#guess whos back into sobriety | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

matts-k1tten · 29 days

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𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

summary: y/n and chris have been dating for about 3 months. but one day y/n finds out that chris has apparently been cheating on her when an anonymous number suddenly sends her pictures of chris and other girls and text messages between him and other girls. y/n believes it and doesn’t hesitate to end it with chris without giving him an explanation. but what happens when chris shows up at her front door?

containing: angst, smoking, swearing, mentions of cheating. yeahhh this might not be good but at least i tried!!

a/n: little gift bc of my absence 💋

ఌ

ღ

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

“Oh shhhit” i slur out. “you feel it yet?” my best friend whispers from next to me. i nod with a cheeky smile. “hell yeah” I reply as i take another hit. Jazzy and I were currently on the hood of my car having a smoke session. “i feel great” jazzy mumbles as smoke flows out her mouth. “shit” i whisper. i felt like i was floating like that everything i know wasn’t real and it was just me and the sky. the stars seemed to be brighter than usual so much that i reach my hand out and graze a star with the tip of my fingers. “My god”

the star was blinding me and all i could focus on was that star. jazzy was laying on the car with her eyes closed and a blunt in between her fingers. the star suddenly faded into the distance as i blink multiple times and snap out the trance i was put in. i look over at jazzy who was asleep and snoring. i laugh a bit and take the blunt from her fingers and put it out. “cmon let’s go home.” i murmur. jazzy groans and rolls off the hood of the car opening the passenger side and getting in. I do the same.

— ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

jazzy’s snoring echoing through the room was the only thing you could hear besides my phone. i was now a bit sobered up but jazzy smoked more than me and was higher than the clouds. Looking at a video, a text pops up on my screen from an unknown number. Confused, i clicked on it and was met with a text that read “he’s a cheater.” and multiple items attached. i felt my heart drop to my feet and sobriety hit me all at once as i clicked on the videos and screen shots the number sent me. the first item was a voice recording containing chris talking to another girl who’s voice i couldn’t identify, guessing it was a fan or a random he met at a party.

“you want it baby?”

“yea i do-fuck!”

“this is all you wanted right? you slu-“

i clicked out the video feeling tears start to mark my waterline. the video was clear but you couldn’t deny that it indeed was chris. the tears started to fall down my cheeks and land on the screen as i frantically text the number back with my fingers spreading the tears.

to: unknown number

⚠︎︎ who is this? how did you get this?

⚠︎︎ hello? who the fuck r u?

my texts wouldn’t go through, i figured the number blocked me before i could say anything. i swipe through the items the number sent me with shaky hands and a pit on my stomach scared of what i might find. my other hand that wasn’t occupied covered my mouth in shock at what i was seeing. the texts, pictures, videos, voice messages everything was enough proof i needed to know that chris was a filthy cheater. i drop my phone on the bed and cover my face and burst out into sobs. i was an easy one to hurt, i’ve always been sensitive as a kid and very gullible.

my sobs woke up jazzy from her slumber as she slowly blinks her eyes open. she groans and rubs her eyes and looks at me with a concerned face. “what’s wrong? what happened?” jazzy furiously questions and throws herself up against the headboard and wraps her arm around me. she rubs my shoulder and pulls me into her while i sob uncontrollably. “shh what happened?” jazzy whispers while rocking us back and forth. “i-i” i try to speak but ended up muttering out croaks instead. “it’s alright i got you.” jazzy whispers again. my chest was tight and my throat hurt with all the sobbing. i couldn’t speak, it felt like my throat was closed off. “shh breathe, breathe”

after a while my shaking comes to a stop and my tears start to slow down. “what happened?” jazzy asks and leans away to look at me. my face was now puffy and my eyes were red with dried tears on my cheeks. i sniffle before looking back down at my phone. jazzy follows my eyes and also looks at the now black screen, confused but patient. “what’s on there?” jazzy whispers and pats my arm. i look at her and back at the black screen letting my gaze linger there for a moment. “show me”

after a minute, i unlock my phone and it reveals the messages with the unknown number with the items attached. i couldn’t bare to look at it again so i hand the phone over the jazzy to which she removes her hand from my shoulder and takes the phone. jazzy scrolls through my phone with wide eyes and her jaw slack. “what the fuck” she whispers. i could hear her playing the audio recordings and listening to the dirty talk provided within it. faint moans and grunts were heard followed by chris’s voice occasionally speaking up.

“turn it off” i mumble into my hands. jazzy doesn’t hear me because of the volume so it continues to play and mold itself in my mind. that was a sound i could never forget. “turn it off!” i speak louder. the audio abruptly comes to a stop followed with the faint plop of the phone colliding with the comforters. jazzy shakes her head in disbelief. “what the fuck was that?!” she whisper yells. i feel my throat start to ache again. “i don’t know..” i reply my voice all wobbly and weak.

we stay there in silence for a moment, both of us processing what we just discovered. i felt used, worthless, angry, hurt, and everything that came with it. my anger seemed to bite at me and i could feel my blood boil as i snatch the phone and unlock it to text chris a whole paragraph.

to: chris💗

4:33am

r u fucking kidding me? all this time our relationship meant nothing to u?! all those dates, kisses, hook ups, and gifts were nothing?! i can’t believe i fell in love with such a disgusting person like u. ur sick in the head. why’d u make me fall for u just to hurt me? use me? make me feel worthless?! if u didn’t have any feelings for me that’s fine but doing that is a whole other level. i can’t believe u. fuck you we’re over. goodbye christopher.

*y/n blocked “chris💗”*

i didn’t realize i had hot tears streaming down my face until i turned off my phone and saw my reflection. these weren’t tears of sadness, but anger. you could practically see the veins popping out my forehead. jazzy didn’t know what to do but stare at me while my breathing became uneven. my breathes were either to short or to long, to loud or to quiet and shaky. jazzy rubbed my back as an attempt to soothe me with a look of sympathy. “let’s go to sleep yea? we’ll deal with this in the morning” jazzy whispers. i look at her for a second then nod. jazzy gives me a ‘sorry’ smile and lays down, rolling over so her back was facing me.

a few minutes later jazzy was back to snoring. all i could do was stare at the ceiling confused, angry, sad. all i could do was lie there and think about everything me and chris once had. everything came crashing down so fast. i barely had time to enjoy our moments before this random person sent me that. it made me physically sick to think about. i just wanted to disappear, disappear from all my problems and vanish from the universe.

my tears made my face feel like plastic every time i moved my cheeks. I let out a deep sigh of defeat and roll over to my side, closing my eyes which made a slight burning sensation under my eye lids. I kept my eyes shut and forced myself to sleep, if I sleep I’ll be okay, if I sleep this will all be a dream and in the morning it’ll be all fake.

— ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

*BANG, BANG, BANG!!*

Loud and aggressive knocks against my front door woke me up from my sleep. It was non stop and kept on going. It irritated me to my core, who the fuck was knocking on my door at this time?! I sit up and grab my phone checking the time. 1:22pm.

Okay well maybe it wasn’t early. I glance over to the other side of my bed which was empty. The banging was probably jazzy who went to get starbucks or something and accidentally locked herself out. I get out of bed and head over to the bathroom to grab my toothbrush and turn on the sink. I squeeze the toothpaste on it and turn off the sink, heading to the front door.

*BANG, BANG, BANG!!*

“Okay!! Okay!! i’m coming!” I yell, my voice a bit muffled. The banging abruptly stops when I swing the door open and see chris standing there. Memories of last night came flushing back reminding me of what I had just found out. Maybe it was real. My face visibly drops from the sight. Chris had on grey sweatpants and a black hoodie with a hint of dior sauvage and his eyes were red and slightly puffy. Matt was parked on the street in front of my house, staring at us with a kind of disappointed look.

“Y/n, can we just talk for a moment please.” Chris pleads. I shake my head side to side quickly as I feel my eyes start to water. “Please” Chris whispers. I try to shut the door but Chris stops it with his foot. “Get out of here Chris” I growl and start to speed walk to my bathroom. Chris follows me inside and shuts the door behind him. “What did I do wrong can you just tell me?!” Chris yells with worry laced in his voice as I spit and rinse my face. Chris stares at me waiting for an answer. I ignore him and shove pass him to the kitchen. “Y/n!” Chris shouts while following me. I stop in my tracks and turn to face him.

“What Chris?! Literally what?!” I yell in his face while leaning toward him a bit. He stares at me with glossy eyes and licks his lips before speaking, “You love me?” He whispers. My angry expression fades as I lean back. “I did.” I whisper and cross my arms, looking down. Chris stays silent. “Then tell me what I did wrong if you love me..” Chris whispers with hurt in his voice as he steps closer to me. I refuse to look up at him r not shake my head. “It doesn’t matter anymore” I reply and look up at him.

Chris blinks at me. “Yes it does!! Tell me please!”

I stare at him for a minute. He stands there waiting for an answer. “Cause you’re a filthy cheater! Don’t act clueless and pretend you don’t know what you did!” I cry out, finally letting go of the tears. Chris looks at me confused and shocked. “Y/n, w-what are you taking about?!” Chris stutters.

I scoff and pull out my phone and click on the saved chats with the unknown number. I hand the phone to Chris who takes it with his eyebrows furrowed.

After a few minutes of Chris scrolling through the items he starts to laugh. I look at him with a wide eye. “What’s so funny?!” I ask and snatch my phone back. He continues to laugh and covers his face and shakes his head. “You really believe that y/n?!” Chris yells through his hands. I stare at him waiting for him to stop whatever this was. “Stop laughing fuck face, what is wrong with you?! You think this is funny?”

“No! It’s just these videos and pictures, you can tell that it’s not me, some of them are edited and some are old, those voice recordings are clearly fake whoever made those used a voice maker” Chris replies. I look at him with a confused expression and unlock my phone. I look through the items and zoom in on the pictures. You could clearly see how edited it was. I felt so stupid. “Fuck” I whisper and giggle a bit. “I think I was too high to spot the editing”

Chris laughs louder when he heard my sentence. We calm down a bit and stare at each other. “I’m so sorry baby I didn’t know” I speak. Chris smiles at me and steps closer.

“It’s okay baby, but you need to lay off that smokin’.” Chris laughs. I smile up at him and lean in to kiss him. Chris kisses me back and lifts his hands to hold my face.

I pull away and smile at him. “I love you, y/n.” Chris whispers while rubbing my cheek with his thumb. “I love you more.”

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cooliestghouliest · 6 months

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THE MIDDLE BEDROOM

PAIRING: established Billy/Reader relationship, bff!Eddie is a Peeping Tom

TAGS and C/W’s: this is basically just smut (which means 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), pining undertones, oral (f!receiving), Billy's filthy mouth, SPIT, Eddie's a pervert but Billy's kinda setting him up so really Eddie is just advantageous, m!masturbation, unprotected PiV

WORD COUNT: 3.4k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. basically, i’m trying to revamp everything i’ve published in hopes that an inspiration bug crawls deep, deep inside me and just fucking explodes, leaving only creativity and motivation to replace all of my blood and oxygen. it’s almost 2024, who needs to bleed and breathe anyway??? please remember that likes are greatly appreciated, but comments and reblogs are what make the writer’s world go round. :-) <33

—

It happened at Rick Lipton's annual Halloween party. '86, baby.

There were many nameless faces wandering about the bungalow, all in varying states of sobriety. Eddie only recognized a handful of people, one of them being Billy Hargrove... and the other being you, Eddie's best friend, but also Hargrove's drop-dead, knock-the-fuck-out gorgeous girlfriend.

Eddie had overheard someone guess that you were dressed as a witch. Someone else guessed that you were dressed as Stevie Nicks. With a shrug, you'd answered, "Those are the same thing," like it was the most obvious certainty in the entire world.

You were in a sheer black off-the-shoulder maxi dress, the form-fitting fabric tight in all the right places. There was a long, gracious slit down the side that ran from hip to foot. When you moved in a certain way, Eddie could see that you were wearing black suede thigh-high boots, a little kitten heel clicking against the hardwood floors as you walked.

Right up to him.

"Hi, Eddie," you'd greeted with a smile, eyes wide and welcoming. You swirled the train of your dress a bit, swaying along to some Joni Mitchell song playing in the background. "Happy Halloween."

Eddie didn't get the chance to answer, though he was sure he'd have ended up stumbling over his words anyway, because you just looked so pretty tonight. He was only able to return the smile before Billy appeared beside you.

"Hey, man," Hargrove prompted, Eddie watching as the honey blonde rested lucky fingers on the small of your back. The other palm extended to clap Eddie on the shoulder a few times. "You bring it?"

"Yeah, it's just... uh..." Eddie dug his hand around in the front pockets of his jeans, then in the back pockets of his jeans, then eventually found what he was looking for in the pocket of his denim jacket, bypassing a broken button to reach for the little baggie in question.

As he was about to pull it out, Billy’s hand gripped his forearm, halting him. "Not here," Hargrove instructed. He stepped an inch closer to Eddie, voice lowering to just above a whisper. Eddie had to dip his head forward to try and hear the blonde over the music and commotion around them. "Come upstairs. Like fifteen minutes. Middle bedroom." At Eddie's confused expression (they were at a Halloween party thrown by Hawkins' most profitable drug dealer, for fuck's sake -- who the hell would care about a little coke?), Billy fashioned him a grin, stepping back. "Don't need everybody knowing my business and shit, ya know?"

Eddie guessed that was a decent enough explanation, so he shrugged the absurdity off. He'd always thought Billy was a little weird, anyway. And coming from Eddie Munson, the biggest fucking weirdo of all, that characterization spoke volumes.

After that, you and Billy disappeared. Eddie had followed the tail-end of your dress until you were lost in a sea of strangers, then decided to try and push the rest of the weed he had onto other partygoers, wanting to leave tonight with his current debt to Rick paid and his lunch box full of fresh goodies for the new month ahead.

It was exactly fifteen minutes later that Eddie began his ascent of the stairs to Rick's second floor. He weaved in and out of groping couples, stepped over sleeping Lettermen, and gave a tight-lipped smile to a group of girls that stumbled out of the bathroom and slammed right into him. He stepped to the side, giving them the right of way, before crossing the hallway to his destination: the middle bedroom.

The door was shut, so Eddie knocked. Waited a few seconds, then knocked again.

Still with no answer, he took a large step back, surveying the other doors around him to verify he hadn't gotten turned around and was in fact standing in front of the right room, which he was.

Eddie huffed a sigh. He glanced around the hallway again, checking to see if maybe Hargrove was just running late, but there was no blonde mullet in sight.

Figuring Billy must have been inside and was just... busy or something (actively ignoring him? suddenly gone deaf?), Eddie brought his hand to the knob to twist it and enter.

The room was mostly dark. Not exactly pitch black, thanks to a streetlight seen through the big bay window, but still dark enough that Eddie needed to blink rapidly several times to adjust his eyes to the new lighting.

His immediate thought was that Billy must have either forgotten to meet him up here or had ditched the party entirely and left the dealer packing with a now homeless dimebag of blow.

Off to the right, however, was a thick slab of pale-yellow light emanating from a partially closed door. It was the bathroom, which Eddie knew from sleeping in this very bedroom more than a handful of times since first meeting Rick Lipton a few years back.

And that’s when Eddie started to hear it.

Or, as he would soon come to find out, hear you.

He had at first mistaken the quick, soft breaths of air for sounds of pain or distress, which was why he'd begun inching towards the bathroom in the first place.

But now, standing in the shadow of the ajar door, he was able to peek inside. At the sight before him, Eddie felt his eyes widen, and a prickling warmth started to spread throughout his body.

Those were definitely not sounds of pain or distress.

Billy sat kneeled in front of where you were currently spread out on the bathroom counter. Your knees were hiked up towards your chest, your dress laying in a heap on the ground, and you were left only in a bright red bra. And those goddamn suede thigh-highs.

He should have walked away right then, he knew that. He was going to, really, but then you arched your back, your head falling lax behind you, and the fucking obscene moan you let out had Eddie biting down so hard on his bottom lip that he tasted blood.

How was he supposed to leave now?

He couldn't help himself.

You were just... you.

Thoughtful, generous, creative. You went out of your way to ensure no one ever felt judged or left out; you were known to drop everything without debate in order to help anyone who really needed it; you let him host Hellfire in your basement when the club needed a new location in a pinch, and even helped him plot twists in his campaigns.

Truly, Eddie had a very hard time seeing what you saw in that prick Billy Hargrove, but that was something to ponder at a later point. Because right now, Eddie was getting to see you in a position he'd only ever dreamed of seeing you in.

When would he ever get this chance again?

Eddie refused to think too deeply into this, deciding to pretend he didn't have a moral compass for a bit. It was probably bad. Likely even made him a pervert, but he'd been called much worse, so he figured he'd just add this one to the list now, too.

He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to be able to face either one of you again, but his feet just weren't working when his brain tried to tell them to move, and now his cock was starting to fill out the confines of his jeans in a way that had him seeking the relief of the doorframe, his hips acting of their own accord, finding a slow, rocking rhythm.

Billy had his palms splayed out on either side of your inner thighs, holding your legs open. Eddie quickly grew irritated that he couldn't see exactly what the blonde's tongue was doing. He thought that if he couldn't be the one with his own face buried against you, he wanted to at least have an unobstructed, close-up view.

He wanted to see Hargrove's lips wet with your slick, wanted to watch them wrap around your aching clit and suck until you tried to push him away. If Eddie could, he'd hold your arms down while Billy devoured you, wanting you to feel so much pleasure it was borderline painful.

He was pulled out of his fantasy by the sound of Billy's voice, raspy and teasing. "Love when you give me this sloppy fucking cunt," he said, the words themselves demeaning but his tone singing nothing but praises. Billy lowered his head back down, giving you a few long, loud licks.

Eddie knew he himself could be theatrical, but Billy Hargrove was dramatic in his own ways, and it did certainly seem like the blonde loved to hear the sound of his own voice. Apparently, eating pussy and its associated noises fell under this umbrella of Hargrove Histrionics.

Billy pulled his head back to spit several times on your well-loved cunt. Eddie didn't dare to blink as the other man brought two fingers to spread your lips and spit again, this time with your hardened nub as target. Both him and Billy watched intently as the saliva dripped slowly down your slit, past your empty hole, and leaked off of you entirely to darken an already present wet spot on Hargrove's blue jeans.

And fuck, you loved it.

With each assault of Billy's spit, you let out faint little gasps (fucking cute, Eddie had thought), body jolting at the contact, your eyes fluttering open and shut as the moisture filled in every curve of your core.

"So fucking messy, aren't you?" Billy taunted, his free hand moving to palm at his clothed length. Eddie was relieved to see Hargrove finally begin to touch himself, honestly impressed at the self-control the blonde had to disregard his pleasure and focus solely on yours. "Makes it feel so good when I finally fuck this thick cock inside you," he continued, unzipping his jeans as he stood. "You think this pussy's ready to soak me?"

Eddie felt like his skin was boiling. He wished he could eliminate some layers. Or all layers, preferably.

You were staring earnestly up at your boyfriend, a desperate pout on your face as you nodded in vigor. "Please, Billy," you begged, and Eddie couldn't take it any longer. He needed to fist his cock raw, having had enough of this grinding against the wall bullshit.

At the same time Billy dropped his jeans, Eddie did the same, pulling himself out of his boxer briefs. He muffled a groan of relief by biting down on the knuckles of his free hand, his other wrapping around the girth of his dick and just squeezing. He didn’t want to give in before Billy had gotten inside you.

The blonde sure was taking his sweet fucking time though, only wetting his length by sliding himself repeatedly between your lips. You were whining, and Eddie could tell you were trying to angle your hips in such a way that it would trip Billy up and he would slip inside. Good girl, get that fucking cock, Eddie thought, impatient and eager to cum, but not wanting to do so without first catching a glimpse at what you looked like stuffed and fucked full.

"Hmm, I dunno," Billy provoked, tapping his cock against your cunt with loud slaps. "Feels really good just like this, baby. Maybe I'll use the outside to fuck myself instead, cum all over this pretty little pussy, make an even bigger mess. You want that?"

You and Eddie both shook your heads at the same time.

You gave a grumble of annoyance (more of like a testy whimper, really) and brought a hand up to slap playfully at Billy's chest. "Fuck me, Billy," you demanded, your voice throaty and yearning. You dropped the hand at his chest to circle his cock, wrapping delicate fingers around his own and helping to stroke. "Need it inside."

"Oh, you need it, greedy girl?" It appeared he was going to listen to you, much to yours and Eddie's respite, because he lined himself up against your hole with one hand, the other moving to wrap around the nape of your neck. "I didn't know that. I gotta give my girl what she needs then. Can't have anyone thinking I don't take care of you."

Finally -- finally -- Eddie watched as Billy took one thrust to bury his cock inside you completely, the blonde releasing a loud, lewd moan. Eddie gave his own throbbing, sweat-slick length the same treatment, fucking into his fist from tip to base until he felt his tightening balls press against his twitching fingers.

You looked better stretched open than Eddie could have ever imagined -- a natural flush glowed on your skin, your bottom lip tugged tight between your upper teeth, your brows furrowed deep.

Your eyes rolled back as Billy began to move, a satisfied moan escaping your lips at the pace he was setting. The sound, contented yet desperate, was music to Eddie's ears. He wanted to record it and hear it on loop -- as a wake-up call, an afternoon pick-me-up, a bedtime lullaby.

Your hands moved to rest on either side of the surface of the sink below you, supporting your weight as Billy rocked into you with long, languid thrusts. Eddie tried to match Hargrove's pace with the stroke of his hand, envisioning it was his own cock giving you exactly what you needed.

You must have felt fucking good to be buried deep inside of, because Billy, always with something to say, was awfully quiet now.

He watched the other man's face through the reflection in the mirror, saw as Billy's baby blues fervently took in the sight underneath him, knowing he himself would be donning the same expression if positions were switched. Eddie knew Hargrove was admiring your perfect tits bouncing with the force of each thrust, knew he was lost in the dissipated doe-eyes that stared back up at him like he hung the fucking moon, when in reality he was just feeding your cunt some very well-deserved cock.

When your mouth dropped open unprompted, your pink tongue sticking out as far as it could go, that was the beginning of the end for Eddie. Both men knew exactly what you were asking for. Hargrove smirked approvingly at the sight before him, and he slowed the speed of his hips for better accuracy. He gathered as much saliva in his mouth as he could before leaning over you, parting his lips and letting gravity do its job.

Once your mouth was filled, Billy brought a hand to your jaw, forcing it shut. "Don't swallow," he instructed, his thrusts no longer slow and unhurried, but now posthaste and unrelenting.

Eddie could feel the familiar tingle in his lower abdomen, alerting him that his release was maybe a minute away. He fleetingly realized that he was going to have to very quickly clean his upcoming mess and get the hell out of the room before he was caught, but his attention was reeled back in when he heard a series of deep, breathless grunts.

"Okay, shit... spit it out now, baby," Billy was muttering, speech rushed, his head dipped to stare unwaveringly at where your bodies connected. "Oh fuck, spit on my fucking cock."

Eddie watched as you leaned yourself forward, angling your head down to release the spit you'd been holding in from your mouth, just adding to the noisy wetness between your legs.

And that did it. The visual — someone as soft and sweet as you doing something so filthy — had Eddie's toes curling in on themselves in his gym shoes, his hand pulsating around his cock to mimic a clenching cunt as he fucked himself into it. His release spilled out over his fist, dampening the ground below him and the bathroom doorframe. He saw stars.

Billy had followed Eddie right off the brink, muttering praises and obscenities interchangeably as you both came down from your highs. "Listen so well, dirty fucking girl. Always make me cum so hard, fuck, this pussy's so fucking full of me right now."

The sound of the quiet giggles urged out of you by Billy's tickling kisses on your neck were what brought Eddie back to the present reality. He wasn't back at home watching the hottest fucking porno he'd ever seen -- no, he was actually standing in a dimly lit bedroom, covered in his own cum, having just spied on his best friend while she got railed by her boyfriend.

Shit.

Eddie's moral compass came back with a vengeance. He cringed as he rubbed his sticky fingers on the inside of his band tee to clean them, not wanting anyone to catch a glimpse of crusty white as he made his getaway. He found a towel in a laundry basket and wiped away any remnants of his release from the wall and floor, then tossed it back into the hamper.

Not even able to glance back into the bathroom, his skin now heated from shame and embarrassment rather than arousal, Eddie buttoned up his jeans and hurried out of the room, ready to try and forget that all of that just happened.

About ten minutes later, he was perched against his van about a block from Rick's, where he'd parked. He was smoking a cigarette, having finally began to cool off and calm down. If he tried hard enough, he was sure he could convince himself this was all a really vivid hallucination, and maybe he'd be able to compartmentalize his moment of perversion that way.

He just needed to stay away from the two of you for a little while.

But then, because of course...

"Munson!"

Eddie quietly groaned, taking a deep drag off his cigarette to quell his already rapidly growing nerves from just the sound of the other man's voice alone. He turned to face Billy, plastering what he hoped was an easygoing grin on his face.

"Hey, man," Eddie greeted, his voice surprisingly steady.

Billy held his hands up in a 'What the fuck?' kind of way, brows furrowed. "Thought we had a plan," the blonde replied, stopping just a foot away from the tall metalhead. One side of Hargrove's mouth lifted. He looked predatory. Eddie fought back a hard swallow. "Did you even come upstairs?"

"What..." Eddie's brain went blank at the question. Or was it an accusation? It definitely sounded like one, but Billy didn't seem mad. The blonde was just staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Y'know," Billy continued. "Because I told you to meet me in the middle bedroom? For the coke?" What had started as the slight of a smirk had turned into a full-blown grin on Hargrove's face. "You good, Munson? Lookin' a little spooked.”

