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sp0o0kylights · 7 months

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Bullshit.

The word rings obnoxiously in Steve’s ears as he pushes his way out back, not wanting to be anymore of a talking piece at this party than he already was.

He’d just wanted Nancy to stop drinking, take a second, pace herself…

Steve swipes furiously at his eyes, and then curses when it nearly causes him to run into Chrissy Cunnginham, who’s perched in a chair tucked away from the patio door.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes, trying not to sound like he’s upset, trying to keep his cool--only for her to look up and away, brushing off her own tears.

“Oh.” Steve says, a little laugh bubbling out of him. “You too huh?”

Thankfully she correctly interprets that he's not laughing at her, and adds her own giggle to the mix, the sound gentle even if pitched in upset.

"Boy problems?" Steve asks her, sinking down to the vacant chair on Chrissy's right.

She nods, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Girl problems?" She asks back, and he grimaces a smile.

They sit for a minute, Steve pulling out a cigarette and offering it to her before lighting up. Chrissy shakes her head, and though her nose curls a little at the smoke she doesn’t say anything.

Neither of them do, staring at the few people bringing the party outside in the way only drunk teenagers can.

"Can I tell you something?" Chrissy says finally, as Steve continues to struggle to keep himself breathing evenly (and not spiraling. He still has to go back and try and escort Nancy home, and he needs to keep his temper when he does it.)

She licks her lips. "I keep trying to break up with Jason, but he won't let me."

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do he leans himself towards chrissy in concern. “What do you mean, he won’t let you?”

“He’s not--it’s not…”She trails off, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “He talks me out of it is all.”

She’s downplaying it, and Steve’s concern grows tenfold. “Does he argue with you or just…tells you no or something?”

"It's complicated." Chrissy says, refusing to look at him. "He has this vision for me, for us."

Steve watches as she worries at a hangnail.

Feels the need to reach out and take her hand, but keeps his own hands to himself.

If Steve has learned anything, it's that not everyone wants to be touched as much as he does.

"He keeps telling me I'm just being anxious. That I should trust him, and I do, he just expects me to always do what he says? And more and more lately I--"

She huddles down into the little cat costume she's wearing, pulling the thin black sweater around her. "I want different things than he does."

Steve wonders vaguely if Nancy wants different things.

Or a different person entirely.

"That's not fair to you." Steve says, leaning forward and lowering his own voice. "He can't keep you in a relationship you don't want to be in."

A hard thing for him to say, after the bathroom conversation but this is different.

‘Please, let this be different.’ He thinks, before pushing the thought aside.

"He can't force you to do what he wants just because he wants it, or thinks its best. He should be listening to you and what you want too. Relationships are about…compromise right?” It’s what he’s heard anyway, though most of the time “compromise” means “letting the other person get what they want.”

Which is what he thought he’d been doing for Nancy all this time.

“I can help you if you want. Be your," Steve poorly mimes waving a pom pom. "cheer support."

Chrissy looks at him, eyes still wet. "You would?"

"Of course.” He says, before scooting just a smidgen closer. “Might have to ask you to return the favor though. Nancy said some things tonight and I could really use a second--”

A loud curse makes them both startle, interrupting Steve.

Together, they look around before another noise, like bark being scraped, draws both their attention to the large oak that stands in the backyard.”

"Is…is that Eddie Munson?" Chrissy asks.

"I think so."

Chrissy squints a little, as if not quite believing what she's seeing. "Is…he stuck in a tree?"

Steve finds himself staring in his own disbelief, hands moving to his hips as he watches Munsons wriggling, cursing form.

"I think so." He repeats with a shake of his head.

Eddie's foot slips off a branch, once, twice.

"Hey--" Steve calls out in warning, but unfortunately it comes too late.

The branch under his foot gives away with a startling crack! as another branch shreds Munson's jacket as his full weight caches on it.

"Oh!" Chrissy gasps, hand flying to her mouth as Eddie falls right onto his ass with a yelp.

"You good man?" Steve asks, rising from his chair, hesitant to go over but needing to make sure the idiot hasn't cracked his skull open.

Chrissy has no such qualms, popping up to run over to Munson.

"You're bleeding." She tells him worriedly, dropping to her knees to get a better look.

"Well shit." Munson says with a wonky grin. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Chrissy asks, as Steve’s newly honed babysitting instincts kick in and drive him to get up and look at Munson’s injury himself.

Chrissy carefully strokes the older teen’s hair out of his face, as Steve bends down to check his head and neck.

"You hurt anywhere?" He asks, spotting the scratch that had Chrissy worried.

It’s on his forehead--the guy must have knocked his face against the tree when he fell. Head injuries always bleed a ton but this one's well contained to a small scrape.

Probably not a concern, though Steve looks at his pupils anyways.

"Nah, I’m pine. I didn't mean to drop in on you guys.” He waves a hand behind him before dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that tree, it was pretty shady.”

Steve, long trained by Dustin, narrows his eyes. "Are you making puns right now?"

"Maybe?" Munson hedges, looking delighted to have been called out.

“Uh huh.” Steve puts his hands back on his hips, straightening up from where he’d crouched down. “Your head okay? You remember your name and shit?”

“Edward Edwardian Munson, present and ready for duty!” He gives a mock salute, before dropping Chrissy a wink. “If the duty is drinking and playing games that is.”

“Your middle name cannot be Edwardian.” Chrissy laughs.

"It is!" He defends, at the same time Steve says,

“It's not "

“Oh?” Munson challenges, as if this entire situation isn’t ridiculous. “Then what is my middle name, Sir Steven?”

“No idea, but I know it’s not that.”

Munson blows a raspberry at him. “Well then, maybe you should mind your own beeswax."

"Like you were doing? Up in the tree right above us?" Steve banters back.

The playful look dies a little, Munson beginning the painful process of standing after one falls.

"For the record, I absolutely was not eavesdropping, you guys just happened to be under the tree I climbed and I was there first. " He says it rapidly, like he's used to being accused of such things, and is heading off as many problems as he can.

Steve just ignores it, opting instead to hold his hands out. One to Chrissy and one to Eddie.

Watches surprise cross the older teens face, even as he waits for Chrissy to get up before accepting Steve's hand.

"Why were you up a tree? The family dog run you up there?" Steve grunts as he pulls the metalhead up.

"Funny." Munson quipped sarcastically. "But no. I was up there for reasons."

'Reasons.' Steve mouths, and has to fight himself to keep from grinning.

"Even though I was there first, I did happen to hear some things." He looks at Chrissy, voice turning serious. "If you need any help getting things through Carver's thick skull I'd love to lend a hand."

"You would cheer for me too?"

"Oh absolutely. I'd make a far better cheerleader than Harrington here." He shoots a grin towards Steve to take the edge off the words, before doing a far more enthusiastic mimicry of the cheerleaders pom pom routine.

"But I know how much Carver hates the word no. If you break up with him and he gives you shit after, I'm happy to step in."

Steve hadn't actually thought about that yet, but given what he knew of Jason it makes sense.

He could easily see Chrissy worrying about Jason harassing her after the break up.

"Thank you. Both of you." She sniffs. "Eddie, are you sure you're okay?"

"Right as rain!" Munson gives a rather theatrical thumbs up. "I'll let you in on a family secret, we Munson's have rubber bones."

She gives him another giggle for his efforts, and even Steve can’t fully cover his

Munson, the ass, notices.

“Well call me the court jester, I got both the King and Queen to smile!” He cheers.

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny it.

"Chrissy!?" Someone barks, loud in the otherwise quiet backyard.

"Speak of the devil." Eddie drops his voice dramatically as Jason strides out of the house.

"I've been looking for you." He chides, two of his friends following close behind.

They're younger members of the basketball team, ones Steve's brain sluggishly attempts to remember.

"Are your knees dirty?" Jason asks Chrissy, disgust tinting his voice as he slowly looks from her to Munson next to her.

His eyes narrow, expression almost offronted.

"You heathen." Jason snarls, stepping forward with a fist clenched.

It was a move right of the sitcoms Steve swore he didn't watch, and it looked just as cheesy in real life as it did on screen.

"Calm down." Steve speaks up, hands going to his hips.

Jason's head jerks as he registers him, so focused on Munson that Steve slipped his notice entirely.

"Harrington?" He asks, as if Steve could be mistaken for anyone else here.

Steve gives him jazz hands in return.

"What are you doing out here?" Jason speaks only to Steve, whole body angling towards him like he's the only person who matters.

It's something Steve's dad does, if there's a businessman he considers to be an equal in the room. Zoning in on them, so he can subtly work in ways to make them feel inferior.

It's narcissism at its core (or so says his mother, when she's blitzed out on too many glasses of wine.)

"Talking to people." Steve deadpans. "If you're looking for beer, you walked past it."

Jason entire face pinches, like he just stepped in dog shit. "No one just talks to Munson."

It's a stupid thing to say, and whatever Hason was trying to imply with it wasn't appreciated.

"Well mark me as the first." Steve's hip cocks, voice frosting over.

Surprise washes across Munson's face, though he remains silent as Steve deals with Jason.

Probably a smart move, given how Jason seems to be eager for a fight.

"Whatever it is you're doing, you can leave Chrissy out of it." He says, and god his voice even sounds like Steve's dad.

"Chrissy," Steve says, with an eyebrow raise he knows looks judgemental, "can speak for herself."

He turns to face her, inviting her to the conversation, in the same way he'd always wished someone would invite his mother to speak against his father.

Watches as the cheerleader bites her lip, trying hard to hide the tears that have sprung to her eyes--but proves that she's stronger than Steve's mother ever was.

She steps forward, taking the opportunity offered to her with a steadying breath. "Jason--"

"You can explain it to me later." Her boyfriend waves her off, like she was a waitress offering water and not his partner.

Uncaring entirely that she's clearly upset.

That she wants to talk.

Munson has come to stand on Chrissy's other side, gone still in a way Steve's never seen him do.

It's downright weird for a guy who's normally always moving, and Steve knows it's defensive.

He's feeling a little defensive himself right now, though he doesn't want to particularly untangle why.

"Jason, listen to me." Chrissy tries again.

In his preffery vision, Steve spots a flash of familiar color. Turns his head automatically, seeking it out--and sees Jonathan hustling Nancy across the room.

The younger man is trying to balance Nancy while opening the front door, and for a second Steve almost beelines for them, except--

Except.

Nancy's whole body moves in what Steve intimately knows is an exhale, leaning her head in the crook of Jonathan's shoulder.

One arm wraps around his waist, as Jonathan finally gets the door open, and Steve watches with a stunned sort of horror as his girlfriend presses a kiss to Jonathan's shoulder.

It's fine.

He's fine.

Nancy was just--drunk. Seeking comfort. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't mean it like that, she didn't--

"Oh shit Harrington." Jason drawls, a lazy sort of taunt. "I think Byers just stole your girlfriend."

Steve's head snaps back to him, the emotions he was attempting to box up flying to the front of his brain like dogs who slipped their leash.

"Never thought a priss like Nancy would be easy like that, but then, you never were the kind of guy to inspire loyalty." Jason continues, clearly ignoring his own girlfriend and all Steve can see is red.

Munson sucks air between his teeth next to him, nervously eyeing Steve while Chrissy's eyes have gone wide with shock and growing anger.

"Jason!" She admonishes, but he's not even looking towards her.

That too sharp smile is all for Steve.

He thinks of Nancy, the way she'd been so angry with him but so gentle with Jonathan.

He thinks of the monster he faced down in the Byers house, the terror that had shrank down to that same adrenaline soaked focus he had on the basketball court.

He thinks of this asshole Junior in front of him.

Making Chrissy cry just because she'd been kind enough to try to help Eddie, and accept Eddie's kindness in return when the weirdo tried to help her and Steve both.

Steve taps his foot, then switches his stance.

'Plant your feet.' Hargroves voice snarls in his memory and Steve wouldn't be surprised if the asshole abandons the keg long enough to come watch this.

Have his turn at heckling, just because he can.

Steve plants his feet anyway.

"You know what Carver?" He says, hands dropping from his hips.

Jason's face curves into a smile. "What?" He says, tone smarmy.

"You're full of shit."

Hand cocking back of its own accord, Steve puts every bit of himself into his punch.

Feels it reverberate up his arm as his knuckles connect to Jason's cheek.

It's going to hurt later, but right now all he can do is stand over Jason as the asshole's head snaps sideways, legs staggering him backwards until he's falling into his friends.

Chrissy gasps, Jason's boys chanting variations of 'Oh shit!'

Steve just glares him down.

The junior wipes his bloodied mouth, letting his friends push him up before shrugging them off.

"You're going to regret that." Jason snarls, and Steve squares up a second time, expecting to be rushed, when the sharp snickt! of a switchblade freezes them both.

"I think we're done here." Munson says, knife in hand.

The blade he holds is stained a deep, russet red. Crusty flakes fall off it, drifting gently down to the patio floor.

Jason's eyes boggle at it for a moment before he stands up straight.

"Now it makes sense. You're weak, Harrington, letting the Freak get his claws into you." Jason spits bloodstained saliva down at Eddie's feet. "No wonder Coach wants Billy as co-captain!"

Steve just scoffs.

"Chrissy!" Carver barks, making the poor girl jump. "Come here, we're leaving!"

Trembling, but stepping closer to Steve, she shakes her head.

"Chrissy." Jason orders again, and has the audacity to point to his feet, like a man commanding his dog.

"No." Chrissy says it quietly at first, voice a little shaky, before she seems to realize it.

She stands taller, repeats herself in a stronger voice. "No, Jason. We're done."

Jason stares at her, hard. "Chrissy, your mother told me to bring you home. So I'm going to take you home and get you away from this--demon and his lackey!"

It doesn't sound loving.

It sounds like a threat.

He steps forward, hand out to grab her arm and Steve tenses, shifting to step in front of Chrissy.

Eddie beats him there.

The word demon seems to awaken something in him, because his face is now grinning theatrically, voice dipping low in pitch.

"You heard her, Carver. She said no, and even I respect a lady's wish. So run along now," he walks two fingers in the air, from the hand not waving the knife around. "before I decide to make you and her both one of mine, just as I did Harrington!"

Jason actually crosses himself, before making one last attempt for Chrissy.

"That monster is dangerous. if you don't come with me, I'll have to alert your parents." He locks eyes with her. "For the good of your soul."

Steve snorts at that crock of shit, but Eddie lunges forward, slashing the knife in the air.

It's nowhere near Jason, but the guy leaps a foot back anyway.

"Begone!" Eddie booms, and that's all it takes for Jason and his cronies to huff and puff and stride away.

He keeps his arms in the air for a few beats more, before dropping them when it's clear Jason won't be back.

"So I'm yours, huh?" Steve drawls, as Eddie finally puts his hands down and turns to face them.

The guys scary face drops into something almost excited, and Steve can practically see the adrenaline crackling through him.

"Hey it worked. Carver's a religious nut, he goes running anytime you even hint at Satan." Eddie shrugs, grinning wildly. "Put on a little show and poof! Him and his flying monkeys melt away!"

He mimes melting and Steve stares at him for it, until he hears Chrissy laughing next to him.

Eddie grins at her and Steve is hit with the realization that it was for her benefit. To make her feel better about her psycho ex.

Something fond and familiar winds through his chest as the other boy bows.

He refuses to put a name to it.

"Did you paint your knife?" He asks instead, rubbing the hand he hit Jason with.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled out of his court jester act.

Steve nods to his hand holding the switchblade. "That's not blood, it's way too red."

"Ah." Eddie turns the grin back on, and this time it's for Steve. "Yeah, it's uh. Modeling paint. Not like Carver would know the difference."

Unspoken was the fact that he hadn't thought Steve would.

Prior to last year, he'd have been right.

Drunken cheering erupts into wild yells inside, breaking whatever spell the three of them were under.

Hargrove's voice is the loudest among them, and the dude is definitely wasted.

Steve has a feeling Hargrove also knows the difference between paint and blood, rendering Munson's knife trick useless if the dick tried to start something.

"Do you want a ride home, Chrissy?" He asks quietly.

"If it's not a bother." She says, wiping tears shed refused to let fall from her eyes.

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for.

"Come on, Munson, I think it's time we all make our exit." Steve says, finding himself weirdly unwilling to leave the older teen behind.

Eddie could hold his own, but given how badly things were playing out Steve figured it was best if they all just called it a day.

"Yeah lemme just…" Munson puts his blade away, fumbling at his pockets for a moment before turning and snatching up a metal lunchbox.

"There! After you, my liege." He says, before opening the lunchbox to make it talk.

"My lady." He makes it say, pitching his voice high.

Chrissy breaks into giggles again and Steve rolls his eyes, but he claps his good hand on Eddie's shoulder as he walks past.

Eddie smiles at him, this one a bit softer than the others, eyes sparkling and Steve chooses not to read into that either.

The three of them walk together, Eddie splitting off to his van after Chrissy thanks him.

