’d be busy,“ you say. „I can come by later.“

„No. Please join me,“ he says. „I am preparing a sermon for Sunday Mass.“

„Only if I won’t bother you.“

„You could not even if you tried. I relish in your company too much to ever tire of you.“ 

You’re elated by his words, a warm, comfortable feeling settling in your chest, tickling the insides of your ribcage. There is enough space for you next to him, so you pull your legs up and turn sideways to face him.

„I can use your opinion.“ He turns to you, a sheepish smile on his lips. „You are always so good with words. See, the topic of the sermon is… love. It is about how the most blissful feelings always carry the potential for pain with them. How do you like this quote?“ He takes his notepad, reading from his own messy handwriting. „Amore et melle et felle es fecundissimus.“

„Love is rich with honey…“

„…and venom.“

You smile, letting the words linger in your ears. „Love is both sweet and bitter.“

Copia stares at you with a penetrating gaze, nodding slowly. „Yes, it is.“

„I like it, very fitting,“ you say, taking the book from his lap as it threatens to fall. The language of love. A near ancient copy, the pages covered in dust and yellowed by decades of sunlight.

„It is very true, don’t you think?“ Copia asks, averting his gaze almost urgently like he can’t bear to look at you.

„It is,“ you agree, frowning. „How did you come up with the topic for the sermon?“

He scribbles in his notebook. „Ah, you know. Uhm… I think someone suggested it. Because it is Valentine’s Day soon.“

„That’s only in three weeks.“

„Yes, but… what better topic than love, eh?“ He chuckles and you wonder if you’re imagining the nervous tint to it. „Anyway, what brings you to me?“

„Oh, I just thought we hadn’t seen much of each other today,“ you explain. „And I missed you during dinner.“

„I missed you, too. I am sorry, I was dining out.“

„Oh.“ You ignore the pang in your chest. „So, that’s… that’s how you thought of the topic.“

He squints. „What?“

„Well, if you were on a date…“

„Oh, not a date!“ He chuckles. „No, no. It was with Sister Imperator.“

„Oh.“ Your cheeks heat up and you avert your gaze. „I just thought… a few weeks ago, you and that Sister…“

„Ah, amore, it was a one time thing. There is no romantic interest.“

„Great! I mean, good to… good to know.“ You hastily start flipping through the pages of the book to hide your embarrassment. „So do you need more quotes?“

„Yes, it is good to have a selection. You are okay, yes?“

„I’m alright,“ you say, acting very busy with the book. „I’ll help you.“

You start reading the old latin words in earnest now, scanning them for some more fitting aphorisms. Most of them are overused, some are far too cheesy. It is surprising how humanity has always felt similar about love, about heartache, about desire.

„What about this one?“ you say. „Adeo ne hominem immutare ex amor, ut non cognoscas eundem esse.“

Copia’s eyes are wide when you look at him, the meaning of the words leaving his tongue in a whisper. „Is it possible that a man can be so changed by love, that you could not recognize him to be the same?“

V.

Humming contently, you meander through a crowd of bubbly initiates towards the wing that houses the higher-ranking clergy members, a stack of papers pressed tightly to your chest. The abbey is so much more crowded now than it used to be, but here, everything is eerily quiet. Despite your status as Sister you’ve been here so many times, you could find your way blindfolded.

Opening the heavy wooden door to Copia’s chambers, you’re met with the sight of a ghoul carrying a bunch of clothes bags. As he steps away, the Papa sees you and his eyes light up. „Oh, amore, you’re right on time!“

„What are you doing?“ you ask, placing the papers you need signed on his coffee table. 

„Outfit check!“ he exclaims happily. „Trying on my new stage outfit or… at least one of many.“

„Oh.“

The ghoul leaves, closing the door without the sound fully registering in your mind. You stand there, staring at your Papa like he’s the Unholy Master himself.

He’s wearing black, rat-eaten jeans that are so skinny they basically leave nothing to the imagination. The intricate rips and details on his thighs draw your eyes up his legs and you notice the jeans are not fastened with a simple zipper but with lacings. You’re vaguely aware that your eyes linger on his crotch longer than is appropriate but you can’t help it. Even so, there is just so much to take in. His boots are soft Italian leather, matching his gloves. With a black frilly shirt and an elaborately embellished leather jerkin on top, he doesn’t just look like your Papa but an infernal apparition, ready to conquer the world and spread Lucifer’s gospel.

