#Ed's arm was a mess and a half to draw I will have you know

[amanitacurses]

Hello hope you're doing good! Your style is so unique to me, I think it's your use of colour? Just wanted to ask, do you do any speed paints or progress shots? I'd love to know what's going on in your head while you work

I know it's not the most comprehensive thing in the world, but in all fairness, I don't think I've ever been asked for my process before. I don't do speedpaints or process videos, but if there's interest, I'll see about maybe figuring out CSP's timelapse feature and ocassionally posting some of those? I dunno, I'd genuinely need to know if there's like, demand for it or anything. Also thank you, things are going pretty well right now! That said! Steps:

Sketch Lineart Base Rough Shading/Lighting Refine Shading/Lighting Colours Duplicate the Colours Layer and make it black and white, then play with the layer-settings (this image it was put on Hard Light but sometimes I use Soft Light or Overlay) Play with the settings on the duplicated layer and adjust colours as needed (this image it was set to Soft Light; most images I go between Soft Light and Overlay)

Finally, I'll play with some gradients as overlays, then put in my watermark and a noise filter and it comes out as:

[modern-inheritance]

Escape pt 2(3???) Snippet #2(?)

Once again bashing out random bits and pieces that I want to be in here and dumping them on tumblr while I ignore the connections.

also, saw a post from an editor talking about how we write for ourselves so we should write all the fluffy stuff and the breakfast scenes we want, but then take them out before we put the official version out there.

I...I don't do that? That's why these escape series pieces are always so fuckin long. When I honestly write for myself and if I'm going to end up posting it, I'm not cutting those parts out. I know a lot of what I write is basically those cut pieces. And that's what I LIKE to write. So if they're too long...iunno, don't read my completed stuff I guess?

*confused and somewhat distressed shrug* I don't know! I write what I write and I don't take out the floofy bits Why am I trying to defend my style I dont know!

~~~

“Enough.” Eragon didn’t respond. His hand wavered over the elf’s skin as he hovered over a burn that had been revealed as the inflammation of the last gash had faded. “Enough! Eragon!”

Saphira broke him out of it. She lowered her head and nudged her partner’s shoulder, nearly toppling the youth over. 

It took him a handful of seconds to acknowledge them even then, clumsily dragging himself up to his knees from the hunch he had landed in before leaning heavily against Saphira’s snout. Eragon could hardly see straight. He could see two of everything, more if he didn’t focus on trying to draw the images together. His hands felt cold even against the warmth of Saphira’s scales. 

“B’wnah–” He swallowed hard. Someone passed him a canteen, and sunwarmed water soothed his tacky mouth. “We’re not done yet.” The elf’s back swam in front of his eyes. There was more skin than before, that was certain. Bruised, yes, but the new patches were far more assuring than the mess of burns, gouges and cuts, exposed muscle and…and things he couldn’t explain and didn’t want to know what caused them. 

But there was still…still so much. How long had it taken them to just assess the damage? To figure out what needed healing? Eragon set to the task as Brom pointed out the worst as he found them, checked her legs, her arms. The evidence of wounds healed before, others left to time….

And still there was so…so much red. There was so much that needed more than they could provide, had to be covered with shiny, thin membranes of skin that would have to repair itself without magic, the places Brom had shooed him away from with promises that he would stitch them or dress them, to save his and Saphira’s strength. 

Eragon didn’t know the woman. But…he…he felt like he knew her, felt like he had some connection to her, felt that he and Saphira had been fated to meet her, and felt that he could have known her for years before. And seeing her like this? Hell, if he had seen anyone like this…. 

He just wanted to hold on to her. Wrap her in his arms and promise her he wouldn’t let anything else like that happen. 

…Granted, from what Brom had said about the elf, that probably would lead to him getting his head stuffed into the closest hollow tree trunk she could find. If he didn’t give her some warning at least.

Brom was speaking. Eragon dragged his eyes away, back to his mentor’s face. 

“–ed to move. We can’t do anything more right now, and we can’t stay in one place for too long.” 

Murtagh’s voice cut through. “No! Are you mad? Eragon needs to rest, just look at him! He can’ even sit up straight without holding on to Saphira!” Eragon dimly heard the young man moving forward, saw the flash of dark cloth as he gestured toward the pair. “And Saphira! She needs to sleep too, you said yourself she’s giving energy to help cast all that healing magic!” 

‘I’m strong enough to fly.’ Saphira murmured to her Rider. Eragon gave her a wan smile from where he was still half draped against her head and scratched under the corner of her jaw. The low hum that vibrated through his chest spread warmth through his bones. ‘You did well, Little One.’

He rocked his face against the jagged crest of one of her eyes, felt the snick of her lid closing against his cheek. ‘She’s still hurt.’

The humming intensified, soothing through his mind as well as his body. ‘But she is better than before. She will live.’

“Eragon can sleep while we ride.” Brom pushed back. “And Saphira’s been dozing on and off, she’s got enough in her to fly far enough that we stay ahead.” 

“If you think for a second that we’re going to be able to keep him from falling off Cadoc–”

“I’m fine.” Both men snapped their heads around when Eragon rasped out the words. The youth was shakily fastening the snaps on the back of the elf’s shirt again before gently transferring her off his knees and onto her side. “I’ll…I’ll be okay sleeping in the saddle. Saphira says she’s good to fly.” 

Brom gave the boy an appreciative nod. “Good.” Murtagh swore and scrubbed his hands through his hair, stalking off to the horses. “I’m not a fool, whelp. There should be a cave system not far from here, big enough to hide all of us for at least half a day. We can hole up there and rest properly.” 

The young man clicked his lips in disdain. “Oh, but of course, it’s not like that’d be the first bloody place they’d search, but who am I to argue! I just lead the bloody horses!” 

“It’s not well known. Help me with her, and you–” Brom pointed to Eragon, who was struggling to his feet. “There’s a ration pack in your saddlebags. Eat what you can. And keep drinking that water.” The boy nodded and stumbled towards where Cadoc was tethered. Before he could pass, Brom stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and leaned in. “Good job, boy. I’m proud of you.” 

Eragon couldn’t make his eyes see just one horse, so he couldn’t really trust his other senses. But he thought, for a moment, that the usually gruff and rumble tone in his mentor’s voice had taken on a sincere rush of warmth. It felt like his own chest glowed at the words, and then the exhaustion flooded in again and all he could do was nod numbly. He clumsily clapped the man on the arm before he staggered off to eat and collapse into Cadoc’s saddle.

[phireflies]

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗲

eddie gives you drawing ideas when you're experiencing art block. [wc; 2.3k]

pairing; eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings; swearing and fluff, i think that's literally it (written on my phone so mistakes too)

a/n; is this completely self-indulgent... maybe... i will edit this when i wake up i swear

"i'm at a loss, eds," you say, throwing yourself onto his bed, arms and legs splayed out.

"why's that?" he was fiddling with the strings on his guitar, not looking up at you.

you sigh. "my sketchbook is like, empty and i have to turn it in by friday."

"that's in two days," he states.

"wow really? i didn't know that."

"teasing." he laughs, putting his guitar down, finally looking at you. "all outta ideas?" you nod. "draw me."

when you sit up, your face is so close to his, noses almost touching. "i can't draw you, i'll mess it up."

"then it'll be abstract. c'mon, i'll sit like a statue, i promise!”

you laugh so hard you throw your head back. the thought of eddie munson sitting still, like a statue no less, was wild. he couldn't stop fidgeting as if his life depended on it.

looking over at him, you noticed that he would make a good subject. his hands were really nice after all, the rings the cherry on top. you loved his eyes too, and his hair, and his nose. everything about him.

"okay," you say, smiling. he leans in so your nose touches his, and smiles. "i can draw you."

"fuck yeah, babe! can you do it with a colored pencil? you have those right?"

you nod. "i only have red and blue though."

"red, red's my favorite color."

you nod again, confirming the color. eddie had taken you home, to his home, after school like always, so you had all of your art supplies with you. it wasn't much, a few hb pencils, pens, and two colored pencils.

inside, eddie was freaking out. he loved your art, and would shower you with compliments and kisses when you showed him a new piece, throwing in a few can you draw hellfire posters? too.

he'd never thought to ask for a portrait before. maybe it was because some part of him, something very deep down inside him, thought it would be scary to see someone else's interpretation of him. he was excited nevertheless.

you pulled out your sketchbook with almost twenty-five percent of it filled and sighed, letting your fingers roam around the cover - feeling the divots of when you pushed your pencil too hard in to make a mark, meaningless doodles, and words.

"you can go back to doing whatever, i can go from there."

eddie kissed your temple and leaned back to get his guitar. he started messing with the strings again as if they weren't perfect the first time around.

you looked around eddies room, which had somewhat become your room. wayne suggested you move in, to help keep it clean. eddie even made a stack of your clothes on his floor.

"what's the theme of this one? they all got themes, right?" he asked, half distracted.

"uh, not sure. think it's something like family or your idea of home."

eddie smiled to himself. "yeah? you're okay with putting me with that theme?"

you started sketching out his room, the perspective a little wonky but it would turn out fine. "'course eds, not to be all cheesy but you're kinda my idea of home." you are my home, you want to say.

"that's awfully sweet of you." he teases again, but neither of you can deny the blush creeping onto his face. it starts at the tip of his ears. "just so happens that you're my idea of home too. i mean, you put your shoes next to mine!" he repeats what you said, but leaves out the kinda.

you laugh hard again, but don't reply. you relish at this moment, of eddie doing whatever he does, back towards you, but still touching you, and you doing what you love, of who you love.

your focus is turned back onto the page as you start to slowly add in blocks, mapping out the clothes on his floor, the posters, and little trinkets. crosshatching is used to add depth and shadows and make it all look a little better, more real.

when it's finished, you write home at the top right and sign your name under. "look, eds."

"you're a modern da vinci, babe." he pretends to not see the title at the top but smiles like an idiot to himself when he turns away.

you move on to the next page. anatomy. it was never something that you were particularly good at, everything looking a little off.

eddie's backside turns out to be a great reference. you start out with the outline of his back and his hair, then you slowly add details in, carving them in. you don't offer to show him this one.

next, you draw the guitar, where it hangs in front of the mirror. eddie moved on to messing with his amp. you draw the pick on his nightstand, and the box of cigarettes, though you don't draw the label. it's just a box on paper, but you know it's more.

"s'it working?" he asks. you've gotten caught up in your drawing that you didn't realize he sat right next to you again.

you hum, nodding. "i'm tired already."

it was pretty late, and you were pretty tired. "m'tired too. you sure this burst of inspiration won't disappear by tomorrow?"

"nope, because you'll still be here, i hope."

he smiles wide again. idiot, you think. my idiot. "always gonna be here."

with that, eddie helps you get situated to sleep, and you're out.

when the birds outside wake you up, you're excited to draw, your hands itching. you're excited because you get to draw eddie. the entire day was going to be focused on drawing him, his features and his hands and his tattoos, everything that makes him eddie.

because of how the trailer is set, the sun shines bright through his window, perfectly highlighting eddie. the sheets have slid down to his lower back, so you can see the curves of his back and the few light freckles on his shoulders.

it’s perfect, he’s perfect. you have to draw him.

moving as slowly as you can, you reach down to grab your sketchbook off the floor, along with a colored pencil. you mark down the general shape of him, and then work on his face - half in the pillow with furrowed eyebrows and pouted lips. you wonder what he was dreaming about.

you make sure to get the way his hair falls into his eyes and over his shoulder, a few distinct curls on his cheek.

“freak.” he mutters, opening his eyes a smidge.

“you asked for this.”

he huffs, slowly getting up with a groan. “guess i did. can i see?”

you shake your head and move the sketchbook away. “not yet, when i get it back. monday.” you say, promising.

“monday.” he agrees. “d’you want eggs? think that’s all we got.”

you nod. “eggs sound perfect, eds.” smiling, you think back on all of the other times eddie made eggs and how he dumped salt on them.

he stands up to find a shirt and pants, but not before he presses a kiss to your temple and each cheek.

you follow him into the kitchen, still clutching the sketchbook. wayne’s sitting in his chair, sipping a coffee. it was rare to see him so early.

“hi wayne.” you say, to which he turns back and waves.

“you know she’s an artist right?” eddie says, cracking four eggs into a hot pan. they sizzle.

wayne laughs. “‘course i do, you show me everything she’s ever given you.”

your face heats up at the new knowledge. “you do?”

eddie looks sheepish, like you weren’t supposed to know. he shrugs, a red blush painting his face. “i mean, yeah, sometimes.”

“all the time!” wayne corrects with a loud laugh.

eddie scowls playfully and returns to his cooking. attempt at cooking.

while eddie begins to plate the eggs, wayne departs, reminding you to show him more art. wayne was your second biggest fan, after eddie of course.

eddie, thankfully, learned how much salt is too much, so the eggs were edible. “wish we had bacon or something.” he says with his mouth full of food. you’d scold him for that, but you were too enamored with the sight before you.

his hair was a mess, his eyes were still droopy and half-lidded, and he was smiling at you once he swallowed his food. his smile. you wanted it burned into your memory forever.

“this is good.” you manage.

“you’re staring.” he states, smiling even wider.

you scoff, trying to play it off. “i do not stare!”

eddie’s finished with his eggs, so he gets up to clean his plate. he kissed your head as he passes you. “i stare at you too. in a completely normal way, though.”

“that was a normal way!” you join him in cleaning your plate.

the rest of the morning continues like it always does, brushing your teeth together, and getting dressed together, and leaving together.

the rest of the day, however, doesn’t go like you hope it does. you don’t see eddie for much of it, and all you want to do is draw him. it’s a funny feeling, not wanting to do anything but draw and draw and draw. maybe it was something eddie-specific.

before you knew it, you were walking into the drama room to watch eddie’s dungeons and dragons campaign.

the boys all lit up at the sight of you, waving and greeting you, then getting back into setting up.

“babe! how’d the drawing thing go today?” he asked, pulling you aside.

you shrugged. “didn’t do much, didn’t see you much.” he frowns. “i can do more tonight though!”

“you’ll show me?”

you smile, shrugging. “can’t make any promises.”

“god, you’re awful.”

eddie laughs loudly before running to begin the campaign. you have a seat near the table, where you can see the party to either side and eddie in the middle. the glow of the florescent light make it look like he’s got a halo around his head.

as the group progresses in the campaign and gets more rowdy, you decide to draw it. a little sketch, nothing too detailed. you’ve adopted the younger kids, so they fit in with the theme. found family, you think.

eddie’s in the middle with his arms out, and everyone else is at the sides, smiling wide with unique expressions on their faces.

you’ve still got a good chunk of sketchbook left, so you draw the party’s characters. it’s a little unclear what the exact vision was for all of them, but you do the best you can. you end up with numerous half-rendered pieces of their dungeons and dragons characters with the respective player labeled at the top.

by the time you’re done, they’ve finished the session and are cleaning up.

“was that a good one?” you ask when eddie’s done.

he puts a hand on your waist and leads you out to his van. he nods. “one of the best. think you’re my lucky charm, babe.”

“that’s cheesy.”

he pauses, thinking. “you’re right, but wasn’t that sweet? i just came up with that!”

you laugh and push his shoulder. “i could tell.”

“you’re evil.” he smiles, no real harm behind his words. “what’d you draw?“

eddie starts his van and begins to drive out of the school lot. “just you and the party, their characters, stuff like that.”

“y’know, they’d love to see that stuff.”

you nod. “i’ll tear out the pages when it’s all graded. they can keep it if they deem it worthy of their vision.”

eddie snorts. “they love you, of course they’d love it!”

you want to disagree, but eddie turns up his music so you can’t. you glare at him, but it eventually fades into an endearing smile.

once you’re at his trailer again, you’re quick to pick up where you left off - sketching his hands doing whatever he’s doing, in this case, smoking.

you draw his hand with a cigarette between his first and second finger, lightly sketching a line to make a string of smoke. you make sure to get his rings. you continue onto his arm, where he’s rolled up the sleeve. his tattoos are visible, so you draw them too. accuracy is not a concern, as you already know you’ve got them down perfectly. you know him like the back of your hand.

“think you’ll finish by tomorrow?”

you nod, drawing his side profile. “sure i will, i’ve got enough you to last a lifetime.”

“god.” he sighs, smiling to himself.

the page is full, so you turn to the next and focus on his eyes. what they look like when he smiles, the wrinkles in the corners, eyelashes kissing. what they look like when he’s happy and full of fondness. what they look like closed.

“you’re gonna get frostbite.” he says, pulling you you up and into the trailer.

“it’s seventy degrees.”

“it happens, heat frostbite.”

you give him a look, raising your eyebrows. “so… heatstroke?”

“maybe.”

the rest of the night is filled with laughter and funny looks as you try to get eddie’s not-so-patient expression down on the page. you’d have to see the real thing though, a pencil can only do so much.

the remaining pages of your sketchbook are filled with his hands. floating hands cut off at the wrist, just doing random things - holding a pick, practicing guitar, attempting homework, hold your hand. that was the hardest, trying to hold his and draw with the other.

“fucking finally.” you swear, wiping your forehead. “finally finished.”

“proud of you. all of little ole me too.” he smiles smugly, poking your side. “you’re gonna get the best grade on that goddamn sketchbook.”

you laugh, looking at him. admiring him. “i think i did well. you’re my muse now.”

eddie laughs loudly, trying to hide the growing blush on his face. to be someone’s muse was an honor, to be your muse.

you were eddie’s muse, numerous corroded coffin songs being written about you or with you in mind. two different artists, but you were all the same.

[soulwillower]

cleaning the room • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader smut)

requested:  heyyy i love your work!! can i maybe request a Richie smut where their like in the middle of doing “it” but then someone calls the reader (maybe bev or eddie or sumn) and instead of stopping richie keeps going and so she has to continue the call and pretend like shes not in the middle of such unholy acts haha sorry if its too specific,, thank you!!!

warnings: swearing, smut, spitting, v light cum play, light light slapping (reader smacks richie bc theyre frustrated he was teasing them), unprotected sex, risky sex, talking on the phone w someone, use of the words whore/slut, degradation, this has literally no plot its all smut LOL

heyyy finally bback w a fic, i have awful writers block so this was all i could do. hope u guys like it

[ 18+ ]

1.8k words

♡

"richie," you purr, sighing with lust as your boyfriend's hands pull your hips harder towards his own, arching your back as his hand rises to gently push you down against the mattress. he hums, leaning down to kiss your lips hard, thrusting into you as your back rubs the sheets under you. 

richie leans back and his mouth opens to murmur something to you, but a ringing noise makes you jolt. both of you turn to look at your phone, which has lit up with the call from someone. richie sighs and you groan, arm reaching out to grope around for the phone as your other hand threads into richie's hair, tugging him as he slowly eases on his thrusts. 

"oh, god," you say, half moaning as richie's strokes slow, changing angles as he looks down at you with mischevious eyes. "it's eddie." you add, tossing your phone to the edge of the bed.

 richie hums, pulling out of you and grabbing the phone. you whine, looking at him, "no, please keep going, i can call him back later." you beg, desperate to feel richie again. richie raises his brows, "you know he'll just keep calling." 

you lean back, sighing because you know richie's right. "fuck you richie. fine." and then you snatch the phone, pressing the answer button. "hey, wh-what's up?" you ask, breathing slightly heavily. 

"hey, i was wondering what your plans are later. we need to get some supplies for the party." eddie says cheerfully, and you swallow. god, couldn't he have called any other time? at least this will be quick. 

you jolt but keep quiet as you feel richie's fingers gently run through your slick folds, thumb teasing your clit. you let out a short whine and gulp, "oh, uh, yeah i can-can hang out later, just not now-" you swallow. your face feels on fire, excited by the idea of possibly being caught. 

"you okay, y/n?" eddie asks genuinely, sounding concerned. you bite your lip so hard you think it may draw blood as you gasp, "yeah, just...not feeling good." you say, sharply inhaling as richie quietly chuckles. you send him a glare. 

"richie and i are c-cleaning his room and there's... it's hard work." you mutter breathlessly as you go up on one elbow, eyeing richie as he smirks, his hand trailing down to stroke his cock. you barely resist a moan as you watch him, biting your lip as you wish you could have him in your mouth. 

"okay..." eddie says absently, immediately dismissing your excuse as he launches into a conversation with you asking about what you're bringing to mike's surprise party on saturday. you're biting your lip as you fall back onto the mattress, heart racing as you think back to twenty seconds ago when richie's cock was inside you. "-and, you know, i think richie's bringing weed and some handles, but maybe if you still have your fake you could try and get us some-" 

but you accidentally cut eddie's sentence off with a sharp gasp tailed with a moan, because as you were listening to eddie, richie lined himself back up to your entrance and pushed straight into you.

your eyes are wide as you stare at richie, watching as he winks at you, finger going to his lips in a shush motion. you hate how immediate your shivers of lust flow through you, as richie starts to slowly thrust into you again. you roll your eyes but your face heats up as eddie's voice breaks the silence over the phone, "y/n, wh... -are you sure you're doing fine?" 

you pull your hand off your mouth, "yes! yes, i just-" you cough to cover up a moan as richie spits down onto your dripping cunt and starts to thrust harder, "i stubbed my fucking toe." richie's smirking darkly at your words, looking down at you as his large hand creeps up your body, splaying across your breasts and then to your neck, ghosting a squeeze before slipping a finger into your open, panting mouth. 

his other hand finds purchase on the skin of your thighs and he winks at you, moving his hips and hitting the perfect spot inside you. the pleasure you feel has your eyes falling back, toes curling. 

"oh. well make sure if it's bad that you ice it, because one time my ma stubbed her toe and she had to stay in bed for a week," and then eddie launches into a quick story and you hum along to make it seem like you're listening even though all you can think about is richie and how his hand is tweaking your nipples, splaying across your sternum, as you suck on his fingers. 

then he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and presses them to your clit, rubbing in a pattern that has you seeing stars. 

"-wait, you said you're with richie?" eddie asks and you cough, throat caught after having richie's hand on it, "yes, he's- he’s right here." you say breathlessly. 

"can you let me ask him something?" 

your eyes widen and you gasp a bit, making eye contact with richie. "s-sure, here he is."  richie's giddy face as he grabs the phone from you makes you nervous, but you bite your lip as he mutters, "hey, eds." 

it's quiet for a bit as eddie's voice drawls along on the other line and suddenly richie's pushing your legs up towards your shoulders and speeding up his thrusts, the deep angle almost making you scream in pleasure. his hand falls over your mouth, keeping you quiet as he leans over you, pumping into you and making tears of pleasure form in the corner of your eyes. 

richie mutters, “mhm? yeah, yeah.” to eddie, but the sultry way he’s staring at you and the way your nails are raking down his back make you wonder if the words are also for you. 

"yeah, she's helping me out, she's always so good like that." richie says, voice shockingly even for the way that he's fucking you into your mattress. and yeah, that definitely is for you. 

 the desperation and pleasure creep up on you alarmingly quick and you can't help the whimpers that quietly escape you - you thank god for the loud fan in your room to cover your noises. 

richie hums to eddie a few more times, then he slaps your thigh gently as you try to close your legs from the pleasure, knowing when you cum you won't be able to keep quiet. it makes you feel even closer, though. "yeah, eds, i can do that. now listen, i got something important to finish off here so i'm going to give you back to my girl." 

you bite your lip, feeling warm as you squirm under richie's touch, hands shakily taking the phone back from him and then richie’s kneeling above you, fucking you down into the mattress and filling you up fully. "eddie," you gasp, "i also have to go, i'll - i'll call you later?" you say, trying your hardest to hold off your orgasm as richie spits on your chest, licking and biting and leaving a love bite in the same spot as he thrusts hard into you. 

"sure, bye y/n!" eddie chirps.

and then the second your finger presses the off button you're a begging mess, eyes screwing shut as you reach up to grip richie's neck. his hands push your knees up towards your head, hitting a spot that has you clenching around him, legs shaking as your chest stutters.

 "please, richie, god, i'm going to kill you for that." you hiss, causing him to grin, "i fucking hate you, i hate you." you mutter, smacking his cheek lightly. the grin after you leave the smack makes you even closer to the edge, and his hands grip your tits as he leans towards your ear. 

his strokes are hitting you deep and hotly as he chuckles, "you liked it. i saw it in your face. pathetic desperation. i can feel it." he whispers against your clammy skin, his fingers brushing against your slick heat as he mutters. your cheeks are hot in embarrassment, and you whimper in need. 

you bite your lip hard, resisting a moan as a sharp cry falls from your lips, shaking as you beg, "richie, just - please, let me cum. please." 

"you're so pretty when you beg, look at you. perfect little whore, talkin' on the phone to my best friend while i fuck you." he mutters, hand caressing your burning cheek as you whimper. "all mine, so eager and willing to do whatever i want."  

you nod, "yes, i'm yours, just - please, please." you whimper. "please say i can cum."

he smiles as he kisses your nose, "would you do whatever i want?” 

you stutter an exhale, “yes! fuck, richie, yes, yes i would. i’m yours.” 

he smiles, “cum, then." you do after the next three thrusts, shaking and gasping and calling richie's name. the euphoria rushes through your body and makes your eyes roll back, chest rising and falling as richie rides you through your high. 

only a minute later, richie pulls out of you, hand moving to pump himself. "my perfect slut." he mutters as you sit up slightly on shaky elbows, tongue out and mouth open as you pant, richie's hand moving in quick movements as he chases his own high. then he's grabbing your neck and pulling you toward him, moans leaving his lips as he cums in spurts onto your open tongue and down your chin, a bit dripping onto your chest. his thumb caresses you, opening your mouth wider and smearing his cum on your lips, wiping it from your tits and slapping them lightly, pinching your nipples and making you grin up at him. 

and his chest is heaving as he smiles down at you, shaking his head as you swallow his cum, "christ, you're perfect doll." you tug his arms so that he falls down onto you and you're both chuckling as you become a tangled mess of limbs and beating hearts and blushy cheeks, sticky bodies cuddling close. 

"he's going to find out." you say after a few seconds. richie hums, "what makes you say that, sugar? it's not like you were all 'richie, fuck me harder, please, yes!' while you were on the phone. that was only after." he teases, and you smack his chest lightly, "shut the fuck up, richie. i hate you." you say through a laugh. he's laughing too as he pulls you even closer, kissing your hairline, "i love you so much, y/n." he says, smiling giddily. 

you pull his chin to you, kissing him sweetly. "i love you too, richie. but eddie's going to your place later, he's going to see that we didn't clean the room." 

richie laughs, shrugging as he runs a hand through his messy curls, "let 'em guess. it's funnier that way." and then he's kissing you, rolling on top of you and tickling your sides as you scream and squeal. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings  @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee  @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly  @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew @etaerealboy

[barbwritesstuff]

Hi Barb! I finally had time to read Blood Moon this weekend and I love it so much! I didn't even know how much I liked werewolves until I read your story 💓 I was wondering if you had descriptions for all the members of the pack written down somewhere? I would love to try my hand at drawing them sometime!

Oh! That's so cool! I love it when people draw my characters. 💙

The members of Pack A are:

The Romance Options

Marco

Lanky and lean with shaggy blond hair, blue eyes, and light skin. Marco has tattoos of roses on thorny vines across his shoulders and on his upper arms. He's also the proud owner of a 10,000 megawatt smile. He doesn't have a lot of money and usually wears mismatched hand-me-downs from the pack.

