#the job in there’ and also straight up ‘please don’t read that. there’s no reason for you to read that’

[fingertipsmp3]

Was straight up Not Doing Well but then I met a cat and now I think I’m okay

[krirebr]

Luck Be a Lady

Pairing: soft!dark Curtis Everett x female reader

Word Count: ~10.1k

Summary: Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head?

Warnings: Mob AU, violence, allusions to murder, explicit language, dubcon touching, noncon touching (not Curtis), willfully oblivious reader, SMUT - facefucking, dirty talk, light d/s dynamics, praise kink, other explicit sexual content. This is definitely on the darker end of the soft!dark spectrum, so proceed with caution! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Masterlist

A/N: And here it finally is! This is my first real attempt at soft!dark. I hope I did it right! 😂

This was inspired by two things: 1) me going to a rep screening of Goodfellas and spending the entire time wondering why I hadn't done a mob au yet and 2) @bigtreefest saying "enforcer!Curtis Everett and mob boss!Andy Barber" in my general direction. Thanks for the inspo, friend!!

And big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who not only came up with Curtis's name for reader but also offered heaps of encouragement and was a great sounding board. And thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for helping me figure out how exactly we'd get to the smut. Thanks Siri!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me about this! 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You fruitlessly tug down your very short skirt as Holly talks at you. You’re both standing in the corner of the bar’s basement waiting for the night to start in earnest—your first night.

“Lloyd’s not so bad,” she says of your boss, the man who runs this little underground gambling ring. “You’ll have to split your tips with him at the end of the night, but he doesn’t take that much, and you’ll make enough that you won’t really notice. As long as you do that, he’ll mostly keep his hands to himself.”

You nod along, glancing at the mustachioed man conferring with the bouncer at the door. The interview process for this job had boiled down to a thorough once-over that’d made you feel naked in your jeans and t-shirt and a “You’re not too stupid to take a drink order, are you?” and then you had the job.

Holly had vouched for you. Neighbors for almost half a year, she’d come home early one morning last week and witnessed you trying to convince the landlord that you were good for your past-due rent. She’d taken you for coffee and told you she might be able to help if you were good at keeping your head down and mouth shut. And now you were here.

“The customers, on the other hand,” she continues, smacking her gum, “you’ll have to let them touch, at least a little bit. Within reason, you know? But if anything gets out of hand, you can just tell Jake at the door and he’ll take care of it.”

“Within reason?” you ask, voice shaking, just the littlest bit, as the pit that started forming in your stomach when you agreed to this grows a little more.

The look she gives you verges on exasperated. “Well, you want to make money, don’t you?”

Yes, you do. Very much so. It’s a need, not a want. So you nod and try to listen as she keeps giving you the rundown. 

Before you’re ready, the first patrons start trickling in and then you’re off to the races. It’s not too bad. No one’s orders are too complicated, mostly just bottles of beer and glasses of straight whiskey. The bartender, Colin, is friendly enough, although you learn that he’s another person you’ll need to split your tips with. 

As for the touching, there are hands on your hips, pats to your ass. But you’re rewarded with folded-up bills held up between fingers or tucked into the strap of your top. Or, twice, slid behind the waistband of your skirt. Once you realize that the majority of these bills aren’t ones or fives, but twenties, you care about the touching that comes with them much less. Plus, you’re too busy to really think about it that hard. 

You can’t believe how busy it is for a random Tuesday night, multiple games of poker, craps, and who knows what else all going at once. But when you mention that to Holly, she just laughs and shakes her head. “This is nothing,” she says. “On the weekends there’ll be three more of us and another one of Jake. Things get wild.” 

You don’t have time to decide whether that makes you nervous or excited before someone is signaling for your attention again. You manage to suppress your grimace when he slides his arm around your waist to tell you what he needs from the bar. You’re rewarded for your troubles by a wad of twenties. You aren’t sure who these men are to tip so freely, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It’s an hour or two later that Lloyd calls you over to where he’s speaking to a large, impossibly broad man, dressed in a soft-looking henley under a leather jacket with dark jeans. There’s dark ink all over his hands that disappears up his sleeves and reappears on his neck in intricate lines. He’s got close-cropped hair and a full beard that’s neatly trimmed. His deep blue eyes drill into you right away and you do your best not to shiver.

“Got a new girl tonight, Everett. Still learning the ropes, but she’ll take good care of you, won’t you, Cupcake?” 

“Yes, of course,” you say, before Lloyd wanders off to check on one of the poker games.

The man, Everett, lets his eyes rove over you. “Cupcake, huh?” His voice is deep, gritty, but there's something there that's much gentler than you expected.

You give him what you hope is a coy smile. “Sure. If you want.” Lloyd was treating him like he's important. You hope important means deep pockets.

He hits you with a penetrative stare, so strong you almost have to take a step back. “No,” he finally says. “I don't think so. I'll find something more fitting.” Then he turns and starts to walk away, before calling over his shoulder. “I'm gonna get dealt in. Bring me a whiskey once I'm settled.”

You watch him go for just a moment, and then head to the bar, asking for a whiskey. 

“This for Everett?” the bartender, Colin, asks. When you nod, he grabs a fancy bottle off the top shelf. “This is all he drinks. And he doesn't pay for it, alright? Don't ever think about giving him a bill.” 

You look back at the man in question, seriously looking at the cards he’s just been dealt. Who is he???

You collect his whiskey and move back to him. As you set it down, he turns to you. “How about this?” he asks as he holds up a crisply folded hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes widen at the money. All you’ve done is bring him one straight pour. “There’s another one of these in it for you if you make sure I never see the bottom of this glass tonight. Sound good?” And then he folds the bill one more time in his thick fingers, before sliding it under the low-cut neckline of your blouse. Your skin tingles where he brushes against it.

“Yeah, you got it,” you just breathe out, a little shocked you’re able to form words. He gives you a smug smile that you can only describe as shark-like before turning back to his cards, and you understand it as the dismissal that it is. 

You move around the room, collecting empties, getting refills, trying to goodnaturedly accept unsolicited touches. The whole time you feel eyes on you, but whenever you glance Everett’s way, he’s focused on his poker game.

Eventually, a down moment finds you catching your breath against the wall. The moment Holly sees you standing still, she’s quickly making her way to you. “You need to be more careful around Curtis,” she hisses, lowly.

You look at her, confused. “Curtis?” Jake’s at the door. Colin’s behind the bar. You don’t know a Curtis.

“Curtis Everett!” You glance at the man at the poker table. He’s running a poker chip across his knuckles mindlessly. Then he looks up and you briefly make eye contact before you quickly look away. Holly is staring at you and she looks worried. But the name still doesn’t mean anything to you, so you shake your head and shrug. She groans as quietly as she can. “He’s Barber’s top enforcer!”

This whole conversation feels so out of the blue that it takes you a minute to catch up. Barber. Andrew Barber. The most feared mob boss in the city. Probably the state. Maybe even more. Ruthless and exacting was how the papers described him. He’d been the subject of multiple stings and taskforces and whathaveyou but nothing ever stuck. “He works for Andrew Barber?” you ask, shocked and a little appalled.

Holly stares at you in a way that you can only describe as dumbfounded. It takes her a few moments to find her words, then, “Bitch, you work for Andrew Barber!”

Everything stops. “What?” you gasp.

“Oh my god,” Holly groans. “This was such a mistake. It’s an underground card game in his city! Who did you think was running things?”

“I– I don’t know,” you stutter, stupidly. The god’s honest truth is that you’d never really stopped to think about it. You’d been staring down an eviction, struggling to afford groceries. Unable to make ends meet no matter what you did. When Holly told you about this job, all you saw were dollar signs. You didn't think about anything further. Of course, you’d known these games were illegal, but it seemed so minor in the grand scheme of things. You hadn’t connected it to anything bigger because you just hadn’t wanted to.

But now– Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do? You know what you should do. You should walk out the door right now. You should find some other legitimate way to pay your bills. It’ll be safer. It’ll be better. It’ll be so much harder.

As you bite your lip, trying to process all of this information, Holly continues. “Listen,” she says, “still get him drinks, be friendly, whatever you need to do. But keep your distance however you can. Don't encourage him. He's just– He's really dangerous. They don't call him Barber’s attack dog for nothing, ok?”

“Yeah,” you say. You start to look back in Curtis’s direction but stop yourself. You think about the hundred you already have and the one promised to you at the end of the night. You think of how empty your pantry is. But then you see the genuine fear in Holly's eyes. You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks.”

“He doesn't even come in here that often. I'm surprised to see him tonight, so I'm sure it’ll be fine,” she says, but you can tell she’s nervous.

You nod, absently, finally letting yourself glance over at him. His drink is getting close to the bottom. “Shit,” you mumble. “I gotta get him his refill.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Holly asks. 

You should let her do it. You absolutely should. But you just can’t give up on that tip. You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. But thanks.”

You head back to the bar and grab Curtis’s top-shelf whiskey of choice from Colin, then make your way to his table. You set it down next to him, hoping to move away without him even noticing, he’s so engrossed in the game. But as you take a step back, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. He holds it tightly until you meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way you feel his words in your knees. He strokes his thumb down the inside of your wrist, then abruptly lets go, pushing his chips to the middle of the table. You step away, gathering yourself as subtly as you can, and get back to work.

The rest of the night goes quickly. The crowd gets a little rowdier as they drink more, but you find that it’s nothing you can’t handle. The reality of who these people are, what they’re connected to, never leaves your mind. But really, they’re not so bad. None of this feels so bad at all. And soon, people start heading out. You’re beginning to clean up, when a recognizable voice rings out, “Bambi!” You turn and lock eyes with Curtis. He crooks two fingers at you and you quickly make your way over to him.

“Bambi?” you ask.

He grins at you and it feels more than a little predatory. You’ll never admit how much you like it. You try to keep Holly’s warning at the forefront of your mind. “Wide eyes and just getting your legs under you,” he says. You instinctively duck your head at that, which earns a dark chuckle. “Here,” he continues, as he pulls a genuine, fat money clip out of his back pocket. You’ve never seen something like it in real life before. He peels off two bills and holds them out to you. “This is what good girls get,” he says, a low rumble in his voice.

You swallow as you take them from him. Two hundred dollars. Twice what you were expecting. “Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He shakes his head. “You earned it.” Then, after one last long look at you, he turns around and leaves.

You stand and stare after him. You don’t doubt anything Holly said, but three hundred dollars, just for bringing him drinks. He doesn’t seem that bad, not really. A little intense maybe, but there’s some sort of interest there, and it can’t be that bad to encourage it, just a little if it earns you these sorts of tips, can it??

Any hesitance you have about this entire endeavor completely disappears as you count your money at the end of the night.

Your first week flies by. You're starting to get the hang of the job. You get along with your coworkers. You get to know the regulars. You like it. Even Lloyd isn’t so bad as long as you give him his cut at the end of every night.

And you’re making so much money.

In your downtime, you pay your landlord what you owe him. You go grocery shopping without scouring for coupons first or calculating exactly what you can afford beforehand. You make a Pinterest board of what you want your apartment to look like now that you might actually be able to buy things to fill it. For the very first time, you’re thinking about things you actually want, not just desperately trying to figure out how you’ll pay your bills. You’ve never felt this calm, this relaxed, this free before. It’s an incredible feeling.

And Curtis. Despite Holly’s reassurances that you wouldn’t see him much, he seems to be there whenever you are, trying to capitalize on his winning streak at the poker tables, you assume. His tips are still insanely generous. You don’t think he carries anything less than hundred dollar bills. 

And there’s just something about him. The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s not like the other men here. His touch is like fire, warming from the inside. There’ve been times when his hand on your hip has almost made your knees buckle. That doesn’t happen with anyone else here.

But you’re being smart and you’re being safe. You are. You’re going to set a savings goal, you think. And once you hit that number, you’ll be out of here, onto something more legitimate. And until then, you’ll just keep your head down and mouth shut, like Holly said. You haven’t even really seen anything. It’s a good plan. It’ll be fine.

She’s right that the weekends are wilder. Even with three additional girls working the room, you’re kept running. You do your best to keep an eye on Curtis’s drinks, but it’s much harder than on weeknights. And you aren’t really able to pause when you drop them off. It’s one of these times, as you’re pulling away from the table as soon as you’ve set his glass down, that you’re stopped short by his hand on you. He pulls you back in by the wrist and says, “They’re just running you ragged tonight, huh, Bambi?”

You smile and shrug. “It’s busy.”

He holds out a bill and you try not to smile even wider as he slips it into the waistband of your skirt. “For all your hard work.”

You bat your lashes a little. “You spoil me.”

“I like spoiling you,” he says, lowly. 

“You’re too sweet,” you say softly. Then, pulling your arm away with a wink, you add, “Gotta run,” and you’re onto the next table.

You’re getting good at this, figuring out what level of harmless flirting is just enough to keep the money flowing. And you’re having fun. You’d never expected that.

Holly and two of the other girls, Jane and Kristi, are congregated at the end of the bar, waiting for drinks, when you join them. They’re all watching you warily. “So, uh,” Jane starts quietly, “you seem to be getting pretty cozy with Curtis.” 

Before you can respond, Holly scoffs behind her. “I’ve tried to warn her but she won’t fucking listen.”

You roll your eyes. You’re tired of hearing this. “I seriously don’t get what the big deal is. He’s nice and he tips well. It’s harmless!”

Kristi just gapes at you. “He’s nice?!”

Holly slams the drinks she was waiting for onto her tray. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “It’s her fucking funeral.”

You shake your head as you watch her go. It’s fine. You can take care of yourself.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. You don’t get much of a chance to talk to Curtis, but you feel his eyes on you before he disappears a little before closing.

At the end of the night, once you’ve helped clean up, you cash out with Colin and Jake and then go to find Lloyd in his office. You think it’s kind of ridiculous that you’re basically paying him to work there, but it is what it is. And Holly was right, you’re making so much that you barely even notice. 

Lloyd is sitting at his desk, looking a little more disheveled than you’re used to. He startles at your approach, which is also new. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, with slightly rounded eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You look at him, a little confused. “Just here with your cut,” you say as you hold out his money.

His hands immediately fly up to his chest, palms out. “No, no,” he says. “You made that fair and square. You just– you keep what you make from now on, Cupcake. Sound good?”

You swallow and nod, preparing yourself for whatever other price you’ll have to pay for keeping your job, mentally calculating what you’re willing to do. But Lloyd doesn’t do anything, doesn’t make any move to get closer to you. Just stays there at his desk, turning back to his work. “You have a good night,” he says, clearly dismissing you. 

You leave confused, but richer, telling yourself not to question it too hard.

Things go so smoothly for a few weeks that you’re a little shocked when the bubble bursts. 

It’s a relatively quiet weeknight. There are a few games going, but nothing compared to the weekend. The pace of the night feels leisurely. It’s nice.

It’s maybe the first night you haven’t seen Curtis there. It feels weird. He’s become such a part of this place for you. A fixture, like the bar or the carpet. Just one of the elements that make it what it is. But it’s fine. Of course, he doesn’t come every night. He probably has a whole life outside of this. He must’ve gotten bored of playing cards. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

You’re passing the time talking to one of the regulars at the bar, Vinny. He’s in his fifties, you think, with gray hair and laugh lines. He’d gone bust at the poker table (or maybe it was craps tonight) earlier and then had moved to the bar to drink away his sorrows and bad luck. That was how his nights tended to go.

He’s sitting on a barstool, his arm around your waist where you stand next to him. He’s a little close for comfort, but he’s always just been a friendly guy, so you’re alright. Which is why you’re so surprised when, in the middle of a story about the good old days of the Copa Cabana, his other hand suddenly finds its way between your thighs. You freeze. For just a second. Then you force out a laugh and try to push his hand away. “Bad boy,” you try to tease, your voice shaking. His hand will not move. What is happening? “Come on, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”

Instead of doing what you’ve asked, his thumb briefly brushes the inside of your leg and then his whole hand begins moving higher. You stop breathing. You push again but he won’t budge.

“You’re such a pretty doll, aren’tcha?” he says. 

Tears start to gather in your eyes. You look around wildly to see if anyone’s noticing what’s happening. Colin’s busy making drinks. Jake and Lloyd are talking by the door. Everyone else is engrossed in their own business. “Vinnie, stop, please,” you whisper. You don’t know why you can’t get your voice to work, can’t get your body to move.

“Come on,” he cajoles, “I’m being nice, aren’t I?” 

Then his thumb brushes against your panties and your entire body jolts into action. You wrench your leg out of his grasp and take several steps away from him. Your whole body is shaking now. “I gotta–” you start, trying to keep your tone casual and failing miserably. “I gotta get back to work, Vinny.” Then you grab your tray off the bartop and walk away as fast as you can.

You don’t really have a destination in mind. You pick up a few empties as you wander between tables. You can feel his eyes on you, following you. You try to take a deep breath, calm yourself down. It isn’t very helpful. You look up to see Jake by himself now. You make your way over to him, Holly’s words on your first night in your ears. That was out of hand, wasn’t it?

He looks up as you approach. His big golden retriever smile on his face. “Hey, what’s up?” Then he actually takes you in and his smile drops. “What happened?”

“Um, Vinny, he, uh–” You feel a few tears fall down your cheeks and you just shake your head.

Jake’s face darkens. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No, uh, he– he just–” You shake your head again. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. There’s something about the way he does it that makes you think he understands everything you just can’t say. He nods once. “Alright. I’ll take care of it. You go take your time in the back. Do what you need to do. He’ll be gone by the time you’re done.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay, thank you,” you say so quietly. Then you get yourself to the back room as quickly as you can.

It’s really more of a hallway than a room, small and narrow. All of the storage space for the building is in the legitimate bar upstairs. But there’s enough room for you to crouch down, your knees pulled up tight to your chin. You bury your face in your thighs and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re fine. 

You don’t know how long you’ve spent trying to calm yourself down when a large shadow suddenly looms over you. It takes you a moment to gather your strength to find out who it is. You hope it’s Jake telling you Vinny’s gone. You’re afraid it might be Lloyd, here to tell you to get back to work. There’s a slowly building terror that it might be Vinny himself.

After a deep breath, you look up to find Curtis staring down at you, concern on his face and fiery anger in his eyes. “What happened?” he growls.

You shake your head and turn away. He crouches down in front of you. “Are you alright?”

A humorless, uncontrolled laugh escapes you. Once you finally stop, you ignore his question and ask your own, “Why are you here?”

It takes him a very long time to answer. He just looks at you seriously for several moments. Then, finally, “Jake called me.” While you try to figure out why on earth Jake would do that, he continues, “I'm sorry I wasn’t already here.”

“Why?” you blurt out without thinking. 

He looks away without saying anything. You both just sit in the silence for a few moments. Then, you try to change tactics. “Where were you?” you ask out of morbid curiosity. You can't imagine what his life is like outside of here.

“Working,” he says curtly. He plays with a ring on his middle finger and the movement draws your eyes to his hands, specifically his knuckles. They're scraped and caked with dried blood. 

You swallow and you catch how his eyes track the movement. His eyes are always on you. He catches everything. 

“Someone touched you?”

“Lots of people touch me,” you say, flatly. “It's part of the job. You touch me.”

His eyes narrow at that. “But this was different.” It isn’t a question.

You look down at your hands in your lap and don't say anything. 

“Tell me who it was.”

“No,” you say instinctively, something about the moment feeling incredibly dangerous. 

He huffs in frustration. “Are you trying to protect him?”

“No!” you say, sharply. “I’m protecting myself.”

“You don’t have to do that. Not from me. Not ever.”

You don’t know how to tell him that every atom in you knows that that isn’t true. You can’t explain it, and it wasn’t until the moment he joined you in this little closet, but you’d swear that he’s a danger to you. You just can't articulate how, but you feel it in your bones. And still, here you stay.

At your silence, he grits out, “If you don’t tell me who it was, Jake will.”

Jake probably already has, that’s what you’ve figured. “Great,” you say. “Then you don’t need me to say it.”

“Bambi,” he lets out in an exasperated growl. “I'm trying to help you.” 

You just look at him and then figure you may as well ask the main question that's on your mind. “Why did Jake call you?” 

He ignores you and stands up. “Come on,” he says and extends his hand, “I'm taking you home.”

You just blink up at him. “My shift isn't over.” 

He shakes his hand at you impatiently. “It is now. Come on.”

You shake your head. “Curtis, this is my job. I can't just– Lloyd will–”

“I'll take care of Lloyd. Let’s go.”

You think about going home. About sitting alone in your small apartment. At least here you'll have something to do, things to focus on, to keep you busy. At home, there'll be nothing to think about other than that hand between your legs and– “No,” you say as firmly as you can manage. “I'm staying here. I'm finishing the night.”

His jaw ticks but he doesn’t say anything, just tries to stare you down. You stare right back. You will not concede this. 

Finally, he exhales through his nostrils, then growls out an unhappy “Fine. But I'll–” He's interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He takes it out and glances at the caller ID and sighs. “I have to take this.” He steps away as much as he can in the tiny area and answers with a curt “Everett.” There's a slight pause. “Yeah, I took care of it.” Another pause that has him glancing at you. “No, something else came up.”

You don't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. You take the opportunity to go back to the main room and get back to work. 

You don't see Curtis again that night. You don't spare much thought to where he might've gone. You're too focused on getting through the remainder of your shift. When it's done, Jake insists on seeing you home. You don't ask why. You already know who's behind it.

The next few days are fine. You try to put what happened behind you, doing your best to ignore it. But that becomes impossible when three days after the incident you watch Vinny walk in. You can’t help the little burst of panic you feel as you warily watch him sit down at his usual table and get dealt in. 

As subtly as you can, you make your way over to Jake. You don’t even say anything before he’s looking at you, chagrined. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I had to let him in. I promise it’s all going to be taken care of. It’s just– You can ignore him tonight, ok? Just trust me. You don’t need to worry about him. I promise.”

“Ok,” you say reluctantly, trying to resist looking back at Vinny. “I just– I didn’t think I’d have to see him again.”

“I really think that after tonight you won’t,” he says sincerely.

You don’t really understand what that means, but you nod anyway. “Ok,” you say. “I, uh, I should get back to work then.” 

He just nods after you, looking a little concerned and a little sad. But the room is filling up, so you don’t have time to delve into it.

Sometime later, as you’re taking a brief moment to idle by the bar, a strange hush descends over the room. You’re facing away from the door, away from the rest of the room, but you see Colin take in whatever it is that’s caused this. His face pales and he lets out a quiet, urgent, “Shit.” 

You turn around to see what on earth could be going on and you immediately freeze. Curtis is here. But that’s not what’s garnering all of this attention. Well, not all. Because he’s not alone, there’s a man with him. A little shorter, not quite as broad. But you’d be able to feel the power radiating off of him, even if you didn’t recognize him. Soft dark hair, thick beard, an immaculately tailored suit. You’ve seen him in the papers, on the news, but in real life, he’s even more intimidating. Andrew Barber.

Barber leans in close to say something to Curtis, who nods, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Your breath catches, but luckily Colin calls your name behind you and you have an excuse to turn around. He places two glasses of dark liquor on the bar. “Everett,” he says, gesturing to one, then “Barber,” while waving his hand over the other. “Got it?” You nod and place them on your tray. They’re identical to your eyes except for the fact that Barber's has a muddled black cherry at the bottom of the glass.

You carefully bring them over, trying to force yourself to breathe. Curtis intercepts you and grabs the drinks when you're a few steps away. “Thank you, Bambi,” he says, lowly. 

Barber perks up. “This is Bambi? Really?” He extends a hand and you have no choice but to take it. “Andy Barber,” he says with a disarming smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you finally.”

His handshake is firm, demanding. He is terrifying in his friendliness. And he knows who you are. Has known, for who knows how long. You glance at Curtis, but he's just calmly drinking his whiskey. You don't know what to say, what are you supposed to say?? So after too long a pause, you practically whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

He chuckles lightly as he takes back his hand. To Curtis, he says, “You're right, Bambi does suit her.” Then he turns back to you and adds, “Andy, please.”

“O– Okay, Andy,” you say, with what you desperately hope is a benign smile. You look over at Curtis, you’re not entirely sure why, but out of these two dangerous options, he, at least, is familiar. “I should get back to work.”

Curtis is staring at you, but it’s Andy who answers. “Mmm, and we have a game to join, don’t we?” Curtis nods but still doesn’t break his gaze. Andy smirks, “No rest for the wicked.”

You have no idea what to do with that sentiment, so you take the opportunity and get out of there. You walk through the tables, checking to see if anyone needs anything, but the mob boss’s physical presence seems to have ground all action to a halt. The room is collectively holding its breath. 

You go back to the bar for want of anything else to do. Colin is standing ramrod straight, coiled in case he needs to spring into action. Lloyd is sitting down at the end of the bar, drumming his fingers, eyes moving all around the room. You settle next to Holly, who looks just as scared as she did that first night when she was trying to warn you off of Curtis. “Is this,” you start to ask, your voice shaking. “Is this normal? Does he come here a lot?”

“No, never” she shakes her head. “Why would he come here? He has real clubs and restaurants. He doesn’t need to hang out in a shit hole like this.” She shakes her head again. “He’d only come here for a reason.”

You turn your head back to the room and find that Andy and Curtis have settled at Vinny’s table, joining his game across from him. Your heart lands in your throat. That can’t– No. You’re just some cocktail waitress. Even with Curtis’s obvious interest in you, you aren’t important enough to bring the most powerful man in the city here. You’re nothing. He must have other reasons.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop as everyone waits for something to happen, which is why when Andy does start speaking, you don’t have to strain your ears to pick up every word.

He looks at his cards carefully, then over at Vinny. “You know, Vinny, you’re a hard man to track down.” His voice is so calm, it sends a chill up your spine. “You don’t go home, we can’t find you at work. I was starting to get worried.” He runs a few chips through his fingers before tossing them into the center of the felt. “That’s why, when I heard you were showing up here, I sent my best man to investigate,” he nods towards Curtis, “just to make sure you were ok.” 

You don’t have a great view of Vinny from where you’re standing, but you can see how stiff he is, how silent. But he still calls when it’s his turn.

“You can imagine my relief when I found out you were alright. Except,” he raises again, a few more chips into the pot, “you’re losing a lot of money, aren’t you? Now, this upsets me. Not because you’re losing your own money. But because it’s mine, isn’t it?”

Vinny finally tries to pipe up. “Andy, hold on. I can ex–”

“You owe me $150,000, Vinny. With interest, that total’s climbing every day. And yet, you sit here and you just keep losing, don’t you? At my own game. What would you do if you won, huh? Would you really try paying me back with my own money? I thought maybe you’d at least have the smarts to cross the border and try this at one of Roger’s casinos. Huh? Paying me back with my enemy’s money, at least that I could respect. But no, it’s only me you think is stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. So now I’m here to give you the chance to fucking do it to my face.” With that, he violently pushes all of his chips into the center of the table. 

Everyone else has folded. It’s just Barber and Vinny now. You’re not sure Curtis even actually played. He’s just staring Vinny down, although occasionally his eyes will flick up and meet yours. You hate feeling like you’re a part of this, but you don’t know what else to do besides watch it play out.

Vinny is just spluttering, while Andy calmly looks on. It’s all the expected, cliche stuff you’ve seen in gangster movies. He’s got the money, he swears. He just needs a little more time. Andy has to know he’s good for it! You want to roll your eyes right along with Andy.

“Call, Vinny,” Andy cuts him off, sternly. “That’s $150,000 I just put in the pot. Call. And if you win, we’re even. Your debt’s erased. But if you lose, well then that’s $300,000 you’ll owe me. And you know I won’t be able to tolerate that. So call. And let’s find out where we stand.”

You can’t see what Vinny’s doing, but you can imagine the way his fingers must be hovering over his chips, his eyes moving down to his cards to check, one more time, if they’re as good or bad as he remembers. You know there’s no way out for him either way. He’ll have to call. He’s just delaying the inevitable.

You feel like you can't breathe as you wait for him to just finally do it, but Andy cuts in again. “The thing I can't understand, Vinny, is why you kept coming here after Curtis showed up. Either you're very stupid or really fucking greedy.” He looks at Vinny carefully. “Maybe a little of both. I hear you've been touching something that doesn't belong to you.”

You gasp. No one notices, but you do. He can't be talking about you. He can't. He can't. 

Vinny seems even more confused than you. “What are you talking about? I haven't touched anything!”

Andy continues to ignore him. “So you're stupid and greedy. That's why you aren't afraid of him like you should be. They call him my attack dog, did you know? Have you heard that? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you think he’s some puppy that follows me around. You’d be stupid to underestimate him, underestimate me. But maybe you only do that because you've never seen my dog off his leash.”

Curtis springs into action, lunging across the table to grab Vinny by the collar, and then slams his head into the felt. Before there’s even time to react, he’s stood and he's picking Vinny back up and hurling him onto the floor. Curtis comes around the table to stalk after him and the look on his face has you gasping for breath. You've never seen Curtis like this. There's a glint in his eye that might be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Who is this man? What is he capable of?

Vinny is dazedly trying to crawl away, but Curtis catches him easily. He grabs Vinny’s collar and hauls him back up, delivering two punches to his face in quick succession. The sound it makes. There's no other sound in the whole room. No one's saying anything, no one's doing anything. Everyone's just watching, hypnotized. You turn away, your stomach churning. Your eyes catch on Andy, sitting back in his chair, placidly drinking the whiskey you brought him, completely relaxed, like he's watching anything else. You can't look at him either. 

The room is completely silent except for the crunching of bones, Vinny’s whimpers, and Curtis’s grunts. You look up again to be startled by eye contact with Curtis. His eyes are wild, unhinged. Feral. But there's something else in it, like all of this is for you. That all of you are there, everything is happening, because Vinny dared to touch you. It takes your breath away. It’s mesmerizing.

Andy finally stands and strides over to where Curtis is holding Vinny up in the middle of the room. He looks down at Vinny, then spits in his face. “I'm tired of trying to draw blood from a stone,” he says. Then he turns to Curtis and finishes, “Get rid of him.”

Curtis gives you one last long look, his face unreadable. You feel it in your knees. Then he drags Vinny out, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

The moment they're gone, it's like the entire room can breathe again. “Lloyd,” Andy calls out. “How ‘bout a round for everyone? On me.”

Lloyd nods to Colin who hurriedly starts pouring drinks. And you, so grateful for something to do, instead of just standing there, shaking, start loading the glasses on your tray.

As you begin to pass them out, Andy of all people, pulls you aside. “Bambi,” he says quietly, “I hope you know now, we take care of our own.”