Part Two

#borked my computer trying to update the graphics card #have a thing #steven harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #this is part of an almost finished one shot #eventual #steve/eddie/chrissy #eddie is a dork #100% this oneshot focuses on how dorky his ass is #well that and putting two jocks back together after bad relationships and monster's details both their lives #i called it patchworks because its written to ne weaved through the shows plot and is mostly compliant until vecna #hurt/comfort #breakup

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goldsbitch · 16 days

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My name

Busy schedules don't allow Y/N and her boyfriend Lando Norris much down time to chill with her friends. But missing a wedding is a no go.

fluffy fluff, wedding, one shot, for the vibes only

It was almost a stroke of luck that Y/N's friends managed to pick a date for their wedding on a day that Lando could attend. This was a rare opportunity, while she accompanied him often during his events or outings, more than often he was unable to be there as her partner on her personal affairs.

Missed family gatherings, friends birthdays and grill parties. She accepted that part of their relationship, with the hope that in the future, it might come to change. They'd been dating for two years now - if she had to pick the brightest days of her life so far, it would in this time frame.

There was lot of excitement in the late summer air. One of her best friends was marrying a guy she became good buddy with over the years. And Lando would finally be joining her, as her partner. No more half smiles following the question "Would Lando join us this time?". These two friends marrying each other were a nice inspiration for the kind of relationship Y/N strived for. And Lando was that for her - a partner, lover, friend and the one to always make her laugh. But some of the people in her life were not convinced that he was good for her, mainly for the lack of his presence. She did not want the opinions of other to spoil their relationship. However, it would be a lie to say that her heart wasn't jumping around with happiness at the prospect of having him join them.

Her friends organized their dream wedding in a lovely estate somewhere in South of France. Small village remote from any city, safe from any prying eyes. It was refreshing from the flashing lights of racing tracks. Eighty people, all mostly friends with each other.

Y/N came in earlier with the main couple, in order to help them put everything in place. Two days of hard work navigating typical struggled of wedding organizing, with tomorrow being the big day. Regular guest were coming in, but she was only waiting for him, counting every minute.

Those prep days were packed with dealing with logistics and all this wedding usually concern. Going back and forth and trying to make everything perfect for the main event. But, she manages to find a moment of solutide to take in the beauty, the smell of late harvest, sun kissed valleys and heavy summer air, that set everything in. Having the bottom of your dress shiver with light breeze is the epitome of bliss. Life was good. And for the main part, she would get to experience all this with her love around her arm.

The two getting married? They were something else.

"Babe, what the fuck are these glasses?" said the bride to be as she watched the caterers setting up table for an evening dinner buffet.

"Well, you said yes, to them, remember? Back in May," was how the groom replied hastily. Y/N watched, knowing well enough that the strange looking glasses that were too big for her friends small hands were definitely not what the bride would have picked. She smirked as she watched them bicker playfully.

"They look like some futuristic ashtrays," the bride continued, shooting arrows playfully at he soon to be husband.

"Hm. Isn't that cool?" he said, trying to talk himself out of it. They were both strong opinionated people, so this was not a rare debate.

"No? How do you think this suits our late summer garden vibe?" she said, pointing around to the fields.

"You said yes to them, I remember specifically..." he defended without a beat.

"My mom's going to think we smoke."

"Well...we could use them as ashtrays," he said, inspecting the items.

The bride threw her hands up, not believing the game her "soon to be" was playing. "Babe, we don't smoke!"

He mimicked her hand gesture ironically. "We could start!"

"Just admit you've made a fuck up, honey, and we're good."

"That will never happen. This is all part of the plan."

Y/N observed and chucked, knowing well enough that the best thing to do was to stay out of their way.

A small quiet whisper came from behind Y/N. "Is this how they always act?" Shiver down her spine. She smiled, because she could recognize that voice anywhere. Heard it thousand times in the morning, in the middle of a busy day and on too many late night phone call to count. She turned her head slightly only to find him standing right behind her, his head now resting on her shoulder.

"Hi, muppet," he continued as he wrapped his hands around her, hugging her from behind. "I'm sorry I am a little late. Turbulences held us up."

The two stood there, as young lovers would. Completely wrapped in their own world.

"Did they? I completely lost track, as you see, big problems over here," she said and pointed inconspicuously to the couple still bickering about glasses. It wasn't technically true, she managed to get her phone out every other minute as they were unpacking stuff. But that was too embarrassing to admit.

She finally turned around to give him a welcome kiss, a much needed physical contact after not seeing him for almost three weeks. "Do you think we could take a walk around the garden? I would to get my head clear before facing other people," he said sheepishly. The last few race weekends had been very tough on him.

"I would be more than happy," she replied with a smile.

The scenery was too good to be true. Never ending fields of trees, heavy air sitting on the top of everyone trying to breathe and smell of hot soil and dried leaves cut though it all. They walked hand in hand in silence for a while, the sound of cracking branches accompanying them with every step. These two had spoken a lot in the past few weeks, every day it was either a phone call of few videos shared mapping their separate days. Texting was not good enough for these two. Lando was pretty much touch starved. Even though he was touched by random people more than an average person would be, as some fans felt like it was ok to do so. It made him miss the consensual touch he shared with his girlfriend more than ever. Girlfriend was an interesting word, felt outdated for the feelings he had for her. A small box had been accompanying him whenever he saw her for a while now. But he figured that highjacking someone else's wedding with his own proposal was a bit rude and selfish. He was grateful that this time he did not bring the box with him, as he was not sure he'd be able to resist proposing when he saw how the light reflected from her hair made it all shine, like a fresh jar of honey. A white dress would definitely suit her and his last name as well. He knew she'd want to keep her maiden name too and was more than fine with that. But to add "Norris" behind it was his ultimate goal.

"You seem more quiet than usual," she asked after a moment, being more than capable of reading his face. He was slowly letting go of his stress from the races.

"I'm loosing myself in the thoughts about your dress," he replied cheekily, letting her think he is talking about the teal summer dress she was wearing at the moment.

"Are you, now?" she winked and pulled her dress up slightly, only stopping at her bikini line.

"Oh, you can't do that to me," he said, defeated.

"You sure?" She stopped walking, came closer to him and put her arm around his neck. "But it's been so long since you've touched me," she added, knowing this will set him off. Teasing and seducing him was like a second language to her. She god real close and rubbed her core against his crotch.

"You're asking for trouble, Ms....Y/L/N," he nearly had a Freudian slip there. He panicked slightly and decided to kiss her immediately. She didn't seem to notice. Once he calmed down a bit he slid his hand down to he legs and the went back up to cup her ass and pulling her dress up again. "I would have you right here and now," he mumbled into their kiss and she smiled. Absolutely in love.

"We'll have to wait until the evening, we have a very nice room..."

"I don't care about that, I want to cum into you right here and now," he continued and bit her upper lip lightly.

"Anyone could walk by," she kept resisting.

"As if I care."

She laughed and broke their kiss. "We have to go now. I still have to help the poor bride with the decorations."

He signed overly dramatically. "You are making my life a living hell, Y/N."

"You can punish me later," she ended and got out of his embrace and started heading back to the estate. "Come on," she instructed as Lando watched her ass as she walked away. Norris. It's going to suit her.

Evening marked shared laughter, catching up with many friends, local wine with cheese and hands held under the table. Only once it was really happening did Y/N started to notice how much she needed this. Being able to "show" Lando off to her friends for longer than a short appearance. They got to finally know him, not only listen to stories about him. Oh and he was marvelous that evening. Charming, funny, criminally handsome - and always by her side. He was happy to be there. One of the reason being finally able to listen to the people she spoke about, but also to let loose and not have to think about what he says. These were no sponsors, interviewers or teammates. He loved that they cared about her more than him. It was a nice change. And he was on board with that, enjoying the fact that she was the star and not him.

The wedding day had swung by in a blur and suddenly, Y/N and Lando were sitting in a small local chapel, watching her friends making a mark on their relationship.

But Lando was not watching them. He was watching his now girlfriend. With the sight he had in the corner of his eye, the thoughts hanging in the back of his mind were getting louder and louder.

The ceremony was a non serious and cheerful one, the priest making many jokes while still keeping the atmosphere together. As far as ceremonies go, this was an honest one. The only thing to bring people out the holy romantic vibe this gave off was an unapologetically explicit kiss the bride and groom shared as they got wed. It was more like watching drunk teenagers make out. Some people laughed, some people cheered and the rest were slightly mortified. Y/N was one of the people to turn their heads away from the sight, she had known this girl ever since they were kids, this was a little too much. Lando found her reaction amusing, as he had heard many stories of her and her friend to know that she'd witnessed way more extreme things. "Look at you, prude," he whispered to her ear as he watched the bride and groom fight with their tongues.

"I refuse to accept this," Y/N said, keeping it up with the grandmas in the room.

"Well, if this repulses you, then I'm afraid you're going to die of embarrassment at our wedding," he said as if it was no big deal. But to Y/N it was. They had joked about marriage few times, but Lando used a different tone of voice this time. But she had been secretly dreaming about it for a while now.

"You're going to have tie me down if you're planning on doing that," she said, pointing at the pair, not quite sure how to process that he was probably thinking about their marriage too.

"So far, you've never said no to my plans," he winked at her.

Y/N smiled and turned her eyes to the ground. If someone had asked why she smiled so much, she'd say it was because of her friend's wedding. Though it would only be one half of the truth. She held his hand, as they walked out of the church. For some reason, it almost felt like a rehearsal.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #ln4 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #meet cute #fluff #lando norris fluff #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n #lando norris x y/n

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wavesoutbeingtossed · 5 days

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My brain is on fire same I can’t sleep and am thinking of this:

The way she writes about marriage/family/commitment through these different situations across the album is soooooooooo interesting.

You have a very intense first experience of it in “The Manuscript,” where it is first dangled in front of her/the narrator’s young, impressionable self as shorthand for real love in a situation that ended up being smoke and mirrors. She’s being told everything she wants to hear by someone who basically thinks it’s just foreplay. In the end, when it’s clear that the other person has no intention of actually making a life with her, it makes her feel used, but she forces herself to recalibrate and become the girl she thinks he and all the other hes want her to be. Easy breezy cool. But there’s a sense of loss in realizing those hopes were merely banter to the other.

You have the “grown up” version of it alluded to in “So Long, London” and “How Did It End?”, the years of putting in work to save a relationship and the “deflation of our dreaming leaving [her] bereft and reeling” leading to them “calling it all off.” The implication is clearly that they built a home together with plans for next steps at a point in time, but the commitment is shattered. (Obviously to me it sounds like marriage.) She’s bitter at spending her “prime” years with someone who ultimately didn’t want to be there, even if he couldn’t or wouldn’t admit it himself.

She felt like she did everything she was supposed to, but they were learning the right steps to different dances at as it were. Those dreams were at one point shared, but in the end they weren’t right for each other and she admits that, though bitterly (“I founded the club she’s heard great things about” eg the years she put in for him to help him grow up will end up benefiting his new lover, “but I’m not the one,” “you’ll find someone,” etc.). Mixed in with all this of her resentment of him wasting her youth (sacrificing herself at the altar), and his resentment of her for reasons less defined, and insinuations of betrayal in the shadows. The fantasy of the whole package disappears into the ether, yet she still has no answers as to how they got there.

Then in comes the wolf in sheep’s clothing in many of the rest of the songs, the one who promises her all those things she’s dreamed of since she was a kid instantly. After years of moulding herself to other men’s desires, someone comes in and tells her exactly what she wants to hear at the most vulnerable time of her life, as though the universe is answering her prayers, like some sort of cosmic payback for all she’s suffered, and it’s the most intoxicating drug of all. She’s gone from her wish for a family life feeling like she’s in a way being used for her body, to it being used as a chain to a relationship gone sour, to having someone put a metaphorical ring on her finger and tell her he wants to have babies with her, fuck those other guys.

In her grief and stupor, it’s too good to be true, which is exactly why she falls for it. But of course, it’s all an illusion, because this wolf is an amalgamation of the worst of all the men who came before him. He tells her everything she wants to hear not to make her dreams come true, but to make his. He takes the worst parts of these scenarios to make his move: he’ll stand by her, he’ll commit, he’ll do it out in the open under the spotlight’s glare (all things desperately lacking in her last relationship), but after he beds her he stabs her in the back in private and leaves her. He got what he wanted at the expense of her losing everything she wanted, this time as her world caved in seemingly for good. She feels like she gave up everything she thought she might have had for a chance that this is where the universe has been point her all along, only to be left broken for good (you represent the loss of my life as I knew it).

Then there are two sort of codas to this. In “But Daddy I Love Him” we get a sassier reimagining of “Love Story,” where the girl with the scarlet letter is mouthy and crass and tells everyone to go fuck themselves for cursing her in the first place, choosing her love above all else. And no, those haters can’t come to her wedding. Her daddy may have come around, but they sure can’t. Finally it seems someone is choosing her and will someday give her these things, and she’ll be able to show all the naysayers. (Also interestingly one of the more fictionally-veiled songs which ends happily vs the diaristic ones that don’t.)

Then of course there’s “So High School,” our first glimpse into what the future holds. Probably the only unabashedly happy (nay… electric?) song on the album, it’s all about reclaiming the buzz of youth (which is a whole other post) with a new lover. “Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me? It’s just a game but really, I’m betting on all three for us two.” It’s, er, a direct nod to a certain now-infamous interview, but again, she’s staking her claim on her future, if not certain then at least hopeful again. This time the prospect doesn’t come with a “but.” It’s not, we’ll be pushing strollers but actually you’re too young. It’s not, we had these dreams for our future but actually I can’t move forward. It’s not, I’m going to promise you a ring and a baby but only until my needs are met and then I’m out. It’s, I know what I wanted and I’m not leaving, and thanks to that now she stays too.

The album dealt with the theme not at all in the way I expected, but is absolutely fascinating.

#writing letters addressed to the fire #me thinking too hard about Taylor lyrics #the tortured poets department #i have many thoughts #No brain power

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moonstruckme · 5 days

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can i request a reader who can’t admit she’s upset with one the marauders (or all)? like refuses to cry…only if you’re comfortable of course. thank you :)

Thank you for requesting gorgeous!

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

The smell of smoke coming from the kitchen is the first sign that Sirius has tipped over from resentment into remorse.

“Jesus,” you open the front door on your way into the kitchen, eyes watering, “what are you doing?”

“I was trying to make rice,” he says, fanning desperately over your pressure cooker, “but I think I’ve fucked it.”

“Do you think so?” Any other day you’d both grin at the harmless snark, but now Sirius’ expression pinches and you think your own must look the same, your tone more biting than you meant for it to be. “It’s fine, it’ll be fine once it airs out. Help me with the windows?”

Sirius acts like it’s a competition, opening three windows before you’ve finished two and looking at you like he’s expecting a pat on the head for it. You try to give him a smile, and his expression clouds over.

“Sorry,” he says, voice not quite cool but oddly remote, “the idea was to surprise you with dinner, and I’ve broken your rice thingy instead.”

“It’s not broken,” you reassure him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine once I clean it out. Why were you trying to make dinner?”

Sirius grimaces. It’s a full body motion, his eyebrows hooking in the middle while the muscles in his forearms shift uncomfortably and his shoulders migrate upward. “Sort of a shitty attempt at an olive branch, I guess.”

Some of the smoke has cleared, and you brave the kitchen. “I don’t need an olive branch,” you say. “If you say we’re good, we’re good.”

“Don’t do that.” He follows you into the kitchen. “I can tell you’re upset, just because—” Sirius hisses when you take the bowl out of the pressure cooker, transferring it swiftly to the sink “—fuck, baby, don’t burn yourself. Let me take care of that later.”

“I’d rather handle it now,” you say, turning on the faucet. “I’m just letting it soak anyway.”

“I’m trying to handle this.” Sturdy hands wrap around your shoulders, turning you to face your boyfriend. He looks at you steadily. “Don’t pretend you’re not angry with me, because I know that you are.”

A spark of annoyance tingles up your spine as you shrug, reaching behind you to turn off the faucet. “I’m not.”

“Can you stop trying to make me feel like an idiot? I know you. You’ve been all stiff since last night.”

“You were angry last night. Not me.”

“Yeah, well it seems to have caught on.”

You turn away from him and back towards the sink, swishing your hand in the cold water of the bowl to dislodge the charred rice sticking to the bottom. You don’t know where Sirius gets off, acting like you’re holding a grudge when he’s the one who shouted at you last night. Your phone had died while you were out with friends. That was all that had happened. You didn’t think anything of it, because Sirius, the only person who would really worry about not being able to reach you, knew you were out and that you’d be home late.

But when you had gotten home, he’d been furious. Gone on and on about how he’d been trying to get a response from you all night, and how dangerous it was to get drunk when you couldn’t call anyone (nevermind that you’d been with your friends), and how freaked out he’d been. He wouldn’t listen to you. He’d only wanted to yell and rage, and make you sit in your heels on the couch while he did it. He’d even seemed like he might be tearing up a couple of times. And you hated to think of him being scared for you, but since when was it your responsibility to answer every time he called? He knew you were with your friends. You hadn’t asked him to check in on you.

