#I actually tied it up like that last one on Halloween once because I was dying of heat stroke in that thing

[bwootster]

I’m starting on the requests I asked for 😎😎 this one was from @lumiori , ty for the suggestion!!!!!

Funnily enough, I actually own one of these onesies + a stitch hairband to hold back my hair, so I drew both,,, bwehehehe

[fkinkindagauche]

How You Turn My World, You Precious Thing

Written for @steddie-spooktober day 30 prompt - "Where in the hell did you find that costume??"

Rating: Explicit | WC: 2,271 | CW: None | Tags: Getting Together, Blow Jobs, Coming in Pants, Steve Harrington's Bisexual Crisis (brought to you by David Bowie)

Title is of course from "Within You" by David Bowie from the Labyrinth soundtrack.

"I don't understand why you're doing a couples costume with Eddie," Steve said, a look of disgust on his face. "Am I not your platonic soulmate? Have I been replaced?"

Robin sighed and scrubbed a hand over her face. "For the last time, Steve, I just wasn't interested in any of your costume ideas, and I was interested in Eddie's."

"So, to be clear, you discarded the idea of going as Goose to my Maverick to go as the moody teen to Eddie's David Bowie from a children's movie?" Steve asked, hands on his hips.

"You haven't even seen Labyrinth, dingus, don't sound so unimpressed," Robin replied. "Eddie put together a pretty great costume. And my costume was a lot cheaper to put together than a believable Goose costume would be."

"Yeah, because it just looks like something you would wear, only you have a hideous black wig on," Steve said, giving her a once-over. "Sometimes I doubt your commitment to our soulmateship."

He wasn't going to let this go. They'd all gotten close in the months since the worst spring break on record. He even hung out with Eddie on his own sometimes. But that didn't make the knee-jerk friendvy reaction any less jarring. (Robin had told him "friendvy" just sounded stupid, but he preferred to consider it an adorable and genius portmanteau of "friend" and "envy").

Robin sighed as they pulled up to Vickie's house. She was hosting a Halloween party, mostly for theater and band geeks, but Steve hadn't exactly gotten any other invites so he agreed to come. Any chance he could take to bust out his highly flattering Maverick costume in an attempt to get laid.

"I think you're actually really gonna like Eddie's costume," Robin said, giving Steve a significant look as they walked toward the house.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked sharply.

She shrugged. "I saw the looks you were giving him when we went to the Hideout last weekend."

Steve spluttered, blushing. He'd been avidly avoiding acknowledging his nascent attraction to Eddie to himself in his own mind, and he certainly wasn't ready to talk about it with Robin. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm here for one purpose only - boobies."

Robin groaned and smacked him on the arm. "You're disgusting," she said.

"Would you prefer breasts? Knockers? Bosoms? Jugs? Tits?" He rattled them off so quickly she couldn't get a word in between them.

"Jesus, Steven, stop it," she said, shoving him harder. "I can't take you anywhere."

Steve graciously left off his litany of boob euphemisms once they got inside, Robin scanning the crowd.

"Eddie!" she yelled, walking over to a corner where a man with long, spiky blonde hair was standing, wearing incredibly tight pants with knee-high boots, and a ruffled shirt under a black vest.

Steve looked around for a few moments, searching for Eddie, until Robin approached the corner and pulled the blonde man into a side hug. He turned, and Steve let out a shocked gasp, realizing it was Eddie.

"Where in the hell did you find that costume?" Steve asked, mouth hanging open as he took in Eddie's elaborate make-up to go along with the clothes. "And where's your real hair?"

Eddie threw back his head and laughed, baring the long line of his neck, now draped with multiple necklaces. Steve swallowed hard, eyes drawn to the light dusting of chest hair he could see in the ample amount of chest exposed by the open neck of the shirt.

"Is that vest supposed to look like a corset?" Steve asked, enthralled as he reached out a hand to touch it, feeling the warmth of Eddie's skin through the fabric. His eyes tracked further down, to the obvious bulge he could see in Eddie's tight pants. "I thought this was a children's movie!" He knew he was blushing, could feel the heat in his face.

Eddie locked eyes with him when he finally looked back up, smirking. "Eyes up here, big boy," Eddie said. Steve's face grew even redder, and he wanted to melt into a puddle of goo on the floor and never look at Eddie again.

Steve felt his dick stir in his pants at the thought of Eddie's cock, right there in front of him, practically on display. He couldn't manage to get any words out, just kept staring at Eddie with his mouth open.

"Everything okay there, Harrington?" Eddie asked, smirk changing to a look of confusion. Robin was looking at Steve with something like glee on her face.

"I need to… use the bathroom," Steve managed to get out, turning away from them and pushing through the crush of people to a hallway. He managed to find an open bathroom and slipped inside, shutting and locking the door behind him as he slid to the floor against it.

He put his head in his shaking hands, trying to slow his racing heart. He couldn't really deny it anymore. He was attracted to Eddie. He'd never been attracted to a man before, bar that one fleeting moment in the shower with Billy Hargrove, when he'd been simultaneously aroused and infuriated.

But Eddie - he was something else entirely. Steve was finally admitting to himself , here on this bathroom floor, that he was physically attracted to Eddie. He'd known for a long time that he loved his smile, and his laugh, and his self-deprecating humor, and his willingness to help any of his friends, whatever they needed. Now he was finally acknowledging a physical attraction, and he was fucking terrified.

A knock on the door interrupted his spiral.

"Steve? You in there?" Eddie's voice asked.

"Can you send Robin in?" Steve asked pathetically.

There was an awkward pause. "Um. She said she had something she needed to do and that I should go check on you. I don't know where she is."

Fucking typical. Robin was trying to play cupid in the midst of his bisexual crisis.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asked when he got no response from Steve. "You sick or something? Can I come in and help?"

Of course he wanted to help. Saint fucking Eddie.

"I'm fine," Steve said, sighing. "Go away."

"You don't sound fine, man," Eddie replied. "Fucking wait a minute okay?" Eddie yelled, probably to someone in the hall. "Steve, let me in," Eddie said in a lower voice.

Steve stood and opened the door. Eddie came in and shut the door behind him, locking it again.

"You gonna puke?" Eddie asked. "You and Robin must've been going hard before you got here."

Steve looked at Eddie again, with his delectable wispy chest hair and his stupidly beautiful smile and the sizable bulge in his pants. Steve made an impulsive decision, the only kind he seemed capable of making these days. He put both hands on Eddie's chest and pushed him so his back was against the door, then leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn't that different from kissing a girl. He could feel the beginning of Eddie's stubble coming in, scratching lightly against his chin, but his lips were just as soft and warm as a girl's. Eddie gasped into his mouth, tensing up for a moment before relaxing against Steve, kissing him back.

Steve tentatively licked over Eddie's lower lip, and Eddie opened his mouth, allowing Steve's tongue inside. Steve slowly licked into his mouth, tangling his own tongue with Eddie's, moving to explore the roof of his mouth, the sides of his teeth. He pushed a hand into Eddie's ridiculous wig, pulling it askew, as Eddie wrapped his hands around Steve's hips and pulled him more firmly against himself.

Steve could feel Eddie's cock now, hard against his thigh. He slotted a leg between Eddie's thighs and pushed up. Eddie groaned into his mouth and pressed down onto Steve's leg as Steve moved his thigh back and forth, rubbing. Steve was sure Eddie could feel his own cock now, straining against the confines of his jumpsuit.

Steve's hips involuntarily bucked up into Eddie's hip, seeking friction. Eddie's tongue was meeting his in a ferocious clash, both of them vying for control of the kiss. Steve broke off first, trailing his lips down Eddie's neck, to the vee in his shirt. He bit the skin there as one of Eddie's hands came up to grab a fistful of his hair, tugging.

Steve sucked a bruise into Eddie's skin next to his tattoo, one that would be visible when they returned to the party. Eddie was panting above him, still grinding his cock down onto Steve's thigh, when Steve dropped to his knees.

His absolute favorite thing to do with women was give head. He felt a sudden urge to see if that was the same with men. He looked up at Eddie, who was staring down at him with a shocked look on his face, one hand still fisted in Steve's hair. His wig was askew, tendrils of his curly brown hair escaping around the sides, and his makeup was smudged from their frantic kissing. Steve had never seen anyone more beautiful.

Steve tugged lightly at Eddie's pants, giving him ample opportunity to push Steve away. He didn't push Steve away, so Steve pulled harder, bringing the skin-tight leggings down. As Steve had suspected, he wasn't wearing underwear beneath them, and his cock sprang free, hard and huge.

Steve had always thought himself well-endowed, compared himself to the other guys in the locker room and found himself above average. But Eddie was in a whole other league.

Steve's mouth dropped open as he considered that he may have made a huge mistake. How was it even going to fit? He took a deep breath, psyching himself up, then bent to lick a bead of precum off the head.

Eddie thrust his hips up minutely, clearly struggling hard to keep himself under control, and let out a breathy gasp. The hand in Steve's hair tightened as Steve licked around the head, taking just the tip into his mouth. He held the base of Eddie's cock in one hand, like he remembered girls doing with his, as he slowly sank further.

