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elshenanigans · 4 days ago

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part two is up here my darlings come get yall food it’s 2x as long with twice as much crying and handjob as a treat

Fry My Heart ☆ Part One ☆

Relationships: Eddie/Volt and Eddie/Volt/Reader

Syn: After a long stint of getting rejected and a hurtful comment from Rebel, you try to drown your sorrows in alcohol at the Breaker Box. You know what they say, drunk minds speak sober thoughts. Part One of Three.

WC: 3.1k

Tags: gender-neutral reader, drinking, a little dialogue heavy, arguing, miscommunication, no use of y/n, not actually unrequited love, author hates rebel

Notes: ok so this is my first fic in years please be nice, it may be a little OOC but I tried my best to match the boys' vibes though eddie might be a lil extra mean for the plot. also part 3 will have smut so just to prepare yall for that, reader will be afab

read on AO3

part two is here

On a typical night, the noise echoing across the metal walls of the Breaker Box would drown out any anxieties or stressors that build over long days that you spend looping around your house, talking to various objects that have come to life magically through the help of the hottest pair of sunglasses you’ve ever seen.

With such a diverse group of housemates, days are as unpredictable as the objects you meet. Depending on the level of insanity you’ve dealt with through the first four charges of the Dateviators, most typical nights see you sitting in one of two places within the Breaker Box, visiting your two favorite men. As if you would ever admit that to them.

On the less mentally draining days, you allow Volt to greet you with his charming smile and outstretched hand that takes your own and leads you to what has been deemed “The Owner’s Table.” At Volt’s request and against your wishes, Tony had carved the moniker into the table after the big Reset and subsequent reopening of the bar.

You don’t remember exactly what Volt’s explanation for it had been, something about it being a thank you for encouraging Eddie in the right direction. You still don’t know if he had been talking about the reset or something else entirely, perhaps the relationship between them that has sparked to life. They’re more open with each other than you’ve seen previously, giving each other romantic glances, gentle touches and even flirting with each other in front of you and others. You may have even caught them kissing a few times when visiting in the early mornings to help out with repairs.

You’re delighted for them, of course. The way they used to dance around each other was obvious to anyone who saw them interact for more than a few breaths worth of time. But you can’t help also being completely devastated by their complete and total disinterest in you romantically.

“Our dear friend, you’ve helped us regain our strength and connection with each other. We thank you from the bottom of our joined hearts,” Volt had said, immediately striking down your secret desire to ask them if there was a place for you in their relationship. There wasn’t, obviously, and you would just have to be okay with that. You still do your best to help around the bar and show up for performances, only you do so with less heart than before.

On the more mentally draining days (most of which have involved a certain bright yellow rubber duck) you can be found seated in the middle of the bar top, half pretending to listen to the performer of the night and idly chatting with others at the bar, and half staring at Eddie until he feels awkward enough to either say something or make you another drink. Before the Reset, he usually resorted to making you several drinks to avoid small talk.

But he’s been different ever since, more willing to chat for longer periods and less willing to get you trashed. “Yay to talks, boo to no booze,” you’d teased him before. That only earned you an eye roll and an official cutoff.

Tonight is far from the typical night, though you’ve planted yourself on an end seat of the bar. After hours of unpaid therapy work, being rejected by multiple suitors who you swore were interested in you, and finally harassed by a certain rubber duck, you find that the chatter of the crowd and the harsh tone of Johnny’s voice through the microphone grates on your nerves in a way that they never have before.

Somehow, you’ve convinced Eddie to serve you for the first time in a week. Maybe he could tell from the fatigued and slightly dead look in your eyes that you really fucking needed it.

Four drinks later finds you flopped over the counter and getting cut off again by an unamused Eddie. He sets down an ice water on the bar top next to your last half-finished whiskey sour. “Real classy, live wire. C’mon now, sit up and drink some water.”

“Shut the fuck up, Eddie,” you whine and lift your glaring gaze to meet his, “I’m not drinking your dumb water. I want to be drunk and sad forever.”

Sober, you would have appreciated the shocked expression on his face. Sober, you would have teased him about the way his mouth drops open and his eyebrows shoot up. Sober, you would have shoved your negative feelings back deep, deep down in the pit of your very being, and turned to flirtation to lighten the mood.

But drunk, you double down, in your infinite wisdom. (S.P.E.C.S. INT. CHECK: failed.)

“That’s a lie. Well, a half-lie. Being drunk forever sounds nice right now. But I don’t want to be sad forever, Eddie. I’m tired of being sad all the time.”

Most of the bar has cleared out for the night, besides a few stragglers in booths and on the dance floor, leaving the rest of the bar seats empty. Eddie has taken the stool next to yours and is sitting with his full attention on you, the most still you think you’ve ever seen him.

“What’s gotten you so upset? I’ve never seen you like this, live wire.” He rests a hand atop one of your own, with no idea of the lightning reaction he’s set off on your skin and in your mind. It’s been torture being near both him and Volt ever since the reset when you finally realized just how desperately you love them. And they had called you “friend” and thanked you for your help, electrifying your heart to a crisp.

It may be better for your fried heart to slide your hand away, but you let yourself indulge just this once. Your day has been shit enough, why not allow yourself enjoy a little physical contact?

You groan with frustration, “Where do I start, hmmm? Maybe with the dumb rubber duck that keeps infecting my days.”

“Rebel?” Eddie rubs his thumb over the back of your hand in a way that seems so easy for him, even though it’s the most intimate way he’s ever touched you.

“Ugh, that bitch. I know they have shit going on and aren’t a terrible person but damn they’re mean . I’d hoped that after watching me get rejected by most of the bathroom they would give me a little grace, but…”

“What did they say?” Eddie’s voice sounds deeper somehow, protective in a way that makes it seem Rebel’s well-being may depend on your answer. You try not to dwell on how good that makes you feel. Or on how good he sounds.

