#Fortune x Hollywood

[crimescrimson]

Red's Favourite Non-Canon Agents Of Mayhem Pairings: Fortwood | Frisephone | ColdSafe | DaisJoule

[purelyfiction]

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NFL QB Jake 'Hangman' Seresin AU x Popstar F!Reader

Summary: NFL Quarterback Jacob Seresin is in hot water from a streak of bad decisions, just as you go through the worst public breakup of your life. With people slandering both of your reputations, your publicists hatch a plan to bring both of you back into favor and keep the heat off until spring - that is if you can keep up the facade.

Word Count: 5,334 words

Author Note: I know I have two other outstanding Top Gun fics and I swear I'm trying to get those going but I am writing what sparks joy and well.... this certainly does. || Also!! Reader's stage name is 'Celeste' with 'Este' as the nickname. So no one gets confuseddddd

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You'd never anticipated to start the biggest year of your life absolutely gutted, yet here you are. Your boyfriend – well, ex-boyfriend, severed what you had thought to be a loving, trusting and safe relationship, rather unexpectedly on New Year's Eve. Then he'd gone to the press to relay that you were a horrible person, a terrible girlfriend, too involved in your work to even bother paying attention to anyone else. The timing couldn't be worse, since you were about to start your first ever stadium tour in the spring. 

The result had been you hiding away in your little oasis that was your condo in California’s southern escape of San Diego. You’d stayed off the internet, binging TV shows that you’d been too busy to pay attention to and immersing yourself in anything you could, to erase the four year relationship you’d been splintered from. The garbage people probably wondered why there were a near dozen empty quarter pints of ice cream in your recycling bin, but that wasn’t for them to care about. At least you’d recycled them. 

Now, three weeks into the new year, with your favorite Chinese on the way, you sit on your couch going over tour visuals. Your lighting engineer is rambling on the line as you hear the gate buzzer go off. You’re quick to collect your dinner as one of the others on the line gasp and quickly mute their mic. “What?” You quip, walking to your expansive kitchen and dropping the large paper bag down. You’re half paying attention when the employee brushes you off, as your hand pulls container after container of food from the magical Mary Poppins-style bag. Getting to the bottom, you grasp for a pair of chopsticks, only to find several sets of them, along with a dozen fortune cookies. You take a moment to look over your four entrees and styrofoam container of sushi. The audacity of them to think you would be sharing any of this. 

Finally, you address the matter of your dramatic tech director. “What’s the deal over there Hollywood?” You chide, before your phone is ringing, leaving you to hang up the video call to answer the phone. It’s your publicist and you know better than to let her calls go unanswered.

“Check your inbox.” Her voice is frigid instead of it’s usually cheery demeanor.   

“Hello to you too?” Begrudgingly, you do as she commands, finding the email she sent to you. 

Jonah Carter agreed to sit down for an interview with UsWeekly, post-breakup to clear the air and to make sure no one else would fall for his ex-girlfriend's (Celeste) playful, girl-next-door-ish facade.

"At first, it felt like a dream come true," Carter, an up-and-coming actor within his own right, said almost sheepishly. "I thought she was talented and kind, but I should've known it was too good to be true."

But there's more to this pop-star than Jonah says meets the eye. In addition to the vanity and self-importance that seems to plague this generation's starlets, Este was a vindictive slob who routinely talked behind the back of even her closest friends. "It makes me wonder what she's saying about me, now, after everything I've heard her say about those who think are closest to her." The concern for others is written very clearly on the actor’s face as he speaks. When I question the songstress’ messages about authenticity, the man adjusts in his seat as he holds back a laugh. 

"She'd like you to believe she writes all her own music, but I'm not sure she could write a full sentence without the help of her team," Jonah chuckled nervously into his coffee. "Sorry, that was rude. I don't want to stoop to her level." Cowed brown eyes made me wonder what else he had endured behind closed doors. It struck a chord within me. 

“Why did you stay as long as you had if this was what you were facing?” I ask him. The expression of his kind features morphs into despair. 

“When we first met, Celeste was someone I admired. Her compassion, her drive and her dedication to the things she valued spoke so deeply to what I did, what I still do-” he fumbles as he attempts to source the proper words, “They just… weren’t her beliefs. They were her team’s.” Jonah lets out a pained sound, “I think when we got toward the end of it, I realized that she has this way of manipulating what she says, how she acts, to make herself look good. She puts on a show, on and off the stage and you pay for it one way or another. So, I knew what she was capable of. I knew she could be that person if she really wanted to and I wanted so badly to help her see that. I eventually learned that people see what they want to see.”

God, what a load of hot garbage this was. It was a particularly rare batch, clearly it had been baking in a dumpster in the scorching sun with the lid closed. All damp, with a horrendous mix of something rotting and old crusty seaweed. 

The tour was supposed to be announced on the first of the month and here your ex was selling stories (horribly narrated and mangled stories) to the press. You might as well have been kicking puppies at this point. 

“Isn’t he just swell? Nothing but peak wisdom from good ol’ Jonah.” Your eyes could’ve strained themselves with how far back they rolled. Probably the only time he’d ever made them do that too.

“I’ve already called a team together to brainstorm. I don't want you to respond. Stay offline, away from all of it and don't entertain any of the discourse. Not until I have something to work with.” 

“None of it is true we both know that-” You begin to laugh but she cuts you off.

“As much as I want to be on your side here, we are working to put out a fire. Your silence the last three weeks has put you at a massive disadvantage and frankly? The public eye doesn’t see you in the greatest space right now.” You know she’s right. She always is, and right now ‘Celeste’ was synonymous with ‘cynical, fake and fraudulent’. You wouldn’t be shocked if the uproar demanded you be canceled based off of this testimony. 

It wasn’t all but two days later that you were called in by your PR team. Into the office in New York for the first time since before Thanksgiving. It had been a busy end of the year and now that the new one was coming in so ferociously you weren’t looking toward any of the things you once had been. This was the first time back into the light and so you had made sure that the inevitable cameras had something to look at. You’d dressed yourself in your favorites, in an effort to boost your confidence as best as you could. Putting on a show, just like you had been when things had been on the rocks with Jonah. 

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Getting to the office, you’re nearly trampled with the amount of people that swarm you. It’s not normally this bad - hell it’s never this bad. It isn’t until you catch sight of a football jersey and an ESPN logo that your brow furrows. Odd. 

Stepping into the building, you’re pushing your sunglasses up onto your head, looking down at your ringing phone and trying to slide your coat off simultaneously. Instead, you crash right into what you think is a wall, but is instead a broad man, looking rather lost. 

“Easy there, Twinkle Toes.” You guffaw and look up at the blonde man before returning your eyes toward your feet. Of course, the bedazzled statement boots on your feet call attention to themselves before the rest of the outfit can balance itself out. 

“Alright, Prince Charming, you first.” You snicker before stepping out of his way and start to the elevator. Unfortunately for you, he’s apparently heading your way as well, needing access to the lift to the next floor. 

“Prince Charming, huh? I mean I’ve been called worse.” His shoulders roll backwards as the elevator dings to one of the other floors. You keep your head trained forward, suddenly remembering the rule you’d been given. Stay quiet, don’t engage. And here you were giving sass to a stranger and showing up in bedazzled booties. You were really digging this grave deeper than necessary. So, instead of giving him another sassy response, you keep your eyes locked to the neon numbers as the elevator passes each floor. “Oh so, now I’m getting a cold shoulder? Darn, I was really ready to ask you all about the boots on your feet, too.” You can’t help but let your eyes move back over to the broad male, just out of the corner of your eye. His face is completely locked on you, shamelessly at that. “They expensive? They got that waxy red paint on the bottoms of ‘em?” Silently, you turn one of your feet up to give him a glimpse at the blue bottom of the shoe. “Huh, blue. That’s fun. That more expensive than the LouButton or whatever they are?” Finally the elevator reaches your floor, hopefully shutting this chatterbox up for the time being. Yet the questions continue like an immature toddler as you rise up the floors - going to the same floor nonetheless. “Hey, you’re that Celeste chick aren’t ya?” 

“Yes.” You finally answer one of his questions, his face lighting up.

“Oh look at that, she cracks.” Another eye roll times well with the sound of the elevator reaching the desired floor. Instead of responding, you quickly find your way through the glass hallways and to the desired room. You are so glad to be in the presence of the familiar group, the stranger in the elevator having rattled your composure somewhat. Your manager comes in with a cup of coffee and a smile, which immediately puts one on yours. 

“You didn’t have to do that!” You cheer, reaching out for it as she sits beside you. 

“When you see what Rachel has come up with, you’re going to need it.” Oh. Reassuring. 

You see her point when Prince Charming steps into the board room, followed by a host of men in dress clothes and suits, all matching the blue soles of your boots. Charming sits directly across from you, a hand wiggling his fingers as he waves at you. Oh good. 

“Thank you everyone for coming. I know this is a very polarizing group, so before we get ahead of ourselves, I want to introduce Celeste, or Este as we all have come to call her over the years.” Awkwardly, you wave at the foreign men. They grunt and nod. You were already having doubts and not a word had been spoken on their end. “I also want to introduce Beau Simpson, public relations coordinator for the San Diego Sea Lions, Coach Natasha Trace, and Sea Lions owner, Tom Kazansky.”

Sea Lions? As in the NFL team that had been built not even three years ago but had made it to all three playoffs in their short time? The one that Jonah had ridiculed immensely when it joined the league because ‘California doesn’t need another group of inflated egos in the league’? 

“I’m really feeling the love here, Rach.” Charming speaks up and the raven haired woman on the other side of the table sighs. 

“This is Jacob Seresin, starting quarterback for the Sea Lions.” The coach speaks, the blonde man brushing off her introduction. 

“No need for full names, Trace. Clearly we only do the stage name around here.” That was a clear jab to you if you’d ever heard it. “Hangman’s what they call me.” His hand juts across the glass, toward you. Your hands stay tucked under your biceps. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” It’s passive, turning to your team leader. “Rachel. I’m not seeing a connection here.” 

“Jacob is in the same pot of hot water you’re in.” Your attention moves to the similarly broad man who stands up, towering over Rachel. “We feel as though we can spin this to both of your advantages. Jake needs to stop sleeping around–”

“Easy now, Simpson.” The eldest in the room stands up and he gives you a kind smile. It’s not a farce though. You’re not entirely sure what makes it so genuine, but you smile in return of seeing him stand, despite it taking a slight bit of effort to do so. “What he means is, Jake’s professional status has changed due to the words of someone else and we’re determined to alter that. Rachel identified this and made quite the proposal.” The young woman seems all too cheery to cut off the old man. 

“You’re both having relationship woes–” The raven haired woman on Jacob’s team speaks under her breath. 

“Wouldn’t call them relationships.”

“And by putting you two together, we feel as though we can put you into a positive light. Let’s face it, putting two very successful, and attractive people who are already in the spotlight allows people to follow the developing love story. Este attends games, plays the WAG card, has an opportunity to be seen in the public eye more frequently and dispels the ill-spoken words that were published about her this week. Jake gets the proof that he isn’t just a love-em-and-leave-em type.” Your eyes spell out the doubt you’re feeling, looking at your team who is just as skeptical. “That’s just the beginning! Celeste is going on tour this year. Stadiums all across the country have her booked and ready for the summer. We have a captive audience already following these games to see Este and Jake together, and we get brand recognition. The conversations that will come as she gets to witness her betrothed play in a stadium she would be performing in that very summer.”

Now you see where the benefit actually is. Clearing your name while simultaneously promoting your tour in the process. Seeing stadiums you’ve booked and would hopefully sell out. 

“So how are you proposing this works? We’ll need a start, an end - a story on how we met–”

“Well,” Beau settles in his seat, twisting in the desk chair as he draws in the attention of the group, “we have the major details hypothesized. Rachel and I will work with one another to get the rest of it together. For now, you two met at a New Years Eve party.” 

Oh joy. Now you get to remember that bitter break-up that led you here, every time you speak about him. 

The man looks like he walked out of a surfing magazine, as it were. Now, the scowl on his features paints him as a devil. Long hair, muscular arms on display as he leans into the table in front of him. 

“If we don’t do this?” Jake leans back in his chair, a hand coming to fiddle with the lingering 5 o’clock shadow that he has omitted in his morning routine. 

“We don’t do this and there will be a lack of support for the Sea Lions. You’ll have painted the entire team as jackasses who can’t focus to save their life, especially if you continue to party and hook up with whomever your dick has the hots for that night-” Beau has gone off the handle and Tom speaks up again. 

“The point is, public favor will stay low and it will not bode well for the team. With a lack of support, we have empty seats. Empty seats translates to less viewers, then to less money and you know the song and dance. Not to mention morale for the upcoming playoffs. We need to keep the team happy, Hangman. It’s time to do something to benefit everyone.” 

Jake’s expression deepens, as though he was a young child just scolded by his father for his poor behavior. Green eyes shift and face you, his hand jutting out toward you. 

“I’m in.” His hand hovers. Waiting for you to join him in this grand scheme. Glancing at your own team, they look rather haunted. At this point, it was this or to hope that a long string of possible good stories and fan interactions can redeem you. 

You want this to pass. And if this would make it go faster… you grab Jake’s hand firmly.

“What’s there to lose?”

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You went back onto social media. Posted some photos you’d taken with friends back at the beginning of the month, from the worst party of your life. The photos at least were cute and you loved the dress you’d gotten to wear. Luckily these photos were all taken prior to midnight. So there were no red eyes. No ruined mascara and glitter across your cheeks. No freezing car rides home and empty beds. 

Mindlessly, you scroll through the comments. 

Flameth: can still make the whole place shimmer ✨

RunTao: phony photos

Romanacent: so glad to see you’re not letting him get to you!

H_ngm_n: you’re still gonna let me borrow those boots right

It’s the last one you’d been keeping an eye out for. Boots? Looking back at the photo, you scroll through the carousel until you spot them. 

The same shiny sparkly rhinestone boots you’d worn to your meeting. 

Celeste: @h_ngm_n I’m a woman of my word, of course 🤗

Not even a week goes by before you’re ‘spontaneously’ at a bar in LA. Jake has been there for the last two hours, as he insisted you both show up alone and then end up leaving together. You eventually found him in the VIP section, drinking with his buddies. 

You made sure to keep your distance for a few minutes - after all, his friends had no idea this was going down. The only people who knew about this little arrangement were your respective PR teams. That was it. No one else from your teams, your friends and family, absolutely no one knew what your little plan was. Maybe you should just leave. It was a verbal contract, you didn’t sign anything, you were just trying to make this work for the two of you-

The bartender pulls you from your deliberations. There is now a drink that you certainly didn’t order sitting in front of you. Well there was no going back now. Jake had likely made a show of sending over the drink and now you had to go through with this. Glancing over your shoulder, you see the jock, legs spread, arms resting on the back of the booth chair. Green eyes lock in your direction and send a cocky wink as a garnish to your drink. 

You are about to win your first Oscar with this performance. Throwing on a grin, you pick up the drink and easily sashay your way over to him and his football buddies. Some flash titanium wedding bands, some platinum. Some aren’t wearing them at all, like your date, mister 83 who leans forward upon your approach. “Well, well, well, long time no see hot shot.”

“Speak for yourself, pop star.” Jake stands to greet you, his arms coming around you, carefully as to not spill either of your drinks. You catch a whiff of his cologne when he does so. It’s rich, familiar in the way it reminds you of summers camping. Bonfire smoke and smores. Yet clean, like when you came home to a clean house, citrus floor cleaner lingering in the halls. Pulling back, you almost move forward again to sit in it. Easy does it. 

“Oh come on, three weeks isn’t that long.” You chide. While most of his body has pulled away from the hug, his free hand still sits on your waist, warm against the AC of the exclusive bar. 

“Technically it was a year ago.” Jake smirks before taking a sip of his drink and you want to groan. So you do. But spin it into something more playful. 

“Observant, are we?” You nearly snarl as you take a sip of your drink, Jake’s colleagues standing up. The one who’d sat right next to him grins and extends a hand. He’s tall, lean but has a stunning smile as he steps your way.

“Not sure we’ve met. Javy Machado, running back, San Diego Sea Lions-” the blonde looks at his friend with an amused scoff. 

“I think she knows who the Sea Lions are, Jav.” The look on the captain’s face is one of skepticism and amusement. You were here to dispel rumors. So, as much as you’d like to smack Jake for being a dick to his friend, you shake his teammate’s hand instead 

“In passing. I don’t follow football closely, but I get by. Celeste.” The smile on your face is genuine as the next player stands. Kind eyes, a domestic bar of hair on his upper lip and the build of a pickup truck, he goes for a quick one armed hug. When he lets go, you have to wipe the temptation of any swooning you were compelled to do. Especially since a gold band glistens on his left hand. 

You’re here for Jake anyways. 

“Name’s Bradley Bradshaw. They call me Rooster.” Your eyebrow furrows as your head twists. Before you can ask, another man on the other side of the room laughs. 

“You should hear him on the field when he’s sacking someone.” This one, curls and meticulously groomed facial hair to boot, leans forward and shakes your hand kindly. “I’m Mickey. That back there is Bob.”  

True to his word, at the end of the bench is a long haired man, tucked into his phone and fiddling with a ring. He doesn’t seem to match the energy of the rest of the group. Curious. “Bob!” He glances up at the sound of his name, blue eyes flitting from face to face before spotting you. When he does he breaks out into a smile. 

“Celeste! Gosh, wow it’s so cool to meet you! My girls adore your music.” This catches Jake’s attention, a brow popping up. 

“Aren’t both of ‘em less than five?” He asks and Bob looks between the two of you. 

“Yeah? It’s never too early to introduce them to great music and influential women.” There’s no faking the smile on your face as you reach over and shake his hand. When you do, you look at Jake with a ‘would you look at that’ coded grin. 

“That’s amazing to hear! I’m glad they have fun with it! That’s why I do it.” You glance back at Jake as he comes behind you, hand shifting to the small of your back. 

