Tumgik
#… you know what I’ve put enough effort into writing this all down. I’m going to put it in the main tag
prince-kallisto · 2 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
I’ve been watching parts of Book 7 to refresh myself for some theories I’m writing, and I feel as though these lines are very underrated (*゚▽゚*) Credits to GasMask on YouTube for these translations 💖🫶
I think these lines don’t get brought up often because they are missable? The map of Book 7 in General Lilia’s dream seems to branch of, with different sections having little stories attached but are missable if you go down the path right on the main story. But here, we learn of the rumor that Levan battled the Knight of Dawn, the knight that many Fae flee from just at the sight of him. And despite being human (although blessed from Light Fae), he singlehandedly defeated Meleanor in her dragon form.
Tumblr media
I don’t know, it’s just a line I wish to bring attention to again, because Levan truly must be a powerful man to have faced the Knight of Dawn- and survived the experience in the first place. We receive little information of what actually happened- all Lilia says is that it’s a rumor. So I’m assuming that it wasn’t an attempted full fight to the death, as that would’ve been far more destructive to the Eastern Fort, and Levan escaped with his life with seemingly no major injuries to him or the Knight of Dawn.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
So I wonder…I thought about Diaval from the live action Maleficent, and how he was initially captured by a hunter. So perhaps…Levan could’ve made his escape after a duel with the Knight of Dawn through a similar method. Using Crowley’s whip as an example, we can see than even the “slightly upgraded” version of his Whip of Love is strong enough to bind SEVERAL students simultaneously, and no magic can let them escape. And in that scene in Crowley’s SSR vignette, he isn’t even trying- he says it’s as easy as *breathing.* Credits to Otome Ayui for this translation 💖🐦‍⬛
So what if he were to put in all his effort into his Whip of Love? Surely a similar tool/weapon could’ve bought Levan enough time to flee from even the Knight of Dawn if he put his magic into his whip,,,👀
21 notes · View notes
fookinfandoms · 2 years
Text
all in a days work
pairing: tangerine x female spy! reader
plot: The twins have been hired for a high risk job, unbeknownst to them that they weren’t the only ones. You just happened to be first.
authors note: i’m really writing something for a mf named TANGERINE. but I loved the movie and I loved his character. Mwah. Let me know if this is too ooc! I love feedback!
Not edited.
3.2k words
PART TWO HERE
warnings: no smut in this one, potentially part two. language, mentions of blood, violence, they’re assassins idk what you expect tbh, you both fight each other :)
Tumblr media
 “Did you seriously knock my brother out with a fryin’ pan?” Tangerine yells out, stopping you in your tracks. The lights of the kitchen flickered on and off, loud music bouncing off the walls from the club outside. 
Lemon lay unconscious behind a counter, his head now sporting a rather nasty mark. Tangerine stood near the exit, one hand on his gun and the other holding a hard drive. His eyebrows were furrowed as glanced between you and his brother. 
Your head tilts to the side as you shrug. “He had a gun and I didn’t, I think he got off easy.” 
The gears turn in his head, wondering whether or not you were worth the effort. He waves his gun in your direction. “What’s this then?”
“Just another obstacle in the way,” You haven’t moved an inch, taking the time to plan your next move. You haven’t fought the twins before, but they were famous in the industry. Messy, yes, but they got shit done. “I’m going to need that hard drive however, and it would be a shame to put a mark on such a pretty face.” 
“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He retorts, shoving the small device into his coat pocket. “Feelings mutual, but I’ve got the gun darling, and it seems like you’re all out of frying pans.”
Frustration crawls over your skin, and he smirks, believing he had you cornered. Tangerine can see your eyes glancing between him and the door behind him, and he almost considered letting you leave, albeit empty handed, until he remembered his brother on the floor. 
“You know,” He really thought thought he had the upper hand on you. “I’ve heard of you two before, the fruity twins and I-“
“Fruity twins? Are you having a laugh?” He interrupts, and it was your turn to smirk as he glares. “Fuckin' fruity twins?” “I mean, you are Tangerine and Lemon right?” You retort, pointing at his brother. “I’ve heard a lot about you two, Bolivia yeah? Hard stuff that, left quite a name for yourselves. Fruity names however, but names nonetheless.”
“You think you’re funny don’t you?” He hisses, his finger itching to pull the trigger a little more than before. “Who even are you?”
One more minute.
The muscle in his jaw ticks as you shrug again. “I think I’m pretty funny, I mean… I did just take down a fully grown man with a skillet, that’s a story for the grandkids don’t you think?”
“That didn’t answer my question, who are you and why do you want this?” He pats his coat pocket, a reminder he and his brother had gotten to the intel before you. 
“Angel,” You told him truthfully, watching as his eyebrow raises at the admission. “And I was hired, just like you.”
“Fitting name,” What a cruel punishment the universe has bestowed upon you. A gorgeous man with an accent flirting like it was his second language - with a gun aimed at between your eyes. “How much?”
You swallow and look around him quickly. “One million.”
“Christ, one million? We were offered half of that! Who fuckin’ hired you and off-“ Tangerine wasn’t able to finish his sentence as a loud bang swallowed you both. Dust and small pieces of the ceiling fell around, filling the air as multiple little bombs went off in unison through the building. 
There was the back up plan. They weren’t big enough to kill anyone, rather stun. A last resort in case you had been caught up.
Tangerine drops his gun as he covers his head in an attempt to hide from the debris, and you quickly take the time to kick the piece of metal away from him as your other leg rises and knees him in the side. He grunts, and as your leg raises for another kick, Tangerine pounces forward, grabbing your waist roughly and uses his weight to push you into a counter behind. 
You head is knocked back at the impact, and before the man in front of you can move you’re already throwing your elbow at his cheek. He curses, baring his teeth like a wild animal as he blocks another hit thrown his way. Pushing yourself off the cool metal, he holds his hands up in defence, shaking his head as you await his next move. 
“I really don’t want to do this.” He grunts out, his hair sticking in all directions. 
“So you could shoot me but a fist fight is off the table?” You push away the stray hair that had fallen out of its up-do, a laugh leaving your lips. “How noble.”
“I’m giving you an opportunity to leave here with your life,” He steps to the side with a smile, the exit behind him looking better than ever. “I have what I need, don’t need to add to the body count.”
Tangerine again pats at his coat pocket, but his smile slowly disappears as he feels nothing. His hand slides in, and he immediately begins patting at all possible pockets on his person. “What the fuck.”
“This?” You hold up the hard drive, wiggling it around before sliding it into the safety of your bra. “You’re not that bright are you?”
He sighs before turning his gaze to the roof, shaking his head with a string of curses. “Something tells me you like the idea of being thrown around love,” Tangerine slides off his coat and throws the material to the ground, rolling up his sleeves as you grin. “A little too much.”
You jerk your chin at him with a chuckle. “I do love a good tussle.”
Tangerine pounces and you’re already sliding out of the way, grabbing at a loose wine glass and throwing it at his head. The glass shatters and a grunt escapes him as the shards dance around him, but he doesn’t have time to register as you’re swinging your knee into his stomach again - the same spot as before. His muscles tense at the pain in his body, and he throws a punch, getting you in the collarbone. You stumble back at the force, but another grin grows realising he wasn’t holding back.
He raises his arm to swing again, but using the counter as leverage, you lean backwards, letting your legs wrap around his upper half and twisting - sending the larger man to the ground. He slides beside his brother as you catch yourself, kneeling beside him. His eyes widen at the sudden action, and you’re already raising your fist when he moves his head, dodging the blow. 
Your fist hits Lemon, and you release a little gasp at the mistake. He doesn’t budge however, still knocked out by the frying pan from before. Tangerine uses his long leg to kick you away from him, rolling onto his belly as he notices his gun hiding under a grill. He reaches for it, but you’re quicker than him - throwing yet another glass his way as his covers his head. 
“Stop throwing fuckin’ glasses!” He shouts, dodging another. 
“I have a whole set here,” You reply, reaching for the fine dining ware, as he uses his sleeve to push the shattered pieces from his skin. “Stop reaching for your gun!”
Tangerine swears again, slowly getting up off the ground. His shirt was rather torn up from your assault, but your dress wasn’t looking any better. Had the two of you not been currently trying to kill each other, the man might’ve offered to take you home. “Just give me the damn USB, we’re the ones who actually worked for it.”
You laugh at him, your red lips curling in a snarl. “Only because I cleared the office for you, don’t you think the place was rather empty all things considered?”
Lemon was actually the one who noticed the place had a lack of security, but the two didn’t want to push their luck. The intel was easy to grab, who would complain?
You nodded at him, watching the realisation hit him. “Yeah, dumbass - I did that. You didn’t check the closet did you? Whole bunch of dead guys, thanks to me.”
He scoffs, propping his hands onto his hips. “Bullshit, why didn’t you just grab the shit and go then?”
“I was busy setting up my backup plan, I didn’t know the job was handed off to others.” You raised your hands in frustration. It wasn’t uncommon for gigs to be palmed off to others, but that was usually involving a human target, not intel. 
“Yeah well, seems we both got fucked love,” He says, wincing at the pain in his side. “You’ve got a mean kick to you, you know that?”
“No one usually lives long enough to say anything.” A long silence ensues and you eye the man in front of you wearily, praying to whoever that his brother doesn’t wake up anytime soon. He gestures to your chest, your eyebrow raised at the action.
“One more chance, just hand it over and you can leave.”
You shake your head. “No can do.”
Just like before, he launches. His movements were well calculated, you’ll give him that - but your smaller size compared to his larger one was a good advantage. The two of you fought for a little longer, both refusing to back down. He got in a few good hits, but you had managed some that would leave more marks. Having had enough of you punching his kidneys over and over, Tangerine wounds his arms around your waist, throwing you onto the counter. 
Your thighs wrap around him as you slide to the side, bringing his head down to smack his forehead against the steel surface. He looses his balance, and you turn around onto your belly in an attempt to slide to the other side. Tangerine grabs at your leg however, sliding you back towards him.
Your nails try to grip onto the slick surface, hoping to grab something but you’re already being turned onto your back - his large hands holding down your wrists, his lower half keeping you pinned. 
His skin was flushed red with small cuts here and there, but you were sure you weren’t exactly far off. He stares down at you with a bewildered expression. “Did you,” He huffs out, grimacing as his muscles tense at the pain bursting through his body. “Did you plant fuckin’ bombs everywhere?”
“Guilty.” You replied, your breath coming out laboured in an attempt to catch it. 
The two of you stare at each other for a moment, both in an attempt to get in a full breath of air. Tangerine stares down at your cleavage, your breasts rising and falling quickly as you wince in pain. The hard drive was quite literally in arms reach, but he knew better than to let go and give you a free hand. 
“How we doing this darling?” He says, chuckling as he nods towards your chest. “Am I reaching in there or are you?”
“Aren’t you a gentleman?” You reply, feeling him push against you a little harder. “Is that- Are you? I really hope that’s another gun in your pants.”
“It’s not,” Tangerine looks down towards his pants before back to you, shrugging. “You’re not the only one who loves being thrown around.”
“You got me the-“
“Angel? Angel can you hear me?” A voice fills your right ear, a beeping following suit. You gasp, ignoring Tangerines expression as you hear your handlers voice for the first time in hours. The connection in this place was the worst, and you had gone in on the job completely blind. You would have forgotten about your earpiece had he not said anything. 
“Xan!” You speak aloud, the man currently pinning you to a counter looking around for another person. “It’s my handler, sh.”
“Oh I’m sorry darlin’, is this a bad time right now?” He rolls his eyes at you, almost in shock at the woman below him. Is she really on call right now?
“I’ll explain later, but you got about ten ravens, coming your way,” Xan was worried, that much you could tell. “You’ve got less than a minute.”
That wasn’t nearly enough time to get Tangerine off of you and out the exit. The Englishman stares, watching your expression go from shocked, to your eyebrows furrowing. You look around for anything and then tilt your head back, staring down at the door where the bad guys will soon be entering. 
Fair enough, you begin to hear heavy footsteps coming your way, and Tangerine looks up at the other doors, having heard them too. His weight feels a little less heavy against your thighs, but his hands still grip at your wrists.
There just wasn’t any time. 
“You’re not married are you?” You ask, using the distraction to slide your thighs beside his waist, sliding your calves up behind his lower back and locking your heels behind him.
He mumbles a little huh before shaking his head. Great.
With your legs locked behind him, you pull him down on top of you, bringing his lips to yours. His mouth was searing hot, and his eyes were wide at first in shock before he melted into the kiss. Tangerine’s hands leave your wrists, one hand gripping at your waist as the other holds himself up. The kiss was heavy and hungry, and your now free hand fisted at his ripped shirt in an attempt to draw him closer.
The hairs above his lip tickle at you, an almost funny feeling. To stop yourself from commenting on his facial hair, you bite at his lip. He groans against your skin, and his tongue was just about to sneak past your lips when the doors barge open, causing the gun for hire to seperate from you. 
You whine at the loss of his touch, half of you playing the part, the other genuinely missing the feeling. Hiding yourself in his shoulder, Tangerine brings one hand behind your upper back, shielding you from the men who had just entered the room.
“Can we fuckin’ help you?” He yells at them, glaring at their amused expressions. You both sent silent prayers they didn’t enter the room any further, their guns would no doubt be out and proud if they spotted Lemon on the floor behind you. “Can’t a man get some privacy?”
One of your hands laid against his pec as you titled your head towards him, feigning embarrassment. “Baby,” You kissed at his neck before bringing your head near his ear. “Can we go somewhere more private? I don’t like an audience.”
Tangerine swallows the urge to groan. “Seriously gentlemen, you’re scaring my lady here.”
The men say something, but you don’t speak French, and clearly neither does Tangerine - but what he said works, and they slowly but surely leave after scanning the kitchen, seeing it was relatively empty apart from you two horn dogs. 
Once the doors close behind them, you both visibly relax, Tangerine’s shoulders dropping as he releases a breath he was holding. You’re sitting up, your legs still wrapped around him with your chest pressed against his. “How did you know that would work?” He asks, amazed and feeling rather warm at your quick thinking.
“Public displays of affection, they always make people uncomfortable.” Tangerine scoffs at this, his hands resting on your waist. 
“Affection? You were grindin’ into me like your life depended on it.” 
You gasp at him. “I think you were the one humping me like a dog, and don’t get me started on that caterpillar above your lip tickling me!”
He chuckles loudly at you. “Ladies love the ‘caterpillar’ darling, never had any complaints.” 
Someone groans from behind the two of you, and your attention turns to the twin on the floor. Lemon was slowly waking up, and Tangerine immediately lets you go, rushing to be beside his brother as he comes to. 
You felt almost guilty, having been the one to knock him out and punch him - albeit accidentally. Tangerine leans down, clicking his fingers in his brothers face. 
“Angel, you have a clear exit straight ahead,” Xan speaks through the earpiece yet again, confused by your location having not moved. “What… What are you doing with a frying pan?”
Again, you almost felt guilty, but you couldn’t afford to have the two of them come after you.
“I’m really sorry for this,” You say, and as Tangerine turns to look at you, you’ve already swung, letting the metal connect with his head. “Seriously, really sorry.” You were hoping not to use as much force as before, wanting to slow him down rather than knock him out cold.
He falls over, landing on top of his brother. Loud groans leave the two of them, Lemon feeling the weight of his brother and Tangerine now kissing the floor. Yeah, it was too hard.
You climb over the two of them, leaning down to pull Tangerine off of the other man and laying him upright. His eyes roll into the back of his head as pain vibrates in his skull, and he doesn’t notice as you reach for his phone in his other pocket. 
“W-What,” he mumbles, his vision blurry. “What are you doin’?” 
“Giving you my number,” You tell him nonchalantly. “Give me a call when you’re no longer pissed off yeah?” 
He wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly, and by the time his eyes have focused - you’re gone, and he was ready to fall asleep - and he did. 
He wasn’t sure how long he had been knocked out for, but it was definitely less than Lemon. Your heels were left behind and his phone was left beside him, the device pinging with a text from an unknown number with an angel emoji. 
Tangerine sits upright with a wince, noticing Lemon holding a bag of frozen pees against his head.  His brother throws a spare bag of frozen carrots at him, and he catches it, copying his actions “You want to tell me what the fuck happened in 'ere?”
The man on the floor sighs, knowing you had run off with the hard drive. “She got away with the intel.”
“No shit,” Lemon pushes the pees closer to the bump on his head. “I’m just surprised she kept us alive.”
This intrigued him. He knew of you? “You know Angel?”
“You don’t read anything I give you do you?” He mutters something along the lines of idiot and typical Diesel. “She was in the files I gave you last week, she’s good, real good.” 
“She kissed me.” Tangerine replies, ignoring the digs made at his lack of awareness. 
“And?” He retorts, not following along. Lemon had read your file in great detail. You were skilled and a quick thinker, so it didn’t shock him that you had the upper hand on his brother.
“And I think I’m in love.” Tangerine stares down at his phone, the angel emoji staring back at him.
“Oh fuck off you are.” 
7K notes · View notes
Text
As those of you who follow The Ben Naasade Saga/ The Desert Storm/ Rise and Fall have most likely noticed, I have been struggling a great deal for…. more than a year now, in working on this story.
Because I find that I have an easier time letting things go when I express them, I am posting this in some attempt to resolve the feelings I am dealing with that are making it difficult for me to write. (In addition to the other personal issues I have mentioned going on in my life at present).
The five year anniversary of The Desert Storm Saga is coming up this month.
I have poured more of my time and my love into this silly little story than some people give their actual living breathing children. At one point I was posting a chapter nearly every day for nearly the span of two years, which in actual writing time was two to four hours a day, not counting the pre-planning and daydreaming that occupied my thoughts at all hours on how the story would proceed. I was averaging about 400,000 words a year, though I know that has significantly dropped in the last two.
I have received, during that time, comments and responses that have caused me a great deal of hurt. I will admit that my responses to such things in turn have often been reactionary and defensive and angered.
If I have caused hurt through my writing, that was never my intention.
I have always approached my story and the worlds and cultures and characters I have developed in what I believed to be good faith depictions and with nothing but love and enthusiasm that I had hoped carried through in the narrative.
I have addressed sensitivity blogs and resources for writing with characters or cultures of marginalized groups in attempts to address and avoid harmful depictions or characterizations. I acknowledge that in some cases that may not always be enough, that I may stumble over tropes and depictions and dynamics that I do not realize may be harmful.
I also realize that some individuals do not interact with myself or my writing in good faith.
I’ve received condemnation for racism, cultural insensitivity, queer-inclusion and queer-baiting. I have had individuals complain of my chapter length, my writing style, my story direction, my character relationships, changes I have and haven’t made from canon or legends. I have received absolute vitriol over my inclusion of queer subplots, both for having them at all or not having them enough. I have received vitriol over my efforts to include a diverse cast of characters. I have received some responses that were uncomfortably pornographic in regards to character relationships which I do not find appropriate on a gen-rated fic. I have been outright told, at times, that I needed to go back and change the direction I was taking the plot. I have received criticism and arguments over my level of ‘fanon’ knowledge. I have received criticism and abuse over making things up that some readers think is just ‘stupid’, like Sian’s reverse-grip makashi, or including elements that are more true to the sci-fi genre and come off as ‘weird’ and 'mentally unhinged' like my tubie baby and receive backlash for that. I have received comments about my characterization outright telling me they’d rather pretend my version is a complete OC because they don’t believe them to be the character I’m writing.
And this is just some of what I have received directly. To date, I am glad I neglected to join on discord because I imagine what I may come across there in forum would likely be worse.
So I have been angry, and hurt, and disheartened, and in some cases hesitant.
For my own wellbeing I have had to continuously restrict the level of commenting and now viewership on my works to the degree that I have felt the need to lock them to archive users only and at this point disable comments entirely on the majority of the first half of the saga.
And every time I sit down to try and continue this story, this is what sits on my mind – how am I going to be hurt if I put this out here? Can I include a character of color/ coc coded sw-being here or will this bring backlash? Am I interacting with existing characters of color incorrectly? Can I include this neat cultural thing I learned about from the real world and want to share or am I opening myself up to accusations of misappropriation? Should I go this direction with character identities or character relationships casually here in the background or should I just leave it out? Can I do this deep dive into the mechanics of this specific sci-fi thing or is that going to annoy someone?
I sit there and I think about how to scrape off every bit of anything that might be problematic, that might receive backlash or criticism, from my worldbuilding and my characterization and my plot mechanics and directions, and I overthink it and I overthink it and I overthink it and that is the point at which nothing comes out.
I am fully, logically aware that I cannot please everyone, but at this point I often feel like I can’t even make myself happy.
I will be fully honest and say that there have been times over the last several years where I have considered erasing the whole thing.
The sole reason I haven’t so far is because there are those out there who haven’t just been made happy by what I’ve written but who have reached out to say it has genuinely helped them in life.
That something I have done or created has made enough of a difference to genuinely help another person improve their life is the only reason I have left it out there and make an effort to try and see it through when it would, honestly, be easier for me to abandon it or take it down.  
To be clear, I am not asking for more of those responses, for people to divulge their private affairs to me in an effort to make me feel better. I am not posting this to garner likes or kudos or extra comments. I am just…. trying to resolve my feelings in the hopes that if I do something about it, if I get it out, my brain with let it go.
Also I suppose to give the loyal followers of the saga some understanding of where I am at and why the story has seen a decline. A lot of readers have made their own heavy emotional investment in the saga and I do feel sorry for any frustration caused by my stagnation.  
192 notes · View notes
lxclerc · 1 year
Text
𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 | 𝐝𝐫𝟑
SUMMARY: in which daniel is terrified the whirlwind of his world would make you leave him. REQUEST: from anon: “Angry!daniel cause ever since y/n and him went public, paps won't leave her alone and she feels overwhelmed so he gets pissed and goes off on them”  WARNING: invasive paps, hints of anxiety PAIRING: daniel ricciardo x reader WORD COUNT: 1.9k
NOTE: i actually genuinely hate this haha definitely not my best writing
MASTERLIST
I’d give you my sunshine, give you my best. But the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me. Is it enough if I never give you peace?
The first time you got sent hate after going public with Daniel, you laughed it off as you showed it to your boyfriend, finding the entire concept of someone going out of their way and taking time out of their day and putting in effort just to send such brainless comments about someone they’ve never talked to. 
“My first hate comment,” you joke, placing your head against his shoulder. “Does this mean I’ve made it?”
But Daniel doesn’t seem to find it as funny as his arms wrapped around you, a frown on his face as he gently took the phone from you, already making a mental note of the usernames. “I can speak up about this. Maybe lessen it a little.”
Your laugh cuts off when you realize he’s genuinely upset and so you take your phone back, putting it down as you place your chin against his chest, looking up at him to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to, Dan. It’s just a bunch of jealous idiots hiding behind their screens and it means nothing to me. I know what I signed up for when I started dating you.”
Daniel says nothing else, only pulling you closer to him as he meets your lips in a soft kiss, making you smile thinking that was it but still, Daniel couldn’t help the sudden sinking in his stomach. He hates the fact that you’ve accepted that loving him comes with dealing with hate and he can’t help but wonder how long you can take it till you decide it’s enough, making fear rise in his chest. 
The first time you appeared in the Paddock, the whirlwind of photographers and fans alike crowding around you and your boyfriend had you holding on to Daniel’s hand a little tighter, letting him pull you towards him in a subtle way to shield you from the cameras and the prying eyes, a crease appearing in his forehead.
Still, you only smile at him, trying to ignore the crawling in your skin as you give him a reassuring squeeze, not wanting to worry him before a race because of a silly little thing.
However, everyone can see that the public’s interest with you seems to be different from their interest from the other wives and girlfriends. Perhaps it’s because of your bubbly persona or the way Daniel seems so madly in love with you but they took special interest in everything you do, your follower count skyrocketing from a few hundreds consisting of friends to millions in a matter of days. 
“Y/N!” An interviewer called, saying your name as though you’re close friends rather than complete strangers as he all but shoves his mic to your face, making you stumble back a little till Daniel wrapped an arm around your waist to stabilize you. “How do you think Daniel will do this qualifying?” 
Daniel was about to speak, probably to make some excuse that would save you from the intruding interviewer but you only give him a nervous smile, not wanting to cause a scene or make yourself seem snobbish that would in turn reflect on your boyfriend.
And so you answer with as much grace as you can manage, trying to school your features into a smile that you hoped doesn’t look as uncomfortable as it feels. “To be honest with you, I’m still not quite sure how the sport works but one thing is for sure, however Dan performs, I’ll be cheering for him.”
And with that, Daniel is steering you away before anyone can ask anything else, not wanting to overwhelm you the first time that you come to a race to support him. 
“That was weird,” you mutter once you’re far enough away from the group of people, the McLaren motorhome becoming visible as the pit of fear in his returns.
“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, hand holding yours unknowingly becoming tighter. “They can be invasive. I should have told you.”
You’re quick to spot the immediate worry appearing in his voice along with the crease in his eyebrows and so you make sure to give him a smile, planting a kiss on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Dan. It isn’t your fault and I don’t mind answering a few questions.”
Still, the media’s fascination with you only seems to grow. You’re not entirely sure either for what reason but it only seems to get worse as the entire issue with McLaren reaches the media. You’ve been busy mostly getting Daniel’s mind out of it as the two of you went camping with a few friends, deciding on a no phones allowed week filled with just each other.
The moment you come back though, everything seems to fall over. You aren’t like the usual models like the other WAGs are. You actually do have a boring desk job and an irritating boss and live pretty much a normal life. 
Of course up until you came in for work and a hoard of people with cameras came at you.
“Y/N, did you know about Daniel leaving McLaren?”
“Has Daniel told you about his future?” 
“What do you have to say about McLaren sacking Ricciardo in exchange for Piastri?” 