“They said…um…” You try to focus your tipsy mind, “they said…‘I’m so lonely that I started chasing tail in my own house.’ Which isn't a lie…” You pause, waiting to see if Eddie will agree. When he remains silent, you continue, “But on top of my total lack of getting any ‘tail’ recently, it just hurts.”

“You haven't been-?” Eddie begins to ask, surprising both you and himself. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that; it was inappropriate.”

“Nah, it’s fine. We’re friends after all.” You spit the word like it has personally victimized you. In a way, it has. “Sure, Ben-Hwa and I have a thing, but there’s no one else.”

Maybe a rush of alcohol hits you. Or maybe, for one second, you wish to believe that rejection after rejection isn’t a personal attack on you, that maybe you aren’t this terrible monster you’ve been feeling like recently. Maybe that’s the reason you say, “I’m starting to think that I’m not the problem, it’s all of you instead.”

But you forget that the man sitting next to you is someone who can’t hold his tongue and someone who’s always had trouble distinguishing when you’re being serious or deflective.

“Come on, live wire, can you really blame all of those rejections you got on the others? You’re extremely honest and pushy as hell, maybe you’re just not their drink of choice.” Eddie knows it’s the wrong thing to say when your face instantly drops.

He begins to look around rather frantically for Volt. He’s always been the more emotionally regulated of the two; surely, he can douse the flames that Eddie had just unintentionally thrown their entire stock of liquor upon. “Come on, you know that’s not what I meant to-”

A sniffle cuts him off. He snaps his head around and sees you staring at him with tears slipping in rivulets down your increasingly flushed face.

“That was mean, Eddie,” you whisper, barely audible over the pounding music of the bar.

He instantly feels sick to his stomach, disgusted with himself for making you feel this way. “You’re right, that was uncalled for. I’m so sorry, little spark.” He strengthens his grip on your hand, afraid that if he lets go now, you’ll walk away from him forever. He wouldn’t even blame you. “Please stop crying, okay? I didn’t mean it.”

He knows that the damage has been done, though. He can see in your face the way you’ve cataloged his words, internalized them, and started to attack yourself with them. He feels like a villain for adding to your dismay.

In the few moments that Eddie has royally fucked things up, his counterpart has been clearing out the rest of the bar, all of their patrons understanding and taking their leaves until it’s only the three of you. Volt turns down the music, and then he joins you both at the bar, delicately placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Darling, Eddie’s an idiot.” He wipes at your face with a soft handkerchief and scowls at his counterpart. “Even if some others refuse to see your electrifying personality, I, on the other hand, find your outspoken and honest nature to be entrancing.”

Ah. There it is, again. The core of it all, it’s the reason why so many reject you. Why they rejected you more than likely, regardless of what Volt is saying. You’re sure he’s just playing nice as always, ever the liar to keep the peace, and it pushes you over the edge of what you can handle.

“I get it, okay? I get that I’m pushy and clingy and say too much all the fucking time. Do you think I don’t know that?” You explode, shoving both men away from you and standing up to try to maintain some semblance of control, grateful that your outburst has put a pause on your tears. You sway on your feet from the alcohol and feel four hands steady you, sending unwelcome sparks racing along your skin.

You shake them off a second time and ground yourself against the bar. “You think that I don’t see how pathetic it is, that even in a house full of horny objects that have come to life around me, I’m still getting rejected left and right? Oh, and not just any house, my house!”

Your last sentence is punctuated by shooting back the rest of your whiskey sour and dropping the glass down onto the counter without so much as a wince. If he wasn’t currently breaking your heart for the second time, you’re sure Eddie would be proud; at your request, he’s been slowly working with you on strengthening your tolerance for hard liquor. “So I can be with you guys for longer when I drink!” You had explained when Eddie’s only response was a judgmental quirk of an eyebrow.

He follows the slam of glassware now with a look of concern.

“Of course, none of you would want me after seeing who I really am. Of course, you wouldn’t want me,” you finish quietly, slumping back down onto the stool and then struggling to breathe through a head rush.

“Live wire!” Volt exclaims, angry now that he’s allowed your little speech to come to a close. He’s livid with you, his usually white hair is tinted that blue hue you’ve grown to hate, sparks shooting off in different directions. “Where are these cruel words coming from? Why do you speak such lies?”

He has to get up and make himself a drink, to keep his hands busy so he won’t touch you and pull you in against him. You’ve pushed him away twice, he’s not sure that he’ll survive a third time. So he restrains himself, jaw clenching and fingers shaking with tension as he pours himself multiple fingers of whiskey. Volt pours the same amount for Eddie and pushes the sweating glass of water towards you.

“Answer him,” Eddie demands, taking a long sip of his drink.

You ignore the water and try to focus on your words through the way your head swims, “Oh, I don’t know. maybe because over half of the house has told me that same fucking thing…that I need to keep my opinions to myself, that I’m just…making everything worse.”

Volt leans over the bar, sipping his own whiskey. “That is completely untrue, dear one. I have heard of so many accomplishments you’ve made! You truly do not see the marvel that you are, the good that you have done for this house.”

You only scoff at him. “Whatever, Volt.”

He refuses to let up on you, “And about that other nonsensical thing you said…Darling, who wouldn’t want you?” It’s the question of the night that finally shatters your sanity, the irony of it too hilarious for your drunk mind to ignore.

“Ha!” You guffaw, “What a funny joke coming from a guy who friendzoned me while getting with another guy who friendzoned me!”

Eddie and Volt both freeze while you laugh at what you think is probably the most hilarious thing you’ve ever said. The boys realize that you might be more drunk than any of you had originally thought; that last gulp was all you needed to send you over the edge of true intoxication.

