#I also just don’t think I have a photographer’s eye ya know ?

[adriennebarnes]

Can You Be My Boyfriend?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N is Ferrari’s social media manager and when one of the mechanics doesn’t take no for an answer, she pretends she’s dating a certain Ferrari driver.

Warning: grammatical and spelling errors cuz I don’t proofread

A/N: i just wanted to say thank you so much for the love y’all gave “Prince of Ferrari”, it means a lot to me as a new Charles Leclerc writer. I hope y’all like this one too, just like Olivia Rodrigo, I am so American,

Y/N walked into Fred’s office.

“Mr. Vasseur, I had an idea for a new C2 challenge.” Y/N said.

“What did you have in mind, Y/N?” Fred asked.

“I was thinking we make dishes from each place we go to. Like Cuban food from Miami, Texas barbecue ribs, paella from Spain, and we have Charles and Carlos match the dishes to their flag. I personally think it would be fun, you know? Or we could do a video where the drivers tell us from which Grand Prix the photo was taken.” Y/N suggested.

“Those are very good ideas, Y/N, see if the boys are up to it, will you? Figure out when the best time is to film that.” Fred said.

“Yes, will do.” Y/N said and left his office. She walked to the living room (does the hospitality have a living room? I don’t know) to see Carlos and Charles chatting to away.

“There she is! Como has estado, hermosa?” Carlos asked Y/N, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek.

“Ha estado súper bien, un poquito cansada, pero nada que no se puede arreglar con un café.” Y/N said, her and Carlos laughed.

“I understand half of that.” Charles said.

“Now you know how I feel when you speak French.” Y/N said. “Anyway, as your social media manager, I had an idea for an upcoming challenge, we have to make the most of this season.” Y/N said.

“We hear you, mon ange, what’s the idea?” Charles asked.

“Can you guys guess what Grand Prix this is based off the picture?” Y/N asked, showing them a picture on her phone.

“That’s when I won in Monza.” Charles answered.

“Good, this is your challenge, guessing Grand Prixs based off a photo.” Y/N said putting her phone away. “It’s not much, but it’s different from what you guys have done in the past. You could also match dishes to their countries.” Y/N said.

“Sounds like a fun challenge.” Carlos said.

“Good to hear. I’m gonna be with the photographer, he’s taking photos of the new livery and I need to approve them before I post them on Instagram. See ya later, okay?” Y/N said, stepping into the garage where she sees the photographer looking over the photos on his camera.

“Y/N! You’re here, tell me what you think, and be brutally honest. Do you think they came out to blurry?” The photographer, Daniel, asked. Y/N started looking them over.

“They look great, honestly, it matches Ferrari’s instagram feed, you did a good job. Can you upload them to the computer?” Y/N asked and Daniel said that he could. He left Y/N alone on the garage and that’s when one of the mechanics, Ruggero, approached her.

“Sei bellissima, a more mío.” Ruggero told her. Y/N rolled her eyes,

“Grazie, Rugge, what do you want?” Y/N asked.

“You are very hostile towards me, you know? I might be able to forgive you if you go out with me.” Ruggero said.

“Not gonna happen, Rugge, aren’t you tired of getting rejected?” Y/N asked.

“I bounce back. Come on, amore, why won’t you let me take you out? You think you’re too good for me?” Ruggero asked.

“What are you talking about? Oh my god, I don’t think I’m too good for you, where the hell did you get that from?” Y/N asked, so confused at the turn this conversation took.

“Well that’s the only thing I could think of, you come from the states, you clearly think you’re better than Europeans.” Ruggero said and Y/N had enough of this nonsense.

“I have a boyfriend! Que pesado eres, me cae.” Y/N said.

“Really, who’s the boyfriend?” Ruggero asked. Y/N saw Charles walking into the garage.

“Muñeco, there you are!” Y/N said loudly, walking up to Charles and kissed him. Charles widened his eyes in shock but kissed her back and they both pulled away, Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his chest and Charles rubbed her back.

“Congratulations, does Fred know?” Ruggero asked.

“It’s private right now, we’re just seeing how this goes.” Y/N replied and as soon as Ruggero left, Y/N pulled away from Charles. “I am so sorry! Ruggero wouldn’t leave me alone so I had to tell him I had a boyfriend and honestly whoever walked through that door was going to be the victim of my lie but I am glad it’s you and not Carlos, mainly because Ruggero knows Rebecca is dating him.” Y/N explained quickly but Charles was still distracted, thinking about the kiss Y/N gave him.

“I’m sorry, what?” Charles asked.

“Can you be my boyfriend?” Y/N asked.

“I Don’t think we could pull this off, Y/N. We work together.” Charles said.

“We would only have to pretend we’re dating around Ruggero, no one else has to know, I promise.” Y/N said.

“Okay fine.” Charles said, him and Y/N were walking back to the main area (I don’t know how this works) and Carlos was standing next to Fred and Ruggero with a smile.

“Congratulations, cabrón,” Carlos told charles, hugging him. “You two are adorable.” Charles turned to look at Y/N with a look that said ‘no one will know, yeah right’

“I didn’t know you two were dating.” Fred commented.

“It’s still new.” Charles replied, putting his arm around Y/N.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with the social media posts, it should be fine.” Fred said before walking away. Ruggero smiled before going back to the garage.

“Now I know why you always called her ‘mon ange’, que coqueto saliste, eh charles.” Carlos said, leaving Y/N and Charles alone, Y/N pulled away to face Charles.

“Well so much for that plan, I really am sorry, Charles.” Y/N said.

“You know what? It’s alright, it’s okay, pretending around here should be easy enough, this can’t get worse, right?” Charles asked.

“I Don’t think it can. How about I buy you lunch for getting you into this situation? I swear I did not mean for this to happen.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, sure let’s get lunch, where do you want to go?” Charles asked.

“Well since this lunch is my treat, you choose where we should go.” Y/N said. Charles and Y/N walked to the parking lot together and Y/N was walking towards her car when Charles grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards his car. “Seriously?”

“Well what kind of boyfriend would I be if we went to lunch in different cars?” Charles asked.

“Yeah, makes sense, Ruggero is watching through the window too, let’s go.” Y/N said. Charles opened the passenger door and Y/N got in, he close the door behind her, ever there gentleman, and he got into the driver seat. He turned on the car, and gave Y/N his phone so she can choose the music.

They arrived at the restaurant and like always, there were fans recording Charles and Y/N in the car, leaving the car, eating at the restaurant, talking, laughing, within the hour, Charles and Y/N were trending on Instagram, Twitter (X), and TikTok. As they waited for the check, Y/N was scrolling on TikTok when she found a video of her and Charles in the car.

“Charles, i think our ‘relationship’ went public.” Y/N said, showing him her phone. Charles’s eyes widened.

“Cant say I’m not surprised, I just thought videos wouldn’t be posted until later, you know?” Charles said and Y/N put her phone away.

“We haven’t even been ‘dating’ two hours and now everyone knows. You have no idea how sorry I am, I feel so bad for dragging you into this.” Y/N said.

“None of this wouldn’t have happened if Ruggero understood the word ‘no’ so you are fine, I’m glad I was able to help. But what was that thing you called me? ‘Muñeco’? Why did you call me that?” Charles asked.

“So ‘muñeco’ means ‘doll’, you have a pretty face, everyone says you’re good looking, you know you’re good looking. So muñeco just suits you, okay, especially with those dimples.” Y/N said, Charles smirked a little.

“You think I have a pretty face?” Charles asked teasingly.

“Great, I boosted your ego, like your head wasn’t big enough already. You literally said in one of those C2 challenges when Carlos had your photo that if you were a woman, you would be in love with yourself.” Y/N said. The waiter came in with the check and Y/N was going to take it but Charles was faster. “Dude, I told you I was gonna pay.”

“It would look good if you paid, there are cameras everywhere apparently.” Charles said, placing his credit card with the check. The waiter took the check.

“Then I’ll Apple Pay you. You gonna train today?” Y/N asked.

“Yes actually, come with me? You could post it to my story.” Charles asked. The waiter came back with Charles’s card.

“Yeah, I can do that. But we gotta go to Scuderia Ferrari for my car.” Y/N said, getting up from the table, Charles getting up as well.

“I think it can stay there overnight.” Charles said.

“You want me to spend the entire day with you? You’re insane.” Y/N commented as they were leaving the restaurant.

“Maybe, but it is to keep up appearances.” Charles said.

“I guess, but how long do we say we’ve been dating?” Y/N asked, getting into Charles’s car, he does the same.

“4 months seems good, don’t you think?” Charles asked.

“I guess that’s plausible.” Y/N said, Charles starts the car and drives off.

“Do you miss New York?” Charles asked.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked.

“You travel a lot with us and you moved to Monaco for work, but do you ever miss New York? Your family? I know I miss my family when I’m away for races.” Charles said.

“I miss the food in New York, I can’t get decent tacos al pastor in Monaco, I gotta wait til the Mexican Grand Prix for them.” Y/N stated. “But yeah, I do miss New York.”

“You should ask for vacation time so you could go.” Charles said.

“I Don’t think they’ll give it to me, but thanks.” Y/N said.

For a week, Y/N and Charles have been spotted together everywhere, at races obviously, with Joris, Andrea, Doni, and Victoria, even with Charles’s family. Right now Y/N was with Charles at a club in Monaco. Y/N was at a table with Charles was at the bar getting drinks. Y/N noticed a girl flirting with Charles, touching his hand, before he pulled away with two drinks for him and Y/N.

“Charles, can we talk for a second?” Y/N asked.

“Sure, what’s on your mind, mon ange?” Charles asked, the nickname still causing butterflies in Y/N’s stomach.

“If you wanted to hook up with that girl, you can. I don’t want to have you tied down for a fake relationship.” Y/N said.

“I wasn’t interested in her at all, you know.” Charles commented.

“Really? What happens when the next girl that hits on you is more your type? I don’t want to hold you back, we are friends after all.” Y/N said.

“I have a confession to make.” Charles said, Y/N nodded her head for Charles to continue. “I’ve liked you for a while. Before you kissed me, it was a little crush, I thought it would have went away, but being with you this past week made my crush grow stronger. You don’t have to feel the same way, I just wanted to get this off my chest.” Y/N was shocked. Charles usually went for Instagram models, but he actually likes her, this was her dream come true.

“I’ve liked you for a while too, I just never thought you would see me that way.” Y/N said.

“I’m going to kiss you right now, okay?” Charles whispered, getting closer to Y/N, looking at her lips then back into her eyes, Y/N nodded, leaning in until their lips touched. It was a soft, gentle kiss, until Charles gained more confidence to do more. They pulled away. “Will you be my girlfriend? For real, this time?” Charles asked.

“Yes I will.” Y/N responded, they kissed again.

The End

Was this good? I think it was good, the pacing is weird, but I had no idea where this was going, just saying. Was it just as good as “prince of Ferrari”? Probably not, but I hope y’all liked it, should I keep writing Charles Leclerc fanfics?

[strafethesesinners]

I think I’ll have to accept that my shitty Xbox one screenshots downloaded from the Xbox app onto my phone are never gonna look as good as shots from higher quality pcs etc 😔

[pommpuriinn]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ W KOREA LOVE YOUR W EVENT

❀*ੈsynopsis✩‧₊˚ the three eldest members go to W Korea event meeting lots of people and seeing some familiar faces

❀*ੈ outfit✩‧₊˚

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ photographers went crazy when the trio hit the carpet to the point where Joohyung had to cover her eyes for two second and continued on posing like nothing happened. They took solo shots then trio shoots which the photographers went crazy for the trio shoots causing them to demand more together. “Wow their visuals go crazy together!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ entering the event they did more posing and walking for W Korea social media. Staff were wowed by their looks and height, saying that ‘they’re truly models’ and ‘they look so good together’

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ it was a dinner/party type of vibe and the three stayed close to each other since the three are pretty introverted when it comes to these events

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ sitting down at the table kinda helped, but of course they were kinda separated from each other but Joohyung didn’t mind it much because she was sitting next to Jennie Kim

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ “I always wanted to talk to you.” Joohyung turned to her left hearing the voice. Jennie was talking to her, “me?” Joohyung pointed to herself kinda shocked. “Yes, I always found you so pretty and I never gotten to see you in person, I would always see your pictures online.” Jennie complimented. “I feel the same towards you.” Joohyung smiled at her. “You know I also would listen to your solo album because it’s so good.” Jennie chuckled, a little bit embarrassed with herself. “Ah thank you so much~” Joohyung placed her hand over her heart

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ the two continued talking hitting it off with each other to the point where both women gave each other their phone numbers so they could hang out. “Also just in case anything happens you can always come to my company.” Jennie explained that she was leaving YG and opening up her own company. Joohyung was shocked at the offered, “thank you, but I don’t think I can leave my boys.” Jennie completely understood, but the offer will always be there

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ as everyone got up and started doing their own thing the three went to the person they truly knew; Namjoon. “Your hair.” Joohyung patted Namjoon’s head feeling his buzz cut. “Yeah, I shaved it just cause I wanted to not really for the military yet.” Namjoon explained. “I can’t stand the military talk because then this one,” Joohyung nodded towards Soobin. “Starts talking about their time I can’t deal with it.” Joohyung doesn’t want to think about it. The guys laughed as Joohyung covers her ears. “Don’t worry I won’t talk about it.” Namjoon takes Joohyung’s hands away from her ears and hugs her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ many people came up to Joohyung telling her how beautiful she looks and if they can take a photo with her which she gladly took with them, many also expressed how much they like txt’s music including hers

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ the members social battery was draining and so they decided to go into the restroom hallway and just chill there and taking some mirror selfies since there was a full body mirror in the hallway. “I can’t believe we’re hiding from everyone.” Soobin laughed at the situation. “It was getting to much.” Joohyung sighed. “You know if I could I would be smoking right now.” The three of them bursted out laughing at what Joohyung was saying. “Ya! Then hybe would be freaking out on you.” Yeonjun playfully pushed her. “It’s not like they don’t do it too.” Joohyung defended herself. It didn’t tell long before they started gossiping with each other with all the info they got from talking to everyone

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ after chilling in the restroom hallway they came out to watch the performances the event was having. Which was some groups/soloists performing there hits

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Joohyung was just vibing with a drink in her hand enjoy the light buzz she had going on, it wasn’t long after the event ended and it was finally time to go home

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ but before heading out many female idols and actresses took the opportunity to quickly talk to Joohyung and gave her their numbers. “Wow Joohyung you’re very popular~” Yeonjun teased her, as he saw all the new numbers on her phone. “Shut up because you know if there wasn’t any cameras they would go for you and Soobin too.” Joohyung chuckled at Yeonjun teasing her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ “it feels weird dropping you off first.” Soobin hugged Joohyung ‘bye’ as the car stopped in front of Joohyung’s apartment building. “I know, but I told you guys could come whenever or stay the night.” Joohyung said, as she moved to give Yeonjun his hug. “We will. Maybe when we have a day off so we can eat and drink together without worrying about work the next day.” Yeonjun said, squeezing Joohyung tight before letting her go. “That’s perfect.” Joohyung waved ‘bye’ before making her way in with her staff member who was going to help her take everything off. The members made sure the driver didn’t drive off before Joohyung and the female staff member got into the apartment building safely.



[hold-him-down]

🧽 Receiving a sponge bath - Derek

tw: post-prison whump, spongebath, light med whump

notes: read chapter one of derek's back first for context, if context is important to ya :)

from this ask game

✥ ✥ ✥

Derek Lewis, or what's left of him, anyway, sits on the center of the exam table. His legs dangle over the side, his hands limp in his lap. Looking at him, one might think he was completely absent of thought, absent of the ability to process any of the events of the last few hours. Something in the way he hunches his body, though, just a little bit, or in the way his black eyes, every so often, wander from the floor to the mahogany desk in the corner, to the large canvas paintings, to the American flag hung by the door, and then back to the floor, give Agent Brody Grant hope that, at least on some level, he’s aware that his circumstances have shifted.

He’s been stripped of his clothing, or, if not clothing, of the torn, ratted fabric that was constituting as clothing, which has been placed in a bin to be tested for parasites. So far, he hasn’t spoken.

When they arrived to the makeshift medical unit, pieced together on one hour’s notice in the middle of the night in the Consulate, he didn't speak. He also didn’t speak when he was led down the empty, dark hallway, or when his clothes were removed, or when every inch of his battered skin was photographed.

Now, with a nurse at his side, running a wet cloth over his body again and again, seven, eight, sometimes ten times before satisfied with each patch of skin, he still doesn’t speak.

“Mr. Lewis?” the physician asks, approaching Derek cautiously. Derek’s head lifts in acknowledgement, but his eyes do not.

“You need to drink,” she urges. She lifts his free hand and places a mug of water inside of it, then guides him to take a sip. He does not fight it, but immediately coughs the water back up. The doctor's lips are tight, but she sets the mug to the side.

The boy that Agent Grant collected from within the prison gates was unrecognizable from the pictures in his file. The ghost of the smiling, vibrant boy he had not expected, but hoped for, was deposited at his feet without a moment of hesitation. The guard inclined his head sharply toward the gate, handed the agent a well-loved backpack, and turned on his heels back toward the prison. They hightailed it down the gravel road and into the night, with a singular objective of getting Derek Lewis onto U.S. territory while they worked to understand the implications of everything that had gone down.

The nurse lifts his hand now, turning it over, and works to wipe away months of caked-on filth. 

“When did you last access a shower?” he asks, his thumb brushing over Derek’s wrist, presumably to get a handle on what is bruising and what isn’t. 

“I don’t know,” Derek whispers. Agent Grant writes it down. It’s not of particular interest, but he’s been tasked with writing down everything, and so far that has been nothing, so he takes what he can get.

“That’s okay,” the nurse tells him, dipping the washcloth in the clean water, wringing it out, and wiping away what can be wiped away. “What about food?” he asks next. No one is under any illusion that Derek wants to talk, but getting him comfortable answering questions may be in his best interest. “When was the last time you ate?” 

This time, Derek does not look up. “I don’t know,” he whispers again.

“Are you hungry?” the nurse asks, as the doctor tilts Derek’s head down. Gloved fingers press into dark, matted waves, and Derek’s body curls in on itself, just for a second, before he realizes what’s happened and forcibly adjusts his posture.

“It’s okay,” the nurse whispers, moving to his other hand.

Derek nods, and they finish cleaning him up in silence. His hair is shaved, because it’s the only reasonable way to deal with both the matting and the lice. He’s photographed again, now clean, which he flinches his way through but does not protest. This time, the focus is solely on the injuries. On the scars that run the length of his back, on his wrists and ankles, on his neck. There won't be an investigation, nor will there be restitution, but it may help someone in the future to have these, so they take them. Derek is silent through it, but his suffering, well hidden just an hour ago, is clearer now.

He’s given an IV, because every time he drinks, he vomits. He’s given pain medication, he’s given anxiety medication, and finally, to everyone’s relief, he is given clothing. 

He dresses quietly, but he trembles he does, and when he’s led to a cot in the adjacent room, he whispers a hoarse, “Thank you,” before collapsing into it. He’s asleep before he can be offered a blanket, so one is draped over him, and the doctor explains to Agent Grant that between the shock, the medication, and the clear sleep deprivation, it’s neither surprising nor alarming that he sleeps now.