Steve pressed his tongue against the underside of Eddie's cock as he began to move his mouth up and down. He was only getting about a quarter of his cock into his mouth, but Eddie seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it, if the increasing amounts of precum he could taste were any indication.

"Fuck, Steve," Eddie said as Steve hollowed his cheeks out to provide more suction. Eddie was making little breathy noises, like aborted moans, and Steve could feel the strain in his hips as he tried not to fuck into Steve's mouth.

The weight of Eddie's cock on his tongue combined with his musky scent and the noises he was making were enough to have Steve's cock aching. He started to cup himself with his free hand, pressing his palm into his cock and rubbing as he sucked Eddie off.

Just as his jaw was beginning to ache, Eddie seemed to lose control of his hips, starting to thrust into Steve's mouth a little. "'M gonna come soon, Stevie," Eddie said between breaths. "Might want to vacate the area."

Steve snorted back a laugh, pulling off to say, "Come in my mouth."

Eddie thumped his head back into the door and groaned. "Fucking shit," he said under his breath as Steve took his cock back in his mouth.

Steve started to press his palm harder into his own cock as he bobbed his head on Eddie's, spit slicking his hand now and making it easier to stroke the length of Eddie's shaft that wasn't in his mouth. Steve could feel his own orgasm building, spurred on by the moans falling from Eddie's mouth.

As he felt the first hot spurts of Eddie's cum in his mouth, he rubbed frantically over his own cock, bringing himself to orgasm as he swallowed every drop of Eddie's cum. Steve continued to suck long after their orgasms were finished, enjoying the feel of Eddie's cock softening in his mouth.

Eventually, Eddie tugged at his hair, and Steve finally let his cock slide out of his mouth. He wiped a bit of cum or spit off the side of his mouth and looked up at Eddie.

"If I'd known dressing up as David Bowie would get Steve Harrington on his knees I would have done it a long time ago," Eddie said, pulling Steve up to stand. He reached for the zipper on Steve's jumpsuit, but Steve stilled his hand before he could start to undo it.

"Not going to let me reciprocate?" Eddie asked, looking a little hurt. "Was it just a little experiment for you?"

Steve shook his head vigorously. He grabbed Eddie's hand and moved it down to the wet spot spreading near his cock. "Not at all. Got a little carried away."

Eddie's eyebrows shot up. "You came in your adorable little jumpsuit while you blew me?"

Steve nodded, blushing.

"Fuck, you're unreal. I'm dressing up as Bowie every day," Eddie said.

Someone banged on the door, startling them, and yelled, "What the fuck are you doing in there? Some of us have to piss!"

"Shit. I didn't even get to see you naked," Eddie said, pouting.

"Next time," Steve said, reaching for the door as Eddie pulled up his pants.

"There's gonna be a next time?" Eddie said, eyes twinkling like a kid on Christmas morning.

"There's gonna be a whole lot of next times," Steve said, opening the door.

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

[abibliophobiaa]

Summary: You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

mini series masterlist

next chapter

——

warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)

——

“You’ve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? You’re not doing brain surgery, you’re just trying to get your toes wet.”

You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.

All around you people bobbed and swayed to ‘Monster Mash.’ Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.

“What about that Westley guy?”

Right — the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.

“I haven’t seen him.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. “For all I know, he doesn’t exist.”

Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.

“Actually, he’s right there.”

Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when you’d thought about it. Just because he’d worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didn’t mean he’d be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your ‘couple’s costume,’ saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.

He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.

So he’d noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein you’d walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasn’t you, you’d decided tonight was the night you’d get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.

“What are you waiting for,” your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. “He’s your Westley. If this isn’t some weird ass fate, I don’t know what is.”

Your Westley’s smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples you’d ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.

“Is this space taken?” you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. “So you’re the guy everyone has been talking about all night.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the very sound. It’s a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. “And you’re the girlfriend I didn’t know I had.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, taking a step closer. “Though it’s all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.” He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, “Definitely a compliment because, if I’m being honest, you’re way out of my league.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and he’d been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. He’d grown up in a small town, but realized he’d only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls he’d been raised in.

So he’d ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the band’s first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. You’d studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles he’d known and loved through the years.

It wasn’t long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.

Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddie’s face, then drifted back to yours. “I’m taking this idiot home. He’s in time out —”

“Noooo,” he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck.

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Micah’s eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.

Eddie looked at you and shrugged. “Up to you, Buttercup.”

“I’m gonna stay…actually.”

Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, “Be careful. Have fun. You’re beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. “It's too loud in here,” you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more…”

“Private?” he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. “I have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?”

“Let’s go.” You grinned.

“As you wish.” He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.

Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.

Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. He’d been smiling all night — at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.

The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddie’s features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.

Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint he’d tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.

But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.

He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

“Bet you’re glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?”

“Suppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesn’t it?” He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.

——

You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up you’d ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and you’d manage without, though he wouldn’t hear any of it.

As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldn’t afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.

Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.

“How do you think they know what…oh, I don’t know…Moose Tracks taste like?” Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

Fortunately for you, he’d removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“What?” you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than you’d originally anticipated.

“Like what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?”

“I think it’s just a…mix of things that remind them of…you know what?” His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute — obnoxiously so. “I actually don’t know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.”

“You want to head out?”

“I think we should,” you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.

The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what you’d intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way you’d do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.

Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things he’d brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.

Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.

“It’s been a while,” he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.

“We’ll go slow,” you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.

It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.

As if he’d read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe you’d gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, you’d picked correctly.

“Such a shame,” he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, “really liked that dress.”

“My turn,” you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.

He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someone’s house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories he’d likely tell you if you’d only had the time.

“Fuck it.” He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. “Can I touch you?”

You might burst into flames if he didn’t. “Please.”

“Never have to say please with me, Buttercup,” he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what he’d find there. “Sweetheart…this all for me?”

“Don’t tease.”

A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.

And just when you’d thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.

One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.

“Not,” you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, “fair.”

“What’s not fair, sweetheart?”

“Too good at that.” Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. “Get on the bed.”

“What do you —”

“On the bed,” you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. “I want to look at you.”

And god, what a sight he was. Once you’d finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly — and massively impressive — hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.

Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.

“Can I, Eddie?”

He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.

Ruined. You’d ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didn’t want to see the end of. Not yet. “Wait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But — mmm — I need you.”

He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience, Buttercup,” he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to find…nothing. “No. Oh shit. We didn’t get condoms. I’m such an idiot, I —”

“Shit,” you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. “What about your suitcase? Wallet?”

“I told you I don’t exactly do this often.”

Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friend’s bathroom.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. “And I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.

“I’ve been tested since my last time too. I’m good,” he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered as he rolled onto his back.

“Me neither,” he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.

Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munson’s lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of ‘that’s a good girl,’ ‘taking me so well,’ ‘look so good full of my cock,’ as you move over him.

You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.

And it wasn’t gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you — but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.

As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, he’d suggested. You hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldn’t say no to him.

Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.

It didn’t take long before he’d grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.

And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoya’s famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.

——

Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadn’t noticed them last night. Hadn’t noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadn’t noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.

Fallen asleep — you’d both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddie’s arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.

Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town you’d volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.

“She’s running away in the night,” he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. “Or…morning, I guess?”

“I have work,” you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.

He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact he’d seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.

Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didn’t take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.

“Do you have to go?” he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.

“I guess I have a few minutes,” you suggested coyly.

And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew he’d never forget.

You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadn’t dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween — at least, not until now.

“I can’t walk back to Micah’s in that,” you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.

“Wait — I have an idea!”

Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was ‘Corroded Coffin’ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.

“Your band?” you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. “You know, you could see us some time.”

You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.

“I can’t say that I’ll be in California any time soon,” you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.

He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadn’t realized that you’d be coasts apart in only a couple of days.

“Well…” he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.

Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only you’d met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.

“My number — for the place I’ll be staying at for the next couple months,” he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. “Maybe, I don’t know…we can talk?”

“I can do talking,” you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldn’t be utilizing the number.

It was better this way; he was better off this way.

You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.

The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.

Another time, another place, another day maybe.

And that day was not today.

Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find she’d already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.

“You’re home late,” she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. “I’m assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. “I…we had fun.”

“I’m going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like she’d received the best news of her life.

“I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.” You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.

“You like him,” she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.

You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much — he deserved so much.

“We had sex, that’s all. And he’s leaving for California in a few days. I’m never going to see him again. So it doesn’t really matter, now does it?”

——

It hadn’t felt real. For days, you’d doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.

First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours you’d taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like you’d been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, you’d still felt like it wasn’t enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.

There was also the fact statistics were on your side. You’d done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldn’t be…that, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctor’s office a little over a month after Halloween that you’d even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants you’d definitely not thought about even once since you’d spent the night with him. And you most definitely didn’t picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.

No.

Not at all.

Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, they’d said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences you’d barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limit—your head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micah’s place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.

She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. She’d accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest — and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when he’d eventually poked his head in — as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.

And later, when your tears had dried and she’d plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, “Please just…tell me it’s absolutely Westley’s and not Paul’s.”

“Six weeks,” you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the baby’s father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, “Definitely Westley’s.”