“Pay’s in the bathroom, I’m sure you’ll meet him sometime later tonight.” The quarterback gives a nod to his group, before guiding the two of you to a high top table not too far from them. When you sit down he looks at you with a laugh. “Flirt much?” 

“Excuse me?” Jumping to the defense, you watch Jake roll his eyes and then look back at Bradley, before facing you. 

“You were practically eye-fucking him.” 

“Was not.” 

“He’s happily married, leave him be.” The blonde sips at his drink and you can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s giving you a hard time. 

“Right, right, guess I’ll bother you instead.” The tease is off your lips in two seconds. Maybe he was right, you were coming off strong. You huff and sink into yourself briefly. “I don’t know if you realized this, but I haven’t had ‘flirt’,” your fingers mark the quotation marks in the air, “with anyone in a while. Let alone fake it.” 

Jake leans back in his chair, downing the rest of his beverage a smirk making way when he sets the glass down. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t be faking it for long.” 

The two of you sat at that table for probably an hour, bickering over which of the Pirates of The Caribbean movies were the best, and why glitter was a detriment to society. Another round of drinks and the football star return to the table as he laughs when he spills a little of your overflowing drink. 

“No, no I assure you. Glitter originated in some high tech nuclear weapons factory to make the enemy go insane upon introducing it to an environment.” He pushes your drink toward you as you pull your hair back. Not only were you not anticipating for him to be this passionate about it, but you weren’t planning on the night going like this. 

You were enjoying yourself. Jake had told you about his time at UT, six years spent studying communications no less. 

It made sense when you really dissected it. Jake had the ease to hold someone’s attention: he’d held yours this long after all, and he was well spoken. Both were things that were shocking to you. He soon enough revealed the plan had always been football. Communications was for post-retirement, when he got tired out and wanted to be back in the stadiums. 

Stories of his dad commentating his high school games came fondly before he asked about your background. You were a bit hesitant to divulge too much, but what you had was pretty bare-bones. 

Music had always been a hobby but never a career choice. You’d planned to go into school for a degree in education, a masters in English. Go and teach for a bit before getting your PhD in some niche of the world of writing and then become a professor at your alma mater. 

With the rise of social media and the multitudinous connections of the internet, a little original song of yours got popular. Local radio picked it up and then your label signed you. 

“It all was pretty spontaneous, really,” you answer. “My career was in no way by design, but… I wouldn’t change it.” The smile on your face is small, but genuine as your hair falls back around your face. Tracing the rim of your glass, you keep your eyes down before a hand pushes your hair out of your face. Coming eye to eye with him, he grins. 

“Guess it was written in the stars then.” His response catches you. Jake’s eyes are much softer than when you’d approached him earlier. They were dark, focused and possibly a little mischievous. Now? They were gentle. Every shade reassured you that the boisterous man you’d seen in the office and the press was nothing like the man under the helmet. 

It made far more sense to you now. How he’d gotten women hooked on him. The abrasiveness and bold exterior was the casing to the real character. 

How many women had actually made it past the outside?

The rustling of a fabric on leather comes from in front of you, watching as the blonde pulls out a wad of cash from his pocket. 

“Please tell me this isn’t you trying to buy my affection there, Seresin.” As he stands up, pushing his wallet back, the grin carved on his face doesn’t leave when he shakes his head. 

“No, no, princess. This is for the bartender. Turns out you’re not a cheap date.” His knuckles wrap onto the table briefly before he disappears. You blame the blush on your face on the humidity inside the building. 

The two of you bid your goodbyes, before starting to the front of the bar to exit. Reaching the street, it’s expectantly empty. He takes the side closest to the street as the two of you head down the way, toward the row of restaurants and shops that were quiet for the night. 

“Are you hungry?” Jake’s voice breaks through the cold of late January air, looking at him quizzically. 

“If you’re hungry we could go back-” His hand comes to your back again as he shakes his head. 

“Oh-ho, no ma’am I promise, I’ve got something way better.” 

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Unfortunately, he was right. The two of you stand in the glow of food truck lighting, beyond messy tacos in hand. He’s watching you with a smirk on his face, obnoxiously chewing the fish taco in his hand. 

“Is that not the best taco you’ve ever had?” Again, his voice is filled with ardor as he watches you attempt to maneuver the soft corn tortilla that seems to be spilling into your napkin. 

“It’s… a taco.” You shrug, looking down at the brown beef meal in your hands. Jake shakes his head, still chewing. 

“No, no, I will not have you slander Ganso’s Tacos. Absolutely not.” He sets his red basket down on a table, hand in a vice grip around his taco. “Here, open,” he maneuvers closer and you shake your head, backing up. 

“I am not eating your taco!”

“Eat it!!” The two of you laugh. Finally, you concede and take a bite of the hand fed taco. When he finally takes it back to his plate, his expression eagerly waits for your reaction.  One hand covers your mouth as you chew, nodding as Jake looks like he just stole the Mona Lisa without getting caught. 

“You’re right.” One singular fist to the air and he’s back to scarfing down his tacos. 

“I told you. Way better than bar food. This is by far the best taqueria in all of California. And I stand by that.” 

With full stomachs and messy hands, the two of you start back toward the bar, where Jake’s parked. When you do, you finally notice a car has been tailing the two of you since you ordered your meal. 

The crowd in front of the bar proves that your teams were certainly on to something. Flashes of light start in an onslaught, your hand coming to block your eyes. Still, you keep walking toward them, only for Jake to grab your hand and guide you toward his car. 

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Voices shout, questions sail through the air, your name, his name, Jonah’s, more questions about football- it all gets crammed into the cacophony before the passenger door opens under Jake’s hand, guiding you to your escape pod. 

The driver side door causes the car to shake with an unceremonious thud. In seconds, the engine to the sports car is ignited and the two of you are underway. 

It isn’t until you get about two miles out that one of you finally speaks. 

“How long do you think it’s going to take for those to show up online?” White lines on the road disappear as you head further and further from the bars and closer to the hotel you were staying at for the weekend. 

“I give it maybe six hours. Four if we’re lucky.” He laughs, but it doesn’t match the hearty ones he shared with you earlier.

A sports broadcast plays lowly on the radio, both of you overwhelmed by the cameras that stimulating conversation was far from what either of you were concerned with. It isn’t long until you spot your hotel. Jake navigates into the lane closest to the front of the building, pressing down on the brakes. You’re just about to unbuckle when he pulls back out into the other lane, lurching forward and away from your accommodation. 

“Um. Hello?” You question. The car whips around a turn, green eyes fixated to the rear view. Shifting in your seat, you glance behind you. 

“We’re being followed.” Jake just barely makes the light before it turns red, leaving the tailing SUV behind. 

“It’s probably just paparazzi, no big deal.” It’s easy to shrug off for you, but Jake huffs. 

“Yeah. And I’m not dropping you off at a hotel alone with vultures circling.” Navigating the CarPlay in the vehicle, he quickly moves to messages and asks his phone to send someone to your hotel to gather your things. 

“Jake, I’m-”

“You’re staying with me.”

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[baxndaid]

human vox

x reader 📺⛽🎤

an ; request more vox pls i love him, most of this is just me yapping

The year was 1952 and you worked in the upcoming film and TV industry. While it was just a small job reading through scripts to find typos or getting coffee for the more important figures, it was a job nonetheless and you enjoyed it.

A new show had quickly skyrocketed in popularity since its debut, a game show where you would have to answer questions in order to win the, most likely branded, items. Something like a washing machine or a supply of toothpaste. If the producers felt generous that day however, the prizes would rise in value, the show once giving away a brand new sleek black Fiat 1900. While the simple yet new and exciting premise of the show might’ve drawn viewers in, the host of the show made them stay. He was charming and handsome, he always dressed the part with a dapper suit and his hair was always done perfectly. Whenever he spoke, it was like the whole stage brightened up a bit, at least, that’s what you thought. His stage name was Vox, you never really liked that name - too sharp and aggressive, you thought. His real name was Vince, and you liked it better, though you’d never tell him that. You hardly ever had any interactions with the man other than handing him the script that the sponsors wanted him to yap about. He was charming, and you liked him - unfortunately it was just a pipe dream. You didn’t bother chasing after him considering you were just a small time employee while he was the face of the whole show, thousands of American women had their eyes on him especially when they turned their black and white TVs on between 5-6PM.

Fortunately for you, the producers had caught a glimpse of you backstage and wanted to spice up the show a bit. It was getting boring, other than the host himself there was nobody else the audience could attach themselves to. So, naturally, the best idea would be to introduce a beautiful woman, who was smart and shy - the “role model” if you will. You fit the bill, and how could you say no? You would be beloved by every household for your wholesome nature, (and especially loved by all the men in unhappy marriages and liked looking at the young women on screen.) And if you won? you could keep the winnings.

And you would win, because the show was now rigged in your favor.

Simply put, they wanted to paint you as the underdog, the vulnerable lady who simply wanted a chance to make some money. So when you would answer every question, even the ridiculous ones, correctly, the audience would gasp in disbelief at your amazing hidden knowledge and then tune into the next episode to see more of you and Vox. The truth was, the only thing hidden was Vox sliding you the answers to each question onto your desk. It was genius, really, the producers seemed to love the idea and so did Vox. Anything for ratings. You were still a little apprehensive, but you couldn’t back down after already signing the contract.

After winning one episode and becoming around $10,000 richer, Vox strategically pulled you in for a hug and gave you a polite kiss on the cheek to congratulate you for your “victory” in front of the camera. He was an amazing actor, you thought as he said his goodbyes to the audience and the cameras stopped rolling. Maybe he should ditch this studio and try his luck in Hollywood.

Once the room was no longer focused on Vox, he turned to you, his smile less big and forced and a lot more casual, “That was your first taste of show business, how’d you find it? Pretty nifty eh?” He prodded you with his elbow gently.

“Yeah, it was um- different… to what I usually do.”

“Oh yeah, forgot you worked here prior.” He looked at you up and down as he pulled a cigarette and lighter out from his pocket, “Say, since you and I are going to be working with each other from now on, why don’t we blow this antsville and I’ll buy you a drink?”

As he waited for your answer he placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. You were surprised and albeit excited by his offer, but you decided not to go out drinking with a famous guy in the middle of the afternoon. Something something responsible adult.

"A drink? Oh, I don't know about that sir... It's rather late."

He scoffed and exhaled, a puff of smoke engulfed you as you coughed. "Don't be such a square." He looked at your face again whilst bringing the stick up to his lips once more, "And don't call me sir, makes me seem old. Call me Vince," He paused, "Or Vox, I don't really give a rats ass."

You nodded and took a small step away from him in a pathetic attempt to get away from the smoke. He smirked.

"I take it you don't smoke?"

You shook your head

"Look at you, I'm not surprised." He took another draw of his cigarette, "So, about that drink?"

You were going to be honest, you couldn't say no. He was so unbelievably pushy that it was practically impossible to turn him down without feeling like shit afterwards. He was THE Vox, America's beloved host! How dare you even think of saying no. So here you were, in his luxurious house, sat on his couch that probably cost more than your entire living room, and with a glass of expensive scotch in hand that he generously poured you.

He returned with his own glass and sat down next to you, laying his free arm behind your head. He took a sip, his gaze never leaving yours,

"You're a pretty thing, can't believe you haven't been casted already, or snatched up by some of the big dogs like Vogue." He said, a smile plastered on his face. "I think you and I will get along just fine."

_____

As he predicted, you and Vox did indeed get on well, normally chatting (gossiping) about who knows what in his dressing room after work. He had told you about his old job as a TV salesmen, and how he has this weird hatred for radios. Something about them being outdated and boring. You never understood. He learnt a lot about you too, your past relationships, your family, your favourite animals - you two grew close and he relished in the idea of getting even closer. The network had given you another job since you could only appear on Vox's show so many times. It was a higher paying job but not all that stressful since you now had someone to talk to about it.

The press had caught wind of your friendship and naturally began to speculate on it. You won his gameshow 3 times now, maybe you simply slept with him in order to get the answers? Maybe it was luck? Are you two truly just friends or are you dating? Or just putting on a show?

Vox loved it, he loved your flushed face whenever you'd read the title of a gossip paper involving you and your new friend, he loved touching you a little more intimately whenever you two were hanging out in public, and he especially enjoyed kissing your hand or cheek under the guise of being a gentleman in front of any fans that just so happened to meet them out and about. Luckily for you, these rumours went nowhere and remained as simple speculation. Did he want you? yes, he couldn't even deny it. You were funny and understanding, even when he wasn't in a good mood. You knew so much about him and he knew so much about you - the fact that you were gorgeous was just a plus. Additionally, you were fantastic for his public image; a darling little thing like you attached to his hip just fuelled his already massive ego since he loved showing you off. The only problem was - you were as dense as a brick. He often got a little frustrated since his flirtatious efforts were fruitless; you couldn't tell if he was being for real or just acting for publicities sake, so you opted on just ignoring his romantic (and sexual) remarks towards you.

And don't think for a second that you'll be getting a real soppy confession from him either. He would buy you expensive clothes and take you out to fancy dinners, he would hold your hand while you crossed the street together and he would cuss anybody out if they were pissing you off. His feelings for you would be confirmed by him sloppily kissing you on his desk one random afternoon after a few drinks and tears; maybe not the most romantic way to say "I love you" but it was close enough for him and close enough for you too.

[bonesxbows]

Act Naturally - Chapter 1 (Cooper Howard X Reader)

Masterlist

While exploring an old section of Hollywood, the two of you stumble upon an old advertisement for a cowboy movie. But the man on the poster looks suspiciously a lot like Cooper, even down to the same smile. But it couldn't possibly be him...right?

(WARNINGS) - anger issues - negative self talk (from Cooper not you)

I feel like I dragged this on for way longer than it needed to be BUT it's a done thing now and tbh I'm pretty happy with it. I fucking adore soft Cooper moments and idc if I have to write them all myself

Also! This idea came from @land-of-evergreens-and-dye so full credit to them for letting me stew on this prompt

Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Reblogs and comments much appreciated!

-

The two of you had found yourselves in an old section of Hollywood. It had been so long since Cooper had told you his reason for bringing you here that you’d forgotten what his motivation for this excursion was. Although it didn’t really matter to you, you’d follow him anywhere whether he wanted you to tag along or not. There was no separating you two. Not anymore. 

Most of the buildings had been boring to scavenge through, if you could even find a way inside at all. Not much was left of the boulevard besides dusty sidewalks and rusting billboards. But one building in particular piqued your interest. It had a larger facade than all the rest where small billboard-like signs hung above the wide double doors. Broken and busted bulb lights framed the signs and the rows of black lettering were missing far too many letters to be able to read it clearly. What letters you could make out only baffled you more than the strange-looking building did. 

‘Co - How - Starr - in - Th - M - Fr - Dea - Horse’

“Horse? What’s a horse?” you asked out loud, more to yourself than to him. He usually never listened to your mid-exploring ramblings, though he never did tell you to stop. You turned around to find him staring up at the old sign too, although his brow was creased and a scowl was stuck on his face. You placed a hand on his shoulder and he turned to you, his expression softening as his eyes shifted to looking at you instead. 

“You wanna check inside there, don’ you?” He asked. 

You nodded and gave him a small smile. “Can we? Please? I’ve never seen any place like it before.” 

“Hm. ‘Spose we can. But make it quick alright?” He checked his pistol’s ammunition levels and flipped the barrel back into place once he was satisfied. You led the way forward, pushing the swinging doors inward as Cooper was right behind you, pistol in hand and trigger finger ready. 

He was a little disappointed when the place appeared to be empty. But the feeling didn’t last, he couldn’t stay upset as he watched you scurry around the place, your eyes wide with fascination. The interior was even more astonishing to you than the exterior had been. Rows of folding booth-like chairs covered the majority of the floor, their fabric exterior faded and torn, and in the back of the building was a wooden stage. Ragged old curtains framed the blank wall behind the stage where its faded white paint chipped and peeled off the plaster. There wasn’t much hiding between the rows of chairs besides dust and sand but you still kept your hopes high that the rest of the building would hold something worthwhile. 

“What is this place? Some kind of shooting gallery?” you asked, your wasteland-born intelligence of pre-war places was lacking, but fortunately for you, Cooper liked you enough to fill you in on what knowledge you didn't have. 

He chuckled at your observation. He supposed a shooting gallery was just about the closest thing you could get to a theater these days. “Not ‘xactly, sweetheart. It was used for movies, picture shows, that kinda thing. A place where folks could feign ignorance ‘bout the end of the world fast approachin’ on their heels.” 

“Movies? Like the kind on those busted-up televisions?” you continued to explore around as you talked. He followed you, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary that could be dangerous while you focused on the useful and exciting things you could find. 

“Mmhm. Just like those. Never endin’ loops of fairytale stories kept alive by people long gone by now.” he explained, and you ended the conversation after that. His voice was strained and scruffy, meaning he was either remembering something he wanted to forget or he was getting agitated. Either way, you knew it was in your best interest to stop asking questions. 

Things got progressively more interesting when you discovered the back rooms of the building. The first one had been large, with dusty velvet ropes leading to a counter filled with food machines and nuka-cola dispensers, you’d come back here to scavenge all the food you could carry with you on your way out, but the hallways and storage rooms were what really piqued your attention. 

Posters lined the wooden walls of the hallways, the plaster that had once surrounded them now nothing more than dust on the ground. The paper was old, torn, and extremely faded, even with the lack of sunlight in the place. The color was all but gone from the paper, but you could still make out the words if you squinted hard enough. 

“Cooper Howard Starring in The Man From Dead Horse.” The letters matched up with the ones from outside but yet you were still baffled on what exactly a horse was. The poster had no other information to help clarify, although you found it interesting that the man on the paper supposedly shared your cowboy’s name. 

“Huh.” You exclaimed as you studied the pictures. 

“What?” Cooper called after you, pulling his attention only slightly away from the containers he was looting around the place, looking for spare ammo or anything else that was useful. 

