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servicpop · 5 months

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AUGH THE COWBOY FIC WAS SO FUCKING CUTE FHSHJSBUSKFDSKUS I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!!!! OUUUUUU

I ALREADY HAVE ANOTHER IDEA FOR THEM!!!! so the reader eventually has to get to the next town for a week or two for a series of shows, reader tells Cole where he’ll be and where he’ll preform so Cole can send him a letter if he’d like. Cole obviously send a him letters and reader writes back every time. But one day Cole doesn’t send reader a response and this makes him think Cole lost interest for some reason, so readers moping around and complaining about it to other show girls until Cole shows up at the place their preforming. Reader spots Cole in the crowd and gets excited immediately and the rest of the show he has a wide smile up until he can go out and talk to Cole who has flowers for the reader!!!

THIS CAN END FLUFFY OR SMUTTY OR BOTH IDC I JUST LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH YOU DONT GET IT IM CRAZY RAH :3

-🎱

✶ ﹑ㅤletters & flowersㅤ﹏

NOW STARRING : Cole the cowboy x 'showgirl' m!reader

「ㅤSFW & NSFWㅤ」ㅤhalf is sfw and half is nsfw (the nsfw part will be separated and labelled as nsfw!)

✙ NSFW warnings — sub!top cole, dom!bottom/power bottom reader, cole is a virgin, riding, tummy bulge, cole is more vocal than reader, first time

notes ,, go to part one if you haven't read it already! Not proofread !!

You were able to extend your stay at Pinecrest just for a little while, and during your time here you were able to meet so many people and learn so many things about agriculture, farming, taking care of animals, and you even got to meet the local dog, Scout. More importantly, you were able to spend more time with Cole. He took you out almost every night to go sightseeing, taking you to his favourite spots whether it was in the mountains or by the lake. He even taught you how to ride your own horse and named her Taffy after you; since you were so sweet.

Nothing could've replaced those star-filled nights where it was just you and Cole with your horses, Taffy and Spirit, enjoying the cool breeze and endless conversations that seemed to meander. However, you were a busy man, especially while being in the entertainment industry you didn't have time to stick around forever. You could feel your heart sink just a little bit when your manager had announced that another show would be held in the next town for a few weeks. Of course you enjoyed your line of work, you loved performing, loved being on stage and hearing the cheers of others, but you also loved Cole's company. You knew that Cole had a role here at Pinecrest and it would've been selfish of you to ask him to come with you. But, it wasn't like you were going to keep this whole ordeal a secret from him.

"Cole?" Your voice seemed to break the silence; his head turned to look at you, "Yeah?" Cole's voice was warm, and gentle with a hint of ruggedness like honey dripping over gravel, and the way his eyes glittered when they met yours was enough to make your legs weak under the eye contact, causing you to splutter when you decided to speak again. "I– I have to leave tomorrow, I got another show I need to do at the next town," You mumble, shying away from his entrancing gaze. The cogs in his rusty little brain were visibly turning as Cole stared at you blankly with his lips parted like he was trying to comprehend your words. You can tell it finally settled in his mind when his face deflated like a sad puppy, "You're leavin' sugar?" His voice wavers as he stared at you; the fingers that were once tracing the rim of his glass paused, and the bartender took this moment of Cole's sad expression as a cue to refill his cup with root beer.

Oh, you couldn't do this to him. It was almost like kicking an abandoned puppy on the side of the road — totally cruel. You proposed the idea of sending letters and his sad puppy expression lifted just a little. Fishing in your bag you pulled out a flyer of your next show, sliding it across the counter so he could keep a copy for himself, "Here, send them to this address," you tapped the words in bold that say where you were performing. Cole — of course — takes the flyer eagerly, scanning over it to mentally note down the information written on it, "I'll definitely be sendin' you letters honey," Cole smiled with his dimples peeking through. He picked up his glass of beer and placed it between his lips to take a swig before he started blabbering about whatever came to his mind, a common habit of Cole, and you were always keen to listen to his rambles. You could listen to his voice all night long.

Unfortunately, Cole's most dreaded day came when you had to leave for the next town. He most definitely was one of the first people to wake up at the crack of dawn to catch you before you left, pressing a light, lingering kiss on the back of your palm as if you were a prince and he was nothing but a humble knight. After the townspeople waved you off, you and your fellow performers left via the vans. It was approximately a four hour ride, it would've been quicker if you took the train but your manager insisted to go by car for the scenery. You felt yourself missing Cole more than ever, more than anyone else that you've met and being in multiple towns and countries, you've met alot of people.

Your show was held over four days with a one day break in between and a few free days to explore the area — a total of one week and 3 days. As promised, after settling down in the new town, you received letters every morning from Cole. They usually contained heartfelt messages about his day, his animals, what he ate for every meal, some local gossip, and of course expressing how much he missed you. He even signed every letter with small doodles of what you assumed to be him and Scout. Sometimes, he'd even attach small poloroids of himself usually with Taffy and Spirit in the back. Every night when you had time to spare you scavenged your hotel room for a spare piece of paper and a pen, writing back a response with your signature and some doodles that were definitely not as good as Cole's. It's corny, but you kissed the envelop after sealing it before sending it off back to him.

One day after your 2nd show, you stopped receiving letters, and it really messed up your mood. Did Cole lose interest? Had he found someone better than you? Was it because you were away? All these thoughts ran through your mind and you found yourself slumped at the vanity, complaining and whining to the other showgirls on how you felt like he didn't like you anymore. Knowing how supportive the girls are, they always attempted to comfort you, patting your back and reassuring you that he might’ve just not had any time to write back, that he was busy tending the cattle and whatnot. But no matter what they said, that feeling if a pit in your stomach lingered for the 3rd show. Your aura wasn't the same, your energy wasn't the same, you couldn't perform as well as you did the first two shows.

But suddenly, you felt a strange, familiar pair of eyes staring at you from the crowd. Mid dance, your eyes scanned the sea of people and caught on that dear smile that seemed to light up even the darkest of nights. Cole. That stupidly charming cowboy was nestled in between the bodies of others looking at you. Just you with those eyes filled with admiration. Your heart skipped a beat — or multiple — and you felt your lips involuntarily curl up into a smile.

"That's it. That's the smile I love."

With a new-found burst of energy, your limbs no longer felt sluggish and that fake smile was replaced with a genuine one. All of the sudden, the spotlight seemed to focus on you, highlighting the sequins that glittered on your costume and your bright smile. The other showgirls seemed to notice your change in mood and they all shot you small smiles, watching at how your hips swayed with the beat of the music and how your dance lightened up the atmosphere. You couldn't wait to see him.

Once the performance ended and you and the other performers bowed, you immediately ran out into the crowd, searching frantically for Cole but no matter how hard you looked and pushed through the people, you couldn't find Cole. Your feet picked up in speed as you ran outside, looking around to find Cole leaning against a streetlight with a bouquet in his hands. "Hey," You huffed, catching your breath from all that running around. "You were— amazing, sweetheart," Cole smiled, extending his arm out for you to take the bouquet of dasies, "U–uhm, the daises are hand picked if— if you were wonderin'." From the way he was stuttering over his words like a highschool boy confessing to his crush, and how his eyes focused on anything but your face, you could tell he's never given flowers to anyone in such a romantic way. They were beautiful, all thoughtfully placed together to make the bouquet aesthetically pleasing with a white ribbon tied around the stems with a small bow. You took the bouquet before wrapping your arms around Cole in a warm embrace. He didn't expect you to hug him so abruptly but he for sure did not complain, taking only a second to return the hug, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "I've never seen you smile so wide before darlin,' were you excited to see me?" Cole chuckled, keeping your face pressed against his cheek as he tangled his fingers through your hair. A small laugh escaped your lips too as you teased back, "Don't get ahead of yourself now."

After catching up a bit on the way back to your hotel, you found out through Cole that one of his cows gave birth to an adorable baby he named 'Choco' from its brown coloured fur. He really did have a quirk in naming animals. Once back, he helped you find a vase for your daisies, filling it up with water before carefully plopping your flowers in them. You flopped onto the bed, bouncing slightly from how plush the mattress was, and Cole followed shortly, laying right beside you. As you laid on the bed with your eyes staring up at the white ceiling, you felt a hand tangle with yours, turning your head to meet Cole's grin and his hands holding yours tightly. "Thanks for coming tonight," You were more than happy that he actually took the time out of his day to come all the way here to watch you perform again, "You know I'd do anythin' for you sugar," He cooed, squishing your cheeks between his fingers before he brought your face to his, giving you a small peck on the lips. You always loved how soft and gentle Cole's lips felt agaisnt yours, and they always had a faint taste of strawberries on them.

"That's too corny,"

"You want corn? We can go to the corn fields sometime if that's what you want"

And that earnt a pillow straight to his face.

One kiss turned into two, maybe three, with you leaning over Cole's body while he was still laying down. His arm snaked over to hook around your waist, pulling you closer to him and tangling his legs with yours. As he presses his body agaisnt yours, you felt him poke at your thigh. He was excited, something that you didn't expect from sweet little Cole. He seemed to notice and it was evident through the blush that creeped up his neck, "S–sorry... it's instinct y'know?" His words stumble over eachother and he brings a hand to his face, hiding behind the comfort of his palms as embarrassment ate away at him. It was adorable! This guy being such a flustered mess just from a few kisses and you haven't even done anything that intimate yet.

You reassure him, obviously; you tell him that it's natural and that it's okay to react this way. But then it strikes you. He seemed so inexperienced, so shy about everything. Was Cole a virgin? "I've never done anythin' like this before... I've never felt this way about someone else," His usually loud and confident voice was now reduced to a soft, nervous whisper. He shuffled slightly, pulling you up and onto his lap, his eyes glittered with nervousness and excitement, "D'you think you could show me a thing or two?" Damn. The way he's looking at you with pure love and sincerity made your blood pump faster from how quick your heart was beating. You've been dying for this too, so why not?

You helped him undress before following shortly after, discarding your clothes somewhere in the hotel. He was surprisingly big— like really big. His pretty pink tip was already glistening with pre-cum from the previous kisses and he had a prominent vein that ran down the underside of his cock that was bound to be a sensitive spot for him. Cole was also more built than you expected, he had toned muscles that were most defined in his arms and he had pretty big pecs. They were like pillows, you'd have to convince him to let you sleep on them later. Cole refused to look you in the eyes while you rummaged the beside drawers for lube. You put a generous amount on your palm before placing the bottle down and turning to face Cole, who was trembling like a little mouse.

"Relax," you cooed, wrapping your lubed up hand around his shaft, pumping slowly to coat him. His body physically jerked once he felt the cool substance around his cock, and a low whine slipped from his lips. Cole's breathing became more heavy as you slowly stroked his length, his eyes fluttered with every movement. Once you deemed that to be enough, you slowly moved to hover over his lap and Cole's hands immediately went up to grip your hips for stability. You knew this would hurt; you weren't properly prepared but you didn't care that much. Slowly, you sunk down on Cole's cock, feeling the slight burn as you bit back small whimpers. "You okay sugar? 'Mnot hurtin' you am I?" Cole grunted, his fingers gripping your hips even more, guiding you down his length. He was concerned, yes, but he also couldn't help from twitching inside you.

"I'm fine," you replied with a small huff once you were able to take Cole in fully, relaxing a bit so you could get used to his size. Cole on the other hand was certainly not relaxing. You could almost see the muscles on his arm tense and he had this unfamiliar look in his eyes like he was desperate for something, any sort of movement from you. After awhile of just silence and stillness, Cole's resolve finally caved in, "Oh, please sweetheart, please move. Anythin'! I need to feel you, please," he whined like a little puppy, staring into your eyes as if he was going to die if you didn't give him any sort of relief. But that wasn't any fun now was it?

You leaned down, your hips rolling slightly in accord to your movements, and pressed a honeyed kiss on the outer corner of Cole's lips. That little movement with your hips almost made Cole cum on the spot. "You can't do that t'me," Cole's eyes gleamed over with tears, dampening his eyelashes. All wet and pretty. He swore he'd actually start crying if you didn't move. "Alright, alright, sorry," you apologised but didn't really mean it — he was so adorable begging you just to move. But, you weren't that cruel. A string of 'thank you's poured out of Cole's mouth as you rocked your hips rhymically, grinding down on his cock. His head tilted back against the silk pillows, his brown hair cascading across the pillowcase like flowing water. Cole's lips were slightly parted, and his chest rose and fell intermittently, some breaths short and stuttered, while others were deeper.

"It feels so good," Cole muttered out between pants. His voice was nothing short of a whiny mess mixed with a few moans and grunts. You lifted yourself off of him, almost lifting completely off of him before dropping your hips back down, earning a muffled whimper from you and a loud moan from Cole. He was undoubtedly alot more vocal in expressing his pleasure. His eyes opened with heavy eyelids, as he looked up at you; you could practically see the hearts in his eyes. Cole's gaze flickered down to your tummy and his mind went blank when he saw the small bulge in your stomach, "Oh mercy," he breathed out, his hand moved to touch your stomach, "You're gonna be the death of me if you keep— hah, keep teasin' me like this."

Your mind was just as lost as Cole's with the way his dick was able to reach your prostate so easily. It drove you crazy; his cock angled perfectly to hit it over and over again with each bounce. Your own neglected cock was sliding along Cole's happy trail, the warmth of his body made you twitch everytime you grinded your hips. "I'm— im close, so so so close, please— please let me cum." Beads of sweat rolled down Cole's temples and his forearms flexed, digging his fingertips into your hips hard enough to leave an indent — he was careful not to use his nails, Cole would never want to hurt you. "Im—" Cole sat up from his laying position, enveloping you in his arms and buried his face in the crook of your neck, needing something to hold onto while he orgasmed. His moans were muffled by your neck as his thigh spasmed faintly while he spilt his seed inside of you, filling you up to the brim. Your own orgasm followed after his, coating his abs with your fluid.

You two sat in the comfort of eachothers arms and the sound of your heavy breathing; your own arms were lazily draped over his shoulders with one hand stroking his hair. "When's your next show?" Cole asked, moving his head off your shoulder to look at you, "The day after tomorrow, but I have rehearsal tomorrow morning," a small pout spreads across Cole's lips as his eyes flicker to loon at your thigh instead. "Do you think you can walk properly tomorrow?" "Oh right..."

Bonus ♡

You winced as you settled down into the chair infront of the vanity. A few of the showgirls walked up to you, noticing that something was off, "You okay honey bun? You seem to be in alot of pain today," one of the girls ask, placing a comforting hand on your back. "He obviously got some action last night with that cowboy guy." "No I did not!" "It's obvious in the way you're limping sweetie."

Cole on the other hand, was still soundly asleep in your hotel bed, curled up with the blanket he stole from you during the night.

a/n ,, Cole oh sweet Cole . To be honest ,, I'm still not used to writing smut . I guess it's because I'm trying my hardest not to make it sound off or weird ,, maybe I'm just immature . The word cock sounds funny to me . Anyways !! I kinda rushed the smut . To be fair my main focus with Cole is how he's an innocent n' sweet guy but ya know ,, nsfw is what gets people going these days

#bottom male reader #male reader #oc x male reader #male x reader #mlm #male x male #servicpop — fics/drabbles #servicpop — ocs #sub character #dom male reader #x bottom male reader #original character #smut #gay #gay fanfiction #oc fluff #oc smut

739 notes · View notes

mrsdesade · 3 months

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I'd like something based on Sage vs fem!supe! Maybe them arguing and then Homie forced to choose between one of them, but everything ending up with something unexpected! You choose what :)

Shattered glasses;

Pairing: Homelander x fem!super (I use Ophera bc I don't like writing ''y/n'' y'know) TW: slight angst, mention of poisoning, morally grey fem!supe Timeline: season 4 Words count: 2,7k Note: thanks for the request dear anon, I was waiting for writing something about s4 :) ofc no hate for any characters!!

Sister Sage never liked you. From the first moment she saw you, she knew you would be a hindrance. She's not jealous, not even in love with him, she just wanted to control Homelander, and you already had him in your grasp. But the little flaws in your absolutely not perfect relationship with him were the perfect opportunity for her to destroy you and get you fired.

For months she had been trying to make you look incompetent or unable to do your work, she was the smartest woman in the world, and in her eyes you were just another showgirl like the others.

But you were on the Seven from the early years and, oh, you didn't liked at all the fact that Homelander had chosen her as his advisor.

You, you are his partner, he should listen to you.

It has always been about control, rarely about love. But now you feel jealousy boiling in your veins, your control over him is slipping away, and you feel in danger. You know that you'll have to prove to Sage that it is not so easy to get rid of you.

Sister Sage sat comfortably at the table of the Seven, her hands folded in front of her, sipping a steaming cup of chamomile tea. With a delicate motion, she set the cup back down on its saucer, and flashed you a calm smile.

