#fame is a drug i guess

[themultifanshipper]

heyy i know this is hella vague but if you're accepting requests would you take one for the 🔵 prompt (come over and make me, coward) for either lando, oscar, or charles? thanks!!

Charles hated you. Well he didn't hate you, but he couldn't stand your presence for more than two minutes without pulling your proverbial pigtails. It drove you nuts, but it also ignited a raging fire inside you

Warnings: The plot is bordering on crack but whatevs, journalist!reader, morally dubious stuff, mention of underage drinking and drug use, smut, public sex, PinV sex, hair pulling, slightly unhinged charles, bisexual charles, changed the prompt to "come over here and stop me, coward", i've written a lot for lando and oscar so i thought i'd give charles some love ^^

Requested from my prompt list

As a journalist, it was your job to dig up secrets and figure out what made the men you interviewed tick. And you were at the top of the food chain when it came down to it.

But the one mystery you couldn’t solve is why Charles Leclerc, famously charming and pleasant with everyone, didn’t seem to want anything to do with you.

You ended up undercover in Monaco (well, as undercover as you could be in a city where everyone knows each other) in a private club where you knew Charles would be that night.

It wasn't hard to spot him. There were always two places one could find Charles Leclerc. Either dancing in a VIP area, downing drinks with his friends while he grinds on various people and hoping to get them into bed (or at least to the nearest bathroom).

Or you could find him in said bathroom, with choked off noises coming from the stall (which one of them was on the floor was up to anyone's imagination…) which is where you were waiting patiently to corner him.

You would never admit it, especially not to him, but you were sure you could tell he was the one sucking off whoever was with him.

The muffled groans sounded just like all the times you'd imagined him in a similar circumstance with you, NOT that you'd imagined it at all *cough*… anyway they sounded too familiar for it to be a coincidence.

Before your imagination could wander much further. The sounds stopped and movement caught your ear from behind the door.

Charles looked utterly disheveled when the other guy, whom you vaguely recognised as some fitness influencer, opened the door and walked out, seemingly nonplussed by your presence.

Charles however became immediately sour at the mere sight of you, as usual.

“Fancy seeing you in here” you smirked as he walked over to the mirror to smooth out his hair which was sticking up in every direction.

“In the men's bathroom?” he glanced at the door, not amused.

“Oh… I guess it is” you feigned innocence as he turned his back to block you from view.

“So… ‘Famed F1 Driver likes getting on his knees for strangers in club bathrooms’… does that sound like a good headline?”

His back straightened immediately and he spun around with wide eyes.

“You wouldn't”

Nobody in Monaco would be surprised by the article, except maybe his mother, but his career would effectively be over.

“I'm only joking!” you laughed “but I do want to know something”

He stared daggers at you before turning back towards the mirror, grunting for you to continue.

“Why do you hate me Charles?”

That made him simply freeze. Then he carried on straightening himself out (ironic) but his movements were a bit shaky and unnatural.

“I don't hate you” he said mechanically and you scoffed.

“Oh please! As soon as I walk into a room you scowl at me, you always avoid my interviews when I'm in the paddock and I've never been anything but nice to you!”

He dropped his arms and turned around, leaning against the sink.

“Do you remember our first meeting?” he said with a frown.

That made you pause. Of course you did, you were the youngest F1 journalist in 30 years, you'd only got the job because you were so eager, you barely knew the driver’s names at that point, always having been thoroughly uninterested in F1.

Charles was driving for Sauber at the time and you clumsily got through your first interview by calling him Carlos several times.

“Of course I remember. Don't tell me you're still bitter about me calling you Carlos? That was fucking 6 years ago! I was 18 and knew nothing about you for fuck's sake!”

But he just shook his head and clenched his jaw “Nope, that's not the first time we met”

Your brain stalled. Of course that was the first time you met him. Surely you'd remember if you had met him before that.

You just stared at him questioningly, and after a while he sighed.

“We met in 2016…”

That didn't exactly help you, you would have been 16…

“I can barely remember what I had for breakfast, Charles, much less what I was doing at 16 for fuck's sake. When could we possibly have met?”

The problem is, it was starting to dawn on you. When you were 16, you clubbed. A lot.

Monaco was slightly more lax about it's laws and a lot of clubs accepted fake id's without too many questions as long as you could pay. And growing up in Monaco, it was unreasonable to expect you'd never run across Charles in a club, especially while shitfaced.

“Let me refresh your memory then…” Charles huffed “You of course know La Rascasse?”

Shit. You could feel where this was going.

“I've been there twice, and both times I was so bored I got hammered to try and forget how shit it was”

Charles hummed “Well one of those times I approached you, and we danced…” he blushed slightly at the memory “and we drank, and we did… other things.”

You gulped. It was either drugs or sex (both terrible things to do with a 16 year old when you're 19), and given how he was squirming, it was possibly the latter.

“Charles did we… have sex?” you hissed at him from across the room, which seemed to be getting smaller by the minute.

“No! You rejected my advances at the end of the night and then you stole my drugs…” he rushed out and your world stopped. “And you never called me after…” he murmured but you didn't even hear him.

You what.

“I… I stole your drugs?” You stared at him in disbelief. “I stole your drugs when I was 16 and that's why you've been mad at me for… 8 years?! And we-”

Your brain quickly did the math.

“Charles you gave drugs to a minor! You tried to hookup with a sixteen year-old! Those are both crimes, Charles!”

“You had a fake card and you told me you were 18! I only found out when you interviewed me and I realised you were younger than I thought!” Charles defended himself.

And you had to admit, although you didn't remember it at all, it was a pretty funny story.

And you couldn't help the journalist in you, you think in headlines.

You giggled “You have to admit, ‘Teenage delinquent Charles Leclerc gets drugs stolen by 16 year old girl’ is a really funny headline”

But Charles just looked scandalized, “Do NOT write about any of this!”

But you couldn't stop snorting with laughter.

“I rejected sex with The Charles Leclerc! Not many people can say that! And I ran off with his drugs!” You were wheezing at this point, doubled over and breathless.

Charles couldn't hold in his smirk , and he added weakly “I lost 200 euros worth of stuff that night!” but he snorted and that just served to make you laugh harder.

“Oh fuck Charles! Thank you for that! I'll make sure it goes in your biography”

He finally saw the humour in the situation and chuckled as you walked over to the mirror to check that your mascara hadn't run from the tears as he stepped to the side to give you space.

Charles just looked at you, seemingly taking in your appearance for the first time.

Slutty dress just a flimsy piece of fabric as you bent over and Charles got more than he bargained for when he looked at your reflection and got a glimpse of your tits almost spilling out.

Since you interviewed him the first time (he'd barely registered you calling him the wrong name) he'd always wondered what could have been if you hadn't ran off that night.

“Stop eyeing me up Charles, I’m not 16 anymore” you teased and he frowned as you stuck your ass out to lean closer to the mirror “but if you've got any drugs on you I’ll gladly take them”.

He narrowed his eyes “Actually” he looked at you basically presenting yourself to him “I think you should make it up to me”

“And how am I going to do that?” You batted your eyes at him in the mirror.

“By letting me prove to you why saying no to me is a mistake”

You raised your eyebrows “You going to offer me some coke?”

He laughed “No, I'm going to make you come twice before you can even think about leaving this room”

A shiver ran down you spine and your mind conjured up the image of him pressing you up against the mirror.

“Nah I'd rather take the drugs, thank you” you took a step towards the door, stopping just short of it as he spoke.

“Don't even think about opening that door…” he warned, but it had been a while since you had last had sex, and you were exceedingly horny.

“come over here and stop me, coward”

You didn't even have time to touch the handle as he all but dragged you away and shoved you over the sink, hands smoothing over your backside.

Your body gave in way too quickly as you melted under his touch.

“Is this why you came in here? You just wanted me to fuck you?”

You trembled in his grip as he plastered himself against your back, one arm circling your waist, the other coming up to wrap his hand around your throat.

“Look at you, so desperate for it. I bet if I put my hand under your dress you would be so fucking wet…” You shuddered at the thought, a pathetic whine leaving your lips “Shall we check?”

His fingers teased the hem of your dress, skimming the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

When his thumb brushed over the lace of your underwear he chuckled, breath fanning the back of your neck.

“Feels like I was right. I bet I could just… slip inside-”

His middle finger slid in with ease, his palm grinding against your clit as you felt your knees start to give out.

He lightly bit your ear and added a second finger as your breath hitched.

“Open your eyes and look at yourself”

You hadn't realised you'd closed them, but the sight that met your eyes as you opened them and looked in the mirror was pure sin.

Your gaze landed on his hand disappearing under your dress, and what you couldn't see you could definitely hear as the obscene squelch of his fingers inside you rang out in the small bathroom.

His other hand went from your neck to your jaw as he forced you to look at him, and the look in his eyes was enough to make you moan loudly.

Charles Fucking Leclerc. He looked like sin personified at the best of times, but tonight he looked like the actual devil.

His irises were now fully black as he stared at you darkly behind your shoulder. One thing was for sure, he was going to ruin you, and you had a feeling you were going to need help walking out of here.

When he got to four fingers he withdrew completely and sucked them clean, eyes on yours through the mirror the whole time.

He then sprung into action and dragged your underwear down your legs, pushed you down and quickly took his hard cock out to finally get some relief after so long. After all, he had been giving a guy a blow job half an hour before.

You gasped when you felt his tip rubbing along your folds, nudging at your clit teasingly.

“Hold on to the sink, eyes on me. If you look away, I’ll stop. Understand?”

You nodded and his hand came down on your ass, hard. You writhed in anticipation, his tip just barely sinking into you, it was driving you insane.

“Words, sweetheart” he smirked as you gasped at the pain blooming over your skin.

“Yes Charles! Please!”

He slid into you in one quick thrust and pinned you to the edge of the counter with his hips. You couldn't move, completely at his mercy. He was thick, so much thicker than you expected and you struggled to keep looking at him as your eyes threatened to roll backwards into your skull.

The face you made as he slid into you sent a jolt of pride and possessiveness through Charles, immediately sending him into madness as he gripped your hair in one hand and bruised your hip with the other. He slowly pulled out until just the tip remained, before slamming into you again making you mewl at the stretch.

He broke his own rule to look at where you were joined just as he pulled his hips back again. His mouth was hanging open at the sight of your cunt clenching around him, trying to keep him inside and he slammed back into you just to hear your sweet sounds again.

He was a man obsessed. Everything about you drove him wild as he pounded into you at a destructive pace, and your body swayed with his movements.

As you felt yourself nearing your end, you tightened around him, incapable of conveying anything through speech, and he wrapped a hand around your neck to hold you up against his chest

His other hand hooked behind your knee, lifting it to set it on the counter, deepening the angle as it opened you up more for him. And that same, godforsaken hand went down to start tapping rhythmically at your clit.

“You're getting close, aren't you?”

Your body was on fire but you managed to whimper in response, making him chuckle again.

“What would you do if I just… stopped?” he said, and you entered panic mode.

“No! I'm so close, Charles!”

He laughed “I know darling, but I want you to beg for me or I will walk away and leave you here, dripping and exposed”

The thought turned you on more than you'd care to admit, but the thought of not getting the release you were so close to was terrifying. So you reluctantly begged.

“Please Charles! I'm so close! Please make me come, I'll do anything, please, please, please….”

Okay maybe not that reluctantly.

A stray tear ran down your cheek and that’s what did it for Charles.

“Fuck, look at you crying on my cock, you're so good, so perfect for me. Come for me, baby-“

You cried out as you came around Charles, and he had no choice but to come with you as your tight walls milked him for all he was worth.

You rode out the aftershocks together, grinding into each other until you were both whimpering, overstimulated messes, slumped against each other.

When you came to your senses, Charles was pulling out gently and going into one of the cubicles to grab some paper towels to clean up with.

It was almost sweet. You were slumped over the sink, exhausted, as you spread your legs so he could clean you up as best he could.

Once he was done he pulled down your dress and got himself tucked back into his pants.

“Sorry about what happened that night… I used to be a bit of a wild child.” You smiled at him.

He looked down at you bent over the sink, then around the room you were in and crooked an eyebrow at you. “Used to be?...”

You slapped his shoulder and he laughed, tucking something into his back pocket.

“At least I don't suck off random strangers in club bathrooms” you shot back at him

“… anymore” you corrected yourself as he giggled

“Quite a few headlines could be written about you, you know?” He said, amused.

You smiled “Yes but nobody cares who I am, Charles”

“I care” he interjected and you stared at each other awkwardly.

“You're not allowed to be sappy while your cum is literally dripping down my leg, Charles!” you slapped his arm again “Speaking of, where’s my underwear?”

You turned around to look around the floor but it wasn't there.

“I don't know but I don't have time to look for it, my friends are waiting…”

“But-” you started, but he'd already opened the door to slink back into the crowd. But as he turned his back, there it was. A little piece of lace poking out of his back pocket.

“Charles Leclerc, you MOTHERFUCKER!”

[btsugarush]

RAP SH!T | myg [m.list]

summary: when your boyfriend yoongi starts to get recognition as an underground rapper he gets a little fame hungry, and cheats on you, putting an end to your 6 year relationship. 2 years later your friends beg you to attend a show in los angeles, and guess who’s the opening headliner?

pairings: ex boyfriend!rapper!yoongi x f!reader.

warnings: lovers to exes, exes to lovers, smut, dry humping, unprotected sex (wrap that sh!t up), oral (f receiving), soft dom!yoongi, jealous!yoongi, drugs, alcohol, strong language, infidelity, fluff, mini series, 18+, minors dni.

author’s note: when i saw this picture of yoongi with orange hair, i had to write something. and ofc i only write series half the time so here’s a mini one.

©btsugarush. please do not repost.

000 |

[theminecraftbee]

Vintagebeef and time loop?

The second-most annoying thing, he thinks, is that his crops just won't grow.

He's wanted to retire for a while now. Head out and live on a farm. Get some rest. Not have to worry about gunfire and business fronts and drugs and appearances and being in charge. He'd known he wouldn't be able to escape fully. Beef always knew he was on a timer, no matter how he tried to bury the hatchet and bury his past behind you. It always catches up.

He had a big name. He had a big life. He can't just retire from being head of Big Salmon, even if his loyal Skizzleman is the only person he told where he was going. One day, someone will catch up with him, and perhaps if he's lucky they'll turn his tractor into a car bomb. If he's unlucky, it'll be personal.

So in a lot of ways, really, the fact he keeps on waking up in the morning is a gift. It may be the same morning over and over again, sure, but he collects the eggs from his chickens, and he pats his dog, and he feeds his pigs, and he feels the sun shine on his face in a place that smells nothing like asphalt and fumes.

If his tomatoes would grow, it'd be nearly perfect, getting to wake up again and again in the sun like this. It's better than a man like him deserves, really. And it may be Wednesday, and Wednesday, and no tomorrows, but he didn't have himself much of a tomorrow anyway, and collecting the eggs from the chickens is nearly as good as harvesting the crops.

Quiet, and peaceful.

Or it should be. But see: the crops not growing are the second-most annoying thing.

The first most annoying is--

"HALLO! I have decided that this time, I am announcing I am here to assassinate you, ah? That way, you won't see it coming and manage to escape."

Beef groans and puts his head in his hands. A red dot appears on his temple.

"Don't try to run. You have a lovely home, of course, and I don't want to put holes in it. You've repaired those holes real fast, I have to say. You're a real hole expert. No, wait, that sounds terrible in English. Ah well, I'll just say it again."

It's him again.

"...hello? VintageBeef? I have been hired to kill you by your rivals? You aren't even moving. See, this is how you always get me. You do not move and I think I have killed you, then I come back in the morning and it is fixed! Very strange, very strange."

He hasn't realized it's a time loop. Somehow. Beef's tried to tell him. It's a little hard when he's busy being as annoying as possible, and ruining what would otherwise be the best chance for Beef to retire he's got.

"Well, okay, I guess I'll just pull the trigger. This is boring. You're boring, except for the part where you won't die. Hey, wait, maybe you can introduce me to your chickens instead? So next time I can bring you a totally safe chicken."

"Go away," Beef says.

"But I'm being paid so much money to kill you!" the famed assassin codenamed Iskall85 says. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"No!"

"But I've tried to do this so many ways!"

"Have you considered there's a reason it's not working?"

Iskall considers for a moment. "Naaaaah," he says, and Beef's instincts flare all at once. He dives to the ground as Iskall takes the shot. "Awww, no fair. I thought you were not moving."

"What do you want from me," Beef says.

"I mean, I feel like I've been pretty clear," Iskall says, and Beef doesn't say that he's not even asking Iskall at this point. He's asking the universe. He's asking this Wednesday. He's asking why this has happened to him.

The universe, of course, does not respond, and Beef ducks behind cover for yet another day of his peaceful time loop retirement being completely ruined.

[angeljeonjk97]

BodyWork || Bell #3

Jungkook x reader

friends to lovers

18+ (fluff, smut)

warnings: mentions and descriptions of violence, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol

Jeon Jungkook isn't the same 19-year-old boy you used to know. Fame has really matured him, in more ways that one.

"You already know how I like it baby"

The light shines through your closed eyes, causing your pitch-black vision to turn a shade of orange. Your eyelids slowly separate as you blink to adjust to the bright sunshine emitting through your opened curtains.

'Open curtains?' Your tired face scrunches up in confusion as you think to yourself, eyes still flickering, 'I swear I closed them before I left last night?'

You brush it off, assuming that you just didn't close them after all. Blurry memories corrupt your thoughts when a painstaking throbbing pain arises in your skull. You did what you said you weren't going to do, get drunk.

You huff, sitting up straight in your bed, glancing at the time. It was...

'3 PM?!' you exclaim in your head, your eyes widening. I mean it's a Saturday so you have no classes all day today and tomorrow. Still, you were surprised you slept in this late.

Cutting off your train of thought, your white wooden bedroom door creaks open, revealing a tall, dark-haired man, entering the room cautiously.

You snap your head towards the sound as you live alone and always react to the slightest of noises.

"You're awake!" He exclaims in a hushed tone, knowing not to be too loud as he assumes you have a raging hangover. The tall man, wearing a white oversized t-shirt and black basketball shorts walks towards your propped-up body, carrying a packet of what you guess is painkillers and a bottle of water.

You rub your eyes, not sure if you're seeing this right.

"Why are you here?" You ask, visible confusion plastered on your face as Jungkook chuckles, flashing his bunny-like smile, and crinkling up his eyes and nose.

"You don't remember last night at all do you?" He places himself down on the bed, sitting by your outstretched legs under the sheets.

When you start drinking, it rarely ever stops at just one drink. Most of the time you end up blacked out and wake up in your room, not remembering how you got there until a lot later into the day when it all starts to come back to you.

Jungkook's words make you recall most of the events from the previous night.

You and Kiri were dancing with each other, rejecting every weird dude who tried to get involved the whole night, going back and forth from the bar, back to the dance floor, to the bar, dance floor, bar, dance floor, the same cycle until it hit about 2 am. You and Kiri had been in the club for a good four hours now, all the good effects of the alcohol began wearing off and you were then in the club bathrooms trying not to throw up on your new, red satin dress.

Kiri doesn't get drunk as fast as you do, so she was a little bit more sober than you at the time, even though she was struggling to hold herself up.

"Yeah no we're ok babe, just not feeling amazing" Kiri giggled nervously, her words slightly slurred as she spoke to her boyfriend over the phone, who was on his way to pick the both of you up.

She looked at you and sat up against the toilet cubicle wall, knees up and your head buried into them as you focused on not being sick or passing out.