By the time Derek Lewis’s family is called, it’s mid-morning. The Ambassador has arrived, and there’s an air of both celebration and frenzy within the Consulate. This has been something of a win for many of them, and a long-overdue one at that.

And, while it feels like a major piece of Agent Grant's time with the embassy is coming to a close, he can’t help but wonder what the next chapter looks like for Derek. There's no doubt in his mind that Jack will be on the first plane to Turkey, visa be damned, and the thought of their reunion, however tense, however painful it may be, gives him some hope that maybe, against all odds, Derek will find peace.

[teecupangel]

Got another idea. XD Sorry! 💜

Do you know about Yuri on Ice? I loved the animation of the ice skating in the show and just imagine Desmond doing those graceful jumps is making me swoon like a maiden. XD

Could do a light AU where Desmond is scouted by a proffesional because he is so nimble shortly after running away from the farm or a full blown AU with Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton as professional ice skaters.

The light AU would be a bit difficult to pull off unless we make the trainer ex criminal or something, so that Abstergo couldn't try to grab Desmond immidiently when he starts competing. The trainer would assure him that whatever threat is out there he would protect him and it works until 2012. Abstergo probably got desperate enough to kidnapp Desmond, damn the publicity of a famous athlete going missing. The image of Desmond wielding the ice skates as knives is also both funny and badass. XD

Full blown AU could have Bill getting injured early on in his career and pushing(abusing) Desmond into becoming the star Bill was meant to be. Because athletes in general retire around their 30s, we can muck about with the ages so that Al Mualim, Haytham and Bill where skating around the same time and after Bill was forced to retire early, he decided to date and have a kid with another famous skater in the hopes that Desmond would be a prodigy(he is, but that is not enough for Bill).

Al Mualim, when he lost his eye in a duel skating rutine gone horrificly wrong(imagine a few years after Bill), decided to take on his old friend Umar's son as his personal trainee to live vicariously through.

Haytham is the only one of the 3 who retires of his own free will. He could discover that an intense, but short relationship he had with the skater Ziio resulted in a child and she saw how fiercly competetive and single minded Haytham was about the sport, so she decided to not tell Haytham about Ratonhnhaké:ton or more commonly known as Connor. Once Haytham discovers he has a son after Ziio dies(i imagine disease), he takes him in and tries to bond with him, to mixed results. Connor decides to follow in both his parents footsteps, to honor his mother and because it seems to be the best way to bond with his father. I imagine some light angst about Haytham pushing Connor because that was how he was raised after his father died early on, but eventually Haytham learns to just be proud of his son. 🥰

Ezio is the fan favorite with his devilish charms and outrages antics with his older brother, gossip magazines love them because Ezio loves to tease and indulge the photographers in exchange for most of them leaving his family alone. The Auditores are not an ice skating family, Ezio is just really talented and does it for the love of the sport, so he is pretty chill about competing. He is feared for his jumps though. VERY feared. XD

This could be Altdes or Ezides(because i'm traaaash! XD) where Desmond growing closer to the love interest lets him discover what true love and family is meant to be. Tbh think Ezio is the most fitting if we do that route, because let's face it: out if every goddamned assassin i know of, he is the only one with a good family/upbringing until the hanging. Fucking Disney mom syndrom over here. XD

Btw, i have no idea about ice skating and it's been years since i watched Yuri on Ice, so i am sorry if any details here is wildy inaccurate or impossible. ^^ And sorry for the text wall, got carried away. Again. XD Love ya! 💜

I love Yuri on Ice and I’m still waiting for that movie lol.

If you don’t want to choose between AltDes and EziDes, go with both? XD

But in all seriousness, EziDes would be more on the side of fluff and Desmond slowly becoming part of the Auditore family and learning what it means to have an actual loving family. Ezio would be the kind of person who would show Desmond the world beyond the small confines of being William Miles’ successor and he’ll learn to be interested in other things.

AltDes, though, considering the setup we have here, would focus heavily on the distorted mirror image they both share. Altaïr would be the son William Miles wanted to raise in Desmond’s eyes and Desmond would be the type of person he would have become had he not rose to all of Al Mualim’s expectation in Altaïr’s eyes. This is less of a found family kind of thing but more on the side of “I am jealous of you but I also can’t help but worry about you” kind of thing because they both have an idea of the loneliness and suffering they are hiding.

So yeah, it really depends on what kind of story you want to go for. Fluff for EziDes, angst for AltDes XD

Also… maybe in some ways, EziDes is about Ezio saving Desmond while AltDes is about the two of them saving each other.

Regardless of which path we take, Ezio’s relationship with Desmond would be about ‘learning of the outside world’ kind of deal and having an actual healthy support system who cares and love him. Desmond’s relationship with Altaïr would be more on the side of finding someone so similar to one’s self that caring and loving them (either platonically or romantically) is a way for one to care and love themselves.

Ratonhnhaké:ton, on the other hand, is that kind friend who serves as Desmond’s own foil thanks to his relationship with his own father. But, unlike Altaïr, their friendship is less burdened because Ratonhnhaké:ton actually knows what he wants and Haytham is trying. Their father-son relationship is actually what makes Desmond realize that, shit, his own relationship with his father is fucked up.

Ezio told him that too but Desmond can’t really wrap his head around it because Giovanni act really different from Bill that he can’t really compare them but Haytham? Haytham definitely acts a lot like Bill. And then he meets Al Mualim who acts a lot like Bill as well (it’s the other way around, Bill is trying to copy Al Mualim since he was more successful than Bill). So yeah, Haytham shows Desmond (and Altaïr) that a father can fuck up but make up for it as well.

Also, regardless of the pairing, the four of them would have a close bond with one another with the not-love interest and Ratonhnhaké:ton having front row seat to whatever shenanigans are happening between Desmond and his love interest.

(Sidebar: Kadar is absolutely Altaïr’s Number One Fan. Malik is absolutely embarrassed because he’s actually competing in the same competition and everyone who knows Kadar is his brother pities him because his own brother is cheering a different contestant. Kadar also skates and he can actually copy Altaïr’s performances. Ask him to perform his own and he blanks out though)

Love you too💜 and never apologize for text walls. I love reading them hahahaha

[righoul]

Oh Honey, I'm the Big, Bad Wolf / Wolverine x Reader (18+ only)

Pairing: Logan (Wolverine) x Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, 18+, rough sex, creampie, missionary position, doggy style, roleplay, biting, ass grabbing

Word count: 2.3k

Synopsis: I wanted to try and write a Wolverine x Reader, but would it sound hot if Logan poses as the Big, Bad Wolf? Anyways, enjoy 😊

You have been trekking these snowy mountains for so long you have lost track in time. The sun was starting to set, and it would be dark very soon if you don’t find shelter. These Canadian mountains aren’t too kind those who don’t know their way, and the winter is just as harsh at night.

“Damn it.” You whined. “I don’t have enough time.”

“Ya lost out here, Red?”

You gasped as you heard a deep voice rumbled behind you. You turned around to see a man that is wearing only jeans, a wife beater, a flannel shirt, and a pair of boots. You took in his features. He’s tall and very broad around the shoulders. His hair is a dark brown, kind of shaggy looking but it’s well kept. He also had some unusual facial hair, something that you would see in a Civil War photograph. But what really strike you was his hazel eyes. He is very intimidating, but you thought of him to be handsome. At first, you were confused at the nickname that he gave you but then you remembered, you were wearing your maroon velvet trench coat.

“God, you scared me!” You gasped.

He let out a chuckle, “Sorry about that, darlin’. Why are ya out here all by yourself? It’s about to get dark.”

“I know. I was trying to find my relative’s home, but I seem to lose my way.”

The stranger looked around us and stared back at you. He rose an eyebrow at you.

“There’s not a single house around these parts beside mine.”

You crossed your arms at your chest. You straightened your back and you felt like you grew at least a few inches. “As you can see, I’m not from here.”

“I can tell, sweetheart.”

You wanted to sneer at him, but you didn’t have a whole lot of time out here. Winters are brutal in Canada.

“Can I at least get some shelter, please? I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

“Alright, follow me.”

~ ❆ ~ ❆ ~ ❆ ~ ❆ ~

After hiking through the snow, the sun just now made it to sundown, and you arrived at the stranger’s home. Your mother always warned you about going into stranger’s houses since you were a child. Ever since you’ve been going to do errands and making trips to your grandmother’s house. But this is the one exception that you can make. The stranger unlocked his door to his cabin and opened the door wide open.

“Ladies first.” He smirked.

You wanted to smack that stupid look on his face so badly just for being a cocky bastard and you also wanted to kick yourself for letting his charms get to you. You were feeling like a schoolgirl around this man, for God’s sake!

“Thank you. You have a lovely home here.”

You peeled off your trench coat and hung it on a coat rack by the door. You rubbed your arms, trying to gain some warmth. You were wearing an oversized sweater that had a v shaped on the back and the front, and it was coming off both your shoulders. The stranger was trying not to peek at your front since he can about see your cleavage. You took noticed at it, so you rest your arms at your chest.

He cleared his throat and asked, “Ya hungry?”

“Yes, I’m starving!” You beamed.

You followed him to the kitchen, and as if on cue, the soap that was sitting on the stove was ready. He fixed up both of your bowls and placed it on the table. You sat across from him and dug into your nice, warm meal. The stranger took in your features. He had to admit, you were very pretty. You had curves in all the right places and the way that you placed your hair on one side gave him a bird’s eye view of your impeccable neck. He licked his lips just thinking about placing bruises and love bites on that neck and other places as well. His pants were starting to feel too tight for his liking, but he had to take his time with her.

“I never got to know your name.” You spoke after a moment of silence.

“Logan. The name’s Logan.” He gruffed.

“Logan.” You mumbled to yourself.

He liked his name being rolled off your tongue. Almost as if it was second nature to you. He could feel his bulge pressing hard against his denim jeans and it was killing him. Not yet, he thought to himself. You leaned down to eat the last bit of your meal. As you did, Logan timed it perfectly to see the tops of your breast, noticing that you were not wearing a bra. If he keeps this up, he might explode. Just a little longer. If even though he doesn’t know it, you couldn’t help but lifted your eyes up as you saw Logan getting front row tickets to see over your sweater front. You slowly got up as you both finished your bowls.

“I’ll go ahead and do the dishes.”

“Wait. You’re a guest, I should do it. Make yourself at home.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

You walked over to the sink and began cleaning. Logan followed you. He grabbed your waist and turned you around to look at him. You let out an audible gasp, but Logan for once ignored the tightness of his jeans. You start to feel the wetness between your legs, and you were sure you show Logan gave a whiff. He cocked his smile, showing his canines. He knew he had you in his traps.

“I don’t know what game you’re playin’ here, but I’m starting to lose patience.” He grumbled.

You raised your eyebrow at him and sneered, “I caught you twice looking at my breast and I’m the one playing games?”

Logan grabbed your face and leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Y’know, that mouth of yours is gonna get ya a whole lot of trouble if ya keep that up.”

Now, you were testing him. By not pushing this guy’s buttons too much, you apologized like a scolded child.

“Atta girl.”

Logan let go of your cheeks and you couldn’t help but rubbed your face from how hard he was holding it. You peered up at him through your lustful lashes. You decided not to fuel the fire and walked past him as you were about to grab your coat.

“Thanks for the meal, but I should get g—.”

As you turned to face your host, he slammed his hand on the door right next to your head. You were surprised by the action, and you looked up at him.

“The weather is still bad out there, sweetheart.” Logan said, barely above a whisper.

“I’ll take my chances.” You challenged.

Logan leaned towards your face and was staring straight to your soul.

“I never noticed how dark your eyes got till since now.” I whimpered.

“Maybe ya were starting to piss me off with your stubbornness.”

You tried to swallow down your fears, but Logan knows you were not hiding it very well. God, why did he have to sound so hot?

“And your hands are so big.”

“All the more to grab on.”

Logan took his other hand and gave your ass a good slap following with a firm squeeze. You let out a moaning gasp and before you realized it, you covered your mouth hoping he didn’t hear it. Oh, he heard it alright. And how it sounded like music to him. He wanted to hear more from you. He was starting to enjoy toying with his little plaything. Logan leaned down, breathing into your neck.

“God, I could do so much to ya right now. Ya couldn’t even imagine.”

For once, you were at a loss of words. Logan took noticed of it and peer up at you.

“Cat got your tongue, doll?”

“Please.” You whispered.

“Please, what?” Logan taunting you.

To kiss you already? Take you here in front of the fireplace? Let you go? Your head was spinning. You didn’t know what you want. Logan was focusing back to the area where your shoulder was meeting your neck and was placing small pecks. Your knees were starting to grow weak, and you were breathing heavy. He then began to lightly scrap your neck with his teeth, but his sharp canines got the best of him.

“What sharp teeth you have.” You moaned.

You could feel Logan’s lips curled into a smile as he is nibbling your neck like he was savoring it.

“So, I could claim ya.”

Within milliseconds, Logan lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist so you wouldn’t fall. He placed both his hands on your ass to help support you. He was now making long strides to his bedroom. Both lips were fighting for dominance, teeth scraping against one another, and your hands found its way to help loosen his belt buckle. You were starting to get frustrated, but you were determined. Logan chuckled against your lips, but he had a mission to carry on. You managed to unbuckle his belt as you both finally made it to his room, and he gently tossed you to the bed, causing you to bounce a few times. You peered at him seductively as he was tearing off his flannel and wife beater off, without breaking eye contact. You peeled off your leggings, only leaving you in your revealing sweater and black panties.

Logan’s eyes grown darker as he saw the show in front of him, in his bed, looking delicious as ever. He was starting to look like a starved man, and he couldn’t wait to take a bite out of you. He crawled towards you, placing slow kisses from your ankles to either side of your hips to your neck. To hold his weight, he placed both hands on either side of your head, caging you in. He leaned down to kiss you again, but you were refusing to let him in. He took noticed of this, so he slipped his hand underneath your sweater giving your breast a nice squeeze. You let out a moan, but before you close your mouth, Logan slipped his tongue inside, winning his dominance against you. Logan grew impatient and tore your sweater over your head and threw it somewhere in his room. You unbuttoned his pants and helped slid it off him as he did the rest and kicked it off him. Logan tore off your panties, leaving only your naked bodies pressing together. Logan let go of the kiss, leaving only a trail of saliva.

“Ya sure about this, darlin’? If I hurt ya, please tap me on the shoulder three times.”

“Please, fuck me.”

Logan cocked his eyebrow and gave you a smirk. That was all he needed to hear. He spat in his hand and gave his cock a few pumps before inserting it inside of you. He was pushing it all the way until he reached at the hilt. You grabbed onto both his shoulder as he was making fast pumps into you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper. He was fucking you hard and fast.

“Oh fuck, just like that.” You screamed.

“Ya taking me so well. Ya like it when I go rough on ya, huh?”

“Yes! F-fuck you feel so good!”

“Turn around for me, baby.”

You did as you were told and got on your hands and knees for him. Logan liked how obedient you were to him when it came down to sex. He’ll have to keep that in mind. Logan reentered himself inside your tight pussy and began pounding into you. Logan leaned down to your ear and started whispering dirty things to you. You were starting to see stars around you. He was basically fucking you stupid.

“Tell me what ya want, I’ll give it to ya.”

“P-p-please Logan! Cum in me!”

Logan couldn’t help but smile to himself. He loved hearing his name coming out of your mouth.

“Say my name again.”

“L-Logan! I’m about to c-c-cum!”

“Hold on. I’m right behind ya.”

Logan took his fingers and started rubbing circles on your clit. He knew you weren’t kidding when he could feel you clinching around his cock. His thrusts were starting to stutter, and his rhythm was out of sync.

“LOGAN!” You moaned out his name one last time before he began to roar into the sky as you climaxed. He thrust a few more times as he came inside your pussy. His thrusts began to slow, riding out his high. Both of you fell into the bed, coming down from your euphorias.

Logan got up to go to the bathroom to grab a wet rag. As he came back, he wiped you down first and then himself. He tossed the wet rag into the hamper and joined you in his bed. Logan pulled you to his chest and rubbed circles on your back.

“Y’know, I used to think that this whole roleplaying shit was gonna be a waste of my time, but damn was I wrong?” Logan chuckled.

You propped yourself up and gave his shoulder a little push, knowing it wouldn’t move him much.

“You see, I told you we need to spice up our relationship every once in a while.”

“God, I love ya.”

“And I love you, too, baby.”

You leaned towards Logan to kiss him a good night, but Logan had other plans. Before you could turn your back on him, Logan placed his hand firm on your chest to lay you still.

“This big, bad wolf could go for round two. If you’re up for it.”

[lancermylove]

Unphotogenic (Oneshot)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Mammon x gn!Reader, established relationship.

Warning: N.SFW (nothing too bad)

Commissioned by: @lann-de-lei

Prompt: Hi! May I ask for a one-shot - Obey Me! Mammon x gn!reader (or fem!reader if it's more convenient for you) Scenario: I imagine MC who doesn't like their photos and doesn't like to be on photos because they are unphotogenic and they think their photos are awful (it's not about their real appearance, just about their photos). At the same time they have a lot of Mammon photos, collect his magazines, keep his photo in their wallet or in pendant. When Mammon wants to have their photos too, they are hesitated and explain him why they dislike the idea. So Mammon decides to organize a private photo shoot for them, with a professional photographer, so they could see how beautiful their photos can be. They start with photos of MC, but then want photos of them together, and in the end - couples boudoir photos. I hope it makes sense ^_^" Thank you!  

A/N: Thank you for your commission! 💕 Also, thank you so much for reblogging the previous oneshots multiple times - I can’t tell you how much that means to me. Your ideas are always so unique, and I really enjoy writing them. :3 

Word Count: 3,299

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You reached for your smartphone with trembling hands as two voices, one of the devil, and the other of the angel argued in your mind. ‘It’s going to be okay,’ said the gentle voice. 

‘No, it won’t. You know how it always turns out, so why bother,’ rebutted the dry, taunting voice. 

‘It never hurts to give it a try.’

‘Except, the end result is always a failure.’ 

Ignoring the bickering voices, you shut your eyes and inhaled sharply in an attempt to shake off your nervousness. You opened your eyes, smiled brightly into the full-length mirror in front of you, and positioned your phone’s camera to capture your reflection. Before checking the selfie, you glanced at the mirror and smiled, “Lookin’ good, but...” 

The corners of your lips dropped as you slowly brought your phone’s screen into view. Disaster. That one word summed up your appearance in the selfie; your reflection looked nothing like the image on your phone. The devilish voice was right - the end result is always a failure and will always be a failure. 

“Photogenic people are lucky,” you sighed. “Why can’t I be one of them?” 

A stinging sensation irritated your eyes, but you blinked rapidly to hold the saline liquid from spilling out and ruining your eye makeup. Thud. Thud. The sound of a fist pounding on your door made you jump and nearly squeal. 

“Why didja lock your room? What’s takin’ ya so long? We’re goin’ to be late!” 

Mammon couldn’t have come at a better time; his voice was enough to pull you out of your spiraling state and back into reality. Scowling at your loathsome selfie, you deleted it and grabbed your bag, ready to go on your date with your beloved. You drew in a deep breath, put on the biggest smile you could muster, and flung open the door. “So, how do I look?” 

He, first, looked at you from head to toe, then took the liberty of scanning the areas of your body you left exposed - your neck, collarbones, a bit of your chest, and your legs. Had your shorts been any shorter, Mammon would have canceled the date, tossed you over his shoulder, and walked right back into your room. Curling a finger under his chin, you gently tilted his face up to meet your teasing gaze. “Aren’t we getting late? You can stare all you want after dinner.” 

