#i do have one of my last shifts of work in the morning so i need to fall asleep soons

[poisonf0rest]

The Best Dreams Come in Threes

♱⋅── rafayel x reader x xavier

♱⋅── about: Rafayel and Xavier have always been there for you. One is your fire, your passion, the twin flame to your temper. The other is your light, a guiding beacon, your twin star. So when you have a nightmare, they take it upon themselves to comfort and remind you of their unconditional devotion. Even if it does lead to competition every now and then.

♱⋅── word count: 7.5k (mf...)

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, it's just nasty, threesome, jealousy, somnophilia, oral, pussydrunk boys, breeding kink, double penetration, slight spoilers

♱⋅── a/n: apologies to the two random strangers on the plane that I sat next to when the idea of this fic possessed me. I really, really hope you didn't read anything I was frantically writing down in the midst of me finishing my work report cause that shit was nasty.

art credit and inspiration due to the wonderful @/sakimenz

Lonely star, who do you shine for?

The weight of all your pasts- of all your futures- the guilt and pride you carry will only cause you to collapse, and all that will be left will be an all-consuming black hole. 

Your desperation won’t bring your sun back. 

Lonely king, don’t you know a kingdom devoid of life is a crown devoid of purpose?

You were the fire that left them, and all you have to show for the betrayal is a drowned memory and a heart wrenched from your chest, a broken promise and a forgotten story. 

You’ve changed with each lifetime, but you’ll forever be at the mercy of fate. 

And you? You’re the very curse that haunts them. 

Claws, so cold they burn, emerge from the darkness before piercing through flesh, tearing through muscle and bone as they dig into your ribcage, dragging you down into the shadows. Drowning, falling. You’re spiraling through lifetimes of failure, lifetimes of pain both your own and not, all while the claws dig closer and closer to your heart, clutching the muscle like a songbird in a cage. 

It’s the price, the price you must pay for all this pain you’ve caused, for dooming a star and killing a god. 

The clawed hand wraps around your heart, the piercing into the fluttering pulse faster and faster until—

You wake up crying. 

A hot trail of tears slides into the pillows, and a sniffle rakes through your body, the sudden movement causing a subtle disturbance to the two forms still sound asleep on either side of you. 

Funny, you can’t remember a thing, but there’s a painful throb in your chest. You’ll take another dose of your heart medicine in the morning. 

But for now, your bedroom is still dulled by the pale blue moonlight filtering through the curtains, and you’re in no hurry to get out of the warm covers and their embrace. 

The nightmares have become routine at this point. You never remember what they are, but you wake up with a sense of fear and dread, as though you can feel the pain all over again. It’s best not to think too much about it.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you inhale shakily one last time, trying to shake off the looming feeling when the arm around your waist shifts, tugging lightly at your loose sleep shirt before slipping under to massage the skin beneath. You let out a soft sigh, a light shudder going through your body as the gentle hands work away the tension.

“The same?” Rafayel’s words are slurred with sleep and concern, hot breath dancing along the crook of your neck as he props himself up on his elbow. You nod.

Rafayel makes a small, displeased noise before his other arm pulls you closer, his bare chest now flush against your back. The sudden movement forces Xavier, who was once tucked against your shoulder, further away, grumbling at the loss even in his sleep.

His face scrunches, brows furrowed together before the corners of his lips turn downward, and he blindly reaches for you. He eventually finds the curve of your waist, and his hand tightens on the fabric of your shirt as it slides in above Rafayel’s.

A huff, and Xavier buries his face back into your chest, his warm breath tickling you. And then, gentle snores— you should've known better than to think that would be enough to wake him.

Rafayel, still pressed firmly against your back, begins to move, propping his body up just enough to look you in the eyes as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek. "Wanna talk about it, cutie?"

“I… I think you were there, both of you. But it felt lonely, painful.”

Rafayel's face contorts into a worried expression, his hand moves down your cheek, cupping your jaw, and you lean into his warm caress with a sigh.

You place a kiss on his palm. "It's okay, just a scary dream. Nothing real. Nothing to worry about." You repeat it, more to yourself than Rafayel, but his arms wrap around you anyway.

And yet Rafayel looks at you with a deep furrow in his brow, a seriousness you’ve almost never seen on him.

You give him a questioning look, but his lips press to yours in a searing kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. He pulls away only for a second, whispering sweet nothings against your skin before returning his lips to yours, the hand cradling your face slipping down to rest on your hip.

He kisses you softly, gently. First pressing a trail of light, chaste kisses along your jaw, the corners of your mouth, and nose, then moving back to your lips. “We’ll never leave you. We’d tear through every universe, every destiny to get back to you.”

Strange, how Rafayel says it with all the reverence of a vow. 

You want to tease him for the sudden declaration, for making all this fuss over a stupid dream, but you never have the opportunity, not when Rafayel's signature smirk settles back onto his lips. 

His hand slides down to your thighs, fingers teasing around the band of your sleep shorts, toying, pressing, but never crossing the self-imposed boundary of your clothes. “Unless, you’d prefer it if I proved it to you?”

“Rafayel,” you warn, hoping your narrowed glare would dissuade him.

Of course the man only seems to take that as a challenge, smile widening as you flinch at the cold touch creeping under your shirt. One palm traces up your ribcage, long, nimble fingers rubbing circles against your skin until he brushes the underside of your breast. 

You shudder, hissing out another string of curses before turning around so your back is to Rafayel. 

Really, you should know better than to think that alone would be enough, and a hot trail of kisses now joins his wandering hands down your shoulder blade. They start innocent enough, sweet, lingering touches along the hem of your shirt, but that quickly changes when Rafayel’s arm under your shirt practically yanks it up, sucking wet, messy kisses into the bare curves of your chest.

Each nip against your sensitive flesh forces the possibility of sleep further and further away, and you resort to distracting yourself with the motionless silhouette of Xavier. Petting through his hair, your rhythm is jolted every time Rafayel decides to leave a mark, nails pulling through Xavier’s locks as you bite your lip on a moan.

You don't miss the curve of his smirk against your skin, and the next kiss is accompanied by a bite, hard enough to elicit a sharp gasp that stirs Xavier. Tense, you scan the blonde's face, but he's nothing if not a heavy sleeper, and he nuzzles further into your touch, still unconscious as his head tucks under yours.

You don't get to sigh in relief. Instead, a whine builds in your throat, the wet heat of Rafayel's teeth tugging on the strap of your underwear as he fists your sleep shorts down.

"Rafayel, stop it,” you hiss as his hot breath hits the already embarrassingly damp center of your underwear.

His smile grows, lips brushing against your clothed core as he tilts his head. “Hmm? But you don’t sound like you want me to stop. And she certainly doesn’t sound like it either.” Two fingers dip under the band, and he parts your cunt with a lewd click.

Your face flushes in embarrassment, refusing to acknowledge just how easily your body gives in to them. One hand leaves Xavier, roughly fisting into Rafayel’s curls as he groans from the sharp pressure. “That’s because you and Xavier refused to wear protection!” 

The accusation earns a hushed laugh, his shoulders shaking against the insides of your thighs. It would have been innocent, the same contagious sort of smile gracing Rafayel’s face, if not the shadows cast across his face in the dark, teeth gleaming like fangs as he traces his tongue up the entire length of your clothed cunt. 

"M’sorry, we thought you'd enjoy the mess," he says, words muffled over your thighs, nose practically buried in between. "How can I make it up to you, cutie?”

You don’t get a chance to respond, not when Rafayel’s tongue dives into your clothed cunt, moaning against the soaked fabric as you gasp and force him closer by his hair. To muffle his sounds, you tell yourself. A pathetic lie considering how much louder he gets now, nose grinding up against your clit as his tongue tries to press into your fluttering cunt even with the barrier of cloth in between. 

God, he’s addicted, and it doesn’t take long until Rafayel’s spit and your slick soak through your underwear, the near-translucent fabric sticking to your lips as the bare minimum friction nearly drives you insane. 

“Say it,” Rafayel whines, nuzzling his face against your inner thigh. “Please, just tell me how badly you want me. Tell me, and I’ll do anything you ask.”

Like he wouldn’t already.

But how could you ever deny him when he begs so sweetly? 

Your palm cups his face, watching his near-wrecked expression and flushed skin tremble beneath your fingers.  “I’m yours, Rafayel.”

And the fabric is ripped into pieces. 

Refusing to even breathe, Rafayel places an opened-mouth kiss on your cunt, lapping up your slick with the most satisfied moan. He doesn't waste any time, not while your confession coated his mind with the sweetest type of intoxication, eating you out like he was depraved.

He might as well have been with how he moans, hips grinding desperately against the edge of the mattress, his not-entirely human tongue curling in and out of you as it writhes with terrifying accuracy against your walls.

It feels too good to be ashamed of the noises you make, gasping and crying out until you slam your palm over your mouth, biting down hard as the other claws into Rafayel’s hair. You can barely control yourself, half fighting to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure, half rocking your hips up and down his face as you jerk him closer. 

“Mhm, greedy.” Fucked-out, broken little grunts leave his throat before his words are muffled into your cunt, not baring to part for even a breath. “Pull on it, please. Harder.” 

You tug Rafayel’s hair almost in vengeance when he purposefully kisses away from where you need him most, licking and sucking obscenely into your thighs just to hear your frustrated cries even over your hand. 

He loved being used like this, so long as it was you. 

So long as it was him that turned you into such a beautiful, pathetic mess. 

It's not long until Rafayel pulls you close to the edge, nose pressing against your clit while thrusting his tongue into you, eyes rolling back from the taste and from the thought of your tight heat fluttering around his cock instead. 

And then, he stops, pulling away and leaving you gasping into the tear-stained pillow.

You bite back a sob, releasing only a choked little noise that has Rafayel's eyes flicking up to your face, the soft, concerned look in his eyes melting into something far more dangerous.

With viciously dilated pupils and your slick dripping from his mouth, Rafayel stares you down as every inch the dangerous siren the legends claimed him to be. He smiles, tongue raking over his teeth as though he couldn’t get enough of your taste, and you swear you’d let him eat your heart and soul. Gods, you’d let him eat you whole. 

You realize you must have made a sound, because Rafayel hushes you, pressing quick kisses to your knee. "Aw, what happened to being quiet? Aren't you afraid we'll wake the poor sleeping bunny?" 

At the mention of your other partner, you turn to where Xavier’s nuzzling his face further into your side, each warm breath damp against your feverish skin, still lost to the realm of dreams.

Not that Rafayel allows your attention to turn away from himself for too long. 

He leans over Xavier, the hand that wasn’t supporting his weight cupping your face, and his lips are crashing into yours with all the viciousness of a summer seastorm. Your lips part, and Rafeyel fucks his tongue into your mouth the same he did your pussy, wet and desperate, the taste of yourself enough to make you dizzy. 

"Tell me,” Rafayel’s tone dips into something darker, kissing down your throat and stomach as he eyes Xavier. “Who’s the better lover?" 

Xavier's fingers flex, the tips brushing against the curve of your breast as he sleeps, and Rafayel's smile is almost predatory.

"D-don't ask stupid questions you dumb fish," your voice cracks as Rafayel's mouth ghosts over your cunt, teeth bared to your thigh, threatening to bite. "I chose you both."