"Kiriiiiii" You whined, swinging your head back, making it hit the thin barrier behind you, with your eyes closed and eyebrows pinched.

"Girl I know you're fucked up, so am I. Hoseoks on his way" Kiri strokes the back of your head, trying to comfort you.

"I wanna see JKaaaayy" Your muffled, sloppy words made Kiri laugh as she got off the phone with her boyfriend, singing off with an "I love you" before tapping the red hang-up button. She reached for your purse, which rested on your feet in front of you, to pull your phone out.

The next thing you could hear is your phone dialling, causing your head to shoot up and look down at your phone, lying in Kiri's palm.

Jungkook shifted in his sleep, his ringtone bellowed in his lonesome apartment. He reached his arm out lazily, dragging his bright phone screen in front of him. With squinting eyes, your name glowed at the top of his screen.

"Y/n?"

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice that bounced off the wine-red tiled walls, leaning down at your phone, to take it from Kiri.

"Jungkooooook, I miss you" You pouted, as you spoke into your phone microphone.

He lazily chuckled, already knowing that you were drunk from your voice.

"I miss you too, are you okay?"

You whined again, "No, I wanna go home"

He sighed in defeat, already getting up out of bed.

"What club are you at? Do you want me to pick you up?" Concern laced in his croaky voice.

Jungkook is usually the person you call when you get like this. He doesn't mind it at all though, he likes making sure you get home safe after a night out. He doesn't trust other people, especially knowing how disgusting some men can be.

"Hoseok's coming it's alright Jungkook" Kiri almost shouted so she was heard over the phone.

Jungkook's face frowned, not recognising the sudden voice that was certainly not yours.

"Kiri?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, just checking it was you, I wasn't sure then. You okay as well?" His face relaxed, still plastered with concern for both of them.

"I'm okay, drunk but not as bad as y/n" She nervously chuckled whilst looking up at your squished-up face rested on your left knee, your right hand holding your phone, floating mid-air between the two of you.

Jungkook scoffed, a smirk growing on his face, knowing how you are when you're drunk and what he is about to face.

After a few more words were passed between each other and a mutual agreement (he insisted) that he'd come and pick you up instead, that you were too drunk to focus on, Kiri patted your back telling you to say goodbye to Jungkook, to which you responded with a pouty groan and a small "hurry up please".

"Alright I'm on my way now, I'll see you two in a bit" Jungkook let out a loud sigh once he had hung up the phone and slid it into the pocket of his lazy grey joggers he threw on as they were the first thing he had seen, lying on the floor. After he had tucked his laces into his shoes, in too much of a rush to tie them, he had one last good look at himself in the mirror above his shoe rack. He can't leave the house without looking in the mirror to check if he looks presentable, doesn't matter the situation. After a few seconds of fluffing his hair in the mirror and adjusting his shirt, he set off out the door, jogging to his drive that contained a sleek, black Mercedes Benz parked up and a 2020 Harley Davidson Streetfighter. Unlocking his Mercedes he revved the car, reversing his way out on his way to you.

"Is Hoseok not coming anymore?" You lazily asked, still not lifting your head from its current position.

"He's still coming, but Jungkooks coming to look after you. I'm going home with Hobi."

You sighed in response, trying not to fall asleep.

Jungkook eventually made his way into the club, pulling his mask back over his face and adjusting his cap, making sure he was not recognisable. As he walked towards the bathrooms, he saw Hoseok's colourful hair tips emerge from around the corner, with you being held up by him as Kiri trailed behind you both, making sure you didn't fall backwards or fall on top of Hoseok. He gently guides you to the sofa that sits around the corner from the bathrooms. Jungkook picked up his speed at the scene in front of him.

"I'm here" Jungkook exclaimed, out of breath slightly, from the rush he had just been in to get to you as quickly as possible.

"Kooook" You whined at the familiar, warm voice. You extended your arms out in front of you, as Jungkook leaned down to embrace you in a hug.

You melted into the hug, allowing JK to get a hold of you properly to stand you up.

"You guys gonna be okay?" Hoseok chuckled at the sight as Kiri wrapped herself around his bicep.

" Yeah yeah, she'll be okay once she's home" He answered back, still holding you up by the waist as your arms remained around his neck. That didn't last long though before you removed one arm and swung around next to him, his left arm still around your waist.

"Alright I'll see you around then, drive safe" Hoseok smiled at you both before he and Kiri set off.

"Text me when she's home" Kiri reminds Jungkook before being too far away to hear him, to which he responded with a small "will do."

You close your eyes and sigh in annoyance after the memories all come flooding back.

Jungkook laughs at your current expression before basically shoving the pills and bottle of water in your face, causing the box to make a rattling noise. Your eyes open in reaction to the sudden sound, finding their way to Jungkook's, his face painted with a small smile full of care and adoration. You lazily retrieve the items out of Jungkook's hands, basically clawing your way into the box as your headache begins throbbing even harder than earlier.

You realise for a moment that you're not in the clothes that you left the house in. With scrunched brows, you look up from the box, in Jungkook's direction, and your fingers stop fidgeting, as you see him already with his wide back to you walking out of the room.

"You changed yourself, don't worry" as if he read your mind with his faded response as he was already out of the room by the time the words left his mouth, "I'm making breakfast so get your ass out of bed soon"

<-prev-index-next->

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

a/n: Apologies for this chapter taking a while. I've been caught up in a lot of work recently and haven't really had that much time to write, hope you all enjoy though &lt;;33

Taglist- @yunki-yunki-yunki @hellbornsworld @tatamicc @idkjustlovingbts @00frenchfries00 @yoonbicoolest

[apocalypse-shuffle]

JASON TODD | RED HOOD (batman:under the red hood | canon divergence?)

—

“Co-opt #1 - Fire Escape Rendezvous 1/?” (Jason Todd x Fem!Reader)

| You’d thought the man you were talking to was just uninterested and biding his time. That is until one thoroughly fucked up Red Hood falls from the sky early one morning and becomes a more pressing issue.

| SFW, serious injury, drugged & mentally compromised, late night conversations, idealogical debate, canon typical violence, mentions & descriptions of death/killing, -panicked!reader

| pics via: Batman: Under The Red Hood tpb

| content apart of the co-opt series

| 2k+ words

Beg. NOTES: This first chapter is a lot of establishing the universe and background information, so yeah.

‘I officially live in hell,’ you think idly over the crackle of the television and the almost imperceptible sound of your electric kettle boiling water.

One emergency evacuation of the mall, a slew of bomb threats, city wide shelter in place, and a mandated curfew had surely elevated the power struggle between Black Mask and the Red Hood to the top of the Gang War Hall of Fame.

If such a cursed thing existed, anyway.

“In recent news the fight seems to have traveled from the docks to the outskirts of the Narrows. Unfortunately there is still no sign of Batman and our eyes in the sky have once again lost the two battling criminals.”

Great. The man let you all take a collective breath a year after fucking off to who knows where just to restart the clock right after the final exhale. There was always a bomb - metaphorical or otherwise - about to go off in the city anyway, why not add another?

Your teeth worry at your lip. You haven’t heard anything yet, no gunshots or yelling - like Gotham herself was holding her breath in wait for the destruction they would wrought - so you’d been able to ignore the anchor trying to lodge itself in your gut, but now that you knew they were close?

Your teeth leave an indent in your bottom lip and running the top of your tongue over the bite mark only serves to make the area pulse more, not soothe it. You make a low sound, eyes rolling.

Honestly if you had done what you were supposed to last week you likely wouldn’t even be up to worry yourself to death currently. As it stands you’d had an assignment due roughly fifteen minutes ago, so from the second the telltale siren of the Gotham Emergency Network’s warning sounded from your phone you’d been hyped up.

Watching it buzz on the table beside your laptop had made your stomach drop. Like the split second where you start thinking up your funeral rites after missing a step on the stairs.

Even now, looking out at the wayward streaks of moonlight peaking through your curtains to splay onto your living room floor, your mind twits itself where it doesn’t belong.

Admittedly, a split second after the first buzz, right before your phone cried out that the city was once again on fire, you’d thought it was the guy you’d been seeing. Heavy emphasis on ‘been’.

Rising panic aside you’ve been throwing little looks at it for hours now. The colored bubble around your words hasn’t left your head; it meets you seared on the underside of your eyelids every time you blink.

You:

Hey we haven’t talked in a hot minute and I was trying to call to tell you this btw but I'd like to break the whole arrangement we have now off. We don't want the same shit I guess.

You’d gotten nothing short of the ‘unseen’ marker under your message changing to ‘seen’ for your effort. So, now here you were worrying over ten hours later about a guy that couldn’t even be bothered to respond to you breaking up with him.

“Well that’s enough of that,” you sigh, turning off the tv and walking over to your kitchenette. Did you still have anything left over in your fridge that you liked? A pick me up sounded good, especially if you were planning on worrying yourself into an early grave all night.

It was uncouth honestly. At least Batman contained his messes. Hood had managed to knock crime down in The Alley by 60% the last time he was at large, you’ve seen the reports, but starting a city wide dick measuring contest with Black Mask was only dragging everybody through their shit. You couldn’t exactly say you endorsed his current plan of action.

Now to the fridge. The contents of which make you frown.

Fan-tastic.

Swooping down a little more to catch a possible glimpse of anything other than the food stains clinging desperately to the floor of the bottommost fridge shelf, your eyes narrow. Your tongue clicks harshly in the quiet when you thump it against the back of your top teeth.

If you really let yourself think about it, the fact he hadn’t even bothered to answer grated like a snagged scab. Oh!

There was some leftover spam that’d been pushed back into a corner of the middle shelf — bad as it was for your mood you couldn’t help but pick at his lack of answer. Etching away at your thoughts on the man in tiny barely noticeable increments — you’d only missed the meat on your initial scan because of the box of leftover pancake mix shamelessly in front of it. You snatch up both items, shoving them into the bend of your non-searching arm.

Another click of your tongue; more picking.

There was no way he could just leave you on ‘read’. You broke up with him, that’s not just something you leave somebody on goddamn ‘read’ for.

Only a nanosecond’s worth of pain, of worry for what uncovering more could make come pouring out, before the rush started to fade and you couldn’t help but pull on the scab harder. Till you felt your brows furrow all over again.

What were you? Just a way to pass the time?

A dog's rapid fire barking sounds from outside and your head pops up, looking over the fridge door, head on a swivel and eyes wide. The way rabbits go; blood frozen and breath held.

A beat passes where you just listen. When no signs of further disturbance occur though your blood warms, your air puffs out of you, and you can move again.

If you ever saw Red Hood you’d kick him in the dick (except you really wouldn’t, you weren't crazy). You snap open the bottom drawer only for your lip to instantly curl, unfortunately not cause of the game of hide and seek your fridge was playing with you. Hood would deserve it though, and so would another man that was embarrassingly still on your mind tonight.

Peppers. How did you forget you had those? They join your arm stash with a few rough movements.

Maybe you shouldn’t even be surprised. Jason was great - a little testy, but who in this city wasn’t? He was definitely still the best person you’ve dated since high school, though only so far as he was paying attention to you.

The constant “work” calls he had to excuse himself for you’re half convinced were actually his main woman calling or some other jumbled theory. If there was one thing you could do it was reach, but it was more so just the real world applications of creativity in your opinion.

Point was Jason was - had been - nice to call yours for however brief a moment. Even now thinking about him had your body doing an odd combination of being close to legitimate tears over an eight month relationship and the nonstop tremble that tended to come with the hot sensation of shame crawling up your neck.

Was it embarrassing to be this hung up on a white boy you’d barely known for a year?

Kind of, yeah.

Eight goddamn months and you were so caught up on the man you couldn’t snatch the random ingredients out of your fridge without a slight tremor in your hands, and an incessant barrage of curses that weren’t gonna stop going through your mind anytime soon that was for sure. That fucking asshole.

It wasn’t even like you actually cared anyway, it was whatever. Jason was whatever.

With a heavy sigh you straighten from your crouch and move to drop everything on the counter.

Jason was cool enough half the kids in your complex flocked to guilt him into giving them some cash when he came over, and he’d play along like he himself was getting paid for it every single time. He volunteered all over the ‘rougher’ parts of Gotham, and he was from The Alley so he got the city - plus you were a sucker for that Bowery accent, what could you say? Sounds good right? Downright perfect? Yeah well, Jason also didn’t talk, but not in the way that meant he couldn’t hold a good conversation.

You grin a little, unaware of the action, while walking over to pull out a chopping board and knife to wash. You didn’t have much, but fritters didn’t sound half bad and would take thirty minutes tops for you to put to a pan.

Once, you’d both spent hours arguing how The Thing as an adaptation was actually better than Who Goes There? while he harped that you inherently couldn’t separate the adaptation from the book like that: “Everything genuinely interesting about the movie came from the book. The movie quite literally wouldn’t exist without it.”

The conversation had lasted long enough for you to fall asleep on him - a song and dance that quickly became habit for you two; by now your FaceTime has seen many a squished drooling face - but Jason never once revealed anything personal. Not truly.

Not ever.

There’s a harsh crash from below, and that damn dog bellowing again. You take a second to glare at your window before focusing back on the task at hand.

It was a hard thing to catch, the sidestepping, but you weren’t that clueless. Jason didn’t have a middle name - which is fine, that was normal - but that wasn't all. Jason also had an undisclosed job that was always interrupting your time together. Said undisclosed job that paid him so much he could opt to get a hotel rather than let you go to his place - godforbid - every time you didn’t want to meet up at your house for the fiftieth time. You got it when your relationship was new, but nearly a year in?

Both his parents were dead, but sometimes if you called him and it was early enough he’d say something offhanded and mean about his father like he was still alive.

And Jason was fine - he was always fine - but you’d asked him to ‘just trust you’ once and his eyes had gone hard before his entire expression went flat and the date had ended there, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t physically left. Afterwards he’d avoided you for nearly a week and only convinced you to stay once he finally came back around by offering to let you beat his ass if it’d make you feel better.

Even as flabbergasted by the offer as you’d been, it'd worked and you two were back to business as usual within the same hour - no violence needed.

Before that you’d honest to goodness been contemplating going to ask him for his forgiveness for whatever it was you’d apparently done wrong. You’d been so scared he’d leave you you’d been ready to apologize for a problem that wasn’t even communicated to you.

Something that was pretty sad now that you were thinking about it so you were gonna stop now.

Point is it was getting embarrassing, even for you. Contemplating stooping that low for someone who couldn’t be fucked to give you an actual explanation after ghosting you that first time, let alone one that couldn’t even put a name to what the two of you were, was a waste of your time.

You could do better than Jason fucking Peterson that was for damn sure.

A sigh rattles through your chest as you shake out your knife, water droplets falling all over you and the counter in the process. Which—

You turn your head to look at your kettle sitting pretty on the side table closest to the window - you only had so much counter space, okay?

Tea sounded nice right now. You squint at the kettle with a frown. You could’ve sworn you’d had that same thought a while ago. Sure enough when you look a little harder it’s already been filled with water. You were that deep in your head for real? Enough to miss the shrill peeping your kettle let loose to announce that your water was effectively boiled?

“Wow.” You look up, shoulders rising and dropping with more flourish than necessary. “I need a nap,” you grumble and push away from where you’ve got the least wilted peppers and your leftover meat diced.

The kettle clicks back on with a quiet beep, the batter that you completely disregarded the instructions for cause you didn’t have eggs or milk is mixed, and you’re in your third fold to incorporate all the food together when a sharp BANG reverberates somewhere below your flat.

It’s a painful sounding pang that makes you flinch; spoon clattering to the imitation granite with a wet plop. The noise sets off the stray dog worse than before and you’re dropping like a cracked brick flat to the floor, heart hammering in conjunction with the animal’s startled barks.

You're high enough up from wherever the loud noise came from that your window doesn’t so much as rattle, but close enough that the breath shakes out of you with no less resistance than if it were physically being squeezed from you, and your palms tremble against the peel and stick tile your landlord insists is authentic.

You couldn’t—

A gunshot rings out in the definitely too close distance and you flinch.

“Fuck,” you rush out.

The curse you gasp out is unintelligible even to your own ears as you shake against the floor. The bang feels like deadweight vibrating through your bones. Like a presence squeezing at your lungs. There were protocol’s for this, you knew it, but you were just—

The sound of metal rattling harsh and fast meets your ears and this time your window does shake. You look up in what feels like slow motion, dread burning a hole through your stomach. A thump and subsequent end to the rattling freezes you in your tracks.

No way that didn’t come from your fire escape.

Fuck.

You knew one day it’d be Gotham that facilitated your demise, but right after a breakup? That was cruel even by the city’s standards.

Just your damn luck too that whoever was out there skipped three other peoples perfectly presentable fire escapes for yours.

You worry at your lip, eyeing the window behind your sheer curtains for anything unusual. Nothing immediately jumps out to you, just what you can see of the night from the upper mouth of the alleyway you’re in front of and the very top of your guard railing. Your suspiciously un-obscured guard railing.

Without really thinking you pull yourself up to your hands and knees. Your knees ache uncomfortably from your fall and your arms are weak at the elbows, threatening to send you careening face first into the floor, but you crawl forward anyway.

See, you liked to think you were smart. It was one of those things that was nearly a prerequisite in Gotham, even if The Hill was becoming less outwardly dangerous as more of the rich guys looking for cheap real estate forced their ways in. Still, the changes were only recent and - most importantly - a thinly veiled façade.

Crime was still crime no matter how pretty the buildings it took place in or around were.

Regardless, you thought you were smart, but now here you are easing up to your window like a reckless idiot with a death wish. If you were any less shaken up maybe you’d be running out your door - false alarm be damned - or you’d be thinking about calling the police at the very least.

Even in your haze you snort quietly to yourself. As if. At best they’d show up too late, The Hill was so far from everything that police response was shit on a ‘good’ day, let alone when every cop was out falling over themselves in their search for Mask and Hood, so you know you wouldn’t’ve bothered even if your stomach wasn’t currently trying to turn itself inside out.

The floor is cool under your palms and you let out a shaky breath. Elbows aching and knees starting to chafe because of how slow you were moving. You shift to list yourself to the side - alleviate the pain hindering your common sense - only to have it knocked right back into you when you overbalance and fall into the back of your couch.

“Oof,” you huff, noise forced from your chest.

Hands fly up to cover over your mouth, your eyes widening.

The seconds spent sprawled out on the floor give you time to think, at the very least, as you try to catch your breath as silently as possible.

No one would be rescuing you. The police weren’t coming - not that you really wanted their help anyway, your parents had moved to Camden last year, and you’d never even seen Batman in person. If you kept being stupid you’d be well and truly fucked.

Christ, you were mental. What the hell did you think you were gonna do - confirm to whoever was out there that you were home and then fight them off the fire escape yourself?

Somewhere in the ether someone was probably revoking your black card all now.

Retracing your steps backwards while still keeping mum wasn’t the easiest feat with your horrible balance and shaky limbs but you’re managing just fine - even grabbing your phone along the way. That you almost forgot it in the first place you ignore for now, the door and your shoes right beside it are too close for you to jeopardize your goal—

Beep beep beep beep…!

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading! It has officially been two years to the day since I posted my first fic on this blog!!!!!

❤︎

Okaaaay, I am very nervous about finally posting this but it’s been nearly two years in the making so hopefully it’s not terrible. Could I have waited to write this until I was a better writer and all my personal thoughts were fully fleshed out? Sure, but there’s no time like the present and I can always rewrite this! This’ll hopefully be a long ride so I’m excited.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

—

Also, feedback would be lovely, but be nice please, goddamn. Was the first chapter unengaging considering Jason’s not in it? Was it in any way confusing or hard to follow the Reader-Insert’s thought process throughout, specifically during the back and forth where she’s thinking about Jason and about what she’ll cook and shit?

