#radio company fanfiction

[impala-dreamer]

Number One

A Short Story

~After Radio Company's first show, Jensen is flushed with excitement and needs to channel it into something... extra fun...~

Jensen Ackles x Reader

1,387 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Oral and Otherwise. ;) 

A/N: This was a Tell Me About... ask that I went off the rails with. You're welcome ;)

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

The adrenaline is rampant; his hair is damp. Jensen’s face is flushed, lips a deep ruby, eyes wild and crazed.

He stinks of sweat and bourbon and his breath is hot. He’s near to panting as he tugs you into an empty room backstage and spins to wrap you in his arms.

“Fuck, Jen- you were amazing!” You beam up at him and he’s as giddy as a child on Christmas morning. “It was so, so good, baby. So good.”

He blushes hard and licks his lips; body still vibrating from the stage.

Both your ears are ringing, but neither of you seems to mind. It was all worth the hearing loss- the show was incredible.

“I was so nervous,” he admits, running a hand back through his long hair. “Did it show? You couldn’t tell could you?”

You could, but he didn’t need to know. “You were so amazing, Jensen,” you say again. “I am so fucking proud of you.”

He exhales deeply, settling down. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course. You think I’d miss my favorite band’s very first show?”

A laugh tickles your throat but there’s no space to let it grow. Jensen attacks, pulling you close with a big hand flat between your shoulder blades. He licks at your mouth and you let him in; his kiss is hungry, laced with emotion. You melt against him and he lets out a heavy moan when your tits press into his chest.

“Fuck…” He pulls back, green eyes lidded and reflecting the strips of light pulsing from around the door. “Want you so bad…”

There’s a ton of people outside and in the green room proper. You can hear them milling about in the hallway, congratulating themselves and drinking. The sweet smell of marijuana lingers in the air and you breathe deeply, letting the drugs mingle with Jensen’s faded cologne and fog your mind.

“Yeah?” You reach a hand up to hook around the nape of his neck, let your fingertips dance through the shorter hairs there.

He nods, half gone already with lust and excitement. You can feel him growing in his slacks and you rock your hips forward, rubbing gently. Lightly, you scratch across his scalp and his eyes roll.

“Please…”

Desperation leaks into his voice and your pussy flutters at the sound.

“Makes me so hot when you beg for it, Jen…”

His lips curl into a sleek half smile- he knows. But it’s still true. He wants you, needs you.

Pushing up on your toes, you lick at his bottom lip, tug it snug between your teeth and drink down his raspy moan.

“You’re makin’ me crazy, Y/N/N.”

He reaches for you, ready to snatch the shirt off your back, but you swat him away and give him a hard shove. He stumbles, face dropping in a look of shock.

“Wha-”

You cut him off with another shove to his chest and he lets out a huff when his back hits the wall.

“Oh…”

He smirks and you suck the smile off his plump lips, drag your hands down over the black cotton tee he’s nearly sweated through. His belt is loose already and you take no time whipping it from its place and tossing it aside. His jaw hangs open when your hand slides inside his pants; head falls back against the wall when you trace his cock with one curious finger.

“Baby- please…”

The muscles in his throat tense and you can’t help but push up to taste the salt there. You suck at the magic spot below his ear, lick at his pulse, marvel at the tiny noises he makes.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Jensen,” you whisper, snaking your hand beneath his boxers to wrap around his shaft. “Such a goddamned rock star out there tonight.” You pump your hand slowly down to the base and back and his teeth gnash, lips twitch. “And now that it’s official- I get to be your number one groupie…”

His head drops down and he catches your lips, sucking at the flesh until you’re wrapped around him again, hands traveling up over the big dips of his arms and shoulders. You shove your tongue into him and he hums, tugs at your jeans, jerking you into him.

His lips move down, covering your jaw and settling in the crook of your neck. He takes a tiny bite and your body trembles with desire. He knows every spot to hit. He’s too good, too determined, too… fucking… beautiful.

Again, you push him away, slapping his firm chest with your palm. He sucks back a breath and settles his shoulders against the wall, pops his hips out, spreads his bowed legs just a little bit more than he needs to.

“You’re gonna get it now, big boy,” you tease, nimble fingers undoing the clasp on his slacks and sliding the zipper down.

“Oh yeah?” Jensen grins, eyes you beneath thick lashes, lets the tip of his tongue jutt out across his lip.

He hisses as you yank the fabric down and hook your fingers into the elastic hem of his boxers.

“Oh… yeah.”

Falling to your knees, you drag the silk with you until he’s exposed, hanging long and heavy against his inner thigh. You blow a breath across his velvety flesh and his head slaps back against the wall.

“Fuck.”

His voice is cracking so sweetly when you lick a line down his cock, loop your tongue around the head and suck him between your lips.

“God, Y/N/N…” He jerks his hips, forcing his cock deep into your throat. He drops a hand to the top of your head, curls his fingers in your hair, guiding and holding for dear life on all at once. “Gonna kill me, baby… so fucking good.”

Every swallow makes him hum, each flick of your tongue makes him shudder. Blunt nails dig into your scalp as he gets close and you pick up the pace, drooling around his thick cock.

“Fuck, I gotta fuck you.” He arches his back, pulls away from your buzzing lips. “Please-”

With a devilish smirk, you ignore him and lean in, humming as his snakes back down into the depths of you. You swallow and he howls, grabbing at the sides of your head and pulling you back.

He looks down with a snarl and you know you’re in for it.

“Now.”

His hands are rough and hurried as he jerks you to your feet and turns, shoving you face first into the wall. He scrapes your hair to the side, exposing your throat, and takes a bit, teeth digging in, bruising and claiming.

“Jen-” You struggle to get your jeans undone, fighting against his weight and your fading intellect. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” His palm closes around your breast, squeezing while you wiggle free of the denim and push your ass back for him.

He doesn’t bother waiting until your panties are gone, he simply shoves them to the side and rubs, teasing your clit until you’re dripping down onto his palm.

It doesn’t take long.

One hand on the back of your neck, the other locked around your hip, he bends down and settles in, shoving his cock in with one hard thrust.

The burn is harsh and delicious and you bite your lip shut, stifling a cry.

There are too many ears outside the door and you know for a fact that it’s unlocked.

“God…”

Your body trembles, your cunt throbs around him.

“Fucking hell, girl, you’re gonna make me cum-”

He grits his teeth, scratches a hand down your spine, and lets go; shaking as he empties into you.

The rush is hot, his skin burning against yours. Warmth spills down your thigh when he pulls out and his breath on your cheek is quick, his kiss sweet.

Dizzy and smiling, you turn and reach for him. He folds down to you, lifts you up with a languid kiss.

“You were really amazing,” you whisper, staring into brilliant green eyes.

“So were you,” he jokes, winking somehow with both eyes.

“I mean it. You were great.”

His lips graze your forehead as he sets you down.

"By the way- not a groupie,” he says, tugging up his pants. “But definitely… my number one.”

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[cheynovak]

Unexpected Melody

Characters: Jensen Ackles x F/Reader Y/N     

Summary:  Y/N is a talented singer and a longtime friend of Jensen Ackles. When Jensen invites her to one of his shows, she expects to be impressed by his voice—but nothing could have prepared her for the magnetic pull she feels when she sees him on stage.

Warnings: none

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

Very quick one shot, enjoy!

You’d known Jensen Ackles for years, ever since your paths had crossed at some charity event in Los Angeles. You were a singer, touring across the country, and he was the star of one of the biggest TV shows on air.

Despite your busy lives, you’d kept in touch, grabbing coffee whenever you found yourselves in the same city. Over the years, a comfortable friendship had developed between you, the kind that made it easy to laugh and even easier to talk. You had always admired his talent, his easy-going charm, and how down-to-earth he remained despite his fame. But that was the extent of it.

Until tonight.

You were in Austin, Texas, for a few days after wrapping up your own tour. Jensen had invited you to one of his shows with his band, Radio Company. You knew he could sing—he’d casually serenaded you during late-night hangouts before—but you’d never seen him perform live. So when he asked you to come, you couldn’t resist.

“C’mon, Y/N,” he’d said with that infectious grin of his. “I want you to see what I’ve been up to.”

So here you were, standing in the crowd at a small, intimate venue, surrounded by fans who had come to see Jensen in a different light.

The air was thick with anticipation as you stood near the front of the stage, surrounded by eager fans. The lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted in cheers. When Jensen appeared, guitar slung across his body, the entire atmosphere shifted. It was as if the world tilted slightly, putting him in the center of it all.

The band started playing, and as Jensen’s voice filled the room, you felt your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just that he could sing—he owned the stage with a kind of effortless swagger that you had never seen from him before. The rhythm of the music seemed to pulse through you, syncing with the rapid beat of your heart.

Your eyes were glued to him. The way his fingers moved over the strings, how his voice growled in just the right way, and the way he seemed to pour his entire soul into every note. And that smile—God, that smile. It was as if he knew something you didn’t, as if he could see right through you.

When the night sky emerged, you realized you hadn’t looked away from him once. You were completely mesmerized by the way he moved, the way the sweat glistened on his skin under the stage lights. The way his shirt clung to his body, revealing the toned muscles you’d never really paid attention to before.

Your mouth felt dry, and a strange heat spread through you. You tried to shake it off, but the sensation only grew stronger, more insistent. Was this lust? You’d been attracted to people before, sure, but this… this was different. This felt like something more primal, more intense.

And then, as if he could sense your gaze, Jensen’s eyes found yours in the crowd. His expression shifted—softened, almost. The intensity of his gaze made your breath hitch. He held your eyes as he sang the next few lines, and you felt like they were meant just for you.

After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, Jensen’s attention shifted back to the crowd. But the damage was done. Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of the torrent of emotions swirling inside you. Could it be that you were starting to feel something for him? Something more than friendship?

The show continued, but you were barely aware of anything other than Jensen. The way his body moved with the music, the way his voice seemed to wash over you, the way your skin prickled with heat every time he looked your way.

By the time the final song ended, your mind was a jumble of confusion and desire. The crowd cheered as the band took their bows, and you clapped along with them, but your thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

As the lights came up and the crowd began to disperse, you made your way backstage, where Jensen had asked you to meet him after the show. Your heart pounded with each step, unsure of what you would say or how you would act around him now.

When you finally found him, he was toweling off, his shirt now soaked with sweat, his hair messy in the most attractive way possible. He looked up and grinned when he saw you, the easy-going, charming Jensen you knew so well.

“So, what did you think?” he asked, his voice still slightly husky from the performance.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. How could you possibly sum up what you were feeling? The attraction, the confusion, the sudden, overwhelming need to be close to him?

“It was… incredible,” you managed to say, hoping he couldn’t hear the tremor in your voice.

Jensen stepped closer, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat. It was intoxicating, sending another wave of heat through you. “You sure about that? You look a little… distracted.”

There was a teasing edge to his voice, but his eyes were serious, searching yours as if trying to read your thoughts.

“I’m just—” You hesitated, then took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. “You were amazing, Jensen. I didn’t expect… that.”

His smile widened, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach flip. “I’m glad you liked it. I was hoping you would.”

There it was again—that look. The one that made your pulse quicken and your thoughts spiral. You had seen him flirt before, had even been on the receiving end of it a few times, but this felt different. More intimate. More real.

He stepped even closer, and suddenly, the space between you felt charged with something electric. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the urge to reach out and touch him was almost overwhelming.

“Jensen…” you started, your voice softer than you intended.

He didn’t say anything, just waited, his eyes locked on yours, patient but expectant. As if he knew there was more you wanted to say, more you wanted to do, but was giving you the space to make the next move.

You swallowed hard, your mind a chaotic mix of emotions. Was this just physical attraction, heightened by the adrenaline of the performance? Or was it something more? Something you had been blind to until now?

You didn’t know. All you knew was that the sight of him—sweaty, breathless, and so incredibly close—was driving you crazy. You'd only ever dated rockstars never actors, you'd made him clear in the beginning. Was this him making it clear he can be both? No that is ridiculous.

Yet without thinking, you took a step forward, closing the gap between you. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, and the sensation made your skin tingle. Your hand reached out, almost of its own accord, and you placed it on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

He sucked in a breath at your touch, and you looked up at him, seeing the same desire reflected in his eyes.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in the faintest of kisses. It was tentative, testing the waters, but the spark it ignited was undeniable.

Jensen responded immediately, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss. It was everything you hadn’t realized you wanted—intense, consuming, and filled with a passion that took your breath away.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other. You searched his eyes, looking for answers, for reassurance, for something that would help you make sense of the storm inside you.

But all you saw was him—Jensen, your friend, your… something more.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His words sent a jolt of realization through you, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. The reason you couldn’t look away from him tonight, the reason your body felt like it was on fire, the reason you were standing here now, in his arms.

It wasn’t just lust. It was something more. Something you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

Until now.

--

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Tag list:-> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read! If anyone feels like you're tagged too much, also let me know please. :)

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@call-me-mrs-winchester @cevansbaby-dove @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma

[spn-fan-letter]

Hello, Hi, and Welcome!

What is this Tumblr for?

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In addition, we'll have fun items such as coloring pages, puzzles, reviews, cosplay spotlights, fanart, memes, and much more!

How can I get involved?

By reblogging this post!!! And commenting your ideas, thoughts and questions!! Or message directly about becoming a part of our team to create this!

[underground-secret]

did y’all see the photos of jensen doing his concert in texas. i shouldn’t even ask cause you definitely did. and the videos.

but my god. that man. oh my lord.

catch me clutching the nearest surface and falling to my knees. like like like like. ISHSISHSISBSJAOA

i’m losing it!!!!!!!!!!!

[spnbaby-67]

Watching over me

Just something I came up with tonight while cleaning my apartment, I can use a hug from him right about now. This song is like my favorite of his. So don't come at me please :) jk,.. I hope you enjoy, its from "Watching Over Me,"

Jensen had always been the silent protector, watching over Y/n from the shadows. Y/n was a force of nature, fierce and independent, but even she couldn't deny the times she'd faltered, stumbling through life's challenges.