The confession, as expected, doesn't please him. If anything, he seems overly offended, pouting and huffing a cold breath of air right against your aching core. The chill makes you squirm, trying to force him back to your center with the grip you have on his hair.

"No. Nope. That's not an answer."

"Raf–"

His name breaks off in a moan, sound ripped from your throat as Rafayel's thumb starts rubbing firm circles around your neglected clit. He doesn't relent, the pressure too much, too quick, your body already trembling from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to torture you with.

Only, it seems that all your sudden noise and movement have finally begun to affect Xavier. Not enough to wake him, but enough that you can hear his breathing become heavier, following your every twitch and buck from Rafayel’s onslaught as his body begins to grind into yours.

Mumbling into your neck, Xavier’s hand tightens around your waist before slipping under your shirt to palm your breasts, squeezing and kneading until the touch has you keening.

Xavier's still fast asleep, nonsensical words slurred against your skin, and yet his body is now far from it. His erection is thick and heavy against your hips, grinding desperately into your warmth almost in time to Rafayel’s ministrations, whimpering under his breath with every forceful thrust. 

Rafayel notices too, his gaze drifting up to the blond. You can't see his face, already busied between your legs once more, but a pleased hum vibrates through his entire body, fingers finally slipping into your cunt as he curls them just right, your back arching off the sheets with a silent scream. 

Xavier whines at your sudden thrashing, tugging you closer and unknowingly forcing you immobile and at complete mercy to Rafayel’s unfairly skilled fingers. "Mhm, so warm. Please, m’want to..." Another needy, slow grind against you follows his sleepy request. 

"Rafayel," you choke out a muffled plea, but his eyes only narrow, taking a breath as his free hand grabs at Xavier's ass, the touch just light enough to tease and make him rut harder against you.

"What is it, cutie? Don't pretend like you don't want more, not when your pretty pussy's drooling for his cock. She’s so needy, am I not enough?”

Rafayel rests his head on the inside of your thigh, fingers thrusting roughly into that sweet spongy spot inside you just as his other hand wraps around the base of Xavier's cock through his boxers, thumbing over the pre-cum staining the dark fabric. 

You're forced to bite down on the pillow beneath your head to stop the desperate cry tearing itself out of your throat. "This isn’t- ah- isn’t right."

"Isn't it? You’re dripping and the little bunny’s still asleep, yet look how desperate he is, rutting against you." Rafayel's voice dips, a raspy edge from his throat still fucking into you making it even more sinful, slurping everything you give him around his fingers before it drips down his wrist and into a puddle below. A huff, “I should get rewarded with how much effort I’m putting in.”

You cry out, legs trembling as his thumb begins its relentless attack on your clit, tracing mindless circles just random enough to keep you on edge. You're close, and Rafayel can feel it.

Xavier isn’t faring much better, whimpering a string of incoherent pleas into the crook of your neck as his hips keep rocking into the fist around him. He doesn't take his mouth away from the skin of your shoulder, biting down on it as he cums, shuddering and whimpering as the mess splatters down Rafayel's knuckles and onto your thighs. 

“You’re next. If you won’t be honest with me, I’ll make your body is.” Rafayel’s taunt is the last coherent thing you remember before you come. Hard. His words ring against your skull as his fingers pump into you faster, and the pressure against your clit becomes almost unbearable, and you're falling apart, crying and thrashing, the only thing keeping you grounded is the feeling of Rafayel's weight and the scent of Xavier's strawberry shampoo, and then—

Rafayel finally shuts up to let you ride his face through your high, letting you use him as your thighs lock around his head, grinding desperately as though he were no more than a toy. No chance of breathing, no chance of escape. 

Not that he could care less, not as long as he could keep his lips around your gushing cunt, humming and sucking into your release as cum sprays over his tongue and down his chin. Gods, he could never get enough of this.

You're still shaking through your orgasm, pliant and stupid from the dizzying pleasure, that you don't notice the rustle of sheets until a second pair of hands slide down your thighs. 

"You’re doing this without me?" 

Xavier’s voice is a whisper, husky from sleep and his orgasm as he presses a kiss right below your ear, fingers squeezing rougher against your breasts.

"S-sorry. Didn't want to wake you," you try, biting back a gasp when his thumb flicks over a nipple. Rough. Mean. 

Rafayel snorts. "I think it's a bit too late for that.” A glare at Xavier over your leg, showing off your cum still dripping from his lips and fingers. ”Besides, I didn't need you."

You want to argue, really, but then Xavier is grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging just hard enough to push your head back, coaxing a moan from your throat as he marks down your neck with kisses intending to bruise. He’s pouting, grabbing your jaw as he forces your gaze away from Rafayel, nipping your bottom lip until you surrender to his drowsy advances.

“Why…” Another kiss before Xavier's licking desperately into your mouth, “Why didn't you wake me?"

The question comes out a little breathless, almost petulant, eyes hooded and dark as he looks over the mess Rafayel has made of you. He can't tear his eyes away, watching Rafayel even as he kisses you. His fingers flick over your nipple again, twisting and pinching until you're shaking, your thighs squeezing Rafayel's face, all while Xavier watches.

Said man only smiles, all smug arrogance. "Didn't you hear her, Xav? She said she didn't want to wake you, so don't blame me."

Rafayel drags a wet, open-mouthed kiss over your cunt, the overstimulation making you break the kiss with a gasp.

"Liar." Xavier's voice trembles, and you can't tell if he's referring to Rafayel's words, or the way he's staring longingly at Rafayel's lips now, still slick with your release. "You just wanted her all to yourself."

He doesn't bother giving Rafayel a chance to retort, taking the punishment out on you as he dips his head underneath your folded-up shirt, groaning as his hot tongue rolls over your nipple, sucking at the stiff peak as his hand continues to assault the other. The onslaught has you whimpering, pushing and clawing against Xavier’s shoulder to try and fight him off as he refuses to let go for even a moment. 

Rafayel's not one to be ignored, not when he has the advantage, and his tongue is back to fucking into your cunt with no reprieve, a cruel smirk on his face as you writhe and beg for their mercy.

Your hips roll, torn between pleasure and oversensitivity, unable to escape either of the men. It's overwhelming. Too much, too quickly, you only just came and you're already getting dragged back.

"Ah! Stop, I'm already mhm—"

You're interrupted by Xavier's tongue slipping into your mouth, a filthy, lazy slide that makes you grind up into Rafayel's tongue. It's like he doesn't even need to breathe, the wet, sloppy sounds of him eating you out drowned out only by the sound of Xavier kissing you senseless, pausing just to nip and suck at your breasts as though he'll get rewarded if he just tries hard enough. 

"You want him to stop? Is the mermaid not enough to satisfy you, princess?" Xavier taunts, lips brushing against your ear as his hips push up, grinding his cock against your thigh. "If that's the case, perhaps we should switch. I can give you exactly what you want, remember?"

“Shut up, I’m the one making her cum.”

“Only cause I wasn’t awake yet.”

“You snooze, you lose. Whose fault is that? Oh ya, yours.” 

They're at each other's throats yet again, practically clawing and snapping at each other, and you're helpless to try and intervene when they take their faux anger out on your poor abused body. 

You can't think, can't focus, can't do anything but shake and pant and sob into the pillow, their combined weight on top of you, forcing your pleasure higher and higher. 

“Xav—" He cuts you off with a kiss. 

“Shh, just take it."

You can't even tell who’s sloppier anymore- Xavier fucking your mouth with his tongue or Rafayel still eating you through your second orgasm, the sudden hit of it thundering down your body. 

“You look so pretty when you come," Xavier moans into your lips, his eyes half-lidded and glazed, hand coming up to stroke your cheek as he watches you, a sharp contrast to the other still rolling against your swollen nipple, loving the way you jerk into his touch. Then a glare to the man below. "My turn.”

Your body is still trembling, Rafayel's merciless fingers not allowing you to come down from your high, aftershocks of hypersensitivity crashing down your spine as every muscle spasms. No more. No more, please. You can’t possibly come again. 

You don't realize you’re begging out loud, not until Xavier shushes you with another bruising kiss. 

But it doesn't seem like Rafayel has any plans on stopping, not until Xavier’s hand skims down your thighs and yanks him up by the chain of his necklace. 

Rafayel growls as he's practically forced off your weeping cunt, eyes bleary and unfocused as he fights the blond's grip. And god, he looks absolutely wrecked, spit and cum dripping from his mouth and chin, connecting his lips to your pussy in sticky wet strands before they break, and you feel the unmistakable bulge of his cock straining against his soaked boxers. 

Xavier yanks him forward, pulling the necklace chain until he crashes his lips onto Rafayel's, all teeth and tongue, desperate to get a taste of your cum from his mouth. It's filthy, and Rafayel is the first to give in, still drunk off your taste and now Xavier's too.

"Mhm, you taste like her," Xavier whispers, pulling him closer until their bodies are pressed together, his mouth still moving against Rafayel's swollen, parted lips.

"Ya?" Rafayel’s grin is predatory, all fang and sin. "You wanna try too, don’t you? Give in then, bunny, lie down for us.”

"I don't take orders from you." 

Xavier scowls against Rafayel's lips, but you can feel his resolve breaking, his arm trembling where it rests against your thigh. 

"No, you take them from her, and she asked us so, so nicely to make her come. You wouldn't dare deny her that, would you?”

The Lemurian is nothing if not dangerously persistent, one hand coaxing Xavier backward so gently you don’t think he realizes how easily he’s falling, the other clawing down his abs as Rafayel bites against the erratic thud of Xavier’s pulse. Sharp and bruising, a silent promise for what to come. "Or do you wanna eat her out like I did? Have her ride your face while I fuck into her poor, desperate cunt? I can't decide, there are so many options."

“No.” It’s more a plea than a demand. Xavier's voice shakes with need, and you watch, dizzy and panting, as Rafayel's fingers slip underneath the waistband of Xavier's boxers. His fingers, still dripping with your cum, brush down the length of his cock, thumb circling the sensitive head and smearing the copious amount of pre-cum leaking from it. “You had y-your turn.” 

He can hardly finish his objection, not when Rafayel’s thumb comes up to abuse his leaking slit, Xavier’s words slurring into a desperate whine as he practically collapses back onto his elbows. Immediately, Rafayel is atop him.

"A competition, then." Rafayel leans down to whisper into Xavier's ear, but the words are purposefully teased out loud enough for you to hear, “But you lose if you cum first, and I get to fuck her.”

It's a low blow, a challenge he knows Xavier can't turn down. 

A challenge that somehow has you poised once again as the torment and the reward.

And it's true, because the second the words register, the blond's eyes shoot open, and his cock jerks violently against Rafeyel’s palm, a broken sound leaving his lips as his eyes lock back onto yours with all the promise of a starving hunter.

"Deal.”

Xavier doesn't allow the agreement to go without a price. Something snaps, the bedroom flickering with a sudden darkness as all the light vanishes. 

One moment, you’re lying against the bed, and the next Xavier manhandles you to your knees, one hand forcing your arms behind your back as he tugs you against him, the other pinning Rafayel to the mattress.

Rafayel’s the very picture of smug sin, the feral expression far more genuine, less threatening and much more amused as he nestles further into the pillows, one arm tucked lazily behind his head. 

