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queenimmadolla · 1 year

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𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

Summary: . . . After deciding you were meant for more than what life had in store for you, you gave into the siren call of the city─well a city. But when city life finally eats away at your bank account and your main source of income isn't reliable, you take on an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop where your boss is the six-foot something, tattoo covered Eddie Munson who quickly and unwisely becomes intrigued by you. Nothing romantic can come from it, lest you risk it being torn apart by your past, his lover and yourself.

Entire Work Warnings: 18+ (smut will take place in later chapters), swearing, financial problems, mentions of loss, escorts/call girls, age gap (Eddie is 36, reader is 25), financial shaming, slut shaming, implied sexual harassment, bimbo!reader (she may not be book smart but she knows the score) angst, self-sabotage.

a/n: based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

“They don’t bite.” “Hmn?” Came your absent-minded reply, eyes cutting from the harpy, evil in her eyes and blood soaking her talons, to the man flipping through the red binder you’d been carrying around you in the Indianapolis heat.

Sweat evaporated off your skin, giving away to goosebumps in the air conditioned shop, a much welcome relief to the borderline unbearable heatwave settling over the city streets, something that can be found in every nook and cranny. You’d been navigating your way throughout the city since before dawn broke, eager to get your fill of it while the streets were quiet and a decent temperature. It had been almost chilly this morning, your thick strapped tank top and daisy dukes—that you normally wouldn’t allow yourself to be caught dead in—leaving most of your skin exposed, with no direct sunlight to warm it. Now that the sun was out, you were on fire out there.

“The artwork.” He glanced at the framed harpy drawing along the wall, the one you’d been staring at, one of many framed depictions of gruesome and mythical looking creatures. “I don’t blame you though, that one isn’t particularly my favorite. Pretty badass, though. Heh.” “Oh,” You shook your head, the oversized shades adorning your face sliding down the bridge of your nose, “No, I’m not afraid of it. I like it. It must have taken forever though.”

You turned your attention to her again, admiring how realistic her feathers appeared. Painstakingly detailed and whoever was walking around the city with her on their body surely endured a generous amount of pain to get her.

And a large hole in their wallet.

“It took a ton of sessions, for sure. My boy did it a couple years ago.” The man, Argyle, as he’d introduced himself when you’d first walked into the shop, flipped his long black hair over his shoulder before he flipped to the next page of your portfolio. He let out a sound of appreciation as he leaned his weight on his elbow, hand resting over his mouth.

“This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

It was a drawing of the skeletal Grim Reaper, cloaked in a black robe and scythe clutched in one hand while his boney middle fingers stretched his eye socket holes down in an obvious taunt. A tongue, black and tendril like, lulled out of his mouth.

You thought it was pretty good, too. The idea for it had struck you at a party, you’d been hiding from an annoying suitor and ducked into an office room, doodling to your heart's content once you grew past your boredom.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

“Listen, the DM’s out right now, running some errands. He should be back soon, can I hold onto this?” Argyle asked, gripping the sides of the binder and raising it as if you didn’t already know he was referring to your portfolio, “I think he’ll be pretty impressed with your stuff.” You fidgeted with your fingers, giddiness giving away to nerves once more. “Really? You think so?” Hope was something you hadn’t felt in a while; you’d been through exactly fourteen tattoo shops throughout the city, most of which you’d been rebuffed from before they so much as flipped open your portfolio, having already decided your particular aesthetic didn’t fit their image. They hadn’t verbalized as much, but you knew. You glanced down at your pink boots, already such a stark contrast to the black beams beneath your feet.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t made a wager with yourself, you could only go home once you’d accomplished your task of getting one of the shop owners to actually look at your work. While Argyle had made it clear he wasn’t the head honcho, he’d be passing it along.

“Yeah, man! This is some pretty legit stuff! I’ve been tatting, myself, for a couple years now, and I’m good–don’t wanna flex or nothing but I’m really good. Only it took a couple of years for me to actually get this good, you know? And I’m not even talking about on skin. You haven’t tattooed anyone before, right?” You thought back to when you had mentioned your art skill to a brief...something, he’d been intoxicated enough on expensive wine and your sangria kisses to encourage you to use the tattoo kit one of your friends had re-gifted you after her interest in the subject waned. You’d never particularly imagined yourself etching into people’s skin before, not even when she’d given you the supplies because she’d seen some of your doodles.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

It was no loss to you. Sure, he made money. Just not nearly enough for you to tolerate how aggressive he’d been with his affections as soon as he was sloshed. You’d given him the tattoo with his drunk pals cheering him on, went out to a very high standard club, then promptly ditched him the moment you were out of his sight. You hadn’t answered the door when he came pounding on it the next morning and the morning after that.

You’d originally had no intentions of using the tattoo equipment, until that encounter. It had planted a seed, an idea that may get you out of what you had to do to survive. Tattooing hadn’t been a passion, and it still wasn’t quite one but you needed money and you had talent.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

“You got a number we can reach you at?”

You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along.

“Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

God, I hope so.

The thought of a somewhat stable job that could help the pitiful state of your checking and savings account was the only thing powering you through your long walk home. You couldn’t risk a cab, that would mean you’d have no fare money for tonight, and who knows if you’d have to make a speedy exit?

You’d learned. Eventually.

Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your bag and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed.

Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

It wasn’t much, but it was better. Next came the matter of your clothes, stuck in the most uncomfortable of ways to your flesh. Your tank top was peeled off and thrown over the couch, daisy dukes abandoned near the entryway of the small kitchen on your way to the bathroom.

A quick glance was spared behind you, taking in the state of your shared home. It was a mess and not even remotely surprising. The place was barely furnished with the essentials, all of which were secondhand: a couch, a coffee table with a sheet over it to hide the stains, one shelving unit, a rug and tapestries hung artfully on the walls for deception. They made the place look more put together than it was, but you’d love it even if it were still barren. A roof over your head in the city meant you didn’t have to return to the past you’d clawed your way out of..

The only thing worth much was the framed photo on the kitchen counter, and that was only in sentimental value. You and Sid, arms around each other’s shoulders as you sat in a booth at a shitty diner you’d tried upon first moving to the city. They’d taken your photo for being the 600th customer and tacked it to the wall.

You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

─

Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

His jacket was clutched in a sweaty palm, rings twisting around the flesh of his fingers and his bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, all the result of the walk from his fucking car to the shop door.

“Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

Eddie sneered, standing under the vent for a minute to cool down, “Triple digits. Triple fucking digits out there, man. You could shove a thermometer up the devil’s asshole and it’d be cooler than that.”

Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

“Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

“A couple of walk-ins. Nothing too major there, handled them myself. Simple stuff, one wanted a goldfish. Not like a detailed one, like how you’d try and draw a goldfish cracker. We did have a few who wanted a couple of advance pieces, got ‘em booked for consultations with Johnny boy and Rob.”

“Nice,” Eddie chuckled under his breath at the mental image of the goldfish tattoo, most likely an act of affection. Tattooing people who wanted to permanently carry reminders of their children was one of Eddie’s favorites to do, partially because of the sentiment but mostly because the drawings were amusing.

He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something.

“What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

“Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again. He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group.

Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred—with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through. Henry had to go.

Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat the situation.

“I think we’re good on artists around here–and put a reminder on the calendar for me to patch that damn crater up.”

“Well, it’s a good thing the artist isn’t a tattoo artist. Yet. I’d look at that portfolio first before making any decisions, if I were you. I think you’re gonna see the beginnings of something goooooood, and dude, you’ll be killing our fun if you fix it. Do you know how many glory hole jokes we tell?” Eddie ignored the latter half of Argyle’s statement, reluctantly flipping the portfolio open to the first page and annoyance began to associate itself with him once more.

A body, in a state of decomposition greeted him. But it wasn’t maggots or rotting flesh involved. Flowers grew out of the crevices, with moss and mushrooms over her skin. A lot of fine line work.

The next page was home to a bird-like creature with the body of a lion, a Griffin. Done in American Traditional.

A skinny, demonic looking goat with horns and legs long enough to belong to a horse, clouded eyes and wyvern wings was on the page after that. The Jersey Devil. Someone knew their Cryptids.

The portfolio contained a vast amount of drawings from horror depictions to more aesthetically pleasing visions; the hydra, skeletons, dragons, goddesses, respectable attempts at the modern Renaissance pieces, and even a couple of Barbie references, ranging in a variety of tattoo styles.

Eddie closed the portfolio and drummed his fingertips across the countertop, scowling.

That long haired doofus was right. This was beyond good work. But if they weren’t a tattoo artist, there wasn’t much Eddie could do with them. Drawing on paper is a much more different experience than skin. Mistakes can be erased on paper, the sketch done over again. Can’t do the same on flesh.

It’s intimidating.

They’d have to start off slow, like he had. Trained under a watchful eye, an expert who’d guide them with experienced hands. He was sure Jonathan and Robin would be eager to have an apprentice.

But before Eddie would even begin to entertain the idea of an apprentice in his shop, he’d have to see exactly what it was he was working with.

“Leave a number?” He asked without looking at Argyle because he knew he’d see nothing but a smug expression.

“Yup.”

“See if you can get him back in the shop tomorrow.”

“Why not today?”

“Because I have a session for the rest of the day, remember?”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot.” Argyle’s grin was sheepish as he read off the calendar. “Stacy Peterson called. Car troubles. Unable to make it to appointment with Eddie. Rescheduled. Heh. So…you also missed that.”

“I’ll strangle you later, just get him in here then.”

Argyle opened his mouth, then closed it as an expression that said I know something you don’t crossed his strong features. “Righty-O, boss. I’ll give him a call.”

You’d been lounging in the bathtub, hair up and out of the way, eyeing the grooves of the shower tile. They were a permanent taunt, stained dark no matter how hard you and Sid scrubbed and you hated the sight of them.

People with money didn't have to stare at them, able to afford to have them professionally cleaned or the shower wall—the entire bathroom renovated.

Someday, that would be you.

You sunk further into the water, toeing at the faucet when the shrill sound of the landline filled your more than humble home. The thought of simply letting it ring played in your head until you remembered the tattoo shop you’d visited last.

Hastily rising from the tub, water was splashed along the floor while you did a terrible job of drying off and ran naked the rest of the way to the living room, almost slipping as you did.

The receiver was yanked off its post, “Hello?”

“What’s up, Dudette? Argyle calling, dunno if you remember me from earlier…”

“Yeah! From the tattoo shop, right?”

“Right-O! Listen, The Dungeon Master is in and he wants to see if you can get down here to show him what you got. Possible?”

“Yeah, it’ll be no problem!” You’d have to run most of the way but street traffic around this time wasn’t that bad so you wouldn’t have to fight your way through bodies.

“Cool, cool, cool. And between you and me, this is pretty much the interview process. Good luck, dudette, and may the force be with your tattie skills. I’ll see you when you get here!”

As soon as you’d hung up, you ran to your room to get dressed. You didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but it wasn’t high on your list of priorities considering you and Sid practically shared one. Another tank top was selected—to mitigate sweating on your way to your interview—along with a gifted pink thong and matching bra. You’d snagged your Daisy Dukes from the floor on your way out, shimmied them on, grabbed your small bag and keys and headed out.

The selection of attire was a good one, the heat was still stupidly unbearable and heavy. You’d need to wash off again tonight. You’d managed to make it to the shop in under twenty-five minutes, having ignored all the looks you’d received as you hurried along the streets and the feeling of the air conditioner on your skin was a welcome one when you made your way back into the shop.

Argyle greeted you with a bright grin from his place behind the counter, throwing up his hands, “You made it! One sec.”

Then he turned his upper body to call into an area you couldn’t quite see into, “Oh, Eddie boy! Your prospect has arrived.”

You hadn’t cared to entertain ideas on what your potential boss could look like, all you were concerned about was the position and getting your foot in the door. Even if you had tried to imagine him, nothing could have prepared you for the actual sight of him when he emerged.

He was big, tall and cloaked in black, despite the heat of the city. He wore what you figured had once been a black t-shirt but was now lacking sleeves and a proper neck hem to be considered a makeshift tank. His pants were shiny leather and also tight, hugging the muscles of his thighs, and he sported a dark pair of pointed boots.

He wasn’t particularly muscular enough to be the body builder type, but it looked like he could probably pick another grown man up with ease. His skin had a light tan to it, barely anything really, just like everyone else, he obviously couldn’t escape the sun. It was littered with intricate tattoos, weaving up his arms—a few you could tell disappeared under his shirt—and his neck.

The word freak was permanently etched in black ink along his temple and over his eyebrow. Two silver balls decorated his other eyebrow.

Leaning up against the back wall like that, arms crossed to make the muscles of his arms bulge slightly and oozing confidence, he looked like the personification of some really good sex.

But he wasn’t what you were seeking out and you didn’t like to mix business with pleasure.

Eddie was caught completely off guard, trying to school his shock and keep his composure.

When he’d seen that portfolio, he was expecting someone with jagged edges, piercings galore and more than just a couple of tattoos to be behind it and standing in the entryway of his shop.

Someone who looked like their art.

You…didn’t. With your little pink cowboy boots, tank top that accentuated your figure and shorts so small, they should’ve been considered a form of underwear, you didn’t look at all similar to what Eddie was expecting. Not even if he closed his eyes.

You didn’t waste time, quickly introducing yourself as you stepped up to the front desk and Eddie pulled himself from his stupor, closing the distance to shake your palm. Smaller than his (though most were) and slightly sweaty, no doubt due to that god forsaken heat outside.

Eddie could see bits of your hair sticking to your skin, little beads of sweat prickling over your exposed collarbone and trailing down, down between your─

“Thank you for taking the time to even look at my portfolio! I really appreciate it.”

Eddie blinked hard, clearing his throat before smirking to pretend he hadn’t been drawn in by your chest.

What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden?

He’d had plenty of beautiful clients, he’d tattooed nice asses, tits, pubic regions, thighs, all the beautiful areas. Now all of a sudden he was acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits before.

Hell, Eddie had been thoroughly busy with a pair, held them in his hands before he came into the shop.

Professionalism, he reminded himself.

“Not a problem, what I see—saw was pretty impressive,” Nice save, Eddie, you dick. He cursed himself, “You adapt well to different styles.”

“Thanks!” You chirped, excitement filling you at the praise. It was so nice to hear positive feedback about your work instead of being sent out of a shop before they so much as opened your binder. “I like to experiment with different styles, see what it is that people like so much about them and honestly, it’s mostly because I haven’t quite found my art style just yet.”

Hence your range, you were constantly expanding with your art because you hadn’t found one style you wanted to make yours yet. Or maybe you had and just didn’t know it yet. Whatever.

Eddie and Argyle exchanged a look before he stepped back and nodded in the direction he came, “Why don’t you follow me? Show me what you can do?”

You didn’t hesitate, stepping past the front desk.

There was more artwork lining the short hall he took you down until you arrived at another room, obviously one meant for actual tattooing as there was a tattoo chair in the middle of the room.

On one of the counters, was an area already prepped for you. A tattoo gun, some ink, and some obviously fake skin that rested on top of a disposable sheet cloth, along with some gloves.

“Argyle tells me you haven’t worked on skin before.”

Sure you haven’t.

“Not a whole lot of people lining up to get tattooed by someone with no experience,” you shrugged, following him over to the counter he was leaning up against.

“You’re hanging around the wrong crowd then.” He joked and you let out a small laugh.

He had no idea how right he was.

“The first tattoos I ever got were from inexperienced people. This one,” he gestured to a Wyvern on the back of his arm, “I got my junior year of high school from a waitress at a bar I always snuck into.”

“And this one,” he yanked the tattered collar of his shirt down to expose more ink, but the one he was referring to was a spider, “I got my first senior year from someone I did…business with.”

First senior year? Eddie was proving to be an interesting character.

“But enough about me,” Eddie released his shirt, allowing it to hide the artwork depicted on his chest, “let’s get down to business.”

Before he could even explain what everything was, you dropped your purse onto the counter nearby, pulling a small box of unopened gloves from it.

“You mind?” You asked, fingers poised to rip it open.

“Go for it,” He shrugged. Gloves were gloves, so long as they were uncontaminated he didn’t mind.

You tore into them and Eddie was still somehow surprised to see they were pink. Clearly his black ones weren’t your style.

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked as you pulled the gloves on. Eddie watched you, intrigued as you finished assembling the tattoo gun without his help and opened the ink pack.

“Sure,” He mused, eyeing you skeptically. Hadn’t tattooed anyone but you were clearly familiar with it. Interesting.

“Did your tattoos hurt?”

Eddie waited until after you’d started the tattoo gun and got into working on the fake flesh. Apparently you already had an idea in mind.

“A bit of an amateur question, you don’t have one?”

“Nope.” You confirmed, paying him no mind as you leaned forward, gaze focused solely on your task, “I kind of want one but I’m not in any particular rush, you know?”

Eddie made a sound of agreement, at a brief loss of words as you arched your back, ass sticking out and he became painfully aware you were wearing a hot pink thong, the tails of it peaking out past the top of your denim shorts. He should’ve offered you a seat but you didn’t seem all that bothered with standing.

No, that was apparently his foil, because he was incredibly bothered by you standing, especially with your ass out like that; when it made his pants tighten considerably in his crotch region.

He was getting hard.