He’d gone to bed still fuming and you’d stayed on the couch rather than try to sleep in a hostile bed. Now, inexplicably, his tune seems to have changed.

“So,” Sirius sighs, “this is you not mad, huh?”

“Yup.” You scrub at the bowl with your fingernails.

“I just want a chance to apologize.”

“You can if it’ll make you feel better, but I don’t need it.��

“Why can’t you just admit it?”

“Because I’m not the one who gets pissy about stupid things.” You dislodge a chunk of rice and your hand slips across the bowl, splashing water onto your shirt. “That’s you.”

There’s a second of dense, oppressive silence. When Sirius breaches it, you can hear the smirk in his voice. “There’s my girl. Tell me about the stupid things I got pissy about, would you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not. It wasn’t nothing to me, and clearly it wasn’t to you either. Go on, doll.”

“I don’t want to argue with you.”

“Sure you do.”

“Why do you want to fight so bad?”

“Because,” Sirius says, and you can hear him moving behind you, can all but see him leaning against the counter, the picture of insouciance, “I think you need to get it out of your system.”

You scrub harder at the bowl. Blackened bits of rice float to the top of the water. “Like you do?”

A pause. His voice softens. “It’s not always a good thing. I shouldn’t have shouted at you, last night.” Something in your chest tightens painfully at this new gentle tone. “I’m sorry. I let my temper get the better of me. I was just worried about you.”

“I don’t think that’s my fault,” you say, managing to sound mostly normal. You dump out the contents of the bowl, filling it again with warmer water. “My phone was dead, and I was with my friends. I didn’t need you to worry about me.”

“I just do, when I know you’ve all been drinking, and I can’t talk to you to know you’re okay…” Sirius takes in a breath, breaking your heart with how it sounds like he’s trying to steady himself. “But you’re right, okay? It wasn’t fair.”

“I didn’t know I was coming home to be shouted at.” This time, your voice betrays you, a pitchiness that makes you go quiet fast. You hear Sirius move.

“Sweetheart?” he asks softly. There’s a touch at your elbow. “I’m sorry, baby, please look at me.”

You don’t want to, but you don’t want your embarrassment interpreted as ire. You take a quiet breath before pivoting from the sink. Sirius’ eyes are waiting, sad and fretful as they probe at yours.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, impossibly quieter, and runs his fingers from your elbow up the back of your arm. “It wasn’t your fault, I wasn’t being fair. I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”

You press your lips together, hard. His eyebrows hook up in the middle.

“You can cry, sweet thing. It’s okay.” You shake your head mutely, blinking, and Sirius makes a terribly lovely cooing sound, snaking an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. You hug him back as the first hot tear rolls down your cheek. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Your shoulders jump with a stilted, poorly repressed sob, his grip on you tightening. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. My temper tantrum really did a number on you, huh?”

You laugh wetly. “Guess so,” you squeak. “Sorry.”

“If you apologize for this, I may shout at you again,” he warns fondly. “You haven’t done anything wrong, lovely girl. Just let it out, if you need to.”

You know that’s not easy for Sirius to say. Know he’s likely close to tears himself, from how agitated seeing other people cry makes him. You appreciate the offer.

You fall into a silence less heavy than any that’s suffocated your home since last night, broken up only by the steady, quiet thumping of Sirius patting your back and the intermittent smooching sounds as he kisses your shoulder or your cheek or the side of your neck. You stand still in your smoky kitchen, wetting your boyfriend’s shoulder with tears and snot, and he lets you.

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kafkasmuses · 2 months

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thinking of luke finding his best friend high at one of those parties they secretly hold at camp…

semi inspired by murdrdocs’ blurb abt smoking w luke & princessbrunette’s blurb abt jj finding his innocent friend high!!

typically luke never came to these, he was never really a party person, just until you’re texting him some sloppy words that barely make any sense— so now he’s weaving his way through the mess of trees towards the booming music in the distance. did they know how to not get caught?

luke’s nose scrunches as soon as he gets close enough to make out where you might be in that bright pink skirt he always saw you in, his steps move faster, especially since you’re talking to some asshole from the hades cabin. his jaw shifts as soon as he plants his hands on your shoulders, pupils cinched as he glares at the man you’re speaking with.

“oh, hey, luke!” you smile so sweet, a little too sweet, in fact, you smell.. he blinks once, then again, then again. to be honest, you don’t really remember texting luke, and it’s always a pleasant surprise to see him appear out of nowhere.

“hey, uh, lets go, yeah?” his hands are gentle when they move you to take a step or two back from the brooding man who clearly looks disappointed, if not a little agitated, with luke’s arrival.

“but ‘m having fun, do you want to meet my friend? this is my friend—“

“yeah, yeah,” luke stares at the man for a second, “hey, dude, ‘kay, time to go.”

“seems like she doesn’t want to,” the man suddenly speaks, and it should be a blessing from hades himself that luke doesn’t have his sword strapped to his belt.

“seems like she does since she texted me,” his tone is firmer, a certain bitterness and bite to it, “should be lucky ‘m too busy to rip that smartass smirk off your face.”

the last sentence comes out as a mumble as he gently guides you away from the party, having to take more of a precaution than usual since you’re stumbling an awful lot. god, how much did you smoke.

“why’d you say that to him—“

“mmm, no reason— hey.. jus’ asking but, you didn’t get that weed from one of the guys there, right?” you seemed much more than just high, unless you smoked like, five blunts— gods, did you?

“no, nono, got it from um.. lucy, she said it was reaaaalllyyyy strong but like— i only smoked a little,” he hums along to your non - stop giggles, failing to keep his hands from your shoulders since every time he lets go you nearly walk into a tree.

“yeah, yup, jus’ a little, you know, uh.. you could always just ask to smoke with me,” he shrugs like it’s simple.

“wooow, you smoke..?” you ask very slowly all of a sudden.

“what, you think ‘m not cool enough to?” he tuts, steering you to the hermes cabin, which is of course, empty as it always is. you were sure the hermes kids were all dead by now since every time you’re in the cabin it’s vacant, well, besides chris, but he’s always glaring at luke and leaving to bother clarisse.

“not what i said—“ you frown up at him, and he just nods, moving to sit you down on his bed as he inspects your face to make sure you’re solely high on weed— you really do reek of it, gosh, maybe he should spray his cologne on you. he doesn’t get more time to think before you’re pawing at him, “miss you, luke, talk to me.”

he chuckles at the hazy glint in your eyes, “c’mon, princess, ‘m not the man for that job.”

you hook a finger around one of the belt loops on his jeans, tugging him in closer, “what do you mean?”

“‘m your friend,” it comes out hushed, breathy, “jus’ here to take care of you.”

“so take care of me,” your eyes catch on to the bulge forming in his pants, a lazy smile curving your lips upwards.

he pauses for a second, considering, before unhooking your hand from his pants and moving you to lay down on his bed, “time to get some beauty sleep, yeah? g’na get me in trouble if you keep acting out, princess.”

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan smut #pjo tv show #pjo series #charlie bushnell #have i ever smoked before?#no… but let me imagine ok

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xxenbypunkxx · 10 months

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so you’re finally going to your first punk show. it can be a little intimating for sure! here is what i tell my newbie friends when i take them to their first show:

1. take it at your own pace. start the show at the back of the crowd, if you’re vibing and feel the need to jump around get closer to the mosh

2. the mosh is a lot less scary than it looks. it really is a bunch of people just wanting to move around. There are times where it can get violent. if you feel overwhelmed at all just push (don’t feel bad, you might even need to shove a little, nobody will care) your way through the crowd that is encircling the mosh.

3. if you see someone on the ground in a mosh, PICK THEM UP!!!! not only to keep them safe but for your own safety as well, moshing can get a little disorienting (especially if you are drinking or smoking) so you might not even see them. along with this if you see someone’s personal item, try your best to pick it up and hold it in the air. Essentially, if something or someone could get damaged, help them out.

4. a lot of the people there look really intimidating and cool. yes they are cool as fuck, but they are some of the nicest people on this earth right now. Talk to a stranger. some of the kindest people i’ve met and become friends with i met at shows.

5. don’t be afraid to be yourself. don’t feel like you match the “punk aesthetic” you see on tumblr tiktok and pinterest? who give a fuck!! the most punk think you can do is be yourself. if you fake who you are people will notice.

reblog with more tips!!!!

#punk #punk aesthetic #punk community #diy punk #hardcore punk #punk girl #punk scene #garage punk #80s punk #post punk #punk music #punk fashion #old school punk #punkstyle #los angeles punk #concert #live music #spider punk #punk spiderman

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amentomensmut · 3 months

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first time for everything pt2

Drug Dealer! Mike Schmidt x fem!reader wc: 5k

this is part 2 to my fic first time for everything! read the first part here.

Summary: After an unforgettable hookup with your friend Sara’s drug dealer, Mike Schmidt, you go to a college party to try and put a stop to your constant stream of thoughts about it, and more specifically, him. However, when you wind up bumping into the man you had been thinking about non-stop at the party, you can’t help but give in to the one person who started it all.

Warnings: 18+ content, so much banter. Like, so much. Mike is a smug bastard, alcohol consumption, swearing, kissing, dirty talk, use of pet names, fingering, cunnilingus, finger sucking, unprotected sex

Note: we are so back. also i really hope you guys like this omg. (p.s. sorry that this part has no cannabis use in it. I know that’s like kinda the whole point, but with the story i wanted to tell i couldn’t find a place to put it and i didn’t just want to shove it in randomly so i sorta just left it out.)

Like smoke filling up your lungs, Mike Schmidt has infiltrated your mind in every way possible.

Thoughts of him invading every corner and crevice of your brain, making them impossible to shake. To say the least, ever since you had the pleasure of meeting him, your mind has been rather occupied.

His lips on yours, the smoke from his mouth permeating your own, his hands on your body, your skin on his skin—it's all too much, you think. In fact, if you could go back and erase the entire interaction, you would. It’s the only thing you’ve been able to think about, and it’s all Mike Schmidt’s fault.

You wonder if he thinks about you too. You know it’s probably unlikely, but you can’t help but feel like he might. Like he also dreams about it. Like he also yearns for you again. Maybe he gets off thinking about it, like you do. You shake those thoughts away, however, when you come to the conclusion that it probably wasn’t as special to him as it was to you.

"Okay, Y/n, what the fuck?” Sara's voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you.

You whip your head around to see Sara standing behind you. Her arms are crossed against her chest, and her face is painted with a worried expression.

“What?” you respond, confusion evident in your voice.

“You’ve been staring at that wall for 20 minutes.” Sara says it with an accusatory tone, like she caught you doing something you shouldn’t be.

“I’m just thinking.” You shrug, trying to play it cool. I mean, you’re not lying. You were trying to do your homework, and then you started…daydreaming. Thinking. Whatever you want to call it.

“Yeah, I know. Thinking is all you’ve been doing this week. What’s going on?” Sara sighs, and you can see the genuine concern in her face. She sits on your bed next to your desk, trying to meet your eyes. You have a hard time lying to her, and catching her gaze will only make you more vulnerable, so instead, you choose to stare down at your homework.

“This isn’t like you. You’re the most studious person I know, and you can’t even focus enough to finish a couple questions. Tell me what’s going on.” She continues. You weigh your options. You could tell her you fucked her drug dealer. She couldn’t be that mad, right? Or, you could keep it a secret, but continuing to lie to her is the last thing you want to do. You let out a deep breath and just decide to bite the bullet.

“Okay, um, remember when I went to your drug dealer's house last week?” You wearily start. Sara nods her head, signalling for you to continue.

“Well, one thing led to another, and we kinda, sorta had…sex?” The room is silent after your confession, the weight of your words hanging in the air. When you look over at Sara, you expect to see disappointment or anger on her face, but instead, she's looking at you with one of the biggest smiles you've ever seen.

“I knew it!” Sara exclaims, jumping up in a rush of excitement.

“I knew there was a reason that you were practically glowing when you got back from his house!” You groan at her loudness, putting your hands over your face to hide your embarrassment. You should’ve known she wouldn’t have been upset with you; she practically shoves you at any man who gives you some sort of attention in the hopes that you’ll break your introverted habits. “Wait,” she excitedly adds. “Does this mean you can get me a discount?”

“No, Sara, I can’t fucking get you a discount. I haven’t seen him since it happened.” You say, and you try your best to mask the disappointment in your tone. I mean, what did you expect? That he’d come running to you the next day, get down on one knee, and propose? You knew it would most likely be a one time thing, so why were you so upset about it?

“So that’s why you’ve been so out of it this week. Plagued by the thoughts of a good fuck. Trust me, I've been there. ” Sara sighs dramatically, shaking her head like she knows this feeling all too well.

“I don’t know... as cheesy as it sounds, I sort of can’t stop thinking about him? It was so good, and now it’s all I think about.” You admit, and Sara takes her place back on the end of your bed. She takes one of your hands in hers, and she nods her head in an understanding manner.

“You know what you need?” She says, and you shake your head, "No.".

“To get your head out of your chemistry books and go to a goddam party! No wonder you’ve been thinking about him; all you’ve been doing is thinking.” She says, motioning to the copious amounts of school-related papers on your desk.

“Trust me, Y/n. The best sort of remedy for this kind of thing is to just let loose and forget about all your shit for a little while, you know?” As much as you’ve tried to avoid parties and distractions during your college experience, you can’t imagine there’d be much harm in going to one party. Besides, if you can get your mind off of Mike for a few hours and just have some fun, it’ll be worth it.

“Alright. Yeah, I think you’re right.” You say, and Sara jumps up excitedly as she begins to talk about one of her good friends that is throwing a party that night, and that it’ll be the perfect excuse to get away from all stress of exams. You nod along, a smile plastered on your face as you try to match Saras excitement. You’re not quite sure if this “remedy” will work or not; however, you’d just about try anything at this point. And like Sara always says, you’re a hermit, so this will be a good way to break you out of your shell. I mean, the last time Sara told you to do something, it ended up going better than expected, so what’s the worst that could happen?

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

“Sara, I feel like I’m going to flash someone.” You say as you pull on the hem of your very mini skirt. The walk to the party wasn’t long, but your bare legs are cold and you’re itching to get warm. You’ve never really worn something as revealing as this, but Sara insisted you wear something from her wardrobe.

“Your skirt isn’t that short; don’t be dramatic.” Sara teases as she leads you towards a house that's booming with both music and people. You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. You haven’t been to a party during your time at college, and to be honest, you weren’t ever planning to. Focusing on getting your degree without any distractions was always your goal. An unrealistic goal? Maybe, but it had been working well for you up until a week ago. However, things don’t always go as planned, and now you’re stepping into a house full of sweaty, inebriated bodies and music so loud it makes the entire house shake. The air is thick and humid, and you’d get lost in the house’s dim lighting if it weren’t for Sara’s hand in yours guiding you through the sea of bodies. Your shoes stick to the floor as you walk through the house, and you know alcohol drunkenly spilled from overflowing, cheap solo cups is the culprit. Sara drags you to the kitchen, where all the alcohol is stashed.

“We should do a shot! To commemorate the first party of your college career!” Sara yells over the music, already pouring each of you a shot of tequila. You give a little laugh at Sara’s enthusiasm, and you nod your head in agreement. As you wait for Sara to hand you your drink, you notice just how many people there are. You watch through the kitchen window as someone throws up on the lawn. You wince a little at the sight and at the thought of how much alcohol they probably drank. You briefly wonder if going to this party was even a good idea, but you try to shake away any negative thoughts.

“Babe, you’re thinking too much again.” Sara says, waving her hand in front of your face as she passes you the shot.

“Sorry!” You half-yell, but Sara dismisses your apology with a wave of her hand.

“Don’t be sorry, just have fun!” Sara replies as she effortlessly downs her shot. You also attempt down your tequila; however, it’s not as effortless, and you grimace at the sharp taste of the tequila on your tongue. It takes everything in you to swallow it without gagging, and you wish you had something to chase it with.

“Fuck, that’s awful.” You groan as you pull a face. You don’t typically drink alcohol, and when you do, tequila is certainly not your first choice. Sara laughs and places a hand on your shoulder.

“That’s what makes it good!”

The next hour or so goes by pretty smoothly. You’ve essentially been following Sara around like a lost puppy, accompanying her as she greets her friends, which feels like just about everyone at this party. You watch as Sara effortlessly navigates the room, her laughter ringing out above the chatter and deafening music. As you stand alongside Sara, watching as she converses with a group of people you recognise as being on the school's soccer team, you feel a wave of insecurity wash over you, like an invisible barrier separating you from everyone else. You feel out of place at this party, and in a way you are. You haven’t been to a party in your three years at school, and now you've realised that you barely know anyone around here. You haven’t seen one familiar face, other than Sara, in the past hour and a half since you arrived here. You begin to wonder how different your college experience would be if you just got over your fear of people and parties, and went out like Sara had. You try to dismiss your destructive thoughts, but it’s no use. You feel like somehow everyone knows that you’re not really supposed to be here, and it makes your throat feel dry with anxiety.