You can feel your chest getting tighter as you fight through the hoard to get back to your car, wanting nothing more than to get away from the invasive questions. Once your doors are locked and you’re back in the safety of your car, you immediately dial Daniel’s number, hands slightly shaking as cameras continue to go off outside.
“Dan?” Your voice is shaking too, you realize as you take deep breaths.
“Honey?” He asks and you can still hear the sleep lacing his voice. “I thought you’re at work.”
“I was,” you say, suddenly thanking everything that your car is tinted and no one can look inside from the outside. “There are paparazzis here and photographers. They were asking questions about you and I’m just–” You cut yourself off, unable to continue as your voice shakes again. “There’s a few of them surrounding my car.”
“What? Fuck.” Daniel suddenly sounds aware as you hear shuffling from his side as he gets out from the comfort of your shared bed. “I’ll come pick you up. Where are you?”
“No, no,” you say immediately. “I’ll drive home. I just wanted to let you know. They were asking me about McLaren and stuff and I didn’t want you to get in trouble.” 
“Who cares about that?” He sounds angry but you know it isn’t you he’s angry with. “I’ll run them all over.”
“Just stay there,” you tell him, already starting your car. “I’m on my way home.”
You hear him sigh and you know he wants to fight back again, wanting to be the one to pick you up and make sure you’re safe but he also knows there’s no way you’ll agree and so he can only nod his head despite the fact that you can’t see him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for this, baby.” 
“It’s fine,” you’re quick to say even though you both know it isn’t. “It’s not your fault, Dan.”
“Still,” he insisted. “They’re bothering you because of me.”
You sigh, not knowing what else to say and you sound so tired that it breaks Daniel’s heart. Are you tired of it? Tired of dealing with everything that comes with him? Are you tired of him?
“We’ll talk when I get home,” you say instead.
— 
“Daniel Ricciardo caught punching photographer.”
You sigh as Michael read the words, hand on Daniel’s wrist as you cleaned his wound gently. After a good night in celebration of his p5 finish in Singapore, the last thing you’d expected was this. A dinner date that was going inexplicably well as you and Daniel giggled over glasses of wine, hands entwined on the table. It was almost perfect if it weren’t for the sudden appearance of a couple of men with cameras blocking your paths as you move to go back to your hotel.
Daniel had you behind him, doing his best to shield you away from the prying questions but it was getting harder and harder as the few men became a horde after fans just passing by recognized him. He was trying his best to keep you behind him, arms wrapped around you in an attempt to put a barrier between you and the people you didn’t know.
His plan was to get you safely in the car then maybe he’d come back out to sign some stuff and get pictures, not wanting to completely ignore his supporters. However, that all flew out the window the moment one of the photographers wrapped a hand around your wrist, pulling you back and making you yelp as you almost fell if it weren’t for your boyfriend’s arm around you.
“Hey, man, let her go.” The restrained anger is clear in Daniel’s as he glared at the man still holding on to your arm.
But the man seemed to have heard nothing as he turned to you. “Y/N, I just have a few questions–”
But the photographer was unable to finish his sentence with Daniel’s fist colliding with his face. He’s never been one to result to violence but all he can seem to see is red as the man kept pulling at your wrist and before he knew it, he was pulling his arm back for a punch. 
“I told you to let go of my girlfriend, you fucker,” he spat out at the photographer now on the floor. 
Daniel seems ready to throw another punch but you’re quick to pull him away by his arm, the two of you barely escaping the clicks of cameras and videos that you’re sure is already trending on twitter.
And so here you were, in his hotel room as you cleaned his bloody knuckles, Michael standing over the two of them as he read the headlines. 
“McLaren marketing will handle it,” Daniel says and you know he’s still angry. “At least they’re useful for something.”
You couldn’t help but sigh again as you offer Michael a smile. “We’ll talk to you tomorrow, Mike.”
The trainer thankfully took the hint, nodding as he leaves the two of you by yourselves. For a moment it’s quiet as you entwine your hand with Daniel’s, placing it on your lap. You rest your head against his shoulder as you allow the silence to comfort the two of you.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “We were having such a great night.”
You smile softly at him, moving your head so your chin is on his shoulder. “It was still a good night, Dan.”
“I don’t know how you can keep doing it, stay with me and have your privacy be regularly violated.”
Is it okay if I never give you peace?
“Because I love you.” There’s no hesitance in your voice as you say it. “Being with you and watching you do what you love makes it all worth it.”
“For how long?” There’s genuine fear in Daniel’s voice as he asked it, finally voicing out thoughts that have been plaguing his mind for months.
But you only smile that reassured smile of yours at him, seemingly so sure of your answer. “For as long as you want me.”
taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq
2K notes · View notes
satorusplayplace · 11 months
Text
he’s back…
SPOILERS FOR JJK MANGA (221 especially!)
☆ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader
☆ content warning(s): JJK SPOILERS CH 221, gojo is unsealed, angst to fluff, reader is so whipped for gojo, gojo is whipped too, lovesick! gojo, i don’t know if it was still 19 days that gojo was sealed…, gojo goes crazy!!, a little altering of the new chapter…! UNEDITED and a little rushed sorry!
☆ summary: 19 days of sleeping alone, 19 days without her one and only lover, 19 days of not being able to kiss him goodnight, 19 days of pain, 19 days of not being able to say “i love you toru.” one more time, 19 days of not seeing that white hair and those adorable puppy eyes.
☆ A/N: i’m honestly like so happy that gojo is unsealed because i’ve been WAITING for this moment. like i’m just so happy bru. missed my pookie :[. lowk should write gojo w an adhd girlfriend fr. this is probs super self indulgent too.
☆ please check my pinned post for request info on the link saying rules! requests are open! characters i write for are also there :) check it out!
Tumblr media
it’s been 19 days since gojo satoru has been sealed. his girlfriend, who was going to be his fiancée, is stuck at their shared home. she was hidden from the jujutsu world. gojo didn’t want anyone trying to attack his future wife. the woman of his dreams, the woman who knows how to understand him. shoko, the other best friend of gojo satoru, took it upon herself to see you, as nanami passed away…
“y/n?” she yells out when knocking on your door. you just woke up twenty minutes ago when you get to the door, shoko saw how you looked.
your hair was a mess, though still was being washed yet no effort put into it. your eyes were puffy and you had terrible eye bags. shoko just hugged you and you broke down in her arms.
“shoko, it’s only been 19 days and yet i still am like this, i thought i’d be better than this. i knew it would happen one day yet why am i a mess?” you knew that it was a little stupid of you to be such a mess when it’s been only 19 days he was gone but you and satoru have been together for 5 years. yet, him being away and not knowing when he was coming back was scary. sure, he went on overseas missions for three months before, but you had contact with him, you can call and text him and still say “i love you toru” yet now you can’t.
“y/n, it’s okay. he will be unsealed. we have a plan in check. we are starting the process now, i just needed to see you and let you know what’s happening. i’ll have yuuji come to protect you right now, you’re not going to be safe alone forever.” shoko says, she gives you one last hug before yuuji appears behind her.
“y/n.” he says and just hugs you. you hugged him back while tears fell down. he didn’t smile at all, gojo being sealed took away this precious boy’s smile. you cupped yuuji’s cheeks. “i’m sorry yuuji. i’m so sorry. you deserve much better my love.” yuuji just hugged you tighter. you waved bye to shoko and closed the door. yuuji was still clinging onto you as you tried to walk to the couch.
“i’m sorry y/n. i wasn’t strong enough.” you looked at the boy, he was getting anxious and couldn’t read your expression. “yuuji, you’re strong. you’re just a kid hon, i can’t blame you. i blame the cursed world we live in, especially because now you’re a jujutsu sorcerer. yuuji, you deserved better than this world. i promise you.” yuuji and you both hugged and you told him to watch a show on the TV, while you made food.
as you were finishing up, yuuji and you both felt a little earthquake though yuuji knew it wasn’t an earthquake but gojo being unsealed.
yuuji just stayed with you and when you served him, he was happy. though, he thought about how you were feeling since your fiancé was sealed in a box without any communication for almost three weeks straight.
you just smiled at him while you waited for the pans to cool down. you served yourself as well and ate right next to your fiancé’s student. you messed with yuuji’s hair and said, “you know, you need to smile more yuuji. i love being around. you’re such a kind boy. i hope you grow old and have a family, live life as well as you can.” yuuji looked at you and then finally smiled, “yeah. i’ll try to promise you that.”
you smiled at him when all of a sudden, your front door was opening… yuuji got in front of you but when the door was fully open, you ran towards the man full speed.
“s-satoru? you’re back? y-you’re here?” you had tears coming out of your eyes. he smirked, “i didn’t know i was walking in on my girlfriend cheating on me with my student!” he grabbed his chest acting like it hurt. you hit his arm and immediately hugged him.
“yuuji, were you protecting my pretty girl for me?” he asked teasingly. yuuji nods and then you let go of your boyfriend. gojo hugs yuuji and whispers something in his ear. yuuji just looked back at you and smiled.
“you know, we’ve missed you satoru. the strongest man alive is back and yet i didn’t get my kiss. 19 days without you satoru gojo. 19 days with your kiss, your voice, your stupid little kid of a personality, your touch. do you know how insane i’m going right now? you’re so lucky i know how to control myself.” you say to him and yuuji waves goodbye while leaving and closing the door. gojo just stares back at you and looks at you, “oh baby, i know. i was stuck in that box and my mind went insane. felt like years i was waiting. couldn’t even sleep it off.”
you went to kiss him and he pulled you in. this kiss wasn’t lust, it was just pure love, saying all kinds of things, “be safe”, “i love you so much”, “i missed you”, “stay with me”, “don’t leave”, and it was just gojo knowing he had to make you his more officially. he slyly puts the ring that was still in his pocket onto your left hand. “mine.” he says after pulling away from you and you looked down to see the ring.
“i don’t care. we’re getting married even if it’s a quiet one. we are marrying each other.” he says that so seriously and quietly. you wonder how he feels.
“let’s go to bed.” you say and he follows behind you. you stopped caring for the dishes in the sink as soon as you saw your beloved boyfriend. when you both laid down on the bed, you couldn’t help but move closer to him until his arms were wrapped around you and you just nuzzled into his chest.
“i love you ‘toru.”
“i love you more pretty.”
758 notes · View notes
whalesforhands · 2 months
Note
HAII NYV!! hope ur doing well!!
tbh,, i’ve been thinking. How do you think SSS trio would feel about Dyf!mc going the same path suguru did? (Yk, seeing riko die and going spiraling to the point that she leaves jjt n stuffs,,) Do you think they would try and beg her to stay? Or would they let her go willingly because they’ve always wanted the best for Mc? Also, when they see each other after 11 years, Who sees her first?
tbh ive js been having brain rot of dyf so like…a million AUs are coming to me about it at once LMFAOO. but hope ure doing well, love ur writing xx
tw: yandere
lol why does ur spelling of name perfectly describe how it’s meant to be pronounced
what makes you think you’re even allowed to leave them behind like that? what makes you think you’re even able to leave them so freely?
you won’t survive out there on your own, are you just trying to die quicker? are you just trying to make them suffer just as much as you?
you’re in pain. they know, they know. you’ll get food placed outside your room’s locked door, have all 3 of them talk to you from outside too. sometimes it’s all 3 of them hanging around, sometimes it’s just 2, sometimes it’s just 1.
it’s gojo satoru that has had enough of your slump, kicking your door down with little to no effort as you flinch from shock, hiding under your blankets when you feel the dip of your mattress, and a head landing atop of your cocooned self, letting out a disappointed sigh.
“I didn’t wanna do that, ya know? You’re making things hard.”
it’s only then that he would lay down next to your form, an arm over your waist and spooning you from behind as you start to break down even harder, taking his intrusion and hoarding the comfort he gave you in this moment.
and your door’s been broken so many times you decided to just leave it unlocked… letting him and the others come and go as they please, letting him wrap his long arms around you at every given chance, letting him kiss you on the forehead every morning he gets to spend in school, telling you that he’ll be back from a mission soon.
maybe that was how it started.
“There are no missions for you, (last name).” Yaga’s scratching his head as he flips through his clipboard, carefully scanning the words.
“W-what? Why?” Your arms are shaky as you hug a Baby Panda close to yourself, soft purrs emanating from him as you pet him mindlessly. You’ve been loitering around in the campus for… Close to 3 months now.
“I’m quite confused as well. There haven’t been any curses within your grade level as of recently—“ He pauses as he flips through more papers, eyes narrowing behind dark sunglasses. “There just isn’t—“
“Then m-may I take one above my grade? T-that would put me on grounds for promotion, right?”
“You can, but there aren’t any sorcerers available to invigilate and recommend you for promotion anytime soon. Earliest I could find one is—“ The incessant flipping of papers stop.
“In about 6 months.”
ieiri shoko lets you roam around the school campus, watching you, talking to you, trying to improve your mental health. she prods you to speak your mind, convinces you that the world outside was the one that was going insane, that it wasn’t you that felt trapped, felt cornered in here.
“The campus is where you can be safe from such things. Don’t sweat it.”
and you believe her. why wouldn’t you? she’s your beloved shoko. shoko who teaches you how to do first aid when she notices how lost and listless you’re becoming, who teaches you how to treat wounds, how to stitch up open cuts, how to stop internal bleeding… all just to take up your time. she’s patient with you, holding your hands, letting you take tea breaks with her… it’s peaceful with her. you’re at ease.
so much better than being out on field, right?
geto suguru takes his time with you. he reads your favourite manga with you, asks you about the novels you have been eyeing and wanting to buy, talks about the soba noodles he had on that one trip to nagoya... hell, he’s the one who cooks food for you and helps you clean your room when he thinks you’re getting sloppy.
“Let me do it for you, okay? You’re not looking well enough to do it on your own.”
maybe that was when you thought to yourself that, maybe, just maybe… you didn’t want to leave this place.
though, if you still have some fight in you…
out of all three of them, the one who would most probably fold to your whims and let you leave is suguru. maybe when you go limp in his arms, break down crying into his chest, go quiet when he attempts to feed you…
or maybe it was that decisive kiss under the blankets of darkness, a show of your desperation and longing for something more than this that he starts to crack, starts to break. it’s then that he finally thinks that, maybe, perhaps, he needs to let you go. he’s always been quite the emotional one.
11 years of free roam? more like 11 years of surveillance. it’s not like you were allowed to go with no strings attached, you were still standing on soil that wasn’t Jujutsu Tech ground because they’re the ones who have given you this right.
they’re the ones who let you go have fun, even letting you get a job as a regular salary worker, let you get a quaint little apartment nearby, let you live the life of a regular person.
but no, oh no. you wanted to play hero again when you saw a little girl getting chased, hunted by a curse? wanted to save a life again because that’s what you could do? wanted to do?
And you got hurt from your decisions?
let’s just say you’re in for a bad time.
72 notes · View notes
givemea-dam-break · 10 months
Text
i'm here (george karim x reader)
a/n: @ettadear and @neewtmas this one is for you guys teehee. it's not overly long, but it got me out of my writing slump :) this went through a multitude of different forms (my favourite version ended up not working out very well but I'll incorporate it into something else) but i hope you enjoy it!
warnings: none words: 827 taglist: @waitingforthesunrise @aayeroace @locklylemybeloved @gotlostinfiction @mirrorballdickinson @mischiefmanaged71 @magicandmaybe
gn reader
You’re not sure when you started coming out into the back garden.
The grass tickles your ankles, swaying softly in the breeze. It really needs cut, but nobody ever has time or energy for it. Maybe you’ll do it this week. Maybe not. Maybe you’ll just say how the garden needs a tidy and make no move to do it.
It’s barely morning. The sun hasn’t even risen yet, but here you stand, staring at the slowly lightening sky as if it’ll bring you the solace you so desperately crave. You could talk to your friends, reach out to them for help, but the thought of bothering – burdening – them when so much is always going on makes you feel incredibly guilty. You’re not even sure they’ve realised your morning habits now.
What exactly is wrong? You’ve no clue, only that you’ve felt a hollow ache in your very soul for what has to be weeks now. It could be homesickness. It could be some horrible, unsolicited feeling of isolation and loneliness. It could be a multitude of things and, even still, you can’t figure it out.
The ghost lamps in the streets beyond are flickering off by the time the back door creaks open.
Confused, you turn to find George standing on the patio, looking up at the sky. His hair is messy, likely from sleep, and he’s dressed in some funny patterned pyjama bottoms and a thick hoodie, shivering in the crisp morning air.
“You okay?” you ask, frowning.
“Trying to figure out why you could possibly want to wake up so early and stand outside in the cold.” His gaze falls from the sky, landing on you instead as he makes his way over, kicking an apple out of the way. “We should collect the apples this year instead of tripping over them.”
A soft laughs escapes your lips. “We should. I’m sure you’ve got an apple pie recipe somewhere in one of those books of yours.”
He stops next to you, and he’s close enough that you can feel the heat of his skin without even touching. Is that the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, or is there someone just stomping really loudly in one of the nearby houses?
“You’ve been upset lately.”
“No, I’ve not.”
George gives you a look. “You’ve been quieter. Your section of the thinking cloth hasn’t had any new and wonderful additions. Oh, and you’ve been coming out here every morning for the past two weeks.”
Your face feels awfully warm. “Have you been watching me?”
“Yes,” he says with a shrug. “And the floorboard outside my bedroom creaks whenever you’re coming down in the mornings.”
It’s an effort not to look at him when he says that what with how he just so easily admitted to taking note of the things you’ve been doing. Or rather, not been doing. And, although it’s for a reason that isn’t exactly ideal, it brings a little flutter into your chest. You can’t remember the last time someone paid such close attention to you.
“So?” he prompts. “You know you can talk to me.”
You know you can, but you’re not even sure yourself of what’s wrong. “I know. I just… It’s hard to put my finger on what it is exactly, you know?”
He nods and, it could very well be a figment of your imagination, but you’re sure he shuffles an inch closer until your shoulders are almost touching. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face, watching for any hints of what could be wrong. Because that’s what George does. George, the boy who searches and searches for the tiniest details. George, who is relentless when on the hunt for information. George, who, despite it all, knows not to push you on a topic you don’t want to talk about. George, who –
Who is reaching for your hand and slipping his fingers in between yours.
His touch comes as a shock. Usually, he rejects any kind of physical touch whenever he can, preferring the comfort of his own skin to anyone else’s. But there’s his hand in yours. His pulse beating almost in time with yours between your palms. His hand is warm and soft, and the touch alone has your heart racing.
“I’m here for you, remember,” he says softly.
You’re sure your hand is horribly clammy, but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he squeezes it as you look at him, offering a small smile. A smile tugs the corners of your lips upwards in some meagre attempt to show him how grateful you are.
Truthfully, you’re not sure he really knows how much this means to you. Him reaching out to you. Him paying attention to the little things you were sure nobody had noticed. His touch.
“Thank you,” you murmur.
And, when your head comes to rest on his shoulder, he leans his against it, squeezing your hand again.
206 notes · View notes
livelaughlovesubs · 3 months
Note
Hey Nini! Idk if you have the time to do this but could you write a fluff were a bsd character (any that you wanna pick!) comforts reader that is starting to feel insecure about the way they look and also worrying that theyre being a bad partner? You can ignore this if youre too busy!
Hey~ sorry for the wait love, I’ve been… on motivation reserving modus haha
Tumblr media
It was ironic, really. You, who was equivalent to nothing, dating someone like them. They were so pretty, so beautiful and handsome in your eyes. Not only that, so talented too, as if they were good at everything. While you on the other hand were barely keeping yourself above the water and owning a sickly looking conditions as if you never knew what sleep was. Maybe it was due to your adoration for your partner, but they were perfect, and you weren’t.
You have always wanted the best for them, tried your utmost with everything to keep them satisfied, yet it all seems futile in comparison to what they can do. What you did wasn’t grandios enough, wasn’t special enough, not enough efforts, not good enough, you didn’t deserve them. This thought crossed your mind so often, how they were so much better at everything then you, how they would be better off without you, but you were egoistic and still wanted to keep being by their side. Such a terrible partner you were, weighing your significant other down, they are losing their potential by hanging out with someone like you, someone who can’t even do half as well as them.
Good lord, you were truly egoistic, even now you wanted to keep being with them. Whenever you looked into the mirror the, first thought filling your senses would be a complain, about single body parts that just aren’t satisfactory. You were dreading your own body more and more, it was awful. Of course you didn’t want to hate yourself like that, but you couldn’t help it. Not when they were so good, not when you were so bad.
You were cuddling with them on your couch, limps tangled together. Ah, they smelled so nice.. their akin was very soft and tender too, not to mention how gorgeous they look today too. You wondered if you looked alright, maybe you shouldn’t let yourself be seen with them in public. Their arms wrapped around your body, holding you tightly while sighing in content. “Y/n, I really like you.” They uttered, breath hitting your skin, it tickled you slightly. “You are really too good for me, I love you too.” “What do you mean too good? It’s more the other way around!” Your lovely partner was giggling, watching them having fun felt so nice. “I mean it, you are so perfect and beautiful in comparison to me.” Somehow the mood dropped after you finished your sentence, their eyes also widened a little. “What do you mean in comparison? You are amazing too.” “No way, me? I mean, I’m at best average, but you…” you stopped yourself from speaking, because them seemed somewhat uncomfortable now. “Is.. something wrong?” There you go again, ruining everything, it must have been something you said… how clumsy can one even be?
They opened their mouth, about to say anything, before pressing their lips together. An awkward silence broke out, none of you moved. Luckily for you, they attempted to do the first move again, whispering, “do you always think like that?” This took you by surprise, so you answered, “what?” “That I’m so much better than you? That you don’t deserve this?” The look in their eyes seemed bitter, it made your heart ache. “Ah, well..” you knew that they would worry if you told them the truth, about how depressed your thoughts have been lately.
“There is no need to feel that way, you know that.” Your darling told you, a firm and serious expression now present on their features. You were such an indict, then wasn’t something they needed to know, it was a you problem, and a pathetic one at that. “I know I know, let’s just put that matter aside for now, okay?” “No, don’t talk your way out of this now. Tell me, what is it that you are worrying about?” Ah, if they use that tone, you know you have to tell them or they will keep bothering you. “Well, I wondered if I’ve been a good partner.” “Why are you doubting yourself? You have been great.” “I don’t know, it’s just compared to you-” “but you know I love you a lot.” “That.. I-” The discussion was going nowhere, you didn’t want to burden them with your useless problems, how did it come to this?
“Y/n, there are so many things I love about you, so many aspects of you that are far more superior to mine. I really admire you. For example the way you look at me, the way you talk, smile, how you make my heart beat faster. I always wonder if I have the same effect on you, and worry if I’m being sincere enough, but that’s why I want to keep being with you, to learn and to show you how much I adore you. Everyone has their own struggles, sometimes it’s not about overcoming them but accepting them and making the best out of it.”
It was weirdly philosophic, and so detailed, as if they prepared years for this speech, but it was also strangely comforting. It would be an understatement to say you were speechless afterwards. After another break of utter silence, you chuckled, then started laughing. “What a grandiose speech, it really suit your personality, pff.” Now they were a little embarrassed, why were you laughing so much? “And here I was, trying to comfort you.” They sighed, almost looking hurt. “Alright, sorry, heh.. thank you, I appreciate it, really.” Even though it was funny and all, you couldn’t deny the effort they poured into it. “Ah.. you truly are too good for me.”
Tumblr media
57 notes · View notes
seenoversundown · 3 months
Text
❄️ White Christmas ❄️
Tumblr media
Warnings : Smut (Oral F Receiving) / Suggestive language / Fluff
Word Count: 3k
Jake x Charlotte (OC)
White Christmas - Bing Crosby "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas With every Christmas card I write May your days be merry and bright And may all your Christmases be white"
Jake POV
The clock next to my bed glows 5:05 am back at me and I can hear Charlotte pacing the apartment. She has overwhelmed herself with plans per usual and now is trying to figure out how we’re going to get through all of them. Christmas didn’t need to be this hectic, but Charlotte is a special breed of woman. She knows what she wants and she will get it done. 
“Jacob,” she says softly into the dark, “You need to get up. We have so much to get done this morning.” 
I can see her figure walking toward my side of the bed even though I'm squinting in hopes she’ll let me lay here a little while longer. 
“Jacob,” she says a bit louder and I have to respect her persistence. 
“Charlotte” comes out gravely given the fact I'm hardly awake. Now that she’s next to me with a tight jaw and eyebrows knitted together, I snake my arm around her and pull her back into the bed, her toppling over me. The look on her face tells me that she’s not excited about my little move, but I choose not to see that and pull her back to me. She’s resisting the entire thing but I’m determined to help her calm down before the entire day is just filled with anxiety. 
“Do you understand that we need to be at my parent's house by noon? I still have to.” She frantically starts rambling off the endless list of things, even though she doesn’t need to be working on any of it for another hour at least. I cut her off with a kiss, leaning into it a little, enjoying the feeling, and the room going quiet for a second,  is a bonus.  
“You will have more than enough time,” I try to reason with her, “just lay with me for a little bit, honey.” I place a small peck on the tip of her nose. 
My efforts did not work as she started sitting up and squirming out of my grasp. She climbed out the bed without saying anything and just shot me a glare as she left the bedroom. 
I let out a sigh that came from the bottom of my soul before getting up. I decide to make coffee before anything else because there is no chance I will make it through the entire day if I don't. Charlotte keeps glancing over as I'm setting up the coffee pot as if I'm just in the way. I send her a lazy smile even though she has only given me a heavy side-eye since I came out of the bedroom. She keeps checking the list she made on her phone, marking off the things that she’s already done, and I can see from across the room that she doesn’t have much left. 
I pour a cup of coffee, making it the way she prefers, and hand it to her quietly. 
“Here, you could use this,” I mumble before wandering into the living room. 