“That- that’s fucking classic, man!” You imitate him, laughing through your words as you tilt your voice into a low accent, “’Who wouldn’t want you?’ Uh, hello, you and your boyfriend wouldn’t!” This sends you into another loud fit of drunken laughter.

Over the sound of your slightly unhinged laughter, Eddie locks eyes with his partner and goes to ask, “Are they-“

“Talking about us? Yes, I believe they are, my dear.”

Suddenly done laughing, you pop up between them, leaning over the counter. “I’m still right here, idiots. Congrats on finally figuring out that I’m in love with you.”

“You’re what?” Eddie exclaims, flinching back from you.

“Ah, shit. You didn’t get to that yet, did you?” You slide back across the bar into your seat and down onto the floor.

“I’m sorry to say that our dear Eddie is the only one who was behind,” Volt says. You both ignore Eddie’s shout of confusion.

“Oh, okay, cool. I’m just gonna go and give myself amnesia so I can forget this happened. Please do the same for yourselves, okay, bye!” You try to scramble out of the bar, only to be once again grabbed by both men, who are begging you not to go. You burn with shame at outing yourself, at least to one of them, and try to pull yourself out of their strong grips. “Let go!”

“No!” Eddie shouts back, holding your body tighter to his own. “We’re talking about this!”

Volt’s approach is much more gentle as one hand cups your jaw, the other grips your shoulder. Not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place. “Darling, don’t run from this. Please.”

“I’ll be here in the morning to help out, I promise, and we can just forget this happened.” You try to jerk away from them again to no avail. “I’ll be normal and never bring this up again. No romantic feelings here, haha!” This attempt at a laugh is more of a sob than anything. And then you can’t stop sobbing.

The boys try to placate you with soft words that you can’t hear and gentle caresses to wipe away the unending stream of tears. Their help does nothing more than rip you apart, having them so close and yet knowing you’ll never have them the way you fully desire.

Suddenly, you can’t be around them a second longer. Volt seems to realize your plan when you do, reaching for your arm and shouting at you, “Please, don’t!” He just misses you before you rip the Dateviators off of your face.

You’re launched back into the darkness of your closet, the glasses falling to the ground as you crumple in on yourself, letting out an unrestrained wail. You don’t let yourself linger, quickly picking up the Dateviators with a broken apology towards Skylar and shakily walking to your bedroom, crying and somehow still drunk through all of your high emotions.

It takes hours for you to get to sleep, time spent that never seems to end, just staring at your walls and cursing yourself. When you finally do fall asleep, you knock out cold, only to be awakened the next day by your phone buzzing incessantly. You lift your heavy head and pull your phone out, groaning when you have to squint through puffy eyes to see about eight new messages from your insane boss. You give up on trying to read them and go to shut the phone off, startling when you see the time of two in the afternoon.

Fuck.

For the first time since knowing Eddie and Volt, you’ve broken your promise. They’re going to hate you even more now. With the pounding of your head, you decide it may just be worth it to stay in bed and never talk to anyone or anything ever again. It’ll save you from the crippling embarrassment of heartbreak. So you flip over and hunker down underneath the covers for the rest of the day. You can try to fix things tomorrow, but today you let yourself wallow in your pain.

You say the same thing the next day. At least you get up to shower and eat before falling back into bed. You’re tempted to put the Dateviators on and talk to a few people, but ultimately decide against it. You don’t want to put your problems onto others; you’ve always been better at helping rather than asking for it. So you stay in bed another day and let yourself cry away all of your grief until you feel numb enough to fall asleep again.

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elshenanigans · 5 days ago

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Fry My Heart ☆ Part Two ☆

Relationships: Eddie/Volt and Eddie/Volt/Reader

WC: 6.9k

Tags: gender-neutral reader, a little dialogue heavy, arguing, miscommunication, no use of y/n, not actually unrequited love, misunderstandings, handjobs, dirty talk, possible dub-con bondage but the reader loves it so

Notes: ignore the fact that this is twice as long as the first chapter...and that the chapter count went up to three... it's fine. everything's gonna be fine. enjoy reading!

read on AO3 or keep reading here

The second that you're gone, Eddie and Volt crash forward into each other, only touching for long enough to steady themselves before Volt pulls away.

“Fuck!” He shouts, grabbing a bottle from the bar and hurling it across the room. The glass shatters, amber liquid instantly staining the wall and dripping down to create a puddle of mess on the floor. The power in the bar surges with his anger, his skin gone completely blue. Hot sparks of electricity fly off of him, itching to reach out and burn.

Volt rounds on his partner with his fists clenched. “What the fuck was that, Eddie?” The man in question jolts at the rage being directed at him. He can count the times he’s seen Volt so viciously unhinged on one hand with multiple fingers left over, all of them being over someone upsetting Eddie, and none of them have ever been directed at Eddie. Sure, Eddie has pissed him off many times before, but it typically ends in being tied down and fucked until Volt’s irritation wears off, never in him being glad that he can’t be hurt by electricity, quite like he is now.

The power continues to spike. The light bulbs begin to explode in their sockets, and static fills the speakers throughout the bar.

“Volt, take a breath. You’re going to short us out!”

“No! They left, Eddie. They were so desperate to get away from us that they tore off Skylar and vanished! What happened? What could have possibly possessed you to speak to our darling live wire in such a way? Did you not see the desperation for help and comfort all over their face from the second they walked in the door?” He’s pacing, leaving singed footprints in his wake that Eddie will make him buff out later once both of their tempers have cooled down. Because he finds that he, too, is getting pissed off. Pissed about your sudden exit, about being accused of causing the whole damn thing, and most of all, about his careless actions that he knows contributed to your tears and upset.

He grabs Volt’s arm and forces him to meet his gaze, letting his hand fall as it’s smacked away. If Eddie hadn’t made Volt with his own two hands, the silver glow of his eyes and the heat coming off his skin would terrify him. Instead, he growls out his own frustrations, “Don’t act all high and fucking mighty, Volt! You left them alone all night to play host for Open Mic Night! How are they supposed to feel after that? It’s not just me who fucked up!”