“Hey, Sara, I’m going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?” You loudly whisper in her ear, trying not to interrupt the conversation she was currently in. You’re anxiously wanting to get away from the crowd, and your body language shamelessly shows it as you bounce your leg and bite the skin off your lips.

“No, I’m okay,” Sara says, and you watch as her eyes survey your body, her eyebrows knitting together. “Do you need me to come with you?” She bends down to speak in your ear, although her words are slightly slurred, and you softly giggle at the way her alcohol intake has affected her speech.

“No, I’ll be okay.” You assure her as you walk away from the group, giving Sara a little wave as you make your way to the kitchen.

You had intended on getting a drink, but when you got to the kitchen and saw the door to the backyard, your desire to escape the muggy, stale air landed you on the back patio instead. Your lungs thank you for the fresh air as soon as you step outside, and the cool winter breeze feels refreshing on your sweaty skin. There’s still plenty of partygoers outside, but it’s certainly not as packed as it was inside. You watch as people play beer pong on a ping pong table on the lawn, and the sight only solidifies your fear of missing out. The sound of hearty laughter and the smell of weed only make you want to go home more, and you sigh as you push off the patio railing to leave. You turn around to make your way back inside when you see him.

At first, you thought it was your eyes playing tricks on you. Like you had been thinking about him so much that an apparition of him was here to taunt you. Like your thoughts of him for the past week had now turned you delusional. However, his eyes lock with yours, and now you so badly want it to be a hallucination, or your mind playing tricks on you. Dread washes over you and you wish you had never come to this party. You want the ground to swallow you whole when you see him beginning to walk towards you, and for a split second, you consider running away.

You mean for your words to come out nicely; you truly do. However, they don’t come out that way, and instead you say this:

“What the fuck are you doing here?” If your words shock or hurt Mike, he doesn’t show it as he now stands in front of you with that goddamn smirk on his face.

“I have a business to run, Y/n. But you’d know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you?” You’re not sure if you want to kiss or slap him, but you roll your eyes anyway at his smug tone. He gives an unbothered laugh at your attitude and actually, you’d definitely rather slap him right now.

“Your business is selling weed to intoxicated college students?” You retort with a scoff, crossing your arms against your chest like it’s a defence mechanism. You hate that his presence is making you jittery, but you hold your ground, your eyes never veering away from his.

“Funnily enough, they’re my top customers.” Mike smugly says, and you don’t even try to hide the scowl on your face. You squint your eyes at him, trying to read his intentions. He smells like weed and spicy cologne, and it immediately brings you back to his house, and more specifically, his living room. There's a pregnant pause between the two of you, and before you can work up the courage to say something, he speaks again.

“Cute outfit, by the way. Have you dropped the innocent act yet?” He asks, obviously satisfied with his words. He's clearly trying to get under your skin, and you won't let him.

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” You fib, shrugging your shoulders like the question is irrelevant. If he's going to try to tease you about your hookup, you won't feed into it.

“You know, after that night, I don’t think you can really call yourself a good girl. You’d be lying to everyone. You're lying to me right now.”

“Fuck you, Mike.”

“You should come by my house tomorrow. You're probably all out of the weed I sold to you last time you were around, right?” He says nonchalantly, changing the subject. You furrow your eyebrows at the change of conversation, and your stubbornness to let Mike have any satisfaction during this conversation doesn’t falter.

“I don't smoke weed.” You quip.

“Lie all you’d like, Y/n. It doesn’t change the truth.” He says, brushing a stray hair out of your face before walking back into the house without giving you another look.

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

Usually people use the phrase “walk of shame” when you’re walking home from a hookup, however, that phrase pretty much sums up how you feel as you walk up Mike Schmidt's driveway.

You’re not sure how you’ve ended up back on Mike Schmidtd’s doorstep again. Maybe it was the satisfying sting of weed going down your throat and into your lungs, or the insatiable hunger for the man who supplied it to you. Either way, the front door is being opened and the man who you’ve been thinking about non stop for the past week is behind it.

“Had a feeling you’d be back.” He says with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you’re high before any weed has even entered your system.

“Don’t cream your pants.” You mutter as you push past him and walk inside. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t know why you were here, you both knew. After Mike left you at the party, you knew you were completely and utterly fucked. That any other attempts of trying to forget him would be worthless. That like a bee to a flower, you’d be back here, in Mike’s house, searching for the one thing you had been denying yourself for the past week.

“So I was right then, you’re all out of weed.” He says as he closes the front door. You take your jacket and scarf off, hanging them on the coat hanger at the door. You face Mike, who's currently leaning against the front door, watching you.

“Can I have a soda?” You ask, and Mike cracks a smile at the familiarity of the situation.

“I would’ve offered, but I wasn’t sure how long you’d be here.” He says, trying to bite back his smile. You follow him to the kitchen, watching as he grabs two cans of soda. Your fingers brush as he hands you the cold can, and you look up at him as he clears his throat.

“So…an eighth again?” He inquires, looking at you over his can of soda as he takes a sip.

“Mike, I’m not here for your goddamn weed.” You laugh. Mike laughs as well, and the exuberant sound is like music to your ears.

“So you came for my soda instead?” Mike teases, and you shake your head with a smile.

“I think you know why I’m here.” You say, and your cheeks heat up at the thought of what happened last time you were in his house. Your fingers tighten around the soda can at the thought of touching Mike again, and you so badly want to reach out for him.

“I’m not sure if you deserve it. You weren’t very nice to me last night at the party.” He smirks, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning against the kitchen counter. He places his soda can on the kitchen counter and tilts his head at you, waiting for your rebuttal.

“I was nice enough.” You simper, shrugging your shoulders. If he’s going to make you work for it, you’ll play along.

“Say please. I can’t believe I have to teach you how to use your manners.” He coos, and you huff when you realise you won’t get what you want right away.

“I'm very polite.” You stubbornly stand your ground, but you can feel your resolve weakening with every word that comes out of Mike's mouth.

“You might be polite, but apparently you forgot how to ask for things.”

“Please, Mike.”

His lips are on yours as soon as the words leave your mouth. All the build up from the past week, all the sexual tension between you and Mike is released into the kiss. The kiss is frantic and needy, like even being this close isn’t enough. His want for you shows in the way his rough hands grab any part of your body they can reach. You blindly slide your soda can on the kitchen counter before threading your fingers through his hair, softly pulling at the root making him moan into your mouth. He tastes like cream soda and weed and his hands caressing your body send a shiver up your spine, and you haven’t felt this way since the last time he touched you.

“You have no idea how much I've been thinking about you.” He says in a gruff voice as he walks you backwards and lifts you up onto the kitchen counter. You spread your legs so he can slot himself between them, and he presses soft kisses into your neck. His hands are on your waist, stabilising you as he kneads the soft skin there.

“I thought you might’ve forgotten about me.” You shyly admit, and he softly bites your neck, almost scolding you for your words.

“Are you serious?” He asks incredulously, removing his head from your neck to look at you. His heavy lidded gaze makes you feel nervous, and his reaction makes you feel like you said something you shouldn’t have. Your silence serves as an answer to his question and he shakes his head at you disapprovingly as he slowly gets on his knees in front of you, never breaking eye contact. You suck in a quick breath at the sight of Mike in between your legs, and an involuntary whine escapes from your lips when he begins to undo the button of your pants.

“Y/n, the only thing i’ve been able to think about is you.” He groans, and you lift your hips off the counter to help Mike as he pulls your pants down over your ass. Your pants hit the floor and Mike is pressing open mouthed kisses into the insides of your plush thighs. He takes his time, kissing and sucking on the expanse of your thighs, and you think you might go crazy if he continues to tease you. Your thighs slightly close around Mike’s head, looking for any friction you can get. Mike lets out a laugh and you throw your head back in frustration.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there something you’d like?” Mike innocently asks, looking up at you as his mouth gets dangerously close to your pantie clad pussy. A sadistic smile paints his face and you put your hands in Mike's hair, trying to pull him closer to the place you need him the most.

“Mike, stop fucking teasing.” You pant, and a dissatisfied sigh leaves Mike's lips.

“I thought we talked about using your manners.” He mocks, and although he's the one on his knees in front of you, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s certainly still in control.

“Please, Mike. Please, I need you.” You beg, and not long after, Mike is licking a hot stripe up your covered cunt. You bite your bottom lip, your chest heaving as Mike continues to press messy, open mouthed kisses to the wet spot on your panties. His grip on your thighs is strong, and the feeling of his blunt nails digging into the soft skin makes your head spin. Soon enough, his thick fingers are hooking into your underwear and pulling it down your legs. He wastes no time, quickly latching his lips to your swollen clit and making out with your pussy like a man starved. Your jaw drops in pleasure, and your hand tugging at his hair makes him moan into you.

“Mike, h-holy shit.” You cry out, as he enters one of his long fingers into you. His tongue swirls around your clit as he pumps his finger in and out of you, and the sounds of him eating your pussy are absolutely sinful. Mike replaces his tongue with his thumb, rubbing your clit in slow circles as he slowly enters another finger into you.

“You’re so tight.” He mutters, and his eyes are glued on your soaked cunt and the way it sucks his fingers in. He begins pumping his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace, curling them upwards, hitting a spot that makes you jerk your hips upward.

“M-Mike, I’m gonna-” You start, but cut yourself off with a moan as Mike reattaches hip lips to your clit. With his fingers rapidly moving in and out of you, and his mouth doing god's work on your clit, you swear you’re starting to hear colours. Your thighs begin to shake as you start to grind yourself on Mike's face as you near your orgasm. You let out a loud moan as you finally release, the only thing you can feel is the pure pleasure surging through your body as you cum, and Mike coaxing you through it. Your breathing is heavy as you come down from your high. Mike removes his fingers and mouth from your pussy, pressing a final kiss to your clit before he stands back up in front of you.

“Open your mouth.” He softly demands, and you do, letting Mike shove his cum covered fingers into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the digits, humming as he lets his fingers travel to the back of your throat, making you gag. “That's it.” He praises, caressing your cheek as you suck his fingers. He removes his hand from your mouth and places them on your hips, helping you off the counter. He turns you around so you’re facing away from him, and he presses a hand to the centre of your back, bending you over the counter. He presses himself into you, and pushes your ass back against his covered erection. Mike leans over you, wrapping a hand around your throat to pull you up against his chest as he brings his lips to your ear.

“How could I forget about you when you look like a fucking angel when you cum.” He confesses in your ear, bucking his hips against you as he releases you, letting you fall back over the counter. The sound of him undoing his belt and pants makes you involuntarily clench your legs together, and you turn your head, watching as Mike spits in his hand and strokes himself a couple times before lining himself up with your pussy.

“Have you been thinking about this?” Mike taunts, teasing the head of his cock up and down your slit.

“You have no idea.” You whine, pushing your hips back in an attempt to just get Mike to fuck you. However, Mike holds your hips steady, restraining you from grinding back on him.

“Enlighten me, then.” Mike responds, like he has all the time in the world. But to you, it feels like the end of the world with the way your pussy is throbbing and in need of stimulation. A defeated sob leaves your lips at Mike’s teasing,

“All the fucking time, Mike. I felt like I was going crazy.” You babble, and your words seem to be good enough for Mike, because he’s filling you up with his thick cock. All your thoughts, any worries you’ve had over the past week are gone. The only thing you can focus on is the way he fits perfectly inside you, and the way the grunts and groans leaving his lips sound like perfect melodies to your ears. His hips snap into yours roughly, and you know you’ll be sore tomorrow.

“I couldn’t get high without thinking about you. You fucking ruined weed for me.” Mike admits with a laugh, like the whole thing is preposterous. His fingers work quick circles on your clit and you shiver as Mike places a hand under your jaw, lifting you so he can press kisses into your neck.

“Good. Maybe you’ll smoke it less. It’s bad for your lungs.” You breathily tease, and Mike sucks a particularly dark spot into your neck in response to your words. Mike continues his rough pace, and you clench hard around him.

“Gonna cum.” You whine and Mike only continues to fuck you, wanting to get you there. You cum for the second time, your body jerking as the overwhelming sensation hits you. Mike holds your shaky body up as he cums inside of you, letting out a strained “fuck” as his own orgasm washes over him. You both stand there afterwards, catching your breath as Mike release slowly begins to leak out of you and down your thighs.

“Did I seriously ruin weed for you?” You hoarsely ask in a disbelieving voice. You feel Mike’s chest rumble as he laughs, and actually, you think his laugh is the most perfect sounding melody.

“Trust me, It’s embarrassing to admit.” He says, and you let out a quick breath as he pulls out of you. He grabs a cloth out of a kitchen drawer and runs it under warm water in the sink before cleaning up the cum between your legs. He tucks himself back into his boxers before pulling his pants up, and you follow suit.

“Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.” You jest as you button your pants.

“Maybe.” Mike says with a smile, and when you look at him, you think you wouldn’t even need weed to get high. You’d just need this feeling.

taglist: @slutf0rmilfs, @angie-likes-to-art, @spenciesprincess, @janitorhutcherson, @leahdhopkins4321, @pickingchoosinglovinghope, @esebabe, @under-sedationnn, @celestbarnes, @brechdan-ham, @souldzaboj, @t0byisher3, @rottingpeache, @joshs-big-toe, @p3talll

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #smut #fnafmovie #fnaf

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eddiesghxst · 4 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 11/12)

gasp she's finally here !!!

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: the last day of tour has arrived and you're pushed to make a difficult choice

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, smoking, sexual themes, mentions of oral, angst, and more glimpses of eddie being boyfriend coded <3

word count: 6k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

song inspo for this chappy, thx to my stink @mmunson86 ily hehe:

Sunday mornings are meant for being lazy.

You wake up, you toss around in bed for a bit, maybe turn on the TV, and order food if you’re at a nice hotel like you are now— which had been your plan. You had wanted to try the strawberry crepes here for ages, and you planned to finally order it to start the last day of your short-lived tour on the right foot— but apparently, someone doesn’t believe in the mainstream concept of Sunday morning.

It’s seven in the morning when you get a knock on your door. You want to ignore it— and you have every intention to do so— except the person at the door is incessant and apparently doesn’t get the hint of silence.

It makes sense, though, when you open the door to see who is banging on your door like a madman. Eddie, of course.

“Housekeeping!”

He’s got a cute, wide smile and damp curls that make your chest flutter even though you still have one foot in a dream. Although, you think the dream might be the man standing before you, clad in jeans and a graphic tee, and beaming at you.

“Eddie, it’s seven in the morning.” You grumble.

Eddie’s smile widens, “I know. Perfect time for a walk in the park.” He says before pushing past you and walking into your room. Your eyebrows furrow as you watch him walk over to your window and open the blinds. You rapidly blink at the sunlight, “I– what? A walk?”

Eddie turns to you, smiling still as he nods, “Yes. Down at Central Park. They’ve always got cute dogs down there, and I know a place with pancakes to die for.”

You’re too tired to even wrap your mind around how cute of an image Eddie with dogs would be, “Woah… woah, woah, wait— Eddie, I— I would love to,” you blink hard, “But I’m still half asleep, and I only got to bed like four hours ago, so I think I’d pass out on a walk right now.” You softly laugh.

You feel a twinge of guilt stir in your gut, so you step forward to Eddie, reaching out to rest a hand on his bicep and gently squeeze, “Why don’t we order coffee up and sit on the balcony until my mind warms up a bit?” You offer.

Which, now that you think of it, was a perfect idea because there’s a cool breeze this morning that gives you an excuse to press up against Eddie’s side and curl into the heat of him as you sip on warm coffee and watch Eddie burn through cigarettes. Eddie was bold enough to drag your legs to rest across his lap, and you decide to blame your compliance on lack of sleep rather than desire.

“Are you nervous for tonight?” You wonder aloud, watching as the morning sun cracks through his fluttering eyelashes. Eddie’s lips pull into a smile, “No.” He leans into you, “Are you?”

You snort, pressing your fingers into the warm ceramic mug, “Why would I be nervous?”

Eddie shrugs, “Maybe I’ve got a surprise up my sleeve or something.” He teases. His fingers are warm and send goosebumps across your skin as they dance across your leg, inching up your thigh until you slightly squirm. Eddie doesn’t even try to hide the smirk on his lips.

You ignore his wandering hands as best as you can, although the lick of heat that runs up your spine when he fiddles with the hem of your baggy shirt sends your mind spinning, a dull throb of your center when his knuckles brush the crease of your hip. You raise an eyebrow, gazing at him and cocking your head to the side, “Well, do you?”

Eddie glances at you, busy drawing stars inside your thighs, “No.”

You roll your eyes, shoving your foot into his jean-clad thigh as he barks out a laugh, hands squeezing your bare calves. “That’s not funny, Munson. You’re on probation, you know?”