Age: 26

Height: 176.6cm

Heritage: Mixed

Vicky

Tall and well built with long braided hair and dark skin. She wears all black (usually tank tops, cargo pants, and combat boots) and will kick your arse if you mess with those she loves. She way too self sacrificing for her own good, and will regularly throw herself into danger for her pack.

Age: 28

Height: 189.7cm

Heritage: Mixed

Ed

Short and cute with natural, artfully messy hair, and dark skin. Ed is one of the few stylish werewolves you'll ever meet, and is particularly fond of oversized sweaters, and vintage clothes. He's also a massive tech nerd/internet addict. If he doesn't have his phone in his hands, something is very wrong.

Age: 21

Height: 165.5cm

Heritage: Mixed

The Stolyarchuk Family

Aleksandr (The Alpha)

Big, muscular, bulky, and scarred with dark hair, light skin, and brown eyes. A tough looking papa wolf... who is actually a real softie, especially when it comes to his kids. Alek wears cheap practical clothes like hoodies and track pants.

Age: Late 30s

Heritage: Serbian

Nikolas Sr. (Big Nik)

Alek's uncle. Like his nephew, Nik is heavyset with dark eyes, and light skin. He's not as muscular though, and his hair has long since gone grey.

Age: Early 60s

Heritage: Serbian

Sergi

Alek's cousin, and Nikolas' nephew. Sergi, like the rest of his family, is stocky with dark hair, light skin, and brown eyes. Despite being older than Alek he's more of a prankster and can be a bit reckless in the heat of the moment.

Age: Early 40s

Heritage: Serbian

Note: Sergi's appearance does change throughout the duration of the game Blood Moon.

Minjo

Alek's wife. Minjo is slim with dark hair, light skin, and dark eyes. She's also human and heavily pregnant. This doesn't stop her from rushing around the den, caring for (and sometimes scolding) her adopted werewolf family.

Age: Mid 30s

Heritage: Korean

JiAn

Alek and Minjo's first child. JiAn is a normally quiet kid who would rather follow than lead.

Age: 5

Heritage: Mixed (Serbian/Korean)

Nikolas Jr. (Little Nik)

Alek and Minjo's second child. Nik is very young and still coming into his own.

Age: 3

Heritage: Mixed (Serbian/Korean)

Other members of this family include Grace (Nikolas' wife) as well as a number of less important characters such as Marta, Joe, Terry, and Leo, plus half a dozen unnamed pack members.

The Leorux/Casella Family

Addison (Addie)

Short, thin, and wiry with tanned skin and cropped grey hair. Addie's fond of leather vests, usually covered in patches.

Age: mid 70s

Heritage: French

Elma

Addie's wife. Elma is plump with fluffy white hair, olive skin, and a warm smile. She wears horn rimmed glasses and shares her wife's love of leather vests, though sometimes also branches into denim.

Age: mid 70s

Heritage: Italian

Isabel (Izzie)

Elma's granddaughter and Addie's step-granddaughter. She likes pink, princesses, and being the boss. If you ever see a wolf cub run by wearing a pink crown, that's Izzie, off on one of her adventures. She's got dark hair and a wide gap toothed smile.

Age: 5

Heritage: Italian

The members of Pack B are:

Roe

Roe is lean with tan skin, dark eyes, and long feathery brown hair. They're also stunningly beautiful with a more feminine face, and masculine body. But, rather than walk the catwalk, Roe has become the Alpha of their pack and dedicated themselves to ensuring it can overcome its ugly, violent past. Roe wears either simple nondescript clothes, or black motorbike leathers.

Age: 28

Height: 179.9cm

Heritage: Mixed

Shawnie

Short and curvy with hazel eyes, heavily freckled pale skin, and bright orange hair, shaved short on one side. Shawnie is the other pack's resident flirt, and is a pretty outrageous one at that. She likes to wear cut off shorts, crop tops, and bright red lipstick. She's also a certified bad arse (not to mention drug dealer), and can use either her claws, or her shotgun, to get what she wants.

Age: 26

Height: 157.9cm

Heritage: Irish

Farro

Very tall and muscular with light brown/olive skin, long black hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and incredibly dark eyes. Farro is a classic introvert, and has even built a cabin in the woods near (but not too near) the rest of his pack. He's a widower, and single dad, who wears practical clothes he can mend himself.

Age: 32

Height: 192cm

Heritage: Pakistani

Hani

Farro's daughter and Shawnie's niece. Hani is an ambitious, opinionated girl who is always excited to explore and learn new things... unless, of course, those things are maths. Her mother died when she was very young which means it's up to her to drag her somewhat shy father into social situations. She has olive skin and curly auburn hair.

Age: 8

Heritage: Mixed (Irish/Pakistani)

Pack B is a large pack and has roughly sixty unnamed members.

That just leaves our token stray:

Carrie

Thin with pale skin, brown hair, and grey eyes. Carrie usually wears simple casual clothes, and a bunch of studs and/or bars in her many ear piercings. She's in recovery and often looks sick or unwell, but can always muster up energy for a cutting remark or two.

Age: 24

Height: 165.7cm

Heritage: Mixed

[iguessilovebakugou]

Kill the Lights and Kiss My Eyes ||  Domestic!Bakugou x Wife!Reader [ +18 ]

I’ll be honest, I’m still so confused what HOH!* is, but...fuck, I know what domestic smut is.  I guess it’s finally time I take the fucking plunge, baby. 

Congrats Anon - this is my first smut drabble. I hope you're happy.

CW:  NSFW, Oral, Cunnilingus, Rough Kinks:  Lip biting, body worship, powerplays, Bakugou on his knees, Rougher Sex Word Count: 2.8K Pairings:  Pro!Bakugou x F!Reader

“So moving forward, I really think we should start having the clients be aware of the changes before they even get to that portion of the contract.”

“I agree.  I think that way, we’ll have ample time to inform them of the changes to how we handle their business.”

“Nng, Katsuki what the fuck?”

“Do you think we should create a contract specifically for this change?  I think that might be best, that way they can’t say they never heard about it.”

“P-Please, I...I’m in a-”

“That’s probably a good idea.  Mrs. Bakugou - what do you think?  Is that something you could do?”

He had been a terror the second he got home...and he had only been home for all of 2 minutes.  

He had been gone on some sort of mission for an entire month.  The first week was fine, the second wasn’t so bad.  The third?  The third was torture.  He would never say it, never admit it out loud, but he missed you.  It was subtle ways - to mask the fact that you were all he could think about those past two days.  Letting you know what time he would be arriving, complaining the whole ordeal was taking to long, and in the moments where he could - calling you and just letting the silence hang around you.  Getting as close to you as he humanly possibly could.

The moment you heard that door open, you knew Katsuki would be...unruly, but this was...okay, it wasn’t entirely unexpected.  

“I think her connection went down again.”

It happened a lot actually.

His nails drug down the skin of your thighs, leaving bright and angry pink marks until they his hands gripped your pelvis.  With a yelp, you were tugged further down into your office chair - which was already pretty damp with his affections.  You were left a groveling, mewling mess as he continued his attack.  The knew position gave him ample room to lavish your clit with more attention, running the tip of his tongue over and around it in circles before diving back inside you.  You tried to get a word out edge wise, but the moment his tongue slid against your walls, you were done. 

“Fuck...fuck, babe.”  A shiver shot up your spine as his tongue pushed further inside you.  It reached as far as it could go, lapping at the very core of you.  Each movement drew out the most desperate of cries.  He had only just begun and already you were quickly dissolving into a pile of rather pathetic whimpers as you curled around him.  "Please, I...I’m...”

“Mrs. Bakugou, can you hear us?”

If you didn’t respond, they would grow suspicious.  You could get in trouble, you would have to try and explain why your connection only every had a problem on the days your husband got home.  You reached, desperately for the spacebar on your desktop, trying to let them know you were in fact still there.  

But Katsuki’s hand shot out, quickly abandoning your thigh and snatching your wrist.  He didn’t pull away from you, refusing to slide his tongue out from inside you.  You looked down at him, through lidded eyes.  Another moan, fingers gripping the arms of your work chair when you felt the growl in his throat, felt the words he was trying to say against your lips.  They sent shockwaves up to the top of your skull and curling your toes.  You looked down at him through lidded eyes, desperate for some semblance of reprieve.

Don’t answer it.

“...ah.”

Fuck Katsuki Bakugou.  Fuck the fact he knew just how to touch you, to melt your will just enough to mold you into whatever shape he desired.  If he wanted to touch you, wanted to drive you over the edge at this very moment, who were you to deny him that?  Without another moment’s hesitation, you reached over your chair and grabbed the cord connecting your computer to the outlet.  With a grunt, you yanked, tugging the plug out of the wall and sending it scattering to the wooden floor with a Thud!

The voices from your meeting stopped and the screen behind you went dark.  The only thing keeping your office lit was the sun, which was already starting to nestle behind the trees of your backyard.  Katsuki paused, only a moment to watch what you were doing.  His expression, while cautious, seemed...surprised.  His eyes glowed in the light, his panting now more pronounced that the voices of your superiors weren’t droning on above it.  

You swallowed, harshly.  Your mouth was dry and your tongue felt like cotton.  It was still hard to breathe, still hard to think - no hope for any sort of long winded sentences.  But he had stopped, watching you now, and waiting - for you.  He had been so terribly awful, but you could see the patience nestled in his face.  He wasn’t going to make a move until you spoke.  

Your voice was low, deep in your chest as your fingers found their way into his wild, blond hair.

“If you’re gonna fuck me - then fuck me. ”

It wasn’t a just an invitation - it was something that he loved almost as much as you:  a challenge.  His eyes turned more wild and with another guttural noise, his lips curled up into a smile.  

“You’re gonna regret asking.”

If you had any doubt left in your mind that he was telling the truth, it was swiftly quelled.  Katsuki shut his eyes and pushed back against you.  Your chair - propelled by the sheer force of him - went crashing back against the wall.  The action yanked a gasp from you as his tongue was forced further inside you, reaching a new depth you hadn’t expected.  And then it was gone.  Still, his mouth refused to leave you, his lips now wrapped around your clit.  You felt empty, only for a moment - until two of his calloused fingers slide in deep and curled, rubbing your warmth quick and tight.  

You cried out, wrapping your legs around his shoulders to draw him closer.  To keep him right where the two of you wanted him to be.  No longer inhibited by some meetings about contracts that didn’t matter, you let your cries be heard.  You threw your head back against the window, resting it there while and moaned to your hearts content.  Your neighbors would hear surely, but let them.  It shouldn’t be a secret that your husband knew how to unravel you, that the man you loved had memorized every tiny spot that turned you into a puddle at his touch. 

Katsuki’s eyes never left your face.  You could feel him watching you.  And when his fingers curled up further, tugging at your core - fireworks erupted.  It wasn’t enough to send you over the edge, not just yet, but it was enough to draw your back up straight.  Your fingers tightened around his hair, your legs wrapped tighter around him.  “Keep...that...again...please.”

You could feel him chuckle against you.  The whine came from you, even before he drew his fingers back.  His tongue was drawn over the top of you.  In another breath, his lips wrapped around your clit.  And he started there again.

In moments like this, Katsuki never played fair.  You were certain half of what he did was to torture you, while the other half was because he liked watching you squirm and wiggle under his touch.  He would never say it out loud but you knew he adored seeing you like this, knowing full well no one else in the world got to see you such a begging, needy mess.  It was his little secret to keep.  And he was so very good at keeping secrets.

He deserved to be rewarded for it.

He didn’t expect you to reach out.  He didn’t expect your fingers to trail under his jaw bone, to pull him up and away from you.  For a moment, he snarled, not wanting to budge from his position.  But then he felt the urgency and, albeit begrudgingly, he lifted his head.  His eyebrow was cocked, his eyes narrowed and his glistening lips curled into a sneer.  “What?”

You gripped him by the fabric of his shirt, tugging forward and up to meet you.  The steadfast resolution to bring you to climax quickly faded as you pressed your lips to his.  A chaste kiss at first, soft and sweet.  One more, drawing him into you...

Your teeth found his bottom lip, gripping it and tugging it back, nipping hard enough to break the skin and draw a drop of blood against your tongue.  You smirked at the sharp intake of his breath, the way his body tensed at the action.  For as much as he knew how to unravel you, you equally knew the little notions that could ruin him.  The right places to touch him to make his knees buckle, to make him chase you for more.  And - like clockwork - the moment your fingers slid down his abdomen to run over the rise of him, Katsuki’s entire being shivered, his body leaned into your touch.  

You had been with him long enough to know when the façade was crumbling to the ground.  You could feel him twitch under you touch, feel the pulse of his desire.  His hands against your thighs gripped you just a bit tighter, his skin grew a bit hotter, his kiss was just a bit deeper.  

The groan you had elicited from Katsuki’s chest was intoxicating.  You could feel the rumble underneath your skin, crawling up your veins and fogging your thoughts.  The existence of you was his drug, just as he was to you. 

You took advantage of his parted lips, sliding your tongue against his.  He reciprocated in his own way, immediately fighting for dominance.  The chair slammed back against the wall, but this time you were prepared and so was he.  You slipped effortlessly out of your chair and into his lap.  His hands, calloused and rough, gripped your ass to pull you tight against him.  He grinded up against you in abandon, grunting softly against your lips.  His hands on your ass squeezed, making sure to hold you taut against him as he desperately rutted against you.  

The waiting was turning into madness - and judging by how quickly his hand reached for the hem of his pants - he readily agreed.  It was difficult for him, fumbling with the buckle and edging the fabric down over his hips.  You almost laughed, and would have if his mouth hadn’t captured yours before anything more than a gasp could escape.  

And then you felt it: the head of him, dripping with want, press against your entrance.  One final time, you felt his eyes on you.  Behind his grunting and growling, behind his shaking fingers, he was asking.  Making sure this was okay.  If you were alright with this.  

In response, you pressed down against him.  “Please,” You begged, just a whisper in his ear.  You felt him quake beneath you.  “Fuck me, Katsuki.”

He drove up into you and the force of his weight inside of you - although familiar - always drew a cry.  Katsuki paused, only for a moment, each breath he took shaking.  In that moment, there was nothing but the weight of him inside you - every glorious inch of him.  The world was empty - save for the two of you in that office.  You opened your eyes, taking him in.  The wild blonde hair, the rough skin dotted with sweat, the way his shoulders rose and fell as he tried to contain himself.  As he tried to keep himself steady and not rut into you like an animal.

He wanted to make sure this lasted as long as possible.  There was no telling when he would be dragged away from you again. 

Your fingers ran through his hair, gently holding it to tug his face out from where it was buried in the nape of your neck.  Gently, you peppered kisses over his face - across his forehead, over his eyes, on the tip of his nose.  There was a moment his hips bucked, to try and reestablish who was in control...but it faltered quickly.  He soaked in every ounce of affection, relished every gentle touch you bestowed upon him. 

His voice, so quiet and ragged when he finally spoke, was not a surprise.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

You huffed, your lips against his temple, dragging against his skin.  “Then ruin me.”

He was up in a flash.  A moment later, your back was against the desk as his mouth resumed its assault on yours.  It was smart - seeing as you cried out in absolute ecstasy when he began to pound into you.  

As promised - Katsuki was most certainly trying to ruin you.  Your hands scrambled, your fingers wrapped around his arms, gripping him as he began to pound into you.  There was no hesitation - each thrust was deliberate, their soul purpose to drag each and every lewd noise from you that they could.  And they did.  While he refused to pull his mouth from yours, that didn’t stop you from moaning, gasping and mewling every time his cock buried itself inside you.

The sound of his hips hitting your ass with such force was almost enough to drown out the sound of the desk skirting across the floor.  You paid no mind as the pictures lining it’s edge went clattering to the floor and shattering upon impact.  You paid no mind as your phone - buzzing away on the other side - sliding off the desk as well.  You tried to keep your mind straight, to try and stay grounded.  But you couldn’t - Katsuki was too much.

His thrusts grew faster, less timed, erratic as he drew closer and closer to his breaking point.  You finally opened your eyes, looking up to see him staring down at you.  The smirk on his face was a perfect blend of frustrating and heart pounding.  You greeted it with your own smile.  “F-...fuck, babe...”

“Beg for it.”

You grunted when his hands joined in, slamming you down against his thrusts.  You gritted your teeth, swearing again.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” You gasped when he did it again...and again...and again.  

“Beg. For. It.”

Each word was accentuated with a thrust.  Each thrust was accentuated with a cry of pleasure.  God he knew he was going to get his way.  He knew that no matter what, you wanted the same thing as he did.  He was just going to torture you until he heard you admit it out loud.  

Just for him.  Only for him.

“I...I want you to...Fuck, Katsuki!”

“What do you- ah...”  His hips refused to slow as he let out a grunt.  He lowered his body down, pressing his chest against yours and trapping you between him and the desk.  His lips found their way to your ear, his voice low - barely above a growl.  “What do you want me to do?”

He knew what you wanted him to do.  “I...I want you to...”

Your arms wrapped around his neck, your face burying itself against his shoulder.  Your mind was staring to go blank as you dissolved into a mess of curses and moans.  But he wasn’t going to stop until you answered him.

“Cum...I want you to...cum...”  

“Where?”

“Fucking damn it, Katsuki!”

“Where?”

The heat inside you was unbearable now.  The pleasure was forcing all logical thought out the window.

“I...just...”

You weren’t going to last much longer at this rate.

“please...”

And judging by the absolute bliss in his eye, he wasn’t going to hold out much longer either.  

“I-Inside!  Cum inside me!!”

You allowed the pleasure to crash over you - the pent up frustration from Katsuki being gone for so long, the undeniable desire for him to touch you, to fuck you, to love you like only he could.  With a final cry of his name and the arch of your back, it all went white.  

You felt his arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he rode you through it.  You’re still gasping for breath, the fog he lost you in starting to clear, when you realize his teeth are against you neck, muffling the .  You can feel him erupting inside of you, grunting as he fills you.  

The two of you are panting, sweating messes; your office is in an even worse state.  You’re a tangled mess of limbs, of gentle touches and dragging nails and...

“Fuck...”  He breathes, letting out another breath.  He doesn’t speak again until he’s lifted you up off the desk, weakly lowering the both of you down onto the floor.  You kiss him once more before he slips out of you, which he happily reciprocates.  He pulls back, looking down at you, his crimson eyes flashing.

“I fucking missed you.”

So...first smut....I hope you liked it - cause like...fuck bro...

I drank tea and burned through 3 different candles trying to write this and I’m still not like...super okay with it.

Send me more smut asks - I need to get used to writing it. 

[aenaxes]

OMG ok for the 200 follower celebration (based on your smoking post) PLZZZ write sharing a spice blunt with cross or any batcher of your choosing I would simply die 😩💅🏻❤️

vapor trails

[crosshair & hunter x f!reader] you don't really run with the fett twins' crowd, but you find yourself at one of their parties anyway (in reference to this post lol)

warnings: college!au, recreational drug use, suggestive themes, but consent is sexy & mandatory & sober babes

w/c: 3.8k

a/n: anon, you ask for one batcher, but why not two? thank you for enabling me nonnie & @mallr4ts lol (im so sorry to all the previous requests for the event, this one has just been needling in my brain all day and i had to get it out hsdfs)

event details here! requests are open until july 4th!

You don’t know much about the Fett twins.

They’re something like campus legends even though they’re only a year your senior and at the tail end of their fourth years. But as much as you’ve heard their names slung around in weekend plans and excited chatter, you’ve never once met them, much less seen them yourself. Between idling class whispers and dining hall conversations, all you can piece together from the rumors is that: one, they’re from a big family (you’ve heard anywhere from two to twelve other brothers, yikes); and two, as much as they work hard (because the venture capital and pre-professorial tracks seem rigorous enough), they play even harder.

It helps that they apparently own one of the biggest apartments off campus, one in which you find yourself hopelessly and miserably lost. And overdressed.

Great.

It hadn’t occurred to you that your roommate, who is nowhere to be seen, had been dressing up for her girlfriend, and that most people who had half a mind would wear something comfortable that could withstand a few spilled drinks and ash. So seeing the rest of the room in rumpled tees and sweats has you and your little black dress seeking out the nearest wall as you fiddle with your questionably sweet cup of margarita mixer.

You feel like a first year, and it sucks.

But for once, with everyone too busy mingling amongst themselves over the heavy thrum of some mumble rap beat, you manage to slip by unnoticed.

Every now and then, you dart your eyes around the ever shifting landscape of faces in the dim room, looking for even the vaguest familiarity that might let you feign being tipsy and join a group for the night. But every time you try, there’s no luck.

Fuck, you haven’t even seen anyone here before.

But there might be a god watching out for you yet when the crowd shifts just enough that you catch sight of the couch, and on it, someone you suspect to be one of the twins as he greets a few girls with a disinterested nod.

Emboldened, but mostly nervous that in the crowd of bodies and red solo cups you’re still helplessly alone, you push off the wall and squeeze past huddled cliques of conversation to make for the dark couch.

By the platinum bleached hair and big-name consulting group quarter zip, Crosshair—at least you think it’s him—lounges over the couch. He isn’t the only body on the suede seats, but he keeps to himself, his head dipped low as he works one hand over a small metal canister in his other palm.

If you weren’t having luck with the other nameless faces around you, maybe the Fett twin would keep you company—at least until your roommate came back to find you (if she did). And worst case, you’d just slink back to your dorm and mope until your roommate apologized to you with your favorite overpriced smoothie bowl the day after.

Mustering every ounce of courage you have, you plant your feet by the couch and finally speak.

"Is your name actually Crosshair?" you ask.

The man on the couch pauses, his motions stilling over the small metal cylinder in his palms, and he lifts his chin just enough to flick his eyes up towards the sound of your voice.

You always thought the girls in your droning 9AM gen-ed were wildly exaggerating his hype for their own devices, squealing over his (apparently) brooding charm and sharp looks to nip at his stash for free. But for all the vague haze surrounding your perception of the twins, you never thought that they were telling the truth.

If you had been in broad daylight under the incandescent glow of your creaky lecture hall lights, you might have called him cocky, almost haughty, how he meets you with an unreadable look for having interrupted him. But in the purple LEDs and heavy haze of vape juice and shitty tequila, he’s captivating, all dark eyes and perfectly lit skin, marked only by the needle-thin design tattooed over the right side of his face and a worn wooden toothpick bitten between his teeth.

You swallow down the dry lump in your throat when you catch him flick his eyes from your face, down the short length of your dress, and back up again.

"Smoke with me; maybe you'll find out," he drawls, toothpick bobbing as he speaks. He twists the cylinder once and offers you a wry smirk. And when you stay, speechless but there all the same, Crosshair scoots to the side and pats the narrow space between him and the couch arm, inviting you close.

"I've never smoked before," you admit a bit shyly as you drop down beside him. Your dress hikes up your thigh, and you shiver when your skin presses up against the soft denim of his jeans.

"Not even cigs?"

You shake your head. And you tell yourself that when he leans close and brushes his shoulder up against your arm, that he’s only doing it because someone’s boosted the bass, and you can’t hear him over the reverb.

"Well, good thing I'm here, yeah?"

He gives the metal canister a final twist and sets it down on the coffee table before you. Swapping the canister for a small brown sleeve, you watch in a daze as he pulls a semi-transparent leaflet from the folder and tears a strip of cardstock straight from its flap. He has pianist fingers, you think wistfully, neatly kept nails and slender grace, and you wonder if he’ll entertain you if you ask to compare your hand to his.

“What’s your name?”

You scrabble back to the present at the sound of his voice. “Uh, y/n,” you offer.

“Well, y/n,” he says with a soft laugh, having caught on to your daydreaming. “Step one, you fold your filter.”

You nod along absently as Crosshair artfully crimps the thick paper into a neat roll. As if there isn’t thirty-some odd people crammed into his apartment, he quietly takes you step by step, offering you the filter, the paper, then the contents of the canister (a grinder, he explains) like it’s a game of show and tell. But with every piece he places into your hands, you gravitate closer, closer, until you’re flush against his arm and practically hanging over his side to watch as he gently taps a line of bud over the paper.

“Here, let me give you a better look,” Crosshair says.

You expect him to bring the neat line of bud to you, but when nothing comes, you look up and find him waiting for you, one arm open in invitation as the other pats once on the dark denim of his thigh.

“Uh—”

“Sit,” he says as if you haven’t just met him fifteen minutes ago. “Front row seats if you want ‘em.”

On one hand, you barely know Crosshair outside of the rumors you hear on campus. On the other hand, he’s a genuinely pleasant person, careful to accommodate for your boundaries and offering a snide playfulness that’s banished your nerves from earlier in the night.

He’s also really fucking hot.

“Okay,” you murmur, and you let him wrap his arm around your waist and tug you onto his lap. And he’s right. Perched over his thighs, you see with perfect clarity (and without the strain in your neck) as he gently folds the paper over the mound of bud and carefully twists. It’s the prettiest joint you’ve ever seen—though it might be because it’s the only one you’ve seen.

"Final touch," Crosshair's voice rumbles over your back, shooting straight into your core as he lifts the paper's vellum edge to your lips. “Lick it for me.”

Since you sat down with him, you’ve only been the passenger, nodding along as Crosshair’s long, nimble fingers creased over filter paper and patiently pointed out things like the stray pistils in his baggie and the keef gathered at the bottom of his grinder for if you really want to get fucked up. And even though you aren’t doing much (because licking paper doesn’t really seem too crazy), it’s a step forward from the comfortable rhythm that had settled between you, and you twist around in his lap to shoot him an uncertain glance.

“Just,” Crosshair flicks his tongue over his lower lip, flashing a brief glimpse of a ball piercing towards your wide eyes. And if you weren’t so flustered, you might have recognized the coy playfulness in his gaze. “Give it a lick, right over the edge.”

“I—uh, what if I—” you stammer.

“You’re not gonna mess this up, darling,” Crosshair chuckles. If his hand squeezing brief over your waist wasn’t enough to bring heat searing over the tops of your ears, his next words, crooned low and breathy into your ear, certainly do. “You’re a smart girl. You can do it.”

"My brother giving you trouble?"

Another voice cuts through the din of the party, sparing you your stammering nerves as you whip your head up in its general direction. You’re greeted with the sight of his brother, peering down on you as he takes a sip from his cup.

“You’re such a killjoy,” Crosshair mutters, drawing his arm tighter around your waist as he jabs the half-rolled joint to where Hunter sprawls down onto the couch beside him. “No, I’m not being a creep. I’m teaching our pretty underclassman here how to roll.”

Oh.

Heat rushes over your cheeks, and you can’t decide whether you want to shrink into yourself or bask in it and beg for more.

He called you pretty.

“With her in your lap,” Hunter snorts into his cup.

“It was your idea to invite your entire fucking rugby team. Where else would we do it?”

“I’m so sorry he’s like this,” Hunter laughs, tilting his head and looking up at you through his (unfairly) long lashes. Where you thought Crosshair’s tattoo was bold, Hunter’s practically blows him out of the water, a well-worn swath of ink on the left half of his face, curving into neatly stylized teeth right at the edge of his lips. “I’m Hunter.”