“Nothing. Just something about these posters. Are these about those movies you were talking about?”  you asked, which had him turning around to examine the poster along with you. The only response he gave you was a short grunt, which you knew translated to a yes. You shifted your eyes back to the paper on the wall. Most of the color may have been gone but you could still make out a blue shirt on a man with a white cowboy hat on top of his head. He stood in a pose with his revolver in the air and his other hand on his hip. He wore a smirk on his face that felt familiar and something in the back of your mind itched like you had seen this all before…somewhere. But you couldn't pinpoint the memory. 

When you turned back around Cooper was already gone down the hallway so you hurried to follow him, tearing your eyes from the poster but keeping your mind on the nagging feeling it left you with. Maybe if you turned the picture over in your head enough times the memory you were looking for would click, or so you hoped. 

His attitude had significantly changed after you found that poster. He became more on edge and that gruff exterior he had when you had first met him was back. He rushed through the rest of the building, seemingly not caring if you were behind him or not. By the time you caught up with him, he was shoving his way back out through the swinging front doors. You could see the finger on his pistol’s trigger starting to twitch. You followed him outside and down the road a way until he stopped in front of the first billboard he saw. 

Like everything else in the wasteland, the colors were gone and the picture was faded, but you could clearly tell it had been an advertisement for Vault-Tec before the bombs. Cooper didn’t hesitate to unload every round in his revolver through the billboard. Pieces of wood and metal went flying and you instinctively covered your face, listening to the bullet casings and wood chips hit the concrete around you. He eventually ran out of bullets, although you could still hear him clicking the trigger. Once the gun sounded empty you lowered your arms again, examining the now hole-riddled Vault Boy on the billboard. Cooper’s face still held a nasty scowl. 

“You got a personal vendetta with Vault-Tec I don't know about or something? What just happened?” you asked. If you were anyone else he would have filled you with lead just for asking a question right then and there. He was currently too angry to deal with stupidity. But he would never purposefully hurt you, that was one line he refused to cross in his mind. But unknowingly to you your words only fueled his anger more. 

“Shut it. Let’s go. I’m sick of this place.” he snapped, his usual drawl and accent missing and replaced by venom in his words. He quickened his pace out of the block of streets and you followed him, but you kept your distance to a minimum of a few feet at least for the remainder of the trek. 

-

It had been a few hours since Cooper’s outburst and the two of you had set up camp for the night inside of an old diner. He had seemed to calm down a little but he had set himself up in the corner of a booth with his hat pulled down over his eyes and his feet kicked up on the table in front of him. Which left you alone with your thoughts in front of his makeshift campfire. You watched the sun sink below the horizon as you replayed the earlier events of the day over and over in your head, still trying to connect the dots. You stared at Cooper, his supposedly sleeping form leaning against the worn material of the diner booth, hoping that if you focused on him hard enough you could will the connection in your mind to click. 

And then the realization hit you like a lightning bolt, your eyes pulling all of the pieces together in front of you as you stared at his hat and the rough skin poking out from underneath it. 

You sprang up from your seat on the ground, sliding yourself into the booth on the other side of the table in front of him. He didn't seem to notice until you reached over and yanked his cowboy hat off of his head with one swift motion. His eyes shot open and immediately landed on you. 

“Can’t a ghoul get some shut-eye ‘round here without you botherin’ him?” he scoffed, pulling himself up into a sitting position and turning to face you across the table. You didn’t respond and instead placed his hat on the table in front of you, staring at him with full intent. He was unbothered underneath your intense gaze, either he was used to being stared at or knew you weren’t much of a threat to him. “I got somethin’ in my teeth or is this a new hobby of yours I don’ know about?” he asked, your silence was irking him more than your constant staring. 

You let your eyes do all the work and your imagination filled in the blanks, pulling both images in your head together; the man from the poster and the man sitting in front of you. His dirty blue shirt peaking out from underneath his duster confirmed your suspicion. 

“You’re him.” was all you said as the realization set in. 

“Pardon?”

“You're him! From the poster earlier! That's why he looked so familiar!” your excitement was getting hard to contain. You had known Cooper was from before the bombs but you hadn’t known he was THAT Cooper Howard. 

“Darlin’, I have no idea what you’re on about. You best forget ‘bout that whole theater ‘fore you go and stir up trouble.” he told you, folding his arms in front of him on the table as his brow darkened his eyes. 

“What’s the big deal, Coop? Why didn’t you tell me? Is that why you rushed out of there so quickly?” you spoke quickly, the questions flooding out of your mouth faster than you had intended. 

“Hmph. ‘What’s the big deal?’ The ‘big deal’ is that man is dead. Has been for over 200 years. I ain’t keen on bringin’ him back neither. His optimism and gullibility got him killed and that was the end of that. I’m done rememberin’ the sorry excuse I got for a past. Reminiscing don’ keep you alive for long.” his western accent was tangled together with poison as he spat out his words. But his scary looks didn’t work on you anymore. 

“Maybe, but you’re still him, Coop. You’ve adapted to the wasteland but you’re still you. Roughed up and scarred a little, sure, but who isn’t?” you told him, doing your best to keep your voice soft to combat his spitefulness. 

“A little? Sweetheart, I’m a damn monster, everyone out ‘ere thinks so. Whatever was left of good ol’ Cooper Howard died when this here skin started fallin’ off. I’m done bein’ nice in a world that does nothin’ but kicks you when you’re down.” 

“I don’t think you're a monster.” 

It was one sentence, just a few words, but it made him pause. His scowl vanished for a few seconds and was replaced by a look of confusion. There was a small smile tugging at his lips too, if you were quick enough to notice it before it was gone. He sighed and leaned back against the booth. 

“Well then that’s one hell of a lapse of judgment on your part sweetheart.” he hooked his hands together and put them behind his head, cradling the back of his neck as he closed his eyes again and leaned further into the booth. But you weren't done with the conversation just yet. 

You got up, grabbed his hat off of the table, and shifted yourself into the booth he was sitting in. You looked at him and then looked down at his hat in your hands. A relic from over two centuries ago, covered in sand and caked in dirt. But still a working and functioning cowboy hat. It protected its wearer from the harsh sun and there was a sense of safety woven somewhere in between the fibers. Broken and beaten and even dirtied beyond repair, it was still a hat. And Cooper was still a person. 

You climbed on top of the table, being careful not to accidentally kick him with your feet as you positioned yourself in front of him and placed a leg on either side of his body. You placed his hat in its rightful place on top of his head, making him open his eyes again when he felt your touch. He looked up at you curiously, fully not expecting you to be on the table in front of him. You reached down and grabbed both of the lapels of his duster, balling the fabric up in your fists as you pulled him forward and smashed your lips into his. You were quick with your movements, something you had learned from being around Cooper so much recently, which left little to no time for him to react or protest against your sudden affection. 

Although he didn't seem to mind. His hands found their way to your hips almost automatically and he slipped them under your shirt, grabbing at your soft skin roughly. Tomorrow morning you would have bruises all over your hips in the shape of his fingertips, but it happened so often now that the purples and blues were a permanent part of you. You had started this impromptu makeout session but he was determined to finish it. His tongue worked fervidly like he was mapping the constellations in the night sky across the inside of your mouth. He never once gave you the chance to take the lead and he was as quick as a viper to wrangle back control when you tried to take it yourself. At some point he had shifted his hands underneath you and scooped you off the table, sliding you right into his lap while still keeping a strong grip on you, never once slowing down with his tongue. Your legs were forced to wrap around him, your bodies now flush against each other in the booth. 

It wasn’t long after he had pulled you closer that you had to pull away, panting and taking gulps of air. You finally let go of his jacket as you leaned back against the table, feeling the metal edge digging into your back as you did so. 

“You know for a so-called ‘monster’ you sure know how to make someone feel breathless.” You told him as you admired the way he was smirking at you. Ironically it was the exact same smirk from that old poster of him, although you noticed he had shifted from that old-school charming look to now one that held an aura of danger around him. 

“Hm. Well, now I’ve never been the type to pass up an opportunity when it’s handed to me. ‘Specially if it ends with somethin’ pretty sittin’ in my lap.” his grip on your hips was still ironclad as his eyes raked over you. His stare felt similar to a hunter stalking its prey. You knew what he was doing, trying to convince himself he was right by acting like a predator, but you knew the truth underneath the facade. You had seen firsthand how he had cared for you and looked after you even when he stood to gain nothing in return. 

“Whether the old Cooper is dead or not doesn’t change the fact that I love this, right here, right now. Whatever led to you being my cowboy, I wouldn’t change a thing.” you ran your fingers up his chest as you spoke, fiddling your way underneath the collar of his cowboy costume to run your fingertips along the raised edges of his scarred skin. He sat back and let you touch him, not making any move to try and stop you. He’d let you do anything your little heart desired. He was your cowboy, he knew that, and yet two hundred years ago he would have never imagined meeting someone like you. He’d be damned if he would let anything happen to you, you were the only good thing he had left in this fucked up world. He refused to let anything else be taken from him. 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he mumbled as he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, relishing in the way the soft cartilage felt against his marred fingertips. He ran the very tip of his finger against the edge of your ear, earning a tilt of your head as a response to the sensation. 

“Cooper?” you asked, making his eyes flick to yours. He noticed you had pulled your hand out from under his shirt and instead, you had placed it on top of his chest, mindlessly fumbling with the ancient fringe attached to the front. 

“Hm?” 

“I still have one question,” you told him, knitting your brows together in curiosity. 

“I’m listenin’.” he had been so enraptured by your affection that he had no idea what to anticipate, especially when your face had turned so serious. 

“What even is a horse, anyway?”

It took him a great deal of effort to stifle his laughter. 

[clip-the-simp]

Not Much Else [Pt.1]

Ao3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2,956

Warnings: canon typical violence, swearing, mention of drugs and surgery, (I’m bad at warning tags so just let me know if I need/should to add some)

Tags: Mild Proofreading, reader had bat wings, Bounty Hunting, deviation from TV show, pre!show events(?), (Again I'm bad at tags so let me know)

Summary: You're a vault experiment that makes it to the surface. Quickly you learn the lay of the land and a few years later end up working the same bounty as The Ghoul. You convince him to let you take a long after having a feeling that you just had to follow him. Where will this story lead? Only time (and my motivation) will tell.

A/N: this is cringy as shit so please forgive me. I’m trying to get back into writing and my current hyperfixation is Fallout. I've been a fan for years but a new found love was sparked with the show's release.

Be forewarned that this is going to be incredibly inaccurate to cannon events and really unrealistic honestly. But listen. If Lucy can have her finger zapped back on and working properly anything can happen.

The scientists of your vault had placed nearly 200 hundred people into cryo pods before the bombs had fallen. A few had been scientists, but most were test subjects. Those chosen to be experimented on were chosen from a vast array of different medical histories, genetic makeups, ages, and ethnicities which always resulted in different mutations. Only about one third of the subjects had volunteered, while the majority had been simply manipulated, kidnapped, and or drugged before being shoved into a cryopod.

You had been one of the majority that had been kidnapped. Before the bombs, you had been a star in HollyWood and went on to be in several films which included a western or two. You were still fairly young however, so when the threat of bombs falling had started to rise you had been cornered. A white cloth with chloroform was shoved into your face once you had gotten back to your film trailer after wrapping up the final scene for a movie you were co-starring in. You had only woken up for a brief moment after being kidnapped, which was right before they had shoved you into a pod and began the process to preserve your body for the next century or so.

When the scientist decided it was time to start experimenting, some wouldn’t survive the first round of injections but that never did stop the test. Even after death the bodies would continue to be used to determine different severities of treatments on human tissue.

However, those that didn’t have the fortune of passing within the first few rounds of chems being forced into their veins, they had far worse ahead of them. Which just so happened to be the group of unfortunate folks you wound up being.

It had been about 175 years after the bombs dropped before they dethawed you from your cryosleep and started on their process of testing and modifying your body. They had hoped, just like with all of their other experiments they had running, that you would be one of their best.

After the first initial round of chems they had started to cut into you and spliced your DNA with multiple different creatures. First it started with the removal and rewiring of your eyes. They had been replaced with those of a feline which had taken you months to recover from, but that didn’t stop the minor test they continued to perform.

The rewiring in your brain caused excruciating headaches for the first few months but soon you were able to view things from a new lens. Being able to see more than most at night was a great perk to have when the vaults tended to stay poorly lit. However this also caused you to have some sensitivities to bright lights, so in response to that the scientist designed specialized goggles to combat it but made them so they wouldn’t impair your ability to see at night with them still being on.

The next body modification came when a scorchbeast, a large mutated bat creature, had been killed and dragged into the vault. After careful consideration and candidate evaluation you had been chosen to be subjugated to the experiment. No one knew if your body would reject the new muscle and bones that had to be implanted, but your genes had the most likely success rate when looking at the data provided.

After a full year of recovery you had full mobility of the limbs, and with it having been a young scorchbeast, the wings hadn’t been to terribly large in comparison to your body. You had been due for more body installments but before the scientist had the opportunity to stick another knife in you all hell had broken loose.

One of the more aggressive test subjects had escaped from their enclosure and started wreaking havoc upon the vault. They had managed to set other people free while in a blind rage when they had broken into the control room. In doing so not only where you set free but so where all the others, including those in cryosleep.

However you hadn’t stuck around for long once everyone, mutated or not, had started attacking one another in a panic. Having seen map layouts of the vault in the halls on the way to your surgeries, you had been one of the first to make it to the surface and begin your trick through the waste land.

After a week you had managed to find your way to a town which was both a blessing and a curse. Outside the walls of the town there had been a dead man who still had his clothes on. Having realized you were still in your medical gown, you had stripped him of the garments, minus the underwear, and cut a large hole in the back of the shirt to accommodate for your wings. With pants and a shirt on you were now a little more confident when entering the settlement.

Even after getting more than a hospital gown on, people still had given you strange looks as you walked the streets. They snarled and ogled at the wings sprouting from your back, and even after tucking them under your arms while pulling them close to your sides, it didn’t stop the stairs. Your goggles had remained pulled over your eyes during the majority of your time on the surface, but you could tell people could still see the slits that were your pupils.

You had quickly learned the ways of the waste land. Caps controlled everything, violence was always the answer, and it was kill or be killed. So when a man suddenly cornered you in the alley way of that first town you were in, you quickly became a killer. Whether it was the animal genetics fused with your own or your will to survive, you had proceeded to rip that man's neck out with your teeth when he had gotten close enough.

In doing so you had gained a handful of caps, a slightly rusted knife, and a pistol that had enough ammo to mow down a small horde of ghouls. The only item of clothing you peeled from his body was a weathered trench coat made of leather. That had managed to cover your wings if you kept them tucked close enough, although a bet awkwardly.

With the handful of caps you had gathered you had managed to get some accentals and learned about bounty hunting. If you were going to survive in the world you had to adapt, and so you did.

Two years had passed since you first began living on the surface when you had encountered The Ghoul, face to face, for the first time. Both of you had been working the same job when the target in question got smart and hired a few armed guards. The two of you were knocked unconscious and tied up in a rotting building while the target and his goons ran off. You had come to when the splitting pain from being knocked out finally became too much for your body to suppress.

As you peeled your eyes open, you started to realize someone was tied to your back as you and the other person sat on the sand covered floor of the decaying house. Shuffling a bet you tried to grab the knife at your side but soon heard a groan from the person you were tied to. You hadn’t bothered before to try and see who it was, hoping to have gotten untied from one another before they had the chance to wake up and possibly kill you.

“Fucking hell.” You heard the man mumble as he tried to get his bearings as you had. Your heart made its way to your throat as you realized who it was. Although you had never met the man you recognized his voice from the rare occasion you had been in the same town together at the same time.

Fuck fuck fuck! You thought as you continued, more hastily this time, to try and get the knife at your side. You had never paid The Ghoul much attention, however you know of his reputation and that he was a gifted gun slinger. However, while you hadn't paid him much attention, he had been studying you. He had started to recognize you any time you just happened to be in the same town. It wasn't anything more than the fact you were exceedingly odd and always looked out of place from those shuffling around you. Although he was a ghoul and the farthest thing from normal looking, your wings would always take any and all attention from those around you. No matter how well hidden you tried to keep them.

“Stop fidgeting damn it.” Your body immediately froze as he spoke directly to you. A few shuffles of his own and he quickly had his hands on his own knife which sliced through the rope with relative ease. You fell forward slightly as the tension from the rope was released and you quickly stood to dust yourself off.

Turning around you saw The Ghoul doing the same thing as he stood. His duster was ripped to shreds but still served its purpose of covering him from the sun. The cowboy hat he held in his hands was quickly placed back on his head before he turned to glare at you. His spurs jingled a little as he faced you.

Everything in your body screamed at you to run before he could pull out his weapon, but his gaze had you pinned to your spot in the room. You swallowed hard before trying to move and look more relaxed then you really were. Crossing your arms you moved your eyes to meet his which started an immediate feeling of regret.

There was something about his eyes that held a feeling of familiarity but it was buried under the many years of being forced to live amongst the harsh conditions of the wasteland. The Ghoul’s eyes remained on your face for the longest time before traveling to the tips of your wings that peeked out from under your coat. You quickly tried to tuck them closer to hide them but that just led to him looking back to your face.

“Now how the hell you get those on your back?” The Ghoul pointed to where the wings had been showing just moments before. His question had brought you out of your frozen state as you tried justifying to yourself answering him truthfully. You didn’t figure it would hurt to be truthful, especially since it was only the two of you at that moment. Not to mention the odd feeling that you could rely on him to keep any information you needed to get off your chest.

“Vault experiments.” You answered plainly as you moved the extra appendages from under your coat and spread them a little farther out from your body as you stretched them. As you did this something shifted in his expression, almost a kin to pity. He looked back into your eyes as if trying to recognize you as you had done the same to him moments before. You had forgotten the fact your eyes were no longer human so whatever search he was on would be nearly impossible if he intended to find answers within them. Not to mention the fact that your goggles were currently tented from the light coming in from the setting sun.