[gatitties]

hiii!! can I request some HCs for bonten!Mikey x Mother!Assassin!Reader where Reader and Mikey have a 17 years old secret love child. The scene is Bonten Executives and Assassin!Reader is eating in just yk a local ramen shop and Mikey is asking Reader that he wants to become a father to their child ykyk bcs reader kept it a secret that she was pregnant and raised the child all by herself T__T and when the school called Reader bcs their child stabbed a male student with scissors in their school, Sanzu said "I guess she took her mother's talent. you're in that age too, weren't you?" and reader just went batshit crazy bcs reader doesn't want her child to become like her </3 so reader threw a knife that got stuck in a wooden wall just close enough to make Sanzu's neck bleed a little and after that reader said "If you ever say that again, I'll kill you with the most dullest knife in the world." and then reader left. I WANT TO SEE MIKEY'S AND OTHER EXECUTIVES' REACTION TOO TO THIS HAPPENINGS IF THEY'RE GONNA GO CRAZY TOO OR WHATEVER 🤩🤩 thank u so much!

─Bonten!Mikey x mother!assassin!reader

─Summary: You don't like that your kid looks like you because you don't have the best manners or work

─Warnings: none

─ You weren't proud of your fame as a assassin in the underworld, but work was work.

─ Several years ago you got involved with the leader of Bonten, a one-night stand ended up being something and you started working as an executive for your boyfriend.

─ Although in a 'small accident' you ended up having a child, you weren't sure if Mikey would like to be a father considering his position in society, and despite the fact that you didn't have the best reputation either, you decided to take it on the sly.

─ How you managed to hide your child for seventeen years is a feat knowing the people you associated with, but you were grateful that they didn't poke their noses into your business and that Mikey was a busy man.

─ Of course, you were very lucky during all that time, but it came to an end and he decided to confront you for hiding from him that he had a child.

─ Although you had an argument about that, you reached a halfway point, Mikey wanted to take care of his child and get to know them, however you denied that your little baby knew the dark side of both.

─ Your kid was a little skeptical at first with their 'new' father, but they started to get along after a few months, becoming a relatively normal family if you ignored all the corpses you both carried on your back.

─ Of course, the other executives got to know your kid because it was more difficult to hide that the leader of Bonten was more absent, so now your kid had a few uncles.

─ Now… when they called from school because your 'baby' had fought, rather stabbed another child with scissors, you didn't know how to react, Mikey was the one who took charge of going to school while you stayed at home.

─ At that moment you were all eating, since you had invited them to your house, everyone listened but decided that they had nothing to comment until Sanzu had to open his mouth. "I guess they took their mother's talent, you're in that age too, weren't you?"

─ It took you a few seconds to analyze what the drug addict had dared to say, everyone knew that you didn't like that your kid was involved with the shit they did and you lost it.

─ You grabbed the first sharp object you had at hand, a knife, and you threw it in such a way that Sanzu's neck had a millimeter cut, the knife went past, sticking into the wall. "If you ever say that again, I'll kill you with the dullest knife in the world."

─ The table was silent except for Sanzu's complaints when being lightly treated by Kakucho, everyone looked at each other deciding to shut their mouths knowing that you were upset.

─ The Haitani brothers were trying not to burst out laughing at seeing how you humiliated their co-worker, Mochizuki, Takeomi and Kokonoi were amazed with your aim since they had never seen you doing your job, this scene would definitely be something to talk about if word gets out.

─ The tension in the room didn't go away until you saw your boyfriend and kid appear at the door, although now it was your turn to give your child a talk for having done that.

─ Mikey smiled when he found out what you had done, he wasn't angry about his child's attitude, he simply asked if they had won the fight or not (the result was obvious but he wanted to check it).

─ No one dared to comment on what happened that day and you punished your kid for a week.

[redroomreflections]

Hotel California | Track 3: Metal Voices

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 5.8k

Chapter 3/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: I can't tell if y'all are rocking with this one or not but Imma keep uploading.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

You lay soundly asleep, nestled in your warm cocoon of blankets, the soft comfort of slumber wrapping around you like a cozy embrace. Your fatigue from a long week had finally caught up with you, and your dreams were painted with peaceful serenity.

But then, as if summoned by a mischievous fairy, you felt tiny hands tapping your arm. The gentle, persistent taps grew stronger until they became an undeniable summons from the waking world. Reluctantly, you stirred, your eyelids heavy with the remnants of sleep.

As you blinked yourself into awareness, you found yourself face to face with Isabella who was looking down at you in annoyance. You mumbled groggily, "Too early, Isabella, go back to bed."

Isabella, not one to give in easily, shook her head. "Mama, it's not early. It's noon! I’m going to be late for Lenny’s skate party!"

You blinked in disbelief at the time, grabbed your phone from the nightstand to find the truth, and then threw yourself back into the pillows with a groan." Noon already?” You rubbed a hand over your face. 

Isabella's tone turned stern as she scolded, "Sleeping in until noon is unacceptable, Mama. You promised you'd help me get ready for the party."

You couldn't help but smile at your daughter's seriousness, and you felt a rush of gratitude for having such a responsible child. You glanced at the nightstand and saw a glass of water and aspirin neatly arranged, a thoughtful gesture from Isabella.

You reached for the water and aspirin, whispering your thanks, and then turned to Isabella with a mischievous grin. "You know, being a mom is hard work. Sometimes, moms need a little extra sleep to keep up with their super responsible daughters."

Isabella rolled her eyes, giving you a playful but loving look of disbelief. "It’s hard being the boss.” She shook her head. She crawled into bed beside you and leaned into your side. Her cheek pressed against yours. It was often she practically wanted to live in your skin. 

The feeling was mutual.

"You can be the boss later, sweetheart. But right now, can you just let Mama get her bearings and drink this water?"

Isabella sighed. "I bet North West doesn't have to deal with this."

You chuckled, kissing Isabella's hair. "No, I'm sure she doesn't. But you know what? I'd trade a hundred Kardashian daughters for my one."

Isabella's lips curled into a pleased smile and she snuggled deeper into your side.

"Grandma told me a lot of things last night," She began.

"Like what? You were supposed to be sleeping when I left you," You downed your water and aspirin.

"She let me watch Wendy Williams reruns," She smirked.

"I don't believe it," You narrowed your eyes. "Did you steal her phone?"

"Maybe," She shrugged. "Anyway, I saw you when you were a kid. Well, a teenager I guess. Before you had me. Wendy kept saying how getting pregnant was a disaster and how everything was going to change and that you were throwing your career away."

You sighed, "Sweetheart..." Setting your cup of water down. You certainly didn't think you would be talking about this. “I wouldn’t even call it a career.” 

"I'm not offended, actually," Isabella stopped you. "I kind of think it's true. You don't sing much anymore. Only to me and in the shower."

"Do you want me to sing more?" You asked, slightly concerned.

"I just don't understand why you're not a star." Isabella sat up. "You could be bigger than Beyonce'."

"Well, I couldn't sing onstage when you were growing inside my belly," You chuckled, running your hands over her hair. "Also, bigger than Beyonce is a stretch but I'm glad you're as delusional as me."

"And you stopped after you had me, didn't you?" She looked at you with big curious eyes. "You didn't even try?"

"No," You answered, not really wanting to discuss your past.

"Why?" She tilted her head. "You're really good, Mama. Grandad could definitely get some things set up for you. Or I know. Natasha from the band. You two are dating now right?"

You shook your head. "We're just friends, Isabella. It's not like that. We're not serious. Plus, she has her own thing going on right now."

"Well, then why not do something with the band?" She suggested, clearly not taking no for an answer.

"I don't feel comfortable about that, Isabella," You said. "I have you to think about. I like my life right now as it is. I like my job."

"But I've got to have a rockstar mother, Mama!" Isabella threw herself back into the pillows. "It's embarrassing enough that my best friend's mother is a pop princess, but now my own mother isn't even a musician?"

"Well, my cushy job provided you with this house and all of your gymnastics gear, musician or not," You poked at her. "I'm going to tell my mom we need to put passcodes on every single electronic in the house. You get too many ideas."

"It's true," Isabella pouted.

"Isabella, if you love me, you'll accept that I'm not a performer. I'm a boring, everyday working mom. That's the only thing that's true about what Wendy said."

Isabella sat up. "But Mama, don't you ever feel like there's a part of you missing?"

You thought for a moment. "No. I'm perfectly complete. I have the best daughter I could ever ask for."

"You haven't been with anyone in years," She pointed out. "Your cookies are going to be all dried up."

"Do you even have any idea what that means?" You raised a brow. God, you weren’t ready for that talk yet. 

"No, I heard Aunt Monica say it," She said innocently.

"That woman has so many issues," You said, shaking your head. "Now, do you want to keep talking about my life or do you want to go and live yours and go to the skate party?"

"Okay," She said, getting up and stretching. "Just think about it, Mama."

"I will," You lied. "Now go get dressed and we'll get your hair done."

"Thanks, Mama." She kissed your cheek before leaving the room.

You took a deep breath, your mind swimming with the thoughts of the past. You couldn't deny that sometimes, there were moments where you missed it all. Then you remember that you're content. You enjoy your schedule. You like being home every day in time for dinner with Isabella.

Her question was valid. You hadn't been in a committed relationship since Sam, her father. That entire breakup had ruined you, even if you did end it on amicable terms. The thought of being with anyone else wasn't exactly appealing. You liked to focus on your daughter and work. Though that kiss with Natasha last night was something. It's a spur-of-the-moment thing if you will. A great end to the night. She's a rockstar. No way she had time for you.

But if she did, would you let her?

You shook the thoughts away and got up, getting ready for the day.

********************

“I’ll have bacon, eggs, and a side of toast,” Steve ordered from the cafe waitress. Across from him, Natasha stirred her coffee absentmindedly, staring out of the diner window. 

“Had a good night?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair. 

Natasha smirked memories of her kiss with you flashing in her mind. “Yeah, you could say that. You?”

Steve chuckled. “Nothing too wild. I just crashed after the party. Where did you duck off to?”

Natasha took a sip of her coffee before answering, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Y/n and I decided to go and talk. We ended up at a little restaurant a few blocks down," She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Mhm," Steve hummed, unconvinced. "Just talked?"

"Just talked," Natasha rolled her eyes. "Why do you guys all think I'm some sort of womanizer?"

"Because you are," Steve laughed, and Natasha couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"Yeah, okay, fair point," She conceded. "But we did just talk. I like her. She's cool,"

Steve raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile on his face. "I can tell. Do you think it's going to be something? So soon after Carol?"

"Who knows," Natasha shrugged. "But it was nice to feel that connection again."

Steve nodded a small smile on his lips. "That's good. You deserve someone who makes you feel like that,"

Natasha's expression softened her usual mask of bravado. "She's Nick Fury's daughter. You know the music mogul dude."

"Wow, she's way out of your league then," Steve chuckled.

"Shut up," Natasha laughed, kicking him playfully under the table.

"Maybe you could slide her dad one of our tapes," He suggested.

"No, it's not like that," Natasha shook her head. "I'm not trying to get with her for that. I like her."

"I know, Nat," Steve said. "But you can't blame me for trying."

"You're an idiot, Rogers," Natasha laughed.

"A lovable one, though," Steve grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Speaking of management.” 

Natasha sighed, already anticipating the conversation. “The label thing again?”

Steve nodded, pausing only for the waitress to set down their finished meals. “Tony’s been pushing for it. He thinks it’s our ticket to the big leagues. And Wanda’s on board too. But it’s more than that, Nat. We need better management. The gigs, the travel, it’s all starting to take a toll.”

Natasha leaned back, running a hand through her hair. “I get that, but signing with a label? We’ll lose control, Steve. They’ll want to shape us, change our sound. We’ve always been about doing things our way.”

“I know,” Steve said gently. “But think about the opportunities. Better venues, more exposure. We could reach so many more people.”

Natasha frowned, the conflict evident in her eyes. “It’s just... I’m not sure I want to deal with all that corporate bullshit. I want our music to stay pure, you know?”

Steve nodded, giving her an encouraging smile. “I understand. But we don't have to decide anything right away. Just think about it, okay? For the band."

Natasha took a bite of her eggs, chewing thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll think about it," She said finally.

The two continued their breakfast in comfortable silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

Natasha took a long swig of her coffee. "I know you're right, and I don't want to lose the band over my stubbornness. I'll think about it, but for now, we've got a gig to prepare for. Are you in?"

Steve smiled and extended his fist, which Natasha bumped with her own. "Always."

As the day passed, Natasha couldn't shake the thought of her kiss with you. She knew it was silly, but she couldn't help the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach whenever she thought about you. 

*********

You stood by the edge of the rink, watching Isabella glide across the wooden floor with Lenny. The kids were laughing, carefree and happy. You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest as you watched the friends bond over their time together.

Isabella looked up, waving excitedly at you.

"Look, Mama! Lenny and I are gonna skate backward!" She exclaimed, and you held a thumbs up in response. "I've watched so many Tiktoks about this."

"Go get 'em, kiddo," You chuckled.

Isabella stood before you, holding her hands out to keep her balance, as she used the muscles in her legs to push her backward. She looked so cute and you snapped a photo.

"Look at my baby, all grown up and skating," You smiled, watching her.

"That's my favorite grandbaby," Your mother came up behind you, and you wrapped your arm around her shoulders.

"Your only grandbaby," You reminded her. She waved you off with a laugh. "I'm glad you could make it here with us. How's dad?"

"Busy," Your mother said. "As always."

"Where in the world is he now? Bali?" You asked. "I tried calling him this morning but his phone went straight to voicemail. " Having a music mogul father had its ups and downs. His being unavailable when you wanted to talk randomly was one of them.

"He's in London," She informed you. "He's setting something up for some young girl from the X-Factor. He's also in talks about a possible Broadway production."

"Ah, so he's not tired yet," You sighed. "I told that man he needs to sit down. Come and enjoy being a grandparent." You shook your head fondly.

"You know your father. He's not going to stop until he's six feet under."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," You laughed, glancing over at her. "Oh, before I forget. Isabella saw some things last night."

"Oh?"

"On the internet," You clarified.

"Oh," She frowned. "I fell asleep shortly after you left."

"Yeah, apparently, Isabella saw some clips of my past and was asking me questions," You said, rubbing the back of your neck. "She seems to have this fantasy of me becoming a famous singer."

"Well, I don't blame her," Your mother shrugs. "Girl knows her stuff. Gets that from Nick."

"You still miss him," You stated, observing her.

"Of course, I do," She smiled softly. "Your father's been great, but he's not him."

"Yeah," You nodded. "You know you could catch an airplane to him. London's not that far away."

"Oh, he's so busy and-"

"Mom, seriously, go see him," You looked at her.

"You have a point," She conceded. "But what about you and Isabella? Plus, I hate long flights. "

"We'll be fine, " You assure her. "Besides, I think Dad would love an overseas booty call from his wife."

"Y/N!"

"What? It's true!"

Your mother shakes her head, a smile playing on her lips.

"You are just as bad as your father."

"You still love him, right?" You asked, wanting to know if it was just nostalgia or actual love. Your parents had a complicated relationship. No there was never any grounds for divorce. It was always this thing where they were solely dedicated to each other and then somehow business got in the way. She's a dance instructor and owner of one of the best dance schools in the Los Angeles area rivaling Debbie Allen's Dance Academy.

"Of course, I do," Your mother said, her face lighting up at the mere mention of your dad. "We are just so busy. It was easy to put our marriage aside."

"At least you have a marriage to put to the side," You shrugged, leaning against the railing.

"Is this about that Natasha girl?"

"What how do you know about her?" You asked incredulously.

"Isabella told me this morning at breakfast," She shrugged.

"How long was I asleep?" You frown.

"Long enough for me and my granddaughter to have a nice, long chat."

"About?" You asked.

"Everything," She said. "Including your dating life. She's right you know."

"How?" You asked, turning to her.

"You deserve someone, Y/N," She said, reaching out and holding your hand.

"I have Isabella," You remind her.

"I'm not saying you don't," She replied. "But there are things a partner does that a 9-year-old can't give you."

"Oh, gross, mom," You pulled a face.

"Not sex, Y/N," She smacked your arm. "Affection. Companionship. Someone to share the good and the bad with."

"I had that with Sam and look where that got me?" You subtly pointed to Isabella.

"You were younger with Sam," She raises a brow. "Both of you were just teens."

"Yeah and I had to give everything up for my daughter," You sighed.

"But look at her," Your mother squeezed your hand. "She's amazing."

"She is," You said, looking at her. "This thing with Natasha isn't even a thing. We kissed one time and that was it. We've barely known each other for a month. We've talked even less."

"Well, it seems like Isabella wants to change that."

"She wants to change a lot of things," You chuckle. "Mom, when I'm ready to get back in the saddle you will be the first to know. Right now I'm just enjoying my freedom. I only got divorced four years ago."

"I understand," Your mother nodded.

"Good," You said.

"Mama! Did you see my new trick?!" Isabella's voice rang throughout the skating rink as she skated towards you. She bumped into the railing with a thud before looking up at you.

"I sure did, Bella!" You cheered, helping her off the floor. "You and Lenny have been practicing."

"Well, she's better than me, but I'll get there." She said.

"You'll get there," You assured her.

"Do you think the gift I got Lenny is cool?" Isabella asked suddenly.

"Well, I hope so, you were the one that picked it out," You said, ruffling her hair.

"Okay, if you're sure," Isabella nodded. "Can I eat ice cream at this party?"

"Wait a minute," You tried to hide your grin. "I thought you were vegan. What happened to save the animals?" Isabella had been vegan for all of a month before today. What you had to give it to her was impressive.

"Saving the animals is still my passion," Isabella agreed. "But I have come to terms with the fact that I am a growing girl."

"Are you sure that's it?" You raised a brow.

"Okay, okay," Isabella rolled her eyes. "It's because Lenny is eating ice cream and she said it's really good and I want to try it."

"I thought so," You smirked.

"Will you please let me, Mama, please?" She gave you her signature pout.

"We'll see," You said.

"Yes!"

"If Lenny can have some then so can you," You compromised.

"Denying the girl sugar?" Your mother chimed in. "I knew raising you in LA was a bad idea."

"I've never denied her sugar," You shook your head. "I did fine being raised in LA. Wrong kid remember." You said referring to your brother and sister.

"I suppose you did," She said.

"Isabella, let's go find Lenny and give her the gift."

"Okay!" She said, taking your hand and dragging you off.

The party was still in full swing by the time you had tapped out. You opted to allow Isabella to continue on with the festivities while you sat alone in a booth. You hadn't truly checked your phone all day so you thought this was an appropriate time. Opening Instagram, you can briefly see the onslaught of new comments and followers on your dashboard. You decided to click on the post and instantly groaned. There on TMZ's feed was you, sitting dangerously close to Natasha in Heatwave last night as she whispered into your ear. Then another of you leaving the club. You had thought taking the back exit was a smart move.

The caption read: Lead Singer of Punk Rock band bags Hollywood Royalty. New relationship brewing? Check out these hot pictures as the couple cozies up to each other at Heatwave LA.

You rolled your eyes and clicked the home button, seeing that you had a few missed calls and a text from Monica.

Monica: Hey, babe. Are you alive?

You: Yes, just exhausted. 