Red crept on his cheeks as he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “Why didja lock your room?” 

“Did you forget your brothers live in the same house as us? Would you really want them to walk in while I am changing?” You teased, knowing well what his answer would be. 

“NO! Don’t ya dare keep your door unlocked while you’re changin’. That’s only for my eyes...and I ain’t lettin’ anyone see anythin’ they’re not supposed to, especially not my lil bros.” 

“So, you’re okay with Lucifer seeing me?”

“NO! If he does, I’m goin’ to hang him from the ceilin’.” 

“Um...my dearest, you know Lucifer heard that, right?” 

Mammon squeaked and looked around frantically for his older brother, ready to apologize and give a long explanation about how he was joking. Click. Click. The sound of your phone’s camera, followed by your laughter, caught him off guard even more. “Oi! Not cool. Why’re ya takin’ my pics? Delete ‘em!” 

“Nah, you look good in them. Mammon...you always look good in all photos...,” the zealous in your voice drowned out, and your boyfriend was quick to pick up on it. 

“(Y/n)?”

Hearing the concern in his voice mixed with a pang of pain, you shook your head and forced a giggle, “It’s nothing~. You’re a model, after all, so it makes sense!”

----

It was a long night for you and Mammon, but he had no trouble waking up before you. Maybe it was the pleasant dinner, the laughs you share with him while walking back home, or the lovely time he had holding you in his embrace as the two of you shared sloppy kisses - whatever the reason, he felt happy and energized. 

The Avatar of Greed let his eyes wander down your face and blanket-covered torso until they landed on your exposed lower half. Blushing deeply, he reached down and pulled the blanket over your legs, careful not to wake you up. No matter how many times he saw you without clothes, Mammon felt like he could never get used to it. As his gaze returned to your face, a blinding sparkle near your chest caught his attention. For a moment, he stared at the metal chain around your neck, contemplating whether he should take this chance or not. 

‘It’s now or never, but...if (y/n) catches me, they ain’t goin’ to be happy. Dammit, I wanna know what they’re hidin’ from me.’ 

Deciding to test his luck, your boyfriend reached for the heart pendant connected to the thin gold chain around your neck. What were you hiding in the pendant that you kept refusing to show him every time he asked? His heart raced out of control as he nimbly parted the pendant, mentally reminding himself to not to wake you up. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but what Mammon saw inside gave him warm fuzzy feelings. One side of the pendant held a photo of him, smiling ear to ear, while the other side contained textured white paper with the words “I love you” on it. The demon couldn’t understand why you were hiding something so sweet from him, but not wanting to face your wrath first thing in the morning, he closed the heart and gently set it back onto the bedsheet. With a yawn, he sat up on the mattress and stretched his arms as wide as he could.

‘What the Devildom...?’ Mammon froze midway through his yawn and stared at the wall across the bed with his mouth open and arms still in the air. That entire wall, from top to bottom, was covered with photos, magazine cut-outs, and posters of him. Slowly standing up from the bed, not caring to get dressed, the stunned demon approached the decorated wall. Had this wall always been covered with his pictures? Mammon was aware he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings, but he definitely wasn’t that absent-minded. 

‘A photo of (y/n) in my wallet, and a wall in my room with their pics. Why didn’t I think of that?’ The thought of waking up in the morning and seeing your face, rather faces, on his bedroom wall sounded like the world’s best idea. Well, the second best idea, the first best idea being seeing your actual face first thing in the morning. His excitement was growing by the second until a sudden realization slapped him across his cheek and quickly deflated his mood. ‘I don’t have any pics of (y/n). Y’know...I don’t even have a single photo of ‘em...’ 

His thoughts were cut short by the sound of the bedsheets rustle behind him. He walked back to the bed and greeted you with a bashful smile, “Mornin’! By the way, ya let your guard down.” 

He pointed to your pendant and watched you follow his finger to the metal heart. Your struggle to figure out what he was talking about as your mind was not fully awake yet amused him. Your eyes shot open, and you clutched onto the necklace, frowning, “You weren’t supposed to see that!”

“Too late,” he shrugged. “Not fair that ya get to keep a picture of me. I want a photo of ya for my wallet, so every time I open it, I get to see your pretty face.”

His statement came off as a casual part of the conversation, but in reality, Mammon wanted to find out why he didn’t have even one photo of you. He observed every movement you made and every expression that flashed across your face. He knew it! You didn’t share your photos with him on purpose, but why? You weren’t going to tell him, were you? At least, not until he asked. “(Y/n), I ain’t got one picture of ya. No photo, no selfie, no nothin’. Why?”

“I...don’t look good in photos. No matter how many times I try to take selfies, I never look good in them!”

Mammon was not prepared to hear that reply and was confused. Had you been struggling with insecurities about your appearance? He never got that feeling, so what were you going on about? “Whatcha talkin’ about? You’re beaut-”

“No, Mammon. Please, don’t try to sugarcoat it. I don’t look good, so I don’t look good. I never look like myself in photos!” You hung your head low, not wanting him to see your inner struggles on your face, and let out a mocking chuckle, “You know...whenever I see photos of you, I feel jealous. The camera loves you so much.” 

It hurt him to see you dragging yourself down. At times like these, he would throw his arms around you and comfort you, throwing in a joke here and there, but this time around, he didn’t know how to react. Mammon knew his words wouldn’t change your mind, especially since you had made up your mind about your appearance in photos, but he was desperate to prove you wrong. No matter what it took, he was determined to show you that your beauty was radiant enough to shine in real as well as in photos. 

----

"What is takin’ ‘em so long?” Mammon mumbled while rhythmically tapping his foot on the hardwood floors. He couldn’t wait for you to see your surprise, but at the same time, he wondered if you would be okay in the studio. If only he could have brought the photographer to the House of Lamentation, but with his brothers around, an incident-less photo shoot would have been impossible. First, they would have inserted themselves into every photo, then a fight would have broken out, and the finale would have been Lucifer hanging all them from the ceiling and lecturing their ears out while you attempted to calm him down. Mammon shuddered at the thought of hearing the Avatar of Pride lecture him for hours. 

You made your made into the photo studio to find your boyfriend zoning out in the middle of the entrance hall. “Mammon, you never told me you got signed for another photoshoot.” 

“I didn’t,” he replied and took hold of your hand, “but don’t worry ‘bout the details. We need to get goin’.”

Mammon led you through the long corridor, past various color-coded doors, and stopped at a red one. Opening the door, he revealed a luxurious bedroom decorated with fine furniture suited for royalty. 

“Beautiful set, ain’t it? Remember that chair?” He pointed to a crimson high-back chair with gold trim. “It’s the same one I sat on for my cover photoshoot with Carie Mlair.” 

“Y-Yeah, I remember...but, Mammon-”

“(Y/n), that there's Luna,” he purposely interrupted you and smile at a stylish older demon. “She'll be takin’ your photos today.” 

The second you heard “your photos,” you spun on your heels to run out of the room, but your boyfriend was prepared for your reaction and blocked your path. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Mammon forced the corners of his lips up, “Look, I know you ain’t comfortable in front of the camera, but can ya give it a try?” 

You frantically shook your head, earning a sigh from him, “Hearin’ ya talkin’ bad ‘bout yourself hurt me. I want ya to see how smokin’ ya can look in photos. You might not have confidence in yourself, but I know you’ll look great. So, can ya give it a try? For me? Ya ain’t gonna let my surprise go to waste, right? I swear if ya walk away, I’ll sulk all week long.” 

“F-Fine.” 

Mammon didn’t mean to blackmail you, but he couldn’t think of any other way to get you to give in. He watched you drag your feet to the chair and awkwardly position your body to face the professional lens. “(Y/n), take a deep breath ‘n relax. Just be you and pretend you’re posin’ in front of your bedroom mirror.” 

For the next few minutes, you attempted to follow the tips Mammon threw your way, but you only grew more frustrated. Seeing you at the verge of your breaking point, your boyfriend took off his jacket, tossed it to the side, and casually made his way to you. He wrapped one arm around your waist and brought you closer to his broad chest. 

“Have I ever told ya that ya look adorable when you’re nervous?” He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead and chuckled. You slightly lifted your head to playfully glare at him. Click. The sound of the camera shutter still made you nervous but Mammon’s warmth and smile helped you calm down. 

Out of the blue, the demon spun you around and dipped you, laughing at your startled expression. Click. Your pout and light punch on his chest made him laugh harder. Click. He pinched your cheek, and in return, you pinched both of his. Click. Little by little, Mammon felt your tense muscles easing and was relieved to see him plan working. He rested his forehead against yours as the two of you closed your eyes, taking a second to enjoy the serene moment. Click. 

Mammon gradually opened his eyes and saw you staring at him with parted lips. Though he knew that look all too well, Mammon wanted you to make the first move, so without wasting any time, you lifted your head and met his soft, warm lips. Click. Even after hearing the shutter sound, you didn’t pull away, much to Mammon’s joy. One kiss turned into two, two turned into three, and this went on until both of you were gasping for air. 

The Avatar of Greed took a step back and removed his shirt, giving you enough time to ogle his muscles, but soon, your lips were once again connected, this time into a sloppy kiss. Click. Your tongues tangoed, but to your dismay, he pulled away and turned your body to face the camera. Wrapping his left arm around your bare waist, he buries his face in your neck. Click. 

For a second, you had forgotten about the camera, but now that you were face to face with it, you started tensing up again. Mammon sensed your nervousness and quickly ran his right hand up the front of your right thigh and to the zipper of your formal shorts. He tugged on the zip, revealing your black lace underwear to the camera. Click. Before you could protest about the photographer watching, Mammon slid his right hand inside your undergarment and stroked your nether region. Click. You stared half-lidded at the camera, and even though you saw Luna, hunched behind the tripod, you couldn’t stop your desires from taking control of your mind. 

Your beloved demon withdrew his right hand and spun you to face him once more. He tugged on your shorts, letting them pool around your ankle, and swiftly disposed of your collared crop top, leaving you exposed in your black, lace undergarment(s). Click. Mammon kneeled on the floor, eagerly pulled you down with him, and asked you to lie down. Complying with his request, you pressed your back on the hardwood and shivered at the contrast of the cool floor against your heated skin. 

“(Y/n),” Mammon whispered on your lips, “Look at the camera 'n show it how much ya want me. Show it how I make ya feel.” 

With those words, he trailed kisses down your neck and chest until he reached your stomach. Click. Click. He parted your legs and buried his face in between. Mammon’s request to stare at the camera seemed difficult, but as soon as you felt his warm breath between your legs, you arched your back and met the gaze of the metal cyclops’ eye. Click. 

You were shocked at how naturally you revealed your bedroom expressions to a stranger and your worst enemy, but Mammon didn’t give you time to get over the shock. He grabbed your waist with both hands, sat you up, and with an aroused voice, he asked to you remove his pants. It took Mammon everything inside him to control his urge to take you right then and there in front of Luna. Click. 

Disposing of his pants, Mammon turned to the side, giving the camera his side view, and pulled you onto his lap. Click. He held onto your hips as you threw your head back to give him space to kiss your collarbones. Click. Your dear demon gratefully accepted your invitation and showered your skin with butterfly kisses. Click. As your gaze met once again, your breaths grew more and more ragged - you had reached your limit as had Mammon.

Luna cleared her throat loud enough for the two of you to hear, hoping to bring you and Mammon back to your senses. “Shall we call it a day? Mammon, do not even think about running my beautiful set. Now, run along to the bathroom and do what you two must.”

----

The Avatar of Greed took a step back to get a better look at his masterpiece, a collage of you on the wall closest to this bed. His eyes settled on the photo in the center of the collage, the biggest and brightest picture of them all - you smiling brilliantly for the camera with confidence. “Told ya ya would look great in photos. What were ya afraid of in the first place? Why fear when Mammon the Great is here~?” 

Chuckling to himself, he grazed the fingertips of his right hand across his favorite photo of you. “You’re the light of my life, and I ain’t goin’ to let my light grow dull...not in real, not in front of the camera...not ever.”

Mammon turned his attention to the heavy album in his left hand and started looking around his room. Now, where was he supposed to hide this? An album of forbidden photos meant for his eyes only. Then again, the two of you were dating, so why did he need to hide this? Why would anyone care if he had a spicy photoshoot with his lover? 

“Ya, I ain’t gonna hide this. I got no need to hide this...not from (y/n), not from Devildom, not from my brothers.” Mammon froze in place for a second before he repeated his words, “My brothers...what could go wrong with my brothers around...” 

“MAMMOOOOON. How could you be so irresponsible as to leave such an album in plain sight? Do you see the effect it has on your younger brothers?”

Mammon slowly moved his eyes behind Lucifer to find Satan paralyzed with no expression on his face, almost like his mind was short-circuiting. Next to the fifth brother was Asmo with a crimson face, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another, “Is it just me, or did it get hot in here? I mean...very, very hot...” 

A short distance away, Levi lay on the floor, passed out in a pool of his own nosebleed. Next to the third brother, Belphie sat with his knees pressed to his chest, rocking back and forth. Between Levi and Belphie was a somewhat traumatized Beel who kept looking at his twin and passed out older brother, worried about their condition. 

Snapping out of his thoughts, Mammon vigorously shook his head and mumbled a chain of “no no no”. On the other hand, it would be better to keep the album locked up, for his sake as well as the sake of his younger brothers. 

———————————————

➣  Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2] ➣ Main Masterlist

[madaboutmunson]

Let me hear you speaking just for me - Part B

This was a pretty long chapter so I've split it in two just for ease of reading :)

I Think I Could Have Been Someone - Chapter 7b

Ao3 Link

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Link to fic overview and all parts

Chapter Summary: Eddie gets the chance to interview Steve for his book.

Author Notes: This is a mature story, definitely 18+ only.

Tags/Warnings: rockstar!AU; band; touring; music industry; alternate universe; drug usage; alcohol abuse; performing; enemies to lovers; road trip; stobin; platonic stobin; platonic with a capital P;

Word Count: 6.2K

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“Is that what your book is gonna be about?” He asks, sitting back in his chair. Eddie fusses nervously with his notepad and looks down at the blank page. Now, he’s been asked outright about the book's subject. It almost feels a little vulnerable.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been collecting pictures of artists, and I ask them all the same question, and the intention is to show a truth through words and the photographs,” Eddie looks up to find he has Harrington’s undivided attention, and that also feels a little strange, unnerving but not totally unpleasant. The admission of that in itself was weird, “Money and fame are great motivators, but not like music, right? People still make music even when those other things are no longer around. So I figured it would be interesting to see how artists felt about it at all different levels of fame.” Harrington tilts his head but says nothing, and Eddie feels like the quiet and his stare are pulling the words out of him, “So you are a huge star, right? Like, a household name, so you’d be in there, but then I also have my Uncle in there who has only ever played at an open-mic night once because I was too nervous about getting up there on my own when I was a kid. He has, like, zero interest in music being anything other than a source of enjoyment for himself. Even if he is pretty damn good, actually.” Eddie smiles fondly at the W on the inside of his wrist and brushes his thumb over it.

“Can I think about it a little while?” Harrington asks with his eyebrows slightly pushed together, and Eddie realises he’s said too much, but he would have expected Harrington to mock him for it, not whatever this was.

“Yeah, sure, uh, maybe we could, um…” Eddie looks at his other questions that lead on from that one. Most people just say music is everything to them and gush about their favourite band or the first time they heard a particular song or their first gig. Harrington's ringed hand waves near his face before he can decide the next course of action.

“Thought I’d lost ya there,” he chuckles, “Tell me to shut up if you need to, but I think I could offer some pointers if you want?” He holds up his hands in submission, “But I don’t wanna tread on your toes,” Harrington looks up into his eyes with a smile, “I just really wanna help you out, Eddie. In any way I can, you know?” his head tilts to the other side as he pours himself back into his seat, spreading his knees further apart.

Eddie does not want to admit defeat on his project, and it didn't seem like Harrington was trying to sabotage it with his delay in answering the question. It felt almost like he wanted to consider it more carefully, which was unexpectedly kind of him. But, the realist in Eddie knows that if he gets off this plane without the answer, he might never get the chance once they touch down. Logically, he recognises Harrington does these things all the time. He knows how these things go, “You know what, sure. Why not?” Eddie smiles with a light laugh. In for a penny, in for a pound, he figures.

“Good. That's good,” Harrington praises, which also feels strange to Eddie. He didn't want this guy’s approval, right? Did he? No, that's ridiculous. “So tell me, Eddie, how many of these books do you wanna sell?”

“What? Like a number?” Eddie asks, a little confused.

“Just a kinda idea, that's all. So I know what you’ll need, in respect to my fans anyway,” Harrington says, putting down his drink and turning back to Eddie, “That's why you want me in the book, right? So, my fan base buys it? You don't give the impression of being an avid fan of mine,” He adds with a smirk, and that gives Eddie the distinct impression he’s aware that this whole contract was essentially a mutual use of one another.

“I want to sell as many as I can, and yes, shamefully, appealing to your fan base is part of that,” Eddie says with a small smile.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. It's just business,” Harrington smiles at him and looks around the small area, “Bring your camera,” he says as he gets out of his seat and moves to one of the plainer parts of the section, “Easier to edit out if it's less busy I figured,” Harrington says as he observes the light on his hand and seems to try and find an acceptable place to stand before untucking his shirt.

“Hey! Wait, whoa, what are you doing?” Eddie blurts out, nearly dropping his equipment in a sort of panic. Why was he getting undressed? This was not that kind of book.

Harrington laughs, “Just take the pictures, would ya?” He turns around, his back to Eddie. He pulls the shirt up and ducks his head, revealing a substantial menacing wolf tattoo and cute text stamp of ‘Wild Thing’ on his lower back and the ribcage heart on his arm.

Eddie obliges and takes numerous shots as Harrington slightly repositions himself and the shirt to make it look as though he’s been caught in the middle of undressing. It felt very much like a voyeur shot, especially when he ducks his head to hide his face.

Eddie’s alarmed reaction causes the curtain to flick open and Jesse’s head to pop out, but he only glances at Eddie to assess the situation and then sends his gaze and smirk towards Harrington’s exposed torso.

“Hey,” Eddie pretty much barked at Jesse, “consider this a closed set. He’s half undressed,” and whilst Eddie knows that is said mainly out of jealousy, he would do the same for anyone he was in a shoot with. It’s always felt like his responsibility as a photographer to keep his subjects feeling safe so they could open up to the camera.

“Easy there, big dog,” Harrington laughs, “Maybe if he’s gonna gawk, he can make himself useful.” Harrington removes the top entirely and throws it at a giggling Jesse, who fumbles to catch it.

Harrington stands one hand on his hip, the other beckoning to Eddie, “Dude, my ego isn’t gonna withstand it if you don’t get that lens back on me.” 

This isn’t a side of Harrington Eddie had expected to see, acknowledging his persona, playful, knows his craft and public. Though loathe to admit it, he didn’t mind this peek into his other aspects.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, looking between them, “It's just habit. Protecting my models, I mean.”