“I think you’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment. You’re making this personal. It’s simply business.”

She's too confident in her intellectual abilities, to the point of arrogance. She's good at reading people, especially their feelings and insecurities, and she uses that to her advantage in arguments, trying to make you say something stupid and make you look like a fool.

“You’ve had your chance at the top, dear. It’s time to accept that things have changed.”

You are standing, with your hands placed on the table, clenched into two fists to hold back your nervousness, looking for the right words to face her, but nothing comes out of your lips.

“Listen, I understand your… frustration. After all, you’re nothing more than a relic these days, don’t you think? A fading star.”

The words hit you like a blow to the gut. Her casual insults were like salt rubbed vigorously into an open wound. You fight back the urge to respond with anger, knowing that she's goading you into a reaction.

“Oh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I? That’s exactly what I meant. You’re stuck in the past. You can’t adjust to the changes. It’s kinda pathetic, really.”

You wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and wipe that arrogant smile off her face, but you knew that’s exactly what she wanted. So you took a deep breath, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

“I suggest you think about your words better, the last person who dared to call me pathetic didn't end well.”

Sage raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“You can try to intimidate me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that your time has passed. No matter what you do, you won't be able to get your spotlight back.”

“Dear, I fill the stadiums, the arenas, millions of people come to hear my voice every night, every single event is sold out in minutes! I wouldn't call this decay of a carreer.”

“Ah, yes, the fame and the adoration of the masses. Impressive, really. But I was referring to another type of spotlight here.”

She paused for a moment, studying your face before continuing. Your gaze has become dark, almost threatening, you know perfectly well where he wants his speech to end.

“We both know you lost your real spotlight a long time ago…the one that matters. Homelander won’t change his mind about me.”

Your expression betrays your emotions, anger and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

“You're playing a dangerous game Sage, you know that? You think you can just waltz in here and take my place?”

“Ophera, is it so hard to accept that I’m better equipped for the job? You’ve always been so blinded by your ego and your pride. Your strategy is always to stay safe and not lose your career, Vought needs much more than this.”

Her expression was cool and calculating, as If she had already mapped out every possible reaction you might have.

“And let's clarify, I don’t need to take your spot. I already have.”

Your face twisted in anger, your fists gripped the table’s edge, under your gloves knuckles turning white.

“You arrogant little—“ you began, but she calmly interrupted you.

“Now, now, there’s no need for insults.” she chided, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “We’re adults here, we can speak calmly and intelligently like any normal person, don’t you agree?”

“You're feeling cool, mh? Acting all smart and knowing everything. I've been a part of this Seven for years. And you, you're nothing.”

Her cool demeanor began to crack, and a hint of annoyance flickered across her face at your words.

“Ah, here it goes. The same old tired argument. I've been here longer, I'm more experienced, blah blah blah.”

She leaned forward, her eyes boring into yours with an intensity that contradicted her calm exterior.

“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” you teased, mirroring her earlier taunt.

“Don't get too comfortable.” she retorted, her voice slightly sharpened. “You should remember that your position here is fragile. One wrong word, one wrong move, and you could lose everything you have left.“

You leaned forward now, your voice lowering as you met her gaze.

“You seem to forget that I’ve still a pretty big influence over Homelander myself. I can make things difficult for you if I want to.”

“I think we both know who he listens to these days.”

The conversation was cut short when the door to the room burst open, and Homelander strolled in, his presence immediately filling the space. His eyes flicked between the two of you, sensing the tension in the room.

“What's going on here?”

You and Sage both turned your attention to him, quickly composing yourselves.

“Just a chat. I was merely informing Ophera of some important developments within about the Vought future.”

Homelander glanced at you, tilting his head slightly as he observed.

“A chat, huh? Didn't look like a friendly one to me.”

“You're right. And since it's clear that Sage loves telling you lies, I'll tell you that wasn't just a simple chat.” an adorable, mischievous smile escapes from your lips. Exposing the little lie she told to him.

Homelander's eyes immediately landed on Sage, waiting for her to respond. “Care to explain?”

Sage shifted in her seat, clearly irritated that you had exposed her lie. “It's nothing serious, just a typical argument between colleagues. Nothing you need to worry about.” she replied quickly, trying to downplay the situation.

And incredibly, it works.

Homelander nods like a tamed puppy and believes her.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration as Homelander seemed to buy into Sage's explanation so easily. It seemed like she had him wrapped around her little finger.

“I see, things like this happens, just keep it professional, ladies, okay?”

Sage shot you a quick, victorious look, smug knowing her sweet words to him had prevailed, again.

Disappointment flooding through your veins. It infuriated you how easily Homelander seemed to believe blindly in to Sage's words. You tried to maintain a neutral expression. But you won't have another opportunity like this to assert your dominance, you have to think of something quickly. Sage sure is smart, but you can be really sly.

You pretended to shrug nonchalantly, even though inside you were seething with anger. But you weren't done yet.

You locked eyes with Homelander, ensuring he was listening to you. And then you spoke, your voice dripping with feigned concern.

“It’s true, it wasn’t a big deal. But there’s one thing that concerns me, Homelander. May I be honest with you?”

He tilted his head slightly, curiosity piqued. “You've to.”

“I felt a bit insecure lately and I was wondering...If I should save Sage from poisoning or me from falling from a building. Who would you save?”

Your question comes like an unexpected bolt of lightning, without anyone being able to foresee it or understand its real intention. You cross your arms over your chest and walk around the room slowly, waiting for a response.

He's is taken aback by your question, and the room falls silent. Sage glanced at you quickly, an unexpected flicker of worry in her eyes.

Homelander's eyes follow you as you walk around the room. He's quiet for a few moments, considering the weight of your words before answering.

“Why should I choose, I can save both without effort, you know that.” he finally responds, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Your lips curled into a smirk - the answer is far from satisfactory.

“Of course, but let's say you can only choose one.” you persist, your voice steady. “Who would it be?”

His expression unreadable. He's definitely taken off guard by your insistence, and you can see a hint of annoyance starting to form underneath the surface.

“There are too many factors to consider, I can't just say one random name. Fuck, you and your stupid questions...”

Sage looks down at the cup of chamomile tea she was drinking a few minutes ago, and for a second the fear of having been poisoned actually makes her shiver.

“And that's why I'm here to listen all of your thoughts about.” you smile at him once again, hiding something dark behind your kind tone.

Homelander sighs, finally realizing you won’t back down. He crosses his arms, staring at you with slight irritation.

“Fine. Let's say, If I had to choose, I'd likely save Sage first.”

Sage's head snapped up upon hearing his decision, and her eyes widened in surprise. But you answer him carefully, still smiling.

“Are you sure about that?”

“I mean, you're more resistant than her, you wouldn't really die falling from a building. While Sage body is totally human, he would certainly die without an antidote for the poison.”

Your smirk widens, you expected this.

“There, happy now? I solve your fucking riddle.”

You quickly turn away from the conversation and casually walk over towards the large window you know is behind Sage's seat. Acting as if you were admiring the view outside, you casually reach for the handle and pull the window open. The gust of wind that blows in is strong enough to be unexpected, the documents on the table rattle, and the curtains wave violently.

Sage's hand involuntarily releases her cup of tea, and as it hits the floor and the liquid splashes in her direction, a look of panic and realization flashed across her face.

She quickly rises from her seat, her body shaking subtly, trying to play it off as if it was just a simple accident. But anyone can see the flicker of panic behind her eyes. The liquid seeps into the carpet, staining it a dark brown.

“You— Ophera what have you done to my tea?!”

Homelander's eyes narrow, his attention suddenly diverted from the ongoing conversation.

You feign surprise, tilting your head to the side innocently. “Me? Nothing.”

“Bullshit!” Sage points a finger at you, a mixture of shock and fury on her face. She starts to feel strange, she feels dizzy and her legs are shaking.

You turn back to the large open window, the strong gust of wind causing your hair to flutter and the hem of your uniform to flutter. As you look outside, you subtly step back, closer and closer to the edge, the tips of your feet barely holding onto the edge of the window frame.

“What the hell are you doing Ophera?” he say, his voice sharp. “Get away from the window, where has your fear of great heights gone?”

Your eyes flick toward Homelander, a sly smile playing on your lips as you continue to stand dangerously close to the open window, your words dripping with a hint of manipulation.

“Well, I guess now you finally have a real opportunity to choose, love.”

A moment of silence hangs in the air as they're taken off guard by your audacity. Suddenly, without any warning, you lean back, and with a graceful leap, you launch yourself out of the window.

Homelander's heart skips a beat.

“No…No, don't—” he exclaimed desperately, his body moving on instinct.

The wind immediately engulfs you as the ground rapidly comes closer and closer. You feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins, looking at the blue sky, the thrill of the freefall mixing with the intense rush of the air hitting your back.

In an instant, a blur of red and blue rushes towards you as Homelander flies out, he flies towards you at superhuman speed shattering the glass of the other windows. He moves closing the distance between you and him in mere seconds.

From the window, Sage leans out, looking at you both with disbelief. Her eyes widened, and her mouth hangs open, speechless at the turn of events.

Homelander catches you mid-air, wrapping his arms around you, the wind still rushes around you both. You can feel his hands shaking a bit as he holds you.

You look up at him, a cheeky smirk dancing on your lips. A breathless laugh escapes you, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Your heart pounds, and a sense of exhilaration washes over you. The suddenness of your action still hangs in the air, and his surprise is evident in his eyes.

“Ops, I guess you picked me.”

Homelander huffs, his grip on you slightly loosening, relaxing, floating in air with you. He shakes his head, relief and frustration clear on his face.

“You're out of your goddamn mind woman.”

“Maybe I am. But, at least you still care enough to save me.” you chuckle softly, enjoying the moment of his attention.

He rolls his eyes, but you can see a smile on his lips and he's slowly moving in the hair to coming back inside the Tower.

You reach out to caress his face gently, your touch tender against his skin. Your hand trail over his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath your fingertips. Your other hand still grips onto the fabric of his suit, holding onto him.

“Y'know...I thought Sage brainwashed you into choosing her over me, but I'm happy to see that's not the case.”

His expression softens a little, his eyes meeting yours.

“Believe me, I think she tried. But she didn’t brainwash me at all.” he grumbles, his voice low. “I’m not that easy to control. You should know that..”

“I know you're far from being easy to control. You’re too stubborn and prideful for that.”

He huffs again, with his bold smirk on his lips. “You’re quite stubborn too, maybe more than me. Just look at your little stunt back there.”

As he lands back inside the room with you in his arms, the scene is a little chaotic. He takes a moment to check you are okay, before his eyes land on Sage, who is now passed out on the floor.

“Was really necessary to poison her? Despite your jealousy he was an excellent strategy member to the team.” he say, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Relax. She's not dead. There wasn't a single drop of poison or anything in her tea.” you look down at Sage's unconscious body, lying motionless on the floor, and a small, satisfied smile lifts the corners of your lips.

“Then why the hell is she passed out?” he asks, puzzled.

You kneel down next to her and tilt your head to the side as you examine her unconscious form. The feeling of triumph washes over you, knowing that you managed to manipulate her fear and doubt to your advantage.

“With a brain like hers, mental deceptions are more effective than anything else. It was enough for me to convince her that she had been poisoned and goodnight little sunshine.”

He lets out a low whistle, impressed by the simplicity of your tactic.

“Damn. You really know how to mess with people's heads.”

There's admiration in his voice. An admiration for you that you can still wear like a medal.

“But you really had to prove a point in such a dramatic manner, huh?”

You stand back up, brushing off your uniform and looking at Homelander with a smug smile.

“I had to do something to prove to her, and you, who your favourite really was.”

-------

Hope you like it! I will calmly continue to write about him based on your ask box requests, I will not leave anyone unsatisfied, I promise <3

#homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #homelander the boys #homelander x fem!reader #homelander x y/n #homelander x oc #homelander x you #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #the boys series #homelander #the boys s4 #sister sage #the boys oc #the boys season 4 #my post #ask box #fanfic request #request open

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obessedwithfictionalmen · 7 months

Text

Alright, bet...

John Egan X Female! Reader

Summary: John Egan wants a date, he's ready to do anything to have it...

Warning: Flirting/ allusion to sex/ historical inaccuracies/ alcohol/ use of Y/n/ Swearing.

The bar was crowded, and it was full of soldiers and women hoping to get the attention of the soldiers. The music was loud, and the smell of alcohol was filling the nostrils of everyone stepping inside the bar. Y/n and her friends were on a girl's night out. She was a dancer, she danced in bars, it was her way of making money. No husband and parents were not happy with her career choice. She was alone. When they stepped inside the bar, they were amazed at how many men in uniform were inside. "Is it a new military base?" One of her friends, Ollie, asked. "I don't know, but I have a thing for men in uniform," Jocelyn said. Making the girls laugh.

John Egan was drinking. He was going on the base tomorrow and wanted to enjoy his last night before duty calls. When he saw her enter, he thought she was beautiful. Her presence in the room was hot. She stepped near the bar, ordering drinks. They made brief eye contact before she was dragged by her friends at a table. He had a new objective tonight: Get a date with her. He was watching her, laughing, talking and smiling to something her friend said. He clearly needed to talk to her.

When the girls saw a man approaching the table, they squealed, How was this handsome man going to talk to? "Good evening, ladies. Can I buy you something to drink?" Egan said, leaning against the table. Y/n smirked. It was the same man that she'd made eye contact with earlier. They looked at each other, making it clear who the chosen one. "We're good, but our friend here wants another one," Ollie said, pointing to Y/n. She mentally hit her, way to make it obvious, she thought. Y/n got up her seat and walked with Bucky to the bar. "I'm John, but call me Bucky," he said to her. "Y/n," She said, looking at him. "What's a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?" He flirted. "Drinking, just like you. I'm not working tonight, I thought I could go out and have some fun. What are you doing here, Bucky?" His name rolled on her tongue. He grins as he orders two shots of whisky. "Same thing as you, what do you do for work?" He asked, handing her the shot. "I'm a showgirl, I sing and dance to entertain people," She boldly said. She grew more confident about her job. At first, she'd lie about it. But now, she didn't care about the other people's opinions. They both drank the liquid and smiled. "You sing?" He asked. She nodded, looking at him.

"What would it take to get a date with you?" Bucky asked. They didn’t know how much they both drank or how many time had passed, but they both went to sit at a table. Just the both of them, her friends had left. She giggled when he mentioned a date. "Are you asking me out, Bucky?" She said, smiling. "Yup," he admitted. An idea came to her mind. The band was playing music, and it needed vocals. "If you go on that stage and sing a song, I will go out with you." She dared him. A spark in his eyes lit up. If there was one thing that John Egan loved, it was signing. Plus, the alcohol in his system made him more confident. "Alright, bet," he said as he got up his seat. He started to dance a little. The maestro looked confused, but when Bucky took the microphone and started to sing, he understood.

Y/n couldn't believe that he was actually doing it. She laughed as she heard his voice. It was joyful, raspy, and filled with passion. He knew he wasn’t a good singer, but he was getting that date. During the song, he looked directly in Y/n's direction. He had a huge smile on his face, and so did she. He was really committed to the song, and when there weren't any lyrics to sing, he was dancing again. At the end of the song, he took the mic again. "Thank you, I just earned a date!" He cheered. Y/n put her hands in her face. She was going on a date with him...

"I still can't believe you actually sang." She laughed. They both laughed. They left the bar after Bucky's performances. "Yeah, well, I wanted a date," he said, smiling. She looked down, blushing. "Now, what do I have to do to get a kiss?" She said. Bucky was speechless. She just flirted with him. "Nothing, darling, you can kiss me right now," he said. She looked at him, pulled him by his tie, and their lips crashed together. Bucky put a hand on her cheek. When they pulled away, his lips were red and a little bit swollen. "Holy fuck, can I kiss you again?" He asked. She nodded and their lips crashed again. Who would've thought that him singing would've get him that far. He was so gonna brag about it to Buck!

#john egan x female reader #john egan x reader #major john egan #bucky egan #callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #callum turner #master of the air imagine #master of the air

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dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months

Text

Lady in Red (2) || CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x fem!reader Summary: Vegas drama Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, cheating WC: 1.75k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four

You were well accustomed to shows with your career but Las Vegas was on another level. It was all smoke and mirrors that frustrated the drivers but there was one man making the best out of the confusion of lights and miscommunication. The huge pit building was four stories high but the lack of people filling it left the top floor empty for most teams. Somewhere on the levels below, his father and girlfriend, as well as his team, were looking for him but he was quite happily distracted from it all.

You could see the Sphere from your position in the shadows of the room, its countdown to free practice also being a challenge for Carlos. Pistoning his hips faster, he raced the clock as he fucked you on an empty desk, the chaotic atmosphere drowning your delighted cries when his thumb found your clit and made you reach oblivion again.