„What do you say, eh? It is good?“ He looks at you with big puppy eyes that stand in stark contrast to the skull-like Papal paint, awaiting your judgement. Only that you haven’t found your voice back yet. „… Amore? Are you okay?“

You snap out of your trance and nod. „Yes. Yes, very good. You look…“ Breathtaking? Like sin itself? „Uhm, the outfit, it looks… looks great. Really. Unholy in the best kind of way. Like you’re a Dark Gothic Lord.“

He preens, eyeing himself in the mirror in front of him with a smirk. „Yes, I think so too.“

What are you supposed to do now? Are you losing your mind?

„I like the big shirt sleeves underneath. And the… the copper ornaments on the jerkin. Very regal. The perfect outfit for a Papa,“ you ramble on. „They will lose their minds over it when you’re on stage, you’re so very handsome.“

„Oh, you’re just flattering me! Saying what I want to hear!“ He waves you off as he laughs, a high, unrestrained chuckle. „Now, what do you really say? You, not the others.“

You have no idea if he’s seeing through your confusion, you don’t even know what’s happening yourself. Something feels off, your whole body is acting up.

„I think you look incredible,“ you say truthfully. „It’s the best outfit yet. I don’t think I’ve ever found you so… magnetic.“

His smirk widens. „Magnetic, eh?“ 

This shift in expression does something very unusual to you. It almost feels… flirty.

You swallow the lump in your throat and smack his shoulder. „Don’t let it go to your head, Papa.“

„Oh, I absolutely will. You never say things like that, it is special. I will have to write it in my diary tonight.“

Your cheeks suddenly feel suspiciously hot. „What’s my opinion worth anyway? I’m just a Sister.“

„You’re not just a Sister,“ he says, frowning. „You are my confidante, you know me like no one else, and you have good taste, too.“

„I don’t think it matters in the great scheme,“ you argue, looking away in embarrassment. „What matters is that you’re going to win so many people for our cause wearing this.“

Papa scoffs. „It matters to me. You’re my friend.“

You ease up, realising there is no need to be defensive about your admission. So what if he knows that you think he looks extremely attractive in his new attire? It’s not a secret. Everyone will tell him the same.

„Well, I think you made a superb choice,“ you eventually say. „I like it. No, I love it.“

His smiles becomes sweet, a little flustered. „Thank you, thank you. Now give me a hug so I know you mean it.“

His arms open widely in the same theatrical gesture as always. And it’s charming, really, it would be charming now if you didn’t suddenly have the hots for him. Nevertheless, you hug him back because any hesitation would make him sad.

When his arms close around you, you notice a nervous feeling in your belly. A feeling that is suspiciously close to the feeling you last had when you were freshly in love. And not just that but the insides of your thighs come to life as your core starts throbbing for attention, your skin tingling underneath the fabric of your clothes.

Fuck, do you have a crush on him?

No, that is impossible. He’s your best friend. He’s been your best friend for so long now. 

Sure, from time to time you do think about him before you sleep and when he touches you, there are undeniable sparks. And yes, maybe you felt a tinge of jealousy after his hookup with the other Sister. And yeah, you do miss him when he’s touring and you can only see him on screens. You did cry when he became Papa, the pride and love you feel for him overwhelming you at the sight of him in his chasuble, mitre and the full make-up. But it has always been a friendly sort of love, hasn’t it? 

Now, in his arms, you feel like it hasn’t been. 

Your heart beats so fast you’re scared he can feel it knocking on his chest, asking for entrance. Thinking back, it has always beaten faster when you touched him, when he hugged you, when he called you amore in this sticky sweet tone that always lingers in your ears.

„You know, I think your hugs are always my favourites,“ he mumbles, his voice low in your ear. „I could do this for hours.“

You fight a nervous chuckle as he pulls you even closer. He can’t know, can he? 

„Me too, you… you feel really good,“ you say instead, trying to ignore what the scent of his cologne does to your insides. Or how his hands moving over your back make you weak in the knees. It’s a lot of body contact, these hugs, the closest you ever really get. Only that all of a sudden it’s not enough anymore.

You realise you were oblivious to your own attraction. The familiarity of your friendship seems to have overshadowed the underlying feelings and now they are trying to break free. Suddenly you feel like you want to rip the damn outfit off. Only he’s not letting go, keeping you closer than ever, and you surely won’t be the first to break away.

„Co– eh, I mean Papa,“ you try. Your nerves are blank.