Though you weren’t sure if that made it any better.

“I just want you to know it’s going to be okay,” Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. “I know we don’t have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. It’s yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.”

Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what you’d told yourself was the reason why you’d delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didn’t want kids — always the chance he’d want to pretend it never happened and that he didn’t want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, you’d set your mind on being a mother, and you’d do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all you’d had was a night fueled by lust, because you weren’t interested in anything more than that.

Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

You’d rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly you’d moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micah’s hand tight as you swiped the man’s number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldn’t answer or you’d caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.

You winced. “Uhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?”

A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. “Uh — uh, yeah. This is him.”

He sounded gruffer than you remembered — voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that you’d spoken much that night. Maybe he’d caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since you’d seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already — someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micah’s hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.

“Hi…I’m sorry I’m only calling now. Busy, you know?” A lie, because you’d never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. “It’s the…girl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.”

He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. He’d been looser the night you met — louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey he’d drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way he’d made you fall apart around him again.

It seemed…strange now. Cut off, cold even.

“I’m…pregnant. I just —” You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, “I just thought you should know…because it’s yours.”

There was another prolonged pause.

Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret — still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. You’d already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didn’t want anything to do with it, just so they’d never feel like they were missing out.

Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, “Who is this again?”

You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micah’s. Micah mouthed out ‘Breathe,’ even though you were doing anything but.

The line went dead, and your heart along with it.

——

let me know what you think! 🩷

[iwannakisskissyoureyesagain]

things that definitely happened in the percy jackson series’ that rick left out/didn’t expand on (basically a collection of headcanons)

- leo teased percy and annabeth about the stables scene for weeks until it got old

- leo trying to make a move on EVERYONE he interacted with, especially the aphrodite cabin

- (leo was a hey mamas lesbian in a past life i will die on this hill)

- bi4bi percabeth

- some of the apollo kids give out free stick-n-poke tattoos. will has a small treble clef on his hip for his mom, nico has a tiny skull behind his left ear, percy has a smiley face on his right middle finger bc he thought it was funny

- annabeth tried to act like she didn’t think it was funny and called him an idiot

- ella also gives out free tattoo services at camp jupiter, and camp half blood when she and tyson visit. frank told her to start charging for them, but being a harpy, she doesn’t really have a need for money. honestly, she just wants an excuse to do more tattoos, since there’s not a lot of space left on tyson

- percy always orders blue food or drinks when he’s out if it’s an option (basically canon in the senior year adventures). at this point it’s instinctual

- percy refuses to drink or smoke bc of gabe. sally understands this and that’s why, before she had estelle, she would only have a single glass of wine with dinner. annabeth likes to have a few drinks here and there, but when she does drink, she makes sure to never do it in front of percy

- dionysus is essentially the camp therapist, because deep down, he really does care about the campers. he has open office hours and a sign-up sheet for appointments (private or group therapy) in the big house

- percy has started calling dionysus the wrong name back, and it’s dissolved into a competition to see who can think of the most ridiculous names (so far perceval jackoff and destiny’s child are tied for first place). some of the other campers are waiting for the day dionysus turns percy into a bottlenose dolphin or a pile of dust and ashes, but he would never do it

- there’s also a sign-up sheet to use that single computer that chiron has, where everyone gets up to an hour of screen time

- after discovering the projector in chiron’s office, it’s common to find cabins or individual groups of campers having movie nights. nico and hazel’s boyfriends and friends use this as an opportunity to show them (when hazel visits) different movies. for example, one night percy brings all 3 back to the future movies (he doesn’t realize the irony until nico won’t stop teasing him about it), annabeth brings the last unicorn, which makes hazel cry (me too girl), piper brings jennifer’s body (hazel and frank both get all flustered during the sex scenes, nico is surprisingly unbothered until will nudges him and makes a comment about colin when he appears onscreen), reyna, on the rare occasions that the hunters visit, brings isle of dogs (she hasn’t watched a lot of movies, but that one is one of her favorites), frank brings the little prince, which makes percy openly sob, and will brings heathers, to nico’s surprise

- some camp traditions include telling ghost stories at the campfire, karaoke nights in the apollo cabin (they tried to hold one in the big house once, but that only lasted about ten minutes before dionysus kicked them out), secret santas, halloween parties, and thanksgiving at the jackson-blofis house for the year-round campers (and percy, annabeth, tyson, and ella, ofc)

- piper likes to walk around doing chappell roan’s vocal flips and reneé rapp’s riffs

- will is actually a pretty good singer, but he doesn’t think he is bc his powers are more focused on his role as a camp medic, so he compares himself to his siblings. he can also play guitar really well, but his favorite thing is playing it horribly and as loud as possible, or playing at nico because he knows he hates it

- will and annabeth both struggle with imposter syndrome, percy starts talking to dionysus about his ptsd, nico is working on breaking his disordered eating habits, and tyson makes ella a fidget that she can play with so she doesn’t pull out her feathers

- piper and leo like to call each other cunts and reference modern pop culture in front of chiron, who is eternally confused and has stopped trying to understand “the youth”

- annabeth is a swiftie (her favorite album is ttpd) and percy says he isn’t, but sally sometimes catches him singing “safe & sound” or “never grow up” to estelle (he has no idea she knows) and sends videos of it to annabeth. he can’t sing very well, don’t get me wrong, and it’s almost always off-key, but estelle doesn’t seem to mind

- percy does that thing that dads do where he stands at the edge of the room when estelle is watching one of her shows with sally and pretends he isn’t watching it, but eventually ends up sitting with them on the couch and singing (again, very poorly) along to the bluey theme song

- will isn’t actually a morning person, but as the camp medic, he’s just used to getting up at the ass-crack of dawn and running on three hours of sleep and multiple celsiuses (this is why, on “making-nico-and-hazel-watch-movies-we-think-are-important-movie-nights,” he never even makes it through the first one without crashing out)

- apollo did in fact develop a little crush on nico during the tower of nero, but for his son’s sake, he’ll take that secret to his grave (metaphorically ofc)

[supernotnatural2005]

The Haunted House (Drabble)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Haunted houses are more scarier than you thought. Including the fake kind.

Warnings: None

AN: Happy Halloween guys!!! 👻 just a short light hearted, fun drabble for you all, before my halloween dean x reader one shot later today 🫢 enjoy and let me know what you think 💕

My Masterlist

“Why are we doing this again?” Sam asked as the three of you stood in line for the haunted house attraction.

“It’s halloween man.” Dean muffled around another piece of candy from the bag of treats you’d bought from a confection stand.

“Yeah Sammy. Where’s your holiday spirit?” You snickered and gave him a little nudge with your elbow as you moved up in the line.

He gave you a deadpanned look. “Everyday is halloween for us. I don’t really see the appeal in experiencing it on our day off.” He complained and Dean rolled his eyes, childishly mimicking him with his hand behind his back.

You covered your mouth to stop your giggle and Sam snapped his head back to Dean, who quickly stopped what he was doing, looking like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You’re both actual children, d’you know that?” Sam sassed as you all moved up again, coming to the front of the barrier for your turn next.

“And you wouldn’t have us any other way.” You cooed and hugged his arm. It got a resistant smile out of him.

-

After the worker, who was dressed like a poor version of Frankenstein, gave you a brief rundown on the rules once inside - his tone bored and monotonous, he finally lifted the caution tape-barrier for you.

You jumped up and down in giddy excitement, which amused the two brothers as they followed you in.

As you entered, you had to squint at the near pitch blackness. Your path only guided by an ominous green light in what looked like a long corridor. The floor was covered in fog, making what you could see even harder and so you shuffled along, keeping close to Dean.

You felt his hand grasp yours tightly as you rounded a corner, an evil cackle sounding somewhere above you, making you jump. As you crept along, paranoid at every nook and cranny you passed, you came to a door. It had ‘Enter if you dare’ written on it, in what you assumed was supposed to be blood, but was most likely red paint.

“Dean you go first.” You whispered and pushed him forward.

“What? Why have i got to go first?” He whispered back, manoeuvring so he was standing behind you instead.

“Because you’re my strong, protective boyfriend.” You teasingly argued and tried pulling him ahead of you again.

“And you wanted to go to this stupid thing.” Dean argued back, slapping your hands away. Sam heard your offended gasp and rolled his eyes, knowing they’d never get through this thing if he didn’t just open it himself.

“I’ll do it. You big babies.” He mumbled the last part and swung open the door. The three of you made your way in, you and Dean much more cautiously, scanning every corner of the room.

It was laid out almost like a Tim Burton movie. The flooring as black and white checkered squares and the walls painted in such a way it gave the illusion it was twisting. It wasn’t until you got toward the middle of the room did you hear the door slam closed behind you.

You screamed out in fear and grabbed onto Dean’s arm, making him jump in turn.

“Jesus, Y/N.” Dean huffed and shook his head.

“Sorry.” You muffled into his arm.

The three of you turned to see the door was in fact closed, but what freaked you out the most was the shadow in the dark corner beside it.

“What the fuck is that?” You whispered harshly and moved to hide behind Dean.

“What’s what!?” He demanded, his voice panicked as he frantically looked to where you were pointing. It was then he caught sight of the dark figure beside the door and his heart rate spiked.