Harrington’s eyes widen briefly, “Well, I wasn’t expecting that kind of forcefulness from you, but from our last meeting, there was a hint that you could be a bit of a spitfire,” he smirks mischievously and then tilts his head and plunges his hands into his back pockets, “I’m ok though, more than used to it. No harm in having fun when doing these things unless that would interfere with your process?” Eddie observes him, and he’s almost softer somehow. He’s pliant with what Eddie wants to achieve, and honestly, he didn’t look bad doing it in a certain light. Eddie brushes that off again. He didn’t like Harrington, not like that. It was just another model body. Eddie adjusted the camera settings, focusing on the wolf tattoo as Harrington turned around again. "That ink's impressive. Gotta story behind it?"

“Oh, you know, typical rebellion, my body is my own, I’m a lone wolf, bullshit,” Harrington answered lazily, striking a few poses as Eddie snapped away.

Eddie chuckles, “Lone wolf? Are you ever truly alone? I can’t imagine that you are.”

Harrington laughs, “Oh, brace yourself for the cringiest truth,” he looked back over his shoulder at Eddie, “It’s possible to feel entirely alone with a room full of people,” he turned around and shrugged, “Sounds stupid. I know.”

Eddie knew that feeling only too well in the fallout of his failing business. He’d felt very much like that. People just didn’t get him or wouldn’t listen, so he felt incredibly alone and cut off whilst still going through the motions of being there.

He feels a slight tug on his sympathy. Two men, two very different paths, both ended up feeling exactly the same for a time. He hears his Dad’s voice in his head calling him a pushover, but he’d rather be a pushover any day of the week than what he became for a time.

“Everything ok, Eddie?” Harrington asks with what sounds like genuine concern, and Eddie nods with a crooked smile, “Good, thought I’d lost you for a second there,” Harrington smiled at him, and it looked concerned and laced with something Eddie couldn’t quite figure out.

“What about your other tattoos?”  Eddie tries to shift the conversation back to something safe.

Harrington turns around and poses for Eddie to capture the few tattoos on his body. For the most part, it turned out the tattoos were essentially meaningless other than Harrington was claiming back a bit of himself with each one. It’s not a big deal now, but for a time in product advertising or acting roles, tattoos were generally not welcomed. So, with every tattoo he went out and got for himself, it was a piece of Harrington they couldn’t sell that he could keep covered up.

Eddie couldn’t imagine being treated like that. Like a piece of land, a show pony, or a billboard. Harrington assures him that most artists go through it at some point when the people who funded them want to reap the harvest. With Harrington, who’d been lucky enough to have been brought up around money and got some pretty pricey people to look over his contract, he wasn’t as over a barrel as most eager wide-eyed artists are money-wise, but not even that could help with paying back what he owed, and the louder Harrington was about supporting specific causes, which he saw as human rights, the sooner they wanted to be paid back.

It started with the text on his lower back that reads ‘Wild Thing.’ at the time, he was trying to make a statement. Now, it just makes him laugh.

The Slayer tattoo on his lower abdomen was another joke. He’d been touted in the papers as some kind of playboy whose dick put women under some sort of obsessive spell. It was total bullshit. He wasn’t dating any more people than the average person his age, and one at a time, but the paparazzi and gossip columns kept screwing things up for him, so his romances were short-lived. He walked into a tattoo shop, saw the word Slayer and decided that was the tattoo for him. Even though he had no clue who the band was. 

Many years later, that did bite him in the ass pretty hard, though, once tattoos became a little more embraced, they started appearing in his pictures. His fans caught wind of it, thought it was a band Harrington liked, found out about the band and although very popular as they were on the metal scene, it brought the band into the mainstream again for a year or two, by a pocket of his fans getting into them too. So, in the midst of this, Slayer invited him to play with them. This began a month-long crash course of all things Slayer for Harrington, and he actually became a fan.

“No way, man!” Eddie gasped, completely amazed. “I can’t believe you got to play with one of my favourite bands!”

Some refilled drinks had appeared, but Eddie had hardly noticed them being topped up after they’d sat down and Harrington had gotten dressed again.

“Hey, if we get these projects tied up nicely, I’d gladly give their people a call for you. They’re real awesome guys,” Harrington beams at him.

The heart-shaped rib cage on his arm was something again he rolled his eyes at. When Eddie pushed, he simply said, “Matters of the heart aren’t always as soft and pliant as we might have been taught.”

The last tattoo on the list is the heart gramophone in the centre of his chest. “What about that one? That has to be the most unusual out of the lot,” Eddie points the end of his pencil toward the centre of Harrington's chest, where he can just make out the tattoo through the sheer shirt. Harrington smiles, and it feels genuine and if Eddie didn't know any better, almost impressed. “Yeah, this design was a collaboration. It’s kind of a tribute to a song that saved my life and also a reminder, “ Harrington smiled, and it wasn’t one of his smirks. It doesn't look like the type Eddie has seen in photographs of him. It looks real. “It’s also kind of the answer to your question, actually.”

Eddie notices he’s on the edge of his seat, pencil poised against his notepad. This flight had been quite the reveal. He wasn’t best buddies with Harrington or anything, but finding him helpful and pleasant to be around had helped Eddie soften towards him, which was paying off. The less Eddie bristled, the less Harrington hid behind his image.

“My Slayer educational journey opened me up to listening to more heavy music, and exploring that genre was interesting. Turned out I’m not a super thrashy guy, but I appreciated it. From that, I started to listen to Metal that was born during my era, ya know. I found that Nu Metal stuff,” Harrington stops and looks at Eddie like he’s reading him.

“Yeah, I know that genre. It’s kinda my era too, but I am very much a thrash guy also,” Eddie smiled as if to reassure him he could carry on.

Harrington looks him over and relaxes back in his seat, “Well, I heard this song by Korn called Twisted Transistor and apart from literal parts of the lyrics,” he laughed, “It very much resonated with me.” 

Eddie watches Harrington swallow, and his arms wrap around himself subtly, “So, in answer to your question, it’s not really what music means to me. It’s very much that I don’t feel I could survive without it. It’s caught me so often when I was free-falling into the depths. The right song at the right time can be a lifeline, you know?”

That only intrigued Eddie more. What the hell happened to this guy? Is he just talking about overindulging and pushing too hard, or was it something much less hedonistically caused than that?

“And I also felt that music gave me one way I could really express myself. Even if it has to be heavily coded sometimes,” Harrington gives him a shrug of a smile.

Eddie can see that vulnerable look on Harrington and decides to change the subject. He has his answer for the book. “I remember you going through that phase,” Eddie grinned, “It made the news for weeks, that photoshoot and music video reveal.” 

Harrington hums, “Yeah, it did, didn’t it?” And Eddie almost feels like maybe that might not have been what it seemed.

Eddie puts down his notepad, but the dictaphone is still running. He and Harrington talk about music, their favourite artists, first and favourite gigs, guilty pleasures and phases, and before he knew it, the time was up. A huge surprise to himself, but he was disappointed the conversation was over.

“You’ll have to return to your seat now, Mr Munson,” Jesse advises, whom Eddie had utterly forgotten about for a while.

“Oh shit, yeah, of course,” Eddie said urgently as he scrambled to get his equipment together and packing it away to take back to his seat.

Once packed up, he turned to Harrington, “Thanks for your time, Harrington. It was a pleasure,” and he meant that. Maybe his therapist was right. He felt lighter for letting go of all that hate for a little while.

“It really was,” Harrington beams at him and stands up to shake his hand.

As Eddie turns to head back through to the other section, he feels a tug on his sleeve. He’s half expecting to see Jesse, but he knows as he turns from that heady cologne it’s Harrington.

“So when we get back to the hotel, you’ve got your pick of where to stay from what’s available, but if you don’t like anything on offer, my suite has multiple bedrooms, and you’re welcome to one if you need it.” Harrington offers, and Eddie is almost floored by it.

“Uh, well, I kinda like to have my own room, in case of different, uh, schedules,” Eddie says. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the offer, but he didn’t want to be kept up all night by Harrington and friends.

Harrington tilts his head and smiles, “Yeah, that’s fair. How about we go through the photos and the checklist for the residency later? Drinks on me,” he laughs, and it’s fucking charming. The checklist has been signed off, and maybe Harrington is just looking for another way to hang out with him, and he guesses he understands that, in respect of he’s enjoyed their interactions today. The more amiable they were, the better this project would turn out, and after what he learned today, it sounded like they both really needed that.

“It would be a fantastic opportunity for me to finally be able to give back. You’ve been helping me for years,” Harrington’s eyes flick to his and then back out the window.

“What?” Eddie frowns in confusion.

“I have a picture you took of me, and I,” he looks at the ground for a spell, his hands on his hips. He looked embarrassed but built himself up to say, “I felt you captured me in that shot, like my very soul in that moment in time.” He shook his head with a soft laugh, “That’s why I’ve been bugging you for years to work with me. I wanted to be around someone who really saw me, just like you did in that picture.” Harrington shifted his weight from one leg to the other, “It helped me feel less disconnected when I’d look at it.” Eddie sees another odd thing, Harrington gives him an awkward smile. The kind that people give you when they already know you're about to reject them somehow. 

Eddie ponders that maybe this photograph he enjoyed so much didn’t hold the weight for Eddie that Harrington thought it did, but that was pretty normal in his photography experience. He didn’t look at every family portrait he’d taken and gush with pride like the family did when they looked at it. Maybe this time around, he could genuinely capture some magic if he got to know Harrington a little more. Today hadn’t been so bad at all.

“You know what, yeah, that would be really helpful, thanks,” Eddie smiled.

Harrington’s face erupts into the biggest grin he’s seen to date, and he wishes he hadn’t packed his camera away, “Great, see you later then, Eddie,” he flicks his hand in a wave, and they both return to their seats.

Eddie sits in his seat and sighs contentedly as the seatbelt sign lights up. Maybe it didn’t need to be such a chore. When a flight attendant comes around to check his belt, they also hand him another notecard, which he opens quickly. It has a telephone number, a smiley face, and ‘Harrington’ written, not signed, underneath it.

Upon landing, there is a very direct split in the people on the plane. The majority of people, including himself, are requested to remain in their seats. Harrington is swamped by security and bustles through their section, quickly off the plane first. That makes sense, Eddie thinks. He’s gotta beat the crowds and get to the hotel.

As the plane door opens, Eddie hears the crowd's noise, a mixture of cheers, screams and the shutter clicking, and this is on the tarmac. He hasn’t even got down the stairs. The shades of his and some of the security’s sunglasses show their purpose as the flashes go off. So many Eddie thinks their lenses look like star-crowded skies, but there was only one star in which anyone else was interested.

A few minutes after Harrington has descended into the chaos, one of the lesser security team members appears back through the door and waves everyone else off the plane, down the stairs and towards a small executive coach.

Once everyone is in their designated seats, they all have a small gift bag with their hotel key card, an overpriced designer bottle of water, some towelettes to freshen up with, and some snacks already inside.

The security member stands at the front of the coach and pushes her shades on top of her head, “Ok, everyone, we’ve got a mix of veterans and newbies to the Harrington convoy, so I’m just gonna go over this for ya. Please give me a minute of your attention. It's super simple.”

“Mr Harrington, as you can see, is currently running distraction for us,” she gestures out the tinted window to where Harrington is still signing things and taking pictures, much to Eddie’s surprise, “But he can’t do this all day, so our side of the operation has to be slick,” she says looking around the coach as the driver starts it up, “So let’s keep it simple, go where I tell you without argument if you have a problem between here and your hotel room I’m your point of contact. Once in your rooms, please stay put until we call you to notify you the area is cleared down. There will be fans and professionals alike trying to infiltrate the hotel to get at Mr Harrington or information on the upcoming performances, so consider this your first reminder that strangers aren’t your friends on this trip.” 

As the coach finally departs the tarmac to head for the exit, she smiles at them, “That might sound a little restrictive in principle, but it’s for your safety and the safety of others. However, for the duration of your stay, you can consider yourselves under the Harrington family umbrella,” That gets an excitable buzz throughout the vehicle that confuses Eddie, and a handful of others clearly don’t understand the significance of that either.

The security team member smiles at the puzzled faces, “Anything you need during your stay, anything at all,” she emphasised with a smirk, “Is on Mr Harrington or the label. When you get to your rooms, the number for your point of contact will be taped next to your phone. For any room service or housekeeping, you can call down to the front desk.” 

She pulls her sunglasses back down, “And last of all, remember to have fun,” she smiles and disappears into her seat to applause.

It only took around fifteen minutes to get to the hotel, but they were to remain seated as their luggage was retrieved. They were assured it would be returned to them shortly and to just go to their room and wait for the call.

Eddie finds his room without trouble. He finds the number taped next to his phone and notices a key with a different room number on it.

He walks around his sizeable room, reclines back on the bed, and watches TV while waiting for a call or his luggage to arrive.

Twenty minutes and a knock on the door, Eddie is reunited with his luggage and work gear. He stops the security guy before he leaves, “Uh, I think someone left another key in here, but the number on it isn’t to this room,” Eddie says, gesturing towards the phone.

“Oh sure, yeah, that’s to Mr Harrington’s suite. He wanted to make sure if you changed your mind about the entourage rooms or wanted to catch some more candid shots, you had the access to do so. The number on it is just a decoy-type thing. Probably a good idea to reassure him you got it,” he nodded, “Anything else I can help you with?”

Eddie shakes his head, “No, that’s great, thanks,” he smiles and closes the door behind the security guy as he leaves.

Eddie takes out his phone and the note card in his pocket and messages Harrington.

I got the key card and gift bag. Thanks. Let me know if you still wanna go through the photographs later. If not, it's understandable. It looked crazy out there! Eddie

Moments later, his phone pings. It’s Harrington.

No problem, buddy. It might be fairly late, though. I got a few interviews and hotel obligations before I’m free. Steve 🙂

Cool. Let me know when you’re free, Eddie replied

Eddie spends the next hour or so making some barely edited versions of the shoot on the plane. Just making them look less flat and adjusting some aspects of the lighting to make the tattoos really pop. 

He can’t hear much outside noise in the hotel room, but Harrington must be here now as there is some kind of kerfuffle outside, which is enough to shatter the peaceful sanctuary of his room. Eddie gets up from his desk and takes a peek.

The relatively busy road they had travelled to get to the hotel was at a standstill. Someone was trying to redirect the traffic because a solid wall of fans was going partway across. The two lines that look like they are coming out of the hotel, which he imagines but be more fans flanking the hotel entrance, it was challenging to say for sure at this height.

Soon, the outlines of the crowd start to be bitten into by sharp, bright white stars. Like popcorn, there are few at first until the area is almost entirely flooded by repeated small explosions of light, and then they die out. Just like the main chunk of the crowds until barriers are gone and traffic flows as usual.

A while after the phone rings in Eddie’s room, a member of security advises him he’s free to roam freely around the hotel and its pool, theatre, casino, and stores.

He does just that, but his mind is plagued by the conversation on the plane, how he diverted the press and fans, and the hospitality in general. He had the whole plane in the same hotel as he was, and whilst Eddie chugs a cocktail slushie that he didn’t have to pay for because it’s all taken care of, he paces around the slot machines, and wonders if Harrington was truly as awful as he’d built him up to be. It’s not like he knew about the aftermath.

He turns a corner and comes face to face with a life-size Harrington cut-out, directing anyone with his charming half smile to check out the all-new Harrington-themed slots. Eddie blinks a few times, shakes his head, and returns to his room. There really isn’t anything they wouldn’t put him on.

Eddie’s phone goes off several hours later, and he wakes still wrapped in the robe from after his bath and a plate of green stalks from the chocolate-covered strawberries he had treated himself to.

He blindly reaches for his phone to find a message from Harrington.

I’ll be ready in 20 if you still wanna hang out.

Eddie goes into full panic; he thought the lack of messages throughout the evening meant he wasn’t going to be available, yet at nearly midnight, he’s carved out some time for Eddie.

He scrambles to get ready but then thinks better of it and texts back a much more relaxed message than he actually feels.

Yeah, cool. See you then.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Eddie finds him outside the door of Harrington’s suite. Buckley is right next to the door, and a few members of her team line the hall. Eddie gives her a nod and a forced smile of greeting. In return, she raises an eyebrow and turns away again. 

She held her earpiece momentarily and then turned to Eddie, “You can go in.” She says simply, and Eddie does as he’s told.

He walks in to find Harrington in a different set of Rockstar attire. Another set of clothes can be seen slung over a chair, some blue jeans and a white T-shirt. Staple Harrington uniform. That’s how he looked on most of his albums and tours, not this dark, brooding version of himself.

“Hey man,” Harrington says almost pleasantly, not the couldn’t care less greetings he’s had before, “Didn’t know if it was gonna be too late for you?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Eddie says with a laugh. He’s not even sure why he does that, “Thought you might be wiped from the day.”

“I’m used to it, plus I’ve kinda been looking forward to this,” Harrington says with a small smile, “We got a full bar of drinks, and I can order some food if you're hungry. Just help yourself to whatever you want, you know?” He leans a bony hip against a table and gestures around before his hand migrates naturally back to his hip.

They while away the next half hour chatting about music, looking through Eddie’s pictures of other artists, and talking through Harrington’s expectations for the checklist of photos.

Eddie, weirdly again, is enjoying his company, or maybe it's the energy drink he’s gulping down? 

“Hey, could I see the ones you took of me last time? Could you talk me through ‘em?” Harrington asks with hopeful eyes, his hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yeah, of course. I mean, my work has improved since then, but I still have them,” Eddie says, leaning over to find the correct folder.

Scrolling through hundreds of photos is pretty fun. Harrington makes a few self-deprecating jokes about how he looks now compared to then. But Harrington's mood drops as they move into more backstage candid shots. Eddie knows he could completely ignore it, and he tries to a few times, distracting him with anecdotes, but Harrington will reopen the same picture repeatedly. It’s that same barrier shot, and he’ll look at it, then Eddie, but say nothing, and it’s confusing as hell and a little annoying. So Eddie bites the bullet.

“You don’t like some of these shots or something?” Eddie asks cautiously, “I mean, feedback is feedback. It will help me ensure I don’t make the same mistakes twice.”

Harrington furrows his brow in confusion, “It’s not your work, Eddie, that’s great. It’s just,” he stops himself from the next thing he’s about to say and huffs in frustration, “You can’t make the same mistakes again, because those people aren’t around anymore. Fucking assholes. Traitors!” Harrington seethes, and he brings up the same barrier shot again.

Eddie feels like something is unspoken, and he keeps moving back to this picture where he thinks he saw him for who he truly was. But Eddie had just taken a tried and tested shot.

“I’m surprised this one is your favourite. It was everywhere at one point,” Eddie tries to lighten the mood.

“Was it? I wouldn’t know. They took all my social media away from me,” Harrington grumbles, and Eddie can see him slowly sinking in on himself.

“Yeah, man it was on every kind of merch and your posts, fan stuff, news articles everywhere. But I guess you wouldn’t have seen the full impact of it without socials.”

“It fucking sucks sometimes, you know? Getting treated like a fucking kid. Being pushed and paraded around like a living fucking billboard for whoever is throwing their money at us that week. This life is fucking gross sometimes,” Harrington complains.

Eddie can’t help but feel how easily he’d give up most things to be as rich as Harrington. He’d kick the fame stuff to the curb and just disappear with a boatload of cash, flipping everyone the bird goodbye.

“I mean, that sure sounds like it’s sucked, but it could have been worse, dude,” Eddie says, consoling him a little bit, also trying to get him out of this side of himself that is slowly grinding on Eddie.