Huh, maybe you do have a thing for tattoos.

“Y/n,” you squeak. “It’s, um—it’s nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart,” he says as he offers you an easy smile. “Has my baby brother been treating you right?”

“God, two fucking minutes,” Crosshair snaps. You hear the embarrassment seeping from the vitriol, and it strikes you like a shot to the head that he’s trying to play cool in front of you. “I come out two minutes after you and—”

“We’re fraternal, and I got all the oxygen in the womb. Explains why he has awful people skills,” Hunter fake-whispers loud enough for Crosshair to hear, and you giggle as the other man groans from behind you.

“No, he’s been really nice,” you say softly once you realize that you’ve been laughing a little too loud. “He’s teaching me about weed.” It sounds juvenile when you say it, awkward and clumsy on your tongue. It’s a dead giveaway that has Hunter’s smile mellowing into something soft.

“Your first time?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, Cross here’s high as shit at least four hours every day. Says it helps him do the math. I hate to say it, but you’re in good hands.”

“You try running a nonlinear regression sober,” Crosshair snorts. “Anyways, we were just finishing up this joint before you decided to kill the vibe.”

Crosshair lifts the half-rolled joint back up to your chin, and this time, he leans forward and presses his chest close against your back as the playful snark leaves his tone, in its wake, something patient and calm as his voice rumbles by your ear.

“You gonna help me finish the job, sweet girl?”

You surprise yourself when the initial trepidation vanishes as you tip your chin down and stick out your tongue. Maybe you’re showboating now that you have an audience, feeling Hunter’s dark eyes on your lips when you touch the tip of your tongue out over the edge.

Whether it’s your lip gloss or the fine crumbs of bud stuck to the roll paper that fills your mouth with something earthy and sweet, you can’t say. All you know is they’re both following you with that intense intent, the bass and blend of voices faded out around you; just you in Crosshair’s lap and Hunter pretending to care about the drink in his hand as you lift your tongue off the far corner of the paper and close your lips.

“Good job,” Hunter muses, and you’re pretty certain he’s not talking about the joint when you feel his gaze boring into you alone.

The smell of smoke pulls you out of Hunter’s gravity, and you look back in front of you to see Crosshair snap a scuffed metal lighter shut and toss it onto the coffee table. He brings the joint back down in front of you, blowing a neat stream of whitish gray smoke past your ear.

“You know how to pull?” Crosshair asks, and his chin brushes over your bare shoulder as he speaks. He’s so close. You can smell the burn, acrid and sour, but it doesn’t matter that it doesn’t smell like some bubblegum vape when you feel his breaths curling over your skin. You just want more.

Mutely, you shake your head.

“Mm, you know how to shotgun?” Hunter offers, and you hear Crosshair huff laugher from behind you. “Might be easier for your first try.”

You shake your head again.

“It’s,” Hunter pauses, and his brows knit close as he thinks for a moment. “It’s kind of like a kiss. But not really. I take a hit and you catch my smoke. That sound okay?”

You don’t think it matters that someone’s hit shuffle on the playlist, filling the room with a hard electronic beat that might have otherwise drowned out all sound. All you hear is your heart pounding in your ears as you nod and watch Hunter lift the filter to his lips and inhale deep, then pass the joint back to Crosshair.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, white trails of smoke curling over his upper lip as he lifts one hand to cup over the base of your neck.

“Open,” Crosshair whispers.

Wordlessly, you obey. Your lips part just as Hunter pulls close, so close you feel the heat of his skin spreading warm over your cheeks, and blows a soft stream of bitter smoke into your mouth. It can’t be more than a few seconds, but all the while, you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his.

“Breathe in, deep,” you hear Crosshair instruct as he begins to rub one thumb over the curve of your hip.

The smoke is thick, sluicing down your throat and filling your lungs like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s not bad, just new, and pressed between the twins over the couch, you think it just might have been worth being ditched by your roommate earlier in the night. But your lungs ache, and you slowly exhale, watching as your vision fogs with a loose cloud of smoke until your chest feels clear again.

“And you didn’t even cough,” Hunter smiles. His calloused fingertips follow the slope of your neck, lingering one moment more before he pulls away. And you aren’t sure if the low buzzing in your fingertips is the weed or their combined warmth as Hunter rubs over your knee and Crosshair leans his head against your neck. “Good girl.”

“Wanna do it again,” you whisper as the buzz begins to crawl up your neck, fizzling around your temples as you lean your cheek over where Crosshair nuzzles into your shoulder.

“With him or me?” Crosshair murmurs, his lips brushing over your skin.

“You,” you say dreamily, and Hunter laughs, a sound that suddenly seems so far away as you tip your head and press close against Crosshair’s silver hair.

Crosshair leans into your touch, pressing his cheek up against your neck one last time before he’s lifting his head and bringing the joint to his lips. You hear the hiss of his inhale, smoke curling up through the narrow body of the joint as the charred end glows warm beside you.

And instead of Hunter’s approach, level with you, Crosshair looms above you, meeting your wide eyes with something of a fond smile. Dragging his hand up your chest, he follows the line of your neck and holds snug over your chin. He squeezes softly, and your jaw falls slack, lips parted in a soft ‘o’ as he dips low. He's closer than Hunter as you feel his mouth just brush over yours and breathe smoke over your tongue.

This time, it’s easier.

You swallow down the smoke and hold, just a beat longer than before. But both Crosshair and Hunter notice as your lips stay parted, and they share a soft laugh that has you exhaling smoke and pride all at once when you finally relax your diaphragm and breathe out.

“Fast learner,” Crosshair muses, nosing up under your jaw as you sink back against his chest.

You mumble incoherently, chasing his touch as the high creeps heavy and warm from your chest to your collar and settles at the back of your throat. It anchors you, molding you up against Crosshair who feels nothing short of perfect as he circles his arms loose over your waist.

You turn your head to thank Hunter when you distantly register him pressing a cool cup into your hand (water, you think you hear him say), but the words slip back down into your throat, your eyelids suddenly unbearably heavy and coarse over your blurry vision.

“You wanna lay down?” Hunter offers, and his voice comes to you like you’re underwater, warped and bubbling past the din of the party around you.

You're pretty sure you nod.

For a few moments, you catch traces of an unintelligible exchange between the twins, only aware of the rumble of Crosshair’s voice at your back, and then you’re being lifted up off the couch, the music and raucous laughter fading behind you.

A door opens, squeaking half-shut, and you wince as a light clicks on beside you. Whoever was carrying you sets you down on something soft and cool, and you sway as the light dims and you settle into your seat.

You’re on a bed, you think.

Crosshair’s, judging by the shock of light hair that you can make out through your lashes. He helps you into a worn tee that reaches past the short hem of your dress, and you wiggle into it with a soft whine, holding it tight.

But where you expect a familiar weight to dip down next to you and pull you close, your eyes fly open when you see his figure turn away from you and towards the neon lights of the party outside.

“You aren’t staying?” It's the most coherent you've been through your first high.

“Not tonight,” Crosshair says softly. He turns back towards you and reaches up to fix the strap of your dress as you sit on his bed. “Baby’s first tokes got you all dopey. Right now, what you need is this,” and he presses a plastic bottle of vitamin water he’s seemingly produced out of nowhere into your palm. “This,” he adds, pressing your phone into your other hand. “And a good night’s sleep.”

“And what if I say I need you, too?” you pout.

Some part of you—the conscious part locked away in the back of your skull—bangs up against the hazy high at the crown of your head because when you’re good and sober and when Crosshair inevitably turns you down, you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror for the next semester.

But he breaks into a smile that crinkles at the corners of his eyes before he leans down to press his lips to your forehead. It’s just a split-second of warm, chapstick-soft lips on your skin, but it floods you with an indescribable good from the top of your head all the way down to your toes.

And as high as you are right now, you have a hell of a hunch that the flutter in your chest is going to stay, even when the room stops wobbling around you.

“When you’re all sobered up in the morning, we’ll make you breakfast, and we’ll figure it out from there,” Crosshair says after he’s pulled back, reaching up to smooth his palm over your hair. “Sound like a plan?”

You nod, probably with a little too much enthusiasm, but you’re rewarded with another low chuckle that’s practically music to your ears. His hand gentle and firm over your shoulder, Crosshair guides you down onto the bed and pulls the covers up to your chin.

“Now text your roomie so she doesn’t call the cops on us, get some sleep, and drink all of that, okay?”

“Okay,” you respond.

“Good girl.”

And when the lights click out, you curl into Crosshair’s pillow, breathing in cold, fresh notes of his cologne, and then you’re asleep.

You climb out of bed the next morning, your minidress rumpled under a long shirt. It's not like a hangover, no, you just find yourself a bit lightheaded and throat parched, and the disorientation makes your head spin as you’re greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and something savory—

Your roommate doesn’t wake up earlier than you, and she can’t cook for shit. And why were your sheets grey? Whose shirt were you—

Oh.

Fuck.

You practically burst out of Crosshair’s bedroom, and you’re not sure what you expected, but somehow you hadn’t expected to see Hunter sipping mildly on a mug of coffee while Crosshair pushes something around in a pan over their kitchen range.

“Mornin,’” Hunter offers you a small wave, and reaches for a third mug on the countertop. “Wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee so we just made it black.”

“What happened last night?” you gasp. If you weren’t so panicked, you’re certain the sight of them sporting nothing but grey sweats would have been your only concern, but you’ve just woken up with foggy memories and the slimy dread of anxiety that follows a blackout night.

“Easy, easy,” Crosshair assures you as he steps away from the stovetop. “Nothing happened after we smoked. You took, like, two hits, and you were so hazy you couldn’t remember your dorm number, so we put you to bed, and I slept out in the living room. Fetts are wild but we’re not scumbags, promise.”

And judging from the throw blanket sliding off the edge of the couch cushions, you’re fairly certain you can believe him. Relief floods your chest.

“Oh thank God,” you sigh, and your shoulders sag as the weight of panic sloughs off your back.

They both laugh softly, the sudden tension lifting from the bright morning light, and you can’t help but join in. And when that rosy relief gives way to silence again, it’s Crosshair who speaks next.

“So, you staying for breakfast?”

“Can I borrow some actual clothes first?”

“Done deal.”

[scrumptious-delusion]

MESS IS MINE [PART 9]

series masterlist

warnings: swearing, talk of murder again 😂, mention of: blood and injuries.

length: 4.5k

a/n: my first cliffhanger 😉.

Dropping your father off at the gym with a promise to be back soon, you drive into the centre of town to finish buying his birthday presents.

You plan on waking up around seven tomorrow to take him out for breakfast, also ensuring that he’s out of the house before the people setting up his party arrive at eight.

Tony had messaged you on Thursday with the details, asking you to keep Ed away from the house until ten, half an hour before the party began and when Tony would be arriving with his wife, Pepper.

Stepping out of the car, you glance down at your phone just as it starts ringing, an unfamiliar number lighting up the screen.

Muffling a groan, you ignore the call and block the number, knowing it can only be one person. A person whose number you blocked the same day you found him in bed with another woman.

A week later and Isaac was still attempting to talk to you.

Shrugging it off, you focus on what you need to get done this morning.

You’re browsing through the birthday card display, searching for a meaningful fiftieth card when someone calls out your name.

Turning around, you’re met with a hug from Peggy.

“Hey!” You laugh, surprised. “Winnie said you were coming up with Steve today.”

Stepping back, you take in the woman you haven’t seen in a month.

“Yes, Steve’s at the bakery and I just came in here to buy Winnie some flowers.” Peggy smiles, pointing at the numerous bouquets by the shop’s entrance. 

“You haven’t seen her yet?”

“No, we only just got in.” Peggy states, and for the first time you hear an underline of nerves in her tone.

“Well I just know you two are going to get along great.” You soothe, meaning it.

She smiles, “I hope so.”

There’s a lull in the conversation and you use it to take a breath and gather your courage. “By the way, I want to say I’m sorry for how I dropped off the radar, I just… things with Isaac -”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Peggy interrupts, squeezing your arm. “But Steve did tell me about what happened, I’m so sorry -”

“Don’t be,” You cut in this time. “I’ve moved on from it.”

The betrayal hurt, there was no denying that truth. However, once you had recovered from the initial shock of it - the sting of the cut… you found there wasn’t much left for you to feel.

Nothing that wasn’t anger or bitterness, and even those emotions hadn’t stuck, waning more and more each passing day.

It worried you to an extent. The lack of… everything. It made you think that perhaps - while terrible, the whole ordeal had been a blessing in disguise. 

You thought you loved Isaac. You had uttered those three important words to him numerous times, but if you had truly loved him, shouldn’t there have been more pain? More heartbreak? More tears and time spent wondering “what if?” while struggling to move on?

Shouldn’t there have been all the things you felt when Bucky left you?

Without meaning to, you find yourself thinking back on the question Peggy asked you that night in the car. A question you hadn’t dared to think too hard about, knowing in your heart what the answer would be.

“What was it like when you loved Bucky?”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Peggy replies genuinely, letting go of your arm. “He doesn’t deserve another thought.”

You smile just as you catch sight of Steve over Peggy’s shoulder.

“So… will I be seeing more of you?”

Breathing out a soft laugh, you joke “Only if you want to see more of me.”

“Of course I do!” She grins.

“Hey!” Steve greets then, drawing you into a tight embrace. “What are the chances?”

“I think you’ve forgotten how small this town is.”

Releasing you, Steve sighs “I’d love to chat but I told Winnie we’d be over by now -”

“Go.” You shoo, “I’ll see you both at the party tomorrow anyway, right?”

“Definitely.”

“See you then.” Peggy says, taking Steve’s outstretched hand.

You wave as they walk off to buy Winnie a bouquet before turning back to the card display, continuing your search.

The entry door slams shut loudly, but fortunately there’s no one else around to hear it.

Midnight is minutes away and instead of getting some much needed sleep, you’ve met up with Wanda as she locks up the restaurant for some fun.

“Let’s go to Asgard Park.” She whispers, linking her arm with yours.

Heading off at a slow pace, you ask “Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know.” She whispers again.

Your laughter intertwines with Wanda’s, echoing down the empty street. 

It’s not far from Wanda’s restaurant in the centre of town to the large park, and it’s a trek you’ve both made countless times before. Many nights of your later teen years were spent sneaking out to meet with friends there, simply because there wasn’t anything better to do. 

Pietro was one of those friends and would be a welcome addition right now, but he wouldn’t be arriving until tomorrow, caught in the middle of training for an upcoming marathon.

Soon enough the concrete beneath your shoes gives way to grass, the park laid out before you.

Lampposts shine down on the paths that weave in and out of the park while solar lights that have been strung up in the trees provide a dull glow. Everything else remains hidden in the shadows.

So relying heavily on memory, the two of you head in the general direction of the swing sets. 

“Imagine if tonight is the night we’re finally murdered here.”

You shouldn’t laugh but you do - loudly, as does Wanda.

“Uh-oh, that sounds like trouble.” A voice calls out from the pitch black.

Both you and Wanda freeze, grasping each other’s arms.

“What the fuck…” Wanda mutters to you before yelling out “Wilson, is that your creepy ass?”

You laugh, as do multiple other people.

Wanda continues “Okay, what the -”

A bright light shines directly at the two of you, cutting Wanda off as you both shout, hands raising and eyes shutting as Sam’s laughter rings out clearly and the light dips.

“Ass!” You and Wanda call out at the same time.

“That wasn’t me!” Sam yells back indignantly.

Your eyes finally readjust, and with the light shining from the torch in his hand, you make out Steve, Peggy, Bucky, and Sam.

“Steve,” You huff.

Wanda gasps, smiling wide and dragging you behind her as she races over.

She releases your arm to hug Steve, who fondly hugs her back.

“Hey!” He protests as Wanda pulls back and swats at his stomach.

“That’s for blinding us.” She scolds before shifting her attention. “You must be Peggy,” Wanda smiles. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“You too Wanda.” Peggy grins.

Wanda walks past Sam, flipping him off as she goes, making his eyes roll.

“Hi Barnes.” She greets in a low tone, standing before him.

Bucky warily starts to reply back when Wanda - much harder than with Steve, jabs at his stomach.

Sam and Steve snicker while you cover your face with one hand, peeping through the gaps in your fingers. 

You’re fairly certain you hear Bucky utter out “I deserve that” through a groan.

Before he can even recover, Wanda pulls him into a hug, whispering something you can’t hear into his ear.

“What are you weirdo’s doing here anyway?” You joke as Wanda returns to your side.

“Could ask you the same thing, dork.” Sam retorts.

You glare at him as Steve speaks up.

“Sam wanted to meet up but he had to work a late shift, so we were trying to think of what to do and then we remembered this place…”

“Felt weird to tell Ma what we were doing instead of hiding it.” Bucky chuckles.

“Not that we ever did a good job at hiding it.” Steve confesses, making everyone laugh.

“I have to admit this feels kind of odd, the gang more or less back together after so long.” It’s a sentimental statement that you wholeheartedly agree with, however you’re distracted by Sam’s choice of words.

Wanda giggles, proving that you both share the same mind as she mocks “Did you really just say gang?”

That’s the final straw.

“Alright, you know what, I’ve had it -” Sam grumbles before lunging.

You both screech and take off running in different directions.

“I guess that’s the game started!” Steve yells with a laugh as you run for your life, trying not to trip over in the dark.

A typical game you all played whenever here late at night was a simple one - tag. Though it was more of a hide-and-seek tag with all the dark sections of the park.

You hear Wanda squeal off to your left, followed by a “Got you!” from Sam.

It’s going to be a fun night.

The game’s been going on for hours. The last time you checked it had just passed two in the morning. 

You’re all getting tired, growing noisier and sloppier, so the game will no doubt be ending soon. For the moment however, you’re focused on hiding from Peggy.

Creeping over quietly to where you know the children’s cubby house to be, you feel around for the edges of the small structure, crouching down once you find the opening.

Entering with your hand outstretched to find the back wall, you’re brought to an abrupt stop when you come into contact with… something.

An instinctive yelp is seconds from leaving your lips at the unknown object, when a hand covers your mouth - well, half of it really.

“Sshhh,” A voice murmurs. “It’s just me.”

“Bucky?” You whisper-shout back as his hand falls. “How the hell can you fit in here?”

You’re definitely going to have to find another spot. This place was a tight squeeze when you were both teenagers -

A gasp, muffled by Bucky’s hand over your mouth once again, escapes you as you’re dragged into the cubby house.

Just moments later you hear someone’s - most likely Peggy’s, footsteps over the sand surrounding the playground, but thankfully they just pass by.

Proving your point about the tight fit, almost every part of you is pressed against every part of Bucky and the mental image of the two of you hunched and squished in the pink cubby house has laughter bubbling in your throat.

Bucky must sense it, or rather he notices that your shoulders begin to shake, because he places his hand more firmly over your mouth.

“Sshhh.” Bucky repeats in your ear, but it’s broken up and you can tell he’s trying just as hard not to laugh.

Which makes the situation even funnier.

Air is rushing in and out of your nose loudly, and tears have started falling down your face, which Bucky must feel on his hand. His body starts to shake with laughter beneath you.

“Angel, please…” The desperate, almost whining tone - because he hasn’t been tagged once yet, is what undoes you.

Bucky doesn’t even try to fight it anymore. Letting his hand drop, your laughter spills out freely, along with his.

Not ready to admit defeat, you both squeeze out of the cubby house as the sound of Peggy’s giggles and footfalls grow close. Bucky doesn’t wait for you to stand on your own, he just picks you up, placing you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and starts running.

Your laughter is like a tracking device though, his not much quieter, easily giving away your position. 

“Ha, two in one!” Peggy calls out, one hand on your head, the other on Bucky’s back. “There goes your streak Barnes!”

Bucky doesn’t respond, instead he falls to his knees, taking you both to the ground where the laughter continues.

“I’m… sorry…” You pant, making him laugh more.

Making his way over, Steve shines his torch over the two of you and grins “I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Wanda holds a hand out to you, shaking her head with a smile as she pulls you up, Steve doing the same for Bucky.

“How are you girls getting home?” Sam asks.

“Our cars are parked at the restaurant.” Wanda answers.

“Hop in mine and I’ll drive you over.”

“Okay.” You nod, finally regaining enough composure to talk as you wipe the tears from your face.

All six of you walk to the two cars parked by the curb, Steve, Peggy, and Bucky heading towards the same one.

“Thanks for a great time!” Wanda waves to them.

A chorus of “bye” and “see you tomorrow” sounds out as everyone gets into their respective vehicles.

The drive takes less than a minute and you both thank Sam as you get out and wave, even though he idles patiently while the two of you walk to your own cars.

“Looked like you and Bucky were having fun.” Wanda muses.

“Please don’t.” But she, of course, does.

“I know you still have feelings for him.” She continues softly, “Or never stopped having them.”

“Wanda.”

“I’m definitely not saying you should forgive and forget. I’m just saying that despite what happened in the past, if Bucky is who you want, he would treat you right. He only ever wanted what was best for you, and he knows how he fucked up.”

“Wanda -”

“I know.” She interrupts, turning to face you as you reach your car door. “I’m not trying to start a conversation about it, I’m saying it because it’s true and I know you. If you want to try again with Bucky I know this is something you need to hear from someone other than yourself.”

Wanda smiles, “I’m just saying there’s nothing wrong with wanting to try again - unless you don’t want to, in which case, just forget I said anything.”

“Okay.” You huff without any real heat, storing her words away in your mind.

Hugging you, Wanda says “I’ll see you tomorrow, love you.”

“Love you too,” You smile.

Your alarm pierces through the quiet morning, waking you. 

Tears well in your eyes instantly. The four or so hours of sleep you got were definitely not enough.

Suck it up, princess.

With all the determination you can muster after only just waking, you roll - fall, out of bed and get yourself ready for the big day ahead.

When you wander into the kitchen you’re not surprised to find your father already sitting at the dining table.

“Happy birthday!”

“Thank you, honey.” He smiles as you hug him. “I’m surprised to see you up already, considering when you got home.” He teases.

Pulling back, you frown “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay, I fell straight back to sleep.” He reassures. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah,” You grin. “Wanda and I went to Asgard Park.”

Your father hums knowingly. Like Winnie, he always knew what you were up to as a teenager - even if you didn’t tell him. 

“Sam, Steve, Peggy, and Bucky ended up being there too, so we played tag.” You laugh.

“That would have been a sight to see.” He murmurs, smiling. “No noise complaints?”

“Well Nat didn’t roll up.”

He lets out a whistle. “Lucky, I think I would’ve ran for the hills rather than face that woman.”

Laughing, you tug at his arm.

“Come on old man, I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

Mouth falling open in shock, your father demands “What did you just call me?”

“You heard me!” You call back, already running for the car.

Pulling back into the driveway, you notice three new things.

First is the balloons strung to the mailbox. Second is the red carpet that’s been rolled out from the driveway and down the side of the house, to the backyard. Third is the expensive car parked out front, which Tony and Pepper step out from.

Getting out of your car, your father groans as Tony calls out “Happy birthday, old man!” before meeting him in a hug.

Pepper follows after, wishing him a happy birthday much more pleasantly.

“Hey kid,” Tony greets with a smirk.

“Hi,” You greet him, while extending your hand to Pepper. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” The stylishly dressed woman smiles. “Your father talks about you all the time.”

“Oh?”

Meeting your gaze, your father shrugs with a grin. “What else have I got to talk about?”

“Well soon you’ll have your amazing fiftieth birthday party to talk about.” Tony grins, gesturing to the backyard “Shall we?”

“Suppose I don’t have much choice.” Your father jokes, eyeing the red carpet.

“No, you don’t.” Tony sasses back, urging you to lead the way.

Following his prompt, you walk the path to the backyard.

Holy shit.

That’s all you can think as you take in your father’s now unrecognisable backyard - and what a blessing that he owned a decent amount of land, otherwise there’d be no space for all of… this.

There’s numerous food vans parked around, advertising woodfired pizza, desserts, kebabs, fried foods, sandwiches, snacks, spit roasts - practically anything.

A stage has been erected towards the far end, where a band is currently setting up, and of course there’s also a dance floor.

Plenty of tables, chairs, and benches fill out the entire backyard, and marquees have been assembled to provide shaded areas.

There’s carnival games set up everywhere too. Ring toss, shooting games, ball toss, darts, and others - there’s even a mechanical bull.

You spot a bunch of drink stations scattered around and on top of all that there’s a fully decked out bar.

Tying everything together are the balloons, streamers, and ‘Happy 50th Birthday Ed’ banners everywhere.

It’s like a county fair in your backyard.

“Holy shit.” Your father voices your earlier thought, as stunned as you.

This… this was not what you pictured when you heard “a big outdoor barbeque”.

“Happy birthday Ed.” Tony wishes much more earnestly, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re only fifty once.”

What a way to celebrate it.

“The guests won’t be arriving for another half hour yet, how about we head inside while they finish setting up the last few things?” Pepper suggests.

Ed agrees, leading the way back to the house.  

You grab Tony’s attention while your father talks to Pepper.

“Thank you.” You say sincerely, beyond grateful. You could never do something like this for your father.

“It’s my pleasure kid,” Tony smiles. “You enjoy it as much as him.”

“Fuck me.” Wanda gasps.

“I know.” You agree, standing beside the present table, where the red carpet ends, just before the balloon arch entrance.

Wanda sets down her gift for your father, eyes still glued on everything further ahead.

“They weren’t kidding about Stark’s parties.”

“And he considers this small.” You muse.

Wanda simply shakes her head and mumbles “Can he do mine next?”

“Nat, look!” A familiar voice insists. “There’s a mechanical bull!”

Turning around, you see Nat and Clint approaching.

“You know what happened last time.” The redhead warns, throwing you and Wanda a smile as she places down their gift, Clint focused on the carnival games.

“The bleeding didn’t last that long though.”

“Hey you two.” You greet, drawing Clint’s attention from the party.

“Oh hey,” He grins. “I’m guessing your dad’s already down there?” He gestures vaguely to the other people wandering around, mostly near the food vans.

You nod and Clint tugs at his wife’s hand.

“Okay, we’ll catch up later.” Nat winks, allowing Clint to lead her into the party.

“I’m definitely riding that bull.” You hear him announce.

Wanda chuckles before facing you again. “You look very pretty by the way.”

You had picked out one of your favourite dresses today - it was safe to say you weren’t planning on riding the mechanical bull.

“Thanks, so do you.” You reply honestly. Wanda’s dressed more suitably for a possible bull ride - high waisted jeans and a cute crop top.

“Trying to impress anyone?” She suggests slyly, eyelashes fluttering.

“No.” You glare, shoving her weakly.

Wanda cackles.

“Hey girls!”

Both of you turn to see Thor - clearly identifiable by his booming voice, along with his brother Loki.

“Hi guys!” You both call back, waving as they walk on by to go see your father.

“Are you trying to impress anyone?” You mimic under your breath, referring to the crush Wanda had on Loki years ago.

“Shut up.” She hisses, slapping your arm, but you just laugh.

“Girls!”