“I didn’t leave them alone. I left them with you, Eddie! My partner, whom I thought could be trusted to show compassion for someone other than us for once…I was wrong. I never should have left them in such a state, alone with you.”

His words stun Eddie into silence. The tension in the room grows as the only sounds around them are the hum of electricity and the drip…drip…drip of alcohol onto the floor. After minutes of intense, thoughtful quiet, Eddie drops his shoulders in defeat.

“You’re not wrong,” he says, pausing, “that sucked to hear, but you’re not wrong.” He can’t explain why he always resorts to shutting himself off and lashing out when emotions run high; it’s just something he’s always done. Before Volt, relationships, friendships, and hell, even acquaintanceships, never came easily to him. It was always easier to cast judgment, focus on his work, and be alone. Then, after he created Volt, who is now always around, there’s been no hiding behind rude comments to get him to back off. And worse, Volt can feel what he does. Which means he can tell just how lonely Eddie truly is and how desperately he desires someone close to him.

His more boisterous counterpart has tried to get him to branch out and talk to others, but no one has been able to break down his walls like Volt. Until you put on those damn glasses and saw him for the first time. His affections for you have only grown rapidly since, more so after you had convinced them to reset and brought them together in a way he could never have dreamed of. And he has no fucking clue what to do with these feelings. Getting with Volt, his literal other half, has been hard enough, and took the resetting of the entire system to jumpstart.

And for Volt, flirting with you was just so easy. He knew from the second you opened the doors to the Breaker Box that you would be theirs. In just the same fashion that he knew when coming into creation that Eddie would be his. Volt is a patient man; he has no problem waiting for those he knows will be his to be ready to be together. But he also has very little tolerance for when his destined few hurt each other. He had thought they had time to ease into it and maybe get their shit together before asking you to join them.

And then, even with his poorly hidden affections for you, Eddie still hurt you.

“I fucked up, Volt,” he chokes out through the pain of the truth of his actions, even before those of tonight. He thinks of all the times he's pushed you away, ignored you, and made you feel like he doesn't adore you. “I fucked up and I don’t know how to fix it.” For the first time in more years than he can count, Eddie can feel tears welling up in his eyes.

The hurt echoing through Eddie’s tone is what finally snaps Volt out of his rage. His sparks die down, and his skin returns to its natural color. Taking Eddie into his arms, he sighs away a final puff of aggravation and wraps himself firmly around the man he loves as he cries.

“I’m terribly sorry, my dear. That was too far.” He places a kiss upon wire-like hair and simply holds him as Eddie releases years of pent-up emotion.

They stand there for a long while before his tears start to dry up, and then Volt gently guides them to a booth. He sits down and pulls the other man into his lap, ignoring his complaints when Eddie makes no move to pull away. He can’t hide his desire to be comforted.

“I really hurt them, Volt,” he says after another length of time.

“We did,” Volt corrects. “But we can fix it. Together.”

“How?” He murmurs, “They never have to come back here again, if they don’t want to. We could lose them for good.” Eddie finally pulls away to sit on the other end of the booth and rolls his eyes at Volt’s pout.

“We won’t. You forget what they said right before they left.” His cocky smirk is back in its rightful place as he says, “They promised to be here in the morning.”

Realization dawns on Eddie quickly, “And our little spark never breaks a promise.”

The next morning, they enter the bar earlier than normal to clean up the aftermath of Volt’s rage. Well, Volt cleans while Eddie handles the normal day-to-day tasks as they wait for you. They don’t speak as they busy their hands and anxiously look at the clock every five minutes.

As they hunker down and finish their work, the time you typically arrive sneaks past them. When he realizes, Volt discards the rag in his hands onto the counter and sits across from Eddie, who puts down a final glass into the drying rack and rounds the bar to settle next to him.

“They’re late,” Eddie states anxiously.

“You did supply them with quite a bit of alcohol last night, darling.” Volt pats him on the knee and leaves his hand there, squeezing. “Perhaps they find themselves out of commission. Let us wait for them, yes?”

“Of course.”

They sit and wait for you for as long as they can before they have to start opening up the bar, with the hopes that you’ll show up. As the doors open and their housemates begin to enter for the night, their anxiety reaches a high when you’re not among them. Through the blur of a busy night, Volt and Eddie have little time to check in with each other, and instead communicate through various looks and expressions.

‘Any sign yet?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Ask around.’

As they go about their night, they learn that you haven’t been seen around the house all day. And with your emotional confession the previous night of being ‘hated and rejected by most of the house,’ the boys are pleasantly surprised when their questioning of you is only met with concern. From the point of view they’re shown, the household holds you very dearly, in fact. They hear about the many lives you’ve helped in just the short while their existence has been known to you, about the couples that have been brought together because of you, and outlooks on life that have been fully changed after one conversation with you.

The worst that they hear from their patrons comes from Scandalabra, who describes how he had originally “found your presence to be terribly lacking in any substance or luster,” but has ultimately grown to call you a close friend after discovering how much gossip you’re in the loop on.

As he overhears this, Volt has to leap and hold Eddie back from extinguishing his candle. With a tense smile, he tells Scandalabra, “My partner and I appreciate your honesty. However, we find that your presence is unwanted here, indefinitely.”

After swiftly escorting out the unwelcome guest, they reconvene at the bar for a drink at Eddie’s suggestion. He has Volt sit, and he pours for them both. As they sip their drinks, they share what they’ve learned, which is a complete load of nothing about your whereabouts and that you are completely wrong in your belief that a majority of the house hates you.

Eddie groans in frustration, “How the fuck are we supposed to apologize and tell them we love them if they completely disappear?”