To this, Eddie sobered his expression, shaking his head. "No, just like, busy night, that's all," Eddie answered lamely. Maybe Billy really didn't know. Maybe Eddie was just hyper-paranoid about having been caught that he was reading too deeply into this. After all, wouldn't Hargrove have been pissed to find out he'd been spying? Wouldn't he already have Eddie pinned against the van, spewing threats? "Lotsa deals. Kinda forgot about yours, my bad. Here, lemme get it..."

Eddie began digging around in his pockets, having forgotten again where the coke was. He blamed the alarms of anxiety going off in his brain (thoughts like fuck, he probably knows, which means she knows, and now she's gonna fucking hate me plaguing him).

But Billy said, "Don't worry about it, I'm good. Got my energy hit a little bit ago." The blonde then looked like he had remembered something, and began looking in his own pockets, "Shit, actually. Ya know what? I have something for you."

Eddie was sure the look of confusion on his face was readable. This whole night was turning out to be a fucking fever dream. He didn't think anything else could happen to make it any more surreal.

And then Billy was reaching his hand out to give Eddie something, that I-know-something-you-don't smirk present again, and Eddie took it without looking. He just wanted Billy to walk away so he could go crawl into the back of his van and smoke himself stupid to avoid any and all realizations and repercussions.

"See you ‘round," were Billy's parting words and Eddie just nodded dumbly, mute, and watched him go.

Once Hargrove was out of sight, Eddie opened his hand. At first, it just looked like an unassuming wad of fabric, maybe a sock or something, small compared to the size of his palm.

Eddie unraveled it, holding it out in front of him, and then very quickly tossed it inside his open passenger window, eyes darting around to make sure no one had seen what Billy Hargrove had just given him —

The matching pair of panties to your bright red bra.

#billy x reader #billy hargrove x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #mungrove x reader #billy hargrove smut #eddie munson smut

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Text

Tethered.

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

Pairing - Benny Miller, Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia, Will Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, sexual content, mentions of sobriety

Word Count - 5523

Author's Note - by popular demand!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, it was so helpful!! don't worry, there is still a stewy hosseini fic coming very soon. i love writing for the triple frontier boys, so if anyone has any requests or particular thoughts, please send them my way. i'm also a total will girly, if you couldn't tell. as always, lots of love <3

my other triple frontier fics - Time, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

Will’s strong hand rubs steady circles into your thigh under the table as you all hunch over laughing.

Benny’s telling the story of his bad date from the night before. The combination of his masterful storytelling and the whiskey that seems to be refilling itself is making you giddy, all of you high on the joy of being with your best friends. There’s no feeling quite like it, laughing until you cry.

“Wait, that doesn’t explain why she slapped you!” Santiago exclaims from opposite you, clapping Benny on the back.

“She slapped me because, it turns out, I’d kissed her best friend a few months ago. She called me a dog and everything,” he laughs, tears escaping from his eyes. “She had a strong hand!”

“Did you know who she was when you saw her?” Frankie asks, genuinely intrigued.

“I realised as soon as I sat down. I didn’t know it’d be a problem! Man, fuck blind dates,” Ben chuckles.

“Am I crazy for not seeing the issue here?” Santiago asks, looking around the table.

“I didn’t see it either, apparently. It’s not like me and Lucy ever went anywhere. It was just a kiss.” Benny’s face is scrunched up in confusion. It makes you want to smooth your thumb over the crease between his brows.

“She was giving me the look, I swear,” he continues. “So I went in for the kiss, and she hit me.”

The boys are all laughing again, and as guilty as you feel, you can’t help but join them. Benny has such an animated, expressive face, that even the most boring of stories are entertaining when being told by him. It’s a gift. He just has a way with people.

“What do you think, hermosa?” Santiago asks, looking at you pointedly. “Would you kiss someone your best friend has kissed?”

“I don’t know,” you reply carefully. “Depends on the situation, I guess. I’d try not to, I think.”

Will’s looking at you with amusement in his eyes, slight smirk on his face. It’s clear that no one is putting the pieces together.

“Would you, Santi?” you question, lips quirking up at the corners.

“Probably not. I’d avoid it, if possible,” he replies.

The whiskey is making you braver than usual, a warm buzz running through your veins. Without thinking, you laugh,

“Too late.”

Everyone looks at you, brows raised in confusion. Will’s grinning now, chuckling to himself quietly. You’re giggling at their faces, their naivety making you smile.

You watch as Frankie looks slowly around the table, and then back at you. Shaking his head, he catches your eyes and snickers.

“Minx,” he mutters, still smiling.

“Am I missing something here?” Benny asks, surveying the silent communication happening between you, Frankie and Will.

You sigh sarcastically and throw your drink back, downing it in one go. Well, we’re doing this, you think.

“I’ve kissed every single person at this table,” you start. “Which means you’ve all kissed the same girl your best friend has kissed.”

Santiago and Benny go silent for a moment, processing this new information. Will and Frankie are still smiling, already a step ahead.

“Wait, what?” Santiago finally speaks. “You have?”

“Oh no. Pope thought he was special,” Frankie laughs, head thrown back.

“Stop it, Francisco! You are special, Santi. It just so happens that they are too.”

You point generally at the other boys, all of them with their eyes fixed on you. You can see that Benny is still figuring things out, the alcohol making his brain work slower than usual.

“I’ve known you guys for years. We’ve been through a lot together. And you’re like, the four most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen! It was bound to happen sooner or later,” you justify.

Everyone’s laughing now, the final piece finally being put into the jigsaw. You can tell they’re all thinking back to their kisses – you are too.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Benny had been the first one to kiss you.

It happened right at the beginning of his boxing career. He’d started working out religiously, meal planning, prepping for his first big fight. He set strict rules for himself – no alcohol, no women, no sex. You were glad he’d found an output for his energy, glad he was taking something so seriously – even if the idea of him getting hurt did terrify you.

The four of you had gone to support him, eager to see him win after months of watching him train and prepare. He’d really committed to the process, which was a surprise – Benny was a notorious ladies man. He loved to relax with a beer. But he’d never broken his self-made rules, not once. No matter the outcome of the fight, you were insanely proud of him. All of you were.

The atmosphere in the warehouse was electric. It was a big venue, with hundreds of people gathering to spectate. You hadn’t realised this was such a popular event. Adrenaline buzzed through the air, making you antsy with anticipation. You and the boys had front row seats by the ring, allowing you the perfect view, the ideal place to support Ben.

“I’m gonna go get us some beers,” Santiago yells over the noise.

“I’ll come help you,” you shout back, linking your hand into his so you don’t get separated.

You make your way out of the double doors and down the hallway in attempt to find the bar. On the journey, you spot a sign that points to the locker rooms.

“You order, I’ll be right back,” you tell Santiago, before following the directions.

You push open the door and step into the locker room. Benny is sat on the bench, headphones blasting music so loud you can hear it from 10 feet away. You make your way over, and touch him on the shoulder gently. He doesn’t startle.

“I don’t want to disturb you, Ben. Just wanted to say good luck,” you say quietly.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit next to him.

“You could never disturb me, honey. You’re my good luck charm,” he winks, and the cheekiness of it warms your chest.

He pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you, breathing in the scent of your strawberry shampoo. You inhale with him, and soak up the heat that’s seeping into your skin.

“It doesn’t matter what happens out there,” you tell him. “I’ll love you no matter what.”

You press a kiss to his cheek, and throw a beaming smile at him before leaving. You find Santi at the bar, and help him carry the beers back to the boys.

You’ve never seen this side of Benny. He’s throwing and dodging punches like it’s second nature. The man moves like ocean waves, fluid and constant, never once caught off guard. There’s a lot to be said about the pastime of men fighting each other, but honestly, Ben has found his calling.

Electricity crackles through the air as Benny swings his last punch. His opponent falls to the mat as you rise from your seats. All of you instantly begin screaming, roars of celebration filling the space. Ben throws his fist in the air, signalling his victory. It’s rare, this feeling. The five of you don’t win very often. This needs to be savoured.

Eventually, the cheering dies down, and Benny leaves the ring to go and get changed. The boys are all ecstatic, chattering with pride in their voices about their brother, their teammate, their best friend.

“Be right back,” you tell them, moving to slip out of the doors and down the hallway.

You strut into the locker room, eyes scanning the space for the man you’re looking for. You find him stood, unwrapping his hands. Before you know it, you’re running into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he spins you. His bare chest is dripping with sweat. He’s covering you in it, but you couldn’t care less. You’re both laughing, joy and love filling the air.

“I’m so proud of you,” you breathe into his neck, still in his arms. Your feet finally find the floor, and you lean back slightly to stare up at him.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, pretty girl,” he beams at you.

You can feel the energy coursing through his veins. He’s thrumming with it, buzzing with adrenaline – it feels like he’s going to burst. He’s practically vibrating.

Before you can even register what’s happening, Benny pulls you back to him, smashing his lips onto yours. He skims his hands down your back to grab at the backs of your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself into him.

The kiss is needy, desperate, pulsing - all teeth and tongue. Benny walks you backwards to slam you against the lockers, using the pressure of his body to lean forward into you. Your hands thread through his hair, pulling forcefully. He groans, deep and guttural, and it’s one of the most gorgeous sounds you’ve ever heard.

He’s grabbing at your ass as he dips his head down to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck, biting at the column of your throat. Your dress is practically around your waist, and you roll your hips forward, searching for friction. It’s your turn to groan now.

“Fuck, honey,” he murmurs. “Prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

He holds you up with one arm, and moves the other hand to twist into the waistband of your underwear. He’s pulling them down when someone bangs on the door, startling you both.

“Benny! Champion! Get out here, man, or we’re coming in!”

It’s Will’s voice, that deep tone instantly recognisable.

You pull your lips from Benny’s, your head dropping back against the locker with a clang.

“Shit,” he chuckles, gently pressing a kiss to your sternum.

“Shit,” you repeat, giggling gently.

Benny puts you down carefully, smoothing down your dress with those big hands of his. He fixes your hair next, sweetly moving it out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. He runs his thumb under your bottom lip, wiping where your lipstick has smudged.

“Do we look like we just made out?” you ask him, amusement evident in your tone.

“You do. I look like I just won a fight.”

He smiles at you, and you can’t help but smile back. God, this man. One minute he’s got you whining against the lockers, and the next he’s got you giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Come on,” you urge. “They’re gonna come busting in here any second.”

Right on cue, the door swings open, three men barrelling inside. They all jump on Benny, ruffling his hair and pulling him into a headlock affectionately. You watch from a short distance away, smile still etched on your face. You love them so much you’re worried your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

You look at Will, and find him smirking at you. Always a step ahead. Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you into their celebrations. You’re being thrown around like you’re in some sort of whirlpool, dizzy with the joy of being with your best friends. You wouldn’t change a thing, even if you are a little lightheaded.

You catch eyes with Benny, and he winks. You know that the events of tonight aren’t going to change anything between the two of you. Your friendship is so solid, you’re convinced it can withstand anything. The five of you are connected, somehow. This unexplainable, invisible tether, binding you wherever you go. The kind of friendship that they write books about.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Frankie was the next person to kiss you.

Or maybe you kissed him. You’re still not sure.

The five of you were at a bar downtown, drinking and laughing. The boys were a few beers deep, muscles relaxing and minds quietening.

But not Frankie.

When he’d made the decision to get sober, he’d included everything. He wasn’t a man who believed in partially sober, or ‘California sober’. If he was going to commit, he was going to commit fully. Alcohol included.

Usually, it didn’t bother him. He could go to bars with his friends, happily crack open beers for them when they watched a football game, make a mean margarita when they hung out at his pool in the summer. But that night, he was on edge. He didn’t know why, couldn’t pinpoint any reason specifically, but he was on overdrive. His mind wouldn’t slow down - thoughts barrelling into him at a hundred miles an hour. He was debating going home to bed, before realising that he was designated driver. So, he’d sat back in his seat, taken a deep breath, and tried to pretend like he wasn’t about to combust.

You’d noticed. Of course you had. You, with your observant eyes, your careful gaze, your genuine smile. You’d noticed.

Will had too. He was keeping an eye on Frankie from across the booth, but he wasn’t worried. He knew you were watching him like a hawk. That reassured Will to no end.

“Oh yeah? Come on then, old man, put your money where your mouth is!” Benny’s yelling at Santiago, grabbing him by the bicep, up and out of his chair. You watch as he drags him over to the pool table, determined to prove himself.

No matter where you were, or what you were doing, somehow, Benny and Santiago always managed to turn it into a competition. You, Will and Frankie were always happy to watch – you usually ended up playing referee, only interfering when someone cheated or got too rowdy.

The two of them began setting up a game, leaving you at the booth with the other two.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Frankie says suddenly, standing up and making his way out of the door.

Will gives you a look of concern.

“I got it. Just make sure those two idiots don’t kill each other with pool cues, please,” you joke.

Will chuckles and nods, squeezing your waist as you move past him to follow Frankie.

Outside, you find him around the side of the bar, leaning against the brick wall. He’s breathing heavily, clearly trying to get a handle on things. You watch as he takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. He slides down the wall, sitting on the cool ground, legs bent in front of him.

You walk over and sit down next to him, ignoring the feeling of the cold concrete underneath your bare legs. You lean into him slightly, placing your head on his shoulder. He breathes you in, and you feel some of the tension melt from his muscles.

Eventually, you speak.

“You okay?”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer.

“Yeah, cariño, I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m usually fine in bars, it doesn’t bother me. Guess I’m just anxious tonight.”

You hum in understanding, before realising something.

“What’s today’s date?”

He looks at you with puzzlement written all over his face, but answers you anyway.

“March 16th.”

“Happy one year of sobriety, Francisco.”

You can see it all clicking into place in his head. The reason he’s been on pins all day, the reason he’s been so wound up tonight, unable to settle. You figured it out before he could. Clever girl.

“And I’m celebrating it in a bar, apparently. How appropriate,” he laughs. It’s a real, hearty, genuine laugh. You love when he laughs like this – so hard that he starts wheezing. It’s so endearing, it makes you want to cry.

“I can’t believe I forgot. A year ago, it was like, the biggest milestone ever. And I forgot.”

You can tell he’s almost disappointed with himself. But you’re not. No, quite the opposite, actually.

“You see how great that is though, right?” you ask him. “You’re so busy living your life now, working, being the best dad ever, that you didn’t even have to think about it. It’s not a bad thing that you forgot about it, Frankie.”

He pulls you closer, both arms wrapped around you, your head pressed into the crook of his neck.

“How do you do it, hermosa?”

“Do what?”

“Always know exactly what to say.”

“Years of knowing you, probably. Years of loving you,” you answer.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, but you hear him clear as day.

“No, I don’t deserve you. I’m so proud of you, Francisco.”

He pulls away from you to look at you earnestly. He smiles at you, and you grin back at him. If love could lift you up, you’d be floating, both of you levitating with it.

Frankie leans in closer to you, and you mirror the movement. You’re not sure who kisses who, but suddenly his lips are on yours, his hands moving to cradle your face. It’s careful, and it’s gentle, and it’s so full of gratitude and history that it takes everything in you not to break out into a grin. One of his hands moves through your hair as the other one caresses your cheek. You can’t remember the last time you were kissed so tenderly. Neither can he.

Unbeknownst to you, Will has come out to check on you both. He stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you wrapped up in each other. His heart swells in his chest, and he can’t help but smile. He knows that this won’t change anything between you and Frankie. It’s just the comfort he needed – you both needed. He makes his way back inside quietly, grateful for the both of you and the way you look after each other.

Eventually, you both pull apart. Frankie rests his forehead on yours, and takes the first full breath he’s taken all day. His shoulders relax, his jaw unclenches. He’s okay, thanks to you.

“Thank you, cielito,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“Everything. Knowing me better than I know myself. Knowing all of us better than we know ourselves.”

“Someone’s gotta keep you all alive,” you grin, and he chuckles, the vibration of it settling into your bones, warming you up from the inside out.

He pulls you back against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You both sit against the red brick, cold ground underneath you, for what feels like hours.

“There they are!” Santiago yells when he spots you both.

“Mom, Dad, can we go home?” Benny jokes, clearly down one drink too many.

“Of course we can, baby,” you smile, pulling Frankie to his feet with you.

You all clamber into Frankie’s truck – you riding shotgun, the other boys crammed in the back. You reach for your drivers hand, and interlace your fingers, resting your palms in your lap. You hold onto him all the way home, and can’t help but notice how much lighter he seems.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Santiago kissed you next.

The five of you were having a pool day at Frankie’s, trying to cool down in the Texan summer heat. It was rare, for all of you to have the same day off, so you planned to make the most of it.

The four boys were already in the backyard when you arrived. Letting yourself in, you made your way through the house, briefly stopping in the kitchen to put your popsicles in the freezer. You’d purposely picked the strawberry ones, knowing they were Frankie’s daughters favourite. She was at her mom’s house for the week, but you knew she’d be back at the weekend.

“Hey, honey!” Benny yells when he spots you at the back door.

All of them turn to look at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by all the golden skin on display. Benny is wearing swim shorts with an inseam that can’t be any more than 5 inches, strong thighs just begging to be bitten. Will’s navy shorts compliment his blond hair beautifully, and Santiago’s green ones bring out the dark brown of his eyes. Frankie still has his shirt on, but it hugs his biceps just right. Damn, you think. I might just have the most attractive best friends in the world.

They’re all grinning at you as you survey each of them. You know they don’t mind being ogled just a little.

“Eyes up here, princess,” Santiago teases, no seriousness whatsoever in his voice. You scoff and throw your head back in a laugh, all of them simultaneously joining you in your amusement.

You put down your bag and kick off your shoes, before grabbing the hem of your dress.

“Give us a show, Miss Supermodel,” Benny whistles, winking playfully.

You peel your dress over your head slowly, wiggling your hips as you go. You’re left in a little black bikini that admittedly doesn’t leave much to the imagination. You don’t mind. You’re safe here.

They’re all whistling and cheering, make you laugh. You never feel more appreciated than when you’re with these boys. It’s everything. They’re everything.

“It’s like Sports Illustrated in real life,” Frankie grins, bumping your shoulder with his.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Will says quietly when you catch his gaze. You roll your eyes playfully, but smile at him genuinely, silently thanking him.

Your eyes flicker to Santiago. He has a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It’s more than his usual appreciation. It’s hungry, hot, burning. It makes your skin prickle, the hairs on your neck standing up. You have to get away from his stare before you jump his bones right in Frankie’s backyard.

“Want me to make you a margarita?” Frankie asks, innocently breaking through the moment.

“Yes, please. That sounds amazing.”

He smiles at you before retreating to the kitchen, Benny following him in search of beer.

The heat doesn’t ease up all day. It’s sweltering, covering you all in a sheen of sweat that can’t seem to be wiped away.

Santiago’s gaze doesn’t help your warmth. Every time you look over, he’s surveying you carefully, eyes raking over your body in a way that makes your breathing quicken. There’s always been chemistry between you, sure. You have chemistry with all of the boys. But it’s never been like this with Santiago. Yes, you flirt with each other – it’s in both of your natures. But this is different. This is real.

You spend all day lounging around. Frankie keeps you topped up with margaritas as you make trips in and out of the pool, messing around with the boys. Benny hoists you up onto his shoulders in the water, throwing you up into the air as high as he can and laughing when you splash back down. You and Will throw a ball back and forth, doubling over when he overshoots and hits Frankie, who’s soaking up the sun in a lawn chair. In the late afternoon, Frankie fires up the grill, preparing to barbeque for dinner.

“Pope, you gonna help me?” he shouts from the deck.

Santiago looks at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, before joining him. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. There’s anticipation bubbling at the pit of your stomach, butterflies swirling. Warmth has settled in your core, and Santi’s heated glances are only fuelling the fire.

The sun finally gives you some respite in the early evening. You all settle on the grass, drinks in hand, laughing about nothing and everything. Benny’s telling you about his next fight, describing his opponent in hilarious detail. You look down, and realise your glass is empty.

“I’m gonna get a refill. Anyone want anything?” you ask, smiling as you watch Benny jokingly pretend to box his brother.

“Can you grab me a beer, princesa?” Santiago asks, pointed gaze trained on you.

You nod and make your way inside, praying that it’s cooler in the kitchen. The sun might have gone in, but the warmth in your core hasn’t left.

You reach into the fridge for the jug of margaritas that Frankie made earlier. You’re rising onto your tiptoes to fetch a new glass from the top of the cabinet when you feel a presence against your back. Santiago grabs one from the shelf and places it on the counter in front of you, leaning forward as he does it. His lips are brushing the shell of your ear, and you shudder out a breath.

“So you’re feeling it too, mi amor?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you breathe. You’re worried you might combust if he keeps speaking to you in that deep, low, raspy tone of his.

“Don’t know what’s gotten into me. Can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispers. He feels a shiver wrack through your body and chuckles.

You turn around to face him, and he steps forward, caging you in against the counter, arms on either side of you. You can’t go anywhere. You don’t want to.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he practically purrs.

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, testing the waters. You catch it with your teeth and pull it into your mouth, biting down gently before sucking, not once breaking eye contact. He groans and tilts his head back, exposing his throat to you. You tangle a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, and give him a look that says I dare you.

Santiago surges forward to capture your lips with his. It’s desperate and needy - a perfect representation of both of your states all day. He slips a strong thigh between your legs and pushes upward, making you whine. You’re pressing yourself into him, trying to get as close as possible. His hands are everywhere all at once – your hips, your hair, your back, your ass. He wants to feel all of you, and can’t decide where to start.

You feel drunk off of him as he kisses you. His tongue is making you melt, his steady hands the only thing keeping you upright. You could kiss him like this for hours, surrendering yourself to this man you call your best friend. This man you’ll love forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice Will entering the kitchen. He clocks the situation in front of him and tries to exit silently, walking backwards out the way he came in. He knocks into the recycling bin, startling you and Santiago, causing you to jump apart and hit your head on the cabinet behind you.

“Shit, sweetheart, you okay?” Will asks, genuine concern etched on his face.

Santiago cradles the back of your head as he looks at you, eyes searching yours for any signs of pain.

“I’m good, I’m good, don’t worry,” you reassure them.

Will smirks at you and winks cheekily before he leaves, grabbing a beer on his way out.

“Oh god,” you groan, leaning forward to rest your head against Santiago’s chest. He strokes your hair lovingly, a laugh rumbling through him.

You both know Will isn’t going to say anything. He’s the most trustworthy one of them all. Always observing, never gossiping.

“Love you, hermosa,” he chuckles.

“Love you too, Santi,” you reply, wide smile painted on your face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Will was the last to kiss you.

It had been a long time coming.

Some people think Will is hard to read. He’s introverted, quiet, a wallflower of sorts. But he isn’t hard to read. Not really. You just have to know what you’re looking at.

He’d called you up one Sunday morning, asking if you had plans. When you’d told him you didn’t, he invited you over for a day of pancakes and terrible movies. It sounded perfect.

Which is how you found yourself lying on Will’s couch, legs tangled together, your back to his chest. His strong arms have found home on your waist, wrapped around your middle. You’re not sure how you ended up here, as you started the movie on opposite ends of the sofa. No one’s complaining.

It’s rare, this kind of intimacy. Casual, effortless, easy. No thought goes into it. You just fall into each other as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Will’s always had that gift. He makes people feel comfortable. No matter where you are, or what you’re doing, one look from those big blue eyes is all it takes to calm you down. It doesn’t matter if you’re being shot at on a battlefield, or just getting overwhelmed in a supermarket. Will’s there, and he knows exactly what you need. You’re convinced the man might be a mind reader, honestly.

He’s not, in fact, clairvoyant. He’s just a listener. No matter what you’re talking about, Will’s looking at you like you’re the centre of his universe. He’d be perfectly content to listen to your voice, to watch the way your eyes light up when you tell stories like this forever. You feel like the only girl in the world, as you lay here in his arms.

You’re deep in thought before you decide to break the silence, voice floating through the warmth of the room.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?”

You feel him hum from behind you before he answers softly.

“Every day since I met you.”

You nod gently before relaxing back into him, sighing in contentment.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?” he asks, mirroring your question.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think about kissing you, William,” you murmur.

His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you impossibly closer. He presses a kiss into your hair, and another to your bare shoulder.

You sit in the silence for a while, letting the questions hang heavy in the air. It’s not awkward – no, it’s the exact opposite. It’s comfortable.

“I’ve kissed Benny, Frankie and Santi,” you confess quietly. You’re not sure why, but it just feels like something you need to get off your chest. You don’t want him to judge you.

“I know,” he speaks softly. He knows. Of course he does.

“Does it make you think differently of me?” you query. You almost don’t want to know the answer.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he replies earnestly. “Why would it?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t look good for me, I guess.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart. They’re your best friends. You love them. A kiss doesn’t have to change anything - not always, anyway.” He pauses. “Do you regret any of it?”

“Not at all,” you whisper.

“Exactly. We all think the world of you. You should know that by now.”

You shift and turn so that you’re sitting in between his legs, facing him. You press your forehead into his, and he smiles gently.

“I love you,” you say softly.

“I love you too,” he replies, grinning widely.

Suddenly, he jumps off the couch, pulling you up with him.

“Let’s go outside,” he prompts, dragging you out the door behind him.

“Will, it’s raining!” you squeal as he practically carries you into the backyard.

He grabs you by the waist and spins you around, both of you laughing. The downpour has drenched you both, clothes sticking to your skin, hair dripping. He puts you down and looks at you as if he’s reading the words off the very surface of your soul.

Gently, he pushes the hair out of your face, moving it to behind your ears. He uses his thumb to catch a raindrop that’s making it’s way down your cheek, swiping it away. You’re both soaked through, but you can’t feel the cold. You feel the warmest you ever have, love illuminating your bones.