You gaze at him, shocked. It feels like a comfort and a threat. But why? It's not so much the implication that this all had something to do with you, but you can't for the life of you imagine what you've done to get yourself to a place where Andy Barber might consider you his, however distantly. It can't just be that you work here. You can't picture him doing something similar for Holly or Colin. Once again, this all feels so incredibly dangerous. 

While you're struggling to come up with anything to say to that, he grabs a drink off your tray and downs it quickly. Then, with a wink, he turns and leaves. You’re left staring after him until someone calls after you and you're scrambling to pass out drinks again. 

The night ends quickly. No one seems eager to stay and drink and play after everything that's happened. Not when there's still blood on the floor.

You do what you can to help clean up, but when you stare at the stain helplessly, Lloyd tells you not to worry about it. He's got a guy.

Colin walks out with you so you aren’t in the parking lot alone. You're grateful. You're still so shaken. As you approach your car, your beater that you still don’t quite have the money to replace, you see someone leaning against it. You stop short, looking to Colin for help, but he just keeps walking to his own car, his head down. That’s when you know it’s Curtis. 

You take a deep breath and then force yourself to keep walking towards him. You can't begin to parse how you feel to see him now. Your keys are ready in your hand like you might just get in and drive off without speaking to him. You know you won’t.

When you reach him, his voice is rough as he asks, “Are you ok?” He’s cleaned up. There’s no more blood on his hands, his clothes have been straightened.

You open your mouth to answer, even though you have no idea, so instead what comes out is “Did you kill him?”

“Did you want me to?” is his immediate reply.

It stops you in your tracks as all sorts of feelings come bubbling up, ones you can not, will not examine. This is about his propensity for violence, how terrifying he became, not– No. “Did you?” you insist. 

He looks at you carefully then shakes his head. “I don't think you actually want me to answer that.”

“But you've killed before?” You can't stop yourself from pressing, from pushing. You don’t know why. 

He just sort of smiles, gently almost, in a way that is deeply unsettling. “You need to stop asking questions you aren’t ready for me to answer, Bambi.” And it’s the way he says the nickname, like you really are that babe in the woods, just born with no knowledge of the world around you, that has your hackles rising.

“Andy called you his dog,” you say, like he should be offended.

To your surprise, he laughs, his head thrown back. Then he takes a step closer to you, and you take the opportunity to sneak in behind him, get to your car. You realize your mistake immediately when he turns back around and cages you in, your back pressed against the driver’s side door. “Everyone calls me his dog. Because he’s the civilized man in the designer suit, and I’m the animal just begging for a reason to slip my leash.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You should get into your car. You should drive away as fast as you can. You should never come back. But you don’t. “You did it for him,” you say, mustering all the strength into your voice that you can. “You didn’t do it for me.”

He leans over you, the space between you shrinking rapidly. “Yeah, he asked me to do it,” he nods. “But if he hadn’t, I still would have done it. For you.”

 You try to shake your head, to tell him that that can’t be true, even as a wild, loud part of you starts to rise up and claw out of your chest. You try to tamp it down, deny it, but before you can, Curtis is leaning in further, his whole body pressing against you, and then he covers your lips with his.  

There’s a heat that comes up out of him that fills you, the instant his skin touches yours. His hands are on you, your neck, your hip. You can’t keep track, can only say that his hands are there, everywhere, that his body touches all of yours, that his lips and his tongue are demanding, unrelenting. You are burning up from the inside.

Too soon, but ages later, he pulls away. His eyes are on fire as he looks at you. Then he tears his gaze away, and hits the roof of your decrepit car twice, looking at it disdainfully. “You get home safe,” he says, then steps back to allow you the space you need to get into your car.

You do what he wants you to do. You get in your car, sit in the driver’s seat, and then stare blankly out the windshield. You’ve never felt so out of control in your life. How did this happen? You were flirting for tips, that was all! You encouraged it for money, that was it, and now– You press your thighs together, trying not to pant. You will not be unmoored. 

A slight movement in your periphery makes you notice that Curtis is still standing just to the side of your car, watching you. You turn your keys in the ignition and shift into drive.

It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything, you chant to yourself all the way home.

It’s your next shift back, and everything seems to have changed. You don’t understand it. You keep doing laps of the room, keep sidling up to regulars you were so friendly with just a few nights ago, but now, they won’t even look at you, let alone touch you. No one’s ordering anything.

Or at least, they aren’t ordering from you.

Holly has been running around nonstop all night, basically having to take care of the entire room by herself. You watch man after man after man slip her little bundles of money. 

You want to scream. What the fuck happened? What did you do? What are you going to do?

You go to stand by the bar to wait for something you can do. Colin gives you a brief nod of acknowledgment but that’s it. He’s been cold, too. No. Not cold, distant. You don’t understand what’s changed.

You take a deep breath. It’s one weird night. Things will be better tomorrow.

Things don’t get better. The next night is the same. You’re starting to panic. This job was supposed to be your lifeline. Without it, without the money you were making, you’re not sure how you’ll survive.

Curtis comes in after a couple of hours of nothing. You could cry you’re so happy to see him. But terrified too. If he gives you the cold shoulder, this job really is over. But you have no idea how he’s going to act, not after what happened last time. You’re not sure how you’re going to act either. You can still feel his lips on yours.

You bring him his whiskey immediately and he greets you with an arm around your waist, pulling you in. “Hey Bambi,” he says quietly. Then he gets a good look at you. “What’s wrong?” 

You look at him carefully, not sure what to confide. You aren’t even sure what the problem is. You shake your head. “Not my best night,” you say with a tired smile. “But I’m fine.”

He stares at you for a moment, then stands up. “Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the little back room. You feel eyes on the two of you the whole way there.

Once he’s closed the door behind you both, he asks again, “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “The last two nights have been weird here. I don’t– I don’t know. I’m just worried. I don’t know what happened but I’m not making any tips. No one’s treating me like they used to.”

“Mmm,” Curtis hums thoughtfully. “I think,” he says as he takes two steps closer to you, which in this small space is significant, “everyone else here has figured it out.”

It’s suddenly a little hard to breathe with him standing over you like this. His presence, his attention is always so much. “Figured what out?” you ask, confused.

“That I have lost my patience for watching other men touch you.” 

It hits you like a freight train. “What?” It comes out in a whisper.

“I’ve let this go on for too long,” he says, his voice is calm, casual. “I don’t want you working here anymore. This is done.”

“I– What? Curtis. What?! I have to work! I have to pay my bills! I don’t understand. I don’t–”

He takes one last step forward. You feel the heat coming off of him. “Shh,” he soothes, cradling your cheek in his hand. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you. I take care of what’s mine.”

You pull your face away, even as the urge to nuzzle into him is so strong. You feel like you’ve missed something, a thousand things. You feel too many steps behind. “Curtis, I’m not– I’m not yours.”

Something comes into his eyes and you’re reminded of him standing over Vinny, covered in blood. His hand travels down from your cheek. He strokes your throat once, and then his hand closes around it. “Look me in the eye,” he growls, “and say that again.”

His hand is firm, snug, but it doesn’t tighten. But you can imagine so easily how it might. You look him in the eye. You open your mouth, ready to say it again. But then– then you see it. In the way he looks at you, the way he’s always looked at you. You feel it in his grip on you, now. You can’t deny it anymore. 

Curtis shoves you into his bedroom. You’re panting already. You need his hands on you, right now. You don’t have to ask for it. He gets you to the center of the room and yanks down your skirt, tearing it in the process. You step out of it and take your blouse off, throwing it on top of your skirt. Curtis’s eyes are cataloging your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out of your bra, your soft tummy, thick thighs. His gaze, as always, takes your breath away.

You reach out for Curtis’s shirt, but he grabs your hands. “I want you on your knees,” he growls and you immediately kneel for him. He throws off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his chest, the muted blacks and grays of his tattoos. You’re desperate to run your hands over them, trace the art, but instead, they just twitch at your side. He'll tell you what you're allowed to do.

He begins unbuttoning his jeans and your mouth drops open. He chuckles darkly. “Perfect little slut.” He takes his phone out of his back pocket and aims it at you, taking a picture as you gaze up at him under your lashes, your mouth wide open. “I've been dreaming of getting you on your knees for me.” He puts his phone on his dresser, then continues taking off his pants. “You ready to choke on my cock, baby?”

“Please,” you whine. You're practically salivating now. His bare thighs are as thick as tree trunks, the muscles corded. His abs ripple as he moves. His shoulders, his back. You want.

He frees his cock and rolls his black boxer briefs down his legs, stepping out of them. It's long and thick, just like the rest of him. Your breath catches. You don't think you've ever taken something that big before.

He takes a few steps so he's completely in your space, his cock bobbing right in front of your face. He takes it in one hand, the other firmly on the back of your head and slowly feeds the tip into your mouth. You taste his musk on your tongue. As he rocks into your mouth, going a little further each time, your hands come up to grasp his thighs. On his next thrust in, you run your tongue along the underside of his dick. His movements stutter just a little and then he looks down at you, a smirk overtaking his face. It's just a touch mean, in a way that has you soaking your panties. “You ready?” he asks, his voice rough. And then without waiting for the answer, he thrusts in all the way, making you take him deep in your throat.

You flail, slapping his thigh as you try to swallow around him, breathing frantically through your nose. After holding you there for a moment, he sets a brutal but steady pace. It takes you a moment, but you find your rhythm, your panic subsiding. Once you feel steady, you lift one hand from his thighs and bring it up to cradle his balls. “Fuck, Bambi,” he grinds out. “You're gonna– I– fuck!” His hand moves from the back of your head down to the back of your neck, which he grips firmly, pulling you off his cock. As you cough and splutter on the floor, he growls, “The first time you make me come is gonna be inside that perfect cunt.”

He helps you stand on wobbly legs, then shoves his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy over your panties. “Shit, fucking soaked just from deepthroating me?”

You let out a needy little whine, trying to push further into his hand, but he withdraws it, instead settling on your hip. “Well,” he grins, “if they’re ruined anyway…” then uses that hand to rip the black lace down the side, letting them fall to the floor. He makes quick work of your bra as well, then takes a step back and sighs, “Shit, Bambi, look at you.” It’s the reverence in his voice and on his face that has you launching yourself at him, unable to keep from kissing him any longer. He lets you, quickly taking control, letting you feel all his hunger, the want he’s kept barely bottled up since he first laid eyes on you. You understand it all now. His erection brushes against you, and now it’s his turn to whine, just a little. 

He pulls away, brushing a hand down your cheek, then says “Get on the bed, on your stomach.” You quickly comply, laying in the center of the bed with your knees pulled up and spread beneath you. He brings his hand down on one asscheek harshly and you can’t help the lewd moan that escapes you. He chuckles, “Oh, I will definitely remember that for later.” He grabs your hips and cants them up, then whistles at your exposed cunt. “I knew it. Absolutely beautiful.” Then he unceremoniously shoves two fingers into your hole and you choke on nothing. “Shh,” he coos. “You can take it. My cock’s gonna be a lot thicker.” 

As he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you can’t hold it in any longer and start babbling. Mostly a combination of “please,” and “Curtis,” and “I need,” over and over.

“I know, baby,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I’ve got what you need right here.” You have a brief moment to feel the tip of his cock on your pussy lips before he’s thrusting it into you, as far as he can go without making it hurt. 

“Oh my god,” you cry, pressing your forehead into the mattress and balling his dark blue sheets in your hands. You feel so full. It’s so good. He’s working himself into you as quickly as he can, desperate now. You both are. Once he bottoms out, fully seated in you, he pauses. Then with one hand on your stomach and the other around your neck, he pulls you up onto your knees, your back flush to his chest. You cry out at the new angle; he’s somehow even deeper now. He starts thrusting up into you at a punishing pace. You’re bouncing up and down in his firm grasp. The hand on your neck turns your head to face him, his lips brushing against yours. He holds eye contact with you as the hand on your stomach snakes down your pelvis so his thick fingers can begin circling your clit. “Fuck! Curtis, please!” you shout. 

“Yeah, come on,” he breathes, “you can let go. You can do it. Come for me like a good girl.” It’s those words that send you careening over the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock, squeezing him until he’s coming too with a grunt, filling you up until both your cum is leaking out around him. 

He holds you there, on your knees, as you both come down, your twin pants all you can hear.

You wake up slowly, the sun shining on you through the soft drapes. You start to shift then groan at how stiff you are. The night before comes back to you. Curtis took you two more times before you both collapsed in satisfied exhaustion. He’s still out like a light beneath you. 

You take a moment to look at him. It’s odd to see him so peaceful, so still. There’s nothing of the feral predator he projects to the world. It makes you feel oddly close to him, seeing him like this.

You carefully get up without disturbing him and begin collecting your clothes. You put on your bra, but there’s no saving your panties. Same for your skirt; it’s ripped along the seam. So instead you pick up Curtis’s t-shirt from last night and put it on. It smells like him. You breathe it in shamelessly knowing there’s no one to witness it.

You savor the soreness as you move out of the bedroom. It’s like you can still feel him inside you, how much he wanted you, needed you. It makes you feel a little powerful, having that effect on a man like him.

You make your way into his living room. You didn’t really have a chance to look at his house last night, as determined as he was to get you into the bedroom. If you’d ever thought to picture it, this wouldn’t be far off. It’s all rich blues and greens and grays, leather and dark wood. Masculine. It suits him. 

As you’re admiring the room, you hear footsteps behind you and then two big arms are encircling your waist, pulling you into him. “Good morning,” he rasps. 

You turn your head to him. “Good morning,” you say with a smile.

“Fuck, Bambi, you’re even hotter in my shirt than you were last night.”

You smirk at him even as your face heats. “Mmm,” you hum. “It’s comfy. You might not get it back.” He nuzzles into your neck as you continue. “I was hoping you might have something I could wear for bottoms, too. You destroyed my skirt.”

His beard roughly drags against your skin as he asks, “Why the hell would I let you wear bottoms?”

You laugh. “Because I have to leave the house, Curtis.”

“No, you don’t,” he says as his hand begins to move between your thighs.

You playfully swat him away, even as you feel yourself getting wet again from his attention. “I have to go home.”

“Why? You’re staying here.” It’s how certain he sounds that has you turning around in his arms.

“What?”

“I don’t like your building. It isn’t safe enough. Now that I finally have you, of course, I’m going to keep you here with me.”

Once again, you feel too many steps behind. You just blink at him, confused. How does he even know where you live??

He takes your chin in his hand, his fingers gentle. “I told you, Bambi, I take care of what’s mine.”

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Destructive solution

Steddie x virgin fem!reader

summary: after becoming roommates with your high school crush and finally getting out of your crazy strict parents house, you get a little too close to him and his best friend (your coworker) —but they’re straight, right?

warning: SMUT 18+ MDNI, female masturbation, mmf threesome, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering (m & f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, unprotected p in a sex, dom & sub dynamics, they’re all love sick for each other, controlling parents, one little suicide joke, reader has no game but she’s a pervy virgin, she’s also clueless about sexuality but does admit to having bi thots

A/N: This took way too long, I wrote a whole other story just to hate it and delete it all, Im happy I did because I like this plot way more. Please let me know what you think. I also did way too much “bisexual threesome porn” searches for “research purposes” cough cough for this lmao

It was your second week of working at family video. Instantly falling into a routine of stocking returned tapes back on the shelves and cleaning down surfaces and windows. It wasn’t your first choice of work but with your situation, you would take anything you could get. You’ve been saving up money since summer to finally move out of your parents house, they’ve treated you like a child for far too long and now that you’ve decided to take a gap year and not pursue college like they had hoped you would, they are even worst. If they’re not ramming information about different colleges and courses you should be taking down your throat, they’re criticizing your music taste, your friends and the clothes you wear. Nothing is ever good enough which is why you need this job, so you can find an apartment and break free from your parents metaphorical shackles they’ve placed on you since birth.

The one good thing about your job is your co-workers, Robin and Steve. You usually work with one or the other but the days you get to work with both are always hysterical. Robin is the best always willing to go the extra mile to be sure you know exactly what you’re doing, Steve is sweet and a little bit of a flirt but you know his reputation and well it’s probably just second nature to him at this point, you don’t overthink it since he tends to flirt with the customers too. But god is he gorgeous, you totally get lost in his eyes when he’s talking to you. Not having much experience with boys is the reason you are terrible at flirting back, the most experience you have is making out with Christopher Malone at church camp when you were 15, he might have also cupped your left boob but still, it’s not much to go off of and putting yourself out there to the male species seems a whole lot harder then just being alone.

It’s a lovely Monday morning when you show up to family video. You work one on one with Steve today which always gives you butterflies, even going as far as stuttering like a lame-o when he talks to you, he was always asking personal questions or for your opinions on things and it would always take you by surprise, thus the stuttering

Steve went to Hawkins high with you, both of you sharing a math class where you said all but five words to each other—but working closely side by side was so different. Using a lot of free time to have conversations, and by conversations you mean him talking while you twirl your finger in your hair as you stare into his eyes and at his lips, pretending like you’re paying attention.

“Hello, y/n” his hand waving in front of your face making you snap out of whatever daydream you were having

“Oh, sorry! I-I was thinking about-“ you stahl as you try to make up something on the spot

“About what?” He says as he lifts his eyebrows and puts his hands on his hips

“I was trying to remember if I turned my curling iron off” you spit out

“Mmm” is all he says as he nods his head, giving you a knowing look, almost like he could read your mind. God, you’re so thankful he can’t do that

“So what is it you were saying, sorry” you say as your cheeks turn pink with embarrassment

“I was saying my buddy Eddie is actually looking for a roommate, he just moved into an apartment and I guess his job cut some hours so he’s kinda desperate to find someone, and I remember you telling Robin you were trying to get out of your folks house, so I figured I’d let you know”

“Eddie as in Eddie Munson?” You say as your eyes widen

“Yup that’s him” Steve says as he rubs the back of his neck

“U-um yeah, okay, can I get his number from you?” Your cheeks now a dark crimson red

You had the biggest crush on Eddie Munson in high school, sure he was “the freak” or “the bad boy” but something about him always enticed you, you would look for him in the halls, cafeteria and assemblies. You locked eyes with him on more than one occasion and every time, you felt your heart practically stop, you even contemplated buying weed just for a chance to talk to him, but you chickened out at the last minute

You weren’t sure if living with your high school crush was a good idea but you were also desperate, and maybe this could be your chance to finally get to know Eddie, if not intimately then maybe just as friends

“Yeah, I’ll write it down and give it to you at the end of our shift, just remind me” he says as he gives you a smile

The day drags on and finally at 4:30pm you’re clocking out and gathering your things to head out, as you walk up to Steve to bid him a “bye, enjoy the rest of your day” as you usually do, he turns around from the counter to slip you the number he promised you earlier, as you go to grab it your finger tips touch and you can’t help but get shy, as you look up at him and then look down at your shoes with an embarrassingly big smile on your face.

“T-thanks for this, really it means a lot” you say as you wave the number in your hand

“Yeah no problem, just give him a call and tell him I sent you” he says with a wink that makes your face heat up

“Thank you again, have a good day” you say as you rush out of there, kicking yourself for being so awkward

Once you get home, you head for the kitchen to use the house phone. Your parents never even allowed you your own private phone for your room, and luckily they weren’t home to hear your conversation, they’d lose their minds if they knew you could possibly be moving in with a boy, but for now what they don’t know won’t hurt em’

As you dial the number with shaky hands and a rapidly beating heart, you give your self a tiny pep talk “be cool” “just relax and be cool” as you inhale and exhale a deep breath. The line rings exactly three times before you hear a groggy voice on the other end

“Hello?” -—Wow his voice is so sexy— “no, nope get it together, remember, be cool” you think to yourself

“Helloooo?” Eddie says breaking you out of your thoughts

“Oh, sorry yes um- this is y/n, I work with Steve and he gave me your number because I’m looking to move out and he said you’re looking for a roommate?” You have never wanted to go lay in oncoming traffic so bad

“Mm, Steve gave you my number?” You can hear the smirk on his lips

“Yeah, I’m sorry is that not okay?” — god you wish you could just disappear in this moment

“No, no it’s okay! So when do you wanna come over? I can show you the place and we can go over rent and whatnot” his tone of voice almost sounds eager, but Steve did say he was desperate to find someone

“I can head over in a couple hours, if that’s okay?” You timidly ask

“Cool, cool that works”

After he gives you the address and you hang up, you rush to your room to get ready, you are not going to this meeting in your work uniform

So you freshen up a bit and change into something more you

Deciding on a rainbow band cropped muscle shirt — the shirt your parents always gave you shit for, because one it was “too short” and two “it was the devils music”

You paired it with some black high waisted shorts and a black belt, and then shoved on your white Reeboks, spraying some perfume before you rush out to your little blue ford pinto, the one nice thing your parents did for you—buying it for you your senior year just to get to and from school

The apartment was about a 12 minute drive. You pull up to a brick complex building with a little stoop, it looked fancier then you were expecting, two big pots with beautiful purple flowers on either side of the entrance door— before you are able to walk in you have to be buzzed in by the occupant, so you press the button by B13 and instantly hear Eddie’s voice through the contraption

“Come on up” he says before you’re even able to speak, you hear the door click and you open it— immediately being welcomed by a staircase, you walk up to apt B13, but before you lift your hand to knock you take some deep breaths, Readying yourself for this interaction with a boy you were love sick for almost all of high school

By the first knock, the door swings open and your met by Eddie, and holy hell did he still look as beautiful as he did then, maybe even more so, his hair was a little longer and by what you could tell under the sleeves of his Iron Maiden shirt he definitely filled out more, a little more muscular and maybe even a little taller whatever it was, was turning you into an idiot because you couldn’t stop your eyes from roaming all over his body, his signature black jeans with the rips in the knees and woah is that a bulge? “Okay—okay stop it right now!” You think to yourself, once you look up into Eddies eyes you realize he’s doing the same, ogling your legs and exposed thighs and sliver of skin between your shorts and shirt.

That somehow gave you the confidence to speak first— “hi, I’m y/n” you say as you hold out your hand for him to shake

“I know, we went to school together, right?” He says as he sticks his hand out to meet yours

“Yeah we did, we did— didn’t think you’d remember me” you say still shaking his hand

“I always remember a pretty face” he says back and your panties instantly grow a wet spot— because holy shit, did he just call me pretty?

You want to say something back and be flirty but all you can give him is a little giggle as both of your hands separate from that excessively long hand shake

“Come on in” he finally says as he gestures you in first

You giggle again as you say “thank you”

As you walk inside your eyes scan the place, it was really nice and you could totally see yourself living here, way nicer than anything you could get alone. There’s a few horror movie and band posters hung up around the living room— some fangoria and heavy metal magazines placed on the coffee table, a nice grey couch and a tv setup in front, even a record player with a crate full of vinyls. As you’re busy eyeing the place Eddie is busy eyeing you—looking a little too long at your back side than would be considered appropriate

As you turn around you catch him, eyes still trained on your ass, your cheeks flush and your heart starts beating a mile a minute again, but you give him a smile as you tell him how nice the place is

“Do you want the tour?” He asks, as his eyes are now eyeing your muscle tank

“Yes, please” you say with too much excitement as you bounce from the heels to the balls of your feet making your boobs bounce, which did not go unnoticed by Eddie

But before he began the tour, eyes still trained to your shirt—he points to it

“I like your shirt—I uh, didn’t know you listened to that kind of music” he says as he looks back up into your eyes

Eddie’s nervousness was giving you some kind of boost of confidence because before you could rethink your next words, they’re tumbling out

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Eddie” you say with a smirk as you turn around signaling to him that you’re ready for the tour

As he shows you around, you both can’t help but sneak peaks of each others bodies, you almost couldn’t concentrate on anything else—until he showed you the vacant room, it was a very decent size and could very well fit all of your belongings and then some

“It’s perfect” you say beaming up at him

“Yeah, this place has pretty big rooms, huh?” He says back as he smiles down at you

“So do you wanna go over the bills and stuff now?”

You look back at him with the most beautiful smile he thinks he’s ever seen

“So does that mean I’m moving in?” You squeak out with pure excitement

“Yeah, it does—by the way, when’s the soonest you can start moving your stuff in? You know for rent purposes, the mechanic shop I work at thought it’d be a good idea to hire a couple more people so they cut my hours back” he says with a glum look you wish you could kiss right off

“Oh, well I can start moving little things in by tomorrow, but I need to find someone to help with the bigger things like my bed and dresser”

“Me and Steve could help—if you wanted” he spits out a little faster then he anticipated

“Oh my god, I would be indebted to you both forever, if you did�� you say with your best puppy dog eyes

“Yeah I can think of some ways you can cash in that debt” he says with a smirk that makes a chill run down your spine and a place between your thighs throb—you swallow before you smile back at him

“Let’s go sit so we can talk” he says as he does the same “after you” gesture he did when you first walked in

After you both talk about the expenses you’d be splitting and some rules he has which consisted of

Food—you can have whatever of his you want just make sure to ask first and you agreed, that he could do the same. No smoking weed on the balcony, the neighbors like to complain about the smell—but you assured him you don’t smoke, so that doesn’t really apply to you. Last one always let him know when you’re going to have company over, after agreeing and shaking hands he walks you out and before you go to leave he gives you a hug and whispers close to your ear

“I’ll see you tomorrow” goosebumps instantly rising from your skin, you nod and give him a smile before you walk off to your car

As you make your way back home, you try to go over what the hell just happened. You haven’t felt this giddy in your life, you’re about to move in with Eddie fucking Munson, you weren’t sure if you wanted to pull over to do a happy dance or pull over to puke from the nerves that have just swarmed through your stomach at the thought of seeing him everyday, sharing a bathroom with him, holy shit— sleeping in the next room over from him, oh my god you didn’t think about all of this before, what if he sees all your flaws and gets disgusted by you— okay, stop no overthinking, this is your chance to finally be your own person, live your life for yourself and maybe Eddies the perfect person to show you how to let loose.

After Eddie and Steve helped you move your heavier items in—one of your first debts was treating them to burgers and fries for dinner. After grabbing everything from your parents house you left your new number for them to be able to contact you. Moving out the week they were on a work trip, not wanting the confrontation—but you were an adult and you are allowed to move out without permission, you knew once they found out they’d completely cut off contact with you, but you still held out hope that your parents could be decent humans, someday.

But now that you’re settled in, Eddie mentioned a tradition him and Steve have every Saturday, horror movie night. Being around both of the guys you get butterflies for might be a little overwhelming, but you’ve grown to love their company so it should be a good night.

Since it’s your first, you’ve been put in charge of picking the movies—settling on the serpent and the rainbow and fright night. You’ve decided on a whim that you’re gunna look good tonight, maybe that was a terrible idea but you wanted to be desirable, you want to feel sexy and for them to see you as such, so there’s not harm in wearing some cute little pajamas—enfaces on the little

As soon as you got home from your shift you cleaned up a little bit and then hopped in the shower to clean the long day off, once out you used some sweet smelling body lotion and spritzed some perfume on your neck and wrists—finally changing into an off white silk two piece accustomed with some ruffles on the end of the short shorts, showing off the underside of your butt—the top was very cropped and you’ve decided to go without a bra, it just looked better that way, you paired the whole ensemble with white knee high socks. After brushing and drying your hair, you give yourself a once over in the full length mirror that is hanging behind your door, you felt sexy—for the first time in your life, you could kiss your best friend Rachel for getting this pajama set for you on your birthday. The confident thoughts that entered your head left as quickly as they came, now you’re questioning how this makes you look—“am I going to look desperate” “are they going to know I’m dressing up for them?” Oh god I hope not

Before you could overthink any further, there’s a knock at your door—you were so focused you almost jumped out of your skin

“Y-yeah?” You ask trying to catch your breath

“Can you come set up the movie while I get the snacks ready?” Eddie asks from the other side of the door

“Yeah, of course! I’ll be right out”

It’s now or never, either you stop being a pussy and get some confidence or you’ll be stuck as the little virgin forever— so you take a deep breath and walk out into the living room to set up fright night first. Steve called 30 minutes ago to say he’d be on his way soon, so he should be here any minute. As you’re fiddling with the remote and pausing it on the fbi warning— Eddie walks out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in hand—

“Hey, hope you like butte-“ “woah” he said almost dropping the bowl of popcorn as his eyes descend along your figure in the little pajama set

“You um, you look nice” he says as he looks down, setting the popcorn bowl on the coffee table

“Thanks” you say with a shy smile— can’t tell if that’s a good reaction or not, but you’ll take it

“I uh, I’m gunna go use the bathroom, can you buzz Steve in when he comes?” He says as he rushes off

“Sure” was all you were able to get out before he disappeared down the hallway

About 5 minutes go by and you hear the buzzer go off— it’s Steve, you answer and buzz him through, you open the door and wait for him to come up—but as you wait you get preoccupied with cleaning off the dining table

You hear the door shut behind you, signaling that Steve is now inside, as you turn to look at him, he’s giving you the same look Eddie did earlier before he headed off to the bathroom

“Hey” you say with a little wave

He walks towards you with a 12 pack of beer in his hand as he looks you up and down, making a chill run through your body

“Well hello” he says as he walks up standing right in front of you “don’t you look nice tonight”

“Oh, um thanks” you say as you take the 12 pack from him

“I’ll put these in the fridge” you say heading into the kitchen “Eddie’s in the bathroom—just make yourself comfy”

After pulling out three beers for you and the guys— you put the pack in the fridge and head back to the living room— you see Steve and Eddie immediately stop their conversation once you’ve gotten within ear shot of them, they’re both ogling you as you walk to sit in between them on the sofa— okay these pajamas were definitely working

Once fright night starts playing and you are all sipping on your beer and passing popcorn back and forth— Eddie pauses it to take a smoke break, you pass but they still invite you to hang out in his room, while they partake

You sit up against Eddie’s wooden headboard while Steve and Eddie sit at the end of the bed facing you—passing the joint back and forth to each other while you all get lost in conversation

“So y/n” Steve says as the smoke bellows out of his mouth, looking at your thighs and then back to your eyes “I like these little pjs, do you normally wear stuff like that to bed?” — you feel your cheeks heat at the question, embarrassment washing over you

“Um, no actually I usually just wear big shirts to bed, but these are the only matching pajamas I have, so I decided to wear them tonight for the special occasion” you say shyly

“Yeah? I like ‘em, right Ed, we like ‘em?” He says looking at Eddie, making him choke on some of the smoke he had just inhaled

“Mmhm, we do” he says, both boys looking at you like they were hungry and you were a four course meal

You didn’t say too much after that, now feeling way too shy to insert yourself in their conversations— you guys head back to the living room to finish the movie, resuming your positions on the couch after Steve gets up to grab three more beers for you all

Once fright night is over and all the popcorn and beers have been drunk, you decide to save serpent and the rainbow for another night

“I actually have an early shift tomorrow, so I think I’m gunna get to bed, is that okay?” You ask the boys — noticing the look of disappointment on both of their faces

“Uh, yeah yeah that’s fine” Eddie speaks up first

“Goodnight guys” you say while grabbing your throw blanket and heading to your room— “goodnight y/n” Steve says

Once you lay down and try to fall asleep, it’s almost impossible, things seemed so off tonight— almost like the boys had a secret or were in on something you had no idea about, maybe it was in your head. But you also seen the way they were looking at you — and how disappointed they looked when you told them you were going to bed, you weren’t even sure what you were asking for— there’s no way they’d both want you, so why are you fighting so hard to be wanted by both of them?

an hour passes of you tossing and turning and once you finally find a position you’re most comfortable in, you start to hear foot steps, it’s probably Eddie going to his room— Steve must’ve left.