Monica: Good. I have an update on your situation.

You: Situation? What's up?

Monica: Well, the photos from last night are out.

You: I can see that.

Monica: And to my surprise, I didn't get a phone call or message from you with the details. Am I not your best friend?

You sighed at Monica's dramatics before pressing the call button under her name. The Facetime ringing doesn't last for a second before she's picked up the phone.

"You're an asshole," Is the first thing she says.

"Good to see you too," You rolled your eyes. "Is it really that serious?"

"Yes!" She said. "This is a big deal."

"What do you mean?" You frowned.

"Well, first, it's Natasha fucking Romanoff."

"Yeah and?"

"She's a rockstar."

"I've gathered that," You deadpanned.

"Okay, I mean, have you seen her social media? It's insane. She has like 30 million followers and they're all thirst traps."

"What?"

"I'm just saying," Monica threw her hands up in defense.

You shuffle between screens with a swipe of your thumb, tapping frantically into the search bar, until Natasha's profile comes into view. Her bio reads: 'Lover, not a fighter'.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of her latest post. The picture is of her lying in bed, the sheets barely covering her bare breasts with a black songbook next to her. Okay, it's a thirst trap but a tasteful one. You continue down her feed to investigate. Most of her photos are similar. Some include her bandmates, and others include her posing with fans. She does seem to be very active.

"So you can see why I'm surprised you haven't mentioned anything," Monica continues.

"Nope," You reply. "She seems fine. Those pictures will blow over and people will find something else to talk about."

"I'm not done, Y/N."

"Oh, shit," You cringed. "There's more?"

"Yes," She nods. "Your name is trending on Twitter."

"My name hasn't trended on Twitter since..." You try to think.

"That time you were drunk and tweeted that Beyonce' was going to be your new girlfriend and you were going to steal her from Jay-Z."

"That was a dark time," You sighed. "Possible though. I have confidence in myself."

"Sure," Monica laughs. "Anyway, I have screenshots of a few things people are saying."

"Go ahead," You gesture with your hand. You cringe. You tap to follow Natasha's profile. Knowing this probably won't abate the rumors at all.

"Well, this one," Monica begins.

You’re not really listening as you get a notification that Natasha followed you back.

"Is interesting."

@Blackwidowfanpage: Who is this girl? She looks like a basic bitch. #Blackwidowdeservesbetter

"Ouch," You cringed.

"You see my point?" Monica says. "And another reads..."

@heatwaveslut1: Whoever this chick is, I hope she's prepared to take care of Widow's children. I'll help her out.

"Widow's children?" You questioned. "What's with the widow nickname?"

"Well, it's pretty clear she's a Spider fan," Monica snickered. "I'm guessing it's her little nickname."

"She doesn't seem like a spider kind of girl," You said.

"Besides the point," Monica huffed. "Her fangirlies are rabid. They probably eat people alive."

"I'm sure I can handle people on the internet," You roll your eyes. "It's what I do for a living. Nothing is going on between us. Yet or at all."

"Yet," Monica emphasized. "Look, you haven't been with anyone in so long. Take the chance."

"I don't know," You bite your lip. "Dating someone with status isn't my thing. Especially someone so new."

"Just keep your options open," She suggested.

"Okay, okay, I will."

"So, did you guys...ya know?"

"No, we didn't you know," You shook your head. "I'm not that easy."

"Right," Monica smirked. "And how did it feel?"

"Good," You sighed. "Great even. We only kissed."

"Kissed or made out?"

"What's the difference?"

"Oh, honey," Monica sighed. "There is a huge difference. How did it really feel?"

"Uh," You tried to think back to the moment. "Soft, warm. I liked it."

"I bet you did."

"Shut up," You laughed.

"Look, I have to go, but just know I'm rooting for you," She winked. "I almost want those sexy red locks for myself."

"Okay," You shook your head. "Go get them. I'll see you at work."

"Bye."

The call disconnects and you sigh, looking at your home screen once again. You decide it's now or never. You navigate to Natasha's name on the screen. You are instantly met with her face, and you can tell she's caught off guard.

"Hey," You said.

"Uh, hey, hi, hello," She replied.

"Are you busy?" You ask, not wanting to interrupt.

"Not at all," She shakes her head. "I just got home from rehearsals. We have a gig coming up soon in New York."

"Oh, exciting," You nodded. "How is the music writing going?"

"Well, I'm actually in the middle of something right now," She said.

"Oh, sorry, I'll leave you to"

"Wait," Natasha interrupted. "Would you mind talking to me while I write?"

"Yeah, I would like that," You nod. Natasha props up her phone against a pile of pillows, stretching to grab her guitar. It's then you see the casual, yet sexy outfit she changed into. You shouldn't be so turned on by something so simple.

"Are you ready?" She asks, bringing your attention back to the task at hand.

"Of course," You nodded, turning your phone onto its side. "Lay it on me."

Natasha strums her guitar for a moment, playing a few chords.

"That sounds beautiful," You say when she's done.

"Still needs some work," She grins. "So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?"

"Uh, the kiss?" You questioned, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Yup," Natasha nods, leaning forward to adjust her camera. Your eyes follow the strap or her tanktop as it falls off of her shoulder exposing more of her smooth skin. Natasha doesn’t bother adjusting it though you don’t know if it’s for her benefit or yours. 

"Well, what's there to talk about?"

"How it felt," She replied.

"Well, how did it feel for you?"

"Pretty great," She smiled. "But, I asked you first."

"Natasha," You said, rolling your eyes.

"Y/N," She mimics.

"Okay, okay, fine," You huffed. "I guess, I had fun. It was nice."

"Not just a kiss?"

"I wouldn't call it that."

"Okay, good," She smiled. "Because I wouldn't want you to think I was using you. That's not my intention at all."

"I'm glad to hear that," You said. "What are your intentions?"

"I'm not really sure," She replied.

"I don't blame you. Neither am I."

"That's why I like you, Y/N," Natasha's lips curved up in a smile. "You're honest and straightforward. Not lost in the superstardom of it all."

"Oh, no, I'm lost," You waved your hand around. "I just hide it well."

"You can't hide from me," She teased.

"Oh, yeah," You raised a brow. "I don't think I want to."

"I don't want you to," She admitted. "I know this isn't the most ideal way to start things but it's kind of exciting. Don't you think?"

"Very," You nod. "Though I think we had a pretty organic meeting. A nightmare sweet sixteen doesn't scream love story to you?"

"Oh, it does," She assured you. "But I'm not so sure I would've met you if that wasn't the case."

"We could have," You shrugged.

"I think I would've been too afraid to approach a stranger," She replied.

"You? Afraid? You don't seem to have a nervous bone in your body?"

"Everyone has something they're afraid of," She said.

"Like the ocean?"

"The ocean," She confirmed. "And flying."

"Flying?"

"It's a whole thing," She sighed. "So, are you going to let me see you again? Or are we keeping things virtual?"

"Uh, well, I would love to see you again," You said. "But I have Isabella this week. Between her extracurriculars and my work."

"I completely understand," Natasha assured you.

"I want to see you," You said definitively. "I can move a few things around."

"Well, don't put yourself out," Natasha shook her head. "You can take your time."

"How about next weekend?"

"Next weekend sounds perfect," Natasha smiled. "I have a gig Friday night but we can hang out after."

"Sounds great," You grinned.

"Perfect," Natasha replied. "Well, I've been sitting here for a while. My legs are killing me."

"Sorry, I've kept you," You shook your head.

"I'm not complaining," She replied.

"I'm sure," You laughed. You both hold the phone, simply sitting in silence, as you figure out what you want to say next. It's then you're reminded where you are when Isabella comes rolling over to you. She presses herself into the booth and forces herself into the camera.

"Who is that? Is it Dad?" She asks.

"Isabella!" You exclaimed. "This is not your dad."

"Oh, I see who it is now," Isabella grins cheekily. You notice from the corner of your eye the way Natasha fixes her top. "Hi, Natasha. I’m Isabella Marie, the first daughter."

"Hi," Natasha smiles.”Nice to meet you, Isabella.”

"How are you doing?" Isabella asked, making herself comfortable next to you.

"Doing well, how are you?"

"Good," She replied. "What are you guys talking about?" She snatches the phone from your hands to talk with the woman. Not that you had a chance to stop her. You don't know how you feel introducing Isabella to her so soon. Especially when you haven't defined what this is.

"Uh," Natasha paused. "I was getting ready to ask your Mom on a date. A real one."

"A date," Isabella's face lit up.

"A real one," You added.

"You better," Isabella replied.

"Is that a yes?" Natasha asked.

"It's a yes," Isabella confirmed.

"I think I should be the one to say that right?" You argued. Though technically you both had already confirmed it before Isabella had even stepped over to you.

"You're right," Natasha chuckled.

"Anyways, Natasha, let's talk about the new album," Isabella interrupted.

"I didn't know you listened to Velvet Rebellion?" You look at her skeptically.

"Duh, they're so good. I love them," She replies.

"You do?" Natasha says.

"Yeah, of course. You're my favorite band. I listen to you all the time." She compliments. "My dad kind of likes you too. He thinks you're hot."

"Isabella!" You scold.

"He does," She insisted.

"Thanks," Natasha laughs. "Well, to answer your sort of question, the album is coming along. I'm hoping we'll be done in the next few months. We've been working day in and day out to get some things together."

"Do you guys play any other songs?"

"Yeah, we do. A few covers here and there. We're planning on having a cover song on the new album."

"I think you should do a Taylor Swift song," Isabella suggests.

"Taylor Swift, huh?"

"Yes, her songs are good."

"They are," Natasha agreed. "She has a couple of really great ones."

"You guys should cover 'All too well'."

"Why that song in particular?" Natasha asked.

"Because Mom loves that song," Isabella looked to you. "It's the saddest song she listens to on repeat."

"Oh, does she?"

"It's on my playlist but I wouldn't say it's in my top ten." You answer.

"You totally listen to it all the time," Isabella rolls her eyes. "Anytime she gets sad."

"Well, i hope she doesn't get sad often,"

"I'm not sad," You say.

"She doesn't like to talk about her feelings. She's emotionally unavailable."

"Isabella," You scolded. "Natasha doesn't need to know all of this."

"I just think that if you guys are going to be the Hollywood IT couple you should know these things about each other," She replied.

"IT couple, huh," Natasha chuckled.

"Yes," Isabella nodded. "You guys would be perfect for each other. Mom has had the worst luck with men."

"I can't deny that," You cringe.

"You've had boyfriends?" Natasha asked.

"Just a couple," You shook your head.

"And they're the worst," Isabella continued. "One guy didn't even like kids. We kicked him to the curb so fast. Do you like kids, Natasha?"

"I do," Natasha nodded.

"Do you have any kids?"

"No, no kids," She answered.

"That's good," Isabella said. "Are you looking to have kids?"

"Isabella," You say. "Natasha isn't looking to have kids anytime soon."

"I can answer for myself," Natasha insisted. "No, I'm not."

"Okay, good, because I'm the only kid my mom needs," She replied.

"But one day I may want kids," Natasha answers softly.

"Oh, wow," Isabella is shocked. "I guess I'd be fine with a little sister. Then we could be like Noah and Miley Cyrus. Plus, I think Mama would look cute pregnant."

"Why are you so sure I would be the one to get pregnant?" You ask.

"Because you'd be the most fit for the job," Isabella answered. "Mommy, are you and Natasha dating?"

"We're..."

"We're going to be dating," Natasha interrupts.

"If I'm going to be tag-teamed by the both of you..." You shake your head. You tap Isabella's arm with a warning and take the phone back. "I'm sure Natasha has things to do."

"I'm in no rush," Natasha assures you.

"You're too sweet," You grin. "I'm not going to keep you from your things."

"Okay," Natasha relents. "Bye, Isabella. It was nice talking to you."

"Bye," Isabella waves to the camera. "Make sure you tell Bucky that I really like his tattoos. Also his new haircut is going to be great for the new album cover."

"I'll pass on the message," Natasha assured her.

"I'll see you later," You say, bringing the phone closer. "And thanks for the chat."

"Anytime, doll," She smiled. "Bye."

The video feed cuts out and you sigh, dropping your head to the table.

"What just happened?" You ask.

"You talked to her," Isabella replies.

"And then we were ambushed by a nine-year-old," You said.

"I think I did a great job," Isabella praised. "We know what her intentions are and we know that she likes kids."

"I mean, I guess that's true," You said. "Though I already knew both of those things."

"Did you? Really?"

"I can speak for myself, Isabella."

"I guess," Isabella shrugged.

"Now, come on, let's say bye to Lenny and find Nana. I still have to make dinner for you."

"Alright," Isabella sighed. "Can I stay up late?"

"Not tonight," You replied.

"Oh, come on, Mom," Isabella begged.

"Nope," You said.

When Isabella is in bed and you're tucked into your covers, you scroll through your Instagram feed. Natasha's videos and tagged photos have popped up. Your curiosity continues to get the best of you and instead of going to sleep you decide to be a cyber stalker. In a good way though. You find a picture that you find particularly endearing. It's a difference in the thirst traps. She's sitting with Wanda, on a picnic blanket, in a park. The picture is black and white but you could still somehow see the shade of her red hair.

TheRealRomanoff: Picnic dates are my favorite. 25,000 Likes. 500 comments.

You decide to check the comments. Her fans are loyal.

_@TheRealRomanoff: What's your favorite thing to do on a picnic date?

_@jenx007: Are you and Wanda dating right now?

@widowbaby97: You look beautiful today Nat.

_@BlackWidow: You have a lovely smile, Romanoff!

@blackwidow666: I'd love to go on a picnic date with you.

You read through a few more before opening the text box to add your own. You comment "Cute." before pressing send.

Almost instantly, you receive a message from Natasha.

TheRealRomanoff: Cute? That's all you got for me?

@OFFICIALY/N:  Well, it is cute. 

TheRealRomanoff: Interesting.

@OfficialY/N: Interesting good or bad?

@TheRealRomanoff: Good, good. Perfectly good. For the record, you're cute too.

You toss your phone to the side. It's been a while since you've had this many butterflies. You want this to be something. 

---> next part

[f1letters]

you're on your own, kid | pg10

"I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me. it's okay, we're the best of friends"

summary: after what she thought was the best night of her life, she came to the realization that she was nothing but one more girl on his list

warning: angst, childhood best friends, toxic fuckboy pierre, mentions of bullying as a little kid, friend zone, one-night stand, suggestive language, swearing, mentions of feeling used, emotional dependence, heartbreak, miscommunication trope, platonic!reader x charles leclerc

pairing: pierre gasly x reader

word count: 4.1k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts.

whoever guessed 'you're on your own, kid'... CONGRATS!! this one is for you! haha I hope you guys like this one, it's the longest story I've written so far but this is such a special song to me and I tried my best to do it justice! enjoy!

masterlist

Summer went away, still, the yearning stays

I play it cool with the best of them

I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me

It's okay, we're the best of friends

Anyway

For as long as Y/N could remember, she had been completely and madly in love with her best friend.

Pierre and Y/N became an inseparable duo from the moment they met as two little kids trying out for their primary school's football team.

At the time, the other boys tried to make fun of the little girl for wanting to be a part of a "boys' sport", as they called it. Being the only girl there, she was made the target of all the bullying, but when she was about to give in and give up, her hero appeared in the form of 6-year-old Pierre who defended her with everything he had.

Y/N looked at the tiny French boy with wide, sparkling eyes as he took her hand and gave it a little squeeze so she wouldn't feel alone.

From there, the two immediately became best friends and that's how they stayed throughout the years.

But at some point in time, the girl found herself getting butterflies when she was in Pierre's presence, imagining what it would be like to have his lips against hers, idealizing a life where the two would be together as more than just friends.

It was inevitable. Pierre emanated such a powerful energy that it consumed her head and dominated all her senses.

He was like a drug: addictive, impossible to give up and she depended on him for survival - almost as if he was oxygen.

And so it was with so many other girls, victims of the driver's charm, although his playboy fame followed him everywhere since he was a teenager.

And it hurt. It hurt too much.

All those years, Y/N had no choice but to fake a smile and nod as she listened to the Frenchman brag about all his latest conquests, all the models, actresses and singers he got involved with all over the world. 

She had no choice but to wait patiently for him to notice her and for him to finally see them as more than the best of friends.

I hear it in your voice, you're smoking with your boys

I touch my phone as if it's your face

I didn't choose this town, I dream of getting out

There's just one who could make me stay

All my days

To be honest, Y/N was already starting to accept that nothing would ever happen between them.

So, the girl chose to distance herself from her friend a little, in an attempt to let her romantic feelings for him fade over time.

She used every excuse in the book to avoid him: I'm tired, I have other plans, I'm working late, I'm sick, I had a family emergency. All of the excuses in the world were used.

Until the day when there were no more excuses and she ended up having to give in, arranging a movie night with the man, as they frequently did over their friendship of nearly two decades.

Y/N arrived at Pierre's luxury apartment in Milan on time as she always did. For a second, she hesitated to knock on the door, letting her anxiety take over, and almost decided to flee in the opposite direction. But as if the driver read her thoughts, the Frenchman appeared from inside his house, seeing his best friend, frozen on top of his black 'welcome' mat.

"Hey! I thought I heard someone coming!" Pierre said excitedly as he gave the girl a short hug. "What are you waiting for? Come in, make yourself comfortable!"

Y/N took off her long coat, hanging it on the coat rack in the hallway, and followed Pierre into his living room, where she saw everything prepared for their movie session. Pillows scattered across the living room floor, two warm blankets crumpled on the couch and two buckets full of popcorn, the smell of which had entered her nose from the moment she set foot inside the apartment.

The familiar image of the boy sitting on his soft carpet made her body relax, and she took the seat next to him while he searched for a movie on his Netflix account. After the two agreed to watch a horror movie, both of them big fans of the genre, the two leaned back against the bottom of the sofa and directed their attention to the screen.

The minutes passed and the two remained in a comfortable silence, commenting from time to time on some of the moments in the film. 

Pierre was now closer to the girl's side and the heat he radiated seemed to almost burn her with the tension that appeared to have settled in her room.

Out of nowhere, Y/N felt something cold on her thigh and thought she was daydreaming when she realized it was her best friend's hand. The girl didn't react, fearing that the words coming out of her mouth would be the wrong ones.

She couldn't help but notice how the driver seemed to be studying her every move, out of the corner of his eye, like a predator looking for prey to attack. 

It was a look she had seen on his face more times than she could count. But never directed at her.

His hand began to move slowly up her soft thigh towards the warm spot between her legs, testing the waters and seeing how far she allowed him to go. His calculated movement was stopped abruptly when she caught his wrist before he reached his intended destination.

"Pierre, what are you doing?" Y/N asked, turning her flushed face towards him.

The boy was mere inches away from her, a smirk plastered across his face and without any sign of regret or embarrassment at having been caught making his risky move. "Y/N, don't lie to me. I've seen the way you look at me. The way your eyes react when they see me approaching you, when you see me with other girls, or when you see me shirtless." He grinned at her, shamelessly.

The girl remained silent, no words daring to be uttered, and she gasped as his hand returned to its former place on the top of her thigh. The Frenchman narrowed the space between them even more, letting his lips brush over hers.

"Come on, Y/N. I can feel how much you want this, want me right now." The man spoke, his fingers now playing with the elastic of her underwear, threatening to act on his desire. "Don't think too much about it. Just live in the moment and act without thinking about the consequences."

Those words were enough to make her head turn off, completely losing her rationality.