Eddie was mortified, stiffening (go figure) as he attempted to calm himself, eyes darting away from your ass to stare at one of the cabinets. Of course this had to happen to him on the day he chose to wear a pair of pants that left little to the imagination should the boy downstairs start acting up.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

“Hurts, depending on the area, which I’m sure you already know. The tattoos on my back and my thighs hurt pretty bad. Forearms were a bitch, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The ones on my wrists and hands were the worst, pain wise, in my opinion. Obviously it didn't stop me, but those tend to be areas with a lot of bones, veins and very little muscle, so it’s expected.”

You hummed in response and his gaze briefly flittered over to you before his cock pulsed and he tore it away again, grateful your attention wasn’t on him.

The remainder of the ‘session’ was spent in relative silence with the music playing through the speakers installed throughout the shop, keeping it from being awkward. Eddie had just managed to will his erection away when you finished, setting down the gun before you pulled your gloves off.

“What do you think?” You asked, still admiring your work and Eddie peered around you to assess it.

A wyvern, similar to the one on his arm but done in a fine line style.

He chuckled, amused with your reference and you fought valiantly with yourself not to grin. You were trying to impress him, sticking with a subject he liked enough to make it a part of him permanently, but you hadn’t imitated the style of it to keep from downright copying and to showcase your ability to adapt.

“That’s pretty good,” And it was, not a whole lot of people could get lines that perfect or seem as confident in their abilities on their first try. Still, Eddie could tell you’d have some ways to go before you were ready to be on your own, “but you can do better.”

You tried not to frown, “Oh.”

Eddie smirked and you finally turned to face him, apprehension on your face.

“Don’t look so down. After some time around here, watching us work, you’ll be ready. The apprenticeship will fly by in no time.”

“Wait—you mean—you want me?!”

“I’d be stupid not to.”

You let out a squeal and threw yourself at him, giving him a quick squeeze before your brain caught up to your body and you pulled away.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just so excited.”

Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his body away from you and rasped out, “Argyle will have the paperwork for you to fill out.”

“Got it,” You grabbed your bag and was just about to head out of the room when Eddie called your name, “Huh?”

“Be back at the same time tomorrow. You’ll be practicing on real skin.”

“But I thought you said—”

“Me.”

Something in you bubbled with excitement and nerves.

You nodded once and then left the room to see Argyle for your paperwork.

“So?????” Argyle asked once you’d approached him, a sullen look on your face.

You couldn’t keep the act up, beaming as you practically bounced, “I’ll be seeing you around more often now!”

He whooped, extending an arm out for a high-five which you reciprocated.

“You are gonna love it here, Dudette. Just wait until you meet everyone! First, we gotta start on your employment.”

Your brows furrowed as you watched him go through a filing cabinet.

“Wait—this is paid?”

“Yeah! We’re not big on slave labor here.”

Score for you! You had a feeling you wouldn’t be clocking a ton of hours but every single penny counted, especially considering how hard of a time you had actually building a savings account.

Argyle had walked you through the paperwork, where to sign, what things meant and since the shop was getting ready to close up you’d simply just bring the completed paperwork back with you tomorrow.

The door chimed behind you and you turned to see who could be coming in at the last minute, eyes widening at the voluptuous woman before you. Her hair was long and jet black, skin pale (apparently one person in this city was capable of defying the sun) and make-up done so elegantly it reminded you of actresses from the silver screen era. Her dress was simple, black and hugged her curves exceptionally well. You could tell it was worth more than everything in your apartment combined and you’d feel bad about it if you also couldn’t tell she was older than you.

You’d have time to get there.

“Hey, Deidre.”

“Hello, Argyle.” She gave the both of you a dazzling smile as she removed her sunglasses and walked right past Argyle, down the hall you’d come from.

He didn’t even look surprised and paid her no real attention.

“We’ll see you soon?”

“Damn straight.”

Argyle let out another cheer as you walked out the door with high spirits. Not even the nasty, hot air could get you down.

You’d climbed up the stone steps until you reached the sidewalk and glanced behind you at the neon sign depicting the name of the tattoo shop you’d now be working at.

“Welcome to The Dungeon,” You mumbled to yourself with a smile.

You turned back to the sidewalk, staring down at the pathway you’d have to take before you thought better of it, sticking your fingers into your mouth to give a sharp whistle.

It caught the attention of a cab driver down the street, and you gave him your address when he’d pulled up and you’d hopped in, ready to prepare for tonight's plans. You deserved a little break, after all, you were one step closer to securing the future of your dreams.

Eddie sagged against the counter once you’d left the room, scowling down at the bulge that had reappeared in his pants when you’d hugged him.

Why his body was suddenly acting like he was a horny teenager again, he had no idea.

He wasn’t about to do anything about it, though. Not when you’d be hanging around the shop for the foreseeable future. Eddie didn’t get involved with his employees. He’d worked in a couple of shops where he’d witnessed that occur and it always ended in a mess. Not a good kind.

He busied himself with cleaning up, tossing away the supplies you’d used and storing your first piece of work. It’d be nice for you to look back at once your apprenticeship was over. When Eddie had nothing else to clean, he sighed and rubbed at his eyelids.

Platonic. Professional. God, if he couldn’t keep his dick in check, he’d be in a world of trouble. You’d be trouble.

“Need a hand?”

Eddie snapped around, relieved to see it was just Deidre. Explaining why he had a boner to anyone else wasn’t something he was keen on doing. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be telling her exactly why, either.

Taking her up on her offer, however, was something he would eagerly do.

“Are you offering yours?”

She laughed, setting her purse down on the counter where your bag had been just a few minutes ago, and walked right up to Eddie, her body pressed against his and grinding onto him as the older woman slid her arms around his shoulders.

“Mmm, not just my hand.”

All Eddie knew next was the taste of her red lipstick.

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sometimesanalice · 11 months

Text

Seeing Double

Summary: Two weeks had felt like more than enough time to come up with something. And now you’re costumeless and in a panic less than a couple of hours before you’re supposed to be meeting your boyfriend’s closest friends. You’re ready to call it quits when you’re suddenly hit with a burst of inspiration.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6k

Warnings: fluff, allusions to smut, and Bradley Bradshaw in short-shorts (minors dni)

(This fic is a one-shot that is set before the Oh Christmas Tree, but you can read it on its own! Enjoy 🧡)

Looking at your closet, filled with everything and yet absolutely nothing, you’re beginning to realize just how totally and royally screwed you are.

The thing is you’d had time. More than enough time, in fact.

When Bradley had first invited you to go with him to this Halloween party, two weeks had seemed like plenty of time to concoct the perfect costume.

And then the more you’d thought about it, the more you’d overthought it, the more annoyed you’d gotten for overthinking it. A vicious spiral that not even hours of searching on Pinterest had helped to pull you from.

One that had left you costumeless for a party that was supposed to start in less than two hours with all of your boyfriend’s friends.

Fuck.

It was one outfit for one evening. You should probably be more concerned about Ciara from Marketing and her not-so-subtle scheming than what you were going to put on your body for the next five or so hours.

As you a sift through your perfectly color coordinated clothes, dragging hangers across the closet rod as if you’ve been personally victimized by the wardrobe you’d bought with your own money, you can’t help but wonder if you might have some self-sabotaging tendencies.

Bradley Bradshaw had snuck up on you when you were least expecting it. And what you thought was just going to be some summer fun had quickly turned into something more.

More often than not, you were thinking of him.

More often than not, he was texting you throughout the day.

More often than not, you were sharing a bed with him at night.

The last three, almost four, months had flown by in a summer haze and you liked Rooster more than any other man you had dated in the past.

You might even love him, but that was something you were keeping close to your chest for now. It felt too soon to be feeling the way you did about him.

He was more than just the pretty face and easygoing smile that had swayed you into giving him your number. He was more than just a fun night out and some no-strings-attached-yet-mind-blowing sex that you had tried to convince yourself it was.

He’d made it impossible for you to try and keep it casual in the way that he’d thoroughly swept you off your feet. You’d given up trying to keep him at arm’s length after your fifth date with him.

If you couldn’t beat him, you might as well join him. And so far, it was a gamble with your heart that was paying off.

Which was probably why you had given yourself the world’s worst mental block trying to figure out a costume to wear.

You’d met a few of his friends, like Natasha and Jake, during the nights he’d taken you to the Hard Deck. He’d told you that after one of their missions earlier in the year, the members on the squad had been in high demand. But this was the first time you’d be hanging out with them all at once.

So yeah, you were more than a little nervous about this evening.

And you didn’t just want to make a good impression, you wanted to absolutely charm and delight them. These people were so important to him, they were his family. They mattered to him and he mattered to you.

You pull out a black cocktail dress and debate whether you could pull together a Breakfast at Tiffany’s look with the pearls your grandmother had left you. It was a classic for a reason, right?

Or did it make you look like you were trying too hard? She was basically a callgirl after all.

The formfitting little dress goes back on the rack with a little more force than is necessary.

It’s just a causal get together, so why are your palms sweating?

You eye a silky pink slip dress and think about pairing it with one of your overpriced sleep mask. But you think you’d look less like you were flirty, thirty, and thriving and more like you forgotten to get dressed after rolling out of bed.

There are still a couple of cozy plaid button ups that you’d brought with you from home, but unless you carried around a roll of paper towels all night, it was an idea that might get you a more than a few perplexed looks. And there was nothing worse than having to explain your outfit for it to make sense to people.

Or worse, you’d be the one cleaning up spills all night.

You wanted your effort to look effortless.

Cool but not try hard. Thought through but not over the top.

You remember seeing some friend of a friend’s post from last weekend where she was dressed as Kim Possible. Green pants and a black top feel very doable. And she’d looked very cute and low maintenance, which was just the kind of vibe you were going for.

Remembering a pair of green khakis your sister had somehow talked you into the last time she came to visit, you go to your dresser and yank out the drawer you think they’d be in and toss it on the floor. You’re over trying to keep some semblance of order, that’s a problem for future you to deal with now.

Digging around in the pile, you will a flash of olive green to appear before your eyes. And when the items formerly nicely folded drawer and nothing but a heap of wrinkled, olive green-less chaos, you’re hit with the realization that the khakis that had seemed like a bad idea when you’d first gotten them had felt like a bad idea every time you looked at them and they’d ended up in the donation pile during your last closet purge.

You flop down and take in the carnage.

Half open drawers, random tops and skirts flung on your bed, the perfect rainbow of your closet now some technicolored disarray.

You’re almost afraid to pull out your phone to look at the clock, that pressure growing in your chest keeps getting worse. You can almost feel each individual second as they tick by. Glancing down you see that there’s a new message from Bradley, one that you missed in your frenzy to find something, anything to wear tonight.

Bradley, 9:52 AM: That wake up was worth the extra pushups I had to do for being late.

Bradley, 11:10 AM: Did I leave my shirt at your place this morning?

You, 12:22 PM: I’ll check when I get home and let you know. But I’m sure it’s there since I vividly remember the way you took it off last night.

You, 12:23 PM: And you only have yourself to blame for those pushups. (PS. I told you what time it was before I got in the shower, you were the one who invited yourself to join. PPS. I liked that thing you did with the shower head)

Bradley, 2:37 PM: As I said, worth it (PS pretty sure the only thing I heard you chanting was my name. Also I just ordered a new shower head for my place, one with a fancy handheld and everything)

You, 3:04 PM: I guess I’ll have to wake you up with my mouth more often then. (PS. just curious how many settings does it have? Asking for a friend.)

Bradley, 3:10 PM: Jesus Sweetheart, I’m up next to do a hop… (PS more than enough, and by enough, I mean 7)

You, 3:10 PM: 😘 (PS. can’t wait, I’m more than happy to product test)

Bradley, 3:11 PM: Yeah, I bet you are...

You, 3:11 PM: (Want to know the best part of working from home? I can get off any time I want. Have fun flying with that hard-on, Roos.)

Bradley, 3:12 PM: Baby, you’re killing me here

You, 3:12 PM: Fly safe ❤️

🔴 Bradley, 6:14 PM: Just got home, I can’t wait to see you tonight. What time should I pick you up? You might have to come down though, I don’t know if they’d let me in...

Skimming the previous messages from earlier in the day helps relieve some of the anxious energy that was thrumming in your veins. Because he’s just so Bradley.

He hadn’t been the only one who got to work late this morning. You’d actually worked from the office that day, but it had been more fun to tease him from your desk than draft the internal communications you were supposed to be working on.

The original plan had been to work a half day and then leave early and figure out your costume situation. But then you’d been pulled into an emergency PR meeting on your way out the door for one of the company’s biggest clients and had got home much, much later than you’d planned to.

You’d spotted Rooster’s shirt crumpled on the floor by the foot of your bed, from where he’d shucked it off the night before, the second you’d flown into your bedroom. Now it is carefully draped against the back of the soft blue tufted chair in the corner of your room. It was a colorful patchwork of beach themed vignettes in soft corals, teals, and dark blues. In addition to the palm trees and foliage, there were also planes and ships on it.

It was one of your favorites because you always felt like you were finding something new on it every time he wore it.

He’d told you once early on when you’d first gotten serious, after you’d teased him about his seemingly endless supply, that he’d even gotten curious one drunken night and looked up the resale value on some of his favorites and was shocked at the numbers. That it had taken him a month to put one back on because he didn’t want to ruin any of them on accident, now that he knew what exactly his father had left him.

You knew how much Bradley valued his collection, what they meant to him. You were even watching a few vintage ones in nice condition on Ebay to give him for Christmas.

Letting out a ragged sigh, you look back at the pile on the ground.

You’ve always prided yourself on being a problem solver. And the one time you needed to spring into action with a pivot plan is the one time you’re at a complete loss. You felt paralyzed by indecision and the kind of pressure that only you could put on yourself, which made everything that much more frustrating.

How you had kept the novelty six-pack tank top you’d taken home from a White Elephant exchange, but donated the green khaki pants was beyond you.

Out of the two, one would have been much more practical in this particular moment.

You pick it up off the floor and feel the fabric between your fingers. It was surprisingly soft for something that you’d expect to feel like sandpaper no matter how many times it got washed.

That tank top had never seen the light of day, yet always seemed to make it through your yearly purge unscathed. Probably solely on the fact that it made you giggle whenever you saw it. You always forgot about it, but it was a happy surprise when you pulled it out from where it was tucked away in the back of your dresser drawer.

You let it fall back onto the top of the pile.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard of your phone as you try to figure out what to say to Bradley, as you look back and forth between your mountainous mess and the empty text box.

You know you could call him and he’d pick up before the third ring. You knew you could text him and he would reply the moment he could. And you know, if you told him you were stressed about meeting all of his friends and wanting to impress them, to impress him, that he would understand. He’d tell you- in that soothing way of his- to not worry about it, that you could just wear whatever made you comfortable, no costume necessary.

He’d probably even ditch his own so that you weren’t the only one there in normal clothes, even though he’d been dropping teasing hint about his for days now. He was so excited for tonight, you didn’t want to bring the vibe down before you’d even arrived.

You close your eyes and allow yourself a couple moments to reset.

What you wore didn’t matter. But whatever you wore, you were going to have a great time with Bradley and the people he cared about. And that was the only thing that mattered to you.

You could throw on your little black dress, or a red and white striped sweater with a pair of glasses, or some skintight leggings and a leather jacket. But it didn’t matter because it was all going to end the same way: with you tipsy and giddy and in Rooster’s bed.

Already feeling much better you open your eyes again.

You’re greeted again with those perfectly sculpted abs of that silly little tank top that still sits on top of the mound of clothes on your floor. But out of the corner of you eye, those cheerful colors adorning your chair in the corner wink out at you.

The glimmer of an idea settles over you like stardust.

It’s on that the more you sit with, the more perfectly solidified it becomes in your mind. Oh, you can see it so clearly now.

It’s an idea that makes you feel like you could bubble over in excitement.

You shoot off a quick text to Rooster and set about grabbing all the things you needed. You’d be a little late, but not terribly so. Fashionably late.

And you’re hopeful it’ll be worth the last-minute change of plans.

There was only one thing you needed that you didn’t already have, and you knew just where you’d be able to find it.

Just a quick little pit stop on the way to the party.

On your way to Bradley.

When Rooster parked in front of Fanboy and Payback’s place he shouldn’t have been surprised to see the Spanish-style house they rented together absolutely covered in every type of decoration imaginable.

He’d heard Reuben moan and groan about it enough over the last few weeks.

Halloween was Mickey’s favorite holiday and there was nothing more he loved than going all out on a theme. It didn’t matter if it was St Patrick’s Day or National Cheeseburger Day, he always committed.

They’d all be pulled into the argument about whether or not a faux body bag filled with empty bottles should be strung up on the front porch. Fanboy lost that one by a mere two votes. And Bob had been the one to broker the peace by suggesting they make some ghosts to hang up instead.

Dozens of glowing pumpkin lanterns hung from the trees outside and lined the pathway up to the front door. The bushes were wrapped in fibrous looking cobweb material as lights flickered and flashed underneath them. There was a fog machine hidden somewhere because wisps of smoke were curling and crawling along the lawn. Custom gravestones littered the yard along with a few well-placed plastic skeletons. The front of the porch was filled with more pumpkins of various sizes and shapes and colors as well as those truce ghosts and a few oversized bats swaying in the chilly October night breeze.