The sun is starting to come up, and the tree that Charlotte so carefully decorated does look lovely. I sip on my coffee as I admire the tree glimmering in the morning sun, knowing that the gift I got her is casually sitting on the tree skirt. She meekly wanders over to me, sipping on her coffee, and finds her place next to me just for a second. 
“Thank you,” she whispers, leaving a small kiss on my cheek. “I need to shower.” 
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Buttoning the bottom of my shirt, I move to the mirror to make sure everything looks right. I wanted to try to make Charlotte happy, so I put on an outfit I knew she would enjoy. Adjusting my necklace so it sits flat against me, I have a thought. Wandering back over to my dresser, I grab the two rings sitting atop it. Sliding them on as I hear the shower water shut off, smirking to myself because I’m almost positive I can win her over with them. 
Grabbing my robe from the back of the door, I make my way to the bathroom. Leaning against the doorframe, I watch her rub various lotions and oils onto her face. God, she’s the most tantalizing creature I’ve laid eyes on. 
“Can I help you?” she quips, making eye contact in the mirror. 
“Thought you might want this,” I say, holding up the silky fabric. 
Excitedly turning around, she takes the robe from me abruptly. Watching her in the mirror as she carefully clips her hair up, she looks effortlessly beautiful all the time. I haven’t gone a day without thinking about how lucky I am to manage to keep this incredible woman in my life. Without warning, she drops the towel she had tightly wrapped around her, revealing everything. 
“Fuuuuuuuck,” I let out louder than anything I’ve said all morning, “My god, you’re hot.”
 Not being able to take my eyes away from her delectable curves, the way her breasts sit naturally on her body while the cool air of winter gave me the gift of her peaked nipples. The way I’d like to just–
“Too early for big words, Jacob?” She taunts me as she ties up the robe, taking away all the fun I’ve had since being alive today. I move closer, snaking my arms around her waist and tucking my face into the crook of her neck. 
“You are just too much,” I mumble in between kisses I trail from her neck to her shoulder. 
“Not now, Jacob,” she says, shrugging her shoulders to block me from loving on her. 
“Charlotte, you can't look like that and not expect this,” I’m offended that she isn’t enjoying the attention. I lightly tap the two ring-clad fingers against her, watching her eyes dart to my hands in the mirror. The way her pupils grew in size was enough to hold me over for now.  
“You know what- I’m sorry, honey. I’ll let you finish getting ready.” Placing a kiss against her cheek, I make my way out of the bathroom, but not without letting my hand gently graze her ass as I go. 
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Setting the tote bag next to the door that has all the gifts we need to bring with us completes everything Charlotte needs to get done before we leave. I pull out my phone to check the time: 9:30 am.  And she thought we would be late, and I definitely could have slept longer. 
I go over to our tree with the remaining few gifts under it, crouching down to adjust them. Pulling them to the front, making it look fuller. I picked up the small box I had wrapped under the tree for her. Don’t get any ideas; it’s not that. Sliding it into the secret pocket of my jacket. 
“What are you doing down there?” she asks. Her voice sounds a bit happier now, running her hand down the back of my head. 
“Just making it look less bare since we are taking the bulk of the gifts with us”
Standing up, I turn to her and she is always gorgeous, but she is something today. 
Long red hair loosely curled, the way her makeup just emphasized her natural beauty. Still in my robe, I’m nothing if not obsessed with her.  
“Well,” busting out my finest English accent. “Aren’t you a feast for hungry eyes?” 
Works like a charm every single time. 
“Jacob cut it out,” she laughs out. 
“I don’t think that’s an option,” grabbing her hands. “Have you seen you?”  
Pulling her to me, I wrap one arm around her waist, still holding her other hand. Starting to sway and twirl her around the living room, watching her loosen up and smile. 
“I’m dreaaaming of a whiiiite Christmas.” I quietly sing to her as she giggles, “Just like the ones I used to know.”
I continue to hum the song, slowly swaying with her in the dimly lit living room. Spinning her away from me but quickly bringing her back and dipping her low, watching the smile pull at the corners of her lips, I just hold her there for a moment. We both just gazed at one another, finally pressing my lips gently against hers. I still get butterflies from her kiss even after all this time. 
Placing a few kisses across her cheeks, sneaking one behind her jaw, and trailing down her neck, I scoop her up bridal style and bring her over to the couch. I set her down gently, continuing to press soft kisses into her neck and collarbone, trailing towards the opening of my robe. Carefully, I pull the small bow apart, causing the robe to open a bit more. 
“Oops,” I whisper, glancing up at her as she lets out a small laugh at the gesture. I hold the edges of the robe between my fingers, eyes still locked on hers.
“May I?” I ask quietly. 
“Yes, baby, please.”
Immediately, I move the robe off of her breasts, unable to hold in the groan just from the sight of them. Gently, I move my hands to each one, squeezing them softly before running my thumbs over her already peaked buds, eliciting a little hum from her. I lean back down, pressing my lips to her sternum first, then hovering over her left breast. Blowing a small stream of air at her excited nipple, I see the goosebumps creep in. I let the very tip of my tongue make contact. Hearing her moan, I wrap my lips around her. Kitten licks while I’m still palming her other breast, carefully rubbing my thumb over and around her. The small pop as I pull my lips away from her, moving to the other side. 
I stop just for a second, moving the rest of the robe off of her body. Seeing the woman I love laid out in all her glory, the dim lights from our Christmas tree, she looks like a dream. 
Running my hands down her sides, I hold her waist for a second as I take her in. 
“You’re so beautiful, honey,” I say lowly.
Gently placing my hands on her thighs and pushing them apart, I’m practically drooling. Merry Christmas to me, damn. I kiss my way up her thighs, into the crease where her legs meet her hips. I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my face as I lean in to press my lips against her clit, which I’m sure is screaming for attention. The contact alone made her jump, which made my smile wider. 
I flatten my tongue against her, licking a wide stripe up to her clit.
“Baby, please,” she whines, and who would I be to not please her? 
Sucking and licking at her slowly hardening clit, I reach up with my left hand palming her breast, lightly playing with her nipple, giving her as much stimulation as I can. 
I’ve been holding her thigh with my right hand until I feel her lightly tap me. Gazing up at her, she glances at my hand quickly. 
“Mmm,” I murmur into her, “is this what you want, honey?” 
I run my middle finger down her, stopping where she wants it most. The moan that came from her as I pushed into her sent a chill through my body. I push until my ring stops me, the cool metal hitting her skin must have felt nice because she shivered once it made contact. I start pumping my finger into her, searching for the spot that makes her crazy, I go back to kissing and lightly dancing my tongue around her clit. The sweet sounds coming from her egging me on, encouraging my hand to move faster. 
I move my hair out of my face with my free hand, trying to keep it from getting in the way, I should have pulled it up before I did this, she loves it when I do. Feeling her gently reach down, grabbing at my hair, I smile into her. 
“Feel good?” I ask, but I’m met with the sounds of her breathing. She had her eyes tightly shut and her mouth slightly open; my sweet girl was in heaven. 
I don’t know what came over me, but I carefully grab her thighs and pull her to the edge of the couch so I can kneel on the floor. I place her legs over my shoulders, pulling her aching cunt to me. 
Running my middle and ring finger through the pooled arousal, bringing it back up to her clit. Tight, fast circles on her sensitive little bud, causing a slew of sounds to pour from her. 
“Oh my god, Jacob.” 
Adding a bit more pressure, I can see it building up as her jaw slacks even more. Squeezing her inner thigh with my free hand, I feel her starting to squirm. 
“Let it out, honey.” I let the pet name linger on my tongue. 
I can tell she’s right there; just needs a little bit of help. I go back to lapping at her swollen clit, while my middle and ring finger slide down through her, teasing her. Knowing she would never ask but also that she enjoys the feeling, I slip just my middle finger into her, quickly pulling back to slide both fingers down her wet center before lightly making contact with her ass. We haven’t explored that part of sex, but anytime I’d accidentally touch her there, she didn’t sound mad about it. 
I don’t go too far with it, but some soft touches just to get her going even more. I bring my fingers back up, plunging them into her. Moving my hand at a steady pace, her hips keep trying to buck at the friction. I placed my left hand on her lower stomach and added a bit of pressure to keep her in place. 
“Jacob– fuck, oh my- oh my god-”  
“Come for me,” I tell her.
Curling my fingers up, pressing them against the most sensitive spot. I continue to move faster and faster, feeling her tighten around me. 
“Give it to me, honey.” I groan. “Wanna hear you.” 
I feel her finally let go before her body starts to shake with a string of ‘oh my god’ and little moans coming from her. I only slow my pace down once I feel her start to become overstimulated. 
Peppering kisses over her stomach, pulling myself back up to look at her, I’m met with her hands grabbing the sides of my face to plant a kiss on me. Giggling into the kiss because she’s quite possibly the best gift I’ll ever get, whether she knows that or not. 
“Let me clean myself back up so we can get going,” I tell her. 
“But–” she sounds confused. “What about you, baby?” 
I stand up, looking down at her sweet, confused little face, and lean down to place a kiss on her forehead. 
“I can wait,” I tell her. While backing up, I chose to lay it on thick. “Don’t wanna ruin you before we have to go hang out with family. That can be a gift for later, don’t you think?” I shoot her a little wink before turning into the hall.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
I made myself a second cup of coffee and sat on the couch, waiting for my beloved. Scrolling mindlessly on my phone until I feel a little tap on my shoulder. 
Stood there, fiddling with her red plaid skirt, her silky deeper red long-sleeve button-up tucked neatly into it. Very Charlotte of her. 
“Does this look okay?” She asks, her voice quiet. 
“You always look gorgeous. Of course, it looks okay.” 
Grabbing at her hand and running my thumb across her knuckles, I know what will help. 
“I have something for you to open, actually,” reaching into the secret pocket of my jacket, “You’ll understand why I’m giving it to you now.” 
Pulling out the small box, her eyes go wide. 
“Jacob-“ 
“No no no no no, it’s not that.” I really should have put it in a different box. 
She takes the box from me, carefully untying the ribbon I had neatly wrapped around it. The little springs creak on the box as she opens it, letting out a small gasp as her eyes light up. 
“Is this,” she pulls out a dainty gold chain necklace with a small piece of rose quartz dangling in the middle of it, “Oh, I love it” 
Holding my hands out to take the necklace from her, she hands me the ends and turns around excitedly. She pulls her hair out of the way so I can clasp it together and turn her back around. 
“You seemed drawn to it before,” I tell her, “And now, you will think of me.” 
She can’t help the laugh, “Jacob!” Lightly pushing my shoulder before leaning up to give me a sweet kiss. Lingering after she pulls away, she looks all over my face. 
“Actually..” she whispers against my lips, “I have a request,” placing another quick kiss on me. Running her hands through my hair, landing on the back of my neck, now she’s laying it on thick. I look down at her, her eyes twinkling in the light. 
“What’s that?” I asked, matching her volume. 
“Do you think you could change into your red sweater so we can match?” She says quietly and quickly with a smile plastered across her face, what a little shit. 
“No can do, Red,” I tell her. Watching her face falter a bit, I glance over to the door and see the pile of coats and scarves. 
I walk over, digging through everything to pull out a scarf in a similar plaid pattern as her skirt. 
“I’ll settle for this,” I say, setting the scarf around me, “does that work?” 
She nods ‘yes’ with a small giggle, walking over to put on the coat that I have held out for her.
I let her out the door first, grabbing all our gifts on my way out. I turned to her after locking the door with my arm held out. She wraps her hand around my bicep, looking up at me. I can’t believe she’s mine. 
“Ready for merriment, my fair maiden?” I can’t shake this English accent, but the look on her face every time I pull it out is worth it. 
“Only with you, Captain.” 
Masterlist | Taglist
taglist:
@peaceloveunitygvf , @gvfsstardust, @threadofstars , @ourlovesdesire
73 notes · View notes
iameliseposts · 4 months
Text
Deafening - Diavolo x Fallen Noble!MC
In which MC, a noble fallen from grace is engaged to the future Demon King. The slander they hear behind their back is loud, but the silence in their office from being too busy to see Diavolo is louder.
So… it’s been a while… 😭 I’m really sorry for not being more consistent. I’ve been really busy with school and been in a writing slump. I’ll be trying to post more once finals end, so I hope you enjoy!
Tumblr media
Bags under their eyes, MC drags the pen across the paper. Their study was eerily quiet, as it was most of the time. MC didn’t know what was worse, their family accidentally blowing up the study or having to work endlessly in silence. Their lady in waiting claimed it was silence.
“Could you all resist the urge to blow up my private study every time I leave?” MC asked, wrinkles forming on their forehead, “Or at the very least, not have this occur every week?”
“Come now! Isn’t the silence working alone deafening?”
Such was true this time. The sound of their pen scratching the paper wasn’t enough for their head. Their study was filled with papers left and right. Documents lined their cupboards and dressers. Scattered around, there was an accessory left behind by the fifth born or a pen gifted by the eldest.
They missed the vibrant sound of laughter after they got electrocuted by a suspicious sticky note by their desk. They missed the gasps and hushed whispers (which turned into whisper shouts) after certain people dropped some documents.
They missed the prince’s arms around their shoulders at the end of the day, dragging them to bed. They were stuck in their room for the past couple days, focusing on the paperwork in front of them. A dispute of sorts between two powerful noble houses. One was a side-branch of Mephistopheles’ house and the other was a prominent figure in external Devildom affairs. Ugh, they’ve been at it for how long? Yet now, this problem has become a serious issue.
The noble in charge of external Devildom affairs has been withholding certain goods from the other house, causing throngs of issues. Conferences between both houses have been heated. Hell, even conferences not about either house or external issues in general have the two houses arguing. And who got the short end of the stick? The people who deal with the aftermath of a group of petty nobles.
Worst of all, no matter how much work MC does, how much effort they put in, it’s always ignored. They’re just the leftovers of the more important nobles or so they say. Neither house were all too happy with MC taking over their problem, which pissed off Diavolo more than he’d admit to any noble. In his words, ‘Why complain about a problem, then proceed to complain about a solution presented in your hands?’
What could MC do other than work harder? They needed their social position to improve, so whatever could they do? They didn’t even have a debutante ball like all nobles do during their first step into high society. They was invited to gatherings, only to listen to nobles ramble about Diavolo. It was tiring, but nothing could be done because of MC’s house circumstances. And it was something they never could have controlled and never can be fixed.
Another document done. Too many left to go. All the while the sounds of the castle being drowned out of the room with the soundproof door. They’ve been doing nothing but eating, working and sleeping for the past weeks. They barely have time to go to the House of Lamentation and it breaks their own heart.
Even Diavolo has been busy with the same problem. He’s been in his personal study, dealing with this, the exchange program and probably even more shit. And while MC does understand; they truly do, they wish the situation didn’t suck ass. The emptiness in the room was deafening on MC’s ears.
MC barely registered the sound of the door opening as they focused on their work. Calculate these numbers, write this down, feel a warm presence on your shoulder… wait what? The hand on their shoulder gripped tight enough to make MC’s shoulders relax, but not hurt them. They felt their will to keep working weaken and wither away as their fiance massages their stiff shoulders. If only their work wasn’t urgent.
Diavolo bends his head down into the crook of MC’s shoulder. “You should rest, my monarch.” He whispers into their ear. “You have been working for long hours for several days.”
“I can’t.” MC shakes their head, shrugging their shoulders away from Diavolo’s hands. “I need to fix this situation as soon as possible.”
Their head hurt, like a burning pit within the depths of their brain. It’s the stress, it’s usually stress. Back to back long work days take a toll on people, even on demons. It was an ache that doesn’t leave with sleep and stayed for a while. Ouch.
“Now, this work isn’t more important than your health…”
MC believes he’s still speaking. They thinks so at least. They can’t hear him, but they feels his mouth against their ear. They feel light. Their head feels light.
“...care…don’t…”
Hurts. Hurts too much. The headache hurts too much.
“M… MC!”
Lights dimmed then went black. MC felt their body fall forward, but some hands held them up.
The lights started to flicker in rays. Slowly the rays multiplied, leading way to MC’s surroundings. Their vision, at first blurry and gradually becoming clearer, depicts Diavolo looking horrified.
“Oh- thank goodness you’re awake MC! I’m.. so thankful…”
His last couple words came out hitched. He held MC’s upper body up beside him using his arm supporting the front of their shoulders. MC noted they was still on their chair, meaning they blacked out briefly. They leaned back.
“Careful now…” Diavolo gently reclined them, cupping the back of their head with his palm.
“Sorry, did I worry you?” MC asked, massaging their temples harshly. Their headache was a bit fainter, yet persistent. How irritating.
“Worry me- MC you just passed out! Surely you believe you need the rest now.” Diavolo firmly said. It was clearly a statement rather than an option.
“...no.”
“MC-”
“No, I need to finish this.”
Diavolo stands in between MC and their desk with his hands on their shoulders, looking into their eyes. “I understand you need to get it done. However, running yourself ragged like this-”
“Is a necessity.” MC cuts him off, trying to maneuver around him to reach their pen. However they was stopped by Diavolo taking their hands in his. It would have been a romantic gesture if tensions weren’t high. MC’s headache intensified, spinning and squeezing, clearly doing a number on them.
“Enough MC.” His voice was completely serious. To anyone who didn’t know him personally, it would have sounded menacing. “You shouldn’t work yourself to the bone.”
MC put their head down into their hands, trying to blunten the pain in their head. “But I need to.” They felt the stress getting into their head, seeping deep.
“You don’t need to-”
“YES I DO-” They had cut herself off with a sob. The pain, stress, work. It’s day in, day out torture that hurts. They took a breath, hiding their face with their hands away from Diavolo, “If I don’t, neither House will respect me nor my solution.” They tried taking more gasps of air, but it ended out as airy sobs. “Then I won’t be able to take a place by your side. My name is disgraced, but I won’t allow yours to be as well.”
Diavolo stood there, listening. He was silent, but heard them clearly. They needed to talk and he’s happy to listen. He kneeled in front of them, placing his hand on their knee. He squeezed their knee, comfortingly.
He only wished they’d brought this forward sooner.
“..What about this compromise? You go rest for now,” He held up a hand before they could interject, “and I’ll go over it myself at the end. This way, this will be your work, but pre-approved by me.”
MC pursed their lips. “...Wouldn’t that be more work for you?”
“If it’s your report, I know it’ll be interesting.” Diavolo laughed loudly.
At least the room wasn’t deafening anymore.
119 notes · View notes
the-unforgivenn · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
CW: strong language, panic attack, some dirty talk, Max sass and lots of Mayfield/Emerson yelling
Word Count: 13.3K
Summary: A plan, a song, a revelation and a resolution.
A/N: I’ve always thought that there was no way a bunch of young kids were able to keep all the details of what they went through completely quiet.
Right or wrong, NDAs be damned. We’re spilling some details today 😈
The Beginning ✨
Tumblr media
Where you expected your tall, lanky, bushy-haired boyfriend to be ready and waiting to take you home stands probably one of the people you least expected.
Interestingly, it appears that Gareth shares the same sentiment.
Your wary eyes dart around in the dim evening light, searching for Eddie. Mercifully, it doesn’t take long to spot him, leaning broodily against his van parked in the cul-de-sac, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. His body straightens as he sees you bid a quick goodbye to the younger boys and close the door before standing in front of Gareth on the tiny concrete slab. You motion towards the driveway with a sharp, wordless inclination of your chin, and Gareth leads the way without a sound.
The new information that swirls turbulently in your head puts a damper on your anger, the fire in your chest now replaced with the heavy weight of pity and understanding. You’re aware of his body language enough to know that this is not a mutual understanding; not yet, anyway.  The last thing you’re going to do is come out with what you’ve unearthed with Mike and Dustin, and a plan starts to form in your mind as you step lightly behind him, following him to a spot near the end of the lane.
He turns abruptly, jolting you harshly out of your thoughts.  His bright blue eyes are more gray in the low evening light, but piercing nonetheless as he intensely stares you down, arms crossed protectively across his broad chest which make his biceps flex against the material of his red and white flannel.  Out of the corner of your eye, you can appreciate Eddie near the rear of his van, having moved slightly to be within earshot of the imminent conversation, ready to step in if it turns sour.
You know in your heart that it won’t.  Not now, not after what you discovered. There’s an invisible tether between the two of you, whether he wants to admit it or not; a tether of loss and grief that has taken similar paths, one littered with both lonesome solidarity and overwhelming responsibility. It’s a slippery slope to an emotional black hole, which is not unlike where you found yourself the night you made your deal with Eddie.
If anything is comforting about this, at least Gareth is still feeling enough to feel anger, however misplaced it may be.
He hasn’t moved, his jaw is still set tightly as his eyes bore into yours. You take a careful step forward and lower your voice, finding that the effort to keep it free from any malice is a lot easier than it was about twenty minutes ago. 
“Let me say one thing.” He raises his eyebrows and makes a discourteous gesture with his head to silently encourage you to go on. “I’ll talk to you. I can’t tonight because I’m really not good at this, and don’t want to say more shit that I’ll regret. I regret insulting your writing. I, uh, I shouldn’t have done that. That was a bad move.”
“A pretty bitchy one, yeah,” he retorts with a snarl.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath, turning your temper away from the heated ire that rises in your chest to summon the patience you’re not sure you have, or that he even deserves. “I’m trying, here,” you mutter through pressed lips.
Gareth’s head tilts, causing a few ringlet curls to fall in front of his eyes. He irritatingly flicks them out of the way with a quick jerk of his chin. “So, when?”
“Tomorrow,” you reply hastily. “I’ll meet you at Eddie’s van before school.”
“Fine.”
You linger for a moment, to see if he has any apology at the ready for all of the things he’s said, but he stands there, defiant, looking down his nose at you.  In your knock-off Doc Martens, you’re nearly eye-to-eye, but the way he’s glaring at you makes you feel like you’re two feet tall.
You blow a defeated sigh through your nose and give him a curt nod before walking past him, making sure to provide him with a wide berth. You get about three steps away when you hear it.
“Mayfield.”
You freeze, heart in your throat, as you turn to look over your shoulder.  Gareth has closed some of the distance between you, and you angle your body toward him as he stops.  Eddie’s form pushes away from the van as he protectively mirrors Gareth’s movement towards you.
He opens his mouth, and then closes it as he considers his words carefully.  His eyes meet yours, and where there was anger rumbling through the steely blue, you now appreciate something akin to a concession, albeit a weak one. 
“If I admit that I was a dick, will you promise not to lie to me?”
You swallow as heavy understanding passes between the two of you, and that familiar burn of truths unsaid flames hotly in your chest.  “I promise I’ll do my best.”
Gareth clenches his jaw as he tries to hide an exasperated scoff.  “Okay, then. I guess I was a dick.”
Knowing this is the best you’ll get, you nod tightly before whipping away from him, striding across the remaining lane to the road, where Eddie waits. He’s looking over your shoulder, eyeing Gareth as you round the vehicle to climb inside. Eddie follows you around and opens your door, helping you up into your seat.
“It looks like you kept your promise,” you huff in an attempt to make your voice sound light as he slides in next to you.  Eddie doesn’t miss the little wobble of emotion, and he takes your hand gently after he turns the key to start the van.
“Are you okay?”
Your stomach swoops, startling you as you turn to look at him. His body is tense, his bouncing leg a barometer for the swirling mix of emotions he’s feeling.  His doe-eyes are full of questions, ready to burst and overflow, but that’s the one he goes with.  That���s the one he chooses, and you know with all of your heart that he’s choosing you, to take care of you, to put you first over any need to understand the events of the evening.  
His selflessness is overwhelming, a glaring reminder that you know that you’ll probably have to lie, just days after you begged him never to lie to you.  The hypocrisy is a knife to your chest, and it pains you to tip a crooked smile and answer him in a practiced tone with words laced gracefully with deceit.
“Not really, but maybe a little better after talking with Mike and Dustin, if that makes sense?”
He pulls the gear shift into drive and tosses you a quizzical look as he retakes your hand and squeezes it.  “Uh, no.  Not at all.”
You bob your head, the nods exaggerated. “They were actually super helpful. It was cute,” you murmur with a crooked grin. “They thought I was in a fight with you.”
A ghost of a smile plays at Eddie’s lips, one he can’t help whenever his little sheeps are mentioned.  “They did, huh?”
“Yep.”
A derisive mutter slips through his more pronounced smile.  “Nosy little shits.”
“Eddie!”
He chuckles as he turns the wheel to round a corner, dark eyes trained on a distant focal point.  He clears his throat gently as his leg stills its nervous jittering.  “What did they suggest?
“Talk it out, of course,” you reply lightly with a shrug.  Not the whole truth, but still a truth that satisfies you somewhat, slightly calming the churning in your stomach.
“Hmm. Seems like the freshman and I are on the same wavelength. That’s why I made Gareth come with me to at least try to settle some of this. Not that it helped.”
“I think it did,” you hum with hopeful inclination.
Eddie lets out a loud snort of disbelief.  “If you say so.”  He immediately starts fidgeting again, the ring on his index finger thuds dully against the aged plastic coating of the steering wheel as he mulls over what he wants to ask next very carefully.  
His eyes flick over to yours.  “Why did he call you a liar?”
Your heart thuds heavily in your chest.  The answer to this question shouldn’t be hard to give, nor will it provide Eddie with any privileged information. It’s enough to keep him in the unknown, where it’s safe.  The words are hard to come by, anyway; you feel the steely claws of deceit sharpened by the last year rise from within to once again block the truth as it forms in your throat.  Their icy grip nearly makes you choke as you search for the right lies to tell.
“I don’t know for sure,” you begin slowly, meticulously searching for the correct words, “but I think it has something to do with Billy and his cousin, Heather.”
Two truths.  No lies.  The claws loosen their grip.
His head whips to you as he rolls through a residential stop sign.  “Billy? What, were they together or something?”
“Actually, yeah. On the fourth.”  You know he knows what you mean.  Everyone in Hawkins would know what you mean.