About 10 minutes later, you’re still wide awake— you start to hear faint moans coming from Eddie’s side of the wall “oh my god, is he jacking off?” You whisper to yourself. The moans get louder and now you hear another set of moans and some slapping noises— “wait, oh my god, is that Steve?” — “holy shit, are Steve and Eddie fucking?” You couldn’t help but get up and place your ear to the wall

You start to feel a tinge of jealousy in the pit of your stomach accompanied by arousal, wow this is turning you on, thinking of both of them together— well this is new, never thought you’d be turned on by two men you’re crushing on having sex. As the moans get louder— your hand descends into your little silk shorts and under your panties, you don’t really touch yourself—probably making yourself cum a handful of times, but woah the instant need is something you’ve never felt before— you’re so wet, you gather the slick that’s seeping out of your hole and bring it up to your clit, rubbing slow deliberate circles on it, as you begin to feel that burning sensation in the pit of your stomach— Eddie and Steve’s moans get a little louder, you hear Eddie tell Steve to keep it down, and then the slapping continues— you reach your peak as you push a pillow into your face to muffle the moans that are coming out of your mouth— holy fuck you’ve never cum so hard, once you’re finished the moaning stops and you hear some muffled talking but not enough to make out what’s being said, after a couple minutes you hear foot steps and the front door close.

As you come down from your high— you start to feel shame for listening in and touching yourself to something you shouldn’t have been listening to, but what the hell?— Steve and Eddie? So what are they like gay?— I mean surely Steve can’t be he’s a ladies man, still flirting and going on dates with the women that come into family video, but I mean Eddie— you’ve never seen him with a girl before, but you’ve seen the way he’s looked at you since the first day you came over, he’s never been subtle in his attempts at checking you out. You’re so confused.

After continuously tossing and turning last night you’ve decided it’d be best to just move on, clearly Steve and Eddie have a thing for each other and no matter how much you like them both, maybe it’s for the best to just start your dating life— you no longer live with your parents thus allowing you to finally go on dates, so why not indulge?

Luckily today you work with Robin, you wouldn’t know how to face Steve if you worked one on one with him, you already feel guilty for getting off to his and Eddie’s moans, the whole thing would just be awkward— luckily you didn’t see Eddie either before you left for work.

It’s nearing the end of your shift, you’re stocking the horror section with some returns when you hear the bell above the entrance door go off, Robins in the back so you’re in charge of greeting and helping customers

“Welcome to family video!” you say as you continue your strategic alphabetical placements, as you’re putting the last movies away, you stand up and head back to the counter— being greeted by a familiar smiling face

“Donnie Anderson?” you say with a shy smile as you look up at the tall, dark haired boy— you both went to Hawkins high together, he was the quarterback and you tutored him on multiple occasions

“Y/n?” He says as his eyes squint “Wow, how have you been?”

“I’ve been pretty good actually, how about you?”

“Yeah, same here” he says with his signature charming smile “wow you look great”

You can’t help but blush at his kind words—“thanks, so do you”—“so is there a movie I can help you find?”

“Right? Movie um, yeah I’m looking for dream a little dream and license to drive, they’re for my little sister” he says as he looks down in embarrassment

“Those are the movies with the two Corey’s, right?” You say as you raise your eyebrows

“Yup” he says as he nods his head slowly

“For your little sister, huh?” You tease

“Yeah, uh, she loves Corey Haim” he chuckles

After you ring him up and get caught up in talks about the past and future— Donnie leans over getting a little close to your personal space, working up his charm

“Hey what are you doing tomorrow?” He asks

“I have another morning shift, but after that I’m free, why? What’s up?” You say as you lean a little closer towards him

“Do you want to go out with me tomorrow?”—“maybe catch a movie?” He says with hopeful eyes

“Sure, y-yeah that sounds fun, I’d love to” you say as you hand him the bag with his movies

“Cool, can I get your number?”

You pull out a note pad and pen from the drawer and jot your number down, tearing out the page to give to him— “okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, have a goodnight y/n” he says as he walks backwards to the door, and then turns around to walk out

Oh my god, your first official date! — you can’t help but to do a little happy dance, quickly being interrupted by Robin

“That inventory took way too lon-“ she says immediately stopping as she sees your dancing form behind the counter

“We having a dance party or something?” She inquires

“No, but Im going on my first date tomorrow” you say with a giddy smile

“Really? Was I gone that long?” She says with a snort

After getting home from your shift, you pull your clothes off and put an oversized shirt on to get comfortable— you lie down in bed and start to doodle in your notebook while crazy on you by heart plays in the background— suddenly you hear a knock at your bedroom door

“Come in!” You yell over the music

“Hey uh, someone’s on the phone for you, I think he said his name was Danny”

“Danny?” You say with a questioning look “oh Donnie, okay” you roll off of your bed and head to the phone—as you talk to Donnie on the phone about your date, Eddie’s sitting at the kitchen table nursing a beer, with a sad look on his face

“Okay, sounds good! I’ll see you tomorrow” you say, hanging up the phone

“Who’s Donnie?” Eddie questions still staring at his beer

“Donnie Anderson, he was on the football team. Anyway, he came by family video today and we started talking and he asked to take me out on a date”

“A date?” Eddie says as his jaw clenches

“Yeah a date”

“Oh, that’s cool um I gotta go” Eddie says as he gets up from the table, chair scraping against the linoleum floors, he walks out the front door leaving it to slam— what just happened?

Going into work the next morning, you worked along side Steve. He was distant and barely said anything to you, other than asking about your date—Robin must of told him.

The date with Donnie went really well—but you couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie, all week he’d been hot and cold with you, one minute heavily flirting and the next almost avoiding you. Steves attitude towards you has somewhat gone back to normal, having little conversations here and there— you really couldn’t understand them, it almost seemed like they were jealous, but that can’t be it.

Finally Saturday rolls around and you wanted to invite Donnie to come hang out, maybe after you’ll let him spend the night and who knows maybe you’ll even lose your virginity to him—-But you’d have to tell Eddie since that was on his list of rules

After getting home from work you changed into a little white cami and some red and white shorts you got from summer camp years ago, they definitely made your butt look great, even if they’re way smaller than they use to be— you make your way into the living room where Eddie and Steve are sitting and talking

“Hey, um is it okay if I invite a friend over?” You say as you walk towards the couch they’re sitting on

“Uh, yeah I guess, sure” Eddie says without even looking at you

“Okay, thanks” you say as you turn towards the kitchen to call Donnie

After you hang up you go back to sit down with the guys, they’re deep in conversation about Eddie’s band. He’d stopped playing for awhile after most of the members headed off to college, he’s been looking for new musicians so he was asking Steve for advice — It was so weird, that you knew they had sex, but they were never affectionate towards each other or at least not in front of you, if you would’ve never heard them that night, you would’ve never guessed they’d have an intimate relationship— you wanted to ask questions, but it wasn’t your place and you didn’t want to make them feel uncomfortable or like you were judging— you certainly had your fair share of thoughts about women

But they are your friends so maybe you’d be able to confide in them?

“Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt but can I ask you both a question?”

“Uh sure” Steve says as he turns his body towards you with intrigue

“It’s kind of a personal question, so don’t get weirded out that I’m asking, okay?” You say with hesitation

They both look at each other and then look back at you as they say “okay” in unison

“How did you guys lose your virginity?” You say as you put your palm under your chin

“Um, wow that is pretty personal” Steve says as Eddie laughs

You look away in embarrassment, feeling like you maybe overstepped— until Steve spoke up first

“I lost mine when I was 15, she was 17 and I had no idea what I was doing” he said “it was pretty awkward and I had really just wanted to lose it just to lose it, I never really talked to her after that, must’ve been pretty bad” he chuckles

Eddie looks at him with a knowing smirk on his face, like he wants to say something but decides not to

“And you Ed’s?” You say as you look at him

He blushes at the nickname, he loves when you call him that

“Um, I lost mine at 18, same as Steve it was awkward and I had no idea what I was doing” he says as he looks over to Steve and then you

Hmm, okay super vague but I’ll take it— you think to yourself

“What about you?” Steve says catching you off guard

“Oh um, well um” you stammered—both boys looking at you with raised eyebrows waiting to hear your answer

“Well, see that’s why I asked because I don’t exactly have a first time, and um I kind of want to and I was thinking tonight with Donnie we might you know” your sentence coming out as almost one long jumbled word

“You’re a virgin?” Eddie looks at you like you’ve just confessed to a murder

Steve looks like he’s at a loss for words— you just want to go climb in bed under your covers and never show your face again

“Yes, I’m a virgin” you say as you begin to bite your nails, not wanting to look at either of their faces

“Hey, that’s okay nothing wrong with being a virgin” Steve says

“Yeah well, I never had the opportunity I wasn’t allowed to date when I lived with my parents, it was school, tutor, work repeat”—“I wasn’t even allowed to have guy friends, how crazy is that?” You say still playing with your finger nails

“Donnie was my first date” you whisper

You finally look up at the boys faces, and distinctly see the look of pity written all over them

“It’s fine forget I asked” you say as you get up “I’m going to go get ready” you say as you sulk back to your room

Eddie and Steve were shocked—they weren’t sure what “not looking like a virgin” meant but you did not look like a virgin, you were sexy as hell, they couldn’t believe no one had ever jumped at the chance to fuck you— but they definitely didn’t want Donnie to be the first one

After you freshened up and put on a little bit of makeup— Steve had knocked on your door to tell you Donnie was here— tonight you were all going to watch serpent and the rainbow since you didn’t get to last movie night— you walk out into the living room and Steve and Eddie are talking to Donnie as they all sip on a beer, Donnie sees you and jumps up to give you a hug and kiss, you blush as he takes your hand and walks you to the couch to sit next to him, almost uncomfortably close as he sets his hand on your thigh and rubs it

You can see Eddie out of your peripheral looking at where Donnie’s hand is placed—Steve coughs and says “alright everybody ready to start the movie?” You all agree—feeling a thick tension in the air

The movie was long but by the end you stand up and tell the guys you need to use the restroom really quick—“when you come back you’ll ask donnie to stay the night” you think to yourself

When you get back you see Steve and Eddie but Donnie is gone.

“Where’s Donnie?” You ask looking around like he was going to come out of another room

“He left” Eddie said

“Left? Why would he leave?” You say with your eyebrows furrowed

“We told him to leave” Steve says as Eddie looks down at his feet

“Why would you do that?” Now you’re fuming

“Because we just didn’t think it was a good idea for him to stay” Eddie speaks up

“A good idea? What?” — “what the fuck does that mean?” You seethe

They had never heard you cuss before

“We just don’t think you should have sex with him y/n”

“You cant decide who I fuck!” — “Jesus, it’s like I’m living with my parents all over again, you guys can’t control who I see” — “I didn’t tell you two not to fuck the other night, so why do you have the right to tell me who I can be with?” You didn’t mean for that to come out so harsh, but this must of been a trigger for you, feeling like you’re being controlled, it made you wanna scream.

“What?” They say in unison as they look at each other almost like they felt guilty for something

“I don’t care what you guys do, or if you guys are gay or whatever— so don’t insert yourself in my business” you say as calmly as you can

“Gay?” They both say again at the same time

“Sweetheart, we’re not gay” Eddie says with a smirk, god he can be such an arrogant asshole

“Okay well whatever you are I don’t care, just stay out of my business” you say as you begin to walk away

“You heard us?” Steve says stopping you in your tracks

“Uh, yeah you were kind of loud and I had trouble falling asleep that night”

“See I told you to keep it down” Eddie says as he shoots Steve a look you couldn’t quite make out

“Hey, I’m not judging you guys okay?”—“I would never do that” you don’t ever want to come off as a bigoted asshole, you don’t want to be anything like your parents

“Thanks” they both say

“Can you come sit down, so we can talk?” Eddie motions with his head towards the couch

“Um, yeah sure” you say as you walk back to the couch

You sit in the open seat between them— they both turn towards you, giving each other a knowing look before their eyes find you again

“We um, yes we have sex, we’re bi”

“You guys really don’t have to explain yourselves to me” you say trying to stop Eddie from going any further

“No, no we want to, babe” Steve says—the pet name instantly making your stomach flutter

“Okay, well why?” You say as you look at both men sitting on either side of you

“We like you y/n” — “I’ve liked you for awhile” Eddie says — “since high school” he continues

“You’ve liked me since high school?” You say as your eyes widen

“Yeah, I’d always look at you and when you’d catch me I’d look away, I figured you must’ve thought I was a weirdo, so I never tried to talk to you” — “so when you called me and I found out you were, you and you were interested in moving in, I knew I was in trouble, that first meeting i couldn’t take my eyes off of you, you’ve always been beautiful” — “but holy shit” he says

“When I seen you on your first day at family video I wanted to ask you out on a date, but Robin told me to keep it professional, and then when I told Ed you had started working with us, he told me about his high school crush on you so when I found out you were looking for a room to rent and Eddie was looking for a roommate, I thought it’d be the perfect set up, even though I really wanted you for myself” he says as he looks over to Eddie—Eddie shooting him a glare back

“That night we wanted to tell you how we felt, I mean fuck you looked so good, we couldn’t help but to fuck each other while we thought about you” Steve says

“So do you guys do that often?”— “No judgement” you say as you throw up your hands in surrender

“Well we have an arrangement, where if we’re hanging out and we’re horny we just go for it” —“it’s more of like a friends with benefits type of thing” Eddie throws in

“I see” you say as you nod your head

“So what? You said you didn’t think I should have sex with Donnie, does that mean you think I should have sex with you both?” You ask purely out of curiosity

“That’s up to you, princess” Eddie says

Jesus this man and his terms of endearment

“So you both would be okay with taking my virginity?” You ask as you raise your brows

“We’d be honored to, but only if that’s what you want” Steve says

“Well if we’re all being honest here, I’ve had a crush on you Ed’s since high school, too. When you’d catch me looking back at you it was only because I was specifically looking for you. I um, I even wanted to buy weed from you as an excuse to talk to you, but I pussied out last minute. I had even wrote you a note to meet me after school, I was gunna slip it into your locker but I was too nervous, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it” you say as you reminisce with a smile

Eddie’s eyes widen at the revelation, he couldn’t believe you felt the same for him, you both could’ve been together this whole time

“And Steve I was reminded how gorgeous I always thought you were that first day and I loved how much you made me laugh, I even thought you were flirting with me but I mean I knew of your reputation and you flirt with the customers too, so I just didn’t want to overthink it, ya know?”

“Yeah, he is a big flirt, aren’t you big boy?” Eddie says with a smirk as he ruffles Steve’s hair

“Cmon man, not the hair!” Steve says smacking away Eddie’s hand

You couldn’t help but giggle at their antics

“Okay, yes I want to”

They both stop what they’re doing and look at you— “we need you to say exactly what you want, baby?” Eddie says

“I um, I-I want you both to fuck me” you stutter out

“Try again sweetheart, say it like you mean it” Eddie continues with a mischievous smirk

“I want you both to fuck me” you say with more confidence

“Good girl, see that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Steve says

“Let’s move this to the room?” Eddie asks looking back and forth from you to Steve

“Yeah let’s go” you say as you get up and hold both of your hands out towards them to take

You drag them behind you to Eddies room

“Woah someone’s eager” one of them says while they both snicker

Once you three enter Eddies bedroom they’re both on you, Eddie grabs your chin and brings your lips to his, Steve starts kissing your neck, his hand slowly moving down your back to your ass, he grabs a handful making you moan into Eddies mouth

You cannot believe this is happening

You’re about to lose your virginity to two incredibly sexy men, who else can say that?

Eddies tongue slips into your mouth deepening the kiss, while Steve sucks your neck and soothes it wish his tongue

You rake both your hands down their chests—as your hands descend along their lower stomach it stops at the huge bulge in both their pants

You cup them through their jeans, gaining a moan from both men

You break the kiss as you look up at Eddie

“What do you wanna do first, baby?” He says as he grabs both of your hips, smiling down at you

“I want you to teach me how to suck Steve’s cock” you say innocently

“Fuck” they both say in unison

“Okay, yeah I can do that” Eddie says

He grabs a pillow off of his bed

“Get on your knees” he says in a tone of voice that almost made you whimper, strong and assertive

“Yes, sir” you say almost as a joke but you could tell in Eddies face how much he liked it, eyes glazing over, now looking at you with an intense hunger, both of them were looking at you like that—it was almost overwhelming how turned on you were becoming

Eddie kneels beside you, both of you between Steve’s legs from his standing position, eyes trained on you and the metalhead. Eddie begins unbuttoning Steves jeans and pulling down his zipper, he shoves his thumbs in the waistband of Steve’s jeans and boxers and tugs them down just above his knees, his cock springs out— your jaw drops at how huge it is, he’s cut and has a pretty pink throbbing head with precum oozing from the slit, your mouth waters just looking at it. You never sucked a dick before and said you never would, but holy shit, you wanted to live with Steves cock in your mouth, it was beautiful

You and Eddie lick your lips at the same time, as you both stare at it

“Go ahead and grab it, baby” Eddie whispers to you— you grasp it at the base, your hand looks so small compared to it, which excites you even more

Eddie puts his hand over yours—“okay, now move it up and down, mmhm just like that baby, good girl” his whispers causing goosebumps to form on your skin

“Now spit on it” Eddie says

You gather all the saliva in your mouth and spit a on the head of Steve’s pink tip

“That’s it, okay now start smearing that wetness all over his cock, baby” — “yup just like that, fuck Steve she’s a quick learner” he says looking up into his best friends eyes with a smirk

“Okay now put your mouth around the tip, and suck” — “nope” you say as you shake your head

“I wanna see you first” you say as you giggle

“You wanna see me suck Stevie’s cock? what does that turn you on or something?” He says jokingly

You nod your head and bite your lip

“Dirty girl” Steve says looking down at the exchange

“I might of played with myself that night I heard you both fucking” you shyly retort

Eddie and Steves eyes widen as they look at each other — “hear that Stevie? Our girls a kinky little thing” Eddie laughs out

Our girl

“Okay baby, I’ll show you how it’s done” Eddie says pretending to crack his neck before he dives in—putting his lips over Steves tip and sucking, slowly putting more and more in his mouth until Steve is in his throat, Eddie must be very experienced because he doesn’t gag as Steve begins to fuck his mouth

You can’t help it, you have to rub your pussy while watching them, it’s way too hot not to—you slip your fingers into your waist band and start rubbing your clit, your pussy is insanely wet already, making your fingers glide over your clit so smoothly, you can’t hold the moans back

“Fuck, she’s touching herself dude” Steve says while looking down at you as he bites his lip

Eddie let’s go of Steves cock with a pop as he looks over at you—grabbing the back of your hair and crashing his lips into yours, tasting Steve on his tongue makes your panties gush even more— the whole thing is so incredibly sexy

Eddie breaks the kiss— “okay baby, it’s your turn”

You grab Steves cock from the base again, it’s now slick with Eddies spit so you give it a few strokes before you put it in your mouth and start sucking, then swirling your tongue around the tip, taking it back in your mouth moving down slowly finally hitting the back of your throat, you instantly gag on it, making your eyes water

“that’s okay princess, we’ll have that throat trained in no time” Eddie says with a smirk

“Keep going baby, your mouth feels fucking amazing” Steve says as he reaches down to grab some of your hair, reaching his other hand down to grab Eddies hair too—“fuck you both are so sexy on your knees for me” he says looking from you to Eddie

Once you’ve gotten the hang of it, you start sliding your lips on the side of Steves cock, you reach out, grabbing Eddie’s hair making him bring his lips to the other side, he knows exactly what you’re trying to have him do, so he puts his lips on the other side, mimicking you and your movements, up and down

“Fuuuuuck” Steve moans out

You and Eddie start making out with Steves tip— making him whimper and groan, the hands fisted in both your hair tightening

“Okay, okay I can’t take anymore” Steve says pulling you both up by your hair

His lips smash into Eddies and they have a heated kiss before Steve pulls away and grips your hair he’s still holding, pulling you towards him and smashing his lips into yours, tongues and teeth clashing, it’s a sloppy but calculated kiss, you finally pull away—looking at Eddie

“Should we suck yours next?” You ask Eddie

“Uh-uh baby”—“I won’t last if I have both your pretty lips on my cock” Steve rolls his eyes as he laughs

“Get on the bed baby, let us take care of you” Steve says picking you up and throwing you down on the bed, as you yelp

Eddie begins pulling your shorts down, both of them looking over your body like they were about to devour you— “take her shirt off too” Steve instructs Eddie

“Cmon baby, let’s get this shirt off of you, we wanna see those pretty titties” Eddie says

“Yes sir” you say again as you raise your arms

Eddie growls as he pulls off your thick camisole, boobs springing out—thanking god you went without a bra

“Fuck, look at that” Eddie says under his breathe

“Those are the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen” Steve says with his eyes blown wide with lust

“Lay back, sweetheart” Eddie says in a sweet but assertive tone

You do as your told, laying back but using your elbows to still keep you propped up—Steve moves closer to you. Eddie grabs one knee and Steve grabs the other as the both pull them apart, exposing the big wet spot right in the middle of your light pink, lace panties—Steve and Eddies hands both touching different parts of you, Steve rubbing your thigh and Eddie playing with the little black bow on the top of your panties, sending you a smirk—Eddies fingers move down to the wet spot, rubbing his fingers over your clothed clit and then cupping your hole pussy in his hand as he grunts

“Fuck you’re so wet for us baby” he moans out

“Can’t wait to stretch that little pussy out, make it take both of us at the same time” Eddie says to Steve making your pussy throb right where his hand is placed

“I-I want that so bad” you moan out

“Not now baby, that’s for another day, we gotta get you use to one cock today”—“but soon you’ll be taking both of us in all your tight little holes, Kay?”

“Yes, sir” you say with slight disappointment, although the promise of another time instantly makes your stomach flutter

Eddie puts his thumbs in the waist band of your panties, pulling them down, you let them fall off your legs and onto the floor—Eddies instantly grabbing your knees and pulling them apart exposing your glistening cunt to both men, you slightly flinch as the cold hair hits the wetness of your pussy

“I have an idea” Eddie says — “turn around ass up, now” he demands, you immediately follow his directions getting into what you know as the doggystyle position from the details of one of your best friends many rendezvous

Once in position Eddie pushes your lower back in trying to make you arch your ass more for them, Steve lays down in between your thighs, so you’re sitting on his face, as his back is against the mattress, he licks a long strip from your aching hole to your pulsing clit—you can’t help but to moan out an “oh fuck” as he reaches your clit

Eddie chuckles as he stands between Steves spread legs and grabs both of your ass cheeks with his big palms spreading them and bringing his tongue to your tight second hole—holy shit, holy shit, you could cry from how amazing their tongues feel on you—Steve starts fucking you with his tongue, as Eddie continues licking your asshole, he begins to fuck your ass a little bit with the tip, before he moves down towards Steves, they both lick each others tongues before going back to using their tongues on you, you could cum right then and there, and you want to so bad—you begin to feel that burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, as you’re seeing stars and moaning so loud the neighbors can hear you. What tips you over the edge is Eddie slowly putting his finger inside your pussy, curling it up and hitting something inside of you that felt like heaven

“fuck daddy, I’m cumming!” You scream out

You had no idea where that came from, maybe something one of your friends told you they said to their partner and it probably stuck with you because you thought it was hot

Eddie and Steve stop their ministrations once your pussy stopped clenching around Eddies finger

“Daddy?” Eddie asks as he looks at Steve with the biggest smile

“Fuck princess, and here I thought you couldn’t get any hotter, now we find out you’re a secret little slut, too?” Eddie says teasingly

You couldn’t help but moan at his words and tone of voice—“is that what you want, baby?” Steve asks “you want to be our dirty little slut?”

“Yes, yes please” you say as the mattress muffles your words from your position

“You’re such a good girl, baby, such a good fucking girl for us” Steve says

“She’s the perfect girl for us” Eddie says back as his arm wraps around your lower stomach turning you around with a strength you’d never know he had

“Alright baby, who do you want to fuck you first?” Steve asks as he removes his pants and boxers completely, working on Eddies next—they both rid themselves of their shirts now matching your nakedness

“I don’t want to choose”—“I want you both to feel good” you whine

“Oh princess, we are gunna feel good, one of our dicks are gunna be in you while another one’s gunna be in one of our ass, how does that sound?” Eddie asks

“Oh my god, yes please that sounds so hot” you beg

“You have to pick which one of us fucks you first, remember?”—“don’t go getting all cock drunk on us now baby, we haven’t even started”

“Okay Um, I want Eddie to fuck me while you fuck him” you say to Steve

Eddie crawls toward you on the bed, spreading your legs wider for him as he gives you a deep kiss— Steve opens Eddies side drawer getting out a bottle of lube and pouring it in the palm of his hand and then stroking his cock with it, smearing it all over, he then takes the bottle of lube and pours more onto his fingers bringing them to Eddies ass and rubbing it in, inserting a finger into his tight hole and pumping in and out. Eddie moans into the kiss as he wraps his hand around his cock, bringing it closer to your pussy, rubbing it up and down your wet slit— finally Steve takes his cock and positions the head of it toward Eddies asshole, pushing in slowly, inch by inch making Eddie moan out a “fuuuck”— as Steve is sliding into him, Eddie positions his cock at your entrance. He looks down at you to gage your reaction

“Are you okay, baby?” He ask as his head barely slips through

“Mmmm, yeah, I-I’m okay”

Steve stills inside of Eddie, waiting for him to bottom out in you, not wanting to accidentally push Eddie into you with his thrusts

Eddie goes excruciatingly slow, so you have to tell him he can go a little faster—it hurts but it’s nothing you can’t handle, you’re wet enough for it to be almost painless, just feeling a little bit of pressure

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks as he’s finally bottomed out inside of you—“yeah baby, please move, don’t stop” you whine out

Eddie finally starts thrusting, fucking into you but also fucking Steve’s cock into him

You all three are a moaning mess—throwing out a stray “fuck” and “oh my god” here and there

“Please please, fuck me harder” you moan out to Eddie while his face is buried in your neck

Eddie’s thrusts get faster, making Steves do the same, now Steve is fucking Eddie into you and it feels amazing, both of their hands all over you and all over each other—Steve bends down towards you and Eddie while he’s still fucking into him, hard— Steve takes Eddies hair and yours and brings you all into a three way kiss of just tongues, all of you moaning out into each others mouths—- once Steve let’s go of you and Eddie’s hair he goes back to his position above you both, slapping Eddies ass as he fucks into him harder

Eddie’s losing his mind, yelling out so many obscenities and filthy things, into your neck 

“Fuck yes, goddammit you both feel so fucking good!” He moans out

He picks his head up from your neck, looking down at you—“your pussy’s so good baby, you’re so tight and wet, fuck”—“I’m gunna cum, fuck I’m gunna cum, where do you want it?” Eddie asks you

“In my mouth daddy” you moan out

“Fuuuck”—“Steve move!” Eddie shouts, Steve pulls his cock out of him, he strokes it as he’s nearing his release, too

You fall to your knees underneath both of them as they stroke their cocks above your face, you hold your tongue out awaiting their cum

“Yes baby, open up a little wider” —-“fuck yeah, just like that” Eddie says as white hot ropes of cum squirt out onto your lips and tongue, Steve can’t hold it in any longer as he’s watching Eddie paint your tongue, his cum squirting onto your cum filled tongue, getting some on your chin

Eddie brings his thumb to your chin wiping Steve’s cum off bringing it up to your tongue, you obey by licking it off—your tongue covered in their cum as you show it off to both of them— you instantly love the taste of them in your mouth, sitting on your tongue, you love the look they give you even more—like they could ravish you again—you finally swallow, holding your tongue back out to show them what a good girl you are

“Holy shit, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen” Eddie says to Steve as he nods his head in agreement

“Get up here, babe” Steve says as he grabs your arm to help you up

“Go lay on the bed with Eds, and I’ll clean you both up” he says as he goes to the bathroom and comes back with a wet towel to clean you and Eddie off with, after he’s done, he lays down on the other side of you throwing his arm over your stomach and onto Eddie’s

“We should go on a date soon” Eddie says as he lifts his head to look at you and the other man beside you

“Really?” you say with excitement

“Yeah we wanna take you out, show you off” Steve says

“So you both want to be with me?” You ask with a big smile on your face

“Of course we do, you’re our girl”

THANK YOU FOR READING

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED

•Tag list•

@jordanwalkersworld @local-stoner-bitch

[yulin-pop]

⤷ ✧ Green Flags

Gender neutral

- order 79 | headcanons | Heartslabyul

Ace Trappola

— Gets along with your family

He may be a big jerk to you but when he meets your parents or any of your family he is literally perfect. He will do anything and everything to look good in front of your family. It’s for approval but he’s the type to actually care as well. If you have younger siblings then he’d be willing to babysit them and buy them things (nothing too expensive hes not that nice).

— Will call you out

This may seem like a red flag to some but disagreements in any sort of relationship is good. He would never invalidate how you feel but if you need to be set straight, then he’ll do that for you. And likewise, if you call him out then he’ll take it just as seriously. When this happens, one of you are bound to be a bit hurt but Ace is thankful that you would do that for him.

Deuce Spade

— Waits for you

He is very patient. Every text he sends, he sits there waiting staring at his screen for a good 5 minutes, just waiting. If you two have different classes he is still dedicated to walk you to your next class. As soon as the bell rings he runs out the room and waits for you outside of yours. He’s also the one that waits for you when you tie your shoes.

— Always excited to see you

He lights up whenever he sees you. It could’ve been just a short 5 minutes and he waltz over to you like he hasn’t seen you in months. If he wasn’t so shy about it, he would pick you up off your feet and spin you around in a tight hug. He really can’t deny how much he loves being around you.

Cater Diamond

— Hypes you up

Your personal hypeman right here! It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, your posture, location, or mood he will shower you with compliments. “O-M-G you literally look ethereal right now. C’mere!” Takes lots of photos of you. He will try his best to fix your hair or clothes if it gets messed up.