“That’s unfortunate. Seems like those wings would be in the way of everything.” He stated while picking up some of his belongings that hadn’t been taken. You crossed your arms and leaned on one leg. Sure, the wings were annoying at first, but they had become useful as time went on. You always managed to travel farther than anyone else in the wasteland could in two days on foot.

“They’re actually quite helpful.” You stated as you began to check yourself for any belongings that might be missing. “People don’t expect an aerial assault nowadays. So ambushing people is quite the luxury when being a bounty hunter.” The Ghoul gave a low hum as he slung his bag back over his shoulder. Surprisingly enough they hadn’t stolen anything, but you assumed it was because they were more focused on getting out of there before the two of you woke up.

“Well sweetheart I must be on my way. That bounty is still out there and I don't need someone else getting my caps.” As he said this The Ghoul slung his leg over the wall of the decrepit house and began his trek to the target. Something in the back of your mind pricked at your thoughts as he walked away. The feeling that you needed to follow him into the wasteland grew stronger the farther he walked.

What was it about this guy that had you wanted to do nothing more than follow him like a lost puppy? You hadn’t meant to be working the same bounty but somehow it felt like it was meant to be. Kicking yourself mentally, you sprinted after him. He had only managed to get a few yards away before you abruptly sprinted up behind him.

Out of instinct The Ghoul pulled his gun on you and had it aimed directly at your head. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath from the short unexpected run you just had. The adrenaline pumping through your veins prevented you from freezing or seeing the gun held to your face as much of a threat at that moment. All your mind was trained on was convincing The Ghoul to take you with him on this job.

“Take me with you.” Was all you could blurt out. Your voice had been shaky which you hoped wouldn’t be too noticeable but The Ghoul definitely caught it. He lowered his gun to keep it aimed at your chest instead.

“Now why should I do that?” He asked as he raised a nonexistent eyebrow. The sun was getting low which caused a shadow to shroud most of The Ghoul’s face. A knot began to form in your stomach. You hadn’t thought this through at all but had to come up with an excuse fast.

“I can be of help. Like I stated before, aerial assault isn’t something most folks are prepared to fight against.” That was practically the only key advantage you had on most other people. You had other talents, sure, but that was back up information in case the main appeal didn’t go through.

The Ghoul lifted his gun to tip his hat out of his face to get direct eye contact with you. His gaze fell and rose as he examined your form. It made you partly embarrassed as you pulled your wings in closer. He stood there and contemplated for a while until you broke the silence.

You grabbed the goggles from your face and sat them on top of your head. Your vision quickly adjusted to the new light exposed to your eyes. As The Ghoul looked back to your face you saw a bet of shock appear on his face before it was quickly masked again.

“Listen,” You started as your hands quickly began to fidget with one another. “I don't know why but I feel as if I’m supposed to go with you. If I had an explanation of why I would tell you but I don’t except for saying it’s a gut feeling.” The Ghoul’s expression stayed the same which quickly diminished your hope of joining him. Your eyes fell to the ground as you continued to speak.

“I don’t require caps or any sort of compensation for joining since I’m doing this out of complete and utter selflessness.” You were about to continue rambling before The Ghoul let out an exasperated sigh. Your attention brought back to his form. The Ghoul was pinching between his eyebrows as he holstered his gun. A few mumbles left his lips before his gaze finally settled back upon you.

“If you slow me down-” He started to say. You quickly cut him off as the realization that he was actually taking you along settled in.

“I won’t! I promise.” You said cheerfully as your wings slightly lifted from your sides. Your demeanor was probably a bit too cheerful though with how his expression changed.

“We’ll see if you keep that promise.” The Ghoul grumbled as he looked at the setting sun. It had nearly disappeared over the horizon which had put the world in a deep shade of purplish pink. It wouldn't be long before the sun was completely gone to leave the two of you in complete darkness.

However, that didn’t stop the two of you from traveling a bet that night. Your night vision was impeccable and The Ghoul had a lamp to guide his way. You stayed silent as did The Ghoul which hadn’t surprised you much. It had been about four hours of traveling before he finally spoke to inform you that it was time to siddle for the night.

[live-laugh-legolas]

The fellowships favorite shows

Aragorn:

-He’s big into shows like Forged in Fire

-Also How it’s made

-He has seen every Bob Ross episode

Legolas:

-He had a Stranger Things phase but now it has died off and he will watch the new season but isn’t invested in the way he was initially

-And also the X-Files

-He’s very into those supernatural based shows

-He fully believes in aliens

-He also loves The Office

-And he gets a bit too invested in The Olympics

Gimli:

-The Bachelor/Bachelorette

-He’s very passionate about watching these shows

-And gets far too invested and will yell at the screen

-He will put aside time to watch new episodes

Boromir:

-Treehouse Masters

-Or any of the home renovation shows

-He has no place in critiquing “design taste” but he will do it anyway

-He is convinced he could do a better job with the DIYs

-He can’t

-This man does not know how to use a hammer

-He gives me Hallmark channel vibes

Frodo:

-Chopped

-He always gets annoyed when the ad break happens right before they reveal who is getting “chopped” despite being fully aware that this is how the show works

-He will also play along with Wheel of Fortune and Family Feud

-He “wins” every time but unfortunately no one knows because he is in his living room

Sam:

-Too Cute

-What a great show

-He also is into any of the talk shows that interview celebrities often

-He’s very into Hollywood culture

-The Great British Bake Off

-Obviously

Merry:

-I’ve talked about this before but he’s big into RuPauls Drag Race

-He also enjoys Animal Planet shows

-He gets super hyped for Shark Week

-He will go around the shire talking like a nature documentary narrator

-“and here we see a wild Samwise in his natural habitat. These creatures are fond of the quiet life, preferring to religiously tend to their gardens with flowers to hopefully attract a mate. This particular one has his eyes set on a creature called Ros-“ and then he gets a tomato right to the face

Pippin:

-Impractical Jokers

-He shouldn’t be allowed to watch shows like this because it gives him too many ideas

-He also watches Keeping up with the Kardashians but purely to find things to quote an annoying amount of times

Gandalf:

-Gilmore Girls

-You can’t change my mind

-Do not bother him while he is watching his show

-That’s his “me time”

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

These are just pulled from shows I could think of off the top of my head so if anyone has any other thoughts on this topic I would love to hear them :)

I honestly haven’t even seen all these shows lol

[its-vannah]

Gold Rush | Graham Dunne x Reader

Request from @ariianelle: hey!! you're currently carrying the djats fics rn and I was wondering if you could write a graham x reader inspired by gold rush by Taylor Swift? specifically fluff with a happy ending? mainly just Graham pining over the reader? <3

A/N: This may be my favorite Graham fic I've ever written. It was entertaining to no end—and I'm usually pretty hard on my work.

Warnings: Mentions of kidneys and vomit

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

Being in the spotlight was exhausting. There were times you wish you could have five minutes, just five to yourself. But that wasn't the kind of world you lived in.

Cameras were constantly flashing around you, microphones were being put into your face, fans were asking for your autograph. You could barely catch your breath.

You hadn't asked for any of this. Not the fame or the fortune. From a young age, you were forced into acting lessons by your parents who had big dreams of their daughter fitting in with high society.

The first movie you ever did cemented your place in Hollywood as a sexy, sultry, up and coming actress. You were fifteen. There shouldn't have been anything sexy or sultry about you.

After the release of "The Governor's Daughter", you were launched fullforce into a career you never wanted. No matter how many carpets you walked down or how many after parties you attended, none of it made the life you were living any easier.

You were living your parents dream, not your own.

Those thoughts were interrupted by a knock on your dressing room door. Taking a deep breath, you smoothed out the front of your dress, opening the door.

The SNL manager stood outside, pointing to the face of his watch, "You're on in seven."

You got the memo, shutting the door behind you and making your way to the stage. But an ongoing conversation in a dressing room beside yours caught your attention.

"You don't get it, Billy, she's the most famous actress of the decade. She's our Evelyn Hugo," One man exclaimed.

Another man laughed, "Evelyn Hugo is still the actress of our decade."

"No, you don't get it, she's different. Everybody wants her. Everybody. I heard one guy sold his kidney just to meet her."

"A kidney? Graham, where are you getting this from?"

A sheepish laugh escaped the other man's lips, "The tabloids."

"You, as much as anyone, should know to never trust the tabloids," He sighed, "Graham, if you like her so much, why don't you ask her out?"

"Have you seen her? She's beautiful, she grew up beautiful," The man, Graham, said, "I don't have a chance with her. I don't even think I'd be able to talk around her."

A groan escaped the other man, "You never know. Michelle Wieler liked you in fifth grade and according to you, she was the prettiest girl in the whole school."

"Billy..."

A sudden snapping behind you snapping you out of your trance, "Snap, snap, Y/N, time to get out on that stage."

Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself for your SNL monologue.

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

At the end of your monologue, you made an announcement to a happy crowd, "Stuck around because after break, Daisy Jones and The Six will perform their hit single, Look At Us Now!"

The audience erupted into applause, on the edge of their seats to listen to the increasingly popular song. It hadn't been out long, but it was already a classic in their eyes.

Walking back of stage to prepare for a skit, you had little to change about your appearance. The segement revolved around your character going on a date at a formal restaurant that goes horribly wrong.

All you needed was a quick touch up. You were in and out of your dressing room in the snap of a finger, taking your place beside the sound tech. You always appreciated those behind the scenes. They never got enough credit.

Beside you, two men walked up, each with a head full of curls. One looked like he had been through hell while the other looked like he had just seen a ghost.

He began whispering to the man beside him, his eges glued to you. But the man simply elbowed him in the ribs, effectively shushing him.

He turned towards you, extending his hand, "Excuse me? Big fan of your work, name's Billy Dunne."

You shook his hand, giving him a warm smile, "Y/N L/N."

Billy nodded to the man on his left, "This is Graham. He's a bit starstruck, if you can't tell."

Your eyebrows raised. So this was the Graham who had been gushing about you in the dressing room. He was cute, that you couldn't deny. But his naivety got in his way.

"Graham, is it?" You smiled, moving in front of him, leaning in to hug him.

He tensed up, shock settling into his features as he looked at Billy, trying to contain his excitement.

Before you pulled away, you whispered in his ear, "For future reference, it was both kidneys."

You pulled away from him immediately after, sauntering off in the other direction.

Graham turned towards his brother, his jaw open.

Billy gave him a questioning look, "What the hell happened to you?"

"Did you tell her?" He was practically shaking out of his skin.

"Tell who what?"

Graham tried to take a deep breath, his foot rapping against the floor, "Did you tell Y/N about the kidney thing? What I said?"

"I've been with you the whole time, dumbass."

"God, I'm an idiot," Graham cursed himself while his brother wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Oh, Graham, you have so much to learn."

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

After the band delivered a flawless performance, you walked out on stage to do your skit. Even now, after years of walking out in front of an audience, you felt like your heart was beating out of your chest.

Taking a seat on a wooden chair in front of a table draped in white cloth, you waited for your costar to join you.

That's when Graham Dunne was pushed out on stage, nervously smiling at the crowd.

Amused, you crossed your legs and leaned in to whisper as he sat down, "Where's Don?"

"Puking in one of the stalls in the men's room," He responded.

"So they sent you?" You asked, the corners of your lips lifting.

He swallowed the bile rising in his throat, "I can tell them to bring somebody else—"

"No, stay. I just hope you can read the cards."

Graham nodded, "About earlier—"

"And action!" Someone yelled off set, cutting the youngest Dunne off.

With that, Graham launched into his first SNL skit.

-------

After the skit, you and Graham walked off stage, laughing at one another.

"I was awful!" He exclaimed, unable to control himself.

"You were hilarious," You replied, "Anyone else would've thought you just had impeccable comedic timing."

"Or that I'm a dumbass!"

You shrugged, "Well, I think you did wonderfully."

"How wonderfully?" He asked, looking at you expectantly as he shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Wonderful enough that I'll let you ask me on a date," You smiled, adding, "I mean, according to you, everyone wants me."

He cringed, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to tell you about over dinner, if you'd ask me."

He nodded, straightening himself out, "Y/N, will you go on a date with me?"

You pretended to hesitate, "I don't know, let me think about it..."

Graham's eyes widened, having already fallen victim to your relentless teasing.

You reached for his hand, jokingly checking his pulse, "I was teasing, Mr. Dunne."

Nodding, he grinned, "Friday, at six?"

"I think that could be arranged."

"I won't have to give up a kidney, will I?"

You took his arm, linking it through yours, "Oh, Mr. Dunne, you have so much to learn."

[monikashinswife]

Hiiiiiiiii! So i love all your monika fanfics!!! Pls tell me there are still more to come!!!

But I would like to make a request for a fanfic of Hyowon 😭 pls im so deprived of her! Like the fem reader is an actress in hollywood but staying with Hyowon in korea and she goes on an instagram live and everyone is surprised. It also shows how sweet, caring, thoughtful and overprotective lip j is towards the reader.

Thank you so muuuuuch!!!

"The Korean"

(Lip J x Hollywood Actress! Reader)

・❥・time for our Sooni! been dropping few updates cause I think I'm gonna be inactive because school's starting again. Anygays, enjoy darlings!<3 Request inbox is open anytime<33 ⋆ ★

Flashes of the cameras and the overwhelming voices of the paparazzis triggers me, but like always. I have nothing to do. They are doing their job. But why is their job this horrible?

I understand that when you are a well known name. Paparazzis will follow, but doesn't make it less comfortable. They are still invading someone's personal space.

Fortunately, I got along with some of them. But it doesn't mean that this doesn't bother me. Just then, one of the paparazzi asked while I am walking towards the entrance of the airport.

"Where are you going? Are you gonna film another project?" He asked quickly. And I answered them robotically but still politely as I try to squeeze myself through many paparazzis.

I thank the guards for helping me. As much as I love being an actress. It's still very overwhelming especially now that I just finished another film that had me mentally challenged.

Going to South Korea would be my rest and escape. That country became my second home when Hyo Won took me there few years ago.

It became my home because it was hers. And because she is there.

I quickly became overwhelmed and noticed myself tearing up because of what just happened. I didn't know how I got to the plane but I'm glad I did. I sigh in relief as I look at the mesmerizing sight.

In order to distract myself I decided to read my book for a while. I was so immersed with the story that I forgot to message Sooni before we boarded. I figured that I'll do it when the plane landed.

I took some photos and continued reading the book that Hyo Won gave to me. I can already feel the stress leaving, I got so invested to the story that the flight felt like a few minutes.

Before I knew it, I'm already in Korea. I smiled as I walk to the airport with my suitcases and phone in hand. I decided to post some pics for my fans.

I continued walking after I posted, trying to find somewhere to eat before I messaged her that I'm already at the airport. But Sooni knows what time my arrival so she'd be here soon.

"Honey!" My head almost snapped because of how quickly I turned around when I heard her voice. "Sooni!" I giggled when I saw her running towards me. I immediately open my arms to be hugged by her.

"I missed you so much." I mumbled against her neck. She rubbed my back while kissing my hair. "I know, but you're here now." She comforted me softly. I nodded against her before parting our bodies.

"Let's go?" She urge softly when she noticed people recognizing us. I nodded and she helped me with my luggage. She drove us to her apartment, during the car ride, I was quite worried because of the silence.

It was comfortable yes, but my mind's making me think things. "Hey... you alright?" She must've noticed my internal battle. She put her free hand on my thigh, caressing it to bring comfort.

"Hmm?" I snap out of my thoughts to look at her concerned eyes for a moment. I hold her hand and bring it to my lips to assure her that I'm fine.

We reached her house. And she helped me get settled. She toured me around first, "where's the guest room honey?" I asked, I noticed her change of emotion.

"Here." She lead me to the room, opening the door for me. "Here's the guest room." I carefully watch her, noting how her voice suddenly sounded so distraught.

I chuckled before wrapping my arms around her neck. She tried to avoid my eyes by looking everywhere, "What's wrong?" she reluctantly turned to look at my doe eyes.

"It's just that-" she stopped herself, but I urge her by bringing my hand to cup her cheek. "I don't want you to sleep here." She hides her face in embarrassment.

"Just say you miss me." She tried to get away from me when I teased her. But before she could go anywhere, I hug her from the back.

"Stop~" annoyance can be heard in her voice, "Aigoo~ you baby" I make her turn around while my arms are still around hers. I missed this so much.

"I asked because I wanna know where I'll put my things." I explained and that made her loosen up before smiling widely.

"Ok!" She avoided me once again by taking care of my things. I laugh as I watch her set my things quickly and dragged me out of the guest room.

The entire day was spent really nicely, we cuddled on her couch and catch up on things and made plans for tomorrow.

I am laying on our shared bed, casually browsing through my phone. I knew that it was probably not a good idea to scroll through comments. But I did, I scroll to the comments on my latest post.

Luckily, it was all good. Fans are saying that they missed me already and and I thought it would be a good idea to go live for a quick update.

"Oh hi everyone." I wave my hand as I was trying to find a comfortable and nice position so I could record myself properly.

"How's everyone?" I read the comments, and they did not disappoint like always. They are so dear to me.

"Flight's good, some problems with going to the airport though." I updated them enthusiastically. I interacted with them. Joking and asking them things and vice versa.

"How's the korean?" I read out loud without thinking, I laughed as I realized the question. "It's been great." I answered carefully. I didn't even noticed Sooni entering the room. Not until she laid on top of me, her lower body on the bed and her arms wrapped around me.

She rested her chin on my chest while looking at me lovingly. Thinking that I'm talking to my friend. In instinct I played with her hair while reading the comments.

She adjusted and buried her face on my neck for a moment. I put the phone down when she reach for my lips. I cup her face our lips dance against each other passionately.

We made out, missing moments like this because it's really been a while. "Are you live?" She asked when we parted. I nodded and reached for my phone. The comments going wild because of our interaction.