Filled with lust, Y/N acted without thinking and kissed Pierre urgently, as if she feared the moment would end at any moment.

With tongues fighting passionately, touches exploring the curves and details of each others' bodies, and clothes scattered carelessly around the room, the two allowed themselves to enter a new level of intimacy.

And the young woman's heart looked like it could explode at any moment with how full it felt, finally having the boy she craved for so long in her arms.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I waited ages to see you there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

The next day, Y/N woke up with the sun's rays coming through the half-open window of a room that she recognized immediately as Pierre's bedroom.

Though she had never woken up in that room like this before: naked, with only the sheets covering her body, and with a satisfying ache between her legs that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Although the driver was nowhere to be seen, a goofy smile appeared on her face, and she brought her hands to her face to cover it up. She let out a silent little scream as she remembered the wonderful hours she'd spent the night before, her exploring Pierre's body, Pierre exploring hers.

Finally, things were going to change. 

She finally got the boy she wanted all those agonizing years.

Grabbing a used tracksuit of his that was lying on a chair and a pair of clean boxers from his drawer, the girl got dressed and headed to the kitchen, where she found her lover leaning against one of his kitchen counters, concentrated on the phone in his hand while drinking some coffee.

"Well, good morning!" Y/N said, almost humming with so much happiness filling her as she approached the driver.

"Hey." He replied, short and dry, making the young woman stop in her tracks, dumbfounded by his carefree attitude.

"Did you sleep well today...?" She tried to test the waters to see if it was just her being dramatic and misunderstanding his response.

"Yeah, sure." Pierre spoke again, without returning the question and without taking his eyes off the small screen of his iPhone as he drank a bit more of his coffee.

Nervousness began to replace all the bliss that previously consumed the girl. It was almost as if he never cared, not even after all she gave him the night before. "Is there something wrong, Pierre?" She questioned, clutching the bottom of the hoodie she was wearing in an attempt to hide her uneasiness.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

"No, sorry. I'm just trying to arrange something here." He replied, more friendly, though he still hadn't even looked at her since Y/N walked into the kitchen.

"What are you planning?" The girl asked, trying everything to strike up a conversation with him. Her heart was beating wildly at that point, and it seemed to crack more and more with each beat.

"Just this lunch thing with a girl I've been talking to for a few weeks." His shoulders shrugged as if his words hadn't pushed Y/N to her limits.

She couldn't explain how hurt she felt. How dirty and used he, of all people, made her feel.

How could he? Her best friend. The person who had been by her side for years. The man she would do anything for.

After suffering in silence for years afraid to act on her feelings, this was her pay for taking a risk once in her life: becoming just another silly girl in Pierre Gasly's long list of lovers.

Just another conquest, another achievement, undeserving of the driver's concern and care, with zero distinction from all others.

"Look, I'm in a hurry. I really have to go, Y/N." He informed her just as he started to walk hurriedly towards the exit, placing a quick kiss on her temple.

As if those same lips hadn't been glued to hers, clinging to every surface of the girl's body just hours before.

"You know the way! Just let yourself out. See you later!" He yelled, leaving the girl stunned, tears streaming from her eyes, as she heard the apartment door close loudly.

I see the great escape, so long, Daisy May

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed, writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot

I'll run away

A couple of days later, Y/N found herself sitting in her condo's parking lot one night, balling her eyes out while she played the songs of her favourite artist.

She couldn't believe that her best friend had used her body and taken advantage of her feelings for him. And to make matters worse, the girl has received nothing but silence from Pierre's side since that morning in his apartment.

Left alone with her own confused thoughts, Y/N's head was spinning. She didn't know what to do, what to think, or what to say.

I just want to get out of Milan and go home, she repeated over and over again.

Y/N had never chosen that town.

The young woman remembered every detail of the day when Pierre announced he was going to move to Italy, leaving France.

A life without Pierre was unimaginable for the girl. She couldn't remember a single day when she didn't know him, when she didn't have his presence in her life.

Feeling trapped, with no other option, she simply packed her bags and went with him.

She couldn't help but think what a huge mistake it had been to come after him, especially when he didn't seem to care about having her there at all.

Y/N picked up her phone, preparing to turn off the music that was blaring through the car to return home, but she was stopped by the sight of the image that decorated her lock screen.

It was from last year. Pierre and Y/N were wearing their ugly Christmas sweaters - like they did every year as a silly tradition - cuddled up on the couch in his parents' house. The lights from the tree reflected on them, creating a magical atmosphere around the two friends.

The girl affectionately touched her phone, as if it were his face. 

Although the idea of returning to France had been hovering in her head for a while, she knew that she couldn't decide to leave without talking to him first.

After all, he was the only one who could make her stay.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I called a taxi to take me there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare

As tears continued to pool in her sad eyes, Y/N opted to get out of her car, assuring that it was safely locked, and called a taxi to take her to the boy's house, since she wasn't in any condition to drive.

The drive was silent and short, just the typical 15 minutes it took her every time. The girl got out of the car, thanked the driver, and began to walk hurriedly towards the building. Her step was uneven and fast, revealing the girl's erratic and desperate state.

Y/N walked through the door of the building, politely greeting the doorman, and continued on her way towards the elevator.

She was only inside for a few minutes until she reached Pierre's floor, being immediately surprised by the loud sound of music coming from the door of the familiar apartment.

He's having a party, and he hasn't even invited me, she thought to herself.

While she suffered from his absence, Pierre was surrounded by anything but silence.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

Y/N gained some courage and rang the doorbell, although she was afraid that no one would hear the sound in between the noise coming from the apartment's speakers.

However, seconds later, the driver appeared at the door, wide-eyed at the sight of his friend.

"Hey! Y/N!" Pierre smiled at her, without any sign that he had stopped to think about her during the days that had passed since the night of desire between the two of them. "I wasn't expecting you, come in!"

"Hmm..." The girl hesitantly entered the house and tried to pretend that everything was fine, not wanting to ruin the party. "I was nearby and decided to stop by."

"Oh, good!" Pierre replied, bringing his hand to the back of his neck as his eyes roamed the party full of other bodies. "We're just having a last-minute thing. You know, just a spontaneous hangout." He chuckled, clearly looking to get back to what he was doing before heading to the door.

"Yes, of course, Pierre 'spontaneous' Gasly." Y/N joked, in an attempt to break the tense atmosphere between the two. However, she only received the disinterest of Pierre, who clearly didn't find the joke funny.

"Look, I have to go. I was in the middle of something," Pierre looked back at her, pointing towards a person she immediately recognized. "But Charles is over there with Joris! You can go to them. We'll talk later, okay?"

Without even waiting for her answer, the Frenchman left. The girl's teary eyes followed his image until she saw him returning to his dark couch, where three gorgeous women were waiting for the driver, with hungry eyes on their faces.

The same fucking couch where he'd explored her body, millimetre by millimetre, marking her skin with his touch, days before.

"You know how he gets when he is hosting a party." Charles said, approaching the young woman when he noticed her presence alone in the room.

She shrugged, discreetly wiping the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. "Yeah, well, my presence was always pointless here for him anyway."

Y/N turned to the Monegasque driver and hugged him tight, longer than usual. The man was caught off guard, taking a few seconds to return his longtime friend's hug, but he did so.

Charles couldn't help feeling that that hug meant something more to the girl, but he chose not to question it since it was apparent in her hurt look that something else was going on and he didn't want to intrude.

Y/N placed a friendly kiss on the boy's cheek, letting her hand rest on his cheek. Her gaze locked with his eyes and he swore he saw a tear fall down her cheek.

"Goodbye Charles." She forced a smile. "I will talk to you later, I love you." Y/N turned her back to her friend and walked out the door, without allowing the driver to respond.

Charles couldn't shake the feeling that this 'goodbye' wasn't just a 'see you later', but, blaming it on alcohol and his imagination, he returned to the party, without giving the matter any further thought.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

I hosted parties and starved my body

Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

In a hurry and with tears flowing freely down her face, the girl returned home and placed all her belongings in suitcases and bags, without any care.

And with that, Y/N ran up and down the stairs of the building where she lived towards her car, filling the trunk and the back seats of the vehicle with everything she had in her small house.

For one last time, Y/N looked at the now lifeless apartment where she lived for the last few years and her heart felt tight, unable to hide the nostalgia that that place was going to leave her with.

She might not have been the happiest there in Milan, but her home had always been her refuge.

However, it was time for her to turn the page, burn the bridge, and finally return to her true home.

Sitting in the car, she took a deep breath and began her long, impulsive journey back to France. It was completely insane trying to make a trip lasting more than 10 hours, especially at that time of night, but the girl simply couldn't bear to stay there another minute.

When the sun started to reappear in the sky, illuminating the endless road with its orange and pink tones, Y/N realized that he hadn't stopped yet and decided to park at one of the available stations to rest.

However, the heartache and the feeling of betrayal still crushed her soul, so she sought refuge in the words of her best friend, Céline, who would certainly welcome her when she reached her destination.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" Her sleepy tone soon revealed that she had been awakened by the call.

"I'm coming home, Cél." Y/N informed, sniffling her nose. "I gave my blood, sweat and tears for this. I gave it my all but I just couldn't take it anymore."

"What?" Y/N could hear the sound of the sheets and mattress moving on the other end of the line, imagining Céline suddenly sitting up on her bed. "Home? As in France? I don't understand, what happened? Talk to me."

"I'm just a dumb girl who thought the guy she loved for years was going to be her prince charming, coming to save her the perfect kiss." The young woman sobbed, with her hand covering her mouth in an attempt to hide the noise. "Instead, I was just treated like a fucking toy. He didn't even care to know how I felt after he slept with me."

"What? You and Pierre?" His friend questioned, shocked. "Oh my god, I never thought he would be capable of doing this to you. I don't even know what to say."

The two friends stayed for a long time talking, Céline being her usual attentive friend and listening to Y/N's outburst without interrupting her.

"Don't worry, girl. I'll be here with open arms to welcome you home." Cél tried to comfort her friend, making the girl in the car thank her for everything.

Y/N had no reason to be afraid when the people who really cared about her were waiting for her where she truly belonged.

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money

My friends from home don't know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

The days passed and Pierre went on with his life as normal, not even noticing the girl's absence until Charles asked him about it.

The two were playing FIFA on their PlayStations when the Monegasque spoke. "Pierre, have you heard from Y/N lately?"

The Frenchman felt a wave of shock hit him as he realized he hadn't seen or heard from her since the night of the party when he'd rudely dismissed her.

"I don't know, mate... When I talked to her at the party, she didn't seem right." Charles expressed his concerns. "I've tried texting her, calling her. She doesn't answer me."

"It's probably not a big deal. She's probably just busy with something." Pierre pretended to be unconcerned, trying to convince himself more than his friend that it was just a misunderstanding.

"No, Pierre. You don't understand." The Monegasque insisted, persistent in solving the mystery. "When she said goodbye to me that night... I felt like it was goodbye, a real goodbye."

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

The word echoed in Pierre's head and regret filled him from head to toe, as he rose abruptly from the sofa.

"I have to go, Charles."

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

So, make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it

You've got no reason to be afraid

You're on your own, kid

Yeah, you can face this

The driver knocked insistently on the girl's door, almost as if his life depended on it.

"Y/N, please! Open the door!" Fists clenched against the wood, he begged for a chance to apologize.

Pierre knew now that he had acted wrongly with her.

For letting his desire for some release come between them. For using his friend for a night of passion when she was the most important person in his life. For giving her just something fleeting, something ephemeral when she deserved the world at her feet.

For ignoring the girl the morning after the best night in his life. For avoiding her the next few days when he should have run to her and confessed his feelings. For taking the easy way out and looking for comfort in other bodies when the only one he wanted by his side was her.

Pierre gave up knocking and let his back hit the door, sitting on the step. "I'm sorry. For everything. I beg you, give me a chance to tell you everything I should have said ages ago."

"Sorry, but are you looking for Y/N?" An old voice spoke, making the Frenchman look up at the person. "She doesn't live here anymore, young man."

"W- What- What do you mean?" Pierre stammered, feeling like he'd been doused in cold water.

"She left the apartment a few days ago. The landlord is already looking for someone to rent the place." The elderly lady informed him, setting down the groceries she was holding on the floor.

It was too late, he thought. I lost her, forever.

She approached him, placing a hand gently on the boy's shoulder, who now had his head between his hands.

"I'm sorry, but you're on your own, kid."

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

taglist: @dan3avocado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12

@amsofftrack @flannel-cures @junkiespromise @loudoperahumanoidpanda @honeyric3 @holy-macncheese-balls @ricciardosheart @pierreverstapkin @ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

[naisaspalace]

PERSONAL NAKSHATRA ANALYSIS p4

Shatabhishak nakshatra p1

The Veiling Star. The Power to Heal.

nakshatras characteristics:

Translation:  A hundred healers or hundred physicians  Symbol: Empty circle, thousand flowers or stars  Animal Symbol : A female horse  (pairs with ashwini) Presiding Deity:  Lord Varuna, the God of rain  Controlling/Ruling Planet:  Rahu  Ruling Deity of the Planet:  Durga Nature : Rakshasa (demon)  Mode:  Active  Number:  24  Gender:  Neutral  Dosha: Vata  Guna:  Tamasic  Element:  Ether  Disposition:  Movable  Bird: Raven Upward Facing Direction: South Colour: Blue Green Trimurti: Shiva/Dissolution Gotra/Clan: Sage Atri.

nakshatra quick overview:

shatabhishak is the maturation of rahu, here we are going to see how this nakshatra behaves, mainly in pop culture, but this time saturn is involved as he is the ruler of aquarius.

this nakshatra is about scientific breakthroughs, fame, technology (like cyberpunk visuals), opposition to the king and kingdom (opposite to magha), outlaws and outcasts etc, and on its "healed performance" we can see amazing healers and advisers like carl jung. (not confirmed)

Pop culture manifestation:

Justin bieber ( grew up on rahu mahadasha, and have sun-saturn shatabhishak among his aquarius stellium)

although i personally see him as more of a anuradha man, because he's a first house rahu anuradha BUT he have mars on aquarius so.. i mean to each their own i suppose.

justin grew up during his rahu mahadasha with the lord conjucted his aquarius stellium (sun,saturn,mars) and today he is known as one of the biggest male stars after Michael Jackson (that have a shatabhishak lagna) (when i am saying after Michael i am not saying that justin took his legacy or anything like that what i am trying to say is that to me after mj i haven't seen anyone with this level of fame.)

he was discovered when he was a kid playing on the streets by scooter braun, his former manager (btw i just checked and scooters mars fall in his 7th, since mars is the significator of the 3rd i am assuming that they might have been brothers on the past life.. just a random guess btw because omg this man took justin and payed his bills he basically gave justin a life). after that justin gain massive fame and became one of the most famous child stars of the 00's

here rahu manifests as a troublemaker who surrendered to fame and life pleasures as justin surrender to drugs and the rich lifestyle but I don’t blame him is not like he had the choice because rahu mahadasha is a cloudy dasha.

Michael Jackson

michael was also a child star but this time he was on a band with his brothers, the jackson 5. eventually, Michael followed a solo career and became one of the most famous pop stars of the world. he used to suffer with vitiligo, which results in white patches on the skin and sensitivity to sunlight.

to me both fit in the same category of at least example of manifestation, even tho justin was way more "rahunian" ( he was arrested, was a drug-addicted, and was involved in so many scandals) both of them were harassed by the media since childhood, they were barely a child and they were working already (saturn usually makes the native suffer earlier)

the main difference is that michael embodied the humanitarian part of aquarius, and shatabhishak , per say, he was a man of the people and he was also very loved by the society… justin in the other hand despises the paparazzi and even threw a chair on the public on day..

do keep in mind I am comparing both due to placements and fame I’m not saying they are the same person okay.

both child stars with a huge legacy that had no choice but to work to be able to live and maintain their families showcasing the saturn part of shatabhishak (and justin was able to get away with a lot of mess that was rahu).

quick mention of evils presley who stole someone else’s music and became also another pop culture star with a legacy. (the famous aquarius characteristic stealing someone else’s work and gaining fame with it).

beyond the most common known traits of rahu this time we have, because of lord varuna, the deity of the nakshatra, we have natives who have a deep sense of justice and ends up behaving like a punisher of those who have sinned.

deep sense of justice with a deep harshness hidden, also due to their tamastic nature.

like che guevara who have a shatabhisha moon

and benjamin franklin who discovered the electricity and is considered one of the founding father of the us

and vladimir p**** with his d9 ketu in shatabhisha.

the shadow side of shatabhisha is the lack of control especially to keep “the order and punish the wrong ones”

for the thief example we have pablo escobar (with lagna )

now with innovation we have:

steve jobs (sun) the found of apple



we also have gianni versace with his moon

overall shatabhisha is mainly linked with pop culture trends, singers (a lot of singers) and actors (ex: miranda cosgrove icarly) , models and extremists. for this first part I wanted to clear the most known part of the constellation stereotype and I will include a more analysis on the healing part and extremism later on.

thank you for reading until the end I hope I was able to help someone please feel free to leave feedback and suggestions for next posts if you want to :)

readings are open.

contact info.

[twistedinthreads]

Lost In The Labyrinth

Felix Catton x Fem!Reader

one | two

Part 3.

You came to Oxford to get away from America; from your mother's fame and the ghosts of your past. You get more than you bargained for when you meet Felix.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: drugs, alcohol, Oliver Quick mention, unprotected sex, breeding kink (kind of? I guess?), Christmas party, brief mention of Christmas, but it's not really specified if reader celebrates or not, brief mention of visiting a cemetery, dead sister, making out, reader being an idiot, reader is American, reader is kind of a nepo baby

Playlist (a work in progress!)

A/N: More sweet Felix. I wanted to keep going but it just felt right to end it here, so that's why it's a little bit shorter.

The Christmas party is more of the same; you snort a line with Farleigh in the bathroom and dance around with Vera to the music you’ve always claimed to hate. Everyone’s decked out in their attire, a sea of Santa hats and a blur of tinsel all around you while the DJ plays solely Christmas music. Someone definitely spiked the punch, and it’s got you all buzzed, though you elect to drink less, given the incident a few weeks ago. 

“I’m gonna go hang out in the rec room for a minute,” you yell into Vera’s ear over the music. She nods, knowing what you’re truly saying; I’m feeling overwhelmed and need a second. 

There’s a couple sitting on the couch making out in the vending machine light, but even more noticeable than that, Oliver Quick is playing a game of one person pool, shooting and then moving to the other side, a nearly pathetic display. You share a class with him, had been paired up for a project at the beginning of the year, and whenever you see him you strike up small talk, even when Michael Gavey burns holes in your skin with his stare. They’re usually together, which is why you find it strange that he’s all alone.

You walk over to him and observe him for a few seconds before speaking.

“Hey there,” he jumps and turns to you, giving you a shy smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“‘S’alright,” he mutters. 

“You should come party with us,” you invite. It’s the nice thing to do, and Oliver’s been nothing but polite to you. Sure, you caught him staring at your tits once, but he’s a guy, so it’s less than surprising. “Everyone is really drunk and really keyed up… and there’s a cheese tray.” it’s almost comical, you in your cocktail dress covered in tinsel, standing here asking the loner to come to the party across the hall. 

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” he shakes his head. “I’m uh, I’m good here.”

You shrug your shoulders. “Okay. Suit yourself then.” 

You fish out a couple dollars and get yourself a Coke from the vending machine, and then lean up against it while you drink, trying to avert your gaze from the kissing couple. It reminds you; you’d come with Felix, but have barely seen him the whole night, and your heart aches to be in his light, in his kind and welcoming presence. 