One evening, as they sat on the porch of their rustic cabin deep in the woods, the stars shimmered above them. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and the crackling of the campfire filled the air. Jensen glanced at Y/n, their eyes locked in an unspoken connection.

"Lay it on," Y/n whispered softly, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

Jensen knew what she meant. He had seen her at her weakest, those moments when she couldn't bear to talk, when the weight of the world threatened to suffocate her. He had been there, offering his silent support, even when she couldn't see it.

"Now that I can see," he replied, his voice just as soft. He had always been there, even when she didn't realize it. He had watched her navigate life's storms, always ready to step in if she needed him.

Y/n continued, "Couldn't barely talk without the will to breathe."

Jensen nodded, understanding the struggle she had faced. There had been times when words failed her, when the pain was too much to bear, but he had been there to lend her strength.

"Didn't hear the strength within your words and what they mean," Y/n admitted, her eyes glistening with emotion.

Jensen reached out, gently taking her hand in his. "You were watching over me," he said, his gaze unwavering.

They sat there, under the starlit sky, two souls connected by an unbreakable bond. Jensen had always been her silent guardian, her protector, and Y/n had finally come to realize just how deep his love and support ran.

With the lyrics echoing in their hearts, they knew that they would face whatever challenges life threw their way together. Jensen would always watch over Y/n, their love stronger than any obstacle they encountered.

And as they sat there, hand in hand, they knew that they were each other's strength, always watching over one another through the crazy pain of life, the hurt, the struggles, and the love that bound them together.

@deans-baby-momma

@jackles010378

@deanwinchesterswitch

@nancymcl

[groovychickn]

a jealousy thing i have with song fic titles (specifically this one)

me: *sees city grown willow as title on a fic*

me: hey, that’s my title and i have an idea that goes with that, leave it lol

anyone: why? i wanna use it and you’re currently not so?

me: i’m still going to use it, i just have to writer stuff before i do… *sighs* but i guess you can borrow it for the time being.

[avaantares]

Fanfiction Authors: HEADS UP

(Non-authors, please RB to signal boost to your author friends!)

An astute reader informed me this morning that one of my fics (Children of the Future Age) had been pirated and was being sold as a novel on Amazon:

(And they weren't even creative with their cover design. If you're going to pirate something that I spent a full year of my life writing, at least give me a pretty screenshot to brag about later. Seriously.)

I promptly filed a DMCA complaint to have it removed, but I checked out the company that put it up -- Plush Books -- and it looks like A LOT of their books are pirated fic. They are by no means the only ones doing this, either -- the fact that """publishers""" can download stories from AO3 in ebook format and then reupload them to Amazon in just a few clicks makes fic piracy a common problem. There are a whole host of reasons why letting this continue is bad -- including actual legal risk to fanfiction archives -- but basically:

IF YOU ARE A FANFIC AUTHOR WITH LONG AND/OR POPULAR WORKS, PLEASE CHECK AMAZON TO SEE IF YOUR STORIES HAVE BEEN PIRATED.

You can search for your fics by title, or by text from the description (which is often just copied wholesale from AO3 as well). If you find that someone has stolen your work and is selling it as their own, you can lodge a DMCA complaint (Amazon.com/USA site; other countries have different systems). If you haven't done this before, it's easy! Here's a tutorial:

HOW TO FILE A COPYRIGHT COMPLAINT FOR STOLEN WORK ON AMAZON.COM:

First, go to this form. You'll need to be signed into your Amazon account.

Select the radio buttons/dropdown options (shown below) to indicate that you are the legal Rights Owner, you have a copyright concern, and it is about a pirated product.

Enter the name of your story in the Name of Brand field.

In the Link to the Copyrighted Work box, enter a link to the story on AO3 or whatever site your work is posted on.

In the Additional Information box, explain that you are the author of the work and it is being sold without your permission. That's all you really need. If you want, you can include additional information that might be helpful in establishing the validity of your claim, but you don't have to go into great detail. You can simply write something like this:

I am the author of this work, which is being sold by [publisher] without my permission. I originally published this story in [date/year] on [name of site], and have provided a link to the original above. On request, I can provide documentation proving that I am the owner of the account that originally posted this story.

In the ASIN/ISBN-10 field, copy and paste the ID number from the pirated copy's URL. You'll find this ten-digit number in the Amazon URL after the word "product," as in the screenshot below. (If the URL extends beyond this number, you can ignore everything from the question mark on.) Once this number has been added, Amazon will pull the product information automatically and add it to the complaint form, so you can check the listing title and make sure it's correct.

Finally, add your contact information to the relevant fields, check the "I have read and accept the statements" box, and then click Submit. You should receive an email confirmation that Amazon has received the form.

Please share this information with your writer friends, keep an eye out for/report pirated works, and help us keep fanfiction free and legally protected!

NOTE: All of the above also applies to Amazon products featuring stolen artwork, etc., so fan artists should check too!

[scatteredskittless]

Hi! I love your writing! Would you be up for writing a fic where reader has super bad separation anxiety from Al, but he has to go somewhere without them and either Angel Dust or Husk is in charge of taking care of them/keeping them calm while he’s gone? Thanks a bunch!!! ❤️

Separation anxiety! GN! Reader x Alastor/husker?

A/n: Of course !! Honestly this has been super fun and I’m more than grateful for all the people who seem to enjoy my silly little fanfictions/headcanons, many thanks everybody ♥️♥️

Also, if you couldn’t tell from a lot of my writing, I’ve taken quite a liking to Alastor… So I get it, I love him too y’all ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Warnings: Mentions of separation anxiety, Mentions of alcohol, Alastor being Alastor so light mentions of blood and cannibalism (doesn’t actually happen)

Fluff✔️ Comfort✔️ Angst❌ Smut❌

Hope yall don’t mind a few headcanons first about this :33

📻𖤐 it’s hard to tell how Alastor would realistically react to someone being attached to him in that way..

📻𖤐 Like do I think it would bother him? No, he wouldn’t mind you tagging along wherever he went as long as you didn’t bother him too much or get in the way of things but there are just times where he requires or wants to be alone. Which is where Husker would come in lol

📻𖤐 He probably wouldn’t leave you with Angel, even if Husk wasn’t available for whatever reason he’d just get Charlie to look after you while he was away.

📻𖤐 I feel like he cares/loves in an odd way.. like he wants to tear you apart and lick up all your delicious, sweet blood but in an affectionate way??? If that makes sense?? Remember that pomegranate cannibalism metaphor that went around on TikTok for a bit there? Think that.

📻𖤐 of course, he wouldn’t do that, he wants to keep you around.

Okok I’m done yapping about silly radio man lol, onto the fic

Unfortunately, today was one of those days you couldn’t tag along with where Alastor went, he was attending an overlord meeting and obviously you not being an overlord it meant that you couldn’t go with him despite all of your protests and begging.

Before his departure, he sat you down at the bar with Husker and gave you a little pat on the head, telling you that he’d be back shortly and walking out of the hotel doors.

The grumpy cat demon poured himself a drink as he stared at you, this wasn’t exactly the first time Alastor had left him on “babysitting” duty with you and he didn’t exactly mind it. You were quite sweet for somebody who landed themselves in a place like hell.

“Where’s he off to this time?” Husker asked before taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage he held in his hand, attempting to make some form of conversation with you.

“Oh.. just some kind of silly overlord meeting…” You mumbled out a short reply whilst looking a bit glum. He simply nodded in response, setting his glass down on the bar countertop to mix you up a little something as well.

Husk didn’t understand your attachment to the Radio Demon to be completely frank with you. He and a lot of others viewed Alastor as something to fear, respect, and try to avoid contact with the best they could… so seeing someone who enjoyed his company was a foreign idea to him. But he wouldn’t judge you for it. It wasn’t exactly his business anyways and at least he seemed to treat you decently.

“Don’t stress it kid, he’ll be back soon. He keeps his promises I’ll give him that much.” Husk attempted to reassure you, giving a slight smile as he slid a drink down to you.

You smiled back weakly and nodded, taking a deep breath as you grabbed the drink he had slid over to you. You took a sip and it tasted like a screwdriver, not too bad of a drink and it would probably take your mind off of things a little bit if you had a few of them. Which was probably the goal Husker was trying to reach.. he couldn’t imagine separation anxiety to be very fun.

Later into the night once you got a few drinks in you, you started to forget all about why you were upset and/or stressed out in the first place. Chatting with Husk about random stuff and occasionally mentioning and talking about a person or two.

Husk wished there were more nights like this, more time spent with you… and who knows? Maybe you’ll be visiting the bar more often for him after tonight if he was lucky. He was pretty good at playing his cards right, after all.

(Sorry this was kinda short !! I wasn’t sure what else to write. Lmk if you guys maybe want a part two with Alastor coming back from his little meeting, I might do that :3)

Please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my fanfictions/writing/headcanons without permission ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ Scatteredskittles

[iveleftitwithyou]

ruderal pt. 3 | paul lahote x reader

hey all! sorry for the delay on this, i've honestly just been so busy reading other people's fanfictions that i haven't found time to write! but i know work will be busy this week so wanted to get this out, even if it's shorter than intended. love u guys!

word count: 1.1k

warnings: slight angst, swearing

you hated that you spent all night wrapped up in Paul’s shirt again. you hated that you couldn’t stop staring at your phone, silently begging it to light up with his old contact photo. 

of course, it never did.

after a restless night of drifting in and out of consciousness, your phone buzzed on your nightstand, ringing loudly. your heart jumped before you realized it was just your alarm signaling it was time to get up for work, entirely too early, in your opinion. you’d taken a gap year between high school and college, working as a barista at the local coffee shop, lucky that your father was fine with you continuing to live under his roof while you figured out what you wanted to do with your life.

you groaned as you let your feet hit the carpet, stretching as you begrudgingly began your day. the floorboards creaked underneath your steps as you made your way to your dresser and pulled out the same uniform you wore five days a week. 

the hot water of the shower. the soft towel on your skin. the cold water on your toothbrush. the hairbrush running through your hair. the mascara brush on your eyelashes. all of these familiar sensations did nothing to slow your racing mind. 

why couldn’t you get him out of your head? why did he have to insert himself back into your life?

the engine of your old Honda sputtered to life. the familiar whines and vibrations of the vehicle were comforting. you turned up the radio to drown them out anyway.

after a few minutes of driving on autopilot, the coffee shop was in front of you. you made eye contact with yourself in the rearview mirror, took a deep breath, and flung open the car door to start your shift.

it was a normal Thursday shift. you opened the store as you always did, prepping the different areas for the day. generally, Thursdays were very slow in the morning, so it was no big deal you’d be here by yourself. your copy of The Great Gatsby was on the counter by the register, waiting to keep you company in the dull moments. 

of course, you took the few minutes you had left after getting everything prepped to make yourself your first drink of the day. working in a coffee shop had its perks, like free coffee, but the caffeine addiction you’d developed wasn’t one of them.

the first customer of the day came in shortly after you unlocked the door. it was Chief Swan, on his way to his shift at the station. he was a regular, and you appreciated the simplicity of his order.

“good morning, Chief, your usual?” you sing-songed, putting on the customer-service voice that was second nature to you at this point. 

“you know it, kid.” he’d grown pretty fond of you since you started, appreciating the lack of small talk.

there was a comfortable silence as you prepped the Chief’s order - a large black coffee. the pour-over process was tedious to some, but you found it therapeutic. the grinder whirred as it pulverized a small scoop of coffee beans. you placed the plastic funnel on top of the large to-go cup, lining it with a coffee filter and wetting it with hot water. after ejecting the grounds from the machine into a small metal cup, you scooped approximately four tablespoons of grounds into the funnel. after that, you grabbed the small metal teapot-looking vessel and filled it to the marked line with water.

now was the fun part. you poured water from the thin spout on top of the grounds, starting from the middle and working your way around in a spiral pattern until all of the grounds were saturated. the water dripped through the grounds and you waited until there was no more water visibly sitting on top of them before beginning to pour again, in the same spiral pattern. this step was repeated a few times until all of the water was gone and you were left with a full cup of coffee and some spent coffee beans.

“here you go, Chief Swan. that will be two forty-nine.”

he handed you a five. “keep the change, kiddo. get your tip jar started.” he glanced at the empty glass jar in front of the register.

“thanks, Chief. good luck out there.” you mused, flashing him a smile.

“you too, kid.” he didn’t know how much you needed it.

the next few hours drummed by slowly, customers trickling in here and there, some staying to work or read. the constant humming of the espresso machine usually helped muffle your thoughts, but not today. even your book couldn’t distract you - your eyes darted over the same paragraph over and over, mind wandering back to a familiar set of brown eyes staring at you while the waves crashed against the shore.

before you could get too lost in thought, the door chimed, signaling that someone had entered. your eyes darted from the page to the person walking in the door.

“hey, y/n,” he spoke, “i hoped you’d be here.”

“hey, Jacob,” you sighed, not bothering with the customer service voice. the only young people from the reservation that ever came in here were Emily Young and sometimes Seth Clearwater - Paul must have sent Jacob here - let’s test that theory. “what can i get for you?”

“i’m actually just here to talk to you…” he rubbed the back of his neck.

you were right. here it goes.

“listen, i know Paul hurt you, and i don’t blame you for being pissed at him. there’s a lot you don’t know about, though - a lot has changed.” a small smirk played on his face as he said that. 

“like what? he won’t tell me anything.” you deadpanned. you weren’t sure if you could trust Jacob. he was Paul’s friend, after all, and that was enough to be suspicious.

“it’s not my place to say,” a small groan left your throat before you could stop it. “but he’s going to have to tell you eventually. when he decides to, just give him a chance.” 

and who was Jacob to tell you what to do? 