— Buys matching things

You have so many matching accessories. Keychains, hairclips, bracelets, necklaces, etc… He loves matching things and he thinks it’s just so cute to match with someone. He knows you’ll never turn him down!! If he catches you wearing it or you ask him to match it, he literally won’t shut up and he will be all over you— you’re just so cute!!

Trey Clover

— Looks into your interests and hobbies

Not only will he listen to you talk about your interests or hobbies, he will actually try to get into it himself. He will keep you updated on his progress of your favorite show/book/game. And with hobbies he’s probably not gonna be very good at it if it’s something he hasn’t tried but at least you’re there to help him.

— Pats your head

Okay everyone needs a good head pat. It’s honestly a thing that’s never failed him (for the most part). Sometimes he’s a little awkward with physical affection even thought he actually loves it. The most casually thing is to just pat your head and say “I love you good job”.

Riddle Rosehearts

— Listens without judgement

If you ever need to talk to him about your problems, he’s all ears. You can tell he’s listening closely because of his gaze. He really only sees you when you’re talking and nobody else. It’s very intense (ﾟ∀ﾟ)… Whether if you’re in the wrong or not, he doesn’t scold you on it and gives his earnest opinion.

— Checks up on you for no reason

Please pick up his calls or else he will think you got kidnapped or something. He sorta just calls you and you can hear the relief and happiness in his voice. When you two are together, he’s always staring at you— trying to read your facial expression. Don’t be surprised if he randomly stops by, he just does that. He doesn’t really have a reason nor does he have the time for that but he does it anyway.

[noneorother]

All the music you didn’t hear: The Good Omens soundtrack is lying to you. *Part 1*

The Bonkers Meta Series part 2: Electric Boogaloo.

I so rarely get a chance to misuse my experience in classical music, but here we are. When I realized on my most recent watch-through of the series that the David Arnold score was brilliant, but also really wonky in some parts and I couldn’t put my finger on why, @embracing-the-ineffable suggested I listen to the album soundtrack to compare.

And when I tell you what I found hidden in there, you’re going to need Eccles cakes...

1) The Song is the Clue

So right up top we have this banger. The 12th track on the album is the orchestral backdrop to the scene in the Job minisode where Aziraphale reveals Crowley’s crow/goats. The duration is 2:22 (the only track with multiples on the album), and if you look at the track by itself it doesn’t mean much. But the song just before it is actually from this fucking scene:

You know, the one where there’s a song that’s a clue to a mystery. Except Clue is capitalised, and Aziraphale pronounces it. I’ve seen guesses that this is a reference to the movie Clue, but I would put a lot of money on the fact that we are supposed to read the title of the song currently playing at that moment in the show *as a Clue*, which is super convenient, because the word Clue is capitalized in the track listing. 

Seems like the overlords of Good Omens have a message for us : The song is the Clue. It’s what God wants. Cool cool cool. WHAT SONG?

2) Symmetry in all things 

Before I straight up tell you, we have to go back and look at season 1.

Now I’m far from the first to notice tons of parallels between the story, details and even lines in both seasons. It got me thinking that maybe there are some fun synch-up parallels between the two season’s soundtracks, seeing as they are both 6 episodes long. Here’s the end of S1 and then S2

Oh that’s a bummer, I thought to myself. 

They don’t even add up to the same number, or playtime, and neither of them is exactly 60 tracks. But do you want to hear a secret? S2 is actually missing 3 tracks on the album. And because there are 2 discs in S2 (cute), the numbers of the tracks start over again from 1. Remember how much God likes sevens? Check out where all the weirdness is happening in disc 2 (I’ve added the missing track listings in red to add context):

After checking each track with the show and listening side by side (for reasons that will become clear in another post) I can definitively say that there is something *very weird* going on at the end of episode 4. 

First is track 7, Zombie dressing room, which seems to actually reach over two distinct scenes of the photo evidence in the dressing room and then Shax in hell even though it only has one title.

But *between* these two scenes we get an eerily silent wine date with Aziraphale & Crowley.

There’s really no music or even sound here besides the dialogue and room tone (until after the cheers), and it seems like a very intentionally silent version of a ritz date from season 1.

My best guess is that we are supposed to divide that track into two tracks of 7, before and after the date to get a second track 7. Or maybe the silent one is missing music? The third track number 7 is the weirdest one. It’s this scene here, when Nina parks her bike, and Aziraphale parks the car at the end of S2E4.

If you take a close listen to the music, it’s a jaunty little piece, with an oom-pah base in 3 ⁄ 4 time. The thing is, this music does not exist in any Good Omens album. Please feel free to correct me, but I’ve tried to find any part of any song that this could even be a reprise of, and I Shazammed it to be sure it wasn’t anything else. This song does not exist anywhere except in this scene. (It quickly morphs into a reprise of the original theme once Nina leaves Aziraphale). It’s an invisible song.

So we have 3 tracks at the end of S2E4: a long one, a silent one and an invisible one. Only one of which is numbered 7, but that all fit into that place in the track listing.

Which, when we add the two extras to the original total of fifty-nine we get... sixty-one! Hey wait a minute.

How are we going to get to 62?

3) The real missing track. 

So the real reason we had to go back to the S1 album was because it contains the missing track that God is talking about. Let’s compare the last tracks on each album.

I’ve highlighted the mismatch between the in-show music and the album in S2, which means I had to add A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square back into the S2 album because guess what, it’s not in the S2 album. Even though it plays in the show. 

You want to know how not in the album it is? Amazon had to track it in the show as a season 1 song. They had to give Tori Amos credit for her song on Good Omens in the X-ray bonus features because that’s how not in the album this song is.

So my fellow beings, if the song is the Clue, then It’s what God Wants.

And if God wants a happily ever after with Aziraphale and Crowley on their own side, then by Job, I think Neil is going to give it to her.

-----------

And there's more where that came from! Part 2 coming shortly.

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 3

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you're finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off... Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You've accepted the fact that romance isn't for you, under any circumstances. You won't risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you'll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: yoongi being RICH. also... remember that eventual smut? well it's kind of here! if you wanna skip, stop reading at [Maybe you should fix that.] and then continue at [After another moment, you roll over onto your stomach...]

✧ WORDCOUNT: 3.5k

✧ STATUS: ongoing

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi i normally post on wednesdays but we're about to get a HURRICANE where i'm at so i'm posting early lmfao. rating goes up in this chapter whoops! not sure when chapter 4 will be posted but i'll keep you guys updated. thank you all so much for the engagement i've been receiving on this fic!!! it's my first one ever and i never expected to get so many readers so quickly <3 you guys are keeping me writing so please feel free to send me feedback if you like this chapter. i'd love to read it if i have power over the next few days LOL

Chapter 3: I Wanna Fold Clothes For You

So, you and Yoongi are friends.

Of course, seeing him three times within twenty four hours was a fluke, and over the next six days you don’t see him once, not even in passing in your shared hallway. You’re not privy to his work hours, but you know based on what little he’s told you that working as a producer demands more than the normal nine to five, as does your job.

Still, there’s something about coming home every night and knowing that you have a friend right down the hall, if you need one. You haven’t had that in a long time, and you feel so much lighter now that you do have it. 

There is, of course, an upside to not being able to see Yoongi often. Given that you’ve only just met him, you don’t have his appearance committed to memory quite yet, and mercifully, you’re beginning to forget why you were so viscerally attracted to him in the first place. 

You reason that it must’ve been the alcohol. You were getting drunk when you met him, stupidly drunk when you discovered that you’re neighbors, hungover when you shared a tangerine, and drinking from a bottomless glass of wine (courtesy of Seokjin) when you drooled over his hands for a solid ten minutes. You have yet to interact with Yoongi clear-headed and lucid. Not to mention you’re just a little bit… pent up, recently. Drunk and horny Y/N had the wheel. That has to be it. Nobody is that hot. You’re sure of that. Men ain’t special!

So you go through your week business as usual, but with a slight spring in your step, and it’s lovely. You even venture way further away from the office for your lunch hour on Friday than you normally would to go to a restaurant you’ve been dying to try. You’re usually so tied to the office that the furthest you tend to go is the convenience store down the street for the instant stuff.

And then, since the universe demands correction (or overcorrection where you’re concerned), all of the floaty goodness comes to a screeching halt when you get in your car to head back to the office. Your car which, in the past hour you’ve been blissfully stuffing your face with tteokbokki, has decided it has done its job and is ready to retire.

It just straight up won’t start.

Sitting in the parking lot of the restaurant, you go into crisis management mode.

You’re thankfully not completely clueless where cars are concerned. It comes with the territory of owning a beater. You keep up with your oil changes, you don’t leave the lights on when you get home late. You replaced your battery semi-recently, so that shouldn’t be it. Unfortunately, you don’t have much time to troubleshoot. You need to get back to work. Okay… Damage control, then.

The most obvious solution is to call one of your coworkers to come and rescue you, but your coworkers are just as notorious for being tethered within a one mile radius of the office as you are, so that would more than likely end up being a waste of time. You could find the nearest bus stop, but who knows how long public transportation could take right now? Too unpredictable. You could call your boss and tell him that you’re not going to be back to the office anytime soon (or at all today) and get your car towed and repaired. But then you would suddenly have a reputation of being unreliable, because god forbid you have a human moment. That’s straight up not an option. You’ve been doing so good this week.

You’re sure there are other options. But isn’t this what friends are for?

He answers on the fifth ring, but he answers.

“Y/N?” 

“Yoongi.” You feel your shoulders slump in relief. You try your best not to sound as panicked as you feel. “Are you busy?”

“Um. I’m at the studio,” he says, confusion in his voice. “But I have a minute. Is everything okay?” Confusion and concern? That’s nice.

“Everything’s fine!” you blurt out. “Okay, maybe not. My car won’t start! I don’t know why, but it won’t, and I need to get back to work, but you’re at work, too! I don’t even know where you work, but I doubt it’s anywhere near where I am, and even if it is, I don’t want to tear you away from anything important—”

“Y/N.”

“—I know you said you had a minute, but I really don’t want to fuck up your flow. That’s a term, right? You’re a producer, you… flow. Anyway, I just don’t really know anyone here and I didn’t know who to call, and if I don’t get back to work soon my boss is going to kill me—”

“Y/N,” he says, more firmly. Your mouth snaps shut. “Where are you?”

“In my car,” you say dumbly, frazzled.

Yoongi sighs. “Send me your location.”

“For what?”

“I’m gonna send a car to come get you and drive you to your office,” he says, and he sounds just the slightest bit exasperated about needing to explain that to you.

Send a car? What the fuck? You have so many questions, such as: how fucking loaded is the guy who lives two doors down from you in your very shitty apartment building? What label does he even work for? How famous of a producer is he to be able to send a car to you? But your immediate instinct to turn down his help wins out over asking any of them.

“What? Yoongi, no, that’s too much,” you complain. “Don’t do that. I just freaked out a little bit, I can–”

“Y/N,” he interrupts. If you’re not mistaken, it sounds a bit like he’s trying not to laugh at you. Fucker. “Location.”

So you send him your location. What other option do you have?

“You’re not far,” Yoongi says once he receives your text. A few moments pass, and then: “Car will be there in ten.”

“Thank you,” you say. You feel nauseous, like maybe you’re going to cry, but there’s also a good amount of relief there, too. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“No need,” he says. “I’d come get you myself, but I really can’t get away right now.”

“Still, there’s a comically large bottle of an alcohol of your choosing in your future. Seriously, thank you.”

His responding laugh is enough to settle your stomach just a little. “Seriously, you don’t need to pay me back…” A pause. “But for the record, I like whiskey.”

You wrinkle your nose even though he can’t see it. “Gross.”

“Don’t be a hater.”

“As long as you don’t make me drink it with you, I’ll keep my comments to myself,” you say, finding yourself smiling.

“Oh, you think I share?” Yoongi teases back. He sighs again. “I really have to go.”

“Go, go,” you say. “Thanks for saving me. Even if it’s by proxy.”

“You can always call me if you need shit like this,” he says. You can tell that he means it. “I’m glad you called me. Means I’m doing something right.”

“You are,” you say, your voice soft. Your cheeks feel warm. Probably because you’re sitting in a dead car. “Thanks.”

Yoongi hums in response. “Text me when you get back to the office safe, okay?”

“I will. Bye, Yoongi.”

And that’s that.

★ ★ ★

True to your word, you text Yoongi when the stupidly luxurious car he ordered for you drops you off at your office, only ten minutes later than you’re due back from your lunch break. You’re able to slip in without anyone noticing that you’re late at all, which is great. Crisis partially averted.

He sends back a thumbs up emoji, and then decides to drop the bomb that he intends to pay for your car to be towed.

[1:21] You: YOONGI NO

[1:21] You: you can’t do that!!!!

[1:24] Yoongi: 100% I can and will as soon as I get ten minutes to make a phone call to sort it out.

The audacity of this man.

[1:25] You: seriously i cannot ask you to do that

[1:25] You: i was just going to take the bus back to the restaurant after work and deal with it from there. i’m actively researching towing companies and repair places on company time as we speak

[1:30] Yoongi: You’re not asking me. You’ve got enough to worry about. Let me take care of it. I know the places.

[1:31] You: still, i can’t let you spend money like that on me. i don’t even wanna think about what that car cost you

[1:31] Yoongi: If it helps you sleep at night you can pay me back on your own time. You definitely don’t have to though.

[1:32] Yoongi: That reminds me. You can use that car until yours is taken care of if you need to. I’ll send you the driver’s contact. Don’t take the bus.

You feel like you’re going insane.

[1:33] You: do you have a grammy or something? what do you DO to be able to afford shit like this? why do you live in our building? are you a drug dealer?

[1:37] Yoongi: :]

Of course, he gives you no clues about what exactly he does, but after a bit more back-and-forth, you finally give in and let Yoongi handle everything under the condition that you’re going to pay him back. He doesn’t seem all that worried about it, which infuriates you just a little.

You go through the rest of your day like normal, if not a tad twitchy. Come quitting time, you take advantage of having a driver at your disposal and have him stop a liquor store on your way home.

As you take the elevator up to your floor, comically large whiskey bottle (as promised) in tow, you text Yoongi and ask if he’s home yet. At his responding ‘No, why?’ you cackle to yourself and pocket your phone. The elevator doors slide open. You were hoping that would be the case. 

You clocked out at a semi-normal time tonight, a gift to yourself to cope with the stress of the day, and so you take great pleasure in setting the bottle down on Yoongi’s very tasteful cat doormat, flipping it off right back on your way into your own apartment.

You silently pray to whatever god may be listening that the whiskey isn’t swiped by someone before Yoongi gets home. Your cat, Pepper, is blinking at you lazily on the kitchen counter, and you give her a triumphant little scratch on the head before padding to your bedroom to deal with your laundry.

Your move, Min Yoongi.

★ ★ ★

“Do I need to be jealous?”

You take advantage of getting off work early to call your best friend Rina for the first time in what feels like forever. She’s in Paris this month, debuting a play that she’s been working on tirelessly about aliens and drug addiction. You’ve read the script six times over. It’s both campy and gut wrenching all at once, and you’ve cried every time. You picture her with her very chic haircut, sipping from a flute of champagne. The thought of her being jealous of any part of your life is laughable. 

“What do you have to be jealous of, exactly?” you snort, holding your phone between your ear and shoulder as you toss your laundry basket upside down on your bed unceremoniously. Your clothes are covered in a perma-layer of Pepper hair, and you think it’s lucky that Pepper is a black cat and most of your clothes are black. Very enviable.

“Of Yoongi, dipshit,” she coos through the phone. “You’re replacing me.”

“Sure,” you say, like she’s making total sense. You’re lying on top of your laundry now instead of folding it. You put her on speakerphone and rest your phone on your chest. “I’m throwing away ten years of being your best friend for a guy that I met a week ago. I’m glad you figured it out, honestly, because I was dreading telling you. I was going to wait until your matinée, but you don’t seem too broken up about it.”

“Of course. You have to do what’s right for you, I’ve always told you that,” she deadpans back, and you groan. You don’t want to hear it. “No, I just mean… It’s good. That you’re meeting people.”

“We’re neighbors,” you say, flopping over onto your front to rub at your temples. Rina is resting on a pile of your underwear now. “We talk about work. My work, not his, because he thinks it’s funny to act like he’s too cool to tell me about his job. He’s helping me with my car. We’re… neighborly.”

“And you want to fuck him,” she says. Maybe calling Rina was a bad idea. Debriefing over text would have sufficed.

“I don’t want to fuck him,” you say, indignant. “We’re friends. He’s nice. I can have a guy friend.”

“Of course you can,” Rina says, like you’re dumb for even thinking she would imply otherwise. “And you can be friends with him all you want. But you also want to fuck him.”

You groan in protest but she speaks over it.

“Baby, you can pretend, but I know how you talk about people you want to have sex with, even if you don’t say it outright,” she continues. “He may just be feeding you and helping you and talking to you about the weather, but I know you, and I know the whole time he’s talking you’re just agonizing over how he might fuck you if you let him.”

“That’s not fair,” you mumble, letting your face drop into your laundry. It smells good. Small comforts.

“Are you going to let him?”

“No,” you whine, muffled by the cotton. “I don’t need that. There are always strings. I hate strings.”

“You said he’s a super straightforward, honest guy, right?” Rina asks.

“Brutally so,” you grumble.

“So. Maybe he’d be cool with a lack of strings. You won’t know unless you ask, baby.”

You want to tell her that’s easy for her to say, but you don’t want to fight with her when you know you won’t hear from her like this again for a while. 

Rina has never compromised for anything. She decided in both of your sophomore year of college, after flirting with both performance and directing, that she wanted to be a playwright, and that was that. 

She wrote and wrote and wrote, and after you graduated together, her career blossomed almost instantly because she worked goddamn hard for it. She got opportunities to travel and work with theatre companies around the world, and she took them without giving it a second thought because she knew it was what she wanted. And she’s had a consistent, loyal boyfriend nearly the whole time. He doesn’t always travel with her, but he supports her in everything she does. They’re excruciatingly healthy about it. 

When your long-term college boyfriend dumped you unceremoniously two months into your first reporter gig because he felt he came second to your career, Rina was there for you. But you resented her a little bit. There was no way she could understand any of it. 

Still, as much as you hate to admit it, she has a point. You could just ask Yoongi if he wants to fool around without it being a thing, and you know he’d give you a straight answer. You’re even pretty confident he wouldn’t make it weird if his answer was no. That’s not the problem. It never is.

“The problem isn’t whether or not I think he’d be cool with it,” you mumble. “The problem is if he is cool with it, and then the strings come anyway. The friendship is nice. I’m attracted to him, yeah, fine. But I can ignore it if it means I get to be his friend.”

Theres a long pause on the line, and then Rina sighs.

“Your life would be a lot easier if you could do one night stands,” she says.

Don’t you know it. 

“Yeah.”

“I’ve gotta go, okay? Text me. Keep me updated on life.” You read between the lines. On Yoongi, she means. “I love you.”

“Mmmhh,” you mumble back, still burying your face into your laundry. 

When the line disconnects, you feel considerably more twitchy and irritable than you did before talking to Rina.

So, you’re attracted to Yoongi. Or you were, when you were drunk and he was all… hot and considerate. That doesn’t mean you have to act on it! You’re not going to act on it. You’re just pent up, that’s all. It’s been a long time since you’ve had an orgasm, self-inflicted or otherwise, and you can’t think straight.

Maybe you should fix that.

It’s clear you’re giving up on laundry for the night, so you shove the mountain of clothes back into the basket on the floor, sighing as you lay back on your bed.

You feel only slightly ridiculous as you shimmy your sleep shorts down your thighs, your hands sliding up your shirt to cup your breasts, squeezing slightly. Warming yourself up.

You quickly decide to get to the point, though. You’re struggling to immerse yourself in the fantasy that usually does the trick, too wound up and embarrassed (as if it’s not you in here by yourself, as usual) at groping yourself.

Despite the embarrassment, it becomes abundantly clear that you didn’t really need to warm yourself up anyway. Your fingers slide through your folds with ease, drenched like you’ve been that way all fucking day, unbeknownst to you, and a surprised moan falls from your lips. Fuck.

Closing your eyes, you circle two fingers around your clit experimentally, making your hips jerk up under you, sensitive. You do it again, a little firmer, starting a slow rhythm that makes you squirm against your mattress, your bottom lip rolling between your teeth.

It feels good. It usually does—you’ve always been able to make quick work of an orgasm to rid yourself of any lingering jitters before bed. But it feels really good right now, your pussy extra sensitive tonight, and you can’t figure out why. There’s nothing new about what you’re doing.

Rina’s words worm their way into your brain uninvited—the whole time he’s talking you’re just agonizing over how he might fuck you if you let him—and you’re too turned on to stop that train of thought, flashes of capable hands and pink tongue (tonguetechnologytonguetechnologytonguetechnology) filling your mind, and you’re moaning softly despite yourself as you rub your clit a little faster.

You continue to make soft noises of pleasure, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, dry from panting as the barrage of Yoongi-related thoughts keep coming, bringing you closer and closer to your release. 

Dark, dark eyes looking down at you. A delicate chain dangling above your face. You whimper, your fingers sliding down from your clit to sink into your pussy, curling up to rub at your inner walls. A thick cock sliding into you, filling you so deliciously.

You pump your fingers fast and desperate as you get closer and closer to that sweet edge. You wonder what Yoongi would sound like if he was the one fucking into you right now. Would he moan in your ear in that gravelly voice of his? He’s a man of few words. Would he be like that in bed, too? Would he call you sweet names? Not so sweet? Which ones?

Your walls flutter around your fingers, your hips stuttering up off the mattress as your orgasm crashes over you and you gasp out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

You stare up at the ceiling for a minute panting. The high of your release buzzes pleasantly through your body before it starts ebbing away, but the thoughts of Yoongi pervade. Well, fuck.

After another moment, you roll over onto your stomach to grab a towel from your laundry basket and wipe off your fingers, tossing it on the floor. You grab your phone, only to be greeted by a notification from the subject of your masturbation fantasy himself. He sent it about ten minutes ago.

When you tap it open, you’re greeted with a photo (!!!) of Yoongi holding your gift next to his head, the hand wrapped around the neck of the whiskey bottle almost dwarfed by its sheer size. A testament to the ridiculousness of it, because you’re well aware of how long Yoongi’s fingers are. There’s a lazy smirk on his face, and a mole that you’re just now noticing on his right cheek.

[8:23] Yoongi: Cute. 

Yep. Yep. Cool.

You swipe out, tapping on Rina’s contact.

[8:35] You: okay. i want to fuck him. 

[8:35] Rina: 🥂🥳🎉

Shit.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

@dollfaceksj @jajabro

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[berryhobii]

More (kth x reader) a Drabble

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x black!female!reader

Warnings: smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), cowgirl position, I don’t mention it but they’re doing it in a chair, squirting, mentions of edging, mentions of orgasm denial, orgasms(f receiving), spanking

A/N: AHHHHHH! I’ve been so so busy with work and my baby that I’ve barely had time to write or proofread or post. I’ve also been in such a rut with my WIPs that I’ve been a little unmotivated but I’m sure I’ll be out of it soon🤕please send me your good energy. This is just a little drabble; it’s actually my Distracted Driver couple. If you haven’t read that, it’s okay. Essentially, Tae and reader are amateur p*rn stars. I’m thinking of just making a bunch of little drabbles for them. I scrap a ton of smut scenes that I can easily turn into straight up p*rn content for them. I’m working on it along with lots of new ideas so please bear/bare(?) with me. Happy Holidays to those who celebrate and have a wonderful day to those who don’t. Stay safe 🩵🩵I don’t describe reader in this so imagine them however you want!

~

Oh fuck baby!”

The loud clapping and wet noises could be heard down the block. With every bounce, your ass met his thighs in a deep bass similar to a gunshot. Paired with your gasps of air and moans, it sounded like you two were straight out of a porno.

Coincidentally, that’s just what the camera was filming so you must be doing a good job.

Taehyung’s hands were gripping you so hard that it hurt, your ass already on fire from the series of slaps he’s been landing on it all night. The tingling of the pain only fueled your pleasure further.

Your own hands were digging into his broad shoulders, manicured nails leaving thin scratch marks across his tan back.

“This pussy feels so good. So fucking tight.” He growled in your ear, his baritone sending sparks down your back. It only made more wetness leak from your pussy; sticky honey like arousal dripping down his cock and onto his thighs. Everything was so wet and hot and pulsing, temperature climbing and your pleasure beginning to crest.

His huge cock was pushing in and out of your velvet walls, being constricted by the tightness of your heat. You felt so much wetter than usual for some reason. Maybe it was the fact he had edged you for close to 30 minutes, pulling out right before you came, only to push back inside and do it all over again. You’d be getting your lick back for that later.

But now, he was struggling to hold back, his own orgasm settling in his balls.

“I’m gonna cum, baby.” You cried, back arching as you began throwing yourself back harder on his cock. He groaned, slapping your ass again, own hips lifting to meet yours. The head of his cock brushed against the sweet spot deep inside of you again and again, cervix practically begging for his cum.

“Do it.” A slap to your ass, mouth sucking another hickey onto your throat. You sat up, eyes locking with his hooded ones. Fuck, he looked so sexy with his sweaty hair and the deep furrow of his brows. The clench of his jaw letting you know he was close. “Cum all over my cock.”

And you did. Hard enough for you to squirt. You screamed, lifting yourself from his cock to give the camera a full view of your wet pussy. Your legs shook from the force of your orgasm, Taehyung holding your ass cheeks apart to capture the moment.

You had barely come down from the body tingling orgasm before your pussy was begging for another one.

You leaned an arm back to fit his throbbing cock back inside your walls with a whisper of, “more.”

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : poly!Han Jisung x F!Reader x poly!Lee Minho TW : poly relationship ; obvious angst because ya know ; another famous Nana cliffhanger (but I actually want to write a part 2 for it after making a poll because I want to know what you all think) ; straight to the point angst, no dillydallying here ; Word Count : 4.0k Request : Anonny : Can we have poly minsung plus reader but with angst? I am a sucker for angst. AN : first time writing for poly skz... lemme know how I do... please... I hope you enjoy this, I hope I did this right.

Things had started off fine, and that in itself should have gone to show that things surely wouldn’t stay that way. The relationship in itself wasn’t normal, not to say that it wasn’t perfect, but you knew that if it weren’t for the fact that you had to hide your relationship, fans would be judging you, the entire world would be judging you. Those thoughts used to plague you in the beginning, but you had been so happy… Maybe you should have just listened to your head… Maybe that would have saved you from the ending that you received. To get to the end, we have to start from the beginning… It’ll be short though… It’s not like things had lasted very long anyway. 

You were a secretary at the JYPE office, the job in itself was boring, but you also got to see a lot of stars during your walks through the hallways. There was always one that caught your attention, and he had always been so kind to you, giving you a beautiful smile and bowing his head just slightly to say hello. Your heart would throb and you’d get the most wonderful fuzzy feeling in your stomach whenever you saw him, but you were under a contract, much like he was… Those 1 second interactions in passing were all you were ever going to get… Or so you thought. 

Roses had been left on your desk one day, a secret admirer, the card had read. You weren’t sure where they came from, but they were gorgeous, and you placed them at the corner of your desk, looking at them every so often, and that warm fuzzy feeling would return. You thought that it was just your hopefulness that had you wishing that it was the man in the hallway that had those flowers delivered to you, the back of your mind telling you that it was foolish to hope for such things when he was famous and you were just a 9-5 office worker. 

That is until you were heading out of the office for the day, your bag held close under your arm and your folder of paperwork clutched against your chest. You were the last one out of the office that evening, you had stayed a little past your scheduled time and you assumed that everyone had already gone home for the evening. When you stepped out into the hallway though… There he was. 

“Did you get the flowers?” He asked, leaning against the wall and giving you that beautiful smile that you had so foolishly already fallen in love with. “You’re not going to take them home with you?” He mused, noticing your flowerless hands, and you looked between him and the door to the office that was now shut. You could have gone back in and gotten them, but you were taking the subway home and you didn’t want them to get damaged. 

“I like them on my desk… I think they brighten up the room a little bit more.” You explained, and while it wasn’t exactly the real reason… It was still one of the reasons. “Do you know who sent them? I really want to thank them… Seeing the flowers made me so happy.” You mused, and it felt strange to be talking to him so casually… Maybe it was the fact that you were running on little sleep and 3 cans of energy drinks. You were exhausted, and maybe your mind just let it slip who exactly you were talking to. 

“Of course I know who sent them.” He pushed himself away from the wall and walked over to you, causing you to stumble back a little as the words that had been printed in the darkest bold letters on your contract flashed in your mind's eye like a bright neon sign. “I sent them… And you don’t know how hard it was to get them to your office without anyone knowing. I’m glad you like them though. Do you… Know who I am?” He quizzed, and you slowly, almost robotically nodded your head. 

“Y-You’re… You’re Lee Know… Lee Minho… Best dancer…” You rambled, and with every word that left your mouth you got more and more embarrassed, but you couldn’t stop yourself from going on and on. “I’ve seen you… In the hallway… You’re… I didn’t think… Why did you send me flowers?” 

Now his answer is probably quite obvious considering after only a month of the two of you talking he ended up asking you out. That month can be a story for another day though, because right now, this is the story of how your seemingly perfect little world got turned upside down in what felt like a matter of seconds. 

You and Minho had been dating for 2 months, and in those months there was no one that you got more close to than Jisung. You had heard about their friendship, how close they were, how they almost did everything together… You heard just about everything… But you didn’t really expect the proposition that would be brought to you one night over dinner. 

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Jisung had asked, and the question coming from his lips sounded so much softer, so much shier than it had when Minho had asked. Of course, you were thrown for a loop and it took you a couple seconds to fully process what he had asked. The craziest part was that he had asked right in front of Minho… And Minho didn’t seem to mind it, he actually seemed a little bit too calm. 

“W-Well… I’m… Me and Minho are together…” You stammered, looking between your boyfriend and the man who had asked you the question. Your expectations were probably a little bit too normal for the situation, considering you expected Jisung to apologize and backtrack and you expected Minho to maybe go off a little bit on Jisung for asking something so silly, but none of those things happened, instead, Jisung looked up at Minho as if asking for help. 

That’s when Minho cleared his throat, grabbing his seat across the table from you and holding your gaze with his twinkling eyes that almost seemed a little bit mischievous. “Well you know, Jisung is my friend, my best friend and… He’s been on almost all of our dates with us.” And that was true… It was something that you thought was strange in the beginning, but Jisung had become such a key part of all of your and Minhos dates that it almost felt strange when he wasn’t there. “He really likes you, and I gave him the okay, I wouldn’t mind sharing you with him… But I told him that it was up to you whether you were okay with it.” 