“Bye, Oliver,” you wave at him as you exit the room, making your way back to the party once you’ve sobered up a bit and finished your soda. He waves back, lips pursed as he goes back to his solo game of pool. 

Felix spots you immediately, eyes lighting up when he sees you. He yells your name across the room, and like a magnet, you run to him as he opens his arms for you to walk into. 

“There you are!” He exclaims. “Been looking everywhere for you.” 

“Sorry, needed a second,” you murmur as he lays kisses in your hair. Vera had made easy work of weaving silver tinsel through it to match your dress, easily swiping glittery eyeshadow across your lids to go along with it all. She’d even leant you some cheap earrings that looked like ornament bulbs. “I’m tired.”

“This party’s kinda lame,” he laments, rubbing your shoulder blade. “Wanna get out of here?”

Neither of you are drunk, just buzzed, mood heightened. The cocaine has mostly worn off, and now it’s just the beers working themselves through your system. Your kisses are languid, moving through the room without disconnecting from him. You push him down on your bed and crawl up his long body, your dress riding up as you sling a leg over his body to be fully straddling him. You lean down again, grabbing his pretty face in your hands, continuing to kiss him. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmurs when you pull away to unbutton his shirt. “So fucking gorgeous.”

He helps you take off your dress, and the two of you shift positions, your body caged underneath him as he so delicately kisses your cheeks and neck. “Fe?”

“Hmm,” he murmurs as he kisses between your breasts. 

“Fuck me,” and he moans, abandoning the kisses across your belly to kiss you hard on the mouth again. 

The sex is rough, his hips thrusting quickly as you grind back onto his cock. Your arms are thrown around his neck loosely, and he makes quick work of kissing your neck and face as he moans, your sweat mixing together when he rests his forehead against yours, mouth curled into a snarl. 

“I’m close,” he announces, and the tone of it makes you moan. “I’m close.”

“You can come inside me,” you groan. “It’s okay, I’m on the pill. Please.”

You feel yourself on the edge, stars bursting on the edge of your vision, your entire body tingling and legs shaking with the impact of it all, and you gasp out words that feel forbidden, words that you can’t control. It’s a strangled I love you, and you don’t even realize that you’ve said it until his mouth opens in a moan. 

You slap a hand over your mouth, and Felix looks at you with so much softness, just before he spills himself inside of you. You groan as he pulls out of you and rolls to the side, and you quickly move to get up out of his bed. 

“I should go,” you mutter quickly. 

“Woah, love, it’s okay!” He grabs for your arm, but you pull it away, hiding your embarrassment.

“Felix, I really have to go,” you don’t. You could use the studying excuse, your final two exams coming up on Monday, but you’ll just slink back to your dorm and go to bed, overthinking it all. You know you will. “I’ll talk to you later-“

“At least let me clean you up,” his big brown eyes plead with you, and you relent. He disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a towel, wiping you off gently as he presses kisses on your forehead. He doesn’t speak, though, and you sigh in relief at the fact. Once he’s done, he presses one final kiss to your forehead, and you pull your underwear and dress back on. 

“Please just talk to me,” he begs from the bed. “Please? We won’t see each other for a month and we should have a conversation.” 

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” it comes out quickly, almost garbled, and you don’t bother to pull on your silver heels, carrying them instead in your fingers as you make quick work of getting out of there, muttering fuck repeatedly as you leave his building. 

He comes to your door a couple hours later and you pretend to be asleep, the knocks on your door making your head pound even more as you overthink. He texts you, you don’t reply, and he backs off, not wanting to be a creep. 

He tries again on Tuesday, but you’re already halfway across the Atlantic when he comes knocking. 

He calls during break, you don’t answer. You put your mind on other things, like your mother’s Christmas dinner party and your father’s New Year’s bash with the remaining crew from the show he’s shooting. It feels like a movie, sitting around, skulking while he tries to reach you. One voicemail in particular sticks in your mind, the one where he calls you baby, and it sounds so saccharine sliding off of his tongue. 

Come on, baby. This is stupid! We need to talk about this.

Your stepsister takes you to the AMC on 42nd Street on Christmas, and afterwards, as you sit at a tiny Chinese restaurant feasting on crab rangoons and soup, she tells you to get your shit together. You still don’t reach out. 

Your break is uneventful. You visit your sister’s grave in Montauk the morning before you leave for Carolina, and you spend days sitting on the beach at your dad’s house, despite the cold. 

You have one thing on your mind as you return to Oxford. Your campus is littered with students, all excited to be back with one another, refreshed and ready for new classes. Your flight arrived late, and students mill about the quad, showing off their expensive Christmas presents. A couple people shout your name, and you wave politely before launching toward Felix’s building, praying he’s in his room. 

You knock, shifting from foot to foot with your hands entwined, rubbing your thumb across your palm. 

The creak of the door opening has your stomach churning, and as he reveals himself, hair mussed up, in nothing but a pair of boxers, you can’t help it. You lunge forward and kiss him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m such a fucking idiot,” you say after you pull away, and he’s grinning like a fool. 

“Yeah,” he whispers as he grabs your elbow gently, ushering you inside. “A little bit.” It makes you pout.

“I was so embarrassed,” you admit as you sit on the bed with him. “Like, who does that? It just came out, and I couldn’t control it, and I felt so stupid afterwards because we’re not even together like that-“

“We could be,” he interrupts, the words so nonchalant you wonder if you heard him right. 

“Huh?” 

“We could be together,” he shrugs. “I thought about asking you that night but you just ran off, so…”

“I didn’t want you to think you had to say it back if you didn’t mean it,” you say, playing with his fingers. “Lana told me to get my shit together but I didn’t wanna talk about this over the phone.”

He grabs your face, looking straight into your eyes. “I would’ve said it back that night. I would have. Because I do love you. I didn’t know if it was just an in the moment thing.” 

“It wasn’t,” you admit, looking straight into his brown eyes. “I didn’t mean to say it, yet, but it was real.” 

Your entire body is quivering in his hold, under his stare, so overwhelming you have to look away for a second.

“If you want this,” his thumb caresses the skin of your cheek. “I want this.” You lean your forehead against his, tears welling up in your eyes. The jet lag is catching up to you, and he’s still looking at you like the only person in the world. The sheer intensity of his gaze turns your insides into mush. 

“I want this, Felix,” Your lips are touching his ever so slightly, so you breathe the words into his mouth before he kisses you. It grows intense, his tongue slipping into your mouth before you push him away gently. “It’s late, I’m exhausted. Still on New York time.”

“Stay with me,” he’s all sweet, words syrupy and soft. “We don’t have to do anything.”

And, of course, you relent, falling into his familiar and warm arms. 

[party-hearses]

pairing: dieter bravo x gn!reader (no use of y/n, no reader descriptions)

rating: explicit, 18+ MDNI

wordcount: 600

summary: you (kind of) write dieter a letter.

warnings/tags: ANGST, mention of drugs and alcohol. i think that's all but please lmk if i forgot anything!

a/n: this is for @beskarandblasters phoebe bridgers/boygenius drabble challenge! and who would have guessed that not only is it the first thing i've written in almost 6 months, but that 600 words still took me far too long to complete. beta’d by the best bro in the entire world @bastardmandennis but she’s perfect so all mistakes are my own. comment and reblogs are appreciated if you enjoy!

You watch, tongue between your teeth, as Dieter’s chest shallowly rises and falls from his crumpled place on the couch. 

Sunglasses still perched on the bridge of his nose, matted green robe tied loosely around his middle. 

The color of stomach bile, of envy, of resentment.

Crushed cans and empty liquor bottles litter the room like confetti — a party you’re no longer invited to, a celebration you’ve all but been cast out of. The light of the moon, too-full and too-round, bounces off the shimmering glass, casting brilliant beams of light across the angles of Dieter’s sleeping face. 

I love you, I don’t know why. 

A seedling planted at the base of your spine the moment you first pressed your lips to his, the growth nurtured by passing joints back and forth under the liminal space between late night and early morning, ‘I’m sorry’s murmured into the damp skin at the nape of your neck. 

Watering the sprouts of something that feels too much like exhaustion, until they stretch to a length that feels too much like suffocating. 

It was always going to end this way. 

Dieter — too charming, too personable, too manic, too much. Held hostage to his own impulses, all he knew how to do was put his teeth to your throat and take. Consume.

He stirs under the light of the moon, hands searching for something, anything, to ground him, the raucous shouts and clinking glasses of the party gone, now. The infinite emptiness of the room swallowing him whole, now. 

In another universe, you might have stayed to grasp his hand, to whisper i’m still here against his trembling fingertips. 

Are you still here? 

In another universe, he might have never taken you back to his trailer to pick you apart at the seams in the first place, to make you blush and squirm and whimper under the searing muscle of his tongue.

The possibilities filter past your eyes, a View-Master slide of every wouldbecouldbeshouldbe superimposed over the Dieter in this universe. The Dieter who wrapped the same tongue around the black hole of selfish, teeth scraping each letter into the tender flesh of your palm. 

Just another wannabe ingenue, chewed up and spit out by the fame machine, with nothing to show but a blossoming cocaine addiction and too much credit card debt. 

And what choice did either of you have, really, when you saw him on a pedestal and he saw you as an equal. A matching desperation to be seen, to be taken seriously in an industry that you didn’t take seriously. 

I know you, I know you, I know you on the back of every breath of sticky smoke exhaled over the twinkling view of the city from the rooftop. I know you, I know you, I know you. 

It was always going to end this way. 

His unruly brown waves are matted to his forehead, sweat-damp skin glistening like you’re looking at him through the lens of a kaleidoscope. 

You wonder how bad the hangover will be, how much his hands will shake as he rolls the first joint of the day, how long it will take him to notice. 

It can’t even be called a letter, really. A scrap of paper, what might have been a receipt at one point in time. Faded, sticky, oil-stained, now. Folded in half and tossed to rest on his chest, still rising and falling rhythmically. 

The loopy scrawl of your handwriting, weariness evident in every stroke that connects those four words. 

You don’t know me. 

It was always going to end this way.

[btsugarush]

RAP SH!T | myg [teaser]

summary: when your boyfriend yoongi starts to get recognition as an underground rapper he gets a little fame hungry, and cheats on you, putting an end to your 6 year relationship. 2 years later your friends beg you to attend a show in los angeles, and guess who's the opening headliner?

pairings: ex boyfriend!rapper!yoongi x f!reader.

warnings: lovers to exes, exes to lovers, smut, dry humping, unprotected sex (wrap that sh!t up), oral (f receiving), soft dom!yoongi, jealous!yoongi, drugs, alcohol, strong language, infidelity, fluff, mini series, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 498

“I thought that was you,” a familiar voice speaks over your shoulder, causing your heart to skip a beat. You turn around, coming face to face with none other than Yoongi himself– or should you say ‘Agust D’. “You really stand out in a crowd.” The corner of his lips tug into a sly smirk.

“Y-Yoongi…” you stutter, almost too tongue tied to speak coherently. You were hoping to not have an encounter with him. Wasn’t finding out that he was performing at the club an ambush to your heart enough? Now here he was trying to converse with you after two years.

You finally find your voice, mustering up something other than his name. “Hey… it’s been a while.” You smile slightly. The bartender hands you your Long Island iced tea and you thank him, taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage. “It has,” His tongue ran over his bottom lip, his eyes never straying from yours; though, the same couldn’t be said for you. “ So, were you fuckin’ with the show?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah! You were great. I’m really happy that your music career took off…” It probably sounded fake, especially since your breakup ended on a bad note, but you truly were happy for Yoongi. He worked hard. He was talented, creative, and simply a musical genius. You always knew that. You just wish it didn’t all get to his head. You could only imagine how much of a player he turned out to be now that his popularity went far beyond live shows at his friend’s basement parties.

“Appreciate that,” he expresses his gratitude. “Would’ve been better if it took off with that special someone though,” These words catch your attention, and you finally hold contact with him, caught off guard by the confession. Your mood had now gone from indifferent to indignant. The look in his eyes is affectionate, soft as he continues on. “Y’know… you’ve been on my mind heavy, y/n. Maybe this is fate–”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” You blurt out, cutting the ginger short. “This is the first time I see you in two years since our breakup, and suddenly I’m on your mind? Do I look like one of your groupies?” The look on Yoongi’s face was unreadable, but you can tell that he’s taken aback by the outburst. “I refuse to let you reopen a wound that I stitched up long ago.” You hop down from the bar stool you were sitting on, grabbing your purse from the countertop. You don’t even care about your drink anymore.

“Y/n, wait…” Yoongi tries to plead for you to listen, but you’re not that same girl anymore. You moved on; at least that’s what you wanted him to believe. “The show was fun. Have a great night, Yoong– I mean Agust D.”

You leave him at the bar alone as you go on a hunt for your friends. You don’t even spare him a last glance.

[angeljeonjk97]

Body Work || Bell #4

Jungkook x reader

friends to lovers

18+ (fluff, smut)

warnings: mentions and descriptions of violence, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol

Jeon Jungkook is not the same 19-year-old boy you used to know. Fame has really matured him, in more ways than one.

“You already know how I like it baby”

A knock at the door makes your head shoot up from the ramyeon bowl you were lost in that sat on the small marble island in the middle of your small kitchen.

When you put your left eye up to the peephole, a blonde-haired, slim man and an excited Kiri stood there, beaming a huge smile, waiting for your face to appear from behind the door. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, wondering why two of your best friends are knocking on your door...you glance at the small, silver clock on the wall beside you... 9:24 pm.

You reach for the lock, turning it to open your door to the people who are standing on your doorstep looking like two frantic little, wide-eyed puppies.

"Hey?" you chuckle, confused as your eyebrows remain in the same furrowed expression, "why are you guys here?"

"Are we not allowed to visit our good friend to check on her?" Jimin acts offended.

Before you can respond, the two of them are already pushing their way past you. You sigh in defeat, clicking the door behind you as they both slide off their shoes and strip their coats from around their shoulders.

"You're both obviously not here just to see me" you chuckle, watching them both rush to hang their coats up, "you look like a pair of kids who've just been told they're going to Disneyland"

"Okay okay okay, come sit" Kiri spits out, a smile still plastered on her face, as she grabs your wrist pulling you to your sofa, Jimin following closely behind.

Once all three of you were sitting, Kiri and Jimin both facing you, sitting opposite you, Kiri takes both of your hands into hers. You stare intently at them, your face still in pure confusion.

"Guess who's back in town?" She asks almost too eagerly.

As soon as you heard those words, you already had a feeling where this conversation was about to go and who Kiri is talking about, but you give both of them the benefit of the doubt. They know that you're over that whole... situation, and don't plan on getting sucked back into it again. Your face relaxes a little, hesitant to even ask.

"Who?"

"Namjoon!" Jimin exclaims, unable to keep his excitement in any longer.

Kiri flicks her head around to Jimin, giving him a disapproving expression, not expecting him to be the one to say it.

Your expression practically falls off your face, as your stare flickers between the pair, expressionless.

Kim Namjoon is your older, kind of ex-boyfriend from two years ago. You two were never officially boyfriend and girlfriend but were dating each other and no one else. You weren't ready for a committed relationship at the time and didn't want to jump into something you weren't even sure you wanted yet. He's a lot older than you, 6 years older to be exact, very intelligent, very attractive, successful, understanding, gentle, and basically everything you'd possibly want in a man. 

You met when you had a holiday job at a cafe 15 minutes away from your apartment where you used to work with both Kiri and Jimin, who still have part-time jobs there. He was a regular there, so regular that you remembered his order off by heart in the 2 and a half months you worked there, you still remember the order even now, a medium white latte with almond milk and a warm blueberry croissant every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. 

You thought he was good-looking from the minute he walked through the glass, wooden framed, cafe door wearing a beige trench coat, black suit trousers complimented by dark brown loafers and a white button up that was hardly visible with his coat and thick plaid scarf that wrapped around his neck, and he thought the same for you. 

The attraction to each other became very obvious when you two would start talking at the desk and wouldn't realise you were holding up the line with your very flirty conversations and your co-workers would push you onto the till when they would see him come in. Eventually, on a Friday morning in early December, he asked for your phone number and everything flourished from there. He was perfect, everything you could ask for, but one day after a while of seeing each other, he just left the country, not telling you why or where to, just leaving you with an "I love you" text.

 You cried for weeks after it, even in front of Jungkook a few times, not understanding what went wrong, what you did wrong or why he didn't tell you why he was leaving. He was your first love, even though you never said it to his face, you loved him, and you know that he loved you too. You got over him and the whole thing eventually though, and don't plan on ever seeing him again. Or so you thought 

"Oh." is all you can let out, the name flashing you back into all the memories.

"He came to the cafe this morning, asking for you" Jimin declares, still with those wide ecstatic eyes, as he scans your face to read your emotions, "he misses you,"

You close your eyes, relaxing your shoulders a little, slipping your hands out of Kiri's," No. No. I told you, I'm done with all that"

"I thought you still loved him?" Kiri tilts her head slightly with a worried but confused expression.

"I told you, I'm over it"

"But y/n, he was perfect. It won't hurt to try again" Jimin shrugs, unsure as to what your response will be.

"But it will Jimin, just like last time," you get up off the sofa, about to walk to the kitchen," I'm not gonna be left behind with nothing like last time"

The other two follow closely behind, Kiri's voice projecting from behind you,

"You haven't dated since though, and I think this is a great opportunity"

"yeah you think it's a great opportunity, I don't. I don't want to see him ever again." you throw a cabinet open, pulling out a bottle of wine, along with a glass.

Kiri and Jimin stand in the doorway, looking at each other, regretting bringing him up.

"Is that all you guys came here to do? remind me of him?"

"No of course not, but he gave us his new number," a ripped-off corner of a piece of paper is pulled out of Kiri's pocket and put out in front of your face, "think about it. He misses you, a lot and wants to talk to you"

You sigh in defeat, practically ripping the piece of paper from between Kiri's fingers, seeing a flash of a set of numbers inscribed on it.

'Wow the ripped corner of a notebook really shows how much you care' You think to yourself quickly scanning the scrap piece.

Kiri spreads her arms out to wrap them around your frame, embracing you in a hug, "You don't have to, but think about it"

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

You play with the scrumpled-up paper in your fingers, observing the numbers written on it, contemplating everything. Lost in your own thoughts, you jump at the sudden thud on the black counter caused by a tattooed hand slamming down in front of you.

You look up, tucking the paper back into your jean pocket, "Jesus Kook. You could've just said hi or something" You smile at him, letting him know you're not being serious.

"You still would've jumped, considering how in your head you just were," Jungkook takes a seat on the stool opposite you. His bare forearms resting on the surface in front of you both, "You alright?"

You let out an exasperated sigh, thinking whether you should tell Jungkook about your kind of ex coming back or not.

It was very obvious Jungkook never liked Namjoon, despite never actually meeting him, even when you were both 'dating'. You know he'll just get annoyed, angry or throw the number away, which is probably the best thing to do but you have been genuinely considering talking to him again, and you need an unbiased opinion. At the same time though, you hate lying to JK or even being a little dishonest with him. It's not how trust is kept between you two, he can also read you really well, meaning you can never really hide your actual feelings about something or someone from him.

"Namjoon's back," You blurt out, exhaustedly, as if you hadn't slept a wink the previous night, well, because you hadn't.

Jungkook just stares at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape," Please don't tell me you're actually thinking about him right now," his head tilts to the side a little, like a puppy, his brow now slightly furrowed.

Your silence and lack of eye contact in return is enough for him to know the answer.