“listen, Jacob. it’s really not your place to be here. i’m not sure if Paul sent you or not, but you can tell him he can either get his head out of his ass and tell me the big secret everyone is dancing around, or he can stop trying to contact me. i’m over this.” the tone was harsher than you intended, and slightly louder too, seeing as there were still other customers in the seating area.

Jacob flinched slightly before regaining his composure. “trust me, y/n. give him a chance.”

with that, the bell rang once again as Jacob swiftly exited the coffee shop.

tags: @vavafaure1994

[sunflowerrosewood]

Mistletoe Confessions ~ Alastor

Author's Note: Since my other account @cheekyredwillow got deleted. I am adding some of my favorite fanfictions to this account and revamping this one with new ones. I hope to make an actual list of fandoms I am still a fan of! NO requests for the time being.

Warnings: none. This would be as if Christmas was celebrated down at the Hazbin Hotel.

~~~~

It was Christmas time at Hazbin Hotel. Charlie wanted to celebrate like the humans do and set the entire place up with decorations. Vaggie was resistant like usual but she agreed anyways. Angel Dust actually set up the lobby along with Niffty. 

You were a resident at the hotel. You actually became friends with Charlie and Vaggie. And Niffty also enjoyed your company. The one you really didn't understand was Alastor. He wasn't the kindest and also not the vilest either. He always seemed to be around you but he usually didn't say much but to Charlie to keep you busy. 

You thought he was attractive and sweet to you. Even if he does seem to avoid you. Alastor always played your favorite music and would watch you from afar. 

Niffty, on the other hand, knew why Alastor "ignored" you. He actually began to fall for you. He knew you were just a resident passing by so he didn't know how long he would keep your pretty face around. You had lived here for a year by now. But you were so sweet and shy with everyone but knew how to keep unwanted demons away. 

You had talked to Charlie, Vaggie, and Niffty about staying here. And as long as you helped around the hotel, you could stay. So Niffty wanted to set something up to force Alastor to confess to you. 

As the Christmas party began, you were dancing to a jazzy Christmas tune with Niffty. You wore a beautiful red sequin dress with some heels. She spun you around the floor and Angel came up to dance. He grabbed your hand and began to dance around the floor.

You did not see Alastor growling while his shadow was pouting behind him. His shadow kept ushering him to ask you out to dance but Alastor's jealousy kept him away. Angel saw Alastor growling to the side. So he kept you busy. 

Niffty saw Alastor off to the side and knew her plane was in motion. She winked at Angel who spun you quickly.

"Let's go Y/n." Angel said as he brought you in the dance.

You twirled and tripped into Alastor's arms. Both of you were blushing. Angel began to snicker and ran away.

"Darling are you okay?" Alastor asked.

"I'm alright. Thank you Alastor." You said blushing as Niffty chuckled. 

"Hey Alastor! Look up!" Niffty yelled out. 

Both of you looked up to the ceiling. You saw the mistletoe dangling from the ceiling and so did Alastor. You blushed and looked away from Alastor. 

"W-well lookie there." Alastor stuttered out. 

"We don't have to." You said as you tried to break out of his arms but Alastor's arms tightened. 

"I need to confess something." Alastor murmured as you heard Niffty squeal.

"What is it?" You asked as Alastor touched your cheek. 

"I have fallen for you Y/n. I did not mean to because I know you do not plan to stay for long but I have fallen for you." Alastor said as he leaned down to place a kiss on your lips.

Surprisingly, the kiss was soft and tender. His cool hands still held your face. You kissed back and tangled your fingers in his hair. You both broke away from the kiss and panting. Charlie, Niffty, and Angel began to applaude and cheer. 

"I should admit a couple of things. I have fallen for you as well. Also, I dont plan to leave any time soon. Charlie is letting me stay here." You said as the radio signal screeched. "Al?"

Alastor picked you up and hugged you. He began to twirl and pepper kisses down your neck. You laughed as Alastor stopped spinning. His smile seemed brighter that night. And at the end of the night, it seemed to continue to get brighter.

[coolgal5]

Forever is the sweetest con - G. GRAVES

(Guys please tell me how I can do this better I’ve never written fanfiction before and this is so bad 😭 GN reader)

Gideon Graves had always been an enigma to you. From the moment he strutted into your life with his confident strides you knew he would cloud your every waking moment. You had met him working as a bartender at the Chaos Theater. You only took the job to pay for college. Gideon had approached you one night as you were working. He had spat off a comment about your hair or outfit. You replied with something wittingly cliche. You ended up chatting with him for a bit that night. You couldn’t stand his snarky attitude or his sarcastic remarks. This of course was overshadowed by the way he said your name and the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the world. He could make you feel totally alone in a room full of people yet in private assure you he loved you. He was controlling and tried to hold you down and you let him because you didn’t want to lose him. You were absolutely in love with him.

Towards the end there was a lot of arguing and things got very heated very quick between you. Most arguments ended with him leaving all night and you sobbing yourself to sleep on your pillow. He overworked himself and any attempt to help him was immediately blocked with blind aggression. He would be out all night and come home at 5-6 AM most nights. He got nearly an hour of sleep a night and even the “sleeping” was really just him tossing around the bed quietly weeping. You knew something had to happen so you took action. Dragging him home most nights. But eventually what was once him coming home late turned into him not coming home at all. You would wait by the phone all night, desperately praying for a call all night. This particular night you had called his office to make sure he was okay. He snapped at you, screaming and insulting you. He had threatened leaving you before but his attempts were typically shut down by your desperately pained cries and begging. This night however he paid no mind to your desperate attempts to coerce him into letting you continue to love him. He simply excused his leaving by stating that with the newfound success of G-man media he just didn’t have time for a relationship. You were absolutely devastated. You cried for days, not leaving your house and sobbing till you threw up. You had no idea how to live without him in your life.

But now here you are curled up on your loveseat with a glass of tea listening to the little radio sat on the coffee table as you wrote. Your world surprisingly didn’t end after Gideon had left you even though it felt like it. You stayed in Toronto, you made new friends and finished college. You didn’t know what Gideon was up to now, out of sight out of mind you thought. You had garnered a pretty positive reputation amongst readers all over Canada. You wrote for a small magazine company owned by one of your old college professors you had gotten along particularly well with, viewing her as a mother figure of the sort. You listen to the rain pounding against the window. You always loved the rain. You hopped out of your seat and decided to grab your coat before going out onto the porch with your tea.

You sat on the porch whilst the howling wind beat against your body. You closed your eyes and breathed in as your hair filled with raindrops. You gazed up at the sky, examining the stars. You glanced back dow towards the road when you noticed a figure walking. You tense up and look away from the figure. You had become nervous knowing what type of person would be out wandering the streets at this hour. The person seemed to notice you as you noticed them and as you glanced into their sunken eyes you realized who it was and a familiar feeling of dread filled your core.

“Gideon?” You breathed out, hands now beginning to shake and eyes welling up with tears. “Hey listen, before you run off I really need to talk to you” He spoke shakily. Upon looking at him further you noticed the tears threatening to spill from his eyes and the tears on his clothes, he looked like he had been beaten.“I have no interest in talking to you now Gideon, not now not ever. You really fucked me up” You said with your voice breaking due to the tears breaking through and dripping down your chin. You started into the house when Gideon grabbed your wrists. You stared into his eyes and for a second you could’ve sworn the rain stopped. “Listen to me please, the way I treated you was sick and really fucked up and I’m sorry” You were a little shocked at his sudden repentance. You never expected this, especially from Gideon. “I lost everything, the company, my money, my whole empire is all gone. I spent the last of my money on a ticket to get up here just to see the one person I ever truly cared about and hope to see a pair of kind eyes looking back at me. I truly have nothing and I just want you” When he said this the tears started to pour down his face and he immediately broke down sobbing.

You didn’t know what to do so in this moment you decided actions spoke louder than words. You wrapped you arms around his neck and pulled him down so your faces were practically touching and you just held him as he sobbed. Just you alone with him in the rain with the stars shining down on you.

[foxhopfics]

How the Squads, teams and ranks actually work in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare

The dissonance in tumblr users versus the actual branches of the military and how they've been written in fics.

Now, I'm very aware that's because no one here is an actual member of the SAS, and TF141 isn't real. So it's... not exactly like we've had the first hand knowledge about it.

However, I have noticed a lack of research having gone into understanding how the military actually works. The worst culprits are the people who've never actually played CoD, but to a degree, I've seen this in like 99% of CoD writing.

So, here's your OFFICIAL easy to understand guide to how the layout of the SAS and the British Military/Her Majesty's Armed Forces will Affect Your CoD:MW Fanfiction.

SAS:

All non-officer soldiers are returned to the rank of Trooper(Private) when joining the SAS, they then have to work themselves up again.

The 22nd Regiment SAS normally has a strength of between 400 and 600 men and is commanded by a Director-Special Forces of Major-General rank. While you may get ~125 candidates for tryouts, you're only going to end up with 10 new recruits who pass. Tryouts are held twice a year, once in summer and once in winter. A soldier must be a junior NCO to attempt, and only gets 2 total tries.

The regiment has four operational squadrons each consisting of 65 men commanded by a Major. Each squadron is divided into four 16 men troops commanded by a Captain and each troop is split into four patrols with each patrol consisting of four men, referred to as Alpha Company, Squad or Team, Beta Squad, Charlie Squad, and Delta Squad. Our boys from the 141 are part of the Beta company, which is why their callsigns are Bravo 6-0 (Price), B7-0 (Ghost), B7-1 (Soap), and B6-2 (Gaz, or B5-0 in '09) respectively. They are part of the normal British army, not the air force, despite their name being special air service. Where they normally are referred to in fanfiction as "tf141" which includes price, ghost, soap, and gaz. This is incorrect. What you're writing here is SAS Bravo Company, not Task Force 141

NCO, CO, DS, Sergeant, and Warrant Officers:

NCO- Non-comissioned Officer, or Enlisted: Ranked up from Private/Seaman/Airman. The "everyman", or basic infantry. Typically learns a skill and sticks with it (i.e radio techs, mechanical techs, vehicle mechanics, foot soldiers, etc). While any officer is a higher rank than a private, an NCO is never in a higher standing than a CO. After several years, they are eligible to become a senior non-commissioned officer (SNCO). This (NCOs) is who you're likely going to have working in the armoury.

CO- Commissioned Officer: "leaders" or "managers" from the beginning. Oftentimes completed a military degree (Royal Military Academy Sandhurst), or if not, was part of UOTC in college/university. Some others finish a degree and then attend officer training. They start as Lieutenants or Ensigns (navy) and often quickly rank up to Captain.

DS- Drill Sergeant: DSs teach Greenies/new recruits the Initial Entry Training (IET). They have their own Sergeant rank system that is separate from Sergeants. They must complete Drill Officer training to become a DS. Staff Sergeant, or a "regular" Sergeant, ranks up as an or NCO, and is in charge of infantry personnel, and doesn't really have contact with recruits (different from privates, you must complete IET to move from Recruit to Private).

WO- Warrant Officer: Higher than Enlisted, but lower than CO. Oftentimes keep their specialty skill, but without as much of the supervisor role. They come in as the "specialists" for things that the NCO's can't do (i.e complicated vehicle maintenance, machine overwatch, etc)

Ranks in the British Military:

NCO ranks:

- Private

- Lance Corporal

- Corporal

- Sergeant (Soap and Gaz)

- Staff or Colour Sergeant

- Warrant Officer class 1

- Warrant Officer class 2

CO ranks:

- Officer Cadet (officer school rank)

- Second Lieutenant

- Lieutenant (Ghost)

- Captain (Price)

- Major

- Lieutenant Colonel

- Colonel

- Brigadier

- Major-General (eligible to run the SAS)

- Lieutenant General

- General

- Field Marshall

So what does this mean for Task Force 141 and JTF Ghost Team?:

Task Force 141 was created by Captain John Price after Roman Barkov's death in MW1, but before MW2 as an international collaborative task force intended to tie up loose ends via Roman Barkov's associates.

It was approved by Laswell in the CIA and General Shepherd of the US Armed Forces.

Oftentimes TF141 is solely referred to with the British team which is where the confusion between Bravo Company happens.

TF141, while also consisting of Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap, is still an international task force consisting of Laswell, Shephered, and Alex (American), Nikolai (Russian), Farah (Urizk), and Alejandro and Rodolfo (Mexican) and ultimately existed for only one purpose.

JTF Ghost Team: Formed by Ghost and Alejandro after they were betrayed by Graves and Shadow Company, believing not many could be trusted at that time.

It was made to flush out the corruption of Graves and Shepherd.

Member consist of: Price, Ghost, Alejandro, Gaz, Soap, Rodolfo, "Ghost 2-4 Pilot" who I suspect is Nikolai, Laswell, and a few freed Los Vaqueros.

[spn-fan-letter]

Hi! So glad you could follow this blog and be here! Unfortunately, this is a side blog, and realized it would be better to have this as a main. We will repost these on the main, which is @rsf-newsletter ! please go follow that, and we will have the first edition out probably september/october. We also have decided to commit to the tumblr blog and email routes. if you'd like to be on our email list, please shoot newsletterspn@outlook.com a message!

[carolmunson]

wish i had a river (part two)

here it is, the part two i said i wouldn't write. if you missed it, here is the first part - wish i had a river this is very much an eddie munson fanfiction, it's mostly from his perspective and follows his story through his eyes and actions. 'you' are mentioned and seen in this fic, but for the most part, it's all eddie all the time. cw: minors dni, adult themes, some smut references. angst. hurt/comfort. lots of mentions of poverty/hunger, sleep deprivation, all around eddie having a bad time. cigarettes/mild drinking but nothing inherently like -- bad? idk. unpopular ship mentioned. i did NOT proof read this.

The alley behind Macy's was a safe haven. Cold, a blue black, poorly paved, with nothing but the dumpters of other stores and the rats to keep him company. Eddie nursed a cigarette on his third smoke break of the night, two bad customers away from a total nervous breakdown. His anxiety built higher every day, every rush, every icy road report -- more people yelling, more people stressed out, more car accidents he'd have to clean up. Wayne's been in an out of the doctor's office more often and it's looking like he might have to retire early. The cigarette loses it's flame and he curses under his breath when he goes to light it again, the nicotine soothing his lips and tongue with a slow steady burn.