Cold fingers dance up your hips, and Rafayel drags your bare cunt over his thighs and onto his lap, a pleased sigh escaping his lips as you're pinned deliciously between his cock and Xavier's sculpted back.

"So needy, little bunny."

"Shut up. I'm not the one who's leaking."

Rafayel snorts, and before the two can start fighting again, you're leaning forward, a hand resting against Rafayel's abs as you cup his erection through his boxers. And when he moans you believe every myth, every fairytale singing the doom of sailors to a siren song, because every sound he gives you is addictive and sweet enough that you’d drown to hear it again. 

Pulling Rafayel's cock out from his boxers, you’re stunned yet again by the slightly non-human beauty of it, heavy and thick in your palm, the flushed, ruddy tip already drooling precum as you thumb at it in vengeance. You know Xavier's watching from the way his own cock twitches against your back, hands digging bruises into your hips. Then, the warmth at your back disappears. 

Instead, a pair of hands drag your ass up, forcing you into a deep arch as you scramble for purchase against Rafayel’s thigh and the bed below.

“Closer.” Xavier’s hand laces into your hair as he pushes your head down, forcing your mouth to nuzzle against the base of Rafayel's cock. 

The movement pulls a gasp from both of you, your hot breath teasing the sensitive skin of Rafayel's shaft and forcing a shudder from his entire body. 

Seeing the two of you completely at his mercy does terrible, horrible things to Xavier, and his fingers dig bruises into your hips as it takes him everything not to forgo the competition and fuck you right there. 

"Good girl,” he hums, voice trembling as his grip tightens against your hair, giving you a harsh glare when you whine and squirm in his hold. "Now open."

You can't bring yourself to say no, not when the sight of Rafayel's eyes rolling back the second you do makes your stomach clench. His cock twitches against you as you lick at the copious amounts of cum leaking from his tip, then obediently wrap your lips around him.

With a smile that would have you shaking, Xavier leans down, barely able to continue guiding your head as he’s entranced with the mess between your legs, licking up the slick dripping down your thighs as he sucks against the delicate flesh, marking right over the sensitive bruises Rafayel had only just left behind. 

 “This- hah-” Rafayel curses under his breath, the single word breaking off into a moan, the sound muffled by his palm as his chest heaves. “This is hardly fair.”

But his complaints feel half-hearted, not with the way he’s already rutting into your mouth, Xavier’s iron grip keeping you in place as Rafayel thrusts himself into your mouth in one breath. You yield pathetically quick, flattening your tongue against the slick underside of his cock, another stream of pre-cum flooding your mouth as you nearly choke on it all, unable to pull off to even take a breath as Xavier guides your head up and down in a steady rhythm that has Rafayel falling apart. 

It’s cruel, but you can't help each pathetic moan that gets muffed onto Rafayel’s cock, the vibrations forcing his back to arch off the bed, head rolling back as it thuds against the pillows, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps in shallow breaths.

You almost wish he would let you see his eyes, but then you'd miss the view of his chest, every muscle tight and twitching under his skin, the mesmerizing sight now blurry from the tears forming in your eyes. You can't resist reaching up, dragging your nails down his abs, watching his body jerk against every new line of red.

"Please,” you're not sure if the broken whimper belonged to Rafayel or yourself. “Please, I can't wait anymore, wanna feel you— fuck— wanna fill you up again, please let me cum." It's like just the very thought has Rafayel keening, his hips jerking up into your hot mouth with reckless abandon as Xavier forces your spine up into a deeper arch.

You're nearly bent in half, the new angle leaving no part of you hidden from Xavier's hungry gaze as he watches you practically drool over Rafayel’s cock, lips meeting his pelvis as he breaches your throat. 

Xavier’s going to win. He needs to win. 

The thought makes him frantic, tongue fucking past the tight resistance of your cunt, his hand sliding up to tease at your clit. He won't be the one to finish first, not this time. Not when he's wanted nothing more than to feel your cunt gushing around him ever since Rafayel woke him up, ever since the two of you had the audacity to start this without him.

Rafayel can’t last much longer, especially not when you bring one shaking hand down to massage his swollen balls, hardly in control of your own movements as you feel dizzy on the addictive combination from the lack of oxygen and pleasure as Xavier begins to eat you out like a man starved. 

The room’s filled with the sounds of each slick, messy movement, whimpers from the man beneath you and breathless pleas from the one behind, bed rattling with every thrust. 

And yet you’re still so painfully empty. So, so, empty as your cunt flutters around Xavier’s tongue before he relents to kiss your clit once more, dragging a dissatisfied whine from you as you fight yourself off Rafayel’s cock. 

"F-fuck me. Please," A sob, and you feel both Rafayel and Xavier shudder. "It’s not enough. Want your cocks inside me, wanna cum on it. Need it, please-"

Oh, and when you beg like that, they should have known they never would have stood a chance.

"Shit."

"Ah, please-"

It's a blur. A rush of hands, of pleasure and pain, all of it colliding and dragging you to the edge. The room spins, the ceiling above you falling until the familiar, comforting feeling of slick muscle embraces you, grounding you as you focus on the erratic heartbeat between each ragged exhale. 

You're still sandwiched between them, lying on Rafayel as Xavier's weight drapes across your back, head propped up on the former's chest as you stare blearily at his silver pendant, unable to move. You're not even sure if you can, not with the way Xavier's still gripping the backs of your thighs, spreading you open as he forces one leg higher up.

Then, the blunt head of his cock grinds between your folds.

Xavier’s pressing his forehead against your back, wrapping his arms around you before biting into the crook of your neck. "You mean it? You’ll let us come inside again?"

Rafayel laughs, a raspy sound still raw from his orgasm. "Well, we both lost. Now what, bunny? We can't just leave her like this, poor thing is trembling." 

"Mhm,” Xavier forces you up, “We both fuck her then."

His words only make you whimper, body jerking uselessly against Xavier's grip. His hands lift you as Rafayel flips you around so you're now facing the blond, flinching violently as his cock brushes your swollen clit, any semblance of protest quelled as Xavier pulls you into another messy kiss. 

It’s demanding, Xavier mumbling achingly sweet praises into your open mouth as he begins to press you down, faster, harsher, forcing you onto Rafayel’s lap in a reverse cowgirl as you slide down slowly, taking inch by inch of Rafayel’s throbbing cock. There’s hardly any blue left in Xavier’s blow-out pupils, too mesmerized by the slick mess you’re gushing down their thighs. And just when you begin to squirm, impatient and desperate, Xavier slows their pace even more.

"Shhh, we need to make sure you'll be able to take both of us."

Rafayel's hand is wrapped around your waist, thumb rubbing small circles into your stomach, and if it weren't for Xavier's arms locked around you, holding you upright, you would have collapsed the second Rafayel pressed into the spot his fingers had found.

"Look at you," he purrs, a low sound that has you gasping. "So pretty when you’re needy. Can you feel me?"

It's hard not to. Everywhere feels warm, and every slow thrust, no matter how gentle, has a small burst of ecstasy building in your stomach, a wave crashing higher and higher as the two of them slowly fuck you full. Just as you’re nearly seated all the way onto Rafayel’s length, Xavier’s palms come up to the back of your knees, folding them up and forcing you backward until you’re practically lying prone atop of Rafayel.

Your head lolls uselessly against Rafayel's neck, gasping at the force of the new position,  and you're not sure if it's the tears in your eyes or the overwhelming pressure against your walls as they stretch around his cock that's making the world so blurry. Xavier soon follows you down, pressing you closer into Rafayel’s chest as his lips trail your jaw, your neck, your sucking against every sensitive spot behind your ears until you're distracted from the pain.

"You're doing so good, princess. Just a little more."

The sudden onslaught of pressure of both of you atop him has Rafayel flinching, and he hisses out a pained moan, hips jerking up into the slick heat of your pussy, and it's only Xavier's grip that keeps the two of you from slipping off.

"Hah- hurry up-" Rafayel's eyes are glassy, his head tipped back and face twisted in pleasure. 

Strings of incoherent pleas are whispered against your ear, Rafayel marking up the left side of your neck while Xavier’s still busy with the right, that is, until Xavier switches sides, biting right over Rafayel’s marks until he’s pulled up into a desperate kiss.

The wet sounds of their lips are filthy and obscene, each hot breath and moan brushing past your ear as you writhe, pressed between them. Rafayel's cock is already swelling, twitching against the fluttering walls of your pussy, unwilling to fully pull out, settling to just grinding up in slow, cruel thrusts before something in him snaps and he switches to pounding against your abused walls.

Every time you think you’ll finally come Rafayel switches pace, the obscene slap of skin on skin muffled only by your sobs and their kissing. 

You’re close, so so fucking close you feel your muscles begin to shake. Xavier only pushes you down further, every angle a new cruelty, smothering you between them, rendering you unable to do anything but take it.

Again, Rafayel slows, and you slur curses down at him as your thighs tremble from overstimulation, shaking violently until you feel something grab your calf. Xavier massages the quivering muscle, gentle until he’s suddenly pressing your knee higher and higher, going until it’s pinned to the mattress up against your head.

And now Rafayel is hitting impossibly deeper, abusing your poor g-spot with each thrust. 

Xavier kisses your ankle, then calf, making his way up your leg until he can nip at your inner thighs now folded over his shoulder. And then you feel the pressure of his cock at your already full entrance. Xavier’s hand dips down between your bodies, trying to bully himself in alongside Rafayel, but his cock slides past your navel, slick and covered in your combined cum. 

"No, no no, not gonna fit- ah- Xavier!"

Your words break off into a wail as he tries again, grinding closer so you’re tightly cradled between the two, Xavier leaning fully atop you both. A snarl grits through his jaw when his cock slips past again, readjusting you so your legs fall apart wider, the burn in your thighs turning delicious and overwhelming, pussy weeping around Rafayel’s cock as Xavier’s swollen, leaking head bumps against your clit. 

Xavier watches the mess, every thrust and messy squirt of cum, brows furrowed and flushed a deep red, as he whines into your shoulder, "Please- can't stop- please let me fuck you too, you'll look so pretty with both of us filling you up, taking us so good- don’t make me stop."

He’s reduced to babbling against your neck, biting down hard enough to bleed when your cunt finally yields to him too, cockhead bumping into Rafayel’s as he slowly pushes in inch and inch, trembling from the combined pleasure of your walls and the violent throbbing of every vein now grinding together.

It's too much, it’s not enough, the stretch and the friction and the pressure leaving you fucked stupid, hands scrambling for purchase. Rafayel grunts when your nails drag across his thighs, his own hands coming to latch onto your wrists, pinning them above his head, forcing you motionless between them.

You can do nothing but sob, tears streaming down your face as your entire body convulses. And when they finally, finally bottom out together, the world goes white.

"Shh, you're alright," Rafayel soothes, although his voice is trembling, the sound broken as he tries to catch his breath. "Doing so well for us, cutie, so perfect."

Xavier growls, his hands grabbing the headboard. He's barely holding on, not with the way Rafayel's cock twitches against his own, your hot walls clenched tightly around the two of them as you beg.

"Please, can't- too much, more, I need-"

There's a broken sob, and then Xavier’s slamming his hips forward, fucking into you with a brutality he usually saves for Rafayel, the force sending the three of you rocking against the mattress, headboard splintering under the strength of his grip. The other leaves to thumb at your nipples, lips following suit as he rambles, drunk off your pussy, "These would look s'pretty filled, even more sensitive. Bet you'd let us milk you, fill you up even more."