“What the fuck?”  Eddie’s unable to hide his surprise.  “Gareth never said anything.  Really?”
“Yeah.”  Your hand absentmindedly rubs a soothing path across your neck as the biting chill of dishonesty fades from your voice.
Eddie’s brow furrows as he stares down the road ahead, his yellowed headlights dully  illuminating his path.  “Did you see them?”
“No. I think that’s what he thinks I’m lying about. Like I’m protecting Billy or something.” You’re pretty pleased with yourself, that’s not a bad explanation, and it’s not far from the truth at all. 
He steals a glance at you out of the corner of his eye.  “Are you?”  His voice is soft and careful not to be accusatory, and you’re about to answer in the negative when a memory comes flooding into your mind.
It’s a way to be honest, without actually saying the words.
You meet his gaze, your eyes rounded in a soft plea.  “Do you remember our first conversation?  That one we had on the picnic table?”
“Yeah, of course I do.”  
It’s like you can hear yourself and Eddie, the memory of your murmured conversation surrounds you, descending thickly, enveloping you like a dense fog.
“You’ve been around Hawkins long enough to realize that this place isn’t right.”
Eddie considers this as he flicks the butt of his cigarette to ash it.  “Yeah, I mean, I guess some people say it’s cursed.”
“And what do you say?”  You’re almost whispering.
“I don’t know,” he replies, waving his hands to gesture indiscriminately to your surroundings.  “I think it’s a shit little town full of mostly shit little people that think way too much of themselves.”
“But you don’t think it’s cursed?”
He leans in close to your face without regard for your personal bubble.  “Isn’t that enough of a curse?” he asks sardonically, voice deep with dramatic flair.
Your eyes find a focal point in the distance and you stare at it, unblinking and unfocused. “Sure.”
“You think there’s more to it.”  It’s a statement, not a question. 
Your cheeks grow hot with the flush that comes from the unintended truth of his words.
His head tilts to the side as he tries to catch your gaze.  He takes your silence seriously, and drops his voice to match yours. 
“You know there’s more to it.”
He presses his lips together, remembering.  “So, you are protecting Billy.”
“No, Eds,” you sigh as you shift to lean back in your seat, tucking your foot under your bottom to rest your chin on your bent knee.  “I’d like to think we’re protecting everyone.”
+++++
Eddie’s not quite sure what to do.
He’s sitting across from you– or, rather, he’s sprawled across the end of your bed, a position that he’s held the last eighteen seconds, and already he feels he needs to shift.  He’s a restless, finger-tapping, leg-shaking mess because he cannot fathom how someone can sit curled at the head of her bed for the last forty minutes with a notebook in her lap and just write like you have.
He keeps throwing wide-eyed, incredulous glances over at Max as she sits in a similar position on her own bed, head in a book, ears in her headphones.  Max, unlike Eddie, is completely unaffected, as she’s been privy to the sight before him many, many times.  The trance you fall into while your pencil flies in a concentrated fury over paper is unshakable, and Max knows better at this point not to try.
Eddie knows too, but it’s a lot harder for him.  No one is talking, for Christ’s sake.  Someone at the very least needs to be talking.
He’s aware that there’s a way that he could get you to talk, or at least moan his name over and over as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs to your dripping, wanting core; teasing and nipping and drawing those beautiful noises from your full lips as your hands drag across his scalp, knitting through his curls to tug his mouth to your hot, wanting pussy, holding him there while his tongue runs up and down your folds, hungrily lapping the sweetness of you at your entrance and swirling around your clit to bring you to an earth-shattering, mind-numbing–
Eddie groans as he rolls on his stomach, pressing his growing erection into your mattress as he buries his face in your fluffy, white comforter.  He cannot let his mind wander between your legs when there’s an audience, even if she is wrapped up in her headphones, lost in the latest Kate Bush album.
A smirk creeps across your lips as you take a break from pouring over the words on your paper.  You know Eddie enough to know that not only is he bored out of his fucking mind, but that groan – that’s a groan you’ve heard before – was definitely laced with some racy thoughts.  You sneak a glance at him as his eyes flutter closed, cheeks brushed lightly with a blush that undoubtedly came from whatever naughty things are bouncing around in his mind, and the equally naughty part of you wants to chide him a bit.  You put down your pencil and decide to poke the bear.    
“Whatcha thinkin about, Eddie?”  Your smile is as coy as your voice.
He pops open the eye that’s not nestled into the ruffled blanket, and narrows it slightly as he grunts through a wolfish grin.  “Nothing appropriate, I can tell you that much,” he mutters, voice low so it doesn’t carry across the room into the ears of unsuspecting little sisters.
You wiggle your eyebrows.  “I could tell.”
“Ah, I’m certain that you couldn’t.”
“Oh, really?”  You lean forward and bring your notebook from your knees to cover the side of your face that’s angled towards Max.  “Is that why you’re basically humping my mattress?”
Eddie guffaws, a loud, boisterous sound that infiltrates Max’s headphones and startles her from her reading to throw an annoyed glance at you two.
“No!”  He poorly feigns his innocence, and you quirk an eyebrow.  “Okay.  Yes.”
“You need to behave!” you hiss to a smirking Eddie as you whack him with your notebook.  
He rolls his eyes in protest.  “You cannot expect that of me when you’re sitting there all gorgeous like that.  Especially when you bite the tip of that pencil eraser, I mean Christ, woman.  Killing me.”  His hair fans around his face as he buries it back into the fluff of the blanket.
“And what do you suggest I do about that?” you ask, bringing your knees back up close to your chest, returning your notebook to prop it against your legs.  
“Bribe Max for 30 minutes of alone time,” he gruffs, mumbling into the thick fabric.  
“Ah, no.  Not going to happen.”  The words on the page bring your attention back to writing.
He lifts his head fractionally.  “We could go back to my trailer…,” Eddie’s deep, singsongy voice makes you bite your lip as you close your eyes and tightly shake your head.
“No,  I can’t face your uncle yet, not after this morning.”
“I assure you, he doesn’t care,” Eddie whines, and then relents as he registers your little glare over your notebook. “But I get it…”
“I’m almost done with this part.  You could read it over for me, if you want.”
“Reading?  Really?  At a time like this?”
“A time like– what are you talking about?” Eddie leans just slightly to his side, and the bulge of his arousal strains against the fly of his jeans becomes quite visible.  You choke on a gasp and try to play it off as a cough.  “Jesus, Eds.  That looks…”
“Painful?”
“I was going to say impressive.”  Eddie grumbles as his face flops back into the blankets.  “It is!”  You lean forward again, moving your legs to the side so you can whisper in his ear that’s hidden in his thick waves.  “I literally had you come in my mouth earlier this morning, and wow.  Back at it.  Impressive.”
Eddie peeks at you through his curls as if you’ve grown a third arm (and with a snort, he realizes that he basically has).  “Uh, princess, I would have been back at it just moments after you ah, – you know.” His gaze flicks nervously over at Max as he props his torso up on an elbow.  “My rebound rate is like, nothing.  Especially when it comes to you.”
You bite your lip as your eyes flick to his.  “Like I said, Eds… impressive.”
“You don’t have any idea what impressive means yet, sweetheart.”
You open your mouth to argue that you absolutely do, that every single part of him has been nothing short of impressive, but he cuts you off as his long, ringed index finger crooks under your chin, and he grasps it firmly between his thumb.  
“Because you’re impatient and you won’t fucking let me finish all of my moves on you, woman,” his espresso eyes flash with arousal as he growls lowly through gritted teeth.  “I might have to put you in my handcuffs just to put you through all my foreplay.  You keep interrupting me like the naughty little vixen you are.”
Your mouth falls open.  “You have handcuffs?!”
He blinks rapidly, a bewildered shake of his head tosses auburn waves around his face.  “Yes, of course.  Have you seriously not–”
“Who’s getting handcuffed?” Max’s headphones are ripped from her ears as she looks questioningly at the two of you from across the room.
You and Eddie are shocked out of your spicy conversation by the curiosity of an eavesdropping Max.  Eddie nearly falls off the bed with how much his body jolts from the interruption, and you swoop in gallantly to his rescue.
“That’d be me, sis.”
The blood drains from Eddie’s face as he misinterprets your honesty with a strangled gasp and impossibly wide eyes.
“Ew, gross.  That better not be a sex thing.”
“A what?!  Oh, god, Max, no!”  You make a face as you wave your hands in front of you, a very convincing combination of sincerity and chagrin colors your tone.  “No, no.  Most definitely not a – a sex thing,” you shudder as you say the words, “and more having to do with how Eddie here was prepared to blame me for his lead foot on the way home tonight.  Which,” you punctuate your words with a playful shove to Eddie’s chest, “would most definitely have me in cuffs, considering how fast he was going.”  You give him a shrewd side-eye glance for good measure.
Max chuffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “Please. They wouldn’t have believed it was you for an instant.  They know Eddie way too well.”
“Well then you know how much of a smooth-talker he can be.”
“Yeah, and I’ve been lucky to experience his driving skills.  Or lack thereof,” she jests and throws Eddie a smirk.  “He wouldn’t be able to talk his way outta that.  It’d be him in the cuffs.”
“Ooh.  I think I like that better,” you murmur under your breath, just so Eddie’s ears are the only ones that catch it.
Eddie blanches, but has the presence of mind to appear contrite, though you can tell (much to your amusement) that his effort is a bit strained.  
“Ah, Red, you would have been correct if it wasn’t the new goons in charge,” he tosses the statement over his shoulder, not yet trusting himself to roll over to his back and face her. “If it were Chief Hopper, then, yeah.  No chance at believing that story.” Eddie crooks a grin as he gives you a pointed look.
Max’s face softens into something between sad and wistful at the mention of Hopper’s name. “Hmm.  Maybe you have a point,” she murmurs as the headphones return to their rightful perch on her head.  “Don’t get my sister arrested, Munson.  C’mon now.”
“I shall do my very best –” as soon as Eddie notices that Max is no longer listening, he hones in with narrowed, darkening eyes.  
“You,” Eddie growls as he angles his body away from Max, along the side of your bed, “are terrible.  And amazing.  Quite the story under pressure, Mayfield.”
“Well, all the blood hasn’t rushed to my–” you raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes to make a point at looking at the still-looming mound in Eddie’s jeans, “so I at least had a little thinking power left.”
He grabs on to your ankle with his free hand and rubs his thumb up and down the side.  The contact sends goosebumps up your legs, a fluttery, tingling sensation that settles deep in your belly and makes your center throb. Your lips part slightly, eyes drift to half-mast as you revel in the sensation, and Eddie smirks knowingly.
“You can’t tell me that you’re not affected like this, too.”
You lean in, and he cranes his neck to hear you.  “I definitely am very, very turned on.”  His eyes flash dangerously.  “There’s just not much we can do about it, right now.”
His jaw clenches, those blackened eyes bore into yours.  “What would you do, if we could?”
“I–” All of your senses misfire as you stare back into the abyss of primal need that is swirling wickedly in Eddie’s eyes.  The control you had on your feelings and your desire is quickly melting from the heat of the white-hot need that ripples between you.
“Use your words, princess.  Be a good girl for me, now.”
You let out a strained sigh through your nose as you feel your nipples peak sharply at his words.  “Fuck, Eds.  You know what that does to me.”
“Tell me.”  His voice is so soft, but the tenor of his voice is severe, authoritarian; it compels you to answer, but the words don’t come, lost in a haze that has settled all around you.
“I–god, Eddie, I’d, um…”
He smiles darkly.  “Do I have you all flustered, Mayfield?”
“Jesus,” your reply is a breathy whine.  “Yes.”
“Allow me to enlighten you with some of my thoughts that started all of this ,” he murmurs softly, the roughness of his arousal evident in his words.  You shimmy down the bed so you’re lying next to him as he lays, still prone, with his hand propping his head near his ear.  His hand unclasps at your ankle and trails up your leg to slip under your tee shirt, teasing the skin on your belly at your waistline.  He dips his head, lips brushing your ear; he barely has to whisper, and now in your new position, you can hear his every filthy word.
“I want to get you alone.  Completely, utterly alone. No distractions, no concerns about uncles coming home or sisters listening in,” he chuckles sinfully as you snicker, biting your lip as your breaths come in barely-controlled pants.  “I will take my sweet fucking time as I kiss, and lick, and suck, and tongue, and taste every square inch of your body, and I swear to you, every time you move, every time you plead with me to go faster, to rush what I want to do to you, I’ll start over and make you endure it all again.  
“I want to teach you to be patient, I want to teach you to savor every moment I spend worshiping your body because that is what I intend to do, princess, I am going to worship this beautiful body of yours.  You will simultaneously beg me to slow down and urge me to go faster, plead with me to keep going and pray for me to stop.  There will be so many things I'm going to make you feel that you won’t know which way is up.  
“I want to make you putty in my hands, willing and wanting to do anything I say.  If I tell you to stay still while I finger fuck you to three orgasms, then that’s what you’ll do.  If I say that you need to sit on my face and ride my mouth until your legs are shaking so badly that they can’t hold you up any longer, then that’s what you’ll do.  I’ll make you come for me so many times you lose count, and then I will fuck you so thoroughly that every time you take a step for the next week, your pussy will have no choice but to remind you of how I was there, and how I absolutely owned you.
“So,” his fiendish voice projects buoyantly around your room, “how does that sound?”
Electricity crackles through your veins, zinging sparks of unabashed lust through your body that effectively short circuits your thoughts.  “Eddie, I– I think you just broke my brain.”
He cackles as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, smattering it with wet little kisses that have you giggling with each soft brush of his lips against the sensitive skin of your throat.  His arm snakes around your waist and he pulls you flush to his body.  
Eddie nips at the shell of your ear.  “I meant every word.”  The sandpaper in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.  
You turn to look at him, cheeks flushing from the heat of his intentions.  “Do you promise?”
“I can hardly think of anything else, Mayfield.  Fuck yes, I promise.”  He runs his tongue over his lower lip as his gaze flicks from your eyes to your mouth.  “Give me this,” he growls suddenly as he snatches your notebook from your limp fingers.  “It’s reading time.  I need a distraction, and not one that makes my dick so hard.”
You slap your palm against your forehead.  “Eddie, oh my god–”
“Nope, can’t say that, sweetheart. Just shush and let me read.”
You feel like you’re tipping on your axis, teetering dangerously close to the edge of your self-control, off-balance from the whiplash Eddie’s abrupt change in demeanor.  You take a few deep breaths to ground yourself, to bring your lustful longing to a dull roar.  
Patience, indeed.
Your focus shifts to his face as he loses himself in your lyrics.  Being so close to Eddie as he reads over your words is a higher level of intimacy that frankly, you weren’t quite ready for.  You’ve never been in the same space when he’s read completely through one of your songs, and so soon after writing it, either.  You can appreciate every tiny reaction, the soft furrow of his eyebrows, the minute movement of his lips as he comprehends each line, and with every second that passes that he doesn’t react, you grow more and more anxious that what you’ve written is not worthy of his time.  
You can hear your heart pulsing through your ears as Eddie remains silent, a stoic fixture save his eyes, which have now widened as he nears the end of the page.  You fidget nervously, pushing yourself back so you’re reclined against your headboard.  Eddie’s eyes snap from the notebook to yours, deep pools of brown full of reverence.
He swallows hard, his gaze unwavering.  “I would love, and I mean love , to be able to do what you do.”
“R-really?”
He scoffs as he shifts into a seated position next to you at the head of your bed.  “Are you kidding me?”
“Eddie, come on.  You can write–”
“Yeah, but not like this.  Mayfield… Jesus,” he breathes as his index finger jabs at the final verse.
His drops his voice as he reads your prose back to you with a cadence that has already been made clear in his mind, Walk the razor's edge, cut into the madnessQuestion all you trust, buy into the fearI see the man ripping at my soul nowI, I know the man, I know him all too well
His eyes shift nervously to you as he sucks in a deep breath.  “You write about fear a lot.”
Your heart leaps in your throat.  It’s not like you’re hiding it, but you feel your breath stutter as you reply, making a great effort to steer this conversation carefully.  “I do.”
His hand hooks around your ankle, thumb swiping delicate circles across your soft skin.  “What are you afraid of?”
You lean into him, encouraging his touch.  “A lot.”
“You certainly don’t show it.”
Your eyebrows pinch in a firm dissent.  “Yes, I do.”
“No, actually, you don’t.  You may feel it up here,” he concedes as he taps your temple softly, “but this can be frighteningly neutral at times.”  His finger traces a line down your jaw as his fingers drag behind, caressing your cheek.  “You know you can let your guard down with me.”
“I have.” You’re fully aware how weak your protest is.
He chuckles, and it rumbles deeply through his chest.  “Not all the way.”
You motion to where his finger rests on the page.  “I’m trying.  That’s the easiest way.”
“Nothing worth having is easy, sweetheart.”  He pauses. “Except maybe me.”
You snort through shy giggles, thankful that Eddie is keeping the mood light.  “You’re definitely worth having, that’s for sure,” you murmur as you peek at him through your eyelashes.
A soft blush dusts his pinched cheeks, rounded from the genuine grin he has reserved for you.  His dark honey brown gaze lingers with yours, and you notice in your periphery that his smile falters, just barely, as you stare deeper into his eyes.  A flash of something new, an emotion unseen before passes through his features as he looks upon you softly.  He darts his tongue over his bottom lip, wetting it like he’s prepared to speak something into existence, and it unnerves you, the potential weight of his words too heavy to shoulder at this moment.
“So!” you blurt a little too emphatically, interrupting his thoughts.  You tap your notebook.  “What else do you think?”
He huffs a soft breath, skirting around his awareness of your nerves, and draws his attention back to your lyrics.  “I think this one is a verse/pre-chorus combo, right?” he asks as his finger oscillates between the two paragraphs on the page.
That’s exactly what you had envisioned, his assurance relaxes your fretful state.  “I like that, Eds.”
He crooks a smile.  “Good.  So, the first part will be a lot like what I read before,
Lash your tongue of bane, carry me to nowhereMental holocaust, battle never endsLie, mask the pain, of a child who's forsakenLie, to myself, praise the new regime
“And then the pre-chorus can be sung with less grit behind it.  That’s what we usually do, anyway,” he murmurs.  “Then this next part can be, 
I left me long ago, reasons you'll never knowNo one to miss me when I'm goneWith no more words to say, no argument to stayAnother post I don't belong
His melodic voice carries gently as he works meticulously through the music, a soulful intonation generated seemingly out of thin air for each word, each line.  You watch him with rapt attention, the veneration for the way his mind works runs infinitely deeper.  
Yes, you can write.  But to speak the words to life, like he does?  It’s a fucking gift.
“I’m not sure how I feel about that one,” he mutters, as his dark chocolate eyes regard you with severity.  “I’d miss you if you were gone.”
You’re quick with the reply and a reassuring nudge to the shoulder.  “It’s not me, personally.”
“No?”
You shake your head in emphasis.  “Not really.  I just–Gareth just needs to know he’s picking the wrong person to be mad at.”
Eddie purses his lips as he considers this.  “It sounds like you’re saying he should be mad at himself.”
“No, more like the war he wants isn’t with me.  He’s kind of already fighting it alone, you know?  With himself.”
A flash of realization colors Eddie’s cheeks.  “Ah, clever title then,” his ringed finger taps the top corner of the page where several song titles were scrawled, stricken, erased, and then re-written.  This Means War is circled heavily, blocking out the others on the short list.  
His face light with purpose. “Ohh, give me that pencil.  Watch me, darlin.  See what you think.”
Eddie hunches over the point where the page is blocked, shoulders tensing as he drags the pencil across the paper.  The light scritching sound coupled with Eddie’s quiet murmuring as he spends the next several minutes with his head in your notebook.
“I may not be great with verses, like you… but I can bust out a bridge like a motherfucker.”  
Eddie angles the paper so you can read his messy marks underneath your stocky, rounded handwriting.  You can’t help but smile at the iridescent charcoal-gray words on the paper, written with such intensity that they’ve left their own braille system across the lines.  
He’s singing in earnest now, the words from his mind already prepackaged with their own tempo and melody.  
No home to call my ownNo finding someone newNo one to break the fallNo one to see me throughNo name to carry onNo promise for todayNo one to hear the callNo tattered flag to raise
“Eddie…,” you whisper as you regard him through troubled eyes.
“Like you said.  Not me, personally.  It’s like a battle cry of the lost, in general.  If it’s a war, there needs to be a battle cry, right?”  He tries to wave off your concern with a nonchalant tone and a half-smile, one that you notice comes nowhere close to his eyes.
You can’t help but feel like those are incredibly personal for him, constant struggles and internal battles that he fights all the time.  
“Are you sure about that?”
He gives you a one shouldered shrug.  “Are you ?” he questions earnestly as his doe eyes bore heavily into yours. “Writing is one of the most personal things you can do, princess.  I have to think all of this comes from a time where you’ve felt this.  Where you feel this, still.”
He’s absolutely right.  Your heart stutters with the shift in the conversation back to you, and it makes you feel exposed, naked.  
But didn’t he just bare some of his soul to you?  You bite your lip as you dive in headfirst after him.  “I just feel so blocked up when I try to talk about it. I don’t know why it’s easier to be vulnerable like that on paper, but in real life…”
“That’s pretty common, Mayfield.  It doesn’t make you a freak or anything.”
You chuckle and nudge against his chest with your shoulder.  “Oh well if it did, right?  You know you’ve changed that for me.  It’s better.  God, Eddie, it’s so much better.  What you’ve done in the last couple of months… what you’ve given me?  It’s so much more than what I imagined,” your voice wavers as you consider what exactly that means.
He scoffs lightly, insisting away the compliment.  “It’s not just me, sweetheart.”
“Eddie, yes it is.  It is you.  I’m not just talking about what you’ve done with my songs.  It’s how you make me feel.”
He hesitates as a dimpled smile crawls across his face.  “What do I make you feel?”
“Just that.  I feel a lot now.  I feel a lot more like myself.”
He inches his face closer to yours, daring you for more.  “What else?”
What else?  God, the things you could say about how he makes you feel cherished, worthy, and important.  Like you’re the only girl in the room–in the world–whenever he looks at you. And that look, holy fuck, that look that makes you feel beautiful, and not just situationally, not just when you can sort-of see what he sees.  It’s not like that, not anymore.  When he looks at you, you know in your soul that he means it; he makes you believe it with your whole being that you’re so goddamn beautiful.  
You should be able to tell him all of these things, but the words don’t spill as eloquently from your mouth as they do from your pencil.  There’s no confidence yet in what you want to say, no matter how deserving he may be.
The truth is, you’re falling hard for Eddie Munson, and that’s something that you thought you’d never be so lucky to experience.  It’s not that you’re afraid your feelings won’t be reciprocated– in fact, you’re pretty certain that they are.  One of the things that draws you so strongly to Eddie is the fact that the man hides nothing; his eyes are a picture window to his soul, unabashed and unafraid to bare it all to you.  His expressions are a beautiful tell of his thoughts, his emotions flow uninhibited like an undammed river.  It’s nice to have a constant in a season of your life where the strange and unexplained still lurks in the blackened recesses of your mind.
Admitting to the depth of your feelings for Eddie isn’t necessarily what frightens you.  You’re afraid of what it could mean down the road of the unknown, deep in the darkness of what the future holds.  
Because, what if?
What if it comes back?
What if you aren’t as lucky, next time?   
Numbing yourself into oblivion had its perks–you knew that if you made yourself so unfeeling that you wouldn’t have to tread ever again through the profound, suffocating depths of loss that you felt after Billy died.  Becoming so anesthetized would deprive you, ultimately; you knew that, therefore you spent many sleepless nights convincing yourself that it would be worth it.  
Self-deprivation is tough, as it turns out, even for the heaviest of hearts.  You know it would be better that you hold your tongue rather than admitting to yourself that your heart has more to lose.  For all the healing you’ve done, there’s still no faith in what’s to come.  
Fear over faith.  Eddie’s right, it is a common theme with you.  
What’s becoming stronger is the security that being near Eddie brings, a sense of safety, of refuge from the fear.  
Perhaps you’ve put more faith in him than you’ve realized.
Perhaps it’s time to show him some vulnerability that isn’t etched in lead across wide ruled notebook paper.  
“Eddie, I– I’m–,” you begin as your heart pounds a thundering rhythm in your chest.  The corner of Eddie’s mouth ticks up ever so slightly, eyes aglow with the heartfelt promise of what you’re so desperately trying to say.
His hopeful anticipation has you stuttering with intimidation, and you flounder, falling back into the comfort of words left unsaid.    
“I’m very fond of you.”  
It’s a severely watered-down version of what is intended, but that’s what comes out.
The bright brown of his irises dim in the slightest way before he recovers with a mischievous grin. 
“Fond, huh?  What are you, ninety?” he quips as he wraps his arms around your waist.  You squeal at the sudden contact, and this spurs his theatrics further as he grabs your comforter and tries to cover you with it.  
“Have we suddenly teleported to the 1800s?  Woman, shame!  Your ankles!  I can see your ankles!  Cover thyself, you heathen!”
You’re all at once grateful for the playfulness, as you can easily blame the flush in your cheeks on your rather large effort of trying to resist Eddie’s strong arms as he wraps you up like a burrito in your blankets, instead of acknowledging that you’re one big, loony coward that can’t seem to voice the fact that you’re falling in love with the man who is currently, and knowingly, allowing you to hide your feelings in his goofy little distraction.
You’re a blur of limbs and laughs as you tangle with him on your bed, half-heartedly fighting against him as he buries you deeper into your bedding, farther away from the uncertainty of that stupid moment where you couldn’t just admit what you know is in your heart. He throws a section of your top sheet over the top of you, and while your face is hidden, you allow it to fall into a grimace as you inwardly cringe in disappointment at your blatant cowardice.  
Fuck, the man deserves to know.  