You never got to decorate cookies together on his impromptu 'sick day', you hadn't returned any of his calls. Not that he thought he was off the hook or anything, but he did basically write you a fifty two page love letter. If he had the time he'd come by your apartment to apologize in person but at this point exhaustion had started to over stay it's welcome. He could barely make it to the pharmacy on his nights off to get Wayne's medication. The guys at the auto shop could tell something was starting to go very left, 'cause why was the youngest guy there the one who couldn't keep up anymore?

And Eddie really couldn't keep up anymore.

At least his commission in the shoe section was doubling daily.

The cold bites his cheeks while he finishes his cigarette, tossing the butt on the dirty, uneven pavement and crushing out the flame with his work shoes. He rubs his eyes, heavy and swollen with lack of sleep, with scrubbed fingernail hands and sighs. Just another hour and he can go home, just another hour and it's not a closing shift, he can go home at seven like normal people with regular jobs.

He drops his coat off in the cubby area upstairs, stopping in the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. He inspects himelf, eyes half closing in disappointement while he does -- he looks like a shell of himself. He hadn't picked up his guitar in months, didn't turn the radio on anymore -- opting for silence since it was so rare for him to hear between Macy's, the shop, and Wayne's breathing machine at night.

He takes his hair down, shaking out the curls that had at least dried into waving perfection last night, and gives it a shake before putting it back up in a neat ponytail. His bangs sit on his forehead, a few strands framing his now gaunt face. He practices an awake smile in the mirror before he completely deflates -- one bad interaction, one rude look, one snap from a boss, and he'd lose it. The rawness sat in a lump in his throat, a grenade of tears ready to blow if the pin is even so much as nudged.

The door to the back rooms squeaks open on its hinges, revealing the never ending click of boots, heels, sneakers, and men's shoes on the sining tile of Macy's walkway floors. In the beginning, the scent of the perfume section across the way and the bright lights of jewelry used to be an assault on his senses -- but as Wayne says 'You can get used to anything.'

"You good, Ed?" he hears, and turns his head -- it's Angie. Angie is his favorite coworker because she makes the best and meanest jokes about people. If it wasn't for some nights closing with Angie he would've left this job a long time ago. He'd been keeled over in laughs with a duster in his hand so many times that it almost seemed wrong to abandon her there.

"Yeah," he furrows his brow at her, "Should I not be?"

"Some pretty boy's been looking for you," she says, nodding over to the boots section, "You got another business I don't know about?"

A grin stretches across her frosted red lipstick'd lips, crinkling her overlined and spider lashed eyes. She's what Eddie and the guys at Forest Hills would have called 'trailer park pretty' if she was thirty years younger.

"They would be so lucky, wouldn't they?" Ed smirks back, eyes following her nod and landing on a head of beautifully coiffed chestnut hair, "Harrington?"

Steve's eyes perk up like a golden retreiver, a winning smile spreading across his face with a flash of white teeth in it's wake, "Hey, Ed!"

Angie gasps when she realizes who it is, "Oh shit! Is this the guy that --"

"Shh, shut up Ange," Ed huffs, waving her off while Steve comes up to approach him.

"Hey dude, I was hoping you were here. I uh, got a pretty big collection to get tonight so I figured -- you know, I'd come say hi and ask for your help." It's frustrating how pleasant Steve is. How warm his demeanor radiates to others, his candor, the way that he stands. It's annoying that a denim button under a cozy green sweater looks good on him. It makes Eddie sick that he can pull off wire-rim glasses and still look his age, that he smells like spice but not in a cheap way. A twinge of fear shook in his chest when a seed of assumption planted itself in his head -- was this why you weren't answering his calls? Was Steve Harrington smothering you with Christmas spirit every night?

"Yeah, man, sure," Eddie responds like the world isn't sitting directly on his shoulders, which -- he observed -- were not nearly as broad as Steve's, "How can I help you?"

"I need like, four pairs of Moon Boots," he shrugs, "Guess they're in style again? My sister's and nieces want matching pairs so like -- two in a size 8 and then, if you have it, two in a size 4 kids?"

"What color? We have white, purple, black, some metallics," Eddie lists on his fingers, "Well, maybe not black -- those probably sold out already."

"You got silver? Pink, maybe?" Steve shrugs, "I'm just trying to get these wrapped by tomorrow."

Christmas Eve. Ed had almost forgotten.

"Let me see what we have and I'll bring it out," he offers. He wants to ask about you but it seems too obvious. You must have talked about the fight or about him in general, how else would Steve know he worked here? How else would he know to come looking for him.

Moments later, Ed comes out with four boxes, "I have two in silver and two in pink -- so it looks like your nieces will be matching and your sisters will be matching. Does that work?"

"Oh shit, that's perfect," Steve smiles the same winning smile. Eddie wonders for a moment what it feels like to smile genuinely, it's felt like years since he had. He guesses that when you're Steve Harrington, you must get to smile pretty often. Rich, girls love him, former captain of the basketball team, has a masters degree, painstakingly handsome -- no wonder you called him after your fight. Damn, he would too.

"Is that all?" Ed asks, reaching up to run a hand over the five o'clock shadow speckling his chin.

"No, actually, sorry. I need some like, work boots, if you sell those here -- is that okay?" Steve asks.

"Work boots like, how? Like construction?" he asks, "You're a teacher, Harrington."

"Yeah but my uh, my roommate -- he's not in construction but he's on a whole bunch of terrain for work -- desperately needs good shoes for that," he explains.

"What's he do?" Ed asks, guiding him over to the display of Timberlands and Doc Martens.

"He's a photojournalist -- he's all over the place," Steve answers, "He's worn his sneakers down to the sole and like, swears their okay --"

"Jonothan Byer's is your roommate?" Eddie asks, making the connection. He'd only known him from their photography class they shared in Eddie's second senior year, but he knew enough to know he went into journalism shortly after college.

"Yeah," Steve nods, running a hand through his hair.

"Hm," Eddie looks over the shoes and looks up at him, "If I can be honest -- he's gotta be quick on his feet, right? These are gonna be too heavy for him to be walking around in. You might just want to get him some higher quality running sneakers. There's a Foot Locker downstairs if you wanna check that out? A lot of our sneakers are sold out until next week."

"Hmm, shit," Steve clicks his tongue, "Well um -- could I maybe try a pair?"

"Of Docs?" Eddie asks with a laugh.

"Yeah, of Docs -- I can be hip and cool, too, Munson," Steve's faux defense is charming. Eddie wonders what else you find charming about him.

Part of it feels degrading, kneeling down in front of Steve, lacing and relacing each new and different pair of boots he tries on -- but at this point he's buying seven pairs of shoes and the commission alone will cover at least a month of groceries so he's not complaining.

"So you don't hate me, huh?" Eddie asks, slipping a lighter weight Timberland over one of Steve's argyle socks.

"Why would I hate you?" Steve cocks his head, amber eyes catching in the light.

"Oh, did she not talk about it?" Eddie flushes. Why would you talk about him? Your loser mechanic (maybe ex) boyfriend who works at the mall, and at the auto shop, and sometimes sells drugs.

"Your fight from last week?" Steve raises his brows, "Yeah, she talked to me about it. But I woudn't hate you for that."

Ed tightens the laces up his foot to his ankle with care, "Why not?"

"I mean, you're doing a lot right now," Steve shrugs, "I think it can be hard when you're teaching little ones, especially this time of year, to not get caught up in the magic -- you sort of popped her bubble. But y'know, it was sort of a reminder to her that not everyone has it so good."

"She didn't deserve me yelling at her like that, though," Eddie shakes his head, he can feel the threat of the grenade pin tugging on his heart strings. One false move. One shake. One nudge, and he'll blow.

"You're doing the best you can," Steve offers kindly. Eddie swallows hard, offering him a tight smile.

"Thanks. I'm trying, I'm--" he shakes out the tingle of a cry before tying up the laces, "I'm trying really hard."

By the time Steve checks out it's about 7:15 and Eddie wants nothing more than to go to bed. His back hurts, he's gotta make sure Wayne took his medication, he's gotta eat sleep for dinner for the third night in a row.

"Thanks so much," Steve beams, "This is great, thanks for your help."

"Yeah, no problem dude," Eddie sighs, running a hand over his face again, "Have a good holiday."

"You done for the night?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, just gotta y'know -- grab my shit and go," he shrugs.

"You wanna grab some dinner with me in the food court or something?" Steve asks, balancing the many shopping bags he'd collected this evening in his hands.

"I don't know, dude. I don't wanna keep you or anything," Eddie says. His stomach clenches at the word dinner, his body reacting like a dog who just heard the sentence 'you wanna go outside?'

"You're not keeping me," Steve assures, "C'mon, it's on me."

Before he knows it, Eddie's been corralled into a mall food court, sitting slumped over on the sticky table. He tunes out the shreiks of children, the tinny Christmas music playing in the background of the cocophany of noise that is the mall on December 23rd. His forehead sticks to the leather jacket over his forearm, only lifting it up when he hears the slap of a plastic tray being put down in front of him. He surveys the Burger King in front of him and huffs a laugh, it'd been a long time since he'd ventured into the food court. He almost forgot what fast food looked like after the past few months of thin ham sandwhiches or cold cans Spaghettio's.

"So why didn't you try to swoop in?" Ed asked, toying with a french fry before biting off the end, "When you went to her house the other night?"

He savors the oil and salt on his tongue, warm and crispy on the fry disolving in his mouth while he waits for a response.

"Swoop in?" Steve asks, shaking his head, "No, I wouldn't. We just -- we work together. She's my work friend."

"So you never thought about what the kids say?" Eddie challenges, still trying to keep it light hearted, "How the first grade teachers should get married?"

"Her classroom is across from mine and we make lesson plans together," he assures, "What the kids say is what the kids say. They're six, what do they know?"

"Whatever you say, Harrington," Eddie shrugs.

"Munson, seriously -- she's my friend. She's not my type," he offers. The way he says it stings Eddie, what's not his type about you? You're perfect. You're the best person he knows.

"The card thing though? That was cute. I'm gonna put that in my arsenal if I ever fuck up," Steve laughs. Eddie chest rattles when he realizes that Steve was still there for that. He never even knew your reaction.

Eddie clears his throat, "Did um -- did she like it?"

Steve nods with a lazy smile, "Yeah, she liked it."

"Did she say anything?" he asks hopefully.

"She cried," Steve answered, Eddie leans his head on his hands, "I know that might not be what you wanted to hear."

"I didn't wanna make her cry more," he explains, "I wanted to make her happy."

"They were happy tears," Steve encourages with a nod, "She knows you love her. She loves you, too."

"Then why isn't she answering my calls?" he asks, another fry passing his lips.

"I think she's hurt, a little embarrassed. You know how girls are, they never come right out and say it," he shrugs, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. Ketchup drips out onto the paper mat on the plastic tray with a wet plop, Eddie sighs.

"Did you end up getting anything for her for Christmas?"

"No I -- I can't afford it this year," Eddie rubs his eyes again, more swollen and aching than before. Heat beams through his cheeks in embarrassment, tinging pink and then red.

"Well I had an idea," he offers, "If you're up for it."

"Yeah, go for it Harrington. Shoot," he says, the enthusiasm was greatly lacking.

"Well her uh, her class room needs a lot of repairs and the custodial team isn't really equipped for that. The school'll either bare bones it for her or make her pay for it out of pocket if she asks," he starts, "And she told me you're really handy, y'know, working at the garage and all. So maybe you could take care of her class room this week while we're out for break. I can let you in and everything."

He mulls it over in his head, "That's a really good idea, actually. I could um, I could ask the guys at the shop if I could borrow some tools."

"And there's a bunch of wood palettes in the backrooms at Medvald's. Jon said he's happy to get them out of there for you," Steve says with a smile.

"Oh, so you already talked about this?" Eddie smirks.

"Well, yeah, kind of," he blushes, "I was asking around just to see if it was a plausible kind of thing."

"Definitely a plausible thing," he nods, taking a bite of his own cheese burger. He holds back the moan in his chest from eating something warm and mildly filling after such a long time, "Do you think she'd like it?"

"Oh, Munson," Steve shoots him the 'okay' sign, "She'd lose her mind. All she does is complain about how nothing ever works and everything's falling apart. Doesn't even have new chalk."

"Chalk I can definitely handle," he laughs, "I think I can afford chalk."

He feels a moment of calm wash over him when the van rumbles to life in the parking garage. Finally heading home and going to sleep with a full belly, finally with a plan to make you happy, finally feeling like after the new year things can go back to normal. He flicks on the radio and doesn't even change the station when Mariah Carey's 'All I Want For Christmas' crackles through the speakers. He heard it 700 times today, happy to hear it for the 701st.

It was your new favorite song, after all.

Eddie woke up feeling slightly refreshed on Christmas Eve, the dull ache in his back mildly relieved. He fished into his pajama pants for his lighter, flicking it a few times before getting the fuse lit for his morning cigarette. He stood at the open door, bathrobe tied tight around him, and listened to the hum of Wayne's machine from the other end of trailer. The mug of black coffee in his hands had the bitterness cut by the soft sweetness of cinnamon -- that's what you always did this time of year.

'I like making it a little festive for you, honey,' you'd giggle, 'Don't be such a Grinch.'

He wished he appreciated it more, all the little things you did to try to make him happy. The faces in fruit on his pancakes some mornings, making his old favorites for dinner at your place, 'build your own sundae' nights. Scratching his head, scalp massages, hand massages. You'd call them man-icures so he didn't feel weird about you doing his nails and softening his callouses. He didn't care that it was just a manicure with a stupid name, all he cared about was your cute face when you concentrated on his cuticles. He missed your laugh, the way you tap your pen out to your favorite songs when you're grading papers or writing lesson plans, your elaborate schemes to make learning subtraction more fun. The way you're kind to everyone, all the time, constantly. When he first started taking you out he'd get embarrassed by how forward you were with people, how you'd make small talk with cashiers, or grab someone's hand to tell them their nails looked beautiful.

Maybe in a lot of ways, he wished he was more like you to start.