He throws his head back, his crown almost touching his shoulder blades, as he lets out a small groan.

"I know, I know, it's probably not the best thing for me to be thinking about right now, but-"

"No, it just isn't the best thing to be thinking about. No probably, it simply isn't. You can't be seriously thinking about talking to that asshole again after he left you for absolutely no reason." Jungkook cuts you off, a stern look now plastered over his face.

You squeeze your eyes shut in frustration but also regret, knowing that this would be his response, and you should've kept your mouth closed.

"Was that piece of paper something to do with it?"

"What piece of paper?" you reply defensively. You were hoping he didn't notice it or see you fiddling with it previously.

He gives you an expression full of disappointment and knowing, causing you to roll your eyes and give in, "It's his number new number"

"Oh, so he changed his number after leaving too? proves how much he wanted to keep in contact with you," the snarky remark doesn't phase you as you know it's just him trying to make a point to you. You hate that he's right.

"I know but Kiri said he wants to talk about it, I just want closure," you softly admit to him, a slight bit of guilt in your body language, even though you're telling the truth, and aren't actually thinking of seeing Namjoon romantically again, or even talking to him ever again after getting closure.

The doe-eyed man stares at you with a shocked expression before loudly exclaiming, "Kiri? How does Kiri know?"

You realise you fucked up again by mentioning Kiri unintentionally.

"He came by the cafe asking for me" the regret on your face grows continuously, "Please just let me think about this"

Jungkook sighs again in defeat, deciding to just trust you and your word, "Alright but if you meet with him, I'm taking you there and picking you up."

You almost go to argue with him, but know that really he's just doing this for your own safety, and because he cares about you. He knows if it goes wrong and you get upset you'll cry and run back to your place, and not come out for days, so if he's there to see you up afterwards, he knows you won't have to suffer alone. He just wants to be there for you. You know that, even though neither of you have verbally said to each other how much you care about one another, you both know that these little acts are out of care.

"What about your training though?" You query, thinking about his career before he even considered it as an obstacle 

"I'll take a rest day that day," he says it like it's nothing, giving you a little shrug. Like it won't probably take him a week to convince his trainer for a potential extra rest day.

After a few minutes of bickering back and forth, you give into Jungkook's stubbornness and his charms allowing him to come with you if you even meet Namjoon again. 

You truly have been thinking about it too much and don't actually know what you want. You're head knows that seeing him again probably isn't the best for your emotions considering it took you so long to get over him and seeing his dimples when he flashes sweet smiles at you, might just send you into a spiral again, but your emotions are basically screaming at you to get closure, and to just be in his presence again. Even though you've grown slight resentment for him, you can't bring yourself to fully hate him. Afterall, its not like you ended on bad terms, or good terms really. 

I mean getting closure won't hurt you. 

<-prev-index-next->

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

a/n: A late happy holidays to everyone, but I hope you all had a really good time with whatever you celebrate. I can't wait for what 2024 has in store for us all. CANT WAIT FOR JIN AND HOBI TO BE BACK IN 2024 TOO!!!! Anyways thank you again for reading, I hope you're enjoying the series so far. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter so I hope its received positively

Taglist: @yunki-yunki-yunki @hellbornsworld @tatamicc @idkijustlovebts @00frenchfries00 @yoonbicoolest @junecat18

[starstruckwillows]

♡ z to a - s.b ♡

requested by anon<3, i'm a firm believer james potter lives by the beach

rockstar!sirius black x shy!reader, fem!reader, fluff fic, petnames, might make spin-off blurbs about them, some alcohol, participation in halloween, mention of coke but no drug consumption by canon characters or reader, swearing

emotionally constipated rockstar!sirius tries to confess his feelings for you three times before someone else does it for him

29th august 1978

the marauders had only been out of hogwarts with their n.e.w.ts in tow for a month or so when the production deal came through.

in all honesty, nobody, including them, was really expecting the band to progress past the potters' garage. so to soar to fame after one pub gig, seemingly overnight... it made everyone's head spin.

that's what you put that night down to. excitement. everyone out, drinking and cheering, sirius kissing you as though he'd been waiting for years to do such a thing.

but sirius didn't wait. he was confident, as sure as the tide running towards your group on the beach. you were both drunk and excited, everyone was kissing. you're almost sure you saw regulus kissing someone and he was vehemently against intimacy outside a relationship.

neither of you ever bought it up again, but you couldn't help but wonder sometimes.

the sand filling your clothes the next morning as you all woke was a sobering reality, trudging back to james' house while everyone complained there was still salt water in their hair even more so.

"hey." sirius groaned, jogging up beside you and instantly regretting the movement.

your hair was an untamed mess that you swiped from your eyes to answer him, "hey."

"you gonna come on tour with us, doll?" his voice was light and teasing, and you were about to quip back when mary nudged him roughly, "where's our invite then?"

he threw an arm around her shoulder and laughed, "backstage passes for every show."

marlene thumped him, "knock it off, it's one deal."

the lot of you dissolved into hungover giggles and you knew sirius was only teasing you like he teased everyone.

peter appeared next to you, "would you really come with us if we went on tour?"

thinking of the busy backstage chaos and all the people that would be present, you shrugged.

"as if we'll ever get to tour." remus scoffed.

1st april 1979

the marauders did get to tour.

first, around the uk, both for the muggle and wizarding world. two tours passed like that, with sirius personally sending you tickets to each one. you went to most.

now, they were all set to tour the whole of europe, and their manager was discussing america too. they'd been a sensation, the lot of them, and you were all so proud.

it was lily, your best friend, who suggested you should join them.

"why not? i'm going, it'll give me someone to talk to!"

as an independent reporter, lily's job was as flexible as she wanted it to be. yours was not so simple, but it could be done. it still felt like much too big of a risk.

your hesitation was visible, lightly tugging your arm out of lily's excited grip, "i don't know lils, i can't just invite myself along."

"alright, don't tell him i told you, but sirius is going to ask you to come. would you say yes?"

you hated it, felt pathetic, when the mention of sirius' name had your gut screaming yes.

"i- i guess."

she squealed, and if it wasn't so against your quiet nature you might of squealed with her, her joy was so pure.

so when sirius knocked on the door of your room, only down the corridor from his in the large flat share the band had bought, you knew what he would ask and you knew your answer.

he sat on the end of your bed, relief all over his face at your shy agreement, and took one of your hands in his, tattoos decorating the pale skin.

"also, there's something else i was going to ask you-" his voice was uncharacteristically nervous, each word a struggle.

a screech that you both instantly assigned to james sounded from the communal kitchen, and the two of you leapt up to see what fire had been started.

there was none, just the sparkle of marlene's ring finger, and dorcas' wide smile.

"you're engaged!"

the night became another of celebration and shouting. it's a good thing the lot of you didn't have many neighbours.

sirius was caught once looking at you wistfully, before averting his gaze and making a crude joke about strippers for the hen do.

you smiled ruefully, commanding yourself to calm down. sirius was the frontman and lead singer of a now world famous band. you were a girl he went to school with who also lived where he lived.

breathe, you told yourself, turning politely to remus who was telling you about their new song.

31st october 1981

halloween had never been your favourite holiday, always too nervous to get in any costume that you thought looked good on you. most of your life, you'd been on trick or treat duty.

the new joint penthouse, consisting of remus, sirius, peter (publicly known as three thirds of the hit band, the marauders), marlene and dorcas (still engaged but getting married next year), and regulus, who didn't technically live there anymore but was around enough. but there were no kids to approach the door with pumpkin baskets in hand, and therefore no duty for you with your bag of sweets.

mary had moved out with her partner earlier that year, and it was at her house she convinced you into a costume you knew you looked gorgeous in, but couldn't bring yourself to arrive back home in.

the party would be in full swing by now, full of rockstars and actors and models and probably the odd politician crashing the place. remus usually chased them out.

"lily told me you have to wear it." mary flicked you on the head.

"why?" you asked, whinier than intended.

she pointed to the group photo, showcasing baby harry in the centre, "because her and james are occupied, and she's not here to bully you into it."

with a reluctant grumble of 'fine', you grabbed your car keys, mary and her partner climbing into the backseat, all giggles and confidence, while you avoided checking yourself in the mirror every three seconds out of nerves.

everyone you entered the party with dissipated quickly, leaving you rubbing your arm nervously.

"hello!" a man approached you, tipsy but not drunk. you vaguely recognized him as the guitarist of the marauders' go to opening act.

you'd been on their europe tour with them twice, but not their most recent american one. it was hard to remember individuals from the many faces you saw in that time.

clearing your throat, you offered an increasingly nervous, "hi..."

"you were on tour! what-" he hiccuped, "why were you there again?"

you shrugged tightly, "i helped in the costume, hair and makeup department. but sirius asked me to come."

the man's eyes bulged out of his head, "man, so you're like a travel groupie! can't wait to get myself one of them."

you coughed awkwardly, trying to edge away, "oh- no, it's not like that."

"you're like viv or whatever her name was!"

the man seemed excited at the link, you wanted to hurl. vie was a girl peter had fallen for, but turned out to be someone just climbing the social ladder and using his head as a stepping stone, as well as leaking information about james and lily's new house, and remus' "health condition" that she, a muggle, didn't know was lycanthropy.

you hated to see your friend so heartbroken, while she headlined hollywood's major films that year.

"i'm not vie, and i'm not a groupie." you said, firmer than was usual for you.

sirius chose that convenient moment to appear, eyes trailing over your skin with an involuntary smile before a frown took over his beautiful face as he saw the man you were engaged in conversation with.

he clapped the guy on the shoulder with more force than necessary, "everything alright, kade?"

kade nodded and scurried off, mumbling something about spotting his coke dealer. that was a guy in way over his head, you thought.

"you look brilliant, doll. he didn't ruin your mood, did he?"

you shook your head, not quite making eye contact, the gloss on your lips stretching into a smile.

sirius wasn't convinced, gently holding your arm, "look at me, please."

the undertone of the plead in his voice made you do as he said, resisting the urge to pull at your sleeves.

"what did he say?" sirius' voice was unusually low and slightly rough as he balanced the line between not shouting but making sure you could hear him over the music.

you tried not to shrug again, conscious of the heat of his hand around your wrist, "oh, he just thought i was a travel groupie or something."

there was a cool anger present in sirius' eyes, but it left when he focused on your face, finger trailing across the arch of your cheek, "you know you're much more than a groupie, love."

usually you would have retorted something about how you couldn't be a groupie when you saw him at his lowest twelve year old moments, but instead you plucked some confidence from somewhere deep within you to ask, "yeah? what am i, then?"

he tossed his head back to the ceiling, pale throat with a tattoo creeping up one side exposed to the air in front of you, slightly long raven hair falling back. the half groan, half laugh he gave you was enough to make your stomach flutter.

except the answer he had on his tongue was stolen by the rare sight of an angry remus. a burning rage as he spat foul curses at the bombshell beauty that was vie.

sirius' whole face was set in a furious grimace. he let go of your arm, retracting the warmth and jogging over. you trailed awkwardly behind, apparently catching vie's eye as she swivelled to you, screaming and sobbing.

"she's no better! you let her in here, she's just as shallow as i am!" the young woman cried with more dramatics than ever. peter looked struck with dazed fear on the sidelines, a lipstick mark on his neck that he was trying to rub off.

you felt the same, shock seeping into your system. you'd been nothing but nice to vie, ever. you were the last to believe how she'd betrayed you all.

she was shouting at marlene now, who shouted back with just as much vigor until the two dissolved into a scrap and the actress was escorted out.

the party continued with ease, as it always did when famous people fought. everyone was too drunk, high or both to care.

as unsettling as it was, it wasn't the most dramatic thing to occur since the marauders' sudden stardom. you could think of twenty more shocking examples from the last tour alone.

right now, you just wanted to find sirius again. wanted to find your answer to that question.

he was buy the drinks table, downing another shot and about to fall over the line of tipsy to fully intoxicated.

"hey, sirius..."

he almost collapsed into you, "i'm sorry."

the slur in his words was evident as you patted his hair, "it's alright, darling, why don't we go sit down?"

"sure."

when the two of you were seated uncomfortably close on the sofa, his feet on the glass coffee table and head lolling against the sofa material, you brought up your question again, cup of something in hand.

"what am i here, sirius?"

a more sober demeanor overtook him, and he hesitated in the way drunk people rarely did, "my best friend, of course."

you smiled and nodded, as you usually did, satisfied with the answer but a small pang in your chest knowing you wanted more than that.

"of course."

1st november 1981

you woke groggily, not quite hungover but not quite alert either, releasing you were still half folded across sirius.

heat in your face, you scrambled off of him. james sat at the kitchen island with about eight coffees in front of him, adorning the bright smile of someone who'd had a good nights sleep.

"harry go to bed well last night?"

eagerly, as though nobody had asked yet, which you supposed they hadn't, "yeah! didn't even wake up once. absolute champ."

tiredly, you reached for a coffee, "when did you get here?"

"about twenty minutes ago. remus was already up, he herded everyone out. 'cept regulus, he's asleep somewhere."

"ah well, he basically lives here anyway."

"can't find pete though, remus has gone out to look now."

everyone was up and dressed with eyes bulging from their heads as they stared at the news headlines, only ten minutes later.

remus burst into the apartment, storming over to the tv, "fuckin' found peter."

the reporter behind the screen showed an image of the marauders' latest album cover as he spoke, "you heard it here first folks, an exclusive interview last night with peter pettigrew and his girlfriend, vie dalton, reveals his decision to leave the band, and provides some juicy inside information on why that is."

it became a day filled with pr meetings and phone calls, hasty damage control, and fending off reporters outside the building.

you were caught in a throng of them on your way to the shops. you'd only gone out for tea bags, because remus looked like he was going to blow another fuse when he discovered a lack of them in the cupboard.

microphones were shoved in your face, "who are you to the marauders?"

"who are to sirius black? how do you feel about his playboy lifestyle?" nice, thanks peter. last time i tell you about a crush.

"how did you get to live with the band?"

breathe.

"are you part of the crew?"

breathe, just breathe, walk, and get to your car.

"do you know who remus lupin is seeing?"

i can't breathe.

"has james potter cheated on his wife?"

i can't breathe.

"can we get a statement for the daily prophet?"

an arm around your waist appeared, pulling you away from the people suddenly, catching you as you stumbled backwards.

it was sirius, you could smell his colonge, and his slightly hoarse voice rang in your ears as he offered the mob a harsh set of curse words.

safely back in the elevator, you slammed yourself into the corner against the cold metal.

"i've got- got to get teabags... for remus."

you could barely see sirius through the blur of impending tears as he wrapped you into him, "forget the tea, remus will manage."

you knew he'd punched the emergency stop button because the lift wasn't moving. you couldn't feel it rise beneath you as you slid to the ground, still clinging onto sirius as he went down with you.

once your lungs worked on their own, you moved hair from your eyes and laughed. sirius, looking at you in total confusion, felt your head for a temperature.

"i'm alright," you all but whispered, "thank you."

he gave you a half smile, not as cocky as a smirk, but more than something friendly, "of course."

you didn't want to move from his embrace, so you didn't, letting your head fall against his shoulder, leather jacket smooth against your face.

"you've always been there, y'know?" he said suddenly.

"hm?"

sirius played with the hem of your shirt in an almost nervous manner, "you've always stayed with us. with me. from z listers to a. sometimes i think i don't deserve that much."

you wanted to scream at him, telling him just how much he deserved, telling him you wish he'd just let his guard down for two seconds so you could love him.

you didn't.

"of course you deserve it, siri, i wouldn't have stuck around so long if you didn't."

"cos we're best friends?"

"sure."

he unwound himself from your side, twisting to face you, "have you heard everything peter said?"

you nodded.

"the stuff about us?" sirius prompted further.

you tensed, froze, then nodded.

"so you know how i feel? that the pick you signed for my birthday is the only one i use? you know i spent four hours shopping for your christmas present because it had to be perfect? that i'm the one who leaves a coffee outside your door every morning? you know that i'm in love with you?"

the words rang free in the elevator, and your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you looked up at him. he looked terrified. you hadn't seen him this scared since he left home, you didn't want him to be this scared ever again.

words failed you. they always did, you weren't good at talking, you weren't good at making bold statements without over analyzing them.

you did the only thing you could think of to do, following your gut, and leaning forward to kiss him, hands around the back of his neck and in his hair, slow enough to give him time to back away.

but he didn't, pulling you closer alarmingly quickly, lips colliding in a way that should've been awkward, but wasn't. the two of you seemed to just fit against each other like magnets slotting together after being held apart.

"sirius-" you tried to move away to talk, but he just emitted a low whine and pulled you back in.

you didn't have any motivation to break away again. he seemed more important to you than breathing; he definitely felt better.

eventually the emergency stop button was hit again and the two of you returned to your apartment, looking like two grinning fools in love. everyone was too preoccupied to notice anything different. maybe nothing was all that different.

you spent the rest of the day in his bed.

taglist:

@anordinarymuse @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kingshitonly @slut4benbarnes

[aroaessidhe]

okay I was asked about fey books I’ve read that Do stick to folklore a bit more than certain popular books - and actually looking at what fey books I’ve read  it’s a bit like.... books that stick to folklore closely I sometimes Don’t Love, and there are others that don’t stick to it as much but I like the overall narrative more? or some mix of that. 

so here’s a list of a few - a range of how much they stick to folklore (which of course is an amorphous thing) and how much I like them, but it’s something!

YA

That Self-Same Metal - literally just read this, it’s about a Black girl who’s the stage blade expert for shakespeare’s company and can see fey, and they’re appearing more and more in the city. explores a bit of the midsummer night’s dream fey but also like “shakespeare was wrong” and general folklore. definitely the start of a series and has a lot going on but I thought it has some cool ideas!

all Holly Black’s books deal with them well! the Modern Faerie Tales companion/trilogy has maybe aged a bit by now, and I hate way the romance ended up together in The Folk of the Air (and the way the fandom is about it) but otherwise I do really like how it deals with fey and politics! also enjoyed The Darkest Part of the Forest. these are all intertwined/same world

The Buried And The Bound - a hedgewitch girl keeps fey away from her town, and gets caught up with two boys who are cursed. mostly deals with minor fey and a powerful hag

An Enchantment of Ravens - it’s been quite a few years since I read this, but I do remember enjoying it. It is a bit more of a romance focused story also, an artist stolen into the fey realm for painting a fey prince as if he was human(iirc?)

The Bone Houses - not directly dealing with fey, but like the aftermath of the ancient fey’s curses? welsh myth inspired. which I think is cool.

At The Edge of The Woods - about a girl in a religious/patriarchial village who starts to have strange dreams about a fey boy luring her into the woods. it’s not super focused on them, but they’re very much the classic ‘dangerous fey stealing people away for entertainment’ kind of thing

Adult

Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries - I sort of have mixed feelings about this - I really enjoy how it dealt with fey and the creepier folklore creatures side of it! the handling of the changeling was a bit iffy and not sure about the romance

The Wolf Among the Wild Hunt - dark fantasy novella about a wolf-shifter made to join the wild hunt to save his qpr. focused on the unseelie/wild hunt area

Silver in the Wood - gaslamp fantasy novella about the keeper of a magical forest, dryads and dangerous fey

The Wind City - a bit of a mashup of fey folklore and Māori atua in a modern NZ setting

Sinners/Veiled - very classic but also with the element of a modern setting where human pollution is like a drug to fey (and the MC is a drug lord.) (so kind of dark but also not dark in the sexy way bc the MC is aroace)

Under The Pendulum Sun - this is a gothic fantasy that has a bit of a new take on a fey world, but also definitely has some of those creepy folklore vibes.