“They’re in the bedroom,” a feminine voice says out of nowhere. Eddie and Volt turn to see Diana sitting at a booth with Teddy just across from them. It’s obvious that she’s been listening in on their conversation, something Eddie decides to ignore in favor of her knowledge.

Volt drags Eddie and an extra chair over, forcing him to sit as he slides into the space beside Diana before the other two can even object to it. “Please excuse our intrusion upon your space, but this is quite important, you see,” Volt explains, lacking some of the usual charm he has. He’s getting desperate for any information about you. They both are. It radiates off of them in an air of anxious energy. “Our dear live wire was meant to come by this morning after an argument last night, and we’ve been so concerned about them all day.”

“They haven’t left their bed all day,” Teddy tells them, “Haven’t even put on Skylar, such a shame.”

“And well, since we’re excusing things for the sake of love and the homeowner’s happiness,” Diana pauses and sighs in her dramatic fashion, “I’m sure you’ll forgive me for my eavesdropping and saying that, since I know that brain of theirs, I also know that they won’t just believe you when you just tell them that you love them. You have to show them!”

“We have to show them so they stop believing we all hate them,” Teddy adds after a beat of silence, “Just because a few members of the house said some pretty nasty things.”

After shit talking the aforementioned house members for their lack of taste, the four of them sit together brainstorming how best to show their care for you. Eddie finds himself easily engaging in the conversation, something that surprises both himself and Volt, who catalogues this information for later as a way to get him to interact with others.

It’s almost closing time when they come up with the idea of presenting you with a scrapbook from them all, filled with pictures of your accomplishments, those you’ve helped, and little notes from everyone who adores you.

When Eddie and Volt mention that they are already far too busy with the bar to handle it (and if they’re being honest, neither of them has the artistic talents required to pull off such an important job), Diana and Teddy are more than willing to take it upon themselves. They leave the bar with a promise to have the scrapbook ready in a few days, leaving the boys to close the bar.

You don’t show up the next day either, which highly increases their concern for you. They agree to wait for you to be ready to come to them instead of seeking you out (of course, you would need to put Skylar on, which they hear you still haven’t done), and the wait works Eddie and Volt up, more and more the longer it goes on.

To keep themselves from shorting out from the stress, they start planning the best way to make you feel loved. While Volt is all in on the scrapbook, Eddie still has his reservations about announcing their love for you with a project that’s been made by someone else’s hands. This gets Volt to agree, along with the idea of making you wait for any longer than needed. The next opportunity they get, they’re telling you that they love you and making you feel it.

Just the thought of getting to touch you has them worked up in a completely different way throughout the whole shift at the bar. Over the course of the night, they exchange heated glances and quick, electric touches that leave them both breathless and desperate for more. On such a busy night, they have no time to take a second for themselves. Once the last patron leaves, Eddie shoves his partner against the wall and drops to his knees.

“Oh! My dear, you could barely wait for the doors to close to get your hands on me, hm?” Volt asks smugly, though he loses a bit of his composure when Eddie cups him through his pants and raises an eyebrow at the hardness he finds.

“Seems like someone else has been eager, angel.” The rare pet name makes Volt melt, even more so when Eddie frantically undoes his belt and frees his throbbing cock. He groans at the feeling of thick fingers around him and thuds his head back.

“Can you blame me? I’ve had our dear live wire, ah, ” he pauses to pant as Eddie licks at his head roughly, “had them on my mind all night. I cannot wait to get my hands on them.” The man at his knees licks his hand and spreads the spit along Volt’s length, working him tightly just the way he likes. Almost as if he’s trying to get him off as quickly as possible. As if he can’t wait another second for Volt’s pleasure to crest.

“I know, I know, me too. But just think,” Eddie twists his wrist and grins at the moan Volt lets out. “Soon enough, it’ll be their hand on you instead of mine, or maybe we’ll jerk you off together, pretty boy.”

“Fuck, Eddie!” Volt cries, hips jerking forward into Eddie’s hand. He has to will himself not to come just from the mental image of you on your knees.

Eddie doesn’t let up, pushing a hand against Volt’s hip to keep him in place as he quickens his pace. “Yeah, I bet you would like that.”

Volt moans in response, “Yes, darling. Just the gorgeous sight of the two of you below me might be enough for me to come.”

Tuning out his partner's babbling, Eddie focuses on his task of speed-running Volt’s orgasm. He shifts to blowing him, and Volt loses himself in the wet mouth surrounding his cock, moaning about how good it feels and how badly he wants to feel your mouth on him too. He cries poetry about both you and Eddie as he gets closer and closer, his hips desperate to rock forward even as Eddie holds them back with one forearm. With a hard suck and a gentle scrape of teeth at the ridge of his cock head, Volt comes with your name on his tongue.

As he catches his breath, Eddie cleans him off gently and tucks him back in his pants, standing back up to kiss Volt passionately and spreading the taste of him between their mouths. He pulls away just as suddenly as he had originally pushed the taller man up against the wall, smirking as he says, “Well, I for one, hope they come tomorrow. In both ways.”

Volt follows behind him helplessly, hands grabbing at his hips as they make their way upstairs to their apartment. They don't even make it through the door before Volt has Eddie shoved up against the wall and moaning his name.

............................

Three days after you completely fucked up your friendship with the two men you love with a drunken confession, you wake up and spend the morning in bed, tossing around with anxiety over the idea of going back to the bar to help out like you had promised days ago. Ultimately, you decide against it when the thought of having to be rejected by them for a second time makes you nauseous enough to run to the bathroom and dry heave.

Over the rim of Jean Loo’s bowl, you decide that you’ll go in the evening, when the bar is packed and the boys are less likely to be able to talk to you. Maybe you can get by with just telling them you blacked out. The rest of the morning and into the afternoon are spent getting your shit together, mentally and physically, as you work through a full self-care routine.