He took a shower and slipped on his coveralls, opting to be one of two guys in the shop today. Him and George. It was George's garage, and for the past six years, Eddie had always volunteered to be the emergency mechanic on deck on Christmas Eve. He got paid time and a half and never had to wait for the check, he'd always get paid at the end of the day.

He laces his boots before trudging down the hall to wake Wayne, taking off his machine and flipping the switch.

"I'm headed out," he whispers, "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Wayne groans when he sits up on the rickety mattress, "I have a new perscription, not sure if the pharmacy'll be open but would you be able to pick it up on the way back. They called last night but I couldn't make it to the phone, it's ready I think."

"Yeah, I'll grab it on my lunch break Wayne," he softens the more he looks at him, "Have some coffee already to go for you on the table, there's a couple eggs left for you too."

"Thank ya, son," his voice is grizzly, but it still feels like home.

Eddie shivers his way into the shop, George in the office organizing some files. The day was always slow, but there were some cars still in need of fixing so he got right to work.

"Hey George," he calls, knocking on the door.

"Hey kid," he calls back, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, round six," he laughs back. He goes back to the break room and drops off his coat and his back pack. Normally he'd have you to look forward to later with a plate of cookies from your family's Christmas Eve party and some left overs expertly packed. You'd drive an hour and a half to bring it down to him and then an hour and a half back to spend Christmas with your family. But not before he gave you a present, or multiple presents, in the break room when George went out to get a six pack.

"Ed," he calls again, "C'mere when you're done dropping your shit."

Eddie heads over to the office, leaning on the door frame, "'Sup bossman?"

"Someone left a message for ya on the answering machine, think it's the pharmacy," he said, "Ya might wanna give 'em a call, s'probably for your uncle."

"Oh, yeah, I think his prescription's ready," he nodded, "Can I use your phone?"

"Yeah, by all means," he said, pushing it toward him, "Want me to give you a minute?"

Ed shakes his head no, "It's fine, just a quick call." He's got the number memorized by heart at this point, clicking the numbers on the grease stained white plastic buttons while barely looking at the machine.

"Hawkins Pharmacy, this is Debbie," Eddie smiles because he knows Debbie. He likes Debbie a lot.

"Hi Deb, it's Eddie, Eddie Munson," he says, "Calling for my uncle, looks like you called my work. I was gonna come by and pick up his meds on my break, will you guys be open?"

"Oh um, about his prescription Ed..." she starts, and he can hear the hesitation in her voice. The clip in the grenade buried in his chest jiggles slightly, he takes in a breath through his nose.

"What's up?" he asks, his voice his short and curt.

"Well, he changed his insurance recently, as you know and -- well there's a lapse in his coverage right now. His new plan doesn't activate until the first," she expains.

"Okay, and what does that mean?" he says, his palms sweat onto the cool plastic of the phone, his ear sticks to the receiver.

"Basically," she says, and then sighs, "His current insurance can't cover it and neither can is upcoming insurance, so the prescription has to be paid out of pocket."

"Um -- uh, fuck -- okay," he says, a chill courses through him, tightening his veins. The pin jiggles again, "H-how much?"

"For the month?" she asks, "For this prescription it's, hold on, let me check...it's looking like it'll come out to around..." she takes a breath of defeat.

"Around three hundred dollars, Ed," she says softly.

"Three hundred..." he repeats back quietly, "Is there like, is there a cheaper version cause he like..."

His voice cracks, the pin rattles dangerously while his eyes start to sting with oncoming tears, "He really needs these pills, Debbie."

"This is the cheapest option," she says apologetically, "I'm so sorry."

"I'll um, I'll figure it out," he shakes his head, "I'll come by and I'll figure it out. Thanks uh, thanks for letting me know Deb."

He doesn't wait to hear her response before he hangs up the phone, quickly leaving the office to go back to the break room. He sniffles in big shuddering breaths, sweat dripping down his back despite the lack of heat in the garage.

"Kid," George says softly, following behind him, "Hey, Munson. What's goin' on?"

He feels George's big hand on his shoulder, the soft squeeze on the muscle under his skin.

"I can't afford my uncle's medication," he says, the pin jiggles, "I mean I can, but like, if I get his medication I'll be late in paying the gas bill, but if they turn the gas off there goes our heat. Or I can delay the electric bill but if they turn the lights out he can't use his machine at night. So maybe I could like, go out tonight after this and shovel some driveways in the rich neighborhoods or -- I could -- I could --"

The pin falls.

He breaks.

He breaks hard.

Eddie's cries turn to wails, his body shaking with hunger and exhaustion and the unbearable heaviness of having to be himself. The tears pour in droves down his face while he tries to catch up with them, trying to find the words to explain to George that he's okay, he'll figure it out.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay, it's okay," George soothes, his aged face crumpling while he watches Eddie break down in front of him. He pulls him in tight, a hand plopping ontop on his mess of curls.

"Why don't you tell me what's been goin' on? You haven't been yourself for months," he says softly, "Talk to me."

George smells like Old Spice and Newports, it's a scent that's always made him feel safe. Like having a second dad -- well, a third dad, if you count his real dad. He never counts his real dad, though.

Eddie sits down at the table while George takes a couple of beers out of the fridge and places them down in front of them. He cracks them open and settles down, two sets of brown eyes meeting each other.

He begins.

"Well if Wayne was sick why didn't you tell me?" George exclaims, "I've known Wayne longer than you've lived in Hawkins, boy. I would've helped you figure somethin' out. Taking shifts at Macy's? At Christmas time? No wonder you're so exhausted."

"I mean, I'm young. I can do it," Eddie shrugs.

"Those bags under your eyes say you can't," he says matter of factly, "And y'know you shouldn't have to. You're -- damn you're a kid."

"I'm like, inching towards thirty George," he laughs.

"And what about your little girlfriend? She not helping?"

"That's..." he sighs, "That's a whole other mess."

Eddie rehashes the story he told Wayne last week and then Steve's visit from yesterday, "So today I was gonna ask if I could borrow some tools and go in tomorrow or something to fix everything up. But now I gotta figure out how I'm gonna make an extra three hundred bucks for these meds."

"How about this," George starts, "You've been workin' for me a long time. You come early and you stay late. You cover for everyone. You know -- damn -- you know more about cars than I do and I've been runnin' this place for thirty years. How about you take this week off to work on your girl's classroom and I'll see you after the New Year."

"I can't. I need to work, George, I need the mo--"

"How about," he interjects, loud and stern, "You take the week off to work on your girl's classroom and get some rest, and I will pay you for the week. It's not like you're just sittin' on your ass."

"I can do that, that's not f--"

"If you say no again, I'm just gonna fire you. Is that what you want?" George challenges.

"No sir," Eddie quickly shakes his head and shuts his mouth.

"And," the older man continues, "I will cover the cost of Wayne's pills. I'll go pick them up at lunch for 'im and drop 'em off. 'Bout time I caught up with that geezer anyway."

The tears build back up in Eddie's eyes, his mouth lets out a sputtered version of a 'Thank you'.

"You gotta stop pretending like you have to do everything yourself," George's voice holds a fatherly fondness when he gets up and tosses their empty beers in the trash.

"C'mere, kid," he chuckles while Eddie tearily gets up out of the chair and back into the dad like embrace of his boss.

"You got ten minutes, but then we got some cars to fix."

Eddie didn't tell Wayne about the insurance lapse or the pills, even though he was surprised to see George at the trailer park that afternoon. Eddie went home with his tool belt from work, his time and a half, and a little extra that his boss insisted he take with him. Wished him luck on his repairs and that he'd see him on the 2nd.

He was warned that if he didn't rest, Wayne would tell him, and it would mean hell for him at the shop.

Eddie'd already been through hell, so he didn't really want to have to do it again.

Christmas morning came and Eddie woke Wayne up to a cup of coffee and some breakfast.

"Thanks, son," he said smoothly, pushing in his chair at the table in the kitchenette, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he wished back, tapping some cinnamon into each of their cups of coffee.

"What's that for?" he asks before a harrowing cough bubbles out of his chest. He takes a sip of coffee to ease the ache of the rattle in his throat.

"It's just festive, Wayne," he teases, "Don't be a Scrooge."

"Doing anything today?" Wayne asks, eyes casting up to look at the old pictures of a younger Eddie sat on Santa's lap. No longer a holiday where they stayed home and snuggled, where he played with his toys, where there was magic.

"Gonna go fix up my girl's classroom as a gift," he says, picking at his nails, "Thought it'd be a nice gesture."

"She hasn't called ya back, hm?"

Eddie shakes his head, already dressed in the Black Sabbath shirt you got him that he hadn't gotten a chance to properly thank you for. The chain you got repaired hung aroung his neck delicately, the pick hitting his chest in a gentle reminder that you're still here with him. You had to be. He'd know if you just decided to be done with him.

By the time the late afternoon rolled around he hopped in his van after Wayne fell asleep in the recliner. The perk of the holidays was that he could drive around in the rich neighborhoods and no one was out to give him and his car dirty looks. No one was around to be confused that Steve Harrington was hopping into his passengers seat to head to Melvald's. No one was around to be confused as to while they were loading wood from broken down pallets into the ample trunk space.

"Good holiday?" Eddie asks.

"Same holiday it always is," he shrugs, "My parents weren't around so I stayed home. Jonothan went to California with Joyce to go visit Will so he wouldn't have to pay to fly home."

"That's lonely," Eddie mutters, "Sorry dude."

"Don't be sorry, I'm used to it," he looks out the window. Steve looks well dressed for repairs -- a pair of worn in jeans, white on white Air Forces, an Izod half zip sweat shirt -- he might as well look like a father of three, "Have you heard from her at all?"

"No -- I left her a message on her answering machine, but I think she's already up with her family. I don't know what she told them so -- I don't want to bother her parents if they're upset with me," he explains.

"They'd never be upset with you," Steve shakes his head, "They're good people."

"I'm sure they wish on a star every night that she was with you, Harrington," he jokes.

"You'd think, right?" Steve laughs, "No, she told me how much they like you. They think you're so good to her -- you are so good to her."

Steve speaks about you with a fondness that makes Eddie wonder. He softens, looking over at him while he turns down the road to the elementary school, "Do um...do you wish it was you?"

"I already told you, man. I love her to death, but she's not my type," he laughs again, but there's a pain there.

"You keep saying that but like -- are you sure? 'Cause you can tell me it's not weird," he assures.

"She hasn't told you?" Steve asks, brows furrowing.

"Told me what? Did you guys used to fuck, or something?" Eddie asks, his heart hammering, "Did you fuck the other ni--"

"No, no, Ed I'm --" he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm gay," he says quietly, "Like, Jonathan isn't my roommate he's -- he's my partner. I'm gay."

There's a silence there for a moment and Eddie shifts in his seat a red light. Oh, I'm such a fucking idiot. Of course that's why they aren't together. I thought maybe he had a weird dick or something.

"That's y'know," Ed shrugs, "That's cool with me, man. Like, silence equals death and all that."

"Oh, shut up man," Steve laughs and shakes his head, putting his hand up to stop him from talking, "Don't like, do that all shit. I'm just surprised she hadn't said anything."

"If you told her not to, she wont," Eddie's voice drops to something sweet, "She's a good girl like that. Great secret keeper. Great -- Oh, shit..."

When the boys pull into the lot, Eddie's surprised to see a couple more trucks sitting by with their lights on, doors opening at the sight of them. A gruff voice calls out from the dark, a light snow obscuring him and the name on his coverall.

"How long were you gonna keep us waiting here, kid? It's a holiday."

George's gruff voice cuts the silence, a couple of the guys from the shop chuckle in the background. Eddie smiles, a genuine, warm smile -- the kind he envied from a couple nights ago that he saw from Steve. These were people who cared about him, who wanted to help. This was, he guessed, was what Christmas was really about. This was what you were trying to tell him the whole time. His heart breaks all over again, and he swears he can feel the pulse of your heart beat in the guitar pick hanging at his chest.

By the 27th, most of the repairs had been done. The help from the guys was beyond what he could've imagined. They were able to replace part of the roof that had water damage, fix the windows, repair a cracked pane, build a new bookcase, fix the wobble in all of the desks, and yours. Now, he was just adding a new coat of paint after spending the morning chipping off all the shards of it that were falling off. In his backpack was an overflow of new chalk, pens and pencils, markers, crayons, construction paper, pipe cleaners, and glue. The guys went through their kids bookcases at home and donated a slew of new books for the room -- some duplicates, too.

He felt good. He'd gotten two nights of adequate sleep, heeding George's warning that he has to rest. He was able to buy a good crop of groceries and most of the guys from work came by to drop off so many Christmas cookies that Wayne was nervous he'd start losing his teeth too. Now, all he had to wait for was you. For you to come in on Friday and see his surprise when you dropped in for your professional development day with Steve. He wasn't sure if he wanted to leave flowers or gingerbread men with the card but he figured he'd cross that bridge when he --

"Eddie?"

He jumped, nearly falling off the ladder he was on to reattach over head light that had rusted on the ceiling, "Jesus Christ!"

He clutched his chest, letting his heart rate settle down when at the bottom of the ladder, there you stood. His face blushed pink, pulse ping ponging through his wrists at the sight of you.

"Hi, sweetheart," he smiles, "This um...this was supposed to be a surprise."

"Who told you?" you asked, looking around, "About all my stuff?"

Eddie climbed down the ladder carefully, "Steve came to the store, told me that you needed some help. I figured y'know, if I couldn't get you a present I could just -- I could make you one."

"It's not done yet though, I still have to paint and put all your art supplies away," he explains, meeting you in the center of the room. He looks at you and then at the tears in your eyes, the heat rising in your cheeks. You don't say anything, his heart races in embarrassment. Maybe it wasn't enough, maybe you didn't like it. Maybe you wanted to do it yourself.

"And um, the guys from the shop, they uh, they brought books," he says, walking over to the new bookcase, "And I uh, I built this, like, with my hands."

He painted it to match the rest of the decor, a fun bright color that would hopefully draw the kids in to read. You'd mentioned that the got bored with the same ten books and weren't sharing well -- half of the books were falling apart since there wasn't anywhere to put them.

