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starkwlkr · 8 days

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love in las vegas | mark webber

through the decades masterlist

Las Vegas, 1967

Mark didn’t know why he even agreed to accompany his friends to sin city. He would much rather stay in his cosy bed and sleep, but he knew how much the trip meant to his friend, Tom, since it was a bachelor party.

“Think we’ll get lucky tonight?” Tom asked Mark as they walked the Las Vegas strip. Tom had talked all day about going to the casino so he was more than confident that he would be walking home with a few hundred dollars.

“I don’t want to jinx it.” Mark chuckled. Soon the group of friends found themselves in Caesars Palace. Mark never imagined himself at such a fancy place like Caesars Palace. He always thought it was for big name celebrities like Paul Newman and Audrey Hepburn.

Still he was here to enjoy time with his friends.

“Hey, I think I’m going to check out the rest of the building. I heard the pool is pretty nice.” Mark said to the group, but no one heard him since they were too busy on the slot machines.

He walked away and found himself wandering around. He wasn’t sure what direction the pool was located in so he kept walking and admiring the art work on the walls. That was until a sweet voice caught his attention.

“Honestly, Mary, why can’t I go alone? I’ve done it once, I can do it again. Fuck what the press thinks, they already think I’m a bitch!”

Mark watched as the most beautiful woman in the world walked down the hall. She had on red heart glasses and wore a shade of red lipstick that Mark loved. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her until he almost bumped into a wall.

“Mary, I’m going to be by the pool. All this thinking is making me stressed and I can’t be stressed.” Mark didn’t want to seem like a stalker, but he was going to the pool either way.

He watched as you were greeted by every person as you made your way to a cabana. You took your sunglasses off and laid on the lounge chairs.

Go talk to her . . No, she’s busy. . But it can’t hurt, right? It might! Think positive!

His inner thoughts were stopped when you called for him. He looked around thinking you were calling someone else, but he was proven wrong when you pointed at him.

“You are talking to me . . ” Mark nervously chuckled as he approached your cabana.

“Well yeah, you look lost.” You laughed. “You have an accent. I take it you’re not from here.”

“No, I’m from Australia. I’m just here with a couple of friends. They’re in the casino.” Mark explained.

“You can sit down, I don’t have germs.” You joked when you noticed that he was still standing. So Mark sat in the lounge chair across from you. “How are you liking Vegas?”

“It’s loud that’s for sure. It’s . . . perfect for those fancy rich celebrities. Especially those actors like that guy from to kill a mockingbird!”

“Gregory Peck? He’s lovely. Wonderful kisser too.” You reply with a smirk.

“What? Is it like a rumor?”

“No, I speak from experience. It was also lovely to work with him. He invited me to his house in California. I declined, but it was still nice of him to invite me.” You recalled the time your friend had invited you to his California home.

“Wait . .” Mark thought for a second. “You’re —”

You nodded. “One of those ‘fancy rich celebrities’ except I don’t come to Vegas often. I’m only here a couple hours. You see, I am supposed to be on a flight to Santa Monica for the academy awards, but I wanted to spend some time here. I like it here, it’s one of the few places I enjoy.”

Mark instantly felt like an idiot. He didn’t mean to insult you. Well then again, he didn’t know you acted. He hardly watches any new movies anyways. He had been busy with racing.

“I never asked you your name.” You said.

“Mark.” The Australian replied.

“Well Mark, do you want to explore Vegas with me?”

Mark didn’t have to think twice. You took him to your favorite restaurants, took pictures with your Polaroid and walked the strip until your feet ached. But there was one final stop that was a must do when you’re in Vegas.

Graceland Wedding Chapel

Was it a stupid decision? You and Mark didn’t think so.

That night, you had married a nice stranger.

“I can’t believe that we just got married!” Mark said as you walked out of the chapel with the certificate in hand. “Holy shit, we’re married!”

“Call me Mrs. Webber.” You held out the hand that Mark had been holding. The Australian grabbed it and kissed it.

“I think this is the best night of my life.” Mark sighed. “Wait, that makes my life sound extremely sad. Don’t listen to me.”

You laughed. “It’s okay. This is the best night of my life too and I’ve been to so many places, but being here with you is my favorite.”

As Mark leaned in to place a kiss on your lips, you gasped and pulled back. You had completely forgotten about the academy awards ceremony that you needed to attend in a few hours.

“I need to go! Wait, you need to go with me too!” You said.

“What? I can’t!”

“Why not? We just need to get to Santa Monica, get you a suit and get to the ceremony. I’m nominated for best actress!”

Best actress? You couldn’t miss that!

“Fine, but if my friends find out I ditched them—”

“They won’t notice you’re gone, I promise.”

Mark grabbed your hand and together you ran to the parking lot where his Porsche had been parked. Before you could get the chance, he opened the door for you and gave you a charming smile.

“Mrs. Webber.” He winked.

“You’re too kind, Mr. Webber.” You blushed.

Soon, you and Mark were on your way to Santa Monica. Mark had rolled the windows down and turned up the music. It was perfect. You could feel the cool air going through your hair, the sweet sound of ‘I think we’re alone now’ by Tommy James and The Shondelles filled your ears. Mark kept glancing at you every chance he got. In his eyes, you were the love of his life. He was a firm believer in soulmates and here you were in the passenger seat of his Porsche. You were living proof that love at first sight existed and he was head over heels in love with you.

The four hours it took to get to Santa Monica, you and Mark talked, sang and you even got a few minutes to nap. When you arrived, you took Mark to get a suit. Mark had only wore a suit a handful of times. He hated wearing them as a child, but now they weren’t too bad.

“What if I get asked a question?” Mark asked. “I don’t know anything about movies or actors!”

“Relax, i lie when I don’t know stuff. It’s fun.” You smile.

“It’s easy for you, you’re an actress. Wait, what if someone asks who I am to you? Don’t you have to talk to your manager or someone important before you say something?” Mark was too busy stressing while you were busy thinking how you were going to celebrate even if you didn’t win.

“Tell them the truth. You’re my husband, is that a bad thing?”

Being married wasn’t a bad thing, especially if you were his wife, mark thought. He would marry you everyday of his life if he could.

“I’ll scream it from the highest rooftop if I have to.” He kissed you.

After giving the cashier his last fifty dollars for the suit, Mark drove you to the Beverly Hills Hotel where your manager and makeup team were. He had never stepped foot in such a fancy hotel like the Beverly Hills before, sure he was in Cesars palace not too long ago, but the Beverly Hills was an upgrade.

You eventually made it to your room and entered the suite. Again, Mark was amazed by every little thing from the painting on the wall to the fluffy pillows. You honestly found it adorable.

“Where have you been?” Your makeup artist, Alexander, asked you.

“It’s a long story. Alex meet Mark, Mark meet Alex. There, we’re all good on introductions for now.” You smiled as you sat in the makeup chair.

“Where did you find him?” Alexander questioned as he got started on your makeup.

“Vegas. He’s Australian and he’s technically my husband. I’m Mrs. L/n-Webber.” You stated confidently. You were living up to the title now.

“What!?” Mark stood beside your chair not knowing if Alexander hated him or not. He wished he was anywhere else.

“Relax, we won’t say anything about it to the press.”

And that was the biggest lie. Well, sort of.

By the end of the night, Mark was introduced to most of the biggest faces in Hollywood. He got to walk the red carpet and posed for pictures with you. He also got to witness you win your first academy award where you publicly declared your love for him.

“Lastly, I want to thank Mark. These past few hours have been the craziest, but I wouldn’t change a thing.” You spoke into the microphone as you held your golden statue in your hands.

Mark was seated beside your manager, Henry, who was thankful the night was almost over. Little did Mark know that his friends had been watching the ceremony in their Vegas hotel room. Some of them were still drinking while others wondered how Mark even got an academy award winner to marry him.

The Australian smiled as you left the stage. This was certainly an interesting night that nobody would forget and nobody did. You and Mark stayed married. While Mark raced all over the world, you worked on numerous films and won awards. During the summer of 1969, you gave birth to your first child, a girl named Diana. Then four years later, your baby boy was born. Little Michael Webber, a spitting image of his father. You were in love with your little family even if it all started with a wild night in Vegas. You wouldn’t change any of it.

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber imagine #mark webber fanfic #mark webber #mark webber fluff #actress!reader #through the decades series

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partycatty · 2 months

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being johnny's favorite stripper

[ masterlist ]

• sneaks into the club at odd hours, memorizing your schedule and arriving in a hat and sunglasses to avoid pap detection. his favorite pastime can't become public.

• paying extra every chance he has time to spare, almost begging you not to leave him by shoving another $100 into your bra and a puppy look in his eyes

• sitting at the bar and absolutely fucking fuming when he sees another man beckon you aside with cash in hand, knowing he'd offer you more at the drop of a pin

• brows furrowing when you twirl on the pole, winking at a man that's throwing generous bills on the platform. he hides his scowl in his drink, trying his hardest to not throw the man aside and worship you with the hundred dollar bills in his wallet. jesus, just have his wallet at this point.

• your favorite client, of course - something you remind him of any time you get to keep the money flowing and compliments pouring in

• johnny will stay until your shift ends, which often goes extremely late into the night. sometimes, he'd just buy a room with you to chat. you're company nonetheless, it's not like you're less of a human according to him, as much as he'd love to ravage you.

• but he doesn't. strict no touching rule. well, until he pleads on his knees with wet lashes, a stack of hundreds so thick you're sure you're setting him back a few grand.

• cris always tells him to stop spending, but you don't. he just hopes she doesn't realize that the sculptures don't cost as much as he tells her. as long as she thinks that painting or this bust cost ten grand each, he'll always have an extra couple thousand to blow on you.

• leaves new outfits for you through anonymous deliveries, though you know no other client is as committed, and your boss wouldn't think to be so kind. is that real gold in those threads? and how did he know your bra size so well?

• you never ask for anything but his time... and a couple hundred. not that johnny's gonna put up a fight when you look so damn good in that new set he splurged on last week.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #marley writes ☆

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oneforthemunny · 1 year

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sinister play |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: how you and rockstar!eddie meet.

reader has the last name klein, just for the purposes of the story.

contains: language, alcohol, drug use, reader and eddie absolutely despise each other and are very mean to each other so prepare for that, degrading, pornography watching, humiliation, spanking, hair pulling, fingering fem receiving, p in v rough sex, choking (light), no aftercare minors dni 18+

Los Angeles, 1991

The bass from the speakers, loud and booming, shaking the club with every riff of the guitar. Whatever band on stage was shredding, desperate fans and wannabe's jumping and shrilling the lyrics to some angry, grunge song you couldn't even understand.

"You want a drink?" Farrah asked over the loud music, leaning in close with a wide, burgundy lipped smile, a little smudged around the corner from the boy she was dancing with earlier.

You nodded, letting her pull you through the crowds, back to the bar in VIP. You weren't even sure why you left your secluded section. You could hear the band just fine from the confined leather couches and private bar upstairs.

"What'll it be?" The bartender asked, lanky, with shaggy locks that he kept tossing or blowing up out of his eyes. He attempted to give you a flirty smile, which you half heartedly returned.

"I want a double shot of vodka, extra limes." You said, slapping the crisp, one hundred-dollar bill on the mahogany wood.

"I'll have another cosmo, please." Farrah giggled to the bartender, batting her eyes sweetly to him.

"Coming right up, ladies." The bartender grinned, pocketing the bill with a sultry wink your way.

"Oh my God," Farrah gasped, grabbing your arm before you could scoff. "Holy shit, ok, don't look, but look, but don't make it obvious, ok-"

"-what?" You huffed, craning your head over your shoulder.

"No! I said don't make it obvious." Farrah squealed, manicured hand pushing your face back towards her. "Do you know who just walked in?"

You frowned. "No, I couldn't see them."

"That's Corroded Coffin." Farrah whispered, eyes lighting up with excitement. "Oh my God, you know them. You know, they're that rock group? They're kinda nasty, but so fuckin' hot. They have that one song that's about the stripper and-and the cocaine?"

"Wow, that really narrows it down." You scoffed sarcastically, turning to look over your shoulder again.

They certainly looked the rock band part, that was for sure. Five guys, some with Mohawks, shags, all in some sort of black leather, heavily tatted and pierced. Two were even wearing sunglasses, inside the dark club.

You rolled your eyes hard. "Jesus, they look like they're playing fucking dress up." You muttered, nodding to the bartender when he slipped you your drink. "Whoever their stylist is should be fired for that. The most stereotypical garb I've ever seen."

Farrah smirked, thanking the bartender, sitting her pink drink giggly. "I think they look hot." She wiggled her brows at you playfully. "You don't wanna fuck a rockstar?"

You laughed. "I have fucked a rockstar." You gave her a pointed look. "A few, actually, or did you forget?" Farrah giggled. "And so have you Miss Von Abel."

"Yeah, but not a real, rock, rockstar, Miss Klein." Farrah smirked over the lip of her glass. Her eyes bulged, sputtering on her drink. "Holy shit, they're coming over here."

You grimaced. "Ew, no they're not."

"Yes, they are, holy shit, be nice." Farrah muttered, looking down at her glass, sultry and unsuspecting, posed.

You snorted into your drink, downing the rest of it before lifting your glass, motioning to the bartender that you wanted another.

"And I'll have what she's having," A voice from behind you purred. You didn't move. "Except make it a tequila. Patron or Casa, I'm not picky."

The chair beside you screeched against the floor, so loud you could hear it over the music. Leather and wild, dark curls clouded the vision in the corner of your eyes, a wolfish grin baring perfect, shiny white teeth.

"Hi, there." The man greeted, a low purr.

You looked over at him, eyeing him up fully. The ripped jeans, band tee, spiked jewelry, and worst of all- leather jacket. You scoffed, he really was a walking cliche.

"Hi," You snipped, bored and unimpressed. You turned to Farrah, watching as she giggled and leaned closer to the other boy, his spiked hair and ringed fingers drumming on the edge of her glass.

"I'm Eddie." The boy next to you said, tongue rolling on the inside of his mouth.

You nodded, sighing slowly. "I didn't ask." You replied coldly, stirring your empty drink with the slim black straw.

Eddie paused, blinking for a moment. He hadn't been ignored and rejected like this since high school, since before he left Hawkins. Treated and casted out like he was nothing, like he was nobody.

His fingers tapped on the bar, angry and furiously, buzzing from the embarrassment and the effects of the cocaine. He looked back over at you, squinting in the low light.

"I know you." Eddie said, pointing a finger at you.

"No, you don't." You huffed, rolling your eyes.

"No, I do." Eddie shook his head, feet tapping on the floor. "How do I know you? Fuck, you're not friends with Aria are you?"

"No." You snapped, irritated.

Eddie twisted his lips in thought, running a hand down his face. "Fuck, I know I know you." He huffed, leaning past you. "Gare, why do I know this chick?" He asked, hitching his thumb towards you.

You scoffed, nose snarling in disgust. Farrah grimaced, looking at you with a pleading look. Gareth looked at you, tilting his head to the side. "You're Victor Klein's daughter, right?"

"Yeah, that's her." Farrah grinned, wide eyed and giggly. "How did you know that?"

Eddie's ringed hand slapped down on the bar loudly, making you jump. He snapped his finger, and pointed at you. "That's fucking right. Your dad's that movie guy. Makes all those movies, holy shit." Eddie laughed, looking up at you with a dimpled grin. It made you flush slightly, but your face remained neutral, soured. "And your mom was that model for Playboy back in the day? That super hot one."