Suddenly, a loud blood curdling scream came from the figure and a woman with long black hair and a bloody gown came jumping out of the shadows, a chain around her neck keeping her tied to the wall as she reached her long fingernails out to you.

You’re not sure who the scream came from, but bolted it to the door on the other end of the room, Dean hot on your tail. Sam however, shook his head in amusement as he watched you both run out of the room, not really fazed by the actor who was still making monstrous noises behind him.

-

As the three of you exited the house, you and Dean were visibly shaken up, voices raw from all the shouting and screaming that continued throughout.

“Where’s your holiday spirit guys?” Sam mocked teasingly from behind you and both you and Dean gave him a look, making him burst out in more laughter. “Man. You should have seen your faces.”

AN: And there it is! Only a short one, but a fun one to get us in the holiday spirit 👻😂

[theragethatisdesire]

dall'inizio - eren x reader, 18+!!!!

welcome back to the ti penso universe everyone!!!! this is a continuation/prequel of the little series we've followed from my first eren x reader fic. i was really interested to see how they met and ....unsurprisingly, it's a one night stand that doesn't turn out as planned. this one is also super fun because we get to hear from both eren AND reader alternatively, plus reader is a confident, bad bitch and we love that for her. this one goes out to @philliam-writes bc ik you love this eren as much as i do!!!!!! here's ur part 3 bestie >:)

if you'd like to catch up and meet our eren x reader, find them here:

(1) ti penso ogni giorno

(2) nel bene e nel male

pairing: eren x afab reader

wc: 6.7k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut (duh), consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol/drug use (just weed nothing crazy), cussing, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a lovestruck idiot (and so are you if you're being honest)

title (as always) means "from the beginning" in italian i'm obsessed with them <3

-

“You look like a whore,” Ymir says bluntly, dragging her eyes over your outfit– or, lack thereof.

“It’s not that bad,” you wave her off, turning back to the mirror to tug at the hem of your little black slip. You do look like a whore, but it’s intentional. You haven’t gotten laid in three months– your friends have been calling you dramatic, but that’s a lot, okay? You’re in college, you’re supposed to sleep around, right?

On top of that, your last few situationships just haven’t quite…well, they weren’t bad, but they didn’t scratch the itch. You desperately need a fuck– not just a fuck, a good fuck, and you have a feeling tonight’s going to be the night. It’s Halloween, the international holiday for running around in basically zero clothes, and you’ve taken great care to adhere to that tradition.

“Are you a mouse?” Historia wrinkles her nose at you from her spot at the vanity in the corner. She’s in a dalmatian costume; cute, spotted ears sticking up from her blonde hair, blue collar tinkling when she cocks her head at you.

“I’m a fucking cat,” you mutter, drawing a black triangle of eyeliner on the tip of your nose, “I didn’t have time for a real costume.”

“She just wants to get laid,” Mikasa announces, pushing through the studio apartment door with a huff, arms laden with plastic bags that are making a tell-tale clinking sound, “it’s been like, two whole weeks.”

“Three months!” You correct her, defensive.

“I understand,” Ymir, appropriately dressed as Cruella de Vil, grins, “it’s been…what, Stor? Two hours?”

“Ymir!” Historia, scandalized, flushes a furious red. Both you and Mikasa are unphased; in the last four months they’ve been together, the three feet they’re sitting from one another now is the farthest apart you’ve seen them.

“I’m not a whore,” you turn around, hands on hips, “I just…it’s been awhile since I had good sex. Floch was–”

“The worst?” Mikasa finishes for you. You hate how well she knows you; even after less than two years of knowing each other, she can practically read your mind.

“Yeah, you may have mentioned that once or twice,” Historia turns back to the mirror, immediately disinterested. “Or a thousand times.”

You throw your hands up, turning back to the mirror to finish your whiskers. “So none of you can blame me.”

“While you two,” Mikasa points between Ymir and Historia accusingly, “have been screwing like rabbits, and you,” her black-painted fingernail finds its way to you, “have been trying to figure out how to sleep with half of Manhattan, I took the liberty of actually making plans for us.”

“Jean’s?” You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, grateful to put someone else in the hot seat for the night. Mikasa’s cheeks tinge pink. Busted.

“He’s throwing a party, yeah,” she answers slowly, trying to talk her way around her obvious attraction to him, “but it’s not those douchebags he usually hangs out with. My best friend from home, Eren, just got into town, and,” she looks at you pointedly, “some of his friends are actually cute.”

You’re unconvinced. “Pictures?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Mikasa bites her lip mischievously, “but if you take a few tequila shots with me, I might be persuaded to show you one or two.”

You’re dubious. Mikasa’s definitely shown you a photo of these guys before, and you don’t remember a standout in the lineup. This Eren character, however…Mikasa has a framed picture on her bedside nightstand of them in high school, and you remember him being sort of cute. Dark, short-cropped hair, big green eyes so wide and earnest that he almost reminded you of a movie character. That picture was three or four years old now so…who knows? Maybe he’d grown into his features.

“Eren’s a no-go, though,” Mikasa continues, knowing your exact train of thought of course, pouring out shots of lukewarm, cheap tequila. Your stomach gurgles in protest at the smell as you accept yours. “He’s a nightmare to women, trust me.”

“Who knows,” Ymir pipes up, nodding her head towards you, “she’s a nightmare to men, so.”

“I am not a nightmare,” you narrow your eyes, “I just don’t like to be tied down, that’s all.”

“You’ll have to be at some point,” Historia argues, smiling when Ymir slips a hand into hers. You wrinkle your nose, uninterested.

“It’s 2018, Stor, not very feminist of you,” you tut, throwing back your shot and practically choking it down. Ick.

“I’m a lesbian, how much more feminist can I get?”

“Touché.”

“Just promise me you won’t get wrapped up with him?” Mikasa eyes you, still not trusting the glint of curiosity in your eye.

Ymir crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you positive you like Jean and not this Eren dude?”

Mikasa makes a fake retching sound. “Eren’s practically my brother. I’ve seen his bare ass more times than I can count. Way past the attraction threshold, trust me. I just…I know him. And I know you,” she glares at you, “it’s a toss-up as to who would do more damage to the other.”

“I’ll behave,” you placate her, throwing your arms around her shoulders, “…maybe.”

-

Eren might puke. No, wait, he’s going to puke– oh, no, just an unbelievably loud burp. Eren smiles contentedly, feeling much better even as it stinks up the entire taxi. Connie leans over Armin, scrunches his nose and squints his eyes.

“That fucking reeks, dude!”

“Sorry,” Eren shrugs, turning his head back to the window and ignoring Armin and Connie’s complaints. They were all a few beers deep- what did they expect? 

Eren’s lived a few hours outside of New York City all his life, but he’s never been, except maybe once or twice for field trips as a kid. He never remembered it looking like this, though: each little apartment twinkled like a star, giving the wall of skyscrapers the appearance of the night sky. Even as the cab screeches and jerks in the Lower West Side traffic, Eren feels like he’s in a spaceship, free and flying amongst the stars. 

Maybe he could talk to Zeke, convince him to move their little operation out of their garage and into the city. There was money here, right? And plenty of musicians who weren’t quite good enough to get signed by any major labels…

“Mikasa says she and her friends will be over in five,” Armin squints at his phone screen, holding it far away from him like an old man to type a response. Eren nearly rolls his eyes.

“Would you just get some fucking glasses already?”

“Annie said they made me look nerdy,” Armin shrugs. Connie groans.

“You two broke up like, a year ago–”

“Six months,” Armin corrects him, eyes growing sadder by the second.

“Okay, six months, whatever, we’ve got to get you laid tonight, dude.”

Eren lets the two slip into an argument about the “appropriate amount of time” to wait to sleep with someone after a breakup, much preferring his unusually contemplative mood to Connie and Armin’s bickering after their four-hour train ride together. He smiled to himself; God, it would be good to see Mikasa again. He wouldn’t have admitted it at gunpoint, but she was practically his mom growing up, and she’d been gone for over a year, only visiting for Christmas. Rumor had it that she’d been spending a lot of time with Jean as of late, so he needed to see what that was all about, too.

And who had Eren been spending a lot of time with lately? No one but bar rats and slim pickings from the frat parties at Trost University near his hometown. When was the last time he’d even gotten laid? A month? Two? Her name had been Jenna…no, Jenny? Josephina? Fuck, he should remember that. Eren needs to get laid, regardless, but if he dares to step near any of Mikasa’s friends, she’ll kill him, he knows that from experience. Then again, maybe this weird-ass Jean situation would come in handy. If Mikasa ends up distracted…

“Excuse me!” Armin disturbs his thoughts once again; Eren scowls. “Excuse me, sir? I think we’re here.”

Eren pays for the cab. Armin had bought the train tickets and the chain-gang costumes they were all currently sporting, and Connie was always flat broke, insisting his music career would work out soon. That could be Eren’s fault, though: Connie was one of his and Zeke’s first “clients”. None of them even bothered keeping up with the money exchanged between each other anymore; Connie had been in their kindergarten class, Armin’s mom had changed all of their diapers, Mikasa’s parents were the “cool parents” that let them smoke weed in the backyard, Jean’s mom made the best potato salad. They were a little family, separated by life and college at the moment, but a family all the same. Eren felt a little tingle of appreciation in his stomach as they climbed the stairs to Jean’s walk-up.