"I'm screen recording"

"Did anyone heard the sounds? Or it's just me👀"

" the Korean is doing really great~"

We read the comments and look at each other with straight faces before bursting out of laughter. "That's gonna be my new nickname" Sooni said, shaking her head in fake sadness before burying her face on my neck again.

"My poor Sooni." I purred, teasing her. I constantly teased her during the live. We're both answering questions while Hyo Won is feeding me.

She casually fed me while I answered the questions that is directed to me enthusiastically. Hyo Won expresses her love through actions.

We took turns feeding each other, we talked with the fans. Even taking turn holding the camera, but when she noticed how it's hard to find a stable angle.

"Let me, love" she ask for the phone, then she took a tripod so it's less hassle. I am watching her endearingly as she sets up the phone.

Once it's done, she went back to her place. She's behind me. Her chin on my shoulder while her hands are wrap around me.

We continue the live like that. The fans took note of everything. For sure this would go big and some of them approving and accepting our relationship.

They were shocked because of the different sides of us are revealed. And they were the ones to witness it raw. They realize how both of us are being ourselves with each other and are happy that we are happy.

𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪𓆩⟡𓆪

(not proofread and sorry for the ending. I am sleepy already)

[chronically-ghosted]

dieter bravo x masterlist

[xx.masterlist.xx]

[Series]

🤍Recovery Road

status: complete

rating: Explicit 18+

summary: (AU) Dieter Bravo is on his last chance. Six months out of a two year stint in rehab, his marriage on the rocks, and his starlight fading, he reunites with an old director friend on a project that might save his career and his personal life in a single go. Enter Natalie Lorraine, his new enigmatic co-star. Together, they go on to lead a film that comes to define a generation – and are both mysteriously absent the night the film receives an Oscar for Best Picture. Their reasons for missing such a landmark event are their own. Amidst affairs and acrimony, the temptation of relapse, and the intoxicating allure of wanting what you can’t have, Dieter and Natalie have become a ticking time bomb, primed to explode.

[Oneshots]

you can never keep a soul (18+) A storm and a dead phone leaves you at the front door of your uncle’s mansion in LA. Thing is, you haven’t seen each other in over a decade and neither of you quite remember the other one looking like that. But what’s one night gonna do? Well, as it turns out – as Dieter spirals at a breaking point in his career and you’re so lost in life you can’t see up from down – a whole fucking lot. 

Little Monsters (18+) **100 follower event** A phone call home to your family has you missing them desperately . . . especially your husband, who always knows exactly what you need.

can you see my reflection in the snow covered hills? (T) **100 follower event** a year into secretly dating, you are overwhelmed by your feelings for Dieter Bravo, confident and resigned to the fact that he doesn’t feel the same way. But on Oscar’s night, drunk on sparkling wine and a terrific win, Dieter gives you a reason to doubt your fears. 

delicious (T) **100 follower event** in order to make a fundraising event bearable, you and Dieter take edibles. When the event runs long, your only chance to make it out alive is to find something to eat. 

Bite Me (T) Halloween 2023! before a Halloween party, you and Dieter show off your “communal” costumes.

i crawl home to her (18+) **Merry Thanksgiving Nonsense 2023** you bring dieter home to meet your family over the holidays.

Stay Gold, Baby Boy (18+) six months into your friends-with-benefits situation, you institute a new game. A gold star on the board every time Dieter is a good boy. Today, he gets bingo . . . for wearing real pants. 

stay sexy and don't get murdered (18+) Trapped behind a secret wall to hide from a murderer, the close proximity forces you and Dieter to confront feelings you rather bury underneath your case to prove your favorite neighbor didn’t commit suicide.  (This is the Only Murders in the Building smut fic in the chaotic stylings of Dieter Bravo.)

fade into you (18+) **1K Follower Celebration** counting down the days until the new baby arrives, you’re already wound to a breaking point. Fortunately, Dieter is as good a husband as he is a father. 

[Drabbles]

Vampire!Dieter (T) you're a journalist and you finally get to interview the current generation of the Bravo Hollywood Legacy.

i breathe you in (and it changes me) (T) **1K Follower Celebration** you've been here with him before - rock bottom. But this time, he gives you reason to hope for something new.

[pricelessemotion]

Starstruck and Metal | E.M.

Summary: [4.3k] you meet eddie for the first time. it doesn't go quite like you expected.

Pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!music journalist!reader

Warnings: none!

Notes: huge thank u to my bestie chuck for beta reading 🫶 also if you solve the crossword hint i love u

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

InStereo magazine was not The Rolling Stones, but it was a start. The modest music magazine had a humble following, enough to earn some hums of recognition whenever someone made the mistake of asking what you did for a living. Most days, it’s great. You relish in the joy of working in a field some people only dream of entering. The leap from column writer to main article was a large one, but you insisted that you were ready. Your first assignment as a music journalist and of course you got stuck with Eddie fucking Munson. 

Any self-respecting music journalist, anyone with some skin in the game would have laughed in the face of their editor. But instead, you smiled. You nodded enthusiastically, mimicking the bobblehead that has since been removed from your desk. When you decided to become a music journalist, you wanted to write about people who were changing the field. Instead, you were being tasked with writing some puff piece being used to save a wannabe rock star’s reputation. God forbid you gain the reputation of being a difficult woman–in a male-dominated industry no less–by turning down such a great opportunity.  

Even if that opportunity included spending a day with Eddie fucking Munson. 

You paid out of pocket for the cassette of Corroded Coffin’s debut album that was currently underscoring your drive to West Hollywood. You refused to meet the frontman without having listened to their music beforehand. They were good. A little rough around the edges, but it was to be expected. Outside of the occasional headlines, you hadn’t heard much about Eddie or his band. Corroded Coffin was making ripples, not waves. Of course, no one really cared about the music when they could be reading about who and what their lead vocalist was doing. 

Still, you find yourself parking outside of a humble ranch-style home in a neighborhood full of similar housing that likely cost a fortune to live in. The modest proceeds from Corroded Coffin’s tour have obviously paid off, considering that nice area and affordable don’t usually exist in the same sentence when talking about LA housing. The June sun is beating down on the empty street, and you’re thankful that you decided to wear a T-shirt and jeans. You tell yourself that the sweat collecting on your brow is from the heat and not nerves. 

Double-checking that you have the right address, you slam the door shut on your sedan and take a deep breath. The air feels cleaner here, less smoggy. You’re not sure if it’s because of the altitude or the tax bracket of the people who live here. Probably both. You reach into your purse and feel around for what you already know is inside. Pen. Notepad. Tape recorder. The holy trinity for a music journalist. 

There were very few topics that Eddie wasn’t willing to talk about. You guess that when you’ve had your insides strewn across the pavement for everyone to see, you don’t bother trying to uphold any semblance of mystique. Beginning the daunting trek toward your assignment, you remind yourself of two things:

1) Don’t ask about his father 

2) Don’t ask about what happened in Hawkins, Indiana in 1986

The first rule seemed simple enough. As far as the public was concerned, Eddie Munson came to Hawkins at the age of 12 to live with his Uncle Wayne like how a fully formed Venus sprang up from sea foam. He wasn’t and then he was. End of story. The fact that Eddie’s management went out of the way to make sure his father wasn’t brought up only made you more curious. 

The second rule was a little harder to accept. Anyone who knew anything about Eddie Munson wanted to know about 1986. Despite the fact that his highly publicized murder charges and subsequent exoneration are part of what caused Corroded Coffin to skyrocket to fame, he’s remained very tight-lipped about the whole situation. He plays off every question about it in interviews with a smirk and a sly comment. Just charming enough to get away without answering. Just vague enough to keep people guessing. Maybe his publicist wasn’t such a waste after all. 

Eddie Munson opens the door a few moments after you ring the bell. Using a ringed hand to shield his eyes from the midday sun, he squints at you. A pair of sweatpants hang low on his hips. He has a severe case of bedhead despite the fact that the time on your watch indicates that it’s nearly two in the afternoon. The confusion that draws his brows together also indicates that he has absolutely no idea who you are. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you state your name and purpose before realization graces his features. 

“It’s you! Shit, yeah! You’re here for the– the thing!” He tosses a careless look over both of his shoulders before widening the opening. “Come on in.”

Eddie closes the door behind you and rushes down the hallway in order to put some real clothes on, leaving you standing in the empty living room. The inside is surprisingly clean for someone who’s gained the reputation of being a hot mess. It smells like cigarettes, weed, and lemon pledge. The lemon scent is strongest as if someone was trying–and failing–to use it to cover up the previous two. A record player is tucked into a corner, the vinyl still spinning. A line of electric guitars is propped up against the back wall, each of them no doubt costing more than your monthly rent. One of the stands is noticeably empty and you glance to your left to see a beat-up acoustic resting on the couch. On the coffee table, there are piles and piles of scrap sheets of paper. For most of them, the handwriting is too illegible to read or it’s been crossed out. Eddie seems to write lyrics like he lives his life: fast and all over the place.

Stepping closer, something along the upper corner catches your eye. Slyly lifting up a pile of paper, being sure not to disturb the configuration, you find that your suspicions are correct. Eddie received the same copy of Sub Rosa as you did. Obviously, it didn’t go over well. He’s used a pen to black out his eyes. Much to your amusement, you see he’s also drawn horns and a tail. The hand that’s flipping off the camera is illustrated to be holding a pitchfork. 

That’s not the full extent of Eddie’s doodling, though. On the bottom right-hand corner of the magazine, there’s a smaller picture of him standing next to a certain brown-eyed beauty. You’re quick to note that he’s drawn a crude halo and angel wings on his long-legged companion. They’ve been scribbled out as an afterthought, making the halo look more like a crown of thorns. 

So, you think to yourself, he’s a little immature. You can work with immaturity. Immaturity means that he won’t be as guarded as some of the other celebrities your coworkers have had the misery of meeting. In fact, from what little you know about Eddie, you wonder if he even has any guard at all. He did leave you alone here with stacks of potential songs for his band’s next album. If you were a better journalist and a worse person, you would probably take the time to decipher his chicken scratch and see if you could glean any insights into his creative process. But you don’t. Instead, you release the stack of papers and wait. 

For a moment, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You’ve never been inside of a famous person’s house before. You’re not sure if you should sit down and make yourself comfortable or if Eddie has something else planned for the two of you to do. The specifics of your assignment were intentionally vague, most likely to accommodate Eddie’s spontaneity. 

Venturing further into the living room, you come to stand in front of a shelf. Brushing your fingers across the collection of vinyl, you tilt your head to read the names along the spines. There are the usual suspects–Dio, Metallica, and Judas Priest–but what surprises you is that, in the midst of all the metal and hard rock, there’s an array of old-school country music. At the end of the lineup is the most surprising one of them all; Sentimentally Yours by Patsy Cline. It’s exceedingly worn, cracks and creases litter the empty sleeve. If you were a betting woman, you would say that the record is currently on the player across the room.

A muffled crash followed by a string of curse words breaks you out of your reverie. Eddie opens the bedroom door with the finesse of someone who is obviously used to being the center of attention. He’s traded his sweatpants and tank top for a pair of ripped black jeans and a v-neck. It felt reassuring to know that you hadn’t underdressed for the occasion. 

It also gives you a moment to drink in the blinding light that was Eddie Munson. He’s leaner in person. Though he always looked lithe in every photograph you saw of him, his frame seemed more imposing and large. Maybe all the stars just look that way when they’re so high above you. 

He was taller, too. The boots on his feet surely aided in that, given that the soles were at least an inch thick. Still, you didn’t anticipate how much you would have to tilt your head up just to look him in the eyes. 

There, standing in Eddie Munson’s rented living room, you realize something; You’re absolutely starstruck. 

Although you had turned up your nose at the prospect of interviewing him and regarded his reputation with the same disdain you reserved for bad drivers and shitty landlords, you were still a person after all. 

With all of the stars around, it’s easy to think of Los Angeles as the center of the universe. But you are not a star or anything even close to it. You’re some space debris, hopelessly floating and waiting for something bigger to come around and influence you with its gravitational pull. 

Eddie is a heavenly body. You can’t help being pulled into his orbit. 

“So, I see you’ve found my collection.” His voice is still rough with sleep. The sound makes you weak in the knees. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.” You mumble, tucking Patsy Cline back into the shelf. “You’ve got some really good stuff here.”

“Don’t worry about it. Actually, that reminds me, I have something for you.” He swiftly turns and stalks back towards what seems to be his bedroom, motioning for you to follow him. 

The blood rushes out of your cheeks. The terms of your interview suggested that you would have a lot of access, but this was different. This was up close and personal. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own because while you’re still wrapped up in the fact that you’re gonna see Eddie Munson’s bedroom, you’re already following him down the hallway and through the open door. 

It’s about as messy as you would expect. The furniture is all pale wood and earth tones, fitting the mid-century modern stylings of the rest of the house. You suspect that Eddie took the time to clean up a little while you were rifling through the stacks of paper. The bed is haphazardly made. There’s an ashtray on his bedside table, filled with the remains of a few cigarettes. 

“I’m not supposed to smoke inside. Shh.” He brings his index finger to his mouth, pink lips barely brushing the skull ring he’s wearing. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You let out an airy laugh. Being reprimanded for smoking inside is the least of Eddie’s worries and you both know it. 

Eddie’s nimble fingers skim the top of the dresser, brushing aside even more sheets of scrap paper. A couple of guitar picks plummet to the floor, but he pays no mind. 

“I heard that metal isn’t usually your thing.” He remarks, still sifting through the clutter. 

That much is true. While you dabbled in a little bit of everything, not only as part of your job but also as part of your interest in music, metal wasn’t usually the genre you gravitated towards. In fact, the most metal album that you had listened to recently was written and produced by the man standing in front of you. 

“It’s not, but I’m open to everything.”

“Aha! Here it is.” Eddie holds up the cassette like it’s the key to the universe. Handing it to you, you can see that the writing on the sides is reminiscent of what you saw in the living room, though slightly neater. You’re familiar with some of the bands listed, but the songs don’t ring a bell. “I thought I would broaden your musical horizons.”

You gawk at him. For someone whose job is about words, you can’t find any. He took the time to make you a mixtape? 

“Track five is a personal favorite.” Eddie says, leaning towards you and tapping the tracklist, obviously unshaken by your inability to form a coherent thought. 

“Thanks. I’ll give it a listen.” You manage to choke out, tucking the cassette into the front pocket of your purse. 

Looking around the room, you see that there’s a battered copy of The Lord of the Rings on his bedside table. The corners are frayed, and you’re certain that you could accidentally tear the cover off of the paperback if you’re not careful. Cautiously, you trace the spine with your finger, waiting for Eddie to say something. To tell you that it’s the one thing that’s off limits. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching you. Opening it, you can see Property of Eddie A. Munson written underneath the title in a childish scrawl. 

“You like books? I mean–you’re a writer, so of course you like books–I mean, have you read that one?” Eddie is visibly flustered, the words coming out of his mouth at an alarming rate. It almost makes up for the way he rendered you speechless moments ago. 

“I’m more of a Dune girl myself. But, I love The Lord of the Rings. My dad used to read it to me before bed every night.”

“Yeah?” A small smile tugs at his lips before he practically whispers his next words. “Mine too.” 

A flash of something you can’t quite decipher crosses Eddie’s face. 

“Right! Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?” He shuffles out of the room like his life depends on it. You’re still reeling at the fact that he brought up his dad unprompted. Keeping a brisk pace, you put the book down and follow him into the kitchen.

“We have…” He trails off, opening the door to the refrigerator. “Nothing.”

He shuts the refrigerator and dashes to the table by the front door. He mumbles to himself before grabbing a few things, shrugging on a jacket, and finally turning to face you again. A pair of sunglasses covers the half of his face that isn’t plastered with a mischievous grin. From the tips of his fingers hangs a set of car keys.

“You hungry?”

–

You should’ve known that Eddie Munson would try to kill you within 20 minutes of meeting him. Lifting up the garage door, he reveals that the car keys were in fact, not car keys but keys to a motorcycle. The vehicle in question is an absolutely stunning deathtrap. It shines so beautifully that you can see your terrified face in the warped reflection. 

Putting his helmet on, Eddie straddles the bike and looks at you. 

“C’mon.” Eddie smiles wolfishly, tilting the spare helmet towards you. “I’m a safe driver. Promise.”

You’re still standing frozen. His wolfish grin melts into something more patient.

“Hey, if you don’t want to take the motorcycle, just say the word. I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.” 

Despite the sincerity in his voice, you can’t help but take the words as a challenge. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” You profess, though the shake in your voice is evident. Grabbing the helmet out of his hands, you ignore the way your face heats up when your fingers brush.

Eddie takes gross advantage of California’s lane-splitting laws, leaving you clinging to his leather-draped torso for dear life. Outside from the occasional shout of assurance that you can’t understand, the ride is quiet but for the roar of the bike and the wind in your ears. You’re vacillating between being absolutely terrified of crashing and secretly relieved at the fact that you didn’t have to make small talk on the drive from his place to wherever he was taking you. 

You were very close to liking Eddie Munson. Now, you were sure that he was sent as some kind of karmic punishment.

“Parking in L.A. is always a pain. That’s why I love this baby,” He gingerly pats the handles as he kicks the parking brake down. “She can fit basically anywhere.”

You hum in agreement, mostly just happy to have made it to your destination in one piece. While Eddie hops off the bike with ease, you have a little more trouble. Swinging your leg over, your toe catches on the fuel tank, causing you to stumble and nearly fall to the ground. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Eddie is biting back a smile. He offers a calloused hand out to you. You brush it away out of embarrassment, planting both feet firmly on the ground and taking in your surroundings. 

You had expected Eddie to take you to one of L.A.’s finer dining venues. Somewhere with fancy mood lighting and clientele with pockets so deep that they don’t even bother to put the prices on the menu. His management was footing the bill, after all. 