Eddie's eyes rolled over you, taking in your black, slip dress, short and low in all the right places, straight off the Versace runway. He licked his lips, eyes gleaming when he looked at you. "I can tell you two are related." He grinned, hand slipping on your thigh.

"Ugh," You groaned, shoving his hand off. You grabbed your drink just as the bartender sat it down, standing up from your high top seat. "Farrah, I'll be outside. I need a smoke."

Eddie tried not to falter, not letting his face fall at the rejection, at how you brushed him off and discarded him like he was nothing. He wasn't used to this, to women ignoring him rather than throwing themselves at him. He was Eddie fucking Munson, rockstar with a notable ten inch cock that anyone would be lucky to fuck.

"Shit, I could go for a smoke too, baby. Let me-"

"Look, I don't know if you're too coked out or just really fucking stupid, but I'm not interested in being seen with a C-list rockstar poser." You snapped, teeth bared and angry at him.

"C-List?" Eddie gawked, scoffing in offense. "Excuse me, sweetheart, do you know who the fuck I am?" Eddie growled, ringed hand shoved in his chest.

"No," You snarled smugly, eyes narrowed dangerously towards him. "But you certainly know who I am."

Eddie scoffed when you walked away, heels snapping and clacking across the floor all the way to the balcony outside. He grit his teeth, inked hand fisting the glass, throwing back the tequila in one gulp, grimacing gently at the burn in his throat and nose.

He turned to Farrah, lips pursed furiously. "Your friend always such a fucking bitch?" He growled.

Gareth threw his hands out, head nodding suggestively towards Farrah. She didn't seem to be phased, you'd certainly been called worse. "She's really nice, actually. One of the sweetest people you'll ever meet." She paused, lips twisting in thought. "If she likes you." Her eyes flashed to Eddie with a slight grimace. "She doesn't like you."

Eddie scoffed, shoving his chair back. "Yeah, well, fuck her too." He growled, stomping off to the bathroom, fishing in his pockets for the small baggie of coke.

***

You took a long drag of your cigarette, balancing your drink in the other hand, pressed up against the railing of the night club, chatting with Arnie Brandenburg, a long time friend. The two of you had grown up in Beverly Hills together, down the street. Your moms went to the same Jane Fonda fitness classes, always leaving you two in the country club nursery.

"I mean, Greenwich is nice for Connecticut, but it's just not the Hamptons, ya know?" Arnie grinned.

You laughed, nodding in agreement. "Honestly, you sound like my mother." You rolled your eyes. "Daddy talked about selling the Hamptons house once since it's on the East Coast, and she about died. Wouldn't talk to him for a week." You snickered, shaking your head.

"I would too!" Arnie threw his hands out dramatically. "I mean, if you're not going to the Hamptons in the summertime, then what are you doing? Imagine celebrating the Fourth of July anywhere else, it would be a crime-"

"Jesus fuckin' Christ." A voice over your shoulder groaned.

You turned, angrily and fierce, ready to lash at whoever dared to interrupt you. You were less than surprised to see it was Eddie. He shook his head, forearms leaning over the rail, smoking his own cigarette slowly.

"Excuse me?" You snapped, eyes narrowed in challenge.

Eddie looked up at you, unimpressed and unfazed. "The two of you sound so fuckin' shallow, holy shit." Eddie scoffed, shaking his head.

You gawked as Arnie blushed furiously, looking down at his drink in embarrassment. "We were having a private conversation-"

"-yeah? That why you're talkin' so loud?" Eddie shot back, teeth grit in challenge. "Private conversation, so you talk loud enough for everyone to hear you, right? Make sure they all know that you two are loaded, so much better than anyone else, right?"

You huffed, turning on your heel, jaw tight. You were flushing furiously, heat spreading from the fire in the pit of your belly up your chest and neck. "Don't pay attention to him, Arnie. He's pissed I wouldn't suck his dick at the bar." You snipped, loud enough for Eddie to hear.

Arnie hesitated, eyes flickering from you back to Eddie. Eddie laughed loudly, humorlessly. "Holy shit," He shook his head. "You know, it makes sense why you're such a bitch, honestly. Probably never been told no a day in your fucking life."

You whipped around, drink sloshing and spilling down your wrist from the sudden movement. "What the fuck did you just call me?"

Eddie pulled a mocking, pouting face your way. "Oh, you didn't like that, huh?" He taunted. "Sorry, Princess, didn't mean to upset you. I forgot, girls like you can't handle being told the truth."

"The truth?" You scoffed. "I can handle the truth, what I can't handle is losers like you trying to hit on me like you ever had a chance."

"Oh? Because I'm not from the Hills?" Eddie retaliated, defensively, insecurity seeping through his barred teeth.

"No, because you're such a fake." You laughed mockingly back at him, eyes rolling down his frame. It was a juvenile, mean tactic, but you didn't care. It worked, judging by the way he squirmed and moved to straighten his posture. "You dress like this pathetic cliche, hit on girls all the time, treat them like shit and do shit to keep you in the tabloids, and guess what? In a few years, you'll be irrelevant anyways. You'll peak, and you'll go back to Ohio or wherever the fuck you're from, and I'll still be here, watching the next you try to hit on me."

Eddie's face dropped, stunned and a little hurt. Arnie pulled your arm, saying your name softly to get you to step away, but you refused. Too angry and determined to get him away for good.

"Who the fuck do you think you are exactly?" Eddie snapped back. "I mean, you're only relevant because of who your daddy is." He scoffed, snarling back at you. "Seriously, Princess, you swear you're someone special, but you wouldn't be anything without that last name. I might be whatever you want to call me, but I'm me. I made my own fucking name, didn't get anything handed to me. I did it myself. Can you say the same?"

You blushed furiously, stammering under his intense glare. Eddie took a step closer, crowding you. "What happens when daddy goes away, huh? When you don't have anything to cling to because you're nothing on your own? What then? What happens to this high and mighty attitude when your one claim to fame is gone, and everyone forgets you."

"That-That won't-"

"-Won't happen?" Eddie laughed menacingly at you. "Sweetheart, you're in for a big surprise then. You don't do shit. You've never worked for a goddam thing in your life. Daddy made sure of that, didn't he?"

You blushed furiously, lips pressing together in anger. "You don't know anything about me."

"No?" Eddie's brows lifted in amusement. "But you certainly know a lot about me." He hissed, throwing your words from earlier right back in your face, making you shrink. "You must know more than you pretend to know about me. Or do you just say shit like that to anyone? Just mean for fun, huh? I'm a walking cliche? Baby, you couldn't get more predictable if you tried." Eddie sneered, leaning down so his face was inches away from yours.

The heat from the two of you was radiating, burning each other further and further with every sneer and venom filled word. Arnie pulled you away with a slight tug of your arm, ushering you away from your hate filled stare and back towards the club.

***

"Who the fuck does that guy think he is, huh?" You slurred, slamming your glass back onto the mahogany top of the bar. Your vision was swirling slightly, the alcohol in your system flooding over your senses easily.

You looked at Arnie, then back over at Farrah, who was sitting perched in Gareth's lap. "Hon, don't worry about it. He's a dick, don't you know that?" Arnie scoffed. "Honestly, did you see what he did to that poor girl? All of them really. He humiliates them for fun."

You had seen what he did to those girls. Fucking them on balconies, tatting their ass, paddling them with a wood paddle that left the band's logo on their red, inflamed cheeks, then letting them walk out so the paparazzi went wild. You had to admit, it was pretty good press. His stylist might have been shit, but his PR person you needed to meet.

The first time you'd seen them on the cover of a gossip column magazine, you couldn't help but stare. The sheer taboo nature of it all, filthy and wrong. It made your thighs twitch. You'd tried to convince your 'boyfriend' of the time to try something like that with you, but he'd called you weird, mocked you for wanting to try it. You'd blamed it on the coke, and never talked of it again.

Maybe he did intimidate you. Maybe he even intrigued you a little, but you refused to allow it, hatred and loathing consuming any feelings of curiosity towards the asshole that was Eddie Munson.

Eddie had a girl in his lap, in the booth on the other side of the bar. You could see it perfectly from your own seat, his lips on her neck, sucking in deep, dark bruises. His hand up her skirt, teasing her so she writhed and bucked all over his lap, sloppy and desperate. His eyes met yours, and you scoffed, slamming back another shot.

Farrah called your name, giggly and stumbling towards you, wrapping her arms around you. "I need a favor," She whispered into your ear.

"What?" You snapped, harder than you meant it to. It'd been a long night.

Farrah pressed her nose to yours, eyes crossing to focus on yours. You could smell the vodka on her breath, sharp and stinging. "I'm gonna go back to Gareth's place for a while. He said he'd give me a tour." She giggled, swaying slightly.

"Ok?" You asked, lifting a brow, her hands planted firmly on your cheeks.

"Come with me, please." Farrah whispered. "Just for a little while, then-then we can go back home, I promise."

You groaned, pulling apart. "I don't want to go to his place-"

"-please! It's just for a teeny, tiny, little bit." Farrah pressed her fingers together for show. "Just so he can... show me around."

You gave her an unimpressed look. "So you two can fuck?" You asked.

Farrah giggled wildly, tossing her head back. "Maybe..." She let out a nasally laugh, swaying back and forth. "Please? For me?"

You hesitated, looking at her then cutting behind her to see Eddie, still working the girl in his lap. "Fine. Let me get one more drink and close out." You grumbled.

Farrah hugged you tightly, strawberry glossed lips pressing a sticky, wet kiss to your cheek before scampering back to Gareth. You waved the bartender down for another, downing the vodka easily before handing him a wad of cash to cover your tab and a tip.

You hugged Arnie goodbye, waving to your other friends before following Farrah down the steps, towards the private exit of the VIP. She giggled and swung on Gareth's arm, flirty and sweet. You watched her carefully, arms crossing over your chest when you got outside, following him towards the large, black car waiting with the rest.

"After you, M'lady." Gareth bowed sillily, making Farrah cackled, a stumble curtsy given back in return. You nodded gently when you climbed past him, moving to the farthest seat on the rounded lounge area.

The door opened again, Eddie and another member of the band filing in. You scoffed. "Oh, fuck me," You groaned, rolling your head back.

"What?" Farrah asked, eyes blinking innocently towards you. "What's wrong?"

"Who the fuck invited her?" Eddie snapped, throwing an arm out towards you.

"I did, Ed." Gareth hissed, eyes cutting to Farrah next to him. "Shut the fuck up."

You smirked triumphantly when Eddie sank in the seat across from you, huffing and rolling his eyes. The car ride back to their place was painfully awkward. Gareth and Farrah were wrapped up in their own little world, giggling and whispering sweetly to each other.

Jeff, the other member in the car, had tried to speak to you. You tried not to let your irritation get the best of you, but alcohol mixed with the sour taste you had for Eddie weren't doing you any favors.

"Give it up, Jeff, I told you she was just gonna be an asshole." Eddie grumbled when you'd gave Jeff another short, choppy answer.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "I'm the asshole, huh?" You scoffed.

Jeff hesitated looking between the two of you. "It's cool, really." He said sweetly, giving you a small smile.

You felt your stomach twist in guilt, bile rising in your throat as your heart hammered. He really was a sweet guy, just trying to be nice. "So," You started awkwardly, looking over at him. "Where are you from?"

"Somewhere you've never heard of." Jeff smiled, shaking his head. "Hawkins, Indiana."

You smiled back. "You're right. Never heard of it."

Jeff laughed. "That's alright. No one has." He shrugged. "All three of us are from there actually. Met in high school."

You bit back the sharp comment on your tongue directed towards Eddie, swallowing it down bitterly. You didn't want to prove his point anymore than you already did tonight.

"Wow," You nodded, giving a forced, dazzling smile that only a Hollywood native could give. "Must be really different being here now. Big change?"

Jeff nodded. "Yeah, it was an adjustment. Traffic was the worst." He grinned when he hit Gareth's shoulder. "Gare, remember when we first came out here and Eddie got stuck on the 305?"

Both boys growled in laughter while Eddie rolled his eyes. "Christ, we almost missed our first record meeting. Almost got cut before we ever started."

Your eyes flashed to Eddie's, a sneer like grin on your lips. "Shocking." You bit sarcastically, raising your brows.

Eddie rolled his eyes, scoffing at you. "Yeah, well, I figured it out, didn't I?" Eddie gave a tight lipped smile to the boys. "You gotta figure stuff out on your own sometimes, ya know? Shit just can't be done for you or you never learn."

You scoffed loudly, throwing your hand up. "I mean, and I'm the asshole? You had the audacity to call me the asshole?"

"Alright, let's just- let's calm down." Farrah glared at you, lifting her hands between you and Eddie.

"Yeah, Ed, take it easy." Gareth grit, eyes narrowing towards him.

You both rolled your eyes, arms crossing and huffing before looking out the window.

The gates to the Hidden Hills mansion the boys had opened, large and elaborate. The car pulled to the front, Jeff tipping the driver and wishing him a good night as you all piled out.

Gareth droned on and on about the house, the special features it had to Farrah, who giggled and awed- like she didn't grow up in a house triple the size of this. You bit back that comment and followed, heels clacking against the floor, bored.

Eddie had disappeared a while ago, something about needing a joint. Gareth offered to show Farrah his room, and they were gone. Leaving you standing there, waiting.

"Uh, there's a movie room up the stairs if you wanna go in there." Jeff offered with a small smile. "You can wait there if you want. Or-Or you can stay here."

You shook your head. "I'll go wait upstairs. I think they'll be a while." You rolled your eyes.

Jeff laughed. "It's to the right, down the hall, first room on the left." He pointed up the staircase.

You climbed the spiraling stairs, taking in the odd decor of the house. There was a lot of paintings of dragons, very epic and mystical, not quite the decor you thought the metal band would have. You turned down the dark hallway, tiptoeing quietly past the rooms in case someone was sleeping.

You could hear the muffled sound of something playing in the movie room, muted against the heavy doors of the room, but you didn't hear any other signs of life as you pushed them open. The screen was large, illuminating the room and the rows of leather, recliner chairs in it. You closed the door quietly behind you, tip toeing towards the screen.

Your brows furrowed deep in confusion, swaying on your feet as you watched the film that was playing. A rather burly, muscular man grabbed the girl by her hair, pulling her close to him roughly. "I think bad girls like you need to be taught a lesson..." He growled. She moaned loud, pornographic and exaggerated.

Your eyes widened, eyes glued on the screen as he tossed her over his raised knee, hand slamming down on her up turned ass while sh yelped dramatically, mewling and whining. You bit your lip, squirming slightly, thighs pressing together at the scene.

"You enjoying yourself?" You jumped, heart thumping into your ears, screeching at the unexpected voice.

Wild curls, dark eyes, and a menacing smirk met your gaze when you turned. Eddie, sitting in the back row in the dark.

"What the fuck?" You grabbed at your heart. "What-What are you doing in here-"

"-It's my house." Eddie scoffed, arms extending wide on the back of the seats beside him.

You rolled your eyes. "Jeff told me I could wait in here. I-I didn't think you'd be in here."

"This is my favorite room." Eddie said slowly, jaw still set. "Where I come to relax."

"Well, I'll leave you to it." You scoffed, nodding towards the screen, turning towards the door.

"No, why don't you stay." You could hear his smirk through his tone. "Seemed like you were really enjoying it."

You blushed furiously, caught and embarrassed. You didn't face him. eyes cutting towards the screen, watching the man finger the girl as she was still over his knee, squirming and crying.

"Don't be gross." You bit, hoping you sounded more convincing. "Who watches this kind of stuff?"

"Me," Eddie snorted. "Seems like you do too."