"And here, you'll feel us here too, won't you?" A hand moves lower- whose you no longer are coherent enough to care- brushing over the swell of your abdomen, the slight bulge appearing and disappearing where both of them are thrusting violently into you. "Be a waste not to. Imagine it, a painted mess filled with us.”

And you are. You can't think about anything else, not with the way they're stuffing you full— every time Rafayel's cock would settle near your g-spot Xavier’s would ram back in, forcing the former up against your cervix before pulling out entirely, repeating the vicious rhythm as the pain bled into pleasure. 

Tears stream down the side of your face, room spinning into dizziness until all that remains are the burning trails of their touch, the only things keeping you grounded. 

Rafayel's sucking into your shoulder, biting the sweat-slicked flesh, and you can feel his hips begin to stutter underneath you, already reaching his high despite Xavier still pounding into you with the same intensity, desperate to catch up.

The moment Xavier feels Rafayel's release, it's over. Your back arches up against him, convulsing against their hold, your abused walls clenching down so tightly that you’re practically begging for them to come inside, sucking them in deeper and deeper until it’s impossible for them not to follow.

It's a violent orgasm, hot squirt of your cum drenching Xavier’s abs, the intensity of it causing Rafayel’s vision to white out too, unable to hear the desperate sounds of your moans, not when his blood is rushing past his ears.

Then, the world comes crashing back.

Rafayel’s panting, still thrusting weakly into the slick, tight heat as he emptied himself inside you, the sheer overload of it gushing down your legs and onto the sheets. 

"Ah- Xavier," you whine, the sound muffled into his chest as Xavier continues to chase after his high, too lost in his late orgasm to pull out.

The overstimulation is torture, your body twitching and trembling with every sloppy thrust. The moment he finally pulls out, the mess follows, thick, white rivets leaking down your thighs, the sheer volume near damn concerning had you the capacity to focus on it.

Rafayel laughs, fingers swirling through the cum as though painting your thighs, "That's not going to be easy to clean up."

"S'gonna look pretty. Messy. Full." Xavier murmurs, still pinning the both of you beneath him as he collapses in exhaustion, fingers dancing over the small swell in your stomach. Pressing lightly, he watches in fascination as their mixed cum gushes out faster, and you whimper, gripping his wrists to stop before they get any more ideas. 

You're not sure what's worse, the fact that they're both still hard and the way they're looking at you, or the fact that their words have your exhausted body already trying to recover, a shiver running through your sore muscles as the room's cool air brushes over the slick, sticky mess between your thighs.

"You're both so disgusting," you groan, the words coming out slurred and barely audible. 

"You love it."

"Yeah," Xavier's agreement is soft and almost hesitant. "You love us."

"Yes, I love both of you. Now get the fuck off of me." A shove, your shaking arm barely affecting Xavier as he finally relents, a small smile on his lips as he rolls the three of you down into the bed, resting on your sides. 

The muscles in your thighs scream in relief as they’re finally placed down, every inch of your body sore and marked up in one way or another, every visible bruise and bite getting pampered in faux apologies by the two men snuggling up next to you.

It’s a tangle of limbs, Xavier already claiming your chest again as he nuzzles into your breasts while Rafayel simply curls himself around your back. A hand there, an arm there, and a little more muffled bickering. Yet you all fit together, and sleep comes easy now. 

And the nightmares never return. 

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 4: Supportive Boyfriends

and for my next (LATE, SO LATE) @bucktommypositivityweek contribution. KITTEN FIC.

(read on ao3)

**

The 118 doesn't have a baby box.

In fact there aren't any in the state of California at all. Buck looked it up, after Maddie's postpartum episode. When half his family was missing and there wasn't much he could do besides wait and... think about things.

So he thought about safe haven laws. Read up on the training seminars for first responders who want to be better equipped to deal with hand-offs. Read a bunch of other stuff he sort of wishes he hadn't. Spent the next week haunted by articles about abandoned children.

He considered talking to Bobby about it. Only partly to ask him if they should get a box for the firehouse. Partly because Buck wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, and Bobby always seemed to have answers. But he never worked up the nerve to broach the subject.

And now. Bobby's not captain anymore, and Buck really can't imagine Gerrard giving a shit about any of this.

So, they don't have a box. But.

Well, this isn't a human baby. It's not like the same rules apply.

Buck has to wonder if wires got crossed somewhere, because. Someone left a kitten. Outside the firehouse.

Buck was just going to grab something—he can't remember what—from his Jeep, when he spotted an unlabelled cardboard box on the pavement, up against the side of the building. His first thought was bomb.

Until it meowed at him. A tiny, high-pitched peep of a meow.

Kind of scared the shit out of him, if he's being honest.

There's only one. All alone in the box. A poofy grey thing wriggling around half buried in an off-white towel. Like a very ambitious dust bunny with big round blue eyes and skinny legs. It wobbles slowly over a fold in the towel with all the effort of someone scaling a mountain.

Buck crouches next to the box, and pokes a finger inside.

"Hey, buddy," he murmurs, holding very still while the kitten inches towards his hand and squeaks. It's unclear whether there are teeth in that little maw. That means it's really young, right? Too young to be left alone for very long.

Shit, how is he going to explain this to Gerrard? He's still got, like, 12 hours left on his shift, but someone has to feed this thing. How long can kittens go without food?

Oh, it does have teeth. Really teeny ones. They're ineffectively poking his knuckle.

Buck fishes his phone out of his jacket—with the hand that isn't currently being drooled on—intending to go to Google for answers. How to figure out how old a kitten is. How often do kittens need to be fed. Do cats get separation anxiety. He has a million questions.

Only he doesn't pull up his browser. He calls Tommy.

It's a whim. Barely a seed of an idea. But when he unlocked his phone the first thing he saw was their text history (he'd been complaining about Gerrard off-and-on all morning, and Tommy had been sending random updates about all the chores he'd been getting done—his last message was a picture of a mop with no context) and he just thought... Tommy will know what to do. Not in so many words, more a feeling. Comfort and certainty, just from seeing Tommy's picture in a little bubble at the top of his screen.

"Evan?" Tommy answers almost immediately, and there's a subtle undercurrent of worry in his tone. Buck winces. Right, calling out of the blue while he's at work would look. Bad.

"I'm okay!" He says quickly, all in one breath. Then pauses. The kitten squints up at him, meowing again, long and loud. Its whole fluffy face scrunches with the effort.

"...What was that?"

"Uh. That would be why I called, actually."

—

Gerrard is less of an obstacle than Buck feared he'd be. Because he's holed up in his office doing paperwork when Buck sneaks in with the kitten, and Buck's decided he has no intention of letting him know the cat was ever here.

Tommy promised he'd come get her.

Buck didn't even really ask, and wasn't planning on asking. Didn't have any plan whatsoever, in fact. He just wanted to know if Tommy knew anything about taking care of kittens, and suddenly Tommy's voluntarily sacrificing the rest of his day off to scope out vets and pet supply stores and whatever else Buck's helpless little friend might need.

He hung up hours ago and his insides still feel warm and goopy about it. He can't stop thinking about the gentle fondness that softened Tommy's voice after Buck explained the situation. Buck would wrap himself up in it like a blanket if he could.

Tommy's getting so kissed when he shows up.

In the meantime, Buck's sitting upstairs, working his way through the dozen or so tabs he opened up after googling kitten care.

He thinks the one he found might be around three weeks old (ears not quite unfurled, can't sheathe claws yet, legs unsteady but mobile). And possibly a girl. She did not care for being picked up and turned over, and the indignant squirming made it difficult to tell what's going on down there. But he's almost certain he's right.

She was shrieking up a storm about it, and he was worried if he took any longer she'd alert Gerrard. (She didn't. She did, however, draw the attention of about half the firehouse.)

"You are disgustingly cute," Chimney coos, scratching under her chin with the tip of one finger. She's lifted her head as high as she can and her eyes are squinted happily. Buck can hear her purring from across the room. "Yes you are. Hen, can you get a picture of this?"

Hen pulls out her phone. "Sure... why?" She asks, leaning over his shoulder to snap a picture and eye him with mild suspicion.

"Jee. She'll wanna see when I tell her about my day."

Her expression softens to a smile. "I'll text it to you." She taps her screen a couple times. "Just had to make sure you weren't planning on calendar campaigning again."

Chimney grins. "Nah, my calendar days are behind me. The only person who gets shirtless pictures of me now is my wife."

"Gross," Buck says without conviction. He narrows his eyes at the site he's scrolling through, swiping away a Join Our Mailing List! popup. "You guys don't think she's cold do you? Are her ears warm? It's only, like, 70 today and we don't know how long she was out there."

Hen and Chim exchange glances, and then, disturbingly in sync, look from the cat to Buck. Chim gives her ear a perfunctory poke, which she does not appreciate as much as chin scritches, "She's fine, man."

Hen waves a hand at Buck when he opens his mouth again, "We're medical professionals. And in my medically professional opinion. She's fine."

"Okay, but—"

"Hey guys, look who stopped b—uhhh. Is that a cat?" Eddie slows to a stop at the top of the stairs, blinking at the kitten on the couch. "When did we get a cat?"

"Couple hours ago," Buck says, still frowning at Hen and Chimney. "Where have you been?"

"I found him polishing the engine."

Buck shoots out of his seat. "Tommy!"

He only half-hears Eddie muttering, "Favouritism," as he scuttles around the chair to meet Tommy halfway between the stairs and the sitting area. Tommy has just enough time to smile—and it warms Buck, like it always does, with a spark caught in his chest for safekeeping—and say hi before Buck's on him, palms clapped on either side of his face, smushing their lips together.

He makes a bit of a show of it, dramatically swooping in, because he knows the big smacking MWAH will make Tommy laugh, and he likes the way that feels rumbling against his chest.

Buck taps their noses together. "Hey," he says, savouring the mirth sparkling in Tommy's eyes for a second before kissing him again, properly this time.

His brain goes sort of fuzzy when Tommy's palm cups the back of his neck.

Someone in the distance wolf-whistles.

When they finally come up for air Tommy asks, "What was that for?" a little breathlessly, which is doing things to Buck.

"Mmn...y'know. For being you."

Tommy raises his eyebrows, kiss-reddened lips curling fondly. "Okay."

"Hey, Tommy. Good to see you," Chim calls in a very pointed way.

Right, public setting. Workplace. Friends watching. Buck exhales slowly, and tries to think about anything other than how much he wants to bite that bit of clavicle peeking out of the collar of Tommy's shirt. Like the fact that Tommy's hands are warm, and he's sort of rubbing his fingertips over the short stubbly bits of hair on the back of Buck's head, and Buck's lips are still tingling a little, and—no wait, not that either.

Tommy pulls away first, which is probably for the best, but also very sad. The corner of his mouth twitches like he can see Buck thinking it. He curls his index finger and gently taps Buck's chin with the knuckle before he turns to the group.

"Howie," he says, not even pretending to be contrite in the face of Chim's mock-judgement. "Hen."

"Tommy." Hen fails to contain her smirk.

Some time during all the kissing, Eddie moved over to the couch. He's sat next to the kitten, watching her attempt to groom her paw with all the grace of a toddler who's only a little bit sure they know how to hold a brush. She keeps starting and stopping at random intervals, sometimes licking the cushion beside her, sometimes sticking her tongue out at thin air.