Rooster wasted no time letting himself in the glowing entryway, rubbing his arms as he hustled to get inside. Normally he ran warm, but he’d been covered in goosebumps from the moment he’d gotten out of the Bronco.

His costume had earned him more than a few wolf whistles when he had stopped to get gas. He’d simply shot them a wink and a smirk as he’d strut past them to go inside and pay.

He looked damn good.

But there was only one person he’d wanted to show off this outfit to.

He didn’t know how it was possible but the inside was even more decorated than the outside of their place was.

There were stands and strands of colorful string lights in black, purple, and orange strung across the ceiling covered by gauzy black fabric. There were more cobwebs covering every exposed bit of the walls and flameless candles lining the floor of the hallway. And there was a mix of eerie forest sounds playing under the Halloween party soundtrack that Coyote had been roped into making for the night.

Bradley follows the hundreds of little plastic spiders decorated the wall leading him to the living room. And almost collides with someone as he rounds the corner.

The shorter man he’d nearly taken out had on an overly bleached and spiked wig with a goatee and was wearing more neon orange flames than any one person should be allowed to wear.

They were both eyeing each other waiting for the other person to lob the first comment.

Rooster sees the way Mav’s cheeks are twitching as he takes in the length of the shorts he was wearing and just how much leg he had on display.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s hear it, old man,” he says, reaching out and taking the drink from Mav’s hand and taking a swig from the mostly empty bottle before passing it back.

“Did they lower the drinking age and I missed the memo, kid?” Mav tosses back easily, pointing to Bradley’s clingy, red Rydell High School t-shirt. “Don’t need a Class A misdemeanor on my record, that file is already big enough on its own.”

“Laugh it up, Flavortown,” Bradley snorts, “You on your way out?”

“Yeah, just wanted to swing by for a minute before I go over to the Hard Deck to help Penny out for the night. She sent me with some treats too, they’re over on the table. Where’s your girl? I was hoping to see her before I left.”

“Oh, uh, she’s meeting me here. Said she got caught up in a last-minute meeting,” Bradley says rubbing the back of his neck. He was trying not to over think the text you’d sent him. “So what’s Penny dressing up as?”

Mav uses both hands and gestures to his costume, face flat.

“No shit,” Bradley laughs.

“Amelia hustled the both of us,” Mav says shaking his head fondly. “I’m telling you, kid, teenagers these days are a scary bunch.” He takes the last swig of his beer and passes the bottle to Bradley, patting him on the shoulder. “Make sure you and your girl try the candlestick cakes. The realistic ones are the ones that Penny made.”

“And the others?” Rooster asked with a smirk.

“Let’s just say I’m a better pilot than I am with a piping bag,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh. “Happy Halloween, Bradley.”

“See you on Sunday for brunch.”

He and his godfather exchange a hug before Pete strides out the door, giving him one more pat on the back before he leaves.

Rooster makes his way further into the living room and goes to check out the food situation and to grab a drink in hopes that it’ll help settle that anxious coil in the pit of his stomach.

He waves over to Fritz, Yale, and Omaha, who are dressed up as the Sanderson Sisters, as he makes his way to the dining room. Fritz has his arm draped over his wife’s shoulder who is dressed like a black cat and they’re all gathered around the keg in the kitchen like it’s a cauldron.

Under a display of floating candles, Fanboy and Payback’s dining table is filled to the brim with all kinds of party food. Breadsticks that looked like fingers, a charcuterie board being clutched by a skeleton, a carved pumpkin puking some kind of tasty looking dip, and rice krispies with an ungodly amount of red dye number forty wrapped up in plastic on Styrofoam trays. And of course, the candlestick cakes. It was obvious which one’s Penny had made and which were Mav’s handiwork.

He pops one in his mouth, making a mental note to text Penny about how good they are.

Off to the side there was a homemade cooler shaped like a coffin and a witch’s cauldron bubbling away with dry ice filled with something potent, if the patriotic punch from the Fourth of July was anything to go by.

He grabs one of the plastic syringes from the bowl that says free shots and sips it down easily, trying not to grimace at the ratio of tequila to cranberry cocktail, and then dropping the now empty syringe in the hazardous waste bucket that’s placed next to the bowl.

Checking out the inside of the cooler, he sees it’s been stocked with a good variety of beers and ciders, he even spots your favorite which he knows you’ll be excited about.

That is whenever you get here.

Bradley pulls out his phone from the back pocket of his tight-fitting shorts to see if there’s any new message from you yet.

No ETA, no update, no on my way. Nothing since his last text nearly forty minutes ago. He’s tempted to shoot you another one, but he doesn’t want to come across as overbearing.

Rooster knew you were a bit anxious about tonight, even though all his friends really liked you, but he was starting to think that maybe he might be deeper in this than you were. He was trying not to let his mind spiral about why you didn’t want him to pick you up, but the only thing he kept coming back to was that maybe you wanted a way to make an easy escape if you weren’t having a good time with him or his friends.

He was worried that you might have one foot out the door.

You’ve met most of his friends now, just at different times and never all at once.

After the Uranium Mission, their team quickly became very in-demand. Getting requests to join other training contingents, classified trials and testing of new tech in development, and smaller specialized missions. It’s very rare now that they’re all in the same place at the same time. It always feels like there’s always someone missing, they’re always going and doing.

His team has always been good about finding ways to let off steam.

Although, he’s been less frequently found behind the piano bench of the Hard Deck since he’s taking on a more starring role in your bedroom. His friends would tease him on base about keeping you to himself. But he wouldn’t apologize for wanting to spending all his free time with you than the people he already spent the majority of his days with. Bradley doesn’t want you to feel like he’s trying to keep you away from them, he just would rather soak up all of your attention than share you with everyone else.

He liked that you were his girl.

Sighing to himself, Rooster puts his phone back in his pocket and walks back out to the living room before anyone can accuse him of sulking.

Callie and her fiancée are dress up as Velma and Daphne and chatting away with Bob over by the fireplace that is filled with skulls and thick pillars of candles. Bob’s homemade chef’s hat is glowing lightly from the inside and showing the silhouette of a little rodent.

He watches as Fanboy in his Hamburglar costume heading over of the bathroom with a trash bag looking more than a little suspicious. Bradley is sure he has more than a few pranks up black and white striped sleeves tonight.

“Where’s your Sandy, Danny?” Nat asks, sliding up to him and passing him a beer.

“You know, I don’t actually know what she’s coming dressed as. She never gave me any hints,” he admits, taking a small sip as he takes in her costume. She’s got fluffy bunny ears on and her nose is painted pink. The only thing missing from her Lola Bunny ensemble is the basketball.

“Oh?” He can tell Phoenix is trying to school the surprise on her face. “I just figured with you wearing that and all.”

He just shrugs, his thumbnail picking at the label on the bottle.

Bradley had thought about floating a couple’s costume when he had invited you to come with him, but he pivoted at the last moment, not wanting to put pressure on you to agree to commit right away.

“Is she on her way?” Nat asks, looking at him out of the corner of her all too keen eyes.

“Hopefully, if she doesn’t change her mind,” he says ruefully.

“Why would she do that? Did you do something to piss her off?”

“Not that I know of. I know I’m reading into things, but I was supposed to go pick her up and she texted me last minute saying that she’d meet me here instead. And I don’t know what to make of it, it just isn’t like her.”

“Is that why you’re standing here look like a sad puppy? You know I’ve never been able to get through those ASPCA commercial without them getting my credit card information. Can I read the text?”

“Sure, have at it,” he says, unlocking and handing over his phone to her. “Uh, just the last few though.” He tacks that last part on quickly and she just gives him a pointed lift of her sharp eyebrow.

He feels dumb watching Nat skim the texts, he knows he’s overthinking things. But he also knows he’s not going to feel better about any of it until you get here and he can see your face.

“She said she’ll be here, Bradshaw. I don’t know how else you’re reading into this, but I imagine the mental gymnastics must be getting tiring.”

Bradley huffs a laugh, because she’s right.

As always.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair, “It’s just- I really like her, Nat.”

“Oh, we know. You moon after her with those big cow eyes all the time” she teases, nudging her elbow against his ribs. “But I’ve also seen the way she moons after you too, so relax.”

He can’t fight the small smile that works its way onto his face. The idea of you watching him the same way he knows he looks at you when you’re not looking at him makes his chest fill with warmth.

Nat peers around him and he spins to see who’s just arrived.

“Jesus, Rooster. Aren’t you worried about your dick falling out of those? They’re indecent,” Jake drawls, looking every inch the action hero he thinks he is.

“Please,” Bradley says with a roll of his eyes, “You wish you could pull these off, Bagman. If you got it, flaunt it.”

“I’m flaunting plenty,” Jake counters as he flexes. His shirt is unbuttoned all the way to the waistband of his pants. Although, Bradley is pretty sure Indiana Jones at least had sleeves. “Once your girl sees these abs she might be my girl by the end of the night.”

Seresin shoots him a wink and struts away, the plastic whip on his hip bouncing with every step. Rooster just shakes his head after him, watching as he high fives Javy, who is dressed as The Rock complete with a fanny pack and chain around his neck, in greeting by the sliding glass door that leads to patio.

“I still can’t believe you use to date him,” he ribs Nat lightly.

She plucks his beer out of his hand, claiming it as her own in retaliation. “Me neither,” she grunts, but he hears the hint of affection in her voice.

“Hey, you two look great! Do you need anything?” Mickey asks enthusiastically. His shifty eyes and overly wide smile instantly making Bradley edgy.

“Where’d that trash bag you had earlier go, Fanboy?” he asks warily.

“That’s for me to know and Javy to find out about later,” Mickey says slyly.

Rooster and Nat exchange a look.

This was the thing he was worried about when Cyclone had announced the news earlier in the week that they’d all tentatively have the next couple of months off through the new year. A well-earned break. No extra assignments. No extra transfers or additional training seminars.

Mav had told him in confidence that there was one small deployment that might get approved near Thanksgiving and that he was going to pull some string to see what information he could find out about it. Bradley was hoping that you might ask him to come home with you and meet your parents, so he had his fingers crossed that his name was left off that list.

The mood on base was already light. Mickey and Javy had started a series of pranks against each other that had slowly been escalating over the last few days. And Rooster knew that this extroverted bunch would be leaning in at full force and cutting loose tonight.

“Can you do me a favor, man? Can you hold off on the pranks for an hour, I don’t want you guys to scare her off the second she walks through the door.”

“She’s met us, she knows how we are.”

“I think that’s that point,” Nat quips.

“She likes us and we like her, so what’s there to worry about?” Fanboy asks rhetorically.

“And not all at once,” Bradley mutters.

“Lighten up, Rooster! I’m sure she’ll get here soon. In the meantime, go have some of the Potion of Peril punch that I made. I promise we’ll be on our best behavior. I won’t even ask her to grab something from the fridge for me,” Fanboy says that last part with a concerning laugh as he scurries away.

“You won’t what? Wait, Fanboy, come back,” Rooster calls after Mickey. He sees Payback dressed as Marty McFly coming down the stairs, and catches him. “Reuben, hey, what’s in the fridge?”

“Mickey has been collecting all of our empty jars for weeks now. He filled the damn fridge with jars of heads. It scared the shit out of me the first time I saw all of them. I haven’t been able to find the open container of mayo for days, and I’m tired of eating dry sandwiches.” Payback lets out the biggest sigh and rolls his eyes before he leaves them making his way over towards Coyote and Hangman still by the patio.

“See, Nat? This is what I’m worried about. We’re a lot, in more ways than one.”

Bradley pulls out his phone again, probably for the fifth time since he’s arrived and begins working on a text to send her. There’s nothing wrong with a little heads up and if he can get a little update from you then he’ll consider it a win.

“Well, if it ain’t Rooster,” he hears Hangman call out from across the room.

“We just did this, man,” he tosses back, not bothering to look up from his phone.

“Hey! Bradshaw’s girl has got a better set of abs than he does!” someone else calls out.

That gets his attention.

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” he grunts irritably, as he tries to put his phone back in his pocket.

He doesn’t get a response because Phoenix is already turning him towards the entryway, the room erupting in a series of hoots and hollers as the rest of the party takes notice of your costume.

You’re shifting a little on your feet under the attention, there’s a small shy smile on your face and you have your pretty eyes already trained on him.

Hangman wasn’t kidding when he said you had a better set of abs than him.

You’re wearing a pair of frayed light blue denim shorts with a truly impressive screen-printed washboard stomach is on full display tucked into them. Over that you had on the Hawaiian print shirt he’d left at your place on accident this morning, it was one of his favorites with all its bright colors, along with a pair of sunglasses dangling from the pocket.

There was no mistaking who you’ve come dressed up as, not with that striking press-on mustache you were wearing.

It’s all he can do to just stand there and stare at you.

You’ve always been so damn beautiful, and even with a felt mustache on your face, you can make his heart pound away in his chest. Not to mention, he really likes the way you look in his shirt.

Your face lights up as you take him in too. Your eyes sweeping over his two-sizes-too-small shirt and the white short-shorts that left nothing to the imagination.

There is such fondness on your face he can’t believe how he’d let himself get so twisted in knots.

He forgets about all of his friends and their commotion as he struts over to you taking your face between his hands and kissing you. You make a little noise of surprise that he uses to his advantage to slip his tongue into your mouth.

When one of his friends catcalls them, he waves them off with one of his hands, and then drops it down to your ass to pull you in closer to him.

A flash goes off, the light bright behind his eyes.

He can feel the laughter bubbling out of your chest before comes out of your mouth, even he fights to tamper down his own amusement in favor of kissing you more.

Pulling away Bradley gently takes your chin between his finger and thumb turning your head left and right to admire your costume of choice, up close and personal.

“I gotta say, sweetheart, you’re really working that mustache.”

“I get your attachment to it. I think I wear it pretty well,” you say looking very pleased with yourself. You reach up and affectionately brush your fingers along his own.

He’d thought about shaving it off for the sake of his costume, but ultimately couldn’t go through with it. And now he’s really glad he didn’t.

“It’s not just that ‘stache you’re wearing well,” Bradley says low just for her, toying with the hem of his shirt draped on you. “You know I like the way you look in my clothes.”

He can’t help up enjoy the way you’re getting bashful under his appreciative gaze and compliments.

“I had to make sure you got the shirt back somehow,” you say with a smile.

“So it can end up on the floor of my bedroom instead?” he teases, kissing your cheek.

“I like the sound of that, and not just because my bedroom looks like a crime scene.” He cocks his head at you, but you just shake your own at him in response before continuing, “But I’m letting you know right now, the mustache is staying on when you have your way with me.”

“You have yourself a deal as long as you share your routine with me,” he murmurs, running a finger down the line of the faux abs of your tank top. “Can’t say I remember seeing these this morning in the shower. I’ve got a girl to impress, so I’d be happy to show you how grateful I am for any tips and tricks.”

“Think you’re doing just fine in those short-short of yours,” you reply, taking a step back to give him a thorough once over, “What inspired this eyeful of an ensemble?”

“I knew the shorts would make my ass look good,” he says with a shrug that send you into a fit of giggles. He’s ready to skip the party all together, in favor of appreciating how good you look outside of your costume. Your eyes are dancing with amusement and he finds himself wanted to admit more, “And because, you know…”

He thought his costume idea had been pretty witty, but now he felt a little sheepish because he didn’t want you to think he was being corny. Sure the shorts had been the thing that sealed the deal, but he’d picked good boy Danny Zuko for a reason.

“No, Bradley, I don’t think I do. Will you explain it to me?”

“Summer lovin’ happened so fast and all that.”

“‘And all that’, huh?” And there’s that look of your, he was absolutely putty in your hands when you looked at him like that. “Ok, ok, but I need to know,” you pause for moment, and look up at him with a very serious expression, “Did you have yourself a blast?”

He watches as you bite your bottom lip trying not to laugh at your own joke.

And in that moment, he just knows.

The sureness had been taking up residence in his bones since he’d first convinced you that trying to keep it casual with you wouldn’t cut it for him.

“Would now be a bad time to tell you that I love you?” he asks, threading his fingers through beltloops to pull you in closer to him.

“While I’m wearing a tank top with a six-pack dressed up as you? Seems a little narcissistic, does it not?” He’s never seen your smile this big or this bright before.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

Rooster pulls you back in for a deep kiss.

“I love you too, Bradley,” you murmur against his lips.

He kisses you until he can’t keep the smile off of his face.

“Hey, Bradshaw!”

Surprised, he pulls away from you to see Nat waving him over. He takes your hand, ready to take you over with him.

“No, not you. The better Bradshaw,” Phoenix announces as she points at you, crooking a finger and holding out a shot syringe for you.

You pull him to you, giving him one more quick before floating over to join Nat near the kitchen.

He’s feeling more than a little dumbstruck in that moment.

And not just from the sight of your shapely legs in those cutoff jean shorts.

Bradley’s feet feel cemented to the wood floors beneath his black hightop converse as he watches you throw your head back in laughter at something Nat says.

He doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, but he thinks his last name looks good on you.

You smile wide and beaming, your eyes shining as you turn to look at him from across the other side of the room.

Yeah, it looks really good on you.

Happy Halloween, Friends! This little moment has been living in my head since I posted my first ever fic on here, 'Oh Christmas Tree'! I'm so glad to finally release it to share with you! Thank you for reading!

If you want to find out what happened next for these two, just follow the link above!

If you're curious about what all of their costumes look like, you can see them here!