"I do not." You snapped, whipping around to face him, his smug grin. God, you wanted to slap it off his face.

"What are you doing anyways? Researching new ways to hurt your groupies? Get the press talking some more?" You sneered.

Eddie's brow raised, amused. Your heart stuttered. "Oh? I thought you didn't know who I was, hm? To beneath you."

"Well, of course I know about that." You scoffed, rolling your eyes so you didn't have to meet his intense glare. You crossed your arms over your chest, securing yourself. You felt too vulnerable, too seen.

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, shifting so he was leaning towards you. "You know a lot about that, don't you, honey?" You stammered, blushing furiously at him. "How many times you wish that was you?" Eddie asked plainly.

Your throat constricted, tongue feeling stupid and big in your mouth. "W-With you?" You lifted a brow, hoping your menacing stare would distract him from the way your legs shook. "Never."

"Oh, I don't believe that." Eddie purred, standing slowly. A tiger to his prey, slow and calculated. "But fine, not with me. How many times have you thought about that?" He nodded towards the scene behind you, the man fucking the girl hard, hips snapping against her abused ass. You swallowed hard, eyes trained and glazed on the video.

You gasped, body lurching a little when you felt him behind you, looming presence casting over you, but never touching you. "How many times have you thought about someone putting you in your place like that?" Eddie growled, and you fought back a shiver, shoulder's tensing. "Is that why you're so mean all the time? Why you act out and want a reaction, hm? You're just begging for someone to put you in your place, aren't you? Screaming for attention."

His fingers trailed lightly over your hip down towards the hem of your dress. You shuddered, exhaling shakily as you watched his inked fingers toy with the edge of the black material. Your mind screamed to stop him, to shove him off and tell him to go fuck himself. But the throbbing between your legs superseded any protest you had, letting him ghost over you.

"That's why you wear these little dresses. You go out, and start fights with these guys hoping they'll actually fight back with you, don't you?" Eddie growled, fingers trailing over your bare thigh, inching dangerously close to your center.

You bit your lip, refusing to look at him, to answer. "You want attention?" Eddie asked, his breath hot on your ear. "I'll give you that attention you want so badly. All you gotta do is ask."

You whined, his fingers feather light, teasing over your slit. You knew he had to feel how wet you were, the growing wet patch on the front of your lace panties. You squirmed into his touch.

"Go on," Eddie grunted, fingers trailing up and down your clothed slit, you throbbed, ached for the touch. "Ask me to put you in your place."

You sighed, shaky and breathy. Your eyes were trained on the screen, refusing to meet his, watching the way the man pounded the girl from a new position. "You talk a big game for someone who will probably only last a few minutes." You shuddered, mean and bratty, a furious gleam back in your eye.

Eddie scoffed. He pulled his hand away entirely, leaving your gasping at the loss. "Guess you'll never find out." He whispered, lips tickling the shell of your ear.

You watched him walk towards the door, heart pounding in your chest when he reached for the door knob. "Wait!" You cried, biting down on your lip hard.

Eddie turned slightly, brow raised. You hesitated, squirming and eyes flicking from the screen back to him. "I-I want it." You admitted, cheeks burning red. Eddie could see it in the glow from the screen.

He lifted a brow, hand falling from the knob to cross over his chest. He stared hard at you, down the slop of his nose. "Want what?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. The bastard. "You gotta use your words. C'mon, baby, you had no problem using them earlier." He snapped.

You fidgeted, swaying on your feet. You couldn't look at him, too humiliated. "I-I want you to put me in my place." You whispered, speaking down the the dark, shag carpet of the room.

"Louder." Eddie commanded, snapping his fingers at you. "And look at me when you speak to me."

A cold shiver ran down your spine. Excitement and anticipation twisting in your tummy. You lifted your gaze slowly, fingers still wringing and twisting when you met his dark, brown eyes. "I-I want you to... to put me in my place."

Eddie exhaled slowly out of his nose, heavy steps coming towards you until the two of you were toe to toe. He towered over you, looking down at you with a hard, stoic expression. "This is what you really want?" Eddie asked. "Want me to teach you how to behave? I'll warn you now, I'm not nice. Not gonna go easy on you."

You nodded slowly, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. Eddie cocked his head to the side, signaling he wanted a verbal answer. "Y-Yes... It's what I want." You huffed, crossing your arms back over your chest.

Eddie smirked, a barely raised corner of his lip. "Fine." He grunted. "It'll be my pleasure, actually. I've never met someone who needed to be knocked down a few pegs more in my life." He grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the first recliner. He sat down with a heavy sigh, yanking you in between his spread thighs. "And if smacking you around a little will be you to be less of a little bitch," He sneered up at you, making you squirm. "Then, I guess I'll do the honors."

You rolled your eyes, with a small scoff before his large hand cracked down on your ass, making you gasp. Eddie gave you a hard glare. You squirmed, thighs rubbing together for some sort of friction. His hit stung, but it left you aching, slick coating your thighs.

"You want to stop, you say 'bats' and we stop." Eddie said, hands pulling at your dress.

"Bats? That's a fuckin' stupid-" Another resounding smack of his ringed hand to your ass had you yelping out, stopping and looking at him.

"Oh, this is gonna take a lot more than I thought." Eddie shook his curls, pulling the tie of the dress so it fell down your hips slowly, in a puddle by your feet. You stood in nothing but a bright red thong. "You're worse off than I thought. Might need multiple sessions to fix this bad attitude."

You snarled. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" You bit.

Eddie hummed, fingers hooking down your panties, pulling them down your thighs so they rested at your mid-thigh. He pressed his fingers into the soaked front of your cloth, smearing your sticky release down the crotch until it was coated on his finger. He brought it up to your face, eyes hard in challenge.

"Seems like you're not having a bad time either." Eddie snapped. You blushed hard, hands covering your neck so he couldn't see the flush. "Think you're enjoying this a little too much."

You snarled, but fought the urge to roll your eyes. Eddie pulled down the rest of your panties, letting you step out of them before they were puddled on the floor. He shifted forward, legs spreading before he nodded towards his lap.

You hesitated for a moment, arms reaching out slow and unsteady, awkward as you folded your body forward delicately. His rough, calloused hands pulled you forward, aching center rubbed against his knee, bottom high in the air. Your arms were forward, hanging over the recliner, back dipped between his legs.

"Hm," Eddie sighed heavily, ringed hand running over your cheeks, down your thigh and over your back. You shuddered, head spinning. For a moment, it almost felt gentle.

"I can tell that you and your mama are related." He grinned, squeezing the fat of your ass hard. "Good looking ass on both of ya."

You scoffed loudly. "You’re dis-" You gasped, the hard smack he delivered to the center of your ass sending you forward, breath leaving your lung. The unfamiliar sting burned through the hit, electrifying your senses. You clamped your lips together, rocking slightly against his knee for friction.

"You just never learn, do ya?" Eddie laughed, hand cracking down on your ass, one hit to each cheek that left you yelping out. "That's alright. Keep running that mouth. I can stay here all night."

His hand cracked down on your fleshy ass, hips jumping and body tensing with every hit. You could feel the burn, foreign and unfamiliar, building already. His rings added extra sting to his hits, cold metal digging into your hot skin. You tried to still your hips, keep yourself from grinding helplessly down onto his leg.

“I can tell no one’s ever done this to you before.” Eddie breathed, hand light, almost delicately trailing down your cheeks before he brought his hand down again, twice. Two quick smacks that had you squealing, lurching forward.

“I’ve never met a more spoiled little bitch.” Eddie growled, hand thundering onto your cheeks. You mewled loudly, lips pressed shut to try and stop yourself.

“No one’s ever put you in your place like this before have they?” Eddie hissed, squeezing your burning cheeks hard, enough to make you squirm. His hand cracked down, unforgiving and hard, right near your core. It had you screaming out, abdomen clenching at the sensation. “I asked you a fucking question.”

“No,” You whispered, jaw tight, slow steady breaths coming out of your nose, desperate to keep the tears down.

Eddie huffed, fingers snaking down to your core. You gasped when he slid them through your slick folds. “Hm,” he hummed, mocking. He head his fingers in front of you, ringed digits coated in your arousal, making you blush deep. “Suck.” Eddie barked.

You hesitated for a moment, stunned by his demand. Eddie’s free hand yanked your hair back, scalp screaming at the roughness of his grasp. “I said, suck.”

Your lips parted in a slow tremble, just wide enough to let him slip his fingers in. You hollowed your cheeks barely, letting your tongue slides slowly over his fingers, tasting your own tangy arousal. Eddie’s fingers probed further, pressing back to the back of your throat, scissoring so you’d gag at the intrusion.

You breathed deep, controlled through your nose. Only gagging for a moment, before you let his assault continue. Your eyes were on him, round and hopeful for praise. He lifted a brow. “I’m impressed,” he muttered, dark, dimpled grin on his face. “Though I guess I shouldn’t be. A little whore like you should know how to take a cock.”

Your cheeks blushed furiously, anger flaring back in your chest. You bit down on his fingers, hard enough to grind the bone and have him hissing, yanking his fingers back out. He glared at you before a ringed backhand cracked across your cheek, stinging and shocking you.

You gaped at him, wide eyed in shock. Eddie growled back. “You just can’t play nice, can you?” He shook his head, sighing loud and dramatic, mocking.

He shoved you back over his lap, your hands falling in front of you to stop you from face planting onto the ground. Eddie's hand's started back up, cracking down on your already flaming ass, quick and hard. No longer teasing and fun, but rather punishing and mean. Your head still reeled, throbbing between your legs.

You clenched hard, jaw tightening and fists balling. The pain on your ass was building hard, uncomfortable burn and heat radiating off your reddened skin. You could feel Eddie's erection against your hip, you hoped if you squirmed enough he would stop, but you had a feeling there was only one way he'd stop.

Eddie's rings were biting into your ass, making you jump with every hit. His ability to not let up, to keep the same rhythm was impressive if you were being honest. "For a brat you sure can take a beating." Eddie hissed. You thought he might stop, he didn't.

You whimpered, squirming your hips forward to get away from his assaulting hand. He just simply pulled you back, roughly into place, continuing again. "Eddie," You whined, hips wiggling. "Eddie, ok, stop. I learned my lesson, you can stop." You huffed.

Eddie laughed, humorlessly. "I don't think you have." He snapped, hand cracking down hard, leaving you jumping.

“I have!” You whined, a high pitched mewl that left his cock lurching, twitching at how desperate you sounded.

“Prove it.” Eddie growled, ringed hand grabbing your hair, yanking you up harshly again, back arching and dipping with the lift. You grunted at the burn in your scalp. “You said you learned your lesson, prove it.”

“How?” You huffed, teary eyed and desperate. Your cocky attitude be damned at this moment, you were determined to do anything to get him to stop and fuck you.

Eddie smirked. "You need me to tell you how to say sorry? You don't know how to apologize? God, you are such a fucking spoiled, shallow little brat aren't you." You howled in pain when his hand cracked back down, choking out a sob.

"Fuck, ok, ok! I'm sorry, ok?" You squealed, squirming against his leg again.

Eddie snorted, mocking and unimpressed. "You call that an apology?" He sighed heavily, pushing you back forward, hand groping and squeezing your aching cheeks. "We're gonna be here all night, aren't we?"

You cried, shaking your head. "No, no, please, I-I'll be good, ok?" You sniffled. "I'm sorry." You muttered, pathetic and small.

Eddie wrenched your hair back again, making you cry out in pain. You thought he might take mercy on you. Clearly you were wrong. "What was that?" He growled. "Speak up. Loud and clear."

You sniffled hard, pinching your eyes together. "I-I'm sorry, Eddie." You let out a hard shaky breath, voice wavering with the admission. "I'm sorry for being m-mean to you."

Eddie didn't budge, holding you in that position for a moment, teetering you on the edge of anticipation, getting you squirming and whining until he finally let go. You fell forward with a small huff, his hand rubbing over your ass.

"Look, you can learn, hm?" Eddie mocked. You bristled, gritting your teeth to hold back your snappy, mean comment. "You just need to be trained, don't you? Need someone to be mean and teach you?"

You nodded, a curt bob of your head, lips pressing together to keep your sob in. Eddie pinched your hot skin, hard enough to leave you yelping. He snickered, fingers trailing up your slick thighs, his fingers sunk into your sopping hole, pumping agonizingly slow. Your clit was swollen, aching, clenching against his fingers.

"Surprise, surprise, you liked this, didn't you?" Eddie mocked.

Your face heated, eyes pinching close, squirming against his lap. Eddie's hand cracked down on your ass. "Didn't you?" He gritted.

"Yes." You sobbed, falling limp over his lap.

Eddie smirked, satisfied. He felt like he finally had you broken and desperate, pathetic the way he wanted you. His fingers curled inside you, making you gasp. Your thighs trembled, your orgasm had been building from the moment you'd walked in the movie room, inching closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy with every hard, unforgiving spank he administered to your ass. His words cruel and venomous, they should have you sobbing, running away and cursing his name, yet you couldn't wait to hear more, throbbing with every hate filled word.

You clenched, small huff escaping the back of your throat, your walls tightening around his fingers, expected and working you open magnificently. You rubbed your clit, aching with desperation against his legs, so close to your own release your eyes were rolling back, pathetic little cried and whines filling the room. It made Eddie's head spin, grinning mean and dark down at you, relishing in the way you wiggled and bucked on his lap.

You were so close, he knew that, which is exactly why he stopped. He pulled his fingers out of you with a loud squelch of your walls trying to vacuum him back in. Your eyes snapped up, panting and desperate with the loss of his fingers.

"What-"

Eddie pushed you off his lap, letting your knees hit the ground hard, uncaring when you shot him a displeased pout. He ignored you, shoving his jeans to the ground, boxers following with one quick swoop.

You tried not to gawk, his cock erect and angry, hanging in front of you nearly menacingly, inches from your nose. His inked body, covered in tattoos, tummy toned with the peeking of soft abs that we’re accentuated when he’d clench them, making the inked skin there move and ripple. You'd assumed everyone had exaggerated how big his cock was, the groupies that sold stories and tabloids just playing that detail up as an excuse for letting him do the things he did to them, dick drunk. You see now, that wasn't the case at all, feeling a little hypocritical for your own harsh judgements at the time.

"Get up, bend over." Eddie growled, nodding towards the chair he'd been sitting in. He stroked himself lazy and slow, cock dribbling out at the head. "You wanna cum? There's only one way you're gonna cum. Go."

You scrambled up, practically diving into the dark leather of the chair, nails scratching the thick material. Your head was reeling, pussy throbbing, aching with the way he'd edged you, toyed with you and got you so close.

Eddie snorted, shaking his head in a mocking manner. "So desperate, what a shock." He growled, lining himself up with you. He didn't bother being nice, your only warning of what's to come was the fat head of his cock pushing in your entrance, pausing when Eddie moved closer to you. "Thought you were too good for me? Look at you now."

You cried out loudly when he pushed in, filling you quickly, not giving you even a second to adjust before he pulled back out and slammed in you all over again. Your walls stretched and burn with the uncomfortable intrusion, clenching down hard on him so he cursed, sucking in a breath.

"You think you're too good for me? I think I'm too good for you." Eddie hissed, hips slamming hard against your ass, drooling at the way your red, irritated skin jumped against his. "Spoiled little bitch, you think you can just get away with treating people like shit? Being a cunt to everyone all the time because you grew up in the hills?" You panted, face buried in the leather, trying to conceal your shaky moans.

Eddie's hand in your hair wrenched you up, pulling you so you were standing on wobbly legs, his hand moving to your throat then back down to hold you across your hips. "I asked you a fucking question." He growled, nose exhaling hot air against your cheek.