She's so cute it makes Buck's chest hurt. It's a little much while he's still loopy from making out with his boyfriend.

Then Tommy goes and crouches next to the couch so he can get eye-level with the kitten while she sniffs his hand, talking to her all calm and soft with smile-lines crinkling his cheeks, and. Buck might need to lie down for a bit. Like, on top of Tommy, preferably.

The kitten seems to like him too, and he really can't blame her when she crawls up Tommy's sleeve to perch on his shoulder.

She looks so much smaller cuddled up on Tommy. He reaches up to steady her, and she's almost entirely obscured by his hand.

God, is it wrong that he's getting a little hot under the collar about that? He just looks so strong and competent and at the same time, like, gentle. Buck knows how it feels to be touched tenderly by those hands, and apparently just seeing it happen does not affect him any less. In fact it's only added dimensions to his desires.

"I should probably get going," Tommy says, bringing Buck back down to Earth with a resounding splat.

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. He's right. The last thing Buck wants is for Tommy to have another run-in with Gerrard, and they don't know how long the old bastard's gonna be occupied.

"Mhm, run while you still can," Chimney pipes up. "Before our dear old captain smells an opportunity to ruin someone's day."

"He does seem to have a sixth sense for that," Eddie adds sullenly. Buck makes a note to ask him what that was about. Later.

"I'll walk you out," Buck says, trying not to sound like a pouting child. He's fairly certain he fails, because Tommy laces their fingers together and gives his hand a comforting squeeze.

He says his goodbyes, the whole time being careful not to dislodge the kitten while she crawls across his shoulders.

Buck goes through the list of kitten care basics he memorized as they make their way to the parking lot. It's...more than he thought it was, honestly. It starts to feel overwhelming as he goes on, and on, and on. He's running out of time to get it all out, and he feels like it's just now sinking in his huge this responsibility that he's dumping in Tommy's lap is.

"You're sure you don't mind taking her?" The question bursts out of Buck before they make it to Tommy's car. "W-we didn't really, I mean. We talked about it over the phone, but..."

"Yeah, now that I've seen her she does seem like a real handful."

The kitten yawns, and curls up into a tiny grey ball in the crook of Tommy's neck.

Well. Alright.

"It's just, t-they need a lot of attention when they're that young, and I kinda just, just dropped this on you."

"Evan." Tommy gives him a look. "Are you worried that you baby-trapped me?"

Okay, when he puts it like that. Maybe a little bit. But also now he's having complicated yearning feelings that he really should not be having this early in the relationship.

Buck's pretty sure he looks like a deer in the headlights right now, because Tommy's doing his damnedest to pretend he isn't laughing at him.

He tugs Buck's hand, leading him the rest of the way to his car.

The backseat is full of cat stuff. Containers of milk-replacement powders, and a shiny plastic litter box, and toys, so many toys, baggies of fake mice and feathery things, just. So much stuff. Piles of it.

"I called up a friend who used to foster kittens. She had a lot of advice. And then I got a little carried away."

"I, uh. See that," Buck laughs breathlessly.

"Over the phone, you sounded like this meant a lot to you? And I think I got really attached to the idea of...this. Taking care of her for you. With you." He sounds hesitant, like he's trying not to say too much, and Buck can't stand it—

"I love you so much," he says in a rush.

"Well, good," Tommy purses his lips around a smile, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners. He reaches up to his shoulder, like he's absent-mindedly checking to see if the kitten's still there. "Wouldn't want her to grow up in a broken home."

Buck huffs a laugh.

"And I love you too."

[chleem]

Flashing lights prologue

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ ps: chapter one out! index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Talk about a scandal. 

‘Drew Starkey, rising star from OBX, impregnates girl and refuses to take responsibility.’ ‘Drew Starkey impregnates girl and forces her for an abortion.’ ‘All to know about OBX star that SA a girl.’

Even an interview starring a random girl that claims to be pregnant with Drew’s child. 

If Drew knew going to the club a week ago would cause such big damage to his career, he would have never stop foot in there. But being stubborn and a sucker for fun, he just needed the relaxation that clubbing would offer. 

His PR manager Henry, who Drew’s only sees once a year, is surprisingly quiet. He sits across Drew, staring at his laptop. His typing makes up for the quiet and tense (at least for Drew) atmosphere in his manager’s office. 

“I’m sorry,” Drew starts, genuinely, his eyes shifting between his manager Jeff and Henry. “Look, I don’t know who that woman is. She’s lying, alright? I didn’t even talk to any strangers last night. Just my friends. And I was careful with how much I drank-”

“Calm down, we didn’t accuse you of it,” Jeff chuckles, also surprisingly calm and not scolding Drew. Normally, Jeff would scold Drew so hard that it took Drew back to the days of being coached by his dad. “I’ve worked with you for almost ten years, I know you wouldn’t do that.”

Hold up. Was this a dream? He fucked up real bad, why were his managers so forgiving? So… calm? This felt way too strange. They should be furious right now, thinking of a solution and threatening to kill Drew. So why were they so gentle with this situation?

Drew adjusts his hat, pocking his tongue against his cheek. Without thinking, he simply says, “What?”

Jeff glances at Henry, who nods, looking up from his laptop. Drew furrows his eyebrows at Jeff, who simply looks away as Henry starts. “Fine, Drew. We’re all fucking pissed at your mistake. Do you know how many sponsors have asked to break up your contract? Even after we’ve came up with a clean statement? For fuck’s sake, Drew. You’re fucking thirty now, and you still act like a fucking child!”

Drew licks his lips looking away. Okay, this was the Henry he saw yelling at other artists, and what he expected when he walked into the office this morning. But now that he was yelling at him, it felt horrible still. After all, who likes to be yelled at? 

“I’ve had to pull multiple strings to help you, to clear your name up. So you better hope this is your last mistake,” Henry continues. 

Drew couldn’t help but ask, “what did you do?”

“We’ve come up with a plan,” Henry says, walking over to the printer. He grabs the paper, taking a quick look before placing it on the table in front of Drew.

Drew’s eyebrows furrow, sensing something really strange. 

And he was right. On the top of the paper, it read, “Fake dating Proposal.”

What the fuck. He reads through the first sentence in his head, with widen eyes, “In order to save Drew Starkey’s career, he must conduct a year-long fake relationship with Y/n Y/l/n.”

He falls back in his seat. “You’re not fucking serious. This is the strings you had to pull? This is fucking ridiculous! How is this-“

“Drew!” Jeff yells, making him shut up. His face was slightly red, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Drew, trust us. We wouldn’t cause more harm. This, this will save your career, save you.”

“but out of anyone-“ Drew adjusts his hat once again. “Out of anyone, and you chose her?”

“She’s the best choice of right now, and the only one who even agreed. Drew. You’re not in the place of choosing. You sign, and you accept it. Or it’s the end.”

He couldn’t believe himself right now. Literally. Out of every solution, every person, it had to be you. You, the one person he can’t stand. You, the one person that gets him worked up and annoyed. It was like the end of the world for him. 

Worse, his manager seems to agree with this solution. As if he doesn’t know how much Drew despises you. Jeff places the pen next to Drew. “I hate to say this, but Drew, you’re screwed unless you do this. We see the vision, and in a few years, you’ll see it too. Just, just treat this as another acting class, okay?”

Do I have a choice anyways, he thinks. Drew rubs his face in annoyance. Fuck. Damn you and damn himself. Getting into this stupid situation in the first place. 

He looks at the contract again. Sees your name again. And his head hurts a thousand times worse than a hangover. 

He reads through the contract terms, cringing at it. 

‘Must show up at five or more public evens together.’

‘Must show PDA at public events, such as touching, holding hands, kissing etc.’

‘Y/n Y/l/n must talk sweetly about Drew Starkey, and steer away any negative comments.’

‘During the course of this fake-relationship, being seen with any other costar of the opposite sex is forbidden.’

Much more was listed, at least twenty terms were on this contract alone. So this is the real thing. 

And at the bottom, Drew sees what was offered. Wow. You get offered millions of dollars, while all Drew receives is a clear to his scandal. 

He should at least get half the amount you’re earning, considering that he has to put up with you. “How can she get so much cash?” Drew asks, curiosity killing him. 

“Because she’s got nothing to gain from being with you,” Jeff states matter-of-factly, that hurt Drew’s ego more than it should have. He also noticed how much money this was, almost all the money he earned from acting in OBX. Wow. So not only were you a moody bitch, but a greedy one as well. 

Drew rubs his eyes aggressively, a frustrated yawn coming out. He so is going to regret this. The worst decision he ever has to make. 

You better be the savior to his career, or he was going to kill himself. 

Drew signs, pushing the paper away as if it had some kind of disease. 

Henry forces a smile, grabbing the paper. Drew gets ready to leave, but Henry stops him. “Where are you going?”

“Home. I- that was enough for me.”

“No, no. You’re going to Y/n’s filming set.”

“What?”

“Yes, you heard me. Her manager gave the green light, so you’re going.”

“Fuck, it’s only like, a minute since I signed.”

“Hey, I’m saving you right now,” Henry says. “Now, you want your sponsors back or not?”

Drew curses under his breath, never wanting to punch a wall as much as right now. “Fine. I'll go. But I can’t promise that I’m hugging or touching her or anything. She’s a complete stranger to me.”

“We just need a couple of photos to leak out,” Jeff says, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll drive you there.”

“Fucking hate you Jeff,” Drew says, walking out the office. “Henry you asshole.”

Either his managers heard and said whatever, or they didn’t care. But cursing at people who's helping him ‘save’ his career was the least of his worries. His head is just consumed with meeting you again, the brattiest bitch he's ever known.

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word count: 1.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i'm sooo happy for the support and how much people liked the teaser! i was giggling seeing the reblogs and likes.

anyways, thought i should release a prologue first, to give drew's pov of this situation. apologies in advance for y/n's character and anyone who can't handle her! but i'm so excited for you guys to read ch1, which will be released later this week! like or comment to show support, really appreciate it <3

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: All of the distractions in the world couldn't keep you from worrying about the potential fallout from your web of untruths--until a bigger issue arose. (5.5k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, brief religious zealotry, insecurities, secret relationship, public displays of affection, sexual fantasies, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

A/N: This chapter contains a scene I had imagined in my head and became the catalyst for this series--what would happen if Eddie encountered one of the NYC street preachers?

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter thirteen: street smarts

You were supposed to be doing something. Checking the guest log, organizing the bills by due date, making a list of repairs that still needed to be made…something. Anything besides just standing behind the desk, watching Eddie’s biceps flex as he hauled the overfilled trash bag out to the Dumpster. 

At this point, it was all busy work. Taking out the garbage, changing light bulbs, dusting furniture…all scraps of chores to keep him here. The moment he felt like he was being pitied—or worse, like he was being a burden—he’d leave. His pride was too strong and too loud to allow him to stay if he wasn’t working, even if that work was as interesting as watching paint dry. 

That’s what it was. 

“I need you to spackle a hole in Room 9,” you told him as he walked back into the lobby. “The guy staying here last night punched the wall, and it looks like he won.”