Harrington huffed out a laugh, “Really? Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to have that happen, like explaining to your peers, ‘Oh, I’d love to promote your charity, but my socials are run by that eighteen-year-old cyborg in the corner because they are viewed as more responsible than me’? Or worse, fans asking me questions at panels that I have no idea how to answer because I have never seen whatever post they are referencing?” Harrington looks annoyed almost, “Then I get labelled as high or drunk or worst of all that I don’t give a shit.”

Eddie has an excellent idea of what it’s like to have something hit him out of nowhere, the source of which is a post he had no idea about. Eddie’s lip twitches and he is about to suggest looking at some of the pics he took at an open mic night a few months back, but Harrington is still going.

“And for what? I got a little wasted one night and posted a rant video. Like, who gives a shit? There are people out there who do way worse and keep their socials. They get fully cancelled and then turn up a month later, and everyone forgets about it! That’s just the modern world! People just need to suck it up!” Harrington spouts from his imaginary soap box.

Eddie's relaxed hands are balled fists, his smile is a tight line, behind it a set of gritted teeth on a clenched jaw. 

This guy is precisely the privileged prick he thought he was. Unaware of the consequences of his actions. They’ve been hidden from him so well that he’s complaining that they didn’t let him get drunk all the time and spout his unfounded woes night after night to the public. Eddie wished his biggest problem was being unable to retweet his friend’s dog’s wedding pictures.

Eddie is livid and feels like he has a chance to stand up for everyone Harrington has potentially bulldozed in the past without a care in the world about who he affected.

Keeping his voice barely level, he asks, “Do you even remember what you said in that video? The one that got you banned from socials?” Eddie figured he’d need to specify because this asshole would be able to differentiate between them all.

“No, man, I was fucking wasted. I bet the people who watched the video couldn’t even make out half of what I said. It was a stupid little video,” Harrington huffs out a laugh, making an unholy rage run rampant through Eddie.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Eddie sneered, “I think they heard you loud and fucking clear!”

Harrington’s head snaps to him, “Are you ok, man?”

“No, man, I’m not fucking ok. That stupid little video ended my career!” Eddie snarls out his words as he feels the bile rise in him, “You were complaining about your sad little rich boy life,” he mockingly pretends to cry, wringing his fists by his own eyes and fake pouting, “and you felt that I was special enough to make the cut for the list of people that did you wrong!”

Harrington shakes his head in disbelief, “No, that’s impossible. Someone would have told me.”

Eddie makes an incorrect buzzer sound, “Wrong! They wouldn’t because they needed you to not be sad-boy-Harrington and get on with your fucking job. Sent you to a nice swanky rehab after making a show of it. That you were ‘struggling’ with some injury or some fucking bullshit.”

“What?” Harrington asks, entirely in shock.

“That was, of course, complete fucking lies too because you hopped the rehab fence and were seen dancing and drinking the night away in some bar with your fans!” Eddie is raising his voice now.

Harrington just stares at him blankly. His mouth partly opens and closes like the pea-brained goldfish of a man that he is. God, Eddie hated him.

“You complained about how I wouldn’t work with you. Which was not true! I couldn’t! I had no space in the calendar. But the twisted whispers from facts to whatever met your ears apparently gave you the right to call me out publically.” Eddie glares at him as he stands up and paces away and then back to him, “I didn’t even see the original video when it landed, but I didn’t need to because your fucking nutcase cult of fans harassed me incessantly for years!” Spittle flies from his mouth as he rages at Harrington, purging everything he can at the confused man sitting in front of him. “And all for what? For a meaningless picture, you read your fucking bullshit into.” Eddie feels the venom fill his body, and he bites a visibly crumbling Harrington right where it hurts most, “I saw nothing in that photo other than a ticked checkbox. This isn’t a special fucking shot. I just wait for the correct marks to be hit!”

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

Songs that inspired this chapter:

Stripped - Depeche Mode

Come as you are - Nirvana

[yeslieutenant]

I Can Fix Your... Form

A/N: Thanks friends, for this lovely image that invaded my brain and wouldn't let go until it was done. @lorebite I blame this on you.

Warnings: Smut (P in V), teasing, praise kink, guns (not in a sexual way), instructor/student kinda? They are both legal obviously. Outdoor sex, oh boy this got way spicier than I originally thought it would be.

Word Count: 3,600

“Come on, Y/N. Wouldn’t wanna be late for class,” Dad says with an overexaggerated wink, pulling the door open like it weighs nothing. I roll my eyes, following him into what looks like a photography studio. My eyes scan across all of the baby pictures around the room, and I look at my dad, concern filling my eyes.

“Relax. The instructor borrows the space from his sister. She’s a newborn photographer.” I release a sigh I didn’t know I was holding as I trail behind my dad. “Jason fucking Kolchek, look at you.” He says, and he reaches forward to hug a man I have never met before. The arms that go around him are tan, and it’s hard to miss the tattoo that draws my attention, resting on his forearm like a painting. He’s taller than dad, only by a little, but enough to see the grey of a baseball cap covering up what looks to be dark brown hair. They pull back, and as the man speaks, butterflies erupt from my stomach at his deeply accented voice.

“It’s been a long time Captain L/N. How are ya?” He says, and I don’t need to see his face to know he’s smiling.

“I’m alright. Renewing this damn permit,” my dad says with a laugh, before moving to the side, gesturing to me. “And helping my daughter get hers finalized.” The moment my eyes meet Jason’s, I feel a gasp leave my throat. He’s got the cutest pair of dimples that are poking holes in his cheeks, and his pink lips are pulled back in a tender smile. His brown eyes catch the light as he moves forward, offering me a hand to shake, and they catch the small slit of sunlight filtering through a crack in the blinds and his eyes light up like the color of amber whiskey. I snap myself back into reality and reach out, gripping his hand in mine and he gives it a firm but gentle shake.

“Pleasure to meet you,” I thought just listening to his accent was great, but hearing it directed at me? Fuck. He releases my hand, dropping it back to rest on his hip casually before continuing. “Your dad showed the whole unit pictures of when you graduated, he was so proud of you.” Dad gives guilty smile before speaking.

“Gonna run to the bathroom. Be right back hon.” My fingers curl around themselves, anxiety spiking at my dad leaving me with the handsome man, whose gorgeous brown eyes are still trained on me.

“He only showed us cause of proud he was, honestly.” Covering for my dad now too? I chuckle nervously again, a small smile pulling at my lips.

“So any entire unit of marines saw me at 22 in that awful cap and gown?”

“Nah, I think you looked cute.” He admits, his eyes not leaving mine. I feel the red rush across my cheeks and nose, and the words catch in my throat. I let out a small cough, in a futile attempt to free them, my embarrassed smile hiding behind my closed fist. “I’m Jason Kolchek, by the way.”

“Y/N L/N,” I mutter, about to say more when my father walks back up, definitely taking notice of my bright red cheeks.

“You over here embarrassing my daughter, LT?” He jokes, clapping his hand down on Jason’s shoulder.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain,” now it’s his turn to be a little embarrassed, a light dusting of red flashing on his own cheeks, giving me a glimpse of the light freckles that also rest there. “Alright, I got a class to run. Why don’t you take your daughter and find a seat?” He’s the instructor? Oh, fuck me.

*****

After 4 hours of listening to Jason speak, answering questions with his drawl and small smiles, I feel like I need a change of underwear. He’s been sending me little winks and picking on me for questions, mischief all but glowing in his eyes, and I am pretty sure even dad has taken note, nudging me on the elbow when Jason calls on me and I was too lost in thought to notice. Jason wraps up, asking again, for the billionth time, what the basic rules of gun safety are. His brown orbs land on me, a sly smirk forming on his face.

“Ms. L/N. What are the 4 basic rules of gun safety?” He crosses his arms over his broad chest, pulling the dark green marine corps shirt taunt over his pecs. I feel a shiver run down my spine as I answer.

“1, Always treat a gun as if it’s loaded, 2, always point it away from people, 3, keep your finger off the trigger until you are ready to fire, and 4, always be aware of your target and what’s behind it.”

“Good.” He says, and his smile reaches his eyes as he moves on; my brain still locked on the sultry deep ‘good’. The image of him, his arms on either side of my head, his hot breath hitting my ear as he mutters ‘you are so good for me, baby’ invades my mind and it takes everything in me to not drop my head to the desk and shove my hands down the front of my jeans.

Like a bucket of ice cold water, my dad places his hand on my shoulder, yanking me out of my fantasies rather abruptly. I look up at him, his eyes sparkling the same color as mine and I feel red wash over my face again.

“This is the fun part, kiddo.”

“The… fun part?” I ask, lust giving way to confusion.

“Now we hit the range.”

*****

We’re each being called in, one by one, and I wait in- what feels like- agonizing slow motion. Jason steps out, calling my dad’s name, and dad stands, squeezing my shoulder tenderly as he walks into the range. I replay his words in my mind, anxiety spiking as I realize I am the last one still waiting here. ‘It’ll be easy, Y/N. 20-30 rounds from 15 feet. He’ll just wanna make sure you know how to safely fire, reload, and fire off some more.’ I wish his words brought me some comfort. I sit in silence for a few more moments before I hear my name fall from Jason’s lips and see my dad shoot me thumbs up as he walks back toward me. I stand on shaky legs, walking toward Jason, who’s got a hand resting on the door frame to the range. My dad slips his safety glasses onto my nose, and places the noise cancelling headphones over my ears, and I adjust them so that they sit comfortably as I walk toward the marine. He gives me a sweet smile, stepping to the side so I can slip past him. He lifts a single finger, gesturing to the range, before opening the second door and walking toward the first stall. His hand lands on the small of my back, and I am sure my face pales so it appears that I’ve just seen a ghost. I sneak a glance at Jason and notice a small smirk on his features. Fucker knows the reaction he’s drawing out of me.

“I want you to unload the whole clip into the target, then reload, and then unload that clip as well, that okay?” I nod my head quickly, my motions feeling heavy and robotic. “I need to hear you say it, Ms. L/N.” His words are yelled, but because of the headphones, it feels more like a dull purr directly into my ears. I can’t help but imagine those words in a very different context.

“Yes, sir.” I respond, my voice shaking. Has it been too long since I last got laid? It hasn’t been that long, has it? He nods, the tiniest of smirks still on his face, and it takes all my strength not to roll my eyes at the way he seems to love the effect he’s having on me. He places the gun in my small hands, well, small compared to his, and I press my finger to the grip on the side of the trigger, my palms resting on the back and pushing on the safety there. I raise the gun, aiming down the sights at the black target, hoping to hell I can get closer to the little white circle in the middle than the white on the outsides. I move my finger to the trigger and take a small breath before squeezing the trigger, just enough for the gun to fire, and I feel my eyes blink closed in response. I hit the paper, but nowhere on the body of the fake paper man. I squeeze again. Now that I know how the recoil feels, I don’t need to close my eyes. I tell myself, and I manage to keep my eyes open as I fire off the remaining 17 shots before I drop my arms, pointing the nose of the gun into the wooden surface in front of us. I watch as Jason flips a switch, bringing the target to us so he can lean over and pull it off, examining how I did. He looks at me, almost, impressed, before he speaks again, reigniting the heat in my core.

“Good job, sweetheart. Now I want you to reload the gun, that clip right there is full, and then fire off that whole clip.”

“Yes, sir,” the words come without hesitation this time, and I notice Jason’s eyebrows shoot up, practically into his hairline, before I turn away, pulling the empty clip out of the gun before sliding the full one back in. I rack the shot, pulling the top of the gun back until it clicks, and I know it’s loaded and ready to fire. I glance up as the target slides back again, returning to 15 feet like it was before, before aiming and rapidly firing off the whole clip. The anxiety coursing through my veins is enough to make me want to get the hell out of this damn shooting range, and I set the gun down on the table, facing away from us, before I look at Jason, panic beginning to set in as he brings the target forward again.

“So Lieutenant, did I pass?” I ask, the heel of my sneakers bouncing up and down on the concrete. His chocolate brown eyes land on me and I see, rather than hear, a chuckle leave his chest.

“You sure as shit did. I’d work on your form, you had a couple clusters here and there that you’ll be able to fix by doin’ that, otherwise, you did pretty fuckin’ well.” He hands me the paper, and I hesitate for a moment, before deciding fuck it.

“Maybe you could show me.” Jason has the balls to look surprised for a split second before his eyes narrow, almost as if he’s gauging if I’m genuine. He must decide that I am, but he frowns, his lips pulling back in an annoyed grimace.

“I have somewhere I gotta be tonight, but how about I get your number, and then I can fix your,” he sends a wink my direction, laughing as my cheeks break out in a flood of pink. “Form.”

“Okay.”

*****

“Sorry, it’s not much, but it’s home.” Jason says, dropping his keys on the hard granite counter. I thought he was only going to be interested in one thing from me, but he took me to dinner, acting exactly like the perfect gentleman all evening. He told me he lives on a plot of land with his buddy Nick, who my dad presumably also knows, and they have a homemade shooting range in their backyard.

Jason slips his button down off his shoulders, leaving him in a tightly fitting white cotton shirt, throwing the discarded fabric over one of the high top chairs that is pressed against the counter, and I rip my eyes away from his figure as he turns back to me. His hands land on his hips and he shoots me that deadly smirk again before he speaks.

“Wanna go fire off a couple shots, baby doll?”

*****

The gun presses into my palms again, and I return to my stance as Jason watches me like a hawk. I fire off a shot before his hands graze my lower back and I gasp at the contact.

“Relax those arms, doll. You’re too tense.” His fingers wrap around my elbows, and the heat radiating from him presses into my back forces a shaky breath to leave my lips. Jason tugs lightly on my arms, dropping them just enough that I have a bit more freedom to shift them up and down. His voice is directly behind my neck as he speaks again, and I feel his warm breath travel straight from my neck into my already throbbing center. “Squeeze the trigger, babe.” And I do. The shot hits the target dead fucking center. “Good job, baby. You’re doing so well for me.” The words hit my ear, his lips grazing the shell and I set the gun down on the little plastic table as a strangled moan falls from my lips. My head tips back, landing softly on Jason’s shoulder, and his mouth presses a hot kiss to my pulse point. Another soft groan releases, and it’s almost impossible to miss the smirk against the skin.

“Jason, I thought we were shooting?” The words are mumbled, barely audible as he continues laving my neck with kisses and gentle nibbles.

“You think I didn’t notice the way those pretty eyes o’yours glazed over when I said ‘good’ to you during class? Or the way you all but jumped outta your damn skin when I led you into the range?” Fuck. “I assure ya doll, I noticed. And I think I’d really like you to show me just how good of a girl you can be for me.” Jason grips my hips before turning me around to face him before his lips land on mine. Well, I was right about them being kissable. My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him as close as physically possible as his tongue draws a soft line across my lips before I part them, allowing the muscle to tangle with mine. The sweet aftertaste of whiskey dances across my tongue and a moan falls into his open mouth. His hands land on my thighs before he lifts, placing me into the hard surface as his hips slot between my open legs. “Fuck, you weigh fuckin’ nothin’, baby girl,” He says against my mouth before he moves down, sucking marks into the soft flesh behind my ear.

“Throw me around then, Lieutenant,” the words break free before I can stop them, and he releases a groan against my skin. His hands fist in the soft yellow fabric of my sundress, tugging it up until my lacy panties are exposed to his hungry gaze.

“Fuck, I want you, but I don’t want you to think I’m some asshole who just wants to get his fuckin’ dick wet.” I grip his shoulders, pushing him back until his forehead is pressed tenderly against mine.

“Promise me a second date then, Jason.”

“Oh, I fuckin’ promise that. I wanna take you to this little diner over on mai-” But he doesn’t finish as I force him back into a hot kiss, my hand resting on the back of his neck, playing with the short hairs there.

“I think you asked me to show you how much of a good girl I can be, right, Jason?” He nods, lips still connected. Jason scoots me to the edge of the table, it rocking slightly at the movement, and his fingers slip into my panties, running along my slit before twirling a tight circle against my clit. I gasp, breaking the kiss as my head falls to his shoulder.

“Your moans sound like fuckin’ heaven, doll.” The words are more like vibrations that I can feel against my cheek, and his finger slides home in my opening, and I clench around it as his thumb continues working my clit. “You feel so good around my finger, baby. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” My chest rumbles as my pussy squeezes around him again, and his pumps his finger in and out, my moans increasing in pitch as the setting sun bathes us in a gorgeous orange glow.

“Jason, please, I want you.”

“Since you asked so nicely, baby.” The empty feeling is agonizing, and I clench around nothing as I watch his fingers fall to his zipper, tugging it down slowly, taunting me. I look up at him, my arms resting on the creaky table. I lean back and feel the still loaded gun beneath my back and shoot back up, almost knocking heads with the marine. “What?”

“We never moved the loaded gun.” I chuckle, and he drops his head with a chuckle.

“Some instructor I am.” He reaches behind me, and I notice his cock is rock hard, curving up toward his stomach as he removes the clip, pulling the top back to eject the unfired shell before placing the handgun in the case sitting on the stool beside the table. That’s kinda hot. When he turns back to me, his eyes immediately find that I have slipped my panties off, reaching forward to slide them into the pocket of his jeans.

“Hold onto these for me, babe?” He head rolls back, muttering something along the lines of ‘you’re trying to kill me doll’. He notches his cock at my entrance, rubbing along it for a moment, collecting some of the wetness there.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby doll.” He mumbles before sliding home, our groans mixing with the dusk air as my back arches, pressing my covered chest into his. “God, baby, look at you, taking my cock so well,” Jason’s words run straight into my ear, mingling with his labored breaths as he begins a steady rhythm. The way his cock presses into me forces the head directly across my sweet spot, and a squeak leaves my throat at the sensation. My fingers reach forward, gripping onto his shoulders tightly as his thrusts grow harder, his fingers returning to flick against my clit and the screech leaves my throat, my face pressing into his chest. The cheap plastic table creaks below us.

“Jase, this table may not hold.” I say through gasps and moans, his fingers still rubbing fast circles around my little button. Without hesitation, he grabs my ass, lifting me up and walking us over to a tree, pressing my back into the hard bark as he continues to pound. My head falls back against the rough wood as the angle changes, his tip slamming into my g-spot with each press forward.

“God, I want you to squeeze my cock, baby,” the words are less labored than I thought they would be, given the amount of exertion he is putting into this. “Come for me, please baby. Come around my cock.” His words are almost enough to set me off, but it’s not quite enough. He must be able read minds, cause his finger slides down, spinning fast, hard circles around my clit, and he speaks again. “God, you are takin’ my cock so good darlin’. Fuck, I wanna fill you up, pumping you full until you cream all over me.” The rough texture of the tree behind my back, Jason’s skill finger against me, and his cock pressing against every single spot inside of me is enough force a scream from my lips as I feel white hot pleasure course through my veins, my arms clinging tightly to Jason’s shoulders as he comes, pressing forward and spilling deep inside me. Thank fuck for contraceptives.

We come down from our respective highs, mingling breaths as his hands rest on my ass, holding me up against the damn tree. I start giggling, my head falling to his shoulder and I feel his chest rumble with his own laughs. He sets my feet on the ground and my knees wobble at the sudden weight, and he picks up the gun case, almost invisible in the fading light.

“Can I have my panties back?” He smirks, tucking himself back into his jeans before zipping his fly.