You opened your mouth, dumbly letting your tongue roll out. The pressure on your neck wasn't enough to cut off oxygen, just enough to feel the pressure, but it still had you clenching hard, eyes rolling back at the sensation. "Yes." You breathed out.

"Yes?" Eddie repeated, a sharp thrust that had you crying out. "You think you can treat people like shit?"

"No!" You whined, thighs trembling, tears leaking out of your eyes and down your cheeks. "No, no, no I don't! I'm sorry!"

Eddie scoffed, letting his hand fall from your neck, your stranded moans and sobs leaving in sharp breaths out of your chest. He pounded hard into you, jabbing your g-spot relentlessly. A sloshing sound was starting to build, soft and mixing with the sound of his balls slapping against you.

Eddie pushed you back down, face first into the leather, his free hand finding your clit, the other gripping your hips hard- you knew you'd have bruises. "Spoiled little bitch," He grunted, lightly rubbing over your clit. His touch was ghosting, so light you wondered if you were hallucinating it. "Maybe I should call you a dumb little bitch instead, hm? Just dumb on my cock."

You screamed, back arching and eyes rolling when he pinched your clit, hard and round, rolling it between his pointer and thumb finger. Your legs shook, waves of pleasure washing over you until you collapsed beneath him, legs giving out. His hand on your hip and under your tummy held you up.

Eddie snickered, your wet released, sprayed out all over his pelvis, over his cock and the leather seats. He knew no now had ever done that to you, judging by the way you laid simple, head still reeling and shaking beneath him. Here you were thinking you were so much better, and yet, he was the only one who could fuck you properly.

Eddie didn't let up, didn't soften his pace, pounding into you harder and harder and harder. Your hips recoiled, fat jumping with every snap of his own hips, punishing you. He could feel you clamp around him again, tiny moans that were tired and breathy. His cock lurched, twitching deep inside of you, teeth gritting.

Eddie raised his hand, smacking your ass again, watching the way you jumped and whined, hand print fading in with the others, illuminated on your already abused skin. He tucked his lip between his teeth, eyes pinching hard shut, you'd already came again, shaking and whining around him with another pitiful little orgasm that left you dizzy all over again. Eddie grunted, jackhammering you hard before he felt his cock twitch hard, spilling deep inside you.

He thrusted slow, hard huffs of air mixed with small groans, his cock emptying deep inside of you, the sloshing sound of each thrust filling the room. "Oh, fuck," Eddie breathed out, chest heaving hard.

He looked down, creamy spend covering the base of his pubic hair, wetting it and leaving it glistening. He pulled out slow, smirking at the way your release and his dripped out of you, making a mess onto the floor.

You slid and he let you, crumpling into the floor, too tired and fucked out to make yourself stand, thighs burning and shaking, whimpering when the heels of your feet dug into your ass. Eddie smirked, smug and proud of how ruined you were now, how ruined he'd made you.

He reached for his jeans, fishing a cigarette out, lighting it while he watched you slowly drift back into yourself. Head lolling to the side, breaths evening out, and whimpering when the harsh carpet scratched against your ass. He'd nearly finished the stick when you finally looked up at him, soft eyed and glazed.

Eddie smirked, blowing smoke at you. "Welcome back, Princess," He snarled.

You rolled your eyes, half hearted and tired, shifting to gently try to stand. He grinned watching you, knocked knees, shaky legs, pushing yourself up and trying to hide your little whimpers and grunts. Still so stubborn and spoiled; he wished he was surprised.

"Finally learn your lesson?" Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Fuck off," You grumbled, but you couldn't bring yourself to be mean, too tired and sore.

Eddie hummed, shaking his head. "Guess we'll have to try again." He sighed, mocking and mean. You glared at him, he shrugged. "I'll break you eventually. I know there's a good girl in there deep, deep down inside."

"Yeah? Let me know when you find her." You snapped, lazily grabbing your dress. You didn't see your underwear, deciding to leave them wherever they were. You wouldn't be needing them anyways, the thought of the scratchy lace on your ass made you cringe.

Eddie laughed. "You're kinda funny when you're not so mean." He tilted his head to the side.

You gave him an unimpressed look, slipping your dress back on, haphazardly, trying to walk as straight and normal as you could past him. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you limp.

"You know where to find me next time you need to be put in your place, baby." Eddie grinned, leaning against the doorway. You turned, his cock hanging limply in front of him, and you could see how it glistened and shined in the low lights of the hallway.

"Now I know where to avoid." You snarled, mouth filling with spit at the sight of his cock, you swallowed it furiously. "We're not doing this shit again. Wasn't worth it." You bit, venomously and full of hate, eyes narrowing at him.

Eddie laughed at you, loud and mocking. "Oh, you'll be back." He said confidently. "And you know exactly where to find me. I'll see you then, Princess." He smirked, smugly, eyes rolling down your frame before he walked across the hall, shutting the door to what you assumed was his bedroom. You told yourself you'd never know, but you knew deep down that wasn't true.

You hobbled down the steps, heels in hand, hissing with stretch of your abused skin and aching pussy. Farrah grinned at you, standing from the bench by the doorway.

"Hey," She grinned, eyes lighting up in amusement.

"Don't." You snapped, shaking your head. "Just-just, get me the fuck outta here. I don't want to talk about it."

The car out front started, driving you through the gates, the soft glow of the sunrise filling the tinted windows of the car. Farrah pressed ups for questions, giggly and excited. You snarled, blaming it on the alcohol and boredom, but you knew better. You knew you'd be back, Eddie knew you'd be back, and you knew deep down that this was the beginning of something. Whether that something would be beautiful or detrimental, you weren't sure yet, but you couldn't wait to find out.

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apomaro-mellow · 2 months

Text

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 12

Part 11

@spectrum-spectre before you say anything, there's no smut in this one so go to sleep and read it at a more reasonable hour

In Eddie's fantasy world, he took off in a plane with Steve, escorted him back to Indiana, dropped him off at the door of the home he'd be staying at, giving him a very thorough scenting before letting him go.

But Eddie had work to take care of and Steve said he would be fine. And Eddie had gotten the hang of figuring out when Steve meant what he said. It wasn't hard. Whenever he wanted to be spoiled, he put that bratty lilt to his voice. They parted ways, Eddie having rubbed himself all over Steve before they exited the car, then again before getting to the check out counter.

Eddie was avoiding notice by wearing his hair in a braided bun and big sunglasses. He insisted on getting Steve a first class ticket. It was the only way to keep too many people from rubbing against him and thus making his scent fade sooner.

"Don't miss me too much", Eddie teased, looking over the rim of his shades.

Steve wrapped his arms around his neck. "I already do, Daddy", he whispered. He kissed him and then murmured against his lips. "Can't stop thinking about it. In less than ten days..."

Eddie put his hands to Steve's waist. He couldn't wait either. They'd be reuniting for Steve's heat. But they weren't coming back together just for that. While Steve was pretty regular and was 99% it would come when he said it did, Eddie would have Steve on the first jet to Texas on January 1st.

Steve thoroughly enjoyed the luxury of first class and landed back home with less than half the stress of a normal plane flight. Eddie had been a little zealous in spending on him sometimes, and it reflected in how much money he sent to Steve so that he could get a ride at the airport. Steve had specifically told him that Lucas could have picked him up and then he'd be with family for the rest of the time.

Eddie must've heard something different because when Steve checked his venmo, he was several hundred dollars richer. When Lucas picked him up, he decided that money could be well spent doing some last minute shopping.

"You know, I'm actually kind of relieved", Lucas said as they packed the last of the stuff into his trunk.

"Why?", Steve asked.

"I thought when you started being a sugar baby and junk you'd turn into a different person. But you're still Steve."

Steve smiled. "Didn't go through a name change last I checked."

"You know what I mean. You were still cursing out the ref at the game back in DC. And you got Robin a mug with a weird picture, not like a diamond encrusted dog bowl or something."

"She's gonna love the mug more than that. And the ref had his blinders on for the whole first half."

Steve didn't realize how relieved he was to hear that though, that he had retained the real parts of himself even though he felt completely changed by Eddie. Would he start to change in time? How long would it take? His reverie was broken when Lucas pulled into the driveway of his home.

"Okay, so Dustin told my parents you were seeing someone and Mike told them it was someone famous but they don't know it's Eddie Munson."

Steve felt his stomach drop. "Do they know that I'm?"

Lucas shook his head. "You get to tell them that."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me", Steve groaned.

The last thing he wanted to tell the people who helped him through the final years of high school and the first couple of college was that he was getting dicked down by a celebrity and was falling for him too. The Sinclairs were more like his parents than his actual mom and dad.

They didn't hold back either, bringing it up the moment he entered and they got their hugs.

"Dustin told us you're seeing someone?", Mrs. Sinclair said.

Steve snuck an ear twist as Dustin walked by with a grin, one that the Sinclairs definitely noticed but let him get away with. He had to be honest not just because of how important they were, but because they'd find out everything sooner or later. New traveled fast online and he was honestly surprised they didn't know more already.

"I met him one night at a bar. He covered my dinner when I was a little short", Steve said as his hands were kept busy helping with the food preparation.

"Sounds like a gentleman", Mr. Sinclair said.

Lucas and his friends were sitting in the living room, which Steve was thankful for. He knew they'd want to spill every last bean. He got away with giving them minimal info: Eddie's first name, the fact he was a musician, an alpha, and that they'd been on a few dates.

That night, he cornered Dustin and Mike and made them swear to keep their mouths shut about anything else.

"Lucas got basketball tickets. We should get something to", Mike said.

"How's about you don't get a tanned hide?", Steve offered, eyes hard.

Christmas went as usual, Steve spent the day of and day after in the Sinclair home, then returned to his own apartment where Robin was already waiting to celebrate New Years. He didn't get two feet into the door before she was feeling his stomach.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not-"

"But you could be. I know you and your cumslut tendencies. So I know you're not making him wrap it up."

"But I'm still taking my birth control", Steve said.

"You just know that if you get knocked up I'll have no choice but to move back in with you and help you raise this pup", Robin said.

"There is no pup. And I wouldn't make you do that."

"I would though. For you", she promised.

"I know Robs. That's why I'm not gonna let it happen. If I wanna have his baby, you'll get a six month notice before we conceive."

"Thank you for that."

They spent December 31st ordering take out from three different places and binging Empire. When it got to the time for real festivities to begin, they turned the tv to where Eddie said he was going to be performing.

"So that's your beau. He's not bad", Robin complimented. "How's the rest of the band?"

"They're great. I think you and Jeff would really get along. He's actually really into brass instruments too. And Gareth knows a bunch of nerd languages."

"You mean like Klingon and Elvish?"

"And apparently he's learning Atlantean."

Midnight came and Steve kissed her forehead and Robin kissed his cheek.

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

The next day, he was packed and ready to hop on his flight. Robin dropped him off and hugged him tight enough to hold him over until the next time they met. His ticket was first class again and when he landed in Austin, he was already feeling a tingling under his skin. He missed his alpha. Need his scent, his touch, the rumble of his voice.

Because of this, while he loved the other CC boys, he was a little disappointed to see them awaiting his arrival and not Eddie.

"The Ed-man had to finish something in the studio last minute", Gareth explained as they led Steve to the car.

"Thanks for picking me up, guys", Steve certainly preferred them over a stranger from Uber.

Grant drove the way back, taking them to a mansion that had Steve's jaw dropping. He was no stranger to big houses, but he was used to them being simply for status. They'd been grand but sterile, devoid of any personality. The moment Steve stepped in, he could see that wasn't true for this place. He could pick out each of the resident's scents, could see each of their quirks as he was given a tour of the place.

They saved Eddie's room for last and he found out when Eddie barreled down the hallway to meet them at his door.

"They're really good pack", Steve said as Jeff, Grant, and Gareth left the two of them alone.

"I knew I could trust them with you." Then Eddie kissed him about six times. "For all the missed mistletoe." Then again. "For New Year's."

Steve laughed against his lips. "You gonna show me the bedroom anytime soon? I'd love to lie down, Daddy."

Eddie bit his lip, looking nervous all of a sudden as he slowly opened the door. Steve wanted to take in everything. After all, a bedroom could tell you a lot about a person. But his attention was immediately grabbed by the bed situation and what was sitting on the bench in front of it. There was a thin quilt turning it into a canopy bed, much like the den Eddie had made in their hotel room back in New York.

Steve recognized the pattern from what he'd heard before. Jeff's handiwork. And by the foot of the bed was a small bench where a collection of clothes sat. Steve went right to them and took a whiff of the first shirt. It was so undeniably Eddie, he would have thought his neck was pressed to his nose were he not still by the door.

Then he picked up a tank top and caught notes of lemon and ginger. "Are these...?"

"I tried to scent a lot of stuff before you got here, the boys helped out too. I hope that was okay?" His hands were stuck in his pockets and his back was tensed like he might run.

"It's more than okay", Steve reassured him.

"And the den? You like it? I can always change it if you don't. We've got tons of linens here, all that can be scented in a moment's notice and-"

"Eddie", Steve put a hand to his arm. "It's great. Now...", he held up one of the garments. "Help me nest?"

Eddie swallowed and nodded. He followed Steve's lead as they arranged everything on the bed for maximum comfort. Once Steve was satisfied, he sank down into it, smirking when he saw the way Eddie gingerly lied down next to him.

"Your first time doing a heat?", Steve asked.

"I've been around omegas in heat before. Just not as the uh, let's say star alpha", Eddie admitted.

Steve turned so his back was against Eddie's chest and pulled his arm over him. It took Eddie a moment, but he got comfortable and melted against his body. The exhaustion from the flight and being up for hours finally got to him and Steve closed his eyes.

When he opened them hours later, his body was warm and he felt a wetness between his legs.