At this point the two of you almost feel like greeters as you turn once more, this time to the sound of Winnie’s voice. Trailing behind her is Peggy, Steve, and Bucky.

“Hi Winnie.” You greet, hugging her.

“You both look great, and what a party!” She exclaims, drawing Wanda into a hug.

“Hey.” You smile at the other three as they approach, placing gifts on the table.

Winnie steps back from Wanda, a smirk playing on her face. “I practically had to shove these ones out of bed this morning, how did you girls fare?”

Groaning, Wanda states “I felt dead.”

“I almost cried when my alarm went off.” You admit.

The woman laughs heartily, shaking her head. “Sounds like you’re all getting older.”

All five of you protest at that, making her laugh more. “Alright, alright, where’s your father?” She asks you, smiling.

Pointing her in his direction, Winnie thanks you and leaves.

The others are already in the midst of a conversation when you turn back around, and you take a moment to glance over Bucky.

The bruise on his left cheek has faded more since Friday, almost completely gone, and the beginning of a beard still covers his defined jaw.

His hair is pulled back in a low bun, some strands tucked behind his ears and much like that night at Coney Island, he wears jeans and a fitting shirt - white this time.

The short sleeves are tight, showing off his large biceps and if you stare at the shirt long enough, you can almost see the muscles you know are underneath -

Stop.

“I never asked, who won Friday night?”

The question just pops out of your mouth, your brain trying to distract itself.

Bucky turns to you in surprise, having been engrossed in whatever the others were saying. Once the question registers, a grin spreads across his lips and you can’t help but copy it.

“Zemo did.” He sighs happily, “I got my second chance.”

“Good,” You smile. “Make it count.”

“I might be sick.” Wanda groans beside you, holding onto your arm and practically making you drag her along.

In a singsong voice, you say “I told you not to eat those pancakes.”

“They looked so good!”

It’s almost two o’clock, so the party’s been underway for a couple of hours now and everyone is loving it. No one’s going to want to leave.

“Hey Wanda, where’s that brother of yours?” Your father’s voice yells out from the right.

Stopping, you both turn to see him sitting at the bar with Tony, Thor, Loki, and a few others.

“He should be here any minute now!” Wanda calls back with a shrug.

Your dad was as fond of Wanda and Pietro as he was you, especially after their parents passed.

“Better be,” He warns teasingly.

Waving, you continue on dragging Wanda through the crowds, closer to where the games are. “Alright, what should we do next?”

She hums in thought when suddenly someone grabs your free arm.

“Clint’s about to ride the bull.” Peggy grins.

You gasp and loop your arm with hers, the three of you rushing over to the mechanical bull pit, not wanting to miss out on the spectacle.

Steve, Bucky, and Sam are already there and Nat stands on the other side of the pit, laughing at the excited expressions on all your faces.

Clint’s currently mounting the bull and you hear him tell the operator “Give me everything you got.”

Oh boy.

“Alright,” Sam grins “Ten bucks says he doesn’t last a minute.”

“No way,” Bucky shakes his head. “He’ll last longer than that.”

You agree with Bucky, as does Peggy, however Wanda and Steve side with Sam’s bet.

A bell sounds and the bull starts up.

You all watch adamantly as the bull quickly picks up speed, Clint’s one-handed grip growing tighter and tighter as he fights to stay on. The closer the clock ticks to a minute the more you, Bucky, and Peggy cheer, trying to drown out the sounds of the other’s taunts.

The second the clock hits a minute, you grab Bucky’s arm next to you, jumping in celebration while he cheers, and Peggy sticks her tongue out at Steve.

“Suck it, losers.” You jeer at Sam and Wanda who both flip you off. You laugh while Bucky responds in the same manner.

You all turn back to keep watching Clint and that’s when you realise you’re still gripping Bucky’s bicep.

It feels so nice.

Letting go, you force out a laugh, “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” Bucky murmurs, meeting your gaze.

Those steel blue eyes pin you easily - like always, stripping you of any defence and leaving you vulnerable, but this time… this time you don’t hate how it feels.

In fact, the feeling they give you is one you haven’t felt in a long time.

Butterflies.

“Oh shit.” A collective gasp draws your and Bucky’s attention back to Clint.

Oh shit, indeed.

You have no idea how Clint fell off, but it clearly wasn’t in a good way because he’s covering his mouth and you can see blood.

He’s ushered out of the pit where Nat meets him, walking him over to a bench to inspect his injury.

The six of you follow over.

Tugging his hand away, Nat looks over the cut as Clint insists “Nat, I feel perfectly fine.”

“That there is a reason to worry.” She drones teasingly, making her husband smile.

“Here.” Peggy draws a packet of tissues from her handbag and gives them to Nat.

You see there’s a cut along Clint’s chin, but it’s his lip that’s bleeding most - he must’ve bit it when he fell.

“I’ll go get some ice.” Wanda says, darting off to a drink station.

Patting away the blood and analysing the cut better, Nat declares “Looks like stitches won’t be needed this time, just a band-aid.”

“I’ll get one from the house.” You say, spinning around and making your way back through the party.

When you reach the balloon arch near the present table the back door of the house starts to come into view, the sounds of the party quieter, though the thrum of live music can still be felt under your feet. 

Movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention, over on the red carpet leading to the entrance you just passed through.

You turn your head to see what guest has arrived late and with a surge of joy you recall what Wanda said about Pietro.

The moment your eyes land on him, you swear your soul is jolted from your body.

“Oh my god.” The phrase leaves your lips involuntarily as your brain tries to process what your eyes are seeing.

Isaac’s here.

[wizkiddx]

unusable faces

i have exams hence why i needed to write something exceptionally cringe :)

PSA: this is completely inspired from one of my fave writers own blurb @blissfulparker​ --> completely recommend u go read hers its much better than anything i could ever write!!!! (and just her whole account) = link

Summary: pure exhaustion and mutual pining, Tom Holland x actress!reader

^(just thought this was cute, doesn't really fit aha but full credit to op!!)

A scheduling nightmare would be putting it lightly. Perhaps almost unavoidable but that didn’t make it any less of a hellish form a torture. Harry had very helpfully said it actually was a form of torture, that is sleep deprivation. Y/n loved her job - it was all she’d ever really wanted - yet that thought was quickly becoming not enough to get her through the day. Not when it felt like an interrogation tactic used by the CIA. 

To give a quick timeline of the past few days may give a little context:

Thursday - filming the fight scene all day plus an evening-turned-half-the-night-shoot due to some technically difficulties delaying the process.

Friday - flying to New York while doing read throughs of scenes for the next few days; followed immediately by getting glammed and filming the tonight show with Fallon; then a dash across town to the late late show with James Corden; then straight back on a flight to Atlanta that landed at stupid o’clock in the morning

Saturday - a full day of shooting in a mock grand central station set

The press trip to NY had been unplanned… to say the least. But the star of their studios other new release had taken ill - meaning they had slots booked on some of the biggest talk shows in America that would just be abandoned (angering the shows bookers too). It was a waste of perfectly good promo time and since the studio had their two other stars together doing a block of reshoots - it wasn’t a conversation. Much more a call demanding the two of them to be on the plane.

Normally this wouldn’t be such an unmanageable ask either, except the reshoot block was really rather time pressured. You see, the promo tour wasn’t far from beginning meaning they really needed the final film in the can. So really it was a bit of a mess. Just to free up that single day the two were in New York the whole schedule had had to be rejigged - in doing so they’d lost a rare day off too. It was just typical.  

The joys of success hey?

Well, that’s at least what Y/n was making herself think whilst her incredibly talented SFX artist was in the process of crafting a deep wound onto her upper arm. The reason why she would be ‘dripping with blood’ whilst at a train station was beyond Y/n to be honest - she hadn’t been allowed to read a lot of the script so even now as filming was drawing to a close, the story arc of the movie she was headlining was still a little ‘fuzzy’.

“So I watched your ‘spill your guts’ thing on YouTube” Ellie giggled whilst reaching over for more prosthetic putty- a technical term apparently

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed the experience” Y/n replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the mischievous smirk on her face - no doubt Ellie took great joy out of seeing her suffer through eating a thousand year old egg. Which Y/n swore the taste of was still in her mouth… and it seemed as though it’d never leave. 

“Oh don’t worry darling I did too” Nelli called over from the next chair along, where she was doing Tom’s makeup for the day of shoots. “Between that and the animals on Fallon, you made a hell of a lot of people laugh last night” Tom’s artist was referencing the fact one of Jimmys other guests was a zookeeper, so at the end of the interview he had you and Tom join in trying not to scream at the snakes and spiders.

“You mean laugh at us?” 

“Well of course darling!” Nelli exclaimed back in an overdramatic bronx accent making all three of the women burst out laughing, Ellie’s unceremonious snorts echoing through the trailer only egged them all on more.

Tom in response, who had otherwise been absent from conversation for the majority of the morning, exclaimed a curse and jumped up in his chair. While you and Ellie collected yourself, Nelli apologised to him.

“Oh sorry love, I’m interrupting your snooze with my uncontrollable comedic gift” She spoke sweetly, even if still taking the moment to flaunt to the other women, as she squeezed his shoulder compassionately.

“No no” Tom waved off her apology, attempting to rub his eye before Nelli swatted his arm away - a stern look for the risk of ruining all her hard work she’d put into making his face look half presentable. 

“I’m impressed you can sleep while they poke you with all these er instruments” Y/n added in, having only just realised Tom had been in a light sleep for god knows how long they’d been in that chair. It did seem a bit unlikely, being able to fall asleep as you were dabbed, prodded and brushed. 

“Maybe you should try though Y/n… your purple eye bags are proving a struggle even for me” Ellie quipped back, now it was Y/n’s turn to give the stern look. Tom took the explain though, shutting her off from whatever kindly meant insult she was about to throw back at her friend. 

“No normally never, I just….” He was cut off by an ear splitting yawn, appearing almost powerful enough to crack his jaw - which would be a disaster, for no one should ruin such a beautiful and sharp jaw line. “…uh-sorry. I just think I ended up taking my NyQuil and DayQuil the wrong way round in the madness of yesterday.” Only Tom, the poor kid often seemed to lacking in any form of common sense - even if those closest to him knew just how intellectual and passionate he could be about the right topic. Affectionately, Nelli scalded his idiocy by jokingly swatting his head with a little tut.

“I can’t believe your still standing then! I’m barely alive and I don’t have any sedatives in my system.” It was true, Y/n was at that stage where every part of her body felt ridiculously heavy… eyes included … eyes especially. 

“But I did sleep on the jet back while your stupid self was studying the script!” Tom replied with a pretty inarguable point - at the time he knew her actions were stupid;  when their flight took off at 11 PM he was certain that the most valuable asset to his ability to act in the reshoots today would be sleep - rather than character development. And he’d tried to convince Y/n that briefly, but gave up. She was bloody stubborn when she wanted to be. 

“Stop competing about who has it worse cos I think it’s me and Nell”Ellie announced - making Nelli agree empathically with her coworker, nodding her head as she looked first to Y/n in her chair then back at Tom.

“Yeh because we have to deal with your unusable faces!!”

After much sarcasm thrown back and fourth, the trailer slowly ebbed it’s way back into serenity and peace as both artists focused on their work. Once Nelli was done she excused herself, Tom staying in the chair in favour of studying (more like staring blankly) at the dialogue for this mornings scenes. His pretence didn’t last long though and while Ellie was busy adding the final touches of fake blood to the now almost completely believable gash that she’d crafted on Y/n’s arm - Y/n had her attention focused the opposite way.

At poor little Tom. He looked so childlike, his slightly puffy eyes looked as if they had weights tied to them - they way he was having fight against gravity to flutter his eyes open, before loosing the next second only for the process to repeat as they dragged downwards. The broad muscles of his neck occasionally seemed to occasionally let up a little, letting his head tilt slowly at first until it gathered enough momentum to throw him off balance. The then sudden movement of his head unconsciously pulling itself back in line caused his eyes to bolt open prior to the whole cycle repeating again. All Y/n wanted to do was let him lay down someone, her heart feeling a tug in her chest just seeing him like that. 

Ellie proclaimed her completion of the wound, leaning back to admire her work before looking to get an affirming nod from Y/n. Yet instead, she was too preoccupied gazing at the boy slouched across from them. “Someone seems a little distracted.” Ellie smirked, finally garnering Y/n’s attention, only feeling more and more smug watching a light tint appear on the actors cheeks. 

“I-well-no… we need to go.” Y/n ignored her words as though nothing had happened, instead rushing off the chair to get Tom out the chair and onto the awaiting set. They had places to be.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (bcos im lazy)

Honestly when the director, Ed, called for lunch break, it was pretty apparent to be purely as a compassionate gesture to Y/n and Tom. Both of them had tried so hard this morning to fully commit, even so they’d both been almost completely useless. Y/n kept missing cues whilst all Tom’s actions and lines where slow, dragged out and at times completely prompted from someone behind the cameras. 

So when the lunch break was called there was only one thing on Y/n’s mind and what sandwich was available in the mess tent was not it. Still standing on the set next to her fake holdall bag she looked toward Tom, who was pulling himself up to standing from the train station bench - the pace of his movement making him look more like an old man. 

“You good?” His answer was predictable. 

“I’m so fucking shattered”

Tom swore he’d never heard anything sweeter come out of Y/n’s pink lips than her next statement.

“C’mon I know somewhere we can lie down.”

Without any sort of thought Tom blindly agreed, nodding as he took her outstretched hand in his. The gesture in itself brought a fresh wave of comfort to his aching limbs and as his feet stumbled to catchup with her slight head start he leant the majority of his weight into their connected hands. 

Neither would admit it but they were ‘a thing’… whatever the hell that meant. It was clear as day to everyone and anyone that worked closely to the two but neither of them had ever broached the topic with each other. They’d worked on a few films together over the years; each time they got closer and closer to the point any job without the other simply wasn’t as good. It was scary though, especially for two actors in the prime of their careers. If they weren’t working the same film they’d likely be the opposite side of the world to each other most of the time - quality time together would be few and far between, Really their jobs didn’t suit dating at all, yet it would be perhaps easier if one half of it worked a ‘normal’ job. Something with consistency, a regular structure. A level of dependability that neither Y/n nor Tom could offer to the other. 

So it was terrifying, acknowledging the growth in their magnetic attraction to each other. Both were acutely aware that doing that, confronting their feelings, would most likely signal the beginning of the end. 

Although none of this stoped Y/n from returning the gesture, tilting her shoulder into Tom’s left side as they took slow steps through and then out the set building. She steered the two past the hair and makeup trailer and round into a store and extra equipment trailer. Tom tilted his head as she climbed the stairs whilst beckoning for him to follow - it didn’t seem like the most obvious choice. Rolling her eyes, Y/n explained.

“It’s where all the blankets and coats and kept for the raining scenes plusssss no one will disturb us in here.” Again Tom was not in a position to disagree, eyes drooping as his shoulders sagged to the floor. Right now he’d take anything. 

So he climbed up the stairs and shut the door behind him, just as Y/n flipped the light on. She was right, it was well equipped and with an almost mountainous supply of red blankets that normally the crew and extra would all be wrapped up in after the freezing rain scenes with all the ‘waterfall machines’ as Y/n called them. However it was also um…. It was cosy. “Oh I don’t think I realised how small it was” She chuckled lightly, since now the door was closed her back was pressed up against the far wall of cabinets and still her front was mere millimetres from Tom.

“I…I don’t mind… if-if you don’t?”

“I’m too tired to care” She giggled in response, and Tom , now with her seal of approval, immediately started ransacking the piled shelves for all their worth creating a floor carpeted in the pale red of the blankets, in an attempt to make it more cosy. Joining in, it was almost remarkable how quickly their bodies suddenly agreed to move, with the new promise of rest mere moments away. 

Once the trailer was fully drowned, Tom kicked off his costume shoes and threw his jacket off - it haphazardly landing by the doorway. Y/n copied him, leaving her stood up whilst he had the advantaged of already settling down on the floor, her standing and looking down at him.

The space between the two opposing shelving units was not close spacious enough for two people to lie down whilst keeping a respectable level of personal space. Suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness, Y/n stayed standing, wringing her hands slightly - whilst fairly certain Tom could hear her heart running at 100 mph. 

“You er… gonna stay there or?” Tom, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t a complete idiot - he could see she was suddenly self conscious. He got it too - they’d never crossed this boundary of choosing to cuddle into each other. It had happened once of twice accidentally over there 2 years of knowing each other. Both of those times it was completely accidental, falling asleep watching a movie with a safe distance of space b between the two, only to find hours later their bodies almost completely intwined. Tom would be lying if he said that his heart didnt skip a beat when he had awoken to Y/n’s soft and gently breath fanning into his neck. He’d loved it, but understood that was unconsciously breaking down part of the wall they’d both been the constructors of.

For fear of getting hurt. 

So now, as Y/n awkwardly bent down and lay on her side, he thought it was imperative to make her feel comfortable. Naturally then, his arm slid round her shoulders and pulled her down toward his chest, releasing a little breath as he felt her relax, her legs slowly wrapping round one of his. 

“This okay?” He murmured, now into the crown of her head as she lay half on her side half on his chest. In reply she nodded into him and Tom couldn’t help but grin- unbeknownst to him but Y/n was doing the exact same thing. 

The peace lasted all of 3 seconds until she groaned again.

“What?” Tom enquired as she wriggled out his hold and stood up. Instead of replying though she just leant over and flicked the one harsh light bulb off making Tom chuckle as she fumbled her way back onto the padded floor in the darkness, earning a few grunts from both as she accidentally kicked Tom’s thighs or banged her head on one of the now empty shelves. Fumbling her way back into a comfortable position, occasionally cursing when she stubbed her toe- or Tom did when she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Comfy?” Tom asked a little sarkily as he squeezed her a little more into his side.

“Mhmmmm… I’m gonna sleep for 100 years”

“Yeh me… me too”

And with that they both almost instantly and in complete unison sagged into each other and the blankets - the pent up stress and tension of the past few days ebbing away.

What the pair had neglected to remember was that sleeping for 100 years wasn’t really an option. The whole crew of 50 people, who wanted to restart filming after 45 minutes, had not been told about Y/n’s little hiding place. The pair were so completely safe in their own little cocoon of comfort they were completely oblivious to their teams calling there names more and more frantically. Completely oblivious to the game of hide and seek the situation had descended into, completely oblivious to Harrys natural annoyance as the director asked him for the whereabouts of the two stars - as though Harry was childminder to the pair of them.

It was Nelli who found them first. She’d and Ellie and Tom’s manager had all been recruited by Harry as part of the man hunt. Both girls, having seen first hand the state of the two this morning, were fairly certain they’d both crashed out somewhere. So Nelli, already with a sneaking suspicion, opened the door gently, her figure blocking the majority of the light from seeping through to the dimly lit inside. The sight she was met with had her actually pouting at the cuteness - and yes its a cringey word but also the only one appropriate.

Between bedding down and barely an hour later the two had managed to become impossibly tighter pressed to each other. Y/n’s face was pressed into the crook of Tom’s neck and his arms seemed to have pulled her on-top of him almost completely. Her left leg was hooked under his right, which was then sandwiched by his left too. They both looked so pure and innocent and god did Nelli know they both needed any extra time they could get.

Nelli cared a lot about Tom, she’d been working with him from the beginning, from the child star days to now. She cared about him like her very annoying surrogate son and she wanted to see him looked after. She also so completely wanted the two stars to stop pining after each other. Because frankly it was getting a little frustrating for everyone else. 

So she chose to tactically forget about her discovery, sneaking a photo on the sly before silently pulling the door closed and leaving them to their sleep. 

[goldentsum]

— pain and pleasure come together!

pairing: kirishima x reader

genre: smut, pwp

wordcount: 3.2k 

tags/warnings: sub! kirishima, power dom! reader, sensitive! kiri, mommy kink, edging, messy, bdsm, sex toys, bondage, anal play (male receiving), pain play, choking, riding, aftercare (do NOT ever skip aftercare for your subs!) 

author’s note: this is basically sin wrapped with more sin. kirishima and reader are aged up, duh. anyway, enjoy~ <3

kirishima loves you. he really does. he will do anything for you in a heartbeat without any hesitation in his whole being. if you said jump, he’ll spring up so hard he’ll hit the ceiling. the man lives off pleasing you. 

and you know this. know it too well. the way his gleaming eyes stared adoringly at you every time or the way he unconsciously move towards you and your needs. oh, you don’t have any spoon? let me get one for you. oh, there’s no more seats left? have mine please. 

of course, you also love kirishima with all your heart but sometimes this man just goes above and beyond which surprises you still despite being together for years now. if it means that it’ll make you happy, he’ll do it without any question. so with that being said, you just want to give back the same effort to your boyfriend. 

this brings us back to the current situation of your buff large man sprawled on your large shared bed with red rope wrapped around his limbs and torso, courtesy of kirishima’s suggestion of having the said color. 

his breath was heavy, his chest heaving up and down despite you barely touching him. you know just how sensitive he is and fuck, if you don’t take advantage of that someone should slap you to your senses. 

anticipating your next move as his red eyes follows your movements, trained to your pretty figure that’s adorned with his favorite lingerie on you. red just makes your skin so delectable, he wants to sink his teeth into you. seeing you wear red rises a primal instinct in him, a voice in his head telling him whenever you wear red that you are his as he is yours. 

“(y-y/n), baby... please touch me” he whimpered out when your hands moved along your soft skin, touching the soft lace adorning your body. you smirked at the tied up man before you. how could you deny such request when he begs so prettily for you? crawling in all fours, you straddled his thighs and stared straight at him. 

kirishima panted when your soft skin touched his, even a graze of your soft skin makes him go crazy. he watched you lean closer to him and he eagerly tried to meet your red lips but you moved away, sitting back on his thighs. the pro-hero whined, pouting at you. 

“you’re so hot, eijirou” you complimented and brushed the back of your fingers along his aching cock. he gasped lewdly and his hips jerked at your fleeting touch. you chuckled sadistically at the sprawled man on the bed and slapped the supple skin of his muscular thighs which earned you a loud moan. 

“be a good boy now, baby.” you scolded playfully. you grabbed the vibrator beside you as multiple toys was thrown carelessly on the bed. the loud buzzing sound echoed in the room when you turned it on which made kirishima gulp in anticipation and excitement. 

“p-please, mommy” he uttered, eyes trained on you and his teeth biting down at his swollen lip from the all biting he did when he waited for you.

contented at his cute words, you moved the vibrator to his cock. the sudden vibration made kirishima throw his head back in shock, a scream escaping him. 

“aAAHH-! mommy! too much-!” he choked out, a series of loud moans left his mouth. you tsk-ed at his words and turned the intensity up making his eyes roll back to his head and his hips moving erratically.

“hAhh! mMMfgg!” loud and lewd moans only escaped the male, his cock leaking with so much pre-cum as you slide the vibrator up and down his length. his arms struggling against the binds you had on him. your other hand gripped his length while you held the vibrator on the red swollen head of his thick cock. he jolted, thrusting in your hand. 

you coated his thick cock with the cum that spilled from his cock’s head, wetting your digits along with it. massaging the base as you traced the prominent veins, watching his length twitch. you removed the vibrator off, the male beneath you panting heavily like he just ran a marathon. sweat made his hair stick to his forehead while his eyes were half-lidded, staring at the ceiling with a fucked out expression already.

chuckling at his expression, amused, because you haven’t even started with the best part yet. your fingers graze down his balls and to his puckering hole, his breath hitching at the contact. 

you touched the clenching hole lightly, never prodding inside and just tracing the rim. kirishima huffs, impatient, and tried to grind down to your fingers. your (e/c) eyes went up to meet his and glared at the needy man. your intimidating glare made him needier, his dick twitching and begging for attention, and he gulped. 

you growled under your breath and slapped his cock making him jolt on the bed and cry out in pain and pleasure. “don’t test me now, baby. you want to be punished? be mommy’s whore than mommy’s good baby boy?” 

kirishima shook his head, “wanna be mommy’s good boy” he whispered, too aroused. you smiled, pleased, and thumbed his cock as an apology for the harsh slap, his emotions a whirlpool of mess. he was happy and soft when he saw your satisfied smile but your fingers threatening to sink in his ass and your rubbing was making him needier as his body heats up. 

“then be a good boy.” you cooed and tapped his wet lips with your finger. kirishima eagerly opened his mouth and sucked in your fingers. he moaned around your fingers, tongue lapping at your skin and coats them with spit. you smirked at him and slowly started thrusting your fingers in his mouth. 

the male sucked and twirled his tongue around your fingers, moaning in delight when you played with his wet muscle. pressing down on his tongue and nudged the back of his throat, he gagged in surprise but continued sucking your fingers like a good slut he is. when you deemed it was wet enough, you removed it from kirishima’s mouth. there was a thick line of spit connecting your fingers and his tongue.

trailing down his ass once again and wetting it with his spit. you traced the ring of muscle with your wet digits then you suddenly sink your fingers in his tight hole. kirishima choked on a moan at your sudden movement, your other hand working on his length. his eyes closed at the feeling of your fingers inside him, rubbing every sensitive spot, and your tight grip on his cock, stroking him so agonizing slow but he feels his orgasm coming faster than he expected. 

your digits thrust roughly and hit his sweet spot with every move, the male’s hips following your pace. his head thrown back to the pillows and his back arched so prettily. your hand gripped his aching wet cock, the twitching of his dick was a sign that he was close. so deliciously close. 

crying out, he felt his release drawing closer and closer and when he was about to come, your movements stop altogether. kirishima gasped and opened his wet eyes to look at you in confusion. 

“no coming until i say so, baby” 

kirishima sobbed at the stolen orgasm, your fingers stilling inside of him while you kissed his quivering thighs. when he finally calmed down, you moved your fingers again though softly and slower this time. you don’t want your baby suddenly coming and not experience a full-blown body-shuddering orgasm from all your effort.

his breath started to get heavier again when your fingers nudged his prostate and your hand stroking him slowly. the slow build-up once again was torture for him but it felt so painfully great. 

small mewls left his bruised lips from all the biting, chest moving heavier at each stroke and thrust you make. he inhaled sharply when your pace speeds up, his body rocking softly with your movements. with furrowed brows, he focused on the pleasure you’re giving him but as he does so, the pleasure seemed to double. his red eyes watched you from his spot, pants leaving his tender lips. he wet his lips and his eyes rolled back when you delivered a rough thrust. 

“hAH!- feels so good~” muttering incoherently, his mind was starting to get putty again. you watched his expression, sharp eyes trained to his face. kirishima was so beautiful. so hot. 

mouth wide open as he moans, a thin trail of spit on the corner of his lips, eyes rolled back, large muscles contracting at every action you make, and his thick cock twitching in your hand. who knew someone could do this to the dignified pro-hero.

you can practically feel the heat from your place, his body shining with a thin sheet of sweat which made his body even more god-like. his abdominal muscles contracting to stop him from cumming without your permission. you kissed his abs and traced the hard muscles with your tongue. his body jerking at the sensation of your wet tongue dragging along his heated skin. the stimulation you gave him was too much for the red-head and his climax was getting closer than the first one. 

he gasped out when you curled your fingers inside him and rubbed his walls. hips grinding down to your digits as a sudden orgasm rippled from him. with a loud cry, he spilled on to your hand as he clenched around your fingers. hips trying to ride out his orgasm but you stilled.