Eddie grimaced, flexing his own hand like he could feel the man’s pain. “Jesus. Yeah, sure.” He slid a rubber band off of his wrist and tied back his hair. The sleeves of his t-shirt had been cut into a tank top, though you weren’t sure if he’d done it or the shirt had been designed that way. “Where do you keep the spackle?”

You jabbed your thumb towards the supply closet behind you. Eddie started in that direction, but made an abrupt turn towards you. His arms snaked around your waist, his lips easily finding the crook of your neck. 

Instinctively, your shoulder jerked upwards, protecting you from any further tickling, but Eddie only doubled down. His kisses became less of a whisper and more of a shout, each punctuated with a smacking mwah!

“Ed-die!” Your giggles broke his name into its syllables. “Quit it!”

He paused for a moment and pretended to consider your plea before continuing his barrage of kisses. “Hmm, don’t think I will.” His words were muffled, the vibrations sending tingles through your bloodstream. “What’re you doing after your shift?”

You scoffed. “Um, curling up under the covers and passing out?”

“What if…” He moved his lips to the back of your neck. “You curled up under my covers?”

The suggestion garnered a dual sensation of desire and dread. You wanted that more than anything: the intimacy of laying next to him, his body curled around yours, the rhythm of his breathing lulling you to sleep. The first night he was here, he wore only boxer briefs. If you slept beside him, would he wear more? Less? If he awoke with that natural, involuntary stiffness between his legs, would you feel it?

But then, despite everything within you leaning towards being with Eddie, reality set in. Your room was the closest to the lobby; how could you possibly skip over it without Dad noticing? Even if he didn’t notice, how could you sneak out of Eddie’s room without Mom seeing? Dad might be oblivious in the way that fathers so often are, but Mom was like a hawk. She could probably sense that you were considering disobeying her orders to keep away from Eddie.

“I’d have to sneak through your window. And then sneak back through my own window in the morning,” you mused. 

“Or,” Eddie countered, spinning you around so you were facing him, “you could tell your parents that you couldn’t resist the cute handyman’s charming advances.”

His brown eyes gleamed with mischief as his hands dipped lower, squeezing your ass through your jeans. It took all of your willpower not to change the sign to read “NO VACANCY”—despite your many empty rooms—and drag him into his bed by the worn collar of his t-shirt. 

“I will.” You wrinkled your nose. “Well, maybe not in those exact terms, but I will tell them we’re…y’know.”

Eddie took a small step back and crossed his arms. “We’re…what?” His tone was somewhere between perplexed and demanding, like he couldn’t believe you wouldn’t define the relationship while also hoping you would define it for him.

You had no idea what the answer was. ‘Friends’ was far too casual for two people who had been sucking face in the middle of Flushing Meadows Park just last week. ‘Dating’ seemed too formal for only having been on two dates, the first of which hadn’t even been officially stated as a date from the onset. ‘Fooling around in the laundry room every chance we get’ was more accurate, if not a little wordy.

“We’re getting to know each other. Intimately.” You added that last word in an attempt to show him just how much you cared about him. Whatever relationship limbo you two were in would only be temporary. 

“Hmm.” A smirk tugged at Eddie’s lips. “Just how intimately are we talking here?” He tucked his forefinger into your belt loop and pulled you towards him, so close that you could feel his belt buckle through your shirt. 

Glancing around to ensure no one was walking by, you pressed a small kiss to his lips. “I’m gonna tell them. I promise. Just give me a little time.”

Your heart ached when his shoulders slumped. You wanted to fix it all now, to face your anxiety head-on and tell your parents about Eddie. Tell them that you were together and that it could be something serious—without holding your breath for their approval. 

But then there was that knife twisting in your gut, the one that echoed the same statements time and time again: 

You’re a bad daughter You’re disappointing them You’re negating every sacrifice they’ve made

But now a new one joined them, just as unwelcome as the others:

You’re going to lose Eddie if you keep being a coward. 

Eddie held your gaze for another beat before he broke it. His head tilted to the side, a slight pout forming on his lips. “Well, if you promise…” In one swift motion, he swooped in and kissed your cheek. When he pulled back, you wrapped your arms around his lithe waist and drew him back in. “Is that a yes for sneaking through my window?”

You gave him a gentle, playful shove and rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the fluttering butterflies that came with the idea. “Go spackle the wall.”

“Yes, dear.” He started towards the supply closet once more, calling out over his shoulder, “what time are we leaving for that college thing tomorrow?”

Everything he said and everything he did encroached closer and closer into relationship territory. Going to Admitted Students’ Day with you was something a boyfriend would do. 

But he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend—not that it would make much of a difference. It wasn’t as though a label would suddenly afford you the freedom to show off your relationship. Besides your parents’ disapproval, that pesky news story about Death’s Echo’s new lead singer kept nagging at you. You technically had information about Eddie’s life that even he didn’t know, and you couldn’t figure out how to tell him. 

“Noon at the latest.” You tried swallowing the lump in your throat, but it stayed put, so you just spoke above it. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I know school isn’t really your thing, so…”

Eddie poked his head out from the closet. “Noon it is.” When he emerged, he held the small spackle bucket and a wide putty knife. “By the way, I won’t, like, break out into hives or burst into flames if I go to a school.”

“I know.” Your body relaxed as his humor snaked through the crevices of your anxiety. “And I really do want to tell them about everything. About us, about NYU. It’s just…”

Goddamn the mist clouding your eyes. It was shameful, really, the pity party you were throwing for yourself. But how could you approach your parents and say, “Hey, by the way, I’m dating our de facto handyman. But don’t worry about the relationship affecting the business, because we’ll have to close the motel once I start graduate school in two months anyway. Also, I’m studying social work, not hospitality. Surprise!”

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice was soft, his thumb swiping over tears that fell despite your efforts to hold them back. “Look, if you don’t want me to go, just tell me.”

You shook your head. “I want you to go.” To emphasize your point, you kissed his cheek. The beginnings of stubble tickled your lips. “We can make a day of it. Grab some lunch or something.”

Eddie didn’t look wholly convinced, but he managed a smile. “And then I get to show off how smart you are.”

There was no point in arguing that everyone at Admitted Students’ Day was just as smart as you, if not smarter. Instead, you watched as he padded towards room nine. 

What you wouldn’t give to cave to your desires and climb into his bed beside him. Whether you fell asleep immediately or spent the entire time with him firmly buried inside you was practically irrelevant. You were tempted to follow him right now and have sex with him in the vacant room.

But you didn’t want your first time together to be something you rushed through. Maybe it wouldn’t be the rose petals and naked guitar playing scenario that Ben and Nora had teasingly suggested, but you didn’t want to do it just to “get it over with.” 

So you stayed put, drumming your fingers against the desk’s wood paneling, trying to ignore the heat pooling between your thighs. Someday, you promised yourself, Eddie would be the one to quell that need.

You left your room at noon the next day, armed with a smile and an alibi. Your usual excuse of running errands wouldn’t explain why you were wearing a black button-down dress and your Mary Jane heels. 

The door to Eddie’s room creaked open as you passed by. Without wasting a moment, one tattooed arm darted through the gap and pulled you inside. 

“Eddie!” You hissed at him, bringing one hand to your chest as your heart rate soared. 

His lips were on yours before you could ask why he felt the urge to spike your already sky-high anxiety. Like a miracle elixir, the kiss blunted the day’s sharpness and turned your racing thoughts into drifting clouds. 

Your hands found his biceps, fully on display in the t-shirt that had been altered to be a makeshift tank top. The same one, you realized, he’d been wearing last night. The pads of your fingertips were met with resistance at the muscle that was even more defined than it had been a month ago. 

“Just needed to do that before we left.” His palms smoothed down the back of your dress, lingering for an extra moment on your ass. “Ready to go?”

“Y-Yeah,” you nodded. All of the air had been knocked from your lungs; from the scare or from the kiss, you were still unsure. 

Eddie’s fingers brushed yours as the two of you left his room in a silent plea to hold your hand. You wanted to accept the offer, to proudly display your affection for him. You wanted it more than anything, so much so that you almost let your guard down. Almost took his hand in yours and paraded out into the lobby without a care in the world, subtly announcing that you were his and he was yours.

Almost.

A pang of anger flashed in your chest; not at the situation, but at Eddie himself. He knew you hadn’t told your parents yet. He knew you would face some consequences for dating a motel guest and for sneaking around behind their backs, especially if you brazenly flaunted the relationship without any notice.

Eddie huffed at your rejection. “Oh, right.” Was that disappointment or frustration? Or some lethal combination of both?

Dad immediately noticed the departure from your typical attire when you walked past; he’d already finished skimming the newspaper when you walked in. “Where are you off to?” 

“Hanging out with Ben and Nora.” The lie rolled  off of your tongue, just as you’d practiced in the mirror this morning.

“Double date?” Dad’s question was rhetorical, of course–he certainly wasn’t expecting you to actually go on a date with Eddie–but your breath still caught in your throat.

A cough, hopeful not too conspicuous to draw attention, delayed your response. “Uh, no. Just, uh, friend stuff.” Friend stuff? Christ, were you incapable of lying without extensive rehearsal?

He nodded, not even flinching. Thank God he was at the desk and not Mom, who definitely would have interrogated the truth out of you by now. 

“Have fun, be safe, make sure to ask Ben how his parents are.”

You promised to do all three and dashed out the door before he had time to ask Eddie any questions. 

You reached for Eddie’s hand the moment you were out of sight, relishing in the safety of his calluses and strong grasp. 

“So, friend.” Despite his playful nature, hurt tinged Eddie’s tone. “You sure we’re in the clear? Maybe someone down the street will see us holding hands and report us to the authorities.”

His words formed a pit in your stomach, anchoring you to the sidewalk. “This isn’t just for me.” You face him and take his other hand, too, wrapping his arms around your waist. “If my parents want to, they can kick you out. I need to tell them in a way that keeps them from absolutely losing their minds.”

The lines at the corners of Eddie’s eyes softened. “I know,” he conceded, kissing the tip of your nose. “Was it like this with other guys you dated? Or is it just because I’m staying at the motel?”

Shame washed over you for the second time in as many minutes. “I’ve never actually told them about any guys I’ve dated,” you admitted. “I mean, I’ve been on dates and had some short-term…relationships, I guess you could call them. But nothing serious enough for me to tell my parents.”

Eddie let out an anxious breath before asking his next question. “What does that mean for us?”

There it was: us. One unit, something more substantial than being separate individuals who happened to share a space. 

“Eddie…I really like you.” The confession was a weight off of your chest; you felt your body fall closer to his. “And if they know about us and they don’t approve, they’ll make sure to keep us apart. At least now, we can sneak around without them being suspicious.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else; if not to protest, then to ask for further clarification. But he swallowed his words, opting instead to kiss you. 

His lips tasted like disappointment. You pretended not to notice.

The forty minute train ride to NYU eased some of the tension. With no seats available, Eddie kept one arm tight around your waist, the other hand wrapped around the overhead pole. His thumb caressed the small of your back, fingernail dragging over your cotton dress, as you leaned into him. 

The subway car was hot, but neither you nor Eddie were deterred in the slightest. Not even as that first bead of sweat crept down the back of your neck and dipped below your dress collar. 

If Eddie noticed the perspiration trickling down your spine, he didn’t comment on it. 