“I think I’ll keep ‘em for a bit, doll. After all, I’m hopefully gonna get the chance to take you in my bed, instead of some tree outside.” His hands rest on the small of my back, leading me back into the house, where we are met with a bit of an unexpected sight.

“Jason, you may wanna keep the screaming dow- Hey. Where do I know you from?” A man, assuming it's his friend, Nick, asks, and I shrug, not quite sure before Jason pipes up. I look to him as he explains and it’s then that I notice the deep crimson blush across his cheeks.

“This is Y/N L/N, Nicky.”

“Holy shit. You fucked Captain L/N’s daughter?” Nick laughs, crossing his arms across his chest before I break out in a fit of giggles. Jason looks at me, confused as hell before I finally calm down enough to explain.

“You’re gonna have to tell my dad.” Jason’s eyes show genuine fear for a brief moment before he crouches down, his shoulder lining up with my stomach before he throws me over it, carrying me down a hallway.

“Jason, what are you doing?” I ask through fits of giggles.

“If I’m gonna get killed by my captain, I’ll be damned if I don’t make it worth it.”

*****

Tags: @kawaiiwitch224 @yellowroseskolchek @house-of-kolchek @lorebite @buttermykolchek @kassiekolchek22

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter X: It’s All Hate And Money

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | chapter ix

summary: an idea is proposed by your label that you’re not sure you want to take part in, especially given the circumstances.

tags: hurt/no comfort but barely, angst, fake dating, slow burn, idiots in love, mutual pining, mutual heartbreak, these two are so stupid sometimes it hurts

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long and it’s still not very long, but it DID inspire me to keep going! also yeah, ofc i brought the angst back. bc that was the whole plot. just stupid ppl that cannot communicate right now bc they r afraid!!! also if any of my links are broken pls let me know, im trying to fix them but they decide to work half the time?? Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

——

July 1986

The breeze is refreshing, despite it blowing your hair into your face. Eddie sits next to you, hands behind his head as he lay in the sun. He’s showing off his tattoos, including the one he’d gotten from you last month, your initials in your handwriting scratched neatly above his hip. In front of you, Robin and Steve splash each other in the lake, both of them shrieking and laughing as the cool water hits their faces. Your heart is full, spending the weekend at Steve’s parents’ unused lake house with your closest friends. Nancy and Jonathan arrive tomorrow, and the five of you have plans to roast marshmallows and sing songs like in all those cheesy horror movies. You could do this every day for the rest of your life, and be perfectly happy. You know Eddie doesn’t feel that way, he gets restless in places so still, and you have this deep, irrational fear that his urge to keep moving will end up being your downfall. But right now, that’s a non-problem. You return to your book, The Harlequin’s Son, as Eddie cranks the boombox up another few notches to blast Beach Boys Surfin USA.

—

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

“Eddie! Is Sweetheart about Y/n?” “Was Pretty Boy written about you?” “How long have you and Y/n been together?” “Eddie, where’s Y/n?” The questions are hurled at him by fans and journalists alike as he enters the venue, cameras flashing in his face as Steve tries to shield him.

“We have no comment at this time, thank you! Bye!” Steve shoos the mob as well as he can manage, holding his hand out in front of photographers. Eddie keeps his head down, saying nothing as the door swings open for him and his band.

“Hey, they’ll let it go, it’s just fresh right now.” Steve reassured him, a comforting hand landing on his shoulder.

“It’s not them I’m worried about.” He looks around, every backstage of every venue looks the same to him, but you’re in the wings, lugging your guitar and amp to the stage as crew members set up pedal boards and wires. You look up then, and offer Eddie the smallest of smiles that he returns with a shy wave.

“I’m sure Y/n is fine, too.”

“You haven’t talked to them?”

“I’ve been busy with your temperamental ass!” Steve jokes, nudging him. “Besides, they’re a lot stronger than you think.”

“Hey. I know that. You think I don’t know that? We were together for like, four years. That isn’t my point.” It’s his turn to be defensive. He’s never doubted your strength, it’s your temper he’s concerned with. You’re not one to shy away from chewing someone out for a wrong assumption.

He looks from Steve back to you, watching as you chat with a crew member about something. You’re in plain jeans and a tight black t-shirt, your hair tied on top of your head haphazardly.

He feels a second nudge. “Stare more, would ya?” Robin’s appeared on Eddie’s other side.

“Who’s staring? I’m not staring.”

“And I’m not a lesbian. Try to blink, you’ll look less obvious.” Her smirk makes his eye twitch. “Or, y’know. You could just go say hi. Like friends do.”

“Seriously? You’re giving me shit about this too?” Eddie groans, craning his neck to the ceiling in irritation.

“Of course I am! If you guys are gonna do this dance the whole time we’re touring, I'm gonna get my jokes in!” This causes Steve to snicker.

“Listen, I’m only gonna say this once. Y/n and I are adults. You two are being so immature about this. There is absolutely nothing else between us, okay? Nothing.” Steve and Robin exchange a look, and begin to giggle again. “Cut it out!” Eddie whines, then startles when he feels a light tap on his shoulder. He turns around to find you, sparkly eyed with a tight smile on your lips.

“We need to talk.”

—

Your POV

You don’t mention what you’d heard from Eddie’s lips, but you feel your heart sting a little. Nothing else between us? Bullshit. But now isn’t the time to call him out on it.

“What’s up?” Eddie leans against the doorframe of the dressing room, arms crossed casually.

“I just got a call from my label. They, uh, saw the magazine article.” You keep your voice low, not wanting to alert your gaggle of friends hanging out inside the dressing room. “They want us to play into it.”

“Play into it?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow teasingly. You’re sure he knows exactly what you’re talking about, but he wants to hear you say it.

You groan. “They want us to be seen together more, out in public. Hold hands and shit.”

“They want us to date for publicity?”

You shrug. “Pretty much.”

“Do you want that?” He sounds sincere, even concerned.

“I don’t know if I have that choice.”

Eddie straightens his posture. “You always have a choice. It’s your life, regardless of what your label wants you to do.”

You sigh. He means well, you know that, but it would be so much more added stress to fight with executives while on tour. “Well, what do you think?”

“You know I’m always down to play tricks on the public,” he laughs, “and if you don’t mind being around me all the time, I’ll definitely do it.” You can’t get a read on him. If he doesn’t have feelings for you, why would he want to pretend?

“Okay. Then let’s play some tricks, yeah?” You offer your hand, and he stares. “You’re supposed to shake it.”

He blinks his stare away, and grasps your right hand in his. “Let’s do it.” He nods, and you can’t help but smile.

—

Your anxiety is skyrocketing tonight. With the added weight of this dating scheme, you barely have the mental capacity to make it through soundcheck.

“Are you okay?” Robin approaches you when you fumble the chords to Pretty Boy again, wincing as you sing the lyrics you’d written so many years ago.

“You have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Steve.” You’re whispering, even though you really don’t care if your bandmates find out. But Steve will try to protect you, probably going as far as making a scene in front of the label execs if he deemed necessary, and that was way too much to deal with right now.

“Consider my lips locked.” Robin makes a point of zipping her lips, locking them, and tossing the imaginary key behind her shoulder. You fill her in on your plan, not mentioning your nerves or feelings the entire time.

“And you think this is a good idea?” She asks when you’ve finished your rant. She’s not saying it to bite, she genuinely seems worried for you.

You shrug. “Probably not, but DDA is still new, we could get kicked off the label if we object to them this early. And they talked to CC’s agent already, so we pretty much have to do it.”

“But, what if you get the feelies again? Or worse, what if you don’t get the feelies, and now you’re lying to the world and to yourself?”

“First of all, feelies, Robin? Are we twelve? And secondly, I know. I'm screwed either way. Eddie already said he didn’t have feelings for me, so it’s not like-“

Robin interrupts you, waving her hand frantically. “When did he say that?”

“I overheard him talking to you and Steve earlier. ‘There is nothing else between us. Nothing.’.” You mimic Eddie’s gruff voice as you quote him, warning a chuckle from your bassist.

“You know that’s like, total bullshit, right?”

“No, I don’t! I can’t figure him out anymore, and frankly I don’t see why I have to.”

Robin pinches between her eyes like a disappointed mother. “You don’t. But you should figure your own shit out. Might be healing.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. This could totally be my undoing, I am very aware. But this could also be the push I need to make a decision. Either I’m over him, or I’m not.”

Robin pats your shoulder lovingly. “Okay, babes. Whatever you want. But maybe stop thinking about it until after we rock the shit out of this place, okay?”

You nod, finding the first chord again, and playing it perfectly. “Right. Let’s do this shit.”

—

Eddie’s POV

He taps his foot along anxiously with the house music, currently Blind Melon’s Tones of Home. His pen bounces up and down frantically in his hand, tapping against his frayed leather bound journal. A melody has been stuck in his head all day, but he can’t bring the words to match it. He’s about to throw in the towel when he feels another presence in the room.

He glances up, and his eyes meet with yours in the mirror. He whips his head around, startled by your stealth. “Hey, sw- hey, you.” He chuckles, feeling his cheeks heat up at the slip up. “Sorry, practicing.”

You shake your head, a small smile on your lips. “Hey. I wanted to be the one to tell you, there’s a lot of press here tonight. I heard Rolling Stone might try talking to you.” Your voice shakes slightly as you deliver the information.

Eddie is far too used to the overwhelming amount of public attention that comes with being a successful musician. It’s something he can’t stand, and you know that well. Nosy reporters were a huge reason he didn’t like when you would go on tour with him when the two of you actually were together. He was insistent on you not being seen with him, because he didn’t want them twisting your image. It was a selfish thing, Eddie realizes now. You are more than capable of taking care of yourself, but Eddie didn’t want to share you with the world. You were his to protect, and only his to be in love with.

But the world is falling in love with you now, for something you had created without him, and he feels all the pride for you in the world. Every day he wishes he’d been more supportive. Maybe this is his second chance?

“Thank you for the warning.” Eddie answers after a beat too long. You nod your head once, and pivot to leave the room when Eddie hears himself call, “Wait!” You turn to him again, waiting for him to continue. “You, uh, you think you could help me with something?” Eddie’s shy again, suddenly, like he’s back in high school asking you to go to prom with him. And he wasn’t even shy when he asked you to prom.

“Sure, what is it?” You walk deeper into the room, and Eddie moves aside to make room at the small vanity mirror. He slides his open journal toward you, where the page is littered in words crossed out, rewritten, and crossed out again. He snatches his guitar from where it leans against the wall, throwing it over his lap in a swift motion, despite the tight space.

“I have had this thing, this melody stuck in my head all day, and I either need to know if I came up with it, or if I’m remembering it from somewhere.”

He finds the first notes, fingering the strings expertly to a twinkling melody.

—

Your POV

You are really trying to focus on the song he’s playing. It does sound familiar to you, but you can only hear it like this, unfinished and on the fly. You squeeze your eyes shut in concentration, really focusing on the way the song flows together, trying to put words to it that escape you.

Until you figure it out. Your eyes fly open, wide as the memory comes back to you with full force. “Oh my god.” You throw a hand over your mouth.

Eddie stops suddenly, and looks back to you in the mirror. “Shit, is this someone else’s song? I thought I had something really fuckin’ good here!”

“No, no. Well, yes and no.” Eddie raises an eyebrow at your confusing response. “It, uh. That’s the song we wrote together. Like, right after graduation, when we went to Steve’s lake house. You played it on that really gross acoustic guitar that was in the garage, the one we found when we were—“ You don’t finish the sentence, knowing the raunchy turn the story takes. “Anyway, we started fuckin’ around with it, ‘member? And you came up with that—“ you point lazily to his guitar still in his lap, “but we never put words to it, we kinda just forgot. That is insane.”

—

Eddie’s POV

The memory washes over him, like a tidal wave pulling him under. You’d had the guitar in your lap, strumming lazy chords as you tuned the old, barely usable guitar that had belonged to Steve’s mother in another life. He remembers how hot that day had been, a record breaking heatwave baking the entirety of the midwest. Your hair was piled high on your head to keep it off your sticky skin, glimmering with perspiration. You wore only a bikini top and shorts, feet bare and dirty with the mud of the backyard. He’d stolen the guitar from you, plucking the same chords he’d just been playing, You’d started humming, then eventually singing, to his music, a soft smile on your face as your eyes closed, focusing on the way the two sounded together. He remembers everything else about that night, too, from the clumsy sex in the shed to the bonfire surrounded by his favorite people.

He finally turns around, his head purposefully craned up to avoid being eye level with your chest. The space between you two is small, and he feels his heart rate quicken. “Oh, shit.” Is all he says, being rendered speechless by the discovery.

“No, I mean, it’s okay! It’s such a pretty tune it’d be a shame if one of us didn’t use it. You should!” He can’t help but hear the slight disappointment in your voice, like you feel something was taken from you, by him. The idea comes almost as quickly as the memory had. “What if we just, put the song out?”

You place a hand on your hip. “What, like as a duet?”

Eddie nods, feeling the hope take hold in his chest. “Yeah! Yeah, we could write it, record it when we stop in New York maybe, or even after the tour if you want. And the suits would eat it up, too. Especially with this whole thing we got goin’ on,” He gestures to the space between your bodies.

“Oh. So this would be like, a money grab for you?” The hurt is clear in your wavering voice, and Eddie’s smile is wiped from his face.

“No, of course not.”

“No, right, but it’s a nice little extra. Have your cake and eat it too, right?” Wrong. So wrong, but what is Eddie supposed to do? Now is not the time to be confessing that he’s still completely enamored with you, head over heels in love. It’s so unfair to you, to both of you, to put that out there right this second.

“I mean, if you wanna look at it like that, yeah. The extra money would be nice. But it would also be cool just to work with you again. For real this time, as friends.” He’s praying it’s a good enough save.

You shrug. “We can try, but I’m not confident in our ability to work together.” There’s a bite to your words, and Eddie winces. “But I gotta go, we’re on in an hour.” You turn, and leave the room with an extra sense of urgency.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie puts his guitar down, and throws his head into his hands.

—

Your POV

You angrily wipe the tear that’s escaped from your tear duct, annoyed with your own sensitivity. You’re absolutely overreacting, but the pain in your throat threatens to suffocate you if you don’t immediately do something about it.

And so, with nothing else running through your mind besides Eddie, the memories of him contrasting deeply with who he’s become, you stomp past your bandmates as they put the finishing touches on their makeup and hair, you slam the bathroom door behind you. You’d swiped the scissors from Harley months ago, and keep them in your toiletries bag for things like this. You grab a fistful of your hair and chop, not stopping to measure the length. You repeat the ritual on the other side, and again across the front of your face. When you’re finished, your hair looks like you lost a bet, your eyes are puffy from crying, and a string of snot has fallen down your face. You wipe it with your sleeve, and quickly change into the outfit hanging up on the towel rack: black sheer tights and a baby pink lingerie nightgown you’d thrifted in Montreal. You throw your leather jacket over it, do your makeup haphazardly as you hold the rest of your tears in, and apply an excessive amount of deodorant. You step out of the bathroom, and are immediately met with the horrified looks of your friends.

“What did you do?!” Sylvie throws their hands over their mouth in shock, and Lilith’s jaw unhinges as she gasps.

You shrug. “Needed a change. Now let’s rock the shit out of this place, huh?”

Your bandmates move to leave the room, not about to engage with your suddenly erratic behavior. You’re grateful for their silence, knowing you probably look ridiculous. This will give the press something else to talk about.

The noise of the crowd grows louder as you approach the wing. “Alright guys, go out there and-“ Steve cuts himself off as his eyes scan over you. “What the hell happened?”

Robin is quick to speak. “They’re fine. Don’t worry about this right now.”

“Right, but there are so many cameras out there, and I-“

“Steve!” Robin interrupts, shaking her head. “Not. Right. Now.”

Steve surrenders, lips tight. “Okay. Right. Go kick some ass!” He hugs each of your bandmates before they go on stage. When he gets to you, he rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, and pulls back when he discovers you’re shaking. “Are you alright?”

“Later.” You say shortly. More words about the subject will make you cry again. “I promise.”

“Okay. I love you. Do your thing.” He brings you into his hug, and you relish in your best friend’s warmth for a few seconds too long. The crowd is losing their minds.

“Okay, I gotta go.” And he lets you go. You walk onstage, and are blinded by the stage lights. The crowd never falters, even after seeing your new abomination of a haircut that Harley will surely kill you for later. Cameras flash from all corners of the room while fans whoop and holler for your band.

“What the fuck is up, Portland?!” You scream into the mic, and the answer is thousands of screams in your direction. “I just cut my hair in the bathroom, let’s fuckin’ party!” Lilith clicks her sticks together to count you off, and you launch into the first song of your set.

—

chapter xi

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @littlepotatobeansworld @ghost-proofbaby @poisonedluv | send a message to be added🫶

[panickinganakin]

stepping stones to hell ch.2 (ronance fic)

a/n: hello! this is chapter two of the fic. you can find chapter one here! 

word count: 2,709

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The venue they were playing tonight was actually the venue they had played the most. Chicago was a pretty close drive from Hawkins so this was practically a hometown show for them. The crowds here were always rowdy, just how the band liked them. 

She took the familiar back entrance following Steve. “They should be set up in dressing room B, I’ll walk you there but I’ll leave you. I don’t want to invade the space.” 

Robin scratched at her arm nervously then pulled her hand away quickly. Eddie had put a fishnet top on her underneath her shirt. The material stretched all the way down her arms with a hole in the fabric that her thumbs slipped through. He had also put her in baggy charcoal cargo shorts and a crop top that he had cut himself from a Ozzy shirt. 

For accessories he had loaned her a large black belt full of silver ringlet holes and a long chain necklace. She had chosen to stick with her red converse but did let Eddie put eyeliner on her and curl her hair. 

Though it wasn’t her typical look she felt good. She had starred in the mirror for a long time and she knew she looked great but she still felt nervous. 

“You’re gonna do great. This is a good thing. You’re always saying that feminism is important to you. This is your job and you have a platform. They are your conduit to the public. Just be yourself.” Steve offered kindly before knocking on the door. 

He waved her off as a woman with curly dark hair smiled. “Robin! Hello, my name is Lyla. Come in.” 

Robin followed behind her and looked around the room. There was a table filled with different snacks and drinks. On the far left of the room there was a large beige backdrop with lights facing it. Okay, so, there would be photos. 

“Help yourself to snacks, you can meet us right over there at the table. We are gonna do questions first then end with photos. Any questions?” 

Robin shook her head nervously, “No I think I’m okay, thanks.” 

Robin skimmed over the table, taking a small paper plate and placing a few grapes on top. There were also small pinwheels that, though she was unsure of what deli meat was on it, she took a few of. Grabbing a can of soda at the end of the table, she headed for the back of the room. 

As Robin approached the table there was a woman facing the opposite direction reading over what looked to be a notepad. Her curly hair was cut a little past her ear and the woman almost seemed familiar. 

She rounded the table, “Hello,” she said, trying to not sound awkward. “I’m Robin Buckley.” 

The woman looked up and a grin cracked across her face. Robin was surprised to see that the woman was Nancy Wheeler. Eddie’s comments on the bus earlier now made sense. “Nancy?” 

She nodded excitedly, “Hey! How’ve you been?” 

“Uhm, I’ve been good. Busy. But good, actually. How’ve you been?” Robin sipped at the can of coke. Nancy nearly looked the same as she did when they were younger with the exception of a few blonde highlights through her hair. She was wearing a deep plum lipstick and a light pink eyeshadow. Robin couldn’t see what her whole outfit was but she thought the cream colored blouse looked good on her. She looked good. Extremely good.