The building that sits before you is none of those things. The diner is old and slightly dilapidated. Graffiti mars the stucco that hasn’t already crumbled away. The neon sign that says Zazie’s! blinks drowsily, more of an eyesore than eye-catching. 

Eddie opens the door for you. As the bell above it jingles, you’re hit with a rush of conditioned air and canned nostalgia. The walls are covered in artifacts from a bygone era of poodle skirts and letterman jackets. A lonely jukebox sits in the corner, playing a soft hum to a Billie Holiday song you have long forgotten the name of. 

A plump woman sits behind the counter doing the crossword in the newspaper. Likely, the same one you were doing that morning. A thoughtful look is etched into her soft features, and you wonder if she’s also stuck on 57-down: Idle during the heist. The ten-letter space confounded you so much that you were almost late. Luckily, it doesn’t seem like Eddie is the type of person to care too much about punctuality.  At the sound of the bell, she looks up, squints, and smiles. 

“Is that you, Toto?” The glasses that sit on the tip of her nose are attached to a chain around her neck. She lets them fall to her chest, her voice bright and amiable. 

“You know it is, Dorothy!” Eddie gushed, an award-winning smile back on his face. 

They fall into easy conversation, making it obvious that he’s a regular here. You keep glancing at him trying to find hints of ingenuity but there are none. Eddie regards the woman with the warmth and respect that you would expect from a boy scout, not a rockstar. 

Sliding into a booth, Dorothy hands you both a menu and leaves to make a fresh pot of coffee. 

“You have to try the french toast, it’s divine.” Eddie barely steals a look at the laminated folder before folding it back up and putting it down on the table. 

“I’ve never really been a french toast person. I don’t know if I wanna risk it.”

Eddie gives you a pointed look, sunglasses slipping down the slope of his nose. “You rode a motorcycle. How much more risky is a plate of french toast?”

“Maybe that was all the risk-taking I had in me for one day.” You force yourself to shrug noncommittally. You don’t know why breakfast food is the hill you’ve chosen to die on, but you’re going down swinging.

“Well, you already trusted me with your life.” Eddie takes the sunglasses off and tucks his fist under his chin, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. “Think you can trust me with this?”

Suddenly, all of the fight in you disappears. There’s that sincerity in his voice again. You realize then that the best and worst thing about Eddie Munson is how genuine he always sounds.  

“Yeah, I do.”

The smile on his face is so bright that you feel compelled to look away. Eddie orders for both of you. It’s enough food to feed a small army, but it seems that Dorothy is used to it because she leaves the table with a wink and says if y’all need anything just holler! 

“Do you mind?” You say, pulling out the notepad and pen from your purse. 

Eddie freezes for a fraction of a second. It’s almost imperceptible. Almost. In the small amount of time you’ve known him, it has become abundantly clear that Eddie wears his heart on his sleeve. Recovering quickly, he gives you the go-ahead and smiles. For the first time today, his grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“So,” You begin, clicking the button on your ballpoint. “I have to ask. Toto?”

Eddie barks out a laugh. He goes on a whole spiel about how he was having a terrible day and walked into the diner feeling homesick and hungry. When he first came to L.A. he felt like Dorothy stepping into the technicolor world of Oz. Once the novelty wore off, he found himself missing when the world used to be so black and white. Upon telling the wise waitress, aptly named Dorothy, she lovingly told him, Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore. The nickname stuck ever since.

The story almost sounds rehearsed. A perfect sound bite that shows how you can take the boy out of the Midwest, but you can’t take the Midwest out of the boy. And yet, you feel inclined to believe him. Eddie just seems to have that effect on people. 

The food finally arrives and you’re amazed to find that Eddie’s eyes are not bigger than his stomach. He talks about music and his band in between bites of pancakes and hashbrowns, both of them drowned in an inch of syrup. He speaks of his friends back in Indiana with a certain fondness, but you can’t help but notice how avoids naming his hometown. He also never refers to Hawkins as back home, instead saying where I’m from.

Conversation between the two of you flows as easily as the never-ending coffee from Dorothy’s pot. It’s almost too easy to forget that this is an interview. Remembering yourself, you take a moment to ask Eddie one of the harder-hitting questions you have in your back pocket.

“What about Evelyn Chau?”

Eddie winces. The open book that was sitting before you shuts tight with a resilient slam. The mouthful of pancakes and syrup seems to turn to sludge as his chewing slows. Despite having no regard for table manners earlier, he points at his lips and holds up a finger to indicate that he needs a minute to swallow. 

After taking a sip of coffee and wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, he slouches in his seat and crosses his arms defensively. 

“What about Evelyn Chau?” He repeats your question back to you but with an unmistakable air of forced nonchalance. 

You want to crumble under his pointed gaze, but you don’t. You steel yourself with the reminder that asking uncomfortable questions is part of your job description. Besides, it would raise many more alarms if you didn’t ask about the raven-haired model spotted painting the town with him than if you did. 

“Everyone wants to know if you’re together.”

“Everyone.” He exaggerates the word, using his index finger to trace the lip of his coffee cup. “Does that include you?”

The smirk on his face indicates that he’s either messing with you or flirting with you. Maybe both. 

“Well,” you demure. “are you?”

“Evie is just a friend.” Eddie’s still perfectly composed, but the familiarity with which he says her nickname betrays him. His face twitches when he catches his slip-up. “A really close friend.”

It’s already too late. He couldn’t convince you that she was just a friend if he tried. A flash of a crossed-out halo and crooked angel wings comes to mind. 

You’re about to ask him another question, but Dorothy and her impeccable timing interrupts the moment by placing the check on the table. Eddie throws down a few bills from an old leather wallet, while you’re trying to figure out how you can spin a two-hour diner date into an entire article. 

Eddie stretches as he stands up, the hem of his black v-neck raises to expose a tattoo on his right hip that snakes down further than you’re supposed to look. On the other side, you catch a muddled array of purple and red scar tissue. Averting your eyes, you look up and are met with a stony gaze. He caught you staring.

“What do you say we get outta here?”

Because you’re a very stupid, stupid woman, you agree.

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

taglist: @twisted-wonderland-of-wren

[justanotherlonelywritersblog]

My Everlasting Muse pt.1

Harry styles x OC

Warnings: 18+ Drugs, smoking, alcohol, mature content, swearing

Meeting someone who is irrevocably, unapologetically themselves is near impossible these days. 

There was a point in my life where I was stuck in a tsunami of grief, with waves of hidden agendas and vendettas constantly crashing against me. Never knowing which friend would be the next to betray me, or which camera would snap a picture of my walking corpse, or which news outlet would pay the prettiest dime for a glimpse of my remains. Hollywood breeds trust issues and kills the most beautiful minds. All because they had a dream, they once thought was worth pursuing. 

Growing up the idea of music and having a career in it sounded magical. So unbelievably naive, I studied every vinyl, witnessed as many concerts as I could, and sang until my vocal cords went raw. And when the opportunity planted itself in front of me, I leaped across the ocean with hopes and dreams and ended up landing in the viper's den. And as the tickets sold, and my voice was heard across the world I learned to hate what I once used to adore. And as the stadiums roared, and the music played, my interest in cocaine and booze increased every day. 

The family and friends I used to hang out with every Sunday, no longer heard from me. Getting their updates on my life with the rest of the world, through tabloids and news stations. The claws of Hollywood were digging into me, indulging every night, waking up to a groupie every morning, and feeling lost in the process of creation. I sang words of love and ambition but was experiencing none of those feelings. On the outside, I was the epitome of coming from nothing and making a real name for yourself. But was it worth sacrificing everything and everyone I've ever known? Well, I don't know. 

I was drowning and quickly sinking further down a whole of scandals and self-destruction, not knowing who to ask or how to ask for help, when everyone around me is in the same sinking boat as I am. I wrote a song when I was younger, it's the reason I have the fortune I do now, it was about how love can save you from the darkest of things. But I didn't know at the time, that even love couldn't save you from yourself. 

Or at least I thought so. 

A girl with eyes of salt, and an annoyingly positive personality somehow swam onto my sinking ship and rescued me from the wreck that was myself. I didn't think it was possible. A girl I once detested and hated everything she stood for, who was irrevocably and unapologetically herself, became my everlasting muse.

And honestly, I wouldn't want it any other way. 

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

Love is ironic.

It's magnetizing because it can elicit happiness, but it can also elicit pain. For it is the pain that reminds you of how truly connected you are to the person you fell in love with. 

I wasn't always so unapologetically me. 

There was a time in my life when I would sit under the stars and pray to anything, anyone up there, to give me a sign that I wasn't broken, that I wasn't unlovable, and that there was someone out there who would reassure me that I wasn't a freak of nature. Growing up in a home where shouting was the courtesy, and broken bottles were normal, it made sense I clang to the first person who showed me a sliver of love. So entrapped in the appeal of being in love, I naively went from one traumatic home to another. 

A voice that used to be gentle, now reflected my father's. Deep and intoxicated, staggering around our home with shoves and the occasional fist to my face. Isolated and a million miles away from everything I've ever known, I became trapped in this cycle of intoxication and abuse that I so badly wanted to escape.

 I was repeating my mother's mistakes.

 And the day I realized that I left in a raggedy zeppelin t-shirt, with blood-soaked hands and never looked back.

Starting over in a new city, with a new name and a new goal in life. 

Just be me. 

I wanted to determine my own fate, my own decisions, my own passions. I was over letting people walk over me and being confined to their ideas of what I should be. 

However, I never expected this new chapter in my life to end up unraveling like it did. 

Booze, regrets, parties, and cigarettes. 

I guess the trauma was resurfacing through self-deprecating behavior. But I'm not shaming my past mistakes, for it ended up leading to my savior. He was older, and his aura pulsed trouble. He didn't have to carry himself; his name did all the work for him. His brooding nature, and downright miserable attitude made me want to be the positive one for once. 

I knew the logical thing was to ignore him. I knew who he was, I knew the danger that surrounded him, and the spotlight that followed him. I should've left him and never looked back, as I had done in my past life. However, there was something magnetic pulling me towards him. Maybe it was the universe, maybe it was just luck how we always ended up in the same place and the same time. 

I became his anchor; he became my life. 

I never thought I'd be known as Harry Style's everlasting muse. 

But honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. 

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

pt. 2 here

A/N: ahhhhhh i'm so excited!! Let me know what you think so far! This is my first fan fic so please be nice lol

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy reading this! Updates will come as soon as I can! I'm so excited about this story, let me know what you think so far! 

[thesakuragarnet]

Playing With Fire: A Pro Hero Dabi AU (Future AU) Chapter One

THIS FIC IS 18+ ONLY!!!!! (Tags below Keep Reading Button)

Summary: Toya Todoroki was groomed his entire life to be his father's successor, only for it to backfire in Endeavor's face. Ranked in the top ten alongside his two closest friends, Hawks and Mirko, the 26-year-old BlueFlame Hero: Dabi is the bane of Endeavor's existence. For half a decade, the trio has been the topic of several scandals involving drugs, alcohol, and promiscuity as they splurge their fortunes on ridiculous parties. Pampered with support items and his family's fortune, Dabi is widely known for his impulsivity and douchebag attitude. However, after meeting his match in a random club, Toya Todoroki has no idea where his life is headed, other than that he wants to spend the rest of it with Sakura and their future children. Now, a year has passed since class 1-A graduated from UA, and, per the Commission, they all serve as sidekicks to various hero agencies (primarily those of Dabi, Hawks, and Mirko).

TL;DR Between pissing off his father, competing with his friends/rivals, trying to start a family, and running his own agency, Toya has absolutely nothing under control, especially his tendency to drink his problems away.

Word Count (of Chapter One): 2,552 words

AO3 link

Tags for fic: Hero!Dabi, Dabi X OC, Bakusquad, Dekusquad, swearing, explicit s3ggsual content, drinking, drugz, Dabi & Hawks & Mirko are best friends, alcohol!sm, implied s3ggsual content, romance, add!ction, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, smvt, sw!tch Dabi, trying for babies

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One: The Introduction

The BlueFlame Agency was conveniently placed right across the street from the Endeavor Agency. After years of hard work, Daddy’s money, and not giving any fucks, Toya Todoroki AKA BlueFlame Hero: Dabi had built his own empire. He had been lucky enough to have Support Items that compensated for his complicated Quirk. With a body built for ice and a Quirk of raging fire, Toya Todoroki was the embodiment of self-sabotage. Here he was, twenty-six years old, in the top ten, with only two real friends: Hawks and Mirko. They were rivals that actually gave a shit about each other. Their agencies were all in the same city: Musutafu. It was a town with a large population, which meant more crime and villain activity. The three of them lived like Hollywood celebrities; they partied, they drank, they slept around, and the cycle repeated. They were always trying to outdo one another while simultaneously always having each other’s backs. 

When his little brother’s class graduated from UA, they were forced to be sidekicks instead of Pros first. The Commission wanted it that way. They were running out of reliable sidekicks, and heroes that gave their sidekicks respect. By training them as rookies and underlings first, they would have the humility and appreciation for their Pro standings as they rose through the ranks. Toya was offended when he found out Shoto chose Mirko’s agency over his own, but he was glad that he hadn’t signed up for Endeavor’s. In truth, Shoto insisted he only applied because it was where his friends were going. The main contenders of the famous “ 2110 Class 1-A” were split between Mirko, Hawks, and Dabi. The BlueFlame Agency housed Katsuki Bakugo, Mina Ashido, Hanta Sero, Denki Kaminari, Ejiro Kirishima, and Kyoka Jirou. Meanwhile, the Hawks Agency boasted Fumikage Tokoyami, Yuga Aoyama, Neito Monoma, Momo Yaoyorozu, Tenya Ida, and Mezo Shoji. Finally, Mirko’s sidekicks were Shoto Todoroki, Izuku Midoriya, Ochaco Uraraka, Tsuyu Asui, Koji Koda, and Mashirao Ojiro. It had been a year since they first began their careers as sidekicks, and many of them were becoming anxious and antsy, wanting to step it up a notch.

…

“He’s late for rounds…again,” Katsuki Bakugo snarls, drumming his gloved hands on his elbow. The sidekicks stand in line awaiting the arrival of their fearless leader: Dabi. They referred to him as many things amongst each other: Hot Topic, Dipstick, Daddy Issues, Shoto’s Psycho Older Brother. He was almost always hungover at every single rounds meeting, and it had been that way since day one. It was no secret that Toya Todoroki had a slight drinking problem that likely started during high school. He, Hawks, and Mirko had made several tabloids very wealthy with their luxurious, salacious parties. Toya had been in several interviews for being an openly neurodivergent Pro, but he hated every minute of them. Once he got away from his father, he stopped taking his ADHD medication. Mina thinks the real reason he stopped taking it was so he could drink as much as he wanted whenever he wanted, but no one really knows. One time, they all came back from a mission to discover him and Hawks contemplating snorting a line of coke, and it was unclear who was trying to encourage or discourage who. 

“I know he’s here. I saw his car out front,” Kirishima frowns, his brow furrowing as he stretches. 

“Maybe he passed out? Should someone go check on him?” Jirou pipes up as she takes off her headphones. 

CRASH!

They all immediately look toward the ceiling, where the sound came from. The floor above them housed Toya’s office. 

“OH SHIT!” Kaminari shouts, preparing to sprint up the stairs. Suddenly, more crashes echo from upstairs…followed by a distinct, high-pitched repetitive noise. 

“Oh…Oh God, really?! ” Sero cringes as he covers his ears. 

“OH NO! OH FUCK! SOMEONE GIVE ME SOME COTTON FOR MY HEADPHONE JACKS!” Jirou panics, her face paling as she squeezes her eyes shut. 

“Aw maaan. How did she slip past us?!” Kaminari whines, and Kirishima jabs him in the side with his elbow.

“Not manly thirsting over a taken woman, bro,” Kirishima shakes his head, and Denki shrugs. The noises get louder and louder, and, suddenly, it’s apparent that there are two separate voices: one raspy and deep, and one smooth and feminine. 

“Screw this. Again?” Mina huffs, her face turning red as she struts over to the stereo and turns the music all the way up. Unfortunately, it does next to nothing. Bakugo is the only one in the room with a blank, uncaring, unfazed stare, and everyone else looks wildly uncomfortable. It’s painfully obvious…Sakura’s here. 

…

The noises coming from both parties might as well shake the walls, and they can hear the sounds of shuffling furniture in the ceiling.

Inside the Pro Hero’s office, Toya shoves all his papers, keyboard, and phone line off the desk and unceremoniously shoves his wife on it, lying her on her back as he continues to thrust into her. Sakura’s unable to keep quiet as she scratches at the back of his leather jacket. 

“Watch the claws,” He grunts through his gasps as he continues to rapidly pound her. 

“Shut the hell up,” Sakura growls between euphoric moans as her eyelids flutter. Toya smirks and deliberately gives a particularly harsh thrust, making her wince. 

“You gonna keep being -ahhh- ah- a fucking brat ?” He groans, blinking hard to distract himself from the building arousal. He’s determined to break her first, or, at the very least, at the same time. 

“ Y-you’re the f-f-uuuucking brat,” Sakura spits back at him as she grabs a fistful of the black leather, pulling him to her and smashing her lips to his. He digs his fingernails into her exposed shoulders, and it takes everything in him not to rip off that beautiful purple dress she’s wearing. He’d love nothing more than to burn it right off and leave her completely naked, but they had a meeting to attend. It had to be quick. They’d been going at it like rabbits for the past five days ever since they got married. After all, that was the plan that his father placed on his shoulders. Find a strong girl with a strong Quirk. Get hitched. Have a kid. Carry on the legacy. That was his duty as the eldest Todoroki son. It only just so happened that he was actually head over heels for this warrior of a woman. Unlike his father, he married for love and lust rather than for power. They had dated for three years and were engaged for two. It was just by chance that they met. He was drunk off his ass at Hawks’ party, planning on just having a one-night stand with the first sexy bitch that took interest. But then, he locked eyes with this toned, sleek woman with flowing brown hair on the dancefloor. And somehow…he knew. It was only her from then on, no one else. 