“I think I’ll keep this,” Carlos chuckled as he picked up a feather that had broken off the showgirl outfit you wore. You had been hired to parade down the pit lane in the free practice buildup and you had taken the job just to see Carlos again. “How do I look?”

You straightened the rhinestone bodice back over your breasts and giggled at the sight of the red feather behind his ear. “Muy hermoso.”

“Stealing my compliments now, hermosa?”

You swiped the feather back with a smirk. “Well I already have to steal your time.” You both looked at the Sphere with the reminder and Carlos cursed under his breath.

“I’ll find you after practice,” Carlos said as he stopped by a closet and opened it to find a long Ferrari branded winter coat. He unclipped the feather plume from your back before draping it over your shoulders. “It’s cold out there. Don’t want you getting sick, cariña.”

You looked down at the coat as he made his way to the door. “Shouldn’t your girl wear this?”

He barely paused as he cast a look over his shoulder and grinned, “she is.”

You had no idea what was going on. Chaos had erupted, the session ended and there was talk of Carlos missing out in the next practice, whenever that was rescheduled to start, if his car could be fixed in time. Midnight had come and gone, the timezone already leaving you tired, and you struggled to keep your eyes open in the corporate lounge above the Ferrari pit.

“This could take a while, cariña. You should go back to the hotel.”

You blinked away the weariness and focused on the driver who had taken a seat on the couch beside you. It was unnatural to fight the urge to reach for his hand or lean into his side but there were still dozens of guests remaining, one of them staring daggers at you from across the room.

“I’ll be fine,” you said before a yawn cracked your jaw and he chuckled despite the turn of events he had faced.

His eyes lingered on your lips like he was contemplating kissing them but then he leant forward and dug his elbows into his knees. His hands combed through his hair as he let out a deep sigh. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” you asked just as quietly, but his eyes cut a sharp glance your way before turning to his girlfriend. “Oh.”

“I want you,” he whispered. “I want to just fucking kiss you, right now, because it will make me feel better - but I can’t.”

He rose to his feet before you could give him an answer and watched as he walked over to Rebecca. It hurt, of course it hurt to see her wrap her arms around him and kiss his lips when you knew just how soft they were. But it had been six weeks since you last saw him and you didn’t know how long it was going to be before you saw him again. There was no certainty, and that had made you hesitate.

But he had proven time and time again that this wasn’t just the one time thing you thought it was going to be.

Grabbing your phone from the pocket of the Ferrari coat you still wore, you sent him a single message: Okay.

You saw the moment he read it, the way he untangled her arms from his neck and stepped away with a suppressed smile. You knew he wouldn’t act on it right away, all break ups were carefully formulated by their PR and Social Media teams to limit the damage to their image. But Carlos was already heading straight to Charlotte who handled those affairs.

“You’re looking positive, considering how the last session ended,” Natalie Pinkman commented to Carlos as he entered the TV pen. You leant forward in your seat as his lips teased a smile that was displayed across all the screens.

“The team has done a fantastic job and the car should be ready to run in FP2, so there’s definitely a reason to be positive heading into this next session.”

“Let’s hope you can keep that positivity as I understand news just came in that the request for an exemption of a penalty has been declined. I don’t have word yet on what that penalty will be but-”

You watched Carlos’ forehead crumple at the news before someone took his arm and guided him away from the cameras to no doubt break it to him properly. It was only ten minutes later that he reappeared looking dishevelled and pacing the noticeably quieter floor with all the fervour of a captive tiger. His father held the leash.

You didn’t know enough Spanish to understand their conversation but you recognised the hand on Carlos’ shoulder as one that tried to calm him.

“I’ll be back soon,” Carlos said after a few deep breaths. “I just need a minute.”

He crossed the room to the stairwell, his eyes catching yours before he disappeared, a single finger pointing up. You waited a moment before taking your leave and heading to the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor once more. It was no wonder he took the stairs when you saw the screens inside were replaying the breaking news, and you tried to find a power button to switch it off.

“Mi amor.” Carlos’ hand reached through the widening gap and found yours before the door had even completely opened, tugging you into his arms.

“Amor,” you echoed as your cheeks heated with the meaning. “That’s new.”

“I spoke to Charlotte,” he whispered as he walked you deeper into the shadows of the empty room. “She thinks four weeks will be enough to build a public distance with Rebecca. It’s best that the fans come to their own conclusions before announcing the break up.”

“Okay,” you hummed as his lips peppered kisses across your collar.

His kiss froze. “I thought you would be more excited.”

“For what? The morals I thought I had obviously weren’t very strong since we are doing this right now, while you are still in a relationship. Nothing changes for me when you become single.”

Carlos pulled away with a frown. “Nothing changes? Everything changes, amor. We will be able to go on dates, be seen together, holiday together. Be together. That’s what your text meant.”

You stepped away from his embrace and pulled the coat back around your body as you shook your head. “I was just saying it was okay to break up with her, that’s what you wanted.”

“So I could be with you!” His growls echoed around the room and he tugged at his hair in frustration. “Don’t you want to be with me too?”

“Of course I do,” you whispered as you hugged yourself.

He smiled at the admission and took a step closer but you stepped away even further. His arms fell limp at his side and he looked sullen as his head fell forward. “Then what is the problem?”

“I want to be with you, Carlos, but I could never trust you.” You sighed and looked longingly at the elevator as the silence dragged on. “I should go. Good luck with the rest of the weekend.”

Your finger pressed the arrow down before he recovered and raced after you, slipping into the narrow space as the doors closed.

“Carlo-”

You were silenced with his kiss, his body pressing you into the wall as he took your hands and pinned them above your head. “I know I’m not a good man, I know I have made many mistakes - but I would never do that to you.”

He pressed his cheek to yours as he whispered his confession to you. “I love you, I would get on my fucking knees and crawl over broken glass for you. You drive me insane, I’ve never been reckless like this, but you make me feel alive.”

He ground his hips against you to prove just how alive he felt and your resolve weakened. “Please, don’t go. I need you here, with me. This weekend is so fucked, but I can take it. I can take the penalties and the bullshit. But I can’t take you leaving. Please, amor…”

You felt his breath on your cheek before he pressed a chaste kiss to it and pulled back to look in your eyes. Your lips parted to answer him, the words on the tip of your tongue.

Ding.

“Shit,” Carlos swore as the doors opened on the main floor, his hands still holding yours and your bodies pressed close against the wall. “Fuck.”

It could have been the late night catching up with him or the shock, but he couldn’t seem to get his body to respond to the noise his head was making.

It was you who recovered first, pulling your hands free before shoving him away from you. It felt like minutes passed but it was likely only seconds since no one appeared to have noticed what had been displayed. If it had been hours earlier then the lobby would have been full of people.

“I’ll see you later,” you whispered as you sobbed Carlod out of the elevator.

“Does that mean-”

“It means I’ll see you later,” you said with a nod that made him smile. How could you possibly leave him after that profession? You were never very good at listening to your voice of reason, your heart had far more bearing on your decisions and Carlos had carved out a place for himself in yours.

The doors closed on the elevator and you fell back into the wall he had held you against, tipping your head back with a sigh. Told you he was trouble.

Click here for part three.

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #formula one smut #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf

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seancekitsch · 4 months

Note

Vox from Hazbin Hotel x siren! reader?? PLEASEE i love this concept sm-

i think i accidentally created myself an oc, also, if you spot the showgirls reference ill give you a cookie, this is inspired by the general flavor of moulin rouge and showgirls

“What the FUCK?!” you all but screech, throwing your blush frustratedly at your vanity. The small compact hits the cool marble, and immediately the product with the pan shatters, ruined. It was expensive. Fuck.

“I- I don’t know what happened…” Jinni, a succubus, your assistant and opening act, stutters from the door. Scared.

You deflate, rolling your eyes as you calm yourself and stop scaring the girl. You have to remember to stop raging near her. She’s young, too young.

Overlords in the club mean a good tip, mean security, mean you and girls like Jinni make rent safely and have some fun money to toss around as well. You practically fall into your chair, yank a fake eyelash off as you sigh, ready to put on the next pair for your closing number.

“There’s gotta be some reason the voice didn’t work on him,” you say, “I’m gonna find out why.”

“Are you sure thats a good idea?” Jinni asks, her tail curling around one of her legs. You have a soft spot for the girl, you really do. A place like this is gonna tear her apart; or at least, it would if you didn’t immediately take her under your wing. You pat the little chair beside you, and wrap your arms around the girl as soon as she takes the spot.

You both stare at each other’s eyes through the mirror, sweat and make up blurred against your complexions, a reassuring smile spreads across your face.

“I’ll check and see if he has the VIP package, and pull out the damsel in distress act,” you tell the little succubus, now cheek to cheek with her. She smiles at you through the mirror, knowing full well you’re ready to ham it up.

“Thats your best one,” she says, and comes closer to pick up a body glitter for you. Jinni leans on the chair behind you, resting her forearms on your shoulders. You gaze at her while your hand moves with the brush across your face, at this point muscle memory kicks in, flawless. She’s why you still play nice, you think.

“Gonna make sure you don’t have to go back to doggy chow for dinner,” you chide as you finish up your new look, a bit more dewy and innocent looking, as you shake her off and grab a lace robe to walk backstage in. Jinni laughs, and then takes your seat to take off her own make up.

You’ve done this walk thousands of times, the long dimly lit hallway, all of the girls rooms hidden behind flimsy curtains and makeshift doors, signed by girls current and long since past. Your feet feel light below you, though nerves course through your veins. The patrons cheering is almost quieted here, all the quiet white noise that sets you ablaze in excitement and anticipation for another performance.

But before the end of the hall can be reached, a meaty hand comes out to stop you, wrapping around your bicep.

“Outta my way, Flicker, I gotta tell the sound guy to switch my track,” You turn your head away from the stage manager, not willing to take a face full of his calamari breath.

“You ain’t goin’ out there again tonight,” he explains, “Got a private booking with a big spender.”

You sigh, right, just what you needed right now. You wish you could shoot a quick text to Jinni but… your phone is back in your dressing room with her. She’ll have to fair without you until this is over.

“Right now?” you meet his eyes, and you can tell he wanted you in there five minutes ago. Shit. Well, here goes the girls' good tips for the night, you sigh, and turn towards the stairwell that leads you up to the private boxes.

These rooms are gross; there’s no way to sugar coat it. You hate private bookings, much preferring to dance on the floor with any high spending patrons, giving them the girlfriend experience while you have the added safety of being able to slip away. These private rooms don't even have walls, more like private theater boxes so the managers can make sure you're keeping the clients happy. Up here, your talents are much more obvious, much harder to avoid blame.

You wonder what this guy will want. A champagne pour? A strip tease? Or worst of all, a dry hump or an over the pants job? You’d hate for this asshole to fuck up your costume or make up. That shits not cheap down here, and you only hope that after this private booking the overlord in the back of the hall might have loosened up and opened his wallets to one of the other girls or the house.

But it still digs at you, like an old wound you cannot help but pick at… that your voice didn’t work on—

Him.

Its him. You can see through the sheer curtain the overlord in a suit. An old fashioned in his hand as he leans against the railing, the finale of the show tonight kicking into full gear below, all of the patrons like dogs on leashes waiting to be released to dance and party with the girls until dawn once the stage is clear.

“Oh, Sir!” you call to him as you pull back the curtain, your flimsy robe fluttering behind you, “What is a man of your caliber doing in a place like this?”

Maybe you’re laying it on a little thick with the sultry little voice and the innocent act, but that’s what the men pay you for. He turns quickly, as if he didn’t expect you here so soon, but his smile quickly grows, teeth glowing against the low lighting of the private box.

“What do you mean?” HIs voice is smooth as butter, “Is a man of MY caliber not supposed to admire beautiful things? Consider me a patron of the arts.”

You lounge yourself on one of the couches, effortlessly parting the bottom of your robe, kicking your legs up, really giving him a show. The boning of your costume digs into your ribs, but you don’t move. You always win over the higher spenders by laying out the feast for them.

“Is that so?” you ask, a fake demure giggle leaving your lips, “Well then consider me confused, because you didn’t look so happy during my number earlier.”

The glow of his eyes distracted you, both out on stage earlier and now. His gaze intense, his posture rigid.

“Maybe,” he trails off, crossing the little box until he’s in reach. One of his large hands wraps around your ankle, and then carelessly yanks your ankle off the couch to force you sitting upright. Okay, you’re only a little offended. Moreso intrigued by his seemingly complete lack of attraction to you. You drop your robe from one shoulder, baring more skin to entice him. Men are men, after all. He moves to sit at the other end of the couch. Maybe not all is lost, you think, as you pour a glass of champagne from the side table. The girl they threw on stage instead of you is killing this performance from what you can tell, and you know she’ll finish strong by the aerial rig set up and ready to go for her. You sip your glass as he sips his, and lean in closer to him, hoping that a little more proximity to him will help you figure out his deal.

“But maybe I’m more wondering what the fuck someone like you is doing here,” he sneers as he stands, leaving you falling sideways into the space he vacated, nearly spilling your glass.

“I- I beg your pardon?” you splutter, the sultry voice gone for a moment as you check to make sure you didn’t waste a drop of champagne on your robe.

“And stop with the agreeable little whore act, you can talk to me,” he winks at you as he says it, red glowing eye rimmed with teal. You sigh as you brush yourself off from both he physical and metaphorical stumble. Okay, what does he know?

“Someone like me?” you ask, your real voice now dripping through.

“Someone with power, darling,” The overlord says as if it’s obvious, “Someone with a talent like mine.”

He finishes his drink, and tosses the glass over the railing into the patrons gallery below.

“I could use someone with talents like yours,” he says, and your blood runs cold. You know what overlords mean when they say that. Your eyes dart to the curtain, to the hallway. If you shouted, would Flicker hear you? Wait- What are you thinking? He doesn’t give a rats ass about his girls’ safety.

You do the only thing you can, you open your mouth to sing.

“Ah ah ah, nope,” he holds up a finger to silence you before you can begin, “That won’t work.”

You close your mouth, open it, close it again.

“How did you know?”

If he knows, he can tell. If he tells, you lose money. Girls back on the street, you without a plan here.

His scowl turns to a smile, his eyes glowing brighter, circular rimming pulsating within his sclera. A funny tickle passes over you, as if he was blowing on you, gentle and odd. You furrow your brow, and then your jaw drops. You get it now.

“Oh, Sir!” you play it up, ‘agreeable little whore’ voice as he called it back in full force, “I didn’t realize we were so evenly matched!”

“I’m glad the smartest girl in this joint is also the prettiest,” he flirts, walking back over to the couch until he’s leaning on the arm of it.

“How were you thinking of spending the evening mister…?” You stick to script if you trail off, not wanting to ask him outright what he wanted, now that you know what you’re dealing with.

He crackles, static, his glow dimming momentarily.

“Vox, darling. Where are my manners?” he finally introduces himself as he reaches over you for the bottle of champagne in the ice bucket and the other glass. He knows this game too, you realize, as his cologne wafts over you; something rich and woodsy. Attractive and expensive.

“I’d like to offer my patronage, to your little,” he gestures around with the empty flute before pouring it, “artistic endeavors personally.”

That would be nice. A steady patron would mean steady money, steady numbers and acts, a bigger costume budget. His lap doesn't seem like a bad one to be perched on.

“Thats very generous, Mister Vox,” you say, holding out your glass for him to top it off, “But I can’t help but wonder what you want in return?”

His smile changes, less sharp, more real as he moves the neck of the bottle to your glass. He looks you up and down, scrutinizing every detail.

“Your voice,” he goes on to explain, “For some important events, some advertising. I can make you a star, darling.”

It dawns on you that he hasn’t even asked your name, but then again you also weren’t going to give a client your real name. The entire idea is attractive, desirable. The patronage of a handsome powerful man, a legitimate name for yourself in the entertainment industry, security.

You reach upward clink your glass against his, urging him to clink yours back.

“You’ll have to win me over with a dance,” you tease him, your lips curling into a downright vicious smile.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #vox hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader

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a-libra-writes · 7 months

Note

can I please request for a Mordecai Heller x female reader? like reader is a showgirl who sings on stage like Mitzi one and tends to attract a lot of attention but backs out when they feel this murdercat plotting their death lmao. thank you 😁

heyo! I decided to do a looot of the cats for this one, since its p similar to my Peaky Blinders Jazz Singer post that I was fond of. GN Reader.

Being a Jazz Singer & Performer!

Rocky - When he was hired and met you for the first time, it was absolutely an "infatuation at first sight" situation. Pros!: He's unfailingly polite and sweet, he seems to play with even more energy when you two share a stage, his grin is very off-putting to creeps who shout up at the stage and harass you. Cons: He can get quite distracted when you two share a stage. Many times Zib has had to pull him back with the rest of the band, because he keeps unintentionally scooting closer to you.