His watch suddenly beeps with the start of a new hour, and your laughter ceases as he peels back a corner of your blanket cocoon.  “Shit.  It’s already ten.  I should, uh…,” he trails off, thumbing over his shoulder to your bedroom door.
Your heart sinks.  “I guess it is a school night, huh?”  Eddie nods.  “Well, help me out of here.  I’ll walk you to the door.”
He bids Max goodbye through an overly enthusiastic salute and a wild, toothy smile as he strides out of your bedroom and through the short hall to the door.  His fingers absently fiddle at his rings as he turns to you.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
“Of course,” you reply in a rush.  “Yeah, I uh, promised Gareth we’d hash this shit out, or whatever.”
He presses his impossibly plush lips together as he tries to nod away the awkward energy between the two of you.  “Right.”
His thoughtfulness tugs at your heartstrings, and you step towards him, willing yourself to be brave and just say what you need to say.  “Eddie, I–”
His hands snap from behind his back, quickly cutting you off.  His eyes are wide, pleading with you as he runs his fingers through his hair.  
“Hold on there.  Don’t– oh, I cannot believe I’m saying this, because there’s nothing more in this whole world that I want to know more than what you were actually going to tell me back there.  Before you chickened out.”  He punctuates his blundering charm with a wink.  “But I can sense it’s just not there, yet.  You’re not ready.”
“It’s not that.  I know what I want to say.”
“Then tell me,” Eddie implores as his hands cup the side of your face.  “Tomorrow.  Next week.  Next month!  I don’t care.  Just tell me when it’s natural for you, not when you think you should.  Or, better yet,” his voice drops with a wicked grin, “wait for me to tell you.  Because you should know, princess…”
He lowers his lips to yours, stopping just short of a kiss when he murmurs, “I’m very fond of you, too.”
His lips press into yours with a soft, sweet kiss, too fleeting and too short before he draws away from you with a sigh.
His eyes twinkle in the dim lighting of your living room.  “G’night, Mayfield.”
“Night, Eds."
You wait until he’s gone, until the door is closed before you sink back against it, head hanging between your shoulders with your eyes squeezed tight as your frustration for your timidity bubbles up and escapes through your lips with a prolonged groan.  You mechanically go through your bedtime routine, scolding yourself numerous times for your inability to be as open as Eddie, before sulking back to your room and flinging yourself back on your very disheveled bed.
Max wastes no time.  “I’m fond of you?  Are you fucking kidding me?”
You groan again into the fluff of your pillows.  “Max, please, oh my god, I don’t wanna talk about it.”
She snickers as you squirm.  “You choked big time, sis.” 
You lift your head into your hands as you run your fingers back and forth over your eyes.  “Yeah, I know.”
“Do you really?” Her question is considerate, if not a little nosy.  She’s the little sister, after all.
“What?”
“Do you love him?”
Her candor startles you.  “No– I– no.  Not yet?  Maybe I do?  I don’t know.”
She tilts her head questioningly.  “Well then, what were you going to say?”
“That I’m falling for him…”
Max huffs a laugh as she chides you further with a spot-on imitation of Eddie.  “Same goddamn thing, sweetheart.”
“You’re an idiot,” you jest as she tilts her head knowingly.  You sigh as your head hits the pillow again. “I’m an idiot,” you mumble dejectedly.
“No, you’re not,” Max reassures you as she places her Walkman on her nightstand.  “Just… don’t hesitate next time.  You think too much.”
“It’s too soon, though.  Right?”
“Says who?” Max challenges with a grin.
You balk. “Um…”
“Yeah, exactly.  Have fun trying to sleep after all that.”  Max settles under her blankets and turns off her lamp.
“Good night to you too, you dork,” you mutter into the darkness as you punch your lumpy pillow in an ill-fated attempt to get comfortable.
“Oh, sis?” 
“Yeah?”
Max chuckles darkly.  “I know your little cover story with the handcuffs was bullshit.  Just ask me to leave next time you wanna talk dirty to your boyfriend, mmkay?”
“Oh, my god,” you groan.  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that to me.”
“Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?”
“Fucking right it is,” you mutter as you turn over in bed without an ounce of belief in your words.
Tumblr media
The dawn of the next morning comes quickly, too quickly after your eyelids finally became heavier than the weight of the thoughts that rumbled through your mind into the late hours of the night.  You meet Eddie at his van after dropping Max off, and you nearly ask him for a cigarette to calm your nerves while you wait for Gareth to appear.
Part of you wishes that he wouldn’t show up.  
Apparently, this is an event for all of the band.  Jeff and Grant suddenly appear from around Eddie’s van, and you’re about to protest their presence when Jeff asks where Gareth is.
Eddie grunts, shrugging as he pulls a long drag from his cigarette.
You step in to explain, shivering in the cool, damp fall morning air  “We agreed to meet up this morning to, um… fix this.”
“Need any backup?” Grant asks with a crooked grin.  “Not that you need it.  You got kinda scary last night.”
“I got stupid is what happened. I shouldn’t have let it bother me so much,” you mutter as you fidget, shifting your weight from foot to foot.
“Pretty sure you were justified. We’re kind of Team Mayfield on this one,” Jeff says softly.
Eddie chuckles as he bumps your shoulder with his, and you scoff as you try to fight back a smile.  “You guys can’t take the side opposite your friend.”
Grant barks a laugh.  “You can when he’s being a dick.”  His eyes fall to the ground as he sneaks a look at Jeff.  “We, uh, feel a little bad about it, too.  We had no idea that song was about you.”
Jeff chimes in quickly.  “Yeah, Mayfield.  I’m sorry about that.”
“It's fine, guys. Really.  But thanks,” you mutter sheepishly.  “I’m not blaming anyone.  We’ll get it sorted.”  Try as you might, but there’s no confidence whatsoever in your voice.
Jeff catches your gaze.  “You will.  It’ll be fine, okay?”
Grant snickers.  “We’re just dudes.  Just keep it simple.”
You smile at him as you snort a small laugh.  “Will do.”
“Simple is fine with me, too,” Gareth says smoothly as he maneuvers around his bandmates to face you.  
There’s a tense moment before you acknowledge him, where everyone stands still, silent, waiting for someone to make the first move.
You definitely don’t want an audience for this.  “Follow me,” you mutter as you incline your chin over to the football field.  You offer the other boys a tight-lipped smile as you walk away quickly, the gravel seems to crunch underfoot abnormally loud as you walk across the lot.
Eddie steps fall in line with yours as you silently cross the short distance to the woods.  Gareth is several feet behind, providing you two with some space.
Eddie grabs your hand, halting your steps as he pauses at the mouth of the trail.  “Do you want me to go with you?”
“Would you be mad if I said no?”
Gareth rolls his eyes.  “I don’t give a shit, man, you’re already here.”
“I wasn’t asking you,” he grumbles at Gareth.  “No, I’m not gonna get mad,” he assures you gently.  “I’ll wait here, if you feel you need to do this alone.”
“Just a few minutes,” you promise, trying your best to keep the flatness of your voice from sounding rude.  Eddie nods tightly as you press a kiss into the corner of his mouth before turning to lead Gareth through the woods to Eddie’s clearing.
The short walk is silent, and there are moments where you’re tempted to steal a look over your shoulder to see if Gareth’s even followed you in.  His steps are so quiet– or, it may just be that your pulse roars so loudly in your ears that all the ambient noise of your surroundings is drowned completely out.
You huff a shaky, heavy sigh through your nostrils.  Fucking confrontation. You’re so wired with the nervous energy of what’s to come that you hardly recognize yourself.  
Gareth stops abruptly and barks your name to catch your attention.  
You squeeze your eyes shut as you reach the picnic table, willing yourself to keep your cool as you turn towards him, while you back to rest your hip against the edge of the worn wood.  
“I think I know why you hate me so much,” you say as your eyes meet his.
He blinks a few times as his mouth twists in exasperation.  “I don’t hate you.”
“Gareth, come on,” you sigh with an eye roll worthy of Max. “You kinda hate me.”
“No, actually, I don’t.”
You didn’t want to start this conversation so agitated, but his stupid, lying, fluffy-headed face is making it impossible.  Your temper rises as you struggle to keep your voice even.  “Well, what the fuck is it, then?  This is exhausting.”
He pounces.  “Do you wanna know what’s exhausting, Mayfield? Knowing that you’re being lied to.”
“Okay,” you mutter through gritted teeth.  What a hypocrite.  “I swear I’m going to be calm about this, but your fucking tone is grating on me.  I need to know how I’ve lied to you.  What have I ever said that has been a lie?”
“It’s not just you.”
But it’s all of a sudden your fault?  What the fuck is he even talking about?  Your upper lip curls into a sneer, one you couldn’t hold back even if you wanted to. “Um, okay.  New question.  Who is lying to you?”
“Everyone!” he retorts harshly as he begins to pace across the dried underbrush of dead leaves. “My parents, the cops, the hospital, the fucking freshman!  Everyone, Mayfield.  Everyone is fucking lying.”
Any counter to his words dies in your throat as you fight to swallow the claws that threaten to silence you and jeopardize this poor excuse of a reconciliation.  You force yourself to even out your breathing as you watch him continue to pace. 
“The freshman—I mean, whatever.  It’s fine with them,” he mutters dismissively.  “I was pissed at first because school was going to be my get-away from it all.”  His ice blue eyes snap to yours as he stops at the other side of the clearing.  “Being about to leave my house and out from under all of the depressing fucking…,” his explanation fades as he holds his stare. “Being out of there made it better.  Then you came along.”
Your arms cross over your chest.  “Can’t help but sense the hatred here, Gareth.”
He throws his head back as he groans.  “Can you, for once, not be snarky and actually listen to me?”
You scoff loudly.  “I’m not being snarky, Gareth.  This is how I feel.”
His nostrils flare as he attempts to soften his tone.  “I don’t hate you, Mayfield.”  
“So, you’re projecting.”
“No,” he scoffs defensively.  You quirk a disbelieving eyebrow and he relents with another eye roll.  “Maybe.  I hate what you remind me of.  I hate what you represent.”
“Yeah, I gathered that after I talked to Wheeler and Henderson.”
“Oh, you did, hmm?”  
You refuse to back down as you launch yourself away from the table.  “Yeah, okay, now who is being snarky?  I know enough to realize that you’re blaming me for something that you think Billy did, or didn’t do, or something, I don’t know.  Whatever it is, it fucking sucks, because guess what, I’m not Billy!”
“She was with him, though!” he bellows. “Heather!”
“That doesn’t mean he did anything!” You wince as you feel the sting of your lies slice across your throat as the claws tighten their grip.
“We were like siblings,” he mumbles, turning away to hide the glassy sheen that coats his eyes. “She was actually kind to me in school, despite what that could have done to her reputation.  I considered her my sister, Mayfield.”  He swallows, clearing the tightness in his throat before he continues.  “You’re not the only one that’s grieving. At least you know what happened to Billy. The not knowing is killing me.  Killing my mom.  It was her sister and niece that died in that fire, too.”
A twinge of pity travels through your body, tugging at that tether between you.  You try a little bit of empathy on for size, hoping that it’ll fit.  “I am sorry, Gareth—I had no idea—”
“NO!  But see, that’s just it!” he roars, full of contempt and resentment as he points an accusatory finger at your chest.  “God damn it, you do have an idea! You do.  I know you know something, Mayfield.  I can see it all over your face.”
“This is something bigger than us.”  You take several steps toward him, begging him to understand.  You reach for his shoulder to pull him toward you to look in your eyes so he can see your sincerity. “Bigger than whatever you have with me.  Can you understand that?”
He jerks away from your touch.  “Maybe!  If you elaborate!”
“I can’t,” you choke on the viscosity of your words.
“Can’t, or won’t?” he demands through narrowed eyes.
“There’s not a difference here.”
“Oh, there’s a difference.  You have a choice and you’re making the wrong one.”
“According to who, you?!  You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about!  None!” you shriek as you grab his shoulders and shake him.  “I—GOD, I want to say things, Gareth.  I want to say things that would melt your fucking brain and I can’t.”
Gareth’s face falls, and you can feel his muscles relax beneath your hands.  “Why?”
“You wouldn’t—,” but as you look at him, you realize that he just might believe you.  Your hands drop limply to your sides as you put some distance between him.
He knows something—what exactly that is, you’re not sure.  There’s too much certainty behind what he is saying to be grasping at straws, and that frightens you more than anything.  You may be looking at an accidental member to your fucked-up party, another one who knows too much.  Only this time, it’s outside of the control of those government clones at the lab, and you have no idea what that means for the man standing in front of you.  So, you tell him the truth.
“I’m fucking terrified.  That’s why.”
He takes a measured step closer.  “Why are you terrified?”
You shake your head, pressing your lips together tightly as you maintain eye contact.  The bitter cold of steel has you frozen.  If you can’t speak the words, maybe he can.
Gareth’s eyes narrow with the threat of anger, and yours widen, pleading as you shake your head again.  His eyebrows pinch together as he frowns.  
“You can’t tell me why.”
“No,” you whisper hoarsely. 
His breathing quickens.  He can sense your fear now, he can tell that you want to say something, and with an enormous effort, he forces a gentler tone as he asks, “Why can’t you tell me?”
“It’s–goddamn it, it’s not necessarily about the why. I mean, it is, but at this point…”
“Then… who?”  You hold your gaze, daring yourself not to move an inch so he can try to work it out on his own.  “Shit.  People in Hawkins?”
You lift your shoulders to your ears slowly, eyes darting around the woods, always on alert. “Not exactly.”
“Are they…,” he starts to question, and then shakes his head.  “They weren’t from here.”
“I don’t know for sure.  Many of them weren’t.”  You meet his eyes, willing him to keep talking, to drag him closer to his own conclusion.
He scowls.  “What, so the fucking FBI or CIA or some shit was just roaming around Hawkins, scaring people into not telling the truth?”  Your body goes rigid, eyes widening and holding his hardened stare.  His eyebrows knit together in disbelief.  “Are you kidding me right now?”
“I’m doing my best here, Gareth.”
His lips part and he runs both hands through his hair.  “Jesus,” he murmurs as the color drains from his face.  He lurches over to the bench of the table and sits down.  “Okay, um… give me a second.”
“I know you’re smart,” you encourage him gently.  “Please, just think.”  
“Don’t you patronize me.”
“I’m not!” your hands come to your defense in front of your chest.  “God damn it, I’m not.  Think about these last few years.”
“Did you—fuck, Mayfield,” he grits as his breaths come in quicker succession.  “I don’t even know what to ask.  I feel like I’m going to be sick.” He buries his face in his hands.
“Yeah, that makes two of us.”
He takes a moment to slow his breathing and to gather his thoughts.  “Is it really that bad?”
Your mind automatically flashes to the Mind Flayer as it chases you down a darkened Hawkins street, the panicked yells from Lucas and Robin harshly filling your ears.  You shake your head, willing it away. 
“Yes.”
 “Was… was it that bad for Heather?”
“I honestly do not know,” you say firmly.  “I never saw her.  A friend of ours did when she was having dinner with your aunt and uncle with Billy.  That’s how we knew where he was.”
He nods, lips pressed in a tight line, eyes unfocused on the woods in front of him.  He takes a few moments before turning his gaze back to you.
“Was it bad for Billy?”
You swallow down the hard lump in your throat as tears prick the corner of your eyes.  The bloody memories are back, real as ever. 
“Yes.”
He flinches and takes a deep breath.  “Did you see it?”
“We all did,” you reply thickly, wobbly voice barely above a whisper.  You see Billy rising from the floor to strong-arm the jaws of the monster as it attacked El.  You see the razor-sharp talons on the tips of the tentacles gleam as they whip through the air before striking at the exposed flesh of Billy’s torso.
“The kids, too?” Gareth’s voice is far away as the memories flash more rapidly in front of your eyes.  
The ghost of Max’s scream as Mike holds her back from rushing after Billy echoes through the trees.
“Yeah.”  You turn from him as you claw at your face, teeth gritting as you try to pull yourself out of your own head.
“Shit.” Gareth sounds breathless. “None of it seemed right, to me. It was the fourth of July, I mean—the goddamn carnival was going on. That’s where everyone was! The mall was closed.  I mean—what the fuck were all those people doing there?”
You’re nodding your assent with his every word as the tightness in your chest recedes, albeit marginally.  “I am shocked more people aren’t asking that question.”
Gareth buries his head in his hands, words muffled into his palms.  “Was it even a fire?”
Your silence in the pause you take is deafening, and Gareth slowly removes his hands from his face to look at you as you reply, “There was a fire.”
“Mayfield,” he grits evenly as he slides away from the table. “That’s not what I asked.  Was it a fire that killed them… that killed Heather?”
Your lower lip trembles as you remember the gruesome details of the rotting, rippling, molting pile of liquified Mind Flayer flesh as it skittered murderously across the sterile tiles of the hospital.  The awful accounts of the evening from Steve and Jonathan, from Nancy have helped you piece together the heinous end to so many of your fellow townspeople.  
He doesn’t need to know that, so you lie.  “I don’t know.”
He explodes, the outburst knocks you back a half of a step.  “You don’t know?”
“I DON’T KNOW!” you bellow, retaliating with greater force, and your face heats with the summation of all of the rage and fear that has been stymied for months.  You completely lose control over the volume of your voice as you take three hard steps toward him, bringing yourself within inches of his nose. 
“Gareth, please, please believe me when I tell you that you are better off not knowing. You don’t want to know! Part of me wants to say that I wish I could have you know instead of me, to have these memories branded into your brain instead of mine, but I wouldn’t do that to you. I would never, never subject you to the… the fucking horror show that was that night.”  Your voice rises, boiling point nearly reached as you continue to scream in his face, which is shocked frozen in alarm. 
“It would bring you no peace, no consolation in knowing,” you shriek as your hands slash across your body.  “You don’t want to have the images of that night haunting you constantly, dragging you from your nightmares and forcing you to replay what happened over and over in your mind until you’re within an inch of your sanity, until you feel like there’s not an ounce of your humanity left because it’s all been burned away by the fucking the guilt and the fear and—please.  Please.  You don’t want to know!  You don’t!  Please—!”
The boiling point has been breached, and the searing heat of the emotion from your desperate speech singes the intricate pathways of your lungs, making it near impossible to take a deep, grounding breath.  You’re trying to right yourself, but the short, gasping breaths are not nearly enough as the weight on your chest increases as the urgency from the lack of oxygen slams into you.  
Your eyes are wide with terror as you grip your chest, shallow respirations increasing at an alarming rate, and Gareth surges forward and grabs your shoulders to try to bring you back around as your surroundings blacken with little popping spots all around your visual field.
“Ohh—okay, Mayfield, hey—okay.  Shhh, stop..,” he says in as soothing a tone as he can muster while the panic for your condition rises.
“I’m – sorry,” you rasp in between sharp, hysterical gasps. “I – so sorry – I can’t…,” your mouth is gaping, trying to suck in more air as the unrelenting, burning pressure of dread and despair squeeze their claws tighter around your throat. 
Gareth shakes his head fiercely.  “No, it’s—fuck, it’s okay.  Just—”
Eddie crashes into the clearing.  “What the fuck did you do to her?!” he screams at Gareth as he runs to him to pry his hands from your heaving shoulders.  He tries to meet your eyes but they’re unseeing, lost in your dizzying fight to breathe.
Gareth’s eyes are impossibly wide as he whips his gaze to Eddie.  “Dude, I—she’s hyperventilating or some shit.”
Eddie’s voice is manic.  “What the fuck, man?”
Gareth takes a deep breath, raising his hands up in front of him.  “Okay,” he says with more confidence than he feels.  He snaps into action.  “Okay.  Eddie, just grab her and hold on to her.  Get behind her and hug her tight.”  He pulls you close to his body and squeezes his stocky frame against yours.
Eddie’s face is twisted in a grimace.  “Like, with you?”
“Yes,” Gareth hisses.  “I do this with my mom all the time.”
His face softens, eyes widening in understanding.  “S-seriously?”
“Eddie, fuck, can you just—,” Gareth growls with an impatient look to you, still in a struggle in his arms.
“Oh, yeah.”  Eddie maneuvers himself quickly behind you and presses his front to your back.  There’s an awkward moment when he tries to figure out where to put his hands to best help your predicament, and Gareth throws him another annoyed look before Eddie relents and settles his long arms around the back of Gareth’s shoulders, tightening his grip so he can press you firmly between the two front men of Corroded Coffin.
If you were in any state to appreciate it, you’d most certainly giggle at the fact that now you’re basically the savory center of a really delicious guitarist sandwich.
The constant, firm pressure against your body gradually settles your breathing rate, and after a few painstaking minutes, you find that your chest moves with Gareth’s; in and out, uniform and controlled.  The warmth radiating from Eddie is relaxing, and he can feel it as it happens.  Your shoulders slump; a concession, a forfeit to the fatigue that suddenly crashes into you.  
Eddie’s arm shoots out from its perch on Gareth’s shoulder to catch you as your knees buckle.  Gareth aids by supporting you under your arms, and Eddie turns you around to press you close to his body as the tension ripples away.
Your lips and the tip of your nose are tingling as your eyes blink back open, your bleary vision treated to the red and black checked pattern of Eddie’s flannel shirt that your face is currently smushed against.
“Hey, Eds…”
His head tilts to look at you.  “Hey, sweetheart,” he breathes.  “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.  Yeah, I am.”  You peek over your shoulder to where Gareth stands.  “That was a good call.  I’m uh, kinda sorry you know how to do that.”
Gareth shrugs wordlessly as you press yourself closer to Eddie’s chest.  
“Damn, that was scary,” Eddie murmurs into your hair as he presses kisses against your tresses at the crown of your head.  His hands rub soothing circles between your shoulder blades.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”
You force a weak smile.  “I’m sure.”
Gareth shuffles over to the two of you and clears his throat softly.  “Eddie, can you just give me a minute with her?”
Eddie’s eyes narrow severely. “Uh, no, I think you’ve done enough,” he snarls.
His baby blue eyes appeal to the dark, turbulent pools of espresso brown.  “Trust me?  Please?”
“Eds,” the softness of your voice saps him of some of his anger.  “It’s okay.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but it dies on his tongue as he regards your expression that pleads for his trust as well.  “Fine,” he barks as he releases you.  He leans his long, lanky frame against the edge of the picnic table.  “I’m staying right here.”
“That’s fine, man,” Gareth heaves a heavy sigh.  You notice the way his face regards you with more tenderness as you turn from Eddie and take a tentative step towards Gareth.
It’s not enough to settle your already fried nerves, and your body betrays you as you start to tremble again.  He reaches out, his clammy hands clutch at your elbows.
“Mayfield, hey…okay.  Hey.  Look,” his face dips to meet your eyes.  “I—I’m sorry, too. I am. I’m sorry for all of it.  I’m pissed, I’m so tired of all of this, and I took it out on you.  I had no idea it was this bad.”  
“But you did,” you whisper shakily. “You do.”
“I’m still in the dark,” he says quickly.  “I feel that after this, it might not be a bad place to be.  Am I right?”
You press your lips together to hide how they quiver, and nod in affirmation.
“Okay,” he mumbles as he pulls you into a hug.  Your arms circle his torso as you hug him back tightly, trying to convey the feelings of regret, of guilt, of forgiveness through the ferocity of your embrace.
“Are we good?” you ask into his shoulder.
“Shit. Yes, we’re good,” he replies over a long exhaled breath.  You hear Eddie shift anxiously behind you, and Gareth is quick to release you.  He holds you at arms length as he tells you with sincerity, “It was never about your songs, you know. They’re fucking phenomenal.”
You tip him a small smile.  “Maybe you should read a little deeper into them, yeah?”
His eyebrows knit together as his eyes narrow briefly.  “Okay.  Maybe I will.”  
He looks over your shoulder to Eddie and flicks his eyes to the trail.  Eddie is at your side in a flash, holding you close.
“We’re all good now?” he grumbles to Gareth as he presses another kiss into your hair.
Gareth’s head bobs as he leads the way out of the clearing.  “Yep.  All good.”  He tosses you a grin over his shoulder before he meets Eddie’s eyes.  “No punches thrown, either.”
“Coulda fooled me, the way you two were yelling.  Fuck,” Eddie mutters.  “Did you apologize for being an asshole?”
Gareth snorts.  “Yeah.”
“So did I,” you add as you fall in step with Eddie.  “Seriously.  We’re good.”
As you emerge from the woods, you notice that the morning bell has already rung, and everyone in your little group is now late to class.  Grant and Jeff are still present, leaning against the hood of Eddie’s car.  You cast a nervous glance to Eddie as you approach them.
“I think you guys are late to class,” you mutter.  “Sorry about that.”
Gareth shrugs.  “Not our first time, Mayfield.  We’ll be fine.”
Jeff and Grant exchange a look.  “So…,” Jeff probes carefully.
“It’s fine.”  Despite your fatigue, you muster a smile.  “Oh, hey.  Some reading material for lunch.”  You throw open the passenger door and grab your notebook from the seat.  “It’s no Walk, but it’ll do in a pinch.”
Gareth grimaces as he catches the book you tossed to him.  “Yeah… about that…”
You wave him off.  “It’s a great song.  We’ll just pretend from here on out it wasn’t about anyone in this general vicinity.  Yeah?”
“Deal.”  He gives you a nod as he starts toward the school with Jeff and Grant.  “Safe to say you’re done for the day, Munson?”
“You would be correct, sir,” Eddie grins as he slings his arm around your shoulders.  “I’ll see you guys later.”
Eddie ushers you to your car after a very meager protest from you.  He’s not about to have you drive yourself anywhere after what happened in the woods.  He opens your passenger door and helps you climb in before sliding into the driver’s seat beside you.  His hand finds yours as he swiftly maneuvers the car out of the lot.
He swipes his thumb over your knuckles rhythmically, and after a few moments, he questions sweetly, “Do you wanna talk about any of it?”