It was up to you? It was a strange decision to make, and it almost felt like a test… You were worried that that was what it was. Minho was testing you to see if you’d really take him up on his offer, and you were nervous, you were scared about what his reaction would be, what he’d do if you took him up on the offer. “We can give you time to think about it… I know that it’s not the easiest choice to make…” Jisung mumbled, his thumbs twirling as he sheepishly looked down at the table. 

“I just… I need to think about it…” You murmured, and you waited, waited for Minho to call you out for even thinking about potentially saying yes… But he didn’t. He patted Jisung on the shoulder, and then he got up from his chair and walked around the table to stand beside you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Take all the time you need, kitten. We won’t rush you.” He whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. It wasn’t a test… They were both serious about this… And you didn’t know how to feel about that. You had never been in a situation like this, you had never been in a relationship like this before… But would it really be any different from how things already were? You just needed to think.. You needed to think about it… 

And think about it you did… You thought about it for quite a while, and, well… It’s quite obvious what you chose. 

Being with both of them was something that took a little bit to get used to… But all in all, it was generally simple at first. It was more like the guys having shared custody of you, which, in itself, was a funny way to look at it, but it also made things easier for you. One week was Minhos week to have you, and the next week was Jisungs. It went back and forth like that for a couple months. 

Sometimes the two of them would want to take you out together, and that’s really when the weird looks would come from bystanders who didn’t understand the relationship. They’d tell you to ignore it, finding something else to capture your attention so you didn’t think too much about what people might be thinking. To them it didn’t matter, as long as you were happy being with the both of them, they were happy. 

You never felt the tension, you never thought there was any. If you even thought for a second that being with the both of them would cause any problems, you wouldn’t have agreed to it, but they both were adamant that things would be okay. It truly felt like things were okay. After your week with either of the guys was over, they would drop you off at the other's house and they always looked so happy. Sometimes they’d even stay for dinner, or have you sit on the middle cushion of the couch as the three of you watched a movie together. Things felt perfect. 

There wasn’t any sign that things were going downhill, to be honest, it didn’t even seem like there was a hill. The falling of the relationship was more like a drop tower, you had been shot up so fast that your heart was still hammering in your chest and that adrenaline from excitement was still coursing through your veins, you didn’t even have a second to think before that loud click and then you were falling, your stomach being lurched up into your throat and when you reached the bottom you didn’t really know what to do, it was like your brain was jumbled and you couldn’t think straight and everything was just… It felt off. 

“Why are you packing up your bags already?” Minho asked as you walked out of the bedroom. Even though Jisung had made a room for you at his own place, your dresser was filled with clothes that he had bought you and you had all the stuff you needed in the bathroom, you had everything you needed in general… You still liked to take a few things from Minhos with you when you went over to Jisungs and vice versa. “You want to leave?” 

For a second you were confused, double checking your calendar to make sure you hadn’t just lost track of the days, but you were right. It was Sunday, and Sundays were when Minho would usually take you over to Jisungs. “It’s Jis day… Remember? Today starts his week.” You reminded your boyfriend who probably had the days mixed up as well considering they were working on a new album. 

He rolled his eyes, letting out a noise that sounded a little bit like disgust as he leaned back on the couch. “I already talked to him. I get to have you for another week. I miss you too much and… I just want to spend a little extra time with you.” He explained, and you nodded your head along with his reasoning. He had been in the office a little bit more this week which meant that he couldn’t spend as much time with you as he probably would have liked to, and considering he told you he had already talking to Jisung about it, you were more than happy to cozy up on the couch next to him and enjoy the rest of the evening. 

“He’s okay with you keeping me for another week though? He said that?” You asked, just to be sure. Jisung was… Well, you wouldn’t say possessive… But he didn’t really like the idea of missing a week with you. He took great pride in the relationship and making sure you felt loved by him. He loved his weeks with you, and on many occasions, he’d get a little choked up whenever he had to give you back to Minho. 

“Of course he’s okay with it. I don’t know why he wouldn’t be.” Minho seemed to brush it off, and you silently thought of a million reasons why Jisung wouldn’t be okay with not seeing you. “You were my girlfriend first. He’s lucky that I even share you with him… I think it’s only fair that I get to spend more time with you anyway.” That was the first sign, although you weren’t exactly sure what that sign entailed, but your gut was telling you that it wouldn’t be good. 

You didn’t push it though, you allowed yourself to lean against Minho as he looked through the movies on tv, trying to find one that you could watch together. It was always so cute to you that he took your opinion into consideration when picking a movie considering the fact that you almost always fell asleep before the halfway mark. That’s exactly what happened, the sun beginning to set, and the golden hue that painted the room mixed with the sound of Minhos light breathing as you laid against his chest, it was the perfect setting to rest, you always found it easier to fall asleep next to him. 

The rapid knocking against the door stirred you enough to have you slightly conscious, lifting your head from Minhos chest that you found yourself laying across fully now, completely on top of him as you both laid on the couch. “Shh… It’s alright, go back to sleep, honey. I’ll get it.” Minho whispered, brushing his fingers over your hair to lull you back into your slumber before shimmying out from underneath you and running to the door. 

Even though you were still out of it, your mind was awake, your ears fully tuned in to what was happening around you. You heard the door being opened, and then the sound of Jisungs voice, just far enough away to know he wasn’t in the house yet, but loud enough for you to know he was irritated. “Why didn’t you drop her off? I was waiting! Do you know how worried I was!? Where is she?” He ranted almost immediately, and you heard Minho shushing him, and it sounded like he was trying to push him out of the house. “No… No, where is she?” Jisung continued, and then Minho sighed heavily, the breath followed by a loud groan. 

“She’s sleeping. She’s not feeling well and I just wanted to keep her here to make sure she’s taken care of.” It was a blatant lie, you had been more than ready to go over to Jisungs this evening, and while you wanted to call Minho out on it, a part of you was scared to. You loved Minho… You loved both of them… And you didn’t want either of them to get hurt. “I’ll just spend the rest of this week with her and then I’ll drop her off at your place. Sorry for worrying you.” 

You thought that it would end there, that Jisung would believe the lie, but you were sorely mistaken. “The rest of this week?! So you’re saying I don’t get to see her for two weeks straight!?” Jisung screeched, and you could tell from the intermittent cracking of his voice that he was already worked up. “I can take care of her just as well as you can. I’ve taken care of her when she has her period, I’ve helped her when she was sick. I love her and I can take care of her too.” And that wasn’t a lie. Jisung was probably the best caregiver you’ve had. He always made sure that you had what you needed, and he’d do his best to take your mind off of whatever was hurting you or making you feel sick. Even when you felt like you were going through hell itself, he managed to make you smile and make you laugh. 

“She’s my girlfriend!” Minho snapped, and you heard his hand slap against the door, something that he did often when he was trying to make his point or when he felt like his words were being threatened. He didn’t like being wrong, and he surely didn’t like when anyone other than him said anything slightly valid. “I had her first, so how about you just accept what I’m saying and you can see her next week.” 

There was a silence… And for the first time, silence scared you. Your eyes peaked open and you pushed yourself up just enough to see over the back of the couch. Jisung was standing right in the center of the doorway, making sure that Minho couldn’t shut the door on him, but not pushing the boundaries. “Oh! I see… I see what’s going on here. You’re jealous…” Jisung stated, and you heard Minho scoff, and you could see his head fall back as if he were silently laughing at the accusation. “You are. You know I treat Y/N better, you know that I love her better… You’re jealous and you’re scared that she’ll end up just choosing me at the end.” 

You weren’t sure when this turned into a competition, that’s never what it felt like to you, but maybe deep down that’s what they both thought it was. “Why would I ever be jealous of you? If I was so scared I wouldn’t have let you start dating her in the first place.” Minho retorted, his words vibrating with his silent laughter. “I felt bad for you because you were always the awkward lonely third wheel. I let you be with her… But you’re really pushing it thinking that you can just come over here and try to take her from me when it’s my week. I make the decisions… She’s my girlfriend, she’ll always be mine first.” 

You hated that… You hated that he felt like he could make the decisions for you, that he should be the one making all the choices. It had been your decision to date the both of them, so it should rightfully be your choice as to who you wanted to spend the week with. Those words had you getting up from the couch and making your way over to the door. “Hey, sweetie!” Jisung cooed, and Minhos head whipped in your direction, his eyes going wide as he looked at you and then back to Jisung. 

“Honey… You’re not feeling well. You should be laying down. Maybe you should go to the bedroom so you won’t be woken up by him.” Minho urged, or… Moreso pleaded with you, motioning to the bedroom door with a forced smile. You couldn’t believe that he was still trying to ride with that lie, and you weren’t going to allow it. As much as you loved Minho, you loved Jisung too, and you didn’t want him to think that you chose to not see him. 

“You know… I’m actually feeling better now.” You said, shooting a smile in Jisungs direction, and you saw his own smile spread across his face as his eyes sparkled brightly with excitement. Minho on the other hand, looked pissed. “I think I should spend the week with Jisung, I haven’t seen him in a whole week… That’s a long time to not see my boyfriend.” 

Jisungs hands clapped giddily, but Minho was growing more and more furious with each passing second. “I’m your boyfriend!” He growled, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you back when you tried to move closer to Jisung. “I’m done sharing… You’re breaking up with him. It’s done. I’m over this.” 

It was a shock, especially considering he was the one who wanted this. The only person more shocked than you was Jisung, but his emotions were more of a flurry, he was desperate, he was pissed, he was devastated. “N-No, you can’t choose that! It’s her choice to make, not yours!” Jisung shouted between heavy breaths, it almost looked like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. “Y/N… Sweetie… Tell him…” His eyes widened with panic as he looked at you, and you were panicking too. 

“Yeah… Tell me, honey… Because I’m done sharing you… And if you want to be with him, then you’ll have to just be with him. I’m done doing this weekly bullshit, I’m done having to be away from you. You’re mine… I shouldn’t have let this go on for so long… I shouldn’t have let it start to begin with.” Minho said, biting the inside of his cheeks as his eyes turned ice cold, although you weren’t sure if the look was all for you, or if he was just so pissed off that he couldn’t look at you any other way. 

“That’s not fair…” Jisungs nostrils flared as his own eyes became sharp, his glare directly pointed at Minho. “You waited… You waited long enough for me to get attached to her, for her to get attached to me… You waited for us to love each other and then you try to give her an ultimatum… It’s bullshit and you know it.” While they both seemed to have so much to say to each other, you were speechless. Jisung was right though, it wasn’t fair. Why did he take so long to figure shit out? “Sweetie… Look at me… Y/N…” Jisungs voice softened, and you saw that he wanted to reach out for you, but Minho was like a guard, doing his best to keep Jisung from being able to even breathe too close to you. “I’m not going to hate you for whatever choice you make… But I hope you make the right one. What he’s doing… It’s not right… It’s not okay. I know that whatever choice you do make… It’s going to hurt you. But I’ll still be there for you… No matter what, I’ll always be here for you because I love you. That will never change.” 

It shouldn’t be so hard to choose, Minho was there first… He should be your choice… But Jisung… He was so sweet, he was so loving… He made you feel loved in a completely different way than Minho. It was all so confusing, and you already felt your heart breaking for both of the men that you loved so deeply, you’d lose a piece of yourself no matter who you chose. “I…” You started, tears spilling over your bottom lashes as you looked between both of the guys that held your heart. “I don’t know… I… I need time to think…” It wasn’t easy, it would never be easy… And you knew that it would only be made harder since they both were always together, they were in the same group, whether you chose Minho or Jisung, you’d always have to see the both of them… You’d always be faced with the thought of what could have been if your choice had been different. You’d need a lot of time to think… And you’d need a couple weeks, weeks to yourself to think about who you’d choose… If any of them… Because you didn’t just have to protect your own feelings and your own heart… You had to protect theirs too.

[erisweekofficial]

Today we're celebrating @invisibleanonymousmonsters, the incredible author of Gust & Flame, a post ACOSF Eris x Reader fic!

If you love fics where only one person knows they are mates, OR love fics with fae-human relatonships OR want something longer to dig into this is going to be SUCH a treat. 🧡

Please check out the fic masterlist here. It's truly such a fun fic to read - please don't miss out on it.

Read on if you want to hear more about @invisibleanonymousmonsters's thoughts about Eris and what game they'd totally beat Eris at.

What drew you to Eris Vanserra as a character?

When writing fanfiction, I always gravitate towards side characters that are not given a lot of backstory or plot in the canon material. There is so much mystery around Eris. Even after five books, we still know so little about him. Is he truly an asshole? Or is he more like Rhysand than we want to admit? Is he a villain or is he actually a victim?  For me, it’s not fun to write fanfiction for characters that the source material has already fully fleshed out. There is no puzzle for me to figure out or an unfinished canvas to finish. For ACOTAR as a whole series – and an unfinished one, at that – Eris was one of the few male characters that had enough space for me to try to figure him out. And despite knowing so little about him, it’s still clear that he’s an extremely complex character with so many layers. And that’s an exciting type of character for me to write for. 

How do you think Eris handles power and responsibility?

0I have always viewed him as someone who sees what power without responsibility looks like: Beron, his father and High Lord. From the series, we have seen him hold responsibility for the army he commands of Autumn Court. And with that he risked his life to save just a handful of them. But we really have not seen the full extent of his power, so I am not sure I can confidently determine how he handles – or would handle – power. 

Can you give me a name for one of Eris's brothers? And also for one of his dogs?

In my series gust & flame, I named one of his brother’s Aurelius. Honestly, coming up with all his brothers’ names and keeping them straight in my mind has been one of the hardest parts of writing my series.  And I would name one of his dogs Orla.  Honestly, my brain is so fried from my stupid job and I’ve been writing my series so long that I’m pretty sure I named some of his dogs and now I can’t even remember what their names were. (Proof that I am a fanfiction writer, and there’s a reason I am not paid to do it.) 

What game do you think you could beat Eris at?

What an interesting question… Honestly, I don’t play any games. 😂Like, not a single board game or video game. I could probably beat him at a game of soccer. But I would definitely own his ass at Catch Phrase or Heads Up or Cards Against Humanity. 

[missmaywemeetagain]

Sweet Symphony 🎻❤️‍🔥🎹, a '68 Special Era One-Shot

A/N: This one has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for quite a while. Sweet Symphony started as a special request for '68 Special era Elvis from my Get to Know Me Gala way back in March! I also included the prompt, "Do it again, please." Nothing like a good two-fer!

A professional violinist Reader gets a little more than she bargains for after rehearsal for Elvis Presley's '68 Special...

Mature 18+ || Word count: 9.2k

TW: Sexxx in various forms, fluff, cussing, dubious use of a piano

For my most patient baby, @savedrebelcreation 💗

(If you want to get stories like this early, come join my Patreon!)

Sweet Symphony

A ’68 Special Era Request

You’re early. Too early, in fact, but your mother always said, “If you’re on time, you’re late,” so it goes to reason that for such an important job, you find yourself clicking your heels into the rehearsal room a full hour before it’s set to start.

The only reason they allowed you in this early is that your brother-in-law, Billy, is the one in charge of this portion of the production rehearsal, arranging the music for Elvis Presley’s television special due out in December. He had been tasked, rather last minute, to take over the musical arrangements. When your sister called on Billy’s behalf, saying he desperately needed a professional violinist to fill in for the one who’d been suddenly struck with a bout of appendicitis, you were a little confused at first. Why in the world would Elvis Presley need a violinist? had been the first thought in your head, but a job is a job, and you figure a television special of this magnitude wouldn’t hurt your classical resume.

Sure, why not? you’d thought, then packed up your violin and got a ticket for the next plane out to LA. If nothing else, I’ll get some sun.

Since your plane arrived late, you made the executive decision to go straight to the studio rather than chance the traffic by checking into your hotel first. Which is how you find yourself in the near-dark rehearsal space before anyone else has even thought to arrive, violin and suitcase in tow. At least you’ll get a chance to look over the score Billy just handed you before anyone else arrives, you think, finding a chair and settling in to unpack and prepare your instrument.

So focused are you that you don’t really register the door opening and then latching closed. You figure it is just Billy, who had been frantically going over sheet music up in the booth. When the piano begins to play, softly, you nearly jump out of your skin with surprise, having been so lost in sight reading and humming your part that you were oblivious to the presence of another in the room.

“Oh my god!” you gasp in surprise, managing to knock the loose pages of the score off the music stand as your hand flies up to your chest. “Damnit,” you mutter under your breath, scurrying to pick up the pages and put them back in order.

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to startle ya,” you hear a gentle voice drawl out from the darkness.

“Oh, no, I just wasn’t expecting anyone in here so early and I was so caught up in…” you taper off, furrowing your brow and trying to get your sheet music situated.

“Here, lemme help you with that,” the voice says, kneeling to pick up loose pages.

“Oh, thank…” your voice hitches when you look down at the man holding up more music that had fluttered away across the floor.

It’s the sparkling sapphire blue eyes that catch you first, framed in criminally long, dark lashes, blinking up at you from where he’s kneeling on the floor next to your chair. They are utterly mesmerizing in the way they search your face apologetically. Your voice dies in your suddenly dry throat, and so mesmerized are you with those eyes that it takes you much too long to take in the rest of him.

That’s when you realize that the man with the pretty eyes on his knees near your feet is the one and only Elvis Presley.

“…you. Thank you,” you manage to finish, gingerly taking the pages from his grasp.

Elvis smiles up at you so bashfully, so charmingly, that it takes your breath away.

It doesn’t hit you until this very moment that you are playing for the Elvis Presley. Between everything happening so quickly and you assuming you wouldn’t get to meet the man himself, you just hadn’t considered the magnitude of the job.

You’d just hit your teenage years when Elvis came into his stardom, the timing perfect for swooning over the Southern boy with the rebellious good looks and the completely unique sound. But your parents had been strict and conservative, opting for your upbringing to be filled with learning and playing classical music, so the only chance you’d had to listen to Elvis was when you went to your girlfriend’s house. There you could swoon over him unimpeded, but it was more vicarious than anything else. And by the time you were old enough to properly swoon to your heart’s content, you were so busy with your music degree that it hadn’t really crossed your mind to ogle over Elvis.

To be quite honest, you had become a bit of a music snob at that point, so Elvis wasn’t really on your radar, though you had been impressed by his reworked English version of O Solo Mio. His It’s Now or Never had been a massive hit, and he had amazed you with his vocal talent, which you were convinced was wasted on silly pop songs. Needless to say, Elvis and his music had been off your radar for a long, long time.

You certainly hadn’t realized the man had only gotten more attractive as time went on. Magazine pictures and even his movies (which you hadn’t cared to watch since the beginning of the decade) don’t do him justice, which is saying something since you’d never once seen the man look anything less than handsome. But those damn eyes pop against his tanned skin and raven hair, and that curved-lip smile has butterflies flying in your stomach like a schoolgirl.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, still kneeling at your feet.

“My name? Oh, um, my name is y/n,” you stammer out. You could kick yourself for how gobsmacked you sound, a grown professional woman nearly forgetting her own name in the presence of an attractive man. But the thing is he isn’t just attractive—he’s ethereal.

“Well, hello there, y/n. I’m Elvis,” he says, as if he were just some regular Joe and not one of the most famous men alive. “What do you play?” He motions to your music.

“Uh, violin. Well, and piano, but violin professionally,” you reply, unable to take your eyes off him.

His eyes light up at this. “I play piano, too,” he says, with such a little boy quality that you can’t help but smile.

“Oh?” This surprises you quite a bit since he is so synonymous with the birth of rock and roll and you’d only ever seen him with an acoustic guitar.

“Yeah, a lotta people don’t know that, but between you and me, I like playin’ piano more,” he says, with a wink. Elvis stands up from his crouch with little effort, so lithely that you equate it to a dancer. Your eyes follow up, up, up his lean frame, and you try not to notice just how well his tailored outfit fits him.

He walks back towards the piano he came from, and you blush when you catch yourself staring at his backside, like some sort of lecherous creep. Quickly turning your attention back to the pages of music in your lap, you force yourself to try and make sense of page numbers, shuffling them back into order.

“Do you know this one?” Elvis suddenly asks, shocking you by playing the opening notes of a well-known Beethoven piece.

“Yeah, I mean, yes. I do,” you respond, still stumbling over your words. “That’s Moonlight Sonata.”

“What happens after this part?” he asks, playing the beginning again. The question seems quite honest, still having that curious, young quality about it. Before you think better of it, you’re walking over to the piano.

“May I?” you say, standing near the bench. Music is your language. You’ve always been better with an instrument at your fingertips than with your words. It makes you feel bolder, so when Elvis only scoots over instead of yielding the bench, it doesn’t stop you from perching next to him.

It only takes a second for the movement to come back to you and you place your hands on the keys, letting them speak for you. You’ve done your share of teaching, so it doesn’t take but a moment to fall into that role. You just try not to think too hard on that fact that it’s Elvis Presley that you’re teaching.

He’s nodding along, eyes focused solely on your hands. So close to him, you can feel the way the music affects his body. It’s something you can relate to.

You stop yourself from speeding too far ahead in the music and pull your hands away from the keys. “Is that…do you want me to go again, or do you want to try it?” you ask.

“Do it again. Please?” he asks watching your hands with incredible focus.

You do, trying to keep it simple and without too much flourish.

“Okay, so it’s like this then?” he says after you finish, and as his long, slender fingers glide across the keys, you realize they are musician’s fingers. They may be dripping with jewels that are likely more expensive than your apartment, but they are quite perfect for the kind of instruments he plays. It strikes you he was made to do this.

You recognize then that Elvis is truly a musician and not just a performer. The way he concentrates, learning and adapting quickly as you show him more of the song, only by ear and sight, amazes you.

It's through the music that you begin to calm. Talking one musician to another is much more manageable than considering the magnitude of the person you’re speaking with. Frankly, you are completely amazed by how incredibly gentle and disarming the man is.

When the door opens again, both of you are consumed enough in the music that it doesn’t faze you much.

“Oh, hey Elvis! Just the man I needed to see. I hope y/n isn’t bothering you,” Billy says, in a teasing tone only a family member could produce.

“Hello to you, too, Billy,” you say, a bit annoyed at the interruption and at feeling put in your place as if you were still a child.

“Oh, no, not at all. She’s a great teacher,” Elvis grins, bumping your shoulder. “You two…know each other?” he then asks, his smile faltering in the slightest as he looks from you to Billy. The question is innocent enough, but the way he says it gives you pause and your heart flips.

“Since she was practically in diapers. She’s my sister-in-law,” Billy says.

“Twelve isn’t in diapers, Billy,” you scoff at him, then turn to Elvis. “He’s married to my older sister yet has never hesitated to treat me like a baby. Lucky me.”

“Aw, you know I only put up with you because you’re too talented for your own good,” Billy ribs, making to muss your hair.

You duck swiftly out of the way, bumping into Elvis in the process. “Oh, sorry!” you breath out.

Elvis just chuckles at the two of you, looking pleased as punch, though you’re not exactly sure why.

“I think what you meant to say is, ‘Thank you for dropping everything to fly across the country last minute to help me, dearest sister-in-law,’” you throw at Billy, batting your lashes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of it. Now, skedaddle. I need to talk to Elvis,” Billy shoos you.

You suppress the urge to stomp your foot and pout, but you realize you really should act more professional than you are. Settling for a huff at Billy, you turn to Elvis. “It was nice to meet you,” you say, all the spunkiness you had towards Billy deflating into shyness the moment you look into those dark blue eyes again.

“Oh, I have no doubt we’ll be talkin’ again soon, honey, and thank you for the lesson,” Elvis drawls softly.

His words send a cascade of shivers through your limbs. You feel heady as you stand from the bench, shooting a familial glare Billy’s way, noticing the frown on his face as you do so. God, even with you being 27, Billy had the ability to make you feel like a scolded younger sister.

You force yourself not to look back as you head to your chair. Be a professional. Just because Elvis is handsome doesn’t mean he’s not the man you’re ultimately working for. Busying yourself with rearranging your music, you hear Billy usher Elvis out and up into the booth.

Well, that’s that, you think, rosining your bow, and you get to practicing.

*

You’ve been at your share of long rehearsals, but you will admit this one is both long and intense. The music Billy has arranged—this “Guitar Man” medley of some of Elvis’ songs—isn’t difficult music to play, per say, but you can now sense an underlying importance around this entire operation. Part of it is the barely held back frantic look in Billy’s eyes, and knowing him as you do, for him to be this frazzled means there’s a lot on the line. However, it’s when Elvis comes back, much later, to run through the medley with the orchestra, that you realize you can sense it in him, too. It’s well-hidden, to be sure, when the man introduces himself and shakes hands with the members of the orchestra, and you probably wouldn’t even have noticed if it weren’t for the relaxed way he’d been with you earlier in the day, but it’s an undercurrent all the same. Then, they send him into the booth to do his thing.

And, boy, does he. You’ve worked your share of Broadway musicals and operas, but you’ve never seen a man completely give himself over to the work in just a rehearsal quite the way Elvis does with this medley. It’s like he’s singing for his life. By the time it’s all through, Elvis exits the booth, dripping with sweat, exhausted but exuberant. His eyes sparkle and his body hums, some part of him tapping or jiggling or wiggling every moment, as though the music had become electricity in his veins.

You try not to stare as you slowly put away your bow, your violin, collecting your music from the black stand. You try not to, but you keep stealing glances because not only does he look enticing, but it’s also more that you connect with the feelings he seems to be having. The way the music can just take over and become something else inside you, as if you are the conduit to something much bigger than yourself. This you understand. And you’d never imagined a sensation like Elvis Presley would feel the music that way, too. Perhaps this is the secret to his massive success.

Almost all the other musicians have packed and left by now. You tell yourself you’re stalling so you can say goodnight to Billy before hailing a cab and finally checking into your hotel by midnight. You are exhausted, after a day of traveling and frenetic rehearsal, yet you are buzzing with the excitement only music seems to bring you. And you can’t help that the part of you that feels that way is being drawn towards Elvis like a magnet.

When Elvis catches your less-than-sly stare, a million-dollar smile spreads over his face and your heart flip-flops in your chest so hard it takes your breath away. Caught, you quickly and conspicuously look up and away, as though that will save the burning embarrassment on your cheeks. Suddenly, all you can think of is how fast you can get out of here, and you finish packing up like a fire has been lit under you. You scurry towards the door, hoping to escape before making a fool of yourself further.

“Hey, Miss Moonlight,” Elvis says, fingers light on your arm, stopping you before you reach the door, “whaddya say you join us back at my place for a little get together?”

The nickname would usually make you roll your eyes, but coming from him so sweetly, you balk under the attention. It distracts you so much that it takes a full second to realize that he’s just invited you to his place.

“I…uh, it’s been a long day. I-I haven’t even checked into my hotel yet,” you stammer, the excuse so unconvincing you might laugh if you weren’t so befuddled and nervous that Elvis is asking you…well, you’re not exactly sure what he’s asking you.

He quirks a perfect raven brow at you. When he steps in closer, you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“Well, I can have Joe swing you by your hotel before headin’ over, if you’d like, though there’s plenty of space at the house. We can set up a room for ya…s’probably more comfortable than a hotel,” Elvis drawls quietly in your ear.

You’ve never heard a man make a pass so naturally in your life, so much so that you almost hesitate to believe it is one. His low voice and the open suggestiveness spear straight into your core, threatening to melt you into a puddle on the spot.

In any other circumstance, you would laugh in a man’s face for suggesting such a thing. Generally shy, reserved, and cerebral, you’re certainly not the kind of woman who just spends the night at a strange man’s place. But this isn’t any other circumstance. This is Elvis Presley asking you to stay the night with him.

And maybe he does just mean it casually—a “hey, come party with us and you can sleep on the couch”—but at the moment, your body doesn’t know the difference. Your inner pragmatist begins listing off all the ways this is a terrible idea, but the only thing that cuts through the noise is the regret you know you’ll feel if you don’t accept this invitation.

“Um…well, okay. I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose, of course,” you manage to breathe back.

His lip curves up into an almost bashful smile. “Oh, Moonlight, you couldn’t be an imposition if you tried. Plus, you hafta show me how to play the rest of that piece,” he says, running a calloused fingertip down your pointer finger.

You can’t help the shudder that runs through you or the way your heart catches in your throat. “Well, how could I possibly refuse?” you finally get out.

“Fantastic! Hey, Joe, this is my new friend, y/n,” he says enthusiastically, calling over the shorter man. “She’s gonna be joining us tonight.”

Joe seems kind enough, albeit barely looks or speaks to you after the main introductions. Before you know it, you, your violin, and your suitcase are packed into the back of what you assume is a ridiculously expensive vehicle. Elvis slides in behind you, and you, now sandwiched between him and the car door, think you ought to feel apprehensive about the situation, but all your attention is fixed on how Elvis’ side is pressed up against yours. The heat radiates off him, bleeding into you, his leg bouncing so quickly that you think he might need to get out and run laps. He makes conversation, asking about how you came to be a musician and you uncharacteristically and nervously start rambling about yourself. You’ve got to give him credit for the way he nods and hums, truly seeming to listen to you even though your mouth is running almost uncontrollably.

By the time you arrive at the house, you feel as if you’ve told Elvis your life story and you abruptly shutter your mouth closed. God, I am such an idiot. Way to play it cool, y/n, you berate yourself.

Elvis kindly helps you out of the car, walking you toward the house as Joe follows with your violin and suitcase in tow. The way your heart pounds against your ribcage threatens to do you in—it’s all suddenly become very real that Elvis Presley is leading you into his house where you are going to surreptitiously spend the night. His hand is guiding you so gently at the small of your back, but the heat of it blazes through you.

Oh, get a grip! The man has probably touched thousands of women, you’re no different. You’re not special.

Realizing you’re holding your breath, you force yourself to take in air as inconspicuously as possible.

“You don’t gotta be nervous, baby,” he says, a cheeky little smile gracing those luscious lips of his.

“Sorry, I…this just isn’t where I thought I’d be at the end of this very long day,” you chuckle.

“Well, let’s make you at home then.” His smile turns reassuring and warm.

He spends the next hour getting you comfortable and fed, having the most amazing ability to relax your normally nervous nature without hardly trying. You can’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at the way he seems to be continuously touching you—the press of his leg, an arm around your shoulders, the graze of a finger against yours—in a familiar way, even though you’ve known him less than a day. If it were anyone else, you would have leapt off the couch and run for the hills.