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

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sadesluvr · 10 months

Text

Opposites Attract

You’re a self-obsessed sorority girl. He’s an enigmatic film freak. What more is there to say? (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

A/N: My first full Mickey fic! It’s loosely based off of my headcanons (linked HERE), but ofc it's not necessary to read first :) I LOVE him and this has been in the works for a while, so I hope you enjoy it! He is Ghostface in this, but it's only alluded to…

Word count: 2.7K

Tags: SMUT / Enemies to lovers / Oral sex, fem receiving / Flirting + Sexual tension / Safe sex! / Doggystyle / Spanking / Light choking + Asphyxiation / Allusions to murder / Relationship goals, kinda

You and Mickey Altieri couldn’t have been more different. He was a ‘Tarantino obsessed film freak’ from a seemingly regular (if not a little shady) background with a small group of friends. You, on the other hand, were a peppy architecture student; one of the top girls in your sorority from a rich family with a lawyer father.

In theory, nothing about the two of you should work - Mickey thought that ‘people like you’ were phoney and self-obsessed, whilst guys like Mickey were essentially ‘nothing but trouble’. Still, it didn’t stop the two of you from being ‘frenemies’, even to the point of culminating in a secret relationship.

Even though you absolutely despised each other, there was something intoxicating about how you’d bicker; how Mickey would roll his eyes and smirk whilst you would get frustrated and brush him off, annoyed yet giddy on how you got under each other's skin.

This was one of those times.

You’d smuggled Mickey into your room as the two of you were off to join your respective friends at a party. He claimed he ‘hated’ being around posters of boy bands and unnecessary anthropomorphic stuffed toys, but there was something in his intense, greedy stare as he watched you preen and accessorise that told you otherwise. Of course you knew he wanted you. You wanted him too, but you refused to give him anymore gratification outside of that one night —

“Pink is so not your colour,” he scoffed, shaking his head as you fixed your bolero.

“Unfortunately for you, Mickey, I don’t care about your opinion,” you said sweetly, and you could hear him mutter under his breath. You always loved to get the last word.

“I prefer the baby blue,” he continued. “It brings out the pearls,”

You shrugged him off, fixing the string of beads around your neck. Everyone in Windsor knew that pearls were your signature accessory; the fragile beads sat elegantly around the base of your neck year round, as if you were a regular Jackie-O. Mickey always teased you for wearing them (like he did with practically everything else), but he couldn’t deny how beautiful they looked on you. There was certainly something to be said in the contrast of you; the ‘righteous, innocent’ being, just like your necklace signified, being with him, a guy with a deep, dark pastime. He wondered what the pretty jewels would look like covered in blood; not necessarily yours (at first), staining the priceless material for good so that they were forever soiled. Your daddy would probably flip.

Good. He hated lawyers.

“…Why do you need to wear pearls anyway?” Mickey said, his voice low as he got up from where he was sitting, stalking over to join you at your dresser. “This is a college mixer, not Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” he finished, eyes locked on yours through the mirror as he stood behind you, his hands placed firmly on your waist as his fingertips threatened to travel elsewhere, likely towards your ass.

“Because they’re pretty,” you said quickly, gathering yourself as you pushed him off slightly, spinning to face him as you leaned against the surface. “Daddy got them for me on my sixteenth birthday. I love him…” you finished wistfully.

“You love the things he gives you,”

“No. I love him,” you insisted, rolling your eyes as you clipped in your earrings. “He’s a very hardworking man, putting freaks and freeloaders like you in jail,” you said pointedly.

Mickey scoffed.

“I’m a freak now, hm?” he mused, leaning over you. He was tall, and you could feel his breath on your neck, lips grazing the sensitive skin ever so slightly. “Then why are you with me?”

“Obviously due to some kind of terrible head trauma,”

Mickey rolled his eyes for what felt like the billionth time that night, instead focusing his attention on your neck; his canines brushing against your collarbone as he nipped at you, his love bites turning into soft kisses. You fought your hardest not to fall apart under his touch as he pulled you into him, hands exploring your waist and thighs as you felt his hardening cock against your ass. His cologne; though likely nothing more than retail store bought, was intoxicating, and you forced yourself not to lose yourself into his touch. There was just something about him that was insatiable…

It certainly helped that he was a little dangerous.

Sighing, you pushed him off you to face him yet again, fixing your clothes as you flashed him a sultry look.

“How do I look?”

He paused, eyes raking you up and down.

“...Like a girl with a stick up her ass and a cock in her mou —“

“Don’t say that!” You cut him off, slapping his chest lightly before you picked up your bag.

“What?” He snorted. “That ‘Daddy’s Little Princess’ facade doesn’t fool me. You’re a slut,”

“I am not!”

“Are too,” he retorted, following you like a chihuahua. “Don’t you remember that night at the Halloween party? You were in that slutty little cat costume and you were very generous to me under the stairs —“

There was a distinct smugness in his voice, and it took you right back to the hazy-liquor induced moment; from the sloppy kiss that had united the two of you, to the cool metal of his belt on your hands as you undid his trousers, and the salty taste of his cum as he held your head to his base. A beautiful moment, yes, but one you’d agreed to never speak of again.

“And here you are hoping for round two,” you sighed sarcastically, pouting your lips and patting his cheeks affectionately. “Give it up Mickey, it’s never gonna happen,”

“Your call, Princess,” he shrugged, walking to your door and beginning to open it. “Just try not to go all ‘Single White Female’ on me when one of your little sorority sisters wants it more,”

You froze. You never considered yourself to be the stereotypical jealous girl, but as a spoiled only child you were definitely not used to sharing. Katie Lewman was one of the girls in your sorority who you knew had a definitive crush on Mickey, and had even gone as far as trying (and possibly succeeding) to hook up with him. You knew she couldn’t compare to you in the slightest, but Mickey was definitely a player and would sleep with someone if he pleased…Or to get under your skin.

Mickey’s smirk was visible from the corner of your eye, and you slowly pushed the door back in, making sure it was locked.

You frowned.

“I hate you, you know that?”

Your lips were on each other’s in an instant, with Mickey pulling you in hungrily by your neck, barely giving you any time to breathe.

“I know…” he grumbled, voice broken as he came up for air. His gaze was focused intently on your lips, and his beautiful eyes made contact with your own, taking a moment to ogle your body.“ ‘Drives me crazy…”

Your hands found the sides of his slender waist, drawing him in closer so that you could feel his wanting cock against the thin material of your dress. Given that he wasn’t the typical ‘submissive’ guy, you were surprised when he teased you back, beginning to stumble back towards your bed.

Still kissing, you landed on top of him, and he wasted no time in assuming his position above you, hands pinned to either side of your body as he held your lower half in place with your own. He stopped and cocked his head at you, admiring the way your chest heaved and your eyes were wide. Apparently he could still surprise you.

Good to know.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as Mickey began to strip. It was undoubtedly a godly sight, but you hated the way he made your pussy ache and stomach flutter with the smallest of movements.

“Why do we keep doing this?” you whined, and he grinned, baring his teeth as he stalked over you, taking your jaw in between his hands as he angled your head to stare at him.

You always looked so pretty beneath him.

“I like the chase,” he uttered, and you began to make out once again, this time with you peeling off your bolero, and hiking up your dress so that it sat by your knees, unsure of how exactly he was going to take you. Mickey was a natural freak, and was always down to experiment when it came to sex…It was one of the many reasons why you liked him.

“Keep the dress on,” he whispered in your ear, nudging you so that you lay flat on your stomach. “Get that pretty ass in the air…” he finished, leaving a love bite on your neck before he pulled away, rubbing his hands along the curve of your spine, teasing you with what was to come.

SLAP! A red, stingy feeling ran through your lower half, legs peppering with goosebumps as the sensation settled in. Eyebrows furrowed, you gasped and turned to Mickey, who only gave you a shit-eating grin in response.

“Ass. Up.”

“You assho—“

SLAP!

“Ass. Up.” He repeated simply, staring at you knowingly. Glaring, you hiked your ass up in the air and he assumed the position behind you, pulling the material up over your thighs to rest on your waist. The thin material of your panties left your hot, aching cunt exposed to the cool air of the room, a sensation that was soon replaced with Mickey’s tongue.

He had quite literally buried his face in your ass; hands spreading your asscheeks apart as he delved into your folds, tongue lapping eagerly at your folds as he explored your pussy. You gasped, beginning to moan as you bunched the bedsheets up in your fists, subtly trying to fuck his face back, causing him to stick his face deeper into you.

You could practically see his smile from behind.

“Little Miss Sorority likes having her pussy eaten, hm? What would a girl like you know about giving?” he sneered, spreading your right cheek further and massaging the skin in his hands as the other remained firmly in position.

“S-Shut up —“ you whined, balancing yourself on one hand as you tried to pull him in, desperate for some release as he found your clit.

“Nuh-Uh, Princess,” he smirked, swatting your hand away. “You don’t get to touch me,”

You groaned and resumed your wringing of the sheets whilst Mickey revelled in your audible pleasure, adding to your stimulation as he stuck his middle and index finger inside you, beginning to move them in and out. Your juices coated him instantly, and he took a moment to lick them up, savouring the unique taste.

He had to have you.

Retracting his face from your privates, he smacked your ass again, admiring how it immediately warmed in his hands.

“…Why’d you stop?” you whined, pouting your lips.

“Because I’m gonna fuck you,” he responded, taking out his cock and stroking it languidly. It was just how you remembered; peachy with a good five and a half inches in length. “This is real life, Princess, we don’t always get everything we want…” he admonished, beginning to line himself up with your entrance. His tip teased your cunt, head smearing dots of precum along your lips, threatening to penetrate.

As much as you needed it, you couldn’t let him win.

“Speaking of not getting what we want…You better wrap your shit up,”

Mickey pulled away and scoffed, his shoulders slumping in annoyance.

“Come on, Princess…” he said knowingly. “You know it doesn’t feel the same…”

You hummed in amusement, beginning to push down your skirt and gather yourself together when you heard Mickey groan, a weight slowly lifting off of the bed as he made his way over to your dresser.

“You are such a spoiled brat,”

“Then come over here and teach me a lesson,”

He slid the condom on in a quick motion and made his way back over to the bed, grabbing your neck as he kissed you, arching your back in the process. The pressure pushed the pearls of your necklace deeper into your skin, a telling reminder of who you were. Social hierarchy may have technically been dead, but the Romeo and Juliet romance would forever thrive.

With a spank of your ass, he wasted no time in entering you from behind, barely giving you time to adjust. As he began to move, you heard him mumble to himself, hands holding onto your hips as he focused on daggering you, your tight walls stretching perfectly over his cock.

“What’d I say?” Mickey teased, another hand coming down on your ass as he watched your skin slap against his. “Doggystyle. Classic slutty position…What would Daddy think if he saw you now?”

“Fuck…” you whispered, grasping the edge of the bed as your legs tingled from the pressure and your back was being stretched out perfectly. Mickey always ran his mouth. Always. But he was so fucking good at it.

“M-Mick —-“

“That’s it, Princess. Say my name…I want the whole fucking house to hear—“ he growled, utterly feral at the way you moaned and whined for him, to the point of you being speechless. He ran his hands from the curve of your spine and up to the back of your neck, smirking to himself as he forced your face into the duvet, bringing your ass higher into the air.

His fingers played with your pearls, hooking them under his middle and index finger and tugging on them, causing the hard beads to press against your windpipe. He could’ve fucking choked you to death right there and then, and subsequently drowned himself in your screams and moans of pleasure and pain before indulging in your tight, wet cunt; burying himself to the hilt as he’d come. Sex with a condom just wasn’t the same.

The skin of your ass bounced against his thighs, every bit of contact driving him to thrust deeper, wanting to hit the deepest parts of your core. He let go of your neck, snickering to himself as he heard you let out a desperate gasp for air, and began to rub your pussy as he fucked into you.

“ ‘Can’t believe you’re this wet for me,” he sneered. “Hm, if only you could see yourself!To think, this is one of the rare times I don’t have my cam…”

Your cunt clenched at the idea, and he let out a throaty chuckle. Mickey carried his camcorder everywhere; and the idea of immortalising your illicit affair on a tape filled with your sleazy, steamy antics was enough to send you over the edge. If it ever got out, you’d probably be kicked out of the sorority…Maybe even college. Whilst your father would certainly hate the infamy, there was no doubt Mickey would love them fame.

Mickey groaned as you came around his cock, your walls tightening as he began to reach his own release. Desperately wishing it were your raw pussy, he shot a healthy load of cum into the condom. His grip on your ass tightened as you teased him, grinding your hips against his pelvis so that his slowly softening cock revelled in the wet, spongy sensation.

After a few moments he pulled out of you, placing his hands on his thighs as he admired your aching, satisfied cunt. Smirking, he slapped your ass a final time before collapsing next to you, stroking your pearls and kissing you. This one was slightly different - sloppy, yet gentle. Affectionate, even.

“Whaddya say we stay in tonight, hm?” Mickey perked up, staring at your ceiling. “I’m not going to a party with this —“ he looked down at himself, “— On my dick. How about we rent a movie and get pizza…?”

Cocking an eyebrow, you turned to look at the brunette curiously, propping yourself up on your elbows. It wasn’t explicit, but you knew that this was Mickey’s way of asking you for a date - And to be fair it didn’t even bother you. You were the life of the party, it was likely that it’d be boring without you.

“Sure,” you smirked. “But I am so not paying!”

#a sex tape fic with mickey? YEAH 👀#florence writes!!#mickey altieri x reader #mickey altieri smut #timothy olyphant #mickey altieri #ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #scream x reader

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greenorangevioletgrass · 6 months

Text

fever pitch (b.b.) - part three

previous part | series masterlist

soundtrack: don't blame me - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: you and bradley spend the night, but the road to heaven is full of obstacles; some are external, others are self-inflicted. warnings: language, public scrutiny (will be a recurring theme in this fic ha!), bradley is a stand-up guy all round, fluff, smut (d/s elements, praise kink, bit of a bratty side?, fingering, oral [f receiving], dirty talk, size kink, bradley is PACKING, protected sex) notes: i'm back! life has been crazy since i posted the previous chapter, but i just wanna say thank you so so much for your patience and your kind words about the fic so far! big shoutout to @gretagerwigsmuse and @teacupsandtopgun for being absolutely GEMS in brainstorming ideas-- this wouldn't have happened if it weren't for y'all <3 happy reading!

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The Langham, Sterling Suite. Ask for Holly Golightly ;)

Bradley smiles at your text, and the cheeky “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” reference. He shoots up a quick reply as he makes his way out to the lobby, fighting hard not to be grinning like an idiot to any unassuming passersby, until—

Click-click-click-click! FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!

“Hey, it’s Bradley Bradshaw!”

“Oi, Bradley! Give us a smile, mate!”

“Bradley, did you get to meet Y/N inside?”

“Did the boss let you out on a school night, Bradley?”

”How are you feeling about the Sunderland game this weekend?”

It’s a meager distance from the steps of Annabel’s to the curb where the valet has brought out his car, but holy shit. It doesn’t usually get nearly as crazy as this. He’s partied here with Harry Styles, and nobody bat an eye when the guy stumbled out drunk with his left tit out. But maybe it’s because Harry lives in London sometimes, or maybe because he was on a break… unlike Miss Americana on her world tour right now. It makes him pause and rethink how careful he needs to be.

Bradley gets into his car and drives off, trying to tread between the fine line of quick and careful. He can’t help but look over the rearview mirror more often than normal. Fuck, is this how you feel like all the time? He’s no stranger to the spotlight, but rather than the occasional run-ins, nobody has ever been interested in where he went to dinner on a random Tuesday night.

The Langham is barely a mile away, but Bradley sees photographers parked across the hotel with their long-lens cameras and disgusting disposition, and he keeps on driving. Thinking. Restrategizing. Hoping that his vintage aubergine Ferrari isn’t causing suspicion for driving by the second and third time.

He finds a basement parking lot behind the building and pulls up, hoping it’s the right entrance to the hotel. The attendant looks starstruck as he nods and points the way, sending him off with an eager ‘Come on you Gunners!’. And just like that, he makes it into the lobby out of the pap’s sight.

Be cool, he reminds himself, you’re only as suspicious as you seem to be. He comes up to the reception desk, and the girl behind it greets him warmly.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Langham. How may I help you?”

“I’m here to see Ms. Golightly at the Sterling Suite,” Bradley says smoothly. “Holly Golightly.”

“And who am I speaking with, sir?” The girl looks at him like he seems familiar, but can’t quite place him.

“...Paul Varjak,” he states, unable to bite back the smile. Oh, the thrill of giving out a fake name with the very real possibility of getting called out on his shit.

But she nods and grabs the telephone, dialing into your room. Blissfully ignorant of the pseudonym he just gave her.

Good.

Let this inside joke be the two of yours alone.

The elevator ride up is peaceful—too peaceful that he can hear his heart beating and his palms sweating. Even the carpet mutes his footsteps towards the double door. Before he even presses the bell, a bodyguard opens the door for him.

“Mr. Bradshaw,” he nods curtly. It’s one of the guys from the restaurant earlier. Middle-aged, stout and rather short, sporting a permanent scowl and a vibe that indicates he’s seen some shit.

“Hi. Sorry, I haven’t got your name…?”

“Guy,” he deadpans.