Sakura and Toya’s tongues tease each other as the desk screeches back and forth with every motion. Sweat drips down both of them as his hips snap back and forth in fluid, calculated motions. 

“Are you ready for it, baby?” His voice is a gravelly rasp in her ear, and it sends a chill down her spine. 

“Twelfth times the charm,” She sighs with a teasing smile on her face. He would kill to see that smile every waking moment of his life. 

“Fuck…Fuck, I’m coming. Oh, I’m fucking coming ,” The moans tumble out of his mouth as his thrusts become erratic, and he sharply inhales as Sakura’s walls clench around him. Her back arches as he harshly bites his lip and empties into her. Sakura’s legs tremor before they both go still, breathing hard and covered in sweat. Like something out of a movie, they both grab each other’s faces and sloppily kiss one another, overwhelmed with the afterglow. 

BEEEEP! 

“Dabi. The Commission is on Line Four,” Jirou’s voice sounds monotonous and irritated through the phone that Toya shoved to the floor. He growls and rolls his eyes as he breaks away from the kiss. 

“Duty calls, princess,” He sighs before slowly slipping out of her, a breath of relief bursting from the both of them as they separate. Toya shakes himself back into his pants and zips them up, wiping Sakura’s juices off of the outside seams. He leans down, picking up the phone and putting it on the desk as he pulls up his rolling chair. Sakura slowly starts to sit up, scooting to the edge of the desk as she prepares to jump off and grab her panties. Swiftly, Toya stops her, smoothly inserting two fingers inside her, keeping any of the release from seeping out. Sakura freezes as he goes to pick up the phone, and he winks at her before making a “Shhh” gesture with his other hand. 

BEEP! 

He presses the button on the landline and picks up the phone, keeping his fingers still deep inside Sakura. 

“BlueFlame Hero: Dabi, speaking. AKA The Toya Todoroki AKA The Amazing Son of Number Two Hero Endeavor AKA The Number Six on The Chart. What’s up?” He leans back in the chair, flexing his finger once and giving his wife a sideways glance as she squirms, desperately trying to be quiet. 

“Yes, Dabi. Are you aware of the Summit this weekend in Hosu City? You haven’t gotten back to us about your attendance,” The voice crackles through the telephone.

“Mirko and Hawks might’ve mentioned it,” He yawns, uncaring. 

“We’ve been sending you and your staff emails for the past month,” The woman explains, and Toya snorts. 

“Oh, yeah. Those,” He mutters in boredom. 

“So? You do understand that you are expected to attend if you wish to keep that Number Six placement, yes?” The woman deadpans, making Toya’s eyes narrow. 

“I’ll be at your stupid summit. Don’t worry your pretty little head. I wouldn’t miss a chance to embarrass my Dad for the world,” He chuckles before he starts pumping his fingers in and out of Sakura, making her tightly grip the edge of the desk and spread her legs wider. He looks over his shoulder at her, a devilish grin spreading across his face as she looks at him with pleading eyes. He can’t tell if she wants him to stop or keep going, and he loves that. 

“Alright, then, wonderful. We’ll be sending details to your sidekicks promptly. We look forward to seeing you there!” The voice says with faux grandeur. 

“Oh, oh. One more thing. The Summit. It’s a whole weekend, right? So, are we getting fancy hotels? Is this like a just me thing, or am I allowed to bring my beautiful wife along? You know, Draconic Hero: Firebrand. Sakura Todoroki. Sister of Ryuko Tatsuma. I’m sure you’ve heard of her,” Toya winks, and the voice at the other end sighs. 

“Yes, you will be staying in a hotel with all of the other Pros invited. The purpose of the Summit is to promote teamwork and set a goal for the year in terms of capturing villains and stopping the drug rings…” The woman continues to speak, but Toya ignores her, mouthing the words “Blah, blah, blah” and rolling his eyes, making Sakura laugh. Her laugh then dissolves into an involuntary loud moan as Toya intentionally curls his fingers around her G-spot. 

“Did-Did you say something?” The woman suddenly stutters, seemingly flustered. A cruel smirk spreads on Toya’s face. 

“Oh, nothing. I’ll be there. We done?” Toya brazenly asks. 

“Y-y-yes Mister Todoroki- I mean, Dabi, sir. Yes, that’s all I needed. Goodbye,” The Commission employee stammers before the phone line goes dead. 

“N-not cool,” Sakura’s voice lilts, and she glares at Toya as he slides his chair closer to her, his fingers still flexing against her sensitive spot. He pushes in deeper so his thumb can run small circles over her clit, and she sharply inhales. 

“Baby girl, we both know I’m cold as ice,” He smugly replies before slowly pulling his hand out of her, making her shudder. He stares at his fingers, noting the dripping mix of their fluids, and grabs a tissue from the box on his desk. He roughly wipes off his hand before throwing the tissue in the trash bin at his feet. 

“I had to make sure it got all the way inside. Can’t get a kid in you if it all seeps out, now, can we?” He chides before picking her panties up off the floor and handing them to her. 

“Now. I believe these are yours?”

...

“Morning, team,” Toya yawns as he runs a hand through his messy white hair. 

“You’re ten minutes late,” Katsuki snaps, and his friends give him a nervous look. 

“To my own meeting? You can’t start without me anyways. Not like you punks have anywhere else to be,” Toya scoffs, crossing his arms. 

“We didn’t  have  to pick your agency, you know,” Bakugo mutters under his breath, and Kirishima touches his shoulder. 

“Cut it out,” He whispers to his best friend, but Bakugo flinches away. 

“Listen, you’re my favorite, so I’ll give you a pass on the attitude alright. I’ll be on time for the rest of the week, I swear. I had something…important to do,” Toya smiles to himself absentmindedly tapping his foot. Kaminari snickers, and Mina and Jirou simultaneously smack him on the back of the head. The clicking of leather boots echoes in the stairwell behind Toya, and Sakura slowly emerges into the doorway, walking up behind him. She  clearly  is struggling to walk. 

“I’ve got the reports printed out,” Sakura says flatly, handing a folder to Toya. He cracks open the folder and walks up to each sidekick, handing them a sheet of paper. 

“These are your patrol zones for the day. Remember, our goal is to outdo your little friends at Hawks’ and Mirko’s agencies. If you see them, feel free to team up, but be the better hero. If you need me, just call. I’ll have my phone on me all day. I’ve got a meeting with Team Lurkers this afternoon, though. So, I probably won’t answer after four-ish. Got it?” He drones on like a tired drill sergeant. 

“Yes, sir!” They all shout back, except Bakugo, who only gives an annoyed nod. 

“Oh, and whoever can get an embarrassing picture of Shoto fucking up gets a dollar raise,” Toya sneers. 

“What about Deku?” Bakugo raises his eyebrow. 

“The Number One’s prodigy? Ehhhh, maybe like twenty-five cents,” The Pro concedes, making Bakugo smirk. 

“In the bag,” The chaotic sidekick mutters under his breath as he follows his friends out of the automatic doors, leaving Toya and Sakura alone. 

“You…you don’t have a meeting with Team Lurkers at all today,” Sakura points out, raising her eyebrow. 

“Right.  We  are going to a rave with Keigo and Rumi tonight. But, don’t worry. I already promised you, no more hard drugs. But I can’t promise I won’t be doing shots with Keigo,” Toya snickers, grabbing her by the waist and kissing her on the forehead. 

“In the meantime, I think we should pay dear old Dad a visit, considering he didn’t bother showing up to the wedding.” 

[synnamonroll666]

Casting Couch

Picture lightly edited by me.

Pairing: Josh Washington x Fem!Reader Description: You get a chance to play the lead role in the most famous and successful Hollywood producer's—Josh Washington's—new film. And it seems like you got the part! But there is only one thing left for you to do—a sweet deal that's just too perfect for you to refuse…  Warnings: Movie Producer X Actress, Strip Tease, BlowJob (Male Receiving), Female Riding Male, P In V, Creampie. Word Count: 2.6k A/N: FINALLY I'm going to repost this! I don't know why it has taken me so long to, but I hope my new followers enjoy it just as much as my other ones did on my other account. Just to warn you all, this is lightly reedited. So it's not quite like my new writing style but not like my old one either. I hope you enjoy it regardless! 🖤 Main MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @koexchange, @yesitsloulou, @mistmoose, @jasonexo, @fortune-fool02, and @raven-the-cryptid. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

"I'm here to see Mr. Washington." I said confidently to the middle-aged woman sitting at her desk before me.

The lady merely glanced up at me and then continued to type on her keyboard at a speed that showed me just how long she had been working as a secretary while saying, "Mr. Washington will be ready for you in a moment, dear. Please, take a seat." before gesturing to the chairs in the spacious waiting room. Though her body language seemed cold, her tone was sweet and kind. I knew that she was just busy; after all, she did work for one of the biggest film producers in Hollywood, so it was understandable.

Speaking of, it was a huge opportunity to meet up with Mr. Washington for a role. I had already done my audition, but Mr. Washington had requested that I meet him in his office for a more personal review. Despite meeting one of the most successful men in the film industry at the time, I didn't feel nervous. I was more excited and ready for anything. And I had every right to be. It was just one of those days where everything felt right—my hair was perfectly done, my dress hugged my form just the right way, my make-up was on fucking point; I felt like I was on fucking fire.

After a few minutes of reading some useless magazine about 'Top 10 Beauty Tips for Women Trying to Find a Man.', the secretary, who I had learned was named Betty, granted me permission to enter Mr. Washington's office.

I nodded my head as I stood up before saying a quick thank you and entering the room where Mr. Washington sat behind his desk. I looked around the big office and noted just how much it looked like a horror movie producer's office in particular. The walls were painted black with framed posters of all the movies he had done hung upon them, the carpet floors were blood red, and the furniture within it seemed more of a Gothic style than the usual furniture producers would keep. He was casually reading over some paperwork until he noticed my arrival just a few seconds later.

"Ah, Ms. (L/N)! It's a pleasure to finally meet you!" He greeted me as he stood up while gesturing to the seat in front of him. "Please sit down. We have so much to discuss."

I walked over to the offered seat and sat down, crossing my legs afterwards and resting my arms on the armrests of the quite comfy chair. Mr. Washington was definitely more attractive in person, especially in that all-black suit he had on. The man sat back down in his seat and smiled seductively, all while his eyes roamed my form for a brief moment. I could see the wheels turning in his brain as he undressed me with his orbs and it was quite a turn-on, especially with how his pupils dilated his light green iris' the more his eyes stayed on my body.

"So, you liked my audition tape?" I asked nonchalantly, knocking him from his brief fantasy and bringing him back to reality.

"Uh- Yeah! You are quite a talented young woman." He responded in a sort of dazed tone, as if he were slowly coming back from being unconscious.

"Thank you, Sir." I said with a smile.

That title I gave him seemed to do a lot for him, as he visibly shuddered after the word left my lips. He swallowed thickly and adjusted his tie, as if he were trying to fight his urges. But I had a feeling that that battle would soon be lost.

"U-Um... However, there is an additional requirement you'll have to proceed with ifyou want this part badly enough." He added, and I titled my head to the side slightly, causing my hair to flip over my shoulder and flow down my arm gracefully as I raised a questioning brow. He cleared his throat while adjusting his tie yet again, making me smirk slightly at the effect I was having on him. "The thing is, ladies who work for me not only have to show me how well they do on set, but behind the set as well."

After speaking his last sentence, Mr. Washington gestured to a black leather couch that was placed against the left wall of the office. It didn't take long to know what he meant, and I was more than willing to show him just how badly I wanted this part.

"Well, Mr. Washington, what are we waiting for?" I asked in a low and seductive tone as my lips curled up into a devilish smirk. My tongue cut through their seam to glide across them slowly, wetting them in a rather suggestive manner.

Mr. Washington's sexy smile only grew wider, since he clearly knew he was getting exactly what he wanted. He stood from his chair and walked over to where I was seated before he offered me his hand, which I gladly took without hesitation.

He helped me stand, guided me to the couch, and then sat down on it, resting his arms on the headrest. I smiled down at him sweetly—instantly getting the hint of what he was suggesting—before I kneeled down onto my knees.

Though the extra-soft carpet was so nice against my bare knees, I could barely take time to appreciate it as I stared down at the growing bulge in Mr. Washington's pants with awe. Clearly, he was just as excited about this as I was—maybe even more.

I licked my lips hungrily and began undoing his belt. No longer than a couple seconds later, I was unzipping his expensive dress pants and pulling out his erect member to meet the cool air of the room. I held his length in my hand, admiring the girth of it as I bit my lip to stifle my smirk. It wasn't until I heard the agitated clearing of Mr. Washington's throat that I got snapped out of my little wanton of fantasies and appreciation.

"Are you just going to hold it like it's a trophy?" I looked up upon hearing his words to see him staring down at me with a raised brow. "Trust me, honey, you'll have plenty of those to man-handle once I reward you for your services. Now, get to work."

Immediately after he gave me his order, I began moving my hand up and down his shaft, tightening my fingers around its width, and pumping it slowly before taking the tip into my mouth.

He let out a strained moan at the contact of my lips wrapping around his tip, and I could see him fighting to keep himself from moving one of his hands down onto my head to force me to go deeper. But being a good little servant, I took the hint and lowered myself on his cock. I opened my throat as I took him deeper into my mouth, consuming each thick inch and practically having to fight back a moan due to the delicious taste of his flesh.

It didn't take long for the salty taste of his pre-cum to meet my palette and satisfy my taste buds, earning a deep groan from me to vibrate against his cock. He clenched his eyes shut and threw an arm over them as his mouth hung open, while his voice was producing the most beautiful sounds that had ever greeted my ears.

I tightened my lips around his length and began sucking as hard as I possibly could. I bobbed my head up and down slowly, though I quickly made sure to pick up speed each time his member reentered my mouth. Since I wanted this experience for him to be the best it could be, I let one of my hands move to his balls and grip them firmly. His voice grew louder due to my actions, and I took it as meaning that I was doing a good job. Now massaging his balls in my hand, I wiggled my tongue against his dorsal vein as I decided to work even faster.

But just as I had started to increase my speed even more, Mr. Washington's fingers clenched into a fist, gripping my hair firmly in his grasp. He pulled my head away from his cock, forcing his length out of my mouth with a wet pop.

"I-I think that's enough." He whispered breathlessly, and I cocked my head with confusion. It wasn't until he patted his lap that I understood what he wanted. I stood up, quickly obeying his orders with a lot of excitement for what was to come next.

After standing to my full height, I turned around so my back was facing him. Then I reached behind me to clasp the metal zipper—the one that was holding my dress closed—in my fingers before slowly pulling it down. I let the straps fall off my shoulders, and the only thing hiding my partial nude form fell to the floor, leaving me in my black lace bra and panties.

Mr. Washington's eyes roamed my form slowly, growing more hungry with every passing second, making it clear that I was his next meal to devour. I approached him, taking slow steps as I did so. I wanted to drag this out for as long as I possibly could. Smirking at him, I hooked my fingers under the waistband of my panties and pushed them down my legs as well. Mr. Washington's eyes never left my hands as one went to my core to let a finger brush through my folds, showing him just how wet I was for him.

I brought that finger up to my lips and sucked it into my mouth, letting my eyes flutter shut and moaning a little over dramatically as the salty taste hit my tongue. After I was done with my little performance, my eyes opened again to see that Mr. Washington's eyes had widened with what seemed like crazed lust and want. Smirking smugly due to the effect I still had on him, I climbed onto his lap to allow him to line his tip up with my dripping hole.

I slowly sank down onto his length, letting my heat consume each thick inch. I bit my lip hard as I tried to stifle all the crude noises that my body was dying to release. But to my surprise, Mr. Washington grabbed my face with one hand, squishing my cheeks and forcing my mouth open.

"Don't hold back those beautiful noises." He growled his demand and I visibly shuddered, letting out a shaky breath as I did so.

I stayed still for only a moment, allowing myself to adjust to his large size. But once that stinging shock melted into delightful pleasure, I lifted myself back up and sank back down in a swift motion. The feeling of his size stretching me out was arousing enough, but that look on his face was something else. It lit a fire within me in an instant and only sent me further into a downward spiral of pure ecstasy.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth had fallen agape, his cheeks were a nice tint of red, his slicked back hair slowly became disheveled, and a thin coat of sweat glossed his tanned skin. It was quite a sight to behold, and I felt so lucky that I was the one who was lucky enough to witness it.

I leaned forward and kissed his neck, attacking all the spots that I knew were his weak spots. Though I just couldn't hold back for long, I sank my teeth in, right by his collarbone. To my pleasant surprise, Mr. Washington let out a loud gasp in shock as his hands flew to my back so he could dig his nails into my soft flesh.

"My, my, Mr. Washington." I leaned back to smirk at him. "I didn't take you as the sensitive type."

He responded with a low growl as his eyes burrowed into mine intensely with hunger and need. He clenched his teeth so tight, as if he were fighting back words of frustration—though his eyes said it all. And soon after, he couldn't refrain from letting his lips do so as well.

"Just... Do... Your... Fucking... Job..." He rasped between ragged breaths, and I instantly nodded as my cocky smirk grew.

I rolled my hips in just the right way, not only making the moment more enjoyable for him but for me as well. I tossed my head back as I let out a loud moan, suddenly not caring who heard me—suddenly not caring who heard how I'm his little slut.

Taking the hint, Mr. Washington's thumb flew to my clit, pressing down hard and rubbing the swollen little bead in quick circles. I almost couldn't take it. I wanted to hold on for as long as I could so he could be satisfied first, so I clenched my teeth together tightly and tried to ignore the burning pleasure within my core the best I could.

But then Mr. Washington caught on rather quickly. He leaned in until his lips just grazed my ear, letting his breath fan its shell ever so gently.

"Cum for me." He spoke in a low, deep growl.