“Not really.  I’m fucking exhausted, Eddie.  Can… can we just go to my place?  My mom isn’t home and I really don’t wanna do anything  but lie in your arms.”
Eddie blows out a breath.  “Oh, fuck that sounds perfect.”
You drive in silence for a while, the only sounds are from Eddie as he hums through the songs on the radio that he still has not turned up from when he started your car.  You look at your intertwined fingers as they rest on his thigh, and give him a reassuring squeeze.
“You can ask me anything, though.  I’ll do my best to explain,” you offer, eyes closing as you rest your head against the back of the seat.
“You two are really okay?”
“Yeah.  Henderson was right.  He was sure I was protecting Billy.”  You open your eyes as Eddie comes to a stoplight, and you squeeze his hand again, a wordless ask for his attention.  He turns his doe-eyed stare to you.  
“I really don’t know what happened to Heather that night, but I told him that sometimes knowing isn’t always the answer.”
Eddie’s head bobs as he tries to understand. “What did you mean when you told Gareth about your songs?”
“Oh, it’s basically what I told you, when we first started all of this,” you reply and Eddie hums thoughtfully.  “It’s how I’ve coped with the last year.”
“You told him to look deeper into them.  Which songs are you referring to?”
Your eyes close again as he turns on to the road that leads to Forest Hills.  “All of them, Eds, I don’t know.”
“Is there one in particular?”
“Actually– yeah.”  Eddie’s head turns to you, surprised in the sudden brightness of your voice.  “If there was one I’d pick to single out, it would be Beast and the Harlot.”
Eddie scoffs, his amusement plastered wide in a toothy grin.  “Are you fucking with me?  The one that sounds like it’s straight out of a D&D campaign?”  His smile permeates through the van, providing you with a smaller version of your own.  “Read deeper into it, how, sweetheart?  Like what it’s about?”
“Yep.” 
“So if you’re not a secret nerd who loves to play satanic board games,” he teases as you chuckle softly, “who is the song about?”
Your eyebrow quirks along with the corner of your mouth into a tiny, cheeky grin.  “Hawkins.”
“You wrote that song about Hawkins?!   Mayfield, that morbid as fuck!” he snickers with incredulous laughter.  “HA!  Morbid Mayfield.  Maybe that should be your new nickname.”
“You know,” you muse as he pulls in front of your trailer.  “I actually kinda like it.”
“That’s what’s going on the album, babe,” Eddie croons as he leans across the seat with a devilish grin.  “Corroded Coffin and Morbid Mayfield.”
You bite your lip as you get lost in the depths of his dark chocolate eyes.  “I love it.”
He stills at your words, and his grin widens as he wiggles his eyebrows.  “I bet you do,” his confident reply resonates deep in his chest.  He leans forward just fractionally before he tosses you a wink as he hops out of the car. “So do I.”
You smirk after him, heart fluttering wildly for the curly head of hair that comes bounding around the front of the vehicle to open your door, to lead you inside to sleep away the stress of the morning.
You know, just as well as he does, that he didn’t only mean your new nickname.
Tumblr media
Next Chapter➡️
Thank you so, so much @corrodedseraphine for the avenged sevenfold inspired page breaks 🔥
103 notes · View notes
oh. ok so:
2.3 “sundae” every restauranteur syd met with stressed having someone reliable as a partner; in that episode carm first abandoned her to help claire move, then took down the walls in their restaurant with no notice. this episode syd watches an interview with coach k where he talks about leadership, teamwork, and listening, and it cuts from syd preparing a dish with this voiceover to richie going to stage. he’s put on forks (which carm does no order enough of for the soft open though nat warned him, and which is the title of the previous flashback episode), and his chef’s coat cover the beef t-shirt. all of this coalescing in the finale, where carmen unintentionally locks himself in the walk in after intentionally being absent, and richie steps up to be a partner and leader alongside syd for their family night soft open. i think what really gets me about all this is that all three of them are trying. it’s not that carm isn’t trying. he’s trying and he’s sincere in his efforts. but his attention’s divided--and he turns down help. nat actually offers to call the fridge guy, and he turns her down and insists he’ll do it.
here’s what coach k says:
The very first thing is that, you know, in order to get better, you change limits. And when you change limits, you're gonna look bad and you're gonna fail. And at West Point, I learned that failure was never a destination. In other words, when you are knocked back, you know, figure out why and then, then change. The other thing is that you're not gonna get there alone. You know, be on a team. You know, surround yourself with good people and learn how to listen. You're not gonna learn with you just talking. And when you do talk, converse, don't make excuses. Figure out the solution. And you don't have to figure it out yourself. I always wanted to be a part of a team and obviously I wanted to lead that team. You know, what a, what an interesting life it is to be a leader. That's something. 
here’s what the guy in terry’s kitchen says:
We're not children. It's okay to make mistakes. 
i’ve been ragging on carmen for fucking up, but the thing is it’s not about his fuck up. it’s not that carmen failed and richie stepped up in his place. like it’s not a dichotomy.  that’s not how teamwork *works*. when you look at the team as a whole, it’s either the team wins or the team loses as a whole. and on family night the team won. carm was stuck in the walk in and he’s berating himself over it, but he is surrounded by good people--tina, syd, nat, ebra, richie, marcus, fak, angel, manny, gary. these are good people he’s invested in. he sent marcus to copenhagen. he sent ebra and tina to culinary school. he sent richie to chef terry.
and just as he’s surrounded by good people, each and every one of those good people is surrounded by good people, too, because they all have each other--that’s what a team is. just as carmen’s invested in them, they’ve invested in him. they trust him to lead them, to pay them, to work beside them. they could have left to find other jobs and they didn’t. they stayed on this ride with him and syd. 
thinking about the mistakes characters have made and their consequences--carm and the cigarettes in s01e02 that got them a c; marcus and the cakes in s01e05; syd, marcus, and carm (tickets, cakes, and wildly inappropriate workplace meltdown respectively) in s01p7; carm and the forks and the walk in handle in s02e10--and about the anxiety of work that we witness--syd throwing up behind a dumpster, carm having a panic attack, marcus zoning out in the alley, richie taking anxiety medication. each and every one of those mistakes was okay for them to make. 
i think ultimately the bear is working against the american tradition of extreme anxiety about work (you know, the joke about europeans having an out of office saying they’re out for the summer so write back in the fall, vs the american i’m in surgery but i’ll get back to you asap). like i know the impulse is to blame each of them for the mistakes, but i think that’s exactly what the show *doesn’t* do, and it does that on purpose. and like, making mistakes being okay does not mean there isn’t order or accountability or expectations. it means carm doesn’t have to hit his head against a steel door for fucking up (though i found it delicious). 
94 notes · View notes
coconutcordiale · 2 years
Text
steady pt three (i keep all my affection in a paper cup)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pt one | pt two | pt three | masterlist | prequel
pairing- rooster x female bartender!reader (no y/n)
synopsis-
You want to tell her you know how she feels, it’s truly unfair for someone to look this good with that mustache. There’s a bead of sweat rolling down his neck to his collarbone and you want nothing more than to follow it with your tongue. Alice looks like she agrees with you.
Completely unaware of his own effect, Bradley just swipes his card.
warnings- 18+ minors DNI, unprotected sex oops, light daddy kink/bradley bradshaw is a soft daddy dom that just wants to take care of his girl this is the hill i'll die on, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), lil bit of praise kink (can i write smut without someone -especially rooster- saying good girl, prob not), breeding kink if you squint but like...don't it's like half a line & i'm scared of kids so it's not really breeding kink idk, no kink negotiation here so not a good example of what you should do irl, brief mention of past infidelity (no current cheating)
length- 5.6k ish
an- i can't believe this is over this is literally the most difficult thing i've ever written, also for real publix sandwiches are the goat i wouldn't share mine with bradley. I’m sorry the end was so cheesy I hate myself lol ok ily all bye
this chapter title is also from only for a moment by lola marsh lmao i basically wrote 15k based on one song that's less than 3 minutes long
Tumblr media
You slam the door a little harder than necessary when you get to the rental car.
“Did you get the closure you needed?” Bradley asks tentatively, probably wary of the chaos you know is simmering under your skin.
“Closure from another person is a myth,” you answer firmly. “Only you can give yourself closure.”
“So, no, in other words.”
You appreciate that he’s at least trying to keep the amusement out of his voice as you repeat his cheesy quotes back to him, but it's short-lived because everything feels too small, too suffocating in the muggy Austin air.
You almost don't tell Bradley, but a part of you recognizes you need to get the words out. That someone else needs know about you and Jake so it doesn't subsist only in your eyes, so it doesn't blind you as it disrupts your field of vision, bright spots of an incoming migraine.
“He said he’s in love with me.”
His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and you raise an eyebrow.
After a beat he relaxes, tone frustratingly even. “Bold, considering he’s still married, right?”
“Bold,” you scoff. “That’s one way to put it. I didn’t bother to ask. No ring, but we all know how you pilots are about rings.”
“Why?”
You shrug. Because it doesn’t matter.
“I want to ask you something, but you have to promise not to get mad at me,” he continues, gaze fixed on the road.
Even though you know you’re unlikely to get mad at him, you grumble anyways. “No promises.”
“I’m not trying to sound judgmental. You obviously loved him. But can I ask, why you stayed so long? Wasn’t it excruciating?”
Loved. Past tense. You're surprised as you realize how true that feels, that Jake has maybe, finally, become someone you loved and not someone your heart still beats for.
“I’ve never been in a serious relationship before,” you admit, softly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “At a certain point, maybe I started to think there was something wrong with me, a reason I wasn’t worth the effort of a real relationship. Like maybe what I had with Jake was better than I would ever get from someone else.”
You hear a pained noise from him, but barrel on, knowing if you don’t get the words out right now, they may live inside you forever.
“It wears on you after awhile. My guy friends are always acting sarcastic about it, wow must be so horrible to be pretty, so shitty that everyone wants to sleep with you. People say it enough, men confirm it with their actions, and eventually, you start to feel like that’s all you’re worth.
You shudder; you’ve never admitted that out loud before.
"I know what it looks like, but it was more than sex. I’d just never felt that way about anyone before.”
Bradley pulls into the parking lot of your hotel, but you’re staring straight ahead, admission having frozen you in place.
“I don’t know how to make you believe you’re worth more than that. Seresin was practically falling apart, and he hasn’t even seen you in almost a year, for fuck’s sake. Those guys that missed out on knowing you, they’re morons.”
He pauses and takes a deep breath, looks over at you and you feel his dark eyes burning into the side of your face.
“Cali, I—if you think he’s being serious, if you want to be with him, I know it’s complicated, but I have your back.”
Any ice that was thawing around you suddenly frosts again.
“You think I should try to work things out,” you say slowly. “With Jake.”
He flinches. “That’s what you’re taking from—fuck, never mind. I didn’t say that. I just want you to know I’m here for you, whatever you decide.”
Your stomach is sinking and you’re not entirely sure why.
“Thank you,” you manage to murmur, squeezing his forearm affectionately before getting out of the car, worried he’ll see the tears forming in your eyes.
It stays sunk as you get back to your hotel room, as you get ready for bed silently, as you bury yourself under the covers and turn your back to him.
He feels miles away in the other bed, somehow farther away than he does with a flight of stairs separating you at home in Florida.
Sure, a mini vacation to a wedding (even if it is to Texas of all places) is a little intense for friends, but that’s yours and Bradley’s thing if you’re being honest. You guys have spent the last six months being a little intense and over-committed. Being the only things to pull each other out of the dark places you longed to hide in.
You agreed to come, as a friend. It’s not like you guys pretended to be dating, it’s not like he didn’t introduce you to everyone as his friend from Florida.
You’re not sure when you started hoping for more, when you started thinking there was something promising constructing itself in the space between your apartments.
+
Rooster immediately knows it was a mistake to visit you at work. But you’re working the early shift and things have been so off since you guys got back from Texas. It’s like you’ve retreated into your shell, like you’ve put back on every layer he spent months peeling away.
You smile when you see him, but there’s something hollow in it, something not all there.
He’s pretty sure he overstepped asking you about Jake, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up again, how to apologize without making it worse.  
He couldn’t help it; he saw how Jake looked at you. Understands how Jake feels, knows all too well the magnetic pull of you, the involuntary twitch of fingers to touch you. But the way you stole glances after you stopped panicking at his presence…well he’s fairly certain you’ve never looked at him the way you tried to hide you were looking at Jake.
He felt all the air empty from the room the moment you two were aware of each other's presence.
Bradley doesn’t know how to compete with a love like that.
Despite all that he can’t stay away from you, can’t spend another night in his apartment wondering what you’re thinking.
Unfortunately, that means he’s in a touristy tiki bar, politely letting a girl chat him up while you busy yourself making sweet cocktails with overcomplicated garnishes just out of his line of sight.
She’s pretty. And nice. She’s drinking a Jungle Bird which he knows you don’t detest making, so he doesn’t feel bad when she orders another to stick around and talk to him. She laughs at his jokes and doesn’t tell him he’s an idiot for not liking The Office. As far as he can tell (given that he met her about five minutes ago) there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her.
Except for the fact that she’s not you, of course.
She excuses herself to the bathroom and you make your way over to his side of the bar, wordlessly putting a fresh beer in front of him.
“You should ask her out,” you suggest. “She’s gorgeous.”
Bradley stalls, blinks twice. His tongue is suddenly sticking to the roof of his mouth. “You think so?”
You roll your eyes. Usually, he secretly loves how much you roll your eyes, the fire that’s always lit behind them. Loves the bratty disposition you manage to express with one little look. He’s always liked how expressive your features are, how he can read your mood before you even say a word.
Right now though, it just makes him uneasy.
“Everyone thinks so, look at her.”
“No—that’s not what I—” he stutters. “I meant, you really think I should ask her out?”
“Yeah, she obviously likes you. It’s not like she’s going to say no.”
Bradley hates the way his heart sinks at your suggestion, but nods anyways, choosing not to correct your assumption that he’s stammering with nervousness over this girl he just met. He desperately wants to change the subject, to make sure he’ll be able to see you outside of the shell you put on for work.
“I have your suitcase at home if you want to get it after work. Sorry, I forgot it was still in the Bronco when I left the other morning.”
When he left for work after carrying your sleeping form up to his apartment, not wanting to risk waking you by searching for the keys to your place, because you looked too peaceful for him to wake up after the flight back.
He forced himself to sleep on the couch, despite how pretty you looked in his bed, how badly he wanted to crawl in with you, tell his students he got stuck in Texas, and keep you in bed with him forever.
He walks home when you tell him you'll come by after Beth takes over, after Jungle Bird slides him her number on a napkin, hoping it’ll clear his head. Sits on the beach, watches the sky darken over the water. Wonders if he should play it cool and wait to text her. Wonders if he even wants to text her at all.
He knows he’s ready to date again after Lauren, has been for a while now, so eventually, he does text, because pining after you isn’t going to get him anywhere.
He thinks he can be your friend, if that's all he's going to get.
He’s just barely gotten through his front door when you knock, sweaty and red-faced.
“Just got back from a run,” you tell him, clearly having seen the question perched on his lips. You’re still breathing a little hard and it’s sending his blood in the opposite direction of where he needs it to be going.
The sweat dripping down into the valley of your breasts is giving him decidedly not friendly thoughts.
“You hate running,” he says instead, brows furrowed.
You shrug. “Did you make plans with the girl from the bar?”
He rubs the back of his neck, feeling awkward.
“Yeah,” he answers finally. “We’re going out this weekend.”
“That’s great,” you say flatly, immediately turning to leave, picking up your forgotten suitcase a little too aggressively, like it’s done something to offend you.
“Hey, wait, hold on.” Bradley reaches out for your arm, tugging gently and forcing you to stop in your tracks. “Are we in a fight right now? Is this about the wedding?”
“No,” you answer petulantly. You won’t meet his eyes, instead staring down at where his fingers encircle your wrist.
“No, we’re not in a fight or no, this isn’t about the wedding?”
“This isn’t about the wedding,” you reply through clenched teeth. “Not entirely, at least.”
He can’t help but let pride swell through him at your words, knowing a few months ago you would’ve lied about being fine until you were blue in the face.
It still feels like he’s taking a shot in the dark, a tiny flicker of hope igniting in his chest. “You told me to ask her out.”
You cringe, face twisting in pain like you just sucked on a lemon. “Only because you were pushing me to go back to Jake! I thought that was what you wanted. I thought—”
You’re breathing hard, but he’s pretty sure your chest is heaving with emotion, not from your run. Your mouth is open to continue when he says your name.
Not Cali. It sounds hard and serious as it passes his lips. You wince and he immediately feels bad.  
“Stop,” he continues firmly, determined not to lose his nerve at the hurt crossing your features, willing himself not to get worked up and loud. “Don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I was doing. I know we went to the wedding as friends, but it’s stupid to deny there’s been something building between us for a while now.”
Your expression softens and Bradley knows instantly that you feel it too.
“I just didn’t want you to shut the door on Jake out of some obligation to me. I want you to choose me, for me. Not because I’m not him.”
He sees the moment it clicks for you, the second you start seeing how the wedding must’ve looked through his eyes.
“I’ll never go back to Jake,” you say quietly. “For lots of reasons that have nothing to do with you.”
Something inside him unfurls, anxiety sitting in his stomach loosening, but he’s not done, can’t be done, until his intentions are crystal clear.
“What do you want? Do you even know? Because I know what I want.” He grabs your arms, turning your body to face him fully. Hooks a finger under your chin, making you look up at him as he tries to gather the courage to say this next part. “And I can’t settle for anything less. If you want casual, I can’t give you that.”
“I don’t want you to go out with her.” It’s as good as an admission from you, he knows that.
Dark eyes warm as the beginning of a smile stretches across his face. His chest is lightening, warmth bubbling within. “How come?”
“You’re smart enough to do the math,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. But there’s a bright, happy tinge edging at the corners of your mouth.
He’s full-on grinning now, reaching to pull you into him by the waist. He tucks his face into your hair, so you won’t see the giddy expression on his face. “Tell me anyways.”
“Want you all to myself,” you mumble, lips ghosting over his skin to make him shudder.
You might have more to say, but Bradley used all his patience flying today and his hand tilts your chin to him, lips covering yours before you can make another sound.
You make a tiny mewl in surprise against his mouth as he grips you, tongue sliding past your lips and his blood immediately rushes south.
Making a face when Bradley manages to pull himself away from your lips, you look down at your sweaty sports bra. “I need to shower.”
“Shower here,” he suggests. “I’ll make us dinner. You can spend the night, maybe? And I won’t sleep on the couch this time? I promise I’ll behave.”
Bradley sees his hopeful eyes mirrored back at him when he finally takes a chance to look at your face.
Things are so shakily composed between the two of you, that he’s somewhat afraid if he lets you go back downstairs to your apartment you’ll spiral and come up with a hundred reasons not to give you guys a shot.
Maybe he’s being insecure, sue him.
You seem to understand where he’s coming from, the tenuous connection hanging delicately in the air between the two of you. Nodding, your fingers play with the hem of his shirt fitfully before you rush to his shower, like if you waited for another second you might not be able to peel yourself off him.
He inflates with pride at that too.
Bradley overestimated his abilities, probably, when he promised to behave. He didn’t think about how hard it would be not to think about you naked in his shower while he seeks out ingredients to throw together for dinner.
Didn’t think about how good you’d smell, fragrant with his body wash as you wrap your arms around him from behind.
Bradley’s movements are shaky, and jerky when he turns around to kiss you. He clears his throat, and only just barely keeps himself from running his hands underneath the baggy top that hangs off your shoulders. “Is that my shirt?”
You freeze. “I…yes. Is that okay? I didn’t have anything with me, but I can run downstairs…”
You say something under your breath that he can’t quite make out. Your face is completely unreadable and Bradley’s body flashes hot and cold every other second.
“No, don’t, it, uh, looks good on you,” he says finally when he’s pretty sure he’s not going to rip it in the process of pulling it over your head.
Bradley’s taking deep breaths, using grounding techniques. He breathes in through his nose, and out through his mouth. He knows you’re not trying to tease him. You’re not doing anything, not really.
This is Florida, everyone is scantily clad more often than they’re not.
If he’s going to behave, he’s going to have to tap into that self-control he beat himself over the head with every time he saw you in a bikini before today.
It’s just so much worse now that he’s allowed to touch you.
“It’s hard, with you looking like that in my shirt. I want to fuck you stupid,” he admits.
Your mouth drops open in surprise.
“But I think we should take things slow. I don’t want to mess this up by jumping in before we’re ready.”
His cock twitches when he notices the disappointment you’re not trying very hard to hide.
“Okay,” you pout. “You’re probably right.”
You turn to open the fridge, leaning to grab a water and his shirt rides up a little higher on your already bare legs.
Bradley groans, head falling back to stare at the ceiling. “Baby, you’re killing me.”
+
You can’t believe how much you hated Florida beaches when you first moved. The Keys are beautiful, with endless white sand and clear water.
You convince Bradley to stop by Publix on the way back, with promises of pasta for dinner. You really just want a sub to take to work tomorrow, but you’re not going to tell him that.
The poor cashier practically swallows her tongue when she sees Bradley, shirt open over his bare chest and covered in sand, sunglasses sliding down his nose that’s pink from the sun. He makes sure to look at her name tag and smiles genuinely at her when he asks, Alice, how’s your day going?
You’re going to pass out.
You want to tell her you know how she feels, it’s truly unfair for someone to look this good with that mustache. There’s a bead of sweat rolling down his neck to his collarbone and you want nothing more than to follow it with your tongue. Alice looks like she agrees with you.
Completely unaware of his own effect, Bradley just swipes his card.
It’d be infuriating if it wasn’t so adorable.
This time you’re counting all the ways he’s not Jake, but it’s a good thing. Jake would’ve preened, leaned into smirk, just so he could see the blush rise on the poor girl’s cheeks.
It’s not that that’s bad, you know you do the same sometimes. Smirking at guys you know are giving you a once-over while you make their drinks, sparkle in your eyes because you don’t always hate the attention.
But it’s oddly endearing with Bradley, how he doesn’t seem to know the effect he has on people. Like he doesn’t fly multi-million-dollar planes for a living, like he couldn’t use that to get any girl he wanted in his bed.
He’s just being mean when you guys get to the car, flinging his unbuttoned shirt off and into the back of the Bronco and muttering something about tan lines.
Your mouth is watering.
When you get back to your complex, you snag his forgotten shirt and form a plan.
“Caliiiiiii,” Bradley sings as he bursts into your apartment. It’s a good thing you never listened to Beth about locking your front door because shirtless Bradley Bradshaw is a sight to behold. “Showered so you wouldn’t complain about—”
You hear him stop dead in his tracks at the entrance to your kitchen. When you look over your shoulder at him those plush lips are parted, eyes roaming over the back of you. You’re clad in one of his marginally less offensive button-ups (at least there aren’t any birds on it), thrown hastily over your bikini.
“How gentlemanly of you to shower for dinner with little ol’ me,” you giggle. “But I have to admit I haven’t had time for more than rinsing the sand off.”
He ignores you completely, tone accusing like you hadn’t spoken at all. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
You consider denying it but can’t fully hold back the smirk forming. “Well, you seemed to enjoy it when I wore your shirt last time.”
Bradley just nods dumbly.
“Anyways, don’t get too excited, this is one of three dishes I can actually make, but I thought we’d…” You trail off because he’s suddenly right behind you, crowding you so you feel the heat radiating from him as he brackets you with his arms.
“Nope,” he says tersely. “Dinner can wait. Turn off the stove.”
He turns you around so he can kiss you, slow and deliberate. His tongue slides between your lips assertively, hands tapping on your thighs as a sign for you to hop backward and up on the counter. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”
“Wait, what?” You ask, but he’s already on his knees.
You should’ve known then and there he was going to be nothing but trouble.
The first time Bradley makes you come, you’re still in the kitchen. He’s kneeling with his face buried in your pussy, skimpy bathing suit bottoms long flung behind him, lips curled around your clit insistently even as your thighs clutch his head in a way that must be uncomfortable. After all his talk of wanting to wait and do things right, it’s almost funny. Would be, if your mind wasn’t currently busy whiting out.
The second time, he drags you to the living room before you’ve had any time to recover and pulls your back against his chest in front of the couch. The tall mirror in the corner of the living room displays the absolute debauchery unfolding on the floor in the middle of your apartment.
“Keep your legs open, baby. You can do that, right? Be good for me?”
You’re nodding before you even know what you’re doing, head jerking up and down like a bobblehead.
“Fuck, look at you,” he croons in between the nips he’s determinedly pressing on your neck. Barely even a command, you still look up, watching your reflection as his lips trace across the top of your shoulder, mustache leaving red marks in its wake. One hand is busy tugging the strings of your bathing suit top loose so he can toss it out of his way, while the other drifts to tease your inner thighs.
Bronze eyes meet yours in the mirror and he grins, like the cat that got the canary. “Gorgeous, darlin’.” And then he pushes two fingers into you without warning, the stretch making you keen as your head falls back on his shoulder. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve thought about you like this.”
“Ohmygo—Bradley.” You turn your head to kiss him, but it ends up being little more than your lips slotting together and you moaning straight into his mouth as he fucks his fingers in relentlessly, your hands gripping his arms like they can’t decide if they want to pull him in closer or push him away, oversensitive as you are from his mouth.
You sink into him, into his hands, his grip. Let it erase the gravity that keeps you tethered to the ground, let yourself flutter high above the clouds.
You don’t even realize how close you are until he curls his fingers inside you to graze that soft spot, thumbing at your clit. His other hand palms your tit and tweaks your nipple at the same time his teeth close on your neck and you’re done for, letting it crash into you, cunt clenching around his fingers and back arching away from his chest.