The tip of his nose tickled your temple as he loudly whispered, “I didn’t realize I was supposed to dress up for this.”

In addition to his tank top, Eddie wore black jeans ripped at both knees and his signature scuffed Reeboks. It was a stark contrast to your more professional attire—borrowed from Nora, of course—but you didn’t care. Couldn’t even bring yourself to care, not when…

“You look hot.” Your lips lingered on one exposed bicep, leaving a light lipstick print in their wake. “Ridiculously, unfairly hot.”

A bashful grin bloomed on his face. He stood up a bit taller, your compliment replenishing some of the confidence that had been lost. Eddie had certainly taken his share of ego bruising over the last few months: leaving Death’s Echo, the subsequent breakup with his girlfriend, sleeping in a struggling motel just to keep a roof over his head. And on top of it all, he was now with someone who refused to acknowledge the relationship in front of her own parents. 

That settled it. You were going to tell your parents tonight. No more hiding or sneaking around. If they lectured you on their disappointment, you’d take it. You just couldn’t fathom bringing more insecurity into Eddie’s life. He deserved more than that.

He deserves more than you, that irritating voice snarled. It curled itself around your ear like a wispy smoke trail from one of Eddie’s cigarettes, but did not dissipate as quickly. It lingered even as Eddie pulled you in closer to kiss you.

Your response was to slip your hand into his back pocket and curving it around his ass. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to grab onto, but it still woke up something slumbering within you. Something that had remained dormant since you’d gotten caught during the picnic last week. 

Longing stirred, carving out imagery of him atop you, your fingers grasping that sacred flesh without the burden of a denim barrier. You needed to know how he’d treat you in bed. Would he pounce like an animal capturing its elusive prey? Would he take his time and savor you like his last meal on Earth? Would he lovingly gaze into your eyes, or take you from behind to satisfy that primal need?

“What’s our stop again?” Eddie’s voice shook you from your lust-entrenched trance. 

“Oh, uh…” You fought to keep your train of thought on a more productive track. “West Fourth Street.”

He nodded and gripped the pole tighter as the car screeched to a halt. “Then this is us.”

Thank God he was paying attention. You were embarrassed at the mere notion of missing your stop because you were too lost in the idea of having sex with him. How would you even explain that to him?

“Nervous?” He asked as you exited the train car.

You shook your head. Surprisingly, you weren’t nervous about meeting other admitted students. They’d be a group of people just like you, reaching out a hand to help those in need. A group of people like you and Nora who shared a common goal of being positive forces in a world desperate for kindness.

The climb from the platform up to the street level brought with it a burst of fresh air—fresher than in the station, at least. You and Eddie made your way down Waverly Place, fingers loosely intertwined. He let you guide him, a half-step ahead, your knowledge of the city far exceeding his. 

You were only two blocks away from the school when you heard an obnoxious voice bleating through a megaphone. 

“Repent now or face damnation! You are all sinners who will burn in the fires of Hell for eternity!”

A middle-aged man wearing an off-center toupee stood in the middle of the sidewalk, shouting at passersby. 

“Revelations 21:8–But the cowardly, unbelieving, abominable, murderers, sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars shall have their part in the lake which burns with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.”

You kept walking and ignored the man’s incessant preaching, expecting Eddie to do the same. 

That, you supposed, was naive on your part. 

Before you could stop him, Eddie let go of your hand and whirled towards the offender. His forefingers pointed upwards in mock devil horns, and the noise that came out of his mouth resembled something from The Exorcist. 

The preacher nearly keeled over at the sight of Eddie’s satanic display, sending you into a fit of cackling laughter. 

“Eddie!” You managed to hiss through your giggling. “Let’s go!”

Eddie took your hand once more and let you whisk him away from the dumbfounded man, the megaphone now hanging limply at his side. There was no doubt he would once again be spewing vitriol soon enough, but witnessing his temporary stunned silence was delicious. 

“I can’t believe you did that.” 

He shrugged. “I told you—I single handedly caused Hawkins’ own Satanic Panic. It’s not my first rodeo with these fire-and-brimstone assholes.”

“C’mon.” You tugged him along, shaking your head. “Let’s get out of here before he sics his disciples on us.”

Admitted Students’ Day at NYU’s Silver School of Social Work wasn’t fancy; just some hors d'oeuvres spread out on a white tablecloth to give an air of elegance. Really, it was nothing more than a few fruit and vegetable platters, finger sandwiches, and some pigs in a blanket. You helped yourself to some strawberries and a cucumber sandwich, watching as Eddie piled the crescent-wrapped mini hot dogs onto a paper plate and topped them with a hearty spoonful of spicy mustard.

A chipper young woman wearing an NYU t-shirt welcomed you and Eddie, ushering you both towards a pile of stick-on name tags and permanent markers. You scrawled your name in blue ink and Eddie did the same, though he added “just here for the food” in smaller letters below his name. 

“Okay, everyone!” The woman took to the microphone at the front of the small conference room. “Welcome to Admitted Students’ Day! My name is Ashley, and I’m a recent alumna of our wonderful MSW program.” She beamed and paused for the smattering of applause. 

Ashley brushed a brunette curl from her eyes and continued. “We’ll get started in just a moment, but until then, please mingle and get to know one another.”

When you looked over at Eddie again, he was dabbing at his shirt with a paper napkin. “Dropped some mustard,” he mumbled. Sure enough, a dollop of yellow stained the black cotton fabric. “Guess we’ll need to make another trip to the laundry room tomorrow.” 

You swatted at him, though you couldn’t deny having the same thought. “You also have some right here,” you lied, poking at his cheek. “Here, I’ll get it.” You leaned in and pressed a kiss to the spot you had just touched. His skin warmed beneath your lips, and it took all of your restraint not to kiss him again.

A second woman sporting a name tag made her way over to you, accompanied by a man dutifully trailing behind her.

“Hi!” The woman chirped, flashing a smile far more genuine than Ashley’s. “I’m Alexis, and this is my boyfriend, Peter.” She gestured to the man. “It’s nice to see another couple here.”

A couple. You and Eddie were a couple, recognized as such by other people in a relationship.

Peter pointed to the message on Eddie’s name tag. “I see you’re also here for moral support,” he said with a grin. “The things we do for them, huh?”

“Please.” Alexis rolled her eyes, though a playful smile suggested she wasn’t annoyed in the slightest. “I went with you to your boring grad school orientation last week.”

You perked up, latching onto the information so you wouldn’t perseverate on the notion of couplehood. “What are you studying?”

“Mechanical engineering,” Alexis answered for him. “He’s brilliant, but just listening to the course descriptions had me falling asleep.” She turned her attention to Eddie. “What do you study?”

The telltale hue of embarrassment bloomed on Eddie’s cheeks. “Oh, I, um…I didn’t. I mean, I went to high school–finished high school–but I didn’t do the whole college…thing.” 

“He’s a musician,” you offered, if only to quiet his stammering voice. “A really talented one, too. He plays guitar and he sings.” You took his hand in yours in silent reassurance.

To her credit, Alexis didn’t let on that she’d picked up on his nervousness. She just smiled and asked him about the type of music he plays, swiftly shifting the conversation back on track.

The small talk continued for a few more minutes. You’d learned that Alexis and Peter had met in college; they’d both gone to Columbia, which was where Peter would be continuing his graduate studies. Alexis wanted a change of scenery and chose NYU, though Peter mentioned she’d also been accepted to their alma mater.

She went to an Ivy League university? The notion soured in your stomach. It was unrealistic to think that Alexis would be the only member of your cohort to hold a degree from an esteemed school; how would you be able to keep up with them? There was no way your meager city college education could even compare.

Mercifully, Ashley took to the microphone once again, this time with a gray-haired woman by her side, to begin the informational portion of the event. You and Eddie sat side-by-side, and you scooched closer when his arm instinctively draped over the back of your folding chair. The ease was a privilege; you could rest your head on his shoulder without being on alert. There was no threat of being caught, no guilt from sneaking around. The two of you were just another couple sitting in a sea of strangers. The idea was so enticing that you had to force yourself to focus on the course offerings and expected responsibilities. 

You definitely wouldn’t be able to keep up with your peers if you couldn’t even pay attention during orientation.

Two hours passed before Eddie’s stomach audibly growled; apparently, consuming his weight in miniature hot dogs was not enough to satisfy his appetite. You were starting to get hungry, too, and you’d spent the last thirty minutes saving off your hunger pangs.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” You whispered.

He nodded emphatically. “You’d think that one of these snobby rich-people schools would splurge for more food,” he said, thankfully under his breath. If someone had overheard…

Not to mention you’d be attending that ‘snobby rich-people school,’ and you were neither rich nor snobby. At least, you hoped you weren’t snobby. But did Eddie see you that way? Did he think you were keeping the relationship underwraps because of a deep-seated shame?

You bade your new friends goodbye, shot a shy smile at the professors who had spoken during the information session, and did your best to make an inconspicuous exit. 

The nearest bodega was just down the block, its shelves stocked with soon-expiring candy and various snacks. Eddie perused the aisles and stared at his options. You were much faster in your decision-making, grabbing a Crunch bar and chowing down as soon as you paid the cashier.

With Eddie still glancing between a bag of barbecue potato chips and a stick of beef jerky, you plucked the latest copy of Star from the rotating magazine stand and leafed through it. There’s no earth-shattering news–stories published in the tabloids rarely are. The most exciting story was about the upcoming Spielberg flick, one where dinosaurs roam the Earth in some sort of prehistoric zoo. You can’t help but wonder if Eddie would take you to see the movie for your third date.

You were about to close the magazine and tell Eddie to hurry up–or just buy both, and you’d foot the bill–when the bolded words in the news briefs section caught your eye.

Caleb Dalton, the lead singer and guitarist of Death’s Echo, checked into rehab after various alcohol-fueled encounters with the law. The band’s management states that they “hope to proceed with the tour” next month, though there is no word about finding a replacement.

Your mouth went dry, and you started choking on the bite of milk chocolate that hadn’t yet melted onto your tongue. Eddie looked over at you, concern etched between his drawn brows at your sudden coughing outburst.

“Wrong pipe,” you managed, closing the magazine as nonchalantly as you could and placing it back on the rack. “You ready to go?”

“Yup.” Eddie fished a dollar bill from his pocket and placed it on the counter. He was already digging into the bag of chips, blissfully unaware of what you’d just read. 

How would he react if he knew? Would he find it amusing that his replacement had already screwed up the tour? Infuriating that he’d been replaced by someone so unprofessional? Would it haunt him or would he consider it to be normal tabloid fodder?

A gut instinct told you to break the news to him—not here, but somewhere private. Somewhere he could process it without causing a public scene. The only thing worse than him finding out is him knowing that you already knew and hadn’t told him. 

Tonight, during your shift. And you could follow it up by letting him know that you were ready to tell your parents the truth. Selfishly, you were glad to have some leverage on them: Eddie would already be upset by the band’s news, so they couldn’t add to that stress by kicking him out, right? 

If only you could tell them about him accompanying you today, just to prove how serious this new relationship truly was. 

One step at a time. 

You savored every moment spent together on the trip. The beginning of rush hour had the train too crowded to find a seat and to hold onto the pole, so Eddie held you by your waist to keep you steady. You felt his lips on the back of your neck every so often, his way of reminding you that he was there amidst the chaos. 