you glared at the sub on your bed and gripped his sensitive cock. kirishima jolted at your action, looking up to you guiltily. he whimpered when you scowled at him. you removed your fingers off his ass roughly making him cry out in pain. you took the paddle beside you and turned his lower body around, the rope on his arms connected to the bedpost made him twist. with a swift move, it hit the tender skin of his ass. 

kirishima made a strangled noise at the sharp pain, his hips grinding down in instinct. you saw his movement and got angrier. 

“you know why i’m doing this, don’t you baby?” growling against his ear which earned a pitiful whimper as he nodded.

“i-.. i came without permission” he sobbed as another hit came into contact on his reddening skin. 

“and baby boys who don’t follow their mommy’s rules are going to get punished. now, count to 10 with each hit. don’t mess up or i’m gonna start over.” you muttered and leaned away, the wooden paddle grazing the red skin of his ass.

with a rougher hit, kirishima cried and his body jerked. “o-one!” and your punishment continued. with every hit, his skin gotten more tender and redder. when he counted all the way to ten, he was crying and sobbing. fat tears rolled down his cheeks and spit escaped his lips with all the crying. 

kirishima always look so good like this. and you were sure, he liked his punishment as well when your eyes caught his hard cock standing proudly against his stomach again and it leaking so much pre-cum, joining the small puddle on his stomach and base. 

you let go of the wooden paddle and discarded it beside you. caressing the tender skin, he hissed at the dull pain. you massaged his skin skin softly and kissed it. you muttered words of praise and kissed his hip, telling him how great he took your punishment as kirishima sniffle. 

“such a good boy taking mommy’s punishment like a champ~” 

you turned him around gently, letting him lay down properly. you saw him winced when he turned around. his face wet with tears, spit, and snot combined. 

you leaned closer to him and pressed a kiss on his swollen lips, tongue swiping softly on the bitten lip. kirishima whimpered against you, opening his mouth willingly. your tongue met his eager one which coaxed yours to go into his mouth. your tongues were pressed together into a hot open-mouthed kiss, wet muscles swirling around each other as you taste one another.

kirishima moaned softly against your lips as he moved frenziedly to work on your mouth. you broke the kiss which made him huff. you quickly pecked his pouting ones and worked your way to his throat. you sucked on the skin and sink down your teeth into it. his cock twitching against your stomach when you pressed your body on his. 

when you finally released his skin, it was turning into a bruise, joining your other hickies and bruises on kirishima’s body, which made you huff in satisfaction. you straddled kirishima’s hips, pressing your clothed pussy against his sensitive cock. the loud moan he released when he felt your heat was so lewd and pornographic. 

“mommy, please--” 

“shh, i know baby. it’s okay. let mommy handle it, yeah” you cooed, caressing his hair as you moved his strands away from his eyes and forehead. he mewled at the affection. kirishima was always a sucker for affection. 

you removed your panties, the cloth on your center was damped with your essence. he drooled at the sight of your naked pussy, wanting to be inside you more than anything. 

you held his cock to line it up to your entrance, his breath heavy and excited as he watched you sink into his length. the feeling of your tight pussy around his sensitive cock was making him delirious. you two moaned in unison when he bottomed out.  

your wet walls sucked him in so tightly, clenching around him like you want to milk his cock until the last drop. he groaned, head pressed in the pillow and he waited for you to start moving. 

with a shaky breath, you moved slowly. the feeling of kirishima’s thick cock inside you was amazing as always. there was the dull pain from the stretch as his tip grazed your cervix. 

your movements slowly speed up, bouncing in his lap and rolling your hips as you chase your orgasm. your eyes trained to the man beneath you who’s moaning so erotically. he was muttering incoherent words, eyes rolled back into his head as he tried to match your grinding. 

you reached out and wrapped a hand around his thick neck, squeezing a bit making him gasp out and wheeze. kirishima looked at you, tongue out as he panted like a dirty dog. you felt his cock twitch inside you and you grind harder. you slowly lost yourself to the pleasure and unconsciously squeezed his neck harder when he nudged the spongy spot inside you. a choked grunt was heard before you snapped out of it and removed your hands off him. 

you let your hand wander down and teased his nipples, the male crying in surprise at the added stimulation. you grinned lewdly at him, fucking him as you did so. you pinched the sensitive nipple making the male arch on the bed as he speeds up his thrusts.

“HAh! fuckk! fuck fuck! mhhngg! feels so good! so good-- ‘s good” the male rasped and broken moans escaped him. his voice was raspy and husky from all the crying he did earlier. you moaned when he repeatedly hit a certain spot inside you, your actions quickening at that. 

you removed your hands off him and went to rub circles on your puffy clit. kirishima watched you with lidded eyes, entranced with the way you bounce on his cock and with your fingers circling your bundle of nerves. it was making him lightheaded, the sensitivity he felt from his earlier orgasm, the pain from the spanking, and the harsh rope digging into his skin was making him ache all over. but he’ll be lying if he say he didn’t like it. 

the way kirishima’s cock hit your g-spot perfectly and your frantic rubbing to your clit was getting you closer to your orgasm and the twitch of his dick inside you indicated that he was close too. 

you quickened your actions, clenching on kirishima’s cock as you moaned when you feel yourself coming closer to the edge. your rubbed your wet clit and just like that, an intense orgasm washed over you. you moaned loudly when climax hit you, head thrown back as you clenched around the hard cock. 

the feeling of you orgasming and you clenching tightly around him was enough to make kirishima cum as well, painting your walls white with thick ropes. he cried out at the body-shuddering orgasm he experienced. hips jerking roughly as he rode your and his orgasm. new tears pricked his eyes at the intensity, raspy moans escaping him. kirishima’s vision slightly darkened at the orgasm he experienced.

and when you two finished, kirishima went limp on the bed, mentally and physically tired. you huffed as you tiredly swirled your hips against his, milking him. you laid your body on top of his, your heavy pants mirroring his. 

after a bit when you two finally calmed down, you sat up making you two winced at the sensitivity. you smiled down at your boyfriend, moving the strands that stuck to his sweaty skin. you pressed a soft kiss on his lips and leaned away, removing the binds you had on your boyfriend. 

your eyes softened at the discolored skin on his wrists and arms and kissed it tenderly. your hands massaging the tender skin as he winced a bit. you moved and let his softening cock out, your cum and his dripping out of you. you ignored the ache you experienced and kissed his cheek then walked to the bathroom to get something to clean him and clean yourself.

kirishima waited for you in the bed, not like he could move anyway, his body heavy. when he saw you appear again with a small container with water on it and a towel, he smiled tiredly. 

you kissed him again, muttering praises on his cheek and started to clean him up gently. you softly dragged the wet towel on his skin, careful to not hurt him. kirishima admired you and his heart was full with how gentle you were being. 

“i love you” you heard him whisper which made you grin and you kissed him again. 

“i love you too, baby. you did so well today, love” you praised as he almost purred at your words, a sleepy smile on his lips. when you finished cleaning him up, you opened the drawer on your nightstand to get the cream. 

“turn around, baby” you whispered as he whined but nonetheless turned around, showing his bruised ass to you. you applied the cream on the skin, caressing softly. you also applied the cream on his bruised wrists. 

“such a good baby. you’re so pretty, eijirou” you said when you finished and the cream dried off. moving closer to him, you moved the toys off the bed and quickly joined him in the bed and wrapped your arms around him, your chest pressed against his strong back. you threw the blanket over you two. 

kissing his shoulder blades, he hummed in content and sleepiness. you kissed cheeks again, your hands caressing his skin and drawing patterns.

“goodnight, baby. sweet dreams~” you muttered teasingly and eijirou huffed a small laugh and nudge you a bit. 

“goodnight, (y/n)... dream of me” he mumbled back as sleep caught up to him

you smiled and closed your eyes, nuzzling your face against his nape, “always” 

[sleepysailorghost]

Arcade wasn't sure what he expected when the Courier asked him to accompany them. They hadn't given a name, only said they were a Courier. It wasn't much to go on, but the Courier had looked up at him with big eyes. And for some reason, it didn't sound all that crazy to venture beyond the fort with them, a natural stanger.

They had listened so reverently when Julie spoke. They had fulfilled any job asked of them by the Followers. Certainly, if they harbored ill will towards the Followers, they would have gotten to their revenge before now.

He had asked for their name, if only to be polite.

"I don't have one. Courier or Six is fine, if you'd like."

"You don't have a name?"

"I guess I probably did once, but I don't remember any more. I just remember the man in the checkered coat- an 18-carat run of bad luck-and then waking up in Doc Mitchell's house. Maybe that man knows who I was. I don't know."

"That doesn't bother you, not having a past?"

"No, not really." The Courier leaned back. "I'm just me. Sure, I can't look back on the road behind me, but I can look forward."

"Interesting. Are you going to look for the man in the checkered coat?"

"I don't know. I guess I could. I'm supposed to, because he stole something from me and shot me in the head."

"Wait, he shot you in the head?"

"Yeah, that's why I don't remember much. It messed with my head too."

"Well, yeah. Getting shot in the head would do that."

"Oh, wait, I do have one hint to who I might have been." The courier starts to undo the many closures of their armor, like a fire's been lit under them. "What do you make of this?"

The Courier drops their armor clumsily on the floor, and then goofily flexes. He doesn't really know what they're refering to, but then he sees the poorly-done tattoo on their upper arm. It's a ring of roses and thorns that raps under their bicep. Despite being very mediocre, it is legible and in color.

"Huh." Tattoos aren't really unique, but it is something. "Maybe your name is Rose?"

"Maybe. It doesn't sound right."

"Maybe you just need to try it out for a while, wear it in." He's trying to help, but the Courier is a near stranger to him. "Or, if you'd like, I could arrange for you to see Dr. Usa-"

"No thanks. Don't want to take up her time." The refusal was off faster than a bullet from a sixgun. "If you're ready to go, so am I."

"Sure." He agreed. It wasn't really healthy of the Courier to act out against the idea of visiting the clinic, but it wasn't something he could force them into. At least, not as a near stranger.

This turned out to be one of the few times the Courier's former-NCR sniper friend wasn't travelling with them. He probably wouldn't have decided to go with the Courier if he had known they had company. Still, it isn't all that bad, even if he feels a little crowded with the Courier, their robot pet ED-E (he hates that thing), the King's robot-dog, the sniper, and the Remnant medical researcher. One more person, and the Courier will have a small army.

Not that the Courier normally has all of them traveling together at once. It's too noticeable, draws too much attention. It might even sound like a joke: an Enclave eyebot, a police cyber dog, an amnesiac Courier, a grouchy NCR sniper, and a medical researcher walk in to a bar...

It makes the Courier happy to travel with him, so he does it on occasion. Those occassions become a lot more frequent after they return from a place they call the "Big Empty".

That had been months ago. Now, he felt like he knew the Courier. Not that he wasn't surprised by the Courier-he certainly was. But he was familiar with the Courier now.

It was a dangerous sort of thing, that familiarity. He was even starting to think that perhaps it would be a good idea to let them in on his own origins.

And he knew how the Courier felt about him.

Leaning against his side while they sat at a fire, the Courier's hands stripping a defeated foe's weapon, they had muttered something.

"Sorry, say again?" Arcade responded. Most of the time, it was just complaints about bent springs or whatever, more to themselves than to him.

The Courier's hands stopped, laying the weapon on the ground.

"You're my brother, Arcade." The Courier says, and then continues before Arcade could interrupt. "Not by blood. Or hell, maybe you are. It's not like I'd remember. Course you are a heck of a lot taller than I am...maybe the tall gene skipped me."

Arcade doesn't say anything, attempting to process what the Courier was trying to tell him.

"No, we're not related by blood." He agrees, although he has no real way to confirm it without knowing the Courier's identity.

"I know." The Courier put their hand up to their chest. "I just...well, I know you're my brother. I, uhh, care about you."

Arcade didn't know what to say about that. It really did feel like it had come out of nowhere to him. A few weeks later, the Courier had gone running off to a place that might have been their home.

Antietam is walking by his side now, but their gaze is drawn over to an old poster. The pre-war store was filled with advertisements for many different products, from Sugar-Bombs to the newest products from Rob-Co.

Shelves, long ransacked and destroyed, have created something of a maze. The laminate tiling on the floor has become loose after centuries of neglect. Decorations littering the area would mark this location as a raider base at some point.

His friend doesn't seem to notice any of that, moving closer to a central display that might have been made of stacked shoeboxes once. Now, the boxes lay in a crumpled heap.

"Antietam, wait-" He says, and the courier stops.

"Yeah? Do you need something?"

"You need to be more careful! This could be a trap."

"I don't think it is. I'm pretty good at finding traps and I don't see any tripwires or bear traps. I've stepped in enough of those."

"Of course you wouldn't see them! It's a mess in here."

"I'm not going far. I just wanna see if I can find some of those."The Courier pointed at an advertisement. It was of a girl with little wheels on her shoes, looking over her shoulder as she spun away. Under the picture, it read "Roll with the punches with Roller-Ray skates!".

"Do you..need those?"

"Well, no. I just think they would be cool. Just rollin around town."

"I'll go with them." Boone added, if only so he could keep an eye on them.

"Yeah, plus ED-E's sensors haven't picked up on anything. I can handle myself while looking for skates, Arcade."

On that note, the Courier and Boone go to pick through the rubble. When they returned, Antietam raised their arm triumphantly.

"We found them! A little dinged up, but I can fix that. C'mon, lets go outside to try them!" With the hand not holding their skates, Antietam grabbed at Arcade's sleeve.

"Okay, okay." He said, because Antietam's enthusiasm for things was infectious sometimes. They exited the store, entering that had once been a parking lot. Rusted-through cars sat abandoned and the sun hung low in the sky.

Antietam dropped to the floor, strapping on their skates. They were metal and fit awkwardly with their combat boots and spurs. Awkwardly, like a baby radstag on ice, the Courier stood up.

"Okay,so I just." The Courier lifted one leg as if to take a step. Their balance was offset by the movement. Next to him, Arcade saw Boone move to catch the Courier if they fell, but the Courier braced themselves on a car instead.

They took a few more awkward steps.

"Yeah, I think I'm getting the hang of this." Their movements were jerky, but in time, perhaps they'd be alright at it.

Then they hit a skid in the destroyed asphalt and took a spill. Their left side collided hard with a rusted shell.

"Ouch." they groaned, and then collapsed onto the parking lot. "I'm just gonna rest here for a second."

Arcade laughed a little, and then helpfully whined about the sun.

"Alright, alright. Okay, getting up." The Courier pushed up from the asphalt with both hands, rising from their crumpled mass.

"Nothing broken?" Arcade asked, seeing Antietam avoid putting too much weight on their left side.

"No, probably just bruised." They replied, but that was what Arcade had expected. They were still extremely hesitant to be medically examined, even if it meant concealing and ignoring injuries. It stung Arcade-someone who the Courier allegedly loved like a brother-to be held at arms' length. That being said, he couldn't be upset with them either. The Courier had suffered greatly and been stripped of agency by doctors. It was a mark of pride that Antietam trusted him.

Actually, he could still be angry with them for concealing injuries.

The sun was beating down as steadily as it always did in the Mojave. A bead of sweat formed on Arcade's neck.

"Oh shoot." The Courier murmured, looking over their hands. They wore fingerless gloves, and a pip-boy on one arm. Arcade examined the injury. It would be a lot of work if the Courier came down with tetnus. "It's just a scrape, Arcade."

"It's not just a scrape. It's dirty and could get infected."

"Hottest part of the days coming up. We should wait it out in the store." Boone added, helpfully.

"C'mon, listen to your big brother, ok?" Arcade tried with a smile. The Courier looked up at him with their wide brown eyes.

Arcade was not above emotional manipulation.

Half a year ago, if someone told him that he was going to play big brother to a Courier who knew nothing about their past and hated doctors, he'd have likely sent them to see Dr. Usanagi.

The Courier ran their gloved hand through their short white hair. It fluffed up their bangs (despite the pin staying in place) and revealed the twin scars on their forehead and the surgical scar that ran around their skull.

"Okay." The Courier responded, sticking their wrist out to him for treatment.

"Oh, that's a nasty cut." he said, "Let's head inside so we can get this treated.:

In the end, even if the Courier was a hassle sometimes, he was glad to be their brother. He was turning into such a sap.

[abused-sides]

Way to Please

Read part one first, read on Ao3 

Trigger warnings: Emotional abuse, gaslighting, being called selfish, ableism, familial abuse, panic attacks, touch-starved Logan, food mention 

A/N: This is a commission! Another thanks to @darkle-elkrad​!! :D More info at the end 

Disclaimer: J. is NOT Janus, he’s an unsympathetic OC.

Read on Ao3

Logan pushed the knob on his fidget cube in slow circles. It was a simple toy, all black, and usually hidden in his pocket. He currently had it pressed between his thigh and the car door. His stomach was knotted and he stared out the window almost obsessively, counting every mile they got closer to his new school. 

“You messing with that toy again?” 

Logan looked at J. He shoved it in his pocket. “Sorry.” 

“‘S fine. People are gonna make fun of you for being a baby, though.” 

Logan’s face heated up. “I told you I won’t use it in front of other people.” 

They pulled into the college’s parking lot. Logan’s small life was packed up neatly in the backseat. J. turned the car off and sighed. 

“You sure you don’t need help moving in?” J. gave him a look. “You know how you can get.” 

Logan nodded once. “I know. But I can control that. I can move in myself, don’t worry.” 

hesitated, then sighed again. “Alright. Get out, then. Call me tonight.” 

“Yeah. Love you.” 

“Mhm.” 

Logan stacked up his three boxes and started towards his dorm. Luckily, J. had taken a few weeks off his own education and brought Logan down for a tour last week, so he knew exactly where he was going. He managed all the way to his room and fumbled for the key card in his wallet. 

He nearly dropped his boxes, and his heart leapt into his throat. He caught them just fine, but the panic remained, fizzling slowly like water down a stopped drain. His fingers itched for his cube. He ignored it, and got the door open just before the anxiety peaked. 

One half of the room was already claimed, half unpacked suitcases sprawled over the bed and wardrobe, so Logan dumped his stuff on the second bed. He immediately righted the boxes and tossed some fallen items back inside. He glanced over his shoulder. 

He was alone. 

He shoved his hand in his pocket and found the side with the buttons, mashing them down before flipping it to switch. He click-click-clacked it a few times as the tension slipped from his chest. 

He took a second to look around the room. His roommate’s life was coated in black and purple. Band tees stuck out of the half clothes drawer, notebook upon notebook littering his bed. He had a purple and black plaid quilt tossed over a gray weighted blanket. An expensive laptop sat freely on the desk. 

“...oh, come on, you are such an asshole.” The door opened and closed, and a boy with purple hair came inside, holding a phone to his ear with his arms full of sodas and candy. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck you, too. Sure. Later. Love you.” 

Logan blinked. 

The boy dumped his food on his bed and shoved his phone in his pocket. He raised an eyebrow. “Uh, hi.” 

Logan nodded. “Was that a… girlfriend?” 

“Nah, my brother.” He turned back to line his drinks on the shared desk. “I’m Virgil.” 

“Logan.” He hesitated, then turned to his own bed, pulling out neatly rolled up clothes. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I already picked my side.” Virgil grabbed another armful of clothes and went over to the wardrobe, punching down the fabric until he could layer more inside. 

Logan couldn’t help but say, “You could fit more if you folded them.” 

Virgil snorted. “There’s three other drawers. I’ll be fine.” 

“Right.” His face flushed. “Sorry.” 

Logan hung his clothes in the closet. They unpacked silently. Logan occasionally tapped his pocket, just to make sure his cube was still there. 

Virgil sat at the edge of his bed and held out his hand. “Let me see your class schedule?” 

Logan startled, then fumbled for his backpack. “Right— Uh, sorry, one second.” 

He found it while Virgil watched with raised eyebrows. He handed it over. Virgil hummed, gray eyes trailing over the paper. He really was striking. He was loud in a way Logan never wanted to be, but Virgil didn’t seem upset by it. It was all clearly a choice, from the way he dressed to how he styled his hair. He lounged on his bed, taking up all the space without taking his combat boots off first, chewing on his nails— likely while the nail polish was chipped. 

Nail polish. His middle fingers were painted black, the rest a strong purple. How did he have the confidence to wear nail polish? If Logan tried that, J. would make fun of him until he cried. 

“We have some Gen-Eds together,” Virgil mused. “And an art class. How long have you been drawing?” 

Logan swallowed and sat on his bed. It was clear Virgil wasn’t handing the schedule back any time soon. “Not long. I just picked it up last year, actually. It sounded, I don’t know, relaxing.” 

Virgil grinned and glanced at him. “It’s frustrating, isn’t it?” 

“It’s… hard. Harder than I expected.” 

“Can I see?” 

Logan hesitated. He reached for the box with his sketchbook, but Virgil held his hand up. 

“It’s okay. No need to look so panicked.” He chuckled. “I’ll just look later. I was going to go look around campus, make sure I know where all my classes are. Wanna come with? We can check the Gen-Eds.” 

Logan really didn’t want to— he knew where his classes were, and he planned on finding good spots for his stuff —but he nodded and stood. He glanced at Virgil’s bed, where he laid on top of all of his stuff. A few things crumpled and crunched as he rolled onto his feet. 

“Cool.” He grabbed a Monster off the desk and popped it open. “Let’s go.” 

Virgil wasn’t actually as loud as he looked. He had the confidence down, and he teased Logan quite a bit, but he was very… calm. Logan would never admit it out loud, but he was jealous. He could never be that sure of himself. 

After finding their Gen-Eds, they agreed to stick together to find their other classes as well. Logan admitted to having already visited his— Virgil laughed —so they set off to find Virgil’s. 

Once they got to the last class on the list, Virgil stopped. “Shit,” he whispered. “Oh, shit.” 

Logan frowned. “What is it?” 

The wind blew through Virgil’s bangs, revealing wide, anxiety-filled eyes. The courtyard was mostly empty, the occasional student passing by a couple dozen feet away. 

“They put me in the wrong class.” Virgil pushed his hair back and drew in a shaky breath. “We agreed I’d be in the morning class, I— I can’t make this one, I don’t know— fuck.” 

“Hey.” Logan took a small step closer. “Hey, it’s okay. We can just go talk to someone, right?” 

Virgil shook his head quickly. His breathing was speeding up. “No, are you kidding? They’re probably so busy, this is stupid. I just— fuck, I’ll have to make it work.” 

“Virgil, no.” Logan laughed weakly. “No, come on, we can fix this. Breathe, right?” 

“‘Breathe—’ Right, fuck, I’m not… I’m not breathing.” 

Logan held his hands out, and Virgil scrambled to take them. Logan held them tight. “Uh, just follow my breathing.” 

Logan helped him right himself, a few tears slipping out from Virgil’s eyes, but he mostly got himself back together pretty fast. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Virgil gave Logan their schedules and pushed his sweaty palms down his pants. He wiped his face. “Sorry, that was… stupid.” He fiddled with the zipper on his hoodie. 

“No, it wasn’t. I… uh, here.” Logan hesitated, then found his fidget cube and pressed it into Virgil’s hand. 

Virgil looked at it in surprise. His fingers naturally found the side with the buttons, click-click-clicking. “Oh. Thanks. I had one of these last year but I lost it.” 

Logan blinked. “Really?” 

“Yeah. I’ll give it back though, don’t worry.” 

“Let’s go talk to the registrar. We can tell them your schedule is conflicting.” 

Virgil stared at the cube. He flicked the dial a few times, listening to the light crank as it snapped back. “Are you sure?” He mumbled. 

Logan forced a smile against his nerves. “Of course. Better to do it now then wait until it’s worse.” 

“That’s true. Okay.” He laughed weakly and straightened his shirt out. “Right, you’re right. Sorry about this.” 

“It’s fine,” Logan promised. 

Logan walked with him down to the registrar's office and it ended up being an easy fix. Virgil walked out while rolling his eyes. 

“I can’t believe that gave me a panic attack. Shit, I’ve had panic attacks over some dumb things, but… wow.” 

Logan laughed. “It’s a… big day. Don’t worry about it. I, uh… I had a couple today, too.” 

“Well, panic attacks make me hungry. Do you want to go grab something to eat?” 

Logan nodded. “Sure.” 

They stopped outside their dorm building. Virgil texted for a moment, then said, “I have a car we can borrow. Come on.” 

They found a silver truck in the Junior’s parking lot. Virgil pulled the keys out of his pocket. “It’s my brother’s,” he said. “I’ve got a spare key.” 

“Your brother sounds cool.” Logan climbed into the passenger side. 

It was a very tall truck. His face heated up as he struggled a little to get inside. 

“He’s an asshole,” Virgil laughed. “What do you want to eat?” 

“Uh—” Logan’s mind blanked. “Um… I don’t— I don’t know, what do you want?” 

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Um… Okay, well, I know a Chinese place close by that’s good. We can grab one to bring back?” 

Logan nodded and relaxed into his seat. “Yeah. That’s good.” 

Virgil pulled out of the parking lot. They took their food to go, Logan managing to find a kosher option fairly easily, and ate while flipping through Netflix. They found a show they’d both been wanting to watch and got stuck on it easily. They ended up watching the entire first season, only stopping to break open Virgil’s collection of snacks.  

Logan went to bed that night, later than he ever had, feeling better than he ever had. 

xxx 

“Hey, I’m going to see my brother. Want to come?” 

Logan looked up from his homework in surprise. “Um… sure?” 

Virgil had been acting weird lately. He invited him to go somewhere or do something every day. If Logan showed the slightest bit of hesitation, he backed off, but there he was again the next day. If Logan did hesitate, Virgil wouldn’t let him go back on it. Logan didn’t understand it. 

He’d also started acting more nervous around Logan. Less sure of himself. Logan worried he did something. But if he did, there’s no way Virgil would want him to meet his brother, would he? 

He settled his homework neatly back inside his binder and checked a few things off his planner before grabbing his phone and wallet. He followed Virgil outside, where the streetlights glowed warmly against the dark sky, and across the courtyard. The Junior dorm buildings looked identical to the Freshmen’s, only a bit bigger. Inside, their lobby was much more taken care of, and looked more like a gameroom than anything. Groups of students sat with decks of cards, at vending machines, at pool tables. Instead of heading up to the dorms, Virgil led Logan to a small group of kids settled in bean bag chairs. 

A boy with striking similarities to Virgil— all angles and bones, the same gray eyes —sat with another boy, covered in freckles, settled in his lap. 

“Hey, Jan. Hey, Patton.” Virgil placed a light hand on Logan’s shoulder. The touch burned through his shirt, and Logan nearly sucked in a breath. “This is Logan, he’s my roommate.” 

“Wow, you’re getting along with your roommate?” Janus asked in surprise. “I guess I owe Patton ten bucks.” 

“You do not!” Patton rolled his eyes with a smile. “We did not make a bet, Virgil. He’s doing his thing.” 

“I know,” Virgil laughed. 

He pulled the last free bean bag chair towards them and yanked Logan down with him. Their sides pressed together, the bag molding them against each other, Logan couldn’t breathe. He managed to settle himself on the edge of the chair. His side was cold as ice, his heart racing. Virgil gave him a weird look before shoving it off and looking back to Janus. 