Merely a second later, I let go. Between his deep voice in my ear and his cock twitching against my g-spot, I fell into the void of blinding pleasure as I screamed through my climax. His words, his voice, his touch, his scent—it let off an explosion within me quicker than gasoline hitting a match. Shortly after my orgasm, Mr. Washington came too. I was blessed with the sight of him coming undone before me, and the only thing that went through my mind was, 'I did that—I've ruined this big, powerful man.'

Nothing had ever felt so empowering.

I rested my head on Mr. Washington's shoulder as we both slowly came down from our highs. The feeling of his hand gently rubbing my back in slow, smooth circles was a nice contrast to the rough fucking we just had and helped me to come back down to my senses and reality.

After a few minutes of sitting in complete silence, I leaned back to smile down at him. He returned my smile and brought his hand up to gently caress my cheek. I responded by leaning into his touch as my eyes fluttered shut again in contentment. I felt so at peace at that moment, as if nothing else mattered.

He kissed me on the lips one last time—sweetly—compared to the careless ones he had given me prior, as if I didn't even matter to him. But I knew differently then, like I do now. I slowly pulled myself off of him, earning more moans due to the oversensitivity both of us were experiencing in our post-orgasmic state.

After dressing myself while Mr. Washington stayed on the couch, I readjusted my dress and slowly walked to the door of the office. But when I placed my hand on the door handle, I turned around one last time to see Mr. Washington looking at me with a loving smile on his lips—a loving smile that I returned.

"See you at home around eight, hun?" He asked as he slowly sat up and began buttoning up his shirt.

"I'll have dinner ready on the table, sweetheart." I confirmed before blowing my husband a kiss, which he caught, then I turned my heel and walked out the door.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[kikithedreamerwriter]

Fem!Singer!Y/N x Insecure!Bayverse!Leonardo

Genre: Hurt and Comfort, Fluff

⚠️: NSFW suggestive themes

Let me know if you want to be part of my taglist!

🗣️ taglist: @sharpwindow @pheradream-15 @m1dnyt3-w0lf

Imagines # 2: Happily Blue for You

Prompt: You’re a university student and a passionate musician who’s always on the hunt for gigs. Leo knows that he’s a mutant turtle and having a human girlfriend like Y/N L/N sometimes makes him question whether or not it’s right to her at all. So after a much heated argument, Y/N sets out to make it right for her leader in blue…

🎶: “Not Another Song About Love” by Hollywood Ending (Nightcore Version) | Check it out here!

Leo slammed the door behind him. As far as he knows, you are not aware of the insecurity that he harbored in you relationship. As far as you’re concerned, you definitely are. You sighed, sitting at the edge of his bed with your head in your hands. You were tired and at your wit’s end. You always thought of your boyfriend as someone so calm, cool, and collected that you never would have realized the true extent of his emotions.

“Maybe… we shouldn’t be together…” He said to you quitely, his eyes cast to the floor.

“Love…” He always loves it when you call him that, but he hated it whenever he saw your eyes glisten because of him. “What are you talking about? Why shouldn’t we? Do you not feel the same for me as you did before?”

“Of course I do!” He finally burst. “I have loved you since the first time I saw you and even more intensely as I got to know you. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known, Y/N and it’s not right that you should have somebody like me! I can’t take you out on dates! You can’t show me off to your friends! I can’t-“

“Does it ever matter to you, that what matters to me is what you can do and not what you can’t?” You cut him off, your voice straining. “Not to mention what you already did! You’re-“

“A turtle! Who lives in the sewers and fights bad guys! I can’t give you a future without endangering you! I want-“

“What about what I want, Leo does that not matter to you too?”

“No! It doesn’t!”

Your argument ended in a silent rage. You wiped the tears that had slipped from your eyes and breathed deeply as you composed herself. You knew that Leo had uttered those hurtful sentiments out of his own feelings, and that feelings were temporary. Of course he was in his right to feel insecure, what wasn’t right was that he felt that he didn’t deserve you. Him, a brave and lethal warrior to his enemies; a strong and desicive leader to his brothers; and a kind and gentle lover to you. In your eyes, he was perfect despite his flaws. But eyes can only ever see themselves in relfections. Then it dawned on you. You quickly got up from his bed, exited the Lair, headed to the streets, and whipped out your phone.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It had been days since your argument with Leo and hopefully tonight was finally the time that you could make this right on your end. You accepted that gig at Central Park for a night show where, fortunately, you and your band were invited by a popular organizer to play. The band on stage only had two more songs before you finish their set and you were dreadfully nervous. You tucked your hair deeper into the pocket of your denim hoodie and wringed your hands as you peered into the crowd. You can only hope that Mikey was able to convince his brother enough to come along, for your grand gesture severely depended on it. Your long-time friend, Ash, the band’s lead guitarist noticed your anxiety and comforted you with a firm but reassuring grasp on your shoulder.

“Hey,” She said to you. “It’ll be alright. Whether this Leonardo is coming or not, you know you’ve done what you can to show him how you truly feel. You’re a good person Y/N, and I’m sure he feels just as intensely as you do, if not more.”

“Thank you,” you smiled as you took your her hand and squeezed it. “Look, he’s a little-“

“Unusual,” Ash finished. “Yes, I promise I won’t tell anyone about him and that I won’t freak out when I meet him. You’re basically my sister Y/N, if this Leonardo means so much to you. I’ll do what I promise.”

Your eyes met and just then… your band was called to the stage. The lights were dimmed as you proceeded to take your places. Ash, Milton, and Gray to their guitars, Tamara to her drums, Casper to his keys, and you to the mike centerstage. For the first five songs of your set, you let your love for music sustain you. Everything was smooth sailing. Thanks to your brillant technician Seb, light and sound was without technical error. In addition, the crowd was accomodating and your fellow bandmates performed just as deliciously as they did every night. Milton and Gray were just eating up the attention they received from their young fans, Tamara didn’t miss a beat, and you observed Casper and Ash were being gawked at by so many musicians from the sidelines. You could feel so many eyes placed on you, and yet… the only pair that mattered to you, you wouldn’t know if they were there at all.

Before your final song, you and Ash met gazes. She nodded her head affirmitively and you smiled in an attempt to bolster your confidence. You have been developing this song for only a week, and it wasn’t often that you created your own originals for the band. Ash was the true genius, and with her guidance you could only hope that that this song… your heartful ode to your one true beloved would be enough to make him feel that he was enough.

“This song…” You said into the mike. “…is for someone really special to me.”

Your eyes looked for his desperately in the sea of faces.

“Leo love,” You uttered his name fearlessly. “This one’s for you.”

The crowd hooted as Tamara banged her drumsticks and began a beat.

“Let it out

Been building up, you better let it out

Say everything that you've been meaning now

I want it to burn…”

“But everything you do makes my heart race

I can't even think straight

Is this just a game to you?

Reruns every night

It's always the same fight

And I think you should know”

“I hate your touch, I hate your mouth

I can't stand every single word that falls out

But you're all that I've been dreaming of

This is not another song about love”

“I hate your voice, I hate your lips

I hate how bad I wanna steal your kiss

But you're all that I've been dreaming of

This is not another song about love..”

Every fiber in your being was vibrating with the music, hoping it could reach him, wherever he was. Sweat dripped down your face, your voice was sore, and your body ached, but your heart was beating and open and free. You began to approach the final verse.

“The sky fades from blue to gray

Inside he's just like an ocean, still I'm drowning

How bad I wanna sink and let it take me away

I don't know why I come back, I do every time

We get close to the end, it's a finish line

Sing these words for the man I've been dreaming of

Is this just another song about love?”

There was a pause before the bridge and the final repeat of the chorus. The lights dimmed momentarily and the crowd gasped, thinking the power had been cut. You unsheathed your locks in the darkness, and when the lights had been turn on again, it was all blue. Your bandmates with the exception of Ash, oggled at your hair. It had been given full, dark blue highlights that seemed to glimmer in the lights. For one moment, time stood still, and you had finally found those ocean eyes. Those beautiful ocean eyes. You smiled at his gaping expression, hidden far beind the crowd. Mikey basically had to collect his brother’s jaw from the floor because you were that stunning. You felt like it was just you and Leo in the world, immortal and together forever.

“Let it out

Been building up, I better let it out

Say everything that I've been meaning now

Dreaming 'bout

I need it now!

I need you now!”

“I need your touch, I have no doubt

I want your love 'til it all runs out

'Cause you're all that I've been dreaming of

Is this just another song about love?”

“I need your voice, I need your lips

I need you bad, I wanna steal your kiss

'Cause you're all that I've been dreaming of

This is just another song about

Another song about love…”

And as the song ended, you could feel your tears gather in your eyes. The crowd was going crazy, but it wasn’t because of them. It was him. Just him. Your bandmates exited from the stage gracefully, but you just ran. They were calling out your name as you ran towards the far end of the crowd. They were starting to notice you and began to approach, when Ash intervened, following you as she blocked off your new fans. But you didn’t care. You ran so much that you ended up far from the stage and into the dark wilderness of the park.

“Leo!” You called, out of breath. “Lov-!”

Just then, a pair of arms pulled you behind some tall hedges and you were in his embrace. He pressed you tightly against his plastron and you could feel his hands in your hair. As you came a apart, you could see that both of your eyes were wet and gleaming underneath the pale moonlight. He lifted you to him and leaned his forehead against yours. Your palms held his scaly cheeks lovingly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered back.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t.” You breathed.

“I want you,” your eyes met intensely. “I want you very much, and I’m so damn lucky that you want me too.”

“I need you, Leo.” You gasped as he placed his lips on yours. You savored how he tasted on your tongue. Your lips moved in unison but neither of you didn’t need to express anymore words. He churred under his breath and began to knead the flesh of your ass. When you moaned it turned on something feral in him and began to mark your neck with his teeth. You came apart again, flushed and breathless as he tucked his head beneath your neck and above your breasts. He littered sweet kisses up the length of where he placed his mark as he caressed his head. Just then, you heard someone stumble through the bushes. Leo looked to you alarmingly.

“You’re right,” You sighed. “You can’t meet my friends, but I want you to get to know at least just one and she’s the best I ever had.”

“Y/N!” Ash beckoned.

“Over here!” You replied. Ash stumbled into the scene just as Leo put you down. She stared at him for a little while, before proceeding what Leo experienced to be the most normal introduction in his life.

“So!” Ash smiled. “This Y/N’s ultimate muse, eh? Finally nice to meet you in the flesh Leonardo.” She outstretched her hand to him. Leo hesitated and then shook it gently, as Y/N nodded encouragingly at him.

“Ditto,” Leo breathed. “Ashley, was it?”

“Ash is fine! By the way! Do you happen to have any brothers?”

“Ashley!” You gasped, slapping her arm as Leo chuckled.

“Come on! Hook a girl up here!” Ash pouted. “If you have any sisters, I’m down with that too.”

You all laughed.

“Well it was really great meeting you Leo! See you around Y/N!”

You both bid goodbyes to Ash as she stepped out of the hedges. Leo turned to you and curled a lock of your hair around his finger.

“I thought you never wanted to dye your hair,” Leo teased.

“I can’t help it if it’s for you,” you smirked. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” he said softly. “It makes feel like you’re a little more mine.”

“Oh love,” you wrapped your arms around him. “I’m happily all yours.”

That night, you went home to your apartment instead of the Lair. Please! With your hair in his color and his mark on your neck? He’s going to be keeping you up all night and you’ll singing his name until morning 💙🔥

Like this imagine? What should I write next? Please reblog and like you enjoyed this 💕✨ Yes you! 👀

[mythicalcowboyatheart]

The rockstar and the actress

Andy Biersack x actresses! reader

Once upon a time, in the bustling city of Hollywood, a love story unfolded between two extraordinary individuals. Andy Biersack, the charismatic rockstar known for his powerful voice and captivating stage presence, found himself drawn to the enchanting world of yn, a talented and renowned actress famous for her role in the hit series Stranger Things.

Their paths crossed one fateful evening at a glamorous awards ceremony. Andy, with his signature black attire and smoky eyes, couldn't help but be captivated by yn's grace and beauty as she walked the red carpet. Sparks flew as their eyes met, and a connection was instantly forged.

As fate would have it, they were seated next to each other during the event. Conversation flowed effortlessly between them, as they discovered shared passions for music, art, and the magic of storytelling. Andy was enamored by yn's talent and the depth she brought to her characters, while yn found solace in Andy's understanding of the creative process and his ability to express emotions through his music.

Their friendship blossomed into something more profound. They spent countless nights exploring the city, hand in hand, discovering hidden gems and sharing their dreams and aspirations. Andy's music became the soundtrack to their love story, with yn often finding inspiration in his lyrics and melodies.

Despite their demanding schedules, they made every effort to support each other's careers. Andy attended yn's movie premieres, proudly standing by her side as she received accolades for her performances. In turn, yn would often be seen in the front row of Andy's concerts, cheering him on with unwavering support.

Their love story became a source of inspiration for fans around the world. The media couldn't help but be captivated by their magnetic connection, and their relationship became the talk of the town. However, Andy and yn remained grounded, shielding their love from the prying eyes of the public, cherishing the intimacy they shared.

As time went on, their love only grew stronger. They faced the challenges of their respective industries together, finding solace in each other's arms during the highs and lows. Their love became a sanctuary, a safe haven amidst the chaos of fame.

Andy Biersack and yn, the rockstar and the actress, continued to conquer the world, both individually and as a couple. Their love story became a testament to the power of two souls finding solace in each other's presence, transcending the boundaries of fame and fortune.

And so, their journey continues, with Andy and yn navigating the unpredictable waters of love and

success. They became each other's biggest cheerleaders, celebrating each other's achievements and providing unwavering support through every endeavor.

Andy's music career soared to new heights, with yn often by his side, inspiring him with her unwavering belief in his talent. She became his muse, the source of his creative fire, and he poured his heart and soul into every song, knowing that she would be there to listen and understand.

Meanwhile, yn's acting career reached new heights as well. Her performances in various films and TV shows garnered critical acclaim, and she became a role model for aspiring actors around the world. Andy stood by her side, attending award ceremonies and beaming with pride as she received accolades for her exceptional talent.

Their love story became an inspiration not only to their fans but also to fellow artists in the industry. They showed that love could thrive amidst the chaos of fame, that two individuals could support and uplift each other while pursuing their dreams.

As the years went by, Andy and yn's love only deepened. They faced challenges together, weathering storms and emerging stronger than ever. Their bond was unbreakable, built on a foundation of trust, respect, and a shared passion for their craft.

They continued to explore the world, traveling to exotic locations, immersing themselves in different cultures, and finding inspiration in the beauty that surrounded them. They cherished the simple moments, like lazy mornings spent in each other's arms, or quiet evenings watching the sunset together.

Their love story became legendary, a tale of two extraordinary individuals who found solace and love in each other's arms. They became a symbol of hope, proving that true love could exist even in the most glamorous and demanding of worlds.

And so, Andy Biersack and yn, the rockstar and the actress, continued to conquer the world, hand in hand. Their love story became a beacon of light, reminding everyone that love knows no boundaries, and that when two souls find each other amidst the chaos, magic happens.

[disneytva]

Disney Television Animation X Walt Disney Imagineering Collaboration "San Fransokyo Square" Sets Opening Date, Confirms Big Hero 6 The Series Easter Eggs

After being promised at the recent D23 Expo, we are now getting an update from Walt Disney Imagineering, revealing that San Fransokyo Square is arriving at Disney California Adventure, August 31, 2023 as part of the 100 Years of Wonder at the Disneyland Resort.

The area will have some elements debuting in the month and a half as a lead-up.

During a PR Preview provided by Laughing Place, it was confirmed that the area will be featured with easter eggs from the various iterations of the Big Hero 6 story, including the Disney Television Animation's Big Hero 6 : The Series and Walt Disney Animation Studios Baymax! provided by both studios.

Starting in mid-July, you’ll be able to sample new San Fransokyo selections at Lucky Fortune Cookery, and the Port of San Fransokyo Cervecería will officially open. In the weeks following, additional dining options, unique shopping and more will be introduced as the transformation of this thriving seaside plaza continues through its official debut on August 31st.

When the transformation is completed, locations across the area – from the Cappuccino Cart outside the San Fransokyo Gate Bridge to The Bakery Tour – will be decked out in street art and colorful banners celebrating the Big Hero 6 team after their victory over Yokai.

The diverse array of flavorful fare in San Fransokyo Square will include current favorites and new creations inspired by Asian cuisine, as well as the Big Hero 6 themselves. Aunt Cass Café, the second bakery café operated by Hiro’s loving aunt, will serve dishes, soups in freshly-baked Boudin sourdough bread bowls and more inspired by Japanese cuisine. On the outside of this quick service restaurant, you’ll find a mural of Aunt Cass’ lucky pet cat, Mochi.

An old fishing net tannery across from the café is being converted to Rita’s Turbine Blenders, a giant drink dispenser offering delicious margaritas and icy beverages. This refreshment stand is owned and named after the repair technician who maintains the floating wind turbine, resembling a giant koi fish, that sits atop the structure.

Guests will also be able to meet with Baymax, who will talk for the very first time!

"San Fransokyo Square" is the lastest Disney Television Animation X Walt Disney Imagineering collaboration between "Mickey And Minnie's Runaway Railway" at Disney's Hollywood Studios and Toontown, "Aqua-Mouse" at Disney Wish from Disney Cruise Line, Passholder Magnets for Disney Springs and Disneyland with animations from "The Wonderful World Of Mickey Mouse", redesings from Paul Rudish and Asia Ellington for "Orange Bird","Dumbo" and "Figment", "DuckTales World Showcase Adventure" and providing redesings and decoring for the "Toontown" refreshment with "Goofy’s How-To-Play Yard","Donald's Boat",Chip ‘n’ Dale’s GADGETcoaster,"The EngineEar Souvenirs Shop" featuring various Disney Afternoon characters and locations.