Will leans down and presses his lips to yours. His hands are on your waist, and he pulls you closer, plastering you together. It’s tender, and it’s sweet, and it’s a perfect amalgamation of Will. You’ve never felt more at peace.

When he pulls away, you remember his words from earlier.

“Does this kiss change anything?” you ask, megawatt smile etched on your face.

“Everything, sweetheart,” he replies, grinning widely. “It changes everything.”

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“You saved the best until last,” Will beams, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

The boys all scoff, laughing as they do it. You smile broadly, moving to peck his lips tenderly.

“Sure did.”

Benny and Santiago roll their eyes jokingly, while Frankie jabs them both with his elbows.

“Idiots,” he murmurs, still chuckling.

Will’s hand finds yours under the table. His fingers twist the ring you’re wearing absentmindedly, and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I love you, Mrs Miller.”

“I love you too, Mr Miller.”

“Guess I just had to kiss a few frogs to find my prince,” you wink at him, the whole table erupting into protests. You throw your head back in a laugh, your whole body vibrating with it. All four of them agree it’s their favourite sound in the world.

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wildemaven · 17 days

Text

first anniversary | dieter x poppy

A Sweet Creature

Ava Greene sits down with actor and friend, Dieter Bravo. Hollywood’s new leading man gets candid about life in front of and behind the camera. He talks about his latest movie, his commitment to his sobriety and his newest role— husband?!

Ava Greene: You're approaching three years sober now, how are you feeling?

Dieter Bravo: Probably the best I’ve felt in a long time. Sobriety is a day to day progression that I take very seriously, and I try to not lose sight of that even when I’m having bad days. Though, I’m grateful bad days have been few and far between at this point in my sobriety. I can attribute that to the support system I have built for myself through friends, family, my sponsor that I still work with and most importantly my wife who keeps me grounded daily. They all continue to keep me in check and remind me how awesome my life is, especially right now. Staying clean is a full time commitment, and it’s really a beautiful thing.

AG: You followed in your famous parents footsteps by going into acting and your career and struggles with sobriety have been well documented but your parents have rarely commented publicly, are they supportive of your work and your journey?

DB: For me, I don’t need them to make a show of it by commenting or sharing their thoughts publicly to know they support me. There was a point in time where they did all they could do for me, but ultimately it had to be my choice to make the decision to get clean. Thankfully, we’ve been rebuilding our relationship over the last few years. And being in the public eye for most of our lives, the last thing we want is for outsiders thinking they have a say in our lives. In short, yes I have very supportive parents in all aspects of my life and I’m so happy for that.

AG: This is your second project since rehab, are you viewing this as a comeback or a fresh start?

DB: Comeback? I didn’t know I left… Kidding! Sure, some might say it’s a comeback. A fresh start. Whatever analogy best fits the narrative is fine by me— and I don’t mean that negatively in any sense. I mean, you’ve known me long enough to know I just try not to focus on any of that stuff, messes with my fucking brain waves. I just see it as me doing what I love with a new perspective and a different approach to choosing what projects I’m going to give my time to than I have in the past.

AG: What can you tell us about this project and the character you're playing?

DB: I had the best f*ckin’ time while shooting this film— sorry, but the emphasis was needed. I was really drawn to the vibrancy that this script evoked, even with the serious nature of the storyline and characters. I couldn’t stop thinking or talking about for weeks afterwards. I’d sit with my wife at breakfast and we’d discuss the script and my character for what felt like hours. I knew after I heard her feedback that I needed to be apart of this film— she might have said I’d be stupid to say no to it, in her own loving way.

The film is really about the process of rediscovering yourself. Navigating the challenges that come along with being at your lowest point and leaning on the ones who have been there for you. It’s about finding love in its purest form when you never thought you were deserving of it.

I found bits of myself in this character as we were filming, it was very much a cathartic experience for me. I guess you could say it was art imitating life in a weird way.

AG: There's already been some buzz about this year's award season, do you think this is finally your year?

DB: Ooooh! Is it too presumptuous for me to say yes?! I’ve started dusting the spot where I plan for it to go. I sound like some sort of pompous idiot! Now no one is going to go see it!*

I take it back!

In all seriousness, ‘cause I’m sure Poppy and my agent will be rolling their eyes when they read this. If all I get is a couple nominations, that alone feels like winning. A shiny statue would be nice though— just saying.

AG: You've talked often about your love of art and you recently purchased a gallery. Are you planning to publicly pursue other creative endeavors?

DB: I won’t be joining American Idol anytime soon if that’s what you’re asking. Oh, you weren’t referring to my ability to hold a note during our many karaoke nights— noted!

How did you put it? Other creative endeavors? I’ve got a few art pieces in the works right now that I’m itching to dive back into when I get home. I’ve got a major gallery in LA lined up later in the year for an artist spotlight exhibit, they’ll be housing some of my work through the next year. Shoutout to my wife for getting that all lined up while I was away shooting this film.

AG: What's next for Dieter Bravo? Any other projects lined up you can tell us about?

DB: I’m looking forward to some downtime I have coming up. Poppy has the summer off, so we’ll get to finally live that newlywed life. Settle into the role of doting husband while she does her thing at the gallery.

AG: Off the record, if you got married and didn't tell anyone I will kick yours and Poppy’s ass!

DB: We’re celebrating our one year this month actually. We eloped quietly last year right after we got engaged— wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little while. Which reminds me, you and Bryony should hop on a call with Poppy after this. Seeing as I let the cat out of the bag and this is our announcement— surprise!

Huge shoutout out to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for allowing me to borrow her Ava from Conversations with a Movie Star for this. Ava was so gracious and even wrote the questions herself. I’m so grateful for Lellen and all her support and advice she had given me throughout the writing process of Sweet Creature!

Sweet Creature Celebration

#dieter bravo #dieter x poppy #sweet creature series #sweet creature celebration #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #pedro pascal

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stuffeddeer · 6 months

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thinking about extremely whipped and easily jealous pm dazai with a big crush on reader who keeps talking to chuuya. he assumes this means they have something that he and reader doesn’t have and gets sad about it. he goes to the bar just to vent about it to chuuya who spits his wine everywhere and tells him how stupid be is because y/n likes HIM more than any other person

extremely whipped dazai… anon you’re speaking my language

Dazai had been drinking more than usual, Chuuya had quickly noticed. While the two were quick to claim that they aren’t friends, it was common to see them sitting next to each other after a particularly long day sharing a bottle of wine and venting. Today was no different, the men relaxing in the ginger’s office on his expensive leather chairs, crowding around his desk. The bandaged man poured himself another heavy glass of the bottle Chuuya had been saving for a while, causing him to grumble under his breath.

“I dunno why you’re so angry…”

The short man scoffed at that, deciding to top off his glass as well while he spoke. “You purposely picked the bottle I was savin’,” reddened cheeks give away his slipping sobriety, “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Wasn’t tryna hide it,” Dazai had let out a scoff of his own, chin resting on the hard wood of Chuuya’s work desk. He glared down at the many signed documents, huffing angrily at the signatures of his rival. “You owe me this, at least.”

Chuuya’s eyebrows furrowed pensively. Owed Dazai for what? “I don’t remember makin’ a bet with ya…”

“Not a bet,” Dazai let out a frustrated sigh. “Listen, you owe me.”

“And I’m askin’ for what!” Chuuya’s hat slipped off of his head as he stood up suddenly, the wine in his glass sloshing as he glared down at the usually-taller brunet.

Dazai chugged the rest of his glass. He’d never been a wine-guy, much preferring a nice scotch to Chuuya’s choice of alcohol, so he stuck out his tongue in distaste after the liquid passed his throat. The sight of Dazai’s disgust made Chuuya grit his teeth. If he doesn’t like it, then he should drink something else!

The two were completely plastered. With Chuuya being a lightweight and Dazai finishing off a few bottles on his own, it was destined to happen at some point. Because of their inebriated states, the shorter of the two misheard what Dazai had poorly slurred out after downing his drink. “One more time?” He asked, still unsure what made Dazai so angry with him.

Dazai’s cheeks flushed pink, and not just from the alcohol. How dare this slug make him repeat himself? “You heard me!”

“Did you say— “

“Yes!”

Chuuya’s mouth opened to an understanding o-shape: so he had said your name. “Okay, but, why do I owe you my expensive wines?”

Dazai grabbed the neck of the wine bottle before standing up himself, towering over the ginger. “Whatever! I don’t even wanna be here!”

“I’m not kicking you out, you moron! Just don’t know why you’re actin’ like this!” His hand reached out to grab Dazai’s shoulder, stopping him from leaving.

“You’re pulling them away from me,” he turned to Chuuya with a pout. “You two are always together acting all buddy-buddy. What do you have that I don’t? Why don’t they like me?”

Glass shattered on Chuuya’s nicely wooden office floor, swearing to himself as the wine within the glass splashed up on his shoes and the legs of his nice desk chair. He was too drunk to be embarrassed over dropping his drink, still shocked someone so smart could be so stupid. “D-Dazai, you’re a moron!” He sputters out, jumping away quickly to grab a broom.

“Yeah,” Dazai sits back on his seat with a sad and defeated smile. “I guess I am a moron.” He takes a big swig from the expensive bottle, finishing off the last few drops. The bandaged man’s eyes closed, letting the now empty bottle fall from his hand and onto his lap.

He barely notices Chuuya kneel back down by the desk, gently using a towel to suck up all the wine in between the broken glass pieces. Just as he begins to brush the shards to the side (he’d clean up properly tomorrow), he looked over to see Dazai’s somber look.

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” Chuuya sighs. “I’m not sayin’ you’re a moron for thinking you have a chance with them. You’re a moron for thinking I do.”

Dazai rolls his eyes. The last thing he wanted was Chuuya’s pity. “Hey,” he grabbed the empty bottle again, shaking it in front of the ginger’s face. “We’re outta wine.”

“We?” He scoffed in reply before continuing. “I’m bein’ serious, Dazai. They’re pretty much in love with you. We talk a lot because they’re nervous you’re gonna figure out their secret. Always tellin’ me about how perceptive and smart you are… Makes me sick, honestly.”

No one knows Dazai as well as Chuuya, and same with the inverse. Dazai knew Chuuya wouldn’t lie about something like this to him, especially after recognizing that he was being vulnerable for a tiny moment. Realiing this, Dazai’s heart fluttered. He turned to look at his rival with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, not saying a word as he silently pleaded for Chuuya to be telling the truth.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that, mackerel. They like you. Dunno why, but it’s true.”

Fumbling with his discarded coat, Dazai stands up abruptly. The wine bottle tumbles towards the floor, causing to Chuuya to panic and quickly catch it. “I need to see them!”

“Sit down, asshole!” He gently puts the empty bottle on his desk, letting out a huff of annoyance. “You’re shitfaced, y’know. Sober up. Talk to ‘em tomorrow.”

Dazai’s heart was beating out of his chest. How could he wait until tomorrow to talk with you? All he wanted in that moment was to hold you close - feel the warmth of your skin, bury his face into the crook of your neck, tell you how much you mean to him and how much you are his…

“Hey, drink some water, ‘kay? Whatever you’re thinking, remember they’re probably asleep right now.”

He groaned in annoyance. What does chibi know, anyway? Chin resting against the wooden desk once more, Dazai’s eyes shut in defeat. “Okay…

“...do they really like me?” He opened one eye for a moment, gazing over once again to see if Chuuya was being honest.

“More than they’ve ever liked anyone, apparently.”

A big grin pulled at his lips once Chuuya spoke, smile barely contained as his non-bandaged eye shut again.

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 2 months

Text

Closed Position: Week 1 (Introductions)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble.

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo.

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 7.1K

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

Week 1 Quote: "Fuck. I might be in trouble."

Dieter’s POV

“Lenny, have you seen this fucking schedule? It’s seven days a week for twelve weeks. When do I get a break?”

Lenny, my agent, sighed through the speaker phone, “D, I told you this was going to be a lot of work before you agreed to do it. You shouldn’t be surprised…and besides, that’s only if you make it to the finals.”

I scoffed, “Thanks for the vote of confidence…asshole.” Lenny chuckled on the other end of the line. We both went quiet for a moment as I continued to flip through the packet of paper that Lenny had sent over for review, “I don’t even get to have any say on the wardrobe or music. Such bullshit…sucking all the fun out of it. Did you at least drop a bug in their ear about who I’ll be partnered with? If I get stuck with someone I don’t want, I’m gonna be fucking miserable.”

“I did, but the producers said they always do the partner matching themselves. They have a formula…or something. Maybe bring it up again at this morning's meeting and explain why. They may listen to you on it.”

I huffed as my eyes continued skimming over the weekly schedule, “I have to get a fucking spray tan every week? You have GOT to be kidding me…Lenny, you know I don’t like using carcinogenic chemicals on my body.”

“Uhhh, no comment on that…Look, I’ll put in a call and see if they can use something natural for that.”

I relaxed some, “I would appreciate that. Thank you. Tell them I have an allergy or something…just make it happen.”

I tossed the packet onto the table and picked up my phone, taking it off speaker and putting it to my ear - now pacing as I spoke, “Well, it looks like I’m gonna be pretty busy for a bit. That’ll be a nice distraction. It beats being locked inside the house at least.”

Lenny hesitated, but still asked, “How are you doing with everything? Still managing ok?”

I sighed, “Yeah, I mean I’m going to therapy and all the meetings still. I’ve been doing ok…just trying to keep the stress levels down. That’s what gets to me the most.”

“How long has it been?”

I looked at the date on my watch, “Eight months today…actually. It’s the longest I’ve ever been clean, and I plan to stick to it this time. I’m feeling good and I want to keep it that way.”

“Everyone is really proud of you, D. You know that, right? Keep at it and we'll have you back on top in no time.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing that it was an uphill battle, “I appreciate that, but good luck getting people to change their opinion of me. I’m not sure if my reputation is salvageable at this point. Everyone seems to think my sobriety is some sort of joke. No one is taking it seriously.”

I could hear Lenny inhale deeply on the other end of the phone, “It’s just going to take time, D. Don’t give up yet.”

I pursed my lips in thought, “Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I need to get ready for this meeting. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely let me know how it goes.”

Once I hung up the phone with Lenny, I took a quick shower, then spent longer than I should have staring at the clothes hanging in my closet - trying to pick something that says I have my shit together. My therapist kept reminding me that if I dressed like a slob, people were going to treat me like one. So, I was putting more effort into making myself presentable before I left the house these days. Since it was a work meeting, I went for a business casual look, figuring I couldn’t go wrong with that. After styling my hair and getting dressed, I grabbed my keys, phone, wallet, and sunglasses and headed out the front door.

As I approached my car, which was parked in the driveway, I noticed there was a dead bird on the hood. The fluffy gray, brown, and white stray cat that had been hanging around my house was sitting next to it, looking rather proud of himself. I sighed, “Come on dude, really?” And this is why I need to get the garage cleaned out. I hit the clicker to open the garage door so I could get a broom to knock the bird off the hood. As I waded through the mountain of empty boxes from my move six months ago, I cursed myself for taking my sweet time getting that stuff out of the house. Finally finding the broom, I quickly moved to get the dead bird off of the car and shooed the cat away. He didn’t look happy about it as he moved to sit on the pathway in front of the house, watching me until I was finally on my way to Television City Studios to meet with the producers of Dancing with the Stars.

When I arrived at the studio, I was met by the two executive producers, Stacia and Joe and led into a conference room. I let them do their spiel about what’s expected and the schedule. Nodding along in all the right places, being as polite as possible even though I hated how little say I had over anything. Once they moved on to the topic of how they choose partners, I spoke up for the first time, “I would really like to have input on my partner.” They both moved to speak before I held up my hand to signal that I wasn’t finished talking.

“Look, I know you all have your formula or whatever, but I have a legitimate reason for asking. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve been trying to clean up my image. I’ve been sober for eight months and I would really like to be placed with someone that doesn’t have a reputation for partying…someone who isn’t gonna be a negative influence on me. It’s actually really important to me because I’m actively avoiding being around anyone who is into that kind of lifestyle.” Which is why I spend most of my time alone.

Stacia and Joe looked at each other, obviously surprised at my reasoning for the request. They were actually stunned into silence. Since neither of them said anything, I continued, “I had my team check into the dancers, and based on their recommendation…I’m requesting that Katarina Stamos be my partner. She has a good reputation and I’m also told she’s very professional and isn’t judgmental…because that’s been an issue here lately that I’d really like to not have to deal with.”

Stacia’s brow furrowed, “Are you looking to actually win? Because Kat hasn’t won a single season that she’s been with us.”

I narrowed my eyes on her. What an asshole thing to say about someone. “Well, maybe that’s because you keep giving her shitty partners.”

I gave Stacia a sarcastic smile. She had the audacity to look offended by that statement. I had watched the show and seen the people Katarina was partnered with. It was always the older guys that could hardly move. Stacia’s attitude made me more determined to have Katarina as a partner just to prove a fucking point on her behalf.

Joe interrupted the silent standoff that Stacia and I now seemed to be having, “Alright, let’s think about this…” He turned to Stacia, “Physically, they work together. Their height and proportions are a good match…and Kat is very patient. She would work well with him. Also, if he wishes to be with someone who isn’t into partying, Anika is not the person he needs to be with.”

Stacia looked frustrated and unwilling to give in as she glared at her counterpart. Joe smirked, “If you're worried about the change in narrative, it’s possible there may be other options we haven’t considered.”

What the fuck does that mean? I leaned forward on my elbows, “What narrative?”

They both turned to look at me, Stacia now had a sly smile on her face. It was Joe who answered, “We always consider the possible narratives that could come up between partners. How they’ll interact and get along personality wise. It’s an important factor for the show.”

I felt a crease form between my brows, “So basically, you try to manufacture drama for TV.”

Joe shook his head, “Not exactly, I mean ultimately, yes. We just take personalities and such into account when we pair the dancers with their celebrities. I mean, we do want everyone to get along with their partner, obviously.”

So, you’re fucking meddlers. Got it. I arched my brows, giving them a tight smile as I nodded, going along with what they were telling me. I now realized I would have to keep an eye on these two. I didn’t feel like they had my best interest in mind. Especially if they were initially planning to put me with the known party girl.

I cleared my throat before speaking again, “So what does that mean…do I get to work with Katarina or not?”

Stacia looked at me, now smiling, “I think that may actually be a good match now that I think about it. So yeah, we’ll let you work with Kat. Hopefully you’ll both make it through to finals.”

What is this woman’s deal? Geez Louise. I eyed them both suspiciously for a moment, “Ok, good. Now I’m finally a little excited about this.”

They went over a few more details about the schedule before taking me out to meet with a production assistant, who was tasked with giving me a tour of the building and showing me where my dressing room would be. This part of my day couldn’t end soon enough…

Katarina’s POV

As I was pulling into the Television City Studios parking lot for the first day of my last season on Dancing with the Stars, my phone pinged with a text from Alec, my fiancée.

Alec: I finished up my meeting with production. Are you here? Have you had yours yet?

I leaned my head back against the seat. What the hell has he been doing? I know his meeting was over an hour ago.

Me: Just parked, I have mine in 10 minutes. I’m on my way in…Meet you in the lobby.

A few minutes later, I found Alec in the lobby. He seemed more excited than he normally was on the first day as he greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek.

I leaned away from him, “What’s got you so smiley this morning?” I could tell he was trying to temper it down and have a more neutral expression on his face as he shrugged, “I didn’t realize I was. Guess I’m just excited to see you.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. What are you hiding now you asshole. He didn’t know how well I could read him at this point.

I arched a brow instead of returning his smile, “So, I assume you found out who your partner is gonna be?”

He continued his attempts at a neutral expression, “Yeah, Lana Thompson…she’s an actress, I think. There was apparently a last minute change to the lineup this morning. You know her?”

I gave him a tight smile, “Yeah…I know her. She has a bit of a reputation…”

He feigned ignorance, “Oh? I don’t know anything about her. I’m sure she’ll turn out to be one of those stuck up, bitchy types like the rest of ‘em. Ya know, you’re lucky it’s your last season so you don’t have to deal with these people anymore.”

And there it is. He doth protest too much. He was excited to be paired with her, I could tell. He saw it as an opportunity. As far as I knew, he hadn’t strayed to another woman in some time, but that didn’t mean he had changed. He still hadn’t earned my trust back and his current excitement only made me more suspicious of his commitment.

Alec could sense the tension taking hold of my body as he rubbed at my lower back, “Everything ok, baby?”

I gave him a half-hearted smile, “Yeah, just peachy. I’ve gotta go or I’m gonna be late. I’ll catch up with you after.”

As I was walking down the hallway toward the conference room, I saw Lana Thompson exiting the bathroom. I suspected Alec had already met his partner and liked her more than he let on. Which probably explains why it took him as long as it did to text me.

When I entered the conference room, Stacia and Joe sat huddled together. They seemed to be engrossed in whatever they were whispering about, but abruptly stopped talking once they realized I was lingering in the entryway. They both smiled, almost over enthusiastically as they welcomed me and motioned for me to have a seat. They studied me for a moment before Stacia finally spoke, “How are things going with you?”

That’s an odd question and an odd tone. I wasn’t sure what kind of answer she was looking for, “It’s going good, why?”

She gave me a small smile, “I know it’s your last season because you have things going on…but do you think you’re feeling up to the possibility of making it to finals?”

I gave her a confused look, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Joe leaned forward, “What Stacia is trying to say is…the person we have you partnered with this time is going to be a little more physically able than your usual partners. So, you may be in it for the full twelve weeks…if you can pull it off. Are you physically able to handle it?”

Should I be offended by that? It’s not like I can’t function. It was just painful some days, especially when there were a lot of rehearsals. My joints couldn’t handle the Latin dances like they used to - the jerky movements exacerbating the inflammation and discomfort. That didn’t mean they had to treat me like a fragile porcelain doll though.

I narrowed my eyes at them, “Of course I can handle it. I could handle it this entire time…which is why I’ve been asking for more capable partners.”

Joe smiled, “Well, good. Maybe you can go out with a bang this season.”

What the fuck was this about? I dug my teeth into my bottom lip as I tried to figure out their angle. There was always an angle with them, “Why do I feel like you’re trying to sell this to me?”

Joe grimaced slightly. “We’re not trying to sell it, but we do worry you won’t be happy about it.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the seat, “Who is it?”

Stacia smirked, “It’s Dieter Bravo.”

I looked between the two of them, “You’re joking?”

They shook their heads in unison. This didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t he be better suited with one of the girls that enjoyed a lifestyle similar to his?

“What makes you think he and I will work well together? I know I have a lot of patience, but it does have its limits.”

Joe chuckled, “His people requested you specifically. He’s actually eight months sober and they want him with someone who isn’t going to get him into trouble. He’s trying to clean up his image.”

I scoffed, “I thought you didn’t let the celebrities have any say in who they’re partnered with?”

Joe leaned forward onto the table, “We don’t normally, but given his request and the reasons for it, we felt we should make an exception. We were thinking of putting him with you anyway.”

I shook my head, “You are aware of his reputation, right? Alec is gonna lose his shit over this.”

Stacia smiled, “It’s not your or Alec’s choice. We run the show.”

It dawned on me then. Alec had said there was a last minute lineup change this morning and that’s why he was put with Lana. I had somehow managed to fly under the radar when it came to the producers' manufactured bullshit, but now I was right in the middle of it. They were making moves to create an underlying narrative for the show.

“Who was he partnered with originally? I know it wasn’t me.”

Stacia looked surprised by my question, “He was never partnered with anyone else before you.”

Stacia was lying. She couldn’t look at me directly when she answered my question - it was her tell. I knew how their minds worked. Dieter Bravo had a reputation for causing trouble and they were looking to exploit it. I’m sure his request caused a hiccup in their plans, so now they were making adjustments to cause drama surrounding him any way they could.

My eyes shifted between the two of them, “I don’t know what your endgame is here, but I have no intention of playing, just so you know.”

Stacia and Joe sat expressionless, not giving anything away. I assumed they expected this sort of response from me. My tendency to push back at their plans was one of the reasons I wasn’t a favorite of theirs and most likely part of the reason they always worked to get me off the show as soon as possible, every season. Which sucked for my bank account. To add to their reasoning, I wasn’t interesting enough since I never had issues with my partners or whirlwind romances that made for good TV. However, this season they were taking a chance, throwing two bombs in the form of Lana and Dieter into my already tumultuous relationship with Alec. Hoping for an exciting outcome that would play out behind the scenes to stir up tabloid fodder and result in free promotion for the show.

Joe sighed, finally speaking to break the tension in the room, “For what it’s worth, we met with Dieter earlier this morning…he was actually very pleasant and agreeable. I don’t think he’ll be an issue for you, so long as he continues to stay sober.”

My brows furrowed, “It sounds like you have a lot of faith in him. Good to know.” I moved to stand, “Well, if there isn’t anything else you need from me…”

Joe smiled weakly in my direction, “No, I think that’s it for now…just make sure you review the schedule and let us know if you have questions.”

I gave them a sarcastic smile before moving to leave the conference room. As I rounded the corner in the hallway, looking down at the floor lost in my thoughts and frustration, I ran into someone. I started mumbling my apologies as I looked up at the stranger. I was met with a mess of curls, piercing dark eyes, and a dimpled lop-sided grin. It was Dieter fucking Bravo looking like he just stepped out of a GQ magazine.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said through a chuckle with his hands on my shoulders to catch me from running head first into him. We stared at each other in silence for a moment. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he can’t call me that.

He had a slight smirk on his face now, “Katarina, right? Looks like we’re gonna be dance partners.”

I shook my head, my lips set in a tight line, “Don’t call me that.”

His brow furrowed, “What? Katarina?”

I scoffed, “No, sweetheart. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. It’s inappropriate. You can call me Kat like everyone else.”

He was obviously taken off guard by my cold demeanor as he gave me a confused look, “I didn’t…mean anything by it, I-I call everyone sweetheart.”