„You can call me Copia when we’re alone, I told you before,“ he says. „It slips out all the time anyway.“

„I know, but I want to keep minimum respectability.“

He scoffs, one hand moving further up and into your hair. „I know you don’t have any of that, it’s okay. You’re the only one who is completely honest with me.“

Are you? You’re beginning to think you haven’t even been honest with yourself. You remember the burning need you felt a few nights ago, how you were taking care of yourself under the shower and suddenly, without warning, it wasn’t your hand between your legs but his. In the heat of the moment, you didn’t correct your thoughts and imagined him standing behind you, your back pressed to his chest, his hands all over your body. You came in record time, his name clumsily tumbling from your lips that are yet unused to moaning it.

You swallow hard. „What if… what if I’m not?“

Copia lets you go and you regret ever saying anything. His eyes are narrowed and he looks positively terrifying with his make-up. „You hate the outfit?“ he asks. „It’s okay, just say it.“

„No!“ You lift your hands in a gesture of innocence. „No, that’s not what I mean.“

Copia sighs in relief. „Alright, what then? You know you can tell me whatever it is, yes?“

„Not this.“ You shake your head vehemently. „No, it would… make things bad. I’m sorry. Actually, I should probably go.“

You try to walk past him but he grabs your wrist and the touch alone sends sparks through your whole body. You whimper and when you turn back to him he looks genuinely concerned. 

His hand moves into yours, so familiar and yet all new. „Amore, why do you not trust me? Have we not been the best of friends forever now?“ 

You stare at your joined hands, admiring how soft the leather of his gloves feels as his thumb moves over your skin. You concede, the effort of running pointless when you see him later for a meeting anyway. There is no escaping this now. The feelings are there, they won’t go away.

„You are my best friend,“ you say. „Which is exactly why I cannot tell you, Copia.“

„Okay, then I will guess,“ he says, letting go of your hand to raise three fingers. „I know you so well, I get it right in three tries.“

He does know you well, he is not as awkward around you as he is with others, pays closer attention to you. But he cannot possible think of that when not even you yourself knew it until five minutes ago.

Only three tries.

You find yourself nodding. 

„Yes?“

„Yes. But if you don’t get it right then I won’t have to say it. Ever.“

He shrugs, feigning confidence. „Chiaro.“

„Then shoot.“

For a long moment he stares at you, eyes narrow, like he could read your mind if he only tried hard enough. It sure enough feels like he does, his white eye especially piercing. „You have a secret. I say it is… oh. No, you are not… you don’t have a secret illness, do you?“

„No,“ you say. „No, I would tell you if I had.“

„Phew.“ He licks his lips, then starts stroking his chin. „What can it be? You are not sick, you don’t hate my outfit… You… you plan a surprise for someone! You can’t tell me because you know I would give it away. I admit it hurts me, but you are right, I am bad at secrets.“ 

Again, you shake your head. „No, no surprises.“

That seems to confuse him but he’s still eager to guess. Meanwhile your palms are so sweaty you have to wipe them clean on your habit. The room feels stuffy all of a sudden, hot and suffocating.

„Hmmm. What could it be?“ Copia singsongs, completely unaware, tapping a finger against his temple as he paces. For a moment, you assume he can’t come up with anything else, that you’re finally off the hook, but then his whole face lights up and he swivels around. „You are in love!“

Any attempt to remain indifferent flies out the window. The shock sits so deep you cannot control your distorted expression.

„Oh, it is that!“ he says, reading your reaction perfectly, but he’s not as happy as he should be. Instead he huffs out a breath. „So, you… you are in love?“

„I… um… I guess…“

„You said you would tell me if there was someone!“

„I know… ugh, it’s… it’s kind of unexpected… I…“

„But who? Chi potrebbe essere?“ he interrupts before you can embarrass yourself. „There has not been anyone new here lately. It cannot be Terzo, you always complain about him. One of my ghouls? No, no, I have not seen you look at them in that way. Could it be a new Sibling?“

„Copia…“ You take his hand, stopping him. „Don’t make me say it.“

„Why not? I can help y–“ He suddenly stops when he sees your pained expression. „I… Is it… No, it cannot be…“ His gaze is penetrating, his hand squeezing around yours, and you cannot tell if it is pity in his eyes or something else. „Amore…“

„Forget about it,“ you say, embarrassment flooding through you. „Doesn’t matter. I knew it would be a long shot. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Just… just promise not to stop being friends with me.“