The worst part of the Lackadaisy falling onto hard times is the fact you rarely worked there now - you had to sing at other clubs to make ends meet. One of Rocky's big motivators for getting the club back to its old self is you'd come back! Forever this time! (Probably). Rocky doesn't exactly have the time or money to visit the other clubs you work at, so he wants all of your attention during your infrequent visits to the Lackdaisy.

Freckle - Look, he's a shy kid, and the whole 'sneaking out under cover of night to do bootlegging/torpedo shenanigans' is still new. He doesn't have a lot of experience or frame of reference for what a good club singer is like, but Freckle thinks you've got to be one of the best. You have to be, right? Your voice is wonderful and you look positively celestial under the stage lights - wait, that's weird to think, right? Thank God he didn't say it out loud. ... He didn't, right?

Freckle hasn't the slightest idea of how to approach you, so it's up to Ivy and his cousin to drag him over and attempt conversation. It's... a little pitiable, but he's trying. That said, he's surprisingly outspoken and a little scary if someone tried to mess with you while you performed. You're used to the heckles and catcalls, but it's shocking to see that shy tabby jump up from his seat and raise his voice at them.

Ivy - She liked you from the moment she first saw you perform at the Lackdaisy, and that crush hasn't dulled over the months. She maaaay have kept a few posters that advertised the clubs you sang at, and may or may not have cajoled her way into those clubs so she could watch the show. She could easily sweet talk her way to backstage, too - seems you've got a fan.

When the Lackadaisy goes downhill, it's Ivy who wants to sweet talk you into returning. You'll bring in a crowd! The acoustics are great! Pretty pleeease? Her dad Ivy will pay you and not get in trouble until months later when the family accountant goes over the finances. Obviously she cares about the club's wellbeing, but she also wants to spend time with you! Though she's bold enough to just ask you outright. She's also bold enough to outright shout and fight anyone whose heckling you - throwing a heel is a favorite tactic.

Viktor - You're someone he saw often in the olden days, back when the club could afford to have you perform several times a week rather than once a month. Viktor never cared much for the cacophony the crowd and music made, though he knew objectively you were an excellent performer. Rather than endure the crowd, he'd listen to your voice drift across the caves backstage, rehearsing with the band or just by yourself. It was pleasant to listen to, and he could do so in private, either coming back from a job or about to go on one.

Once things began to fall apart, it's not as though he went around to clubs ... or anywhere, really. So if you stopped performing at the Lackadaisy, you might never see each other again. Choosing to stay (or at least do a few pity gigs) would lead to the surprising sight of the big, morose Slav working behind the bar and watching from there, rather than his previous hideouts. It's a little intense to be under that stare... but not all unpleasant? And given how sparse the crowd is, anyone making trouble and catcalling will get dealt with so promptly, they won't even have time to finish their wolf whistle.

Zib - Well, obviously he's going to be drawn in by an attractive singer. Come on. Zib can be smooth when he wants, chainsmoker-scent and rumpled clothes aside. The band likes to tease him mercilessly about it, but that doesn't stop him from cozying up while you two perform together and shooting his shot backstage after every show. Back when the Lackadaisy was thriving, he could afford to hang out at the other clubs you performed at; nowadays, though, that's not so likely.

Even so, starting up a friendship or even fling wouldn't be difficult. He's attracted to and interested in creative spirits, doubly so if you two had very different taste (so there's more to discuss!) and you got on well with the rest of the band. Late-night debates about this musician or that show over a game of cards and several bottles of wine, either together or with the rest of the boys, and waking up half-dressed and seriously hungover come sunrise. Opportunities for visiting would dwindle as the Lackadaisy's business dried up, though if you stayed on ... No, he wouldn't want that for you. If anything you'd be mentioning to him and the band that there's other places to perform to pay the bills. Well, it'd be food for thought.

Wick - Wick wouldn't call himself a music aficionado, especially what's listened to at these rowdy speakeasies, but he won't deny how hard it was to focus on his business associates when you were on stage. So when he discovered you often performed at his favorite club, it was a pleasant surprise. He really wanted to speak with you at some point, at least compliment the performance, but didn't want to come off as those typical entitled wealthy guys who get too fresh with ""lower"" class performers ... so sometimes you'd find flowers in the dressing room and an anonymous note of appreciation.

He finally gets a conversation when you're a guest at a posh party he's attending, or when you continue to perform at the Lackadaisy in spite of the dwindling crowd. It's a shame your large audience is missing, but at least it's way less awkward for him to strike up conversation when you come to the bar? He probably won't bring up the flowers. Oh god, what if you think that's weird. You probably assumed the flowers were some freak fan. Is he a freak fan? He's not, right? (It will take him like months of dating to finally admit to the flowers thing)

Serafine - A good-looking cat with a nice set of pipes is certainly someone she'd notice, especially if they were a regular performer at the Marigold Room and other places she frequented before that. If it was the former, she'd have plenty of chances to wink when you met eyes, "chancing" across you backstage or just being forward and chatting you up after the show. She certainly isn't shy about expressing her interest, and it could be a fun fling.

You do look adorable swinging your hips and swaying your tail along to the beat, not to mention the different get-ups you have to dress in. Serafine maaaay or may not have wanted to help pick a suit out, or help with make-up, or give you some of her jewelry to wear... It's half marking her territory and half she loves to lounge around your dressing room and be a pest. You'd never kick her out and she knows it. She'll do it in other clubs, too, though you have no idea how she keeps getting past security.

Nico - Like his sister, he has no qualms nor shame about trying to get your attention on stage. Unlike Serafine, though, he'd start doing it immediately and be a general pest after the show. The difference between his attention seeking and the other men's in the audience is he actually has some charisma when you two meet backstage, so you're only slightly inclined to tell him to buzz off. He wasn't much of a music expert, and he still isn't ... But he likes hearing you rehearse and hum to yourself, and it's endearing when he requests songs.

He's pleased when you get gigs at the Marigold Room, as it's easier to hang around before and after the show - and bonus, he gets to be extra aggressive with throwing creeps out to impress you! But if you're performing elsewhere then Nico will stop by. He might be bruised and/or bloody because he just left a job, but don't worry! Sometimes he'll even bring flowers or whatever - though without Serafine knowing, she'd never let him live it down.

Mordecai - He wouldn't approach you any differently from others - he'd still be his usual prickly, anti-social, often awkward self - in fact, he might avoid an avid performer, simply because they often have fans around them or at least people recognizing them. What could get his notice was someone whose real persona is very different from their ostentatious self on stage - more quiet and pensive, perhaps. Like any attempt at friendship, let alone romance, it's slow going with him.

That said, he's the type to admire professionalism in a performance. A well put together outfit, thoughtful musical arrangement (as if he's an expert ...). He wouldn't like a femme presenting singer have to wear skimpy clothes or tolerate a rowdy audience. If there was a questionable manager or creepy fan bothering them, Mordecai can deal with that, at least, not that he'd tell his friend/partner. Mordecai would generally glare down any touchy fans and annoying admirers like a jealous terrier. This amuses Mitzi to no end.

Asa - Simply put, he saw you performing at a ritzy party he was invited to and reached out to your manager so you might perform on a weekly basis at the Marigold Room. Very professional! He'd send flowers with his name to the dressing room afterward, would make sure you're finding everything to your liking and not being bothered by anyone. Requests to continue performing would bypass your manager to being nice, short handwritten notes.

Eventually he'd pay you extra and treat you to a nice dinner afterward, if you were comfortable with it. If you let the older man down, he's not too bothered. He'd continue the friendly business relationship and would still send flowers and so on. He'd rather keep you as a good business associate and continue to enjoy the performances than let his silly feelings get in the way. Alas, he is hopeless at discussions of your music. My guy called a ukelele a tiny guitar.

Wes - He never hung around the Marigold Room after hours - it's his workplace, and not really his vibe - but it's very hard to resist not sitting by for an hour (or three) with a drink while you finish your set. Sometimes you two will meet eyes, or he thinks you are, and he considers dropping backstage to say ... hello? He's an 'employee', so isn't checking up on you a normal thing to do? Make sure you're satisfied with the Marigold Room and all that. Right.

Ironically that's how he's finally able to meet the singer he's been mooning over for months. A drunk patron was getting too cozy on your way out, and Wes happened to be there. His face and ... charming demeanor is good for scaring off upper class wimps. So there's that. He's not so bad, though - clumsy, and prooobably realizes you're out of his league. You get to see more of his earnest side when you two meet outside of the Marigold Room, where his fellow murderous gangsters coworkers aren't watching yalls every move with popcorn in hand.

#posting 1 year later lets go lmao #lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #calvin mcmurray x reader #ivy pepper x reader #viktor vasko x reader #zib zibowski x reader #wick sable x reader #serafine savoy x reader #nico savoy x reader #mordecai heller x reader #asa sweet x reader #wes clyde x reader #also lmao sorry mordecai would not take a singer/semi famous partner well. too much attention #its funny to think abt tho like. cannot imagine this man has taste in upbeat jazz #cant even pretend to dance at least calvin tries!

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gorjee-art · 2 months

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Can you tell me about your characters Charles and Claire?

To make a grossly long story short. Claire and Charles are "business partners", in how they describe their relationship. She's a showgirl (with a side of being a spy), he's her "escort" (he's actually a bounty hunter) that was meant to be temporary but ended up as a mutually beneficial partnership.

She sells information, and he hunts the baddies down (dead or alive), so they're around each other often. His job is made easier, and she is safe. Win, win!

But over time, they grow HUGE, and I mean disgustingly obvious lovey-dovey crushes on each other. She's really forward in her flirting while Charles is just trying his best not to explode. However, In a city like Elysium, relationships are borderline dangerous investments to make, so they try to keep it hush-hush and their relations behind closed doors and heavy denial that it's anything more than a "partnership". So it's a lot of yearning and longing.

They're silly though, and I love them

#oc - charles bonnet #oc - claire corielle #dogs dinner #threeface speaks

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peachesancreams · 5 months

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Expanding on the Wives

everyones favorite asexual serial killer and his cute wifey! this one is marked mature as it is his serial killing days. I will be going into all their deaths on the third part so stay tuned~

Alastors wife

Okay so I said Al doesn’t remember how they first met and he doesn’t mainly because I personally headcanon that he has a lot of trauma in accordance with that time. Mainly at the hands of his father, which more then likely is one of the core manifestations of his future MO for being a serial killer, being that he killed ‘bad people’ and never outright leaned toward killing women. Do I think he did? Yeah someone had to have seen something at one point and Alastor isn’t one for lose ends. (I’m sorry guys you’re gonna see a lot of me info dumping, serial killers psyche and the types are a special interest of mine)

They meet when they were kids, him just running around New Orleans learning the streets and how to use the alleys to make a quick getaway. It had helped him more then on one occasion growing up in that day and age, more so when people knew of his parentage. Not that he was ashamed but rather no one Likes Pain much less children, and unfortunately other children will do as they see their parents do. Rosalind had been reading on the steps on the library when he had ran into her. It wasn’t any kind of meet cute considering they got into a argument about who’s fault it was, kids am I right?

They kiddos had decided that they both were ultimately at fault, him for running when Mama said not to rush and Rose for sitting on the steps where people walk. They’d shook on it and had spent the day talking about some radio stories, Alastor eventually telling her about his dream of being a host himself.

They meet up regularly and talked about the many things kids find important. Until Rosalind’s Pa died and her mother had to move them back up north. The saddest part was it all happened so rapidly, Rosalind hadn’t had time to find Alastor to tell him. Her mother kept Rosalind close to her through out the process of the funeral and the move, having heard of the company her daughters been keeping but also to grieve with her daughter.

Thus she moved away and Alastor slowly forgot the face of his friend. He remembers having a dear childhood friend but figured they, like everyone else heard of his heritage and left him.

Meanwhile up north Rosalind was dreaming of going back to the south. She thanked her lucky stars her fathers family lived down in Louisiana still, she sent letters often down to her cousins asking about life and how is dear New Orleans changing?

When she was 18 Rosalind decided to make the choice to move down south. Her mother had gotten a urgent letter from her aunt raving about how her cousins were living in sin and needed a good girl like Rosalind to guide them. Of course this was only partly the case, their cousins mother had actually passed in the fall and one them impersonated her as to fool Rosalind's mother.

They made this plan as to get Rosalind out from her mothers thumb, wanting her to stay close and up north together. It was not that Rosalind didn't love her mother she just didn't want to be smothered by her anymore.

Now for the second and remembered meeting!!

Once secure in the South her cousins had decided to celebrate! What better way to celebrate gaining independence in the 20's then going to Mimzy's club! Bonus her cousins worked there as showgirls(have to make money somehow...) so they were familiar with the atmosphere.

It had been fun, they drank and danced some. It was only when her cousins had been swept onto the dance floor by two different gentlemen that Rosalind finally felt conflicted. Truth be told she had been having mixed feelings all night, but now alone with the gazing of hungry men feasting on her flesh.

Heading to the bar she ordered herself a drink, trying to call the bartenders attention. It was when a smooth voice called above her head that the bartender finally looked over.

"John my good man! My usual drink for me, and one for the lady as well."

Now at this time Al has been establishing himself in his career for a while, I imagine at this time he had actually just scored his first segment. It was some news on event in town and weather reports, he still has a small way to go till he can report on what he really wants. The Local Crime segments, the man who does it now Tyler put people to sleep the way he drones.

He had come to Mimzy's tonight to stalk his next hunt. His radio career wasn't the only one he had been curating and growing with time. He started his murder career with a truly vile man, his father. No one thought much of the hunting accident, his father was a drunk and many had the opinion it had been bound to happen. Filled eith righteous fury, he went after only villainous people. Muggers, rapists, a fellow murderer, and well an unfortunate witness.

Alastor had been eyeing this particular prey for a while, a rapist who preyed on woman. Alastor had watched his prey pick out his own prey for the evening, watched him circle like a vulture. He took notice of the woman, a soft smile on her face but discomfort colored her brows. It stirred something in him, a flash of his mothers face making his grin feel strained.

Alastor doesn't know why and could only put it to words after when he was in Hell. He interrupted his preys hunt to intercept the woman, buying her a drink. The conversation was stimulating, and having her not fawn over him was a nice change. Despite his small role in the station his popularity grows by the day. What can he say, he has a voice made for radio!

They hit it off from there, him quietly offing his prey another night. No need for vermin like him to linger around. After all Ms. Rosalind frequently met him at Mimzy's so there no reason not to keep the place...tidy so to speak.

Rosalind felt like she was in a fairytale, not only was she able to get a job as a poster painter(lots of prints were handmade back then!) but Alastor, a radio host with a career on the rise, seemed to fancy her.

She didn't realize who Alastor was until they'd gotten married, saw a picture of him and his mom he kept in the back of a bible. She also realized he didn't remember her, it made her a little sad but she remembered the bruises he would show up with and forgave him in her heart.

Speaking of, they were only together for like a month before getting married. And the proposal was at his house! He made dinner and lit candles, and made sure to be his most charming.

Rosalind could only say yes to her dear sweet Al. The thing that had gotten people talking is that she hadn't gone home that night. Alastor was never huge on touch but always seemed to gravitate towards her space. That night they'd cuddled on the couch, exchanging small kisses until they'd fallen asleep.

It’s had started the rumor mill but what made it a full function factory was how the wedding ended up being a month later. So many older ladies comforted her saying ‘first babies are always late’, Alastor had gotten a good laugh out of her flushed face after. She had scolded him but couldn't put any heat behind it, weak as she was to his smile.

They never were physical together, it just wasn't something either of them wanted. They didn't desire each other for the body itself, but for the company and conversation. It was a lovely union, Alastor being attentive to her labors praising her work in the house and garden.

Speaking of her garden, since I see the house being his parents before his own. The garden was originally his mothers. It had fallen into deep disrepair since she had passed, as he had no talent for gardening. With his little wife however it had returned to its old splendor.

Where he didn't have a talent for the green, he did take well to his fathers old hunting lessons. Something he found himself indulging in as a married man. Fresh vegetables and herbs along side some fresh venison, made for a wonderfully fresh meal you couldn't find anywhere else. Who knew all it took was one these hunts for him to disappear from her life forever?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #1920s-1933 alastor #tried to keep it time accurate #dividers by #saradika-graphics #angel wives #hazbin oc #hazbin original character #hazbin hotel oc #alastor x oc

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mynameisjag · 1 day

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For anonymous: Prompt: Nicepool crushing hard on Weapon X.

Author's Note: If given the chance, I will write Logan as the embodiment of a feral cat unless specifically told not to.