"And uh, I got you some new chalk -- white obviously, but I got you some multi-colored sets cause I know you like to do little sketches on the board during holidays and like, with spring comin' up maybe you could do little flowers or something?" he doesn't realize it, but he's gasping through his rambled sentences. Watching you walk toward him slowly.

"It's okay if you don't like it," he assures, "You can tell me and I can fix it I just wanted to--"

Your kiss feels like a spoonful of summer warmed honey on his cold lips. It trails down his throat and into his chest, down through his fingertips and his toes. He feels your soft hands cup his face, resting against his cold prickly cheeks. He's afraid to touch your face because you haven't given him a manicure yet this week. He doesn't want to scratch you with his rough hands, so he places them around you instead, frowning when you finally break away with a soft click.

"I just wanted to do something nice," he says against your lips.

"This is the best gift ever," you whisper quietly, a little sniffle stifling your cry, "It's very nice."

"Merry Christmas, baby," he smiles, leaning in for another kiss.

"Merry Christmas," you wish between kisses.

He wakes up wrapped up in you, in your sheets, in your scent, peering at you while you sleep soundly next to him. You both had barely made it through the door of your apartment before you both had shed your clothes -- landing on the bed with a mutual 'oof!'

It had been so long since he'd been present. Savoring every soft moan out of your mouth, every shake of your thighs, everything whine, every clench, the way you'd rake your nails down his back, the way you'd pulse when he held your hand. You both laid there together after round one, eating cookies in bed (which you'd allowed just this once), while he told you everything. About how hard it had been taking two jobs, how he'd completely shut down, about Wayne's insurance lapse, about the guys at work, about Steve coming to Macy's, about how much he loved the gifts you got. About how he cried the night he yelled at you but was too afraid to face you after because he felt so awful. He listened when you told him that you just needed some time, but that you felt awful that you weren't there when he needed you.

"Need you all the time," he mumbled between heated kisses, "Never lettin' you outta my sight."

His eyes rolled and his toes curled when you took him in your mouth, letting you take the lead. He gasped and writhed, whining for more when your tongue swirled and sucked, showing him how much you missed him. How you'll always take care of him -- and he made sure to show you how he'll take care of you back.

Round three was long and drawn out, slow and sensual, close and quiet -- your boom box playing low static by the end.

Your eyes opened, stretching out when you see him sitting up in bed.

"You heading out?" you yawn.

"No, baby," he smiles down at you before laying back down, losing himself under the covers with you again, "I have the week off, so I'm intending to spend every moment I'm not with Wayne, in this bed, with you."

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

Electric Love - Full Chapters

Want early chapters? Read on Ao3!

Chapter 1: Not What I Expected

Notes: Support me by reading on Ao3! Kudos and comments help motivate me to see multi-chapter fics through to the end! I'll be posting announcements for the updates here. Chapters will come out on Ao3 BEFORE tumblr.

Some shit in this will probably be really OOC, but it's fanfiction so who cares? Enjoy!

Word Count: 6090

It was a day in hell like any other. Flashing cameras, idiots who came to Vox with questions below his caliber, the whole works. The overlord was half tempted to cancel any appointments he had after the current debut he was waiting to go on stage for. The only thing he wanted was to go home and eat an obscene amount of junk food while he zoned out to reruns of one of the shitty soap operas that ran on one of his channels.

He could hear the crowd of anxious paparazzi and ass-kissers just past the stage as he pocketed his phone with a deep sigh. Ignoring the concerned crewman who signaled it was time for him to go on stage, Vox grit his teeth and stepped onto the stage, immediately adopting an entirely different persona with a practiced smile. 

Cameras flashed and the crowd got louder as people cheered, shoved each other out of the way and paparazzi rapidly fired questions at him with microphones pointed his way. Vox resisted the urge to roll his eyes. You’d think that any experienced reporter with half a brain cell would know the chances of getting a response to such behavior was zero to none, and yet he was so familiar with the approach that it was boring.

Despite his disdain, Vox waved and grinned proudly as he stepped up to a podium in front of a large screen. "Hello my loyal audience and fans,” he speaks with a clear and confident tone. “Today we at VoxTech have quite the exciting announcement to make. For too long, we have been limited to regular television and radio media, well no more! Introducing VoxTube, the new innovative way to stream content and enjoy it at any time.." the crowd cheered and whistled louder at the sound of the word 'streaming' and then they all gasped at once during the reveal.

Vox paused to dramatically look away from the crowd for a moment, his eyebrows arching and the corner of his mouth curling up slightly, before looking back towards the crowd again with a smug grin on his face. "And now.. for the moment you've all been waiting for... the grand reveal!" Vox said as the crowd grew even louder with excitement.

Just as the screen behind him shifted to reveal the new platform, the screen flickered before showing a logo that was very much not his. In fact, it was the logo of the damned rival company that had been a thorn in his side for the past few months. “Oh for fucks, sake, not this again,” he muttered as he looked to the side to see his production crew scrambling behind the scenes to shut down the takeover.

The large screen was supposed to be demoing the “new” platform that was really just a rehashed regurgitation of an older platform. This was supposed to be just a quick cash grab, but now it was just a problem. Vox glared at the stupid halo logo as an unfamiliar, but jovial voice seeped through his speakers like a virus.

"Tired of being controlled? Tired of not being about to tell if your information is being leaked or if VoxTech is brainwashing you?" The voice asked as it revealed distasteful footage of mindless sinners in front of VoxTech products. "Then try Eternal Entertainment. Your anti-Vox streaming and video platform, completely free of VoxTech networks. Take back control of your experience!"

The crowd was silent as the screen played a jingle before going dark. It took all the self-restraint Vox had not to glitch out on the stage when he knew the cameras were still rolling. Immediately, the crowd had their phones out, downloading the new app. Reporter cameras were flashing as sinners got as close to the stage as they could. Microphones were shoved in Vox's direction as a dozen voices asked him about the new competition.

"Ah-ah-ah... Now, let's not be so hasty, hmm?” Vox turned to the crowd with a strained grin. “This so-called 'Eternal Entertainment' is merely slander propaganda! There’s no history, nor a face to the name of this company. There’s nothing to trust! At VoxTech, we care about users' safety and provide hell-wide coverage that this ‘competition’ simply can’t beat." Vox said, trying to convince the crowd that it was a mistake to download the rival platform.

"What about the rumors of Vox programs being coded with hypnotic influence?” A reporter asked as they shoved down another. “This new rival platform promises protection from the threat of corporate dating mining and influence. What do you have to say about that?" A reporter asked.

"Hypnosis? No no, no.. that’s ridiculous!" Vox scoffed, shaking his head as he tried to sound convincing. "It’s already been proven that any rumors about such malware were nothing more than scandalous lies created to discriminate against the powers of tech demons like myself,” Vox said, theatrically shaking his head as he played the card his PR team had him prepared for at all times. 

“Look, you know you can trust and rely on the wonderful VoxTech. We have been nothing but honest and transparent... unlike those frauds at 'Eternal... uhh..'," Vox tried to remember the name of the rival platform.

"Eternal Entertainment!" Someone from the crowd yelled. "It already has 300,000 downloads!"

"See? That’s nothing!” Vox laughed with a strained smile. It was something. Low numbers for a platform overall, sure. But to already have that many downloads mere minutes after the hijacked debut? Yeah no, Vox was freaking the fuck out. 

The crowd continued to get louder, and Vox felt anxious electricity thrumming through his veins. Everything was getting overwhelming and he only had so much bullshit he could come up with on the spot before he started contradicting himself. He continued to smile as his magic pulsed through the nearby cables of the stage as he searched for anything he could use as an escape. He found a security camera in an alleyway a few blocks over and put on a professional grin. He just needed a closing statement, and he'd get out of there. Easy.

"Well then," Vox cleared his throat and put on his best, most charismatic smile. "I promise you all, this so-called “Eternal Entertainment”, is nothing but a passing fad! It's just a desperate attempt by the competition to try and take you away from the best hell has to offer. The very best streaming and media..." Vox's eyes narrowed as he looked around at the crowd and his smile slowly faded. "Me."

The chaotic crowd suddenly fell silent as his screen flooded their vision with red and black spirals. The sound of a pin dropping would be deafening compared to the frantic clamoring that had filled the space only moments ago as Vox flooded the crowd’s minds with VoxTech propaganda and affirmations. Once he was content, Vox used the camera to teleport to the alleyway while the crowd was left temporarily mindless.

“F̸̛̫̝̉u̴͑͜c̵̮̀ḱ̷̩̆î̴̩͘n̴̯̬͐g̷̮͌̚ piece of shit m̷̨͙͗o̴̲͎͐t̸͉̜͒h̷̙̃e̶͎̦͋r̵̟͘f̷̱̄͒û̸̥ć̵̙ͅḱ̶̡́ę̷͎̄ŕ̵̠̳ś̶̝͗,” Vox swore as his screen glitched hard the moment he was out of sight. He continued to swear and vent out his frustrations as he kicked an empty paint can on the ground next to a dumpster. Fortunately, there weren’t any sinners passing by to witness his tantrum. He wasn’t in the mood to drop another fucker until they were brain-dead.

Once Vox got the rest of his frustrations out of his system, he collected himself and sighed. He pulled out his phone and opened the app store, cringing as he saw the rival app rising in the trending downloads. He closed his eyes and focused his abilities as his power surged through the network and hunted down the source engine running the app. With so many devices accessing the network, he was able to narrow down the location quickly.

"Perfect,” Vox said with a sinister grin. “Now to take care of this problem once and for all."

Any time he’d tried to hunt down Eternal before, Vox had run into dead end after dead end. He couldn’t track down the sinners running the rival software, nor could he track down any of their host servers. The hubris of his newfound enemy would be their undoing. Anyone in the entertainment industry worth their salt knew how easily things could be exposed upon release. By loudly announcing their debut when they hijacked Vox’s presentation, the company had left themselves wide open for him to latch onto the smallest flaws and hunt them down properly. 

Vox wanted to destroy the place and make sure that their platform never gained any kind of popularity or power in Hell ever again. He finally pinpointed the location where the platform was being hosted and was pleased to find it wasn't anything impressive. There was no polish. The building didn’t even look like it was any sort of office or official business. If anything, it looked uninhabited. He pulled up the address on his screen to see what he could find out about the location’s history. 

The building was a rundown observatory run by some random sinner he couldn’t care less about before one of the biggest exterminations of the past century. The neighborhood the building was near had been so thoroughly gutted by the angels that the entire area was abandoned due to superstition. Well… as abandoned as any corner of the overcrowded ring of hell could be. It was the perfect place for unsavory types to hide in the shadows. 

Vox scanned the exterior and his smirk only grew as he took note of the lack of any sort of security. "This will be easy..." Vox said to himself as he locked on to a computer screen he sensed inside of the building. Wanting to get the drop on his cocky competition, he teleported his way inside the old, abandoned observatory. Vox was expecting a potential fight. Maybe guns. Probably a lab full of desk jockeys. What Vox didn’t expect was for his feet to barely touch the ground before he found himself suddenly in agonizing pain. His vision was clouded over with purple smoke and he heard the sound of glass shattering as his entire body short-circuited hard from the overwhelming pain.

Vox screamed, dropping to his knees as his systems malfunctioned from the icy-hot burning sensation shooting across his skin. His face bluescreened and his vision went dark. The last thing he heard as he lost consciousness was the sound of someone swearing and footsteps rapidly approaching him as he passed out.

----

Vox gasped as he felt his systems finally reboot. He ran an internal diagnostic as he sat up to look around, dazed and disoriented. The burning sensation had faded, but his head was pounding. His vision slowly cleared as he took in his surroundings. It looked like he was in some sort of office.There was a large, overflowing bookshelf by an open window and a desk with an impressive computer set-up on it. Vials filled with purple, sparkling mist were scattered around the entire room, all with different labels on them. The space was messy, yet somehow… cozy. At least, it felt more comfortable than the majority of the sleek areas of hell he was more familiar with. 

Vox looked down and quirky an eyebrow as he held up the soft blanket draped over his lap. He tried not to think of what sort of diseases could be lurking in the old couch he was lying on as he processed the situation.

"W... what..? Where am I… How did I get here...?" Vox said as he blinked a couple of times, trying to remember what had happened before he lost consciousness. "What the fuck is this place?"

"Oh shit, you're awake!" A voice startled Vox and he tossed the blanket off of him as the door to the office pushed open. He hadn’t noticed that it had been cracked open, nor had he noticed you waiting for him to wake up out in the hallway.You’d been leaning against the doorframe and scrolling through social media as you waited for him to regain consciousness.

 You stepped into the room, smiling sheepishly as you pocketed your phone, “Sorry, I didn’t want you to wake up alone and be confused, but it also felt weird to just sit in here. How are you feeling?”

Vox didn't know what to expect when it came to his new rival, but he couldn't have imagined you. Hell was full of sinners of all shapes and sizes. Vox had seen some crazy shit, but he’d never seen someone as… soft as you. You weren’t dressed to the nines or in some wild costume like most. Instead, you were just wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie with your hair pulled back in a messy bun. You looked like a burnt-out college student rather than a sinner trapped in hell.

“You know,” you smirk. “I may not have been the one running the campaign against you, but you may have wanted to take that whole anti-Vox thing a bit more seriously before just barging in here.”

"You're... the owner of the rival platform..?" Vox said as his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes and no," you cringe. "Normally, I’d be chasing you out of here with a broomstick, but I might have royally fucked up and have no idea what I’m doing," you admit.

“What?” Vox asked flatly. He had been expecting tech bro assholes who would monologue at him in an attempt to piss him off. He’d been expecting the run-of-the-mill hellish power-hungry welcome he’d come to love tearing to shreds any time someone was stupid enough to try to overthrow him. He expected literally anything else but this.