Bradley wonders if that’s his real name or he’s just saying it so Bradley would get off his case, but smiles anyway. “Nice to meet you, Guy.”

Guy hums gruffly and ushers him into the foyer, an identical hallway of the hotel, with a room on each side. “Through here,” he leads him towards another set of double doors at the end of the hallway.

Meanwhile, you are full-on freaking out in your living room. Should you get changed? You’ve taken off your heels, but getting everything off feels so premeditated… You don’t even know if he wants things to go that far. Maybe you can break your little rule and bring out the wine for liquid courage? Gosh, nothing feels right. And it’s been so long since you’ve last done this that you’ve actually gone rusty.

And before you get to decide—in the long, wasteful twenty minutes or so you’ve been pacing, you hear a knock on your door.

“Coming!”

You rush over to get the door and there he is, coming out victorious through the hurdles, smiling at you.

“Thanks, Guy. I’ll take it from here,” you dismiss your security a little too quickly, nodding over Bradley’s shoulder. You’re sure Guy is rolling his eyes all the way back to his room over your lovestruck teenager behavior.

But it hardly matters when this man before you is looking at you like the sun.

“Hey, you.” Bradley beams at you from his spot. As if afraid to invade your space somehow.

And so are you. This feels like that night in the garden all over again. You have to remind yourself that this isn’t some pocket of a park you stumbled into; this is your hotel room.

Quiet.

Private.

Safe.

“Come on in.” You let him cross the threshold, closing the door behind him the warm foyer light cast golden upon his face. You’re not sure if it’s the fact that you’ve ditched your six-inch heels, or that there’s no one else, but Bradley looks even taller than you remember him. Broader. More… imposing.

“I’m sorry for taking so long. There’s cameras everywhere and I had to—”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him. It feels rude to ask if he got caught on camera, but at this point, you had to ask. “Did you… Did they…?”

Bradley quickly shakes his head. “No, I took the basement entrance, out of sight. We’re good.”

”I’m, uh… sorry for the fuss.”

”Hey, it’s no trouble at all… Ms. Golightly,” he tilts his head, grinning at your chosen pseudonym.

”Yeah, it changes every time. My last stop in Tennessee, I was Clarice Starling,” you admit, making him laugh. “Although I’m glad you got the reference… Mr. Varjak.”

He simpers, very proud of himself. And with that, he takes a step closer to you. Towering over you. Crowding you with his smile, his scent, his body heat… and neither of you makes the first touch. You’re painfully aware of how his gaze keeps dropping to your lips. Bodies drawn towards each other but tied in place for some reason. It seems like despite all the flirting you did at the restaurant, everything goes out the window once you’re alone.

You’re just two strangers, caught in a thrilling game of push and pull. Too scared to tip over and just… fall.

“Can I kiss you…?” Bradley breathes out. He feels foolish for asking, but it’s the only way to make sure he’s not ruining the entire evening.

But you sigh in relief and nod your head yes, and it gives you the push you need to close the distance from him. You don’t know which one happened first; touching his lips with yours, grasping his arms for balance, or standing on your tiptoes on his shoes. He keeps you there, his strong hands securing your waist.

“You’re making me feel like a kid…” It makes you giggle into the kiss, and he can’t not possibly fall in love with the sound of that—with the feel of your lips pulled up right against his.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing…” Bradley runs his hands down your sides gently. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

“All night? You mean you’ve been thinking about making out with me while I tell you my life story?” you gasp, feigning shock and offense.

He laughs again. “Maybe for a moment or two there, I’ll admit.”

“I thought you were a gentleman!” you give him a playful smack on his behind, and there’s a flash of… something in his eyes. A spark, or a darkening. You’re not sure what it is yet, but it sends butterflies into your stomach yet again.

Bradley tucks some loose strands of your hair behind your ear. “I’m still a gentleman.”

“Really? I don’t believe that…” you sway his hips lightly, “I think you’re very… very bad,” you purr out, your lips barely touching.

He meets you halfway, and it feels like less of a shock this time. You gladly lose yourself in him, knowing you’ve crossed the line now. You finally notice how his mustache scratches your skin in a nice way, how he holds you flush against him, how he just melts into you in the kiss… enshrouding you in his warmth and lighting you on fire at the same time.

Bradley pulls away, barely just. His forehead is still pressed against yours, your noses are bumping, and his breath melding with yours. He licks his lips and you swear you can almost taste it. “You’re making it really hard for me to be a gentleman, kid…”

You can’t help but chuckle at the nickname. It’s not one you expect, but it sounds right somehow. “I didn’t invite you all the way here to be a gentleman.”

The twinkle in his eyes darken. Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him. “Is that right?” Bradley’s hands slide down your hips, finding the swell of your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

The air catches in your throat, and you swallow lightly. “Mm-hm.”

Instead, you lead him into the bedroom. Bradley is right behind you, barely a step behind. His hands have found a home on your hips and he seems adamant to stay there for a moment. Insisting to hold onto you because he worries he’ll get ahead of himself before you’re ready. But gosh, you’ve been ready all night and you’re practically twisting your arms around trying to reach the zipper on the back of your dress.

“Come here, I got you,” he rasps, his heart skipping as he drags the zipper down your back. He’s not sure which one he loves more; the dip of your spine that he wants to trace with your tongue, or the way the dress falls to the floor and reveals what’s underneath that prim and proper pink dress.

A tiny scrap of lace held by a black strap on either side of your hips, framing the swell of your ass perfectly.

And he swears, for a split second, he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

“Fuck…” he breathes out.

You can’t turn around fast enough. It might be a good ‘fuck’, but what if it’s a bad one? “What’s wrong?”

Bradley just blinks at you, for no other reason than how your nipples are poking out the side of the skimpy triangle of your bra. And that your lipstick is smeared on the edges from kissing him.

But of course, your mind is already racing from the lack of response and you’re already thinking, oh no this was a bad idea I shouldn’t have worn this—

“Hey, hey…” he sees your face fall and your arms come up to cover your chest and he immediately steps in. Holding you close, hoping to give you comfort. “Is this all for me?”

Oh, shit. Maybe if you close your eyes tight enough, you would melt to the floor. “I know, it’s a little much—”

“No, that’s not what I asked…” Bradley tilts your chin up, making you look him in the eye. “I said… Did you put these on for me?”

Your breath comes up short, and you nod ever so slightly. You don’t even trust your own voice not to betray how much you want him to like it. How much you want him.

“It’s perfect. I love it. Thank you.” He smiles into your lips, kissing you there. Spelling out how he feels with his hands on your ass, his mouth on yours. “Such a good girl…”

That flips a switch in your brain and he can see it. Your eyes go wide, your posture changes, and all of a sudden, you look so… small in his arms. So vulnerable, so beautiful. So perfect.

Suddenly, he’s holding the world in his arms. The sexy little thing you call panties is a pesky little nuisance now, and he can’t wait to get it off of you. His broad shoulders are keeping your legs open, his nose nuzzling your pubic bone as he looks up at you.

Bradley lowers you down on the side of the bed, settling on his knees before you. Committing every inch to memory by touch, from your ankle to your knee, up the inside of your thighs. When he reaches the scrap of fabric at your core, he feels it slick. He smirks. “What do we have here?”

Your face heats up. How the fuck are you supposed to answer that? No words are coming to your head—not when he’s drawing patterns over your pussy, making the lace glisten all over. And when your panties are positively ruined, he draws his hand back and licks the offending fingers in earnest.

And all it takes is a taste to send him into a frenzy.

“Fuck honey, need to taste you…” he murmurs between feverish kisses all over your legs. “Can I?”

You nod fervently, feeling like he’s got you under a spell.

“Use your words, kid.” He grins, playfully biting the inside of your thigh.

The sharp sensation makes you yelp, and you grip his hair in reflex. “Yes, want your mouth on me, please…”

“Good girl, asking so nicely…” he chuckles, satisfied with your response. Then, he pulls you to the edge of the bed. That dainty scrap of lace you call panties is a pesky nuisance now, and he couldn’t wait any longer to get it off of you. With your legs hiked up on his broad shoulders, he dives into you.

A taste, as it turns out, is an understatement because what Bradley does is devour.

“Oh, fuck…” you gasp sharply at the contact.

With one hand pinning your thigh open, he laps you up in earnest, figuring out the many ways he can make you squirm. Time ceases to exist because it feels like he makes you come in no time, but also he’s been down there forever. But he goes on and on and on until his name comes out in a desperate chant of lust and need.

“Bradley Bradley Bradley…” she grinds shamelessly into his mustache now, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome sensation on your part. “Please, I’m gonna…”

“I know, honey. I got you. It’s okay.” It’s an oddly wholesome thing to say in a moment like this, but maybe you’re a hopeless romantic at heart, because sweet nothings get you off.

Your orgasm strikes like a thunderbolt, and you find yourself arching into his mouth. The more you take, the more he gives—or is it the other way around?— It seems like he takes as much pleasure in it as you do. Maybe even more, as he holds onto you as you squirm away overstimulated.

“Bradley… wait.” You grab a handful of his hair, trembling breathlessly.

His mustache glistens when he comes up for air, and he finally (finally!) takes off his suit jacket as he stands up. He eases up on the throttle and lets you breathe for a second. He rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, watching you spread out like a feast for him. Legs open, bra askew, hair fanned out on the pillow… God, he’s so lucky.

When he returns on top of you, you’re eager to pull him by his belt buckle, but he brushes your hand away. You frown in protest. “But I wanna touch you—”

“It’s not your turn yet, honey,” he chides you teasingly.

“You just had your turn!”

He shrugs, nosing your cheek. “Well, it’s still my turn, so…” Bradley closes the gap again and kisses you openly.

The taste of your arousal on his tongue makes you dizzy, but it can’t distract you from the buzz of his fingers rubbing your devoured pussy, sending shivers down your spine. It’s entirely too much, and you keel over from the contact.

“Somebody’s a little sensitive, huh?” He grins, easing the throttle a little.

“Fuck you…”

“Well, if you say so.” He slides his middle finger in.

“Ohhh… Bradley…” you buck up your hips and moan. But in comes another finger, and you swear it feels like all of him.

He’s wound differently this time, like a man on a mission. With his fingers crooking and stroking your silky walls, beckoning you to come closer, while you grip his shoulders, willing yourself to hold on. But his teeth yanks the edge of your bra to set your nipple free, and his sly tongue finally gets a taste… all resolve goes out the window.

“Come on, honey. I know you got another one in you…” he breathes out, undoing the front clasp of your bra so he can suck your tits with all his might, willing you to come.

And frankly, who are you to say no?

The burst of pleasure hits you from your core to your fingertips. If he wasn’t pinning you down on top of you, you would have probably floated away. But you’re firmly laid on the mattress and feeling everything. Your eyes blink back into focus as you come down from your high.

You pant, staring at him in disbelief. Nobody has ever put that much attention on you in bed before even taking off his clothes. “You got a baseball bat in there or something?”

“Something like that.” He rolls his eyes playfully. Jokingly, you assume.

You take his arm, kissing his wrist, “Can I touch you now?” sticking your tongue out to lick his digits clean of you. Putting on a show as you suck his fingers. “Please?”

He throws his head back and groans. “Fuck.” He can’t resist that doe-eyed look you’re putting on, nor can he resist you undoing his shirt buttons. He can play dominant all he wants, but he knows that the truth of the matter is, he’s all wrapped up around your little finger. “Okay, okay. You win.”

It’s a mess of unbuckling pants, kicking off shoes, and tossing clothes to the floor. Your hand reaches out to trace his gleaming skin, every ridge of his abdomen. You’ve seen the Calvin Klein campaigns and the Men’s Health covers— and gosh, he looks like a dream. But when that thing just springs up to his stomach when he pushes his boxers down…

You didn’t expect him to manifest straight out of your wet dream.

“Holy fuck, you weren’t kidding about your baseball bat,” you breathe out, head tilted as you stare at his thick cock. The vein that runs along the side, the way it curves slightly to the right, the length that makes you clench at the mere thought of it… Fuck, it’s pretty.

Bradley chuckles sheepishly. He knows how big it is, he’s heard all the jokes in the locker room, but hearing it from you hits different. “You scared?”

You should be, a little. But without flinching, you bite your lip and look him in the eye. “Nah, I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

Gosh, he loves you. He’ll have to remember not to blurt that out too early. “Okay, big girl,” he chuckles, kissing you one last time before rolling off of the bed.

His sudden disappearance out of sight makes you frown. “Where are you—” you prop yourself up on your elbow, seeing him fish out a packet of condom from his trousers pocket, “Right. Safety first.”

Bradley nods, tearing the packet open with his teeth and rolling it on. There’s something so hot about how a man looks just before he fucks someone. “Mm-hm. Gotta make sure we’re both covered.”

“Do I need goggles and a helmet, too?”

He pauses as he straddles your hips. “Maybe next round,” he cheekily quips back. The idea of you wearing nothing but a helmet and safety goggles weirdly makes his cock stir, too. But you’re already lying naked under him, and he doubts that much will deter his hard-on.

Bradley pushes himself into you a little, and your eyes water as you whimper out in a blur of pain and pleasure. And here you thought two of his fingers felt full…

He stops in his tracks, trying to gauge your reaction. He nearly lost his mind over how tightly you’re clenched around him, but he doesn’t want to presume. “Too much?” He asks softly, stroking your cheek.

Your breaths run ragged as you look up at him, almost in awe. “You’re just… so big…”

He laughs breathlessly. He hates to brag, but it’s true. And as much as he’s enjoying the way you flutter under him, he has to ask, “Want me to pull out?” Please say no, please say no, I don’t think I can handle it…

“N-no…” you wrap your arms and legs around him, clinging to him for dear life. “But I don’t know if it’ll fit.”

Bradley smiles at what has to be the most adorable look he’s ever seen from you. He kisses your forehead in reassurance. “I’ll go nice and slow, okay? I promise.”

Feeling this small and vulnerable so soon after meeting someone would usually set all kinds of alarms in your head. You never know how a guy would take it. But in this moment, nestled in the crook of his neck, among the mix of his perfume and aftershave and his natural musk… all you want to do is stay. “Okay,” you nod softly.

“Let’s try again then, hm?” He kisses your temple and whispers in your ear, “Open up, love.”

With a deep breath, you bite back a whimper as you take him deeper, still not quite all the way in. “Hurts…”

Bradley stops again, his concern fully taking over now. “You sure you want me to keep going…?”

“Yes!” You surprise yourself with how quick and desperate you answered him. Your eyes shut, trying to offset the warmth setting over your cheeks, as you make the dirty admission, “I… I like it when it hurts.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Bradley has to remind himself not to come on the spot, because holy shit. He wouldn’t go this hard on a woman so early in the game, but… his head is dizzy from how innocently you said it. He takes a breath to pull himself together. “Tell me if it’s too much, alright?”

The air is heavy. The room is silent. You can hear the shift in the tension as you smirk, “Yessir.”

There you are, you little devil. Bradley simply grabs you by the hips and bottoms out inside you. Your face goes slack while your cunt tightens around his cock, and it blows his mind.

He starts out slow, torturously so. Stuffing himself inside your crevice and dragging himself out, willing you to feel every inch. Every ridge. Until your body loosens up and twists around in the throes of passion. Your mouth falls open, your little gasps and moans coming and going as he pleases.

The unhurried pace is nice for a few minutes, when you’re still adjusting to his size. But now that he’s snug inside you, you’re simply aching for more. Your hips arch up into him halfway, a little more urgent, disrupting the rhythm with a pleasant stutter.

He notices this and smiles. “So eager… what’s the rush, hm?”

You answer with a groan. He has a penchant for asking you questions you can’t answer, this man. “You feel so good, baby…” you murmur headily, hands desperately grasping on him—his arms, his shoulders, his back…

”You feel even better.” He nips at your pert nipple, relishing in your angelic little filthy cry. Fuck, he can feel the exact motion of your pussy tightening for him. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that…”

”Then don’t.”

His eyes flicker onto yours immediately. You’re gonna be the death of him, he swears…

You grab his hair by the fistful, keeping his gaze. “I want to feel you come inside me.”

”Oh fuck—” he doesn’t stand a chance. His body reacts faster than his brain could compute, and he holds your hips flush against his as he buries himself as deep as he can. Every twitch of his cock sends you reeling, and your pussy clenches and unwinds in your climax, following him down from his high to yours.

Free falling, hand in hand.

Bradley rolls off of you and you would complain, if it weren’t for the way he immediately pulls you into his chest. Thank fuck. You’re not quite ready to untangle from him yet. Not when your breaths still run a bit ragged, as if accidentally catching each other’s. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and it feels unlike your regular out-of-town hookup. No, this one’s different. But not a word is said between you on that for different reasons— each of you holding your cards close to your chest, as close as you’re holding each other.

#nowhere to go but up from here on out folks!!#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #footballer!bradley #footballer!bradley x popstar!reader #top gun imagine #top gun au #ava writes #fever pitch

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fushic0re · 10 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐑 ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆୨ৎ

𝐓𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞,

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞,

𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐧𝐮𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐬,

𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬.