What surprises you the most is that you aren’t uncomfortable at all. Excited and nervous, yes. But you don’t feel preyed upon or anything of the sort. Frankly, you are trying not to get ahead of yourself about what the rest of the night might bring.

An impromptu jam session with his old bandmates has you feeling even more surreal. If someone had told you yesterday that you would get a private concert with Elvis Presley and his former band, you would have laughed at them. You find yourself unable to take your eyes off him and how he seems to get completely lost in the music, and you right along with him. His gritty baritone combined with the sensual way he tackles each song has warmth pooling in your belly. Despite the cranked-up air conditioning, you find yourself sweating and parched, especially in the moments he smiles in your direction.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, only that you feel the heady exhaustion of being up too long coupled with an uncharacteristic hungry adrenaline running through your veins. When the jam session ends, you are both disappointed and exhilarated for what might come next.

Don’t get your hopes up, you remind yourself. This night has been amazing no matter what happens next.

“Did you enjoy that, Moonlight?” he leans over and whispers in your ear. It tickles you and sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod. “Oh, yes.” It comes out more breathless than you’d like.

You feel him smile against your cheek. “Are you up for teaching me more of that sonata, honey?” he asks. It’s an innocent enough request but you can’t tell exactly what his motivations are, though for the first time in your life, you’re not sure it matters.

“Of course,” you say quietly, starting for the piano in the corner of the living space.

His warm hand catches yours, and you look back, surprised, as he shakes his head and pulls you in the opposite direction.

Your heart threatens to beat out of your ribcage as he leads you down the hall and into what you assume is his private suite. It’s not until he closes the door and you realize that you are utterly alone with him that you feel a glimmer of trepidation.

It must read on your face because he jumps in to reassure you. “Oh, honey, I just want to get to know you better, away from the rest of them. I’d never hurt you or make you do anything you didn’t want to do. Honestly, I don’t want the other guys ribbing me…they don’t go for the classical stuff,” he says quietly, looking away, and you think there might be a little pink rising on his cheeks.

His sincerity is palpable, and you certainly never expected him to be bashful about playing classical music. There’s a softness to him now, almost a shyness, that wasn’t present moments ago around all his entourage. It is like a yearning for one-on-one connection, and this part of him melts all your reservations and tugs at your heartstrings.

“Well, I do…go for the classical stuff, I mean,” you say quietly. You smile and squeeze his hand reassuringly as his deep blue eyes find yours again.

He looks giddy as he leads you to the second piano in the house, a baby grand in the far corner of the large suite. You sit down, opening the lid, and he slides in beside you. The heat of him rolls around you, the smell of his cologne and a day’s worth of sweat combining into an alluring combination that perks up your senses.

“Show me what you remember,” you say, and he starts to play, long, nimble fingers gliding gracefully over the keys. It amazes you that he committed everything you showed him earlier to memory so fast and so accurately. Something about it tightens a coil low in your belly. Unsure whether it’s your attraction to him physically or musically that has you so aroused, you swallow hard as he finishes abruptly.

You shake it off as best you can as you show him more of the movement, hoping the music might quell the buzzing in your veins. You go through it a few times, getting a little lost in the notes, as you tend to do. It only serves to stoke the fire in you when he picks up what you’ve shown him so quickly.

He finishes a phrase, and you move to show him the next, but his hand suddenly covers yours. Surprised, you look over at him to find his oceanic eyes searching your face so intimately that warmth blooms across your chest and your breath catches in the silence.

Slowly, Elvis leans over, cups your cheek gently, and kisses you. It’s almost chaste the way his incredibly soft lips press into yours and your surprise is so great that by the time you register what is happening, he is already pulling away.

His eyes open slowly, those lashes fluttering along with the fluttering in your heart and belly. Shock has you outwardly frozen but it’s as if he lit every one of your nerve endings on fire with the touch of his lips.

He must register your surprise as hesitance because his gaze changes to something akin to apologetic.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya. I shouldn’t’ve—”

Before he can get the rest of that sentence out, your body miraculously obeys you and you unfreeze. Boldly cupping his jaw with both hands, you pull him back to you and plant your lips on his.

It surprises both of you, and it’s a second before either of you relaxes into the kiss. This permission is all it takes, however, and then his mouth is languidly searching yours and his arms are wrapping around you to pull you close. Soft, short kisses alternate with longer more passionate ones, and you feel utterly spellbound by him, every inch of your body aware and alert to his.

Never in your life have you been kissed so well or so thoroughly. It’s as if the music in his soul must find a physical outlet, and the way he explores and opens you up to him is like him playing a new instrument. When his tongue rolls softly against your lower lip, you can’t suppress the low moan that comes out of you, causing you to open your mouth. He accepts the invitation readily, expertly, and the wet plushness of his tongue slowly begins exploring.

The warmth that sparkles and blooms across your chest travels lower still, sparking fires as it goes, until you feel your pulse throbbing between your legs. It’s nearly unbearable the way he stokes you without hardly trying. You’ve never felt so aroused so quickly or so completely.

Your eagerness is impossible to contain, your fingers buried in that luxuriously soft hair at the base of his neck, your body rolling towards his of its own accord, as if magnetized. You follow his rhythm, meeting his music with your own.

When he pulls back to trail kisses down your jaw, you are left breathless and clutching the lapels of his half-unbuttoned shirt. The nuzzle of his nose on your cheek as he finds and licks the tender spot behind your ear leaves you gasping. Pleased, he does it again and your entire body shudders.

Every inch of you yearns to be consumed by him. It’s never felt like this, not with any man you’ve been with. Those were fumbling amateurs playing one handed melodies in comparison to the symphony Elvis is invoking. While he is leading and in control, you sense as much eagerness from him as there is in you. It’s reassuring and flattering all at once.

There is an embarrassing amount of slick between your legs already, soaking the cotton of your panties and leaving you clenching your thighs together in search of friction. He must notice this as he kisses down your throat and across your décolletage because then he’s looking up at you for permission with those pink, swollen lips and dreamy bedroom eyes.

It’s unspoken, but you nod and he continues his sweet journey, one hand deftly unzipping the back of your dress while his lips follow gravity as it slips down your arms and reveals your chest. Pushing the fabric off and to your waist, his hand is then hot against your bare stomach. He hums in approval when his mouth finds the swell of your breasts that spill from your simple, beige bra.

A low whine escapes you. His apt response is to thumb your nipple to attention through the thin satin before lapping at the bud with his tongue. The result is a jolt of electricity shooting straight into your core, sending you clutching his neck and writhing against him. Expertly, he undoes the clasp in the back and abandons your bra to the floor in what must be a well-practiced motion based on the speed of it.

Goosebumps rise across your now fully exposed flesh, both from the cool air in the room and the way his fingers brush so lightly over your breasts. He seems pleased with the way your nipples stand at attention under his heated gaze. You don’t have the wherewithal to feel your usual self-consciousness; instead, the sight of his pupils blown black with arousal has you shivering with nothing but anticipation.

The combination of the way his tongue darts between his lips as he lightly pinches the hardened buds has you begging for more. “Please,” you moan and that’s all it takes before he’s lathing his tongue over and around the sensitive nubs, palming the fullness of your breasts. You can hardly stand it, how everything he does makes your body sing and want to scream his praises.

A quizzical look crosses your features though when he stops his ministrations and slides to his knees on the carpet on his side of the bench. For a second you are worried something you’ve done something to hurt or displease him, but when he beckons you towards him at the end of the bench with such arousal in his eyes it nearly knocks you over, you obey without a thought.

Elvis scoots you forward and kisses your belly, sending a new wave of tingles over you. He removes one of your low-heeled pumps and then the other, ghosting kisses along your ankles before running his large hands up the smoothness of your pantyhose, pushing your dress up with them. As if under a spell, you can’t help the way your legs fall open for him when his thumbs drag up the insides of your thighs. The little coy smirk that graces that beautiful face when he feels the damp that has soaked through to the gusset of your hose has your cheeks flushing and your lips parting.

You can’t bring yourself to be too embarrassed at how wet you are because the pleased look on his face at the discovery makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery. He pulls on the waistband, forcing you to lift your hips, before gently rolling the hose down your legs until they are off and discarded on the floor.

What you don’t expect is how he begins peppering soft kisses up your now bare calves, at the inside of your knees, and then up your inner thighs.

A swell of panic hits the farther up he goes, and you jerk up, unsure of what exactly he’s meaning to do. The men you’d been with in the past had been rather direct about the whole thing—once the clothes were off, they buried their pecker inside you and thrust above you, all with varying levels of success in getting you off as they did so.

But not a single one had kissed up your thighs and spread them open with a hungry and expectant look like the one Elvis had now.

Looking down at him, confused, you ask, “What are you doing?” in a voice that is a little too apprehensive for your liking, but you need to know.

He cocks his head at you a moment, as if trying to determine your level of seriousness. Then his eyes shine with understanding and in that low, Southern drawl of his says the downright naughtiest thing you’ve ever had a man say to you: “You ain’t never had a man take good care of your kitty before, have ya? Give her all the love and attention she deserves?” He runs a fingertip lightly over the wet cotton at your center and you shiver.

He can’t possibly mean what you think he means.

You must be gaping because he rises on his knees and catches your lips with his own before breathing, “Close that pretty mouth baby or you’re liable to catch flies up in there.”

You are speechless, unable to form words, but the question is written all over your face.

He leans back on his knees with a contemplative smile. “That sweet little kitty of yours ain’t never been eaten, has she, baby?”

Oh my god.

It’s all you can do to bite back a moan and shake your head at him.

He looks positively gleeful about this development, his shining eyes taking on a whole new level of arousal. Then he seems to notice your trepidation and reigns himself in.

“That okay with you, baby?” he asks.

You had never even considered it an option before, or that a man might like to do such a thing. Maybe he’s teasing you? Suddenly you feel very conscious of the mechanics of the act and breathlessly mumble, “You don’t…you’re sure?”

“Oh, I am.” The smile of anticipation on his face seems to echo the sentiment.

The enticing thought of that beautiful mouth of his being down there on you outweighs your uncertainty and prudishness. You nod your head. “O-Okay.”

You’ve never seen a man look so thrilled at the thought of being between your legs as Elvis Presley is. “Don’tcha worry, I’m gonna take real good care of ya,” he says comfortingly. “You just lie back and relax and let me make you feel good, honey.” Then he places a kiss just under the waistband of your panties and you let out a little sigh.

The piano bench feels slightly warm on you bare back as you lay down. Elvis, grabbing under your thighs, pulls you to the edge, and your heart resumes its pounding. You truly can’t believe any of this is about to happen and steel yourself for him to rip off your underwear and go to town.

But he doesn’t.

No, he takes his time warming you up, as if he’s trying to get you used to the idea. He kisses down one hip then trails down the panty line. You tense the closer he gets to your core but then he only ghosts a breath over it before jumping to the other leg and kisses up the crease on that side. The ticklish sensation is almost too much to bear as he works his way up to the waistband again.

You are panting by the time his mouth is grazing from your belly button downwards, pressing into the soft curls beneath the fabric. He stops just short of that forbidden little spot where your aching clit resides, and you push up on your elbows to shoot him a look.

A grin spreads over his features, his eyes narrowed like a crocodile’s and full of desire and he watches you intently as he finally places a light kiss over that sensitive little button.

The sensation is nothing like anything you’ve felt before and the whole scene has your body flaming white hot. You don’t recognize the low mewl that erupts from your lips and the only thing keeping you from throwing your head back is the way his eyes are locked on yours, as if feeding off your reaction. Then he uses his perfect nose to nuzzle into it before placing a firmer kiss there.

“Elvissss,” you whine, unable to keep from throwing your head back this time.

“You like that, baby? I barely even started,” he speaks, his hot breath puffing over the slicked core of your panties. He kisses down, down until over your entrance, where he then tongues the fabric, pressing it up and into you.

“Honey, you’ve done soaked right through,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s speaking to you or directly to your pussy. You’re not sure you care for the way you moan, the way your body shudders and writhes, suddenly starving for anything he’s willing to give.

“Lemme see how pretty she is,” he says, and God, if his filthy yet somehow sweet words aren’t stroking you in such a way that you wonder if you could come from his lilting voice alone. He pulls your underwear to the side, finally baring yourself to him, and he whistles.

“Just lovely, and all weepy for me, too,” he says, voice thick with lust now.

The anticipation has your heart racing and your fingers clawing at the wooden bench with a whimper.

“Okay, baby, I hear ya,” he murmurs kindly, then hooks his fingers in the sides of your panties and finally slides them down and off your legs. Then his hands are pushing them apart and his tongue is lightly skimming up your folds.

You gasp at the soft and silky feeling, unready even despite his preparations. When he circles your clit and then kisses it, bare this time, you are so aroused you’re afraid you might weep. But the teasing is done, and he tests you expertly. His tongue flattens and takes in the full breadth of you, licking a stripe up your pussy that sends your hips rolling.

He seems to gauge every reaction carefully, giving equal and alternating attention to every piece of you. Nipping, suckling, and kissing your swollen clit into submission and just when you think that heated coil in your belly might snap you in two, he moves down and kisses through your folds. When he laps at the arousal dripping from your tight little hole, tongues it, and then plunges it inside of you, you find yourself screaming out his name.

You can feel him smile and hum at your response, the vibrations adding entirely new sensations to the slew of new sensations you are feeling. He thumbs at your clit as he laps at your hole, and you think you might hyperventilate with how fast you’re breathing and how hot you feel.

So completely attuned to you, he pulls back and gives you a break, despite your whimpering protests. His full lips are swollen pink and slick down to his chin with you, and when his lip curls up into a knowing but almost bashful smile, you think this might be the eighth wonder of the world.

“You alright? I’m doin’ okay?” he asks, his left eyebrow quirking.

You giggle, almost drunkenly even though you’re entirely sober, because the question is so absurd but sweet of him. “Yes, yes, yes,” you say, words slurring.

“Okay, good,” he says, nodding. Then he rises on up on his knees and commands you forward with a come-hither motion so deft and quick, it has you drooling.

You are powerless to resist and push your dazed self to your elbows on the bench. He meets you halfway, kissing you deeply, lewdly letting you taste the tang of yourself on his lips. Distracted as you are by his wandering mouth, you aren’t ready for the way he slides two of those perfectly long musician’s fingers up through your silky folds and deep into your wet heat.

A shocked gasp quickly turns into a moan that he swallows with another kiss. He begins ever-so-slowly pumping those fingers into you and the rough pad of his thumb circles that sensitive bundle of nerves at the hood of your sex.

“Goddamn, you’re so perfect, so tight,” he breathes into your mouth.

You can’t stop the shiver that ripples through you. “I-It’s been a-awhile,” you pant. You can’t help but look down and watch the way he works you.

“Don’t you worry, baby. I gotchu,” he purrs, then curves his fingers just so and the pleasure that courses through you has you crying out.

Your brain is fuzzy, with only one thing on its mind. Luckily, Elvis seems to be reading it because he smiles that coy smile and returns those full lips of his to your clit.

For a moment you think you might die from the intensity of the sensations he’s procuring from you. Seems an awful lot like God gave him long fingers and a full mouth not only for music, you think. Though the way he’s playing you right now and the noises he’s coaxing out of you makes it seem like a whole different type of song he’s expert at.

The way he traces and flicks and suckles your clit, coupled with the obscene sounds coming from the way he’s fingering your pussy has you writhing on the bench and gripping his beautiful hair in your hands.

More, more, more, is the only thought left.

He hums against you with one last kiss and a wildly accurate thrust and curve of his fingers. The coil inside you explodes, then white-hot, full-body shudders violently overtake you as you silently scream and hold onto him for dear life as to not fly away into the stratosphere.

Your orgasm is utterly mind altering and earth shattering.

“Good job, lil’ girl,” Elvis coos, soothing you through the aftershocks with a lathing tongue.

You can’t think straight enough to respond, only whimpering from the empty feeling when he removes his fingers, then gasping again when he laps at the arousal pouring out of your core.

It’s all too much, and, overstimulated, you whine and clench and pull at him.

He sits up again, between your legs, looking mighty pleased with himself. “Come ‘ere, darlin’,” he says, pulling you up by your arms and sliding you onto his lap. Boneless and naked (save for the dress bunched in a ring around your waist), your legs fall open, easily straddling his hips. Your hands grip at his shirt and you bury your head into his neck, still dizzy with release.

He holds you steady. “Didja like that? Your kitty all happy and purrin’ now?” he whispers in your ear, sending a new set of shivers down your spine. All you can manage is a pleased hum and a nod. You kiss his neck, tasting salt on his tanned skin.

A soft moan escapes his lips at that. Suddenly, you become quite aware of the hardness in his slacks, pressing up near your swollen folds. The embers of your arousal have not died, and you kiss his neck again while slowly rolling your hips into his.

Groaning, he tightens his arms around you, holding you to him. You nip at the throbbing pulse point on his neck and are reminded just how talented and famous these hips of his are when he rolls them back into you in response. He’s rock hard, straining against his zipper, the tip of him bumping against your sensitive clit. You moan and find his rhythm, feeling the wetness between your thighs start to soak through the fabric of his slacks, creating a delicious friction.

Elvis pants heavily in your ear, murmuring curses and praises as he grinds into you. At this rate, you think he might come in his pants, which just won’t do. Not with the way your pussy is buzzing, and that coil is tightening again in your belly. No, you need him inside you. You need him to fill you.

You use what little returning strength you have and rise on your knees, away from his needy cock. The man actually pouts, his lower lip jutting out with a desperate little whine and it is so alluring you almost forget what you’re trying to do. You place a finger over his lips to quiet him, then set to the task of trying to undo his lavish belt and zipper.

Once he understands, he races to help, making much quicker work of the whole thing and finally his cock springs free. It’s quite long, and the deep pink tip peeking out of his silky foreskin is already shiny and weeping with precum. Of its own accord, your finger slides over his slit, circling the slick tip and spreading the wetness gathered there. He hisses. You bring your finger to your mouth, tasting the salty musk of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, his hand palming his length. He gives it a pointed tug, then another, his lips falling open as he watches you.

He’s gorgeous in every way and it’s almost intimidating the way he looks at you with such open and vulnerable lust. You can’t bring yourself hold back or tease any longer, needing desperately to give him all of you, to give him what he needs. Hovering over him, you help line him up, then slowly descend onto his cock.

You are plenty wet—he’s seen to that—but even still, the stretch of him burns. It’s been too long since a man has been inside you like this and he is much longer than you anticipated.

A quiet, “Oh, oh, oh,” is all you manage to puff out as you bob slightly up and down, taking a little bit more of him with each tiny pump. He presses gentle kisses everywhere he can reach and murmurs encouraging praises with each inch that you conquer.

By the time you settle on the hilt of him, snug in his lap, you’re both groaning. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders because you are so full of him you don’t know what to do. You’ve never been so gorged and the pressure is a little frightening.

“Snug as a bug in a rug,” he slurs happily, letting you adjust around him. “Little Elvis likes you lots and lots, baby. S’like you were made just for him.”

“Little Elvis? H-He’s not so little,” you say with wide eyes, then giggle a little, which causes you to gasp from the tightness below and how it makes you clench even harder around him.

He groans. “If ya keep doing that, he’s not gonna last very long, darlin’.”

You try to move, but in this position and after that orgasm, you feel weak and a little like he’s spearing you in two. You’re almost too full, and the angle is not quite right. You wiggle in his lap, your brow furrowed, as your arms grow tighter around his neck. A low whine escapes your throat.

He notices your distress. Petting your hair, he babytalks at you, which under other circumstances might be strange for a grown man, but it comes so naturally to him somehow it both comforts and arouses you, “Oh, shh, shh, baby, s’okay. He’s a widdle much for ya, ain’t he? Sometimes he gets too ‘cited and gets ahead of ‘imself. But he’s gonna take real good care of ya, I promise.”

And with that, he gingerly shifts sideways, leans forward, and lays you down on the plush carpet under the piano. The movement has him sliding partially out of you, giving you some relief from the bursting sensation, and you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Your body relaxes.

He looks so gorgeous above you, with his raven hair falling in his eyes and a soft, bashful smile gracing his lips. You can’t help but smile back at him.

“That better?” he asks.

You nod.

Leaning down, he nuzzles your nose, then places soft kisses on your mouth. He coaxes you back to him, the heat building between you with each deepening kiss. So focused on the rolling of his tongue against yours, you don’t even realize he’s pressing deeper into you until he’s nestled almost completely, but much more comfortably between your legs.

You sigh contentedly into his mouth. The pressure still has you feeling full, but in a delicious, silky way this time as you finally relax around him. He rolls his hips smoothly, the strokes slow and deliberate, in time with the movement of his lips. Each stroke is better than the last as your increased arousal combined with his own slickens your inner walls.

“There she is,” he moans quietly into the crook of your neck.

That feeling is back, a chant of want, want, want running through your brain as the tension and fire in your belly begin to grow once more. When he bottoms out this time, your punctuated, “Ah!” is from pleasure and not discomfort. He’s managing to hit places inside you that you didn’t know existed.

You writhe under him, starting to meet his thrusts with your own, trying as you might to find that perfect spot he keeps slipping past. If only you had the right leverage…

It comes to you once you’ve hitched your legs up around his svelte waist. You lift your hips and plant your bare feet against the grainy wooden underside of the piano, meeting his next thrust with your leveraged one. It sends him deeper, driving into that little spot just perfectly. You keen.

“Oh, goddamn,” he moans along with you.

Each thrust seems deeper than the last with your legs pressing up like this. They shake from the exertion, but it’s worth every ounce of effort for the way you feel driven into the earth by his cock. Sweat drips off his face and onto yours as he showers your body with pleasure you didn’t know existed.

He thumbs your clit, timed perfectly with the piston of his hips, and you can barely breathe at the sensation. Gasping, your entire body shudders of its own accord as you hurtle towards another release.

“I…I…I…” is all you can seem to manage as your second climax starts to crest, and he grunts with effort above you, his eyes glassy with unbridled desire.

He mutters a string sweet filth that only fuels you forward, slurring and panting, “Oh, fuck, yes…such a good yittle kitty…good girl for me…look atchu taking ‘im so deep…never been s’deep…Jesus, I can see ‘im in your belly.”

You both look at the swell of your abdomen on the next thrust and this time he holds you flush against him so you can see the tip of Little Elvis bulge out the slightest bit. The moan you let out is obscene. Holding you at the waist, he doesn’t let your hips down, instead running the palm of his hand over the protrusion while he flicks your clit furiously. Then he presses down at the same time he thrusts as hard and as deep as possible.

Your climax hits so hard and so fast that it knocks the breath out of you, leaving you gasping his name, “Elvis, Elvis, Elvis!” Flaming white stars flash behind your eyelids as you flutter and clench around his length. Molten fire spreads from your core outward. You shudder and claw at him, at the bottom of the piano, at anything that will keep you tethered to reality while the rest of you shatters into a million pieces beneath him.

“Good girl, s’good fo’me,” he praises you through it, losing himself to you as you come apart.

You feel his hips start to stutter into you again because a primal need has him beyond the point of waiting any longer. Somehow, through shivering aftershocks, you have the wherewithal to force your eyes open, even as the rest of your body goes slack. He looks like Adonis in the throes of passion, his full and swollen lips falling open. In one fell swoop, he drops your hips and pulls his considerable length from you, his knowing hand pumping his slick-covered cock with expert precision.

Watching him come is a marvel and you make yourself commit this moment to memory, knowing it will fuel your arousal for years to come. He tenses above you, those sapphire eyes fluttering closed. Shivering tension ripples over him with a choked cry and through gritted teeth. Thick and warm white ropes erupt and splatter over your torso and you moan along with him. Then his eyes pop open pointedly as he watches himself cover you with his seed. The poignant, dramatic end of a brilliant symphony.

“F-fuck,” he pants, finishing off with another shiver. Exhausted, he catches himself just before crushing you with his weight, instead pressing his sweaty brow into yours. Your hot, heavy breaths mingle as you both try to come back down to Earth. He nuzzles his nose into yours before kissing your cheeks and your mouth.

Eventually, you find your words. “That was…incredible,” you say breathlessly, with no exaggeration.

He pulls back to look at you, with a goofy, pleased grin. “I told you I’d take care of you, Moonlight. And boy oh boy, was that a neat trick with the piano there…that part of your classical trainin’?” he says, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Putting that college degree to good use,” you say with a giggle.

His eyes go wide and then he laughs—a musical, beautiful, contagious sound—which fills your heart up in a way you don’t quite understand.

He crawls back and helps you out from under the piano. Your back is rubbed raw from the carpet, which he kisses gently with apology, but you barely feel the sting. You are too dazed and relaxed to worry about much of anything.

When he helps clean you up and pulls you into his big bed, slotting you in next to him, you want to savor every minute. How he smells delicious and masculine, how the heat of his long body envelops your own—you want to remember everything.

Exhausted, you fall fast asleep, sated and cared for, knowing that you’ll never, ever be the same.

*

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[skellymom]

"SMASH AND GRAB"

"THE BAD BATCH FEM READER X HUNTER/ECHO ACTION/ANGST FAN FIC"

Angsty angst between the reader (mildly Force sensitive/empath-nothing super powerful), a lover and a friend regarding the fate of the squad. Someone needs to listen and realize there is more than one future for Clone FAMILY 99.

BE PUNK.  DO CRIME.  FIGHT FACISM. 

Background: Love is hard and I wanted to capture a relationship that is trying to survive in a time of chaos and oppression. Where nothing is a sure bet, and the thought of losing loved ones is terrifying and a real possibility. How long can CF99 stay hidden on Ord Mantell? The reader experiences a sense of dread that their sanctuary may not last long.

...with a little Punk shenanigans thrown in to show the Fascists just WHO they are kriffin' around with!

Y'all, this started as a fun romp in Punk Crime...then got REAL deep. Couldn't help the word count. The story just kind wrote itself.

Note: This story hints at a possible LOVE TRIANGLE. Not extremely apparent. But those of you who code Hunter as "The Boyfriend" and code Echo as "The Close Friend" might see it. Also, Passion and Practicality as dramatic opposites.

Those of you who wish to NOT SEE A LOVE TRIANGLE. Please just read this dynamic as a caring lover vs a caring friend. Hopefully it's ambiguous enough for EVERYONE.

People who aren't particularly fond of Hunter's character arc while on Ord Mantell during S2 of the actual series will LOVE that I pick on him a bit in this fic.

Word Count: 3.5K

WARNING: Star Wars Canon Violence, someone is stabbed in shoulder w/no mention of blood, blood smear on a bottle, fear, angst, maybe mild swearing, briefly implied sex in one sentence.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

“Aww...” Omega kicked the dirt and hung her head...twisting the pendant around her neck. 

“Sorry kiddo.  We just...don’t have the credits.”  I shrugged feeling defeated. 

She gave one last glance at the chocolate bar, nodded and shuffled off to the next vendor’s stand. 

“Hey.”  Getting the attention of the vendor who owned the stand.  “Would you take 2 credits instead of 3?  For the kid??”  Pointing in Omega’s direction.   

It was worth a try. 

“Come back when ya got the credits...or DON’T come back AT ALL!”  The vendor waved me away from their stand.’ 

“Geez, you don’t have to be so RUDE about it!”  I shot back as I left to catch up with Omega. 

The vendor yelled after me “YOU PEOPLE...always wanting a handout!  Glad the Empire is cleaning up the planets in this system.  SICK OF YOUR KIND!” 

I waved back to him with a very specific hand signal... 

Being poor sucks. 

We’ve been scraping by since working for Cid on Ord Mantell.  Hunter and I have been talking about taking the squad and bailing soon... 

...after the NEXT job. 

We’ve been talking about this for a while.  But it’s always about the NEXT job...even if that was the last job we just did. 

He’s scared to leave and face the unknown.   

It’s the devil he knows.  And, somehow, it’s a kind of unfavorable comfort. 

But I HATE that Cid holds shit over our heads constantly. 

It’s making me seethe.  Making me resent my scared lover a bit.  And it breaks my heart that Omega can’t be a child... 

If Crosshair was here, he’d have set shit straight right away... 

But The Empire took him away from us. 

Echo agrees with me and tries to reason with Hunter. 

Tech gets sidetracked with everything going on. 

Wrecker, ever the supportive sibling goes along for the ride. 

Omega falls in with them too.  It’s all an adventure for her... 

Until it’s not.  And, I’m worried that’s going to be very soon. 

I can feel it.   

Every day SOMETHING is getting closer. 

And, I itch to escape this planet.   

But I WON’T go without them.  Life is nothing without them ALL. 

My opinion: We ALL can do better somewhere else.  Somewhere that WON’T have us living hand to mouth. 

But we MUST leave Ord Mantell. Or we’ll never know what the future might hold for us. 

ANOTHER mission for Cid.  And this one requiring that I and Omega stay behind for “safety reasons.” 

Hunter’s words, not mine. 

And this time Echo spoke up “The fact that we are leaving them behind means it’s time for us to terminate Cid’s employ.” 

“Where would we go?  Cid was YOUR contact, remember.”  Hunter shot back. 

Echo nodded across the room to me “She can FEEL it.  I believe her that we don’t have much time left.  Can’t you feel it too???” 

Hunter sat down wearily and sighed.  “EVERYTHING has been a blur since losing Crosshair...”  Putting his hand to his brow “Been missing a LOT lately.” 

Omega is sitting next to me.  I can see the panic in her eyes.  “Why are they arguing?” 

“Because they love us.  And, making decisions for the ones you love is difficult.”  I didn’t want to tell Omega that these men who normally have such a close camaraderie are only openly arguing because they are AFRAID.  The dynamic in our squad is starting to break down.  She’s seen and been through enough.  I try to shield her from what I can when I can. 

Tech and Wrecker weighed in on the situation...which now REALLY doesn’t help. 

Their voices rose higher.  I don’t hear the words anymore.  Just FEEL the emotions behind them: accusations, defensiveness, declarations to fight the Empire, plans to score big one last time and retire for good... 

I can’t sit here anymore.  Gently took Omega’s hand, leading her out of Cid’s Parlor with the lure of a “window shopping” to blow off steam.  Basically poor-person's shopping. 

She stops at the doorway, looking up at me.  So many emotions on her face.  “Shouldn't we tell them where we’re going?”  Omega remembers the last time she stepped out without checking in. 

I survey the loud debate between four grown men...four grown men who are scared, unsure boys who never had to live this way before.  My heart went out to every one of them.  I tried to tell them, to contribute to this discussion...so many times.  But they defer to two polar opposites with nothing in-between: 

Stay and keep working for Cid, hoping to eventually get ahead...then go retire on some fictional planet with a slim hope the Empire will never find us. 

Or, leave Ord Mantell forever and fly away with false fantasies of a battle leading to victory while heading right into the belly of the BEAST. 