Nancy smiled and nodded, “Me too. I, uh, well. I finished school at Emory and worked for a paper for a long while. I was really sick of the lack of women around me, ya know? It was the same thing when I interned at Hawkins. It’s like the men are so big headed and rude. Even with a degree they were sending me around like an errand girl.” 

“Men are the worst,” Robin said cooley. “How did you end up working with the magazine?” 

Her eyes lit up like she was happy to talk about her job. “Well, I did my studying. I started reading all types of different papers and magazines that were local. I would pick out articles by women or the photographers and I started sending out letters. We had a big dinner party and well-'' she paused to motion her hands around the room. “We all decided to work together. Thus, we were born.” 

Robin was impressed by Nancy. Proud, even. She could vaguely remember Nancy making comments when they had done research on Victor about how horrible the Hawkins Post was. Not only that Robin knew first hand what she meant. Though Robin was content in staying silent in interviews by choice didn’t mean she hadn’t been silenced before. When the band first signed the lawyers hadn’t even given her a packet to read over like they did for the men. Not only that but her pay was not even close to what the others were being signed on for. 

Luckily she was in a group of guys who would never stand for that shit and Robin received her fair share. But, not all women had that. And that had to change. 

“Nancy Wheeler, you have become a total badass.” Robin nudged her hand with her knuckle. It felt silly to say considering Robin had always been a badass.  

Nancy’s cheeks turned rosy before she grinned, “I’m glad you agreed to this! The magazine is making it into a lot of hands these days but I think having an issue with you is really gonna make things take off. You guys have tons of fans and I’m really excited for women to see how much we matter.” 

Robin nodded, “I'm glad you thought of me.” 

“Oh, I think of you all the time.” She paused then shook her head, “I don’t think that came out right. I think of all of you a lot. You’re just so successful and are really out achieving dreams and-“ she stopped, her face now fully red. “Sorry.”  

“It’s a nice thought, knowing what we’ve been through and that we still made it out. I always knew you’d become a writer and be successful too. I’m glad we made it, Wheeler.” 

Nancy gave a big smile then grabbed her pen. “Right. Should we start? I have a couple different questions. All of these things may not make it to the article but I want to get enough to get in a good bit of stuff. When we’re done Lyla is gonna have you do some different poses and get some photos.” 

“Sounds g-great,” Robin stumbled over her words. “I’ve never done an interview alone. So, hopefully this will go okay. I’m hoping I’m not absolutely miserable.” 

“Just be yourself,” she took a sip from the red mug sitting in front of her. 

“That’s exactly what Steve told me.” 

“On the rare occasion, Steve is right,” she gave a joking wink then cleared her throat. “Right, let’s get to it then. So I think the easiest question would be; Corroded Coffin has risen to fame fairly quickly. Media shows a lot of the l rockstar life but not about the challenges of it. How do you feel working in this industry is? Do you feel you face other challenges your male counterparts do not?” 

Robin blew out a breath, they were starting strong. “Well, I do think my job is very fun. I’m very lucky to get to play music and make a living out of it. I think every industry has its ups and downs but as a woman I do think things can be more difficult. Wages are a big issue. Obviously not just in music but everywhere. I’m very lucky to have a group of guys who constantly advocate for me. Though I do speak for myself, men are taken more seriously. When Corroded was signed I was offered a significant amount less to sign on. The guys wouldn’t accept it. We stayed at the meeting for over two hours negotiating my pay. I know this isn’t uncommon. Women are constantly being undermined. I’m glad that we are working for change.” 

Robin knew her cheeks were red. She hardly ever spoke this much and when she did it was never serious. But, she had to admit it felt good to say these things. The way she had been treated was unfair. 

Nancy had a small smile as she scribbled notes down with her pen quickly. She had a look about her that looked as if she were proud in the same way Robin was of her. 

“How about the media itself? How does it treat you? Do you receive questions in interviews that the men do not?” 

Robin let out a snort, “I have been asked many many things. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve been asked who the most fuckable in the band is. Or who I have fucked or if I’ve fucked everyone. I’ve also had one guy tell the guys ‘how nice it was to have at least one woman on the road’.” 

Nancy dropped her jaw in shock and paused on her writing, “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about!” Red patches formed on her neck and she ran her pen on the page angrily. 

Those questions had always made Robin angry. It was bullshit for them to assume she was just the band's plaything. Not to mention she didn’t even like men. She wasn’t out publicly but… 

Nancy pulled Robin out of her thoughts, and the two fell into a comfortable rhythm. 

Talking to Nancy wasn’t hard; not like the other interviews were. It was easy and she was actually enjoying herself. Her and Nancy were never super close but she realized now how much she had missed the other woman. They had spent some time together while working on clearing Eddie’s name. 

Truthfully, convincing everyone of Eddie’s innocence would have been a lot harder if it weren’t for Nancy. Nancy had compiled proof, evidence and testimonies of the kind of person he was and wrote a beautiful plea. Nancy had bypassed Hawkins Post completely and had sent it straight to the Indiana Times. The first week the article was page three but the following week it was reprinted as front page news. 

Nancy was talented. 

They went back and forth for what seemed at least an hour before Nancy bit the end of her pen. “Okay, I have one last question before photos can have you. Do you have any advice for your fans who dream of a future in music? Or just advice to anyone in general?”

Robin tilted her head, trying to think of something good to say. This article was going to be important. She needed to be honest and be real. If one person picked up the magazine and read her story and it inspired them, just one single person, that would be everything she could hope for. “Yes, I think I do. This is a man’s world. This industry, everything about it, is run by men. A lot of men don’t want to see you be successful. However, you have to stay true to yourself. Never stop fighting for what you believe is right, for what you know you deserve. It doesn’t matter if it’s your teacher, boss or some washed up Hollywood elite; never give up. Be you and be proud. Fuck, literally just be loud. They can’t hold us back forever. We are the backbone of entertainment and our time is now.”

Nancy looked up at Robin with the small smile she normally wore. “Perfect.”

“You think so? I worry I never say the right things,” Robin rubbed the back of her neck nervously. She was quickly feeling guilty, almost like an imposter. How could she tell readers to be themselves and be proud and she wouldn’t even come out to anyone outside of the band? She didn’t care what people thought about her or what they would say. She got over that before high school even finished. She didn’t care what her parents thought, they hardly ever talked. The people she cared about most knew. She knew her fans would still support her and the band no matter what. Eddie was gay for gods sake. There was just a fear that resided in Robin. 

Maybe the article could be her being her actual true self. Maybe she could come out. “Ready?” Lyla stepped up to the table. Robin wanted to tell Nancy. It was important to her and she knew what representation could do. She hadn’t had it when she was young and she wished did. 

She looked up and nodded quickly, “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

Nancy smiled at Robin before going back to focus on her notepad. 

“I know you aren’t new to photo shoots. I’ll try to make this quick, they said you have about thirty minutes until soundcheck.” 

Damn. Had her and Nancy really spent an hour and half talking? 

“Okay, I love your outfit. Everything is perfect which means we’ll save time dressing. However, I really would love it if we could put a dark lip on you. Not because it’s necessary but because I think it’ll look so fucking good,”  another woman said approaching her. 

She had short red hair, chopped in a pixie cut. “Sure, do whatever,” Robin shrugged. The woman ushered her to a wooden stool before pulling a tube of lipstick from a rolling cart with various cosmetics and tools on it. “What’s your name?” She was trying to be friendly but also she didn’t like sitting in complete silence. Someone needed to be talking, even if it wasn’t her. 

“Deliliah. And let me say, I’m a big fan. I was so excited when Nancy said she could get you in. This is probably the coolest feature we’ve ever done.”

Robin laughed quietly and shook her head, “I’m glad you guys are doing what you’re doing. A company fully owned and operated by women? That’s incredible. I was shocked Nancy even asked.”

Delilah used a brush to pick up the product before stepping close to Robin. She parted her lips slightly, hoping her breath didn’t smell like the mysterious pinwheels she had eaten. “Nancy said you guys are like childhood friends or something?”

Robin waited for her to finish applying the lipstick before she spoke. “Yeah, something like that. We went to school together and had mutual friends. I mean, we were friends just not like best best friends I guess you could say. Not because Nancy wasn’t great. She was great- is great,” Robin started to twist her rings nervously, she really hated how she rambled. It was a trait she detested most and had tried for years to stop. 

“Nancy is great. She’s the best boss I’ve ever had. Stand up for me, I think I want to start with some pictures of you looking down at the camera. I’m going to bring it down here,” she pointed to a spot on the floor where there was a large ‘X’ in blue tape. After that I may have you sit down for a few and possibly lay down. We’ll just get a fair amount of options. 

Robin took a deep breath, wishing she was doing this with the whole band and not alone. She had never been the photogenic type. Delilah squatted over the blue x then Lyla handed her the camera. “Alright. So why don’t bend over slightly as if you are going to look right into the lens. That way it’s a close up but we can still get a large view of your outfit. “Perfect!” she encouraged her before the flash went off. 

“Now, use your hands to make a square like you’re looking through a lens now. Good, now take a step back and lean back down towards the camera. Great!” another flash of light. 

Robin looked up and noticed Nancy standing a few steps behind Delilah. She had a huge smile on her face and held two thumbs up when she noticed Robin looking at her. Robin’s nerves relaxed finally; at least someone she knew was here. 

[gotatext]

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐲  ;    ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ʜᴜᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ #4 !

how are you feeling about the recoupling tonight ?

     “ man... it’s out of my hands. i don’t really know how to feel about it, you know ? this whole thing has gone by so fast and at the same time it feels like i’ve been here a month. i’m kinda in my own head about it... about shit i would have done differently. ”  jude’s calm like a bomb, seemingly always one wrong move away from a minor explosion. there’s an anxiousness to him that nestles in the furrow of his brow.  “ i think if i had my time again, i’d maybe go less hard-and-fast in with romi on day one, and just... keep my options open a bit more. i really fuckin’ like spending time with jenny, you know, but we were so bad at communicating the first few days. a lot of the time i could’ve spent getting to know her i instead spent with a chip on my shoulder and was probably a bit of a cunt. i can’t say cunt ? uh... ok. i was probably a bit of a twat. ”

do you think that you’ll be brought back ? by who ?

      “ if anyone’s gonna bring me back, it would be jenny since i’ve kind of shut myself off from all other options. ”  he means he’s fucked it with romi.  “ obviously yesterday massively shifted the vibe between us. ”  laughing, he drags a hand across his forehead, wiping sweat that isn’t there.  “ yeah, definitely christened that sofa by the fire pit... christened the couch in the living room, half-christened the showers, too. ”  he’s listing them off on his fingers, not entirely sure if he should be saying this, but they’ve got the proof on footage.  “ oh wait, no, she’d already christened that with someone else...”   max isn’t someone they’ve spoken about, but in jude’s head that’s not even a thing. it’s the josh thing that worries him.  “ i had a good time, and i’m pretty sure she had a great time, but honestly, i wouldn’t be shocked if i go home tonight. i’m starting to feel like this shit is probably a rebound from the josh thing and the dante thing. she said on day one that she was married off. she’s probably feeling guilty as fuck right now, which makes her difficult to predict. i’m not like, a hundred per cent convinced she won’t go back single for josh to prove a point. and if that happens obviously i’ll be devo, but... just gotta deal with it. maybe there’s a nice girl in the other villa also getting dumped and we can get to know each other on the easyjet back to heathrow. ”   

do you think you’ve made strong connections in the villa ?

     “ my strongest connection in here, hands down, is angel. i’m not even playing like, birds come and go but that guy has had my back from day one. i feel like he’s my brother in arms, bro, like, we’re in the trenches and he’s showing me them sepia photographs of the girl he loves back home that he keeps in his breast pocket. apart from that, i’m really close with charlene. she can roll her eyes all she wants, but i feel like we’re bonded for life after she tried to drown me and i had some panic attack shit and then we like... proper had a heart-to-heart, y’know ?  i know not everyone in here has got along with me, but i know those two at least can see through that shit and that we’ll one hundred percent hang out on the outside. ” 

if you don’t come back to the villa, which islander would you miss the most ?

    “  i would miss naomi the most. ”  jude pauses for a second, before erupting into laughter.  “ nah, i’m just joshing with ya’... oh wait !  joshing like her boy back home. that’s funny, you should use that.  no but jokes aside, i actually would miss naomi, maybe not the most, but i’d miss her. i’d miss angel the most. i’d miss sliding into his bed to interrupt his meditating for a morning debrief and a cuddle. i’d miss charlene, obviously. she’s a fucking rocket and i hope she makes it back. i’d miss rhys and his indie boy hair cut. i’d miss callie scowling at me. and obviously, yeah, i’d miss jenny. i should probably get in as much time with her as i can after this in case things don’t go well tonight. ” 

how are you feeling about the odds of your other bombshells? who do you think has made the best connections ?

   “ callie taking angel back should be a no brainer, but i don’t trust her not to go back single just to prove she’s a loyal person or whatever. from the chats we’ve had, she seems stubborn as fuck. i’m not saying i don’t like her — i think she’s great — i’m just worried she’s gonna fuck over my boy. that’s probably the strongest connection in here. romi will probably stay single. if she takes dante back, that’s their business, but i don’t know. i feel like eventually she’ll forgive marcus and they’ll get back together and have babies, because everyone says they were such a strong couple. what happened with us sucked, but maybe i dodged a bullet there if it would’ve ended with her breaking my heart anyway, so... ”  

[jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists]

Tag game!!!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

thanks for the tag @thewholelemon you’re super neat!!!

1. Are you named after anyone?

Technically? Yes. My spelling is different, but it was based on another kid my parents used to take care of. (Though my mother swears she got it from a dream.)

2. When was the last time you cried?

A few days ago watching My Hero Academia 😭😭😭 Look, okay, I’m weak and Todoroki’s back story is kinda sad okay?

3. Do you have kids?

No, and I don’t fully believe that I want any. Or, at the very least, any of my own. Maybe adoption or just settle for being the cool wine aunt.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Yeah, but honestly I use it wrong a lot. I think. Is there a way to use sarcasm wrong?

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Noses. I love noses. If I feel attraction to someone, it’s almost always because of their nose. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I always look at peoples noses when they’re talking so I don’t have to look them in the eye? I also notice hair too! Especially if it’s a cool color.

6. What’s your eye color?

Haaaaaaaazel. But it’s really hard to get them in photographs.

7. Scary movie or happy endings?

Happy endings!!! I’m not a fan of scary movies because they make my paranoia worse 😓

8. Any special talents?

Musical theatre ✨✨

9. Where were you born?

State’s secrets, I’m afraid.

10. What are your hobbies?

Cross-stitching is super fun! I like painting and reading and writing and being outside! Though I’m not much of an outdoorsy type. Just take me on a picnic or maybe a short hike, nothing crazy.

11. Do you have any pets?

3 dogs! Two rotties and a “we-don’t-know-he-came-off-the-side-of-the-road”! They’re super sweet, but the crazy one has attachment issues and will barely let me leave the house. They’re Gryffin, Sampson, and Harrison.

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

Softball when I was younger! My knees are too bad for it now. But, I do do musical theatre! Does that count as a sport?

13. How tall are you?

5’7”

14. Favorite subject at school?

Kind of all of them? Except math. Fuck math. I’m good at all of them, always have been, so I’ve grown to just kind of like learning. But math grinds my gears for some weird reason. (Though, I do find myself wishing I could do more equations on some days.)

15. Dream job?

Something in the arts, maybe even teaching!

alright! No pressure tags, and if you see this and wanna try it out for yourself, go ahead and say I tagged ya! 🥰🥰

@andrewsneil @mostlymaudlin @simonsnowsfreckles @captain-aralias @aristocratic-otter

[larkawolfgirl]

Unforgetable, like the Sky (Promptis)

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: M/M Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia Character: Prompto Argentum

Summary:  I see your hair in the darkness, your eyes in the stars, and your smile in the constellations, and miss you.

Read on ao3 

Dear Noct,

The night sky always reminds me of you. How could it not? It is basically your namesake. I'm pretty sure everyone in Lucis thinks of you just at the mention of nighttime. But I see your hair in the darkness, your eyes in the stars, and your smile in the constellations. Perhaps it is because I miss you so damn much, but I can’t deny that you were my driving force for so long, as if you were some freaking beacon in the sky guiding me along my chosen path, so it isn’t that weird I would see you in the sky, is it? As if you are still there to guide me?

But so many things remind me you…

Every time I look through my viewfinder, I imagine turning around to snap a shot of that goofy grin that so few had the chance to see but that I was lucky enough to freeze in time. As you know, I rarely print my photographs, but I clutch these in my shaking hands in the late hours of the night.

It sucks. Looking at your face again is the only thing that really makes me feel better (reminding me that you would want me to continue on and keep smiling), but it also makes me feel so much worse. It’s the worst reminder; the reminder of what we had. The happiness.

What would I give to have those days again? You better believe I’d die, just as you did, in a second (and yeah, I know that defeats the goal, but you know what I mean). But there is no loophole with this. I’ve read enough and heard all of Iggy’s lectures to know that I should stay out of their matters. He somehow always manages to glower at me, as if saying “you want to be blind like me?”, and I have no choice but to shut up.

He and Gladio try to be here, ya know? They get that though they knew you longer, this is harder for me. They’ve moved on. Together actually. That doesn’t help, to be honest. I get to see them happy while I’m still just this numb shell of a person. I live, and I even smile, but I don’t have any direction without you here to guide me. When we first met, I wanted to better myself for you. I wanted to become your friend. I wanted to train to get in the crownsguard so that I could stay with you. I wanted to give you my body and heart. I wanted to go on your wedding trip, and help you when it became more than that. Then you disappeared, and for the first time in my life since meeting you, I had to figure out what to do without you in it.

Those were the longest ten years of my life, battling between hope and doubt, wanting to keep my life on hold but knowing I couldn’t just sit around. Did I tell you how reckless I got? Gladio beat me black and blue until I straightened up. Heh. I was pretty stupid. After that, he wouldn’t let me go on any hunts alone anymore. I stayed in Hammerhead, only going out when Gladio bothered to show his face. Left me a lot of time to think, and gods did I think about you. More than I do now, if you can believe it. There was so much talk of how you would be returning to end the eternal night and rid us of the daemons. It was as if everyone and everything was there to remind me. So, I bit my lip and focused on my work. By the time you showed back up, I could have probably given Cindy a run for her money.

You know, when you came back, I barely believed it was really you. It wasn’t the first time. You had come back to me before, usually in dreams, but sometimes when I was awake. Gods, you should have seen Cindy’s face that time I bolted across her living room shouting your name. She thought I was suffering from dehydration-induced hallucinations. Probably would have thought I was crazy myself if Iggy hadn’t admitted hearing your voice from time to time as well. Guess we were just so anxious for you to return. Or maybe we did go a bit insane. Doesn’t matter now, because you did come back.

Do you have any idea what that felt like? I know you missed us, but it’s not the same. It was ten fucking years . I wanted to kiss you so badly, it was like I couldn’t breathe until my lips were on yours, and when they were and I felt your hands on my shoulders, it was like a part of me that had been dead came back to life. Those were the gods’ honest truth happiest few hours of my life. And then it was all burned to ash.