It takes you a few seconds to come down, eyes closed as you blindly turn your head in search of Bradley’s mouth. He kisses you sweetly, but briefly and you make a noise of discontent when he pulls away. You open your eyes to glower at him but when you do, you see a filthy gleam in his eyes that warms you straight to your core like you didn’t just come twice in two different rooms of your house.
His fingers are suddenly pressing at your lips, and you watch his eyes glaze over as you take them in and suck, licking your release from his fingers. You’re suddenly very, very aware of how hard he is behind you, thighs clenching at the realization that he’s straining against his shorts, grinding against your ass because he’s so turned on from getting you off.
God, he’s so perfect it’s not even fair.
His digits in your mouth are giving you your own wicked ideas, about returning the favor as you wriggle your way around to face him. It’s a good thing his other arm immediately goes to support you because you’re pretty sure your legs are made of jelly.
He seems to read your mind, or maybe just the way your cheeks hollow around his fingers as you look down to the bulge in his pants, lips already forming wicked promises as he pulls his hand away from you. “Next time, baby. Need to be inside you.”
The high-pitched whimper that leaves you at that would be embarrassing if you could currently remember that you have downstairs neighbors. You can’t, though, so who cares.
“Want you to ride me,” he grunts. “Have to see how gorgeous my girl looks bouncing in my lap. Can you do that for me?”
To be honest, you’re not sure you can. It’s a 50/50 chance your legs will give out the moment Bradley stops holding you up, but you want to, want to so badly.
You nod anyways, figuring odds are Bradley will catch you if you melt into the floor, and he swings around so he can lay flat on the rug. His shirt slips off your shoulders, getting trapped around your elbows as you lean forward to support yourself on his chest. You’re about to fling it off when he makes a strangled noise, hands going to bring the material back up.
“Baby, please.” There’s a little whine in Bradley’s voice that turns you inside out. “Keep it on.”
That sweetness, that little crack in his dominance is way hotter than it has any right to be.
You make quick work of his shorts, biting your lip as you pull him out, his tip red and leaking precum.
“Christ, Bradley, this how you got your callsign?” You manage to mumble as he pulls you up to balance your hand on his chest again.
The bastard winks. “I know you can take it. Been so good for me, why stop now?”
Using your free hand to guide you, you sink down slowly, not bothering to hold in the moans at the stretch of him.
Stars are bursting behind your eyes that are squeezed tight against the intensity of it, your slick walls are oversensitive and shaking already. Bradley’s hands are clenched on your hips, trying not to move before you’re ready.
You roll your hips, starting to find your rhythm, and he groans, head thumping back against the floor.
When he looks back up at you his eyes are almost completely black. “Look so fucking beautiful bouncing on my cock, darlin'.”
He reaches up to grab your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples just to make you squirm even more, before trailing his fingers down to your clit as he starts shifting up to meet the grind of your hips and it’s so much, too much, sending sparks straight through you.
You shudder. “Bradley—da—I can’t.”
There’s something knowing in his gaze, at your pace stuttering, at your half-formed words trying to claw their way out of your throat. He slows as you do, ever so slightly pulling his finger from your clit. “Need a break, baby?”
You bite your lip, refusing to meet his molten gaze, giving only a tiny shake of your head, trying to find your rhythm again.
When he smirks, you can feel it permeating the air around you. “That’s what I thought. One more, I know you can give me one more.”
He plants his feet flat on the floor behind you, giving himself the power and leverage to fuck you in earnest from below. You’re trembling, you know sounds are leaving your mouth, but you’ve no idea if they’re words at this point.
You’re not fluttering above the clouds anymore, you’re flying, speeding through, fast and hard and riotous.
Bradley’s voice is low and gravelly, but he’s looking up at you with reverence. “It’s okay, baby, you can let go. I’ve got you, gonna take care of my girl.”
“Daddy,” you whine, any sense of coherency, shame, or worry having left you two orgasms ago.
The sound that rips from Bradley’s chest at that is rough and guttural, hands going to your hips in a bruising hold. “That’s right, gonna come for daddy like a good girl, aren’t you?”
You’re nodding, babbling, keening yesdaddyyesfuckbradley— You dig your nails into his chest as it hits you. Electricity ripples under your skin, through your veins, dominoes cascading down and hitting every nerve ending in your body. It’s right on the edge of pain, body worn out and spent from tensing and releasing.
“Fuck, baby, so gorgeous when you come on my cock, gonna fuck my girl so full,” he grunts, big hands bouncing you like a ragdoll in his lap.
Even through the fog, his words hit you hard. “Fuck—please, daddy.”
His thrusts get shallower, wilder, before his back arches from the floor, mouth spilling incoherent praise, holding you down onto him as he spills inside of you.
You slump down onto him, the only sound in the room yours and Bradley’s heavy breathing.
You’re falling apart, body trembling and shaking, and you’re still on the floor. You’ve no idea how you’ll survive when Bradley finally takes you to a bed.
“Jesus,” he whispers. “And here I was thinking you couldn’t get any hotter.”
You flush pink immediately, wincing as you move to get off him, wetness sliding down your thighs. He scoops you up almost immediately, carrying you to the shower and mumbling under his breath about making sure to keep daddy’s cum inside of you.
“Oh my god, Bradley,” you whine. “I can’t go again."
The pasta is completely unsalvageable by the time you get out of the shower. He’s lucky you’re willing to share your precious sandwich with him.  
When you see your downstairs neighbor the next day, she immediately reddens and turns on her heel to get away from you.
+
You’re back at the beach when Penny gets a call from you.
“Burning off some energy,” you tell her when she asks what you’re up to. “I’ve had a lot of that lately.”
“Should’ve just let me introduce you to Rooster from the beginning.”
“Who says this has anything to do with Rooster?” You ask, even though both of you know you’re lying through your teeth.
“Nothing wrong with being happy, honey.” You can hear her smiling through the phone.
“I might actually be happy?” You joke. “Is that what this is?”
“You guys are in the honeymoon phase. Every song on the radio is about you, neither of you can do anything wrong—”
“Oh, he does plenty wrong, believe me—”
Penny isn’t bothering to hide her laugh anymore, but her tone is still soft and caring. “It’s sweet. Rooster’s a good guy. He’s been through a lot.”
“He is. I’m kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop,” you admit. “Wish I could just enjoy it.”
“It’s hard. You don’t give your heart away easily,” Penny responds like you’re easy to read, easy to understand.
Maybe you are.
“You wouldn’t be taking this chance unless he was worth it,” she adds when you don’t answer, too busy thinking about how maybe that mask you’ve always worn isn’t as opaque as you thought it was.
Maybe that’s fine. Maybe you really are as strong as you pretended to be with that mask.
That’s the thing about masks. Sometimes you realize they’re more a part of you than you ever thought. When you thought you were faking it the whole time.
“He’s definitely worth it.”
Rooster raises an eyebrow at you, having come back to the tree you’ve taken residence under.
“Talking about my other boyfriend,” you tease, trying not to get distracted by the swimsuit that seems to be riding lower than it was before he ventured into the water.
“Hand the phone to Rooster, I want to talk to him.”
You giggle, sticking it out in his direction. “Penny wants to talk to you.”
“If you think my loyalty here lies with you, you're sorely mistaken,” Penny says, warning dancing all over her tone.
“You don’t have to be worried, Pen.” Bradley looks at you, eyes warm, fingers drifting up your legs. “If anyone’s gonna get their heart broken here, it’s me.”
Tumblr media
d a y 3 6 7
Tumblr media
You don’t notice the date, but a year since you moved to Florida, almost to the day, you realize you’re in love with Bradley Bradshaw.
As it turns out, loving Bradley is like flying high above the clouds.
442 notes · View notes
noforkingclue · 1 month
Note
Hi can you please please write a fic where reader is young and Sherlock loves her, she does too but her parents are against it. Like her father is furiously against it and her mother thinks she's too young for him and he might not see her like that, it upsets her and she confronts Sherlock if he really loves her, because if yes then she'd do anything, go against all odds to be with Sherlock.
Note: requests are currently closed
So I made the readers in her late twenties and Sherlock in his late thirties so there's a ten year age gap.
Hope you like the fic :)
Title: Approval
Warnings: age gap relationship
Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee
From the sound of your footsteps up the stairs Sherlock could tell that you were upset. No, he frowned as you got closer, not just upset you were angry as well. The door to the flat flew open and you marched into the room. Sherlock momentarily took his gaze off of his experiment as you collapsed into his chair.
“What happened?” he asked as he turned his attention back to his work
“Do you love me?”
It was one of the rare times that Sherlock was caught off guard. He sighed and turned off the bunsen burner and leant against the kitchen table.
“Why?” he asked
“I… want to know.”
“No you don’t.”
You glared at him as you pulled your legs up to your chest and curled into a ball.
“Just out of everyone,” you muttered softly, “why me?”
Sherlock hesitated for a moment unsure about exactly how to proceed. You were always better at this than him, loath as he was to admit it to himself. You understood people in a way that he never could.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked after an unhealthily long silence
“I would like you to answer my question,” you said, “but I wouldn’t say no to a cuppa.”
You stood up and joined Sherlock in the kitchen. You knew that cooking (chemistry didn’t count) wasn’t his strong suit, despite his best efforts.
“Why are you asking whether or not I love you?” Sherlock asked while the two of you waited for the kettle to boil
“Why aren’t you answering my question.”
“I would like the context.”
“It’s-” you cut yourself off and ran a hand over your face, “It’s my parents.”
Sherlock glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were going to say something else but he could read you well enough to know not to push it.
“What did they say?”
“My Dad doesn’t want us to be together,” you snapped, “He thinks you’re too old for me and I’m too young and naive to know what I really want. My Mum also thinksI’m too young and that I don’t understand how the real world works. For fucks sake, I’m almost thirty. I have a job, pay rent. I’ve seen horrific shit in my job that they couldn’t even think could happen. There are celebrities that have twenty, thirty year age gap relationships and yet they think ten years is too much.”
You hadn’t realised you’d been crying until Sherlock put his hands on your shoulders.  You pressed your forehead against his chest and he tensed under your touch. However, after a moment he raised his arms and wrapped them around you.
“I need to know if you feel the same way,” you said, “that you love me. If you do, I will fight for this. If not…”
You trailed off and inhaled deeply. You closed your eyes not wanting to finish the sentence.
“I love you, Sherlock Holmes,” you said softly, “I really do but I want you to understand what I am giving up. Do you… do you love me too?”
Sherlock’s grip on you tightened and he pressed his forehead against your shoulder. Your breath hitched slightly and Sherlock said,
“You are one of the few people who tolerate me. I know that I am not the best at… expressing my feelings towards you but,”
He pulled back and looked down at you. His hand rose to your chin and tilted your head so you were looking directly at him.
“I assure you that I do feel the same.”
“Good. Then I know exactly what to tell my parents.”
You raised yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed a brief kiss on Sherlock’s lips.
“I’m also sure that Mycroft would be happy to get your parents to stop commenting on our relationship if you asked him.” Sherlock muttered
“He’d do that for you?”
“I said that you’d need to ask him. He might do that for you.”
25 notes · View notes
popcornforone · 7 months
Text
Professional
A Dieter Bravo Fan Fic
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I for ages have been trying to write Dieter. One of my friends adores him as their favourite Pedro, & I keep toying with ideas & it’s never stuck, but today (8 August) for some reason it has & I’ve started writing him & I have spent the entire night writing him & loved every second. I think I’ve done him justice.
Synopsis:- Dieter has been nominated for another Oscar, & so is coming onto your critically acclaimed talk show ahead of the awards. The two of you just need to keep it professional.
Word count: 7800
Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOH ARE UNDER 18. PIV mirror sex, mentions of drug & alcohol abuse, rehab, mentions of mental health & other illnesses & injuries including strokes, sex in a place of work, swearing, secret relationship,mentions of the mile high club.
Thank you all so much for reading this, I hope you’ve enjoyed this interview styled fic, all feed back is always welcome
“Lemons Laugh Longer than Leopards” you say into your microphone as you test it, walking into the room to do your interview. It always makes whoever the runner is with your coffee laugh, which then always makes you smile & then, because you are smiling, it will make whoever you are interviewing for the 30 minutes with series, automatically open up to you. This shouldn’t be a problem today though, todays guest you need to be professional & not be your true self.
The room is set up simply as usual. You usually make sure whoever you interview is offered a throw for their arm chair or cushion, but today with who you are talking to, you know exactly what they need. The two arm chairs & table set up as they usually would be. Black leather but not the kind that leaves marks or gets sweaty. One you can easily lean forward & make movements to show that you are in charge of the interview & that this is your talk show. You’ve come a very long way in no time at all. The pandemic suddenly saw your talk show viewership online increase dramatically. Your format always used to be remote before you started to make it big a few years ago, so you were all set up to just do it again, & then just send it to an editor & producer to adjust it, your much more professional that you were when you started, & your guests are now much more high profile & need less convincing then they used to, to spend 30minutes talking with you.
“Mr Bravo…” you stand up from your arm chair, as he walks in & extend your hand. He’s actually put an effort in today. So many times have you interviewed or seen this man just in his green Bath robe or in his sweatpants, his tummy hanging out. Too often have you seen the fall out from the nights of partying. But no today Dieter has a dark shirt on & some comfortable trousers. For him this is as smart as he will get for any interview. Only a red carpet or Oscar appearance will make him dress fancier.
“Long time no see” he cackles as he shakes your hand & you raise an eyebrow.
“Professional Dieter, remember…”
“Yes I know, I know, a lot of strings have been pulled yada yada, i get it I do, I’m trying to care & for once, I actually really am” that makes your smile even bigger as his make up is touched up & his own microphone is tested for volume. He’s trying to play this straight too. Your can tell by the look in his eyes as he removes his sun glasses to do the interview that this is him being genuine.
His hair is still wild which you can tell the people on your show aren’t happy about. You can hear them chatting in your ear piece that they will give your prompts for. But you & Dieter don’t want the internet to turn him into another meme. Baby chicken did make you both laugh previously but you want this to be an interview that will go down in history. That when people on youtube type in Dieter Bravo Oscar interview, in years to come, see yours as one of the top mentions, but for the right reasons.
“He’s here & has put effort in, knock it off” you whisper into your microphone, but you do it loudly enough that he can hear. You sit down in your chair & adjust your own outfit. Your tailored trousers & black jacket shine & gleam in their Prestine state, your silver heels look good with your black nail varnish on both your hands & feet. You’ve done that on purpose but no one except Dieter has noticed at all. Dieter has also noticed, that under that jacket there is no top, just a black lace bra.
“So much for keeping it professional” he mumbles under his breath as he sits in his chair. His mind now wondering slightly but then when he sees you casually smiling, he remembers he’s here to be interviewed, not look at how see through your lace is.
“Are you happy to start Dieter?” You ask as you tap your iPad on for your few notes, not that you need them, you know exactly what to ask the soon to be double Oscar winner. He gestures to the runner for a bottle of ice water which is brought over.
“Well maybe an extra hour in bed this morning would have been nice, but managers are managers & interviews have to happen” he smugly says as he checks himself out in the mirror to the side of him, making sure he’s happy.
“Did you look at roughly what I wanted to ask? I will deviate slightly, you know that, but it will stay towards what you were shown?”
“I know how your interviews go, we’ve done this a hundred times. it’s chill, I’m chilled you’re calm, we will have fun” Dieter winks & sits back in his chair. “Do your worst darling”
5,4… the count down starts in your ear ready to go & start interviewing the actor the world is desperate to hear from. You smile straight down the camera, take a deep breath saying in your mind it’s just Dieter & begin.
“Welcome to 30 minutes with… on this awards special we are talking to the current toast of Hollywood, the man who everyone wants to see on the big screen, the man who everybody has to talk to & get a selfie with. Oscar, Bafta & Emmy award winning actor Dieter Bravo. Dieter has been gracing our screens at home & at the cinema for over 20 years although he will still claim to only be 25. He claimed the lime light more in 2010 when he appeared in sci-fi thriller Beyond the Void, & has also stared in the movie The Letters & Flash Drive the HBO series. But he received global recognition for his supporting role in Your So Vein which won him countless accolades, including best supporting actor at the Oscar’s. Since then he has appeared in Cliff Beasts & now with his latest role in Isolations, he has once again picked up awards galore with the Oscar’s still to come in 5 weeks time” Dieter is very impressed with how professional you are reeling off all of his major achievements. Not once do you look down at your notes or an autocue, you do it professionally & in one take. He nods in admiration, which could be seen as him being proud of his own work but you catch a glimpse out of the corner of your eye that actually, those nods are all for you.
“Dieter, thank you so much for coming in to chat to us today for 30minutes, I know the world wants to speak to you but I just had to get in their first & you couldn’t really say no to an old friend could you?”
“The pleasure is all mine, I watch this show in my trailer on YouTube, me & you we go back to when you only used to have 5minutes with people” he chuckles. Dieter clearly has done his home work for the camera to show this is going to work, & be more than just the standard 30mins you get with other Hollywood big shots, & this makes you smile.
“Well you know more than most that I’ve come along way since then, much like you” you smile back, your trying to not let it show that you’ve known each other for longer than either of you care to remember, even before the 5minute videos, of crashing red carpets together. “So Dieter congratulations, another Oscar nomination, you already have a golden globe & a critics choice award for isolations, the BAFTAs are at the end of next week, how does it feel to get all this support & love for a role that’s gripped so many people?” You have to start with praise, you know that Dieter keeps things very close guarded in his life, both his troubled past & his private life. Buttering him up a bit might make him open up.
“Thank you, I know you’ve seen it, your not just saying that because you have to”, he starts off by shifting in his chair a little to get comfortable “getting the plaudits from your piers is always a nice thing. It always makes you so happy that you’re doing what you do. That it means something. But I do projects for me. I do it because it’s either something I’d like to watch myself, like Cliff Beasts, but I also want to do something that a challenge, you know. & sometimes the fans might be like the fuck has he made this or why is he a small part in that, but it’s just the way I flow, & I work. & when I find that grove I know if I’m putting in a good performance or not, & with Isolations it happened just as I hit the sweet spot in all the points in my life.” It’s a very honest answer from Dieter, probably one of the most honest answers anyone’s ever got from him & you on your little show have received it. Isolations might not just be changing Dieters life, it could be inadvertently about to change yours. Your producer however is moaning in your ear that Dieter swore, but you don’t care, they remind you to raise your hand slightly to tell them they may need to edit something for a of cleaner version.
“So are you saying that there are some performances you don’t give it all to?”
“Do you always give 100% every day?” He asks back accusingly.
“I always set out to Dieter”
“Well I always start to each project with that mind set. Some along the way you realise aren’t going to be your best piece of work, or you realise the story isn’t coming together, so then you just need to enjoy the experience. Have fun with the role.” You don’t press him he just follows on with “in 2015 I made a film called Above the Climb, it got slated, the lead in it Spencer Cable had to do so much damage control & took the flack from it. & we both sat there day 20 of filming going, this film is rubbish should we just have some fun & ad-lib some of this. The scene we did on the fly & the little side comments were deemed by everyone who saw it as the best parts of the film. We were proud that we made it enjoyable for others & we also got a kick out it” Dieter talking about Above the Climb in these terms is expected, but to be so honest about the process is so refreshing to hear an actor say that they don’t always have good days.
“I mean we can’t all be Tom Hanks can we & I can’t be Graham Norton” you joke & Dieter laughs. He’s always said you haven’t made in it life until you’ve got drunk on Nortons sofa for his Friday talk show, & he knows when this interview is done he will be hopping on a plane to do just that.
“Well you are my warm up for him.” Your banter & conversation is so organic. This is so natural to you both.
“That’s the best compliment any interviewee has ever given me” your smile is so genuine & so is his back to you. For all of 2 second you pause before realising you can’t stare into those deep brown eyes all day, & look at him twitch his pinkie ring. You’ve got questions to ask.
“You don’t like talking about your personal life anymore, but we all know you’ve had let’s say an interesting past…” you know your pushing the envelope here especially as he edges forward in his chair. Dieter has been known to walk out of interviews which go too far especially since the last Cliff Beasts film.”…in away did your past help you develop more of the character of Jackson in isolations? Was there any part that you thought could have been crossing between fiction & reality?” You’ve asked this in a clever way which he is impressed with. It’s not a oh how are you now off the drugs & the hundreds of crazy parties, you’ve asked it in a way where all he had to do is talk about the film.
“Jackson does embody some of my less desirable traits for sure. I had been off the coke since the end of the lock downs, the world saw my near death experience in the press. It was scary & I did after a while lock myself inside my head, my demons did try & take over, but it did take a lot of support & loyalty from the friends around me to get me through it. Those who really know me got me through & I listened to their stories of me & my trauma before I started filming. I got an insight as to what it was like to put up with me & that made me realise even more how much these people cared for me” Dieter isn’t showing off. So often in interviews Dieter is the show off, stealing the spot light. But here his vulnerability is showing. You want to portray him for the man he really is, be it the man with the ego & also the man who is behind the persona the world sees.
“Would you say there are people who you thought were there for you who then weren’t?” As you ask this you see Dieter raise an eyebrow. You have known Dieter for a while, you know the circles he frequents & those who have always used him for personal gain, claiming to be friends, clearly in it for themselves not caring who gets hurt along the way.
“A few, I know who they are, & I know they didn’t want their reputations tarnished, but now they all are sitting there not being interviewed by you” Dieter firmly says back. You know this is the end of this line of questioning based on his body language. You know which 3 people this is, & you gave him a chance to call them out. A more intimidating interviewer would press further for names & gossip, but you would like to keep the status quo with him so leave it there.
“No they aren’t, you are. & not only are you here but as an Oscar Nominee again, is there anything you are experiencing differently with a second nomination that to the first time” you face returns to a friendly one which he reciprocates.
“People take me more seriously this time on the consideration circuit”
“How so?” You look shocked at his answer. This is Dieter Bravo, a name the world wishes they could have even glimpse at their script or return their phone call.
“First time people thought I was there as like a reward for my hard work. That I didn’t deserve it.” You go to shake your head & interrupt but he stops you before your lips can even part. “You don’t have to pretend. I know you didn’t, but a lot of people thought I was there to make up the numbers & said my win was a legacy win. It was only before this film came out that those critics re assessed Your So Vein & went okay maybe he can act. I felt a bit more validated this time. It feels more just. I did deserve my other Oscar, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I would have been gutted if I’d lost, but I won. I’m a winner it’s what I do.” Confident Dieter is coming to the surface now. You know confident Dieter is a pleasure to talk to.
“You’ve always said Your So Vein was fun to work on even before you got your recognition for it, & you’ve already talked about having fun on set. Is there any film you’ve enjoyed working on the most or was there a particular actor or director that was more fun that you thought would be?” Dieter sips his iced water as you say this & his eyes light up, he likes questions like this. If he had a tail it would wag.
“I adored & had the most fun making Sunship the 6 part comedy tv show I made. I was killed off in episode 6 but it was so much fun & I love how it kept going on for another 4 seasons. But as far as movies Lyra Watson is hilarious. At no point did a days filming on Bookworm ever feel like work, we laughed so much, & you can really see that when you watch the film back. It’s not often you get to be a ditsy bank robber is it?” He starts to laugh at his own memories of filming Bookworm & then he winks at you. You actual had a cameo in that film as a writer who smacked him across the head with a book. Something that you should have been on set for 2hours for, took 7hours due to the fact you just both kept acting up.
“Well I’m gonna say nothing, I know what a blast that film was” you say. You’re trying not to laugh too & it’s the first time since you’ve started talking with Dieter that you look at your iPad to check where you are at & also to see how much time you have left. Plenty, you think to yourself & then continue.
“So when you look back on your career like we are today, is there a role you wished you’d done differently? Or is there anything that you think with the knowledge you have now, that you think actually…”
“Beyond the Void!” He answers straight away which shocks you , both in his actual quickness to answer & that he picked the thing that made him a well known actor.
“Really!?” You reply high pitched which he smiles at, before then repeating it calmly & more professionally for the recording.
“There is nothing wrong with my role or performance in Beyond the Void, but I wish I’d have been more prepared for how my life changed because of it. I was I naive & suddenly had all this fame & could do what I wanted. Everyone assumed I’d be fine.”
“So you’d want to warn your younger self?”
“Yes, I’d tell them to still act the same but I’d tell them no meth, no 4am orgys & no burger eating challenges. The life style & that level of fame was fun but it made me out to be much more of a party boy than I am” Dieter is being the most frank he’s ever been in an interview. Maybe it’s because it’s with you & the vibe you have together, but not even Norton would get this out of him. He’s giving you the goods & you aren’t even digging for them. You can hear the producers in your ear going his people won’t want this. But you know Dieter. If he’s said it he won’t want to redact things, he will want this in full to be broadcast to the world.
“That’s very honest of you Dieter, do you think due to this past, it allows you to be more honest now that you’re looking back”
“Can I just say thank you…” you raise an eyebrow “… you just said looking back & didn’t say mistakes. So many people say that I made bad mistakes that clouded my judgment, but I don’t regret it, I just wish I knew the effects of it even if it was like 5minutes before I took that drug or had to go have an std test. I would do it all again because it’s made me who I am & im happy where i am in my life. I like my slightly dangerous play boy reputations, hell I’ve got parts due to it, but I just wish I had a small warning. Mistakes mould us to make us better people.”
“Wow” you say out loud & it takes you a few seconds to register your reaction to Dieter revelation & you being a professional recover form it “so many people would sit there & say it was a mistake or say no I’d rewind the clock & change it, but for you to sit there after everything, especially your stroke, & say you would do it again, is almost inspiring. I’m not saying it’s okay to take drugs or have sex filled orgys…” your producers haven’t even told you to apologise for that but you know impressionable teenagers are a huge part of your audience especially on tiktok & Instagram “…but the fact that you are saying you have got through it & yes you can get hold of more help than others struggling with it, but it’s also easier for people in the public eye to relapse.” You pause. You take a deep breath & then share a personal moment between the two of you that the world doesn’t know, but will now.