𝑽𝑶𝑳𝑼𝑴𝑬 𝑰: 𝑨𝑲𝑨𝑵𝑬’𝑺 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀𝑩𝑶𝑶𝑲

𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅! 🦌☕📖❄...........akane aka @haravath0t & i have decided to come together for some cute holiday festivities! here, you will find fics posted from thanksgiving all the way up to december 26 that will hopefully get you and your bloboros in the holiday spirit. please enjoy ♡

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆! 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠' 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 ⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ

☃ = beware! this forbiden snowman will lead you to works with smut!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"you're a mean one, mr. grinch" || miguel o'hara x filipina!reader

"and so, the grinch's heart grew three sizes". | in which your grumpy husband thinks it's feasibly too early to start decorating for christmas, but knows better than to mess with a filipina and her christmas decorations.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

POV: glam-mas with sugar daddy!ransom drysdale || visual board + blurb

“breakfast at tiffany’s and bottles with bubbles, girls with tattoos who like getting in trouble. lashes and diamonds, atm machines, buy myself all of my favorite things.” | in which your sugar daddy makes christmas an entire affair of spoils for you.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

a husband's guide to gift giving || satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna, aoi todo.

how they are as gift givers (how soon do they shop, do they shop late, etc.)

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟒 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

POV: ice skating with steve rogers || visual board + blurb

the captain surprises you with an impromptu skate date.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟓 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

a husband's guide to noche buena || the fushiguros, the getos, satoru gojo, kento nanami x filipina!reader

christmas eve is when the real party starts for fellow filipinos. how do your husbands navigate the celebration?

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟔 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

POV: you and harry potter's first christmas. || visual board + blurb

you and harry are officially moved into your new apartment. it's safe to say that the first christmas spent together in your shared home is a special one.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟕 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"butter, sugar, flour" || toji fushiguro (feat. baby megumi)

the sorcerer killer sure kills it at decorating cookies.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟖 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☃ "is santa here yet?" || dad!satoru gojo

in which you and satoru finally have some alone time…but baby gojo is vigilantly watching for santa’s arrival.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟗 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☃ "been an angel all year" || suguru geto

in which trying on dresses for a holiday party turns into a dressing room quickie.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟎 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☃ a husband's guide to drunken confessions || satoru goji, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, shiu kong, aoi todo.

in true hallmark movie fashion, the holiday party ends with drunken professions of love.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟏 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☃ POV: you and miguel o'hara are under cover || visual board + blurb

reader and miguel are undercover at a corporate christmas party spying on an enemy. things get a little steamy when their relationship is questioned.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟐 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☃ "i saw mommy kissing santa claus" || suguru geto

it’s nanako and mimiko’s first christmas, and suguru wants to make it special by dressing up as santa claus. chaos ensues when they catch their mom kissing santa.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟑 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☃ a husband's guide to presents || satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, aoi todo

who thinks of themselves as your present vs. who thinks of you as their present

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟒 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☃ "undisclosed desires" || toji fushiguro

sparring in the snow turns into a heated exchange.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟓 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

POV: a white christmas with steve rogers || visual board + blurb

spending your first christmas away from the avengers up in the mountains in a cozy cabin, sharing childhood stories and heartfelt professions.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟔 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

a husband's guide to taking the kids to see santa || satoru gojo, toji fushiguro, kento nanami.

it's the time of the year in which you and your husband take the kids to the mall to meet santa.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟕 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

POV: christmas as mamaguro (feat. baby megumi)

christmas morning in the fushiguro household. all is well.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟖 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

a husband's guide to christmas recitals || steve rogers, andy barber, ransom drysdale, lloyd hansen, curtis everett

in which it's finally time to watch your kids perform.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟗 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"chestnuts roasting on an open fire" || kento nanami

a cozy day spent baking and decorating christmas cakes with your husband.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟎 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

a husband's guide to mistletoe || satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, aoi todo.

uh oh! there's a mistletoe hanging above you!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟏 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☃️ "i'll crawl home to her" || ryomen sukuna

christmas miracles do happen. like sukuna finally reuniting with his long lost queen of curses after centuries.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟐 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"i'm mrs. snow, till death we'll be freezing" || dad!satoru gojo

satoru decides to spend the holidays with just you and your child much to the gojo clan's dismay. christmas is filled with fun and laughter with no responsibilities in sight.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟑 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☃️ a rockstar's guide to romance || rockstar!choso kamo

so...you're officially a rockstar's girl, huh?

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟒 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☃️ a college student's guide to romance || college au!choso kamo

choso as your scary yet shy college boyfriend.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟓 °❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☃ "i'll be home for christmas" || toji fushiguro

you knew that toji and megumi were a package deal, but the togetherness of the holiday season caused insecurity regarding your role as a mother to the toddler to arise. a particular mission puts everything in perspective for you.

#miguel o’hara x reader #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #ryoment sukuna x reader #aoi todo x reader #shiu kong x reader #jjk x reader #steve rogers x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #andy barber x reader #curtis everett x reader

284 notes · View notes

hellfire--cult · 1 year

Text

Inspired by this TikTok

Cupid!Eddie x Fem!Reader - Oneshot

Request - Eddie's past - Back to Hawkins

Words: 10.7K

Warnings: Pure absolute fluff and romantical tension. No Smut. You will fall in love with Dorito.

Summary: After bad dates and a heartbreak, you believe god is playing jokes on you. You believe love is not for you anymore, but your own personal cupid comes to the rescue to change just that... You just never thought he would look like that.

A/N: IDK I just loved the idea of that TikTok showing Cupid falling for the girl he is supposed to help, and I found myself writing a whole fucking oneshot of Eddie being the protagonist. Personally, I love this couple! So if you want to send some asks, or blurbs for me to write, I would love to write more oneshots of these two, or even imagines! (and smut ofc) SO ASK AWAY.

If you do get inspired by this story or Cupid!Eddie, please, credit properly! I would love to read or watch whatever you guys make! ❤️ Anyways, ENJOY, and remember that if you liked the story, a reblog is very much appreciated! ❤️

And follow me for more oneshots and series!

You were sure this was a joke.

Like, this had to be a cruel joke sent by someone or anything at all. You were minding your own business, at your company’s annual party, and you could invite guests this year.

Now, you didn’t expect your own fucking boss, who is ten years older than you, to walk in with your Ex-Boyfriend, hand in hand. The man who told you he loved you, asked for your hand in marriage, and the very next day he told you it was all an impulse.

You left him on the spot.

That was a year ago, but to see him again, hand in hand with your own boss, who met him before, was just a cruel joke. You almost dropped your glass of champagne as they smiled while walking, introducing themselves to people. The worst part of it all? They looked genuinely happy. You could see it when he would lean over to whisper something in her ear, and she would giggle, or the soft touches of hers fixing his tie, or a strand of hair out of place.

You were a mess, for a whole year, trying to move on, going date after date, with people that weren’t even in your own interest, but you never rejected a date. But you were now tired, wanting a connection, and it seems like God wanted to laugh at you right now, because he was showing you how your Ex had no problem in doing so, and it seems he found an even better match.

So you went home. You didn’t even stay for the party, and you didn’t even introduce yourself to them. You have seen enough for the night, and all you wanted to do was to get home, pet your fat cat called Dorito, and head to bed. Maybe cry a little.

Makeup gone, hair up in a messy bun, long oversized shirt on, and a pair of large sweatpants, you hopped in your bed with Dorito on your lap, and turned on the TV to find something suitable to watch while you drift to sleep.

But it seems now Cupid wants to laugh at you too.

You change channel through channel. Titanic, The Notebook, Harry meets Sally, Dear John, and fucking Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

“Are you fucking kidding me you son of a cunt!” Dorito perked up, alarmed, looking at you and you were huffing angrily through your nose, staring at the screen across your bed, turning it off completely and throwing your remote to the floor. You held onto Dorito, under its armpits and made him stand on your lap, in front of you.

“Mreow~” He greeted you and you just felt your eyes fill with hot tears as you looked at him.

“Is cupid playing some fucking joke to me? Why does he get a happy ending and I had no luck whatsoever? Why?! I was the one who got hurt!” Your cat tilted its head to the side as you kept your rant going on, anger and sadness coming out of your mouth. “Fuck love, fuck destiny, fuck the cunt cupid is.”

The doorbell rang, startling you and Dorito out of your stare contest.

“What the fuck…” You looked at your phone and tapped on it to look at the time. 10:25 PM. Maybe a neighbor in your building had a problem, or needs help with something? You stood up, putting Dorito on your bed, and walked towards the door, looking through the peephole. A man you don’t recognize stood there, long hair down, wearing a black leather jacket and he wasn’t facing the door.

You slowly opened it, a sweet smell invading your nostrils , and you realized he was just a tad taller than you. You cleared your throat and he turned around to flash a dimpled smile towards your way and you felt like your throat had caught on fire by how beautiful this man looked to you.

“Hi! I’m Eddie.” He introduced himself to you and you slowly blinked, coming back to your senses and realizing just how horrible you look right now. You had no makeup on, a messy bun in your head, your sleepwear was on, and you had Stitch slippers on your feet. You blushed a deep red and introduced yourself to him, wanting the earth to swallow you whole.

“Are you new in the building?” He looked around and then back down at you and shook his head.

“No, I’m here for work.”

“Work?”

“Yeah, I’m your Cupid.”

Blink.

What did he just say?

“I’m sorry, what?” You were stunned on the ground, staring at the crazy man before you.

“Like I said, I’m your cupid. I’m here to help you find your one destined partner, and for you to also apologize for the way you–”

You closed the door on his face. No. No way. This is some sick dream of yours, it has to be! Maybe the glass of champagne you took was enough for you to lose your senses and your right mind. Or maybe you’ve gone crazy with loneliness. That is also a really big possibility that you weren’t going to deny. You locked your door, stepped away from it and took a deep breath in.

“Okay, that was weird.” You walked towards your room again, only to scream at the top of your lungs when you saw that man laying against the headboard of your bed, petting your cat that was purring on his chest.

“It is very rude to slam doors on people’s faces.” He glared at you as Dorito started doing biscuits on his chest. You were breathing heavily with your hand on your chest and you pointed at your living room and back at him, and repeated the motion again.

“But you– There– And now here– how?” You couldn’t even formulate a good question. You were completely shocked, because a strange man, who claims to be a being that doesn’t exist, was on your bed, petting your cat with no care in the world.

“Like I said, I’m cupid. Your cupid to be exact.” He explains as Dorito nuzzles his face against his neck, purring wildly. He is an affectionate cat, but only with you really, so you were surprised he was even doing this to a random man that was on your bed. Who MAGICALLY appeared in your bed.

“What the actual fuck, am I drugged or some shit?”

“Nope.”

“High?”

“Nope.”

“Did I get drunk and didn’t notice?”

“Not really, no.”

“Did I go crazy?”

“Not for now, no.” He was looking at you while you rambled on and on, being patient. You were trying to correct your breathing, gulping loudly as you nodded once in thought.

“Okay… Okay, this is fine… This happens in real life, completely normal…” You said more to yourself than anyone else in the room as you sat at the edge of the bed, looking at nothing in particular. You heard Eddie sigh, as he put Dorito on his belly for him to lay there.

“I know it’s a lot to take, but I sensed you were a little bit distraught, and you even insulted me.” He says with a stern look on his face and you slowly turn to look at him with wide eyes.

“How is any of this real?”

“Alright. I’m going to explain it to you so you can finally digest what’s going on.” He readjusted himself, putting Dorito on his lap as he sat right next to you on the edge of the bed. “Everyone’s got a special cupid. We normally don’t get to work unless the person actually feels discouraged and hopeless in terms of love.”

“I’m not discouraged–”

“Yes, yes you are, and I don’t blame you. Seeing an ex move on happily when you remain stuck is not something easy to see, much less if all the guys you’ve been seeing till now were a complete waste of time.” He says with a chuckle and you were still trying to comprehend what’s going on right now. Maybe you need to sleep, but if this is a dream, then might as well get some advice.

“Alright… So why are you sending me these guys that are horrible for me? Don’t you know who’s the one for me? Like my destined person?” You ask and he started petting your cat on his lap as it purred loudly while he looked forward.

“No. I don’t know who your match is, nor the one for you. And before today, I never sent anyone your way, nor made you fall for anyone, not even with your ex.” He explains to you and you were frowning in confusion at his words.

“I thought cupids, like… Throw an arrow through two people’s hearts and they fall in love.” At that Eddie lets out a wild laugh, shaking his head.

“No, no… That’s all Cartoon stuff. We only help consummate a relationship. We help our person be hopeful about love again.” He explains to you and you were still wondering how he would help in this situation.

“So, how does this work?”

“Well, I can make you meet people that might be of your taste, just out of pure coincidence. I can help you with your looks, with your confidence, and also advise you.” He finishes saying as Dorito lets out a big yawn and you couldn’t help but yawn as well, copying his movement.

“So, you will basically hook me up with someone and hope for the best. Is that it?” He chuckles at you, shrugging and standing from the bed.

“Something like that, but we’ll see. For now, go to bed.” You were feeling your eyes growing heavy, and your body completely relaxed as the sweet scent invaded your nostrils. This was a good dream, knowing your mind made up a little cupid to feel hopeful of finding someone for you. The one.

Yeah, you really wanted to find the one.

Your eyes slowly opened, feeling so refreshed, like you had slept correctly for once in your life.

You sighed happily when you felt Dorito purring loudly on your chest, waiting for you to wake up. You wrapped your arms around him, caressing him softly.

“What a dream huh? You were in it too. This cupid dude showed up and you were all over him.” You giggled, sitting up on your bed and you sniffed the air. You slowly stood up, your stomach grumbling with the need of food in your system, and you walked out to the living room.

You screamed.

“JESUS H. CHRIST!” Eddie thrashed around, the plate on his hand falling onto the sink as he finished washing it. He turned around to look at you with a frown to his brows and widened eyes. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“You– Am I still dreaming?” He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Dorito was meowing on your arms, trying to get away and you put him down. He waddled towards Eddie, throwing himself on the floor to show him his big fat belly. Eddie bent down and scratched the cat, making him stretch out.

“I told you, I’m real.” He says, getting up again and putting some eggs and bacon on a plate. He put it on the island counter and motioned for you to sit on the stool. You slowly walked towards it, sitting on it, not leaving your sight off Eddie.

“This is crazy… Am I the only one who can see you?” You ask as you see the plate pushed over to you and an empty glass. You frowned at it and looked at him. “Where’s the juice?” He smiled at you and looked down at the glass again and you followed it, seeing the glass now with the orange liquid inside.

Your heart was beating against your chest, the nerves flying all around your belly. This was real, he is real, what he is doing, as magical as it appears, it’s real.

“Yes, and no. People can see me, but my powers don’t really work on them. My only job here is to get you better, and hopeful for love.” He explains to you once again and you blink, grabbing onto the glass of juice, taking a sip of it. You put it down and scanned him, squinting a little bit.

“I thought Cupids were like cherubs… You clearly don’t look angelic to me.” He laughed at that, giving you a nod.

“That is true. I don’t look like a regular cupid. We all have our own personalities, and our own styles. We were human once, so it is something natural for us to be ourselves.” You were confused now, interest picking up as the shock of the situation was wearing off.

“You were human? You look human to me, present tense.”

“A normal human cannot teleport and make things appear out of thin air darling. I look like one, but I am not one.” He explains to you and you tilted your head completely confused.

“And how did you become one?” He was about to answer you, but his head lifted up, almost alarmingly and he clapped at you to quicken your pace with your food.

“I’ll tell you later. Eat fast!” You were looking all around as he paced around the room and you basically inhaled your eggs and bacon, chugging down your juice, almost choking as you saw Eddie pouring milk on Dorito’s plate.

“Okay, I almost died, but I am done, what happened?” You asked him and he stood up, looking at your attire and he sighed, shaking his head.

“That won’t do, okay… So, he uses polo shirts, so maybe…” He tilted his head once and you felt a swoosh of air hit your body once, and you were completely confused as to what happened until you looked down at yourself, your eyes widening when you saw yourself wearing some leather pants and a white shirt on.

“What the–”

“Nope.” He tilted his head again, and you felt the air hit you again. You looked down to see a floral pink dress on you and you scrunched up your nose at it. “I know, it’s pink.” He gave a nod to it, and the dress turned navy blue.

“You can… change my clothes?” You asked him, completely bewildered and he nodded, letting a sigh out.

“Like I said, I am here to help you.” He walked towards you and you felt your breathing hitch as he pulled you hair down from the bun and he shook it a little bit. You pushed his hands away but then saw he was putting your hair over your shoulders in perfect waves. He then put his hands on your face and you stared up at him, feeling your breath quicken at his stare.

He was absolutely gorgeous.

“Alright, makeup naturally done, hair done, clothes excellent. Good. He should arrive any second now, so I will hide in your room.” He pulled away from you and you blinked wildly, shaking your head in confusion.

“What? Who is coming–” Your doorbell rang and he whispered to you.

“Just be yourself, no tricks, no jokes, nothing. Be yourself!” He bolted out of the room, getting hold of Dorito, giving you a soldier salute before closing the door behind him. You were stunned into the ground and the doorbell rang once more, and you snapped out, rushing towards the door, slowly opening it to see the man before you.

Oh lord…

He didn’t turn around yet to look at you, but you could already see from his profile that he was so beautiful. Beauty marks on his features, brown hair neatly done on his head, brown eyes looking at the horizon while he waited for you to open the door, and… He was indeed wearing a polo shirt.