You also eventually get brave enough to grab the Dateviators from your nightstand and put them on, bringing up Skylar's app on your phone to apologize for the way you treated her. She forgives you easily, and you end up talking for hours about everything and nothing at all.

It’s later in the evening when you finally finish your conversation and, with Skylar’s help, work up enough courage to make your way back to the Breaker Box. You take a deep breath and swing the door open, letting a relieved sigh out when you see the bar is packed. It surprises you when Volt doesn’t greet you at the door like he normally does, though you suppose it shouldn’t after the bomb you dropped on him and his partner. Which you followed up with literally exiting the conversation.

But even now, as you’re absolutely dreading talking to them, you can’t help looking around for Eddie and Volt as you slink through the crowd, trying not to be noticed. But of course, you’re stopped multiple times for conversations that you admittedly cut short from the anxiety of saying something wrong and ruining a friendship. You apologize to Bodhi as you cut him off mid-rant about an eighties movie you didn’t pay any attention to the name of, and rush the rest of the way to your table.

Johnny’s set, which seemed to have just started when you walked in, is almost over by the time you finally catch sight of the men you’ve been looking for. Eddie opens a door to the side of the stage, and you can see the shape of Volt behind him as he turns around to point at him.

From what you can see, they’re arguing, making the same kinds of gestures you’ve witnessed from Dirk and Harper in more intense moments. It’s only for a few seconds that they’re in view, as Eddie shuts the door again once Volt begins to raise his voice, but it’s more than enough to set you on edge.

You’re instantly out of your seat, heart pumping loudly in your chest with anxiety as your body switches gears towards flight mode. You can’t do this again. You can’t infect another couple with your opinions and fucking feelings and see the festering wound left behind in your wake.

You start to pant and reach up towards your face, ready to call it quits and retreat to your bed, when the door across from you opens back up, revealing a much calmer Volt and Eddie who hone in on you immediately.

“Live wire!” Volt cries out when he sees you, quite literally lighting up as all the bulbs in the bar grow brighter. He grins widely at you and throws his arms open to call you over to them, seemingly oblivious to your panicked state. Unfortunately, Eddie seems more perceptive, squinting his eyes at you before he softens and smiles with a blush high on his cheeks, waving you over.

Your panic begins to subside when you see them acting amicably, but it lingers in the back of your mind, settling into a dark corner in wait until it can catch you off guard again. Doing your best to ignore the ringing it causes, you walk towards them with a tense smile and allow Volt to grab your hand like he always does. But instead of bending down to kiss it like usual, he uses it to pull you into him for a hug.

You let out a small gasp of surprise as he wraps his free arm around your shoulders, letting your hand go to grab your hip tightly. “So very good to have you back with us, my dear,” he whispers to you before letting you go with a dramatic kiss to your cheek that leaves your skin tingling.

You're barely out of Volt’s grip when Eddie gently grabs your shoulder and turns you to plant a light kiss on your opposite cheek. “We missed you, live wire.” You feel your face flood with heat as you quietly greet them back, stunned at their flirtatious actions. For days, you were so sure that when you faced them again, you would only be met with disgust and rejection. Nowhere near your most hopeful predictions were kisses an option.

Perhaps noticing the surprise on your face, Volt takes your hands in his own. He kisses the backs of them and says, “Do not think we have ‘given ourselves amnesia’, as you so requested. Only the hand of death could make us forget the other night, and even then, we shall struggle against it. We—”

As Volt goes to finish his sentence, his attention is pulled away by the telltale end of Johnny’s set (the distinct sound of hecklers that changes into cheers as he gets down from the stage), and he frowns when he realizes he must leave you to present the next act. He looks behind you at Eddie and tells him, “Don’t let them run off. We’re closing early tonight, and we’re talking.” He looks at you as he says, “All three of us,” before spinning and hopping onto the stage to announce the next and final act of the night, Amir.

His words send another jolt of panic down your spine, that terrible thing in your mind rearing back up from its hiding spot, readying to strike and take over you when Eddie quiets its hissing voice that’s telling you to ‘ run,’ with a soft hand that guides you back to your table to sit.

“I can see you freaking out,” he says. His attention, while nice, does nothing to help you. The guilt increases as he sits down next to you. “Stop it. Everything is fine, little spark.”

“Why are you sitting down?” You ask suddenly, Eddie’s eyebrows raising at the rudeness. You cringe at yourself and apologize, “Sorry, I just meant, why aren’t you manning the bar? Don’t worry about me, Eddie. I’ll be fine!” You make a vague gesture to shoo him away.

“I’m not leaving you alone. You’re not fine.” He doesn’t even know where to begin to comfort you, so unused to having to face his emotions as much as he has in the past few weeks since you looked at him for the first time. He can’t fuck this up again. He’s almost positive that if you leave now, you won’t be coming back.

So he does the only thing he can think of.

“I just…I want to apologize for upsetting you the other day.” He holds up a hand when you try to cut him off and tell him it’s unnecessary. You roll your eyes and slump back in your seat, anxiously tapping your foot on the ground. “I should never have spoken to you the way I did, live wire. You were upset, and I should have comforted you instead of making it worse.”

“It’s fine, Eddie. Seriously. If anything, I’m sorry for losing my cool, dropping a truth bomb, and leaving.” You try to be casual about it, huffing a pathetic excuse for a laugh that turns into a groan as you drop your head into your hands.

After a pause where you stew in your humiliation, Eddie says, “Well, I’m glad that you told me. Told us.” Your head shoots back up as you stare at him in bewilderment. When you look into his gray eyes that stand out against the blush on his cheeks, he says, “Could’ve done without the disappearing, but…” he trails off. For just a split second, you think you see his eyes glance down to your lips before meeting your own eyes again. But that would be crazy. Right?