“It… would probably be easier to just show you,” You sigh as you walk over to your computer and wake up the idle screen.

Vox stood from the couch and crossed the small office to look at the screen.  It revealed that millions of sinners had already made accounts on Eternal Entertainment’s new platform, and a decent amount of accounts had already started uploading content. To say it was successful would be an understatement.

"Millions..." Vox muttered under his breath, feeling more and more threatened by the platform as he saw the success it was already having. "How the hell did you manage to pull this off?"

You chuckle, rubbing the back of your head nervously. "Yeah, uh, about that... I don't... know."

"You don't k̴n̷o̵w̵?̴" Vox flipped on you with a spark. His eye twitched as he tried to pick apart your game. Were you bragging? Were you about to threaten him? Were you a fucking idiot?

"Excuse, the fuck, me?” Vox growled as he grabbed your hoodie and pulled you forward. “Do you mean to tell me this was just some fucking pet project or some shit?"

"Yes and no?," you cringed as Vox made it clear how fed up he was getting with that answer.

Normally, you wouldn’t let anyone yank you around, but you’d dug yourself into some pretty deep shit. The guilt that came with that kept you complicit for the time being, but you still pushed his hand off of you. 

"The truth is, I… made the platform,” you admit sheepishly. You’re quick to defend yourself as you see Vox’s expression fill with rage. “But I’m not the one who released it and I don’t work for Eternal. I swear!”

“You realize how fucking fake that sounds, right?” Vox growled as he felt his claws itch with the desire to rip you apart.

“Yup,” you swallow. “I understand the shit sandwich I landed myself in very much, Mr. Big Scary Evil Overlord Sir.”

“But,” you say as you pull back your desk chair and pull up your browser. “I have proof. If you don’t believe me after you look at it, you can kick my ass to your heart’s content. But I think you’ll quickly realize I do not know what the fuck I’m doing and I couldn’t have made this shit the way you’re thinking I did, even if I tried.”

Vox squinted at you with distrust as he looked between you and the chair. He grabbed the back of the offending furniture far tighter than was necessary and yanked it out of your hand as he sat down with a grumble.

He started scrolling through the history of your browser and clicked through the tabs you’d left open for him. It looked like you had signed up for some sort of coding workshop and had no idea what you had signed up for. What was poorly disguised as a hands-on tutorial for beginner video game coders to learn how to make mock platforms for marketing was a trap to lure in people to do Eternal’s dirty work. It was the sort of thing that would never pop up on Vox’s radar. It was obviously a scam to the trained eye and a weak attempt at throwing suckers like you under the bus.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” he said as he looked up at you incredulously.

Your face flushed and you looked away from him with an embarrassed frown as you crossed your arms. “Oh fuck off,” you grumble. “I’m broke as hell and it was a free course in an area I need to learn to make my games. It sounded too good to be true.”

“Because it was, dumbass,” Vox snorted as he shook his head and kept digging. He followed the data trail of the domain the workshop was hosted on and pulled up a few unrelated tabs that you hadn’t already pulled up from him so he could figure out how you’d discovered the suspicious content in the first place.

“Hey!” you gasp as you try to stop him.

“If you don’t want to end up an electrified shish kabob on the floor, you’ll let me work,” Vox said, not taking his eyes off the screen for a second as he installed some of his searching software to run in the background of your system.

You huff, watching him continue to dig through your computer before you turn on your heel and walk out. “Just don’t move or delete anything.”

Vox rolled his eyes as he continued his search. He quickly understood where your worries stemmed from. He hadn’t paid too much attention to your mention of it earlier, but it was obvious you were some sort of video game developer. There were folders filled with concept designs, dialogue chains, and amateur attempts at programming. It seemed while you thrived in the creator side of things, your tech knowledge was severely lacking. A quick invasive peek at your bank account showed that your funds were as well. You had big visions for someone with only yourself as a resource.

He paused as he opened a folder in your files that was filled with what appeared to be pictures of you and what he assumed were your friends. His eyes widened as he recognized several faces smiling innocently compared to the lewd expressions he’d seen them make in Valentino’s films. What caught his attention even more was the multiple pictures of you with Angel Dust and his little cyclops friend who had a knack for explosives.

Before he could dig any further into your personal life, several windows popped up to let him know the diagnostics had finished running the background.

Vox’s leg started to bounce with anxious energy as the reports from the programs he’d run earlier started to flood in. He immediately followed the trail of information and found several other websites connecting to Eternal that eventually led him to a secluded forum with all sorts of shady shit. He opened several threads that related to himself and the other Vees and inhaled sharply as he started to read through everything.

"Anti-VoxTech underground network…?" Vox whispered aloud. An anxious thrum of energy ran through him as he tried not to freak out. What if this person used the platform to spread propaganda against him or to leak information from his networks? What if this person was trying to destroy him from the inside out? His paranoia began to intensify and he felt small sparks licking at his skin when suddenly, a coffee mug was thrust in front of his face.

He looks up at you as you hold out one of two mugs to him. He takes it slowly from your hand as you look at him unimpressed, yet expectantly. “Thanks…?” He says slowly as he is once again thrown off by how much you didn’t match his expectations. He looks down at the liquid in his hand before looking back up at you distrustfully. For all he knew, your weirdly casual demeanor could have all been a trick. Poisoning him in the afterlife wouldn’t kill him, it’d just be a major inconvenience. Even so, he hesitated.

“Oh for fucks sake,” you roll your eyes as you realize why he was hesitating. You stick your pinky in his cup and pop it in your mouth to show him it was safe. “It’s just hot chocolate,” you huff before you take a sip from your own mug. “I was going to make one before you just zapped your ass in here and it felt rude to only make one for myself.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked the bewildered overlord over. “Shit, but your face… Can you even…? Wait no, that’s also rude. Fuck.”

Vox burst out laughing as you verbally tripped over yourself. Yeah no. There was no evil ploy here. You were just a weirdly endearing dumbass.

“I can drink,” Vox grinned as he finally lifted the cup to his lips. His eyes widened as he took in the unexpected taste. While he could eat and drink, he unfortunately had lost his sense of smell with his afterlife form. He wasn’t expecting the slightly sour tinge of raspberry syrup that mixed with the more standard flavor of the drink.

You watch him curiously and his eyes lock onto yours in an instant. Your face flushes and you turn away as you try to not-so-smoothly play over the fact that you had been trying to see how his mouth worked. “S-So, did you find anything?”

Vox sighed and set his mug down as he turned his attention back to your computer. “Yes, actually. Surprisingly enough, I’ve found more on your very shitty and outdated computer than my team has in the past six months.”

He ignores your offended protests about the quality of your setup as he looks through one of the forums. He ignores the way you lean into his personal space as you look over his shoulder and read the comments yourself.

“I just don’t get why there’s this large of an interest in working around my products,” Vox grumbled as the two of you read through the conversations.

You raise an eyebrow and peer down at him. "You and the Vee's don't exactly have the best rep with lower-class sinners. It may be hard for a big powerful dude like you to comprehend, but believe it or not, some people like their privacy."

Vox frowned as he begrudgingly sipped on his drink. He would never admit out loud how much it was soothing his nerves. “We’re in hell,” he reasoned. “Surely dating mining which pornos the average sinner watches to increase ratings and production quality isn’t the top concern these idiots have.”

You roll your eyes and sigh as you sit on the edge of your desk. Your hips carelessly pushed some things back, but you paid it no mind. “It goes deeper than that and you know it. Hell, I know it and I think this entire experience has proven how much of this shit flies over my head.”

Vox’s eyes drift to the vial you bumped with your hip and he pauses as he considers just how harmless you really were. While it was clear you weren’t the most program-savvy, Vox hadn’t forgotten the abrupt welcome he’d gotten when he tried to sneak in. Whatever that mist he’d been enveloped in was bottled and stashed all over the place. He still had more digging to do.

Sensing the shift in Vox’s attitude, your eyes follow his gaze and you cringe as you tuck the vial out of sight.

“So you’re not a complete idiot then,” Vox said as he placed his empty mug on the table and stood over you.

“That’s different,” you mutter as you shrink in on yourself and avoid looking him in the eye.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Vox hummed as his eyes sharply searched your features like a shark drawn to blood in the water.

His clawed fingers wrap around your jaw and he slowly makes you turn towards him. His grip was firm and the sharp edges threatened to break skin, but he was also somewhat gentle, after all, you had gotten him this far. A looming threat if you suddenly decided to stop cooperating.

“You deleted your visits to those forums in your browser history before you let me access your computer,” Vox said slowly as he watched your every expression carefully. You were avoiding his eyes, which meant you knew what he was capable of. “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say slowly as you try to keep your breathing even. You couldn’t afford to panic. “I probably just accidentally cleared it when I was wiping my cache or something. Aren’t you supposed to do that every now and then, or something?”

Vox quirked an eyebrow, looking completely unimpressed. “You’re not a good liar.”

“Oh fuck off,” you frown as you look up at him without thinking. 

Vox grins and his eyes immediately spiral as he tries to pull you under his spell. You gasp and for a moment he thinks he has you… only for the spirals not to reflect back at him from your own eyes.

“What…?” Vox blinks as his grip on you loosens.

You smack his hand away and dive out from under him as you try to get away. Vox growls, whipping around and grabbing your arm before you can slip out of the office. You let out a startled yelp as he slams you against the wall and twists your arm behind your back.

“What the hell is going on? Who are you, really?” he interrogates as he twists your arm harder.

It didn’t make any sense. You were a walking contradiction. He genuinely didn’t sense any malice directed at him from you. Your search history barely skimmed anything relating to him. If anything, you had done more research on Velvette and Valentino, which he had to admit, in any other scenario may have bruised his ego a hair. You accidentally helped a rival company launch an attack against him and let him search your system without any hesitation, yet the second he locked in on those vials, you changed your tune completely.

Not only that, but you were somehow able to resist his hypnosis. He’d seen the faintest flash of connection in your eyes that told him you weren’t immune. Yet you had somehow managed to slip out of the hold he’d tried to cast over you within seconds.

“Let me go, asshole!” You shouted as you tried to slip out of his grasp. You hiss in pain as his sharp claws dig into your arm and draw blood.

“I don’t think so,” Vox growled as he tightened his grip and drew more blood. “What the hell is in those vials? And why were you on those forums in the first place? Tell me or I’ll rip your arm off.”

You bark out a laugh despite the fear, “With those fucking twigs? I’d like to see you tr-AH fuck! Alright alright!” You relent as he slams your head against the wall with his other hand.

Vox loosens his grip ever so slightly, but watches you like a hawk.

“Everything I’ve told you so far is true,” you start with a sigh. “I don’t know jack shit about most of your area in things, but I only found the workshop because I was on the forums.”

��And why would you be there?” Vox frowned. “You don’t have anything my company would care about on your systems. You’re a shit liar, but get any ideas of telling me it was for privacy out of your head.”

Your eyes dart and he can tell you’re trying to think of a way to weasel out of telling him the truth. Whatever it was, you really didn’t want him to know. Which meant he needed to know.

“Tell me,” Vox growled as he pressed you harder into the wall.

“V-Valentino,” you whimpered as the pain started to wear down your willpower. You weren’t exactly accustumed to this sort of experience despite your time in hell. You kept your head down as much as you could. You only dared to kick up dust for one reason and you’d done your best not to get caught for it up until now, but you had been careless.

“What?” Vox blinked as his grip relented.

“I,” you open your mouth, only to cringe. You really didn’t want to tell him, but if you double died without at least trying to pull something, it would only leave the very people you were trying to protect in deeper shit. Vox would figure it out after killing you anyways. Spilling the beans and trying to figure something out in the process was your only hope.

“The mist wasn’t mean to hurt you,” you say slowly. “I’ll talk, so fucking let go first.”

Vox watches you distrustfully, but releases your arm and steps back. He stands between you and the door, so he’s willing to play along if it means he’ll finally have the full picture.

“I don’t… pay much attention to hell’s politics,” you sigh. “I don’t care about power, I don’t care about overlords, but I do care about my friends.”

For the first time since Vox had gotten here, he saw something familiar flash in your eyes. The dark twisted bloodlust he’d seen in most sinners. “I don’t use my powers much,” you say as you walk over to your desk. “I’m not really trained to fight like most people down here. I’m cooped up in here most of the time, so it’s not like I’ve ever really had a reason to start shit.”

You pick up a vial and hold up your other hand as a small portal opens above your palm. “This is about all I can do,” you say. “I had a buddy who liked to research sinners abilities and I didn’t really care if he looked into mine.” 

You had to bite down the fond smile at the memory of Baxter’s pestering. “He discovered that at low enough levels of activation, magic could be collected like a liquid or a mist with all his fancy tech shit. Again, you know how much of that flies over my head.”

Vox looked between your hands and nodded silently, watching you carefully as he waited for you to put together the pieces for him.

“Using the residue of my abilities, he tried to replicate that love potion shit you guys sell. He wanted to see if he could recreate it and then make a repellent.”

Vox’s eyes widened as he looked at the vial and it finally clicked. “It’s a repellent against Valentino’s magic.”

You wave away the miniature portal above your hand and nod with a frown. You hated every part of this, but at least he hadn’t killed you yet. “Like I said earlier, there's a high demand for slipping out under the Vee's control."

“Is that how you resisted my hypnosis as well?” Vox asked carefully.

“No,” you shake your head. “That’s something else entirely. No schemes or any fancy shit like that involved there.”

“Then why did the mist hurt me?” Vox frowned.