Part 13

Tag Team CLOSED

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian @eyesofshinigami @dragonmama76 @greatwerewolfbeliever @chaosgremlinmunson @blackpanzy @millseyes-world @batxsignalsx @lilpomelito @goosesister @libraryofgage @aresthelostboy @royjaimie4eva @silenzioperso @she-collects-smut @lost-wondering-souls @eddielives1986 @marklee-blackmore

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o #i literally checked the clock b4 posting #bc i know now i have the uncanny ability to post smut #and therefore keep specs up at all hours of the night #but this time there's no smut so haha!#there will be a healthy dose of debauchery in the next one tho

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ddejavvu · 2 years

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just imagineeee steve as a sugar daddy to y/n and eddie. he would treat y’all like ROYALTY and always make sure you were okay. so so overprotective too😩😩

hnngh sugar daddy steve <3333

one of the things he spoils you the most with is food, believe it or not. he makes snack runs all the time, all you have to do is give him the puppy eyes before he gets gas and he's coming out of the store with 7 candy bars 3 bags of chips and 4 drinks for you all to share

he takes you guys shopping allll the time and you and eddie actually have a running game where you pretend to debate buying the most expensive ugly thing you can find and you wait to see how long it takes steve to break and tell you to choose something else

but when it's an expensive thing that actually looks good? try it on!! you all share one dressing room, it's really cramped so everyone is pretty much pressed against each other and you slip your shirt over your head to try a new one on and eddie looks down from in front of you and steve looks down over your shoulder and they just grin at each other before absolutely ravaging you in the dressing room. they're like leeches you swear you walk out with more hickies than you can count

steve has bought eddie one (1) polo shirt, and eddie almost threw a fit. steve had to grovel, swore he wasn't trying to 'throw off your style, Eds.' and eddie ended up wearing it as a halloween costume with his hair all straightened and poofed and tied up to look like steve's

one of your favorite things is going shopping with steve when he goes to get groceries, or toilet paper, or dish soap, anything mundane like that. He lets you climb into the cart and sit inside which leaves very little room for the actual groceries and then eddie rides on the end and it's one big gigglefest as steve piles bread and pasta sauce and noodles and veggies on top of you. they both have to unbury you in the end, you're staring the checkout guy down as your boyfriends dig you out of the food pit you've been consumed by

he buys you guys jewelry all the time!! he'll buy you pretty delicate necklaces or sweet little earrings, and then turns around to give eddie a studded bracelet with a leather band that looks more like a dog collar than jewelry. sometimes though, sometimes you switch and it drives steve feral.

seeing your hands covered in Eddie's gaudy rings and one of his black chokers around your neck while Eddie's got a pretty little silver chain tucked into the neckline of his shirt and one of your earrings hanging from his left ear?? ruined. he's toast.

steve funds eddie's metal obsession, and he funds your top interest too! sometimes he'll gripe about buying eddie another album or spending over a hundred dollars on books for you, but you always give him a big kiss on the cheek for being so good to you and you know he's not really angry, he's just a grumpy kinda guy. he grumbles a lot but all he needs is some lovin and he's fine again :)

okay but the overprotective thing?? yes. he demands to hold your hand when you cross the street. One time eddie just charged for an empty street and he was gonna be totally fine but steve yanked him back by the collar of his jacket like dude. and eddie just stared as steve bewildered because he was literally just halfway across the street how did he suddenly teleport back to the sidewalk?? steve jokes about getting eddie one of those leash backpacks bc he swears the man is bouncing off the walls and always getting lost but you're so good and you hold his hand so well :'(

sugar daddy!steve is always wearing sunglasses i'm sorry but i have to say it i need to speak my truth - sometimes you or eddie steal them and giggle while you try to impersonate him and he's sitting in the corner like :/ real funny you two :/ and you and eddie sprint at full speed towards him to smooch his cheeks until he's not grumpy anymore and he's blushing and he's laughing and argh you love your boy :(

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cryptidwritings · 2 months

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Pocket

My first foray into tiny whump, because I was really inspired by this post and couldn't get the idea out of my head.

Content: accidental caretaker, caretaker new master, tiny whumpee, immortal whumpee, conditioned whumpee, abandonment, magical whumpee, nonmagical caretaker.

...

It was cold. Eight am was no reasonable time to be outside or among a crowd.

Emery stood with a cup of coffee in her hand and a pair of sunglasses on, huddled in her winter coat with four hundred dollars in cash clenched territorially in her pocket.

Hopefully she could get this storage unit for cheap. She couldn't throw a bunch of money around and, judging by the crowd and the cars they showed up in, they had more than twice what she did at their disposal. This was their job, and Emery was there only at the chance to rent the only open storage locker remotely close to her.

She was desperate, basically. The underpaid employee on the phone basically told her to try, but there wasn't a guarantee.

The auction began with a small unit. Dirty, barely anything in it. It went for ten bucks. Emery was cautiously optimistic. Maybe that was an omen to the crowd, but a green light for her. After all, she didn't care what was actually in the locker.

They approached. The unit was opened. Emery took a peak over the crowd on her tip-toes.

"Another garbage unit."

"Pretty sure I saw that same desk going for fifteen bucks. Been on the site three months."

The bidding began, and it went from five to twenty. Okay, no big deal. She put her hand up. Thirty. Then forty.

"Sold! For fifty five dollars. Make sure to pay at the desk."

Emery was shaking. What a rush. She ran to the office, warmer and way more awake.

"Sorry, it's already been signed for."

"What? But... I really need a locker."

"Sorry, dunno what to tell you."

Emery paid. "Is there any way-"

"No. Empty the locker by tomorrow or we'll have to charge you, okay?"

Fucking fantastic.

By the time she opened the locker, she had almost forgotten just how much stuff was actually in it.

The door slapped open with an echoing bang, and she stepped inside. She started with the big things up front. A desk and bedroom set. She took pictures and placed them for free with pickup.

She kept going, finally having cleared a path to the back where a large piece of furniture sat in the back corner, covered by a painters cloth. Emery pulled it down, gawking at a large, and really heavy, armoire.

It was the nicest piece in the unit, which had plenty of room for her things. Maybe she could sell it? Make some money to spend?

She began her investigation by looking at the back. The flashlight on her phone found nothing. Then she moved to the doors; outfitted with ornate brass pulls and hand carved vines encircling them. She pulled it open, assessing the doors and finding a little marks on the inside. Unreadable.

Emery turned on her flashlight again, this time turning it to the inside of the cabinet. It was full of little trinkets. Tiny ceramic animals, ballet figurines made of china, porcelain dolls that looked... expensive as fuck.

Then, in the very back of the bottom shelf, there was a glass box. It was the biggest thing in the cabinet; about eight inches long and six inches wide. She lift it from its spot, careful not to knock anything over. Maybe it was something rare. She took a look, surprised.

It was a charming miniature bedroom with a wooden bed and nightstand, complete with a crochet circular rug, a cozy chair, and a light hanging from the glass roof with wires that led through the base to a battery underneath. She turned it on, and that's when she spotted a little person with green hair lying in the bed, asleep.

It looked so real.

Especially when it... opened it's... eyes?

"What the fuck!" She almost dropped the thing, but caught it as a little scream came whistling out of the glass. She put it on a shelf that matched her height, and witnessed for herself the little thing... the little person, pushing themself off of the floor and fixing their upturned nightstand.

"Oh no. Oh no." Their voice was worried as they cleaned up quickly, glancing at Emery as she gaped at them.

"H-hello!" They said, nervously, still attending to the mess. "I'm s-sorry I scared you."

Emery didn't answer, too shocked. It was talking... to her.

The little thing looked at her again, giving her it's full attention. "I... I'm sorry... master didn't like my room to be messy... I... do you..." their face twisted and they began to cry. "I don't want to make you mad. P-please don't put me back in there!"

"Oh..." Emery snapped out of her stupor. "No. I... I'm sorry I just can't believe you're... alive?"

The thing... whatever it was... was still crying but put on a smile.

"Thank you! Yes. I-" it sniffed. "I didn't mean to scare you. M-my name is Pocket."

"Pocket?" Emery said. "What... are you?"

Pocket smiled, their cheeks turning rosy. "I'm a pixie!"

"A pixie." Emery relaxed back, realizing she had dropped her phone on the ground in all the excitement. She picked it up, groaning at the cracked screen glass. "Damn it, all."

"Are you upset, master?"

At that, Emery looked back up at... Pocket, whose rosy cheeks suddenly were sapped of color. Their emerald-green eyes flooded with tears again.

"Oh, no!" Emery reassured, holding up her phone. "I just cracked my phone. But it isn't your fault!"

They beamed at the reassurance but couldn't stop their tears. They hid their face behind their hands a moment, taking small breaths. When they removed their hands, it was as if they weren't crying at all, and their emerald eyes had turned a bright peridot.

"Oh good! I'm so glad you're not upset! I-"

"Hello?"

Emery turned to see a man at the entrance of the unit.

"Are you the one who asked about renting this locker?"

"Yeah, that's me. Am I taking too long?"

"No, not at all. The other tenant fell through, actually. Do you still need it?"

Emery's eyes widened. "Yes! Um, just give me one-" She glanced at pocket, who was already lying back in their bed, still as before. She blinked, suddenly feeling as if their interaction might have been a dream.

She turned back to the man. "Nevermind. I'll follow you."

#tiny whump #immortal whumpee #magical whumpee #conditioned whumpee #caretaker new master #accidental caretaker #whump snippet #oc pocket #pixie whumpee #(edit: i lost the link to the post! uh. i cant find it again.)#fae whumpee

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mortifyingordealof · 1 year

Text

disco elysium is so videogame. one of the first things you have the option to do is seduce a super secret agent from fantasy Russia who is a problematic bisexual. if you sweet talk that cargo container, you will meet a man who is so rich he bends light, and he will give you a hundred dollars if you say something just stupid enough. once you successfully encourage some kids to set up a church disco club instead of a meth lab, you can egg your partner on into dancing with you (but if you're wearing the wrong sunglasses you Will wind up calling him a slur). if you are VERY lucky and VERY clever, a bug will tell you that it loves you.

#disco elysium spoilers #disco elysium #i did a high int playthrough first and got a lot of encyclopedia lore which i think was the right move #but my second playthrough is where i actually made shit happen

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ereardon · 1 year

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That Summer || Part Two [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

A Bradley Bradshaw AU

Summary: One night during the summer you turned eighteen, you woke up to a surprise. Your father, a retired Navy Admiral, had posted bail for the son of a former colleague who was now orphaned and had gotten himself mixed up with the law. Instead of letting him get lost in the judicial system, your father signed himself up as Bradley Bradshaw’s guardian to prevent him from going to juvie. You were explicitly told to stay away from the boy in the attic room. But as the summer went on, you and Bradley struck up an unlikely friendship that turned into a forbidden relationship. Bradley tipped your world upside down, challenging everything you had once thought you knew. How could the two of you think it would end any differently than it did when your father called the cops the night he found the two of you in bed together?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, angst, dead parents, mention of a car accident, nightmares

Wordcount: 4K

Series masterlist here; Part One here; Part Three here

Bradley had three things on his person besides the clothes on his back the night he got locked up.

A photo of his parents, smiling into the camera, eyes bright behind matching pairs of aviator sunglasses, the California sun shining bright in the background.

His father’s dog tags that hung around his neck, his mother's wedding band glinting next to the dulled metal tags, ensuring he carried the two of them wherever he went.

And a second photo. Less crinkled and weathered than the one of his parents, like it hadn't been folded and opened back up as many times. If you squinted, you could make out the clear blue waves in the background.

Four adults stood in the photo, two pairs of parents. And in their arms sat two babies, only a few months apart. The babies were looking at each other. Curiosity. Intrigue. Confusion. Every emotion under the sun simultaneously conveyed in their tiny faces.

Bradley pulled the photo out of his pocket, sliding it under a pile of socks in the first dresser drawer.

Hiding it. For now.

***

You didn’t know, but Bradley watched you from the attic room. He watched the way you gracefully laid on the beach and he watched you devour book after book while lying on the hot sand until you couldn’t bear the heat in your body anymore and you’d make a run for it into the crashing ocean waves.

Bradley watched you carefully at meals. The cagey way you spoke to your mother. The way you turned to look at your father for approval before agreeing with something. The polite way you pushed food around your plate when you disliked it but didn’t want to tell the cook.

He saw everything. Even the way you looked at him with curiosity when you thought he didn’t notice.

You spent your days languishing. Bradley spent his planning his next steps.

The Admiral had given him a lifeline. But Bradley still didn’t have a fully formed plan for what was next. He had left California with only a few hundred dollars in cash, and your family’s name engraved in his mind.

“Go to the Sullivan’s,” his mother had said once. “They’ll help you.”

He hadn’t planned on getting arrested on his way to Galveston.

Nothing that Bradley had planned was coming to fruition, and what had happened since his mother died he could have never planned for.

***

“So what’s he like?”

You sighed and licked a drip of melted ice cream away from the rapidly softening side of your sugar cone. “Who, Bradley?”

“Obviously.” Ivy rolled her eyes. “The mystery boy in the attic.”

“He has a name,” you said. “And I don’t know. He’s quiet. I barely see him. I’m not supposed to.”

“So what, he just sits in the attic all day like a fucking prisoner?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I see him at breakfast and dinner and I’ve seen him in the yard a few times. It’s only been two weeks.” You failed to mention that you had gone to his room in the middle of the night when you heard his wailing from his nightmares. Ivy didn’t need to know that. She might have been your best friend since you moved to Galveston, but that felt like a secret only for Bradley to know.

“Is he hot?” Her voice dropped an octave, like your father could hear you even though the two of you were halfway across the island.

You turned to her with a shake of your head. “I don’t know? I’ve only ever seen him drowning in my dad’s old shirts.” You also failed to mention seeing Bradley shirtless during his nightmare.

“I bet he’s hot,” Ivy said, slipping her sunglasses over her eyes. “They always are.”

“Who do you mean by they?” you asked, sliding into the other side of the golf cart as she turned the ignition key.

“You know,” she whispered. “Bad boys.”

You laughed, an open mouthed cackle that had one of the neighbors, Mrs. Gleeson, shooting you a demonic glare. The two of you raised your hands in a neighborly wave and she begrudgingly followed suit, matching your fake smile.

That was something you had picked up quickly after moving. Appearances mattered. It didn’t matter if you actually cared about what someone was saying. You just had to act like it.

And it really didn’t matter if you wanted desperately to do something. If it looked wrong, you didn’t do it.

Ivy steered the golf cart toward your house. She was headed to UT in the fall and was in a similar predicament as you — her parents wanted her to experience the summer, not be bogged down by jobs or pressure. The difference was that Ivy relished in that while you bucked against it. She was fine spending her days bumming around the beach, driving in her Jeep with all the windows and top unzipped, spending thousands of dollars on a debutante dress for just one night.

You wanted more. You just didn’t know else was out there.

As the two of you bumped down the beach toward your house, you spotted a figure in the distance. You raised one hand, placing it flush against your forehead as a makeshift visor.

Ivy noticed at the same time you did and her eyes went wide, her hand that wasn’t gripping the wheel slapping your bare thigh. “You bitch!” she cried. “He’s hot as fuck, you were hiding him weren’t you?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t know.”

The two of you pulled off the beach, driving up between your parent’s house and the Ander’s next door, watching as Bradley split wood with an ax. He looked up as Ivy cut the engine on the golf cart, hopping out with a giant smile on her face. “Hi!” she practically sang. “You must be Bradley.”

He put down the ax, wiping away sweat from his brow. “Yeah.”

“I’m Ivy,” she said, tossing her arm around your neck and tugging you in close. “Y/N’s best friend.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. You watched in awe as sweat dripped down his tanned, muscular shoulders, over past his pecs, across his defined abs before disappearing into the waistband of his swim trunks.

Ivy looked between the two of you and grinned. “How much more work do you have?” she asked. “Want to go swimming with us?”

Bradley pointed to a small pile of wood near the house. “The Admiral asked me to chop this up for bonfires.”

You nodded. “Bradley is busy,” you said. “Let’s just go inside and I can show you that dress I was talking about.”

Ivy let her hand drop from your shoulders and put her hands on her waist. “No, this is much more interesting.” She shamelessly let her eyes roll over Bradley’s body. “Besides, there’s barely any wood in that pile. You’ll be done soon, right?”

“I, uh, I guess.”

“Great!” Ivy grinned. “We will grab beach towels and meet you down by the water when you’re done.”

She skipped away and you followed, grabbing her delicate wrist and hissing in her ear once Bradley was out of earshot. “What are you doing?”

“Being friendly, Y/N. Didn’t you know that was the Southern way?” she mocked.

You grimaced. “Daddy’s going to throw a fit if he sees us swimming with him.”

“Oh lighten up, Y/N,” she said, tossing open the front door and stepping inside like it was her house. “He won’t know, I promise.”

That was the thing about Ivy. She pushed you out of your comfort zone, but in the best way. She was outgoing where you were shy. She had big Texas hair and a loud laugh and a zingy humor that people latched onto immediately.

She didn’t always do what was right. But she always did what was fun.

“I’m going to regret this,” you muttered as you slipped off your denim shorts and tank top to reveal a small white bikini, grabbing a set of beach towels and following after Ivy as she made her way out onto the beach.