Siren Queen - this only partly involves fey but I thought the way that it mashed up old hollywood and fey (aka shady deals for fame themes) was interesting!

Sorcerer to the Crown/The True Queen - my memory on this is hazy, but I believe it’s regency fantasy, with its own take on a fey world/magic (moreso the 2nd book)

Malice/Misrule - adult high fantasy lesbian sleeping beauty reimagining, this is kind of doing it’s own thing I guess (I don’t remember if they’re even called fey?) but definitely has a bit of the creepy creature/court vibes in book 2 especially

In The Jaded Grove - I was just looking up books to see if there was anything I missed and found this, which seems interesting to me!

I also haven’t read Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell (but I watched the show ages ago) and I believe that has the vibe too

[corrodedseraphine]

hellfire heart | one shot

this amazing edit of Eddie which i used here was made by wonderful @sofiiel

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

story based on a request by a lovely anon: could i request rockstar eddie who is a bit of an asshole, loves a drink etc? maybe something angsty! angst with half happy ending I guess?, established relationship, breaking up, modern!AU

4 310 words

the one shot is also avaliable on ao3

I was going to write this much later, but life sucks and my mood today is some kind of unfunny joke, so this request was the perfect opportunity to unload all my negative emotions in this angsty work!

Dear anon, thank you very much for your request, I hope you will not be disappointed. (I wrote the song myself, it's okay if you don't like this, you can pretend it is any other song yopu like!)

eddie munson masterlist | general masterlist

"I thought that when you come to Hawkins for a break we would organize a little campaign for the boys? They miss you so much." You lay cuddled up against Eddie's chest, who was browsing something on his phone.

"Yeah, about that." he said, turning toward you for the first time in twenty minutes. "I'm not coming to Hawkins."

"What?" you rose quickly. What did he mean he wasn't coming back? The breaks between tours were the only longer time you could spend together. Besides, you saw each other once a month when you visited him on tour.

"Babe, there are so many better things than playing some stupid game, so many parties we can go to, so many crazy things we can do." he replied, sitting down on the bed. "Being stuck for couple of months in Hawkins is not fun."

"But what about the kids? What about Wayne? Don't you miss them?"

"I miss them, but I guess if I don't come once, nothing bad will happen, right?"

"Since when is D&D just a stupid game to you?" you asked. Never in your life would you have said you would hear those words from his mouth.

"Honey, look at me, I am not that Eddie anymore. I am not a loser or freak, I am a fucking rockstar. People love me, I have fans all over the world I have everything I ever wanted. I am better, my life is better now." he said grabbing your hands. "Now I'm going to go to rehearsal, later I'll come back and we'll have dinner together, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, have fun." you replied weakly. Eddie quickly smacked you on the lips and left the apartment.

Being left alone with your thoughts was not good, as those thoughts began to wander into darker and darker corners of your brain. You loved Eddie and were happy like no one else that his dreams were coming true however, you slowly stopped liking the kind of man he was becoming. What didn't escape your attention was his sense of superiority. Suddenly everyone who wasn't recognized and famous, those who didn't participate in crazy parties whose motto was sex drugs and rock and roll, were suddenly worse. More and more, you could see the arrogance in him. At the beginning of his fame, he looked forward to visits home. He loved the hours spent campaigning, the fishing trips with Wayne, or the pleasant evenings at campfires where he played guitar and the rest of your little crazy family was singing. He kept saying that these were his favorite moments. What happened that suddenly they were no longer like that?

Eddie didn't show up for dinner. After three hours of waiting, you extinguished the candles you had lit, put the already cold food in the refrigerator, and took the wine that was supposed to be for both of you to the couch and poured it into a glass. You weren't even surprised that he didn't come back on time as he promised. Lately he had less and less time for you. Day by day there were fewer and fewer calls and messages, fewer and fewer I miss yous and I love yous, instead more and more arguments and misunderstandings. There were more and more drunken pictures of him that you saw on the Internet, more and more rumors about secret "friends" of Corroded Coffin members. At every turn whenever you went on any social media you were bombarded with theories that made you sick. Not wanting to bury yourself in this hole even more, you put your phone down on the coffee table and turned on the movie to occupy your thoughts, but somewhere in the middle of it you fell asleep.

You were awakened by Eddie's loud comeback and quiet curses from his mouth. You turned on the lamp that stood by the couch and looked at him sleepily. He was barely standing on his feet, you knew immediately that he was drunk, you couldn't stop the thought that he might have been under the influence of something else.

"Where were you?" you asked quietly, having neither the desire nor the strength to argue.

"At the re-rehsal." He replied trying to look sober. His tounge wasn't able to form any clear words.

"And later?"

"I hav' n'idea what you talkin'bout." he mumbled under his breath, you could barely understand what he was saying. He shakily walked toward the bedroom.

"Eddie you're drunk."

"'not."

"Why are you lying? Couldn't you at least write that you'll come back later?"

You received no answer. Without even trying to undress, he just threw the phone on the bedside table and landed on the soft mattress immediately falling asleep.

With a burden on your heart, you got up from the couch and, taking a bottle of water with you, because you knew he would need it in the morning, went to the bedroom to lie down next to him. The room smelled of alcohol and cigarettes. You watched his body move with every breath, wondering what happened to the boy you knew like the back of your hand. The boy who mocked everyone who devoted their lives solely to alcohol and parties. A boy who wanted more than just fame and money, who always cared about his loved ones and wouldn't even think of pushing them away in favor of other, "more famous" friends.

It hurt you what was happening to him, it hurt you that you couldn't do anything about it, because whenever you tried to talk to him on the subject everything ended in one big fight. It scared you how much you didn't like his new persona. Even scarier was the thought that this change was permanent.

You were awakened by the vibration of his phone. Wiping your sleepy face with your hand, you took it to turn it off, but you noticed a text message on the screen from an unknown number.

unknown: let me know if you want more ;)

You sharply inhaled the air feeling like your heart was about to jump out of your cage. You knew you shouldn't do this however it was stronger than you. You unlocked your phone and went into the messages with the unnamed number.

Under the message sent above was a picture of a pack of cigarettes. Did he want more cigarettes? You were surprised because after everything he went through in the Upside Down he promised you he would stop smoking. Biting your lower lip nervously, you started scrolling up. There weren't a lot of messages, the earliest one was sent a few hours ago, half an hour before Eddie got home. However, one detailed message from him was enough to make your vision begin to blur.

unknown: how can I return the favor?

eddie: send nudes eddie: just kidding

As if burned, you threw the phone straight at him. He woke up with a growl. Little did he know, though, that a hangover would be the least of his worries. You quickly got out of bed and started getting dressed.

"What's goin on?" he asked seeing your condition

"What's goin on?" you asked pointing your finger at the phone. He frowned and looked at the tiny screen and then realized what was the reason for your behavior. "Who is she?"

"Chrissy's friend." he replied as if nothing had happened.

"And what does she have to repay you for?" Your voice slowly broke.

"After the party she needed a ride so I ordered a cab and we drove her and then I came back here. I don't see what the problem is."

"You really don't see what the problem is? Maybe in what you wrote back to her!"

"It was just a joke don't be dramatic!" he replied sitting down on the bed.

You couldn't believe it. He really thought that writing such things to other girls was okay? Even if it was just a joke, you were not going to accept it. Although you've always known that Eddie can laugh at anything, jokes also had their limits, and this was definitely overstepping them.

"You can't be serious now." you said looking straight at his tired face.

"It was just a joke." he repeated through his teeth. "It's not my fault you don't get them."

The old Eddie would never do something like that to you. The old Eddie, when Steve made jokes like that with other girls was the first to point it out to him and say how pathetic his behavior was. Your old Eddie at least would have let you know yesterday that he would be late and wouldn't be back for dinner.

"I don't care if it was a joke Eddie. I don't give a shit it was a joke!" you raised your voice. Everything you had kept under lock and key for the past months was just being released from you. "How would you feel if I wrote to any of your friends like that?"

An expression of realization flashed across his face, but after a moment it was again replaced by irritation. "After all, she didn't send me any, at least she knows it was a fucking joke, not like you!"

"You wouldn't even admit to me if she had sent one! You could have flirted with each other all the way back and you still wouldn't have told me about it!"

"Maybe we were!" he yelled. "Just- Can you just shut up, my head is pounding." He said hiding his face in his hands. "Get the stick out of your ass, because lately you've been doing nothing but whining."

"No. I'm sick of it Eddie. I'm sick of the person you've become." Shocked, he immediately raised his head. His big puppy eyes found yours however, this time you didn't give in. What was going on between the two of you was not good and it was time to explain. It was time for brutal honesty. "You have changed. You have become someone you would have been disgusted with just two years ago."

"What are you talking about?"

"About you, Eddie! Now all that matters to you is alcohol and these stupid parties. I don't know if you remember, but during one of your speeches at the table in high school you emphasized how much you despise such people!"

"I don't know if it gets to you, but we're not in high school anymore." he scoffed.

"What happened to you? What happened to Eddie, who wrote songs about fighting knights and dragons? Who wrote beautiful love ballads? Whose music had a message? Your last album is all empty words about sex, drugs and how there is nothing meaningful in life! I can understand to devote a few songs to that, but not a whole damn album!" You knew that criticizing his music would be a blow to a sensitive spot, but what was your one blow compared to his treating you like a punching bag? "Where is Eddie who couldn't wait for the campaign and was excited to wonder if Dustin would find an ulterior motive in it? Where is the Eddie who could talk to Will for hours about his role as DM? Where is the Eddie who at every possible opportunity went back to Hawkins to spend some time with his Uncle? Where the hell is the Eddie who didn't choose getting drunk over our dinners together? Where is the Eddie who was always looking for ways to be close to me?!"

"Y/n…" he tried to interrupt you however it was too late. You sped away breaking all the brakes along the way.

"Where is Eddie, who always answered my I love yous? Because the one in front of me now doesn't even want to look at me anymore." You were crying, struggling with breathing out the words. "For the past few months, every time I come you have a problem with kissing me. If I didn't hug you myself you wouldn't do it. You don't answer my messages, you don't answer my calls, when was the last time you told me you loved me?"

"Maybe I wouldn't have stopped doing that if you hadn't criticized me all the time!" he shouted avoiding your last question. He knew the answer would not be acceptable.

"And in what should I support you?! In getting drunk to the point of unconsciousness? Asking for nudes from other girls?! Do you even have any idea how much it hurts me? You don't tell me anything! You keep everything a secret, your nights out, your new friends, you never want to talk about it! How do I know what the hell you are doing there?! I'm supposed to support you in this so that later I can see pictures everywhere from clubs of you having a great time with your fans who are pushing themselves straight into your lap and you don't even try to stop them?!"

"You're just jealous! You're pathetically jealous because you can't accept that my life is so much better now and I don't need you in it at all!"

Suddenly you had nothing more to add. Everything had become clear. Clearer than you had imagined.

It took a while for him to realize what he had said, his words broke the heart not only for you but also for him, because he knew that this was the moment when he would lose you.

"Baby, no. Shit, I am so sorry-" he approached you quickly grabbing your hand but you immediately yanked it away. "Sweetheart, please, that's not what I meant. You know I love you, I'm sorry I've been acting like this lately, please, I'll change, I promise." he panicked. It intensified when he didn't get any response from you. You walked around the room collecting your belongings, which you threw into a suitcase occasionally wiping away tears. Despite his begging and following you around like a lost puppy dog you never spoke a word to him again. Even when you left slamming the door.

For the first few weeks it didn't get to him. He completely lost himself in the party vortex forgetting all God's world "enjoying" his freedom. Waking up in places he didn't know next to people he didn't remember with a massive headache, lack of energy and nausea. This was his new daily life. A daily life that was wearing him down. The Internet was buzzing with news, stories and footage of him getting into fights with other people, or of Gareth and Jeff or Simon having to carry him out of clubs and bars because he was so drunk he couldn't do it on his own strength.

Locked in a vicious cycle, he was starting to suffocate. Suddenly all the things he wanted so much but couldn't do when he was with you were starting to push him away. Suddenly all the quickies with people whose name he didn't even know began to disgust him. The mere mention of any alcohol made him sick. Despite the fact that there were still plenty of people around him giving him their full attention, he felt lonely. Queues of groupies lining up for the tour bus, the forbidden fruit that tempted so much turned out to be nothing.

Lying alone in bed, he stared at the ceiling feeling cold. The darkness that surrounded him consumed his entire soul. Hearing the vibration of the phone he quickly grabbed it hoping it was a message from you, but it wasn't. Suddenly Eddie felt a burning feeling in his eyes that he hadn't felt in a long time. He touched his tear-wet cheeks in disbelief. He couldn't remember the last time he cried, but it must have been a very long time ago. Feeling despair spreading throughout his body, he decided to grab a lifeline and called the person he could always count on in such situations. The person who never refused to help him and who always managed to chase away his demons. Unfortunately, this person did not answer this time, leaving him alone. The person he shouted right in her face that he didn't need her in his life. Sadly, he needed her more than he thought, and loved her even more, but somewhere in his crazy journey, greedy for fame, he forgot all about it leaving him completely alone. He thought about the moment you separated, thought about everything you told him then, thought about how right you were. The longer he thought about it, the more disgusted he became with the person he had become. You were so damn right. He felt like a blinded fool. In fact, that's exactly what he was. The Eddie you loved got lost in the maze of celebrity and money, and in order to survive there he had to adapt to the new environment by creating a completely new version of himself. A version he wasn't proud of.

When he finally calmed down and wiped away his last tears he felt a surge of motivation. He was determined to find the old Eddie and bring him back.

Everyone immediately noticed the change. When rock star, social spirit, party monster Eddie Munson locked himself inside four walls cutting himself off from everything people were shocked. The real reason was known only to the members of Corroded Coffin, who forced him to talk. When he finally told them everything they showed him great support and helped him regain his former self. It was not an easy and quick process, but after a few months he managed to change tracks. Focusing mainly on writing new songs, after the concerts he always returned to the hotel, where he occupied his thoughts with planning D&D campaigns to which he also wanted to return. It turned out that escaping into the fantasy world was still great medicine for his tortured soul. He spent a great deal of time talking to Wayne. The old man was initially very surprised, but also happy to hear his nephew more often now. At his and Corroded Coffin's manager's urging, he also tried visits to a psychologist, which helped him not only find balance in his new life but also helped him deal with nightmares from the past.

The last destination on the tour was Indianapolis. Being so close to home, Eddie sent you all VIP entrance tickets. With a tightness in his heart, he watched as Max, Lucas, Dustin, Mike, El, Erica and Will lined up right at the barriers in front of the stage. Right behind them walked Steve and Robin, and at the very end you. After such a long time of no contact with you, he felt like crying at your sight. He didn't believe you would come, he thought you hated him and nothing would convince you to be here today. And yet there you were. Fate was giving him a chance and he wasn't going to let it pass.

The concert went well, to everyone's surprise, they didn't play a single song from the new album. They relied mainly on those that were written back in Gareth's garage in the days when the world had no idea who Corroded Coffin was. Some people, were not happy about this, but the vast majority sang the songs along with them as much as they had breath. At the very end of the performance, Eddie approached the microphone putting his finger to his lips, thus asking for silence.

"Before we finish, I'd like to announce something." he said looking around. "I'm damn grateful for each and every one of you here, if it weren't for you, we would never have gotten this far, and I will never be able to repay you for that." The crowd went wild, everyone started shouting and applauding, and Eddie smiled and once again asked for silence. "Unfortunately, even on the most beautiful journey one can get lost. And I got lost very badly, and I think that if someone hadn't shouted it in my face a few months ago I would never have found my way back." He grunted. He tried to find you in the crowd, but the headlights blinded him and he couldn't. You, however, saw him. You saw him very well, for the first time in a long time you saw Eddie. The real one. "But I found it. This road is not one of the easiest, so it hurts my heart to tell you that this is the last Corroded Coffin concert this year. It will be a few months before we start working on the new album and hit the road again, and I hope that at least some of you have the boundless patience to welcome us back in time as warmly as you bid us farewell today." he chuckled, receiving thunderous applause anew. "But before we say a final goodbye for today we have a surprise for you."

Unfamiliar chords rang out from the speakers as everyone realized it was a new song, and people started jumping and shouting with excitement.

Cold ground as your deathbed The last thing you hear is scream Heart-wrecking cry of a little ship The little ship is begging Praying to the God above for a miracle You don't know which one But one of them have heard the prayer And you are breathing again

You are back but something is wrong You are back but something is missing Your hands are cold Your heart is colder

Then you meet her Like a ray of sunshine cutting through the clouds Her touch is soft Her voice is calm But her heart Her heart was forged in the abyss of hell In the fire hottest than the Sun She's got a hellfire heart

You can try to avoid it You can try to escape But when she touches you she leaves burning marks She will break your ribs She will pull the lungs out of your chest She will find a way to your heart And you will let her

Be careful you blind fool Because once you lose her You feel like death is taking you back Be careful you stupid creature Because once you stop appreciating what you've got You'll end up alone Without the littlest spark to keep you warm You will freeze to death in the middle of a fire

When you meet her Like a ray of sunshine cutting through the clouds Her touch is soft Her voice is calm But her heart Her heart was forged in the abyss of hell In the fire hottest than the Sun She's got a hellfire heart

After the concert officially ended, the whole group went backstage. Seeing the excitement of everyone except you, Eddie guessed that you didn't tell anyone about what happened between you. When he found the right moment he pulled you aside and locked the two of you in a fitting room. Without a word you stared at each other waiting for someone to finally make the first move. Despite his fear, he knew he had to be the one to make it.

"Thank you for coming." he said quietly taking a step closer to you, but you took that one step back. "I know I fucked everything up, I know that some stupid song won't change anything, I know you have the right to hate me. I've been a complete asshole, everything at its worst, I've treated you in a terrible way, and to tell you the truth I don't even deserve to have you standing here with me…" he once again tried to approach you. This time you did not move away. "I love you, I haven't stopped loving you and you need to know that. I know I didn't show it to you like I should have, I know you didn't feel it and you had the right to doubt it. I want you to know that I have changed. At least I'm trying to do that, I'm in therapy and it's said to be having an effect. Who would have thought, huh?"

"Your apology won't make me forget all this Eddie." you said.

"I know, and I don't expect you to forget. All I'm asking you for is a chance, to show that I've changed. I may never be able to get back the old Eddie you fell in love with, but I can assure you that the Eddie you hated is definitely not coming back. In front of you stands a brand new Eddie, hopefully better than the previous ones."

"I can forgive you, but that doesn't mean it will stop hurting." The tears in your eyes were breaking his heart. Old Eddie would have killed him for how much pain he caused you. "Even if I forgive you it doesn't mean I'll give us a second chance Eddie. I don't know if I'll be able to."

"I know, but I beg you to try to get to know me again. Maybe someday you'll be able to fall in love with me all over again." he grabbed your hand. Large and warm, in which you could easily hide your own. Whose touch used to be home to you.

"I forgive you." you whispered. Hearing those words, he couldn't stop the smile that pressed on his lips. That was enough. From that moment on, he knew he would do anything to fix the mistakes of the past.

"Can I hug you?" he asked shyly, and you only nodded your head. Holding you in his arms, he felt that his life was becoming complete again.

Your path was uncertain, you had no idea how it would end, and neither did he. However, the end was far away, and for now you had to focus on the beginning.

taglist: @i-me-mine @phantypurple @tlclick73