„Amore, why would I stop being friends with you?“

You’re very close to crying. „I don’t know, because it’ll be weird for you.“

„Why would it be weird? Sure, the ghouls will tease me relentlessly. But there is no rule against it. If anything, it is encouraged to follow your desires. No one will say anything and if they do, I don’t care. I am Papa, I can do what I want.“

You furrow your brow, a tear rolling down your cheek. „I don’t…“

„Why are you crying?“ he asks, rushing to grab your face and wipe the tears away. „It is good, yes? Now it is out. We don’t have to pretend anymore.“

„Pretend?“

„You know how hard it was to hide that I’ve been in love with you for so long?“ He furrows his brow as your jaw drops. „Actually, maybe I should have started with that.“

You smack him again. „Yes, you should have!“

„I’m sorry, I just… I thought I was so obvious. Everyone knew,“ he says. „I thought you just do not feel like that.“

„What do you mean, everyone knew?“

„I…“ He stops. „Well, I have… I told you I am bad at secrets. The ghouls ask me almost every day if we’re finally together. And I was not subtle about it, I wrote a whole sermon about how much it hurts to be in love with you.“

Your eyes widen in realisation. „Love is… love is sweet and bitter.“

„Yes,“ he deadpans. „Did you think I just made that up?“

„How did I not know?“ You grab the front of his jerkin. „How could I be so blind?“

He seems startled by the sudden proximity, gulping visibly. „Cara…“ he trails off, eyes shooting to your mouth. „I don’t… I don’t know.“

It is clear as day that he wants you. That he wanted you all this time. And this is not the first time he looked at you like that. You feel like an idiot.

But at least you can make up for it now.

„We have an hour before the meeting with Sister Imperator,“ you say, moving your hands up to his neck to play with his collar. „I love the outfit, but I really want to see how fast we can take it off.“

Copia’s mouth opens and closes again, no words coming out. You cradle his cheek and he leans into the touch, whimpering softly.

„I need you to tell me what you want,“ you whisper. „If you don’t want this–“

He snaps out of his trance. „I do. Lucifer, I want you so bad. I just… I wasn’t prepared for… I don’t really…“

„Shhh.“ You tilt his chin up so he’s forced to look into your eyes. „It’s okay, we only do what we’re feeling like. But I really really want to touch you.“

Copia nods eagerly and you slowly open the knot on his neck. When your thumb moves to his windpipe, you feel him swallow. He’s visibly nervous, anticipating your every move. It’s tempting to take your time, but you’re on a tight schedule.

„You can touch me, too, you know?“

He chuckles nervously. „Oh, amore… where do I even start?“

Smiling you take his hand and bring it to your cheek. His other hand naturally finds your waist, pulling you closer. His eyes are still on your mouth and he licks his lips like they’re dry.

„Can I kiss you?“ he finally asks.

Your voice comes out in a sultry whisper. „Yes, please.“

Copia leans in and you close your eyes. His lips hover over yours for a second, your noses touching but nothing else. You already feel your insides fluttering in anticipation but it’s nothing compared to the feeling when his lips finally touch yours. He’s tentative, gentle, but slowly gains confidence. You quickly find a rhythm that makes you melt into him, body resting against his. Copia’s hand moves into your hair, pulling your head back lightly to change the angle. He’s more in charge now, moving his lips over yours like he’s never done anything else in his life. You’re a puddle, letting out a moan that comes from somewhere deep within.

Copia falters at the sound, starts grinning into the kiss before he breaks away. „Ah, shit. I need… need a moment.“ He takes a deep breath that he lets out in a laugh, more of a high-pitched giggle really. „It is so hard to believe this is real and not one of my dreams. Tell me I am not dreaming, amore.“ 

The corners of your mouth move to mirror his expression. „No, it’s very much real.“

He huffs out another deep breath, like he’s preparing to do a sprint, then grabs your cheeks and starts pressing kisses all over your face. He’s nuzzling your nose, fingers pressing into your cheeks to make you pout, then he continues to kiss every piece of skin he can reach. „It’s real,“ he says in between. „You’re real. You like me back. Shit shit shit.“

You laugh and he continues, making you squirm and writhe in his arms whenever he reaches an especially tender spot, coaxing all kinds of squeals and giggles out of you.