The usual thing about the TVA force hiring Deadpool and Wolverine to help handle cross universe dilemmas happens. Which was usually solved with a good fight, quips, and hauling their blood covered bodies back home for a greasy dinner.

Handling the situation with words…was abit more…problematic…

No one wanted to get near Weapon X to demand the variant go home and Deadpool, well, he had his own issues with his variant.

“The forces of fanfiction are against me, why are you fucking here?!”

“Good to see you too buddy!”

“Fucking how!”

Nicepool just shrugged and did a little wave over at Logan, who waved lightly back, “The forces of the multiverse are a mystery, death and life is at it’s own whimsy command. Much like love.”, and the man was now dreamily sighing and staring lovingly at the pissed off Wolverine variant.

Who was currently distracted by Wade’s Logan.

Logan was steadily just watching the other black clad mutant circle around him, both bristling.

Wade ignored that whole situation, they could take care of themselves like the big girls they are.

“You can not “Pretty Woman” this situation, Miss Lola over there is a man eater in the way Hannibal Lector is.”

“Oh, their name is Lola? That’s so pretty…Lola…”

“Is this what everyone back home feels like dealing with me, shit, I’m going to have to some apology letters or flowers when we get back home.”

“I should get them some flowers, what do you think they’re favorite is?”

“Lily’s, like the ones they use at funerals because that’s what is going to happen.”

Both Wolverines were on all fours and doing great imitations of cats now, hissing and teeth baring included.

“Awe, they are making friends!”, Nicepool clasped his hands in front of himself, sighing deeply again.

“Just fucking stick your dick in a trash compactor, it would end the same!”

“I can give them a better life, I can save them from the streets, I can be their hero.”, there seemed to be actual anime sparkles around the man…Wade waved it all away like a bad fart.

“Lola” was now purring and rubbing up against Logan, both chittering away like the ferret cousins they were.

Deadpool was just staring at his variant, his face being covered did not deter the aura of his annoyance being projected full force at the other, too bad Nicepool paid absolutely no attention to the waves of hatred sent his way, “You know what “Mr. Salt is too spicy for me”, go on, go confess your love,” he dramatically pointed over to the Wolverines, “go on, go-wait, where’s the other one?”

Logan shrugged nonchalantly, “He left.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he went home.”, he pointed at one of the doorways usually made from the TVA for dimensional travel, “I think he wants me to follow him.”

“Nope, I kidnapped you fair and square, we have a dog and rent together now, so you are not going anywhere. I’ve gotten too used to stealing your body heat at night. I’ve got no body hair to keep me warm, Lo, you’ve got too much, it’s a perfect balance, we can’t mess with the balance.”

Nicepool took a deep loud breath, interrupting the other two as he placed his hand on Wade’s shoulder, who just shrugged it off, “I know what I should do now, wish me luck,” he then turned and went through the gateway like a soldier on a mission, the entryway closing behind him in a zip of light.

“Wow,” Deadpool clapped his hands together once, “he is going to be murdered. Violently. Lola is going to use his thighs and squeeze his head like a watermelon in absolute viscous glee…I’m sorta jealous that’s how that cheery fuck will go out this time,” he turned toward his partner, “will you-“

“-I’m not getting your rotted out brain shit all over my crotch.”

“Fucking damn it!”

-Lola comes from the lyrics, “Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl.”

#wolverine #marvel #fanfic #x men #deadpool #nicepool #weapon x #prompt fill #poolverine #what the hell is nicepool's and weapon x ship called?#you cant stop me giving the Wolverines animal traits #he need to be more feral in media #Deadpool wants to be killed by thick thighs #deadpool and wolverine

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hcsarchive · 9 months

Text

BOXER II

PARTY TWO

* part one *

nct dream (hint of the boyz)

details « fem!reader x boxer!jaemin (ft. boss!haechan)

genre « smut with a plot, fluff?, lil angst +

- after getting cheated on, you get invited to an underground boxing match but you stumble into some dangerous territory and that's where things take a turn.

warnings: explicit language, flirty banter, praise kink, corruption kink, knives, rope bunny, cheating, violence, depression and of mentions food.

"I am still so confused about this. If he wanted to kill her he would've done it already and if he wanted to fuck he would've kicked her out by now. What is his deal? other people have trespassed before”

“Who knows let's get going. I have never seen him like this" Renjun loads his gun on the way out and 8 other men circle around the three of you. You’re now fully clothed and after being tied up. After the fight ended he started to untie everything and told Renjun to bring in extra clothes from the showgirls’ closet for you to wear.

"Start heading home, make sure she remains asleep the whole ride" Jisung picks you up and Renjun lifts up your arm. "You left her all bruised and red. Haechan come on dude" Haechan rolls his eyes.

"She needed to learn her lesson" Haechan smirks and pours a glass of scotch. The duo leave to the car.

"She is very pretty compared to all the other girls who work for us, so maybe he is using this as an excuse and keeping her with us" Jisung says and brushes back a strand of your hair.

"You are getting on my nerves" Renjun parks the car and opens the back door.

The guards drive away and Jisung carries your still sleeping body in.

*One hour later*

"One of you has to investigate and interview her” haechan says.

"I'll interview her," Jaemin says, he only cared about training and winning the championship so everyone looked around at each other then at him.

"Jaemin I don't think you are the right fit for this or even trained enough," Renjun says. They start to argue.

Haechan shushes everyone "Just let her sleep, we'll do it in the morning. Take her to the spare room which has no windows or anything and take turns watching her" Haechan walks away into his room.

"What is his deal," Mark says walking in from the kitchen.

"That's what I've been saying," Jisung says.

"I'll watch her I was sleeping until you guys got here" Mark said and took you to the room. He tucked you in and you were sound asleep. Normally you’re a light sleeper but today drained you.

It was around 4am and Jaemin was about to head back into his room since his sleep schedule is bad. He found mark sleeping on the chair outside, Jaemin shook him but he was still snoring.

“Fucking prick can sleep all day” he opens the door and finds you rolled up in a corner sobbing.

He was about to leave so Mark can deal with this but you turn around before he even reacted. “Can I please get some water, I tried telling the dude in the chair but-“

“I’ll get you some, lay back down” Jaemin goes to the kitchen and gets two water bottles from the fridge. He also grabbed a tissue box from the cabinet.

“Thanks” you say while taking them for him.

“Yup” he leaves before you say anything. Normally you will be freaking out about walking in into a kidnap. Also having no idea why they took you all the way to their personal home but you had no choice and nothing to lose.

You are working horrendous hours and studying really hard but felt like it’ll lead you to nowhere to where you want to be. This on the other hand is confusing, do not know if you’re being killed or sold off. After being cheated on you just want to a break from your life but you miss your friends.

“Jacob” you gasped and someone bursted into the room.

It was mark, he turned the lights on. “Can i have my phone please. my friends are probably looking for me” you say.

“Unfortunately you can’t. You’ll have to be monitored and be held without any contact for at least 48hours” Mark said.

“They would be suspicious though they know my schedule and routine. I disappeared after telling them i went to the bathroom during the fight”

“It is just what we do here I’m sorry” mark scarthes the back of his head.

“Who’s we? I haven’t even gotten told why I am here. This whole situation is stupid. Your boss is-“ you stop what you were about to say because Haechan shows up in the door way.

“What about me?” he gets closer to the bed.

“Haechan don’t start give her some space” Mark grabs his wrist.

“Why? she’s not talking to you with respect and that little mouth of her’s is always whining” Haechan gets as close as Mark let’s him.

“I want to know why I am here. I have work in like 4 hours then class at night. I don’t have time to be involved in your mafia rules and regulations I do not care what you guys even do” you take off the covers and storm off the room but got stopped by Jaemin.

“I’m sorry sweetheart you’re going to be here for a while-“ you hiss in pain after his arms touch your arms to turn you around and let’s go right away.

“Haechan just explain everything to her now” Jaemin says. Haechan already changed his gaze to you and to Jaemin.

“I didn’t train you guys for years for you to be all soft and warm” Haechan goes past the three of you. “Go to the living room and you two get the others” he starts to get mad.

Mark and Jaemin go to wake everyone up and you stare up at haechan once you sit down. He looks back at you “stop the act” you knit your eyebrows together.

“I can always start screaming out the window” you say.

“They all have a security codes to open them. Especially the door so nice try” He sits directly in front of you.

Jeno, Chenle, Renjun, and Jisung all come half asleep. “It’s literally our day off why are we up so early” Chenle complains.

Renjun is slowly walking with his file with his eyes adjusting to the light. “Alright now that everyone is here. Before anything, sign this contract and read everything throughly. You will have to be monitored, watched, and live under our bases for 2 months or until we think it is appropriate to release you. After that you will have to sign an NDA and also be monitored. The reason for all of this is because you trespassed, harassed my crew, and other rules were all stated on your ticket. We also need you to call your university, work, and friends to let them know you’re taking a short break. I also did a even more thorough background check and boy was I amazed” He switches his professionalism off after the last sentence.

“I won’t be killed or sold?” you look at all of them. “Oh no you’re all mine” Haechan smirks.

“Keep it professional Haechan we are still in the process of her signing the contract. This isn’t funny” Renjun says handing you a pen. You sign it because it’s not like you have choice.

“I wasn’t joking” Haechan takes the contract from you and gives you another one. It has your name and your information. “Fill out who you were last with and you’ll be able to call them after you explain everything to us”

You sign the contract and hand it to him. “Do I have to say it in front of everyone” you look around to everyone and everyone looks so intimidating. They’re all with messy hair and deep voices. “Unfortunately you have to. It is just like a board meeting which was originally going to be in our headquarters but Haechan decided to do things differently” your whole body starts to heat up and have flashbacks to what happened. You can’t believe that happened, sunwoo never did that either.

“I-“ haechan was cut off “Y/N hasn’t answered and we do not need your comments” Renjun cut him off.

“So I was with my boyfriend but he suddenly left…again. Then his friends decided to take me to the boxing match since I was upset he left and they had his extra ticket. I wasn’t aware where we were even going. Once we got to our seats and watched more of the match I needed to go to the bathroom. I saw lots of doors from my seat so I figured one of them had to be the restroom. I go through the isles of seats and the random crowd which I believe that is the VIP area now. When I was in that area I was being pushed around alot and I got pushed so hard by this drunk man into this couple making out. And the lovely couple was your show girl and my boyfriend…ex boyfriend but whatever. So I was trying to escape the situation as much as possible and find a peaceful place to cry in but I stumbled into god knows what you guys are and I never got cry” you want to cry but you hold it in.

You look down to your hands and wait for Renjun to finish writing. “The interview is over, you are welcome to call one person since it is technically morning but you’re not allowed to tell them where you went or why. Make up a reasonable lie. To make you more comfortable you can go into the room and call but one of us has to be in the room with you” Renjun hands the phone to you.

“Can you come with” You look at Jisung and he nods yes.

“We’ll be right back” Jisung leads you to the room.

You decided to call Chanhee, “put it on speaker phone and mute yourself when I tap you” Jisung says and you nod.

“Y/N why didnt you come home tonight? are you ok?” the phone doesn’t even ring two times and chanhee picks up right away.

“I’m ok and I won’t be home for a little while. I just need a small break from everything” you respond to him.

“Sunwoo came home angry were you with him after hanging out with the guys?” he asks concerned and his name makes the tears fall down.

“No but I need a break from him, school, and everything else. I wish I can take you with but that’ll be selfish.” you wipe your tears and start sobbing.

“If anything happens or you need someone to talk to, you know the drill. take care my love and don’t forget about me” Chanhee says all sad.

“I will never forget you. You’re literally my favorite person. I’ll keep in touch every chance I get.” Your tears start pouring down even more.

“Bye y/n” chanhee sighs.

“byeee love you” you hang up and start sobbing uncontrollably. Jisung hands you tissues. “I’m sorry to put you through this” he says.

“You’re just doing your job, I don’t blame you” you wipe the last of your tears.

You hear a knock on the door “Jisung I need you start getting ready and go to headquarters in half an hour. I need you, Renjun, and Mark to wrap up this case. Chenle will drop you guys off. Jeno and Jaemin will stay with me.” Haechan says coming into the room.

Jisung whispers bye and steps out of the room. Haechan comes in and you stay silent, you feel embarrassed that he found out everything now. “Jaemin must’ve knocked him too much in the head and turn him dumb for him to cheat on you” you look at him confused.

“He has fought in the rink before?”

“No but our trainers use Jaemin to train them well but he got knocked up real bad last time since he stopped showing up to practice and hanging out with Jia. The guys are taking care of him” you now get worried. “They’re just going through a similar process as how we did with you earlier since he was the actual last person that is connected to you and to us. He doesn’t know what we really are” Haechan sits at the desk chair.

“What are you guys I am still very confused” you scan his face and he turns nervous.

“I swear I am not working with anyone I just want to know who i’ll be living with” his facial expression changes.

“I basically control and own all the illegal boxing rinks, casinos, cartels, and trading events in Korea, Europe, and The United States. We have millions of people working for us and we simply make the decision and sometimes get our hands dirty.” Haechan says.

“Wow and at your age you accomplished all that?” you gasp.

“I won’t take all the credit since my ancestors have been doing this since 1700s but I have broken many records and branched out internationally faster than anyone” he stands up and walks to you slowly. “I would also would like to know more about you. I know I didn’t give you chance earlier” he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and wipe the remaining tears left in your cheeks.

You and Haechan were in complete silence, looking into eachother’s eyes. His expression is more soft and observant than how he was last night. He is even more beautiful with his bareface and unstyled hair.

A dry throat wakes the both of you up, it’s Jaemin in a apron. “I made breakfast for y/n” he comes in with a board.

“Quit it” Haechan mutters to Jaemin under his breath and leaves.

“He’s always like this” he rolls his eyes. “Anyways fyi I kind of looked through your coffee coffin app to see how you like your coffee so sorry in advance”

You smile widely “That’s so sweet thank you” you taste it “ wow it’s way better than the one at coffin’s” you set the cup down.

“If you want to bring your food to the living room and watch tv you could” he says.

“Am I allowed?” you stare out the door.

“I’ll allow it. If Haechan says anything, blame it on me” you follow Jaemin with your food. You set your food down on the coffee table and sit on the floor.

He goes to kitchen to help Jeno finish up. Once they’re all done Jaemin joins you on watching some random episode of the Simpsons silently.

“What is she doing out here” Haechan comes out of his room all dressed up in a suit and gun to his hip. “She’s harmless plus you can’t keep her in there forever” Jaemin says.

“I own her until she is released so you do not get to make those decisions” Haechan grabs Jaemin by his shirt.

“Fine alright. Chill out, I didn’t expect you to react this way” Jaemin gets your food and signals you to go to the room.

You stand up and go up Haechan “If you own me atleast do something. I’m not a throw pillow in the guest bedroom” you walk away and follow Jaemin back into your now new room.

“Thank you for atleast trying” you sit on the bed and take the plate from him.

“I’ll bring in my laptop and we can watch something after he leaves. I would’ve defended you but he was strapped so I didn’t want to deal with that” he smiles and leaves your doorway.

You silently finish your food and stare at the wall. It is now hitting you that you will not be graduating on time, behind on bills, and not see your friends due to all this. Tears start to roll down again. You also no longer have a boyfriend which you loved to death.

He was your everything and one day he just flipped the switch. Sunwoo started calling you crazy and manipulative. He was just pushing you to break things off but you loved him too much to notice what was happening, he clearly didn’t love you enough to be honest and leave you.

You go to close the door but Haechan is standing there. “What did I do wrong this time” you start to sob more. “You look so pretty when you cry” he grabs your face and stares into your eyes. He inches closer to your face, his lips are a breath away from yours. “Tell me why you’re crying” he looks down at your lips and up to your eyes. You are trying to find words but his gaze just has you shock.

“It’s personal” you blink out the rest of your tears to see him more clearly.

“Tell me baby, I can fix anything for you” he stand up straight still holding your face.

“My ex boyfriend and school. But please don’t hurt him, he really wants to become a boxer”

“I won’t hurt him but Jaemin will. He’s a great money maker but it won’t stop me from giving him hell” he lets go of you and you’re left standing there looking stupid.

“Jaemin and Jeno will be here training all day. Do not leave your room, Jeno is in charge since Jaemin decided not to listen” he leaves.

He keeps switching to being an asshole to being warm. Then professional to whatever that was a couple seconds ago. The front door opens and closes and the multiple locks are heard clicking.

A knock at the doorframe was heard and Jaemin comes in as promised “I am not training today” he chuckles and sits on the bed next to you.

“Also is your body ok from yesterday?” he asks holding up your arm.

“I bruise easily so it isn’t too bad but I am a little sore” you look at all the rope marks on your legs and arms “this is so embarrassing” you pull your arm away gently.