“Hi! I’m Steve, I moved–” He looked at you only to stop talking completely as he stared at you, gawk would be the exact word. You were looking up at him, waiting for him to continue but he started stuttering out of nowhere. “I– Shit, um– Like I said, I’m Steve.” He introduced himself again and you smiled at his playfulness, feeling a warm feeling in your chest.

“Hi Steve.” You presented yourself and you looked down to see he was holding a small bag of something. He took a deep breath in and gave the bag to you, which you grabbed with a confused frown in your face, but your smile never fell.

“I uh, those are cookies, I didn’t make them of course. I don’t know how to bake, or cook for that matter. I mean, I tried, you know, it’s not that I expect it to be done for me, but I just simply suck at culinary interests.” He was rambling, completely nervous in your presence. He didn’t think a beautiful girl would live in his building, and now he was thankful for Robin who helped him pick this place.

“I mean, if you know how to cook sausages and some eggs, then you’re good to go.” You reply to him, trying to lighten the situation and you succeed, as he chuckles, showing you off his charming smile and you could almost feel yourself melt at the sight.

“I’m more of a pasta guy. I’m a pro at that.” He replies to you and you giggle at his response with a nod.

“Well, if I ever smell burning, I know who to save first.” He put a hand over his chest as if he got wounded by your words and he winced as if in pain.

“We just met and you are already killing me off? That’s brutal.”

“I said I’d save you.” You giggled again and he bit his bottom lip, nodding.

“At least there’s one good person in this building. I said hello to the lady in the first floor, department B, and she almost sent her cat to chase me off.” He said to you with a frown and you nodded at that with a roll of the eyes.

“Mrs. O’Donnell. Crazy bitch, don’t ever cross paths with her. When you are doing your laundry, or even taking out the trash. You see her, turn around and come back later.” You advise him, remembering how you tried to start a conversation with her in the laundry room and she kept eyeing your clothes to tell you that you were a sinner.

“Okay, keep that noted.” He licked his lips and you felt yourself blushing slightly at the change of air around you two as he took a step closer to you. “Should I keep my distance with you too?”

You gave out a little snort and you felt like a high school student again as he flirted with you, looking down at the floor, swaying a little.

“I’m a good neighbor.” You reply, looking up at him and you notice the slight glint in his eyes as you let him go on with his flirting, not pushing him away and not making any excuses. He pulled out his cellphone, almost dropping it because of his nervousness but he tried to play it cool for you as he opened his contact list.

“Since you are the only friendly neighbor I met, is it too crazy to ask for your number?” He licked his bottom lip and you raised an eyebrow up, smirking at his sly way of asking for your number.

“You don’t have to do the whole neighbor charade to ask for my number, you know?” You tell him, seeing him blush slightly. God, he is cute. But to your surprise, he continued with his playfulness, grinning at you.

“Oh, you want to give it to me for some other purpose?” Your eyes widened, catching you off guard, and he laughed at your reaction instantly, making your cheeks get a tint of pink in them as butterflies swam in your belly.

“Now for that teasing, I will not give you my number.” You threatened him and his eyes widened, shaking his head but his smile was still on his lips.

“Sorry, sorry. I would love to have your number.” He sincerely replies now, handing you his phone and you bite the inside of your cheek to forbid yourself from smiling even further as you type in your contact number in his phone. You handed it back to him and he smiled down at it and then looked up at you. “If you smell smoke, it’s probably me making toast.”

You shook your head with a giggle and said goodbye to him, looking at his retreating back as he glanced back at you one more time, making you jump in embarrassment as he caught you red handed spying on him. You immediately closed the door of your apartment, the smile not disappearing on your face.

A cute boy. A very handsome boy, and a gentleman at that.

You sighed happily and turned around, only to scream at the sight of Eddie with an excited look on his face, holding Dorito by his armpits, jumping up and down slightly, making the cat meow in annoyance.

“You gotta stop screaming every time you see me sweets.” He said while putting Dorito down on the floor, and looking at you. “So? Did you like him? I can sense you do, but I want to be completely sure.” You shook your head but a smile crept on your lips and you hid your face in your hands bashfully, making Eddie jump in excitement. “Hell yeah baby! That’s what I am talking about!”

“Now I get it when you said to me you will make me meet people just by coincidence.” He nodded at your words and sat down on the couch, Dorito following his step and laying down next to him.

“Exactly! I knew he was coming over today, and I can also see a little bit of the other person before meeting you, letting me know that he is indeed worth meeting.” He explains to you as starts petting your cat, making him yawn loudly. You walked towards the couch and sat on it, leaving Dorito in between you and Eddie.

“So, can you tell me about him?”

“Nuh uh. I know about him, but won’t tell you. You have to meet him yourself. What I can tell you though, is that he is not a psychopath, nor is he into freaky shit or something. I wouldn’t risk your life like that.” Your heart skipped a bit at his words, feeling a sense of protection from him. You cleared your throat and looked out the window.

“So, you’re like my guardian angel now?” He chuckled at that, and shrugged.

“Different job, but for now, it kinda seems like it.”

Steve messaged you the day after.

And the day after that.

And the next day he invited you for some coffee at the cafe next to your building.

The days blended together, and you found Eddie’s company in your apartment quite warming. It was nice to come home and see him watching a movie or hear him sing in the shower. You put out your couch as his bed, which he told you was not necessary since he could come and go wherever he pleased, but you insisted nonetheless.

You both sometimes cooked together, and sometimes he would make food appear when he didn’t feel like moving an inch. You wondered if his powers made him tired in some way. He was very reserved with who he was, and what he could do, but other times, like today, sharing a glass of wine, he would let go a little bit.

“So, you told me you were human before.” You say as you both sat on the couch, facing one another with Dorito in the middle with his belly up for scratches which Eddie was dutifully doing.

“That’s right.”

“Does that mean you are dead?” You ask him and he chuckles, taking a sip of his glass of wine, shaking his head.

“No. I am not, but I am immortal, and for some reason I don’t bleed.” You nodded in understanding, but still slightly confused, and took a sip of your own drink before talking again.

“Alright, but did you die to be able to turn into cupid?” He frowned at that, looking down at your cat, letting out a big sigh. You felt the air in the room shift into something more melancholic, as if sadness sipped through the walls.

“No, not exactly. The only way to become a cupid is if you chose to be. You can die from a broken heart, or continue on as a helper.” He explains to you and you feel your heart sink in your chest as well as anxious nerves writhe in your stomach.

“Does that… mean you were heartbroken?” He wasn’t looking at you, just swirling his glass with the liquid inside. He looked distant, as if the memory was causing him pain.

“I was. But a broken heart can come from various places. From a lover, from a friend, from family… I just received too many blows in my life, and I couldn’t take it anymore.” He says while taking a sip out of his glass, a very long one. You wondered how many ended up like him, disheartened, broken, to the point of not wanting to keep going any longer.

“Did a lover do that to you?” You ask him, curiosity very present in your eyes as you looked at him and he gazed up to lock eyes with yours. He shook his head and your features grew sad for him. “I know you said you couldn’t know who is ‘The One’, but does it even exist?” You ask him now and he straightens up in his seat and gives you a nod.

“Yes. The One exists. Your destined person. They do, but there is… something about that.” He says with a pained frown while looking at you. “They can be alive at any point. They could be alive right now, same timeline as you, or, they could have already died, or never been born yet.”

Your eyes widened at that. So, the game of life and destiny was just some cruel joke. It was as if someone was just playing dice over your heads and deciding if you would suffer or meet your other half. If you were going to live happily ever after, or drown yourself in misery and loneliness.

“Did you have one?”

“No. When I became cupid, I only got one piece of information, and it was that they weren’t born yet.” You nodded at that, taking a sip of your wine and scooted even closer to him.

“So, right now you don’t know who they are at all?”

“I don’t know if they were even born. Once you become cupid your own love life is unknown to you.” He chuckles sadly, grabbing the bottle of wine off the table and pouring himself some more. You lean your glass towards him and he pours you some as well, muttering a soft ‘thank you’ to him.

“When did you…?” You stutter a little at your question, not really knowing how to keep going with it, but a knock on your door makes you jump up slightly, and you look at Eddie alarmingly. He simply chuckles and looks at you, his hand reaching up to your cheek, lingering there for a few seconds.

Your breathing hitched slightly as you looked into his eyes and he looked back into yours. The alcohol was mixing with the butterflies in your stomach as you felt his warmth invade your skin, your air, and you just wanted to keep looking at him. You wanted to hold him, tell him everything is going to be okay, that he was an amazing man, even after what he went through.

And you just felt a little helpless around him.

He gulped and pulled away from your face, giving you a dimpled smirk.

“Put a little blush on those cheeks. Go open the door for him.” He got up from the couch and held onto his glass of wine, walking into your room. You didn’t know if he was in there or actually leaves whenever Steve knocks or comes to say something to you. You got up from the couch, putting the glass on your coffee table and walked towards the door, pulling the door open to reveal Steve in a suit.

“Hi there.” He says with a smile and you feel yourself becoming warm at his greeting. He is such a cute man.

“Hi Steve, or should I say Mr. Harrington?” You say with an eyebrow raised up in question, combined with your smile as you eyed up his suit. He laughed and gave you a nod.

“Yeah, I know, you’re mesmerized.” You roll your eyes at his words and you giggle, feeling this interaction lifting the heavy mood from earlier on that you had with Eddie. “I actually got off work early, and it got me thinking… uhm.”

You bite your bottom lip, giggles completely halting as you wait for his words. Was it going to happen? Was he going to ask you out? Finally?

‘He is.’

Your eyes slightly widened at the voice, making you look behind your back to see if Eddie was next to you, or behind you, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

‘I can talk to you in your mind sweetheart. Part of my job is to make sure you don’t mess up while talking.’

You wanted to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but you couldn’t when Steve was being a mumbling mess in front of you. He might think you’re making fun of him or something and you certainly weren’t doing that.

‘Urge him.’

“Steve…” You called him out, giving him a small smile of encouragement and he took a deep breath in, stopping with his rambling and cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I just haven't asked a girl out in a while so…” He said with a slight blush on his cheeks and you raised an eyebrow up at him.

“You were going to ask me out?” You say, almost a whisper as you looked up at him and it seems he got all the courage he needed as you stared at him, waiting for him to keep going.

“Yeah. I got off early today and honestly… The first thing I thought of was that I wanted to see you.” Oh, that certainly made you blush, and he wasn’t far behind that, but despite his nervousness and his cheesiness, he kept going. “So maybe, I can pick you up at 6 PM on friday? We can head down to the bar a few blocks from here.”

‘You don’t even need me to tell you what to say right now.’

You cursed at Eddie inside your head because he was distracting you. ‘Shut up!’ You yelled at him, not really knowing if it works the other way around, until you hear a soft chuckle vibrate in the depths of your mind, and you knew he had gotten your message.

“Friday at 6… It’s a date, Stevie.” You comment with a smile, and the guy before you was almost bursting with happiness as his eyes sparkled at your approval. He bit his bottom lip, and you felt your heart beat loudly into your ears as he nodded at you.

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” You watched as he walked down the hallway, stealing a few glances over his shoulder and towards you. You waved at him one last time until he was out of sight and you entered the house, slamming the door shut with a big smile on your face. Eddie was already out of your room, smiling with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Eddie, oh my god!” You squealed excitedly as you rushed towards your phone to raise the music up from the speakers. ‘I Wanna dance with somebody’ by Whitney Houston was blasting and you couldn’t help but want to dance out of happiness right now. You were going on a date with a cute guy on friday! A guy who doesn’t look like he just wants to get in your pants! A guy that is genuinely interested in you and is willing to make conversation and get to know you!

“The 80’s? Really?” Eddie asks with a cock of his head, his eyebrow raised up. You just rushed over to him and grabbed his hands, twirling both of you around, catching him completely by surprise as he stumbled while you moved him. “You know this kind of music is not my scene? Thought my clothes were pretty obvious, sweetheart.”

You felt your stomach twirl at the nickname, but you kept the smile on your face and then started pulling his arms back and forth, making him sway in his place. A smile was creeping in his face as he looked down at you and he instantly twirled you in place, making you giggle and then he pulled you to his body, his hand on the small of your back and his right hand holding your left.

He started singing along as he started moving around in an exaggerated manner, making you laugh and helping him sing along. You were happy, content in this moment right here. You felt his sweet scent invading you, as you saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he sang along in high pitch and then low in order to make you laugh.

“Now that’s a singer right there.” You say with a smile and he chuckled, looking down at you.

“I was in a band actually. Played guitar too.” He says to you and you caught the sad smile that painted in his features. You raised your hand up, pulling a curl of his behind his ear, slowly and gently, and you felt a wave of lightning course through you, as if you had touched a naked copper cable.

He was staring down at you, his eyes locked in yours as you inspected him, touched him. He was about to pull away out of nervousness, and because he was starting to feel tense at the situation. A situation that never happened to him before. He never had this much interaction with his human, he just helped them and–

“Is the 80’s your time?” You asked him, taking him aback completely. You both fell into a small sway, going side to side as his hands rested on your hips, barely touching you, while your hands rested on his chest, staring up at his features.

“How did you know?”

“You know a lot about the music of that time. I caught you singing some songs before while cooking, or showering and they’re all from the 80’s.” He gave you a small smile and then a nod.

“1989 was the year I decided to become a Cupid. I was 23 years old.” So he is, technically, younger than you. But if you had to count the years he kept his youth, he is much older.

“What happened to you?” You brushed your hand over his chest, just where his heart is, and you could feel the beating of it, and you could almost hear it from how hard it was strumming against his chest.

“I got cheated on by the only girlfriend I ever had… Slipped up and lost my band too and then, I– I lost the only person who ever cared for me. My uncle. Died from a heart attack.” You looked up at him, feeling your eyes burn with incoming tears and he gave you a sad confused smile. “I’m telling you my story, and you’re the one crying?”

“Yes, I mean, it’s you, and you were in pain, so much that you–” You stopped talking. When he mentioned to you that you could die from a heartbreak, you wondered if he meant it literally, or if he meant that the pain was too strong that he considered ending it all for himself. He put his index finger under your chin to raise your head up in order to look at him.

“Hey, I’m okay.” You couldn’t help the sadness that ran over you, like a wave that just drowned all of the happiness you were feeling seconds ago.

“But, what about your friends? You didn’t have any?” You asked him and he winced slightly, giving you a small nod.

“I did tell you I was in a band.” His grip tightened around you, and you realized you both had stopped moving with one another. “Once one becomes a Cupid, it’s as if you never existed. Everyone forgets about you and the memories they shared with you.”

You couldn’t help but stare up at him. He was in constant loneliness, despite being a helper of love. He was all alone, moving around the world by himself, doing all of this for the benefit of others. You shook your head at him, giving him a small smile to take away the tension that was on your shoulders.

“Well, I am your friend now! We can go have fun together, and we can even get you a new guitar!” You say, jumping slightly with excitement but he was not copying you, his eyes staring at you, but not really. He was distant, as if his mind had gone somewhere else. He bit his bottom lip, and let out a sigh.

“Darling… You will forget about me.” You frowned and shook your head at him.

“There’s no way! You’ve helped me so much, and Dorito can hardly live without you now–”

“Once you fall in love, my job is done, and you won’t ever be able to see me again.”

You stood still. Frozen. Your heart stops completely at his words.

You’ll forget about him? Eddie will be gone once all of this is over? He will disappear once you fall for someone else? Does Eddie think you are being a bother and that’s why he is insistent on Steve? Did he not want to spend time with you anymore?

“That’s– That’s not fair, it should be my decision if I want to remember you or not!” You pulled away from him, a tear threatening to run down your cheek. He was standing still, inspecting you with a sad look on his face. He was dreading the moment he would have to tell you this, because he was afraid you would not continue pursuing Steve just to be able to keep being friends with him.

He appreciated it. He’d grown fond of you, and even took notes of all your quirks and little movements. How you bit your nails when you were concentrating on a movie. How you hummed a tune every time you watered your plants. How you wanted the magnets on your fridge to be color distributed. And he adores the fact that you love strawberries to the point of getting sick with them.

“It’s not our decision. It’s destiny. I am just a helper in your life, and not a human.” Your eyes widened at that, and a smile creeped on your lips, walking towards him again, grabbing his hand.

“Then turn human! I can help you get a job! You can move in with me, and we can go to a bigger apartment, and–” You didn’t want him to leave you. Not when he has helped you so much. For the past two weeks, he had helped you build up your confidence in ways you didn’t know you could feel. He had helped you through your nights, crying after going to work to a place where your boss was mentioning how happy she was with her fiance. He had held you, rocked you, sang to you in order for you to calm down.

Eddie was more than happy to help you. That’s his job. He liked, as horrible as it sounds, holding you while you poured your heart out onto his chest, crying as if there was no tomorrow, because then he would make you laugh and it was all thanks to him. He would make you smile, and it would be directed to him.

But the reality of things are way worse than a smile.

“I can’t turn human.” Your smile fell instantly at his words, and you gulped tightly. There was no way… You can’t digest the fact that, if everything went right with Steve, you would forget about Eddie. Then he would end up alone again, and you wouldn’t even know. You would be oblivious to that. He looked at your face and then sighed. “The only way for me to become human again, is to mend my broken heart.”

“Mend…?” He nodded at you and he grabbed your hand, pressing it into his chest.

“I have to love, and be loved in return. Seal the bond with a kiss, and I… I would become mortal again.”