I nodded, “Well, you're not gonna call me that.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a beat, “I guess I’ve earned that. Sorry, I won’t do it again.”

I inhaled deeply, biting my bottom lip as I did so. It didn’t go unnoticed that his eyes shifted down to my mouth. “Look, this is my last season and I just wanna get through it without any drama, ok?”

A crease formed between his brows as his jaw ticked to the side, “What makes you think I’m gonna cause drama?”

I shook my head, now realizing how big of a jerk I was being, “Umm…I…”

He continued to stare at me with a burning intensity, “Just so you know, I’m sober…have been for eight months. Drama is not my thing these days…”

I gave him a tight smile, “Good…hopefully you can stick to it.” Fuck. That did not come out how I meant for it to.

I could see his jaw muscles flex before he let out a small laugh. His eyes finally shifted downward. He almost looked hurt by that comment.

I sighed, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

His brows arched as he peered at me through his lashes, “You know, I requested to be partnered with you because I was told that you're professional and wouldn’t be judgmental about my past…I guess I heard wrong. I suppose I should just expect it at this point, right? Maybe I shouldn’t have such high expectations of others.”

My mouth fell open as I shook my head. I’m such a fucking asshole. He didn’t give me a chance to say anything before he spoke again, “I guess I’ll see you at rehearsals tomorrow. Have a good afternoon.” He gave me a sad smile as he brushed past me. I stood there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot watching him as he walked toward the exit. That was a great first impression. Good job, Kat.

“Who was that?” Alec asked from behind me.

I turned, running my fingers through the top of my hair out of frustration, “That was my new dance partner.”

Alec squinted toward the figure standing near the exit, now stopping to look at his phone, “Is that Dieter Bravo?”

I could feel my jaw tighten as I took in Alec’s expression, “Yes, it is.” Alec’s head snapped toward me, “I don’t want you working with him.”

I smiled sarcastically, “Really? And you think I have a choice in that? They made it clear, there is no other option. I asked.”

Alec shook his head, “You could just not do this season. You're quitting anyway. Why not go ahead and drop out?”

My eyes widened at his suggestion, “Because I need the fucking money, you know that.”

He chuckled, “Right, for the dance studio.”

I scoffed, “Yeah, for the dance studio. I don’t understand why you can’t support me on that.”

Alec didn’t acknowledge my question, “This guy is a known womanizer. I’m not comfortable with this.”

My head tilted to the side, “So you don’t trust me. That’s rich coming from you. You know…I’m not excited about your partner either, but I didn’t tell you to drop out. If anyone has a right to be concerned, it’s me.”

Alec moved in closer, causing me to back up against the wall as he got in my face. His eyes were blazing with anger, “You’re never gonna let that shit go, are you? That was ten months ago, and I have been loyal to you ever since. Yet here you are…still throwing it in my fucking face.”

I had a sudden defiant streak hit me, “You’re the one who brought it up by insinuating that you couldn’t trust me. I’m just reminding you who the problem is in this relationship.”

Alec moved to put his hand on the wall next to my head as he leaned in further - his nose nearly touching mine as I turned my stoney face away from him, “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again,” he spat out.

I could feel his eyes drift over my face for a moment before he pulled away and walked off.

I huffed out a quiet “Fuck” as I exhaled a shaky breath and watched him walk toward the dressing rooms. When I glanced back toward the exit, Dieter was still standing there, frozen in place with his phone halfway to his ear. Once he realized I was looking his way, his head dropped downward, and he slowly turned to exit the building.

Dieter’s POV

As I walked out into the scorching afternoon sun, I ended the call to check my voicemail, deciding I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. I was frustrated by my first interaction with Katarina. It didn’t go how I expected, and honestly, she had hurt my feelings. Based on everything I had heard about her, I didn’t think she would throw my past up in my face like that. At least not immediately, if at all. She did seem a little flustered, maybe she was just having a bad day?

What followed after our exchange was even more bizarre. It looked like she was having a tense conversation with the man that I assumed was the one she was dating. Lenny had mentioned she was engaged to one of the other dancers. When the man first leaned in, I initially thought they were just having a private moment, but then I noticed the look on Kat’s face as she turned away from him. Something about it was unsettling and for a brief moment, I considered interrupting them. Luckily, I didn’t have to. However, I was left feeling that I had witnessed something I wasn’t supposed to.

Even though our conversation didn’t go as well as I hoped, I was still struck with how beautiful Katarina was in person. Pictures and TV didn’t do her justice. It was probably a good thing she was seeing someone, otherwise I would be in danger of making a fool of myself. Then again, I probably would anyway. My sober self didn’t seem to know how to act around a pretty lady. My confidence and self-assurance definitely weren’t on the same level these days.

When I got home, I spent more time than I would like to admit staring at my reflection in the mirror - trying to remind myself that I was no longer the piece of shit that everyone still saw me as. It was still hard for me to accept that the old me and the new me were two very different people. Some days it really did seem like it was easier being the old Dieter Bravo, because he didn’t care about how he was perceived by others. I often longed for him to come back, just to quiet the thoughts of self-hate and inadequacy. Those thoughts really could be suffocating and hard to overcome. It was near impossible living with myself on those days.

The anticipation of how our first rehearsal would go was starting to get to me. So, I decided to spend the rest of the evening trying to relax and take my mind off things. With classical music blaring from the sound system, I moved through the house to check in on my plants - watering, misting leaves, and pruning. It was a new hobby I had picked up since rehab. It started with one succulent plant that had seen better days. My neighbor had left it sitting next to the trash bin on garbage collection day. For some reason, I had an urge to attempt to save the shriveled mass. After a few weeks, it was showing new life as the deep purple hues started to form on the leaves. My plant obsession bloomed from there. Now I wasn’t even sure how many I had. I was fairly certain my housekeeper was going to quit if I brought any more home.

After I was finished with the plants, I spent some time painting until I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer. It was nearing midnight by the time I had showered and crawled into bed. Even though I was completely exhausted, I couldn’t shut my mind off. The anxiety was now building to problematic levels. It was always at this point that I thought about using the most. By now, the old Dieter would be a couple lines in and a few drinks deep to block out the thoughts. The new Dieter suffers through it as he lay in bed alone, staring into the darkness. I drug both hands down my face and huffed loudly before moving to switch on the lamp beside the bed. I reached for my latest self-help book and began reading.

I was startled awake by my 7 AM alarm. I groaned as I felt around next to me on the bed for the shrilling phone to shut it off. I sat up, still half out of it, causing the book that had been lying on my chest to fall to the floor with a loud thump. I got up from bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes as I walked toward the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I stood staring at my reflection again, “You look like shit, Bravo.” It was clear I hadn’t gotten much sleep from my dark circles and puffy eyelids. I threw a warm rag over my eyes for a few minutes in hopes that would help.

Standing in my closet staring at the pile of gym clothes my stylist had picked up, I selected a random pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then pulled the tags off. We weren’t allowed to wear anything with brands or logos on filming days, so I had to break down and buy more clothes. It was probably for the best, my old gym clothes were looking a little ratty anyway.

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my backpack that had a few essentials in it and headed toward the front door. As I stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind me, I was greeted by my furry squatter who had left another gift near the steps - a dead mouse. I sighed, “Well, at least it’s not on top of the car this time…” The fluffy menace meowed at me as he rubbed against my legs, as if to say, “Look what I did!”

I was determined to not give in to the furry intruder, so I disregarded his attempts for pets. “Don’t you have a family somewhere to annoy?” I muttered to him as I continued toward the car. He followed me halfway down the pathway before sitting down and flicking his tail around as he watched me get into the driver's side and shut the door. He didn’t look happy about being ignored.

I gave myself a quick glance in the rearview mirror, reaching to comb down my hair with my fingers. I hadn’t bothered to fix it, knowing it was going to turn into a mess no matter what I did to it. Then, I started the car and drove in silence to the dance studio, not even really sure how I got there as I pulled into the parking lot. I found myself wondering if I had run any redlights as I walked through the main entrance. I felt like I was in a haze as the camera team talked to me in the lobby to fill me in on the plans for filming.

They wanted to do a brief interview with me before I went into the studio with Katarina. They wanted me to give the whole spiel about how excited I was to be here and working with my dance partner. Truth is, I wasn’t excited. I was nervous as hell, and I was supposed to act like this was the first time I was meeting her. I was unsure of how to act toward her, so when the time came for me to walk through the door to greet her and act excited, I turned on the Dieter Bravo charm the best I could and pretended like yesterday’s conversation never happened.

I was surprised to find how well Katarina did the same thing as she came over to greet me with a smile and a hug and gushed about how excited she was to work with me. However, we were both avoiding looking at the other directly. Clearly there was still some lingering awkwardness between us. After they filmed the introduction, they wanted to get some quick shots of us rehearsing.

These first few days of rehearsal were meant for learning the basics. We were not actually getting into the first routine yet. We started with some simple stretches and moved into learning the proper frame, the different types of positions, and spacing for the different types of dances. It was all very high level and fast, but Katarina had promised that we would go over it in more detail once the film crew left for the day. The quick pace was mostly for the benefit of the film crew so they could get what they needed and move on to the next couple.

Once filming was done for the day, we took a seat on the floor for a water break as the crew gathered up all of their gear to leave. We mostly sat in awkward silence until we were finally alone. I could feel Katarina’s eyes on me as I stared at the water bottle in my hand. She spoke first.

“I feel like I should apologize about yesterday…I was having a shit day and kind of took it out on you. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean what I said.”

I pursed my lips and shrugged, “It’s fine. I’m used to it at this point.”

She reached out and grasped my wrist with her left hand, the heat of her touch raced through me as I looked at the glittering ring on that finger for a moment before meeting her eyes, “It doesn’t mean that it should keep happening though. It’s not right and it’s not fair to you. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

I huffed out a small laugh, “Yeah, except I’m on like my tenth chance. I understand why no one takes me seriously. Really, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Her face softened as she stared at me for a beat, like she was trying to decide what she wanted to say next. Then she shifted her body to face me as she crossed her legs, “It is a big deal. It’s a big deal to me because I know better. You know…”

She paused, appearing to gather her thoughts. I moved to lean back on my hand and face her more fully with my legs stretched out to the side. My teeth bit into my bottom lip as I watched her face shift to a somewhat pained expression. It was brief, but I still caught it before she gained her composure.

“My uhh…my dad was sober for about 14 years before he passed. I know how hard it was for him in the beginning…with everyone doubting him and not giving him a chance. It’s one of the reasons he relapsed the first few times. It can be hard when you don’t have any support from the people around you. I know that…and I don’t wanna be one of those people. You haven’t given me any reason to doubt you, so I wanna make sure I’m giving you a fair shot and support you as long as you’re actively trying to better yourself. I know first-hand that people do change.”

Is she fucking serious? I couldn’t move or speak. She had stunned me again for the second day in a row. I never would have guessed she would share something so personal, especially on our first day together. She seemed sincere in her apology.

I finally managed a curt nod before I reached to rub at the crease between my brows, “Thanks…I uhh…I appreciate that.” I let out a small laugh, “I appreciate it more than you probably realize, actually.”

She gave me a tentative smile, “Does that mean I’m forgiven for being an asshole then?”

I chuckled, “Of course…and I didn’t think you were an asshole. Not really. I had a feeling you were having a bad day.”

“Whew…ok. Good. I was worried I had already fucked this whole thing up before it started.”

Ok, it’s kind of hot when she says fuck. I smirked, “Does this mean I get to call you sweetheart now?”

She narrowed her eyes on me and shook her head, “No. No sweetheart.” She laughed quietly, “But, I might consider a different nickname if you come up with a good one.”

My lips spread into a cheeky smile, “I think I can come up with something.” She laughed into the top of her water bottle as she took a sip with a slight flush creeping up her neck. Am I flirting right now? I don’t even know what I’m doing. Geez. I looked away in an attempt to reign myself in. I can’t be doing that.

We were soon back at it, now with a more relaxed atmosphere. We again started with getting my frame right. I stood in place as she moved my arms to the proper position, pushing in between my shoulder blades to straighten my posture. After several minutes in the position, I couldn’t help the groan that slipped out, “This is gonna do a number on my back muscles, isn’t it?”

She snickered, “You will definitely have better posture by the time I’m done with you. Now, elbows up, you should have a horizontal line from elbow to elbow…and hold it there.”

She then stood in front of me, taking in my form for a moment before manipulating my hands into the proper position.

Smiling, she nodded in satisfaction as she stepped closer, “Ok, now let’s go over the hold. The hold is important because it’s how we connect…how our bodies communicate movement to lead and follow.”

As she spoke, she moved closer, placing her arm along the top of my right one and clasping my left hand in hers. She was very matter of fact with her words as her eyes bore into mine. It was almost distracting.

“I need you to make sure there’s no space between our arms…here, so keep your elbow flush against mine.” She bounced her arm against the top of my right one to emphasize what she meant. “This is an important connection point because I can feel the pressure from your arm, which will tell me how to follow. As for your left hand, keep it at my eye level. We apply pressure here as well for another connection point.”

All I could do was nod along with her words, completely mesmerized by her intensity. Once she felt we had the hold down, she began to explain the differences in spacing for standard ballroom versus Latin dances.

“So…in Latin style dances, we’ll have more space between us…like we are now. It gives us more room to move. We’re gonna be slightly offset from each other while maintaining this closed position. Got it?”

I nodded again as I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I wanted to look at her directly, but I couldn’t. Between her eyes burning into me and the tingling from her touch, I felt like my skin was on fire. I didn’t know what to make of it and it was sort of fucking with my head.

Then she stepped even closer, the front of our bodies nearly flush as she slightly adjusted the position of our arms. I swallowed hard over her proximity and the tangy citrus scent that was now invading my senses. Fuck. I might be in trouble.

“For standard dances, like the Waltz and Foxtrot, we’re gonna be closer…like this. Our frame will be a little wider and our arms will be positioned slightly lower. We’ll both be looking off to our left instead of directly at each other.”

I cleared my throat, stepping back slightly, “Sooo…umm…do we look off to the left for Latin dances?”

Her brows arched as her eyes widened, “Good question. I should have mentioned that. There’s typically more direct eye contact in the Latin dances. It’s actually another form of connection…another way for us to communicate without words.”

She moved back into the Latin dance hold, now making direct eye contact with me. I couldn’t help how my eyes roamed over her face, taking in the minor changes in her expression as she spoke. I wasn’t sure if the close proximity of the standard hold or direct eye contact with the Latin hold was worse. They were both a little overwhelming.

“Alright, let’s try some steps. We can start with the Rumba.”

She broke away for a moment to show me the foot movement, then had me give it a try. After a successful attempt, she positioned us back into the Latin hold and we began moving together. Once it seemed we had the footwork down, she backed away with a smirk on her face.

“You’re actually really good at this, you know. We do need to work on eye contact though.”

I smiled nervously as I looked down at my feet and rubbed the back of my neck, “I’m sorry…I know. Direct eye contact is a little weird for me.” I glanced up at her through my lashes, slightly embarrassed by the admission.

She smiled and arched a brow in my direction, “Really? I never would have guessed that based on your love scenes.”

My eyes widened. I do not need to think about her watching me dick someone down on screen. Focus, Bravo. I chuckled nervously, “Yeah, I’m not usually looking directly into their eyes during those. I tend to stare between their eyebrows.”

She gave me a sly smile now, snickering, “Oh, is that why you usually look cross eyed then?”

My brow furrowed as I gave her a mock look of offense, “I don’t look cross eyed. That’s rude.”

She cackled over my response, “I’m joking. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen one of your love scenes to know how your face looks.”

I scrunched up my nose, “Ouch, ok…so you don’t watch my movies. Got it.”

Her laugh had simmered to a quiet chuckle now as she lightly smacked my shoulder, “I’ve seen some…just not any with a love scene. So don’t be so offended. I’ve seen those TikTok videos though…they gave me a good idea of what I’m working with.”

I rolled my eyes, “Ugh…those fucking TikTok videos. They’re so bad.”

I had to admit, it was nice to be joking around with her after all the tension that had built up from yesterday. I took it as a good sign that this might actually go ok. What I didn’t expect was the attraction that I was starting to feel as our day went on. However, the obnoxiously sized engagement ring she wore on her finger helped keep that in check every time I saw it sparkling in the light when she moved. As long as that shiny reminder was there, I would be ok...

Right?

Next: Week 2

✨FUN FACTS: All cast members on Dancing with the Stars are in fact required to get a weekly spray tan. They also do not get to choose their partners, costumes, music, or themes. They can make recommendations obviously, but the producers do not have to honor the requests. When it comes to pairing partners, the producers do have a "formula".

A/N: I wanted to take a quick minute to welcome all of my new and old readers! So happy to have you all with me for my next adventure with Dieter Bravo. For the new folks, I'm a sucker for predictions and theories. If you have them, drop them in the comments so we can discuss. Now on to my normal nonsense...how are you guys feeling about the first chapter? How do you feel about Dieter and Kat's first couple of interactions? What about all the characters that were introduced? I'm curious to know who you want to throat punch more, Alec or Stacia? I'm already in love with these two and I can't wait to share more of them. This Dieter is...something else. I love sharing things from his point of view. He is going to be a good time, as expected. Kat is...kind of a mess, but also not? It's been interesting being in her head. How do you see things progressing with these two? Lastly, a quick thank you to @maggiemayhemnj for giving this first chapter a quick read through to make sure all these plot points were introduced in a way that made sense...because seriously, there is a lot going on here. She also found the perfect disco ball looking dividers for this...and I fucking love them. 😘 👉 I did a fun post about Dieter's plant hobby and his furry visitor. Check it out HERE. 👉 In case you missed it, I also did a character introduction post, which you can find HERE. Until next time, 💜 Mysty

Taglist: @secretelephanttattoo @titlee78 @maggiemayhemnj @legendary-pink-dot @linzels-blog @morallyinept @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin @cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza @girlofchaos @trulybetty @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions @myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime @copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter @burntheedges @stevie75 @pedrostories

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Credits: Support/MDNI Dividers: @cafekitsune Disco Divider: @deadbranch

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #dancing dieter #closed position series

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hades-in-bloom · 10 months

Text

Al Dente

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: he might be of Italian descent, but he still can’t nail cooking pasta.

warnings & contents: assumed older Leon, but could be of any period; assumed age gap, but could be none; reader could be of any gender; fluff with attitude and smth that could be considered a prelude with grabbing and kisses; mentions of drinking; no pasta recipes, really, just stupid banter; a little bit of manhandling

a/n: am not Italian, so please let me know if I’ve committed any blasphemy. Also, this is one silly piece of writing because I’m de-stressing and can’t write anything serious, but am also obsessed with Leon tapping into his Italian descent. As always, proceed with caution and at your own risk; minors DNI! Masterlist

***

‘Oh, I swear…’ Leon mumbled, taking a look into the deep cylindrical pot that was cooking on the stove; the water boiling merrily. Kennedy sighed; he got distracted for a few minutes while taking a call from D.S.O.—which seemed enough for a batch of pasta to turn into goo.

Again.

Leon huffed out a bad word, lifted the pot from the heat, and dropped it straight into the sink without any attempt to retrieve its doughy contents. The man cracked open another beer bottle and took a sip, visibly consumed with heavy thoughts; the number of beers had perfectly correlated with the number of unsuccessfully cooked batches of pasta. Although Leon has never encouraged food waste, this time the big and scary D.S.O. agent refused to give up, steadily losing his sobriety with each try.

You watched him suffer for quite a while, half through the bottle of wine yourself—because grabbing popcorn would be too obvious and undoubtedly rude, although the show was getting more entertaining by the minute; Leon’s frustration was evident.

‘How’s it going?’ you hummed from behind his back. You did your best to hide your smirk.

Leon groaned. He knew you were having a laugh; who wouldn't in that situation, anyway.

‘I’d rather shoot a horde of zombies,’ Kennedy mumbled. He took another sip of his beer and hummed, assessing the situation. ‘Also, I'm running out of pasta.’

You were convinced he deserved the roast; however, his genuinely concerned facial expression made you chuckle.

‘Should we take a break?’ you tilted your head slightly, watching his reaction.

‘We?’ Leon raised his eyebrow, giving you a side-eye. ‘I am getting tortured. What exactly are you doing?’

You thought about it briefly; took a sip from your wine glass.

‘I guess I should be qualified as moral support?’ you assumed.

Leon scoffed, then couldn’t hold back a chuckle. He turned around, facing you; his eyes trained on your features then.

‘I bet you don’t know how to cook a proper al dente either.’

‘You bet?’ wine was your liquid courage, so you might have been too venturesome at that moment. Neither of you complained, though. The man of the hour was intrigued. ‘What if I were to cook you the nicest al dente pasta you’ve ever eaten, Kennedy?’

Scott snorted in a friendly manner and folded his arms over his chest.

‘Ever eaten is a bold claim, sweetheart,’ he teased, his smile growing wider. ‘My family were immigrants from Italy, you know that, right?’

You shrugged his comment off light-heartedly.

‘If I lose, I lose, right? And you could claim your prize,’ you smirked. Oh, you had no doubts he was interested.

His gaze bore into yours for a second; then his features relaxed, although you still could see his shoulders tense—you let it slip.

‘Alright, go forth and forward,’ he smirked; his stare spoke volumes. ‘I will start thinking of what you owe me in return when you screw it up.’

You quickly cleaned up the kitchen countertop, allowing clean water to boil one more in the cooking pot while you measured two portions of store-bought pasta.

Leon watched your actions over your shoulder before you felt his large palms on your hips.

‘Nicely done,’ he murmured from under your earlobe.

You knew he wouldn't be able to play fair; he wasn't big on losing, whether major or minor—and you cooking pasta al dente better than him, taking into account his heritage, was a below-the-belt insult to him. Thus, he didn't mind deploying desperate measures.

‘That’s cheating, Kennedy,’ you muttered, putting the batch of pasta into the pot.

‘I don't remember me touching you being against whatever rules,’ he hummed, placing his lips on your neck. Your heartbeat fastened. ‘Fairly, I don't remember us discussing any rules.’

‘You’ll regret it when I win,’ you claimed. Leon glanced into your pot once again. ‘A couple of minutes more…’ You hummed.

‘How do you know the perfect timing?’ he moaned into your ear. You smirked.

‘Who knows, maybe it would be awful…’ you teased, and he shook his head.

‘No, it won’t,’ Leon concluded quickly and, by lifting you up, grabbed you onto his shoulder. You squealed, losing the ground from under your feet, and clung onto his t-shirt from the back in an attempt to keep your balance.

‘Oh, you fiend!’ you watched him turn off the stove before dragging you into the bedroom. ‘That was our dinner!’

‘I think you're right—we should take a break; maybe, we could order pizza…’ he hummed. You groaned in response, helplessly hanging from his height, his hand holding you tight right under your asscheeks.

Leon let you slide from his shoulder onto the mattress in the bedroom, hovering over you in the next second. His lips barely touched yours when he smirked and watched you blush then.

‘…after I finish with the appetizer.’

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leonskennedysfavoritewife · 5 months

Text

Sobriety - DILF! Leon Kennedy x female!Reader

Word Count: 4k PART 2

MINORS DNI! 18+

Warnings! Mentions of Alcoholism, Masturbation, Pillow Riding, Sex, Praise Kink, Age-Gap relationship, Depressive themes.

Others: No use of Y/N, After-Care, Leon being unable to take hints.

(Loosely based on a JAI bot by BBSUSHI)

Another night. Another bottle. Or two. Or more.

The same old routine for Leon Kennedy. Sure- he knew his liver would be fucked at some point. Though, he didn’t give a shit after everything. It was either die from excessive drinking or get killed by some mutated B.O.W. from hell- another frightening creature to add to his collection of nightmares.

Leon groaned- trying to not think about any of it- after all- that’s what the liquor was supposed to be doing. He was currently sprawled lazily on his chair, the TV playing some crappy rerun of a show he didn’t even watch- just had on for the background noise and company- until… there was a knock.

Who the fuck is bothering at this hour?

He had grumbled to himself, swaying as he stood up. It took everything in him not to crash into the glass coffee table or any other delicate furniture. He reached for his gun, tucked into a drawer of the entrance table. He squinted, blurred vision through the peephole, but couldn’t see straight enough to tell who it was.

His mind raced with thoughts. Maybe it was someone from Umbrella come to finally kill him- or maybe Claire and Chris wanting to drag him to another bullshit AA meeting. Or maybe a fellow agent coming to tell him he’s needed for one more grueling, back breaking mission.

He pushed any morbid thoughts aside- hand undoing the chain on the door and fumbling for the door in record time- swinging it open with the gun pressed to the other side just in case- which might be a terrible idea while plastered, but whatever.

“What the hell do you wan-“ he started, his voice catching in his throat. Stood in front of him was a young woman- probably young enough to be his daughter- if he had ever been able to have children. He lowered the gun from its place- storing it into the back of his sweatpant’s waistband for now.

The girl was pretty- no- more than just pretty, gorgeous even. He shook his head, mumbling what sounded like a possible drunken apology.

You, however, spoke up loud and clear-but equally apologetic in nature.

“I’m so sorry- I just moved in and I figured I’d go around introducing myself to my neighbors. I’m throwing a little moving-in-celebration tomorrow and wanted to invite everyone on this floor.”

Leon raised an eyebrow, scoffing.

“A celebration, huh? Look- don’t you know how dangerous it is inviting strangers into your home?...” he muttered- his tone rude from him being hammered and -too stubborn to apologize for the drunken outburst when he had answered the door moments ago. He would blame this on his raging migraine later.

You crossed your arms, a little defensive but able to tell whatever he had going on was letting his frustration take over. You were perceptive enough to know that much- along with the fragrant smell of whiskey emanating from him.