“I was there the day of your stroke, I called the ambulance, I went with you to hospital, I sat there & watched you go through hell in your hospital bed & then in your detox afterwards. Everyone knows we know each other, & that we have known each other for years, long before we both gained the fame, we now both have. To see you in that state knowing my friend was struggling & was in danger, it was horrible. To see you now thriving, surviving, living, im not afraid to say that I am so happy each time I see you.” Dieter can hear the emotion in your voice. You’ve always told him how happy & proud you were of him now, but you’ve never gone into that much detail about it & you’ve just talked about it for the world to hear. He puts his hand on his chest showing his anxiety at what you’ve just said & you copy him. There’s a few moments of unspoken silence between the two of you, before you calmly & professionally continue your professional interview with your close friend. You will always be there for each other.
“You aren’t on twitter anymore, but you do promote self care a lot on Instagram. Because, like you have been in the last few minutes, been so honest about your struggles do you see yourself as a mental health advocate?”
“Not really” Dieters voice sounds a bit pitched, he was clearly moved by your supporting words a minute ago. “I just want people to look after themselves & realise it’s okay not to be okay & that if they want to talk people out there will listen & if they want help it’s okay to ask for it. But if they don’t, the world needs to understand people deal with it differently” he runs his hand through this untamed hair as he says this. Watching that large hand go through his locks always to this day always catches you off guard.
“Do you think talking about your own struggles helps?”
“Yes. I like to talk. I know I give off the bad party boy style, but talking even if it’s just going urgh my life or being honest that you’re not enjoying something is important. Sometime you just need to cut the bullshit out” you nod in agreement while waving your finger in the way of the editing booth. His swear words will need bleeping unfortunately despite you & your audience knowing exactly what he will be saying.The producer in your ear sounds happy that you picked that up this time.
“Do you see yourself as an Instagram influencer?”
“Ha” he cackles & you snigger too, you know he hates that phrase. You always pick on him for what he puts on there or mucking up his stories or taking a selfie that’s a video. “I hate that word. Influence haha. Freeloaders more like. Oh it’s all got to be on Instagram or it didn’t happen. I know I use it, but I do it for me for work not so I can get a contract or sponsorship. Everyone wants their 15minutes of fame but no one wants to work for it. Yes I am Privileged & so are you to be in our positions we have now. But we earned it. We did it the hard way & we made it. This new generation are easily disposable, the tiktok trendies with only a 30seconds attention span, that we have to condense an advert down to to get viewers for our show or movie. It’s pathetic. & fuck I sound old moaning at that” he sinks back into his chair after his rant. Dieters always talked about earning your place in the world, & you know he won’t get cancelled for this rant, it’s actually much more restraint than he could have been. You then both look at each other & start properly laughing. You can even hear production laughing in your ear.
You look at your tablet you’ve covered most of what you wanted to but it says you’ve got about 6minutes left before you need to tie off the interview, so you go a bit left field.
“Who’s going with you to the Oscar’s? A family member, a friend, a special person?” He raises an eyebrows because you both know the answer & you wanted to see if you could trip him up in his comfortable state.
“That remains to be decided” he says rubbing his hands together, eyes telling you to move on along with a few more things.
“Do you know what you’re wearing to the Oscar’s?”
“Well the bathrobe isn’t designer chic is it?” He cackles “I’m not wearing a standard tux, let’s put it that way.” You both seem to be enjoying these quick simple questions so you throw a few more in.
“Favourite character you wished you’d played & why?”
“Ferris Buller, iconic, feel good & fun”
“What’s your favourite film to put on to cry?”
“Up” Dieter is just going along with the rapid questions. You’ve not even asked, just both have a mutual understanding after all these years of how your show works. Long gone are the 3am podcasts on trying to make it in the industry or the 5minute YouTube shorts. But your format has always been honesty & Dieter has always been happy to share.
“Sweet or Salted popcorn?”
“Why?” He stops dead in his answer “why do you always have to ask this? It’s a deal breaker I know but I’m never answering not in front of the camera, all popcorn is delicious”
“Chicken” you giggle.
“Sorry?
“You heard me, baby chicken” he was once turned into a meme when he had his hair slicked back for an event, that he looked like a freshly hatched chick. It’s a good thing you know each other so well, as when your eyes meet you both fall apart in hysterics.
“& I thought you were gonna be professional” Dieter roars back slapping his leg as he bends over, tears almost falling from his face as you try to calm down to regain your composure to end the interview. “Ooh that takes me back to the food old days, when between us we had 20 fans & 16 of them were yours” he laughs before gathering himself again.
“Then maybe we should end with a question like back in the day Dieter.” You raise an eyebrow so he can work out what you’re about to ask him.
“Oooh a throw back yes please, bet you didn’t do this with DiCaprio.” His smirk shows that you both have each other in the palm of your hand. A smirk that gets all men & women into his bed, the smirk of seduction.
You mute your ear piece & face Dieter square on, as you can hear the Gallery panicking that this want pre planned. They have no idea how Dieter is going to react to whatever you know spontaneously ask.
“How about one last time we do a never have I ever…” you wink. “For those of you who haven’t followed my career, I used to end all my podcasts & interviews with a never have I ever questions which then I’d respond to & do my own, so for example Clare Blip has never watched a Harry Potter movie…”
“No way!” Dieter exhales
“Well she might have done now, it was 3 years ago, she had some lockdowns to do them in. Anyhow Dieter do you want to go first or should I?” You lean forward trying to guess what he’s going to say. You feel as excited as the first time you came up with the concept, it’s such a brilliant way of finding information out about other people. You were shocked no one had done this before.
“I’ll go first…” he says licking his lips & rubbing his hands he’s got a good one, he was always king of this when you used to play it on the episodes he came on. “Never have I ever…” he’s not lost his touch as he pauses for dramatic effect “… received a love letter or email”
“Awww Dieter really?”
“Yep not even a valentines card”
“Ooh that makes me feel sad.”You go to reach his hand but realise he’s a bit to far away. “Okay I have, I did last Valentine’s Day, it was really sweet, & I had no idea & im very lucky to have him in my life” you smile trying not to make eye contact as you think of your own one to say. “Okay my never have I ever is…I have never dated someone to get ahead in this world, I’ve only ever dated for love or a relationship”
“Really?” Dieter asks suspiciously, “what about” you shoot him a look “okay okay, your asking questions not me. Obviously I have, you know I have, the world knows I have, but that was me high on life can you blame me?”
“No, not really” you say sighing as your tablet hits the end of the silent timer.
“Dieter Bravo, today has been more than a pleasure for this episode of 30 minutes with, I know we’re friends & have known each other for longer than we both care to admit, but it’s just so easy talking with your professionally & personally, I hope you’ve had an enjoyable time on the show”
“I have thank you so much for having me on, for taking me seriously, but I do miss the 3am podcasts we used to do.” Dieter sits back in his chair as you do all the boring generic goodbye for your show & then you also record a couple of trailers & do a few quick photos together before you head back to your dressing room to get changed.
Your flight doesn’t leave for a couple of hours but you can’t wait to get out of your tailored trousers. There’s only so much your large Holdem in knickers can do, they do a bloody good job keeping your tummy flat but you can’t wait to put on a comfortable dress with leggins & be sitting in business class soon drinking a mimosa before your flight. The door clicks & you smile as you hear it shut. You know what’s coming next. Large hands come around your waist & start unbuttoning the jacket you are wearing.
“Was that good baby?” Dieter moans in your ear before he turns you around.
“You were very professional my sexy trash panda, not once did you let it slip that we’ve been in an exclusive relationship for the last 11 months” your hand goes into his beard, enjoying the prickles against your palm before your lips finally meet his. You have wanted to kiss him all day but know only a handful of people on set know your dating, let alone that the week after the Oscar’s you are marrying the world a most eligible Batchelor. His kisses are always so passionate even when they are small but todays feel like fire. The aren’t entirely forbidden but neither of you can hold back anymore.
“I doubt what I’m about todo is at all professional” his eyes pop wide when he sees how lacy your bra is under the jacket, almost see through. “Ooh baby, you practically had theses two on show for the world to see, but they belong to me, my hands & my mouth” he says as his shirt comes off & his trousers pool around his ankles. Your hand that’s not roaming his hair as you make out caresses Dieters own tummy, sinking your thumb into his belly button a few times to make him gasp. Soon his own hands have dealt with your trousers too.
“You did lock the door baby?” You pant as you start unhooking your bra.
“This isn’t my first back stage dalliance baby, you know that…”
“Yes because I walked in on you once when…”
“Yes I know, I know I … oooh baby” Dieters has a brain malfunction as your breasts are now free. His hands go straight to them. Your breasts aren’t small, but his hands are so large they eclipse them. While he does this, your own hands go inside his briefs, making sure he is ready for a few moments time. Taking his length & starting to enjoy how hard he gets.
“Ooh Dieter, my sexy lover, fuck me like you’re at a sex drunk orgy” you moan. Professional you all of 15mins ago would be lived at how quickly your begging for 2015s celebrity sex pest to take you in a place where other people could potential interrupt if they have the right key, but it’s not like this is a one off. Dieters been officially yours for almost a year, with no one else on the side for him. You’d been a friend with benefits over the years, if one of you broke up or needed pleasure, if the other was in the same country, you’d both try & get to each other, to satisfy each others desires. You’ve done this after about a year into knowing each other. This right now though is more than that. It is love & passion & desire, no-ones taking it away from either of you.
Baskets of hair & make up products slide off the dresser which he tries to catch in his eagerness to lay you down & start fucking you. You love his clumsy little nature & grab 2 products that you know cost a lot before reaching over the the chair to put them in before you ask him how he wants you.
“I think lie on your side if possible baby, that mirror is big. If I get you at the right angle I can watch you take my fat cock, watch it make you flutter, another memory for the lonely nights without you.” He says as he rolls your massive knickers down & his face gleams as he lowers you onto the dresser. “You know your Bridget Jones knickers are always a huge turn on baby, but I don’t actually care about your little rolls, you don’t care about mine, I love to embrace your body in every respect.” You got to say oh ahh to Dieter, but your mouth falls open doing an ooo noise when he removes his briefs. Your handy work has left his shaft leaking already. This is going to be so passionate you might break the dresser as he slides his way towards you once he is also perched on it.
He swipes his penis through your arousal.
“Dieter my love please, I want you my love, I need you, want to sit on the plane to London thinking about how good you feel.”
“Who says we’re not joining the mile high club?” He says his smile twitches.
“That’s creepy…” you start but then in unison you both then say “…but I like it” quoting one of his Cliff Beasts lines. He then silences you by thrusting deep inside you in one motion, filling you up so you take all of his penis. “Fuck me” you moan.
“I’m going to baby, god you always feel so good” he says as another firm thrust makes your body quiver, thighs already trembling. “Why did I ever share this pussy with so many other men for years?” This makes you moan. Dieter had never admitted he was jealous of other men you saw & dated when you had a casual relationship, but clearly today has made him really open. He starts to move which makes your pelvis & hips respond in pleasure, rolling for him.
“Look at you baby” you eyes are drawn To your mound which is experiencing pleasure, “ooh no baby, look in the mirror” the hand that was on your shoulder holds your chin so you can see the whole view. There are your reflections. You’re on your side, your hair already becoming disheveled as he moves back to holds your shoulder & grips your arse. His movements deliberate, his rhythm found, the pounding of your pussy has begun, watching it go inside you, as you love the feel he has as he drags your walls. You’re gripping to the end of the dresser by your head, your other hand moving to help keep you going to make sure you get off. You look at the state of the both of you & a small smile forms on your lips, especially when sweat drips from his untamed hair on to your body bellow. He’s going for it & you look so bloody sexy. “Does my girl now realise how sexy she is? Does she realise that your pussy is perfect for my penis? Do You enjoy the view? Should I go faster? Harder? Deeper?” The last word was said almost menacingly, it was deep & it make you clamp around him, which in turn makes him do all 3 of those things, as he exclaims “fucking love how tight you feel when I turn you on baby, why did I waste time with others, we were both fools”
“Dieter, fuck, yea that feels, oooooh yeaaaaa, don’t stop baby” looking at the two of your bodies getting sweaty & fucking the other until neither of you can function anymore is addictive. You know why Dieter wanted to take you here. This will not just be in his mind for a while but it will be in yours too. It’s his side profile that’s making you moan. His face is glistening, as the sweat pours from it. His well defined features looking so feral & full of desire as he starts to look at your body to make sure you are feeling all of it. the little oohs that escape his mouth each groan, his lips that are so plump parting as he pants. He might have been deemed a sex pest but it’s because of all those dalliances & late night orgies that you are getting the full experience. You are feeling all of him. Everyone else Dieter has ever slept with, means that you gets nights of unadulterated pleasure & lust.
“God you’re loving this, so responsive today baby, oooh fuck yes” he’s moaning throughout this sentence as you keep whining. You didn’t know your body could quiver like this & your added friction from your hand on your clit is making your grind faster. The stimulation is incredible & you can feel every motion.
“Dieter oh baby, you have me, have me, oh fuck just like that” your eyes have now left his face in the reflection. No longer watching his eyes go squid ink black, as his teeth snap almost as much as his body. Because that’s where your eyes are. On his thighs that are so thick, then & his hips generating all the thrusting power as he goes deeper inside you. He has trimmed but he’s not clean shaven, but he knows it makes his penis look longer, not that you need anymore, he’s the biggest you’ve ever had. There was more reasons as to why you always came back for more, but feeling how deep he went inside you, the only man to make your scream, finding the sweet spot that he hits multiple times each session without even trying, that definitely made sure you never said no to Dieter.
“Keep moaning baby” Dieter starts to pull your hair, which makes your body jolt & you gasp for air. You’re so turned on. You’re so feral. Your pelvis moving with your hips, clamping around him every few thrusts, gyrating for all of his desire. “I like it when you moan, it reminds me how needy you are for me.” He’s moaning too, loving how your body has started to shake. Both your climaxes building up. Watching your nipples get hard, looking at how well you take him. You really were made for each other & as the mirror starts to steam up from your panting & heat from your sweat builds up you both know you’re almost there.
“Oh fuck Dieter yea”
“You like this baby?”
“Yes”
“More mirror fucking going forward?”
“Oooh yesss”
“So tight, why you so good?”
“I’m yours, only yours”
“Remember that baby”
“Ooh fuck Dieter, I can’t control it”
“So wet, fuck, so good”
All these sentances in a quick exchange are panted out inbetween moans, he can’t go any faster & you have lost control of your body rotating your lower body anti clockwise. The build exquisite, the orgasm is going to hit tou hard, & it’s time for your body to give in. You bite your bottom lip & gasp as Dieter growls.
“Soak me darling. Make sure I’m yours”
“Fuck fuck fuck oh god yessssss” you gush & let go, eurphoria sweeping across you, clamping & covering his penis with yohr cum as you scream his name at the end of your extended deep moan. “Fuck baby yes yes oh fuck”
“Yea yea that feel so so, oh fuck” Dieters own praise of you going through your own high springs him into his own. Lashings of sperm fill your core, painting your insides, oozing into you. Your body slowly stops shaking as your intense pleasure slows down as he then also make his way down from a high he hasn’t experienced in year. Maybe the best random sex he’s ever had.
“Fuck me daring, that was another level” he eventually says once his heavy breathing has slowed down & he hops off the dresser & helps you sit up. His lips finding your for the first time in about 20minutes. Frenzied to start like your both getting out the last few bits of passion, but by the time you break apart & he tucks your hair away from your face, it’s sweet & a kiss not from a famous party boy but if a loving caring fiancé.
“I promise you DiCaprio didn’t get that service baby” you eventually say as you sigh & wrap your arms around him. Holding Dieter after sex has always been your thing, even when you were just fuck buddies & he’s never pushed you back ever.
“I mean I wouldn’t have been angry if he had. He’d be jealous he didn’t get you all the time…”
“I’m also to old for him” you snigger “what he gets…”
“Isn’t you darling. He can have all those models & wannabes, but he wishes he had someone like you baby. His loss my gain” Dieter says this while peppering your neck with kisses before slowly taking you off the dresser. “You were something else just then, I could have gone on for much longer, but I just couldn’t hold back, I needed to let go baby”
“I’m not complaining baby, my body shook in ways I forgot it could” you say as you walk over to the sink to clean yourself up. There’s no shower in this dressing room at the studio. You throw Dieter a cloth too. “I know it can’t always be like that baby, I think we were just in the mood.”
“Why can’t it?” Dieter asked as he finishes his own clean up & finds his clothes. “I want you to always have a fantastic orgasm baby, I want your body to move like that, & tremble each time we fuck”
“Is that a promise Dieter?” You say as you work out where your normal non interview clothes are & start to get dressed too.
“Well let’s get on this plane to London & see if the altitude makes you ever sexier baby” Dieter says.
“Dieter, I’m not sure if anything is going to match that ever, watching our reflections & getting lost in a moment was just so intoxicating” you say as you lick your lips & finish putting your clothes on.
“You liked it?”
“No” you wrap your arms around him “I loved it.”
“Good girl, my very good girl…” Dieter gets lost in your eyes seeing the genuine glimmer behind them that filling with more desire. His lips taste delicious as you both just can’t control yourself, as you both are showing such love & lust for each other. “Maybe we can get a later flight to London…” he raises an eyebrow.
“That’s not very professional baby” you say as your lips part before colliding passionately again.
“It may not be, but it wouldn’t be the best image if we break the on plane toilet from having too much sex would it?” The glint in his eyes as he clicks the door to unlock it, ready to walk you out of the studio complex to take you to more pleasure before you both hop on that flight. You both need this desire out of your system in the best way possible. An afternoon of hotel sex might just keep you both in check until your plane lands on the other side of the Atlantic.
54 notes · View notes
texankat · 6 months
Text
A Unlikely Monster 🩸 (2)
Chapter 2
Tumblr media
Warnings: none
A/N: I’m absolutely in love with this dynamic I’ve created, I promise part 4 for ASB will come soon- this is just I’ve been working on since I’ve actually started to like writing this plot, so sorry to any of the major ASB fans- your Jenna will come back soon enough 😭
word count: 1.7k
<3
You were used to people like Wednesday,
You grew up in a really busy congested neighborhood, not having a lot a friends or even being able to make friends. Even though your parents were like all powerful vampires that didn’t mean they cared about you... you usually found yourself sitting in your room by yourself trying to find something to keep yourself occupied. You rarely got anything to keep your constant itch for blood at bay to the point were you taught yourself how to catch mice with your bare hands so you wouldn’t lose yourself. Even with that you were constantly getting told onto and shamed, mostly from your mother- the person who was supposed to love you no matter what.
As you got older you were sneaking out almost everyday, not that your parents even checked in on you anyways. You had gotten into a lot of fights over the years but you finally got away from it all, at Nevermore.
You had decided to wander the campus for a bit, finding yourself in the library after a bit scanning over the books as you took slow and cautious steps finding comfort in the silence of the library. As you fixed your hoodies hood you noticed it had a small rip, you groaned at the sight of it. This was your favorite hoodie, it was a light brown baggy hoodie with bleached sunflower designs, it was a gift from one of your first ever friend. Though it was probably time to get rid of it, hopefully the town had some cute replacements… But something of a ick was in the air, a familiar ick… you look up from the bookshelf you were looking at banging your head on it as you raised your head up, you winced a bit but looked around- and there we was, the girl that had accused you randomly of stealing her typewriter. Who even uses those anymore…?- Wednesday glanced in your direction a few moments after your grown of pain echoed through the library as you turned away and walked off trying to avoid her. As you turned the corner of a shelf you felt something was off, then out popped Wednesday, though you didn’t jump at all this time, you actually expect it this time.
“Addams right? Did you found your ever so important typewriter I stole?” You rolled your eyes as you spoke in a hushed voice, Wednesday glaring at you for your words. “Enough of that, what are you?” You raised a brow at her words, confusion written all over your face “excuse me?” “You know what I’m talking about, you barely put any effort into holding me down when I accused you-“ “mistakingly.” You added on “whatever- what I’m getting at is, what are you? You look human yet your- stronger than one.” You give a light shrug as she gets pulled into her thoughts for a moment, before you speak back up. “Maybe it’s because I actually work to keep myself in shape?” You suggest, her eyes glancing up to yours, you couldn’t read them at all- strange to you. “You’re hiding something.” Wednesday crossing her arms at you. “Orrrrr your just paranoid, seems im the first person to beat you at your own game.” You softly scoff, Wednesday’s muscles tensing up.
“But if you’re paranoid I’ll give you a little hint-“ She seemed to perk up in the most subtle way she could manage, though you noticed you peaked in her interest even just a little bit. “Your little investigation isn’t going to get you anywhere if that’s what you think it’s going to do, it’s not that easy Addams.” You chuckled softly at the end of your sentence, her eyes widened a bit at your words though she tried to regain her composure. You give her a few pats on one of her shoulders “You’ll get there I suppose.” You then gently pushed her out of the way, continuing to walk away. Wednesday was a bit stunned, not a lot- just a little. She muttered to herself softly as she watched you walk away, your soft and cautious steps barely made any noise.
Something in her was bubbling up, she couldn’t help but feel some sort of envy toward you, something about the way you spoke with such a calm tone to her after she had triedto scare the answer out of you bothered her. She found herself following you with the intention to fix the missed feeling of fear from you, she was about to grab your forearm to twist it you whirled around and grabbed her hand. Wednesday didn’t say anything, all that came from her was a cold glare. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.” You giggled at her as she tried to grab you again with her opposite hand but you just grabbed that one too, you giving her a small smirk “ooooh so close.” You teased before pushing her back, Wednesday stumbling back a bit. “You’ll get it  eventually.” Wednesday frowned to herself, then she noticed a small bit of movement from the corner of her eye, then they widened- it was Thing. She look at him from the corner of her eye, shooing him away but he was persistent, tapping his fingers at her- you heard the tapping and glanced around, trying to pinpoint the sound.
“Was that you?” You questioned Wednesday “do I look like I would tap on something just to possibly try and paranoia you??” You were silent, you didn’t want to answer truthfully but you kind of had to- “I mean, kinda-“ you shrugged lightly, Wednesday scoffed in slight irritation but, from a bit of genuine amusement as well. You caught it almost immediately, your eyelids raising a bit. Wednesday noticed as well as she cleared her throat softly then returned to her original goal, figuring out what you were.
“What are your intentions anyways?” Wednesday questioned, lifting her head a bit as she questioned you. You titled your head at her as you put your hands in the pockets of hoodie, genuinely confused by her question. “You said I would have to try harder to figure out, I assume you’re hiding something and you have reason for it.” She replied, you gave a light chuckle as you shook your head at her. “I don’t have anything to hide, I’m just not going to point blank tell you what I am, if I did where’s the fun and mystery?” Your reasoning was strange to her but… she wasn’t irritated by it, she was actually- quit eager to figure it out herself. God what was happening to her, Thing had made his way over to Wednesday lightly tapping at her foot.
You sniffed the air, smelling the- mouth watering smell of Thing’s sewn together flesh, you look down at him as you try and clear you head of those- unappreciative thoughts. “Aw who’s this cutie?!” You coo happily, Thing turned from Wednesday and crawled over to you as you bent down to meet his level. You had a wide smile on your face as you crawled into your hand “Is He yours? Oh- is he like a family member or something? Sorry if I offended you little guy.” You chuckle, As you were chuckling to yourself Thing turned to face Wednesday, crossing his fingers at her-  insinuating to tie the knot with you. Wednesday’s blood boiled from Thing’s actions, reaching to grab him frustration and anger in her eyes. You notice and hold Thing out of her reach, frowning at Wednesday “What are you doing?” You question, Wednesday let’s out a huff- not only is Thing irritating her but your trying to defend him, just what she needed. “I’m just gonna have a private conversation with him, that’s all.” She replied, though Thing knew her real intentions you were clueless. “Oh!- okay.” You tried to hand Thing to Wednesday but he crawled up your arm, Wednesday went to reach for him but she just barely missed- and with that she accidentally stumbled into you, your eyes widening with curiosity as Wednesday felt herself just barely against you. She felt something she thought she would never ever feel…
The sensation of blood rushing up to her cheeks- sure it may have just be the smallest amount of blush to you, not even noticeable to the naked eye actually but of course, Wednesday noticed it. She immediately yanked Thing off of you, backing away from you in an instant. She walked behind a nearby bookshelf, once she knew she was far enough for you not to hear her scolding Thing she immediately tightened her grip on him, a few bones heard popping. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” She hissed at him, Thing immediately tried to wriggle out of her grasp, frantically tapping against her hand. “Enid?-“ Wednesday’s eyes widened at the realization, The reason she was feeling this way was all because of Enid. The moment she mention the possibility of this to her it had stayed in the back of her head, lingering, waiting, like some wolf on the hunt- ready to pounce and make her slip up at any moment. She shook her head to try and clear her mind before turning her attention back to Thing, tightening her grip on him before letting him go.
“You say a word about this and I break every single one of your bones in your fingers.” She growled at him as she crawled away, probably back to You to hide away in your hair. Wednesday fixed herself a bit before walking back over to you, you were just watching over Thing, smiling at him trying to ease his nerves. The sight was- sweet… What was wrong with her- it felt like her blood had been poisoned with something that make her lose all of her composure. She cleared her throat as you look up at her curiously, tilting your head a bit. “I have to excuse myself, something came up that I need to take care of.” Wednesday muttered, you just gave her a small smile as you nodded your head. “That’s okay, I get that things come up. I’ll watch over your little Buddy, he’s just the sweetest.” You chuckle and Thing crawled all over you, he seemed much happier with you. Wednesday, albeit was a bit taken aback by your favoritism of having Thing- but she quickly turned her attention away from that acknowledgement as she nodded back and made her way to the library’s main entrance, walking out and to her shared dorm. She had a few words to say to Enid that was sure-
37 notes · View notes