Eddie tilts his head, dreamy gaze in his eyes as he gently squeezes your calves, “I know. I’m working on it, though… which reminds me—” You take a deep breath, slinking your legs out of his grip and sitting up straight to stretch, “Think I’m in the mood for those pancakes now.” You hum.

Eddie gazes at you, jaw loose as he watches you stand up and completely dodge what he’s been spinning out about for the last twenty-four hours. “Birdie—” “Yeah, I’m starving now that I think of it. Let’s go.” You wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug him up, ignoring his grumbles of protest.

It should be studied, the pull Eddie has on you, because here you both are in a booth at an old breakfast diner, and all you can think about is how you want nothing more than to slink over to the other side and burrow yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

But Eddie’s friends are here.

The entire ensemble: Nancy, Robin, Steve, Gareth, Jeff, and even Eric, who you hardly even see because he’s the busiest with groupies out of the Corroded Coffin band.

They caught you and Eddie on your way down to the lobby, and well… they just tagged along. Eddie wasn’t so happy about it, mumbling about how he can never shake these assholes, but you just snickered and told him to be nice.

So, now, you’re sitting across from Eddie in a diner with the smell of pancakes and maple syrup wafting through the air and a friendly chatter ringing throughout the table.

You try your hardest to pay attention to the conversations, but it’s hard when Eddie is glancing at you with these eyes that melt your insides. It doesn’t help when he leans forward on the table, shoulders pressing into the edge as his fingers skim your knee beneath it. You raise an eyebrow when he takes a menu, opens it, and stands it up to block the view of his friends as he beckons you forward. You lean forward, chest fluttering at the sight of Eddie’s pretty eyes so up close, pouty lips and curly hair that you want to reach out and card your fingers through. He’s a dream, no doubt about it.

“Let’s ditch them.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, “You can’t ditch your friends, Eddie.”

Eddie makes a face, “Why not? They crashed, and I have work to do.”

You tilt your head in confusion, “Work?”

Eddie grumbles, his voice carrying an obvious tone, “Yeah, I’ve only got until tonight to pay my dues.” He reminds you. You hum with a teasing glint, “I reckon that’s a fault on your part, Munson.”

Before Eddie can respond, the menu is torn out of his hands to reveal Gareth and Jeff snickering, “You do know we can still see you two, right?” Eric teases.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I don’t know if you dipshits got the memo, but you definitely weren’t invited to this.”

You giggle, nudging your foot against his shin, “Don’t be rude,” You mumble. “Yeah, Eddie, don’t be rude.” Robin teases.

Eddie grumbles, ignoring his snickering friends as he stands up, “All of you can fuck right off.” He sticks up a decorated middle finger to his table of friends, and you smile as you slide out of the booth, warmth spreading through your body when he reaches around to grab your sweater.

“Oh, come on, we were just joking, Eds!”

Eddie waves them off, slinking an arm around your body to rest a hand on the small of your back, gently ushering you toward the exit as his friends create a scene.

“Hey, don’t be late to soundcheck, asshole, we won’t hear the end of it from Richie!” Jeff calls out, but Eddie doesn’t answer because he’s walking you both outside of the diner and muttering something about them being a pain in his ass.

“We could just take a flight out somewhere far away from them, princess. Say the word, and I’ll book it.” Eddie jokingly offers. You smile as you take your sweater from him with a small thanks, “They love you. That’s a good thing to have.” You remind him. Eddie rolls his eyes, scratching at the back of his neck as you begin walking down the street, “Sure, except not when I have important things to do. Which, when are you gonna put me out of my misery and tell me what you think?”

You hum, feing ignorance as you blink up at Eddie, “Think about what, Eddie?”

Eddie stares at you, blinking once before his lips spread into a smile, “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” He teasingly says through gritted teeth, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in as he jokingly presses his palm to your face, laughing as you squeal and squirm in his hold. “Eddie Munson thinks I’m pretty. How cute.” You mock as you grapple at his wrist, prying his hand from your face, “Only took him a month to figure that out.”

Eddie laughs, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” He drawls, “I always knew you were pretty. I never thought you weren’t pretty. Who told you that?” “Nobody told me that; you just,” you shrug, “Kind of hated my guts, so it went hand in hand.”

Eddie’s eyes soften at that, and your cheeks warm as his gaze zones in on you. You clear your throat, glancing away, “Are we going to eat or what, Munson? I told you I’m starving, and you just dragged me out of that diner, so.”

Eddie nods, “Yeah, yeah,” He waves before lacing his fingers with yours to drag you along, “I got a place in mind; let’s go.”

“If you wanted strawberries on your pancakes, then you should’ve asked for them.”

Eddie, you are learning, has sticky fingers. Sticky in the metaphorical sense where he just takes things without asking and sticky in the literal sense where he keeps reaching over to steal strawberries from your plate and ends up dipping his fingers in your maple syrup as well.

He’s like a child for fucks sake! Touching things he shouldn’t be touching and grinning at you with a ‘you can’t do anything about it because I’m cute’ glint in his eyes.

You watch as Eddie sucks the syrup off his thumb and smirks at you as he says, “Sharing is caring, you know?”

You look at his plate, tilting your head with a smirk before asking, “Yeah? Then can I have your hash browns?” Eddie glances at his plate, a frown spreading across his lips as he looks at you, “But there’s barely any left.” He points out.

Your eyebrows raise, and he sighs in defeat, cutting into his hash browns to give you half of it. You snicker as he carefully reaches over to put the side dish on your plate, pursing your lips to hold a laugh when you look up at him. “What’s so funny?” He grumbles, stabbing into his food and shoving a fork full into his mouth.

“Nothing. I just, like, hate hash browns.”

Eddie stops midchew, looking up at you for a brief moment. He’s silent as he resumes chewing his food and swallowing, quietly eyeing you for a moment before clearing his throat. “You hate hash browns?” He asks.

You nod as you take a bite of your eggs, and Eddie looks at you like you just told him something concerning. “I—... what do you mean you hate hash browns? Do you like potatoes?”

You shrug, taking a sip of your drink, “Sure.”

“Do you like fries?”

“I love fries.”

“Tater tots?”

“I like them every now and then,” You shrug.

Eddie’s head cocks in confusion, eyes narrowing, “So what’s the problem with hash browns?”

Your eyebrows raise, and an amused smile spreads across your lips, “Holy shit. I’m getting the sense that you might, I don’t know… love hash browns or something?”

Eddie scoffs, “Of course I fucking love hash browns. Are you fucking kidding me? Who doesn’t like hash browns?”

“Tommy Lommi.”

“Well then, they’re fucking weird— wait…” Eddie blinks at you and stares like you’ve just discovered time travel. “What do you mean, Tommy Lommi? How do you know Tommy Lommi hates hash browns?”

You shrug, “Ate breakfast with the band a few years ago. They gave him hash browns, and he returned the entire plate. A lot of people hate hash browns, Eddie.”

Eddie waves a hand in dismissal, scooting closer to the table as he responds in a hurried and amused tone, “You had breakfast with Black fucking Sabbath?” He exclaims.

You hold back a smile as you blink at the man before you, his brown eyes wide and blown from adrenaline, “Yeah, it— it was, like, a work thing. I was doing a short piece on them, so Anna and I had lunch with them and their manager.” At the mention of your manager's name, you make a mental note to call and update her on your piece.

Eddie raises two hands to his head, grasping his hair like he’s in distress, as he lets out a loud sound, drawing attention. You giggle, reaching out to grab his wrist and lower him back down to the table, “Eddie, you’re making a scene—” “You met Ozzy, and you just, like, casually forgot to mention that to me? Like he’s not my idol? Like he’s not my literal lord and savior? Do you even care about me?” He exclaims in a loud voice.

Your eyes widen in amusement as the man practically spins out right in front of you. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think it— wait, haven’t you met him before? Like on a red carpet or something?”

Eddie scoffs, leaning back into the booth and pulling a face like the words you’ve just said are rubbish. “Yeah, right. Like Ozzy Osborne would willingly surround himself with a bunch of untrained nuts like the boys of Corroded Coffin. He’s a professional, Birdie. That’s an insult.”

You giggle, gently nudging your plate away, taking a deep breath from feeling so full as you shrug, “Maybe if you cleaned up your act, it would happen.” You teasingly say.

Eddie looks at you, runs his eyes over your face, and smirks as he folds his arms over his chest, reaching up with one hand to twirl a piece of his hair between his fingers. “Yeah? And how do you suggest we do that?” He slinks his feet forward, gently tapping his shoe against yours before hooking an ankle around yours.

You hum, “I don’t know. Maybe cut back on the parties. Less reckless act and more calculated rockstar. Less groupies… none, if that.” You mutter the last part, and Eddie snickers. He hums as well, tipping his head side to side as if he’s thinking, “And would you say maybe,” He clears his throat, “Like, a girlfriend would do good as well?”

You huff out a laugh, “Nice try, Munson.” You snicker. “You’re far from girlfriend status with me.”

Eddie lowly hums, taking a deep breath as he shifts in his seat, “Yeah, well, I intend on changing that, so, are you done eating?”

Eddie’s sure that Richie will chew him out.

It’s the last day of tour before the next leg starts in a month, and Eddie is almost an hour late to soundcheck. Richie was adamant about being on schedule for today because it’s the last show, and Richie’s a goddamn perfectionist (who would take on the job of managing a group of rowdy rockstars if they have the personality of a fucking sergeant?). But honestly, Eddie doesn’t have a single bone in him that cares because— well, why would he care when he’s spent all day with you practically pressed into his side?

You’re Eddie’s every dream compacted into the cutest, kindest, prettiest human he’s ever fucking known, and Eddie keeps having these moments where he wants to smash his head through a brick wall for ever letting a cruel word form on his tongue towards you. He would pay an endless amount of money to rewind time and do it over again, do it right, and give you the respect you deserve.

Then maybe you would stop dodging his kisses.

“Come on, just one?” He begs, watching as you walk a few steps ahead of him. Eddie won’t lie; it’s a great view he’s got from behind. You’re wearing these black ripped jeans that hug your ass and thighs so perfectly Eddie wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into you.

You shake your head, “Nope. A kiss has never been a kiss with you, and I’m not too keen on giving Richie more reasons to put me in time-out. You’re also definitely still on probation.”

Eddie grunts, “This is just cruel, sweetheart.”

He jogs a bit to catch up to speed with you, “While we’re on the topic, what’d he say to you?”

You glance at Eddie, brows furrowing, “Who? Richie?”

Eddie nods, and you shrug. “I assume the same thing he told you. Told me to hold off on it until the magazine blows over in the fanbase.”

Eddie hums because, well, that’s not what Richie told Eddie. Actually, Richie told Eddie to just forget it, don’t even attempt to do anything with that woman because when you fuck up, I’m gonna be the one left to clean it up. And isn’t that Richie’s fucking job? Isn’t that precisely why Richie was hired? To clean up the boys’ mess and make their appearance seem squeaky clean.

“I don’t blame him, though.”

Eddie’s neck practically snaps in your direction, and he has to stop you from walking any further down the backstage hallways because what the fuck are you saying right now?

“What do you mean?”

You shrug, glancing up at Eddie, “I mean, he’s just doing his job, Eddie. He’s trying to protect your image, and, honestly, I didn’t understand where he was coming from until he pointed out that I’m still practically press in the eyes of the industry, so.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.” Eddie snaps. Doesn’t mean to snap, really. Doesn’t mean to have a harsh tone or sound upset with you because he’s not. He’s upset with the situation and the absolute mess he’s created from having his head up his ass for so long. He’s upset because he doesn’t want to wait until the magazine blows over. He’s upset because he’s finally admitting to what he wants, and you’re right there, and he wants to work on getting you but fucking Richie— jesus christ, Eddie’s going to choke that bastard.

“That doesn’t even fucking make sense,” Eddie exclaims, “I already fucked up. There’s not much to fuck up at this rate.”

“It’s different when there’s feelings involved, Eddie.” And Eddie doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that you sound as if you’re siding with Richie, and he doesn’t like that you’re using your hot ass journalist tone with him. “What difference does it make?” Eddie stresses.

“Because shit could hit the fan. Things could go bad again, and, in Richie’s eyes, I could easily become an enemy. It’s a rational call to make.”

No.

No, no, no, this isn’t what Eddie wants, and it’s not how Eddie wants you picturing what you two could be— a disaster.

Eddie blinks, heart pounding in his chest because god, he wants you and he’s scared he’s lost you before even getting the chance to fix things. “So… is that— is that what you want? To wait?”

You gaze up at Eddie, “I— no?”

Eddie frowns, stomach churning as you look away to avoid his gaze, “That didn’t sound confident. You don’t want to do this?”

“It’s… That’s not what I’m saying. I just— I’m not quite sure where this is aiming.”

“What do you mean? I told you how I feel.”

You make an exasperated noise, stepping out from the wall Eddie had you caged against, “No, you haven’t told me how you feel. You’ve told me what you want. That’s not enough.”

And you’re looking at Eddie with these eyes that make him want to crack open his chest and let you see it for yourself because fuck, the only time Eddie has ever confessed his feelings to someone, she ended up breaking his heart without a single care in the world.

And for this entire month, you’ve been slipping from Eddie’s hands, but this is the time that he’s actually felt it. He feels dizzy and sick and so angry with himself.

“I— well, how do you feel?” Eddie asks.

It’s like time slows as you gaze up at Eddie, eyes filled with so many words and uncertainty that Eddie has only himself to blame for. “I don’t know.” You softly reply.

Eddie says nothing as he stares back, gently nodding as you slink your arms around yourself, “I don’t know, Eddie. I’m… I don’t know this side of you— and that’s not to say I don’t like or want it, but— but what happens when we get bored without the chase?”

Eddie’s heart breaks.

“When?”

Your eyes fall shut, and you shake your head, “That’s not what I meant–” “But that’s what you said.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. You know what I mean, Eddie.”

Eddie scoffs as he steps back, “No, Birdie, honestly, I don’t. I’m actually, like, really fucking confused right now.”

Your face twists in defense and your eyes glint with something that Eddie can’t quite put his finger on, and it makes him want to scream. “You seriously can’t be upset with me for being hesitant on this, Eddie.”

Eddie looks at you, pauses, and holds his breath before shaking his head, “No, I’m—” He steps forward, “I’m sorry. I’m not upset.”

Your lips are pulled into a frown as Eddie reaches out to softly skim his knuckles across your elbow, silently asking for you to stay open for him. “I’m not upset with you.” He repeats.

You don’t step closer or move away, and Eddie takes that as a win either way. But before either of you can say anything else, Eddie is being whisked away with his assistant and promising to finish the conversation afterward.

You don’t see Eddie for the rest of the day, and for the first time, it’s not Eddie’s fault but yours.

You regret to admit that the small dispute you and Eddie had caused you to spiral within your thoughts, and you spent most of the day holed up in your room packing, writing, pacing, and thinking until you exhausted yourself. On a good note, though, the day passes quickly, and before you know it, you’re making your way down the Madison Square Garden backstage halls.

You’ve walked these halls enough to know your way around by heart now, so you don’t have trouble finding the dressing room. The usual small group of ladies that stand outside are there in their Sunday best for the show finale, passing a blunt between each other— and you don’t even notice the missing leader of the group until she’s storming out of the room.

“Fuck you, Eddie!” She turns to yell into the room. You watch from a few feet away, stunned and slightly terrified. She’s beautiful, even as mad as she is now; her red hair is styled in bouncy curls that jump and jolt with each wave of her hand, her heeled boots clicking on the ground with each stomp of her heel. She steps into the room, pointing at someone who you can only assume to be Eddie, but the door obstructs your view, “I knew you before you had a single fucking dime! If you think for one second she’s gonna stick with you through all of your bullshit rock and roll facade, then you’re wrong!” She snaps.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Kenny, please get rid of her.” You hear the familiar grumble of Eddie’s voice. Kenny, the security guard by the door, steps forward and ushers the angry woman away from the threshold. “Don’t fucking touch me.” She snatches her arm from his hold, and Kenny lifts a hand in surrender, “Look, I’m gonna have to get you banned from the building if you don’t leave. Make my job easier, please.” Kenny replies in a bored tone.

The girl scoffs with a roll of her eyes before turning around and storming down the hall, her posse quickly trotting behind.

You don’t hear the usual chatter in the dressing room, so you’re slightly suspicious as you walk up, kindly smiling towards Kenny as he lets you in. The door shuts behind you, and you take in the empty room, void of the usual hustle of band members and staff.

“Kenny, I swear to god, if it’s another groupie, I’m gonna fire you.” You hear Eddie say from the ensuite restroom. Eddie doesn’t notice you as he walks into the room, busy ruffling his hair up for the show and walking toward the vanity, “I already told you who to let in.”

Finally, Eddie lifts his head, a cigarette hanging from his lips as his eyes brighten when he sees you through the vanity mirror. You smile, shifting in your spot as Eddie whips around to look at you, “Hi.”