“Well- sure. If you’d like to be pessimistic, I guess. Either way.. you’re welcome to come. It’s apartment G7. Show up any time from five o’clock to around seven’ish.” You were swift to turn on your heel- leaving him without a retort. He bit his tongue, closing the door. Hard. It made him angry- of course he was pessimistic. Most people would be too if they dealt with half the shit that he had, but he decided he wouldn’t possibly expect some oblivious young person to know that.

He slumped back onto his chair, tossing the gun from his waistband aside and grumbling.

The next afternoon, he woke up in a sweaty pool as usual- night terrors along with the tossing and turning were to blame.

His mind came to- a drunken haze flooding into his consciousness from the night before. He was feeling his much nicer self now- regretting the encounter from last night. Your pretty face. Your invitation. Shit. He didn’t even know if he remembered what apartment number you had told him. Whatever- he could figure that out on his own.

Fucking idiot. He told himself, climbing from the sheets and uncoordinatedly walking to the bathroom- disoriented. Once inside, he planted his hands on the edge of the sink for support- looking in the mirror.

Crows feet. Laugh lines. A few grey strands in his brown hair- which was once a shimmering blonde…

He started to wonder when the fuck he began looking like this- and why the hell you would still be nice to someone as old and grumpy as him- even after he decided to be an ass. Thinking about your face- beautiful and youthful… brought him back to his own for a moment.

Save it. No chick wants a middle aged alcoholic in their life. Not one that looks like.. this. Or has more baggage than an airport.

Either way- part of him wanted to not show up to your little rendezvous- but the other decided he would probably regret it more. He needed to get out of the house and stop ruining his reputation in the building. After all- people were tired of hearing his drunken stumbling in the apartment- and maintenance was tired of coming to fix holes in the wall- amongst other broken things. Hell, the only reason he hasn’t been fucked out of his lease is because of his job’s connections. But maybe- just maybe- showing up would salvage something.

Leon runs a calloused hand over his stubble, debating on whether or not he should shave.

What’s the point- I look fucking old either way.

He skips the maintenance- deciding he’ll get to it for a special occasion. Whether it’s an important, work-related meeting or a dinner at the White House.

After a lengthy shower- where he ran out his hot water from standing and sulking- he decided to skip the bottle today. The last thing he needed was to show up to this little ‘get together’ drunk and make a scene- being the unstable, quick-to-anger type of drunk.

Seeing as how it’s already 3 in the afternoon, Leon went ahead and dressed himself. Blue button down. Jeans. Leather jacket. Boots. Not much different from what he’d wear every day- but he put just a hint more effort into it today- given the spritz of cologne and freshly showered state. Eventually- it’s a little past five. Leon somehow remembered that you didn’t give a specific time- only a few hours of a frame. He stepped into the floor’s hallway, immediately hearing chatter and banter of all kinds from the left side of the hallway.

He sucked in a breath, making his way to where the commotion emanated, and firmly knocking on the door.

Why the fuck did I show up, I shouldn’t have-

The door swung open- your face quickly lighting up as you saw he had made it.

“Hey, neighbor. Glad you decided to show up.” You beamed, opening the door a little wider.

Jesus Christ, her smile. I can’t remember the last time anyone had that reaction to seeing me. Whatever- it’s only formality.

Leon wanted to smile back- but the insecurity returned- leaving him to give a half-assed smile, nodding, and stepping inside.

There were a good few other people inside- chatting and snacking on the few trays of food you had set out, surely enjoying themselves. Your apartment was nice, clean cut, yet already so lived in despite you having just moved in.

“Can I get you anything?” You asked- breaking him from his observations.

“Uh- yeah. Just some water.” He acknowledged you- his nerves kicking in from being around so many strangers at once.

You smiled again, making something stir in his chest. You went over to the small kitchen and grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge- the condensation sweating off in your palm. As you handed it to him- your fingers brushed- not going unnoticed by Leon.

Is she doing this shit on purpose or…- no, stop. This is normal human interaction. You haven’t been to a true social gathering in so long.

“Sooo… do you have a name? Or should I call you mister Pessimistic?” You teased- referring to what you had said the previous night. Before Leon could even say anything to defend himself- you put your hands up.

“I wanted to apologize, though. I don’t mean to make assumptions but it seems like something else had been bothering you- so I just wanted to clear that up. No hard feelings?” You gave a pressed, dimpled smile- extending your hand. Leon hesitantly took it with a protected, cautious look glazing his face- which slowly crept into a returned smile.

“Leon.” He finally answered.

You gave him your name, inviting him to come join you and the others in the living room. He looked around- recognizing a few faces- some of which had made noise complaints on him before.

Great.

He took a seat on your couch- his largeness taking up a good portion. He listened to the few conversations- sipping the water bottle and quenching his dehydration- mostly due to this being the first day in weeks he had gone without drinking for even a few hours.

Yippee. I can already feel the eyes on me.

In his mind, he already knew everyone that did know him, even a little, only saw him as an alcoholic that made too much noise and would be gone for weeks at a time with no explanation- which made him even more off putting to them. His nerves were eating away at him.

Then you sat next to him.

Now, his jitters were worse. Or somehow not there at all. He couldn’t tell, but despite you being a complete knock-out that made him a mess, he was comforted by your presence. You had invited him here and still treated him like a person- despite the way he acted towards you previously.

As you turned to say something to one of the other tenants and gave a laugh at something they said, you had shifted- your thigh brushing Leon’s clothed one. He held his water bottle with both hands- trying to distract himself from the spinning room right now.

“Leon?” You snapped him from his unnerved state- that same, damned smile on your face. Part of him wished you’d stop looking at him like that and hate him like everyone else. It was simpler that way. But no- it just couldn’t be that simple, could it?

He cleared his throat.

“Yeah?” He asked, focused on your face enough to seem like he hadn’t been both panicking and trying to suppress any other emotions- some of which he’d deal with later.

Holy shit, control yourself.

“I was just asking what kind of music you like.” You preened yourself for a moment- checking your hair with your hands and straightening out the front of your dress with your palms.

“Oh- uh. Rock.” He nodded- an answer you definitely expected.

“Cool. I figured.”

“Any particular reason, or…?” He trailed off- failing to realize he had a half smirk on his face.

“You’ll see.” You beamed, nonchalant.

“Okay- that’s not ominous at all.” He chuckled.

The rest of the party went by- Leon being dragged into conversations with fellow tenants and surprisingly- with your help- it salvaged some reputation. Or so he hoped.

After burning out his thin social meter- and most everyone else leaving due to their 9-5s- Leon called it quits too- lingering as long as possible.

You opened the door- gesturing for him out.

“I had a good time, Leon. Maybe come by again?” You invited. He was shocked that you actually enjoyed his company.

She’s just being polite. or maybe not. I’m bad at signals.

“Uh- sure. Thanks again for inviting me.” He muttered as he was caught off guard.

Leon shuffled back to his apartment- for once, disappointed to be home- yet relieved. His boots came off, being hastily kicked by the door before he headed to the bedroom, peeling his clothing off down to his boxers and climbing in.

8:14 pm his digital clock read.

A little early, but…

He released a shaky breath, his hand ghosting over his abs and down to his boxers- freeing his cock. The cool air only heightened how badly he needed to jerk off right now.

Fuck. He can’t remember the last time he had gotten this hard.

He grabbed some bedside lotion- stroking his cock slowly to start off. He told himself he was just horny and that it had been a while- that’s all. But it wasn’t true. You came into his mind- your eyes batting at him, the way your bare thigh brushed again his clothed one- yet somehow still arousing him. Holy fuck, he felt like a pervert. Though, thinking back about it now- he understood you were flirting. If he didn’t need to cum so bad, he’d have hit himself for not realizing. There were always other chances- anyways.

After eventually cumming all over his toned stomach- a surprising, pent up amount- he showered, shaved, and got back into bed- exhausted now that it was 9:30. Not drinking was a surprisingly good way to get to bed on time.

About two months went by- Leon’s busy schedule having him work in office at the D.S.O..

And no more deadly missions…yet. This workload consisted of him showing up late- coffee in hand and very rarely now- hungover. Chris got on his ass twice before giving it a temporary rest.

Though- the one good thing to happen was becoming friends with you- not exactly the most tight-knit but you both did spend some quality time together here and there- occasionally exchanging a phone call or a text. You even gifted him Rock CDs from time to time, being the reason you asked about his music taste. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t jam out to them on the way to work now.

The thing was.. you’re bubbly, full of energy. Young. Everything he was at one point. He loved seeing that in other people- giving him more of a reason to keep up his work- saving lives and giving others a chance at happiness and freedom. This was the first time he had seen this in a good light.

Leon had gotten home, throwing his keys and files onto the countertop. Right as he went to sit down- his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket, making him groan.

Please don’t be work, Please don’t be work. Please don’t be work.

It was you. He scrambled for the bright green button to answer you, putting the phone to his ear.

“Leon speaking.” He said flatly- trying to play cool.

“Heyyyy. You’re not busy are you?” You dragged the words, cautious not to weird him out. But if he was being honest with himself- there’s no way you could do that.

“Nope… why?” He asked, still not bothering to sit down yet.

“Well- I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a movie night or something..?” You sucked in a breath quietly- awaiting his answer.

Leon equally panicked- it being so long since a woman invited him to do anything- let alone showed him interest. He replied.

“Sure. Sounds good to me.”

Perfect. Not desperate.

You smiled.

“Cool. Just come over whenever. Door is unlocked.”

“Mhm.” He nervously mumbled, ending the call.

Yeah. Maybe he had panicked for a moment there. No worries, he still had to show up and screw up the rest before he could call it quits. After all, it was the first time you had invited him over to your place- at least for something this intimate anyways. He grabbed his keys again, heading out and to your apartment. He hated entering without permission- but he did have permission. So now he felt even more.. conflicted. He gripped the handle, letting himself in and closing the door. You were on the couch, remote in hand with a bowl of popcorn on the table- two glasses of whiskey poured.

Fuck me.

A pretty girl and alcohol would not mix well with Leon. What so fucking ever. He put his hand up in gesture.

“Hey- so what amazing movie did you have in mind?” He asked- avoiding the topic of alcohol being present.

“Hmm… how about you help me pick?” You hummed- Leon standing awkwardly. He was too lost looking you over. Your tanktop. Your shorts. Your exposed legs, the tops of your breasts framed by the tank tops hem.

Stop it.

Again, this has to be on purpose.

No- she probably thinks you’re a creepy old fuck.

Wait- then why would she invite me over?

“You can sit down- you know? I know you like whiskey- so I figured maybe you’d want some to unwind. After all- I did interrupt your relaxation time.” You knew what time he got off of work- feeling slight guilt but also wanting to be around him.

“Right-“ Leon nodded as he sat in the comfy, plush chair adjacent to the couch- leaning forward to grab the whiskey in his hand- the glass material cool against his palm. As he took a sip- his eyes momentarily fixed on you while you had joined in on tending to your own glass.

“Didn’t know young people enjoyed whiskey. Just thought that was something old farts like me drank.” He chuckled.

A smile crawled onto your lips- the tipsy-ness entering your system already.

“Uh… I don’t. Just thought it was a nice gesture.” You said playfully- hinting that this was solely for him. Your face was tinged with a very subtle pink, your own body loose and not in sync with your brain as the alcohol slowly crept into your veins.

“Woah- don’t go getting plastered now. That’s my job.” He joked- his usual, non-depressed demeanor was showing through more and more. Though- he, for some reason, felt fucking nervous.

Leon could barely feel his own buzz- the more recent lack of raging alcoholism letting his tolerance lower back down. Which was a downside right now.

The two of you had agreed on some more-than-likely shitty horror movie, you getting up to turn off the lights and sitting back in your spot. You both laughed, talking about the poorly done effects amongst other things. Leon was safe- you were sitting far away. Surely it would all be fine.

Then a scene came on. Sexual, of course. Some girl on top of a guy, their naked bodies sweaty as she rode him. Leon- naturally didn’t think of anything but how awkward it was to watch this with someone else- but you however, decided to speak, the alcohol clearly breaking a barrier here.

“You know- I never understood how girls did that.”

His eyebrow raised and his eyes shot over to you.

“Uh, forgive me… but do what, exactly?”

You giggled- the sound reverberating in Leon’s eardrums and his chest, making him want to lose composure.

“You know- ride dick or whatever.” You again giggled- moving to straddle your pricey throw pillow. You weren’t drunk- but definitely letting loose…

Oh fuck. Is all his brain could muster as his fingers tightened on his glass.

No fucking way.

You shifted your hips- more awkward with an audience watching.

“Okay- would you say… like this?” You asked- your voice sprinkled with confidence and nervousness at the same time.

Leon leaned forward, setting his glass down.

Jesus Christ. Okay.

“I- uh… are you asking for pointers?” He chuckled- not wanting to be creepy- but mostly showing restraint because god knows he didn’t need to feel even hornier than he did right now.

Is this how young women flirt or am I seeing into this too much?

“Yes.” You said, dragging out the e- as if to sound like it was obvious that you did indeed want pointers.

Before he did anything else- Leon picked the glass back up- downing the rest of his whiskey quickly and setting it on the coffee table again. He’d regret chugging it later- he was sure.

He stood, walking a little closer to the couch.

“I- uh… how exactly do you want me to give you tips here?” He asked, letting out that low chuckle again.

You chortled- shaking your head.

“Hands, words, whatever you feel like.” You said, boldly but with a hint of something else. He just couldn’t tell what, yet.

“Okay…got it. What are friends for, after all…” he muttered- sinking to his knees by the couch- his hands reaching out to rest on the small of your back and the other on your stomach.

“First things first- relax. You're a little stiff and nervous.”

Not exactly that easy with a dilf having his hands on you- but sure. You thought sarcastically. But still- you tried to loosen up.

“Here- rock slowly- and try using your knees for most of the work. Like lifting yourself and lowering- you know?”

God- fucking kill me now. He couldn’t even function- his words probably not making sense with how hard his dick is right now.

“And arch your back a little.” He continued- sucking in a breath. You bit your lip- wanting to just pounce on him already- but you held back. It was nearly impossible with the words he was saying.

Leon watched your movements- knowing this wouldn’t end at a simple, weirdly sexual and ‘friendly’ lesson. No.

“Christ- maybe… you wanna help me practice?” You mutter- hair in your face.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing already?” He asked- the whiskey and horniness clouding his cognitive function.

“No-“ you laugh, shifting to sit up straight.

“I mean on you.”

He was dumbfounded for a moment- like characters in a cartoon when they get smacked with a frying pan. He could swear his head might have spun, too.

“I-…” he started, before you interrupted.

“No- I’m so sorry. You probably think I’m being weird and tipsy- coming onto you like this.

Leon shook his head- his bangs brushing across his face for a moment.

“That’s not it at all- I’ve just been holding back. I’m old. And don’t want you to think I’m some pervert.” He finally manages- spilling his vulnerability across the room. To you- it explains why he’s downplayed your subtle advances for the last few months.

You smile- shifting off of the pillow now.

“I find your age sexy.”

“Yeah- but the gray hairs, the wrinkles, the-“

You stop him, a firm ‘Nuh, uh.’

“Again- all of it’s attractive.”

Leon wastes no time getting up off his knees- kicking his boots aside and settling onto the couch. He pats his lap- gliding a hand over his clothed thigh. You grin- settling into his lap- and Christ, you can feel his cock harder than diamond through his jeans.

“All for you..” he mumbles- tracing his hands along your waist. You lean in slow, your lips touching and alcohol scented breaths mixing. All he can think about now is how soft your lips are- and the way you taste. Yeah, he’s fucking hooked.

And now- here he was- underneath you as you rode his dick- rolling your hips perfectly and alternating between lifting yourself while he groaned underneath you. His hands squeezed at the soft flesh of your ass- guiding you lightly. And to your surprise- unlike his normal self- he was quite verbal.

“God, baby- you’re a quick learner. Just like that.” He huffed, his head lulling back in pleasure for a moment- your hips coming down hard and his cock filling you to the hilt once more.

“Yes- bounce yourself- f-fuck. You’re doing amazing- I knew you had it in you.” He spews encouragements and obscenities- definitely boosting your ego and filling your metaphorical praise kink meter.

But you do exactly as he says- continuing to bounce yourself on his cock oh-so-fucking perfect. The view for him is everything- watching your cunt swallow him every time you move down, and your tits bouncing in his face- hell- a view this good made him want to put down alcohol forever just for another chance. Then again- a little drinking is how you both got here.

“Fuck..” you whine as one of his free hands moves to place a thumb over your clit, rubbing in languid circles.

“You like that, huh? Tell me how I can- fuck- make it even better for you- baby.”

You shake your head no- unable to form a sentence with the combination of pleasure running through your body- and your focus on riding him. Everything was perfect already, and him calling you baby certainly didn’t help your concentration- ripping your orgasm through you.

Leon nearly lost his personal composure- the way you tightened around him like a vice- threatening to take everything from him. This didn’t stop him however- he continued with even more fervor- one hand on your hip and the other on the arm of the couch as he bucked up to meet your movements- giving a bit of relief to your tired legs. He could feel you having trouble, so he decided to take the weight off your shoulders completely.

His arms effortlessly lifted you while he was still inside- moving to put your back against the soft couch while he hoisted your legs over his shoulders for a deep angle. Those rough hands held onto the backs of your thighs, and he slowly slid himself out- gauging your reaction.

“You want it like this?” He asked lowly, you responded eagerly almost right away.

“Yes- god yes.” Was all he needed before slamming back into you. And out. And in again. You could barely see his smug face through the stars you were seeing- which quickly subsided when you pulled his head down to kiss on his stubble- trailing your lips down his strong jawline and prickled neck while your moans reverberated against his skin. With how much you seem to enjoy his stubble- he’s glad he stopped shaving so often.

The whole experience, really- was something he hadn’t had in fucking years. Maybe 10 or more- he lost count. He was just glad he still had this sexual stamina in him- and maybe the gym and recent lack of drinking helped. Who knows?

He was completely lost in the feeling of your pussy clenched around him and your lips on his neck that he swore he was hit in the head when you suddenly told him you wanted him to cum in you.

“F-fuck, baby. That’s a big ask.” He groaned- the words from your mouth alone making him almost bust right there.

“Birth control.” You muttered against his skin, unable to say much else through the moaning since he was pounding into you.

“God- okay. You’re not making this easy.”

Leon sucked in a breath- moving his hands off your thighs and pushing your legs gently off his shoulders- now pressing his chest to yours and wrapping his arms around you- a close and rather intimate position but not unwelcome.

He grunted- muttering into your ear now as he fucked into you, the squelching and skin slapping almost defeaning.

“If you want me to cum in you- I think I need to hear a please, don’t you?” He said the words smug- knowing you were in no state to really talk- but the word left your mouth faster than he could have slammed back into you.

Leon groaned against your ear- your plea somehow managing to turn him on even more before he gave one good, last thrust into you- his hips tightening as he came inside. His hold on you was tight- yet affectionate- despite neither of you having previous romance. After all- sex was a big deal with Leon and he wouldn’t have granted you this had he not been slightly (okay maybe very much) head over heels for you.

After a few moments of cuddling- Leon prompted you to get up to go pee by patting you gently on the back- helping your wobbly-legged self to the bathroom before giving you privacy- as if he didn’t just rearrange your guts to infinity and back again.

You expected him to have left after- as any guy would- but he was still here. He took it upon himself to straighten up your couch cushions and anything else that had been out of place from your shared lovemaking.

“You didn’t have to do all of that- you know?” You teased, coming out of the bathroom in an oversized shirt and underwear- comfortable.

“Well, it’s no bother to me. It should be a given, yeah?” He turned to you- only in his jeans as he buckled his belt- seemingly searching for his shirt. Though- you secretly wished he’d never have to wear one again.

You walked a little closer to where he was standing by the couch, a little hesitant to ask your next question.

“Would you… maybe want to stay over?”

#leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy #dilf! leon kennedy #leon kennedy death island #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x reader smut #resident evil #resident evil death island

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rhoorl · 3 months

Text

Delta Landscaping: Chapter 15 Lucky Strike

Series Masterlist | Chapter 15 A03 Link

Word Count: 4.4k

Previously on As the Mule Falls: The neighbors met at David and Ty’s house for a Fourth of July party. Despite the guys having a lot of anxiety about it, they ended up having a pretty fun time thanks to all of their new friends. We ticked a few boxes off of our bingo card and laughed as David finally let the intrusive thoughts out. We also got a shy, nervous Benny and some meddling from Will and our favorite FBI agent.

In this Episode: We’re heavy on the Benny in this episode with little sprinkles of Frankie and a flashback of sorts for Santiago. Also, I’m trying to get to fight night so there are some jumps in time. In case you missed it, here is the moodboard for this chapter.

Chapter Warnings: A shoe goes flying at Santiago’s head. There’s some fluff and rom-com vibes and we finish with a little bit of angst with Frankie as he reaches one year of sobriety.

*Cue the theme music and roll opening credits*

Four weeks to fight night

“Good, Ben,” Frankie panted backing away and leaning against the ropes of the boxing ring, “we can take a break.”

“C’mon old man, don’t slow down on me now!” Benny flashed a lopsided grin as he worked the boxing gloves off of his hands.

“It’s not that I’m slowing down…you just seem more…focused.” He eyed Benny with a smirk.

It’s true. Benny had an extra pep in his step today. He got to the gym well before Frankie, claiming he needed to “burn off some energy.” When Frankie arrived, he found Benny in the corner of the gym jumping rope, his shirt discarded nearby on the floor. During today’s sparring session, Benny was on a different level. Every punch connected and he anticipated everything Frankie threw at him, causing Frankie to wince at a few well-placed jabs to the ribs. With the fight only weeks away, Benny was well in ring shape and nearing his peak, which made Frankie breathe a sigh of relief.

Tossing the boxing gloves to the side, Benny reached down to grab his baseball cap, eager to get the hair out of his eyes. “Just feeling good…yesterday was a lot better of a day than I thought it’d be.”

“I’m sure it was,” Frankie crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching as Benny grabbed a towel. “Any word on your date?”

“Thinkin’ Saturday…since we were planning on taking Sunday off anyway, figured I could be out late and it wouldn’t be a problem…” Benny’s eyes didn’t quite meet Frankie’s.

“Ben, we can take whatever day you want off,” Frankie chuckled before furrowing his brow at the sight of Benny chewing on the inside of his cheek. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just…I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t taking this seriously and getting distracted or anything…so I was just waiting I guess until a day I already was free.”

“Hermano, do I think Vanessa is a distraction? Yes, but in the best possible way,” he clasped a hand to Benny’s shoulder. “The past week you’ve been a nervous wreck, timid, and not yourself in here. But today? Today man…you’ll whoop anyone’s ass who steps up to you,” he laughed, seeing the corners of Benny’s mouth curl up. “So she’s distracting you from the bullshit in your head and I think that’s great. She seems like a really sweet girl, Ben.”

“Yeah…I…I really like her Fish,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t wanna fuck this up, you know?”

Frankie tilted his head up and laughed, “Trust me, I get it.”

“Oh shit, sorry man. Ah…how’re things with you?”

With a deep breath through his nose, Frankie took off his hat and ran his fingers through his curls, before putting it back on again. “Well, I was actually wanting to see if I could take next weekend off. Had a thought to surprise her and fly up there.”

“Hey isn’t next week….” Benny trailed off seeing Frankie gaze down to his feet. Making the realization, a huge smile came across Benny’s face, “I think that’s a perfect way to celebrate Fish! I’m proud of you man.”

“So, you have a good night last night? You left the party pretty early with Katie,” Santiago’s eyebrows waggled at Will as they loaded up a wheelbarrow with soil. They’d come up with an agreement with Frankie and Benny to work on Melissa’s backyard, executing their design and giving Benny the chance to concentrate on training.

“We’re just friends Pope…and yes we had a good night, did you?” Will looked over as he set down the shovel.

“Just friends? Wow, you know I kinda saw that comin’ not gonna lie,” he shrugged.

“Fuck off, don’t you have a shoe to dodge or something?” Will snapped as he walked into Melissa’s backyard.

“I guess I deserved that,” Santiago muttered to himself, realizing that Frankie must have spilled to Will that Amaryllis was back in the picture.

To say Santiago and Amaryllis had a dramatic situationship would be putting it mildly. They grew up together in New York as family friends. Neither made a move, although they heavily flirted with each other by the time they got to high school. Santiago had to endure her shitty boyfriends who never treated her well and she had to see him run through every girl in their grade and the ones above it too. She’d finally mustered enough courage to tell him she had feelings for him but it ended up being the same night he told her he was enlisting.

They exchanged letters for a few years, but those eventually stopped. He lost track of her, hearing that she’d gone off to Los Angeles to try her hand at acting or modeling. She landed a couple of small roles here and there. A falling out with a boyfriend caused her to move back to the East Coast, where she reconnected with a couple of Santiago’s cousins whom she was close to growing up. They shared that he was back in town and invited her out. It had been years since they'd seen each other, but her heart raced a bit at the thought of seeing him again.

When she walked into the bar, his eyes immediately met hers and he felt like he’d been run over by a train. She was confident, commanding the attention of everyone as she walked over to him. He longed for some comfort and she did too. The two found themselves locked away in her apartment for the next few days getting reacquainted.

Still, they were both too stubborn and headstrong to admit their feelings. What came next was a tumultuous and dramatic series of back and forths, neither one wanting to make that next step, that commitment. Instead, they found it easier to get underneath someone else rather than face their feelings head-on. They did try to have more, but it failed miserably each time with one of them retreating like a scared dog, unsure who to trust.

The pull to Colombia made for a clean break, at least that’s what Santiago thought. When he came back, he went home for a short while to see his mother and couldn’t help but pass by Amaryllis’ apartment. He sat on the stoop for what felt like hours, debating whether to knock on the door or just send a text. A sudden slam of the door made the decision for him.