“Jaeger!” Jean was dapping him up and smacking a fist against his back before Eren could even properly look around the dark apartment.

“Kirstein,” Eren returns his embrace and has to shout over the music, suddenly smacked with a wave of homesickness at the familiar smell of weed and Jean’s tacky Hugo Boss cologne.

“Make yourself at home, dude,” Jean’s nearly inaudible over the thumping house music. He’s got some stupid mummy costume on that exposes his lean stomach, basically just shirtless and wrapped in toilet paper. Eren stifles a laugh, looking around the apartment for any other familiar faces.

Reiner approaches him next, a goofy, drunken grin splitting his face wide open, tackling Eren in a bear hug. Most of the greetings go like that; I miss you! How are you? How’s the business? Are you still in Shiganshina? It makes Eren’s chest tight, makes him miss the closeness of the people he loves. He was just always fucking working, helping Zeke with paperwork, running around town talking to clients, pulling at his face late at night looking over the finances of everything. He feels wound up, ready to burst, but the blunt and beer Bertholdt just handed him should fix that, at least somewhat. He needs…fuck, he needs to get laid.

His eyes search the room, looking for the one person he’s looking most forward to seeing, but he doesn’t find Mikasa where he expects.

She’s perched on Jean’s lap, giggling over her drink as Jean waves his arms wildly, telling her a story. That bizarre sight only holds Eren’s gaze for a moment, though, because there you are beside her, grinning wickedly with one of those stupid vapes between your teeth.

Eren stops dead in his tracks, speechless. Where do they even make women like that? He goes bottom to top, letting himself be impressed with how well you’re balancing on those high heels, ravishing every naked inch of your exposed legs until he reaches the hem of– fuck, is that just lingerie? Whatever little black thing you’re wearing, it makes his heart race, makes his pants tight. It’s low-cut in the chest enough to tease, a little collar around your neck, and your face…even your face makes him hard, so beautiful in the low lighting, eyes glimmering. You look evil and fun and sexy all at once, and Eren’s sold within the first ten seconds of seeing you.

Before he can make a beeline in your direction, he realizes he’s taken his gaze off of Mikasa and Jean long enough for them to approach him, Mikasa throwing her arms around his neck.

“Eren!” She squeals in his ear, clearly already drunk. Eren chuckles, trying to rein himself in enough to hold a stable conversation. The little black dress flashes behind his eyes as he smiles down at Mikasa.

“Hey Mika,” he ruffles her hair, making Mikasa grumble and reach towards her head to right what he’s ruined. His eyes wander back to you; you’re watching him too, sizing him up. He wonders if you like what you see, pulls at the zipper of his orange jumpsuit to inch it down, reveal some of his stomach. Eren’s not conceited per se, but he spends an unhealthy amount of time in the gym, and he knows it shows. As your gaze travels down to where he holds his zipper, Eren can’t look away, knows it must be obvious that he’s distracted.

“Bro,” Jean snaps his fingers in front of Eren’s eyes, looking over his shoulder to see what Eren’s staring at. He turns back with a smirk. “Yeah?”

Fuck, now Mikasa’s looking off in the same direction, returning her eyes to him with a scowl. Drunk or not, she never fails to scare the shit out of him. “No. No fucking way, Eren.”

“What?” Eren sips his beer innocently, shrugging. He was only staring…for now.

“She’s my best friend, Eren, no,” Mikasa says, firmer this time.

“Thought I was your best friend?”

“Didn’t she just break things off with Floch like…” Jean trails off at the withering glare Mikasa shoots him, turning red.

“She’s off-limits.” Eren nods, her words going in one ear and out the other. Mikasa’s scolded him before, and she won’t stop anytime soon, so what’s one more? She can read his mind, evidently, because she reaches up and pinches his cheek, yanking him down to her level.

“Ow!”

“Off. Fucking. Limits.” Mikasa seethes. “Do you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah I- fuck, let go! I hear you Mika,” Eren rubs his sore cheek, frowning. He can see you laughing at him, eyes barely visible over the edge of your drink. Great, Eren thinks; getting a talking-to from Mikasa like a child was not the first impression he wanted to give you.

Mikasa’s grabbing Jean’s hand and pulling him back towards the crowd, presumably to play guard dog for you, but before she can get him too far, Jean leans back towards Eren, cups a hand around his mouth.

“She’s single, bro,” Jean manages to get out before Mikasa pulls harder, “go for it!”

Eren grins. If Mikasa wanted to bite his head off for this, now he could blame it on Jean. What the hell was he supposed to say to you, though? You’re leagues above the girls he’s been pursuing. If Eren’s honest with himself, he’s intimidated by you, but his only solution is to throw some more of his beer back for liquid courage. He’s always loved a challenge.

When he pulls the cup away from his face, you’ve appeared in front of him, smiling demurely and nearly making him jump out of his skin.

“Hi.” 

-

The second you saw him, you were hooked. He was gorgeous, dark hair pulled into a little half-bun on the back of his head, pretty eyes, and tall and broad to boot. He was almost stern-looking, dark eyebrows shielding his eyes. Dark and mean, just the way you like them.

Mikasa had given him a massive hug, interrupting the clear eye-fucking you were engaged in across the room; so that was Eren? Her long-lost best friend that was always too busy to visit? The happy kid from the picture? You watched her scold him, giggling to yourself at how childlike he became, crumbling under Mikasa’s pinch and pouting when she let him go.

You had no choice, really. Your promise to Mikasa had flown out of your mind the moment you saw those full lips pursed around the blunt, blowing out a puff of smoke, stretching into a wide, dangerous smile. You’re an only child and admittedly, a bit spoiled, so when you want something, you get it.

“Hi,” you can’t manage anything more clever, not face to face with his bare chest. Jean’s apartment is stuffy, and you catch the gleam of sweat on his chest in the LED lighting. You lick your lips.

“Hi,” Eren responds stiffly, looking as surprised as if you’d just punched him in the gut.

“You’re Eren, right? Mikasa’s friend?”

Eren hits his blunt again, nods slowly. “I don’t think we’ve met though, you’re…?”

You give him your name. He smiles and repeats it, rolling it around on his tongue and getting a taste for it. You can already see little hearts in his eyes, it makes you grin to yourself. You had expected him to put up more of a fight; there’s a dozen girls in this room alone that would fall all over themselves to get him in bed, but he’s enraptured by you, eyes never leaving your face. You’ve got him. 

“A cat, huh?” Eren addresses the costume, dipping his head in the direction of the little black ears on your head. You’re suddenly embarrassed, feeling a bit silly.

“I, uh, didn’t really have time to shop,” you shrug, pulling at the hem of your dress. Eren’s mouth quirks up. “A prisoner?”

“Yeah, I didn’t get to pick. I like yours, though, it fits you.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “A cat fits me?”

“Yeah,” Eren says, growing surer by the second, “I don’t know. Just fits. S’cute.”

You’re embarrassed by the giddy flutter in your stomach. God, he’s delicious. “You think I’m cute?”

“I think lots of things about you,” Eren replies, voice low and sultry and hardly audible over the music. His eyes widen like he hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud, but it’s too late now. You grin, all teeth and bad intentions.

“We just met,” you point out. Eren’s confidence has returned, he boldly brings a hand to the spaghetti strap of your dress. His fingers are hot– why do men always run so hot? His touch almost burns.

“You wore this,” he rubs the fabric between his fingers, “and expect me not to have a few thoughts on it? Wasn’t that the point?”

The breath leaves your lungs. Your confidence fizzles at the same rate as your arousal grows. There are plenty of hot guys here, but you might have jumped into the deep end with this one. Something flickers in his eyes, something hungry.

“Why don’t you tell me about these thoughts of yours?”

“I will,” Eren nods, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, “later.”

“Later?”

“We’re at a party,” Eren takes the empty cup from you, replacing it with his own, much larger hand, “shouldn’t we at least dance a little?”

Before you can argue, he’s pulling you out into the center of Jean’s obnoxiously spacious living room, into a jungle of sweaty, gyrating bodies. You’re close enough to the speakers now that the bass pounds through your body to the same rhythm as your heart thudding in your chest. The crowded, makeshift dance floor pushes you into Eren, skin against skin. You have a fleeting moment to be grateful that you’re likely now obscured from Mikasa’s view before a pair of strong hands around your hips prevent any more conscious thoughts from taking shape in your brain.

“One of my thoughts,” Eren��s right beside your ear now, voice echoing in your brain, “is that I like you. Like this body.”

“T-thank you,” you stammer out, wanting to facepalm at not only your stupidly simple response, but the weakness in your voice.

“Move it for me.”

You obey him, letting your body move with the music, trying not to get too caught up in whether or not you look ridiculous with how you’re pressing your body into his, arms thrown around his neck. Eren seems to like the way you move on him, pushing and pulling your hips in the rhythm you’ve set, looking down his nose at you with bloodshot eyes.