I can still feel that stab of pain when you said that you had to go die the very next day . I wanted to shout and cry, but Gladio and Iggy beat me to each, so all I could do was stare at you in shocked silence. You calmed each of them down and ushered them into the tent. Only then did you turn to me and take my hands in yours. They were cold, as if you were already dead. The tears did come. You wiped at them and told me that I had to be brave, like you knew I was. Hah. Brave, is that what you call what I’m doing? Watching you die and then continuing on with my life is brave, huh? I call you brave. Giving up everything after having so little. I’ve had just as little and I still have the chance to take what the world has to offer, and yet I hold back. I hold back and stare at your goofy grin instead. Because out of everything out there, what’s frozen in the picture frame is the only thing that really matters to me anymore.

I know I have issues. I know I need to talk to someone about it. Iggy keeps giving me the number of this guy he knows, but I never call. I guess I’m just not ready yet. Not ready to share these thoughts with anyone else yet. I guess that’s why I’m writing this all to you. If anyone should know all this, it’s you.

And if I’m going to tell you anything, it should be that I still love you. I want you to know how loved you are. By me and Iggy and Gladio. By Cindy and Talcot and Iris and everyone else, too. You are a damn hero, Noct, and we’ll never forget that. Your name will go down in history and live on in our hearts.

I don’t know if I will move on one of these days. Maybe I will start a chocobo farm, or maybe I will ride cross-Eos in a motorcycle gang. Maybe I won’t. But if I do find some new path that somehow does not relate to you, I want you to know that I will always remember you. I don’t need reminders to remember you, because you are unforgettable.

Love,

Forever Yours, Prompto

[hispipsqueak]

Model Behavior

Mammon x F!Reader - NSFW  WC:2K

Summary: Mammon and MC get roped into a photo shoot that gets a little bit spicy TW: unprotected sex, creampie. semi-public, oral (F receiving) A/N: AHHHH are you guys as hype for the OM anime??? VIP gets it this Friday and I am HYPE!! Can’t wait to see all my beautiful boys. Also, I’ve been writing this for like a month and finally finished it today since I forced myself to stay awake til it was over. I’m sleepy. I hope you enjoy. 

"Hurry up MC! These fashion types always get pissy when I'm late." Mammon tugged your arm, dragging you behind him. 

"Calm down! We'll be there on time." You said, but sped up anyway. Mammon was dragging you along to one of his photo shoots. You had to admit you were a bit excited, though you were trying to play it cool. The ivory-haired demon was already super attractive, but these photoshoots made him look incredible. You may have had a couple of your favorite magazine covers and ads of him hidden in your room.

But he didn't have to know that.

"I'm here. Let's go!" Mammon yelled out as he slammed the door open. He lifted his shades and tossed his jacket onto a nearby chair.

"Ah Mammon! Fashionably late as always...ah, but who is this?" A glamorous looking older witch peered at you over her eyeglasses. She reached out and gripped your chin. turning your face to either side.

"Hey, hands off the human!" Mammon suddenly tugged you back behind him, much to the witches amusement. 

"A human? And so attractive at that...SCRAP THIS! I have a new vision! We are going to go BOLD, daring, sensual! Get them both into wardrobe!" she barked to two frazzled lesser demons, who pushed you and Mammon down a hallway. Mammon tightened his grip on your hand.

"Wha-Oi! Keep yer hands where I can see 'em!" Mammon threatened one of the demons as they pulled off your jacket. Another frazzled demon came in and handed you each a garment bag, pushing you both towards two curtained off dressing rooms.

"Um, I'm not really a model." You called out to nobody in particular.

Mammon sighed and you heard the rustling of fabric as he dressed. 

"It's no use MC. Once she gets a vision, it's gonna happen. Hurry up and get dressed."

You unzipped the bag and your eyes widened at the little amount of fabric. You heard the witch yell out more directions in the distance and you pulled the dress on. 

Either she really gauged your size quickly or the outfit was charmed. because the dress fit like it was tailor made for you. The fabric hugged your curves and fell in all the right places. You looked in the mirror in front of you and gasped. The dress had cut outs along the sides and a keyhole cut, showing off ample cleavage. How the hell were you going to walk out of there in front of everyone in this?!

"Ya done, MC?" Mammon called out. You took another look at yourself before swallowing down your nerves and sliding on the attached heels.

"Uh...yeah." You pulled back the curtain.

"Let's g-" Mammon's words trailed off as he glimpsed you in the revealing dress. Your face felt hot as you could see his eyes roam down your body, taking in each slit of the fabric and down your bare legs. Your hands wrapped around yourself.

“I look ridiculous Mammon! I can’t go out like this!” You whispered, unsuccessfully covering yourself with your arms. Mammon, who hadn’t closed his mouth since earlier, finally snapped back.

“Ya look…” he never finished the thought, because you both were being shoved back to the set by the pair of demons from before. 

“Ahh! Marvelous! This is going to be the TALK of Devilgram!” The witch clapped her hands together. She squinted and started positioning the two of you.

“Mammon, darling, wrap your hand on her waist, yes just like that. MC, is it? Turn your head to Mammon’s neck. A little closer…”

You were pressed against Mammon, your lips practically attached to the soft skin of his neck. You could smell his cologne and were hyper aware of his hand splayed on your hip. She adjusted you both slightly, arching your back more and repositioning Mammon’s arms. Finally she stepped back.

“Perfect! Now look into each other’s eyes.”

You looked up and met Mammon’s golden eyes. Maybe it was the cologne or the fact that you were tangled in his arms, but your heart raced as you stared into each other’s gaze. Flashbulbs went off around the two of you and you could vaguely hear the witch making orders to the photographer, but the two of you were consumed with each other.

“Your heart’s racin’ MC. Must be because you’re next to the Great Mammon after all.” He whispered, a grin threatening to spread on his face.

“Shut up, I’m fine.” You hissed through your teeth, though you could feel your skin heating up. Damn photo lights.

“I need something that will push this over the edge. Something...that exudes sexiness…” the witch muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Hey MC, ya trust me?” Mammon asked and you nodded, confused. One of his hands splayed on your lower back and he pressed his lips to the sensitive spot right below your ear. His hand pushed you close to him, arching your back and the flashbulbs went off rapidly.

“Perfect!! Sensual and daring! I can feel the animalistic ferality!” the witch cried out.

You were at a loss for words and your eyes closed as Mammon slipped his tongue out to lap at your skin.

“Shhh…” He breathed into your neck. From the outside, the two of you looked like professional models, albeit in a suggestive pose. Inside though, your heart was jackhammering in your chest as he nipped at your ear lobe. You felt something poke your thigh and looked down.

“Mammon! Are you…hard?”

“Ya think I could control myself when you look like that? Fuck MC…” the rest of his words were muffled as his breath tickled your neck and you tried to maintain your composure.  After what felt like an eternity, the director cut the shoot for the day.

“Great work Mammon, Y/N!” The witch barked out, turning to discuss something with the crewmates. Mammon ushered you towards your dressing rooms, but pulled you into a dark office in the back of the building.

Immediately, he latched himself to your neck, pressing kisses down the column of your throat.

“So fuckin’ hot MC. Fuck it took all I had to keep from fuckin’ ya right there.” He panted out as he bit hickeys onto the tops of your breasts. He tugged down the dress, causing it to rip open.

“Shit! Mammon, that was probably a million dollars!” You wailed, eyes widening.

He continued his assault on your chest, unfazed. “Fuck it. Shouldn’t have looked so fuckin’ good, babe.” His fingers ran down your skin, now freed from the dress and he squeezed at every inch of your curves. You shivered as his fingers trailed down your hips, pulling you closer to him. 

“Mammon, someone might see us! We can’t do –”

You lost your words as he continued to kiss down your tummy, feeling his warm breath inching closer to your heat. 

“Fuck...I wanted this so damn long. I wan’a taste every inch of ya, babe.” He whispered into your skin, tugging down your panties. Immediately, he buried his tongue inside you, lapping at your soaked folds. His painted nails dug into the flesh of your thighs, as he strained to explore every bit of you. Biting your lip, you tangled your fingers into his snow-white hair, gently tugging him closer into you. A low whine escaped his lips and the vibration had your body trembling.

“Fu-fuck Mammon...don’t stop, please…” Your words were strained as he slid his fingers across your skin and teased your entrance. The cool tiles on the wall pressed against your back as you gave into him, letting him devour you.

His tongue moved in a frenzy as he plunged two fingers inside you. Your vision blurred and your grip on his hair tightened, feeling as though if you didn’t hold on, you would float away in a euphoric rush. 

“That’s it babe...ya gonna cum for me? Cum in my mouth baby, lemme taste it.” Mammon panted as his fingers curled inside you, his lips enclosing around your clit. 

You cried out as you felt your body release on his lips. Groaning into your cunt, he slid his tongue up your folds, attempting to drink every drop from you. Your body twitched with sensitivity. 

“F-fuck…’s too much.” You panted out. He slowly pulled away, his dark skin glistening with your juices and looked up at you. His gleaming eyes met yours as he stood up and pulled you into a tender kiss. You could taste the sweet tang of yourself on his tongue as he pulled you impossibly close.

Finally breaking apart, you looked up at him with hazy eyes. The two of you looked drunk on lust and wordlessly you pulled at the buttons on his shirt as he undid his belt. Your fingertips traced the muscles on his chest, down his abdomen and you shivered at the hungry look he had on his face. You could see the tent in his boxers and he looked down at you, as if to ask you for consent. 

Nodding, you pushed down the waistband of his boxers, freeing his cock. A prominent ridge ran across, separating the tan shaft from the reddish tip. Precum glistened on the tip and you could feel your cunt clench at the idea of him inside you. 

Mammon, the normally blabbermouth brother, seemed lost for words. His cockiness was gone, replaced with a softness for you, the vulnerable side of him only you got to see. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him into another kiss.

“I want you so bad Mammon...please make love to me.” The words pressed into his neck like a fiery brand and he growled before lifting you onto the table and pushing himself into you. You hissed. Though he had prepped you, he was still thick and he slowed, searching your face for any discomfort. With a slight nod, your eyes fluttered as he bottomed out in you.

“You feel so good, my beautiful girl. Perfect baby…”, he whispered praises as he shallowly humped into you. You could feel the drag of his cock on your walls and you rocked to meet his thrusts. He had one hand on your lower back, the other propping the two of you up on the table and the feeling of being surrounded by him, as he gently fucked you on his cock had you gripping at his back muscles. 

“Yes...right there. Faster, ohh.” You breathed out as he plunged deeper into you, speeding up his rhythm at your request. The wood of the desk creaked and you knew if anyone was outside the door they would be able to tell exactly what the two of you were doing. But you were drunk on lust, dizzy in Mammon and he was infatuated with you, staring down at your heaving breasts as he pounded into you.

Your nails dig into his skin and his grip on you tightened as he pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your moans. You could feel the sweat plastering his hair to his skin and with every thrust, his body seemed to scream your name.

“Not gonna be able to...hold out much longer babe. You’re squeezin’ me so tight, fuck…”  He panted into your neck, licking at the salty skin and leaving soft bites. You could feel the coil in your belly tighten as your body began to tense up. Wrapping your legs around him, you forced him into you deeper. Whimpers fell from his mouth as you bit on his shoulder.

“Fuck, fuck Mammon, I’m–” You cried out as you gushed around his cock. With a few more thrusts, Mammon yelped and pulled you against him as he spilled his seed into you. You could feel his cock throb inside you and he let out a low groan as he slowly pulled out, the mixture of the two of you spilling onto the desk and your thighs.

Your body felt wobbly and he gently laid you back on the desk. Your eyes closed and soon you felt a cloth cleaning you.

“Mmm...you’re such a sweetheart when you wanna be…” you smiled before looking down at the demon. Your eyes widened.

“MAMMON ARE YOU USING THE MILLION DOLLAR DRESS AS A CUM RAG?!”

He shrugged.

“Looks like we’ll just have to book another gig to pay it back, babe.”

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A/n: lot of fluff..little bit of angst..cause ya know....Jason thinks the reader is dead at first.

Also I made the reader be a military photographer, so I have the reader wearing civilian clothing instead of a military uniform. ( like Eric and Rachel ) but the reader is wearing a pair of heels and is a complete badass...BECAUSE I SAID SO...also it gives me a change to make the reader to kill one of the vampires with a heel.

Jason couldn’t take his eyes off the small box in his hand, his thumb kept opening in closing it much to Nick’s annoyance. 

“Buddy, if you snap that thing shut one more time I’m gonna take it from you.”

Looking up, Jason did his best to give him a smile though he was having trouble doing so. He was never one to feel nervous but holding this tiny box was troubling. He knew he wanted to ask you, hell the man already pictured his life with you. Walking down the isle wearing a pretty white dress but he just didn’t know when he would, when would be a good time

“Hell man, you gotta ask her some time.”

Blinking, Jason gave the man a small glare. “An active war zone isn’t exactly a romantic place Nicky.”  

Nick was about to open his mouth until he heard the familiar sound of heels clicking on the floor. “Now’s your chance...hurry and get down on one knee, I’ll sing a song.” He wiggled his eyes brows, the man just wanted his close friend to be happy.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jason whispered, his body tensing as he rolled his shoulders quickly shoving the ring in the breast pocket of his vest.

“Jason, you’re wanted out side...something about Lieutenant Colonel coming in and ah...Nick...Rachel wanted to see you.” 

Nick let out a sigh, then smiled at you though he gave Jason a knowing look as he slipped out of the room thanking you. 

Tilting your head to the side, you stepped closer to Jason grabbing his hand. “You alright? you’re looking a little tense...I can go tell them I couldn’t find you.”

Chuckling, Jason wrapped his arm around your waist. His lips giving your head a small kiss. “Nah, I got it beautiful...side’s you gotta take some pictures of the big man comin in don’t ya.”

Grinning, you stood on your toes wrapping your arms around his neck. “Oh..how can I pass up the opportunity to get pictures of my handsome boyfriend.”

“Handsome huh.” Jason’s arms slid around your waist as he lent into to kiss you though you quickly pulled away giving him a teasing smile. 

“My my...Mr Kolchek..I didn’t know you were so lewd! to kiss...trying to corrupt me! a innocent woman!” 

Snorting, Jason reached out grabbing your wrist as he then wrapped his arm around your waist again. “Innocent my ass.”

“Jason”

Grinning the man planted a small kiss on your nose, giving your hips a squirrel. “You weren’t so innocent in my bunk last night.”

“Ugh! Here’s me thinking that I found a nice respectable Southern boy. What will your mama think Jason.”

“My mama doesn’t gotta know about my personal affairs.” Leaning in you let your boyfriend give you a kiss then parted. "I suppose we're delaying the inevitable."

Placing your hand on his cheek you did your best to give him a smile, to boost his confidence. "You'll be great Jason. How can he not like you."

Giving him one last kiss, you left the room. Jason watching you leave, frowning he then pulled out the ring. "I'll ask you another time." he muttered.

Jason couldn't believe that was happening, one moment you were laughing with Joey and Merwin then the next you were gone, slipping from his finger tips he didn't even notice that the ring had fallen out of his breast pocket.

"Y/n!." His voice felt raw from how much he's been screaming out your name, he didn't even noticed the tears that ran down his cheeks or Nick placing his hand on his shoulder.

Nick frowned doing his best to snap his friend out of it, he was worried for him. "Jason...we gotta go.....we can't just stay here." he squeezed his friends shoulder though Jason was still in a daze.

Jason dug his nails into his palm, he had to find you. "I ca...I can't...I have to."

"We'll find her buddy alright, then you're gonna propose and the wedding is gonna be awesome."

Slowly nodding his head, Jason forced a smile. He had to believe you were okay. That was the only thing that would keep him going because if he didn't then he'd have nothing to live for.

That wasn't the most graceful fall but at least you didn't get impaled. Wincing you glanced around, with your eyes adjusting to the darkness. You finally noticing your location, a blood pit you were sure how far you fell and you didn't really want to stick around to find out any more. Wading through the thick liquid you were starting to regret wearing a pair of heels. "This sucks."

Sensing something following you, you slowly turned around only to be pushed back into the blood. Holding your breath you struggled to whatever was holding you. Managing to break it's hold, you gasped for air. With the camera still around your neck and with it being your last hope you turned on the flash, your finger landing on the camera's trigger. A bright light emitting from your camera as the creature jumped off of you.

Taking a much needed breath you then frantically started to search your surroundings you quickly scrambled to a small rock formation. Your heel slipping off as the creature jumped from the waters. Rolling out of the way, you quickly snatched your heel holding it up just as the thing jumped on you. The sharp point of the stiletto piercing the flesh as it wailed in agony.

"Fuck! you! Asshole!" Slamming the heel in deeper the creature slumped forward dead.

Chest heaving, you stood up slipping off your other heel. "Try running in them." you snapped.

Shaking your head you frowned noticing a small box on the ground. Grasping the box you nearly dropped it spotting a ring, an engagement ring. Pulling out the ring you admired it, it was beautiful, perfect. "Jason." Tears swelling your eyes you then smiled sliding the ring on your finger. "I'll come back to you, I promise."

You were lucky to have run into Claire and Rachel though you hated that your friend had stayed behind.

"The Camera...did you get anything?"

Frowning, you glanced down at the thing around your neck. "I don't know, the flash worked but if you're asking for proof...I highly doubt anyone would believe this." you muttered to yourself.

Rachel opened her mouth then sighed dropping her shoulders though she finally noticed the ring on your finger. "Kolchek proposed?"

"Hmm..oh no...I found it next to me when I woke up....figured....idiot had All I Want is a Lifetime With You engraved on the inside...sappy right." You did your best to smile, you didn't want to cry, not again.

"It's romantic...Y/n...you'll see him again."

You were about to reply, you wanted to believe her though you were into much of a daze to even realize where you both as stumbled across.

"Jason....that's Jason's voice."

Ignoring Rachel's protest and managing stopping the boy's from closing the door you quickly jumped into your boyfriends arms. You let your legs wrap around his waist as you knocked his hat off pulling him in for a kiss.

Returning the kiss, Jason held you tightly in his arms. You were real, you were here and god he was just so happy. Breaking the kiss he smiled as he pressed his head against yours. His finger wiping the blood across your cheek. "God I thought I lost you baby girl."

Closing his eyes he then took a deep breath he smiled weaving his fingers through your own spotting the ring. "Eh...you know I wanted to ask you to marry me in a more....romantic setting." Closing his eyes he let his thumb play with your ring. "If we don't make it out of this...I just wanna hear ya say you'll become Mrs. Kolchek."

Laughing softly, you blinked away a few tears smiling at him. "Yes Jason...I will...but I promise you...we'll get out of this, we have too."

"Uh..I hate to break up this touching and very sweet moment but uh y/n...where are your heels?"

Glancing down at the boots you were now wearing thanks to Clarice you shrugged at Eric's comment. "I used them to kill one of those creatures."

"I'm sorry....what?"

Sighing you slipped out of Jason's arms, you reached down placing Jason's hat back on his head. "What...like it's hard."

You couldn't believe that you survived that encounter, that you were here about to marry the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Smoothing your fingers across your dress you turned to hear a knock on the door, Salim poking his head in.

"Ah! Y/n! you look beautiful...Jason is going to weep when he see's you."

Taking a deep breath you gave the man a smile walking towards him, you slipped through Salim's offered arm.

"So are you ready?"

"I'm very ready."