The tear finally slipped from your eye. You felt hopeless for him, a sadness you’ve never felt in your life. Your sister’s passing was something you could see a mile away when she was diagnosed with Leukemia. Your father, you knew he was cheating on your mother since the first day you hit puberty, so you weren’t surprised when they got divorced and he remarried.

This sadness was unexpected, and was washing over you as if it were the only emotion you could feel at the moment.

Eddie’s arms engulfed you, pushing you close to his chest. How is that heart that was beating loudly against his chest broken? How could they hurt someone like him? Why can’t anyone fix it? Why does he have to leave?

“Hey… The good part of this is that Steve looks like an amazing guy… And–” He pulled away, wiggling his eyebrows at you, wiping your tears away. “I did a little bit of research on past encounters, and all girls have really nice things to say.” You sobbed a little as you tried to talk.

“About what?” He wiggled his eyebrows again and that’s when you caught on, gasping and slapping his bicep with a noise of disgust coming out of your throat. He laughed at your reaction, causing you to giggle through your tears.

Cupid is a dork.

“Well, I had a great time.” You finally say as you reach your door, Steve right behind you. You had an amazing evening with him. He picked you up at exactly 6 PM, and you both headed down to the bar he mentioned before. The conversation was fluid, as if you two had known each other for a long while, but also, the flirting was there, but not too explicit because well… Someone was a little distracting through the evening, even now.

‘This is the part where you invite him in, and you blow him on the couch.’

‘Eddie, jesus, shut the fuck up.’

“Me too. And how convenient it is that we live so close to each other.” Steve says with a smile as he leaned on the doorframe of your front door when you finally opened it and stepped inside, looking back up at him.

“That is definitely a plus.” You say while biting your bottom lip, staring up at him. You were anticipating a move of course. You wanted it to happen.

‘He is not going to do it.’

‘Shit, should I?’

A moment of silence was in your mind and then you heard Eddie’s voice again.

‘Maybe it is too soon.’

Huh? That was definitely not the answer you expected him to say. You thought he was going to make you kiss Steve, which you really wanted to. Steve was blushing as he spoke to you about wanting to go on another date again and you really wondered if Eddie was right on it.

‘Are you sure Eds? I mean, he really looks like he wants to, but is too shy to do so.’

‘I said it is too soon.’

You frowned slightly at the change of tone in his voice. It sounded too demanding, as if he were angry with you. Your jaw clenched, and you muted your head, just everything. You tiptoed towards Steve, and planted a soft kiss on his lips in response to his rambling about a second date.

His lips were plump, expectant. He was stunned for a whole second and then you felt him kiss back, his hands and arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close to him. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, feeling your chest warm at the feeling of someone’s lips on yours as well as an anxious feeling that wasn’t sitting quite right at the pit of your stomach.

What it was, you didn’t know.

He pulled away after a few seconds with a blissed look on his face, his eyes completely blown from the kiss, and he smiled downwards at you.

“Well, that answers my question on the second date then.” You giggled at that, your arms still wrapped around his neck.

“Maybe we can have some dinner at your place next time?” You flirted with him, voice low and he whistled, calling out your name with a smirk to his face, knowing what you were meaning.

“It’s a date then. Next wednesday?” You bit your lip and nodded at him. He bent down and kissed you softly on the lips again, pulling away only seconds after and then pulling completely off you. “Can’t wait…” He kissed your cheek and he skipped down the hallway, making a fool out of himself just for you to laugh at. You shook your head and closed the door to your apartment, turning around for your smile to only drop.

Eddie was with arms crossed over his chest, almost glaring at you. You’ve never seen him mad before, so this was a new sight for you.

“Did I speak in chinese?” He asks you and you just roll your eyes at him, going to your kitchen to get a glass of water. “Why did you go against what I said?”

“Because it was bad advice! I kissed him, because he clearly wanted to, and I got myself a second date!” You exclaimed at him, your own anger filling your body as you poured some water into your glass. He was pacing behind you, glaring daggers in your back.

“How can my advice be bad?! I am your Cupid! If I say something it’s because there’s a valid reason for it!”

“And what was the reason to not kiss him tonight?” You turned around to face him and he wasn’t looking at you. He was just looking to the side, at nothing in particular but with the purpose of not clashing with your gaze. “Or what was the reason for distracting me all night?!”

“You were too interested. Guys get bored when girls are easy, just throwing themselves at them.” Your anger was exploding now. What did he just call you?

“Did you just call me easy? Is that what you think I am?!” You couldn’t help how tight your chest was feeling at the moment. You wanted to throw something at him, yell at him, make Dorito scratch his perfect face. His eyes widened and then he slapped his hands over his face, as if he had just realized something.

“Shit, no, that’s not what I meant–”

“Then what did you fucking mean Edward?” You stuck your hip out, looking at him with an angered look in your face and he shook his head at you.

“Don’t twist this on me! You kissed him when I told you not to! You have to follow what I say to you, or this thing with Steve won't happen!” Your nerves were making your body shake, feeling your eyes burning from the incoming tears that were for sure about to spill. Your body was ablaze, and the knot in the stomach you felt before worsened. Your heart was beating in your chest, almost as if you were having a heart attack.

And your mind was going places, words and thoughts swimming in your brain, just so fast, that you didn’t have the chance of thinking before talking.

“Are you that desperate to leave me!?” You yelled out as tears started running down your cheeks, not able to contain your emotions any longer. “Are you that bothered about helping me?! Do I annoy you?! Am I that detestable to you that you want me to forget about you?!”

The self deprecating words kept coming out of your mouth like bullets to him. One by one, hitting him in the chest. He made you cry. The tears that were falling down your cheeks were because of him. He felt his throat closing up as he stared at you, taking a step towards you.

He stared at your sobbing face, as you tried to wipe away your tears and your nose. Even now, even with the stained face, he found you beautiful… And that thought scared him.

He raised his hand up, caressing your cheek, gently, and slowly. You sniffled, looking up at him, and your knees almost got weak at the sight. He was staring at you with eyes you’ve never felt before. An adoration that you only saw in movies, and described in many books you’ve read before.

You instinctively took another step, your body an inch away from his. Your heart started picking up the pace, rapidly, listening to the blood rush through your ears, and your mouth went dry as you looked at him. The world stopped, time itself, even sounds around you became silent.

You wanted to. You needed to. You had to.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he was still in a state of trance, not pulling away from your embrace, but his arms moved by their own accord, wrapping themselves around your waist.

You want him.

You raised yourself up, tippy toeing, slowly in order not to scare him away. You knew these feelings might be inside you, but you needed to make sure. You wanted to make sure. You wanted it to be true.

You need him.

Your chest went flush against his as you started to reach your goal, your breath picking up as the thoughts in your brain ceased to exist. The only thing that was there, the only one was Eddie.

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

Tight hands grabbed onto your shoulders, and ripped you apart from the body you were stealing warmth from. Your back hit the fridge behind you, making you wince slightly. Your breath was heavy and when you looked up your eyes widened when you saw Eddie’s face. He was panting, as if he were in pain. His pupils were dilated as he looked at you.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

And you heard the crack. You could even hear it. A small crack in your heart as he says those words, as if repulsed by the idea of being kissed by you, a mere human. You licked your lips and shook your head, gulping loudly as he pulled away from you, stepping away.

“I’m– I’m sorry– I just wanted–”

“You’re confused.” He says to you and you feel like he was clawing at your chest with those words, making you shake your head at him.

“What? No! I–”

“We need space. I have to give you space so you can focus on Steve.”

You felt your throat close at those words, your eyes widening as you saw him retreat to your room. Space? Confused? Your brain was running a mile per minute and your legs finally moved, rushing towards your room right after him.

Only to find Dorito meowing with sadness as it looked all over your room.

You looked all around, feeling your heart start to pound in your chest as you rushed towards your closet to look inside. You then walked back out to the living room and kitchen area, finding it empty too. You slammed open your bathroom, feeling your tears coming down even more and more.

You kicked your door in anger and finally sobbed out as you rested against the doorframe of your doorway. You slid down on it, falling onto the floor as you cried into your hands.

He left. He left you.

There were no more movie nights. No more music sharing. No more brainstorming for outfit or date ideas. No more cooking for two. Who is going to fill Dorito’s plate in the morning when you are asleep? Who is going to wait for you at home, apart from your cat, after a long day of work? Who is going to tell you so many stupid stories about his teenage years now?

Steve?

No, you didn’t want it to be Steve. You didn’t want that part of your life to be done by Steve. It felt wrong, and you were just now feeling it. You were just now realizing how wrong it feels to put Steve where Eddie was.

You fell for Cupid. You stupidly fell for your own cupid. And it was obvious that the feeling was not mutual. It was obvious that he did not want anything to do with you. It was obvious that you would have to keep moving on in order to fill the empty space he left. Would he appear again? Or will you be able to fall in love with Steve?

How can you possibly forget about Eddie?

Two months later.

You were tired. Exhausted really as you walked up the stairs of your apartment.

Your eyes were bloodshot red, but it was something that was going to happen, because you knew it wasn’t going anywhere really. Your day at work had also been quite stressful, but the ache you expected to get when you got your boss’s wedding invitation, never arrived. You were actually excited for it, knowing there will be food and free drinks.

You opened the door of your apartment, turning the lights on as you took your coat off, closing the door and throwing the garment onto the couch. You walked towards the pantry, getting hold of your bottle of wine, and getting your corkscrew device out to open it. With a loud ‘pop’ you smiled slightly at the relief this will bring you, pouring a glass for yourself. You took a long sip, turning around to face your living room.

“Dorito?” You called your fat orange cat, but heard no meows. You walked towards the front of the couch and didn’t see him there. He must be in your room. You sat down on your couch, turning the tv on, and you groaned loudly when you saw Titanic on screen. You clenched your jaw and decided to keep it on, taking a sip of your glass again.

You felt a shiver run down your spine but paid no mind to it, cracking your neck slightly at the chill.

“Why did you do that?”

You sat still, your blood freezing over at the voice you haven’t heard for over two months. The voice you wished to hear again and didn’t think you’d ever would.

“Why did you break up with him?”

You were shaking, putting the glass on the coffee table before slowly getting up. Your stomach was in shambles, and your heart was with an energy you haven’t felt in a long while. Ever since he left, you felt hollow, as if you didn’t have the energy to keep pretending, to keep trying.

Steve had been nothing but sweet to you the past two months. Intimately and publicly, he was the most caring person you’ve ever been with… But he wasn’t Eddie. You tried, you really tried, but you knew the love you could possibly feel would be empty, almost numb. So before you could hurt Steve, you decided to call everything off, with nothing but being honest with him.

He sadly understood, and was grateful for you to be honest with him and not wait till he was completely devoted to you to break his heart.

You turned around to face him, and he was just standing there, with a pained frown in his eyebrows and your breath caught in your throat. He was wide eyed, staring at you, his hands shaking as his whole body ached, for what, he did know, yet he wasn’t going to act on it.

“I– Uh… I’m Eddie, you probably–”

“I never forgot about you Eddie.”

And he was stunned. He gave you the time, he gave you the space, he left you. He went onto helping someone else to keep himself distracted, not wanting to see something he would regret with you. He gave you privacy, to you and Steve. So how? How is it possible that someone as perfect as him, didn’t get your love?

“What?”

“I said… I never forgot about you.”

The only thing separating you at this moment, was the couch between you two. You could hear his heart and he could hear yours. You gulped loudly, walking around the couch to finally stand in front of him. You wanted to reach out, grab him, hug him tightly against you, tell him so many things, but first, one question remains, so you pushed through the knot in your throat, and spoke through the tears that were already slipping out of your eyes.

“Why did you leave me?”

His breath hitched, feeling a sting of guilt at the pit of his stomach, as well as feeling his heart clenching and unclenching inside of his chest, wanting to explode. His bottom lip quivered slightly and he sniffled, looking away from you.

“I– I had to. I had to leave because I…” He didn’t want to say it. All his life, he ran away from this feeling, scared of it. He was terrified of ending up as a cupid again, or deciding to finally put an end to it all. But he knew that this time, there was no running from it. Not anymore.

“Eddie–”

“Remember what I told you about ‘The One’?” You gulped and slowly nodded your head at him. He licked his lips in order to continue. “I explained to you that The One for each person really does exist. I also explained to you, that this person might be in your present timeline, might have already passed away, or they haven’t been born yet.”

Your throat was dry, feeling your whole body shaking with electricity and anticipation as he slowly looked up at you, his brown doe eyes locking with yours and you felt a sigh escape your lips.

“And here you are… Born in 1998.”

You processed his words, and they felt like cold water being dumped on you, but at the same time they felt like a great relief, like a warm blanket covering you. Eddie was telling you that you were The One for him. Your cupid was confessing that he believes you are The One.

“Y-You…” He stopped you again, stepping away from you. You didn’t realize that you were taking steps towards him, as if you were a magnet, not really being able to control your movements.

“I am not… It would be from the beginning with me… I don’t have a job, no family, no friends, nothing… I don’t want to be a leech, but… Sweetheart, I don’t know if I can stay away from you much longer.” He lets out a shaky breath as he feels the weight on his shoulders finally leave him. He was waiting for your rejection, for you to push him away, tell him he is insane for this. But when he looked up, he saw those eyes he looked at you with months ago. His own widened as he realized you had looked at him like this that night, and the night before when talking about The Lord of the Rings. And many mornings before that as well.

“Then don’t…” At your words, Eddie took a step towards you as you took one towards him. Standing face to face, bodies only a few inches from one another’s, only your heavy breaths filling the room, you licked your lips to be able to talk to him again. “So… You say I am The One for you… Does it mean you are The One for me?”

And Eddie looked down at you, his mind finally stopping and setting its goal on one thought only. You. You. You. Your scent, your eyes, your tics, your anger, your smiles, your voice, your sleepy face, your laughter, your cries.

Just you.

“Let’s find out darling… Kiss me.”

Your heart leaped at those words, wrapping your arms around his neck, almost instantly, as his hands took the position they did last time he was at your home, around your waist. Your breath was fast, as the universe stopped and not just for you. Eddie was feeling the exact same thing in your arms. You both were the only ones in the whole world right now, the only ones wasting the oxygen away.

His hands tightened around your waist, as your breaths mixed together as he leaned down to help you meet him halfway. You closed your eyes, and he did as well, as your lips finally touched, melting together as if it had always been meant to be.

He groaned into the kiss, feeling like a firework just exploded inside of him, an intense heat engulfing his whole body, making him grip you even closer to his body and you sighed in contentment as fresh tears filled your eyes behind your eyelids. Happiness was consuming you and you will happily succumb to it. Your lips moved together as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, trying to push your body into him, more, and more. You just wanted to feel him, all of him, because he was here.

He heard you moan in happiness against his lips and he almost fainted right then and there at the sound, but another feeling was taking over his mind. The voices in his head stopped. The insistent noise that told him to help, and help, and do something for someone else stopped. He pulled away from you, and you immediately looked for him, but he kept the distance with his head.

He was breathing heavily as he took a step back from you, unwrapping his arms from your body. You were still shaking at the event, wanting to go after him but he rushed towards the kitchen and opened one of your drawers. You were staring at his back as you saw him jump and something dropping on the counter. He turned around to face you and stomped towards you with a look on his face that was puzzling you and making you feel uneasy.

“What do you feel about me?” He asked you and your breath got stuck in your throat again, feeling embarrassed and fearful for what the words that want to come out of your mouth will inquire, but there was no stopping this, no more running away from it.

“I’m in love with you Eddie…” He stared down at you for a few seconds, a smile breaking on his lips as he lifted his hand for you to look at it. Your eyes widened when there, in the tip of his left index finger, you could see the small speck of blood, slowly dripping down the digit.

‘I don’t bleed.’ You remembered his words and then your eyes teared up as you also realized the condition it took for him to become human again.

“To love… and be loved in return.” You say those words making him smile widely, his right hand reaching for your cheek to wipe your tears away with his thumb as a gentle sob escaped your lips. He called your name for you to look at him and even in the blurriness of it all, you could still see those brown doe eyes, shining with fresh tears as he spoke to you.

“I’m in love with you darling.” He called out and you almost choked on a sob as you held onto his face, squishing his cheeks to pull him into another kiss. A shock of electricity ran through your body and you knew this was right. You somehow felt this is what it was always meant to be. This is what your heartbreaks led you to, your suffering, your tears. Everything led to this perfect moment and to all the moments to come with him.

“Mreow.”

You both pulled away from the kiss to look down at the fat orange cat that had an unamused look on his face. Eddie chuckled and tilted his head, but nothing happened. He groaned loudly and rushed to fill Dorito’s plate by hand, making you giggle in amusement.

“That’s going to take some time getting used to.” He comments as he straightens up again, putting the bag of food back inside a cabinet. Once Dorito rushed to his food, Eddie immediately swept you off your feet in bridal style, making you squeal in surprise, holding onto his neck. He chuckled loudly as he walked towards your bedroom, making you blush in anticipation.

“Now where are you taking me Cupid?”

“Heaven.” He said with a smile and you giggled while he slammed the door to your room shut.

Cupid isn’t so bad after all.

End of One Shot

I really loved writing this. If you liked the story, all likes and Reblogs as well as comments warm my little heart!

Hope I can return to this couple some time in the future!

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