“They won’t notice.”  It wasn’t the best answer...but I was mentally and emotionally exhausted.  “We’ll be back before then...” 

Omega, not totally buying my reply, still relented... 

But not without an unsure glance behind her at her brother’s grousing. 

Apparently...they DID notice. 

“Just where did you both go???”  Hunters concerned and frustrated face met us as we descended the stairs. 

I could see Echo across the room sitting at the bar “pretending” not to pay attention to our conversation. 

“Omega and I wanted to skip the big multi-person argument.” I cooly clapped back. 

He relaxed after seeing Omega with a big smile on her face. 

Then tensed up after she told him why she’s smiling:   

“Hunter, I met a Wino tonight.  He smells funny, but he does fantastic magic tricks!” 

Then she skipped away to see what Tech had on his datapad.  Wrecker handed her a fizzy kiddy beverage dressed up with a slice of Meileroon on the rim. 

Hunter gave me a... face.  The kind he gives me when I have some explaining to do. 

“What?” 

He sighed. 

“Please use your words.” 

“Ok.  DON’T leave without telling us where you are going.  Double if Omega is with you.” 

“Sure thing, Sergeant.” Then I turned and walked away.  Settling in the furthest corner of the bar to be alone. 

Hunter shook his head and scoffed.  Strolled defeatedly back to the bar, then gave Tech a slight bump on the shoulder.  Tech immediately slid off the stool and followed Hunter into Cid’s empty office...and shut the door. 

I leaned back into the sofa and closed my eyes.  I felt so exhausted... 

A few minutes later a warm hand patted my shoulder.  I opened my eyes. 

Echo set down a drink on the table beside me.  “Glad you and Omega are back.  We get worried sometimes.  Things are getting...complicated and dangerous.  He’s...WE are ALL looking out for you both.” 

He walked away and entered Cid’s office, closing the door behind him. 

Kriff...they DEFINITELY are planning ANOTHER mission... 

Put it all out of my mind and settled in to watch Wrecker and Omega play several rounds of “KABOOM!”  It’s a chaotic card game Wrecker made up to keep Omega busy.  She loves Dejarik, but Wrecker tires of it easily.  KABOOM! is really an old card deck CF99 has carried with them forever, and Wrecker has scrawled writing all over them with his own “game script.” 

“KABOOM!” Omega yells after she picks a particular marked card.  Then throws her hand up into the air to symbolize an explosion... 

Kaboom indeed...hopefully not us and not anytime soon...but the cards will fall wherever they may...I have no control over them. 

“Hey...” Smoky whisper in my ear. 

I open my eyes and see Hunter hovering over me.  His eyes are soft and loving while he runs his fingers though my hair.  I’m covered with a blanket and there’s a pillow under my head.  The game room is empty, silent, and dark. 

“How long have I been out?” 

“Couple hours.”  Then he plants a kiss on my forehead.  “Apologies for earlier today.” 

“Accepted.  I could have handled that interaction better myself...” 

“No...I’ve...got to get my shit together.”   

“I won’t argue with that.” I snicker. 

He smiles.  It’s been SO long since I’ve seen him do that.  My heart aches for a time before this one...a simpler time for all of us. 

His expression switches to a forlorn one... 

“You’re leaving soon...” 

“Yes.  But I promise it’s the LAST mission for Cid.  EVER.” 

“I recall you’ve said that before.” I grumped, attempting to get up from the couch. 

“But this time I MEAN it.”  He grabs my hand and I stop. 

He drops something cold into my palm and the chain it’s attached to trails out of his hand.  Then he cups his hand affectionately under mine. 

It’s a necklace.  The pendant a shard of deep green meteorite Hunter and I had witnessed impacting a planet when we first kissed.  How’s that for symbolism?  When it finally cooled, he snuck back to the site, fishing it out and surprised me with this as a gift.  Carried in my pockets for forever...until recently I thought it had been lost.   

“You got sneaky there, Bandana.” 

“Tech set it so you can wear it.  It’s made of the metal that doesn’t irritate your skin...that doesn’t sound very romantic...does it?”  Hunter grimaced. 

I snort and it elicits a chuckle from him.  “For most people, probably not.  But I deeply appreciate the gesture.  Also, the practicality.  Thanks.”  His words may falter, but I can FEEL the intensity of his emotions in this moment.  The depth of his affection and devotion. 

He lovingly takes the necklace from my hand and clasps it around my neck.  I lift the blanket and Hunter crawls in next to me on the sofa. 

“I love you so much Y/N. Have a hard time showing it sometimes...please understand I just want the best for us...” 

I shush him with my finger to his lips.  “I love you too, Hunter...and I struggle in the same way.  Let’s call a truce...for tonight.” 

He nods and I kiss him...kiss him with all the fire and passion that I cannot say with words.  He answers my love language in kind.  We heat up that sofa like nothing it’s ever seen before. 

That fateful day I’ve been worried about finally came... 

An Imperial Class Venator loomed over the city. 

So large, it blocked out part of the sun. 

White armored stormtroopers, dispatched to the planet swarmed Ord Mantell.  They kicked in doors and terrorized the locals. 

Were they searching for us?  Or just taking over the planet, like so many others in the galaxy? 

“Havoc 1, do you copy?” Echo tries to comm Hunter... 

Nothing. 

“Empire is jamming all ground communications.” He sneered. 

Omega and I sat crouched across from Echo under a vendor table.  The tablecloth kept us hidden. 

Today was our day to shop for supplies.  Of course, Echo tagged along.  If Hunter wasn’t with us, it would always be Echo.     

I was already a bundle of nerves that my “bad feeling” came true.  Echo’s presence helped me keep it hidden around Omega. 

“Oh NO!”  Omega started to fret.  “Maybe they’ve been captured?  How will they find us?  We’ll be separated!” The fear rising in her voice made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. 

I put my arm around her, giving a firm squeeze.  “Don’t worry, Hunter and Tech probably got it under control.  And Wrecker will smash heads.” 

“Yeah, kiddo what Y/N said.”  Echo put a calm face on it.  

He knew something I didn’t...I could FEEL it. 

“We need to get to them!” Omega whispered 

“No Havoc 5.  We’re sitting tight.  They’ll find us.”  Echo winked. 

He DID know something... 

“Out with it, Echo.” 

“What?” His expression innocent. 

“What do YOU know that Omega and I don’t?” 

“Nothing...” Smiling with that shit eating grin if his.  Sassy, yet charming. 

Omega and I glance at one another.  Then glare at Echo. 

“Hey, I was sworn to secrecy.”  His expression turned from mild to hardened soldier as the sound of marching feet rounded the corner of the vendor’s square. 

Echo silently pulled his weapon...having it on the ready. 

They stopped next to our table. 

“FREEZE Civilian!  Come out with your hands up!!!” 

All three of us froze, staring at one another. 

Echo had a look...like he was ready to kill whoever was out there... 

Omega put both hands over her mouth.  Her eyes wide in abject fear. 

I squeezed her closer to me... 

The trooper violently kicked over the table... 

...next to us. 

A man’s scream rang out and continued to do so as they beat and kicked him. 

We recognized the voice.  It was the local street wino.  Nice man...just liked his Spotchka a bit TOO much. 

“Evading Emperial soldiers is a crime Civilian...so is stealing.” 

The wino’s bottle of unopened Spotchka rolled under the table, stopping to rest against my knee... 

...blood smeared across it. 

A trooper’s hand groped under the tablecloth for the bottle. 

Omega mewled in terror quietly behind her hands.  

Echo readjusted the grip on his weapon. 

I silently pulled the small vibro dagger from my belt... 

...hovering it over the groping hand. 

“LEAVE IT!”  Another trooper barked at the one reaching for the bottle. 

“I’VE ALMOST GOT IT!”  He crankily barked back. 

The hand hovered over the bottle... 

Then suddenly gripped my leg and yanked me out from under the table! 

The trooper seemed shocked at what he pulled out.  He crouched there staring dumbly at me.  I lay in the dust stunned... 

...for a split second... 

Then I viciously stabbed him in the shoulder. 

The trooper screamed.  Echo knocked the table over and opened fired on the rest of the Imps.  He laid them all to rest efficiently. 

But our cover was blown. 

I pulled my dagger from the dead trooper, sheathing it. 

The wino, bloody and battered, staggered to his feet. 

“THERE THEY ARE!!!” 

All of us turned to see the vendor from the other day pointing in our direction.  He was standing at his stall with a HUGE satisfied grin on his face. 

More imps passed him running toward us.  The wino found his feet and fled quickly from the scene. 

To add insult to injury, the vendor felt the need to keep speaking... 

“WARNED YOU THE EMPIRE IS CLEANING UP THE GALAXY!  YOU PEOPLE DON’T DESERVE TO LIVE...” 

The roar of an engine overhead thankfully drowned out the rest. 

Tech fired the Marauder’s cannons into the crowd of Imps, decimating them.  Then swooped in lower to pick us up. 

Echo grabbed Omega’s hand, and before she could be whisked away, she pushed something cold and hard into my hand... 

The bottle of Spotchka...opened...with a strip of the torn tablecloth stuffed into it... 

A makeshift wick. 

Did I mention how much I LOVE THAT LITTLE HOOLIGAN! 

The vendor locked eyes with me.  His hateful stare...all the horrible things he said to us while on Ord Mantell...his lack of empathy for our plight...his open contempt for the poor...outcasts...those that don’t fit into HIS version of society...his alliance with The Empire...the unyielding hand of power beating down EVERYONE in the galaxy... 

RIGHTOUS ANGER welled up within me... 

We kept eye contact as I calmly pulled the small torch from my belt. 

And lit the wick. 

Then smiled at that kriffing piece of Bantha waste. 

The haughty expression left his face damned quick...and he turned tail and ran. 

I chucked that Flaming Bottle of Rebellion as hard as I possibly could and ran towards the ship.  The explosion rang out as I reached the Marauder, pushing me backwards onto the gangplank. 

All manner of debris rained down from the sky. 

And... for some STRANGE reason, I reached out to catch one particular piece... 

...just a FEELING...a hunch...some random, strange reflex...no thinking involved whatsoever... 

My arms enclosed around it...as it slammed squarely into my midsection, knocking the wind out of me... 

I gasped for air... 

Barely registering Hunter reaching out and yanking me into the Marauder... 

The flight away from Ord Mantell was ROCKY with extremely heavy space traffic! 

Tech navigated through all manner of passenger and cargo ships around the planet trying to escape being captured by the Empire.  Echo at his side assisting with hyperspace jump codes. 

Just the thing we needed to get away undetected...for now. 

Hunter rubbed my back as I struggled to breathe.  Finally, I got my wind back, then looked down at what hit me in the gut. 

A FULL unopened box of exported Coruscant designer chocolate bars. 

“Huh...sometimes that Force stuff really does work out.”  I muttered.  “OMEGA!” 

She ran over. 

"Here ya go, kiddo.”  Handing her the whole box.  “Btw...thanks for the Spotchka Cocktail.” 

She smiled like a fox in an Endorian henhouse and ran away with the box.  I could hear Wrecker’s excited voice as he helped her open it. 

I gently fell back and relaxed against Hunter’s chest, exhaling away all the stress. 

He put his arms around me, inhaling the scent of my hair. 

“Hey?” 

“Hmmm?”  He hummed into my hair. 

“How did you know EXACTLY where we were?” 

His hand slowly snaked up and tapped the keepsake necklace around my neck. 

“You...have a TRACKER on...ME???”  I glanced over to the necklace around Omega’s neck. 

“Uh huh.” Tracing a heart shape slowly against the skin of my chest. 

He didn’t even have to look up from nuzzling my hair.  Hunter KNEW I understood Omega was also carrying one as well. 

I glanced across the Marauder to Echo. 

“YOU LITTLE MECHANICAL SHIT!” I teased. 

“Of course.  You wouldn’t expect anything less?”  He smirked, then swung his chair around to converse with Tech. 

“So...you put a bell and collar on us BOTH?” I addressed Hunter. 

“For safety reasons only.  Can’t have anything bad happening to our girls.”  He caressed my face.  “Originally it was only for Omega...you know...her wandering off problem.  Just couldn’t cope if we lost you both...” 

I sat up to turn around and face him.  Putting his face in my hands. 

“Hunter, we’re finally free from Cid and Ord Mantell.  But I’m upset it took something like THIS for us to leave.  I’ve been asking for MONTHS!” 

Behind me I could FEEL Echo turning his attention back to us.  FEEL him nodding in agreement with my statement.  Almost FEEL him thinking “We got lucky this time.” 

Hunter’s eyes flicked up to Echo, then back to me. 

“You’re BOTH right.  I’m sorry.  Bad at this civilian business.  I’ll do better in the future...we have one now.” 

“Except for the Empire...” Echo clapped back. 

Hunter’s eyes flicked back up to Echo.  He nodded, slight defeat on his face. 

“HUNTER.”  I implored.  His eyes focused back on me.  “PROMISE me we’ll stay off the radar for a while...and make our OWN way as much as possible.” 

“I promise.” 

“PROMISE that you will LISTEN to me when I give you my input about what I sense and think.  I’m an important part of this squad...oh let’s stop saying that...FAMILY! 

Hunter waited...I felt him SENSING that I wasn’t done speaking.  Was he finally getting his senses back??? 

“AND STOP STONEWALLING ME!  It’s disrespectful.  I’m a grown woman and your partner...hopefully for the long run...but it WON’T be if you don’t respect me and start having the harder conversations.” 

Ouch...I could see that cut deep.  What I said wasn’t hurtful.  Hunter was recognizing his mistake.   He was really listening to my brutal honesty.  

“And...STOP beating yourself up...that’s MY job!” 

He raised an eyebrow. 

I finished...and could FEEL the weight of several pairs of eyes on us.  Everyone else in the ship was watching my and Hunter’s interaction. 

Hunter and I met every pair of eyes in the place.  

“No arguing with her AT ALL!  She’s RIGHT.”  Echo smirked and turned back towards the Marauder's dash.   

"Agreed.”  Tech following suit. 

“Let’s let them work it out, eh?”  Wrecker put his hand on Omega’s shoulder.  

Ever astute, Omega nodded, then took her box of chocolates and went to the gunner’s loft with Wrecker. 

Hunter stared into my eyes with a clarity that I had only witnessed BEFORE our arrival to Ord Mantell “I’ve been neglecting you...and our relationship too.”  He sighed.  “If you would rather go off with Echo and run missions for the resistance, I wouldn't blame you.”  

“It’s true that I may not want to totally settle down on some back-alley planet.  But then, I’m certainly not ready to run off and wage war with a huge oppressive regime just yet, ok?  Maybe something in-between.  I’m not an all or nothing kind of gal.” 

Hunter nodded and glanced briefly at Echo again.  Then back to me. 

“It’s true...I DO love him.”  I revealed. 

Hunter’s face showed a very brief, very hurt micro expression. 

“But It’s true that I love YOU too.  And I love Omega, Wrecker, and Tech... I still love Crosshair...wherever he is.  I love you all so much sometimes it hurts.  Love you all so much, that I can’t leave you even though I could feel the Empire closing in on us...” 

“We don’t leave our own behind...” Hunter whispered. 

“Never.”  I answered.  “Let’s work on being a family that can come together and plan our future...ok?  If you and I DON’T plan our future, we won’t ever have one.  Does that answer your question?” 

“Completely.” Hunter’s voice cracked. 

I put my arms around Hunter and held him close.  

Then we quietly contemplated what the future would hold...and where we would go next. 

Not before catching Echo’s expression and FEELING the words behind it: 

You’re brave...and I’m very PROUD of you! 

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

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[musicalmoritz]

Defending Terukane Like It’s My Job

Don’t yell at me for this but I feel like MOST of the hate I’ve seen towards Terukane is just because they’re both men. I’ve definitely seen people dislike it normally and those people mostly keep to themselves but the people who adamantly hate it with a passion are so weird. It’s a completely normal ship, yes it’s toxic but not enough to warrant the amount of hate some people give it. Every canon TBHK ship has had scenes of physical violence against one another, and the way Teru treats Akane is used as a gag so it’s not meant to be the main takeaway from their dynamic

Their rivalry motivates both characters and is overall shown to be something positive for them. If Akane hated Teru as much as he claims to, they wouldn’t have scenes of lightheartedly teasing each other like friends do. Like it or not their characters are good for each other, if not romantically then as rivals and/or friends

Back to my main point though, it’s perfectly fine to dislike Terukane but the way some fans talk about it sounds so targeted. Someone on Reddit called it the second worst ship next to Tsu//mane like really??? Out of every ship in the series you think it’s that low??? Worse than the other incest ships??? Worse than the minor x adult ships??? Terukane is objectively the worst??? Sure Dave

I think it’s the way the passionate haters always dumb down their dynamic and bring up how people shouldn’t prefer it over the holy straight canon ship. I like Aoi//Aoi nearly as much as Terukane but c’mon guys, one straight ship out of a million isn’t anything groundbreaking. They talk abt it the same way dudebros talk abt Sato//Sugu and idk, I didn’t think the tbhk fandom was like that😔

I see a bit of this aimed at the other gay ships too (even Mitsukou) but for some reason Terukane antis are especially angry. I get it, it’s repetitive seeing ships between two conventionally attractive men become super popular in every fandom. I myself get a little bummed out when my low quality Terukane fics get 3x as many kudos as Aoi//Nene fics I spent months working on. But that’s an issue with fandoms, not gay men, and even so people can read and ship whatever they want. If you want to see more straight fan art and fanfics then make it yourself

I also saw this one person on Pinterest insist that Teru is aroace coded and that Terukane is problematic because of that…babe please read the manga. Teru’s mystery crush has been a consistent thing since the first chapter and AidaIro confirmed he does actually like someone. I’m all for more aroace representation and if you relate to his character, feel free to headcanon him as whatever you want. But don’t push your headcanons onto others, especially not when you have to alter canon to justify them. Teru could absolutely still be aspec in some way but him having a crush on Aoi (or Akane) is a semi-important part of his character

So yeah hate Terukane all you want, headcanon them however you want, but maybe consider where that hate is coming from before you post an angry rant about it online. And maybe read a character analysis or two before giving the worst take I have ever heard in my life. Just a suggestion

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

It’s not every day your childhood friend gets married, but it’s also not every day you get to talk to an actress you’ve adored for a decade. And thus, I found myself, anxiety-riddled, in my car, in the non-distinct parking lot of a brewery in Florida.

Then Rebecca Ferguson lights up my phone screen, radiating that same magnetic energy that first caught my eye in the 2013 miniseries The White Queen. She’s well-spoken, charming, witty, and brimming with passion as she discusses her Apple TV+ dystopian drama, Silo.

In addition to playing the lead role of engineer Juliette Nichols, Ferguson also serves as an executive producer on the series, becoming involved with Silo quite early on and using her position of power to listen, speak up when needed, “and care for the people on set.” The result is a work environment she loves, friendships with her VFX team, and adoration for her cast, including Harriet Walter, David Oyelowo, and Tim Robbins.

As I mentioned, Rebecca Ferguson is a pure delight. I’d happily step out on any family function for a chance to pick her brain, but what she’s far too humble to mention, a fact that is abundantly clear to droves of viewers (and hopefully, awards voters too)—is that a central reason why Silo works so well—— is because Ferguson is pitch-perfect in the role. We become so invested in the many twisted mysteries of Silo because we’ve become invested in her. Ferguson’s Juliette is strong and commanding, a true badass, fighting to uncover the truth. But as we peel back the layers, we see a subtle, heart-breaking vulnerability that adds a layer of complexity that only an actress with Ferguson’s seriously impressive range can deliver.

To echo Ferguson herself, “Please just watch season one.”

Awards Daily: Rebecca, you got involved with Silo early on. How has your input shaped the show and shaped Juliette as a character?

Rebecca Ferguson: It’s a big question with a very non-simple answer. I mean, I think my involvement is by casting the people you cast. You get the characters that you get. Do you know what I mean? You read a script, and you analyze the character, and you talk to [the team].

It’s a tricky, intense question. I mean, things come about by creating, listening, reading, thinking, and researching, right?

AD: Juliette is such an interesting character in that she’s initially very stoic and we peel back the layers of who she is as the show goes on. We learn more about her relationship with George (Ferdinand Kingsley). We learn more about her father (Iain Glen) later on. How did you calibrate your performance, knowing that a lot of the big reveals would happen later in the show?

RF: It’s kind of on the page. It’s like any film or any acting job that you do. We don’t reveal everything straight away, right? When we do a Mission Impossible film, we don’t tell you about the syndicate. It’s what storytelling is all about, right? You do scene by scene.

AD: Did you find that you had to approach Silo any differently?

RF: No, I didn’t. I’m very simple in the sense that I read a script. I like the character, and I start deep diving and do the work that I need to do to bring her forth. There’s nothing different to the process of anything. Everything is different in the sense that it depends on the people you work with. I have four different directors. It’s a little different, but the process for me is the same.

AD: What is your process? Are there certain ways that you like to break down the script?

RF: I mean, no. To be honest, I don’t really talk about my process because it’s my process, but I like the show, I love the scale of the set, I love the team, and I love the fact that I get to sit in on the writer’s rooms if I’m allowed to. I get to be a part of the process. You know, it’s a love journey for me. This is a baby; this job is. It’s one of the happiest jobs that I’ve ever done.

AD: The set is so extraordinary. What is it like to be in that environment, to run through those stairs?

RF: That’s phenomenal. The fact that Apple has actually put so much effort into letting creators create the environment. You know, we have people come for set visits to see it because it’s so incredible. And we have three different locations where we film, in one area, in one town outside of London.

I’m so close to the visual effects guys. They’re very good friends of mine, [VFX supervisors] Paul [Bongiovanni] and Daniel [Rauchwerger], And I often ask them, ‘Okay, I can see the stairs. We’re looking at four turns that I can run, and we run them all the time up and down and up and down, and they’re different levels, right?’

But I often ask, ‘Show me what you’re doing. I want to see the visual effects that you’re going to put on so that I can act against the incredibleness that you’re going to bring.’ Because, to be honest, the silo wouldn’t be [possible] without the VFX team.

AD: Does having this level of access change how you might approach another project?

RF: You know what, that’s such a good question. I think being so much on the front foot. And being the lead and having a producer role. By producer role, I don’t analyze that in the sense that I know what a producer is, and I put a cap on it. I just have a voice, and I speak, and I listen, and I care for the people on set.

It’s a very, very, very good environment on our set. There is no hierarchy. Everyone does what they need to do because they’re hired to do a good job. No one steps in on someone’s toes. It’s collaborative. Not all sets are run like this.

So after Silo, I was worried about doing other films because I was thinking, ‘How am I going to react when sets are moody and when people are not nice, and when there are egos.’ But to be honest, I did Dune. I mean, it was a good place to go. I was like, ‘Oh, I can lean back. We’re good. This is run pretty well.’ And then I did Silo season 2 again, and then I did something else, and now I’m doing a thing [sci-fi drama Mercy] with Chris Pratt, who is one of the nicest human beings, ever.

I’m doing well, and I’m very fortunate with the sets and the environments, but I think I’ve learned—and I’ve learned this from Mission and Tom [Cruise] as well, who speaks up a lot—if things don’t work, communicate it.

Be clear, pause, listen, and take in when people who don’t really have a strong voice are trying to say something, and give them space to actively feel that they are involved in the process as well. That’s how you get the best of everyone.

AD: Did you make any adjustments coming into season two?

RF: No, I think it was all very much the same. Because we’d found a formula that just worked, we had new crew members, which was sad. We’d lost a couple to other shows. But other than that, I think we had about 80 percent of the people back. People were knocking to come back. It’s just a really happy set. And no, nothing’s new. New directors, so taking and listening to their approach and seeing how that works. But they also understand that they’re walking onto a functioning set.

AD: What is it like for you to be at the center of this thing that has become a cultural phenomenon? People are anxious for season two. I mean, it’s exciting, right?

RF: So exciting. Someone asked me, ‘When was the moment when you realized that this was something?’ I didn’t look for that. But it was the moment when Apple called. The show was out, the numbers were coming in, I read a couple of reviews, my husband was probably looking [things] up and kind of going, ‘it’s good. It’s good.’ But I didn’t want to take it in. Apple called, and they said, ‘It’s good. People are liking it.’ And I was like, ‘Okay, the numbers don’t lie. People are actually watching it.’ And the reviews were good, and they were compelled, and they were feeling what I had felt reading it and making it. And that is huge for me because I really care. I really fucking care.

AD: Okay, last question, if you could pick any role or position within the silo, what would you be? You’re so regal. You’d make a good mayor.

RF: Yeah, but I’m also Juliette, who’s not regal, right?

AD: Well, if you weren’t Juliette.

RF: I think that it would be really boring up top, to be honest. I think the regulations are dull, right? I think I would either be middle. I like farms and greenery. I need all of that. I’d probably run my own little shop of something, little knickknacks, paddywhacks. But I would have a foot down in the deep.

AD: Rebecca, I know this show means a lot to you. As I let you go, is there anything I haven’t asked you about that you’d like to mention? Do you have any final thoughts?

RF: Thank you. I mean, no, I think you’ve really nailed most of it. And I think the fact is people know the show is dystopian. And if you like the genre, I believe you would really love the characters around it. It has the most incredible cast, and it has a cast that has really nurtured their characters and the evolution of the characters. The fact that we’re going into season two is so overwhelmingly exciting. It makes me want to grab people and go, ‘Please just watch season one and know that we’re going into shit that is intense.’

[vrisrezis]

hello (i have read you're taking requests at the moment. it's okay if you can't do this but if you can i will be so so so grateful ) could you please write satoru x reader who has kind of a stronger, more introverted personality (a bit of a tsundere) so people normally deem them as intimidating, emotionless and hard to approach but satoru is falling so hard for them? like they've been close because he's been one to genuinely care and get to know them for who they are and that's why he's so protective and whipped. he's the only one who the reader lets baby them around and vice-versa, because they both know how hard it is to keep the "strongest" facade while being so soft and love starved inside. thank you if you do this really it means a lot!

SO CUTE. love satoru x tsun! Readers opposites attract okay….

- satoru is not one to be intimidated by anyone, so you don’t scare him like everyone else. He probably finds you personally fun to tease as you get annoyed easily!

- also, it’s just nice to see you show emotions since everyone thinks youre so emotionless and he likes to know he has an effect on you!

- but eventually aside from the teasing he tries to genuinely be your friend, which he doesn’t do with many people (the only true friends he feels he has being shoko, nanami, geto, and haibara. Secretly utahime too but.)

- this mainly comes from a place of finding you fun to be around despite your personality, (you’re fun to be around cuz it’s fun to tease you) but also he does genuinely find you interesting and wants to learn more about you

- a friendship would be formed of course, and slowly he’d get to see every bit and piece of you and falls for you in the process :)

- he’d be aware of it too, and kinda just accepts that as his life

- he would really value your friendship a lot though, due to how he can’t really be this vulnerable around anyone else, except maybe geto but it’s not the same.

- the closeness he feels with you is really special to him, so he wouldn’t tell you how he felt for a long time as he valued what you two have together

- regardless, satoru is very sweet to you! Aside from all the teasing cuz he does love to do that a lot

- but he actually goes out his way to buy you things! claims it’s cuz you’re such close buds, but you see a chibi geto laughing in the corner for some reason

- he likes buying you sweets :) he knows despite that rough exterior deep down you’re a softie just like him who loves to munch on some gummy bears

- also he isn’t subtle btw

- like he thinks he is but he isn’t

- bro straight up watching a movie on the couch and then be like “oh man! It’s so cold in here! Can I cuddle up to you?” and it’s like 90 degrees outside

- satoru typically isn’t all that protective of people he likes, cuz I genuinely can’t imagine him with somebody he would view as weak (I also think even if he did it’d be very unhealthy and savior complex-y)

- he doesn’t doubt you can handle yourself, but he doesn’t like to stand back and watch people judge you and assume you’re some robot, incapable of feeling. Incapable of being sad or incapable of being exhausted from a long day. You’re a human being, and he will not hesitate to remind people of that, if you won’t.

- and vice versa cuz even satoru forgets he’s a human being that’s allowed to rest

- satoru will ask for some of your praise cuz it’s his favorite but you almost never deliver. The few times you do he’s blushing and also never shutting up about it. Two years later and he will still talk about the time you said he did a good job baking those chocolate chip cookies.

- satoru feels like he can tell you anything, his worst mistakes, his fears, his guilt. And he’s happy you feel the same way. That you can let down your walls too.

- your relationship is interesting because of how similar and different you both are, you both build up walls and hide but in a completely different manner. You act mean and tough all the time, while gojo acts happy and silly all the time. You both have a hard time being vulnerable and letting people in, and you both know what it’s like to be the strongest and have people assume nothing bad could happen to either of you because of the strength you both constantly show to the world. But you both have such big and soft hearts that you’re both terrified to share. And yet, because of that understanding, you both find solace in one another and let eachother in as if neither of you cared about letting people in, in the first place.

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 3

Ok so I decided to cut down the next chapter so I could get something out before I take a small break, but the next one is over hlaf-way done so it'll be out soon. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 5942

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Mentions of murder. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 >

PART 1: Chapter 3

I'd rather be unemployed.

Fimble-Famble (Definition): A really lame excuse for not wanting to do something. (Noun)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Monday, 9th December, 1929.

“And he told me that we needed the money so I had to take it!” you cried as you slumped in the armchair.

Agnes gave you a look over the top of her glasses, the book she was reading now long forgotten since you stormed in that evening practically red in the face as you ranted to her about the whole radio fiasco. Knowing your tirade wasn’t over, she placed a bookmark between the pages and snapped the book shut, reaching over the arm to place it on the side table with a sigh.

“Well he is your boss.” She explained calmly, and you slumped down further, edging your sock-clad feet towards the fire. “If he believes you can do it, then I don’t see any reason as to why you can’t. Besides,” she gestured to the bag of books by your feet. “Those books he gave you are about radios for beginners – having that knowledge could open up further job opportunities for you.”

All you did was stare at the bag with a frown, before you kicked it over with a whiny grunt. Agnes sighed again.

“You’re going to get rude customers wherever you go, so when you’re the one representing the business, you be the better person and take the challenge calmly.” She pressed, peering over at you with a stern expression.

Silence.

She squinted slightly. “You.. did take it calmly, didn’t you?”

When you continued to narrow your eyes at the ground, she sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Christ, no wonder the twins grew up to be as crazy as they are.” She muttered. “Look, if Mr LeBlanc has asked you to take on this repair, and allowed you to take the pay for the extra labour hours, then I see no reason for you to refuse this man’s request – at least, not without cause.”