„Oh those sounds. Those fucking sounds.“ He kisses you on your lips once more, lingers before pulling away. „I love you, amore. You make me so happy.“ 

„I love you, too,“ you say, completely out of breath, your kiss-swollen lips burning. „So much.“

Copia grins again and you think your heart must have doubled in size. When he kisses you again, it’s booming in your chest like it’s attached to a bass speaker. His hands move down to your hips very slowly, tracing every curve before he pulls them flush against his. Feeling his semi-hard cock pressing against you, you decide it’s time for more. The next time he pulls away you trap his plump bottom lip between your teeth, then suck it into your mouth. 

He moans into you, using the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He’s very careful, his tongue licking at your bottom lip before he carefully rubs it against yours. You realise he tastes vaguely sweet and you tickle his tongue back, smiling into the kiss.

You only break away when you feel your lungs burning, a thin thread of spit connecting your mouths. Copia is just as breathless but his hands dig into your butt with surprising force, keeping your hips pressed to his so you don’t pull away any further. Maybe he feels a similar throbbing, the need for friction so deep it’s just not enough.

„I really do love the outfit,“ you say, running your hand over the leather jerkin as you slowly recover. „So… mesmerising. Does it make you feel confident?“

„Yes. Yes. But…“ He takes a shuddering breath, whimpers. „Amore, the pants are really tight.“

You smirk, bite down a chuckle. „Hm, poor baby, think we need to give you some more room, huh?“

Again, he whimpers in reply. His cock is straining against the unforgiving denim, trapped behind the lacings. It’s endearing how worked up he is from making out, but you hate to see him suffer. So you let your fingers dance down his torso all the way to the bulge in his pants. When you touch it, he groans like a wounded animal. 

„Ahhh.“ The sound turns into a high-pitched whimper. „Amore, please. It hurts.“

You want to help him, really, but the lacings are a menace. You fiddle with them until they finally loosen. Copia lets out a sigh of relief that quickly turns into a growl when you pull his cock out of his pants

„Better?“ you ask, giving him a gentle stroke.

His hands dig into your behind. „Mhm.“

„What do you want to do?“ you ask. „Do you want me to help you?“

„No, I think I want…“ He takes a deep breath. „I need to see you, amore. Please, can we take this off?“

You nod and he fiddles with your habit. It’s optional, apart from certain occasions. Most of the time, you’re not wearing the head piece and only pull the black robe over your head quickly before heading out. So it’s easy enough to just rip it off, though you have to do it because he’s clearly too distracted by your hand on his dick to make you let go.

Once it’s off, he’s distracted by something else though.

„You’re so beautiful, amore,“ he whispers, hands busy exploring the curves of your body. „I thought you would be but… merda.“

„Hey, this was supposed to be about undressing you,“ you say.

„Right,“ he says. „Sorry, got carried away.“

He still is because he’s no help at all when you try to open the jerkin. You eventually manage on your own, carefully lifting it off his shoulders while Copia is still occupied with admiring your lacy bra. You know you need to be careful with his outfit and it’s testing your restraint.

„Please, I need cooperation,“ you mumble.

„Yes, yes.“ He helps you, finally, placing the jerkin and his shirt over a nearby chair, the jeans following suit.

„The gloves…“

„I need to to take them off this time, amore. It’s not the same if I don’t feel you.“

You relent and it doesn’t really matter because you’re much more focused on his now almost naked body, the tip of his erection peeking out of his black briefs. It’s a sight to behold, your Papa with his slender figure, the little pouch on his belly, soft lovehandles and strong thighs from performing.

„Is it okay?“ he asks, like he’s not the most beautiful man you have ever laid eyes on.

„You’re…“ You struggle to find the right word. „Copia, you’re all I could ever want.“

He smiles with more confidence now, hands reaching out to you until they finally close around your waist again. You’re still in your underwear so when his now bare fingers touch your skin it sends shivers all over your body. He was right, it’s better without the gloves – at least this time.

„What do you want to do now?“ You run your hands over his chest, unsure where to touch first. He’s soft and warm, dark grey hairs running down his chest, stopping at his navel, then continuing on in the most beautiful happy trail you’ve ever seen.

„I want you on my bed, right now,“ he says. „And then we’ll see what we feel like. But before that I think this needs to go, amore. I want to see all of you.“

He tries to open your bra but it won’t work immediately. You attempt to help him but he swats your hands away with a frown, tutting softly.

„I can do it,“ he insists and he does, after two more failed attempts. You indulge him, it’s fiddly and he’s still trembling in anticipation when he carefully slides the straps off your shoulders. The bra tumbles to the floor and you feel a gush of cool air against your already hard nipples.