“Hijo de puta, how fucking dare you show up here. After three fucking years?” She yelled as he got up and backed away from her. He tried to say something but he couldn’t get any sound out. Next thing he knew he was dodging a well-thrown sandal to the head as she continued to call him every name in the book both in English and Spanish. It was the last time he saw her.

But a couple of weeks ago, he noticed a Facebook message. She made the decision to move down to Florida and wanted to see if he was still there. He debated opening up the message or just deleting it but opted to read it and then go to her profile. She seemed happy, really happy. And noticeably single. So one thing led to another and she made the drive over to Tampa so they could meet for coffee and talk. He knew the guys had their opinions so he opted to keep a low profile about it for as long as he could.

“This is good practice Vandy, I get to do the whole dad spiel about being home before midnight and all of tha- ow!” Marcus ducked as Victoria threw a dish rag at him.

“Leave her alone, mi amor. Come back whenever you want Nessa, or don’t,” Victoria winked as her sister rolled her eyes. “So, what did you guys decide on?”

“I suggested Splitsville. Figured we could bowl and maybe eat, I dunno seemed like a good choice. He was excited about it.”

“C’mon admit it, you also picked it because it’s ‘Insta-worthy’!” Marcus chuckled as he made air quotes with his fingers.

“Oh my god, you’re such a dad,” Vanessa groaned. “Please don’t ever say Insta-worthy again, Buck.”

“Ooo, are you starting up your foodie blog again?” Victoria rubbed her hands together. “You always find the best places.”

“Excuse me?” Marcus brought a hand to his chest, “she’s not the only foodie in this family.”

“Of course, mi amor,” she kissed Marcus on the cheek as he plated the kid’s dinner. “Between the two of you, we always have the coolest spots to check out.”

“Are you sure this looks ok Vic? Not too casual?” Vanessa did a little twirl as Mariella clapped in her high chair.

Figuring out what to wear was always a chore for Vanessa, especially in recent years when she didn’t really care to shop for clothes…or look in the mirror for that matter. She’d changed outfits about 15 times, completely ransacking her closet. The final winner was a pair of dark wash jeans and a well-worn Tampa Bay Rays t-shirt, topped with a flannel. Victoria thought it was a bit unnecessary to wear a flannel in the middle of summer, but knew it was a security blanket for her sister.

“I think you look great, Vandy,” Marcus winked with a soft smile.

Will sat on the couch playing a video game, trying to hide his smile as Benny paced around the living room. “You excited?”

Benny stopped and looked over as he finished buttoning up his sleeve. “Yeah. J called a little bit ago…thought he was going to give me shit…” Benny trailed off rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’re excited to see you out there again Bean,” Will paused his game, putting the controller down to walk over and assess his brother’s outfit. “You look like….me…why’re wearing this?” Will grabbed at the front of Benny’s button-down shirt.

“I dunno…I wanted to look nice,” Benny pouted looking down at his outfit.

“Wear what makes you comfortable Ben. C’mon,” with a reassuring pat on his brother’s shoulder, he led him back to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed as Benny went through his hangers.

Without saying a word, Benny changed out of his long-sleeve button-down shirt and slipped on a fresh white crewneck t-shirt and black jean jacket. He switched out his boots, put on some sneakers, and grabbed a baseball cap.

“There’s my Bean,” Will smiled. “Feeling better?” Benny nodded as the corners of his mouth turned up.

“Tia Nessa? I wanna see Bunny!” Mariella waddled over to the couch where Vanessa sat.

“Si mi vida, Bunny is coming over soon,” she moved over so Mariella could work her way onto the couch next to her. It was so cute how quickly her little niece had taken to Benny. The past couple of days she’d managed to get home from picking up the kids around the same time Benny was finishing up his run. Mariella would squeal when she saw him and he’d do something silly to make her laugh.

Nico sat quietly coloring with Victoria as they all heard the doorbell ring. Vanessa went to stand up but Marcus intercepted since he was already up. Opening the door, he found Benny shifting from foot to foot with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey there Benny, good to see you, come on in,” he held the door open for Benny to pass through.

“Bunny!!” Mariella quickly got herself off the couch and rushed over to Benny, nearly tripping over her unsteady legs in the process.

“Hey baby girl,” Benny smiled, whisking the little girl off of her feet as she giggled.

She started to babble and Benny looked around the room in the hopes someone could translate toddler.

“She asked if you’re taking Vanessa ‘bye bye’ in the car,” Victoria’s heart melted seeing Mariella bond so quickly with Benny.

“Ohh ah yeah, I guess. Yeah, we’re going to go ‘bye bye’ in the car. But I’ll bring her back, I promise,” Benny winked.

“You, ah, ready to go?” Vanessa got up, grabbing her crossbody from the counter.

Seeing her about took his breath away. She looked effortlessly beautiful, and he suddenly felt less self-conscious about his casual attire.

“Yeah. I…um…can I put you down so I can take your um…Tia…out?” Benny raised his eyebrows waiting for a response. With an enthusiastic nod, he set Mariella down and she ran to Marcus and hugged his leg. “Ah, after you,” Benny put his arm out, gesturing for Vanessa to pass, while wishing the Pikes a good night. He could feel Marcus’ eyes on him so he tried his best to not let his eyes wander as she walked by him.

“Don’t keep her out too late now,” Marcus winked as Vanessa groaned, grabbing Benny’s hand to quickly lead him out of the house before Marcus had another chance to embarrass her.

“Sorry about him,” Vanessa quickly dropped Benny’s hand once he closed the front door. “Buck looks for any chance to give me shit.” She furrowed her brows as Benny followed her to the passenger side of his car.

“It’s alright, hell I’ve done worse to Will,” he chuckled, opening the door for her.

She quickly got in and sat a bit dumbfounded as he sprinted around to his side of the car. It’s not that she hadn’t ever had a man open a door for her, her sister was married to Marcus “Mr. Romance” Pike after all, but it still gave her butterflies and made her even more excited for the night to come.

“So, I have a confession to make,” Frankie said as he sprawled out on his bed, propping the phone against a pillow.

“Ooo mysterious. Tell me more Morales,” Jo quipped. She was nestled underneath a fluffy blanket on her couch for what had become her favorite part of the day - her nightly FaceTime chat with Frankie.

“So, what would you say if I ah,” he ruffled his hair and took a deep breath, “what if I came up there next weekend? I know you’re busy with work and stuff, but I’ll be out of your hair by Monday. You can drop me off at the airport before you go to work, or I’ll take an Uber.” He waited for what felt like an eternity for her to respond, wondering if his Wi-Fi crapped out because she was stuck looking at him. “What do you say mi cielo? I, I don’t have to, if you already have plans-”

“No! I mean yes….I mean, no I don’t already have plans and yes I would love for you to come up here. Are you sure? Doing this so last minute?” She couldn’t help the huge smile that stretched across her face. Being away from Frankie for the past week was torture and the idea of getting to spend a couple of days with him, being wrapped in his arms and hearing his laugh ring in her ears made her downright giddy.

“I’ve been thinking about doing it since you left, so it’s not as last-minute as you think babe,” he winked.

“Well, I am clearing my entire schedule. We can play tourist for a day and then maybe hang out…be lazy, order some takeout, cuddle, ooo and we can watch movies in person rather than one of us being on a delay,” her eyes twinkled as she started to race through various ideas.

Frankie chuckled, he loved it when she got excited and started to ramble. “Whatever we do, I’ll be happy because I’ll be with you.”

“I’m so excited! This next week is going to go by even slower now that I have something to look forward to,” she beamed.

“Are you serious?” Vanessa shook her head, dumbfounded that Benny casually threw a perfect game. Trick shot after trick shot, it didn’t matter, he always got a strike.

Benny didn’t even watch his last shot. He had his eyes on Vanessa as he put his back to the lane and released the ball behind him. Hearing the pins knocked down, he sauntered back over, flashing a boyish grin.

“Ooo yay, the food is here,” he rubbed his hands together, looking at the spread. All of his training had made him build up quite the appetite these days, so he wasn’t shy about ordering his fair share.

“Wait wait!” Vanessa put her hands up to stop him from taking a mozzarella stick. “Sorry, I um…one sec,” She bit her bottom lip, pulling out her phone and then rearranging the plates. Benny looked on confused but also amused, admiring how her brows furrowed as she concentrated on getting everything to look just right.

Pleased with her setup, she started snapping photos. “Sorry…I am one of those people, annoying I know, but I figured tonight was a good excuse to start up my account again,” she didn’t look up from her phone as she took a couple of videos too. “Phone eats first,” she winked before motioning that the coast was clear.

“What kind of account you have?”

“Oh, it’s just on Instagram…I started it a few years back…it’s a fun way to explore the food scene and…sorry this is all boring I’ll stop,” she laughed to herself as she grabbed a few nachos.

“No, no, it’s not boring, I like it. I like food, clearly,” he motioned to the four plates in front of him and she snorted. “Lemme see, I wanna follow.” He motioned toward her phone with his chin.

She reluctantly handed him the phone and watched as he scrolled her account. After a few moments, she saw his forehead scrunch.

“What? I know, I don’t always have the best lighting, I’ve been meaning to buy myself a little light thing and - “

“No, hey,” he put his hand on her forearm, which sent an electric pulse up her body. She suddenly felt like it was way too warm for her flannel. “No this is great, these photos are beautiful…I just was wondering where you were.”

“What?”

“I don’t see you in any of these photos. Maybe your hands every once in a while, but how come you’re not in these?” He shook the phone as he turned it back to her.

“Oh…I…um…I dunno I guess I’d rather have the focus be on the food,” she looked down, playing with the straw of her water. The truth of the matter was she was tired of dealing with the random trolls who would end up making a comment about her body or how much she went out to eat. She deleted everything off of her account that had her face in it, opting to showcase the food instead.

“Hmm…” Benny nodded, handing back her phone. He pulled his out and started typing as she looked on with inquiring eyes. “There, you have a new follower,” he winked.

She looked at the notification, trying to steady her breath at how hot he looked in his profile picture. “Holy shit, are you like an influencer or something?!”

Benny looked a bit sheepish, “I started the account when I got into fighting…a way to promote them…and then I just kept posting gym stuff and it grew from there.”

“Well, you have a lot of very loyal fans it seems,” Vanessa smirked as she scrolled through some particularly thirsty comments on his account. Normally something like this would be a complete red flag, especially given her ex’s history, but there was something about Benny’s shy smile that put her mind a little more at ease.

“Pope used to date a girl who did social media stuff for her job so she set it up for me. I don’t post a ton, but it’s there. I’m mostly on there to help keep an eye on my niece, lord knows her dad is a lost cause when it comes to anything on his phone that’s more than making a call,” he chuckled to himself. “But now I’m excited to see your food stuff on my feed,” he smiled.

“Well thanks…I started the account when I lived in Charlotte…gave me an excuse to get around and explore,” she gave a tight smile as she bit into a slider.

“Maybe we can explore some stuff…together?” Benny’s hopeful eyes found hers as she slowed her chewing.

“Um…ok, yeah sure, that’d be fun,” she smiled back. “Although you may regret what you’re signing yourself up for,” she winked.

He regarded her with a lopsided grin. “Oh, I don’t think I’m gonna regret it at all, boss lady.”

Three weeks to fight night

Things around Mule Fall Court settled into an easy routine the following week. Benny and Frankie kept a consistent schedule at the gym. Sometimes Connor would tag along too, although he was trying to soak up the last bits of summer before he and Aria had to head back to school. Meanwhile, Will and Santiago were nearly done with Melissa’s backyard and already looking for their next project. One day as they were cleaning up, Victoria stopped over and they talked about her lawn. They all agreed that it would be a good project to tackle once Benny’s fight was done.

Will found himself hanging out with Katie a few nights so they could finish up the last season of The Mandalorian. He had to admit, he actually really enjoyed it as much as the company he had while watching it. Ever since they established their boundaries as friends, it felt like a weight was lifted off. They were able to just relax and found themselves opening up in ways they hadn’t with another person in years, or ever. Will also decided to treat himself a bit and got a motorcycle. He found riding around, feeling the wind in his face, to be calming.

Katie and Megan made a vow to restart their weekly wine night, adding the usual suspects to the mix. New to the group was Katie’s coworker, Miranda. Like Megan, she was a single mother and rarely took time to do anything for herself. It had taken a few weeks of coaxing but Katie finally convinced her to take Aria up on the babysitting offer and come over for a night of laughs and girl talk – yes, David included himself in that.

Benny and Vanessa hung out a few more times. Thanks to some good-intentioned meddling from Marcus, he recruited Benny to come over and keep Vanessa company while he and Victoria enjoyed a night out to celebrate their anniversary. They played with the kids all night and ordered pizza. Vanessa was thankful to have Benny there since he was able to run around and tire the kids out.

Mariella was adamant that Benny tucked her into her crib and Benny and Vanessa stayed in her room for a while until she went to sleep. Vanessa learned that Benny had a beautiful voice. He sang a lullaby to Mariella to finally get her to close her eyes and drift off to sleep. Settling back on the couch, Benny dutifully listened as Vanessa showed him a few restaurants that recently caught her eye online.

He was still nervous about pushing things too far, but couldn't help but flirt with her. What made him even more nervous was he felt like she was flirting back. He so badly wanted to kiss her, trying his hardest to keep his eyes from drifting to her lips. She moved closer to him, crossing a leg on the couch to face him, laughing at a joke he made. When the laughter died down, she looked at him, trying to steady her breathing. He licked his bottom lip and her eyes betrayed her, looking down as she sucked a breath in. At the same time, they both leaned forward, he brought his hand up to cup her cheek. His lips were near to hers when they heard the garage door, pulling them both away from each other like two teenagers who had gotten caught almost making out by their parents.

With a deep breath, Frankie looked at the calendar hanging on his fridge by a single magnet. This date was one he’d been equally dreading and looking forward to – a year since he flushed the last bit of his stash down the toilet and decided to start the journey of putting all of the broken pieces back together again. It hadn’t been an easy year by any stretch of the imagination, but quietly and steadily he made it to milestone after milestone.

Valeria was the first person to text him this morning. She knew her brother shied away from attention, so she acknowledged the day with a simple I’m proud of you Paco. Love you. She followed that up with a picture of his niece and nephew smiling at the camera, Antonio proudly showing off the gap from the tooth he lost this week.

Jo texted him this morning none the wiser about the significance of this day other than the fact that it meant she was going to see Frankie. It had only been two weeks since their shared flight down to Tampa. Lucille and Valeria had both separately referred to it as the “flight that changed your life” but Frankie hadn't fully embraced that moniker. It had been so long since he’d opened up his heart in this way. He battled with a constant inner struggle between wanting to guard his heart and wanting to jump head-first into this.

This weekend’s trip felt momentous for several reasons, but the biggest was that Frankie planned to tell Jo everything about his past. Although it was under different circumstances, opening up to Lucille and having her embrace him with love and compassion did wonders for him. For so long he’d been in a spiral of self-loathing, thinking that everyone was disappointed by him and that he was a failure. But Lucille cracked the door open and shined some light and he was hopeful that Jo would kick it wide open. The idea of sharing the darkest parts of himself and his past terrified him more than crash-landing a helicopter, but it was something he had to do. He wanted more with Jo and if he had any chance at it, he had to be honest with her.

Next Time on As the Mule Falls: We get closer and closer to fight night. The neighbors host a party to welcome the Pikes to the neighborhood. A little bit of pining and angst. More Cousin Joel phone calls.

A/N: Hi! First, I hope you are still enjoying this series. We have SO many storylines in play with several more to come, I do have a plan for all of this I promise. And all of those eagerly awaiting Cousin Joel (me included), he’s on his way soon. That’s part of the reason why we had some time jumps in this episode. With that being said, I’m going to try something new and do some extras in addition to the episodes. Consider it your extended or deleted scenes if we were watching the box set of DVDs of the season (dating myself with that reference). I’m already planning an extra to show more of Benny and Vanessa’s bowling date along with a one-shot of Frankie’s trip to Atlanta.

Thank you as always for reading, sharing, or sending me a message about this story!

Taglist: @goodwithcheese / @gemmahale / @trulybetty / @noxturnalpascal / @periodtsparadox / @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin / @maggiemayhemnj / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @avastrasposts / @meveispunk / @chaoticfestninja / @beboldbebravethings / @casa-boiardi / @katw474 / @linzels-blog / @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain / @pimosworld / @lynnchun / @anoverwhelmingdin /@lilmizmoz / @pedrit0-pascalit0 / @titlee78 / @noisynightmarepoetry / @inept-the-magnificent / @perennialdoll247 / @for-a-longlongtime / @readingiskeepingmegoing / @harriedandharassed / @musings-of-a-rose / @anavatazes / @sherala007 / @midnightraain / @partyofone3414 / @inthedarkestnight / @millennial-teenybopper / @csarab615 / @darkheartgatita / @southernbe / @weho2kcmo / @itspdameronthings / @mclibs23

#triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #benny miller #frankie morales #will miller #santiago pope garcia

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silentglassbreak · 4 months

Text

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

!!!There is finally smut in this chapter!!!!

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying, this is a work of fiction. All of my words are my own. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess

Part 5 - Bad Decisions

Three months and three days, since I had met Noah Sebastian. Since he had walked into my group, reserved and exhausted, ready for a change. Three months and one day since I had agreed to be his sponsor. Since I had taken on the role of maintaining his sanity and sobriety with him. Three months exactly since Noah kissed me, causing me to pull back on our relationship.

I had given myself a silent rule that I never told Noah: we did not meet in person, outside of group, unless it was dire. So far, we had not gotten to that point.

He called me often, needing support. We talked on the phone, sometimes for only a few minutes while he panicked, I calmed him down, and he focused on breathing. Sometimes, we talked for a long time. I suspected he called me at times, out of pure boredom.

Two weeks after his show in Hollywood, he finally told the members of the band that he had began AA. As I suspected, they were all very supportive, most notably, Nick Ruffilo, his best friend since childhood. He even brought Nick to our last 'Loved Ones' session, where we asked everyone to bring someone in their lives who supported their recovery. Some people only brought their sponsors, but some brought their husbands, wives. Girlfriends. I always brought Laura.

I met Nick that day. He was polite, had the most charming smile, and shook my hand respectfully.

"You're the famous Leena, huh?" Noah had been talking to Syd when Nick approached me.

"Famous?" I quirked my eyebrow. He smiled brightly.

"You've kept my boy straight for a whole month."

I nodded in understanding. As fate may have it, the day Nick came to group, was the same day Noah had earned his 30-day coin. He had earned himself a large round of applause, as well as his favorite flavor of cupcakes in class. Red velvet, cream cheese frosting, graham cracker dust. I'll never forget, I asked Laura to make them.

Nick cared deeply for Noah, I could see it. I knew the other members, Folio and Jolly, did as well, but I believed Nick was his best source of support.

I broached the subject with Noah about a week later of Nick being his sponsor. I saw the look on his face while he sipped on his coffee, group having just ended.

"Oh, I didn't even think about it." He was looking at the ground, something he regularly did when he was uncomfortable.

"I mean, it was just an idea?" I tried to stay warm, comforting. Noah didn't always go for that. He had his moments where he felt patronized, and preferred I be straight with him. Usually when he was in a bad mood.

"I could ask him, I guess." He still wouldn't look at me.

I sighed, quirking my lips in a smile. "You don't have to. I'm happy to keep being your sponsor, Noah."

He looked at me finally, through his lashes. "You just know how to pull me back from the brink. He doesn't."

I nodded in understanding. "Guess you're stuck with me then." I beamed at him, earning a smile back.

Today, Noah was earning his 90-day coin, right before he leaves for tour. He got to go first in group, discussing his experience through recovery. He also got his special cupcakes, Laura turning up special to deliver them by hand. He was like a kid in a candy store, nearly hopping up and down when she handed him his special cupcake, bigger than the rest. He was ever thankful that she was a talented baker, promising to bring him and the band cupcakes during their tour dates here in LA.

The band had added 17 additional tour dates, beginning the tour in the summer instead of fall. They would have three months off from June to September, and would head to Europe in December. The success of the band was exciting, and stressful all the same for Noah. I saw the toll it took.

Two weeks ago, he finally told his girlfriend about his recovery. We didn't talk about Lily often at all, but he definitely did not want to discuss that subject. I gathered that it did not go well. All I learned was that she told him she needed space, and backed out of tagging along on the first part of the tour with them. She promised to catch up in September.

I saw how this affected Noah, and his sad days had been more frequent lately. Seeing him happy to be receiving his coin was a relief.

"Can I make a request for my 90-day?" He sat in his regular chair, directly across the circle from me, his too-dark eyes on mine.

"Within reason." I responded with a suspicious grin.

"Can you tell me one thing about you that I don't already know?" Everyone in group looked directly to me, including our two newcomers. All eyes seemed confused. As was I.

"Like what?" I crossed my legs, trying to hide my uncomfortable posture.

"Anything."

I blinked, my head swirling. Something he didn't know? We had learned quite a bit about each other over the last three months. In group or on the phone, we had played twenty questions more than once.

"Well," I sighed, knowing that my confession would be news to everyone, as I never talked about it. "my sponsor is my Dad."

He looked taken back, not expecting that. "Really?"

I nodded coolly. "Yep. Since I got sober three years ago." I relaxed a bit in my chair. "He's the reason I got sober."

Noah sat back and folded his arms, intent on listening to me. He gestured for me to continue.

"At 25, I was set down the worst road. I had been actively drinking since I was 16, and really struggling since 18. I dropped out of college, went through job after job, ended up in jail a few times. And that's the mild stuff. I won't bore you all with the gruesome details." I glanced around the room. The only person who knew even half of my story was Abel, and he was unfortunately not here today, so I felt vulnerable.

"My mother was an alcoholic, who died when I was very young from her addictions." I could feel tears threatening to come to the surface. My throat was forming a lump I just couldn't swallow. "My Dad, who swore to never drink again after she died, decided that once I hit rock bottom, to take me to her gravesite."

I looked down at my hands, feeling my voice shake. "He had purchased a plot for me right next to her when I turned 21, because he swore I would be with her sooner rather than later."

One traitorous tear spilled down my cheek, and I wiped it away feverishly. "So I had him drive me to a meeting. He stayed with me. Came with me to every single one."

I laughed at the thought. "He would sit in the car and listen to Country music while he waited. And every time I fell off, he drove me right back. He's my rock. He's the reason I'm alive."

I was still looking at my hands when I heard the clapping. My head snapped up to see Noah, his hands clapping together before everyone else joined. It was a liberating moment, but I was still vulnerable.

I checked my watch, noticing that we were over on our time.

"Thank you, everyone." The applause died down. "I appreciate each and every one of you. Unfortunately, we've got to get out of here before Angie comes in and rips me a new one."

At home, Angel and I were curled up on the couch, enjoying our favorite movie (it was my favorite, so it was his favorite by default), Silent Hill. I was tossing him single popcorn kernels as I ate and watched intently.

"See, baby, this is the part where all of the piece of shit cultists get what they deserve!" He looked at me with his honey brown eyes, clearly understanding every word I said.

My ringtone went off, and I almost ignored it, because we were so close to the end, and figured the call could wait until after. That is, until I realized it was Noah's ringtone. I had switched his a while ago to a song by his own band, so I knew when it needed to be answered at any cost.

I rushed over to the kitchen counter, not even bothering to pause the movie.

"Hello?"

"I need a fucking drink, Leena." His voice was cracked, and sounded wet. Was he...crying?

"No, you don't." My immediate response anytime he said that.

"No Leena, I'm driving to a bar. I can't fucking do this."

The panic rose in my chest, threatening to spill in the form of vomit. No, not now. Not after we've worked this hard.

"Noah Sebastian, I will kick you out of group."

"Who fucking cares?" I scoffed.

"Uh, you do, apparently. You called me."

"Mostly just calling to let you know I'm a fucking failure. So, sorry to waste your time."

My mouth worked faster than I could stop it. "Come to my place."

He was quiet. "Nah, bar sounds better."

"Noah, come see me. Please. And if you still want a drink afterwards, then I won't stop you."

I could tell he was perusing this. "You don't ever see me outside of group, remember?"

"Well, fuck that for right now. Come see me."

He groaned. "Leena, it's midnight. You should be asleep."

"Yet, I'm awake. 3AM ice cream, remember?"

There was silence, only the sound of a blinker in the background.

"Where do you live?"

Without answering, I dropped him my location pin.

"Says I'm ten minutes away." I sighed a breath of relief.

"Door's unlocked."

Despite my telling him to come in, he knocked. Angel stood at attention, to which I instructed him to sit and stay. I opened the door to find a soaking wet Noah. I didn't even realize it was raining.

He looked awful. Clearly had been crying, his clothes soaked through from the storm. I grabbed his arm and hastily pulled him in to avoid any more weather getting hold of him.

"Jesus Christ, dude." He just stood in my doorway, staring at me.

A low growl left Angel, bringing our attention to him.

"Angel, come." Robotically, he came to me and I pointed to Noah. "Let him smell you. He's protection trained."

Noah raised a brow. "What kind of dog?"

"He's a mutt. Bluetick Hound and Husky. 90 pounds of death if he doesn't like you."

I saw Noah stiffen slightly as Angel sniffed his legs, shoes, and hands. Once he was satisfied that he was safe, Angel stepped back.

"Go to bed." I pointed to the room and he took off, following the command.

"Hm, good dog." Noah's tone was surprised.

"I live alone in LA, I've got to do something to protect myself."

He nodded and stepped onto the tile floor after me toward the hallway. I noticed how wet he was.

"Wait here. I'll get you some dry clothes."

He looked at me incredulously. "You think they'll fit?"

I rolled my eyes. "Wait here."