Before you get a chance to process your possible hallucination, Volt is back from the stage and prompting Eddie out of his seat. “Eddie, be a dear and do a final call for drinks, please?”

When he gets up with a roll of his eyes and another kiss to your cheek that you barely feel through your confusion, the white haired man plops down into the now vacant seat next to you, laying his arm across the back of your chair. His hand hangs over your shoulder, the tips of his fingers just barely touching your skin. You suppress a shiver.

Before Eddie leaves, he asks if you’d like a drink. “Non-alcoholic, of course. You’re still cut off.”

“That’s fair.”

You mindlessly tell him your preference, and you hear him announce last call as he heads to the bar, making your anxiety peak once again. This time, it battles with guilt for the most overwhelming feeling when you realize that everyone’s night out has to come to an end so that you can be privately rejected.

“Is it really necessary to close early?” You ask Volt, hoping that maybe there’s still some way for you to get out of this ‘talk’ they seem so eager to have.

“No need to worry, darling,” He says, “Our patrons knew we would be closing up early one night this week for this.”

Oh, perfect. “But I don’t—” Volt gently takes your face in his hand and turns you towards him, forcing you to stare into his luminous silver eyes that seem to charm the thoughts out of your head. His focused attention on you is addictive, every time he deems you worthy of it, making you feel important and seen. It’s dangerous to keep eye contact, but after wallowing in your self-hatred for days, you don’t have the will to look away. Maybe you just want to feel understood for once, even if it’s only in sympathy.

“What did I just say, live wire? No need to worry. Enjoy the last performance of the night with me, won’t you?”

With such intense eye contact, his hand on your jaw, and the hypnotic lull of his voice, you find yourself nodding without truly thinking. How could you possibly deny him anything? And so, you take a deep breath and relax into your chair, trying your best to ignore the heat of his arm behind you and the thrum of leftover anxiety in your veins. It takes a few minutes, but you finally loosen up and begin to enjoy the sweet lull of Amir reading romantic poetry.

At the end of his set, you’re pulled out of your wonder. Not by his final dramatic lines, nor the sensual kiss he blows to the audience as he exits the stage, but by the sudden cold you feel at your back when Volt begins to slip his arm away from your chair. You assume he’ll rise and take the stage now to close out the night as usual, but instead, he stays put.

The only thing that continues to move is the hand that was just on your shoulder as it travels across the top of your back, stopping to cup your other shoulder. You’re holding your breath now, hyper aware of his movement. Glancing to the side at him, you can tell that he’s looking at the other end of the bar as if something else has his attention. Meanwhile, your whole existence has narrowed down to the warmth and slight buzz coming off his hand.

Just as you start to believe that he’ll stop there and get up, his hand continues to slide slowly down your arm, and he pauses again at your hand. He gently cups it for a second before slipping off your fingers and onto your thigh. There, his journey across your body ends as his long fingers grip the plush of your leg.

The breath you were holding in comes out in a disjointed sigh that sounds more like a moan on the latter half. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth in embarrassment. At the same time, you feel Volt’s fingers flex and then squeeze.

Your head whips around to stare at him in disbelief. He’s still looking off to the side, the only tell in his demeanor being the slight smirk on his handsome face. “Volt!”

The smirk grows into a dangerously sexy grin as he turns to you. “All good, little spark?” He asks cheekily. And his voice, though you know he’s only whispering, suddenly sounds much louder in the bar.

Moving to turn and look at how empty the space around you has become since the end of Amir’s set, you’re stopped by Volt’s hand again on your face. His palm cradles your cheek, and his thumb caresses your lower lip, oh so feather light. Once again, you’re trapped in his stare as he keeps you in place.

“Volt?” You try to question him, the sound slightly muffled by his thumb.

The way he’s looking at you, eyes lidded and focused on your lips, reminds you of the first and only time you’ve ever kissed him, back before the reset, when you thought you might’ve had a chance. On the dance floor of the bar that night, your lips had found a place to call home. And ever since, you’ve felt colder, lonelier than you had known possible.

The warmth of home returns when Volt kisses you.

Tingling runs from your head down to your toes as his plush pink lips meet yours, though it quickly vanishes as you freeze up in utter bewilderment.

It takes only a second for Volt to pull back from the kiss and check in on you. He calls to you, and it sounds like he’s on the other side of a tunnel. When his words finally register, it’s only because you hear Eddie’s name coming from his lips. Lips that you had just kissed, fuck.

“Eddie! Perfect timing!” You would beg to fucking differ, but okay. Volt lets go of your face to grab the drink his partner offers him, keeping his other hand on your thigh. In a way, it almost seems like he wants Eddie to see how close you had been. Before you can expand on that line of thinking, Eddie hands you the other beverage he was holding. The decoration of the glassware causes you to pause; little red and pink heart-shaped sprinkles float throughout the drink, paired with a red straw twisted in the shape of a heart.

It’s the last piece of the puzzle that you need to break through your confusion of the night’s events.

Your eyes go from Volt’s lips to his hand on your thigh, then to Eddie’s lips, and finally to the heart-shaped straw in the drink in your hand. It dawns on you, slowly, what this is. The disconnected pieces of the night snap together in your mind. Their fighting when you first saw them, their flirting with you, and the way they’ve been trading you off all night. It all makes sense.

Your face contorts in rage—a poor concealment for the hurt that wants to pour out of you, and your trembling hand sets the glass down before you throw it. “I don’t know if you guys have some weird Harper and Dirk toxicity shit going on, but I want no part of it. Don’t use my fucking feelings for you as a way to get back at each other for your fight,” you say, rising from your seat.

Volt rises with you, sharing a worried look with his counterpart. “What are you talking about, live wire?” He questions.

At the same time, Eddie asks, “What fight?”

“Oh, don’t play fucking stupid with me!” You cry, pointing to the door you had seen them emerge from. “I saw you earlier. You were about to come out of the back room, and you were arguing, waving your hands around, doing the same shit Harper and Dirk do! And now you’re both coming onto me? What the fuck?”