“It’s impressive actually. Haechan is very picky from everyone else so it’s hard for someone or something to catch his attention…I can run you a salt bath after a movie, your bathroom has one” Jaemin has a big smile on his face. The most intimidating one turned out to be the sweetest.

“That’ll be lovely. You’re the best” you smile back at him.

After the movie, he opens the bathroom door and shows you how to work the shower and where everything is. “I’ll bring you some of my sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I’ll ask haechan if he can order hair and skin care specifically for you since this is just generic” he says.

“I don’t have money til next week so I’ll work with this” you say looking at the shampoo bottle. “That won’t be a problem sweetheart” Jaemin pour the salt and fills the tub.

“I will pay you guys back” you look down at the water.

“Oh you will” he smirks and you know exactly what he meant. “Check the water” he runs his hands through it and you do as well.

“Ooo it already feels nice. Thank you Jaemin” you side hug him.

“No problem. I’ll leave your clothes by the door. Lock it after I leave” you send a thumbs up.

You lock the door, get undressed and turn the bath lights on and lay on the circular bathtub. The bathroom is probably the same size as the room which shocked you because the one in your house and uni complex is the size of the tub itself.

You are floating in the tub and letting your body relax. After 20 minutes you step out of the tub and drain it. Then run to the shower to actually clean yourself. You grab the huge towel that was in the closet, and grab the clothes that Jaemin left you on the door step.

Jaemin’s sweatpants were comfy and his sweatshirt smelt good. You stepped out of the bathroom brushing your hair with a comb you found in the drawers.

Someone knocks at your door “come in” it’s Jaemin again and you smile at him. “I brought you socks from the convenient store and some fancy lotion that relaxes you” anyone can fall in love with him in seconds. He doesn’t even know you and he is doing all this.

“I cant thank you enough. You really didn’t have to do all this. You’re doing something I would beg my boyfriend to do and didn’t” you start to cry.

“Oh y/n don’t cry over someone who doesn’t deserve you” he opens the socks and lifts up the cover to reveal your feet. He puts them on and pats the cover over you.

“I’m sorry it’s just hitting me right now” you wipe off your tears.

“Let it all out” Jaemin hugs you and picks your body up to lay on him. You cry on his chest and you calm down after a while. The both of you are silent. His heart beat is in your ear and your eyes are slowly falling asleep.

Jaemin pets your head as you’re sleeping on his chest. He starts humming to a song he wrote not too long ago “like we just met”. Jaemin not only boxes but he loves to sing, write, and cook. Obviously this personality isn’t allowed to be seen by the outside world but he wishes to one day he could.

Haechan came home with 20 bags filled with clothes for you but found you and Jaemin sleeping tightly together. “Of course he wins again” the guys look at eachother confused and in shock…

a/n

This is more of a filler, so stay tuned for part three because things are going to escalate. Also! tysm for 200+ likes!! it is way more than i expected. take care everyone :)

[UNEDITED]

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playbucky · 9 months

Text

Front and Centre.

Y/N, or Showgirl is known as the army’s face, a beautiful face that eases people into joining. She’s been tasked with joining the 141 for a mission but the team didn’t fully trust the person who poses for posters. Characters – Reader, Price, Gaz, Soap, Ghost. Word Count – 1.6k.

‘We’ve got a new coming for this mission.’ Price said, the boys lifted their heads and looked at him. ‘Who?’ Gaz questioned, Price rubbed his lips together. ‘Lieutenant Y/N.’ He said. ‘Showgirl?’ Soap quizzed, unaware that the door had opened and you stepped in. ‘That is what they call me.’ You said, they looked at you, the one closest to Price was the only one to sit taller. ‘When we leaving?’ You asked, your gaze focused on Price. ‘Sixteen hundred hours.’ Price said, you nodded and slid into the seat at the end of the table, leaving one between yourself and the masked figured. ‘Y/N, I want you to meet Ghost, Soap and Gaz.’ Price introduced them to you. ‘Pleasure to meet you all.’ You told them, you dipped your head before you opened the small file, you got a mumble from two of them but the masked figure stared at you.

You aimed your gun up before a weight around your waist pulled you to the side, you let out a startled yelp before you ended up on the ground. Quickly you got up onto your feet and tried to make your way back you but another arm stopped you. ‘Let me go.’ You snarled, your gun shoved into your holster. ‘There’s no need for you to.’ Price said, you narrowed your eyes at him. ‘Fuck off.’ You hissed, Soap and Ghost looked at each other before they looked back to you. ‘Y/N?’ Price said as he rounded the corner. ‘No, fuck off, I’ve had enough of the constant belittling.’ You told them, you were fed up with the way they would send glances and mumble between themselves. ‘We aren’t belittling you.’ Soap said, he held his hands out at his sides. ‘You put me to the back, protect me constantly and try and hide the violence from me.’ You pointed a finger out, ‘Four tours I did, I only got the showgirl name when the commanding officer saw that I led my team into a -,’ you stopped, you snapped your jaw shut and sighed, the men watched you. ‘But don’t worry, once this is done I’m leaving, you won’t have to worry about me again.’ You said before you marched further into the safe house, that you were having to spend the next sixteen hours in.

‘Y/N?’ The familiar voice called, you turned and smiled as you saw Widow, you went to walk before she was flung forwards. The red splattered shot from her head as she collapsed onto the ground,  ‘Shit.’ You gasped as you sat up, your grip tight on the edge of the makeshift bed, the taunt fabric groaned as you shifted. Taking deep breaths you looked around the room, the dark silent room except from the quiet snores of Gaz and Soap, their faces smooshed into the thin pillows whilst Price rested his head on his arm as he rested it behind him. His mouth dropped open, hat resting over his eyes, you gaze moved to the empty bed the other side of him. Your brows furrowed before you shook your head and made your way to the tight bathroom. You pushed the door over to keep the noise from the others before you splashed your face with cold water, your hands rested on the edge of the porcelain sink as you looked up. The person that looked back to you was a stranger, the dark bags underneath your eyes and wrinkles between your furrowed brow, completely different to the wide smile that is constantly plastered on and the insane amount of makeup and photoshoot. You dried your hands on the small towel before you dropped it over the sink and stepped out the room. The thought of going back to bed twisted your stomach, pulling the door over and switching the light off you carefully made your way to the second door. You pushed it open and quickly stepped out and closed the door back over. Carefully you made your way down the corridor, that opened into a stingy living room, Ghost’s hunched figure lingered at the large window that was opened. ‘It’s not your turn.’ He commented as he turned and looked at you. ‘I know.’ You replied, he moved off the seat and stood to his full height, you were sure you heard some of his bones pop. ‘Nightmare?’ He quizzed you hummed, you looked out the ‘Constantly.’ You replied, he huffed and handed you a small paper mug that had small wisps of steam coming over the edge.  ‘No thank you.’ You politely turned it down. ‘You don’t want tea?’ He quizzed, you shook your head. ‘It’s yours.’ You replied, you rubbed your eyes. ‘I can go make another one.’ He offered, you shook your head again. ‘Ghost, just drink it.’ You ordered, he huffed as you turned to look over the ridge, that had provided him some cover for the night.  You didn’t turn when he lifted the mask, and raised the cup before he practically gulped the burning liquid down in a oner. ‘We trust you.’ Ghost admitted, you looked at him as he pulled the mask back down, you caught a glimpse of the white scar up his jaw. ‘Doesn’t seem like it.’ You commented before you looked away again, you played with the frayed seam on your trousers. ‘We were told to keep you protected, no injuries or damages.’ He said, your brows furrowed. ‘I’m not a piece of China.’ You commented, he scoffed. ‘We know that, you’ve proved that.’ He grumbled, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the seat that groaned. ‘Who gave you the orders?’ You quizzed, his eyes darted to your fingers then straight ahead of him again.

‘Captain Rogers.’ He said, you huffed and dropped your head. ‘Of course.’ You sighed, whilst you shook your head. ‘What?’ ‘My last mission, my -,’ you stopped when movement out the corner of your eye caused you to turn.  ‘Do you like snooping?’ You questioned, Ghost turned and looked at the three men who had gathered at the doorway. ‘We’re about to unlock your backstory.’ Soap said, the corner of your lips quirked up as you scoffed. ‘Yeah, traditional and tragic.’ You commented. ‘You don’t have to tell us.’ Price said, you tilted your head back and sighed. ‘My last mission before I turned into their scapegoat was ordinary, go in, serve and then leave but we were attacked.’ You started, reaching up you scratch the side of your jaw. ‘The entire compound was targeted, we allowed innocents or people who wanted to escape the war in.’ You continued, the team lowered their heads, knowing where it was heading. ‘My entire team was killed ‘cept me, Widow, Mando and Trooper were shot down before the missiles were launched at us.’ You finished, you rested your chin on your knuckles. ‘Have you always been called showgirl?’ Gaz asked, you shook your head as you straightened. ‘Nope, I was known as Viper but that was quickly squashed.’ You said as you made eye contact with him. ‘Why?’ Soap questioned. ‘Soap, what was the first thing you thought of when you heard and saw me?’ You asked, he hesitated and looked to Price to figure out if he should. ‘C’mon I won’t shoot you.’ You encouraged him. ‘Pretty, carefree.’ He listed off. ‘Cocky.’ Ghost piped in, you nodded. ‘Daddy’s girl that wanted to prove her worth, right?’ You asked, having heard the words close to a million times. ‘Yeah.’ They all agreed, you pursed your lips. ‘How you hide yourself,’ you gestured to Ghost, ‘so people can’t connect your lives. I had to keep my burdens under wraps.’ You explained, he lowered his head. ‘Burdens?’ Price questioned, the corner of your lips curled up. ‘Four tours Captain, plenty times I’ve pulled that trigger, too many lives I’ve took.’ You informed him.

‘Captain Rogers.’ You answered the phone, as you set it in the middle of the slowly rotten table. ‘Are you alone?’ He asked, his voice crackled as you looked to the team who were sitting across from you. ‘As I can be.’ You replied. ‘Good, I need you to do something for me.’ Rogers said, you arched an eyebrow. ‘What?’ You asked, you cracked your fingers as he inhaled. ‘Infiltrate the 141.’ He said your eyes snapped up to them as they sat up, you held your hand up. ‘Sir?’ You asked. ‘I need to know about them, I want you to learn everything you can and report back to me in a week.’ He commanded you, your shoulders slumped. ‘A week? I was meant to be done tomorrow.’ You replied, he fell silent before he cleared his throat. ‘Change of plans, a lot of… money relies on this.’ He informed you, you dipped your head. ‘Sir.’ You called. ‘What? Do you want to be paraded around in front of cameras for the rest of your career Showgirl?’ He asked, you dropped your head and clenched your jaw. ‘No sir.’ You replied. ‘Good girl.’ He said, you slowly exhaled through your nose. ‘But you can shove this job up your arse, I’m not spying on my team.’ You told him, the men’s eyes widened. ‘Your team?’ Rogers questioned as he fought back a chuckle, you looked at the men, Ghost and Price nodded. ‘Your team is burnt into the ground, ‘member when you had to grieve over empty coffins?’ He asked, you sighed and rolled your shoulders. ‘Yes sir, just before you begged me to be the face of the army but I’m done.’ You returned. ‘Done? You aren’t done till it say you are, I have all the contacts that will ruin you.’ He hissed out, you could hear him hitting his finger against the table. ‘Do it then sir, I’ll be waiting.’ You threatened before you hung up and dropped your head down as you ran your fingers through your day-old hair.  ‘Shit.’ You hissed when you realised what you had just done, you went to pick your phone up but Ghost leaned forward and removed it from your grasp. ‘What are you doing?’ You questioned, you reached out for the phone but he moved away. ‘Stopping your from making a mistake.’ He grumbled, he dropped the phone before he stomped down on it, the device shattered. ‘I just made the mistake, I need to fix it before he sends someone for you.’ You said, he shook his head before Price stepped between the two of you. ‘We’ll be ready.’ Price said, you looked at Gaz and Soap before you focused back on him. ‘You shouldn’t have to be ready.’ You told them, they didn’t look to bothered, having already made up their minds on what they were going to do. ‘Y/N, whether you like it or not, your part of this team.’ Price said, you shook your head. ‘I can’t.’ You stepped away from them. ‘Why not?’ Soap asked, the group looked confused. ‘Because I curse anyone that works with me.’ You spat out, the men looked amused. ‘Trust me darling, we’re already cursed.’ Price commented, you lowered your head as the group watched you.

#kyle garrick #john price #Simon riley #john mactavish #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw #simon ‘ghost’ riley #Simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #reader x Simon ‘ghost’ riley #reader x ghost #ghost x reader #soap x reader #reader x soap #captain john price

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cheshirecatuniverse · 1 year

Text

Fight Back! (Rocky)

Rocky Mutsugi x Flag Girl! Reader

Song: Prince Charming - Willa Ford

Summary: To a lot of people, you're just a pretty piece of work. But tonight, you felt special.

WC: 1.8k

Notes: my works can be gorey, violent, and other mature themes! HIII IM BACK, school has been a pain in the ass but i have never stopped writing! this is my first oneshot to my high&low x fast&furious au, keep an eye out for more in the future. not edited.

Fast & Furious AU Masterlist

The streets were buzzing with people and cars in parallel lines. Giving space for the race "track" of the night.

The crowds of people overflowed the sidewalks and onto the street. Groups were flaunting their modified cars, some placing bets on the races, and others who took the opportunity to sell car parts.

Three white motorcycles sped past you, making you rub your arms at the sudden breeze. The bikes, or rather the drivers, caught the attention to everyone around you.

"Is it... a gang?" The girl beside you asked obliviously. Like you, another one of the boss's "showgirls" as he likes to call you.

Behind you, a voice intruded, "Girrll, do you even know who sponsored tonight?"

"Who?"

One of the belt loops of your shorts had the flag loosely tied around it. The custom logo on the black and white was known well on these streets.

"White Rascals," You answered, looking around. The men dressed fully in white had been patrolling even before you got here. Easy to spot in the crowd. The deal was that if the race was on their territory, then it would be in their control.

You told the girls around you, " 'm gonna go find Tej." Then split fast to go through the crowds of people. You couldn't start a race without Tej, everyone's favorite announcer.

"You look stunning, (Y/n)."

"Cute top!"

"Check out the flag girl."

You thanked the people you knew and smiled at the strangers who whistled and yelled. Something that happened everytime you walked into the crowded streets.

Once a week, you'd take the time out of your night to be a spectacle. The men who ran the races always needed women in short-shorts and skirts to get people's attention.

Which was fine by you. You got a fat check at the end of every night.

"(Y/n)," Tej jogged over you when he spotted you. Wearing a white jumpsuit with his garage's name on the corner. His gold watch and rings complementing his brown skin. "You gonna help me sell tonight?"

"As long as the money pours," You smile and nodded, walking back with him to the starting line.

"Mhm," He hummed and crossed his arms. "Though, you're probably not gonna get much from the boss tonight. You should help me sell a couple cars tomorrow, too."

"Wait, why?" You scoffed in disbelief.

"Boss has to split with Rocky. 55 to 45."

Rocky, you knew vaguely that he was the leader of White Rascals. He must have been a convincing man to get forty-five percent.

You pursed your lips, hiding your agitation. "Fine. Text me tomorrow then."

You found yourself back on the edge of the sidelines. The cars for this match already cruising down to line up, their supporters following beside them.

"Boss says 5 minutes 'til," One of the other showgirls called out.

"My cue," Tej popped out his collar and walked in the middle of the road.

Once Tej stepped away from the street, you came after. You tugged the flag from your shorts as you strutted to the center. Heels, hitting the black street with almost a bit of passion. But you wouldn't let your boss get your very best, no. Not with the pay you'll get tonight.

The whistles and whoops were all ignored. Only the loud and vibrant colored cars in front you had your attention. With a hand on your hip you watched, the racers revving the engine. The headlights made your earrings glimmer, made your lip gloss shine.

For a moment, it made you be the thing everyone was looking at. The only thing, something you ignore because it didn't really matter to you. The rush and the control, that was what you made you giddy. As you yelled for the racers to be prepared you raised the flag in your hand, you smiled at the way the cars and crowd grew louder.

Then, at your decision, you abruptly brought down the flag. The cars hurtled past you, and you turned back to watch them get smaller and faster in the distance. Still smiling, in your own world.

Back in the sidelines you handed the flag to the next girl for the next round. You could still feel the eyes on the crowd on you, which was good. When the matches were over you had to stand around and clean Tej's products.

Thirty minutes later you ended up at one of the public bathrooms. The buddy-system isn't something that is easily forgettable, the other girls employed by the boss made that clear. So when one of showgirls you were more friendly with had to go, you would be evil to say no.

"I'm right behind you," You gave her permission to leave the bathroom before you.