Eddie’s eyes widen as he takes in the view, eyes raking over your body as he blindly snuffs out his cigarette on the wooden vanity, face stunned as he walks over to you, “What the fuck?” He lowly says.

He’s reaching out to loop his fingers around your wrist and bring you closer, eyes traveling further and further down your frame, “What the fuck?” He repeats.

“Eddie,” You groan. “Where the fuck have you been hiding this, princess?” He exclaims.

“It’s nothing. Stop.” You grumble, but Eddie only shakes his head, “Nothing? Are you insane?” He steps back, hand wrapped in yours as his teeth dig into his bottom lip, “Let me look at you, come on.”

Your dress is black, tight, and form-fitting, with an off-the-shoulder neckline and a puffy lace hem matching the long sleeves' scrunchie endings. Two thin black straps hug your shoulders, tauntingly digging into your collarbones. The dress stops just above the middle of your thigh, leaving little to the imagination—- much in Eddie’s favor. Below the dress peeks out a black garter belt, two shiny silver clips winking at Eddie as they hold up your black thigh-high stockings. Your feet are held in shiny black stilettos. Sex.

Eddie nearly whimpers.

Eddie wants to sink to his knees, push up the skirt of your dress, and stuff his face between your legs. He wants to make you cum on his tongue until you’re pushing him away and begging for a break. Wants to feel the nylon stretch of your stockings scratching up against his ears as your legs clamp around his head. God, Eddie wants it, he wants it so fucking bad.

You smell sweet and taste even sweeter when Eddie presses his lips to yours, practically swallowing you whole— he would if he had the choice. Your lips split into a smile against Eddie’s, breathily laughing as he blindly leads you to the vanity, walking until he feels your body softly thud against the counter.

“Jesus. I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it,” Eddie grumbles against your lips, sloppy and wet, as he trails down to your jaw, neck, and collarbones. His hands are greedy as they grapple at your hips, squeezing the thicker parts to tilt you towards him, groaning when your pelvis drags against his quickly hardening length. You pant his name, one hand dropping to steady yourself against the counter as the other hand sinks into his damp, curly strands. Eddie groans, stuffing his face into your neck, licking and biting as he grinds you against him. You’re all whiney breaths and moans, and Eddie just can’t help himself when he nudges his nose against the strap of your dress before sticking his tongue out and dragging it up the length of the flimsy black piece.

Your head drops back, chest rising and falling with a sinful glisten under the vanity lights as Eddie drags his tongue all the way from your shoulder to your chin before smashing his lips back onto yours, fingers curled around the base of your neck. Wet, hot, and heavy.

Your lips curl against Eddie’s mouth, hips grinding against him, “S-should I be concerned about the angry woman that just stormed out of here?” You lowly ask.

Eddie laughs, smearing his lips against yours, teasingly flicking his tongue into your mouth, “Definitely not. Good fucking riddance.” Eddie can’t wait to tell you all about how he learned about Lany’s money-greedy actions that led him to the page of every tabloid with a false girlfriend.

You fail terribly to hold the snort that rises in your throat, and Eddie cuts it off with his mouth, swallowing your hums as he presses his body into yours.

“Want you.” Eddie needily whispers. You whine, fingers curling against Eddie’s roots to draw a throaty groan from him. “Need to have you, baby—” “I— wait, wait, wait.” Your hands are pressing against Eddie’s shoulders, and god, Eddie feels lightheaded as he pulls away, blown-out eyes blinking down at you.

You huff, squirming against the counter, breath heavy and bated as you reach down to tug your dress down, “We need to talk.”

Eddie swallows, running a hand through his hair as he gazes at you— and fuck, he’s so hard, and you’re so pretty, and Eddie thinks he might bust just looking at you.

Still, Eddie blinks through the thick fog of arousal and nods, taking a moment to not-so-discreetly adjust himself within his pants.

Ever the gentleman, Eddie offers you the seat at the vanity, but you only shake your head, and well— fuck, Eddie just wants to get back to kissing you so he doesn’t fight it. He hops up onto the chair and gazes at you as you lean back against the vanity, fingers fidgeting with one another.

You’re avoiding Eddie’s gaze, and Eddie doesn’t like it very much, so he distracts himself by lighting a cigarette, but it does little to aid him in distraction when the words slip from your mouth.

“I think we need time away from each other.”

Eddie’s looking at you like you just told him you killed his dog, and you hate that you start feeling as if you’re wrecking everything when you know— when you both know— this is the best thing for the future.

The unlit cigarette between Eddie’s lips is removed and tossed to the side as he blinks at you, shaking his head with a confused and hurt expression, “W–what do you mean?”

You slink your arms across your body from instinct, mentally pushing yourself to stand on the rocky island you’ve built— because even though you want nothing more than to cave and throw yourself into Eddie’s arms and start over, it’s not right. You didn’t start on a good note, and it’s unfair to yourself or Eddie to avoid fully acknowledging that just because of your intense pull toward one another. You both need time.

“I don’t understand.”

“Just so we can have the space to figure out what we want and need from each other, you know?”

Eddie runs a hand over his face, “Is this about what happened earlier? Because I was being an asshole, I know, and I’m sorry, but just give me a chance–” You shake your head, stepping closer to Eddie and running your fingers over his wrists, “No. No, that’s not what this is about— I mean, it might’ve spurred it on, but it was on my mind before that.”

Eddie’s face twists in defeat, “I want to fix what I did, baby, just give me a chance.”

You push his long bangs from his eyes, “I am, Eddie. I promise I am. But I need space— we need space.”

Eddie doesn’t even look at you, and your heart aches. “Everything’s been so quick, Eddie. It’s only been a month, and there’s been so many emotions—”

“That’s bullshit, Birdie, and you know it.”

You tense at his harsh tone, “Excuse me?”

“You said when,” He reminds you, “When you get bored. You really expect me to believe you ‘just want space’? You’re scared.”

Your eyebrows dip in anger then, eyes narrowing at the man in front of you as your chest tightens, “And you’re not?”

“Yes!” He exclaims, ringed hands flailing in exasperation. “Yes, I’m fucking scared, obviously. I never would’ve fucked up this bad if I wasn’t scared.”

Your eyes are brimmed with tears, and you’re beginning to think maybe you shouldn’t have even come tonight. Maybe you should’ve just left without a single word and made Eddie hate you all over again. At least the foundations of your relationship were solid and clearly stated then.

How could everything have gotten so confusing in such little time?

Eddie notices your shifting demeanor and breathes, rubbing his eyes and smudging his eyeliner. You fight the instinct to reach out and fix it for him. “Okay, so… you want time apart.”

You nod, fingers twisting amongst themselves. Eddie turns his rings around his knuckles as silence cracks down on you both. Eddie swallows, eyes catching yours for a split moment, “Okay.” He nods.

You want to sink your hands into his and tell him you’re hurting just as much, wanting him just as much, but if you touch him now, you’re afraid you’ll never let go.

“It’ll be good, Eds.” You softly say.

The curtain of his hair obstructs Eddie’s face, but through the tiny windows, you can see the twitch of pain that flashes across his features. “Are you staying for the show?” He asks, eyes trained on his busy fingers, rings glistening in the lights. God, you want to give in to him so badly.

You shift in your spot, clearing your throat and blinking away tears, “I’ll never leave if I do…”

As if on cue, Kenny opens the door and pokes his head into the room, calling for Eddie to notify him of the running clock. You and Eddie only speak through gazes for a split moment, and you both know if he stays any longer, neither will leave this room. You only have enough strength to nod towards the door.

You can’t even watch Eddie leave. Because watching Eddie go seems to be the recurring theme of the month— but now, you’re sending him away— and it hurts. You were so close yet so far away from justice.

The dressing room is vast and holds Eddie's phantom presence and smell, and you can’t seem to hold the silent tears that end up soaking your cheeks. You can hear the distant screaming of fans, the loud booming of the opening to a song, and deep down, you understand that if you don’t leave now, you’ll end up in the crowd, there’s no doubt.

You don’t recognize the opening song for tonight, but you hear the words and Eddie’s voice crystal clear— tugging you back with every step you take towards the arena's door.

My head is haunting me and my heart feels like a ghost

I need to feel something, 'cause I'm still so far from home

Cross your heart and hope to die

Promise me you'll never leave my side

…..

So, you can drag me through hell

If it meant I could hold your hand

I will follow you, 'cause I'm under your spell

And you can throw me to the flames

I will follow you, I will follow you

The song echoes in your mind from the time the door slams shut to the moment you step into your cold apartment in Michigan, and it never stops.

————

part twelve

————

a/n: OHHH PLS DONT HATE ME IT HAD TO BE DONE AND IM SORRY THIS IS ON NEW YEARS EVE !!! these two will be back for one more round of fun in 2024. ok let me shut up before i start saying all my sob shit

as always, thank u for reading if you've made it this far and i appreciate any feedback, ILY AND I HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A BEAUTIFUL NEW YEARS, STAY SAFE PLS <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn @mossiswriting @kellsck @joannamuns9n @siriuslysmoking

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memospacexx · 6 months

Note

If you can and want to, would you please do another Mammon request? One of his personal fizzies got pushed off his web for clapping for Fizzerolli. Maybe the reader is the replacement fizzie (or maybe the other Fizzie who held his popcorn and fan) and it’s all about their experiences attending to Mammon at home and at Mammon Theatre?

From my understanding; your asking for a what if! What if reader was one of the fizzbots, this will be short but i can do another version if asked <3

HELLUVA BOSS SPOILERS FOR THE NEWEST EPISODES!

(Sorry for spelling mistakes :(()

Sitting on the spiderweb-like chair, you stare in amusement, the new contestants this year were surley an intresting group

With a sigh you look over to your left, a robo-fizzie, it looked back at you with a smile, not that it can do anything but smile.

You were about to say something till a cloud of smoke appeared and a familiar green smoke and a familiar ‘cha-ching!’ Sound was heard

You waved your hand over your face, getting rid of the smoke, with a cough you look up to see mammon, the sin of greed, munching on a drumstick

You raise a brow, wondering where the hell he got that from, but keep quiet, you were there to be his ‘right hand man’ afterall, but you never did any actual work, its just an excuse for mammon to have you in his vision 24/7. Hes quite the possesive prick

“Waddya think bout this year’s contestants sweets?” He says with glee, turning to you, with a ring of bells because of his hat

“Pretty sure Fizzarolli will win again” you say with a hum

Suddenly the popcron you wereholding dissapears from your grasp

“Theres gals down there too, you think they could make it to the finals? Women aint that funny ya know” he says, munching on the popcron

“Dont say that, they could be the new face of your business, who knows” you lightly scold

“Ya just said fizz would winf” he says with a full mouth

“Hey man i cant predict the future” you huff

“Well-“ Mammon was cut off by the sound of singing, the preformance is about to start

He shoves the popcron back into your hand and lays back with a smirk

You roll your eyes and start using the fan you held in your other hand

[time skip to fizz’s FINAL preformance]

“Dont worry folks- im sure Fizzarolli is just getting prepaired for his grand- fuckin preformance-“ mammon says with rage, checking the stage. Suddenly the stage fills with blue smoke, and Fizzarolli appears.

Mammon smirks and teleports back to the web, pulling you closer by the waist and using the fizz as an arm rest

You watched nervously as fizz’s, entertaining yet scary preformance, scary cause hes dissing the SIN of GREED but you look over to the your left, his hand still on your waist, hes laughing. Is he that slow????

“Wonder what all this fuckins about” he jests (haha jester joke)

A small portal appeared, “its about you” Asmodeus says

“Hah??” He says looking back at the closing portal

As the preformance progresses you see where this is going, by the end of it, thats the only time mammon even realized it was about him-

“mammon you sad sack of shit!”Fizz says with no remorse, the crowd goes silent.

Suddenly you hear a crackle of electricity, staring at the angered demon, you gulp, you liked fizz, he was cool, he might die today tho. Yikes

The robofizz to his right claps and he pushes it off the web, you cough into your fist and look away.

He teleports away to argue with fizz, cause apparently that song was his notice. He quits

‘Its about time’ you thought to yourself. Eating the left over popcorn mammon didnt eat (he threw up on the other bot that he pushed down)

You sigh and look down at the shit show that is mammon and Asmodeus arguing.

#helluva boss asmodeus #mammon x reader #helluva boss mammon x reader #fizzaroli helluva boss #mammom helluva boss #fizz and ozzie mentioned #theyre so cute #helluva boss spoilers #helluva boss season two #helluva boss ozzie #helluva boss #helluva boss season 2 #helluva boss mammon #helluva boss x reader #.memospace

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lazycats-stuff · 7 months

Note

Heyo, can I ask for a bat!bro reader who’s around 16 or 17 and they find out that he smokes and drinks? And sometimes some drugs. And he (tries to) hide it from everyone?

If not it’s ok, and I hope ur doing good. Can’t wait to see what you write 🫶

Sure thing. I don't personally drink or smoke, even though I am an adult, but those are things that are prominent in my country. Some people start earlier even... I have digressed, my apologies.

Summary: (Y/N) smokes and drinks. Sometimes experiments with drugs. The problem? He is underage.

Warnings: smoking, underage drinking, DRUGS, experimenting, hiding all of that, lying, partying, cursing

(Y/N) knew that Bruce would kill him if he found out. He knew that sneaking out is not going to pass with Bruce and it could get him punished until he is an adult. But this party he is going to is going to be the best party of the century.

And he didn't want to be the party breaker. His friends were going to be there too and he was going to be damned if he is going to miss it. Thankfully, there wouldn't be anyone in the manor and it would be easier to get out.

They have all made a plan to drive (Y/N). His friend, well, the chauffer of the group, would drive up to the manor, but stay away far enough from the look of the cameras.

But the thing that Bruce would kill him for is his drinking and smoking. And occasional drug use too. But his life is too stressful. Why, I might hear you asking?

Well, the constant pressure of being a son of Bruce Wayne, constant eye of the public on you and constant pressure of being perfect. He turned to smoking first.

It was a way to just let go first. If he took liquor from the cabinets, Bruce and Alfred would know all of it and then he would be in deep shit. He wouldn't be allowed to leave the manor or have any contact with anyone.

He would be on house arrest for the next 2 years.

He took a cigarette and his favorite lighter. But the problem is that there are going to be the people he hates. So he needs to destress before he goes. He opened the window, letting the the cold air in and to let the smoke out.

He put it in his mouth, bringing the flame of the lighter towards his cigarette. He took a long drag, before letting it out. He learnt to let the smoke out in cool ways too, so that was fun to learn.

He let the smoke out through his nose, almost like a bull in the cartoons. He smoked near the window so that the smell could get out.

He sat on the floor, leaning on the wall, his right arm leaning on the window, making sure that the cigarette was out on the roof and that the ashes were falling down on the roof.

He looked at the phone, his friends texting him that they have started going to the manor. (Y/N) just said, okay and shut the phone down. He smoked for 15 more minutes before extinguishing the cigarette on the roof. He stood up and threw it on the roof.

He put the jacket on and started walking towards the front door. He stepped out in the cold air, sighing. Winter has finally come and it will only get worse. He walked to the big gates and pushed them with a little bit of struggle.

When he was out of the property lines, he closed them again. He walked down, zipping his jacket up and then putting his hands in his pockets.

He ran towards the car, getting into the back seat.

" Hello (Y/N)! You ready? " His friend asked and (Y/N) nodded, accepting a bottle of whiskey from his other friend. He took a long swig before giving it back to the front.

" This is party to remember. " The chauffer friend said, getting to the city already.

" I don't think that we will remember it by the morning. " (Y/N) said, smirking at his own joke. The other two laughed too.

This is going to be a night to remember.

(Y/N) finally let loose. A cup of some sort of alcohol in his hand, a cigarette in the other. The music was reverberating through him and he finally enjoyed himself. A few minutes ago, he snorted some cocaine and it made everything ten times better.

He danced with a random boy, just having fun. They rubbed against each other, kissing each other. (Y/N) didn't even know his name, but that didn't matter.

He was cute and really nice to him.

And more importantly, he went to (Y/N)'s school so he was definitely going to hang out and exchange their numbers since (Y/N) didn't have any social media.

It was all well until the sirens were heard. What the actual fuck? Since when does GCPD answers these types of calls? The rest of the time went by in a blur.

" Where is he? " Jason asked as they all ransacked the house for (Y/N).

" The footage shows him leaving around a couple of hours ago. " Tim chimed in, looking at the footage on his phone.

Dick looked at (Y/N)'s room. It looked clean and he started looking for some clues. He looked under the bed, in the drawers and then he looked through the window.

Why would the window be open?

He froze when he saw the cigarettes. What in the hell is going on? Nobody smokes in the family. Jason smokes at his own apartment and the others don't do it.

Damian decided to look at the outside, more so where he was last seen. He walked down, huffing at the stupidity of his brother. He stopped when he saw tire tracks. Somebody picked him up.

Alfred and Bruce guessed that it was just a normal sneaking out thing. Bruce thought about it and he thought about the way to ground his son.