The two of you dropped the towels under a heavy metal water bottle so they wouldn’t fly away before making your way out to the water. It was a scorching hot day. The ocean lapped like a lukewarm bath against your legs and you felt your breath catch. But it was a welcome change from California where the water generally had been cooler, more like a shock when you stuck your head below the surface. Here, in Texas, it was warm. Like everything else, it was a little oppressive.

But you didn’t mind. Not at first.

You were hip deep when you spotted Bradley making his way down the beach toward the shore. Ivy waved enthusiastically, her pale blue bikini now wet and a darker shade of blue. The strings dug into her plush hips and you couldn’t help but admire the way she moved, graceful, while you clumsily trudged through the wet sand.

Bradley stopped at the waterline and you wondered for a moment if he knew how to swim. He looked at you, almost as if for approval. You gave him a small smile and he nodded slightly, wading into the water a few feet to your right. You pushed on further into the water until the both of you were submerged up to your chests.

“First time in the ocean here?” you asked.

Bradley nodded. “Never been to Texas before,” he replied.

“Did you swim a lot in California?”

“We used to go to Black’s Beach a lot. It’s a bit of a drive, but worth it for the waves.”

“You surf?”

Another nod. “Sometimes. I’m not great, but I try.”

This was the most Bradley had really said to you in the two weeks he had been living at the house. Nearby, Ivy watched the two of you with fascination.

You smiled, dipping your head back into the water, letting your hair get wet, and the ocean spray to hit your face. When you stood back up, Bradley was staring at you with a quiet intensity.

“Do you like it here?” you asked after a moment.

He shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“I run sometimes,” you said. “In the mornings. If you ever want to join me.”

For the first time, you saw a smile tug at the corners of Bradley’s mouth. “I’d like that.”

Just as you were opening your mouth to reply, you heard a shrill, familiar voice. “Y/N!” All three heads turned to see your mother standing on the balcony of the house. Even from a hundred feet away you swore you could see the frown on her slim face.

“Party’s over,” Ivy huffed under her breath, making her way toward shore. You sighed and followed suit, Bradley on your heels.

The three of you grabbed towels, drying off as you walked up toward the house. It looked even more daunting because you knew what you would face inside. Your mother appeared at the end of the stairs from the deck that spanned the whole back of the house as you, Ivy and Bradley approached the base of the house.

“Ivy,” she said cooly. “Your parents will want you home soon.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

“That’s my cue,” Ivy said, leaning in and giving you a hug, dropping her beach towel in your arms as she pulled away. “Love you.”

“Bye,” you whispered as she grinned, waving one hand in the air, peeling away in the white golf cart.

Your mother’s beady eyes locked on yours. “Bradley, dear,” she said, her eyes never leaving your face, “you can go inside and shower up before dinner please?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied quietly, skirting past the two of you and heading up the tall staircase.

You crossed your arms over your chest, the water droplets on your skin rapidly disappearing under the hot sun. She waited for the sound of the back door closing before opening her mouth. “What on Earth are you doing?”

You shrugged. “Going for a swim.”

“Your father and I were very clear that you were not to fraternize with the boy.”

“His name is Bradley.”

Her eyes practically popped out of her head. “Y/N, I mean it. In three months you’re leaving this house and I expect to see you leave here as a woman, not a girl.”

You sighed. “Got my period when I was eleven, mother.”

“That doesn’t make you a woman,” she said, looking you up and down. “You might look like a woman. But you are far from it, sweetheart. You think you know everything, don’t you? You think that boy in there is going to be some sort of adventure? Some new toy to play with? He’s a child, Y/N. You’re a child. We expect you to be a woman.” She paused, shaking her head. “Now go clean up for dinner. And we both know your father isn’t going to be happy when he hears about this.”

You looked at her. Your mother had been different in California. Less straight laced. She let you eat ice cream on the beach at night and she wore loose dresses that did nothing to accentuate her tiny waist and she had been different in every way a person can be different. But something changed the minute you stepped onto Texas soil. She snapped back into an older version of herself. A mold of a woman who was weighed down by countless needless rules and expectations. She clung far too tight to things that to you made little to no sense. She clung to the past so hard and you wanted to know why she was desperate to make it your future. Maybe that was a secret you wouldn’t know until you were a mother. Maybe that was something you would only understand when you held your own daughter in your arms, tiny, fragile.

Maybe then your mother would make sense. But until then, you looked at her and tried to figure out why she was the way that she was. Why she cared more about your hair being coiffed to perfection and the color of your nails and whether or not you sent out handwritten thank you cards on ivory cardstock after a birthday party than she did about your grades or your life skills.

Why did they care so much if you wanted to get to know Bradley?

Perhaps, more importantly, you wanted to know what he had done that made your parents so hesitant to let you speak to him.

***

You stood in front of the three-panel mirror and grimaced.

“Y/N,” your mother snapped. “For Heaven’s sake, smile. You look pained.”

You plastered a fake smile on your face. “Happy?”

She sighed. “Ecstatic.”

It was the fourth dress shop your mother had dragged you to in as many days.

“Well?” she asked impatiently. “What’s wrong with this one?”

You slid your fingers over the silky bodice. “I don’t know. It’s just so … big.” You fluffed out the ballgown skirt. “Feels like I’m an upside down cupcake.”

“You’ve said no to fourteen dresses.”

“I don’t care,” you said after a moment. “You pick it.”

She shook her head. “This is your debutante ball, not mine, young lady. Marisha?” She called out for the poor sales woman who had been carting around heavy dresses for the two of you for the last hour. “Bring my daughter something with a smaller skirt please.”

You went back into the dressing room and waited on Marisha. Finally, she reappeared with a slim satin dress with delicate mesh sleeves adorned with pearls. You slipped it on, drawing back the curtain and stepping up onto the podium in front of the semicircle of mirrors.

“Well?” your mother asked.

You took in the reflection staring back at you. For the first time, under the bright lights of the countless dress shops you had been to, you smiled. “This is the one.”

***

Bradley felt like he was walking on eggshells. The Admiral had sat him down that first night and laid out the ground rules.

He was under the Admiral’s guardianship for the next three months. Until his eighteenth birthday in early September. And then, he was on his own.

“I knew your father,” the Admiral said, putting his hand on Bradley’s shoulder. “We flew together for years. He was a good man.” He paused. “He raised you better than this.” And then he left Bradley alone for that first night in the tower room.

There were only three things that were clear. Bradley was on a ticking clock until he had to be out of your house.

That he had to keep his nose clean after the arrest, especially because the Admiral had vouched for him.

And finally, the most important rule of all. You were off limits. He shouldn’t talk to you, he shouldn't be your friend, he shouldn't get in your way. The Admiral didn’t explicitly say it, but the sentiment was clear enough.

You were the golden child. You were beautiful. You held all of their promise in your two hands. And he was not going to fuck that up for you.

So why did Bradley so desperately want to get to know you? Was it because he knew it was forbidden?

Or was it because he knew you would change everything for him?

***

The next time you heard the telltale groans of Bradley’s nightmares, you were prepared.

You grabbed the thermos from your desk and eased the door open gently, tiptoeing across the hallway toward the door at the base of the tower, letting yourself in, gently climbing the stairs.

On the bed, Bradley was thrashing in his sleep, quiet groans rolling out of his mouth. You stepped closer, putting the thermos down on the ground, reaching out one hand, resting it gently on his arm. “Hey, hey,” you whispered and his eyes popped open. “Shh, it’s just me. It’s Y/N.”

He sat up, breathing hard, bare chest glistening with sweat and heaving. You didn’t pull your hand away, keeping it resting on his arm, face drawn in concern.

“You’re OK,” you whispered. “You’re safe here. Whatever was going on in your dream, it’s over.”

Bradley shook his head. You bent over, reaching for the thermos, pouring a cup of ice water into the cap and holding it out.

“Here,” you said. “Drink. It’s just water.”

He took it cautiously, tipping it back into his mouth. After the first sip he gulped down the rest of the cap and you poured him a second serving. “Thank you,” he said after a moment, handing the empty cap back to you. You screwed it on and placed the metal thermos on the ground before sitting down lightly on the edge of the mattress. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

You shook your head. “I don’t mind.” It wasn’t a lie. A part of you had wanted an excuse to come up and see Bradley again under the cloak of night. It felt safer in a way. Away from prying eyes. Away from the pervasive judgment that filled not only your house but the whole island.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked.

You frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Bradley thought about it for a second. He didn’t have an answer, other than people usually let him down. “I don’t know. Just don’t see what you have to gain.”

“Being nice isn’t about gaining anything,” you said. “Sometimes it’s just about being nice.” You paused. “Besides, I thought we could be friends.”

He smiled sadly. “Thought you weren’t supposed to talk to me.”

“Well, I thought we could be secret friends,” you said.

“How would that work?”

You shrugged. “I can come up here at night and we can talk.”

“That’s all you want, Y/N?” he asked quietly. “To talk?”

You felt a shiver run through your body. You were suddenly aware of how close Bradley was sitting and how bare his chest was. You swallowed harshly. “Yeah. I like to talk.”

He smirked. “I noticed.” “I kind of have to,” you said. “You’re a closed book. If I don't talk, you're never going to tell me anything.”

“I'm happy to talk.”

You tipped your head to one side. “OK, then answer my question. How’d you get those scars?”

To his surprise, you reached out, stroking one finger along the scar that ran across Bradley’s face toward his jaw. “Car accident,” he whispered.

“When?”

The scars were pink, not yet faded lighter. They were obviously older than the bruises and scratches that adorned the rest of his body, but they weren’t from a decade before as far as you could tell.

Bradley swallowed hard.

“Last year.”

“Was it scary?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Worst day of my life.”

You dropped your hand and placed it in his. The two of you looked down at your intertwined fingers. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I won’t pry anymore.” Bradley raised his eyes to yours. His were a warm brown that made you feel cozy inside. Like a cabin in the mountains at Christmas, just warmth bottled up. How had you never noticed that before? Every time Bradley looked at you it was patient. Like he would give you all the time in the world. Even if it was at his own cost.

“What do you dream about?” you asked quietly.

Bradley let his hand slide out of yours. You watched him consider your question carefully. His fingers fidgeted with the sheets on either side of his legs. “My parents,” he said.

You waited. Bradley looked lost in thought. It was odd, but he had only been at the house for three weeks and yet a part of you felt like you had known him before. There was something oddly familiar about him.

“My dad died when I was four. A jet accident.” You sucked in a breath. When your father had worked that was a fear that you grappled with daily. The fact that he might leave one day and never walk back through the front door. It pained you to know that Bradley had experienced that fear first hand. That it plagued him. That it was part of his story. “And my mother died when I was sixteen.”

He didn’t say it, but you knew. His mother had died in the car crash that gave Bradley those scars. He carried a physical reminder of her death on his person no matter what. Something he couldn’t get rid of.

Your heart ached for him.

“Bradley,” you whispered and when his eyes met yours, it went without saying. You were sorry. You wished he hadn’t gone through that. You wished you had a way to make things better for him. You were glad he told you.

“Sometimes I don’t want to wake up,” he said, “because that means waking up to a world that they’re no longer in. Even if the dream is terrible. Even if I’m back on that road in the dark, her blood on my hands, the ambulance on the way, at least she’s there. At least she’s still alive. But when I wake up? Then I’m just alone again.”

“You’re not alone,” you said softly. “You have us.”

Bradley shook his head. “Y/N. Your parents don’t like me. They don’t even want me speaking to you.” He sighed. “I’m alone.”

You watched in shock as a single tear slid from the corner of his eye down his cheek and without thinking you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him in closely, one hand on the base of his neck, tugging him in tight.

For a second, Bradley almost struggled against the embrace. How long had it been since someone had held him like that? But you were warm and smelled like vanilla and he found himself sinking into the hug, winding his arms cautiously around your middle as you smoothed your fingers gently over the hair that curled up at the nape of his neck.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you whispered against the bare skin of his shoulder. Bradley closed his eyes, willing the tears to stop, letting himself get lost in the comfort of your arms.

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lavenderdreams22 · 1 year

Text

Something to Someone - Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After your breakup, Rafe realizes what you meant to him and that he actually really misses being something, or someone, to someone like you. Based very loosely off of the song ‘Something to Someone’ by Dermot Kennedy.

I’m bad at summaries, but I hope you enjoy ❤️

Warning: angst, cursing, substance abuse, a bit of misogyny (specifically from Topper and Kelce). Quickly edited.

******

This party sucked.

Rafe sat on the balcony over looking the backyard with a glower on his face. He had never once hated celebrating in his life. But tonight? He wished everyone would get the fuck out of his house and off of his property so he could sulk in peace.

Topper leaned over the table beside him, using his rolled up hundred dollar bill to do a line. Rafe almost rolled his eyes at the act. It was so normal, so mundane. Everything had lost its excitement, lost its luster now that his whole world had crumbled around him.

“What’s got your panties in a wad?” Topper asked, shaking his head as the drug did its thing.

“You’re really upset about Y/N Y/L/N?” Kelce asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why?”

“I bet it was the sex.” Topper nodded to himself, rubbing at his nose. “C’mon man. She couldn’t have been that good. Go find another piece of ass.”

Rafe sneered at his friends, clenching his fists to keep himself from reaching out and beating the shit out of both of them.

There was no point in arguing about his feelings to his friends. They’d probably ridicule him for feeling this way in the first place if he tried.

She wasn’t just “a piece of ass”. She was everything. She brightened every room she walked into, made everything feel okay even when it wasn’t. She helped him make sense of the thoughts that were always so jumbled in his mind, and she always made him feel at peace. There was no forgetting about someone like that. There was no downplaying what she was to him.

He only wished that he was still something to her.

He had screamed at her. Told her to leave, that he never wanted to see her again. She usually argued back, helped him to see reason. But this time, she just nodded her head, her face flush with anger, turned her back on him, and left.

He had tried to call and text her about a dozen times each, but eventually she had blocked his number. He still had the hole he had punched in the wall to show for it.

She was well and truly done with him, and he had no one but himself to blame.

He looked back out over the crowd, letting his anger and sadness take deeper root in his chest, nearly choking him at the realization that this was the first party in a long time that she hadn’t attended.

Even before they were dating, she had still shown up. Always with a bright smile on her face that made him feel like he was floating.

God, he was such a fucking idiot.

“Wait, Kelce…” Topper asked, reaching out and swatting at Kelce’s chest. “Isn’t that her?”

Rafe followed Toppers outstretched finger, his eyes landing on her.

“Is that Josh Thompson?” Topper asked with a chuckle. “See, Rafe? She moved on already, maybe you should, too.”

She was here, looking beautiful in her yellow sundress, her hair falling loosely around her shoulders. She pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head as Josh pulled her through the crowd towards the house.

Rafe was on his feet before he had a moment to process what he was doing. With one last glance at her, he made his way to the kitchen.

*****

You weren’t sure what to expect when you had agreed to go to a party that your very recent ex boyfriend was hosting with another man, but Rafe clapping him on the shoulder like an old friend wasn’t it.

“Y/N, how are you?” Rafe asked, all smiles and unfamiliarity.

“I’m fine.” You did your best to offer him a smile, but it barely reached your eyes.

The very same eyes that you had spent days drying as you sobbed into your pillow.

“Just fine?” Rafe chuckled, gesturing around him to the party. “You should be doing amazing. I know I am.”

You shook your head, tugging on Josh’s sleeve.

“Let’s get a drink and go back outside. I wanna dance.” You said, a small pout on your lips.