„Can I…“

„Copia you can touch me wherever you want,“ you assure him, taking his hands to place them on your breasts. He palms them gently and you fight a chuckle. „However hard you want, too.“

He smiles. „It still feels forbidden for me. I used to chide myself for even thinking about doing this.“

It’s hard not to fall in love with him even more. He must have been imagining this even more times than you did and the thought makes your heart jump. He loses some of his shyness and starts properly groping you, leaning back in to reach your lips. You move your hand back down to stroke him, feeling him so hard and ready for you. He moans into the kiss, breaking away immediately.

„Hm, no,“ he says, taking your hand away. „No, you can’t do that.“

„Why?“

„It’s too good. I won’t last.“

„So what?“

Copia chuckles. „So what? Come on, move your pretty ass to the bed. I have plans.“

You do as he says, even though it feels almost wrong to mess up the tidy black bedding – bedding that you picked when he got a new bed that also you picked. It makes you smile now, thinking about how he practically made you choose his furniture to make sure you’d feel comfortable here.

When you settle into his sheets, Copia stops and takes you in. „You know, I often imagined you like this. And it’s so much better than in my head.“

You smile and he slowly crawls over you, carefully letting his body weight rest on top of you. If you thought your usual hugs were good, this is even better. He’s a little sticky with drying sweat, his skin clinging to yours, and it feels amazing. His mouth captures yours in a short kiss but he’s quickly diverting his attention to your jaw, sucking and nibbling on your skin before he moves down to your neck.

„Let me mark you, amore, please,“ he whispers.

You bury your hand in his hair and give him an encouraging hum. His lips close around the skin just below your ear and he sucks violently. For a second you think you could come just from this, the shocks of pleasure so heavy they make your hips buck. Copia remains undisturbed, licking over the abused skin after a while. He lifts his head and gives a satisfied grunt.

„More,“ you say and his lust-filled eyes meet yours. „All over me.“

Eventually he nods and goes to work. You’ve lost track of time but you imagine there’s still room for this and even if there isn’t, you’re way beyond caring now.

Copia repeats his process a few times all over your body, starting with your clavicle, then the top of your cleavage, taking even more time to suck your nipples into his mouth and leave bruises all over your breasts. You fight the urge to squirm but it’s impossible, especially once he reaches your abdomen and his lips tickle the sensitive skin just above the hem of your panties.

„Off with those,“ he mumbles and this time he doesn’t struggle, removes them in one swift motion and pushes your legs apart despite your protests. „What, now you’re getting shy?“

You are. It’s one thing having him see your breasts but it’s a whole different thing to have him there. Your brain is still processing how this is happening when he continues kissing your skin, focusing on the soft insides of your thighs now.

He chuckles at some point but before you can ask what’s funny he sucks so violently that your hips jerk upward. That only makes him chuckle harder before he blows onto the bruise, pressing one last gentle kiss to it.

„You get impatient, I like that,“ he says. „You’re always so composed, so calm. Who knew all I had to do was put on some nice clothes and you’d be weak for me?“

„I wish I had known, too, I would have come prepared.“

„How so?“ He kisses your other thigh, getting comfortable between your legs. 

„Would’ve worn nicer panties.“

Copia laughs. „No, you would have ruined them. Did you not see how wet they were?“

You didn’t but you felt it. Him saying it makes your cheeks heat up nonetheless and you cover your face with your arm. „Stop.“

„Why?“

„You’re not supposed to be so perfect,“ you whine. „You’re supposed to be awkward and shy.“

Copia chuckles. „I was but then you turned into a puddle just because I sucked on your neck. Gives me great confidence. And besides… it’s you.“

„Me?“

„No one makes me so comfortable,“ he says, resting his cheek against your thigh. „You make it easy to love you.“

Before you can comment on it, his hand closes around your thigh and throws it over his shoulder.  His breath tickles your clit as he presses a kiss just above it. „Let me taste you, amore.“

„You won’t let me pleasure you but now I should let you?“

„Yes, I just… I don’t want to rush it. I’ve been dreaming about this so, so many times. I want…“ He pauses. „I want to make sure it’s good for you. I don’t care about me.“

„But I do.“

„I know, cara mia. But after this, I want you to come back here, every night, and I need to make sure you do.“

Like he thinks you won’t love him anymore if he comes too early? You try to make sense of it but he’s kissing your mound again which makes thinking very hard. 