Your panties are growing wetter by the second; he’s intoxicating, the feel of him against you, firm and tacky with sweat. His hands are tracing up your sides, dragging slowly as if he’s memorizing the curves of your body. You haven’t known him long enough to want him the way that you do, humiliated by the carnal desire simmering in the pit of your stomach, but you’ve had enough tequila not to care. The whole thing is too similar to what you really want, and you make it through a solid seven or eight songs before you can’t take the stifling tension between the two of you any longer, thick enough to cut with a knife.

You lean up on the tips of your toes, wobbling in your heels, and grab him tight around the neck, pulling him to you. Your lips finally meet; Eren’s slow to respond as you’ve caught him off guard, but he catches on quickly, lips falling open so you can kiss him deeper. His lips are softer than you expect, supple and giving as they move with yours. You trace your tongue through his teeth, hardly suppressing a whine. He tastes good, like cheap beer and weed and lust. You drink him in, a satisfied hum buzzing in your chest.

Without warning, Eren practically rips you off of him. “Not here.”

He’s dragging you through the people around you, knocking them out of the way and not stopping to apologize when he gets offended looks. He pulls you into what you know to be Jean’s room, wastes no time in shoving you up against the door and blocking you in with his wide shoulders.

You swallow hard; you’ve underestimated him.

“Another one of my thoughts,” Eren mouths at the area beneath your ear, makes you groan, “is that you’re pretty. Like, very fucking pretty. Bet you’re twice as pretty under this dress.”

“I think you’re pretty, too,” you manage to say, forcing the words from your mouth. Eren chuckles, smiling against the shell of your ear.

“C’mere,” he tilts your chin up, kissing you again. It’s troublingly gentle, long and languid as your mouths move against one another. He kisses you like he loves you; the thought makes alarm bells ring in your head, and you nip at his bottom lip to break up the emotional momentum, sink your teeth into it. Eren pulls back, chuckling down at you. “You’re mean.”

“Only a little.”

“Is that what you like?” Eren thumbs at your mouth, slipping his finger between your lips. You suck greedily, rubbing your tongue against the roughness of his fingertip. “Like it a little mean? Between you and me, I like ‘em a little mean, too.”

You nod, gently biting on his thumb. Eren groans, a low rumble deep in his chest. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with you.”

He’s pulling your dress over your head before you can stop him, sucking in a sharp breath when he gets an eyeful of your lace-clad breasts, the tiny thong you’ve slipped over your hips. Stronger than you’d expected, Eren pulls you up to wrap your legs around his waist, slamming your back against the door with a loud thud and knocking your stupid cat ears to the floor. You can hear a few sounds of surprise from outside; surely that got a few people’s attention, but you’re lost in him, whimpering at the feel of his jumpsuit costume rubbing against your clothed center.

Eren’s sloppy, placing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to suck a bruise underneath your ear. You gasp, canting your hips into his stomach, desperate for friction. You’re normally not so uninhibited, but Eren’s doing something to your head, has your mind spinning. He’s carrying you over to the bed, dropping you down onto Jean’s sheets. Eren leans down to pull your heels off, a sweet gesture if you could find the presence of mind to acknowledge it. You feel a flicker of guilt about doing this in Jean’s bed, but when Eren starts sliding a hand up your thigh, it flickers away into nothing, swallowed by your bottomless want. 

“Look at that,” Eren smirks, rubbing his fingers over your panties, “soaked. This all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine, hips jerking up towards his touch. It is for him, it was from the moment you laid eyes on him, and you both know it. His hands are everywhere: unclasping your bra, pulling your panties down, palming at your tits. You arch your back up to him, offering him your chest; he responds by closing down on one of your nipples with his teeth.

“So pretty,” Eren’s murmuring around the mouthful of your flesh he’s got, twisting the neglected nipple of your right breast between his fingers, “so pretty.”

“Eren,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, pulling it out of its bun and wrapping the hair band around your wrist. His mouth is hot, scalding, even, but you pull him closer to you anyway, pressing his face into your tits. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, letting you move him this way and that, show him what you like and how to pull those pretty moans out of your mouth. Before long, he’s kissing his way down your stomach, hands gripping your hips like a lifeline.

“Want a taste,” Eren sounds more like he’s talking to himself than to you, “need to taste this pussy.”

“Eren,” you reach for his hair, trying to pull him back up to you. While you’d love to see what the mouth that had just kissed you breathless could do between your legs, the thumping music outside is an annoying but consistent reminder that there’s an entire party outside and you’re in Jean’s bedroom. The clock’s ticking. “Want to feel you, we don’t have time for–”

“Don’t have time?” Something wicked lights Eren’s face up as he shimmies your panties down your legs. “Believe me, it won’t take long.”

“Eren,” your protest is feeble but earnest, and you make another attempt to reach for him when a long, thick lick up your center renders you near-unconscious. You moan, a little louder than you would have liked to.

“See? Gonna make you feel so good, trust me,” Eren’s punctuating each word with a little kiss somewhere on your pussy: your clit, your lips, right over your fluttering entrance. You have no choice but to whimper and nod, canting your hips up towards him. You look down, immediately regretting it: Eren’s wiggled out of his costume, naked and beautiful and staring up at you from between your legs. You’re hardly able to swallow the inhuman sound that threatens to rip from your throat.

Where he’d been cool and calculated pulling you onto the dance floor, you quickly learn that Eren eats pussy like he can’t control himself, like his life depends on it. His massive hands wrap around the tops of your thighs, securing you against his face as you try to squirm away. He licks into you enthusiastically, moaning against you at the taste, sending a succession of vibrations through you that go straight to the fire in your stomach.

When his lips close around your clit and suck hard, you have to slap a hand over your mouth to stop a wail from reaching the ears right outside the door. Eren takes the opportunity to sneak a finger into you, curl it right against that gummy spot in your walls that has you seeing stars. As he works his finger in your cunt, he kisses his way back up to your mouth, greeting you with a sloppy kiss.

“Feels good, right?” Eren’s face is literally dripping with you, a sharp-toothed grin barely visible in the dim light.

“Feels good,” you whimper, daring to look down to where he’s grinding his palm against your clit. You can see the veins of his muscular arm straining as he pumps in and out of you; it’s a lewd sight, one that makes your head spin. “‘S so much Eren, I— fuck.”

“Yeah?” Eren’s smile grows darker, another finger slips into you easily. You’re practically dripping onto the sheets at this point, rolling your hips against his hand with your mouth hanging open. It’s humiliating but too gratifying to stop. “Gonna cum for me? You can do it, give it to me.”

“God– close, so c-close,” you can barely find the words to respond, the pressure in your belly swelling at an alarming speed. You’re going to squirt, you know you are, should move off of Jean’s bed or warn Eren or do something, but it’s too late.

You thrash in Eren’s grip, cumming so hard you think you can taste blood where you bite your lip. You can feel the wetness spraying from you, soaking Eren’s hand and the sheets and your inner thighs, can distantly hear your pitiful cries, but you’re powerless to do anything about it until the mind-numbing orgasm’s run its course. Eventually you do settle, babbling incoherently into Eren’s shoulder about Jean’s ruined sheets, about how you’re sorry for making a mess. Eren shuts you up with his mouth on yours; you can hear the distant rip of a condom wrapper.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he laughs, rolling on top of you and lining himself up, “gonna have to keep you.”

Before you can even think to offer to return the favor or make a sarcastic remark about how you’d never let anyone keep you, Eren’s pressing into you, and your mind short-circuits. Shit, maybe you’d let him keep you.

You hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the darkness, but he’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had before, and big enough that you realize this when he’s not even halfway in.

“Eren…it’s so– s’big,” you hiccup into his shoulder, fingernails clawing into his biceps.

“Is it too much, baby?” You hate pet names, hate them, but from the greek god splitting you open right now, you love it, want to lick the word right out of his mouth and taste it on your own tongue. The genuine concern glittering in his eyes, the little furrow between his brows as he pauses, frowns down at you, fuck, you might be in love.

“No, not too much– feels good.”

Eren’s grin is feral. “Yeah? Tell me.”

“Feels so fucking good,” a little giggle sneaks out from your clenched jaw, Eren smiles wider and cups your face to kiss you again, far too gently to match the way he’s stretching you, bullying your cunt into the shape of him.

“Feel full?”

“Mhm,” he’s bottomed out now, impossibly deep, and you give him a little roll of your hips to show him just how okay you are, that you’re ready to see what he can really do.

“You’ve got–” Eren rolls his hips experimentally, punches a moan from your chest– “the best fucking pussy. So tight for me.”

Ordinarily, dirty talk makes you cringe, but something about the way he words things, as raw as if his inner monologue is spilling out of him, turns you on, makes your cunt clench down around him. That makes him happy, he sucks in a breath of air and starts pounding into you hard enough to make tears well in your eyes, hard enough to make you squeal in a way no one else ever has.

“Taking me so fucking well, baby,” Eren’s hands are grabbing your face, his lips pressing into your forehead, “never gonna let this pussy go.”