Logan thought briefly when the last time he had a hug was. Surely not that long ago, right? Parents hugged their children all the time. But he couldn’t quite recall. If he’d been hugged recently, would he still have the strong urge to reach out and feel Virgil’s hair? To take his hand and trace Virgil’s fingers? To feel Virgil’s palm against his face? 

Logan’s face flushed. Stop acting creepy. 

“What are we playing?” Virgil asked. 

Virgil helped him through the card game. It became obvious towards the third round that Janus was cheating, mostly because Patton scolded him loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Wait, he’s been cheating?” Virgil threw his cards down dramatically. “You bitch!” 

Janus laughed as Virgil kicked the cards at him. Logan tensed. 

“Stop fighting!” Patton sighed, but he was smiling. Why was he smiling? He batted his eyelashes at Janus. “Baby, buy me a snack?” 

Janus picked Patton up, stood, then tossed Patton into the bean bag chair. He squealed. 

“Don’t use that voice on me.” Janus leaned down and kissed him softly. “Totally unfair.” 

“Oh, is it?” 

They mumbled together for a moment between kisses. Logan was certain his face had never been so red. Virgil picked up a card and flung it at them. 

“Gross! I don’t want to see my brother make out with anyone!” 

Janus snorted as he pulled away and found his wallet. “That’s just because you’ve never made out with anyone.” 

Virgil’s ears turned red. “That’s not true! Gah!” 

Janus left to the vending machine, and Patton relaxed into the chair with a wide grin. “So Logan, what are you studying?” 

“Physics,” he mumbled. “Are you two okay?” 

Virgil looked at him in surprise. “Me and Janus?” 

Logan nodded. 

“Uh, yeah? Why?” 

“You guys were fighting?” 

Patton giggled while Virgil raised an eyebrow. “We weren’t fighting, we were joking. You don’t have brothers?” 

“No, I have one. He’s two years older than me.” 

“Alright… what’s his name? Maybe Janus knows him.” 

“He doesn’t go to this school.” Logan found his fidget cube in his pocket and rolled his thumb around the metal ball. “He’s at a college in our hometown.” 

“You moved away for college?” Patton asked in surprise. 

“What’s going on?” Janus dropped into Patton’s lap and pressed several packets of gummies into his palm with a kiss to his cheek. 

“Logan went to college out of state to get away from his brother,” Virgil said. 

Logan’s eyes widened. “That’s not true!” 

Virgil bumped their shoulders together. 

“If Virgil tried going to college out of state without a good reason, I’d kill him.” Janus pulled Patton closer. “Seriously. I’d be worried out of my mind.” 

“You don’t…” Logan hated to confirm Virgil’s suspicion, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “you don’t need, like, a break?” 

Everyone stared at him. 

“No,” Janus said flatly. “No, I actually love my brother.” 

“Gross,” Virgil mumbled, but his ears were red again. 

“I love my brother,” Logan insisted. 

“Oh, we don’t doubt that.” 

“I just— I don’t know. You guys were fighting yesterday morning, too.” 

Virgil stared at him in confusion, until it clicked. He laughed. “You mean when I was on the phone? Lo, he called me a coffee gremlin so I told him to fuck off. It wasn’t a fight. We were just messing with each other.” 

Heat steadily climbed up Logan’s neck. He closed his hand around his cube until it hurt. He wanted to curl in on himself, escape the conversation, and never see any of them again. 

“What the hell does your brother call you?” Janus asked. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Logan said weakly. “We’re just— we’re not as close as you, I guess.” 

“Logan, it’s okay,” Patton said softly, face pinched with worry. “You can talk about it. No one’s here to judge you, we’re not trying to force you to be grateful for your family or anything.” 

Janus squeezed Patton’s shoulder. “Yeah, we know about shitty families, if that’s what this is.”

“And that’s the vibe I’m getting,” Virgil added. “The shit Janus calls me doesn’t bother me. I tell him if he says something fucked up. What does your brother do?” 

“I— I don’t know, I don’t know.” Logan pushed his sweaty palms against his jeans. “He just… gets mad sometimes. You know?”

“No,” Virgil said flatly. “What does he do when he’s mad?” 

“He just… gets mad.” Logan’s voice trembled. He didn’t know how to get out of this. He made a big deal out of it, something that so clearly wasn’t a big deal, and now he was just stuck. “I guess he, I don’t know, he calls me selfish sometimes.” 

“Like when?” Patton asked. He’d leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees, brows knitted. 

Logan stuttered through a few stories off the top of his head. He’d tried to tell them in a casual way, insist that it wasn’t a big deal and he was fine, but everyone was so… concerned. Virgil’s fists clenched around his hoodie, Janus’ eyes narrowed. Logan ducked his head. He was shaking. 

He scrambled to his feet. “I’m sorry, I think I— I think I need to go.” 

“Logan,” Virgil sighed. “We can stop talking about it, but come on. You can’t like the way he treats you.” 

“Does it matter?” 

Everyone paused. Logan pressed a hand to his forehead. 

“No,” Janus’ voice dripped with sarcasm, “of course not. People can just do whatever they want to you with no consequences.” He waved his hand. “Who cares, right?” 

Logan froze up. His muscles were pulled taut, eyes squeezed shut, his body wilting like a dead flower. 

“Janus,” Patton scolded. 

He sighed. “Sorry. Look, of course it matters. Come on, sit down. Everything is fine.” 

Logan didn’t believe that. But he sat anyway. He answered their questions. He explained everything as honestly as he could. 

Part of him wanted to defend J., to insist that it really wasn’t that bad and J. loved him. But Logan wasn’t sure if J. did love him. He’d heard how Virgil talked about Janus, and there wasn’t a doubt in Logan’s mind that J. would never talk about him that way. He’d seen how Janus looked at Virgil, sometimes angry but usually in a protective way. It wasn’t like anything Logan had seen from J. 

Hearing them throw around the words ‘abusive,’ ‘manipulative,’ and even ‘gaslighting,’ was hard. Logan jammed the joystick on his fidget cube around so much he almost broke it, bouncing his leg up and down, eventually having to get up and pace. He kept waiting for the snapping, for everyone to tell him how annoying he was being and that he needed to sit and be quiet. They didn’t. 

It was almost uncomfortable. 

The conversation eventually moved— Logan was simultaneously relieved and disappointed —but everyone looked at him different after that. Before Virgil and Logan went back to their room, Patton offered a hug. Logan hesitated, and was about to step into Patton’s arms, when Virgil grabbed his shoulder— just long enough to make him pause. 

“You don’t have to say yes,” he said flatly. 

Patton’s eyes widened. “Oh, gosh! Right! Of course not. Sorry, Logan.”

Logan cleared his throat. “It’s okay.” 

On the walk back, Virgil said, “We’re going to have to work on that.” 

Logan shoved his hands in his pockets. With Fall kicking in full force, it was freezing outside at night, their breath coming out as fog. 

“Work on what?” He mumbled. His body was heavy, eyes lidded. 

“Your whole people pleaser bullshit. You don’t have to say yes to everything. It’s okay to not want to do something.” 

Logan swallowed. He shrugged. 

Virgil stepped in front of Logan and crossed his arms. “We need to set some boundaries, or else I can’t be friends with you. I’m not going to hurt you because you won’t communicate. I won’t be like J.” Virgil stared for a moment, eyes swiping over Logan’s face. His eyes softened. “I won’t be mad. You’re just going to have to trust me on that.” 

“I don’t…” Logan’s heart thumped in his ears. He pressed his thumb against the buttons of his cube. “I don’t really… I don’t know how to handle being touched.” 

Virgil’s eyebrows raised. “Oh? I mean, okay. So don’t touch you, then?” 

“Maybe, just… I don’t know, not that often?” Logan bounced on the balls of his feet. The cold had wormed its way into his bones, and he felt like if he didn’t move he’d either go crazy or freeze to death. 

“Come on, let’s get inside.” Virgil nodded towards the door. 

They didn’t talk until they were settled into their beds and the lights were off. 

“Thanks for telling me,” Virgil said. “I’ll talk to the others, too. You can always reach out if you want.” 

Logan’s eyes watered. He was grateful for the dark. “Yeah,” he whispered. 

“Goodnight, Lo.” 

“Goodnight, Virgil.” 

xxx 

Virgil and Logan laid on their stomachs, on the floor. Notebooks and textbooks were spread out in front of them, covered in highlighter and pen. 

It was a few months after Logan had confessed about J., and a few things were becoming apparent. 1) Virgil was not giving up on him. Neither were Janus or Patton. 

2) J. probably, almost definitely, did not love Logan. 

Every day it was becoming more and more clear. 

Logan had never been treated the way Virgil and his friends treated him. Sometimes they argued, sometimes Logan was so frustrated and confused he wanted to cry, but they never made him feel like he wasn’t important. Every fight was important. And for the first time, he was able to move on from them. Even when things weren’t quite resolved, even when there was still more to talk about— that didn’t stop Virgil from inviting him out to dinner, from joining him to study, for putting on a bad horror movie. 

“Alright,” Virgil sighed, pushing the textbook away and burying his face in his arms. His voice came out muffled, “if I look at American History anymore I’m going to die. What next?”

“Uh…” Logan cleared his throat and looked at their stack of remaining textbooks. 

Semester finals were coming up in the next month and Logan was severely behind in Calculus. 

“I don’t— I don’t know, what do you want to do next?” 

Virgil picked his head up sluggishly. He blinked at Logan for a second, hair mussed, wrinkles under his eyes. He grabbed their stack of textbooks and dragged it closer. 

He hummed as he looked through it, then pulled the Calculus and Economics textbooks. He shoved the others away. “Which one?” 

“Um…”

“Come on, I’m good with either. Which one?” 

Logan hesitated, then pushed away the Economics book. 

“Cool.” Virgil flipped the textbook open. “Come on, I want to get this done.” 

Logan flushed. He scrambled to find his notebook and flashcards, struggling to focus. A sturdy feeling of control settled over Logan’s bones, something he didn’t think he’d ever felt before. 

xxx 

“Almost ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah, just let me—” 

Logan yanked the blanket down his bed, then pushed aside his pillow. He relaxed and snatched his fidget cube, shoving it in his pocket. 

“Okay.” He straightened up. “I’m ready. Let’s go.” 

They left their dorm and headed downstairs. They’d planned to meet Janus and Patton in the parking lot so they could all go to this arcade nearby. Janus had jokingly (jokingly?) called it a double date. 

“Yeah, there’s this zombie game you’d really like,” Virgil rambled as they stepped outside. He immediately tensed against the cold and stepped closer to Logan. Logan shuffled against him, their shared body heat negligible. 

The parking lot appeared ahead and Logan stopped. 

“Lo?” Virgil frowned. “What’s up?” 

got out of his car and grinned as his eyes landed on Logan. He waved. 

“Um…” Shit. “I— I don’t know, uh—” 

“Logan!” 

Virgil looked over his shoulder as J. headed towards them. His face darkened. “Is that J.?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Hey!” J. stopped in front of them and grinned. “Surprise. Come on, let’s go grab dinner. Who’s this?” 

“Virgil.” Logan stepped closer. “My roommate, remember?” 

“Oh, yeah. Well anyway, let’s go.”

“Actually,” Virgil said in annoyance, “we had plans. Maybe you can call ahead next time.” 

quirked an eyebrow. Logan’s blood ran cold as J.’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll have to reschedule. He’s my little brother, I’m sure you can find someone else to drag along.” 

Virgil scoffed and glanced back at Logan, then stopped. “You’re not really considering this, are you?” 

Logan looked between them, helpless. He was terrified of upsetting either of them, but there was no way to please both of them. 

“I— I don’t know. J., we had plans,” he said quietly. 

“You can reschedule.” J. grabbed Logan’s arm and pulled him closer. “I haven’t seen you in forever, don’t be selfish.” 

“You don’t have to do what he wants,” Virgil insisted. His eyes were on J., face scrunched in a glower. 

“What’s up with you?” J. asked in frustration. “You’re acting like it’s a crime to take my little brother to dinner. Just lay off, will you?” 

He stormed away, dragging Logan behind him. Virgil huffed. His footsteps echoed away. 

Please don’t be mad. 

Logan forced himself through dinner. The entire night crawled by, full of passive aggressive comments and insults Logan had forgotten how much he hated. He didn’t understand why J. came all the way down here just to ridicule him. Couldn’t he do that over text like he usually did? Didn’t he catch on to why Logan stopped answering? 

After J. drove him back to campus, way after nightfall, he grabbed Logan’s arm before he could escape. “We need to talk.” 

Logan shoved his hand in his pocket. He flicked the switch, over and over, click-click-click— 

“Will you stop playing with that fuckin’ toy? I’m being serious.”

“It calms me down,” Logan mumbled, pulling his hand out. “Sorry.” 

“I don’t like Virgil,” he said flatly. “I don’t like how he treats you and honestly he’s fucking rude. You’ve been pulling away. Mom and Dad haven’t heard from you in months. I haven’t heard from you in longer. That’s not fair to us just because you have this new friend.” 

Logan stared. What the hell was he supposed to say? I like how Virgil treats me a whole fuckton more than you do. He couldn’t say that. Even if he wanted to, which he wasn’t sure he did. 

“I’ll talk to him about it,” he lied. 

“Talk to—” J. barked a laugh, “no, ask for a new roommate. I don’t want you talking to him at all anymore, okay?” 

Logan swallowed. “He’s my best friend.” 

“That’s a problem. He’s not good for you.” 

He pulled on the door handle a few times. “Can I go? I get it, I’m sorry.” 

“You clearly don’t get it. If you did—”

Logan pulled on the handle a few more times as J. droned on. His body was lighter, his head foggy. He could see himself tugging, tugging, could watch J. getting angrier and barely made out his mouth forming the words ‘stop with the fucking door.’ 

Then he was outside. 

peeled out of the parking lot, tired squeaking over the pavement, and Logan hurried to his dorm. 

Virgil paused the T.V. as Logan got inside. He panted, chest heaving. Did he run? He didn’t remember. 

“Logan?” Virgil stood. “Hey, what’s going on? What’d he do? Did he say something?” He hurried over. 

Logan stumbled through the story. Virgil’s glare deepened with each word, and every time Logan tried to make it better, Virgil just got angrier. 

“Stop apologizing,” he snapped. “Come here, you need to sit down.” 

He held out his hand, and Logan hesitated, before taking it. As Virgil led him to the bed, Logan focused on the texture— soft and cold. The pad of Virgil’s thumb was pressed against Logan’s palm. He craved more and he wanted to rip his hand away. 

Virgil sat Logan down, then took his back back and knelt down. “Where’s your cube?”

Logan shook his head. 

Virgil glared. “Did he take it?” 

“No! I just— I don’t need it.” 

“You clearly do. Come on, have I ever made fun of you for that?” 

Logan hesitated, then fumbled to get it out. Click-click-click. Click-clack-click-click. 

“Come on, follow my breathing. It’s okay. We’re going to figure this out. You don’t need him. It’s alright.”

Virgil slowly got Logan back in his body. His breathing became his again, and he was reminded of where he was. He gripped the covers, rubbing his fingers over the plush. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed. He still panted a little, his head light. 

“Sit here. I’m gonna grab some water.” 

Virgil came back and sat next to him. He handed Logan the water, who gulped it down. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. Virgil took the glass back, their fingers brushing, and set it on the desk. 

“I don’t think you should talk to him anymore.” 

Logan flinched. 

“I know. I know it’s confusing. It’s your decision. If you want to stay in contact with him for a little longer, I’m not going to hold that against you.”

Logan looked up in surprise. “What? But you want—”

“It’s not my life. I think he’s an asshole and I don’t think he deserves you, but I’m not going to make choices for you. Not these.” 

Logan’s eyes watered. He looked away. 

Virgil sighed. “You don’t have to do that. I won’t make fun of you.” 

He buried his face in his hands as his body shook. 

Virgil cleared his throat. “Usually when Patton cries, he wants hugs, I don’t… um… what do you need?” 

“What?” Logan’s voice cracked, and Virgil repeated himself. “A blanket?” 

Virgil reached around and pulled the blanket around Logan’s shoulders. He whispered “One second,” and rushed over to his bed. He dragged his weighted blanket over and settled that around Logan’s shoulders, too. 

Logan got his tears out while Virgil refilled his water. He took it with clammy hands, wiping his nose. “Thank you,” he mumbled. 

“You should get some sleep.” 

Logan nodded. He started to take off the weighted blanket, but Virgil held his hand up. “It’s alright. Keep it tonight.” 

Logan hesitated. “Are you sure?” 

“Wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.” 

He swallowed. “Thank you. I— thank you.” 

Virgil smiled awkwardly. “Get some sleep.” 

Logan settled into bed as Virgil turned the lights off. He brought the weighted blanket up to his nose, eyelids fluttering closed. It smelled like Virgil. It was warm. 

Logan was safe. 

xxx 

Over the rest of the school year, Logan slowly worked at cutting off his parents and J. Virgil helped him, even through the hiccups. There was a moment Logan thought he could fix things, that he and J. could reconcile— then J. gaslit him and Logan almost switched colleges. Virgil made it clear what J. was doing, and Logan hadn’t spoken to J. since. 

The two eventually agreed to get an apartment together after college. Logan got a part time job to keep his mind busy, and he barely had any free time between that and the studying, but he spent most of it with Virgil. 

“And how satisfied were you with your roommate this year?” The registrar asked as Logan sat in the oversized armchair. 

“Um, he was good. I liked my roommate.” 

“Would you like to continue rooming with him next year?” 

She barely finished speaking before Logan blurted out a ‘yes.’ She laughed and noted it down. Logan met Virgil outside afterwards, and they headed towards the Junior parking lot. 

“You said yes to rooming next year, right?” Virgil asked. 

Logan nodded. “Yeah. You?” 

“Nah, didn’t feel like it.” He smiled. “‘Course I did. You can’t get rid of me.” 

Logan laughed. “What do you want to eat?” 

“I think I’m gonna force Janus to buy me a pizza.” 

He wrinkled his nose. 

Virgil snorted. “What, you don’t want pizza?” 

“That pizzeria you like is disgusting.” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Come on, we eat there too much. Can’t we get something else?” 

Virgil pretended to think about it for a moment, before rolling his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. You can pick this time. I’ll tell Janus and Patton to deal with it.” 

Logan grinned. They made it to the parking lot and piled into Janus’ truck. Logan told them what they were eating for dinner, and as Janus headed that way, Virgil nudged Logan with his elbow. 

“I’m proud of you,” he murmured. 

Patton had turned the radio on. Pop music blared through the speakers, but Logan could hear perfectly with Virgil’s mouth close to his ear. Not enough to touch. Just close. 

Logan flushed. “For what?” 

“You’ve come a long way this year.” 

“But I still—”

“Shh. Not focusing on that right now. I’m proud of you.”

Logan’s stomach filled with butterflies. Virgil pulled away with a grin, then yelled something at Janus, who flicked him off. 

Logan settled back with a smile. 

reblogs > likes 

Here’s my commission info! You can do a whole fic like this if you’d like but there’s also super cheap ficlets and drabbles, so if you like this, maybe consider throwing me a few bucks :D 

[once-more-just-vibing]

I’m gonna rewrite the IBVS fic ‘cuz I no longer vibe with it

Same thing as the other but hopefully less ooc

IBVS is by @onebizarrekai

"What's up with him?"

The rain fell in droves, soaking him to the bone almost instantly. But that wasn't his main concern at the moment.

"He's been acting weird for weeks."

He couldn't afford to stop and catch his breath, he just needed to keep running.

Running.

Running.

R͙̜̱̈́u̬͚ͯͭͥ̀n̜͕̤͖͑́͛̚͜n̳̖̯̖͊͢ͅi͓̮̖̹̲̜͈̤ͧ̿̋͜ň̴̳̠̱͙̂g͔̺͉̭̗͖͍̏̄ͭ͗̀

"I hope he's OK."

Then the worst happened, he slipped and went sprawling into the pavement. After the shock wore off, he tried to scramble to his feet before he was caught by-

"Hello there Quinton."

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

"Chris, I know you mean well, but I'm not helping." Isaac said, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"C'mon, Isaac!" Chris responded, his own lunch forgotten, "You won't even try?"

The artist sighed, "Look, I get what you're saying and I'm glad you've got this heart of pure gold, but I'm. Not. Helping."

"Alright, I get it, you and Ed don't have the best relationship, but still! Besides, he's trying to get better too!"

Isaac hesitated for a moment, "Fine, I'll admit that he's more... Tolerable nowadays. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna' go sticking my nose in his business. Even if he wanted someone to bother him there's still the issue of-" he waved his hands for emphasis, "Neither of us like each other."

Chris huffed in annoyance, "Fine, I'll go figure it out myself."

"Good luck with that!" Isaac called after him as Chris left.

Chris had just walked through the door when he was tapped on the shoulder. He jolted and turned to see who did it, relaxing slightly when he saw that it was someone he didn’t know.

He looked at the other student in confusion, “Do I know you?”

The other student just shook his head, “No, sorry, I forget not everyone knows me sometimes.” he stuck out his hand, “Name’s Barry, I’m Edward’s friend.”

After a moment of hesitation, Chris reached out and shook his hand, “Alright, what did you need?”

"I believe you've noticed that something's up with Ed too." He said, his face unreadable.

"How did you know?" Chris asked, beginning to feel slightly nervous.

Barry just gave him a friendly smile, "Call it a hunch. Now, I assume I'm correct?"

Chris nodded slowly, "Yeah... What's it mean to you?"

"Well, I care about my best friend for one. There's also the fact that very little goes on in this school without me knowing so when there is, I like to know what I didn't before. No c'mon, we've got a lot of figuring out to do."

Chris didn't have a chance to speak before Barry was pulling him down the hall towards who know where.

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

Meanwhile, on the other side of the school, the answers Barry and Chris were looking for were revealing themselves.

"I-I haven't t-touched Drew!" Edward stuttered, backtracking quickly, "J-just leave me alone!"

"Don't treat me like I'm stupid," Nevin sneered, "I saw you two together. Now get over here."

"I-I... I'll do anything!" Edward pleaded, "I'll n-never even LOOK at him again!"

Nevin just stepped forward, "I warned you Quinton..." 

"P-please." He whispered, freezing as he hit the wall.

He was trapped.

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

Chris jumped as Barry slammed his hands on the table, "OK, what do we know?"

After recovering from the shock, Chris hesitantly responded, "I... Guess he's been avoiding people more often? I don't know, you probably noticed more."

Barry nodded, "That's the most noticeable change. Even his little gang hasn't seen much of him outside of class."

This was new to Chris, "Wait, not even they know what's up? I thought he told them everything."

Barry shook his head, "If he didn't tell me, he wouldn't tell anyone."

"I feel like there's more between you two than just being friends."

"I'll tell you later." Barry responded dismissively, "Now, back to what we know. So no one has seen him much which implies that he's avoiding people."

"The question is why."

Barry nodded, "And unfortunately, that's something I can't figure out."

"Do you know any reasons why he wouldn't want to be around people?"

"No, not really. He's always been very social so I don't understand why he wouldn't be around others even if something was bugging him."

Chris sighed, "Then we're back at square one."

They sat in silence for a while, both of them feeling frustrated and somewhat defeated. If they couldn't figure out what was wrong they couldn't do anything to help. And it wasn't like they could just ask since Edward wasn't really known for being an open book.

"I wish this was as easy as movies made it look." Chris muttered, "I wish this was like some detective movie or something where there's a clue or sign just magically seems to appear."

And of course at that moment, the universe decided that Chris had gone thre enough already and granted his wish.

The door burst open, causing Chris and Barry to jump in surprise. The door slammed again and they could hear the sound of something thudding against the cabinets in the kitchen. 

They shared a worried look before Barry stood up, "Who's there?"

There was a quiet mumble from the kitchen that neither of them could decipher.

Chris stood up next, "Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?"

There was no response this time and after sharing a wary look, the two teens crept towards the kitchen. At first, it looked like no one was there, but once they rounded the corner they saw the intruder. Sitting on the floor, knees tucked up in a defensive position, sat the very person they'd been talking about.

"Ed...?" Barry whispered.

"Go away." Edward rasped, seeming to draw even further into himself.

"Well," Chris said, a look of confusion on his face, "I think we've got even more questions to answer now."

---------

It took them about half an hour to get Edward to leave the kitchen, and even then. he refused to be near them or say anything. Barry eventually gave up on getting Ed to talk after another half hour of fruitless attempts. 

He sat down at the table with a groan, "Y'know, Ed's a good guy, but there are times where he is extremely frustrating. This is one of them."

Chris chuckled quietly and glanced out the window, "Oh geez, I didn't notice how dark it got. I wonder if my dad's wondering where I am yet."

Barry looked surprised, "Oh my gosh! You it's never told your parents!" he stood up and walked off, "I should tell Ed's mom he's spending the night."

Chris stood up after him, "Well, good luck with that. I gotta' head home before I get in more trouble than I'm definitely already in."

Barry nodded, "Alright, good luck to you too."

They waved goodbye to each other and Barry watched the other walk off until the last trace of color disappeared into the night. He shook his head, turning back to his phone as he pulled up Edward's mom's contact. Most people would consider it weird that he has the number of his best friend's mom but it made sense to him. After Ed had developed the habit of accidentally falling asleep at Barry's house, he just decided to help out and message Ed's mom for him. 

Speaking of which.

Edward had finally fallen asleep, slumped over with his knees still pressed to his chest. 

Barry sighed, "Wish you weren't so stubborn and let people help you..."

He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a towel, and returned to sit next to his friend. After moving Edward's arms away from his face, Barry began wiping off the tear stains. Shockingly, the jock didn't wake up, only shifting slightly. After carefully removing the other's jacket, Barry grabbed one of the blankets and practically tucked Edward in. And after a moments hesitation, he leaned down and gave his friend a soft kiss on the forehead and turned off the lights, finally heading off to get some sleep.

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

Thankfully, it was finally the weekend, meaning Barry didn't need to fight Ed to keep him home. Chris came over again, saying he wanted to help just as much as Barry did. It took an hour or so and lots of prying for Edward to finally open up. And when he did, the story he told definitely shocked the other two.

"I'll t-talk now." He mumbled.

Barry and Chris instantly started questioning him.

"What happened?"

"Are you OK?"

"Did someone do this to you?"

"How can we help?"

At this, Edward instantly shrank back into the blanket covering him, wide eyed and shaking slightly. The other two backed off upon seeing his reaction, giving him a minute to collect himself.

"Maybe don't do that next time." Was all he said, still tense but doing better.

Chris rubbed the back of his neck, visibly embarrassed, "Yeah, probably wasn't my smartest moment."

That got an annoyed scoff out of the other that caused Chris to perk up. 

Barry spoke up after a second, "Could you tell us what happened now?"