“Well, for starters,” you smirk at the memory. It had freaked you out pretty bad in the moment, but after the shit Vox just put you through, you kinda loved that he’d gotten his ass handed to him. “The guy I told you about was here and was trying to make a new batch. You literally teleported in the middle of us making the shit and knocked over the batch we’d been producing so it was heavily concentrated.”

“Secondly, you’re around Valentino all the time. When is that guy not blowing his slut smoke all around you?” You cross your arms.

“That…” Vox thought back to how often Valentino smoked his pipe around him. How used to seeing the pink smoke around him he’d gotten. He didn’t have a sense of smell so he was entirely immune to the effects. So much so, he had no reason to notice how it was completely seeped into his clothing and probably coating his entire body in an unnoticeable residue.

"Yup," you sigh. "If I had to take a guess, then that’s why.”

"And the reason you’d help your friend make this…” Vox trailed off as he remembered the pictures he’d found on your computer. You were friends with a lot of Valentino’s sex workers, including Angel Dust. Vox was a business partner, a friend, and sometimes a lover of Valentino. Valentino was notorious for the abuse of his sex workers. An abuser of some of your closest friends.

You frown, turning away from Vox, your body language acknowledging him as a proper enemy for the first time since he's broke in. "You get it now.”

He knew about Valentino and his history of abuse towards sex workers. He had seen his behavior first hand and knew the moth’s behavior was vile and repulsive. But the worst of it was never directed at Vox himself. Some of it, yeah, but… Vox hadn't really cared about anyone else. He had better shit to think about.

"I see…,” Vox hummed as he picked up another vial off the floor and twirled it between his claws. You really could benefit from some basic cleaning around the office. “So you’re planning on beating him at his own game." Vox said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a mix of suspicion and admiration. "Clever... very clever.."

You cross your arms, watching him sharply as you wait to see what he'll do about it.

"You got the information you wanted." You say flatly. He knew who was attacking him with your software now. The Eternity shit he’d found on your computer was a solid lead. However, he now knew of your efforts against Valentino. You weren’t a fighter, by any means, but you were prepared to protect yourself if you had to.

Vox's eyes narrowed as he looked at you in a new light. Your lack of personal interest in politics and the standard hell powergrabs had him intrigued. He wondered just what you’d be capable of if you did play the same game that everyone else did. It was clear you were resourceful and crafty, yet you directed those efforts towards something so… mundane.

"You’ve proved useful enough so far, and I thank you for that. Depending on your next answer, I may even let you keep your insides where they belong. So, let me ask you this..." Vox said, continuing to look at you with his eyes narrowing. "If those experiments are unrelated to my influence entirely, then how are you able to resist my hypnosis?"

Whether he meant to or not, Vox just handed you the key to your survival on a silver platter. Your eyes widen and you try to hide the excitement at the opportunity as you level your best poker face. “It’s pretty simple actually,” you say as you inspect your nails nonchalanetly. A bit too theatric, perhaps, but you were trying to play it cool. It didn’t matter that you weren’t actually succeeding. 

“Hypothetically, I may or may not have discovered how to counter your hypnosis,” you hum as Vox’s eye twitched. “Hypothetically, I could sell that information or simply just post it to the Eternal forums. I’m sure everyone would love to know how not to get sucked into your marketing schemes.”

"You want to make a deal," Vox realized, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly and dead pixels flickered to life under his lip. This just got so much more interesting for him.

[chemicallady]

I WANNA FEEL LOVE AGAIN

Part 1 ; Part 2 ;

Couple: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: I made a little homage to three fanfiction I really love! I leave you to find the references ;)

Taglist: @ada-clarence , @badalmondzzzz , my wifey @starsomens , @raventherockstarhippie @blacksoul-27 , @somewhere-diamond

Summary:  This is just cute. I swear.

But you never promised me to be wiser of better.

Time flies.

Two years passed by so fast that you almost didn't notice. At first, your job was not demanding at all, compared with the rest of the crew. You have to accompaning Noah or any other member of the band to attend the interviews, most of them for radio stations. Taking notes for integrations on their website. Keep an eye on publicize enough any tourdates or merch drop, find sponsor for bigger venues and check at the end of the day if the guys need something for the day after.

You had to spend a lot of your time on the band socials, especially instagram and twitter, which you have always shared credentials with your brother and the rest of the band. You also create their TikTok and take care about the creation of fun contents.

It was way easy before the release of Death of Peace of Mind. After the beginning of 2022, you were on the road more than at home. A lot of famous hosters started to ask for an interview with Noah. All the lights switched on the future promise of rock music when Just Pretend became one of the most used/listened songs on TikTok.

And now, in the middle of the summer of 2023, the band is still rising. More money bring more responsabilities, the necessity of arranged a better shows, bigger interviews, more publicity, more interaction through the socials.

Everyone has to work the double, you included. Speaking with radio manager and small magazine specialized in all metal subgenders was a thing.

But now the band is too huge to stop at this level. And you werent trained enough for all this pressure, but it started to grow on you month after month, tour after tour. You are the guardian of Noah's schedule. You are not charming enough to compete with others PR, but since the crew is more similar to family meeting than a serious ansemble of professionals, you became competitive.

Hard work got big results like the european tour with Bring Me the Horizon. Oli wanted Bad Omens to open for him but you were the one who put all her soul and time on the project. On the papers. Because behing any tour there is a mountain of burocracy, sponsor phone calls and publicity. You had to team up with Matt, Miles and Davis so many times that at some point, that it's like having more than just one older brother.

From june 4th, the last day on tour, you are on vacation. You have nothing to do with music creation or audio/video sound checks. You just need a laptop, a lot of patience every time you scroll your emails, and the fantastic mojito your neighbour Brianna makes. A good reason to work on your balcony, along with the sound of the ocean, is her company. You don't have many friends but she is amazing. She moved from Minnesota after the shutdown, and she is an actress. Small roles, but as she always says, small roles bring bigger ones.

《 and it would have been ever better if my prick boyfriend didn't show up and basically assaulted the casting director》

You have heard this story at least ten times, but it's still amazing how boys can be idiots. 《 Why are you still with him? He's a bomb ready to detonate, Bri》 , you know that your concern will not help her in resonate, but you can't shut up.

《 I can't afford either the apartment or the car and you know that, y/n. Also, he is not that bad when he's sorber.》

《 But he never is! 》 you place the now empty glass on the outdoor table, disappointed in seeing her almost offended expression. It's a fortune that Matt isn't around. He has to deal with Jim at least twice a week. 《 You're my friend, Bri. The only one unrelated to my job..... I can't sleep over this situation anymore. I can help you. Move in with me and Matt, take care of my plant and Lucifurr for me while we are on tour. We don't want you to help with the rent. You just need to tell that dick to fuck off.》

《.... but he drives me to every casting》

《 and he's the reason no one is picking you in a very first place. This relationship is too toxic》

《 y/n I think you're crossing the line.》

《 He's gonna kill you one of these days!》

You both muted for a couple of seconds, the now tense air between the two of you being thick as a wall. Yeah, you cross the line but like Matt, you're no good in resonate with people who don't want any help. And like Matt you can't stand injustice, not at this rate.

But you know that you have to excuse yourself, simply it's hard to find the right words. You are not going to apologise for speaking your mind, but just about the way you did it.

《 y/n? Are you ready?》

A raspy voice catch you off guard. It's already seven??

《 Shit, Noah. I'm outside》, you yell in response, before turning again towards Brianna. She already reached the empty glass and without a word, and she comes back to her apartment. 《 C'mon Brianna. I'm sorry, just-for the fuck sake.》

Noah is standing right next to you when Brianna shut the door loudly.

All you can do is sigh out loud - a bad habit you inherit from the tall man on your side - before bringing your hands to cover your face in frustration.

《 What's going on, here?》 He asks , munching a candy.

《 I don't understand women.》

He gives you a funny look. 《 Damn, that's the real deal, man. Not the chicken/egg question, or what's our purpose on earth.... but why you girls act so weird. 》

《 Shut the fuck up, Noah. Not now.》

Your relationship with Noah also changed drastically in the last two years. It required some time and a ton of patience, but he open up to you and from thenon, you became a sort of confident of him. In return, he is the one you call when things are not going well. It was a bit embarrassing, the first months, but your friendship now is stronger than youve ever immagined. You feel like you can tell everything to Noah without being judged. Sometimes he laughs at you, of course, but he knows when a situation has to be manged seriously.

He cares about you with all his heart.

He doesn't aspect nothing in return, but he is dear to you on a level than only your brother have always been.

And he knows you deeply, that's why it is so easy for him to detect how worried you are.

《 Do you think he beats her? I mean, Steve is a scumbag, but I can't figure him being actually that violent. He is always too high to have some form of coordination.》

Since his arrival - Noah has the keys of the apartment so he can come and go as he pleased, especially when both you and matt are not in town and someone has to take care of Luci- Noah asked you questions on Brianna's situation.

He knows you're concerned and he also can't pretend he is fine with your neighbors yelling at each others on daily basis.

《 I don't know but he is getting more and more jealous. She told me he's sabotaging her auditions, now.》

Noah takes a sip of the iced tea you offer him, before grab your hand on the surface of the counter. 《 Start to call the police on them, when they argue. Maybe you're right. He is not beating her yet. But he could start.》 You nod slowly, thanking him with a soft smile. 《 By the way, do you feel okay? Wanna postpone our date?》

He loves to joke around with you, because he knows how this helps in rising your moral.

You pretend to get offended. 《 I would never, ever decline a date with you. Let me change in a more adequate outfit.》

《 take your time, the limo's driver can wait downstairs.》

You giggle, before leaving him in the kitchen, reaching your room for a quick change. In five minutes you're ready: a ponytail, red joggers and a tank top.

《 Ready to run, pretty boy?》

《 I'm always ready, chicken butt.》

Noah has never told you the real reason why he has taken the work out so seriously, but you're glad he did, because you joined him on his program and honestly, you feel at your top right now. It's not a matter of aesthetics, but you feel healthy. You are less tired at the end of the day, and you can endure the - at least- 15 working hours while Touring. Back at home, it became a habit of the two of you going out for a run daily during the sunsets since Noah is not an early bird and you'd rather work in the morning.

The place you chose is on the street that runs alongside the beach in Malibù. One of reason why you got used to LA is also the precious view of the ocean while the sun sinks in it and paints the sky in gold.

There is a small beach, hidden in the stunning nature of the Pacific Coast, that has become your spot. Every day you reach that beach, stretch a little and then go back to your apartment when usually Noah showers before leaving.

Today is a Saturday and even if you don't have big plans, Noah sometimes takes his chances on a Saturday night. Even God took a day off on Sunday, right?

《 It's the red hair?》

You ear him chuckles while you bend, grabbing the tip of your toes to stretch your back.

《 No red hair as far as I can recall》

《 So... the girl you helped at that dive bar?》 You rise again, bringing your arms to the sky 《The one who broke up with her cheating boyfriend? Or maybe your neighbour? I like her. I remember you told me she was so happy when you sent her our merch.》

Noah pushes you a little, making you loosing your balance while a giggle leaves your lips. 《 You're making me look like a fuckboy!》

《you are a fuckboy, always surrounded by beautiful women. And don't look at me like that! I know you like it that way!》

Noah is young and awesome. You got a crush on him in the beginning of your partnership. It's more than obvious that he has a significant number of choices when he wants to spend a night out.

This used to hurt you a bit, but the feeling of jealousy or envy - you still don't know what it was - disappeared in the moment you realised what you have.

All this girls can have noah for a night or two.

You can have him fully, you can call him in the middle of the night if a guy screws on you and Noah will bring you to buy ice-cream to McDonald's. You two can talk for hours about the absolute nothing or regarding the most difficult life choices.

You can mocking him, make him laugh in the golden light of the dying sun, in this very moment.

And that's more than enough.

Maybe you and Noah are not meant to be lovers, but he is your person and you are his. Like twin Flames, that doesn't matter how far they are.

They always burn bright.

《 I don't know, I was thinking for something casual. Like Netflix and chill.》

Lucifurr jumps off the sofa in the moment he hears Noah entering in your apartment. Your cat totally ignores you and starts to purr to the tall man that interrupts everything to kneel and cuddle the black ball of furr.

Satanic animal...

《 Then you should text the neighbor. She is the sweetest of yours hooks up.》

《 Then I can simply ring the door on my way back.》

《 Call her, Noah. Don't be a prick. The world doesn't revolve around you. Maybe she is planning to go out.》

You can hear him sigh in his annoying way. 《Can I shower here, anyway? I smell bad.》

《 You always smell bad.》

《 Am I???》

You exchange a glaze with him and immidiatly know its time to run. In the moment he leaves Luci alone, he is following you around the house while you yell for help. But matt isn't back yet, so you're on your own. As soon as noah reaches you (very soon, his legs are longer than yours), he huggs you tight, trying to put your head under his armpit.

《 NOAH STOP IS DISGUSTING!》 , you try to defend yourself hitting him on his back and between his legs with small slaps.

《Ei! Low blow! Don't slap my nutts!》

《 Don't sweat on me, you piece of-》

A yell interrupted the both of you, follow by a long cry and some smashed dishes. Noah realise the grip on you and sighs deeply looking at the wall that divides your apartment from Briannas one.

《 Is it always like this?》

《 almost every day, now.》

And there is something that broke in your cracking voice that completely shattered Noahs heart.

《 let's call the cops》, he says with a soft voice, hugging your shoulders. 《 I'll stay. We can watch a movie togheter.》

You look at him in surprise while he is reaching his phone. 《 and your date?》

《 you're my date》 , is the cheeky replay. The both of you smile, and you need a second. Not only because you're worried about brianna, but also because these small situations make you feel.... weird on your feelings towards noah.

You don't want to admit it, but a real date would be all you desire.

....but at what cost?