Josh had always been handsome, but if it hadn’t been for your best friend forcing you to get up and go to the party with him, you never would have looked at him twice. Because at the end of the day, he wasn’t Rafe.

He eyed you for a moment, his eyes falling to your lips for a moment. “Sounds good, beautiful.” He offered you a small smile before turning to Rafe. “We’ll see you later.”

You didn’t miss the way Rafe’s jaw clenched as Josh wrapped his arm around your shoulder, or the way his smile faltered as you leaned into another man’s touch. You definitely didn’t miss the way his fists clenched at the pet name you had been awarded.

You knew Rafe well enough to know this was the only way he knew how to protect himself from his feelings. But you were done playing stupid games with him.

“See you around, Cameron.” You said, meeting his eyes.

The pain that flashed in his eyes for a moment nearly had you turning back and pulling him into your arms. But you clung tighter to Josh, and made your way to the bottles of liquor on the counter in the kitchen.

*****

She hadn’t even said his name. She acted like he hadn’t meant anything to her at all.

He plopped back down on the couch next to Topper, the balcony suddenly feeling closed in as he watched her laugh as Josh leaned in to whisper something into her ear.

“Went well, I’m guessing?” Kelce asked, eyeing his friend closely, waiting for him to lash out at the first thing that looked at him funny.

“Shut up.” Was Rafe’s only response. The only words he could form.

The hollowness scared him a little. Where rage had usually resided when he felt that he had been slighted or overlooked, a numbness now sat.

There was no denying it now. He had lost her. Had lost his only source of light and unconditional love. There was absolutely no coming back from this. He let his head fall into his hands as he breathed, trying to force some semblance of control back into himself.

*****

“What’re you doing all the way out here?” You asked, plopping down into the sand next to Rafe.

The sounds of the party continued on behind you.

“Party’s lame.” He eyed you out of the corner of his eye. “Where’s your date?”

“He’s lame.” You joked, pulling your knees to your chest.

Rafe only hummed, his eyes returning to stare out over the water.

You watched him for a moment, letting the fact that he was no longer yours settle in.

You had loved him more than anyone in the entire world. You still did. And you had expected this to last, for you to one day be his wife and have his children. But you were forced to swallow the truth that forever was a falsehood that you had convinced yourself of when you were wrapped in his arms, the sun streaming in through his curtains.

“This sucks.” He said, his voice sounding small.

It was your turn to offer a small hum in agreement.

“I mean, we were good together.” He said, turning to meet your eyes.

“When we weren’t fighting, sure.” You rested your head on your knees. “When we were good, we were amazing, Rafe. But when we were bad?” Pausing to loosen a breath, you shook your head. “When we were bad, we were awful.”

“It’s really over then?” He asked.

“It should be.” You replied, taking a deep breath.

As the words passed your lips, you realized that you were going to miss being something to him, and you wanted to smack yourself for not cherishing the moments you’d had with him when you still had the chance.

“I need to go. Josh is probably looking for me.” You said as you pushed to your feet. “See you around, Rafe.”

“Yeah.” He breathed, watching you go. “See you.”

#rafe x you #outerbanks rafe #rafe angst #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx fanfiction #obx rafe cameron #rafe x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n

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a1307s · 4 months

Text

Over-Protective

(Dick Grayson)

[Art is not mine! Credit to Yuki119]

Requested by: Amanda_holland

Keys: None

Word Count: 4,275

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Requester asked to use OC for this chapter so "Nightsky" (and Nick names I use for it) are credited to them

Cursing

Mentions of Incest (nothing actually happens!)

———————————————————————

I'm piggybacking Richard, his arms wrapped under my knees as he carries me. His backpack rests on his chest as he carries it like a baby holder. "You're getting too old to be carried," my older brother tells me, shifting some so I'm still supported as he digs for his phone.

"Then put me down," I shoot back, tightening my legs around his waist, and my arms on his shoulder as he moves around.

"Why would I do that?" Richie asks, his attention on his phone as he continues moving forward. I slide a bit from the lack of support, but he moves slowly enough that I don't fall off his back. Once he's done with whatever he's doing, he lifts his phone to his ear. "Hey, Wally."

"Wally!" I call out, leaning closer to the phone so my brother's best friend can hear me. Dick rolls his eyes and points the phone towards me. I take it from him, making sure to put it on speaker. "Where are you guys?" I ask as Richie's arm tucks under my knee again.

"We're standing in front of the Merry Go Round. Where are you guys?"

"We're walking up to the entrance now," Dick answers, shifting me some. Maybe he is right. Maybe I am getting too big for him to carry me around still.

"You're not even in the gates yet?" Artemis calls her voice a bit distance from the phone.

"Ya cause Wing didn't listen to me, if we had left earlier there would have been more parking," I answer, getting rewarded with another eye roll and a deep sigh from my carrier.

"We'll meet you guys by the gates, okay? See you soon," Wally says before hanging up the phone.

The rest of the walk to the entrance is pretty quiet between us, the only sound being the occasional tapping of his backpack hitting against his chest. When we get to the ticket line Richie puts me back on my feet but keeps me tucked into his side, his hand under my left knee to hold it up and take off the pressure from my body weight. Earlier this week I managed to sprain my ankle from a mission and ever since Richard has been in overprotective mode.

He messes in his bookbag as we wobble up the line. "Here, put these on," Richie orders, holding out my sunglasses as he puts his own on. Wally is aware of our identities, but his girlfriend doesn't know that we're the oh-so-famous Grayson wards of the infamous Bruce Wayne.

I take the not-so-cheap sunglasses from him and slide them onto my face. They're a pair of black and gold detailed Fendi glasses. Bruce refused to tell me how expensive they were, so I had to Google it. Personally, almost four hundred dollars for a pair of sunglasses is a bit much, but Richard insists I should let Bruce financially take care of me even if he is no contact with the man at the moment. I don't like it, but I do allow it so there's slightly less weight on my brother's shoulders.

His grip on me loosens as he pulls out his wallet and talks to the ticket lady. Throughout the conversation, he constantly glances at me to ensure I'm not putting any pressure on my injury. I think he's blowing it out of proportion just a tad. It's only sprained, it'll be fine even if I walk on it but how Richie is, I could have a cough he'd be insistent about getting me in for a checkup. It's sweet but suffocating sometimes.

"Alright, let's go," he mumbles, stepping in front of me. Dick grabs my arm, using it to pull me up his back again. I slide back into place, my legs dangling at his sides and my arms dangling over his shoulders. His arms are back in place, anchored under my knees, as he walks through the gate and gives the stamp person our tickets.

The stamp guy takes our tickets before stamping ink onto our hands. Four little red lines of the date and 'Central City Fair' are present against my skin tone. Over the years the media has white-washed Richard and me quite a bit. At this point, the only thing that still connects us to our Romanian roots is our skin tone, our deep blue eyes, and our mother tongue. Richard does little to fight the media about it, but I don't blame him. That's an uphill battle. Despite this, he insists that we still speak in Romanian whenever possible.

His head stays rotating, constantly on watch as we walk - well he walks - around the entrance. It's an instinct that Bruce taught us, but unlike Richie, I can turn it off and usually do when I know my brother is nearby. Why should I worry when he's going to do it anyway? It could just be the two of us in an empty room and Dick would still constantly do environment checks just in case.

"It's the Night Siblings!" Wally cheers, running - at a normal pace - up to us. When he gets in front of us, his red curls are still bouncing around as he talks to Richie. His curls are loose, probably from him speeding around all day long. "Sky!" He says after a while, turning his attention towards me. "You are as beautiful as ever, Chica, how's the foot?" Walles asks, picking my ankle up and looking it over.

"Don't touch it. She's fine," Dick barks, backing up a bit so I slide out of Wally's grasp.

The speedster laughs at Richie before poking at him some. "Someone is a little overprotective. Worried Sky is following apart at the seams?" Wally reaches for me again, taking me off of Dick before gently placing me on my feet. "What do you want to do first, Little Night? Food?"

Artemis comes up and smacks Wally upside the head, causing me to laugh a bit. "Do you think of anything other than food?"

"I only think of you and food, Babe," Wally answers with her usual grin.

Richard takes Wally's distraction as a chance to grab for me, but Wally beats him to it. He lifts me, placing me on his shoulders and holding on to my calves. I shake a bit to try and get him to loosen his grip, which he obliges. The whole time Richie is watching like a hawk.

"Let's go play a game!" Walles says in her usual chirped tone. Artemis sighs in response but turns towards the line of booths. Richard is antsy as he paces around the Speedster and me. Stress is very evident on his face.

"Wing," I call, leaning down so he can grab me. My call is instantly answered, Dick's arms around my waist to help me off of the older boy's shoulders.

He sets me on my feet for a second to adjust his hold. In the meantime, Artemis manages to pull me away. "Hey!" Rich barks again, his feathers defiantly flustered.

"Calm down, Wing. If you're stressing out you won't enjoy the fair," Arty answers, her tone a bit clipped. Artemis's hands are around my waist, carrying a good chunk of my weight as I waddle in front of her. "Occasional presser will help her heal."

Richard does calm down a bit, but not much. He's attached to my hip as we walk around the booths, occasionally stopping for the other half of our group to play the games. "Do you want to play a game?" My brother asks, going to grab me again. Arty stops him, tugging me away from his grasp.

"If I choose a game, are you going to let me stand there and play it?"

He stays quiet for a minute, looking over me before sighing. "Ya," the answer is short and clipped but not surprising. I can't remember the last time he told me no.

I wiggle out of Artemis's hold, the sudden added weight to my foot making my wound sting a bit. "I want to play the ring toss game," I say, grabbing Richard's hand.

His fingers lace in mine as he lets me lead him in the right direction. Despite this, he's still in a protective mood, head wiping around as the group of us weave in and out of the crowd. When I release my hold on his head, he looks like he's going to have a panic attack. "You need to chill a bit," I whisper, standing on my tippy toes so I can get closer to his ear. "I'm not dying, Richard."

"I know. I'm just... I know," Richie answers, shifting himself around a bit to try and loosen his nervousness.

"Why are you so panic-y?" Artemis asks, glancing at Wally in hopes her boyfriend will fill in the hole. My brother - and I alike - aren't very good at sharing any personal stuff so Wally usually answers on our behalf, even though Dick doesn't like him too.

Wally chuckles a bit before looping his arm around his friend's neck. Rich tries to push the older boy away as he's given a nugy. "Wing-man here has an irrational fear of Sky getting kidnapped or lost."

"It is not unreasonable that I worry about my little sister!" My brother yells, managing to get Wally off balance and knock him down. Dick throws his bookbag off before lounging towards the speedster. They struggle a bit before Wally is in the position Rich was just a minute ago.

"You're going to mess up my hair!" Wally whines, trying to get out of the hold he's in.

"And you two are embarrassing us!" Artemis hisses, grabbing both boys by their ears and tugging them off of the ground. Both of them mumble 'sorry's and rub their ears once they're on their feet.

Dick walks over and picks up our bag before slinging it across his back. "Here," he mumbles, handing me a twenty before shoving his wallet into one of the pockets.

I happily take the money before handing it to the booth guy. "Good luck!" The guy tells me, handing me ten rings in return. Honestly, from all the training Bruce has put me through, this game is a breeze. I beat the connie game and managed to win a fluffy dog plushy. Richard adds my prize to our bag before picking me up again. Unlike earlier, Dick is carrying me in front of him. My back is pressed against his chest, his arms under my thighs as my legs dangle again.

"Now what should we do?" I ask as my brother leads the way out of the strip of game booths.

"Maybe we should go on some rides! I hear the Ferris wheel can be quite romantic!" Wally says, scootching up on Artemis with hearts in her eyes.

"That sounds fun!" Artemis says sarcastically, pairing it with an eye roll. She'll never admit it, but she likes how romantic Wally can be. Wally pretty much makes a beeline for the Ferris wheel, the rest of us in tow as we follow suit.

The line for the ride is pretty long, but I'm sure it'll only get longer when it starts to get dark, and all the lights start to eliminate. "Well, I guess we get to be the awkward third wheel friends," Rich says, bounding me around some in his hold. I smile a bit and nod in agreement.

"Excuse me?" A girl says from within a group of other kids that look about my age. They all walk up to the metal gates that are used to form the line space; us on the inside and them on the outside. "Can I take a picture with you two?"

Dick stiffens some, placing me on my feet before pulling Wally over to help block me from the group. He's not a big fan of pauperize but he usually doesn't mind fans. At least when it comes to himself. My brother has never liked people taking pictures of me and has gotten into a few ruffles with people over taking pictures and videos of us without asking. "I'm sorry but no. We're trying to have a down-low day, you know?"

"Can we ride with you at least?" One of the other girls peeps up.

"Ya, I wouldn't mind going on the Ferris wheel with a pretty girl!" One of the boys adds, poking himself out from the group to try and get a better look at me.

"No, we're just trying to hang out with our friends, maybe next time!" Richard answers, trying to shoot the girl down gently. His hand reaches backward, swooshing around for me. I lean forward, letting my brother take hold of my hand. His nerves are high and very evident from his tight grasp and his fingers shaking some. Even though Bruce and Richard aren't on speaking terms, Richie's actions still very much reflect on our father figure, which is why he's trying so hard to keep his composure.

The group stirs some, please and begging starts to happen, all of which Dick tries to turn down politely. "Hey guys, chill a bit, ya?" Wally peeps up, gently shoving Artemis towards my brother. Artemis bumps into him, causing Richie to wrap his arm around her waist so she doesn't fall out of habit. "We're just trying to have a cute double date!" Walles continues, tugging me forward and placing a kiss on my cheek as his arm wraps around my shoulders.

This does not look or sound good for any party involved. Artemis is going to get the wrong idea. Richard is going to get the wrong idea. The general public is going to get the wrong idea when this shit starts to spread. Bruce is going to get the wrong idea. Wally is going to get his ass beat by everybody - me included - and Artemis is probably going to try and beat the shit out of me after she beats the shit out of her boyfriend. What a lovely day at the fair. So much for the Central City Fair being a safe bet for a 'getting recognized' free day.

From the stir-up, more people have noticed what's going on and have started making a crowd. Cameras flash like crazy as people all around us start talking, trying to pull our attention to them. Death glares are being thrown at Wally from both Richard and Artemis as Wally panics. "I didn't... that's not... I'm-"

"Shut the fuck up, Wally," my brother says, snatching my hand and starting to pull me away as he weasels us out of the line.

"Wait up!" Wally yells, trying to chase after us as Artemis chases after him, yelling at him the whole time. The chase continues throughout the whole fairgrounds. Dick drags me away, Wally chases us, Artemis chases him, and a crowd chases all of us as they scream for Richard and me. If there wasn't a black cloud forming over the four of us, it would be a pretty funny scene.

"What the fuck? What the actual fuck?" Richie mumbles, weaving in and out of cars to try and lose everyone chasing us. Notably, it works so the throbbing pain forming in my ankle is worth it.

"Nothing is happening between Wally and me! I swear! Nothing has and nothing ever will happen!" I tell him, my words rushed as his car comes into view.

"Ya, I fucking know that. I'm not dumb!" Richard yells back, unlocking the passenger door and ushering me in. For the playboy attitude my brother tries to have, he's still quite the gentleman. "That doesn't mean it makes it okay that Wally made it seem like he's been-" he cuts himself off, slamming my door closed before walking around the car and climbing in himself. His knuckles are white as he grips the wheel and his breathes are heavy. "I'm going to kill," he huffs out, glancing at me before starting the car. "I didn't hurt your ankle more, did I? I shouldn't have dragged you like that."