You took only one minute to fix the small flaws in your hair, adjusting your top even though it was fine as it was. But a minute was all it took for some guy to get all in her business.

Running heels was not the best idea, but the way the stranger was holding her arms slowly trying to drag her away made you panic.

No, nope.

So you slipped a heel off and threw it. You watched as the man stumbled at the impact to his head.

It was not going be enough to stop him but it gave you enough time to take of your other heel. You ran to your friend's side, ignoring the way your foot got cut for stumbling into some broken glass.

"Mind your business," The man growled. More agitated at the fact that you were shielding your friend than that you threw your 5 inch heel at him.

"Or what, bitch? You gonna hit a girl?" You taunt. Behind you, your friend's face paled at your insane provoking response. She was ready to yank you out of there and run for her life.

"I will if I have-"

A hand on his shoulder, made the stranger turn around and get hit with a baton. Soon enough, you aware of your surroundings. Figures dressed in white, chic with their appearances.

"That will not happen." The man in white was composed, even had a casual smile but his eyes were burning.

You expected him to finish the job, but to your surprise he backed away. Letting a man behind him step forward.

The way this man carried himself, you have never met Rocky. But you knew you were in his presence even before he pulled his hands out his coat, revealing a pair of handcuffs hanging on his wrist. Even before he opened his mouth, revealing his silver grill.

When he took off his crimson tinted sunglasses, the aggravator before you cursed quietly.

Rocky didn't glare, he didn't need to.

He titled his head to the side, simply staring at the man. "What are you doing?"

The man laughed shaking his head and pointed at you, "I didn't do shit, if anything you need to care of this crazy lady."

The audacity this man had you and your friend stare at each other with disbelief. As if somehow he was going to make this all go away.

When Rocky walked closer, and it seemed like the man lost his mind.

"Hey! It's not my fucking fault. They're a bunch of whores who walk around starting problems."

Even before Rocky could swing a fist at the man, he stumbled to his knees. The man clutching his head in pain.

Rocky watched as you scowled, hand holding up a heel up above your head.

Koo and Kizzy let out audible sounds of suprise. Koo even took a small step back.

"Try touching one of my friends again," You warned. Then starting to yell, "Try it, you creep! I dare you!"

You started jam your heel in his head again and your friend squealed for you stop. Unfortunately, she tugged you far enough away so the man couldn't be hit again.

"Let the White Rascals deal with it," She pleaded.

"Like hell 'm not gonna do nothing," You scowled and loosened her grasp enough to kick your bloody foot to his back. It made the pathetic man crumble all the way to the ground.

"(Y/n)!"

"Oh please. His pathetic ass is fine."

One of the White Rascals walked up to his beaten up form. She crossed her arms, "Woww."

She looked to the man beside her, "What do you think, Koo? Do we dump him in the street or the dumpster."

You exhaled loudly at the sight of them dragging the guy away, stress beginning to subside in you. Another member of the White Rascals took your friend aside to consol her and offer her security.

Rocky quietly approached you, extending his hand, "Please, come with me."

"Why?" You asked. Despite your confusion, you put your hand into his much larger one. It felt as natural as gravity.

"You're injured," He looked down to your legs. Which made you realized how easily you forgotten your stinging cut. "Did he do this to you?

His warm eyes looked at you with concern. This complete stranger, who loomed over you with power. You tried not to look so taken back.

"No," You felt embarrassed, "I just.. didn't watch my step."

He nodded, leading you somewhere, "Okay, that's okay."

How you ended up on a bench with a leader of Sword kneeling before you, is honestly something you couldn't exactly explain. At first you refused to look at Rocky, looking at the cane he placed at the floor but then slowly ended up back to him.

The way he bandaged your foot was so gentle and kind, it made you feel a mix a things. Especially when he cleaned the cut on your foot with rubbing alcohol. He muttered apologies when he heard the hisses under your breath.

Rocky even went as far as slipping your heel back onto your foot. The rough pads on his finger grazing your skin in the process. It felt, comforting.

"I'll have one of my men take you home in a couple minutes," He rose up from the ground.

"I can't. Boss only pays if I'm here the whole night," You stood up too, lips pursing at the pain in your foot.

"Careful," Rocky's hands held your arms when you saw you struggling to stand. For a moment you looked up at him meekly. Again, the feeling of his hands on you.

"Don't worry about that," He shook his head, "I'll make sure you get your money."

"But," You tilted your head, "Why?"

It was foreign to have anyone around here do so much for you.

Rocly looked at you with clear eyes. He honestly answered, "I protect women."

You laughed, a smile suddenly appearing on your face. Then leaned up, pressing your lips to his cheek. He didn't have his sunglasses on to hide the way his eyes widened.

You smiled deviously. Happy with his frozen state. "You must get a lot of girls with that line."

#high&low #high & low #high and low #high&low x reader #high&low imagine #white rascals #high&low white rascals #rocky mutsugi #high&low rocky mutsugi #rocky mutsugi x reader

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sillystargirll · 1 year

Text

His Showgirl ✧

Your Graves favorite show girl~

Graves felt your hands run down his chest looked up at you. You had your eyes set on him, before moving your hands back up to his shoulders again, placing small touches on his chest before you walked around to him and placed her foot on the

chair between his legs, running your hand through his hair slowly while never breaking eye contact. She then moved your leg to the other side of his and bent down, your finger tips touching the ground and her back arched deliciously.

Graves could feel himself get a hard underneath his trousers , "this girl really does work her magic ." He thought to himself

you gave him a smirk, before moving your legs both to one side and stretching your body out over his lap, giving him a view of your glistening skin and your slim curves and the way your chest rose and sunk with each breath. you swung one of her legs over his head and brought your upper body back up to him.

he could feel his boxer stain with pre-cum, and every time you ran her hand over his length he would growl as in a warning to don't start something she can't finish.

you were so close, you took his hands and placed them on your hips, keeping your eyes fixed on his, making his breath hitch.

you brought your legs up onto his legs, so you were kneeling on him and grind against him, your hands trailing down his chest, until you slid down between his legs and still teasing him by giving small touches to his covered boner, your hands on his thighs, slowly moving along his legs, towards his knees and back to his thighs.

It took everything Graves had not to touch you. All he wanted to do was bend over the couch and fuck you until he made her see stars .

She pushed herself up onto her feet again, her hands still down on his thighs, your ass propped up in the air while you slowly shakes it and your forehead leaning against his. Graves's eyes wandered to your breasts for a split second, as they were fully displayed for him.

you kept grinding on his hard length , small low moans came out of his mouth he was slowly losing control over this , before his eyes moved back to your and the way both of your eyes locked way you both grind against each other. And then the song ended and she stood up with a small smirk on her face .

" if you want more your gonna have to book me for the night love~" he absolutely growled at her response he need right here and now . he grabbed your hand and dragged you do the hall upon seeing your boss on the bar he threw his money at him

after paying you boss to book her for the night your boss gave the you a strong smirk and waved you off to go fill your true desires. you quickly lead him through to your private room where you sometimes crash or sleep like a second apartment to you .

after closing the door and locking it , The next thing you felt was you back slamming against the wall, a load moan escaping your lips as big hands roomed all over your body, leaving fingerprints everywhere they could.

you are obsessed with ruthless sex. It sparked something deep inside of you, making you even more anticipated.

"G-Graves~" escaped your lips as the blonde-haired man sank his teeth into your skin

" call me Philip, and be quiet." He growled against your neck, which sent shivers down your spine .

"fuck me already please~." You whispered between kisses earning and dirty smirk from the older man.

" I'll do whatever the fuck I please with you ." wrapping your legs around his waist, his hard member pressing against your ass, placing rough bites all over your neck.

he threw you onto the bed, a gasp escaping your mouth. you loved it finally someone who can make all your desires come true , you loved this ruthless energy , making you even more wet.

he slowly undressed himself until he was only standing there in his black boxers, a huge bulge in them.

you rubbed her thighs together to gain some friction out of it .

"you decide to tease me love~." he crawled between your legs getting rid of the rest of your clothes, throwing them across the room.

one of his hands he grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them above your head while he spread your legs apart and stood between them.

Pulling down his boxer shorts he got in line with your entrance, pushing inside you with a hard thrust while he sank his teeth into her neck

again, biting down hard. He had a strong grip on her hips, " A-Ahh fuck! yes more !" you screamed out in pure ecstasy, he pulled out and ruthlessly thrust back into you. Shit, you wanted him to destroy you wreck you, you never felt this good since no other guy can fulfill you darkest desires.

you tried freeing you hands out of his grip which caused that Philip to just tightens his grip around them.

"Stay put doll, before I tie you up." He groaned with a raspy voice, circling his hips, he pulled out and hardly thrust back in, hitting your g-spot to make you scream all over again.

both of their bodies already covered layers of sweat and the room was filled with hot air, your screams and skin slapping against skin.

"shit harder philip." you could already feel a knot tightening inside of your, as your body begging for a desperate release.

"do you want to cum?" The blond-haired man whispered close to you ear, sending a shiver down her spine, he started placing rough kisses on your neck, licking slowly over it and sucking leaving deep red.

His thrust got a bit faster again, hitting her g-spot again and again. a tingling feeling was building up inside of her, as he kept thrusting against her g-spot.

" fuck philippp!!" Digging her fingers into the bedsheets, she let out a loud moan as you squirted all over his member, covering it with your clear liquid.

he thrusted into her a few more times before he released himself, pumping all of his load inside of you. Fastly breathing he pulled with the condom still on, your liquids dripping onto the sheets.

"Holy shit I never thought you would be a squirter." a cheeky smile appearing on his face.

"t-that's never happened before." you panted as your chest rose and she breathed heavily.

Philip got up from the bed to throw away the condom, he walks towards the bed and grabs his boxers that were scattered on the floor.

your eyes felt heavy and tiredness consumed you as she felt your vision get darker and darker.

"sleep now I'll clean you up." that was the last thing you heard.

#cod mw2 #graves mw2 #philip graves #philip graves smut #cod graves #cod smut #cod modern warfare #philip graves x reader #cod mwii #mw2 smut

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vintagehellfire · 1 year

Text

All For Show | E.M

musician!Eddie x showgirl!reader

summary: 1955 New York City, where dreams come true. You get to dance and perform for crowds every night, bringing in good money for yourself and for daddy’s jazz club. The regulars love you, the women envy you, and the musicians are strictly banned from flirting with you (and the other dancers of course). This wasn’t a problem until your father up and coming musician Eddie Munson to perform at his jazz club. Eddie was the first man to catch your eye, and you the first performer to be worth his time, and your fathers wrath.

warnings: implied female reader, mysoginy, eventual smut, swearing, no use of y/n, nudity, drugs, smoking, slow-burn, alcohol, anger issues, controlling father, mentions of assault/implied assault (against reader), 18+ only. mdni

Chapter II: Devil Woman, You’ve Cast Your Spell | 5.2k words

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The utterance of the three simple words had your head reeling, an informality at best, an extension of some private and more intimate privilege at worst. Admittedly, the name suited him far better than the formal nature your father addressed the man in. Nothing about Eddie could be labeled as formal much to your fathers chagrin. His unruly hair, tied up in a crows nest of a bun, little curls falling out from in front of his ears. His button up shirt was a little wrinkled, a product of sweating under the hot lights of the stage, but he wore it so well. He gave the impression that he worked a hard day's labour and was finally given a moment of reprieve. The energy Eddie exuded was nothing if not easy going, the slender cigarette tucked between his index and middle finger, brought gently to kiss the space between his lips. An inhale, a held breath, a gentle exhale, and possibly just the prettiest twists of smoke you might have ever bore witness to. As he drew the cancerous vice away from his mouth, he dropped his arm, sleeves slipping back down to cover his inked arms. And god what you’d do to be held in his arms, tasting his lips.

You bashfully introduced yourself, cheeks heating at the realisation that you’ve been staring at this man for far too long, however it’s not like he hadn’t been taking you in either. The pout to your red lips, your beautiful and wide eyes that were accentuated by a nice little flick of a cat eye, the tail of your eyeliner coming to a point so sharp that he would have thought you took a blade to draw it on. Your perfectly coiffed hair bounced with volume, and your robe left little to the imagination, especially after such a show you had put on. You extended a manicured hand out to the man, and with a small second of hesitation, and an approving nod from your father, Eddie shook your it. As soon as his rough and calloused hand slid into your delicate one, there was a spark that went off, something that made you never want to relinquish the privilege you were just granted. In that same moment, neurons started firing on the musician’s end. His split second thoughts went to insecurity over the contrast that was the delicate nature of your skin versus the used and abused workers hands. There wasn’t a way you should have enjoyed the feeling of sandpaper skin against silk, yet it was of note that his hands were not that of sandpaper, no. They were workers' hands and yet they held a lightness to them, a certain airiness that wasn’t often found in the hands of men.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You let out, voice casually sultry — your father was simple enough to think it was still the act you were putting on, after all it was good for the reputation of the club if you kept appearances — the reality was much worse, the reality was that Eddie had simple stolen any ounce of breath you held in your lungs. How could he not?

“Likewise, sweetheart.” Breathed out the man with doe eyes. You could have sworn your heart stopped at the pet name, you could have given yourself away had you not been a good enough actress, and yet you tried to remain composed as one of the only men to have been able to capture your attention was so cavalier as to utter such sweet words in front of your father. Your eyes locked onto his, not daring look away because if you did, how were you supposed to memorise the galaxies in his irises and commit them to memory for years to come if you did? How would you live with yourself if you didn’t remember the man that had your breath hitch from the second you spotted him? Your father cleared his throat, interrupting the intense staring contest you and Eddie had gotten yourselves into. Both your hands dropped to your sides at that.

“Now kids,” you father started, “there’s a rehearsal tomorrow, Munson here has got a new song he’s been toying with, haven’t ‘cha, son?” He asks, patting Eddie on the back harshly. That was just how your father was, however; ever intense and without comprehension of other’s personal space.

“Hmm? Oh yeah!” Eddie let out. “It’s this really lovely piece called Pink Pussycat, I think it would be right up your alley, sweetheart.” There it was again, that little pet name. “I’d need to steal you away for a few hours tomorrow afternoon — if that’s alright with your old man of course,” he received a curt nod from your father. “I know it’s last minute but I’d at least like to try.” He lets out, a smile creeping onto his lips. “Besides, how are we to coordinate your dance numbers if you don’t know the songs you’re dancing to?” He asked with a wink, dimples becoming more prominent the wider he smiled. Your heart melted at his words and your eyes slowly trailed down to his perfect lips, his entrancing dimples. You swore he smiled with his whole face, eyes shining with a glint of mischief. You bit your lip as you looked to the floor, providing Eddie with a nod in agreement.

“Alright, pretty boy, you bring up a valid point.” Your lips split into a mischievous grin. Eddie could have sworn his heart leapt into his throat at the casual flirtation, his figure stiffening up. Surely you were like that with everybody, it was a lot easier to tell himself that you were rather than overthink and speculate why you were choosing to lightly flirt with him in the presence of your father. He shook it off and returned a blank expression. He couldn’t let himself feel this way about you, especially with your father owning the club. Your father, who had made it clear that any sort of flirtation or affair was strictly forbidden with you. Eddie couldn’t help but get lost in your words, your eyes, and he couldn’t help maybe get a little lost in the promise that the flirtation hinted at but he was doing his best not to. “Just give me a time and a place, and I’ll be there.” You flashed him your angelic smile, bright red lips tugging at the corners, eyes crinkling with smoothed out crows feet. The musician couldn’t help but crack a smile in return, yours becoming infectious like a disease but he couldn’t help but want more of it.

The following morning you sauntered into the bar, nerves eating you alive with the anticipation that you’d get to see Eddie. Your mind ran itself into the gutter the previous night, tempting you with what you couldn’t have, with what was just under your nose and yet so far away, buried deep in what should have been a bottomless grave. Your father would never allow for such a thing, going steady with a club musician, much less a beatnick jazz musician that played at his club. Your heels clacked on the floor with every confident step you took, heart hammering into your chest as you approached the stage. Daddy wouldn’t be in until at least noon, a shipment of rye coming in rather late for his liking, and so he trusted you to not get into too much trouble. Somehow, trouble always found you.

“Fancy seeing you so early, sweetheart.” The voice mused. You quickly shot your head towards the source, cheeks heating at the pet name. As soon as you laid eyes on Eddie, the sinful cigarette perched upon his bottom lip, a deep inhale, had smoke curling out from his parted mouth. He blew out the blue-grey whisps gently, making sure not to blow the cancerous substance towards you. Not once had you believed that such a habit could be so alluring, and yet here was Eddie Munson, already altering how you saw such mundane everyday habits.