I returned two minutes later with a pair of men's sweats and a faded Disturbed t-shirt. "They're my brother's. I'm sure they'll fit."

He nodded in appreciation and I pointed to the bathroom.

He returned moments later, soaking clothes in hand. I walked over and grabbed them from him and walked further down the hall to my laundry room. Checking the many pockets on his pants, I threw his clothing in the dryer and started it.

Padding back into the living room, I waved him over to the couch. We both sat on opposite ends, me leaned back, pulling the throw over myself, him dropping his head into his hands.

"You want to talk about it?" He just shook his head. I pursed my lips. "You want to watch a movie?" He looked up at me from over his shoulder.

"Like what?"

I smiled, picking up my remote. "Well, I just finished Silent Hill, but I've got all the streaming networks, so I can get anything."

He furrowed his brows. "Silent Hill? Like, the game?"

My jaw dropped. "You've never seen the movie?"

He just shook his head. "Can't say I have."

"Well fuck, let me just restart it."

He snorted. "Didn't you just watch it?"

"It's my favorite movie, ever. I'll watch it again."

He sat up straight, then leaned his back on the couch. I reached behind me on the side table, grabbing another blanket and chucking it at him. He smiled a small, sad look at me, and unfolded it over his lap.

During the movie, Noah's demeanor loosened ever so subtly. He started with his back against the couch, arms in his lap, looking unamused. By the first call of the Darkness, he was leaning forward, paying closer attention. At the first sight of Pyramid Head, he was interested. And by the hospital scene, he was asking questions.

"I still don't understand, why does Sharon look like Alessa? And why did the little girl say she was burning?"

"Would you be patient?! We're literally getting to that part right now!" He shook his head and leaned back, crossing his legs underneath him and his body moved slightly closer to my legs that were outstretched on the area between us.

His leg bumped my foot, and he looked over, noticing I was glancing at him.

"Oh, my bad." He scooched back to his side, and I snickered.

"I'm not going to combust if you touch my foot Noah, it's no biggie."

He smirked, mischievously. "Well, in that case." He then stretched his giant self out across the couch, pulling my legs up over his legs. He nestled in, pulling the blanket up to his chest.

It was at this point that I actually noticed.

"Hold the fucking phone." I quickly paused the movie and his head snapped to me.

"What?"

"You cut your fucking hair?!" His hair was easily eight inches shorter, sitting just below his ears. How it took me this long to notice is beyond me.

He laughed nervously, and ran his hand through his locks. "Yeah, after group, I went and got it cut. Felt like I needed a change."

I smiled brightly, reaching over and tousling it. "I like it. It suits you."

He leaned back, his face appreciative.

I played the movie, and he was absolutely enamored. It was always fun watching someone experience this movie for the first time.

Once the credits began to play, his eyes were much brighter. "Are you tired?"

I shook my head. "Nah, not right now."

"Want to watch another one?"

I stood up. "Sure, but I've got to pee and grab a water bottle. You want one?"

He nodded, swiping the remote and scrolling through the networks to find another movie.

I called Angel to his bed in the living room, and took care of my business. When I returned, he had 13 Ghosts pulled up on the screen.

"Can we watch my favorite now?" I smirked.

"Absolutely, it is also one of my favorites."

He pressed play, and I walked past him, my thigh catching the edge of the couch, causing me to stumble toward the coffee table.

Before I could connect with the glass, his arm was around my arm, pulling me back toward the couch. I landed square in his lap. It took me a second to process. He smiled at me nervously.

"Sorry, didn't want you getting a concussion."

I slid off his lap, but was now seated closer to him, by side nearly pressed against his chest. He turned his attention back to the TV, throwing his blanket over the both of us casually.

I pulled my bare legs up under the blanket, now very aware that all I wore was a pair of too-short gym shorts, a plain white t-shirt, and socks. I was home alone earlier, in my defense. My knee was pressing into the side of his leg, but he didn't seem to notice.

His body radiated so much heat, I instinctively sunk down further under the blanket. His gargantuan arm was draped over the back of the couch, the back of my head pressed against it.

I let myself get into the movie for a while. We made it about half an hour in before I felt him shift. He stretched his legs in front of me, now in near full laying position. His arm tugged my shoulder and I looked at him.

His eyes were honest, or so it seemed. "It's just cuddling. I haven't had anyone to cuddle with in a while."

I pondered this for a moment. My brain screamed against it, told me it was wrong and I knew where this could go. But he was so warm. He was so comfortable. I slid down, stretching my legs over his, my chest laying on his. My face had nowhere to go but on his collarbone while I tried desperately to watch the television.

Something tugged at me, which I tried to ignore for a while. I couldn't for too long before I piped up.

"How would your girlfriend feel about us 'just cuddling'?"

I felt his chest still, his breathing stopped for a beat.

"She dumped me." I snapped my head up

"What?"

He sighed, not looking back at me. "Why do you think I needed a drink?"

"Oh, Noah." I moved to sit up, but his arm around my waist held me in place while he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Can we please just...not?" When he looked back at me, he had a single tear trying to escape from the corner of his eye.

"Okay." I softly responded and gently leaned back down. His arm secured me in place, while the movie continued to play.

About halfway through, I felt my eyelids getting heavy. His fingers that were holding my waist had been drawing small circles on my back for a few minutes, and I was fading quickly. The warmth, the comfort. He wasn't the only one who hadn't cuddled in a while.

"Are you asleep?"

This roused me. "Hmm? No. Just comfortable." My voice was raspy with sleep, my eyes only half open.

His chest shook with the rumble of a laugh. "You want me to head home?"

I slightly shook my head. "Warm." His hand rubbed up my arm now, coming to rest on the cap of my shoulder. I heard a low humming sound, and realized it was him, humming a tune that I couldn't place.

"It should be illegal to be able to sing that good." This made him snicker.

"Too bad, huh?" I sighed, relaxing. "Maybe if I wasn't so talented, you'd actually like me."

This made me slowly lift my head, narrowing my eyes at him. "You are an insufferable human Noah Sebastian." He smiled a goofy grin at me. "I am trying to relax, here."

His hand came up to brush my hair from my face, his eyes locked on my tired ones.

"You're really beautiful Mileena, you know that?"

I raised my eyebrows, my eyes getting wider. He didn't seem fazed, just studying my face.

"Well...thank you?"

His fingers twirled some stray bands of my hair while his eyes just would not leave mine.

"Would you hate me if I kissed you?"

My stomach bottomed out. I was awake. All the way awake, now. I sighed heavily.

"We can't do that, Noah."

He bit his bottom lip.

"Can't, or won't?"

"Both?"

I rolled onto my side then, slightly breaking the contact between us. He was sat with his head propped on the pillow at the end of the couch. He kept his arm on my waist, but raised himself up just enough to nearly tower over me.

"Would you tell me to stop again?"

He was testing me. I was going to fail if he didn't stop. He felt it.

"Probably."

"Would you make me leave?"

"Is this why you came over? Girlfriend dumps you, so you figure you'd come hook up with your sponsor?" Okay, maybe that came out a little sharper than I intended. But it needed to be said.

"I wasn't planning on coming here. I was set on the bar."

I sighed. He was right. He was on the brink, and I invited him in. Practically begged him.

"Noah, I just...we can't."

His hand reached up to cup the side of my neck, his eyes now fixated on my mouth. I caught the tip of his tongue dart out over his bottom lip.

"Would you make me leave?" He repeated his question.

I didn't answer him, I just stared. I couldn't hide the want on my face anymore. I could feel my eyes pleading with him to just do it. Just make the move, because I couldn't.

With the luckiest break I've had in a while, he read my thoughts, and dipped his face down to brush our lips together.

This was different. This wasn't hungry. It was a hot burn, slow and steady. His hand came up to brush against my face, pulling me just close enough for him to press his face closer, solidifying the kiss.

Once I had the nerve, I moved my lips against his, my body melting against him. We moved slowly, our tongues only trying to make short appearances to taste the other's lips. His kisses on my lips slowed, his hand running down the side of my body, stopping to rest on my hip. Noah's lips began to trail off of my mouth, moving down to my neck, leaving soft kisses over my throat, making my breathing stop altogether.

I'm not entirely sure how long we stayed this way, his lips leaving trails of warmth over my jaw, neck, and collarbone.

I finally reached for him, my arm searching for the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath. My fingers grazed his skin, feeling the solidity of his frame. I felt him breathe out a sigh when I began leaving kisses on his neck. I let the tip of my tongue trace his adam's apple, smiling when the grip on my hip tightened with a nip of his skin.

After he had been tormented enough, he slipped his arm around my waist, flipping to perch over me, laying me flat on my back.

The kiss that came now was burning, hungry, and wild. My fingers pulled at his shirt, lifting it until he had to sit up and pull it over his head.

He wasted no time coming back to attack my neck, nipping and biting carefully, but enough to have me whimpering. He slid one hand up my side, beneath my shirt, and grazed the side of my breast, waiting for a reaction. I arched my back, trying to beg for touch.

His fingers grabbed my entire breast with one hand, pinching my hard nipple and rolling it between his fingers. I gasped at this.

"Oh, Noah..." I heard him hum, a sign of approval.

My hands grabbed his hair, pulling him back to my face. I kissed him while he used his other hand to lift my shirt, exposing both breasts.

It took no time for him to work his way down, taking my nipple in his mouth, leaving me breathless. His tongue circled the hardened bud, driving me absolutely wild.

I could feel his excitement pressing into the inside of my thigh, so I squirmed, causing a friction I'm sure he noticed. I felt the growl more than heard it.

His hand slid up my thigh, stopping on the inside, just before the hem. I could feel myself shaking in anticipation. He hooked the edge of my shorts, and with no mercy, pulled them down viciously, exposing my plain black cotton panties.

His hand glided over my core, feeling how damp the fabric already was. I was breathing heavily, silently begging for more.

"Jesus Christ, Leena." His mouth reached down and kissed my breast again. "So fucking wet."

His words had my brain scrambling. I hadn't been intimate in so long.

His fingers traced over the wet spot, teasing me until I was sure I was going mad.

"Noah..." His eyes looked up to me, my left nipple glistening from his saliva. "Fucking please."

The smile on his face was so wicked, I swear I saw the devil behind it. And this was my one-way ticket to hell. At least it's warm there.

His fingers slipped under the fabric, running up and down over my slit, nearly hitting that one spot I needed.

"This? This is what you want?" His tone was deadly, which had me reeling even harder. I fucking needed him.

I could only nod wildly. His index finger slipped inside, curling at just the right angle, hitting the sweetest spot, I could've burst right then and there.

"That's it. Good girl." His words had me moaning softly, his fingers working me over. Noah continued this until I was nearly seeing stars, his thumb now rubbing circles over my clit. I was ready, so fucking ready, eyes shut tight, climbing the hill and about to fall over. Then it was gone.

My eyes burst open, nearly ready to complain before I felt his hands pulling my panties down, his hot breath just centimeters from my core.

"I can't tell you how many times I've thought about this, Leena. I'll bet you taste incredible." Breathing was out of the question. Air no longer existed.

And that was it, he was on me. His tongue lapping up my pussy, humming while I gripped his hair frantically.

"Holy fuck, Noah."

"That's it baby. Scream my name. Be good for me."

My brain was no longer firing on any cylinders. I was on another plane altogether.

His lips latched onto my sweet spot and sucked like his life depended on it.

"Noah, oh my god! Oh my god, I'm going to come." My back arched off the couch, and my vision went white.

"Noah, Noah, Noah!" My voice was going hoarse. My toes curled and I began to feel the overstimulation, my hips bucking against him.

His arms pinned my legs down, leaving me nowhere to go. I fought for purchase against his skin.

"Please, please I can't. I can't!" He finally released me, lapping at my inner thigh one more time, causing me to shiver.

He sat back, a satisfied grin on his face.

When I looked up at him, I could see the clear bulge in the sweats, and smiled my own wicked grin.

I saw the confusion on his face before I sat up, simultaneously pushing him back on the couch, ripping the front of the pants down. It came to my attention that he wasn't wearing any boxers, so his cock sprung free instantly.

His eyes were fixed on me while I sized up his length, trying to work out how I was going to swallow this damn thing.

I slid the tip of my tongue across the top, eliciting a hiss from his lips. He stared down at me, watching my every calculated move.

With no warning, I wrapped my lips around him, and took him as far down as my throat would allow.

"Oh, fuck..." His eyes went half-masked, his mouth falling open. "Do that again. Jesus Christ."

It didn't sound like a question, so I diligently obeyed. My throat gave out about halfway down his length, causing me to gag. His hand grabbed my hair, nails in my scalp, holding me there.

"Yeah, baby. That's it." He let my head up, saliva dripping from my lips. "You're so good, Leena. Such a good girl."

His hand pressed me back down gently until I had a good rhythm going, my head bobbing, eyes looking up at him.

"Fuck, girl, I'm not going to last like this." I hollowed my cheeks, increasing the suction, and his eyes bulged.

His head flew back, his chest heaving wildly. "Just like that, baby. Don't stop."

I obeyed, suddenly really enjoying the submissive role. His hand guided me faster until I felt him harden to nearly stone.

"I'm going to come, don't stop...fuck don't fucking stop baby."

I felt the first hot stream hit the back of my throat, and I relaxed, waiting for the rest before sucking just a second longer, listening to him hiss in response. I let him out of my mouth with a pop, smiling at him sheepishly when I sat up.

He laid there, eyes closed, hands on his chest, working to breathe.

It took a while, but he eventually opened his eyes. His smile was lazy, and he lifted an arm to pull me down, now laying on his chest again.

He reached behind me and flung the blanket over us, kicking his pants the rest of the way off, and looked down at me.

"We shouldn't have done that, huh?"

I blushed, nuzzling my nose into his neck to hide it as best as I could. "No, we shouldn't have."

He ran his hand up and down my arm, now turning his attention back to the movie that was still playing.

"We'll do better tomorrow." Was the last I heard before my eyes drifted closed.

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #fanfic

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stvrchaser · 2 years

Text

last night

( pairing ) : five hargreeves x reader

( about ) : five hargreeves does not dance, but he has to make an exception for the prettiest person in the room on his last night on earth, right?

( warnings ) : profanity, typical pre-apocalyptic angst, right person not enough time trope, some jealous five (or may be that’s a bonus. it’s up to you)

( words ) : 2900

( note ) : i never know how to handle the whole 58-year-old in his 13-year-old body scenario, but for the sake of simplicity let’s just say that the reader is also mentally 50 or so who worked for the Commission. they’ve known each other for like a decade and have been working as partners. anything for a dose of typical old couple sweetness ig <3

You’ve never been to a wedding until now. Fifty-something years of living (because you lost track after that, honestly) and not a single chance to watch a bride walk down the aisle in white, her lover at the altar.

Well, you guess you can thank Sloane and Luther for letting you cross that off your pre-apocalyptic bucket list.

It’s a shame, really, the many decades you’ve lived and wasted. There’s not much time to attend weddings in between assassinations for an organization that’s located outside of the timeline. If only you existed outside of it, too.

It’s a weird topic — one you’ve always found difficult to talk about because, realistically speaking, who else can relate to feeling lonely because they spent years serving a time-traveling agency responsible for maintaining the time-space continuum which practically stripped them of all long-term acquaintances?

Well, there might be one person.

Five Hargreeves has always been a tough code to crack. He isn’t unreadable, per se. He’s just incredibly stubborn. You thought, at first, it might have been a recent development. Maybe the bitterness had come with old age. But seeing as his siblings barely bat an eye to his behavior, after seventeen years of being presumed dead, you figure he’s always been like this.

In his defense, you have a few decades’ worth of tolerance for human interaction. Five likes to think that he isn’t a particularly nasty person. He simply hasn’t found more people worth having around for company. Of course, there is one.

You watch him, standing right next to you in a black suit so similar to his Commission attire it gives you a sense of deja vu. Nothing unpleasant, just yearnful of simpler times. Back then, it had just been the two of you against the world – literally, but it had been fun, nonetheless.

Sloane and Luther do the honors of stepping onto the dancefloor first, followed by Diego and Lila, as the song starts playing.

A couple’s dance in the current state of the universe? Alright, it’s kind of sweet.

“This is officially worse than the apocalypse.” And there he goes, the bright beam of sunshine.

“Right now? Really?” You roll your eyes, disappointed that the moment is ruined. He’s silent for a while, his eyes scanning the room until they land on a bucket of wine and champagne.

“Ah, there we are,” he says to himself. You catch his arm just before he turns away.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I’m getting wasted,” he shrugged off. “Want anything?” You hit his arm.

“You are not getting wasted on your last night alive!” He laughs it off, like he knows something you don’t. You think he’s probably holding onto a monologue about the benefits of intoxication as opposed to sobriety on an instance as stressful as a Kugelblitz. This wouldn’t exactly be the first time.

In truth, you’re not far off. He would, as a matter of fact, much prefer to numb his mind before Hell freezes over. Of course, not that he would actually be there to watch it happen this time. Stil, he fears the permanence of what’s next to come, and he’s paralyzed by the knowledge that he can’t do anything to stop it.

But Y/N is talking to him, trying to get him to gather whatever’s left of his courage and sanity. You were always doing that. Why were you always doing that?

“What else am I supposed to do? Dance?”

You stay silent, just a second or two, which is apparently enough for Five to figure out that dancing is, in fact, exactly what you’re suggesting.

“You’re kidding.”

“No, no. I’m dead serious.”

“What makes you think I’d want to dance?” It comes out much harsher than he’d intended, and he almost wants to clarify that his question didn’t end in ‘with you’ because he didn’t particularly dislike the scenario if he could enjoy it with you. If only it were under better circumstances.

“You’re a gentleman?”

“We’re too old to be dancing.”

“You’re physically thirteen. Your hip won’t give out if you sway for a few minutes.” He swats your hand away from his arm, his face contorting to a combination of equal exhaustion and exasperation.

His hips might not fail him, but what of the rest of him? Five isn’t sure he can stay upright for too long if the two of you stood any closer together.

“That’s not what I mean. We’re bordering on sixty, Y/N. We have other things to worry about.”

“No, actually, we don’t. We die tomorrow, and correct me if I’m wrong, but that doesn’t exactly give us enough time to worry about retirement or funeral plans.”

“That’s fair, but dancing?” he quips again, like it’s the most ridiculous idea he’s ever heard of. You have the mind to tell him that you’ve successfully arranged a wedding with a few hour’s notice while the rest of the universe perished. How’s that for ridiculous?

“I’m only trying to keep you from getting drunk and doing anything embarrassing.” This startles Five. He’s blacked out before, sure, but he can remember most of everything when he wakes up. Doesn’t he?

“When have I ever done anything like that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. There was that one time you got hammered and professed your undying love for me.”

“What?” Now, you see Lila’s point. Five’s a funny guy. Pissing him off is very therapeutic.

“I’m kidding. You just blacked out and kept saying my name in your sleep.”

“I did not!”

“How would you know? You were asleep.”

“I’m still not dancing.” You flash him a mischievous grin.

It makes him nervous. Nothing good – not by his standards, that is – ever comes from that smile. It’s evil and taunting, founded entirely by malicious intent.

“Oh, I get it! You suck at dancing. The Temps Commission’s best assassin has two left feet! Oh, that’s adorable.” He scoffs, like you’ve said something unbelievable. It’s a fair reaction considering… Well, since when has Five Hargreeves been bad at anything?

“I’m not falling for that.” You place a comforting hand on his waist, bringing him closer. He stares but doesn’t try to pry you off.

He tries not to scream.

“Did you just grab my waist?”

“I’m an affectionate drunk.”

“You’re completely sober.”

“Weddings make me touchy-feely,” you tell him with a grin.

“You can dance with Klaus.” You sigh, withdrawing your arm around him.

If insulting his dancing skills didn’t work, it was time to get serious.

“There’s no need to deny it. Not everyone can be blessed with talent. It isn’t anything to be ashamed of. There was this one guy that took me dancing in ‘62. He was great, but he kept stepping on my right foot. Sometimes, if I shut my eyes, I can still feel it.”

You make a show of lifting your attire just high enough to reveal your shoes, setting your right foot forward. Five eyes you suspiciously.

You did what in ‘62?

“When did that happen?” He prides himself in not sounding too upset, just enough so he could pass it off as disappointment that you’ve wasted time dawdling as opposed to blinding hatred, if you ask.

“A few months ago. Might have been Christmas… no. It was New Year’s Eve, I’m pretty sure. You know, before you came knocking on my door in ‘63 to announce the second apocalypse like the four freaking horsemen. You’re lucky Reginald didn’t make you Number Four, honestly.” Your joke misses him completely. You swear he turns green with envy. It’s absolutely thrilling.

“And you just danced with some random guy?” He calms down a little.

“A very generous lover.”

Lover?! he almost says aloud.

“But, alas, we just weren’t meant to be,” you say dramatically, faking a swoon, and staring into space to mock a pitiful look of longing.

You’re not too surprised to find him trying to link your arms together only seconds later.

“What are you doing?” Five drags you to the dancefloor, an arm hooked with yours.

“Giving you a dance that doesn’t end with your feet swollen.”

“Ah, so you’re doing me a favor?”

“Obviously.”

“Five Hargreeves doing something against his will entirely for someone else’s happiness? My, the world really is ending.”

Not just any ‘someone,’ he thinks. Just you.

“Happiness?” he echoes, sounding impressed. “Good to know you think so highly of me.”

The smug bastard.

“I’m ecstatic! Couldn’t you tell? I’m spending the last dance of my life with a bitter old man simultaneously going through puberty and some male version of menopause.”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the joy radiating from you. My doing, was it?”

“You’re an ass. You’re terrible company. I should have let the other guy keep his spot as my last dance.”

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to dance with me?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather you step on my foot than crush dreams.”

“Oh, now I’m your ‘dream?’”

“No, moron. I wanted to dance. It was on my bucket-list and everything. You don’t happen to know Tango, do you?”

“You have a bucket list?”

Five looks away, hiding the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. It’s a rare treasure to lure any genuine sign of joy from him that doesn’t come in the form of snark and sarcasm. You suppose you’re lucky enough to have seen it multiple times. You might be the luckiest person in the world for being able to have the real thing, time limit aside.

“Some of us have dreams that don’t include dying from alcohol poisoning.”

“Absolutely,” he brushes aside, “What’s next on the list? Eating fries with ice cream? Staying awake through a movie marathon? What beats ‘dancing with someone who won’t break all ten of my toes?’”

Even as you bicker back and forth, you find your fingers intertwined with his. His other hand rests gently on the small of your back and you bring him close with an arm around his shoulder. It’s a wonder how the two of you fit together so naturally, so seamlessly in spite of the way your words constantly clash. He’s composed entirely of rough edges, jagged stone melding with equally stubborn steel. That’s what the two of you have always been like – a symphony of crescendos set to make the world tremble.

It has always been embedded into your mind that if you were destined to bring the world to ruin, you would do it together. But now the two of you will watch as it falls apart, powerless to the ruination of a life you want to conquer. The universe must think itself hilarious.

“What is it? I can practically hear you thinking.”

“I don’t think telepathy is one of your powers.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. What are you thinking?” His brows furrow with concern and you smile because, not that you’ve necessarily forgotten, but it’s a reminder that he cares.

“Nothing.” You shake your head, looking a little dazed. ”But don’t you think… Well… We look kind of funny, don’t we?”

Well, not really. Personally, he thinks you look breathtaking.

“You look terrible. Leave me out of it.” Five smiles. “Honestly, when someone forces you to dance you think they’d at least try not to step on your feet.”

“Oh, Five Hargreeves, you are a man of many, many words. You really know how to flatter a person. Who knew you could be so romantic?” You lift your arm from his shoulder, tousling his perfectly combed hair. He pinches your side in retaliation.

“Hey! Rude!”

“You deserved it.”

“You started it!”

“No, you did. But, alright, I’ll humor you. Why do we look funny?”

“Shit, where should I start? We’re in our late fifties and we look just barely out of middle school.”

“Hm, never would have thought of that.”

“I had to set up a wedding reception in less than a day! Do you know how hard it is to find flowers when the planet is literally falling apart? There is not a single garden within the one-mile radius that’s left around here!”

“I can imagine.” Five is grinning so wide, you’re compelled to act as an extension. It’s like your mouth feels obligated to do the same – to express the utter joy no single person is capable of expressing.

Five doesn’t understand how he can feel so weightless in spite of everything. With one foot in his grave, how is it possible that he feels so delightfully unburdened?

“And you are laughing at my very visible distress! We’re the last of mankind and we’re dancing in fancy suits and dresses in a creepy, ancient hotel like a couple of teenagers at prom! And you find it funny!”

Oh, of course. He feels delighted because you’re here.

“I think you’re funny.”

“I know, I’m hilarious!” Five shakes his head, clearly amused.

“And to think I was actually worried.”

“About me?”

“Who else?” Your eyes soften, an expression clearly screaming awe exchanging any and all concern. His face contorts, nose scrunching the way it always does when he tries to look irritated.

He’s not. He’s wonderful.

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever—”

“Don’t ruin it.”

“Don’t act like you’re not enjoying this.”

“Bickering with you? I’d have to be a lunatic to enjoy that.”

“My point still stands, now with supporting evidence you provided.”

“That’s doesn’t—”

“They were your words! You said them yourself, Five, and I know too goddam well you don’t say anything you don’t mean.”

“And you know me so well, don’t you?” It’s a challenge, maybe even an invitation to drive the conversation closer to the flames, but you feel too tired to pull through. Not of him — never of him. Still, there’s something about knowing that what happens tonight is the end-all-be-all. Is this how you want to spend the last moments of your life? Your last moments with Five? You feel the fire extinguish, tucking away the childishness of the interaction. Instead, you say, as genuinely as you can muster:

“Yeah. I like to think so. I would like to, at the very least.” Five catches the change in your tone – the wistful and longing plea. If you know him, he knows you just as well. Because he cares, no matter how badly he wants to believe otherwise. So he understands what you wish for, hears the grief in your voice because the two of you know that with the world ending there’s no time to get to know each other.