"My ankle feels fine," I lie, buckling my seat belt and propping my feet on the dashboard as Richard starts the drive home. The last thing he needs to worry about right now is my injury. He's got our teammates, Bruce, and the media to deal with now.

———————————

I feel like I'm going to throw up as Richard and I walk through the zeta tube. From the look on my brother's face, he's feeling the same way. We've been dealing with a lot in the past week. However, Richie has been dealing with the brunt of it like usual. Most of that brunt is Bruce and the media.

We were about halfway home when the videos of Wally and me were mainstream media, which means it didn't take long for Bruce to see it alongside the rest of the world. Also didn't take long for Bruce to call and belittle Dick for "not protecting your little sister from the media" and "letting your best friend make a book trope true".

Richard explained nothing had ever happened between Wally and me but that didn't stop Bruce from continuing to smash what little relationship they had left. His book trope insult turned into "pick better friends" and "Is that the kind of person you want your sister around?" insults. I think that stung my brother more than the original insult. He'd happily take an angry and pissed-off Bruce over feeling like he failed me.

The media on the other hand has been a little easier to avoid than Bruce's constantly calling and randomly showing up at Richard's apartment to pick fights that aren't as easily avoided. Don't get me wrong, the media has still been bat-shit crazy which means I've been cooped up in the apartment, aside from school and patrol. It's been difficult to go anywhere without being questioned about the situation. School isn't much better either but luckily most of that time is eaten up by lectures. There's a new trend going around where people are dying their hair red for 'a better chance with one of the Graysons'. It's a bit funny if I don't think too deeply about it.

The team has a lot of mixed reactions about the situation. Artemis has been blowing up my phone and keeps switching from anger to blaming Wally for all of it. Richie told me to just ignore it and he'd deal with it. I'm guessing he did because I haven't gotten anything from her in two days. Wally keeps apologizing to me and is still fighting with my brother about the whole situation. Rich has ruled that I ignore him, which I've obeyed since I'm still pretty pissed at the speedster. Kaldur texted each of us once to ask about the tension between all of us. M'gann keeps trying to get information out of us for Artemis with her sugar-coated questions. Conner hasn't said a single thing. At this point, Kaldur and Conner are the only ones not on my shit list.

Given the media, it didn't take long for Artemis to put two and two together. Bruce put the fear of God into her, so she doesn't get any ideas about outing us to the public or the rest of the team. It's the only good thing the billionaire has done all week.

Richard is instantly in protection mode, his body stiff as he shifts in front of me when the computer calls out our names. He abruptly stops, causing me to bump into him. "Fuck me," he mumbles, reaching backward for me so he knows I didn't tumble over or fuck my leg up more.

"Nightwing," Wally calls cautiously. My brother ignores him, pulling me forward as he beelines for Kaldur. "You can't ignore me forever!" The Speedster tries again, walking after us. I'm getting sick of being chased this week.

"Nightwing, Nightsky," Kaldur says, turning his attention to me for a second with a soft nod of his head. "Thank you for coming." Dick hums and rolls his eyes as he tugs me forward, placing me in between himself and the team leader. For the past year, Kaldur has been mentoring Richard to help shape him into becoming the new team leader when he decides to step down from the role. Kaldur isn't retiring, he's just sick of being the team leader and honestly, I don't blame him.

Wally keeps trying to get Richie's attention as the current and future leaders talk over whatever case Kaldur needs help with. "Sky, come on, don't ignore me too," Walles says, turning his attention to me. Dick shoots a warning glare at his friend.

"I'm not supposed to be talking to you," I answer, trying to copy my brother's glare. It doesn't work very well since he has more years of perfecting it.

"Why not, Beautiful?" Walles asks, squatting down so he can look up at me instead of me looking up at him. It's a habit he picked up when I was younger because Rich thought it was 'good to be at her level as you talk to her'. That might have been true when I was five or even ten, but not so much now.

"For someone that's not fucking his best friend's sister, you sure as hell are quick to compliment her!" Artemis yells as she joins us in the room.

"Still a fucking virgin! Hymen intact and everything!" I yell in response. I am so over the media thinking stuff is happening between Wally and me. I am so over Artemis and M'gann thinking shit has happened between Wally and me. Given, I understand where she's coming from to an extent and if she hadn't spent most of the week harassing me, maybe we'd be able to sit down and have an adult conversation.

"Ah!" Dick yells in disgust, covering his ears and snapping his eyes shut. "Don't say that shit! I do not need to know shit like that, nor do I want to!" I choke back a laugh, widening my eyes as I turn towards Kaldur. He has a huge smile on his face and his chest pumps in silent chuckles. "This is not fucking funny!" Richie yells, turning his tantrum towards our team leader.

"It's a little funny," Kaldur answers, his smile still lighting up his face as he adds noise to his laughter. His laughter causes me to laugh too. Before I know it, everyone in the room is laughing for God knows why. Well, everyone but Artemis who's still pissed off, but again, I can't blame her too much. Wally didn't think shit through.

"Wing-man-"

"Still not talking to you," my brother answers, turning back to continue his previous conversation.

"I didn't mean it like that and you know it!"

Richard tilts his head, taking some deep breaths before he answers his friend. "I know you didn't but switching our positions and calling it a 'double date' does help your case."

"That's pretty much what it was! A double date! You know just as well as me if we weren't in that position the media would have turned it into some nasty incest thing! People are fucking weird!" Wally yells back, standing back up straight so he's taller than my brother in an attempt to intimidate him. Artemis's face softens some as she processes Wally's words.

"Then don't fucking call it a double date!" My brother yells back, the room heating up with their argument. I know this needs to happen but that doesn't mean I wanted to be here for it.

"Wait-" Artemis says, cutting off Wally's comeback. "-would the media really turn it... in... that way?" She asks, stumbling over her words some.

"Yes!" Dick and Wally yell at the same time. Once the word is out, they both snap their mouths shut and turn towards each other.

"Yes," Richie repeats softer this time. "There's been rumors of Kim and Rob Kardashian since like two thousand fourteen. Not to mention like a hundred more about the whole parent-child rumor thing and ya." Richard shakes his head, his hands running through his hair. I swear my brother is going to have a heart attack by the time he's thirty.

"Oh," Artemis murmurs, glancing between Wally and me.

"Exactly! I don't want shit like that to spread around about Sky and you. That would be terrible for your guys' image! Your guys' futures!" Wally says, pick up the argument.

"I know, I know, I know," Richard mumbles, starting to pace to help reset his thoughts.

"I'm sorry," Artemis says, cutting off Wally again. "I didn't... think of that."

"I fucking hope you didn't," I say, pushing out half of a strained laugh.

Everyone goes quiet for a while, the space taken up by staring; Artemis staring at Wally, Wally staring at Richie, and Richie staring at me as I space out. "So..." Artemis finally peeps up. "I might have been acting a little crazy." Everyone turns to stare at her. "A lot of crazy," she corrects.

"Crazy girls are the best girls," Wally says, a smug smile on his face.

Dick rolls his eyes, grabbing at me again to get me off my feet. "You're going to hurt yourself worse," he mumbles, holding me against his chest again.

"You're just over-protective," I answer him, leaning my head back so I can look at him.

"It's my job to be over-protective, that's what big brothers are for."

#young justice #young justice oneshot #dick grayson #nightwing #dick Grayson oneshot #Nightwing oneshot #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader

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rainontherooftops · 1 year

Text

Keep the Bathrobe on

Summary: As Dieter Bravos assistant, it made you furious to see that Dieter was once again forced to wear an absolutely ridiculous outfit on a red carpet. You decide that once you're home, something had to be done - but the consequences or your plan are surprising...

Fandom: The Bubble - Pedro Pascal as Dieter Bravo Genre: Slice of Life, Colleagues to Friends to Lovers Pairing: Dieter x f! Reader Triggers : Horrible Fashion Choices Rating : T

Keep the Bathrobe On

The fact that Dieter was smiling and posing on the red carpet and doing his thing as if nothing was wrong was proof of his great acting skills.

You however did not have to act. You were not in the limelight right now, but way off, away from all the bustle, clutching your clipboard to your chest.

This was the final straw. Lucile had done it again. She had dressed Dieter in something “fashionable,” which meant the clothes were extremely expensive but looked ridiculous.

For you it was even worse to watch Dieter flaunt these looks on the carpet, because you knew that he felt most comfortable in soft fabrics and his robe. But lately the studios and his stylists were forcing all kinds of weird looks on him. Knitted sweaters with cut off sleeves, weird forms and cuts, fabrics that didn’t complement each other – or just way too much for one look.

Tonight’s look was just one of many fashion disasters that Dieter had to endure because of his contracts. And rumors aside that he was a stuck up actor, you knew that he was actually way too nice to fire anyone himself.

You were close to break your clipboard in half – and if this hadn’t been a fashion event where (Thank God) so many worse looks were around, you would have gone home, fetched him a pair of his favorite jeans and a shirt and let him wear that.

But for now, your job was to watch from the sidelines until the appropriate time to leave arrived. You had to wait for his “ready to go” text to bring the car around. And you tried to hold your anger in check.

And there was one thing that was missing, which nobody but you would notice once the pictures were all over the internet and in magazines.

The smile in his eyes was missing, his heart not really in it.

Four hours later, after the designer who had dressed him watched with eyes of a hawk that the outfit he had worn was collected and nothing was missing, you entered one of the preparation rooms with a bag that held a change of clothes.

He was not allowed to keep the clothes this time – he had worn an outfit that totaled around 4,000 dollars today – and for once you were grateful for it.

“Thank God,” he groaned when he saw you with the bag. He was not wearing anything except his underwear now and you tried to focus on your job - not oggle him. He looked to see if the designer and his people were gone and waited for you to close the door before he fell down into one of the make-up chairs in his underwear.

“That was terrible! What did that man think, making me wear those shorts and that weird coat? I looked absolutely ridiculous.”

You had been through the “post photo-op routine” hundreds of times by now. Dieter would change into comfortable clothes, put on big sunglasses and a cap to make him as unrecognizable as possible – and then the car would pick you in a designated area behind the venue so you could go home without anyone seeing you.

“And what the hell did they do to my hair? I feel like someone dropped a bucket of glue on my head,” he whined. But you didn’t mind. He had every reason to whine. Lately the outfits chosen for him were just awful.

“Let’s get you home so you can wash it off,” you said, sending a text so that the driver could pull the car around. “And you’ve earned some take-out. What are you in the mood for?”

Dieter raised his brows in suspicion, cap in his hand.

“Take-Out? Normally you don’t indulge me when I have late night cravings.”

“We both need food tonight. I need some carbs after this shitshow,” you growled and didn’t meet his gaze.

Dieter didn’t say anything but followed you down the hall and to the secured parking lot.

The shower was running, and you heard Dieter groan as he stepped under the warm spray of water. Normally this would have you gulp and fantasize. You were long past the point of pretending that you did not have feelings for your boss – but tonight you had no time to imagine following him into the shower.

Tonight, you had a task to fulfill.

Take-Out ordered and on its way, you shoved the sleeves of your sweater up to your elbows and opened Dieter’s drawers and closet.

You started throwing every single piece of clothing this man owned onto his massive four poster bed. Tonight, you would get rid of any and all clothing that you knew Dieter only kept for appearances and had been gifts from designers but made him look weird. For a moment you had to remember the time when you started this job three years ago, when you had looked through his things to find his hidden drugs. But after you had gotten him through rehab, he had gone cold turkey and he hadn't taken anything since - and his career had skyrocketed as a result of his efforts.

Time to clean up again - this time to save his dignity, not his health.

You needed some pump-up music, so you started your usual work playlist and turned up the volume. “Supermassive Black Hole” by Muse seemed a good, blood pumping song for this kind of task.

The music was so loud that you didn’t notice Dieter coming out of the shower twenty minutes later until he stopped the music, and you turned around.

He was wearing a pair of well-loved comfortable pajama pants, no shirt, and his favorite cotton bathrobe. You could see his tattoos and his well-toned muscles – and the curve of his little belly.

“What are you doing?,” he asked, drying his hair with a fluffy bath towel before placing it around his neck and holding on to the ends. His hair was still damp, but the curls were coming back, finally free of the horrible hair glue they had been trapped under.

Dieter looked comfortable. He looked like himself. He looked happy.

“At first, I thought of just throwing away some of the stuff you’re never wearing. All the things that you don’t like, all the things that look ridiculous. But I’ve decided not to burn them or throw them away. Instead, we’re going to plan a charity auction.”

Dieter sat down on the only corner of the bed that was still free and looked at the heap of clothing on his bed. He looked confused, but he smiled.

“The look tonight was that bad, huh?”

You nodded.

“You know I don’t like what Lucile makes you wear. But she doesn’t work for me, she works for you. It’s not my business to deal with her. What I can do however as your assistant is make sure that at least at home and when you don’t have photoshoots, you can wear what makes you feel comfy.”

“And the charity thing?,” he asked, picking up a brown knitted vest he remembered wearing not long ago with a pair of weird pants, his lips pursed in distaste.

“Most of the things you have here are designer pieces that you’ve only worn once or twice and got to keep. I figured we could do some kind of Fan-Auction. They can owna piece from your wardrobe and the money will go to a good cause.”

His closet and drawers were empty now – even his underwear drawer – and you had ignored the box where you knew he kept his sex toys in.

You had prepared a big box already to put the clothes in that you could put into the auction – and the brown knitted vest was part of that, so you walked over to take it from him.

“I was thinking we could donate the money that comes in to the homeless charity that reached out. You know, the one your friend Zach works at now? With the money they could finally build that new shelter that they- “

How you suddenly ended up straddling Dieters legs, you didn’t know. Had he really just pulled you towards him?

His big puppy eyes were looking up at you. You were unsteady on your legs, so you had to grab onto his bathrobe for balance. One of his strong arms was around your waist, he other was cradling your neck.

The both of you were on the verge of toppling over onto the pile of clothes behind you.

“D-Dieter?”

He didn’t grin. He smiled. An honest smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m so lucky to have you look out for me,” he whispered before he brought your head towards him and captured your mouth with his.

You were so shocked that you completely forgot to react. But when you suddenly felt him retreat, you couldn’t allow it. Your grip on his lapels tightened and you drew him back in, deepening the kiss.

He responded with vigor, his grip around your body tightening. His arms wandered, one up your back, the other into your head to swivel you around and change the angle of the kiss. The shift made you stumble forward. You were now sitting in his lap, your knees resting on the mattress on either side of him, your legs off the floor.

Just as his tongue tentatively but playfully asked for entry into your mouth and you were about to grant him access, the shrill ringing of the doorbell brought you both back to reality.

The Take-Out had arrived.

You forced yourself to get off him.

Dieter sat there and you were way too good an assistant to miss what was going through his head. He was worried that he had fucked up. He was afraid you would tell him this kiss was a mistake. He sat there, arms still in the air where he had held you – waiting for you to say something.

Before hurrying out of his bedroom, you placed a kiss on his nose.

“Come on, let’s eat,” you said. “And afterwards, we’re going tackle this pile of clothes.”

“O-okay?,” he asked.

The outside world saw Dieter Bravo always putting on his bravado, flaunting his personality around. But in private, he was much softer, insecure – a man who just wanted to be liked by everyone.

“You’ll have to share my bed though,” you said, grinning. “There’s no way we’ll finish tonight.”

Dieter beamed.

“Yeah?”

“Positive. And for the record – I like you best when you’re wearing that bathrobe.”

AN: Someone needs to rescue Pedro....

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal Fanfiction #The Bubble #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo x f!reader #Dieter Bravo Fanfiction #First Kiss #Colleagues to lovers

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