This is insane. Alfred and Bruce waited in the kitchen.

" Alfred, what is going on? " Bruce asked, sighing.

" I don't know sir. But he looked off sir. I swore I could smell cigarettes on his breath, but it was so faint... " Alfred said, rubbing his forehead.

" Somebody drove him. " Damian said, huffing from running back to the manor. Bruce nodded. He didn't do it alone. Okay.

He stepped away when his phone rang. Everyone else joined Alfred and Damian. They wondered where Bruce went and what was going on.

" (Y/N) is in jail. " Bruce said and Jason's jaw dropped. Damian was also shocked, but didn't show it. Tim and Dick looked at one another in shock too.

" What the actual fuck? " Jason asked and for the first time, Alfred didn't say anything.

(Y/N) sighed quietly as he sat in the cell. Turns out that the person who hosted had parents who were drug dealers. And he went to their party. By now, Bruce knows and they have notified him. He knew that there would be no talking his way out of this.

He put his head in his hands, cursing underneath his breath.

If he finds out about cocaine, he is going to get killed. Not only by Bruce, but also by Alfred too. Alfred is going to crucify him if he finds about the cocaine. Oh God please don't let them find out.

" Come on Wayne. " The officer said and (Y/N) had to take a deep breath. He felt dizzy from the alcohol and the cocaine. Oh no.

If he passes out, they will take him to a hospital.

He saw Bruce and he looked pissed. (Y/N) tried to say something, but he stopped due to the black spots. Bruce called him, but (Y/N) was falling by the time Bruce came.

Everything went black and (Y/N) lost consciousness.

(Y/N) woke up later in a hospital bed. He blinked tiredly, freezing when he saw Bruce in the chair.

" You had to have your stomach pumped. " Bruce started and (Y/N) swallowed with a lot of difficulty. " You had a lot of alcohol in your system and you were close to being in a way more serious predicament. " Bruce said standing up.

" But the thing that nearly sent me to the grave is the fact that you used cocaine. " Bruce said through his teeth, now enraged.

" How long? " Bruce asked, taking a breath to try to calm down.

" It's not regular. It's just a few times. " (Y/N) admitted, looking down at his hands. He was ashamed so much that he couldn't look Bruce in the eyes, his own father.

" And the smoking? " Bruce asked, crossing his arms. " Alfred said you smelt of cigarettes and Dick found your 'ashtray'. " Bruce said, using air quotes on the word ashtray.

" I'm sorry. But it's stressful being your son. " (Y/N) tried to explain himself, but Bruce put his hand up.

" I know. It's not easy. But you could have come to us and we would have helped you. " Bruce said, rubbing his forehead. " I don't think I need to tell you that you are going to be grounded. I love you, but I have to nip this in the bud. No going out, all the technology is going to be taken, the only route you will have is school and manor. " Bruce stopped for a moment. " You broke our trust with your unhealthy habits and you need to earn it back. And more importantly, there is no patrol until you get yourself in order. " Bruce said and (Y/N)'s first tears fell.

(Y/N) loved patrolling and this was a nasty hit. Everything else, he could live without it. But patrol? No.

Bruce saw it and knew that patrol punishment did it. He gently embraced his son and (Y/N) cried softly into his chest. Bruce knew that tough love was needed in this situation. He never really used it with others, but now it was needed.

" You are going to get through this and you will be okay. " Bruce comforted, giving him a kiss on the head.

#dc x male reader #dc comics #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #x male reader #jason todd x male reader #batman x male reader #batkids #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader

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weebsinstash · 2 months

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more valentino PLEASE 🙏

How does the saying go, "i want this man in ways that are concerning to feminism"?

I was thinking of how Angel used to live in V Tower and, how fucked up would it be for him to receive a good morning text from Val to head up to his room, and AD is thinking it's a booty call, but it's ACTUALLY Valentino being a manipulative piece of shit

Angel comes into the room and Valentino is already half or fully naked but like, he's not hard or anything and Angel is confused? The moth is just, chilling naked smoking with this satisfied look on his face? And Valentino just, gives him some menial command to run him a favor, and he pauses mid-sentence to turn and call out YOUR name before regarding his Fizz Bot, "Kitty, why don't you make my baby a drink?" and you're just like, slinking out from under the covers, ashamed that Angel now knows you slept with the Overlord, let alone someone you know uh, treats him pretty fucking poorly (although I imagine not like, the entire entire brutal extent of it, also, Angel Dust using Reader as a shield against Val because they're both calmer when you're around)

Could you imagine some scenario, platonic romantic it doesn't matter, where like. Angel is talking to Valentino and he sees you in the corner of his eye and he just stops mid sentence, does a double take, looks at you half naked in his boss' bed, and Val forces him to focus and carry on the conversation while he's crying. Angel is just all but sprinting out of the room by the time he's dismissed and Valentino may even play fucking mind games to make him like, MARINATE in how horrible this makes him feel. Valentino is dragging out the conversation and putting on his nail caps or doing his skincare routine at his vanity and making Angel sit there and wait as he's deliberate dragging on his sentences and constantly pausing but if Angel moves to leave Val snaps IMMEDIATELY. So Angel is just. Forced to stand there.

VALENTINO TALKING TO Y O U, MAKING YOU ACKNOWLEDGE ANGEL AND THE REVERSE. Valentino being manipulative and awful and shitty and doing shit like "so Angel baby, I was gonna take a trip to the spa tomorrow, mhm, and also hey you're coming too *looks at you* so Angel what do you think we should get my other amorcito over here done?" the evil bastard is making you two talk to each other, about each other, when you're both like, IN TEARS

Angel, trying to hold on to the last shreds of his sanity: s so... h have you... ever had a facial before

Valentino pausing from doing his mascara with the biggest shit eating grin on his face: oh yeah, someone just had a really, really BIG one

Reader, happily getting drunk off the drink Kitty brought you because it helps take away the pain of this entire interaction: a. .. a massage or something might be nice

Valentino, doing his contour: but baaaabe, I thought you told me you were shy about who puts their hands on your body. Are you trying to make me jealous?

Angel, desperately trying to ignore Val blowing you a kiss and you clearly having bites and hickies alllllllll over you like there wasn't a single inch of you the moth didn't put his hands mouth or otherwise on: uh huh! Cool! So! Guess we can! Decide later right! :)

Valentino, doing his nails: wrong 💅 I also need you to

And the mf is just doing that shit for like 20 minutes straight which doesn't SOUND like a lot but when you're standing there just talking and waiting and, especially having a moment like THIS, it's just DRAGGING ON, and when Angel finally leaves, you're crying, and here's Valentino, "awwww, pobrecita, come here, what's wrong?" and hugging you and you need the comfort and you're drunk and, now maybe you're just a little scared he's the only person you have left....

Also. Bonus round for the angst. Can you imagine. Angel runs off and it's you sleeping with Valentino that finally hurts him so much he's finally RUNNING running away, meeting Charlie, having another place to live. He's still working under contract but the second his shift ends he's out of the studio without another word because... he can't protect you anymore. He feels like this is his fault. He failed Molly and now he failed you and he's worthless and trash and an addict loser-- meanwhile you're beating yourself up because you've lost your only friend down here and also your biggest supporter and Valentino all but lovebombs you (and the worst part is, it's genuine and if you reject ANYTHING, he's getting Offended Bigly)

Ugh. Ok. I'm sorry. Finally finishing the post with one more thing. Valentino is definitely the type to give you expensive gifts and he doesn't actually care about the amount of money he spends on you BUT, will use the fact he's spent so much money on you to manipulate you IN A HEARTBEAT

And also. You're not allowed to reject gifts because it sets him off in like 5 different ways. "Oh so my gifts aren't good enough for you?" "Do you have any idea how much I spent on this?" "I TOOK THE TIME to get this for YOU" God forbid if it's something custom. Could you imagine he offers you something and he doesn't immediately tell you it's custom, like he's got sketches in a notebook somewhere, this is MADE WITH LOVE ableit his creepy obsessive love, and you could literally have a very polite "oh my gosh I couldn't that's so expensive I, I don't deserve it, wow" where you're obviously very happy but just shocked and feeling guilty, like a FLATTERING rejection that is obviously an insult to YOU, NOT him, and he's just. The switch fucking flips. His head tilts. He lets out a hum as his smile pulls way too tight. Lashes out within seconds. Grabs you. takes that jewelry or watch or expensive thing he bought you and literally forces it onto your body, and he's not screaming or raising his voice, he's getting right up in your face and growling out the deeeeeetails of how he got this for you until you're crying and apologizing for your ingratitude

Ugh he's so cunty and mean and awful UGH WHY WOULD I LET HIM HIT, he would use that heart shaped belt he has to put heart shaped welts on your ass and then set your cute bruised heart covered butt as his phone wallpaper and your icon in his contacts and save your name as Ropebunny or something rhfkcsbfkhdxkfh

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #valentino x reader #hh #yandere hellaverse #sinprompts #i actually started thinking of an idea where val calls reader bunny but funny enough bunny reader x val fics exist! kudos #in my idea reader isnt a bunny but jokingly calls themself the energizer bunny after val comments on them fidgeting while serving him #he starts calling you bunny so then he has 'his Kitty and his Bunny' fndkcbffjf #ive also thought of scenarios where valentino accidentally breaks kitty and forces reader to be his new servant and keeps it that way #like can you imagine. kitty gets fixed and val STILL has you wait on him lmao. reality hitting you like a brick wall

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year

Note

lookism boys realizing they have a crush????

Mmmm lookism boys dealing with their crush on you. My faaave. Love this developing blossoming romance shit. Loveeeee the realisation and dancing around their feelings and figuring out what to do. Thank you for this.

Lookism Boys Crushing on YOU

(Johan, Jake, Vasco, Gun, Goo... who's playing favourites?!) Part 2

Johan

Ugh it's hard enough getting used to having a friend around. He had his whole lone wolf thing going on before you came along. And now he has to deal with feelings? What's that all about??

And the way Eden and Miro loves you? Stop. Stoooop. He works hard to try and repress his budding crush for you but why do you have to keep worming your way into his stone cold heart.

He's a weirdo at the best of times and now he's just extra odd. He stares at you. A lot. And he can't help but want to be by your side even when he pulls himself away. He catches himself smiling at you absentmindedly. When he realises what his stupid heart is doing he is annoyed and unfortunately it shows outwardly.

Don't even ask about his jealous tantrums. Yikes.

They're something else until he figures out what to do about this. Yeah he knows he's childish but even he is perceptive enough to realise how he acts around you isn't normal or healthy. But you mentioning spending time with other guys? How cool someone else is? Or sweet? Please don't, his poor lil heart can't take it.

Jake

Sigh. Maybe he should have reined it in with his flirtatious banter and winks. At first they were just empty words and innocent silliness. I mean, don't think about it too hard, he's like this with everyone.

But when he starts wanting a sincere reaction from you? And hoping for a grain of truth behind your teasing responses? He was doomed.

So yeah. He has a big old crush on you and he feels like he should really keep it a bit more professional as Big Deal No.1. Try as he might to restrain himself though, the honeyed words can't stop slipping from his lips. They just get more intense and sillier.

...And start to get completely directed at you. All of it. Well this is an interesting development that the rest of Big Deal take note of. Of course they notice their boss is soft on you. It's obvious.

If he learned one thing from Sinu, it's that mutual pining especially for over ten years does no one good. He's not a coward. He will confess, he just needs you to take him seriously.

Vasco

Listen. Our Vasco Tabasco is already commited. He's married to the Burn Knuckles and he's got bad guys to beat up. He's already tried his hand at dating and he knows what his priorities are so he doesn't have time for a crush-oh.

Ohhhhhh.

The realisation creeps up on him. He's dense but he's not that dense ok? He finds the way his cheeks warm and heart pounds strange when he's in your presence or talking to you. And yeah he may need a little help with Jace to realise what's going on but he does realise. Sooner or later.

Type of silly guy to start fantasising about all sorts of wholesomeness with you even whilst just crushing on you. What was that Jace? Just thinking about Y/N and if they think it would be cute if we shared a chocolate milk hehe.

Ohoh I should confess first? How am I going to that!!!

Gun

It irks him when Goo is anyway involved with his personal life at the best of times, but when Goo points out he's getting soft on you? He finds this annoying, he finds YOU annoying. How dare Goo and how dare you and especially how dare himself.

Outwardly, he doesn't change how he behaves with you once he comes to terms with his feelings. It doesn't do well for him to try and develop his crush further.

But this man barely has a threadbare excuse for being topless most of the time, so what if he does it a little bit more in your presence?

And so what if he cuts back on smoking because it makes you cough? And wears his hair a little messier cos he found you staring at him a bit starry-eyed and slackjawed that time? And if he responds back to your texts a little quicker even if it's just saying "I'm fine"?

Are you going to fight him about it?

Goo

Mercy above, you're giving him a migraine.

For a man that loves himself and loves money as much as Goo, to actually start turning down money making opportunities to spend time with you?? Oh boy. That's a pretty big achievement. Well done you for getting the attention of this menace.

He is definitely not happy with this realisation, he doesn't like anything that messes with his finances but no matter, this is a problem he can solve.

If you thought this man was irritating and clingy before, have I got news for you. He is texting or calling or just wanting to hang with you all. The. Damn. Time. You're constantly on his mind these days, and he thinks he should be on yours too even if he barges his way in.

That's what you get for forcing this crush on him.

#lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism hc #lookism x reader #jake kim x reader #johan seong x reader #gun park x reader #goo kim #vasco x reader #jake kim #goo kim x reader #vasco #gun park #johan seong #lookism fic #lookism fanfics #wannaeatramyeon

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chrollohearttags · 8 months

Text

“…let me take you out”

・❥・them + their favorite types of dates ・❥・ft. eren, armin, jean, connie (I may do a part two)

content + themes: fluff, cuteness and crack, black reader, mentions of weed, mentions of smut, kissing/makeout

📝: I’m starting a lil series I’m calling Soft Life Sundays, where I give y’all some sweet, tooth rotting fluff because I love it. These are all my personal ideas, but you may disagree and that’s okay. I don’t need to hear about it. This is all in good fun 🥰

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

ღ eren loves fun, non conventional dates. He doesn’t mind the dressing up and fancy dinners from time to time but he much rather scoop you up with a bouquet of flowers, a little gift bag filled with snacks and something he picked out because he heard you talking about it on a random Tuesday one time. Your fits, I could see him in some Dunks, a hoodie and sweats (or shorts and a baseball jersey) and you in a sundress..looking all cute. He’d want to do something like a little carnival where they serve all these fair foods that are incredibly unhealthy but soooo good and he’d be eating it all and he can show off by winning you a giant stuffed animal he totally doesn’t brag about the whole night. “I’m the best, baby. I told you.” 🙄 he’d love to do go kart racing, mini golf or even an arcade or roller skating. He’s competitive so he might get a lil carried away but it’s all love! Y’all would have the best time and he’d constantly check to make sure you’re having a good time because he can’t stop smiling. Of course, spending the day with you is enough to keep him happy for weeks. Might end the night with a little smoke session + a movie (and maybe a lil sum else if you’re up for it. (mainly him eating you out until you fall asleep 😩)

ღ armin is obviously the inquisitive and intelligent type so he’d want your date to be as educational as it is fun. Of course, you love it all the same because you guys pick each other’s brains on things all the time. He’d take you to a museum, where they have all of these cool exhibits, explaining everything to you like a little personal tour guide. and a gift shop full of trinkets that he wants to buy for you. He sees you ogling the crystal and rock display while asking him all of these questions so now you’ve got two hundred dollars worth of malachite and amethyst keychains, displays and whatever else you wanted! “These are so beautiful! Thank you, Armie!” “It nearly as gorgeous as you but I’m happy you like them.” (bonus: I could see him taking you to a play/amphitheater as well) you guys would visit your favorite ramen + boba shop, just laughing and talking..enjoying each other’s company. You’d probably where coordinating outfits..something with an earthy green tone and super cute! You’d end the night back at his place where you guys would probably listen to music and just chill (maybe a little making out + spooning depending on the mood) and you’d fall asleep in each other’s arms.

ღ jean is all about the flare and spoiling his lady. He’s a gentleman, a romantic through and through. He doesn’t do anything halfway and spares no expense for his lady for a special night out. I think he’s the type of man to take the reigns and plan everything (not in a controlling way but you like when he shows that dominance) including your outfit, surprising you with a dress and heels you couldn’t stop eyeing at the mall so he had it delivered to your house, along with a box of eternal roses with a sweet little card and some adorable note that’s like “just like these flowers, may our love last forever.” And you’re about to sob! But you have to finish getting ready because he’ll be there at eight on the dot so you guys can make those reservations at that new five star French restaurant that just opened. Of course, he pulls up in some expensive two seater and the outfit to match. A really nice suit and my God, does he look good. But his eyes are all on you. “You look stunning, my love.” Opening your door and everything. He loves holding your hand while driving, stealing glances of you the whole night. When you guys get to dinner, he’s helping you order things, speaking French to the waiter (so attractive 😩) and EVERYTHING is delicious. Including the escargot, which you had reservations on. “Not bad, right?” “It’s so good!” He would also rent you guys a fancy hotel room across town, where he’d have rose petals scattered about the room, strawberries, chocolate and champagne waiting for you guys and he’d spend the night sweet talking you whilst you guys drank and ate. You’d end the night in the warm bubble bath, cuddled up and touching all over each other. (And getting a lil freaky after that liquor gets in your system) Just a nice, romantic evening.