You grant him a long moan of agreement, so cockdrunk that for now, you’re more than happy to sign your freedom away to stay in this bed, pinned underneath him for all of eternity. He’s fucking into you so deep he’s practically in your throat; your breath comes out in short little huffs, choking on the brutal pace of his fucking. And god, he’s so big, but you’re taking him somehow, like you were made for it.

Eren moves one of his hands away from his face to swat your fingers away from where you’re digging into his arms, surely close to drawing blood.

“Fucking hurts,” he hisses, “just as mean as you are pretty, y’know that?”

He easily manhandles your arms above your head, pinning them above you by your wrists. The way he stretches his body to do so changes the angle he’s fucking into you at; now he’s hammering into the spot inside of you he’d found far too quickly with his fingers. Your eyes shoot open at the change, and Eren doesn’t miss it. He smirks.

“Right there?”

“God, yes, please– right there,” you sound pathetic, the few surviving rational brain cells you possess are laughing at you, but there’s no help for it. He’s already got you spiraling towards cumming again, the wetness from your cunt creating a sucking sound where he’s moving in and out of you.

“Fuck, m’close. Think you can cum again for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe, tilting your head up to nip at his neck, a tear or two running down into your hairline. You can do anything he asks, you think, anything in the world just for him, for how he’s making you feel. Eren practically growls, pistoning his hips faster.

“Need you to cum for me, okay beautiful? Cum right now.”

“S-so close– I– Eren, oh my god,” you’re babbling, eyes rolling back into your head. Eren smashes his lips to yours, grinding his hips into your clit and shoving you over the edge for the second time that night. You sob and convulse around him, back arching desperately and pressing your chests together. You’re seeing stars as he fucks you through it, grunting in your ear and growing sloppy as you tighten around him.

“Fuck!” Eren bites into your shoulder, hard enough to bruise, stilling his hips as deep inside you as he can manage. Your fucked-out brain wants the condom off, wants to feel the full warmth of him as he cums inside of you, grinding his hips against yours. Before he’s finished, Eren moves back to your mouth, kissing you deep and slow, a kiss that means a whole lot more than what you’ve just done together as a party rages just past the door.

As you’re panting beneath him, trying to ground yourself and come back to reality, Eren rolls off of you, whips the condom off, and to your surprise, takes you into his arms, pulls your head to his chest.

“You okay?”

You’re so blissed out right now that it’s a laughable question, and you giggle, watery and light into his chest. “More than okay.”

Eren laughs at that, a real laugh from deep in his stomach. The sound of it makes something warm and happy spark in your chest. “That good, huh?”

“You’re alright.” You’re trying to keep your eyes open, more than aware that your teeny tiny thong is on the floor and you’re naked in the arms of a stranger in Jean’s fucking bed, but Eren’s so warm, so comfortable, your eyes are fluttering despite your protests. 

“Oh?” Eren’s voice raises in pitch, gets breathy. “Yes, Eren! Right there, Eren! I’m cumming, Eren!”

“Oh my god, shut up!” You smack at his chest, cheeks burning, but you make no move to roll away from him, preferring your snug little hovel against him to the loud, smoky party that awaits you should you leave.

“S’okay,” Eren presses a kiss to your hairline, “I like that you’re loud.”

“Not loud,” you grouch, resolving to let yourself enjoy just a few minutes of keeping your eyes closed before you return to the party. The last thing you remember is Eren humming, tracing circles into your shoulders with his fingers. You think you recognize the tune; it’s a love song.

–

“Jaeger!”

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god, is that Jean? What time is it? Eren!”

Eren’s first peaceful sleep in months is disturbed rather rudely, in his opinion; he shields his eyes from the brightness of the overhead light, peering through his fingers to see you, hair a rat’s nest and smudged makeup in rings around your eyes. He scowls at the warm, empty spot next to him in the bed that you’ve already leapt out of, frantic with energy even through your hangover. You’re alternating between running around the room naked, trying to find your dress, and shaking him urgently. He bites back a grin; so you are real, and just as hot as he remembered.

“Chill the fuck out, Jean!” Eren shouts, using far more energy than he can afford to expend if he’s leaving the bed anytime soon. The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 7:01am. Shit. “We’ll be out in a second!”

“Get your ass out here, Eren!” Shit. Mikasa’s here too? Oh, he’s dead the second he leaves this room. All the better to stay put, then.

“Get up,” you hiss at him, looking every bit of a pissed-off racoon as you scrounge around on the floor.

“Need my hair tie back if you want me to get up.”

“Ugh, here,” you fling it at him, hitting him squarely in the forehead. Eren chuckles, pulling his hair off of his neck and into its usual bun. He feels empty, feels alone, realizes that he wants your touch, the same body-to-body contact that he’d enjoyed last night.. 

“They’re fine,” Eren grumbles, hoping you can’t see the amusement written on his face, “we’ve got a few more minutes.”

He reaches sleepily for you, pulling you back into the bed with him amidst your whispered protests, pulling your lips back to his where they belong. He kisses you slowly, indulgently, convincingly. Your skin against his does wonders for the soul-crushing anxiety he’s been putting up with over the last few months. You’re like a drug to him; just one hit and he feels worlds better, feels like he can actually get through everything weighing on him for now. Jesus, even your morning breath doesn’t turn him off; his cock twitches in interest beneath the covers. Cute when you’re angry, he thinks to himself. He has a feeling you’d smack him if he said it out loud.

“We can’t,” you breathe into his mouth, pushing weakly at his chest. Eren loves the feel of your palms on his chest, necessarily resistant in the name of a one–night stand, but lacking the force to prove your point. You want him too, he realizes. The thought goes straight to his dick, and he takes a deep breath to keep his composure, to stop himself from jumping all over you with Mikasa and Jean right outside. He’s rather impressed with his efforts, rubbing small circles on your lower back instead of grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you into his lap like he wants to.

“We can,” Eren murmurs back, already ten times happier than he was a moment ago, “just want to kiss you, that’s all.”

That makes you pull back, fix him with a stern look. “I don’t want to come off as a bitch, but I don’t really do the morning-after thing. Don’t you live, like, five hours from the city anyway?”

Eren’s not the brightest when he’s tired, and he’s even stupider around beautiful women. He cocks his head at you, smiling. “Mikasa didn’t tell you? I’m moving to the city in a few weeks.”

You eye him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Eren’s bullshitting, bullshitting very badly and he knows it, “just have to get some things worked out with my brother and our business. Get the operation moved here, that’s all.”

He knows your type: flighty, heavily anti-commitment, and meaner than a snake when you’re cornered. But Eren hopes, he hopes stupidly and against all reason because even if it was just a night, he meant what he said in the throes of passion. You’re funny, you’re interesting, you’re sexy, and he doesn’t want to let you go. He wants to fuck you stupid, just like he did last night, for the rest of his life.

He can’t say any of this out loud, of course, but what if he’s not bullshitting? What if he can convince Zeke to move their amateur record label into the city, where they can pick up real artists, and he can fuck you stupid whenever he feels like it? Maybe he can even learn how you like your coffee, what your bra size is, where the junk drawer in your apartment lives. Eren doesn’t know you, he knows that, but he inexplicably wants those things, wants the mundane parts of you for himself.

“Get the fuck out here, Jaeger, that’s my fucking bed!” Fists pound against the door, threatening to barge into your little sanctuary. Mikasa’s calling your name from outside too, voice harsh and angry. Eren waits for you to scold him, waits for you to shove him off of you and tell him to fuck off.

To his surprise, you make no move to get up and offer him a sheepish grin, shrugging shyly as if you’re not fully naked in his arms. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Eren’s heart swells. “I’m not chancing that. Give me your number.”“You can earn my number if you buy me breakfast,” you scoff, “and help me find my dress before Mikasa kills us both.”

[theshypinkflower]

🎃 Kinktober ~ Somno/Bondage/Clown/Feeding

🔨 Strade (Day 8 and 9)

Somno, dub con, non con, forced feeding, bondage is mentioned once, anal, Strade being Strade

You groaned as Strade shoved another Snickers into your mouth. “Awwwww, cmon liebling, you know I hate to waste candy,” he sweetly cooed as you slowly chewed on the chocolate caramel treat. It was Halloween and unfortunately for you not a lot of trick or treaters stopped by. Maybe it was because all the little kids were terrified of Strade’s clown costume. Either way, not many stopped by to grab handfuls of candy, so Strade now had an entire bucket of candy that wasn’t going to get eaten. Who better to get rid of the candy other than you?

You felt sick from the amount of candy you ate. Sticky taffy, crunchy M&Ms, ooey chocolate bars, it was all too much. Piece after piece, your stomach began to get a little upset. “Strade…please..my stomach hurts,” you whined as you tried to cover your mouth so he couldn’t shove more candy in. Strade gave a wicked grin before gripping your wrist so you couldn’t prevent him from stuffing you full. “Awwwww! But it’s Halloween! Don’t you want to gorge on all the good candy?” He asked before shoving a handful of gummy worms into your mouth and making you chew.