He trusted you, and he trusted you to trust him. 

It had come innately, the way you had divulged your secret to him. Yes, he had grabbed your book and questioned your alleged hospitality studies, but you could have shut him out. Put up a wall and told him to mind his business or hit the road. 

But you didn’t. And neither had he, choosing to divulge his saddest memories to you. Had given you a friendship and then something more. His presence was something you awaited at the start of every shift, the shared conversations now far more welcome than the quiet you once craved.

He always arrived at the desk by ten o’clock, sometimes getting there before you did. You’d find him making Mom laugh or listening to one of her many stories about the plethora of bizarre guests who stayed at the motel over the years. Mom liked him–you knew she did. All you needed to do was pivot her mindset in the right direction.

So tonight, when 10:25 rolled around and Eddie was nowhere to be found, your first instinct was to knock on his door and make sure he was all right. As soon as the thought popped into your head, you dismissed it as ridiculous. He was probably tired from schlepping through Manhattan and fell asleep. He’d probably planned to take a quick nap and promptly slept through his alarm, though you didn’t hear his clock radio bleating through the paper-thin walls.

Maybe this was a sign that you shouldn’t tell him about Death’s Echo and their troubled lead singer. You’d already kept quiet about the televised arrest that you watched at the bar; what was one more secret?

But that would sabotage your plan to pander to your parents with sympathy. You couldn’t exactly take the poor Eddie route without him knowing. Maybe you could–

Eddie’s door opened, yanking your attention from your running thoughts. Your heart beat double-time. This was it. You were going to tell him about Caleb Dalton’s rehab stint, tell him everything you knew.

But the voice you heard coming from his room wasn’t his. In fact, it wasn’t even a man’s.

“Promise me you’ll think about it?” A woman asked, a slight whine in her tone.

“Y-Yeah.” Though you couldn’t see him, you could tell from his hesitation that he wasn’t completely enthused about whatever he was supposed to be thinking about. “I promise.”

A soft mwah had you seeing red. It sounded like she’d only kissed his cheek, but maybe you were only fooling yourself. If she’d kissed his lips, those same lips that you’d been kissing earlier today…

“You’re the best, babe.” Jealousy raged in your core as she spoke, and you fought to keep it from exploding throughout your body. “We’ll get you out of this shithole in no time.” She punctuated her insult with a giggle. “Call me when you have your answer.”

“Mhm. Yeah.” And then his door closed.

Who was this woman? What was she doing here? Why didn’t Mom tell you that Eddie had brought someone to his room?

You got one answer once the mystery woman walked through the lobby, not even acknowledging your existence. She wasn’t wearing the heavy makeup that you’d seen in her photo, but there was no mistaking the owner of that blonde pixie cut, heart-shaped face, and piercing blue eyes.

They belonged to none other than Death Echo’s drummer.

Who also happened to be Eddie’s ex-girlfriend. 

--

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[plussizeappreciationfics]

One shot: Falling in love

Requested ? : yes by @queenoftheworldisdead

Request: Can you do Pedro pascal and plus reader? Maybe he falls for a costume designer on the set of one of his films?

Warning(s): nope

A/N: I changed it to the makeup artist if you don't mind! @queenoftheworldisdead

Image(s) found on Google/Pintersest

"He should be here any minute", Sarah, your assistant spoke as she watched you let out a long yawn before continuing to put the brushes, blushes, small bowl of fake blood and hair clips onto the table.

"He better, or else he won't need my makeup at all, I could beat his face with my bare hands" you joked while putting up your fists and pretending to punch an imaginary person. Your assistant chuckled and made a mental note to ask Pedro's assistant if they could make a tiktok video with that concept.

Before she could voice her thoughts, the door to the trailer opened and a loud "Buenas dias!" erupted through the small room, Pedro entering the trailer and quickly closing the door behind him and greeting the two of you with hugs and kisses on the cheeks.

At your turn, you couldn't help but inhale the fresh scent of his body wash and perfume. That man always smelled like he was blessed by the Gods themselves. The Chilean actor grinned at you before whispering another "Good morning, beautiful" to you, making sure that Sarah wouldn't hear his special greeting for you.

"Good morning, you're five minutes late. My time is money, Pascal" you playfully scolded while patting his back, making him give you a quick kiss on the cheeks. "I am sorry, I will be on time tomorrow", he promised and finally released you from the tight hug, not that you wanted it but it was time to get to work.

"Okay, today you're shooting a lot of fight scenes, so your face is gonna look pretty beaten and bloody", you informed to which Pedro sighed and nodded his head, knowing that today would be a physical exhausting day. Nonetheless, he loved his job and loved that he got to spend the following hour in peace and with you.

"Okay, I'll see if Denzel is ready, if he is then I'll start his makeup too" Sarah informed you. You hummed in response while focusing your eyes on the makeup you had set up, ready to be used. She nodded her head at your vocal response and quickly left the trailer, knowing that you and Pedro needed all the concentration in the world.

Once Sarah had closed the door behind her, Pedro sat down in his designated chair and removed his glasses, placing them on the table and letting out a tired sigh before focusing his gaze on you. You were standing next to him, leaning over to open the SFX makeup jar while thinking about how long and deep the first fake scar would need to look like.

"I'm really Sorry, mi amor. I overslept" Pedro's gentle voice pulled you out of your rhythm, to which you chuckled and faced him while silently admiring his beautiful face. His eyes stared deeply into your and he had this genuine look of regret on his face, his brown eyes begging you for forgiveness.

"You have nothing to worry about Pedro, I was half joking" you chuckled and patted him on his shoulder, not realizing that goosebumps had made their way across his skin at your touch, his stomach churned in delight nervousness while his heart fluttered in his chest. That man was long gone for you.

"When are we going to address this" Pedro responded, his question making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and surprise, your heart skipping a beat as you felt like you had been caught doing something you weren't supposed to do.

"Address what?" you asked and let out a nervous chuckle, the actor's piercing and loving gaze keeping you on your toes. The tension shifted in the trailer and a part of you knew that you needed to start doing your job or else the director would get annoyed at the delay.

"How we both are hopelessly in love with one another. How I can feel your increased heartbeat whenever I hug you, how you're the first and last thing on my mind. How I know that you're not gonna allow yourself to voice your deepest thoughts about your feelings towards me because you know that falling in love with an actor is not the most convenient thing on this planet".

Pedro gave you a wide smile, his eyes sparkling while you sat there awestruck. He had read you like an open book and you felt somehow exposed but at the same time relieved because he had indeed voiced your deepest thoughts.

A shaky sigh left your lips as you broke the intense eye contact for a few seconds, needing to gather your thoughts.

"Pedro..." you sighed and looked back at him again, seeing how he leaned forwards and gently placed his hands on your thick waist, pulling you closed to him so that now you were standing in front of him.

He gently wrapped his strong arms around your waist and placed his chin on your big stomach, smiling up at you and looking so damn adorable and handsome that it made your heart skip a beat while a delicate shiver ran its way down your spine.

"I know what you're thinking. I am asking you for one date, an afternoon or evening where it's just the two of us and nobody else. No work, no coworkers just us. If you decide to not pursue your feelings and keep things professional, I will do the same", Pedro's suggestion sounded heavenly.

"Okay, one date. And then a few days time to gather my thoughts and then I'll let you know my decision" you repeated with a quick head nod, loosing the inner battle of not touching the actor and gently letting your soft hand brush through his still damp curls. The motion made the actor let out a soft sigh, already loving your touch and yearning for only more.

"Thank you. I will set everything up, all I need from you is to show up".

"Don't tell me that, I will show up in sweats and a baggy shirt" you chuckled and shook your head.

Pedro surprised you by quickly standing up, still holding you in close while a wide grin took over his face.

"I don't give a fuck how you'll dress up, I'm already blessed to know that I'll spend a few hours with you", his romantic confession made you bite back a shit-eating grin as you felt your knees weaken.

"We gotta get back to work now, or both of our asses will be served on a silver platter" you spoke and let out a sigh, wishing that this moment would never stop. You had finally gotten the confession you had been secretly been hoping and wishing for. A deep sense of peace and glee settled in your soul as you couldn't wait for the special date.

"Then let's get back to work, but not before this-" Pedro surprised you by leaning forward and stealing a soft, gentle kiss from your lips. The delicateness of his motion making your head spin while your lips tingled with glee. You gasped at the sensations and pushed the actor back in his seat, making him let out a chuckle while you shook your head and finally got to work on his face.

[dreamlogic]

...

[pikonv5]

my job wants me gone so bad , like 1 month in and they have already brought out their no effort in communication and gaslighting full force, and telling me much of the work I am doing is wrong and accusing me of not doing the basic things like stocking, that I try so hard and am sure to keep up with being the only person working at a time? like if they are going to do this at least do it while i am on the clock..

[itstimeforstarwars]

Can't wait to write a strongly worded email when I get back from lunch that basically boils down to "y'all keep making my life harder and i had to save your dumb asses twice for the same thing on this one shift so if you get mad at the little things I didn't do while I was taking care of the big problems that you caused I will make you do it yourself next time either put up or shut up. Cordially yours, Grem."

[vulpinesaint]

in other news i get two weeks of summer break!!! :D i thought my summer classes were going to just lead me straight into school again but i do actually get some breathing room before it all starts up once more :D

[sluttyten]

Fucking wild day at work today like what the fuck

[h3rmitsunited]

I was going back through my old school stuff from like 1st grade and there was this like journal where we had to write like a couple sentences each day to practice writing and stuff and i had this one day where part of what I wrote was "I hate myself today because I had to change my card to yellow" (the cards were like discipline things so you started with green and if you weren't being good you had to stand up and go to the front of the class to change your card) and I don't remember what it was for but I'm sure I was just like maybe talking or something like that.

But like damn. Even just thinking about the times I had to change my cards in those classes makes me want to cry. I remember always being so upset anytime the teachers weren't happy with me and then I think about me now and how I'm always expecting people to think the worst of me or be hiding that they don't like me or always expecting the other shoe to drop even if they've been telling me I'm doing a good job because I'm bad and I need them to just tell me why and what exactly they're holding back

And I've got a review coming up at work soon with my bosses since it's almost my 6 year anniversary of working there and all I can think is oh good now they can stop telling me how great I am and how happy they are to have me there and just tell me everything I'm doing wrong because I know the compliments aren't right and they have to have been holding back what all my issues are.

And I think something in my upbringing may have kind of fucked my head up... just a little bit

[savethepinecones]

reaching the point in a depression spiral where my thought process shifts from "i gotta push through and go to work even though i dont feel like leaving my bed because i need to keep my job" to "my mental health is important and if i feel like i need a break i should take a break" and then i take a bunch of time off work and nearly lose my job but keep telling myself that i just need a longer break and then ill bounce back

[125storejuice]

.

[baekuras]

today on my off day: my boss wrote me (politely mind you) during the ONE time i took a nap around 6pm it is now almost 10pm

welP thats for tomorrow then

[cerealmonster15]

I think the third ch of my kalisil/jamiazu story is gonna be longer than the other chapters and that’s not necessarily for good reason lol 😭☠️🚶

[beauzos]

Trying not to get mad every time I come into work bcs every fucking day I get put on register for a vast majority of, if not all of, each shift. Im so sick of it. I miss shelving and being on the floor this is lame as fuck