You sat up straight, prodding the cushioned arm with your finger. “Oh, I have cause. It is because I hate him!” You exclaimed.

Your aunt tilted her head, regarding you with a tired look. “My lovely, you’ve only had one conversation with him over the phone.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “Two, if you count the letters.” You growled. “Besides, I think Ralph only told me to take the job ‘cause he knew the guy.” Agnes raised a brow. “I said it was a Mr A. Boudreaux, and he almost choked to death from coughing his lungs out. I told him he was rude to me but he just kept saying that I had to.”

“Did he say please?” she asked, a small knowing smile on her face.

“…Yes.”

“There you go.” Agnes concluded, reaching over to give your knee a few rough but assuring pats. “I don’t know who this Mr Boudreaux is, but if Ralph wants it done, then you can at least try. Besides, I’m off work until next Monday, so I’ll be home for a whole week to give you a hand if you need one – I know how those equations and diagrams make your head go all fuzzy.”

You sighed dejectedly, then gave your aunt a small smile. “Thank you. If anything, I’m doing it for this guy’s mum, not him.”

“Awww, at least he’s sweet to his mother.” She smiled, before turning towards the door and raising her voice slightly. “I do hope I get that treatment when I’m older!”

All she got was a loud farting noise echoing through from the other room.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Friday, 13th December, 1929.

The patio double doors hung wide open as you laid your head on the kitchen table, staring at the technicolour marbling of the setting sun. Tools, wires and random pieces of springs laid scattered on the wooden surface around you, along with several books opened to pages of diagrams you had spent the last week trying to understand but to no avail. You had sent a letter on the Tuesday, informing Mr Boudreaux that your boss had decided that the radio would be taken on.

You refused to call him again, lest you face the humiliation of that faceless smug bastard as he found out that your boss had sent you back with your tail between your legs to tell him that you were in the wrong – something you adamantly avoided stating in your letter, instead half-hinting that Ralph had miraculously recovered overnight (he hadn’t), and took the project on personally (he didn’t do that either).

It also seemed that the good luck spell you and your aunt had performed that Monday evening worked - after you had collapsed on your imaginary chaise-longue and wailed to her about the dilemmas of the day, she had dragged you to her room, going on about how you hadn’t been keeping up with your practice for the last seven months. She made you bring your grimoire from your room, and you both spent around an hour resetting and cleansing energies, also setting up a small bowl of different herbs and trinkets that symbolised good luck, making you put it on your bedside table along with a new incense burner she had bought you. Honestly, if your aunt wasn’t around, you probably would’ve spontaneously combusted by Wednesday.

Agnes had also sat with you every evening, reading through the radio books, and slowly helping you work things out when the words started to blend together and you found yourself trying to read a paragraph as much as you could, but to no avail.

It was times like this when you wish you were back home, when everything was normal. When people weren’t giving lingering looks to your aunt as she traipsed about the village like every other innocent woman. When your uncle was telling you about his family and his way of living in Japan to his sons, and to you whenever you had the time to stop by. When you were treated as a well-respected, intelligent woman, who was freshly graduated from university at the top of her class. Not whatever those men had said to you when they came to your door after the local doctor had practically snitched on you. If only that dinner hadn’t happened. If only your aunt’s maid hadn’t gone snooping where she shouldn’t. Within a year everyone had been torn from each other.

But there wasn’t much time for mourning. You had less than two weeks to get this radio looking like it did when it was fresh off the shelf, otherwise you risk disappointing your boss for the first time ever, which would have you unconsciously doubting yourself for the rest of eternity.

Your head still on the table, you pinched a spring coil between your fingers, holding it up against the orange-purple sky as you glared at its silhouette. Rustling came from beside you as your aunt flipped the pages of the books, eyes flitting between them and the notes she was taking in her notebook.

You felt her glance at you a couple times, until there was a sound as she shifted, then silence. Feeling a finger tap your shoulder lightly, you slowly sat up to face her. She was facing you, an uneasy look in her eye as she took her time coming up with what to say.

“So..” she began hesitantly. “I understand your busy right now working full time at the shop, but since we got the news yesterday that Ralph was getting better, I was going to ask you,” she waved her hand about in thought. “If you’re going back to working only two days, would you consider looking for another job?”

You sat up straight, confusion clouding your face. “You want me to quit on Mr LeBlanc?”

“NO, no no!” she cried, waving her hands to dismiss the obvious miscommunication as she laughed nervously. “I meant look for a second job? I felt awful even thinking about asking you, but with the free time you’ll have, I just think it would make surviving this crash easier if we both had a steady wage coming in? I mean, as steady a wage that two women during this time an get.” She looked at her hands as she twisted them, hesitance and guilt written all over her face. “I want the boys to have a completed education, and it’ll crush me if I force myself to take that away from them.” She turned to you, trying her best to hide the tears threatening to build up. “I know you’re only here temporarily, and I’m not going to make you do anything you’re not comfortable doing, but –” she took a shaky breath. “as humiliating as it is, I need your help.”

Moments passed as you stared at the woman before you. The woman who used to be so full of life and love when she was surrounded by family – who loved the village she grew up in and the city she moved to – who loved the husband she fought tooth and nail to marry – now sat in a house in an unknown city she never asked to be in, a country she never asked to move to. Torn from her sister to an unknown place on the other side of the planet. All because her stupid maid couldn’t keep her stupid mouth shut.

Reaching your arm out, you grasped her hand with your own, waiting until she looked up at you, dark eyebags you never thought you’d see underlining her eyes like a curse. You knew she wasn’t sleeping enough.

“I’ll start looking tomorrow.” You stated quietly but firmly, squeezing her hand affirmingly.

Her eyes glistened as they widened, regarding you with a desperate hope, until she let out a loud sniffle and dropped her head onto your shoulder, trying her best to conceal her own shoulders as they jerked up and down slightly with her light sobs. Resting your head on top of hers, you both sat there in silence as you listened to the clock tick along with your aunt’s quiet sniffs as she attempted to calm herself.

“There’s an assistant’s job going down near the French Quarter.” She muttered. “I know the guy who runs the place and he said he would be happy to interview you?”

You perked up at her suggestion. “Ok, what kind of company is it?” Your aunt remained silent for a moment. “Agnes?”

“It’s a, uhhh… radio station.”

Jerking your head off hers, she quickly sat up as you gave her a deadpan expression.

“C’mon,” she pushed with a watery giggle. “I said you we’re learning how radios work for a repair, and he seemed excited that you would have some knowledge before you applied.”

“Unwanted knowledge.” You pressed. “He’s gonna have to offer a decent salary if he wants me to be within a ten mile radius of a radio ever again.”

Your aunt gave a throaty laugh in response. “Oh, don’t worry, I made sure of that before asking you. I can give him a call if you’re willing to interview?”

Making sure to let out a very long and tired sigh, you looked at you aunt’s pleading face, before slowly nodding. Letting out a cry of relief, she clapped her hands, then grabbed your face as she squished your cheeks, moving your head from side to side as she let out a string of ‘thank yous!’.

Eventually after her tirade of affection, she got up, flipping her twin plaits over her shoulders as she approached the sink, rinsing both of your mugs to make the fifth cup of tea that evening. You went to reach across the table for a book when your ears perked up at the sound of a small ‘psst’ from your right side.

Glancing over, your eyes landed on the archway that led into the hallway, and you were able to see all the way down to the front door from where you were sat, though half of your view was blocked by the underside of the stairs. Peering down the long hall, you leant back in your seat until a dark mop of hair peeked around the staircase banister.

Quickly flicking your eyes to Agnes, you made sure she was still facing the sink when you turned back to make eye contact with Ollie, who was precariously perched on the bottom step as he manoeuvred his upper body to curve around the wooden post to face you. Another mop of lighter hair joined him, as Allie stuck his head between the ceiling and the railing from where he was further up the stairs. Reaching one arm round and the other through the banister posts, Ollie began waving and pointing his fingers about, signing the most ridiculous gestures as he tried to convey a message.

‘What??’ you mouthed silently, frowning as you shook your head slightly in confusion.

At this, your cousin tried again, jabbing his fingers about a bit harder as he repeated the message.

You stared, eyes darting to the side then back again, and you simply shrugged. At this point Allie had thrown a dirty sock at his brother, and you barely heard him hiss at Ollie to make it simpler.

Rolling his eyes, Ollie shifted until he was fully facing you. With frustrated, wide eyes, he pointed at you. You nodded. Then pointed upstairs. You nodded again. Then jabbed his thumbs at his chest as he mouthed ‘my room’, then held his hand up with all of his fingers splayed out, ‘five minutes’ he said silently. Nodding once more, you watched as your cousin froze at the clatter of mugs as your aunt moved about, before quickly darting back round the banister, crawling on all fours as he soundlessly disappeared back up the staircase like some shadow creature along with his brother.

Sighing with a roll of your eyes, you returned back to the mess in front of you, thanking your aunt as she placed a fresh steaming mug of tea down. Picking it up, you bathed in the hot vapours rising from it before sticking your tongue out slightly to test the temperature. Quiet slurping sounded from beside you as your aunt returned to her seat, sipping from her own mug. Glancing at you, she placed it down to pick up a book.

“So,” she said as she casually turned a page. “What did the boys want?”

You took a large sip.

“No idea.”

--

Five minutes later, you took it as a well-earned break, trudging upstairs to see what the twins wanted to yap at you about.

“What’re you two up to now?” You sighed as you pushed open the door that had the sign saying ‘Ollie’s Room’ nailed to it. You looked up, only to stop in your tracks as your eyes landed on the two hunched over a very large corkboard, though, the cork was hardly visible with all the random pieces of paper, newspaper clippings and string pinned to it.

“Whaaaat is that?” You said slowly, brows furrowing as you stared at the board with wide eyes.

Ollie practically crawled his way over to the door, hands on the floor as he lifted a leg like a dog taking a piss, to kick it closed before scurrying back to his twin’s side, who was busy looping glittery wool string around another pin.

“A corkboard.” Allie simply said, not even bothering to look your way.

“I can see that.” You deadpanned, making your way over. “I’m asking what is on it. And specifically HOW you got pictures of dead bodies.” You pointed out, stepping closer to see the black and white photographs of body parts and corpses that you knew definitely shouldn’t be in the hands of your underage cousins. (Though they were 17 now, and clearly the closer they got to adulthood, the more excuses they had to do crap they weren’t allowed to.)

Allie snipped the end of the string, his voice lowering as he regarded you with a dark look. “If we told you, we’d have to kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first.” You hissed, raising a leg to kick him. “Explain.”

“Okayyyyy fine!” he whined, shuffling out of the way to avoid your attack with a pout. “The son of the Sheriff is in our class, and we pay him to enlarge photos from the crime scenes that are suspected to be the Bayou Butcher.”

Your mouth flung open. “You WHAT?!?!” You yelled.

Ollie swiftly raised his hand to cover your mouth. “Shush, if mum hears you, we’re all dead!”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Reaching your hand up, you slapped his away. “We’re all dead regardless!!” You hissed. “Has the thought crossed either of your microscopic brains that what you’ve done is, like – I don’t know – super illegal??”

“It’s fine.” Allie shrugged. “If we guess that someone is onto us, we burn the evidence.”

Your looked between the two of them with wide eyes. “What if mum finds it when you’re both at school? What then??”

Allie sighed. “She won’t find it. Promise.” He stretched his arm up to the top of the board, flipping it over to show another side with random drawings and knick-knacks pinned to it. “We just flip it over and stick it in the wardrobe.”

“What, and pray she doesn’t get the urge to do her usual chores and find it as she’s hanging up your washing??” You contradicted.

“Yea pretty much.” Ollie replied.

You glanced between them worriedly, shaking your head. “You two are treading on thin ice here.”

“Yea yea but we didn’t bring you here to moan about everything.” Interrupted Ollie. “What we were trying to say before you rudely changed the subject was that this was our theory board.”

“Your illegal theory board.” You poked, crossing your arms.

Allie simply frowned up at you from where he was knelt on the floor, and you sighed.

“Fine. I’m guessing it’s about the Bayou Butcher?” You asked, before scrunching your face. “Why am I even asking? Of course it is.”

“Yep.” Ollie replied, his demeanour now more excitable. “Every grisly murder that matches his M.O. – well – our idea of his M.O. Along with every newspaper article about him, and maps of places the bodies have been found.” He explained, pointing each thing out. “We’re currently trying to figure out a potential pattern, but to no avail at this point.” He turned to you with a determined look in his eye – something you should be seeing on an actual detective, NOT your dingbat of a cousin. “But we will. At some point.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “Ok, so, why am I here?”

They both looked at each other, before facing back to you.

“To help us.”

“Absolutely not.”

Allie pouted. “Aww c’mon! We thought you liked this sort of stuff?” he whined, gesturing at you.

“Yea, from an outsider’s perspective! Not when there’s a potential for the police to come after me! Hell, this Butcher guy could find out you’re onto him and come after you himself!”

They rolled their eyes. “Ok, mum. No need to get your knickers in a twist.” Jived Allie. “We can guarantee you, no-one’s gonna find out.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How, then?”

“By not being stupid?” Ollie said as if it was the most obvious thing.

You sighed, thinking to yourself for a moment. “…Fine.” You held a finger up when their faces brightened. “But if anything gets dangerous, I’m burning it all myself.”

They both nodded excitedly, beckoning you over as they began to explain everything.

You knew at some point they would both be the death of you.

--

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Monday, 16th December, 1929.

The sun was still yet to melt the snow when you walked into town with your aunt that morning, arms linked as to not slip on the compacted ice as you both tried to step onto the trams that were miraculously still running. Your arms remained linked as both made your way to a wide, busy street just off the outskirts of the French Quarter, about a twenty minute walk from where the antique shop was.

Mr LeBlanc has graciously given you the day off, as a thank you for running the shop. His cough had receded, and was determined to return to work. Though his wife insisted on joining him in the shop for a couple days to keep an eye on his health, despite his grumbling.

“I can assure you Mr Durham is lovely.” Agnes said with unwavering confidence as she patted your arm with a knitted glove. “The interview should be over in fifteen minutes or so – you’ll be in-and-out before you even realise it, so there’s no need to worry.”

You gave her a shaky smile. “Hopefully. Though I haven’t been in any interviews to know if it’ll go well.”

“It will.” She stated firmly. “Now, do you remember what we went over when answering interview questions?” You nodded, and she slowed you both to a stop. “Brilliant. We’re here.” She gestured up to a relatively tall building, the brickwork looming over you as the wall above the doors displayed the words ‘W.A.D RADIO’ in bright, white paint.

Peering up at the five-storey building, you felt nerves creep up your spine as you began to sweat slightly.

“Oi, look at me.” Muttered Agnes, reaching out to gently take your shoulders as she turned you to her. “No matter what happens in there, it’s not the end of the world, I can promise you that.” She assured. Glancing her eyes across your face, she reached up to straighten the simple blue cloche hat she had let you borrow. “There should be a receptionist at the front desk, just go in and tell her your name and that you’re here for an interview with Mr Durham, ok? I’ll be waiting out here for you.”

The air in your throat stuttered as you took a deep breath, your nervousness a stark contrast to the anger-fuelled confidence you had when answering that phoner. Nodding silently, you returned your Aunt’s smile before stepping away and pushing the door open, hoping the ‘Good Luck!’ she had whispered to you would give some assist.

--

You could sense the receptionist staring at you as you sat staring blankly at the tiles on the floor ahead. Picking the non-existent dirt from under your nails, you felt the sickening nerves in your stomach ease slightly when you had sat on the worn, leather-clad bench, the conversation with the woman at the desk having gone as smoothly as you could make it, luckily without your mind going blank or stuttering on any words.

“Where did’ya say you were from again?” You heard, and you raised your head to see the receptionist leaning on her elbows on the desk, chewing on a pencil as she looked you up and down. “You’re English, but’cha don’t sound quite like those gents on the radio?” she questioned, her slightly nasally voice cutting through the air as she bore you down with her gaze.

You blinked. “…I’m from the North-East.”

She furrowed her brows, the wood of the pencil clacking on her teeth. “North-East a’what?”

“Of England? You know there’s over forty different accents used in the UK, right?.” You explained.

She looked you up and down once again. “Huh.” Was all she said, before she shrugged her shoulders, turning back to the paperwork she was pointedly ignoring, and you returned to fiddling with your hands, now choosing to pick at any loose lint on the hat laid on your lap.

About five minutes later, the sound of shoes clicking against tile tapped against your ears, and you looked up to see a man donned in business attire round the corner. He was rather tall and large, but in a soft muscular kind of way. His murky brown waves fell loosely over his forehead, peppered with streaks of grey along with his thick beard, and he still retained the tan from the summer, but his pale shade of skin was starting to show through again, softening the piercing blue of his eyes.

Speaking of eyes, it didn’t take him a second to scan the room before they landed on you, the cerulean if his iris’ turning an almost baby blue under the lights as they brightened at the sight of you.

“Ah! There you are!” He exclaimed, arms spreading wide to welcome you. “I was wondering when your aunt would drop you off!” His white teeth glistened as he gave a handsome, warm smile. Approaching where you sat, you quickly stood to take his large, outstretched hand, the warmth from him enveloping your snow-frozen skin. “I’m Mr Durham, co-owner of Watson & Durham Radio.”

You could see why your aunt let him take her out for dinner.

--

“– and you’ll be here Wednesday to Friday, from what your aunt said on the phone.” Mr Durham rambled on. You had been interviewed in his office on the third floor, but he had insisted on taking you on a tour around the expansive building. At first, he showed you your potential desk, positioned just outside his office, facing the rows of other desks that spanned the large room ahead.

Now you were taking the stairs to the fifth floor – ‘where the magic happened’ – according to the spritely man.

“These are the radio booths – each host gets their own.” Mr Durham explained, gesturing down the wide corridor.

Strangely, his pace seemed to quicken as he led you past the windows, but you tried your best to peer into each one. Some were dark, as no-one was in. Others were presenting, the ‘ON AIR’ sign above their door glowing bright, the rest were either chatting amongst each other, or alone in their booths, scribbling down in notebooks or on sheets of paper.

“– David, Jeff, Al, Brian, and Ol’ Timmy are all here – ‘cept the rest who have the day off.” Mr Durham listed off, pointing out each man as he rushed you by. “Though-” he lowered his voice a little. “- if you take the job, it’s best we keep you on the third floor.” You furrowed your brows at his odd comment, to which he spotted, quickly giving an explanation. “The boys can be a bit of a distraction you see. Being on the radio means you have to be charismatic, and I want you to settle in comfortably before I introduce you. A few can be quite… nosey. And overwhelming – some more than others.” He muttered, glancing into one of the booths near the end, and you looked over to see the back of a man’s head, his hair styled neatly from what you could see, and you watched as he gently tapped his foot to whatever was playing through his headset whilst he jotted away in the notebook on his desk.

As Mr Durham’s large shadow cast across him, he began to turn his head, and you managed to catch a glimpse of a pair of thin glasses before you walked out of sight of the window.

Thinking nothing of it, you followed the boss round the corner at the end of the hallway, and he continued to tour you around the building, pointing out the odd thing or person here and there.

--

The chill of the winter air hit your face once again as you pushed the front door open, and you scanned the street for your aunt. Glancing to the spot where she left you, a frown crossed your face as you found it empty, but barely a moment passed until your name was called out, and you looked up across the street to see your aunt stood outside the door of a café, waving for you to come over.

Cursing out America for having their jaywalking laws, you quickly searched for a crossing, speed-walking as fast as you could over the road despite the slippery snow as you jogged up to your aunt.

“So? How did it go?” she breathed excitedly as she led you inside to a small table, where there was already a steaming cup of tea waiting for you.

Grasping the warm beverage in your hands, you relayed the events of the last half hour to the woman bouncing in her seat across from you.

“Ok, but, were you happy with what you saw?” Agnes asked once you had finished.

You nodded. “Yea, pretty much.” You answered. “That Durham guy was already talking about me settling in before he offered me the job.”

Her back straightened. “He did?? Did you accept?” She gasped.

Looking at her over the top of your cup, you felt a smile grow on your face. “Mhm, I start Wednesday.”

Your aunt threw her hands in the air. “Oh thank god!” Her eyes darted about in frantic thought. “Oh! We’ve got to go shopping for some proper work clothes for you! Mr Durham is quite flexible with workwear but we’ll still go.” She rambled, pulling a piece of paper and a pen out her purse to start jotting things down, mumbling under her breath. “There’s a shop down the main street, and you’ll be needing some smarter trousers –”

“Speaking of Mr Durham,” you interrupted with a small smirk, watching Agnes accidentally jerk her pen across the paper as her wide eyes looked up at you. “He seems oddly fond of you. He asked me how the twins were getting on at school before he asked for anything about me.”

She froze, and you raised a brow.

“It’s also not like you to let some guy take you out. For dinner.” You added.

She glanced away, then back at you, slowly placing her pen down as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“It’s not like that –”

“Sure it’s not.”

She sighed your name in exasperation. “We’re both regulars at this café, and we met back in January and have been friends since. Happy?” She explained rather curtly.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Do the twins know about him? You know how protective they are over you since their dad passed.” You questioned gently.

Agnes closed her eyes, raising her hand to rub at her forehead. “They know, but they haven’t met him yet. Even if it does end up being ‘like that’, it’s been almost a decade since we lost Hiro, and it gets hard trying to raise two very energetic boys and keep a steady roof over their heads.” She stared into her drink with a faraway look as she recalled her late husband. “This world wasn’t built for women to be alone, and as infuriating as that sounds, I’ve been backed into a corner so many times that I only see someone like him as my one ticket out.”

Silence stretched between the two of you, as you let the words your aunt spoke about your uncle sink in. She hardly ever spoke of Hiro, so mentioning him now meant how serious she was.

“Alright.” You said softly, and her head raised to look at you. “I know I have no place telling who you can and can’t talk to, but please make sure both the twins and you are happy and safe. The last thing I want is a repeat of these last two years.”

A dark shadow crossed her face. “Oh believe me, it won’t.” she assured in a low tone. “If I knew the police weren’t going to show, I would have strangled Beatrice before she stepped a foot out the house.”

Nodding, you sighed, finally relaxing back in your seat as a natural silence fell over the two of you. Bringing the tea to your lips, you bathed in the fumes, watching passersby as they fought against the onslaught of the oncoming blizzard, and pondered about the possibilities of your first day at the radio company that sat on the opposite side of the street. Eyes unfocused, you stared blankly at the double doors that led into the towering brick building, thinking about when spring would come round and you could start to wear your summer dresses, but you focused back in when the double doors opened, and you watched as a man stepped out.

You couldn’t see his face, as it was lowered against the wind, but you recognised the mop of neatly styled, dark, brown hair that you had spotted earlier, but that was quickly hidden by the fedora he placed on his head, and your eyes caught the light of his round glasses, as they glinted in the dying light of the cloud-smothered sun, before he turned his shiny heel and strode down the street, seemingly not at all worried about slipping on patches of icy, packed snow.

What caught your eye the most, though, was how insanely tall this man was, and you figured – even at your tall height – that the top of your head would barely reach his nose, even on your tiptoes.

(Though, there was always the option to jump up and collide your forehead with his – if the need arises, of course.)

Unfortunately for you, however, this lanky ladder of a man was crossing the street.

Right towards the café.

Right towards you.

And you were basically turned in your seat to stare the demons out of this guy.

The brim of his hat began to raise, and you practically spun on the spot, the tea in your mug sloshing about, and you came face to face with your aunt, who had clearly seen the one-sided staring match you had had with the stranger.

Feeling the eyes of the man boring into the side of your temple, as you assumed he had seen you move at the speed of light to avoid looking at him, you smiled sheepishly at Agnes, who was not-so-subtly darting her eyes between the two of you.

A few seconds ticked on by at the speed of a snail, and it wasn’t until you aunt muttered a ‘He’s gone’, that you felt yourself deflate in relief, slumping in your chair as you gingerly put the mug in your hands back down on the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the back of the man’s trench coat as he carried on down the street out of sight, and you faced the woman in front of you.

“Sooo,” she began as she tried to hide the growing smile on her face. “Who’s that?”

“No clue.” You stated bluntly, eager to move the conversation along, lest your aunt turned into one of the women in your village, who would talk non-stop about their sons and grandsons when they found out you weren’t being courted. Or they would pester your mother about it. Either way, getting married was definitely not on your bucket list – and you wouldn’t be surprised if that lasted your whole life – you were quite satisfied with the thought of surrounding yourself with cats instead.

“Oh nuh-uh.” Agnes deadpanned, wagging a finger. “You don’t get to prod at me about men and not let me retaliate. Besides, Mr ‘No-Clue’ seemed an awfully pretty lad~”

You huffed. “Well I wouldn’t know, I’ve only clearly seen the back of his head, and according to Mr Durham,” you explained, lifting your hands to count on your fingers. “His name could be either David, Jeff, Al, Brian, or Ol’ Timmy.”

She raised a brow at you. “He looked like a David. Either way.” She smirked. “Your mum wouldn’t mind having someone like him as her son-in-law.”

You pouted. “Agnes, please.”

All your aunt did was laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gonne be uploading some art of MC soon >:))))

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, see you soon for Chapter 4!!

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[mazzystar24]

OMG i still feel like I'm in a fever dream. I keep refreshing tumblr just to make sure that it HAPPENED.

We've been waiting for this for so long, i can't believe that they made Buck Bi!! Also here is the thing i want Buddie to happen and I am a hundred percent sure that it's happening (i don't know why people are thinking that it's not like???) the way i could see this going down is buck and tommy exploring their relationship and Buck beginning to question more and more things such as his relationship with Eddie. I WANT and him and Tommy to be in a relationship for a while (because they're actually pretty cute) and eddie pining. tommy will be the catalyst for Buddie.

Also: Oliver stark literally said, Buck has a crush, gets the person (exactly what happened with tommy) and that he has to work for his relationship to work and ryan saying "closer than ever??"

I also hate the fact that so people are mad and hating on the actors , that it wasn't with Eddie. Like of course a Buddie conformation would've been great, but we all knew that that wasn't gonna happen in this episode? We got FUCKING BI BUCK !!! Let's just celebrate this and just watch this beautiful story unfold. I really love reading your prediction and your positivity, please continue with that !!!

What do you think is going to happen in the next episodes? Sorry for the long ask!!

Sameee like I keep trying to be normal then I REMEMBER I’m like wow I didnt hallucinate that??

Exactly like they flat out called Tommy a plot device, confirmed he’s here for a little bit and that it’s a fling, so enjoy it as much as you want to while it’s here but don’t lose hope for buddie people? like legit this is the biggest confirmation buddie is on the horizon

YES THE INTERVIEWS HAVE BEEN REALLY FEEDING INTO MY DELUSION

Like let’s not forget Ryan saying they’re trying to give the people what they want🫡and that they are closer than ever - like legit he has no reason to say this in the same season buck realises he’s bi unless something BIG is gonna happen for buddie (maybe not full canon but vibes???)

Anyone hating on the actors can legit fight me.

Oliver and Ryan have been such troopers for the fandom and Oliver now with this storyline you can tell how much he genuinely loves buck and like understands him as a character but also how to give this storyline what it deserves. Like Oliver has been endlessly respectful to the fandom too like he’s been making sure that he doesn’t get peoples hopes up while also trying to play buck in a way that is true to the character. Like did you guys see his message to the fans? Or his interview talking about how he was gonna actively play buck as bi this season as much as he can even before he got told abt the kiss. Like that man hasnt just been supportive of the fandom he’s been an advocate for us and for buck which is such a wonderful thing.

Also yeah it wasn’t Eddie but do people realise that it’s VERY hard to write an up to now presumed straight character’s self discovery in their 30s LET ALONE TWO?? Like Tim found the easiest way to set the scene for the new audience and the GA who won’t have picked up on early seasons undertone and the little things planted throughout and while I would’ve loved buddie without the middleman I completely understand why they did it this way and I’ll enjoy seeing it unfold

And YES EXACTLY BI BUCK like that alone is a MASSIVE win like we are getting such rare bi rep of not only a guy in a very “macho” job and a womaniser type character BUT ALSO a person figuring stuff out in their 30s not in a repressed full of sex shame and guilt way but in a they genuinely just never explored that side of them!! Like that’s so huge we can talk for hours about how many queer rep stories are just plain depressing but this one is so authentic while also being quite light and sweet

Also aww thanks I genuinely love these asks sm (me? In love with everyone who sends me an ask? More likely than you think🤭🤭🤭)

Also omg I’m sorry this is so long like I spent most of this talking about everything except your question😭😭

Okay so predictions:

So we know that Buck is gonna tell some people and some will be surprised some not so much and some will be like it’s about damn time, my bets are:

chimney- surprised but maybe not through insider info (Maddie)

Maddie- KNOWS HAS KNOWN but the only shocker for her is that it wasn’t Eddie like I can imagine the confused and so tired face rn, I think she probs has either thought he knew or knew he didn’t and just was giving him the time and dropping as many hints as she can in the meanwhile

Bobby- supportive father icon, KNOWS (and while he also I fully believe is the buddie captain as well he will play it a little closer to vest if you get what I mean- but inside he’s going insane and his eye is twitching because he poached Eddie for his dumb bi son only for them to ACT married for six seasons and go to him for dating advice abt other people constantly and now that his son is a man kisser it’s not the man Bobby was hoping for😔 pray for him y’all)

Hen- she’s the it’s about damn time response

Athena- also might be the it’s about damn time response

Ravi- in a permanent state of confusion- not about this he’s just confused always (also still fully convinced the poor guy thought buddie had been married cos that headcanon is endlessly amusing to me)

Now for actual plot I think that like the date is low-key a train wreck after the Eddie and Marisol interruption and that either we get a chenford-like double date or we just have a brief intereuption from Eddie and that’s a minor thing and like it’s buck admitting it’s his first date with a guy who hates throws a lot of questions in the air because Tommys reaction was a bit 👀 like I think it’s more or less confirmed that Tommy was repressed for a while when working with captain dickhead so maybe he’s like gonna be taking a step back cos he thinks buck needs more time to like explore this part of himself (but I hate that trope so hoping not) or maybe we get the buddie shipper daydream and Tommy is like more aware of buddie than buddie are and he either says that to buck as the reasoning but buck doesn’t tell Eddie that OR he says something cryptic about it to buck and buck doesn’t fully understand and he’s like you will eventually👀👀👀 (I need a lobotomy yes the delusions are a part of me now)

I hope that Marisol gets the fuck out right about now but I say that every episode 🫡 (edy’s face and voice make me wanna scream I hate her homophobic, transphobic ass sm)

Anyways I’m gonna shut up now bye love ya thank ya and sorry 🫡🫡