ღ connie is gonna bring the party wherever he is! Mans just loves a good time. I feel like he too won’t be much into the whole fancy dinners and flare but he would plan something super unique and fun. You’ll be chilling and he’ll be like ‘hey, there’s a Paint and Sip not too far from here. You wanna go?!” All excited and of course, you’d be more than happy to.” He’d be the main one in there dancing and singing, just bringing allll the energy! Like it’s never a dull moment with Constance! Afterwards, he’d take you to a food truck or a really niche spot in the heart of downtown that he grew up on (I see him as Dominican/Afro Latina obvs). And he just wants to share it with you! “Here, mama. Try this..I think you’ll like it.” And don’t let them be playing some Latin music, he’d have you in the middle of the restaurant or the sidewalk, doing Bachata. He would be the best! I could also see you guys having a fun night in, consisting of you guys cooking your favorite dishes, getting a bunch of nail polishes and painting each others nails or him letting you dye his hair.

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sytoran · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐑 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 || w.maximoff

boudoir photography: (.n) a photographic style featuring intimate, sensual, romantic, and sometimes erotic images of its subjects.

☰ PAIRING: sub!collegestudent!wanda x dom!amab!professor!reader

☰ REQUEST: I do have a prompt idea, subcollegestudent!wanda x domteacher!reader... where readers assigns an assignment that requires taking pictures that students have to sumbit for there final or something. Wanda submits a photo of her naked... reader gets flustered and holds her back after class and maybe reader tells wanda to meet them somewhere (an apartment or hotel) and then yeah reader fucks the shit out of wanda (sorry), also maybe G!P reader and some kinks like breeding, being tied up etc, whatever youre comfortable with and feel free to add your own touch.

☰ TAGS: smut (18+), college!au, lesbian sex, you're like the hot professor, and wanda is horny af, you can guess how that ends, bondage, breeding kink, professor kink, elements of brat-taming, mentions of reader smoking but i don’t condone smoking irl, shit eats your lungs up but its hot in fiction (to a certain extent), wanda is obsessed with your hands, sadism, degradation kink, humiliation kink

masterlist | AO3

albeit it might seem arrogant, you were quite aware of the fact that you were attractive.

in your defense, it was incredibly hard not to notice.

enrolling into the prestigious avengers college as a psychology professor with no less than two PhDs, you were quickly classified into the category of ‘the cool and funny one who’s too hot to be a professor’. those words weren’t yours, just for clarification.

the first time you walked into your class, donning a casual suit, laptop tucked under a thick arm of muscle that fabric didn’t conceal, your peripheral vision exposed the dropped jaws of female students and the impressed eyes of the male ones.

stunned silence at your strangely stark presence quickly turned into sheer admiration when you did your little introduction. whenever you tried to make eye contact with the students to be engaging, you were almost always guaranteed a flirty wink from the ladies. you nearly choked several times.

it didn’t help that your face was a little too good-looking, or that your smirk was a little too sexy. so when you started the lecture, it was plainly obvious that none of them were actually paying attention to the lesson, but more so you.

word spread fast, and soon it seemed like every student in avengers’ college wanted to sign up for professor l/n’s psychology class.

however, as much as the attention filled your pride, none of your students ever did quite catch your eye like a certain redheaded one.

photo-psychology.

human relationships, personal identity, interpersonal communication, perception, creativity. they helped to explain how we, as humans, create visual images, how we share them, and how people react to what they see.

though an expert in this field, you don’t think you would ever really be able to put into words the emotions you felt, when you saw wanda maximoff’s submission for her finals.

dear god.

when you said there was a photography assignment that would cost about 40% of the final grade, you presumed it meant well-thought-out imageries of subjects that represented the current state of one’s psychological wellbeing.

not this. certainly not this. nothing could have ever prepared you for this.

wanda maximoff, the redheaded student you held an inexplicable attraction towards, in a set of some of the most erotically compromising positions you had ever seen.

the first image she had submitted was of herself in a skirt that was far too tiny to leave anything to the imagination, black fishnet stockings tightly hugging sinful thighs, sitting on her knees.

the second image had wanda in a dark room, the only illumination being the moonlight from outside her window. the minimal lighting fell on her side, bringing light to a generous cleavage. wanda was cleverly and outragingly positioned so that the darkness prevented you from seeing more.

and the third image, god, the third image. it was a sight you would never forget. the redhead was dressed in nothing, sprawled out on her bed, one hand shoved up her pussy, the other probably holding the camera.

wanda’s face was contorted into an expression of euphoria, on the brink of an orgasm. pretty eyes glassy and her mouth slightly open, of which you swore you could hear her needy moans of release.

to add insult to injury, the camera was angled just so you could see a hint of wet, pink, folds, but not quite nearly enough to fully capture the entirety of her beauty, leaving you on the edge of precipice to crave more.

you stiffened in your seat, still in the middle of grading of the submissions during class. you swallowed, trying not to let it show. without looking up, you could feel those mischievous viridescent eyes on you.

while it was undeniably wrong, these were the most captivating, alluring, and entrapping images you had ever laid your experienced eyes upon.

“see me after class, ms. maximoff.” you said, as calmly as you could, voice only a touch rougher than usual.

“yes, professor,” wanda said back, ‘professor’ rolling off her tongue in a manner far too seductive to be respectful. you gripped the paper a little harder.

nearly an hour rolled past with strained silence, unbeknownst to the rest of the class. you waited patiently as the students filed out, watching wanda shove her friends playfully at their playful teasing, before waving goodbye as she walked up to you.

but you decided to leave her hanging, not making any move to speak. wanda was waiting for you to say anything, to do anything.

by the expression on your face, it looked like you were going to bend her over the table and take her right then and there, but while it was a desire rooted deeply in her heart, wanda knew you would never do that. you were an enigma of your own accord, too gentlemanly to be brash with your actions, but too dangerous to be undermined.

you were smart, obviously, calculated in everything that you did. but beyond that was an effortlessly alluring aura that drew everyone towards you like a moth a flame, wanda being no exception from the rule.

so when those calculated began scanning over her body, not in greedy lust but in the knowing acknowledgment that it was yours, wanda felt the inevitable wetness pool in her panties. the flush blossomed on her cheeks, spreading to her ears and her neck.

your eyes rested on her thighs, the ones that had been clad in stockings in the photo, your imagination running wild but your exterior ever-collected. wanda felt her thighs clench, and you licked your lips for a fraction of a second.

it seemed like an eternity of thick tension spreading across the expanse of the room, just her and you in a little bubble of forbidden desires better left unsaid.

then you absent-mindedly began typing on your laptop, not even half of your attention paid on wanda anymore. the redhead stiffened, wondering how you could’ve been so careless in that very moment.

but she caught sight of the paper that had been slipped to her previously. a slip with a neatly-written address, a time below it.

“it’s for you,” you pointed out offhandedly, finally, not even giving her a second glance.

nevertheless, wanda saw the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at your lips, and she felt the excitement bubble. or maybe it was something less innocent than excitement.

you stayed seated under your desk as she left, eyes burning into the back of wanda’s head, noting her flushed dizziness and the entrancing sway of pretty hips.

it was till she was gone that you let out a deep groan, spreading your legs and leaning back, having hidden a throbbing erection in your pants for nearly an hour.

it was 4 p.m. when wanda arrived at the hotel, her legs bouncing with excitement.

high heels clicked against marble tiling, hands shifting to tug down the incredibly short dress she had chosen. the air-conditioning was cold against bare skin, raising goosebumps.

the hotel you had chosen was expensive, the particular unit tucked away in some ungodly frivolous suite. wanda wasn’t sure how many zeroes you had spent on her.

but beyond all that, she was nervous. even though you were the object of her wet dreams encased in dapper black suits, you were still a professor, after all.

she took a deep breath, checking the unit number for the hundredth time before rapping on the door sharply.

wanda held her breath, wondering if you would even open the door. maybe it was wrong to trust you so foolishly. to crave and want someone she was forbidden to love.

“come in,” called a voice from inside, raspy with something wanda couldn’t quite pinpoint, but definitely turned on by.

your breath caught in your throat when you laid your eyes on wanda.

she was dressed in a juniper-green silk dress, one that clung to all the right curves. brilliantly crimson lipstick only magnetized all your attention to soft lips, ripe for the taking.

"hi," wanda murmured softly, stopping right before you. her eyes raked over your less formal figure, manspreading as you sat on the edge of the king-sized bed.

what captured her attention was a cigarette resting between your lips, being toyed with by two fingers. wanda didn't exactly mind, only further turned on at the sight of a partially unbuttoned blouse.

you hummed in response, extending your arms in a gesture to grasp her hips. wanda flushed at your straightforwardness, swallowing at the sight of long, ring-adorned fingers.

stepping closer to let you pull her into your personal space, wanda sighed in relief, relaxing into your touch.

using a free hand to press chaste kisses on the back of her knuckles, you grunted when wanda gently scraped painted nails on the sharpness of your jawline.

unspoken words between gentle caresses quickly became rougher gropes of bare skin, your impatience getting the better of you at wanda's eagerness.

"i- i want you, please." wanda whispered, palming at the erection in your pants.

"are you sure?" you voiced again, almost as if foreshadowing what could ensue. "i can- i can be a bit, well, rough."

wanda shook her head, swallowing when your hands roamed further southward. "i like it rough, professor."

then your hands were cupping her ass, pulling the redhead down onto your lap. gauging her reaction with watchful eyes, you wrapped a hand around her neck to pull her in.

wanda whined at the touch of your hand on her neck, squirming in your lap when you let out a puff of smoke into her mouth. her eyes got hazy as you rested a thumb on her bottom lip, tracing mindlessly.

the taste of the smoke made her dizzy, her breathing clogged for a moment when you began kissing her. gasping needily for oxygen, she tried to pull away.

but you were adamant in getting what you wanted, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, as wanda clawed at your exposed skin with shaky moans.

soon enough, the kiss was all tongue and teeth, clashing with fervency. you tilted your head to let your tongue slide between her soft lips, and wanda let out a moan that reverberated in your ears.

"please," she whined, tugging at the back of your shirt, taut with the expanse of expensively crafted muscles.

"i don't think so, miss maximoff," you responded with a breath of escapism, low decibels making her ears blush. "misbehaving today, hm?"

“i don’t know, maybe you should punish me first.” wanda replied almost instantaneously, haughty but with an air of brattiness that you wanted to fuck out of her.

your eyes narrowed, hands trailing over her pretty thighs, then slapping it roughly, making her jolt with a gasp. “maybe i should.” you murmured hotly, the kisses on her collarbone turning downright possessive.

wanda moaned, hips jerking against your crotch area. you groaned, hastily flipping her over onto your bed. effectively trapping her in, with knees on either side of her lithe figure, you didn’t think you had ever seen a more breathtaking sight.

"you alright with bondage?" you breathily asked, pupils dilating at wanda's hazy eyes of arousal. the fight she had in her earlier seemed to dissipate with each passing second you denied her of pleasure.

wanda nodded eagerly at the suggestion, tilting her head to suck at your fingers, tongue trailing around the cold metal of your rings.

you bit back a guttaral growl. "let go," you muttered, gaze tearing into her pliant mouth still sucking. wanda seemed to ignore you, only taking two fingers further down her throat, letting out a pretty gag.

"let go," you repeated again, slower, in disbelief at how disobedient wanda could be. but you shouldn't have been surprised, for she had quite literally sent her professor nudes for her finals.

“...you’re a fuckin’ brat, you know?”

“mhm, you should fuck it outta me.”

sooner than wanda thought physically feasible, you had her wrists bound by handcuffs, pinned to the headboard. the restraints allowed for minimal movement, but not nearly enough to satiate the redhead’s unrelenting need for alleviation.

you let your hands roam over her exposed body, now barren of clothing. she was divine, in every state of matter, with or without.

“you remember the first image?” you quizzed, hovering above wanda’s restrained form. she tried to reach for you, to touch and feel, but the only thing she was greeted with was cold metal of handcuffs.

"what image?" wanda gasps, her whine breaking off into a shrill shriek of pleasure when your lips wrap around her cute, stiff nipple.

"don't play innocent," you reprimanded with a dangerous seriousness. pulling down your pants, wanda ogled at the sight of your huge cock straining against the pants of your boxers. then you pulled that off, too, letting it spring free, and wanda wondered how the hell it was going to ever fit inside her.

but her train of thought was halted by a harsh slap to her thighs. you seemed to like that, watching porcelain turn crimson, watching the shake of the ass in its aftermath.

"you know the first image," you begin, sliding your cock against her wet folds. wanda cries, groping for you, fighting against the cuffs. "the one with the tight stockings, and the little skirt."

your practiced self-restraint left wanda a bumbling mess, cock brushing against her clit in the slightest. it was so frustrating yet satisfying to be bound by the cuffs, denying her of pleasure yet giving her that in abundance.

"you got all dressed up for me?" you hummed with a satisfied grin at her state of duress. "such a whore, mhm?"

"i- i'm not - ah! - m'not a whore- f-fuck," wanda fell apart at your commanding jurisdiction, like she had been subjected to imprisonment within your unrelenting hold.

"but you are," you insisted, letting your cock enter her dripping cunt in the slightest, then pulling out. "so wet, fuck."

wanda let out a disparaged cry, as you smirked. "and the second image." you continued. "you remember that?"

wanda nodded frantically, the cuffs on her wrist leaving red marks in its wake. she knew better than to disobey you now, to let her brattiness be the cause of that loss of euphoric pleasure.

"i remember, professor. i'm s-sorry. please-"

before wanda could even finish her sentence of wailed apologies, you slid your cock into her properly, as wanda let out a moan so pornographic she looked divine.

the redhead undulated her hips frantically against that little bit of friction, chasing her high as you pulled out yet again. "you sure you're sorry?" you questioned. "'cos i don't remember telling you to fuck yourself on me like a little slut."

"fill me up, professor, please," wanda begged.

"oh, i don't think so, miss maximoff," you said dryly, plucking at her nipple so harshly she screamed. "not until you tell me about that third picture. so fuckin' needy, huh? what if i just reported it to school's authorities? then you'd be expelled 'cos you were all too whorish for your professor."

wanda thrashed under you, fighting against the handcuffs in a futile attempt, as you began sucking on a hardened nipple. "just wanted to take your pups, please. please, i need it." she rambled, gasps and moans escaping her divine lips.

your unrelenting tempo of cruel erotica left wanda a mindless mess of babbles and she was so, so wet.

you stole away orgasm after orgasm, and wanda cried at each lost, knowing she had brought it upon herself.

"please, please, please, i need you inside now." she whimpered.

but your patience had soon run thin, and you could never feasibly deny such a breathtaking woman before you, so you finally gave in to her desires.

your grip on her hips so harsh wanda was sure it would bruise the next day. the thought of going back to school and seeing you at your desk with the knowledge that her body was yours made her shiver, but then that thought was thrown out the window when you entered her.

"oh, fuck," you cursed, eyes wide, a breathy rasp in your voice that was ear candy for wanda.

the redhead had taken the entirety of your cock in her hungry pussy on the first thrust, velvet walls hugged around you so wet and hot you never wanted free reign again.

"professor," wanda's pathetic little mewl had your grip on her hips tightening.

"you're soaked." you groaned out, shifting inside her to make yourself comfortable. the redhead thrashed again at your actions, and you had to shove two fingers in her mouth to shut her up.

the familiar feeling of cold metal against her tongue had wanda relaxing for the slightest, but you took that opportunity to begin fucking her like it was the last thing on earth you would do.

again and again, using her like a little doll, releasing your healthy amounts of seed into her gaping pussy as she begged to be bred.

orgasm after orgasm, as wanda cried your name, as you marked her with sharp teeth and even sharper thrusts.

over and over, until the hotel room reeked of sex, and the both of you were covered in slick and sweat, and until the management security came knocking on your door.

it was 2 a.m. when wanda left the hotel, her legs barely able to move.

this took way too long lmao also i loved the contrast between “it was 4pm when wanda arrived at the hotel, her legs bouncing with excitement.” and “it was 2am when wanda left the hotel, her legs barely able to move.” it’s a parallel i thought was pretty cool so hopefully yall noticed that detail too :o

masterlist

#marvel women #marvel smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wlw smut #gxg smut #wanda x reader smut #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff #x reader #gender neutral reader #marvel #top reader #dom reader #bottom wanda maximoff #sub wanda #my works

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