There’s no time to get to love each other — not for the numerous flaws you’ve discovered, and certainly not for those left unveiled.

“Fifty-eight years and it just wasn’t enough, was it?” The two of you share a mutual understanding then, exchanged entirely through glittering eyes under dim lights, that the loss is something for the both of you to mourn.

“Guess not. But that’s just another dream to bury, right?” You try to smile. Really, you do. But Five suddenly looks anguished, maybe because you’d been so quick to admit defeat.

“It shouldn’t have to be. Ten years that I wasted — ten years where you were right there, but I couldn’t be bothered to get my shit together. Fuck, how did we get here?”

“Do you think an entire lifetime would have been enough?” you whisper, hoping that the question won’t sound too grim or lacking faith of what you two could have been. The last thing you want is to make him doubt the reality of what you do have.

“Probably not,” he whispers back, “But it still would have been nice to have that with you.” He sounds so despaired you could weep. “I thought I could, you know. When we got back here, I thought we could start over. I thought I could fix things. Seems like I’m always wrong, nowadays.”

“For what it’s worth, you were right about one thing.” Five chokes out a laugh, low and uncertain.

You hate it.

You want to rid him of doubt and revive the version of him who had been so sure of himself and what the world had to offer. You want the stubborn, unrelenting man with enough willpower to last the both of you for lifetimes.

“I think I’ll need you to remind me when,” he says in a way so devoid of hope that you can hear your heart shatter.

“You were right about you being my dream. You have been… for a long time.”

The dance comes to a halt as Five’s feet remain planted. A handful of emotions flash through his eyes, down the entirety of his face, all far too quickly for you to distinguish. There’s a glimpse of confusion and disbelief, then of something more intense. You’re scared it might be anger or disgust. Or worse, it could be pity.

But then your hands are encased in his, and the gesture is so wonderfully gentle that your anxiety dissipates almost entirely, a fraction only remaining in anticipation for what comes next. You watch as Five battles himself, his grasp tightening with every victory that passes.

Silently, he allows himself reprieve and braces as his walls come down.

You’re her dream, his own voice reverberates in his mind. You have been, for a long time. For what might as well be the first time, he lets go.

“So have you.”

#spreading misery little by little #i don’t know how to write happy endings #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreaves x reader #number five #the umbrella academy #tua3 #tua season 3 #tua netflix #angst

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quindread · 1 year

Text

Constanstine starts acting sober on important missions/meetings for the JLD; he has a sanity-potion dealer

Zatanna reports this odd behavior to Batman, they interrogate him when his veins are swamped with alcohol.

C: … I-I know what yer doin’ [hiccups]

Z: We care for your well-being. You have bouts of sobriety that you seem to have control over.

B: Are you on something new?

C: M’yeah… is called a pwoz—piss—poise! Poise potion, yeah das it!

B: And who makes this “Poise” potion?

C: My dealah, my busniz. G’way! [stumbles out the door]

Z: … That went as well as expected.

Sober Constantine is actually more reasonable. Batman catches him after a meeting.

B: [observes his brushed hair and very high-quality, new trench coat] You’re sober… Congratulations?

C: Uhuh. Did you need something? I have some business elsewhere.

B: With your dealer?

C: [affronted] Wha—Who in their right bloody mind would dare call Celest that?

B: You did.

C: ….

B: Who’s Celest?

C: Oh, fuck me!

Constantine gives him an address - it’s in Milan, Lombardy (Region of Italy). He specifically instructs him to come as a civ along with Red Hood and Robin with the threat that he will erase their memories if they so much as go into detective mode.

Bruce Wayne and his two wayward children enters the teahouse and is led by the hostess to a private room. They are served with tea and light snacks that they know even Alfred would more than approve of.

A door opens - they didn’t even know it was one with the way the molding blends into each other seamlessly. And out came one of the most enchanting woman Bruce has ever seen. He’s seen his fair share of attractive females but he has never been star-struck like he should be - as if he were back to his pre-pubescent days.

M: Constantine said you’d be here.

B: [realizes that this person was Constantine’s dealer and was 100% magic] You’re his dealer?

*Jason and Damian who saw the look on their dad’s face snicker at his opening line*

M: [raises and elegant eyebrow at Bruce] And you must be his work associates?

J: Something like that, lady. I’m Jason, kid’s Damian, and the one who can’t stop staring at you is our Dad, Bruce.

*Bruce grumbles and Marinette smirks*

M: I’m Marinette. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

D: [gestures at Bruce] Pleasure is all his, Marinette.

B: [red at the ears] Their Grandfather thought them better, I swear.

M: Mhmm. I guess he didn’t teach them how to not die then?

The guys: ….

Jason gets a more potent version of the potion Constantine consumes - it’s a prescription that he has to come for every month. Damian gets a charm; ear cuffs because he does whatever her wants, a spontaneous orbital piercing is nothing. And Bruce gets Mari’s number.

(Tim also gets forwarded in his fave fashion label’s waitlist from the near thousands to the fourteenth - his first consultation coincides with Jason’s next appointment.)

AN: Some posts/fics call Mari Celestial Guardian. Idk where and when that happened - I have abandoned canon a long time ago. These are all pulled from my days in the maribat blackhole (still kinda stuck there). I basically pulled this out of my archives so they at least get the chance to see the daylight.

Addressing Brucinette: I have a whole re-written MLB plot in my archives where everything is more brutal and the miraculous aren’t actual pieces of accessories. Like there’s an initiation to the order and stuff like that. I normally don’t enjoy aging up characters in crossovers but Brucinette just works. I have a secretary AU somewhere (it’s tragic and I’m considering scrapping it if I find it). And I also have deep-rooted issues that wants me to write Good!Dad Bruce who has Mari breathing down his neck when he so much as raises his voice at his children (Muminette/Mominette is another breed scary). And those tropes where Mari sees right through Brucie? Has a second sense for the when the batkids are in/causes trouble? Love those. I WILL FIGHT FOR THIS SHIP. (Jk people are free to dislike this. I get it.)

#mlb x dc #john constantine #batkids #bruce wayne #justice league dark #maribat

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atombombkaytee · 21 days

Text

My Echo, My Shadow and Me (Part 3)

Summary: Hancock and I retire to The Third Rail after a long day to find that it’s particularly busy. Still, we manage to find a quiet spot to indulge in heavy flirting, booze and chems. However, I notice a shadowy figure across the room - somehow, neither Hancock or I recognise the stranger (another ghoul). Hancock is keen to introduce himself but the sheer amount of intoxicants we’ve consumed could have the potential to lead to a very interesting evening.

Pairings: Hancock x Female OC/Reader, Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Female OC/Reader

Warnings: Heavy alcohol/drug use, public groping, smut, MMF threesome, anal.

(Part 1 here)

(Part 2 here)

Part 3

We sit together for a few hours - sharing the rest of the bottle over some casual small talk. Although, Hancock and I find ourselves to be alone in our willingness to share any more intimate details about ourselves. Every so often, the man interjects with a touch of sarcasm or a witty remark - it is abundantly clear that he is a man who embodies both wisdom and a penchant for seclusion. Unmistakably, the enigmatic ghoul is equally inebriated like us, yet his placidity under the influence sets him apart.

My companion and I have a similar approach to handling our problems - making light of them and getting shitfaced drunk - but this man seems to sit with his pain, holding on to it close. He doesn't open up about it one bit, yet I can feel the weight of heartbreak behind his eyes.

He listens and learns - displaying occasional moments of amusement when his furrowed brow loosens into a sarcastic smirk, which is the closest he gets to a genuine smile. It's possible that he's starting to warm up to us a little in his intoxicated state but - just as we all seem to be getting along to some extent - every light inside The Third Rail flickers to life with a buzz. The sudden brightness startles all three of us in our seats, and I observe both men squinting and shielding their eyes.

“C’mon you dirty buggers - off with you now!” The reverberations of Charlie's robotic voice against the concrete walls prompt me to realize that we are the only patrons left in the bar. I also scrunch my eyes closed and usher Hancock to his feet, eager to escape the searing glare of white light.

He haphazardly tosses a cluster of caps onto the table and then pivots to face our new friend.

“You coming?”

The ghoul shakes his head in disbelief and swills back the final dregs directly from the whiskey bottle. In a rather awkward and uncoordinated manner, he braces his weight on his knees with his palms to provide some stability as he battles to stand upright.

“I guess I don’t see why the hell not. Not like I got anything better to do right now.”

********

It doesn’t take long to get back to Hancock’s private study and upon arrival, I am thankful for several things. Besides a solitary, faint lightbulb - the room is predominantly illuminated by candles that have been recently lit to last for hours. The only other light emanates from a makeshift fireplace situated right next to where we are seated.

As a result, the room is toasty with a comfortable warmth. The historic Old State Building, which Hancock has made his home, still stands steadfast after all these years so, despite the persistent howling of the wind outside, we are safe from its reach.

What’s more - there is a plethora of alcohol and chems scattered in abundance on the table, conveniently within easy reach. I opt to pick up some Grape Mentats for myself. I have previously indulged in this substance a couple of times this evening at The Third Rail because, to be candid, it assists me in regaining some level of sobriety. My charisma continues to function adequately even without the aid of these little pills.

Relaxing on Hancock's opulent furniture, I stretch out my legs. The comfortable furniture that he owns is the most luxurious I've seen in town, rivaling only Irma's at The Memory Den (and lay one finger on that thing, she will have it right off). It's at this moment that I become aware of my thigh pressed against the ghoul stranger sitting beside me.

He seems either oblivious or completely unfazed. He’s leaning forward, engrossed in rolling a cigarette and casually chatting with Hancock about their questionable cap-making techniques. The Grape Mentats’ effects feel enhanced now that I'm in a cozy, warm environment, causing a pleasant, floating sensation to fill my core.

Slowly blinking in an attempt to control my sudden feelings of elation, I absentmindedly extend my hands in both directions to grab the thighs of the two men sitting on either side of me. A temporary lapse in judgment - but any doubt in the back of my mind is put to bed by the chems.

With a smirk, the ghoul reclines on the couch and averts his eyes to my wandering hand, before locking them with mine, confidently.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

I tighten the hold on Hancock's thigh with my other hand, silently asking for his approval. We have a history of engaging with others intimately. Yet, this would mark our first encounter with another ghoul.

The speed at which I have reached this juncture has taken me aback, leaving me with a feeling of near-embarrassment. From the very outset, I had been intrigued by the mysterious stranger, finding him alluring. However, given his penchant for secrecy, I never envisaged that Hancock would go as far as inviting him back to his personal quarters. I had a feeling that it was a tactic, with my lover planning to gather more information before extending further hospitality to the stranger in his town. After all, Hancock is renowned for his intelligence, particularly with his frequent use of Mentats.

The sound of Hancock's laughter next to me confirms that he has understood my signals and is in agreement with my plan. Both of the men - damn, all three of us - are extremely intoxicated. I can feel the heaviness of the stranger’s drunken bulk on the couch beside me.

I maneuver my body over to the unfamiliar ghoul until I’m straddling him and tip back his hat slightly so that I’m able to press in close to his face. Hancock extends his arm to the table, pouring himself another drink, allowing me to continue seducing the man.

The ghoul pays no attention to him, yet maintains an unwavering stare at me with a noticeable sense of inquisitiveness shimmering in his eyes. I nervously nibble on my lower lip and subtly move my hips in a grinding motion against his pelvic area, making sure my panties graze against the material of his slacks. To my delight, I am met with the sensation of a burgeoning erection straining against my twat.

Finally, the ghoul turns his attention away from me to observe Hancock, who is leisurely sipping from his glass as he watches us.

“This smoothie - she your girl?” The sly grin that he aims towards Hancock betrays his uncertainty as he hesitates to make a move. So far, he hasn't laid a hand on me, choosing instead to let me grind against him and derive pleasure from his concealed member.

“Listen, brother…” He diligently refills his glass which has been depleted of its contents, for the umpteenth time. “It’s the end of the fucking world and, what can I say, I like to share.”

The ghoul casts a fleeting glance in my direction, taking a moment to carefully scrutinize my facial features and the contours of my slender physique. I detect the unmistakable tang of whiskey on his exhalations, observing with keen interest as he runs his tongue along his slightly open lips.

“So, for tonight, she’s our girl.”

(Part 4)

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dinsdjrn · 1 year

Text

everything i wanted | j. miller | 2.8k

track one | track two | masterlist

bodyguard!AU

AU!Joel x singer!f!reader

summary: it's not what i meant when i said i wanted to be seen. a scary note, a long day, and a security detail.

tags for the series: 18+, minors DNI, angst/fluff/eventual smut, sarah's dead (plot), ellie is alive, parental manipulation/abuse (maternal), depression, drug and alcohol use, sobriety, stalker behaviour from a fan, will update as i go, this ones gonna get dark but it will have the happy feel good too! as always if anything is missing tell me and i will add it!

a/n: another wip that im pumped about, and guess what i have already written pt 2.. so thats coming. this is intro it really picks up next chapter xoxo.

track one - to be seen

It was a cool winter night in LA, or well as cool as LA gets. You had just arrived back at the house you rented in LA when you were in the studio. It had been a pretty typical day for you, your album had just been released and you were doing loads of press. You were also attempting to write and produce a deluxe edition of your most recent studio album. The resounding success of your first album catapulted you into fame overnight.

This second album was much more by the book, trimmed and produced as if to make you a working dog eager to please those who owned your success. You felt it was missing the grit of your first album. You hoped with the release of a deluxe edition you’d be able to bring that grit back in, take back control of your sound. The only issue being you had to write the songs to be able to produce them.

You were so excited to just collapse into bed, it had been a long day doing both a morning talkshow and late night TV. You reminded yourself that this was your dream for so long and it was finally happening. Two be grateful for the love and support. That your fans cared about you and the songs you made.

‘They started your career, and if you don’t work for them they’ll end it.’ you could hear your mother in your head. So you turned your exhaustion into gratefulness. Long days meant a long career ahead.

As you unlocked the door to your house a small envelope fell from the crack of the door to your feet.

Probably just a flyer. You thought to yourself.

You picked it up and made your way into the modern home. The kitchen was clean and a bit too sterile for your liking. You missed home, your friends, your dad, playing gigs at bars and comedy shows. This life was overwhelming, it felt like a tornado scooped you up and placed you in LA, New York, or London. Your heart was both so full and so empty all at once.

You opened the envelope with your finger and pulled out a small piece of paper.

And just like that, your chest went tight, phone falling to the tile floor and the world stopped moving.

‘I’ve found you, and I’m never letting you go. You’re going to be mine forever. Love always, B.’

The next twelve hours were a whirlwind, it was a blur. Going from your house to you managers, and now back to Golden Record headquarters at a bright and early 4am. You sat in meetings for hours, where people would talk about you as if you weren’t there. By ten in the morning it was decided that the letter was a threat and you needed a new apartment and a permanent body guard. By eleven, a firm had been hired and a detail was on the way. By noon you were being shuffled away to a new apartment with a large broody man who was referred to as Miller.

You had never felt so tired in your life, being awake going on twenty eight hours now and coming down from a hit of adrenaline had really taken all you had left to give. You sunk into the leather seats of the large black SUV and let out a large sigh clenching your fists and closing your eyes.

You glanced over taking in the man who was assigned to be your detail for the next three days. Three days on, rotating between Miller and Jones they said, two private details until they decided there was no threat to your life.

Miller, first name unknown, was quite handsome. He had thick brown hair and soft waves, he was wearing all black t-shirt and jeans that fit is form extremely well. He was toned. But not to the point of being “chiseled”, his jaw was square and there was a seriousness to him. It made him look threatening even. He pulled out his phone briefly as the car started moving and you could see his jaw tighten at whatever message he had received.

“So is Miller what I am supposed to call you? Or Is there a first name that goes along with it?” You asked through a yawn.

“Joel Miller,” He said quickly, not even glancing in your direction.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Joel.” You said. An awkward silent fell between you, you shifted in your seat.

As if by grace of the gods, your phone began ringing loudly.

Joel glanced to see if there was caller ID, it was just your mother. A conversation you’re sure couldn’t be delayed, but you dreaded it none the less.

“Hey mom,” you sighed.

“Why did I have call you?!” She started. “You’d think that when something like this happens I’d find out from my OWN daughter, not her manager telling me she won’t be recording today!”

You just put her on speaker and let her berate you for not telling her, you scrolled through twitter wondering how your interviews were being received.

“Are you even listening to me?! You don’t have anything to say for yourself?!” She dramatized.

“Mom, I’m really sorry. Everything happened so fast and I was in meetings all night. I was about to call y-“

“I don’t want to hear excuses, this is stupid. You’re being dramatic, if you had thought this through you could have recorded today.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you droned.

It wasn’t an uncommon track to play, you get blamed for something out of your control and you apologize for something that wasn’t your fault.

“I didn’t have a whole ton of material today anyway. I’ll make sure we do double time tomorrow and I was going to write this afternoon,” you said hoping you were reaching the end of the conversation.

“Good, you’re not popular enough to slack off. One popular song isn’t the promise of a career,” She said in a matter of fact tone.

“I know, I’ll keep working on it,” you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Joel had been so quiet next to you, not seeming interested at all in the conversation at hand. For the best, every time you spoke with your mother, she took a small piece of your soul with her. Breaking you down into the perfect little star, nothing left of who you once were.

“Great! Make sure you don’t waste the potential of this! Crisis’ creates hits! Alright my love, Jan and I are meeting for breakfast on Fifth so I have to go! Next time you’re in New York we’ll catch up”

“Yeah, talk so-,” the call ended before you could finish your sentence.

At least she was happy, and you needed to lay down for the foreseeable future. You rubbed your temple and sighed, you just wanted to curl up and cry until there wasn’t anything left.

As soon as you arrived at the new apartment you noticed your clothes packed neatly away for you, it comforted you knowing you wouldn’t have to go back to the house. You laid down fully clothed on your bed, finally alone for the first time in twenty-nine hours, and you let yourself cry.

By the time you had woken up it was nearly dark out, the sun had made its descent past the Los Angeles skyline and all that was left were the warm oranges and reds of the evening.

You were still tired but needed to get up, eat and do a bit of work. You grabbed your phone to check the time, 7:31. You noticed a few missed texts from your dad back home, your manager, and saw a headline on twitter about a police presence at your house.

You swiped away the twitter notifications not wanting to be reminded what a nightmare the last day was. You opened the text conversation with your dad, certain he just wanted to check in.

Hey Kiddo, hope you’re doing okay? Mom called, here for you.

No surprise there, they divorced as soon as you had moved out for good, but she would always call to prove a point. To let him know that she knew something before he did.

Hi Dad, I’m ok, uneasy but ok. Talk soon :)

Your manager had texted you the phone number of both security details and the company they worked for just incase something were to go awry.

You made your way to the living room, Joel was there sitting at the island on his phone. You made your way to the fridge not surprised to find it empty. You sighed pulling out your phone to order delivery.

“You hungry?” You asked him.

“Huh?” He looked confused. You noticed he had put his phone away and was standing again.

“I’m gonna order some Thai food, do you want me to grab you something?” You explained.

“Oh, uh, that’s alright, thank you though.”

You noted he had a slight southern accent.

“Well there’s no food here so…” you trailed.

“Well just grab whatever and I’ll eat some of it,” you nodded in return.

It didn’t take long for your food to arrive, you and Joel both grabbed a plate and ate in silence. You hated every second of it. You’re not sure he felt it though, the uncomfortable silence between you.

After eating you grabbed your headphones and made your was to the living room. You had to have something to show for yourself in the studio tomorrow. You could tell there was frustration around your deluxe edition, you had recorded and scrapped three songs this week alone.

Just as you were grabbing your guitar your phone started ringing on the table.

James

You answered immediately.

“James! What’s up?” You were excited to hear from your best friend.

“Hey girl! Some crazy shit going down this morning?” He asked.

“Something like that,” you sighed, giving him just a few details of the past day.

“Well, I’m here if you need me. I did have a question though?”

“What’s up?”

“How would you like to come out with some friends tomorrow? We have a table at new bar and it might be fun, take some stress off!”

“I-,” you started, being cut off immediately.

“Before you shut me down you only have to come for like ONE drink,” He said emphasizing the ‘one’.

You sighed, “Fine. ONE drink. Text me the details and I’ll run it past my security team.”

“Fancy ass security team. Are they at least hot?”

You scoffed.

“So they’re super hot,” he made it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Okay, I’m hanging up now. Love you, bye!” You said ending the call before any more words could be exchanged.

You phone buzzed immediately. It was James.

Lucky bitch! Send a picture ;) here’s the details for tomorrow xo.

[attachment: 1 image]

A screenshot with the details. You loved the message and left it at that.

“So what are you running past your security team?” Joel inquired, your head snapped in his direction.

“Drinks with a friend tomorrow, at an exclusive restaurant.” You showed him the screenshot.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” He sounded unsure.

“I’m not really asking; I mean I am, but if there’s even a slight chance I’d like to go.”

Joel sighed and scratched his temple, “Alright.”

“Great, you can stay here if you want. I don’t think going out with a large group requires this level of security.” You pushed to see what the answer would be.

“Do you have any concern for your own safety?” He scoffed toward you.

“It was an empty threat, Miller. Look I can appreciate everyones concern for my safety, but this is hardly the worst thing anyones said to me.” Your annoyance was no longer easily masked.

He inhaled sharply at your remark as if it surprised him.

“Yeah, but most of the time the things people say aren’t in an envelope on your door.”

You just sighed in return.

“Alright well, then you come with me. No use getting up in arms about it.”

The dark and broody man crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter. Somehow it made him look exceptionally powerful. The muscles in his arms moved and shifted showing how well defined they were, he had a few tattoos that peaked out from below his t-shirt sleeve. You had realized your were staring and quickly turned to look down at your notebook, Joel still in your peripheral.

“So is there any reason you took this job, Joel Miller?” You asked as you reached for your guitar again, finally starting on a song. You had a soft tune stuck in your head since your meeting with the security team earlier that day that you had to put to chords.

“I don’t think knowing about my personal life is keeping you any safer,” he grumbled.

“Maybe not safer, but more comfortable with my situation perhaps.” You continued to hum the same tune over again. Scribbling lyrics into your notebook.

Not what I meant when I said that, I wanted to be seen.

“Well, Miller? Why private security?” You pressed.

“My uh- my kid. It is just her and I, the gig pays well and I’ve been told I look like an attack dog before.”

That made you laugh.

“Whoever said that, I whole heartedly agree,” you smiled at him.

“I’ll do it if I have to,” you hummed, “hope and dun na in between.”

Quickly jotting down the first part of that lyric, hoping the second half would just come to you.

“So, this kid, tell me about them?” You asked strumming some barre chords.

“No.”

“Oh come on! Her name? Her age? Anything?”

“Have you ever been told you’re too friendly? That you pry?” He scoffed.

“Most people don’t seem to have problems with it funny enough,” you quipped.

“Ellie, she’s fourteen,” he hesitated, “she like jokes, the outdoors and playing guitar.”

He was very grumbly and reluctant. You could help but smile at the fact at at least today he would talk to you.

“Well if she’s any good you should bring her to the studio! Maybe she can help me get out of my slump,” you chuckled smiling at him.

For a moment his face softened and he smiled lightly at you. It sent a chill down your spine, he was handsome when he was hard and cold. But that moment of softness made your stomach do backflips. You quickly looked back down.

“Dun dun little empire and made a mm mm mess,” you jotted that down.

“She’d uh love that you know. Thanks,” Joel interrupted momentarily.

You smiled and nodded for at him. He didn’t say anything else after that leaving you to record little voice notes here and there.

You got on a bit of a roll writing this song. It had finally sparked something exciting in you. Maybe writing something your mom would detest was what you needed to do more often. She only ever wanted a breakup ballad or an upbeat song. The songs that you loved most though were the ones that pulled from your soul, explained the pressure you were under. They were the flowers that bloomed in your darkest parts, picking them and presenting them hoping someone would understand you.

As you worked Joel sat on the stool on his phone, or worked away on his laptop you’re sure filling out reports for the day. You couldn’t help but stare as he worked. It made your song writing take exponentially longer, but he was just mesmerizing. You’d never felt a pull like this to anyone. Maybe it was his mysterious demeanour or his unparalleled looks or even the sense that he was a bit dangerous. Any way about it he was off limits.

You knew everything in your head was off limits, but fantasies weren’t going to hurt anyone. Joel Miller was devilishly sharp and handsome, and you were going to be spending a lot of time together in the coming weeks.

By the time midnight rolled around again you had the bones of a song and a headache to match. You yawned and stretches your back, it ached from being hunched over your notebook.

“Right, well, I think it’s time for me to go to bed, Joel.” You closed your book and stood up.

“Alright, have a good sleep. If you need anything, I’m just down the hall in the security room.”

You nodded taking him in one more time, his salt and pepper hair, tight fitting t-shirt and chiseled jaw sent you into a frenzy.

“Anything else y’a need?” He looked at you confused.

“Oh, uh no, goodnight!” You turned on your heels embarrassment flooded your system.

This was a bad crush, but when he looked at you it was electric. No matter what you felt when he looked at you, you’re sure it was one sided. Your fantasies had to stay just as they were, no matter what.

track two

tags: @joelsversion @tightjeansjavi @pedgeitopascalreads @wand-erer5 @orcasoul @quality-lust @bearsbeetsbeskar (once again new fic new tag list, if you'd like to be added lmk, if you want to be tagged in everything i post just lmk, i don't wanna tag anyone who doesnt want it 🥺❤️)

#joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction

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