Ed flinched again, obviously not liking the conversation, "I... Guess..." he took a breath, steeling himself for the coming conversation, and finally spoke. "It started a couple weeks ago. Stupid-" His face scrunched up in disgust, "Stupid fuckin'... Emo kid said something 'bout me messing with his brother. Of course I wasn't 'cuz even if I was like, violent all the time, I'm not gonna' beat up a kid on crutches. That's just sick. But yeah, the asshole kept catching me after school and just pummeling me. I tried to fight back a couple times but that didn't work so I just tried avoiding him. That didn't work either so I just started avoiding people altogether. Didn't help that after the first few times any sort of contact freaked me out. But yeah, that's basically it."

Chris and Barry just sat there and stared at him, completely at a loss for words. Edward looked unnerved by the sudden attention, once again shrinking back into himself.

Chris snapped out of it first, "S-sorry, we didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. We're just... Surprised, I guess."

Edward raised an eyebrow, "Really? He already hated me, this shouldn't be too surprising."

Barry was still in a state of shock, just staring at his friend with a mixture of concern and anger.

Chris suddenly stood up, "That's it. I need to talk with him."

Edward looked panicked, "No way! He'll crush you!"

This didn't stop Chris who just continued towards the door, "I don't care, he's not getting away with this." and with that, the door shut and the house was silent.

Barry sighed, standing up, "I hope he doesn't get himself into too much trouble..."

Edward just kept staring at the door as if he was expecting Chris to walk back through at any moment. 

Barry noticed this and sat down next to his friend (Not close enough to touch mind you), “Hey, I’m sure he’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry so much.”

Edward scoffed, trying to mask his embarrassment, “I’m not worrying! I’m just... Waiting for him to come back and tell me about how he whooped Nightmare’s ass! Yeah!” he grinned, I’m so smooth.

Barry just chuckled, leaning back into the couch, “Whatever you say buddy. Want to watch something?”

“Sure, what are you thinking?” The jock responded and instinctively glanced at the TV as it flickered on.

“We could just see what’s on. That is unless you were thinking of something specific.”

“Nah, whatever is fine.”

And just like that, Edward quickly forgot about his worries in favor of intently watching the show that came on and criticizing the acting. Barry was glad he managed to take the other’s mind off of Chris, but now it was his turn to be worried.

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

Chris rapped on the door of the Jovel house, having to keep himself from just busting it down and scouring the place for any sign of Nevin. After a bit of shuffling from inside, the door opened, revealing none other than the emo disaster himself.

He gave Chris a bored look, “You want something?”

Needless to say, the urge to punt the boy in front of him increased.

Chris took a deep breath, reminded himself that other people might see him pummel what appeared to be an emo 12 year old (Height wise), and forced a fake smile.

“Hey Nevin,” He said, his voice slightly strained, “mind coming outside so we can talk?”

After surveying his tall friend for a moment, Nevin shrugged, stepping onto the porch and shutting the door, “I don’t see why not.”

“Cool.” Chris responded simply, turning to walk down the stairs when he was pushed down.

He quickly scrambled to his feet and spun around, a short knife resembling a blood red dagger appearing out of nowhere in his hand. Nevin was still standing on the porch, a smug smirk on his face.

“You really thought I was stupid enough to fall for that?” He sneered, “You weren’t even trying to pretend like this was just gonna’ be a normal conversation.”

Chris grit his teeth, “Kinda’ hard to play nice when you learn that your friend is secretly an asshole who beats up people who didn’t even do anything.”

Nevin scowled, stepping down the stairs, “Quinton has done more than enough to deserve what I did. I even warned him.”

Chris glared at him. This is going nowhere. Guess we’re doing this the hard way. Nevin suddenly jumped forward, snapping the other out of his thoughts. Chris managed to step out of the way right as Nevin swiped at the air where he had been moments before. Black crystal like structures had formed at the tips of the dark haired boy’s fingers, effectively forming crude claws. He made another swipe and Chris barely managed to block it with the flat of his knife. 

Nevin hissed, shaking his hand lightly before glaring at Chris, “I thought you were on my side Chris! Not that pompous bastard’s!”

Chris took the opportunity to go on the offensive, “That changed when you started being a jerk!” he grunted, making several slashes and stabs at his opponent.

Nevin quickly moved out of the way, “Then I hope you’re prepared for what you got yourself into!” he tried to grab the knife but cried out, an audible sizzle coming from the black liquid now coating his hands, “You little-”

Chris allowed himself a triumphant grin as Nevin reeled, holding his burned hand. His smile quickly faded however as the flow of black liquid just increased, the previously dull cyan glint in the shorter boy’s eye doubling in intensity. The liquid seemed to have a mind of its own, moving and bubbling with frantic intensity. Chris began to move back, starting to wonder why he thought this was a good idea as his once-friend gave him a hate filled glare slightly obscured by the black sludge.

“Now you really fucked up.” Nevin growled, flinging some of the sludge off his hands and exposing the now lengthened claws.

Chris swallowed, gripping his knife tightly as he willed it to grow. Oh shit. Was all he thought as the two stared each other down. Then, Nevin lunged, restarting the fight.

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

The show had been long forgotten and been reduced to background noise. Edward was splayed out on the couch, having taken it for himself in his sleep. Barry switched to one of the armchairs and was absentmindedly petting a random cat that had crawled into his lap. 

The relative quiet wasn’t meant to last though. 

The door burst open, startling the cat which caused it to leap off of Barry and dart off into the kitchen. As the boy was beginning to stand up to see who had barged in, his surprise guest stumbled into the living room.

“Chris?!” Barry said in shock.

The boy in question was covered in dirt, grime, and some unidentifiable black sludge with several leaves stuck to it. He had numerous bruises and scrapes along with a slight limp. All in all, he was a mess.

“Heya Barry.” Chris mumbled.

Barry immediately snapped out of his shock, “Holy- Chris go take a shower right now, you need to get all that gunk off. I’m gonna go get some bandages and anti-bacterial spray.”

Chris stood there for a moment, looking completely out of it, before nodding slowly and limping up the stairs. After a minute, the faint sound of falling water came from the upstairs bathroom. Somehow, this was more jarring than the door slamming open and woke Edward up.

“Barry...?” He called, his voice slightly hoarse.

“In here Ed!” Barry responded, eventually returning from one of the many closets with an armful of medical supplies.

Edward, who was still tired and groggy, just stared at his friend for a moment, “What’s all that for? I already told you I don’t need anything.”

“It’s for Chris.” Barry said, “He just got back. He was covered in dirt and all sorts of muck so I told him to take a shower before anything. I’m waiting for him to come back so I can patch him up.”

This obviously didn’t sit right with the school king, “He’s hurt?! What happened?”

“I don’t know but I’m assuming it’s Nevin’s fault.”

Edward scowled but before he could say anything, the water stopped and a voice came from the bathroom.

“Hey Barry!” Chris shouted, “I uh... I don’t have any extra clothes!”

Barry sighed, “Damnit, I should’ve thought of that.”

“You could give him some of my stuff I left here,” Edward suggested, “we’re close to the same size.”

“That could work.” Barry mused then called back to Chris, “Give me a minute! I’ll go get you something!”

He walked to the spare room and opened the closet, revealing Edward’s stash of spare clothes he kept there in case he slept over. After grabbing a plain T-shirt, sweatpants, and a sweater with the school emblem on it, Barry made his way up to the bathroom.

He knocked on the door, “I have some clothes that could work for you.”

After a moment Chris opened the door, only wearing a towel and looking incredibly embarrassed, “Sorry for taking your stuff, I didn’t think I’d get this messy.”

Barry waved a hand dismissively, “It’s no problem. Besides, Ed suggested I give you his spare stuff anyways so you don’t need to worry about taking my things.”

Chris only looked more embarrassed at this, “Oh my gosh, Isaac’s never going to let me live this down if he finds out.”

Barry just chuckled, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Now get dressed so I can patch you up.”

Chris nodded and took the pile of clothes, then proceeding to retreat back into the bathroom. After a minute, he came out, looking slightly flustered.

“It fits.” He mumbled, pulling at the sleeves of the sweater and avoiding eye contact.

Barry just smiled, “That’s good, now c’mon.” he grabbed the other’s hand and brought him downstairs.

At the sound of the two coming downstairs, Edward looked up from what he was doing on his phone. Upon spotting the incredibly flustered Chris, he immediately looked back down, feeling his face heat up slightly. Barry worked in silence, disinfecting and wrapping up all the scrapes and cuts Chris got from the fight. After that was done, the three sat in semi-awkward silence until Edward finally said something.

“Want to see what’s on TV?” He suggested, obviously uncomfortable with the silence.

Barry nodded, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV. After a few seconds, the screen lit up and the sound of voices and quiet music issued forth. It was some sort of Spanish drama if the music and stereotypical mustaches and sombreros were any indication. 

Right before Barry could change the channel, Edward reached out and stopped him, “No wait, this looks interesting.”

Barry gave him a confused look but just shrugged and set the remote aside. They all huddled on the couch, Edward on one end, Barry on the other, and Chris in the middle. It took a bit for them to understand what was happening since the episode was apparently in the middle of the season. Not to mention the fact that it took forever for them to figure out how to get English captions since Chris was the only one who could even sort of understand what they were saying. About an hour in, Edward and Chris were extremely invested, both of them immediately denying Barry’s request to find something actually good. An hour and a half later, the two were crying over a wedding scene.

Chris sniffled, tears streaming down his face, “S-she f-finally got her h-husbaaaand!” he trailed off into sobs.

Edward was too distraught to respond and just nodded aggressively, blowing his nose loudly. Barry just watched them, a look of concern on his face. When the villain crashed the wedding though, they became even more distraught. Chris leaned against Edward, hugging him for support as he cried. Edward noticeably flinched but after a moment, smiled slightly and awkwardly patted the other’s back.

“I-I-I c-can’t b-beli-ieve he dID THAT!” Chris sobbed, descending into distressed mumbling and tears.

Barry snorted and began laughing and so did Edward. Chris just weakly smacked Edward’s arm and tried to kick Barry, only succeeding in tapping the other with his foot.

“Y-you guys are mean.” He muttered, causing the other two to start snickering again.

It didn’t take long for him to pass out, having tired himself out with all the crying. It took Edward a bit to notice that there was now a deadweight leaning up against him.

“Uh, Barry?” He whispered, “There’s a problem.”

Barry looked over and upon noticing his friend’s predicament, he smiled, “Aww, that’s cute.”

Edward blushed slightly, sputtering something unintelligible, “No it’s not!” he hissed, “Now help me!”

Barry just grinned, “Nah, he looks comfortable.” his smile faltered after a moment though, “Are you uncomfortable? I’ll move him if this is making you uncomfortable.”

The jock hesitated then sighed, “No, I’m fine, I just need to move him a bit.”

He began shifting slightly, trying his hardest not to wake the other up. After moving so that he was laying on his back, he let Chris’s head fall onto his chest.

He glared at Barry who was smiling again, “Not a word.”

Barry held his hands up defensively, “Hey, I wasn’t gonna say anything.” he thought for a moment, “Actually, do you want to stay here or move to my room?”

Edward glanced at Chris, poked his head, and when the sleeping boy didn’t do anything, he nodded, “Yeah, the couch isn’t the most comfortable and one of us would probably roll off.”

“Alright.” Barry said, standing up, “You got him?”

As if on cue, Edward hoisted Chris up, holding him bridal style. He stumbled slightly at first but quickly regained his balance, shifting his sleeping load a bit before following Barry to the bedroom. They settled in, Chris in the middle again, and Barry turned off the light.

“Goodnight Ed.” He whispered.

“Night Barry.” Edward responded.

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

Chris woke up to a bright light shining onto his face and the sound of muffled talking and clanging. It took him a moment to register that he didn’t recognize the room he was in and another to begin panicking. 

He shot up and instantly groaned at the sudden soreness, “Aaaooooww shit-”

He looked around, trying to figure out where he was. He quickly pieced together that this must be Barry’s bedroom after remembering the events of last night. He swung his legs out of the bed (Also registering that he was still wearing Edward’s clothes) and after stretching a bit, left the room to see what was happening. He got to the bottom of the stairs and followed the noise to the kitchen. The source of the noise was Edward singing along to a random song that was playing from his phone along with Barry cooking some eggs and bacon.

“Ed I’m trying to cook-” Barry started but was cut off as Edward started singing again.

“Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah no I can't risk falling off my throne!" he sang, “La la la la la la la la love is something I don’t even know!”

Before he could stop himself, Chris slid in and started singing the next part as well, “Straight hair! Straight A’s! Straight forward, straight girl. Little Miss Perfect, that’s me!”

Edward noticed his new singing buddy and after a moment of embarrassed silence and surprise, the next verse came up and he decided to just go with it. They eventually convinced Barry to join them and they all had a sort of karaoke session before Barry finished the food. Breakfast was relatively quiet but instead of it being awkward, it was a comfortable quiet. Eventually, Chris and Edward needed to go home. Neither of them were too happy about that fact but they couldn’t just live at Barry’s house. Barry fussed over Edward for a bit, asking if he needed Barry to walk him home and if he was feeling alright. After managing to convince his friend that he was fine, Edward turned to the door.

He paused though, turning around to look at Chris, “Hey, umm...” he thought for a moment, not sure what to say, “Thanks.”

Chris just looked confused, “What for?”

Edward shrugged, “I dunno, beating up that jerk for me I guess. Figured it wasn’t right to just ignore what you did for me, so thanks.”

Chris was caught off guard, “O-oh! Oh yeah no problem, I couldn’t just let him get away with that.”

Barry jumped in, “Don’t you ‘no problem’ us, we saw what happened to you. You did more than you needed to and more.”

Chris felt his face heat up, “Oh, thank you.”

Edward patted him on the back, “No problem bud.”

After once again assuring Barry that they were both perfectly fine, Chris and Edward finally left. They waved goodbye to each other and went their separate ways, both smiling to themselves.

~~Extra~~

Chris opened the door, “Hey Isaac, come on in!”

The shorter artist walked in, glancing around, “Is your dad out?”

Chris nodded, “Yup. No need to worry about him. Now c’mon, we got a project to work on.”

Isaac groaned dramatically but followed his friend up to his room. The room was a bit messy but nothing Isaac wasn’t used to. It took them a minute to get set up and he decided to check out Chris’s room out of bored curiosity. It was pretty normal for a teenagers room, a messy desk against one of the walls, a bookshelf covered in books that were collecting dust, a sweater with the school logo on it, a couple socks on th-

Wait...

“What’s this?” He asked, picking up the sweater that had been partially hidden by a blanket. 

Chris instantly froze and began panicking, “Uh- I-it’s just some sweater I got at the beginning of the school year!”

Isaac gave him a suspicious look and then glanced at the tag on the back of the collar, “Funny, cuz right here it says ‘Edward Quinton’.” he smirked, “Now what does that mean?”

At that moment, Chris wished he could sink into the floor.

[drabbles-of-writing]

(Info Dump not so anon) Hello! I hope you’re having a good day so far! I had a couple different ideas and fun facts that I wanted to share with you and I couldn’t figure out how to fit them all in a few asks so! Hi! Full warning this is probably gonna be long and sorta a grab bag of ideas. Anyways! First fun fact that I wanted to share, purring in cats is less akin to a straight up “I love you” and more akin to a “please don’t leave” which is why they purr when they’re scared or happy, in either situation they don’t wanna be alone, for different reasons though of course, but I remembered that fact when I was scrolling through the Beta!au and was immediately gut punched by the possibilities that presented when applied to witches purring so I thought I’d share! Also adds another layer to the whole amity purring to calm herself down thing, no matter what au you’re in. Second idea! It’s for the Wing!au! So you’ve mentioned both wing hugs and wing burritos in the past, which got me thinking about other ways to cuddle or show affection with wings, which led me to the fact that Luz would absolutely try and do the fake stretch to wrap an arm around someone except, with Wings! Also, you Know that the dive bomb technique is absolutely also used for cuddle sneak attacks, because, Cuddles! Third idea! I imagine at one point in the four years au after everything has gone down, someone references the whole Necessary Needles event as a “haha lookin back on it now that was pretty tame” sorta thing when Camila is around, and, I’m just imagining her reaction to that. Anyways! I’m gonna cap it off here so it doesn’t get too long! But! Next time I’m back I won’t be on anon! I have put the anon hat aside, although I did really love the name you gave me! It is pretty accurate!

^^^

WELCOME TO THE SPOTLIGHT MY FRIEND!

Clingy Amity clingy Amity clingy Amity Now I’m imagining like. Amity n Luz cuddling n then Luz has to/starts to leave but Amity just clings to her and starts Purring Louder to get her to stay. Usually ends up working.

Bro you bring up the Arm Around The Shoulders wing trick n I’m. yes. she absolutely would. Luz has literally sneaked a wing around Amity to pull her into a sort of half-hug while talking, or just to draw her closer like how you grab someone’s hand and pull them closer to you. She’s done this plenty of times before with no problems but when she’s actually trying to flirt? Lord its a mess. She’s not subtle at all n her wings just. Can’t sit still. 

“lmao remember when Luz got high on witch drugs?” “she WHAT” Course people like Ed and Em casually bring up how they heart Luz cracked her head open, didn’t eat for three days, passed out while walking, all that bad stuff. Course Luz assured her it was only for a little while, but you can imagine her distress.

[fluffykitty1999-blog]

Dog of the Military- Chapter 5

Lots of whumph here. And a bit of medical care.

Chapter 5- Triage

They got a room on the second floor- as soon as Roy unlocked the door, Ed strode in, albeit shakily. Roy expected the first thing the boy would go for was the bed, but to his surprise, Ed opened the door to the bathroom, turning on the tap and sticking his head under the water, drinking straight from the faucet.

The kid spent a good three minutes just drinking, and Roy realized with a sinking sense of certainty that Ed obviously hadn't been given water in a long time.

"When was the last time you drank anything, Fullmetal?"

"Last night. That lady- the Lieutenant- she snuck me a mug of water."

Ed strode out of the bathroom, falling into the closest bed and letting out a long sigh.

"And the last time you ate anything?"

"Uh... a day or two?" Ed mumbled into the pillow.

Roy felt indignation burn in his chest. "Right. So you get back and Banks threw you in a cell with no food or water for two days?"

"Pretty much."

Roy wanted to kick a hole in the wall. But he didn't. Ed sounded half asleep, anyways.

"Do you have any clean clothes?"

"Back at the fort, I think."

"Right." That was out, then. Roy would have to buy the kid something to wear- the kid's shirt was basically rags anyways.

"What else did he do to you, Fullmetal?" Roy tried to keep the anger from his voice.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Roy wanted to push the issue. He really did. But he was pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door.

"Hello?" he pulled the door partially open, only to be met with the innkeeper- a rather homely looking woman- who was looking at him tentatively.

She held a plate in her hands, and a fresh loaf of brown bread was sitting on it, as well as a mug of broth. "I brought you this." Despite the fact she was talking to Roy, her eyes seemed to search the room behind him. Ed really had been a sight- shambling, bloodied as he was, through her lobby a few minutes ago.

Roy looked over the offering, nodding. "Thank you."

He stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. "Is there a doctor in this town?"

The woman nodded. "Shall I send for him?"

"That would be helpful if you could, thank you."

The woman nodded, handing him the plate of food, before she scurried back down the hall.

Roy stepped back into the room- Ed didn't make a move at the sound of his entrance- he was still sprawled out on his stomach on the bed. Roy tried to ignore the blood stains on the back of the boy's shirt.

"Wake up, Fullmetal. The innkeeper was nice enough to bring you some food."

"Hmm?" Ed lifted his head, managing to turn over in bed and carefully sitting up, tearing into the loaf of brown bread as through his life depended on it and finishing the mug of broth in a few gulps before sighing in contentment and laying back.

"We need to talk about what happened to you, Ed." Roy spoke up from where he sat on his own bed.

"Do we really, though?" Ed mumbled. "I got the information, we're going home- that's pretty much what matters."

"Colonel Banks tortured you, Ed. To try and get that information. I intend on filing an official complaint against him for the imprisonment and torture of a state alchemist. If I'm going to do that, I need details on what happened to you."

"I got back and wanted to catch a train to Central asap. Colonel Banks wasn't going to let me leave without giving him the information. That's pretty much all there is to it." Ed said simply.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Roy stood, opening it to find a doctor- a rather careworn man with thick-rimmed glasses a a black medical bag- standing outside.

"Good evening, Sir. I was told you were in need of my services?"

Roy nodded. "Thank you for coming. Come in..."

The doctor stepped inside the room, looking over to see Ed lying on the bed and nodding.

"Good evening, young man."

"Hello." Ed narrowed his eyes, looking at Mustang. "Who's this?"

"This is the local doctor. He's going to check you over- since you refuse to talk about what Banks did to you, someone needs to treat your injuries..."

"I'm fine." Ed protested.

"Then prove it. Let him look you over. Humor me here, Fullmetal."

Ed frowned.

"Let's start by taking off your shirt, if you don't mind." The doctor gave Ed a reassuring smile. He had a kind face, despite his obvious age- the man looked like he'd been in his profession for decades, and probably had several grandchildren. It was different than the sort of young, sterile lab coat clad upstarts Ed was used to in the hospital. Ed didn’t like to admit it, but the man seemed... nice. For a doctor.

Ed sighed, but obliged, unbuttoning his white shirt and shrugging it off, trying to hide his wince as he did so.

Roy hadn't been prepared for the mess of injuries beneath the boy's clothing.

Half a dozen perfect circular burns spotted the boy's left side. Ed's ribs and chest were a splattering of black and blue, violet bruises blossoming on his torso. There was a rather deep cut on the bicep of Ed's flesh arm, in addition to his black eye, swollen lip, and the cut that ran over his left eyebrow and ended just after it crossed the bridge of his nose.

As shocked as Roy was, the doctor took in the scene before him with practiced professionalism, nodding solemnly.

"I'll need to clean these wounds, young man." He pulled a jar and some gauze from his bag, quickly but carefully swabbing the cigarette burns with moist gauze, dabbing them dry, and smearing a salve onto them before he was taping a bandage over them with meticulous but gentle hands.

He moved onto the wound on Ed's arm- it was three inches long, and rather deep, and he frowned, cleaning away the blood. "This will need stitches, I'm afraid."

"I don't like needles." Ed said firmly.

The doctor nodded, withdrawing a vial from his bag. "That's perfectly understandable, son. I'm going to ask you to close your eyes- you'll feel a pinch and a burn, but only for a brief moment."

Once the doctor was sure Ed had closed his eyes, he withdrew a syringe from his bag, drawing up some of the drug in the vial and carefully injecting a small amount of either side of the cut.

Ed frowned, twitching at the sensation. "What are you doing?"

"Just preparing the wound, son." the doctor set the syringe aside, threading a needle with practiced ease and expertly beginning to suture the wound. Ed didn't flinch as the needle pierced his skin, completely unaware. Roy realized he'd numbed the boy well enough that Ed didn't even realized he was being stitched.

"You can open your eyes now, son." the doctor made sure to tuck his syringe, needle and thread back into his bag before giving the boy the instruction.

Ed opened his eyes, looking surprised to see the wound neatly sutured shut. Before he could examine it too closely, the doctor wrapped a bandage around it, nodding to Ed.

"Now that all the open wounds are taken care of, I'd like to feel your chest and abdomen- check for broken bones and such."

"Okay." Ed said, though he narrowed his eyes, looking at the doctors hands. "But if your hands are freezing I'm gonna bite you."

It was such a childish threat that Roy was stopped cold for a moment, but the doctor simply laughed. "Of course, I know- nothing less fun than cold hands and stethoscopes." he rubbed his hands together for half a minute to warm them, looking to Ed for permission. "May I, young man?"

Ed nodded, and the doctor carefully ran his hands over the boy's chest and ribs, starting at the top and working his way down. He moved with a gentle but practiced ease. Still, Ed tensed up, sucking in a breath, when the doctor came across a rather sore area. The doctor saw how Ed tensed up and stilled. "Sorry, lad. It must hurt a bit there, yeah?"

"I wasn't sure if they were bruised or broken." Ed admitted, voice barely above a whisper. The doctor nodded sympathetically, before he continued down the boy's abdomen, carefully feeling his stomach before concluding. "Mostly bruised, one broken." he confirmed. Ed gave a tired nod.

"Any other injuries that need attention?"

"His back."

Ed glowered at Roy, looking betrayed, but he gingerly elbowed his way onto his stomach anyways.

Ed's back was less serious, but still marred by 3 rather large cuts. The doctor cleaned and examined them all, before nodding. "I think the smaller two will heal nicely with just some bandages, but I'll have to suture the deepest one." the doctor nodded to the four inch cut that was rather deep.

"Just get it over with then." Ed groused. Once again, he didn't complain as the doctor skillfully numbed the wound before stitching it, daubing more salve on all the wounds before taping a gauze pad over them.

"Now then, let's see to your face."

Ed rolled onto his back, letting the doctor carefully clean the cut above his eye and dab at his smaller scratches before sitting back.

There was a knock at the door, and the doctor strode over to open it. The inn keeper stood in the doorway, a steaming cup of tea in hand. "Ah, Mrs. Berkley, just as I requested. Thank you."

He pulled a small brown bottle from his bag, putting a splash of whatever medicine was inside it into the steaming mug of tea and handing it to Ed.

"Drink up, son."

Ed took a long sip, snacking his lips and frowning, making an odd face. "Tastes weird."

The doctor laughed. "Yes, it should. It's normally a strong tea, but it tastes better than the medicine itself."

"What medicine?"

"Just something to ease any soreness you might have and help you get some rest. You should drink it all- help to relieve any pain. Especially your chest."

Ed nodded, taking another long sip and closing his eyes, appearing to relax some. By the time he was mostly through with a mug, his eyes had grown heavy, and before long, Ed was fast asleep.

The doctor smiled down at the sleeping boy, carefully plucking the mostly-empty mug from the boy's hands and setting it on the beside table.

The doctor moved to clean his glasses, nodding to Roy. "Any questions for me..." he paused, squinting at the bars on Mustang's uniform "Colonel?"

Roy nodded, looking up from Ed's sleeping form. "What did they do to him?"

"You saw the cigarette burns yourself. Several cuts from a rather sharp blade, and contusions on his chest- I assume the boy was kicked quite hard."

"Will he be alright?"

"With time, I don't see why he won't make a full recovery." the doctor conceded. "Though I don't exactly understand who would inflict such injuries upon a boy..."

"Colonel Banks, the ranking officer at Fort Goldenfield. I'll be filing an official complaint against him, there's no excuse for what he did to my subordinate." Roy's charcoal gaze flared, before he turned his serious gaze to the doctor. "Would you be willing to write a statement in regards to Ed's injuries?"

"Of course." the doctor nodded. He pulled a small amber bottle from his bag. It contained a few pills. "I've given him a dose of laundrum- he should rest well through the night. If he's uncomfortable in the morning, give him two of these every four hours."

Roy took the pills, nodding. "Thank you for helping him. What do I owe you?"

"No need to settle that now. I assume I can send the bill to your military office, as well as the statement regarding Edward's injuries, Mr...?"

"Mustang." Roy quickly stuck out his hand, and the doctor shook it. "Colonel Roy Mustang."

Roy grabbed a pen and paper and quickly wrote down the address for his office in Central, giving it to the doctor.

"Right. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Mustang. I'll prepare the documents and mail them off first thing in the morning. I can stop in to see Edward tomorrow if you'd like, as well."