“We were arguing about you, idiot.”

“Eddie, come now. Polite words, please.”

You ignore them and start to rant, everything within you fighting to stay and give them a piece of your mind instead of running away this time. You want to be stronger than that.

“Look, I truly respect the relationship that you have. You obviously love each other more than anything, and that is beautiful. I’m so sorry if I came on too strong. I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable and caused a rift between you.” You’re choking up now, finding it harder to keep speaking through the thick of your pain. “Please don’t fuck up what you have because of me, or worse, by using me. If you’re mad at each other, fine. But don’t use me as some side piece when it happens. You want me, or you don’t. How dare—”

“We want you.” They say together, cutting you off.

It’s so unbelievable, so out of left field, that it shocks a loud burst of laughter from your lips. And then, you realize the cruel joke that they must be playing on you, and your devastation multiplies. “Don’t do that. Don’t lie,” your voice waivers as tears begin to well up in your eyes. “At least be brave enough to tell me the truth instead of playing with my feelings.”

“We’re not fucking lying!” Eddie yells in frustration, running his fingers through his hair and tugging to relieve some of his tension. Volt sees the movement and grabs Eddie’s arm, yanking his hand down and interlocking their fingers to prevent him from hurting himself.

You witness all of this, of course, and it only goes to remind you just how perfect they are together. They have so much history together, know every switch and wire of each other, and here you are with barely a few months of even knowing they exist, spilling what you realize are insignificant feelings in the face of the devotion they share for each other.

As much as you want them, you don’t feel anywhere near worth their supposed affection. And you wouldn’t ever dare to come between them.

The realizations are far too much for you all at once, and you instantly think, fuck being stronger than running away.

Maybe it’ll just be easier for all three of you if you just disappear and never use Skylar on them again. The dark thing in your mind latches onto the thought and hisses at you to flee, to escape, to lock yourself somewhere safe where you won’t be hurt.

As soon as you go to lift your arms to pull the Dateviators off and escape for a second time, Eddie and Volt move like lightning and have your hands bound behind your back before you know it.

They’re not letting you get away from them again.

“Seriously? You just tried pulling that shit again?” Eddie growls in your face. His hands roughly hold your cheeks so you can’t shake Skylar off as you thrash in their strong grips, desperate to get away, even as their touch on your body soothes the cold in your bones.

Heat and the buzz of electricity radiate off of Volt behind you, his huge hands so easily restraining your arms together across your lower back. Your struggling does little in comparison to the two men who overpower you so easily that it’s almost comical. Almost.

The comedy of the situation is lost on you through your anxiety, but the tempting suggestivity of their bodies against yours is not. Heat pools low in your core even as you continue to fight against them.

“Guys, come on!” You cry as they manhandle you to sit back down.

‘Run, run, RUN!’ The dark thing in you screams, terrified of what they might have to say.

‘Submit, submit, SUBMIT!’ The rest of you calls out, drunk on the way you’re finally being touched by them.

Volt’s hands on your shoulders soften up when he feels you shaking, but he still holds you down and refuses to let go.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear, “We’ll never hurt you. But since you can’t be trusted to stay and have a conversation, we’ll just have to tie you down and force you to listen, hm?”

They switch positions and ignore you as you promise them that you won’t remove the glasses (a lie) and try to wiggle out of Eddie’s stone grip, one hand on your shoulder and the other on the back of your neck to limit your movement as if he’s scruffing a frightened cat.

“I’ll be cool, guys, I swear,” you say, even as you contradict your words by trying to kick yourself out of the chair.

Casually avoiding your movement, Volt throws his knee on top of your legs to keep you in place as he slowly removes his jacket. Your eyes grow wide, and you go still in Eddie’s hold in silence, tracking the movement as he slides it off his shoulders and turns to you.

“Say the word, and this stops, live wire. But I implore you to give us a chance and listen to us. What we have to say might…shock you.” Volt says with a grin.

Overcome with curiosity and arousal, your panic finally subsides enough for you to snap out of flight mode. Licking your lips, mouth suddenly dry, you say, “Okay, okay. I’ll listen. Is holding me down really necessary?”

Eddie chuffs a laugh that shakes your body through his hold. “Absolutely. You’ll run the second we give you a chance.”

He’s not wrong, and you all know it. You go silent as permission and then slump back, sighing and accepting that this is your night now. Getting tied up by the men who live in your dirtiest dreams while being made to listen to whatever excuses they have for breaking your heart, and then trying to use you in their dumb jealousy game.

Volt slowly eases up off of your leg to make sure you don’t start throwing yourself around again, and wraps his jacket around you with the opening in the back. Taking over, Eddie ties the sleeves together, firmly but loose enough that you wouldn’t have a hard time breaking out of it.

You force yourself to ignore the fire that’s been steadily growing in your core as he secures you to the chair. To ignore the heat you can feel between your thighs. “This—” you gasp at the feeling of Eddie’s heat across your back as he leans over you. “This is totally unnecessary!”

Volt hums. “But some part of you enjoys this. Doesn’t it, live wire? Being restrained and made to listen to us.” You remain silent and sheepishly look at the floor, unable to force yourself to lie to him. Of course, you love this. The shame may be eating you whole, but you can’t deny that here, right between the two of them, is where you’ve desired to be for weeks now.

“That’s what we thought, little spark. Now, you’re going to sit here, bound up for us, and listen to what we have to say. Then, you may remove the glasses if you still desire to do so. Does that sound reasonable to you?” Eddie asks.

It almost sounds like they’ve planned this.

You look between the two gorgeous men surrounding you, and against your better judgment, drunk on their attention and proximity, you nod.

The matching grins they give you confirm that they definitely planned this.

You're fucked.

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