“Thought I’d sneak in some practice time before father gets here. He likes giving some of the morning crowd a show sometimes, but the pressure of him being there as well isn’t always welcome believe it or not.” You admit bashfully. You’d rather not dance for the morning crowd but sometimes it helped to get some practice in front of the regulars. Delores often came in for her coffee and to read the paper, solving the crossword in the company of your father while he made sure to take care of the grime and dishes from the previous night. Harold would come in after a long night shift, as for the on the rocks and down it while he listened to Delores rattle off crossword clues as if it was this morning's news. There was also Gus who would swing by for his coffee and idle chat with father, asking about any up and coming musicians he should keep an eye on.

“Well alright then snake,” Eddie laughed out, “let’s rattle.” A mischievous smile graced his lips as he stubbed out his cigarette. He slid behind the piano that found home up on the stage and he found a sort of solace being behind the instrument. He belonged and it was as if he commanded the piano to play the music. He was its master, not the other way around. He commanded the music, the music didn’t command him and as soon as his fingers brushed against the keys, the rhythm swept you off your feet and you began moving in what seemed like the most natural and sensuous way you knew. You were the perfect example of the music mastering you, guiding you. The music was your partner and you didn’t need anybody but it. Surprisingly, you found yourself longing for a new partner, and he so happened to be across the room, brown pools darting down towards the ivory keys in a hurry, knowing he was caught staring at you.

The theme echoed through the music hall, allowing you to sway your hips slowly to the tune. Without the eyes of those close to you trickling across your figure, you dared approach Eddie, putting on a little performance for him, bending over and dragging your body up along your legs before you flipped your hair back, tossing a look over your shoulder and supplying him with the most suggestive wink. With that you sauntered across the stage making your way down low to your knees, spreading your legs slowly, leaning into the way the music moved you. If Eddie weren’t so dedicated to his job, god he would have lost it there and then. He was sure that he had made some devil angry enough to send this angel to him and forbid him from ever having a taste of heaven. If the world were on his side he’d be up there dancing jive with you, swinging you in his strong arms, if the world were on his side he would have met you before being hired by your fathers club, but the world was rarely on his side. God, the devil, however you wanted to put it, was decidedly against Eddie Munson and so that being the reality he would have to work to tamper his feelings down, beating them to a pulp.

It wasn’t long before you got a routine down, running over it a couple of times before you had gone to change into costume in order to give your father a show of what was to come. He was usually the one to see your routine and cheer you on, and it was his stamp of approval, a little kiss to the forehead, and let you know that it was an exquisite performance. And so that was what you planned to do, you got changed and in the early evening you nudged Eddie to start playing the intro to the song while you shook off your nerves backstage. As the first notes rang through, you stepped out, extending your smooth leg out from behind the velvet curtain, dragging your gloved hand along your thigh, before completely stepping out and slowly taking the lace gloves off, trailing them along your body in a similar fashion that a lover’s hands would. It made Eddie jealous yet there wasn’t anything to be jealous of. They were just a silk fabric after all, not the hands of a patron, a lover, or any man worthy of your time. You made your way up to an empty chair in the front, swinging your legs over it and enacting shoving your gloves in someone’s mouth before harshly pushing away and walking back to the stage, dropping slowly to your knees, spreading your legs out, then tucking them under and rolling, pulling the strings off your robe, allowing it to drop. Another 180° turn and you got up, ass high in the air, exposing your behind, covered in nothing but a lace thong and garter belt, the straps digging into the fat of your ass.

Eddie did not falter in his performance despite his mouth running as dry as the Sahara Desert. His tongue felt heavy, like sand had pooled itself up into his throat and no amount of water could cure this thirst. Of course it wouldn’t for it wasn’t what he was thirsting after, no, his need could only be quenched by something unattainable, something so far out of reach that he would find himself hallucinating before he could even feel a drop of relief on his tongue.

Your exhibition continued on and it seemed your father was happy with the performance to come, and even more so with the confidence the musicians exhumed. Ever since he brought that Munson man on it seemed that everyone was on their best game — it was undeniable — it was a solid choice and he would hope to not regret it. After your little practice you headed backstage to cool off and get ready for the night show, thinking you might be able to get some food and a drink in before the patrons would come in, after all, you needed something of substance. Nerves began to overtake your body, tonight was an important night, Friday nights usually were. The beginning of bender weekends where folks of all kinds of coloured backgrounds would come witness your performances before being invited to perform some of their own gigs. It was more or less an open mic night after your introductory performance — start the night off with a bang and encourage other performers to saunter up into the spotlight. If the music moved you enough you’d often come in for another little dance or two, practically flirting with the music, that’s when the real party started. The beatnicks would always bring a little powder or grass and in combination with the rye your father managed to get his hands on after the prohibition the weekends were a sure fire sock hop.

You slipped your black robe on and pocketed your metal cigarette case before stepping out, door closing softly behind you, the dim light bathing you in a warm glow. You inhale deeply before opting to pull out and light the thin tube of tobacco. You wished deeply that you were taught to roll your own, but that wasn’t very lady-like as your father put it, a phrase you grew to resent over time. You didn’t get very far in your search for sustenance before you bumped into someone’s chest.

“Oh, pardon me!” You exclaimed in surprise, smoke wafting around you. As soon as your eyes made contact with the body, eyes trailing up to meet the stranger’s figure, your mouth ran dry and not from the cigarettes you were smoking. “Oh, Eddie, please excuse me, I didn’t mean to barrel into you.” An unknown heat crept up to your cheeks, it wasn’t embarrassment, no, it was something foreign to you.

“No need to apologise, darling,” He exhaled, a glazed look overtaking his big brown eyes, “I actually wanted to come give you this.” He held out his hands, long fingers curling around a plate of toast, a bowl of roasted tomato soup sitting on top, balancing delicately, steaming and ready to be downed. “Your father he uh, he thought he should bring it over but I wanted to tell you to break a leg. You’re one of the best performers I’ve had the pleasure to work with and it’s not likely I’ll be able to get many words in after tonight.” A nod was sent his way before you reached out for the plate, dainty and warm hands wrapping around the porcelain. It wasn’t lost on either of you that you made contact with the calloused and slightly worn skin of the musician. If you were being honest, you took this opportunity as an excuse to confirm the wave that rushed through you at his touch, to confirm it wasn’t a fluke or just a figment of either of your imaginations. Your heart rate spiked dramatically as a smile reached his face, dimples inset in his cheeks, the corners of his eyes crinkling with little crow’s feet. The moment gave away just how much he smiled, a happiness that made a permanent reminder in his features, one that you were jealous of — it’s not that you weren’t happy per se, it’s just that your life wasn’t all that it was chalked up to be.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You whispered his name as if it was sacred, a mantra that you could pray over - an idol to worship in pure sin. He was a temptation sent by the devil himself and yet he was angelic in his being. He exuded a light that rarely captured a being, a light so bright that it caught your attention and commanded it. He was the false idol you dropped to your knees for, dancing to the rhythm he set, and he was none the wiser.

“It’s not a problem, sweetheart.” He offered you a gentle nod before his smile dropped. He shouldn’t have even offered to bring you your meal.What if your father were to catch on to his infatuation? He didn’t even really know you and that was the way it should stay no matter how much you commanded his attention even from across the room. Eddie was sure that he’d be able to pick you out of a crowd with one glance but he shouldn’t be able to — this is something he had to put a stop to if he was being truthful with himself, with you both. He didn’t want to cause problems for you, job honestly be damned. If losing his job meant that he might get a shot with you, who was he to stay at this club? Sure it was a club on 52nd and conveniently close to his apartment, but he’d perform down in Greenwich Village- no, no. He had to snap himself out of his.

“Hey, uh, Eddie, do you care to join me?” You boldly asked, moving your body aside and starting to open your dressing room door. “I don’t really favour eating alone.” It was a bold move on your part, and you saw him stiffen up. This could be dangerous for you both if your father were to find out about it and he didn’t want to put you in any sort of position. An expression of hesitation painted itself across his features, sucking his bottom lip in, eyes darting from side to side anxiously as if he were being watched.

“Look, uh… I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Best keep this professional and all. You wouldn’t want to upset your daddy, and I have a contract to fulfill. You understand, don’t you?” He shifted uncertainly. He didn’t want to do this but it was needed, part of you understanding but a deeper part of you feeling your heart plummet. It felt drenched in ice water, weighted down and dragged to the coldest depths of the ocean.

“Of course,” you let you, tone shifting to something hollow and detached, “thank you, Mr. Munson.” You grabbed the plate from him, opening the door to your dressing room and slipping inside without sparing him so much as another look. As you closed the door you thought you heard a quiet hiss of ‘way to go Munson’ before footsteps backed away from your door. You allowed the plate and bowl to clatter against your dressing room vanity, not willing to look at the food your father must have provided you with. Bile rises in your throat at the rejection - it wasn’t something you were used to from strangers and certainly not the club regulars, it something you were more used to from those closest to you, but Eddie wasn’t close to you — he wasn’t a club regular either — and yet somehow this stung worse than the rejection your mother offered you time after time or the rejection of any suitor that your father would impose. Suddenly this sadness shifted to something entirely different, an anger that you didn’t know you harboured. You stood quickly, making a last minute costume change before ripping your dressing room door open and heading down to the bar for a pre show drink.

Kip, the new part time busboy and bartender, was the one serving drinks, he was young with a shock of freckles across his high cheekbones, moussey red hair sat perfectly coiffed on top of his head. He wasn’t what you’d call particularly handsome but he was someone most women thought was easy on the eyes but he wasn’t Eddie. You called him over and ordered a Giblet, asking him to make it extra strong for you and he did so with pleasure, showing off his skills. He served it to you in a gold rimmed coupe and delicately placed it on a black napkin. You barely paid him any mind as you took the stem of the glass with your manicured hands and brought the coupe to your lips. You sipped it, too distracted by the way that the club patrons came and went like clockwork. A few would sit at their usual tables, moving when they found their friends, some would stay for a drink and leave, but within 30 minutes the show goers and beatniks were there to stay and relish in the show that was about to be put on. Cigarette smoke filled the air with a cloudy grey hue, creating a heavy set mood, a mood filled with want — there was an undeniable underlying energy, an antsy one at that.

Slowly you finished your drink, wiping the last few drops off your bottom lip with the rough pad of your thumb, a streak of red being left on it after your lipstick. I’ll have to reapply it, you think to yourself about the waxy substance. So with a few long strides you leave your bar stool and head over to grab your lipstick from your dressing room, hurrying so as to not be late to start your show. You were never late, you were always on queue, allowing the musicians to count you in with a four bar intro before the song flowed into a more suggestive beat. Tonight was no exception, however; plans had changed for your little number. If it was seductive before it was downright filthy now. A not so coy plan to get Eddie to notice you, to pay him back for the embarrassment of not having dinner with you. You just wanted to be kind, you weren’t expecting much more from him — you knew your dad might not see it that way, and of course you didn’t want to risk the man’s job, but a selfish part of you wanted to get to know him. The flirting between you was obvious despite the few interactions you’ve both had, and the coldness that Eddie exuded after your extended invitation was a little bit strange, as if he was trying to hold back on something.

As soon as the lights went down in the bar, hushed whispers fell across the crowd, a few abrasive and high whistles traveled through the air but found themselves landing on deaf ears. You cared for nobody’s opinions or cat calls, you only cared to perform. It gave you a certain thrill to be up on stage under the spotlights, and so when the anacrusis and fours following bars queued you in. Your outfit change took not only your father but the musicians by surprise as well. It was a lot more revealing than you had originally planned. A black lace bra adorned your chest, with a black suspender belt hugging your waist just right. You abandoned your corset completely and wore a sheer robe over your costume. You left nothing to the imagination with your sheet thong, the suspender belt holding your stockings up, digging into the meat of your thighs. Your stilettos accentuated the length of your legs, creating the illusion that you were taller than you realistically were and this fed particularly well into when you’d bend over.

As you emerged onto the scene, you feigned modesty, one leg out the curtain while running your hand delicately along the soft skin. As you stepped out holding a feathered fan in a satin gloved hand you peaked your wide eyes over the top, raising your shoulder gently and throwing an innocent glance towards the patrons of the front row. You fanned yourself as you made your way up to the Victorian style chair in the middle of the scene and you straddled it, closing your fan and tossing it towards the crowd while they cheered. In that moment you dropped your robe, revealing the lack of clothing that adorned your body. With a backbend your hair dropped, breasts nearly spilling from your bra, you sank lower and lower before pulling yourself back up slowly. Someone threw their tie to you on stage and you made good use of it, picking it up and running it down your back and across the tender flesh of your ass. You leaned into it suggestively, swinging your hips from side to side much like the pendulum of an old grandfather clock. Eyes were locked onto your movements, men left drooling over your sultry new routine, but you had yet to capture the attention of a certain musician. You upped your game a little more at this realisation, swinging the chair closer to the piano bench and hoisting your leg up on it, you twirled the tie before standing up on the chair and tipping it back with a foot on the backrest. You gently landed on the piano, rolling your back across it, legs high in the air before resting on its surface, stomach down, the tie being gently placed around Eddie's neck.

It was just then that he dared look up at you and a heat overtook his body, crawling its way, unbearably, to his neck. He had nearly slipped up on the piece that he had been preparing for weeks, initially planning just to play it at some other jazz club off of 6th, but the opportunity here lended itself nicely. He slurred the notes together seamlessly, not tipping your father off, nor the poor men in the front row who he thought were more deserving of your attention — especially if you were working for tips. That didn’t seem to matter anymore, not after you rolled off the shiny black piano top and strode across the stage, making time to roll, tumble, and lift your hips to meet nothing but the empty air, making a show of getting up, ass high in the air.

Your little performance continued on with a few lap dances in between, eyes locked onto Eddie as you did so, sending him a small wink when he would look up from the black and white keys that his fingers expertly worked. He knew what he was doing just as well as a mechanic knows his well oiled machines. His eyes left the keys and yet he continued playing, fingers having deftly memorised each position. As the last note rang out, Eddie’s last shallow breath left his lips before he hurriedly excused himself. You, however, waited until the lights went out before slipping behind the velvet curtain, ready to change into a more comfortable dress for the rest of the evening. You wouldn’t be joining in any more dances unless it was some jive or swing, you needed a quicker pace to get rid of the adrenaline that coursed its way through your veins.

There was an anxiety that clouded you all of a sudden, what if you’d gone too far? After all, you didn’t know Eddie, just that he seemed to have captured your attention the second he stepped foot into the room. You knew his smile was infectious and that whatever he was making you feel was not something that usually overtook you, and never this strongly.

As soon as you shoved the second set of curtains aside you opted to make your way down the winding hall and to your dressing room. The lights were too hot, too many eyes were on you tonight and frankly you needed a minute to catch your breath. Nothing could have prepared you for the gruff pair of unwelcome hands shoving you up against the cool béton of the adjacent wall. After the initial shock wore off your watering eyes landed on the source of such aggression — the shock of red hair gave it away, a darkness painted across his features, a want filled with lust and rage. He might as well have been seeing an acrid crimson across his vision with the expression he wore.

“How about you be a doll and help a man out, peach.” He spat out the nickname, venom dripping black from his tongue. “You got us all riled up for nuttin’, and no relief either.” His breath felt hot, stale and bitter notes hung onto it like one might hold onto bitter memories, hoping that one day they might resolve or taste sweeter than they do. Like wanting to turn mead back into honey, it wouldn’t happen.

You shoved him away as best you could, pushing against his shoulders but his hand came around your neck, an unwelcome sensation as best, suffocating at worst. It stole the little breath you had left in your lungs as you choked out a muffled cry for help. Meek, trying, yet your words weren’t strong enough and eventually began to get caught in your throat. You brought your knee up to hit him in the family jewels, hoping that you’d render them invaluable but before you could feel the impact of your knee against the soft and unprotected parts of the man before you, a violent pull pried the redheaded busboy off of you.

“Don’t you fucking lay your hands on them ever again.” The deep voice rumbled out with such ferocity that you almost didn’t recognise it. “Why don’t you shag* before I lose my cool, you sunofabitch?” You looked up to see a man possessed, his voice wildly different from the warm tones he spoke to you in, the one that had been a little more than hot and cold with you, one that soothed you like thyme and honey soothed a sore throat. The one that you decided in that moment you would want protecting you so long as you had the privilege of it.

*Shag: To get lost, to leave

a/n: hey sorry if the formatting is weird or off, I’m on mobile as my computer ate shit before I got around to writing/posting this. Anyway, here it is, longer than the first part,and hopefully they just keep getting longer from here on out. Thanks for reading!!

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Let me know if you wanna be added or removed from the tag list! :)

Part I

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #all for show #1950s #1960s #stranger things #New York #musician!eddie #showgirl!reader #eddie x reader #music #musician!eddiexreader #heartbreak #this story is based on a haunting I heard about in a podcast lmao

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