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't think we'll be in the area that long. We were planning on catching the first train to Central in the morning. If you think he's well enough to travel?"

"Ah, of course. I don't see any issue with him traveling. As I said, if he's uncomfortable give him those pills."

"Thank you doctor."

"Not a problem, not a problem. My number is on the medicine bottle, feel free to call if anything changes."

The doctor quietly left, leaving Roy in the inn room as night approached with a sleeping Edward.

Roy sighed, covering the sleeping blond with a blanket and locking the door to their room, stepping into the hallway to find a pay phone.

He had some calls to make.

Obligatory ko-fi button. Do you like papa Roy’s characterization here?

https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12

[fandomsalive]

Divine Decadence

Divine Decadence | Reddie | Explicit | 5,520 words

Summary: What Eddie is not expecting to see is a photo of Richie standing in full cabaret garb, complete with thigh-high stockings and garters connecting to knee-high boots.

what do you guys think of my new outfit? :P the caption reads.

Richie’s wearing a deep blue corset, with a black, sparkly coat that falls down behind his knees, and a cute little hat that doesn’t quite fit his head. His shorts are also black, and they’re tight enough that they’re pressed right up against Richie’s crotch, the buttons framing the obvious bulge presented there. Eddie can’t drag his eyes away long enough to blink before the snap ends, and then he’s left staring at nothing while he tries to get his brain to restart.

--

To be honest I wrote this for me. I was in desperate need for a snapchat sexting fic.

Thanks as always to my best friend and beta @imnotinclinedtomaturity. 

Ao3 Link

--

Eddie’s in the middle of an essay due in his lit class tomorrow when his phone chimes with a new snapchat notification. Even before he opens it, he knows it’s going to be Richie, who spends 90% of his time in the theater taking ridiculous pictures with his castmates and fucking around backstage.

What Eddie is not expecting to see is a photo of Richie standing in full cabaret garb, complete with thigh-high stockings and garters connecting to knee-high boots.

what do you guys think of my new outfit? :P the caption reads.

Richie’s wearing a deep blue corset with a black, sparkly coat that falls down behind his knees, and a cute little hat that doesn’t quite fit his head. His shorts are also black, and they’re tight enough that they’re pressed right up against Richie’s crotch, the buttons framing the obvious bulge presented there. Eddie can’t drag his eyes away long enough to blink before the snap ends, and then he’s left staring at nothing while he tries to get his brain to restart.

What the fuck. What the actual fuck. Richie’s not even doing cabaret this semester. They’re in the middle of a production of It’s a Wonderful Life, and last Eddie checked, there wasn’t any cabaret in that play. So where the fuck did Richie find an outfit like that?

Before Eddie can really think it through, he’s typing a response.

Where the hell did you find that?

Richie doesn’t respond right away, obviously. He’s probably hamming it up for his friends backstage, too busy to check his phone, but all Eddie can think about is the way Richie’s legs looked in those stockings, and how those shorts really really left nothing to the imagination.

It isn’t the first time Eddie has looked at Richie this way, but —finals are in two weeks and Eddie’s course load has been insane, which hasn’t left much time for sleeping, so seeing Richie in fucking cabaret is exactly enough of a shock to break his goddamn brain.

Eddie taps at his screen, meaning to do what, he’s not sure, but he ends up back on the snapchat homepage and hesitates there, staring at Richie’s name at the top where his brand new story sits, tempting Eddie desperately.

Ten seconds was really not enough time to soak in the image of Richie dressed like that.

Eddie clicks on his story.

The image of Richie in cabaret comes back up. Eddie’s eyes linger on the fishnet stockings rather than Richie’s bulge this time, and the way they frame diamonds against Richie’s pale skin. The boots he’s wearing make his long legs look even longer, which Eddie hadn’t thought was possible until now, and the corset.

Fuck.

The snap ends again, and this time Eddie doesn’t think twice before replaying it again.

The hand Richie is using to hold his phone up against the mirror blocks most of his face, and half of his chest, but Eddie can see one dusky nipple peeking out above the blue corset. It’s tight against his body, throwing his chest into sharp relief, and making his skin stand out even more there than it does on his thighs. The black jacket draped around his arms is the only thing Eddie doesn’t much care for, and all he can really think about is stripping it off.

His phone chimes, drawing Eddie out of his thoughts and reminding him that he’d been trying to ask Richie a question.

Richie: wouldn’t you like to know ;)

And then again, almost immediately.

Richie: they left me in charge of putting away costumes again tonight and i might have been digging around in the back of one of the wardrobes and… ta da!

Eddie sighs, and closes his eyes. Leave it to Richie to make putting away costumes into an adventure. Part of him wishes Richie had fallen into the wardrobe and never come out if it meant saving Eddie having to see him all dressed up like that, and the other part couldn’t be more grateful that Richie went digging.

He kind of hates himself a little.

Richie messages him again.

Richie: you never said if you liked it :(

And then: come on eds

Immediately after: dont i look sexy? ;))

The problem is, the answer is yes, but in Eddie’s opinion, the answer would always be yes, so it’s not really a fair question. He doesn’t really know how to answer, either, so he doesn’t.

He and Richie have been dancing around each other for years. It’s not that Eddie is unaware of the fact that Richie finds him attractive, nor is he blind to the way Richie has been flirting with him since they were in high school. In fact, Eddie would say it’s more than a little obvious they’re in love with each other.

They just haven’t done anything about it yet.

Eddie sighs and drags a tired hand down his face. When he pulls it away, he does his best to turn his attention back onto his essay.

But he can’t.

He just keeps thinking about all that chest Richie had been showing off, a part of Richie’s body that Eddie so rarely sees. Richie isn’t really the type to run around shirtless, much to Eddie’s dismay, but that corset… Eddie’s brain is just tired enough that Eddie allows himself to imagine licking the space between Richie’s pecs, skimming right over the black lace lining the top of the corset.

He groans, and slams his face into his hands. He can feel himself growing a little interested, a general stirring in his stomach, a twitch of his dick, and does his best to stifle it.

His phone chimes again, and Eddie groans even louder before picking it up.

Richie: way to make a girl feel loved eds :(

Rolling his eyes, Eddie finally types back a response.

Youre not a girl

This time, Richie’s response is almost immediate.

Richie: so if i was a girl would you tell me im sexy? :D

Eddie doesn’t even have to think about it — bickering with Richie is second nature.

No.

Richie: :(

Eddie expects that to be the end of it, and puts his phone down in another attempt to get back to work on his essay, but it’s only a few moments of staring at his screen before his phone goes off again. Eddie doesn’t even pretend not to be interested, and picks up his phone immediately.

It’s a real snap this time, and Richie’s still in that goddamn outfit.

This time it’s a selfie, and he’s pouting at the camera. The angle is just steep enough that Eddie can see all of Richie’s exposed naked chest, and the top edge of the corset where it flares out a little bit. It’s more than a little obvious that Richie is trying to look sexy, and the most annoying part about it is that it’s working.

Eddie groans, and feels himself actually start to firm up in his pants now. He has to shift his legs a little to get more comfortable in his chair, and tries not to think about the fact that he’s just spread his legs. The soft fabric of his sweatpants is a tease against his dick.

The snap ends. Eddie doesn’t think. He holds down on the message, and the snap replays again.

Immediately it occurs to Eddie that Richie can see that he replayed it, and he feels his cheeks heat up. Shit, fuck, he didn’t mean to do that.

Well, he did, but… not where Richie could see.

Richie: eds!

The snap ends before Eddie can really enjoy the image, and then he’s back to staring at their chat.

Richie: did you just replay my snap?

Richie: you do think im sexy!! :D

Richie: admit it eds

Richie: i look sexy in my cabaret get up ;))

Eddie groans and wants to bury his face in his hands, but it’s difficult to feel too mortified when Richie seems receptive to Eddie’s interest. They flirt sometimes, but not usually so overtly — like replaying sexy snaps of each other — and Eddie’s usually the one to roll his eyes and ignore Richie when he gets too blatant.

It’s moments like these, though, where Eddie does flirt back, that make Eddie feel hot all over with the possibility of finally doing something about their mutual attraction.

Eddie bites his lip, considering.

Maybe for once, Eddie can be the brave one and put himself out there a little more shamelessly. After all, Richie started this whole mess.

I dont know, I think youd look better without the jacket, Eddie finally types back.

Eddie can see Richie’s bitmoji peeking at him. It pops up, like Richie is typing, and then goes back to peeking at him, meaning Richie stopped without saying anything. Eddie can feel his heart beating a little faster than normal as he watches this happen again and again, before it stops entirely. Richie’s bitmoji disappears.

Eddie blinks. And stares. And worries, just a little bit.

And then another snap comes in, and Eddie about breaks his finger in his haste to play it.

Richie’s facing the mirror again, his phone covering his face to take the picture. He’s leaning on the counter with both elbows this time, the fingers of one hand brushing along the line of his collarbone. The way he’s stretching his neck causes the bone to stick out sharply, and Eddie feels his mouth water at the sight.

Richie has good collarbones, and all Eddie wants to do is bite them.

The broad line of his shoulders is revealed now too. Richie has taken Eddie’s advice and ditched the jacket. It makes the deep blue of his corset more prominent, and it highlights Richie’s skin, drawing attention to the pale expanse of Richie’s chest and shoulders.

The caption reads how about now?

Eddie licks his lips as the timer runs out and the snap ends.

He starts typing.

Try again. I didnt get a good enough look

Richie’s bitmoji pops up. Slips back down. Pops up again.

Richie: again?

Eddie can just about picture Richie’s face, perhaps scrunched up in confusion, or his eyebrows arched in surprise. Eddie doesn’t know exactly how Richie must be feeling, but Eddie knows how he’s feeling, and thats pretty fucking shocked at his own boldness.

Eddie swallows nervously, but ultimately barrels forward. In for a penny...

Again. But dont cover yourself up this time, Eddie demands, unsure where this is coming from, but leaning into it anyway.

They’ve never flirted like this. They’ve never gotten this far. And Eddie doesn’t know what that means for them, but he’s excited to find out.

Richie doesn’t respond right away. Eddie sees his bitmoji peek at him, indicating that he’s read the message, and then it disappears. Eddie hopes that means another picture is coming, and not that Richie has run away screaming.

Their chat lights up again a few moments later, and Eddie opens Richie’s snap eagerly.

This time, Richie has stepped back away from the mirror, and he’s holding the phone down low and to the right of him, so that his whole body is in frame, including his face. It’s objectively not the best photo, but it’s what’s in it that counts.

The first thing that Eddie notices is that Richie is biting his bottom lip. His lashes are lowered, and his cheeks are pink, and Eddie can just make out the blue of his eyes staring up at the camera. He looks nervous, almost shy, and it’s the hottest expression Eddie has ever seen.

The second thing Eddie notices are Richie’s fucking thighs. Richie is leaning against the wall next to the mirror, left arm bent so that his elbow is propping him up against the wall, and his fingers are carding through his hair. He’s tilted his hips just so, legs spread apart, with one in front of the other, baring Richie’s inner thigh to the camera.

His thigh isn’t bare, but it feels incredibly intimate regardless. It’s sexy is what it is, so much so that Eddie feels his dick really stiffen up in his pants.

The thick strap of Richie’s garter is distracting enough that Eddie doesn’t even make it half way down Richie’s thigh before the snap ends.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate. He plays it again, and screenshots the image for good measure.

It’s a daring move, one that Eddie wouldn’t usually give in to, but he can’t help it. They’ve already gone way past the boundaries of their usual relationship, what with Eddie demanding that Richie take another sexy photo for him. What’s one more nail in the coffin?

You look good he types the moment the snap ends for a second time. He licks his lips, staring eagerly at their open chat. He can see Richie’s bitmoji. It sits still this time, like he’s staring at their chat but doesn’t know what to say. A flicker of nervousness tickles at Eddie’s insides, but despite his usual anxiety, he convinces himself to wait, to calm down, to let Richie speak for himself instead of jumping to conclusions.

Finally, Richie types a response.

Richie: yeah?

The lack of emojis, the lack of teasing and flirting, is telling. Richie is so rarely vulnerable with Eddie, but Eddie knows how to recognize it when he is. It makes Eddie burn, to be trusted with this side of Richie, whose always hiding behind crude jokes and self-deprecating humor. Confidence flares up in Eddie — this is something Richie is into.

Yeah Eddie replies, and stops for a moment.

Richie’s bitmoji stares at him.

Eddie adds, But I want to see more.

He can feel his heart thrumming hard in his chest, can feel something tightening inside of him with want and desire. His dick throbs in his pants, thick with anticipation. He’s almost fully hard now, and he reaches down to rub the heel of his palm against the head of his dick.

He lets out a soft sigh at the feeling while he waits for Richie’s reply.

Richie’s bitmoji stares at him, and then pops up, and then stares at him again. Eddie blinks. Richie’s bitmoji pops up again, like he’s typing but can’t settle on what to say, and then stares at him again. Eddie doesn’t know what to think of Richie’s hesitation — whether it means that Eddie’s crossed a line, or if Richie just wasn’t expecting the forwardness — but finally Richie says: then tell me what you want

Eddie’s heart skips a beat, knowing that Richie is fully on board now, and he presses down harder on his dick, squirming at the sensation it sends through him. He exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and thinks.

What does he want? He knows that he wants to see more, knows that he wants to get off to Richie posing for him in his cabaret outfit. He knows that he wants Richie to get off with him, that he’s desperate to make Richie as hard as he is right now.

So he types: I want you to touch yourself through your shorts

Continues: and let me see you do it.

Richie’s bitmoji only stares at him for a moment this time, and then it’s gone.

Heat flares through Eddie’s body as he waits, squirming in his chair. His essay lies forgotten, cursor blinking on his laptop, and he considers, briefly, moving to his bed, but ultimately decides against it. Here, he can spread his legs wide and lean back against his chair without having to sacrifice the ease of texting Richie.

Eddie aches to push his sweatpants down, but he waits.

His phone lights up, the snapchat noise pinging his phone, and yet another picture message waits for him. Licking his lips, Eddie does not hesitate to open it.

Richie’s done exactly what he said. It’s another mirror selfie, with his phone aimed low and zoomed in, crotch framed in the middle of the camera. He’s got one big palm cupping his dick through his shorts, and Eddie can just about see the way Richie has thrust his hips forward into the touch. He can’t see Richie’s face, but he can almost imagine that Richie is flushed red in the face.

He wonders if the flush goes all the way down, if Richie’s chest gets hot and red like the rest of him. Eddie lets out a soft sound of desire, and fumbles with his phone. Before the message can disappear, he clicks on the camera icon and takes a quick, perfunctory photo of his own dick, hard in his sweatpants. He cups under the head, and sends the snap before he can think better of it.

His ears turn red.

Fuck, they’re having phone sex. Like actual, proper phone sex. This is definitely not the first thing Eddie had been imagining they’d do when they finally got their shit together, but he can’t say he’s complaining.

Richie is doing exactly what Eddie is saying without question, as well. Eddie’s never seen Richie so compliant, and it only serves to make him harder. He rubs his thumb around the head of his cock, and feels himself start to grow wet.

Eddie’s got their messages open again when Richie responds.

Richie: fuck eds

Richie: your gonna kill me

Feeling bold, Eddie types back: I want you

His heart lodges in his throat. Richie begins to type, and there’s no hesitation this time.

Richie: fuck

Richie: m e too

Richie: god i want you so much eds

Richie: please

Richie: tell me what to do

The desperation is clear, and it makes Eddie gasp, makes his dick twitch in his pants enough that he finally scrambles at the waistband, shoving them down to mid-thigh. He leaves his boxers where they are, and rubs the head of his dick through the thin fabric, teasing at himself more fully now. He can feel all the blood rushing through his body to his dick, can feel the need pumping through him until all he can think about is Richie Richie Richie.

Why did they wait so long to do this?

Richie isn’t even here and Eddie already feels like he’s on fire. How much better would it be to have Richie on top of him?

I want to see you Eddie types thoughtlessly, wishing more than anything that Richie were here right now.

Richie responds: i can do that

Richie’s bitmoji disappears. He’s taking a photo, Eddie’s pretty sure, even though that isn’t really what he meant, but he’s not going to complain.

The theater is on the other side of the campus from the dorms, a good twenty minute walk on a good day, and it’s not as if Richie could just walk across campus in fucking cabaret. But Eddie isn’t ready for Richie to change out of that outfit yet, and he’s considering asking Richie to bring it home, if only so he can feel the way Richie’s thighs feel in those stockings.

His phone pings.

He opens the message.

There’s a chair in front of the makeup counter now, and Richie’s propped up in it sideways, the seat far enough away from the counter that Eddie can see Richie’s entire body in the chair. Richie’s got one arm raised to take the photo, and the other wrapped around the back of the chair, holding him securely in place.

One stocking-clad leg hangs low like normal, but the other — the other is raised high, Richie’s heel resting on the seat next to his other thigh. The pose thrusts Richie’s corsetted chest outward, and once again draws Eddie’s gaze to his inner thigh. The thick line of his garter is hidden this time, but the top edge of the stocking is not, and Eddie can just imagine himself pulling them down Richie’s legs with his teeth.

He groans at the thought, and finds himself squeezing around the base of his cock, stroking himself once, firmly, over his boxers, and biting down hard on his bottom lip. He squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment, and then snaps them back open again.

Before the image can disappear, Eddie screenshots it desperately. The image is burned into the back of his mind, but he never wants to forget it.

Richie’s flush really does go all the way down.

It’s only after the screenshot is saved that Eddie realizes Richie didn’t put a timer on this one, and his eyes blow wide at the thought. It's involuntary when his hips kick up against his palm, and he muffles a moan behind his teeth, gazing hungrily at the photo in front of him.

He wants Richie. He wants him so fucking bad.

Eddie types: get up on the makeup counter and spread your legs for me

Richie’s response is immediate: yeah ok

Eddie fumbles to yank his boxers down to mid-thigh as well, releasing his cock. The sensation is a relief, even more so when he finally wraps his fingers around it properly, dragging up against it once before squeezing the head and letting go. His fingers fly back to his phone.

show me, he demands.

Richie does. The image comes through quickly, like Richie had complied the second Eddie had asked him to. There’s no timer, and Eddie has a clear view of Richie’s body all the way down his chest. His legs are spread wide like Eddie had asked, and the bulge that had already been obvious earlier only seems to have grown. Richie is definitely hard now, probably aching in those tight shorts, but he hasn’t gotten undressed.

Eddie hasn’t told him to.

Holy shit, he thinks, and shivers.

Touch your thighs he says, and then I want to see.

It takes longer for Richie to comply this time, but it becomes obvious why the moment Eddie sees the purple tap to view icon. He exhales loudly before playing the video.

Richie seems to be resting his weight against the mirror behind him, because the way he’s positioned his camera, Eddie can see all the way down his chest again. He can see his stomach heaving under his corset, can hear his heavy breathing. Eddie watches as Richie strokes the fingers of one hand down one inner thigh, and then back up. He teases pale fingers at the top edge of his stockings, and then trails them further up, up, up, to the thick strap of the garter. Eddie watches as he grips tight to it, and pulls it upward. It snaps back against his skin with a satisfying smack.

Richie lets out a soft sigh, and the video ends.

The sound goes straight to Eddie’s dick, and he drags the heel of his palm down the shaft of it, pressing down hard on the head. His teeth are digging into his bottom lip, preventing any sound from escaping him, and he releases it only on another long exhale. He can’t help the way he winds his fingers around himself, beginning to really pull himself off, screwing his eyes up tight with desire. He snaps them back open after a second, and aims his camera down at his dick, holding down the record button.

All Eddie can think about doing is encouraging Richie to keep going. He fists his hand over himself once, twice, three times, and then tightens his fist over the head with a soft groan.

“So good for me, Richie,” he whispers hotly, and then stops recording and hits send. He doesn’t have to wait long for Richie’s reply, which feels almost instantaneous, like he watched Eddie’s video and then immediately began filming his own.

Richie lets out a low whimper the moment the video starts, and digs his fingers hard into his thigh. He isn’t showing his face, though Eddie suddenly wishes that he were, but he does drag his nails up his thigh, leaving scorching red marks on the bare skin, until he reaches the bottom edge of his shorts. Then he wiggles his fingers underneath the hem, and pulls up teasingly, exposing more and more of that wonderful pale skin that Eddie wants to sink his teeth into.

He doesn’t touch his dick the way that Eddie is touching his own. It’s as if Richie is showing off for him, ignoring his own pleasure for Eddie’s. Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the thought, and he decides he’s done playing.

He doesn’t have the patience for this when he’s already so worked up. He can feel his dick throbbing desperately in his hand, and he wants nothing more than to come.

Just before the video ends, Richie’s ragged voice whines, “Eds.”

Eddie lets out a loud groan, and says fuck it.

Rather than sending another video, he types out a quick message one handed, unwilling to let go of his dick.

get off the counter and fuck up against it instead. i wanna see you gasping for it

Eddie doesn’t bother teasing himself anymore, his fist tight around his dick as he jerks off. He’s getting close, and he wants to come watching Richie rubbing himself all over the makeup counter, but he can’t hold off for very much longer.

It feels like it takes forever for Richie to do what he asked, though, because by the time the video comes in, Eddie is already shaking, hips pumping hard into his fist.

He clicks on Richie’s message desperately, and lets out a low moan immediately at the scene presented to him. Richie has done exactly what he asked, his hips grinding hard into the edge of the makeup counter, but it’s so much more than that. He’s gasping wildly with the movement, and he’s got one leg practically on top of the counter, grinding his hips mindlessly into it. The hand not holding the phone is threaded through his hair, and Richie is yanking his own head back as far as it will go. His neck is a long line of pale, unblemished skin, his adam’s apple bobbing desperately as he works himself over.

He looks desperate for it, eyes closed and brow bunched up with pleasure. His mouth is hanging open around the sounds he’s making, and his chest is that same bright red as earlier, maybe redder.

The video is twice as long as all the rest, as Richie works his hips up against the counter. Eddie’s hand moves faster and faster over himself, and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip, biting back the loud groans begging to come out of his throat. His hips pump up harder, and harder, and harder, and then suddenly, as Richie’s moans hit a fever pitch and the video cuts out, Eddie comes hard, come spurting up his chest and soaking into the soft cotton of his sleep shirt.

He gasps with it, jerking into his hand as he works himself through it. Pleasure zings all the way up his spine, causing him to arch into it, and by the time he slumps back against his chair, he feels weak and jelly limbed all over. The movements of his hand come to a slow stop long before Eddie has the presence of mind to do so himself.

Dizzy with it, Eddie taps on his phone to send a response, and snaps a picture of his dick, soaked in his own come and still hard.

He doesn’t have it in him to type a message, just sends the photo and closes his eyes to wait, his chest still heaving.

It doesn’t take long at all for Richie to reply. Eddie’s phone chirps, and then chirps again, and then twice more, before Eddie can work up the energy to look at it.

Richie: holy shit u came

Richie: eds

Richie: fuck plz

Richie: tell me what to do

Oh fuck, oh fuck, Eddie thinks to himself. Richie didn’t come. God, that shouldn’t be such a surprise, considering Richie hasn’t done anything without Eddie’s permission first all night, but it still is. He’d sounded so far gone in that video, like the moment it ended he would have kept going, uncontrollable, until he came.

The fact that he didn’t — holy shit it makes Eddie desperate with it.

Scrambling to wipe his hand off on his already ruined t-shirt, Eddie grips his phone with both hands and starts typing.

You listen to me so well

His phone already feels tacky with the remains of his come, but Eddie’s so focused on getting Richie off that he dismisses the thought. He can wipe his phone down later.

Do you want to come Richie? he asks, already knowing the answer.

yes Richie responds, just one word.

Eddie wants to see his face so fucking bad right now.

I wanna see it, he demands, typing furiously. I wanna watch your face as you come undone

Richie: anything plz eddie plz

Eddie groans, wishing for just a moment that he’d held off longer. Some horrible part of him wants to make Richie wait until he gets home so that Eddie can get off with him all over again, this time in person, but Richie’s been so good for him. He deserves to come too.

Fuck baby, Eddie types, trembling. Get yourself off for me.

He hesitates for a second, and then, but I want you to come in your shorts. Youre not allowed to pull your dick out

Eddie bites his lip, and pushes one last time.

thats my job, he says.

Richie’s bitmoji immediately disappears from the chat, and Eddie knows without a doubt that he’s getting himself off right now. He’s antsy as he waits, and it’s only because it takes so long that he manages to grab a wet wipe from his desk drawer to wipe down his phone, and then his dick.

It’s as he tucking himself back into his sweatpants and pulling off his ruined shirt that his phone goes off again.

He scrambles to play the video.

Richie’s back in the chair, legs spread wide and the heel of his hand digging hard against his dick. He's groaning as his hips kick into his palm, and his eyes keep fluttering shut, but he’s staring straight into the mirror, straight into the camera, straight into Eddie’s eyes.

The video gives Eddie a perfect view of Richie’s outfit again, and the way the fishnets dig into his skin. Eddie’s eyes drag down from the blue corset, tracing the lines of lace down his body to the waist-high shorts, the buttons hidden by Richie’s palm and the way he grinds into himself. He takes in the garters, no longer connected to the fishnets, like Richie had tugged on them until they’d pulled free. The fishnet stockings are shoved down his thighs as well, and the boots. Fuck, Eddie hadn’t known Richie could look so good in heels.

The video is shaky, and Eddie watches Richie work himself over. His hips thrust helplessly against the heel of his palm, and his cheat heaves with exertion. He’s not bothering to quiet himself, instead panting around soft grunts and moans that grow louder and louder with each passing second. Eddie watches as Richie’s eyes start to roll back, as they close, as his head tilts back and his mouth drops open with pleasure. His hips start to work harder, more desperate, lacking any coordination or rhythm.

His throat bobs, and Eddie soaks in the way Richie’s moans turn high-pitched and breathy, and then Richie is coming, his hips jerking erratically into the heel of Richie’s palm, before finally slowing to a stop. Richie slumps into himself, and his arm drops just as the video ends.

Fuck, fuck. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so fucking hot. He can feel his dick stirring with interest again as he stares at their chat, his own demanding words staring back at him. He knows the whole conversation will be gone the moment Eddie leaves the screen, but he doesn’t want it to be gone just yet. He has two screenshots saved to his phone to remind him of how hot Richie looks in this cabaret outfit, but he doesn’t dare screenshot the words they’d said to each other. Instead, he scrolls slowly over their conversation and aches to do it again.

The cat’s out of the bag now. Eddie doesn’t want to forget this ever happened, and he’s pretty certain Richie doesn’t want to forget either.

He scrolls to the bottom of their chat and says you okay over there?

Richie: yueah just came mty brains out

Eddie laughs, feeling warm because he did that. He made Riche come.

Biting his bottom lip, Eddie tries, wanna come over and do it again?

Richie’s response is immediate.

Richie: fufck yeah

Eddie grins. Bring the shorts, he suggests, and then, for good measure, the garters too.

Richie: duck that, im bringinging the whole fuckiing outfit

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, clutching his phone tight to his chest, and thinking yeah, we’re finally doing this. It’s about damn time.