„Please,“ he says softly, kissing again and again. „I need to.“

It’s not much of a choice. Of course you let him. „But don’t ruin your make-up.“

„Amore, your face has black mouth prints all over it. I’m not the only one who needs to clean up later.“

You open your mouth and he grins up at you, all while your heart swells in your chest. Then his mouth moves downward to finally kiss the spot you really need him at. You can’t help the small jerk of your hips. He ignores it, instead he parts your labia with his tongue and gives you a broad lick. It has your eyes rolling back, fingers digging into the sheets.

„So good,“ he mumbles, accompanied by a low hum. „Perfetto.“

You can’t stay sane like this, it’s too much. He does it a few more times but all you can do is bury your hand in his hair and hold on for dear life. His tongue dips into your entrance but he quickly replaces it with his thumb so he can go back to your clit. You’re getting close very fast but you really don’t want it to happen like this. You want him closer, you don’t want to come alone and you certainly don’t want him to come from humping the mattress.

„Copia, love, please,“ you whine.

He looks up. „Hm?“

„I need you inside of me.“

You can see the reluctance in his eyes but the will to please you is bigger and so he stops and crawls back up to you. He’s a total mess and you definitely have to fix his make-up before leaving, but you don’t have it in you to worry now. 

„Please,“ you say again. „I want you to come with me.“

There’s liquid desire in his eyes, swirling when he takes in your words. „Can I just…“

„Yea,“ you say. „Don’t worry about it. Unless you and that sister…“

„No,“ he interrupts. „Sathanas, no.“

„Okay.“

„Are you sure?“

„Yes.“

He shuffles off his briefs and runs his tip through your folds to get it nice and slick. And it is so slick that he easily starts sliding into you. Copia stops immediately, eyes meeting yours as he slowly pushes in deeper, making sure you’re okay. The stretch is incredible, slow and steady.

And then he bottoms out.

„Oh, amore,“ he whispers just as you whisper his name. The groan that follows gives you goosebumps. He has you clinging to his biceps, nails digging into his pale skin, and he hasn’t even moved yet. You’re flooded with emotions. Love, desire, pleasure. It’s enough to take your breath away.

„Are you well?“ he asks, his hand finding your cheek.

You can only nod, rolling your hips into him to indicate that you’re ready. Copia starts moving ever so slowly, gentle thrusts that hit you just right. He finds a rhythm that suits you both, your combined moans and whimpers filling your ears, increasing ever so slowly.

You don’t know where to hold onto once he gets really fast, hand searching for his. „Love.“

He sees you, moving the hand from your cheek to grab yours, pushing it into the mattress right next to your head.

„I won’t last,“ he grunts, followed by a string of Italian curses. „T-tell me if you’re close, amore.“

„Just a little more.“

That’s enough for him to grab your hips and change the angle. It’s awkward with one hand but he doesn’t have to hold you for long. Hitting you just right every time, your walls clench impossible tight around him and you come with your back arching all on its own, a barely suppressed scream leaving your lips. Copia sets you back down and rides it out, messy, unrhythmic thrusts, before he completely falters and comes with a growl. The pleasure in your veins numbs everything else but you feel his cock throbbing inside of you, nonetheless, even as he collapses. Your legs are still shaking as they wrap around him, keeping him close. 

„Oh, fuck,“ you whisper, clinging to the last bits of consciousness. You feel all tingly inside, almost like fainting.

Copia hums in agreement, shifting onto his side without slipping out. You wrap your arms around him, pressing a suffocating kiss to his lips. He keeps you pressed to his body, chest to chest, even as he softens inside of you.

„I don’t know why you were worried I wouldn’t come into this bed again,“ you joke.

A laugh rumbles in his chest and he presses a tired kiss to your forehead. You give yourself ten more minutes before you make sure you both get clean and to the meeting. Right now, you settle into the blissful feeling in your body, into the comfort of his arms.

„I should get new outfits more often if they lead to this,“ he says. „And you’ve only seen the first one.“

You can imagine the devilish grin on his face, even with your eyes closed. „Perhaps you’d like to model the other ones for me later?“

He kisses your shoulder, lips lingering on your skin. „I would like that very much.“

If you read this far I applaud you, I know it's really long. Thanks for sticking around and feel free to chat with me at any time. I would love to know which parts of the fic spoke to you in particular ♥️

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