You swallowed with a shudder, “Please, no more…” you begged only for Strade to unwrap a Payday. “Don’t worry, just one more piece!” He exclaimed. This time, instead of shoving the candy into your face, he handed it to you. He knew you’d eat this last one. With shaky hands, you brought the candy to your lips and quickly ate it, chewing and swallowing in a rush knowing you were finally done. You sighed in relief, flopping onto the couch while Strade laughed. “My! You did such a good job, tell you what, I’ll go get this makeup off and we’ll watch whatever movie you want,” Strade said with a tone that was both sweet and taunting.

You sighed and rolled onto your side, slowly closing your eyes as Strade got up and walked towards the bathroom. He scrubbed the greasepaint off his face, a bite of the white face paint left a residue, making his complexion a bit lighter than it actually was. It felt good to get out of that silly costume, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy being in it for a while. Strade did Halloween better than anyone else, the skeletons out on his lawn looked so real and he always had full sized candy bars, too bad not so many kids trick-or-treated like they used to. It almost made him sad, but luckily there was you to make it better.

Strade walked out of the bathroom, smiling as he noticed a sleeping figure on his couch. “Awwww, poor thing, did you have too much candy?” He teasingly asked. Not like you could respond, you were out like a light and stuffed full of candy. Strade waved his hand in front of your face, trying to gauge how knocked out you were. You didn’t even flinch. Strade got a devilishly good idea on what to do while you were asleep. He hurried down into the basement, returning with some rope in his hand.

Strade rolled you onto your swollen stomach, chuckling to himself as your face contorted in discomfort. Any more pressure and you might’ve thrown up all that candy you just ate. He tied your arms behind your back, making sure to make his knots tight. Strade always thought you looked better tied up, and tonight was no exception. Keeping you on your stomach, Strade pulled your sweatpants and underwear down, just enough to expose your ass.

He grinned as he spread your cheeks just enough to show off your puckered hole. He let a fat glob of spit drool down onto the spot before pulling out his stiffening cock from his shorts. Strade let out a soft moan as he forced himself inside you, loving how you still gripped him like a vice despite being fast asleep. His hips began moving at a slow pace before he picked up some speed, his pelvis making slapping noises against your ass which he loved so much.

He gripped the fat of your ass, chuckling as he continued to fuck you. “My, you must've eaten too much if you’re not waking up!” He playfully teased as his thick cock rutted inside of you. You groaned in discomfort and Strade could only imagine what you were dreaming about while he fucked your uncocniojs body. He even slapped your ass, thinking it might wake you up, but the food coma must’ve been stronger than he thought. No matter, he continued at a rough pace, using your body like a fleshlight.

With a couple more thrust, he gripped your hips and forced you all the way down to the base. He smiled widely as thick loads filled your ass to the brim, spilling out a bit and leaving a white ring around the base of his cock. He pulled out, loving how his cum spilled out of you, it was truly a sight he should’ve had on camera. He missed that opportunity though. It didn’t matter, he had his fun and now he was about to have some more.

Carrying your limp body down into the basement, he tied you to the pole and placed a Halloween decoration in front of you. When he turned off the lights, he knew you’d wake up to glowing eyes and oh how you’d scream before realizing it was a prop. He would’ve used a corpse, but he didn’t have any lying around.

Oh well, not like Halloween was the only day he scared you.

[displacedbias]

[pre-gala]

Ted couldn't help but envy his twin sometimes. He was pretty lucky in ways Felix never even seemed to notice. Lucky in other ways? No, that would be an outright lie. But in his sense of fashion, his taste for higher class clothing, and etiquette, and language, and... all that other stuff Ted personally found boring-- were all things Fe absolutely thrived in. Ted only barely managed to learn it just because he was going to inherit their father's company, and even then, he'd hated every second. Felix on the other hand, had no reason to learn it better than Ted ever could, but he did. He had a real talent for it. And it was probably another case of doing it in the hopes he'd earn their dad's favour for once, but Ted could tell Felix did actually enjoy that stuff too.

The kindergala again... Ted shifted himself on the couch he was sitting on. --Well, 'sitting' was the wrong word. He never liked sitting still for too long with the restless energy he had, and now he was hanging upside down, back draping over the cushions, legs up on the backrest. 

It was a shame that Penny couldn't come this time. Something about being busy with the numerous afterschool stuff she'd begun taking up, and Ted understood. After all, he had MMA, music lessons, and business classes, but that was enough to juggle with the gala going on too. Besides, he could probably plan some other date with Penny, just the two of them. That'd be nice. But he was really hoping he could go on a double date, now that Felix was finally ready to ask someone out this time. No matter; he was gonna wingman the heck outta him and Ozzy, and hopefully they'd have as great of a time as Penny and himself had. ...The last thing he wanted was to see his twin sad. Yeah, no, Ted had already decided this gala was gonna be fun no matter what!!!

But still, Ted didn't entirely want to come alone either. It was a masquerade party this time around, wasn't it? ...It was kind of a no brainer as to which one of his friends would enjoy that the most.

Calling up Alice to invite her turned into a nice conversation, which turned into Ted immediately setting off to go to her house. She was such a creative person, always bursting with ideas he'd never even thought of. All he did was complain about the dress code, how much he hated wearing stiff, fancy tuxes and suits. He had plenty of those in his closet, thanks to the typical Huxley dinner parties and company balls that Ted was forced to attend as the son that Mr. Huxley had put all his hopes on since the moment of his birth. Eugh. But he really liked Alice's ideas-- much preferred them, really-- And she mentioned having some clothing in her possession that might work.

"Why not wear something else?" Alice had suggested during the phone call, "If you don't enjoy wearing formal clothing, then don't. It is a masquerade, yes? Masks are an important part of the attire, indeed, but that's just one component of it. Costumes are another big part of it. Actual costumes, not just suits and ties; although there is a lot of that in the modern day."

Ted blinked. That was news to him. "Like, Halloween costumes?"

"...Hm, well, somewhat?" Ted could hear Alice's voice teetering on how to answer that, "Sure, I suppose. Like Halloween costumes, but with a level of decorum."

"So no dressing in Spongebob foam suits?"

"I suppose you could. I don't see why anyone would stop you, but traditionally, no." Alice rejected solemnly, not even a hint of getting out of character, refined and composed, "Regrettably, Spongebob was not invented long 'til the eve of the 20th century. But I am sure aristocrats would have loved to have Spongebob costumes as their main mode of dress for masquerades, had that materialized in their time." Ted stifled a laugh as he listened to Alice continue on, "No, no, I have a proposal which should find you leagues better."

"Oh?" Ted asked, moving to sit right-side up on top of the couch's back, trying to see if he could fit in between the space between the couch and the wall (He could not). "I'm all ears!"

He could practically hear the way Alice's eyes sparkled when she got really into her fantasy, fae court, riddling, bone god roleplay kinds of scenarios she'd get super into. Especially when other people played along. "I beseech that you should don yourself a rogue of yore. One who is stealthy, perceptive, and skilled. Agile, cunning, and quick-witted-- Such a role is what would contend best to the likes of you, Theodore Huxley."

Even after knowing Alice since kindergarten four years ago, he still sometimes struggled to understand her fancy-speak. This however, actually wasn't too bad this time. "A rogue? I know what that is! Those are, like, the thief guys in D&D, right?" Ted thought about it some more, nodding to himself, "I bet they dress pretty comfy, 'cause they gotta move around a lot, too. Yeah! That sounds perfect for me! ...Uh, so, how do they dress anyway? Are they fancy enough for the gala?"

"I can exert my magic, if you wish it, to add some ‘fancy’ elements necessary. Depart for my dwelling, and you shall be bestowed garments fit for Robin Hood himself. Certainly, I have something in here to spare. Some old costuming from plays, and whatnot." Alice paused for a second, "...And you've already set off, haven't you? The wind whispers so."

Oh. She could hear the wind through his cellphone. "Right, sorry. It is pretty windy today, huh...? That's distracting. Tell you what, we can just talk more when I get to your place! See you then!"

"Then I await your presence. Godspeed." Alice hung up. And Ted was already on his way, glad he finally didn't have to wear some stupid stuffy Huxley outfit to a fancy party for once.

[nixotinix]

Miscellaneous Jackson/Holt headcanons because I have them brainrot and I know these boys better than the MH execs actually. Below the cut :3

-My biggest and fave headcanon!! Jackson is actually Hyde's kid, and Holt is Jekyll's. Let me explain. In the original book (which I've read dozens of times, i have a problem), Jekyll is sociable, gets along well with most others, and is a popular figure in society. Hyde, meanwhile, is more of a recluse, sometimes disappearing for months at a time, and tends to shy away from the limelight. Hm. Now who between Jackson and Holt seems like the more social one? Now Nix, I hear you cry, what about Jackson's mad scientist element? That's a Jekyll thing. Yes, BUT. Social awareness tends to be more of an ingrained thing, something someone is either good at or not that good at. Science, on the other hand, is a skill, an interest. Something that can be changed or decided. Since most people assumed Jackson was Jekyll's kid, hell, they share a last name, I like to think Jackson was like yea, ok. Guess I should be good at science and he ended up really liking it. This is mostly just my 4 year Jekyll and Hyde hyperfixation talking, but feel free to talk w me about this!!

-Again pulling from the original J&H, Jackson and Holt can replicate each others' handwriting perfectly. Holt can, has, and will use this for mischief.

-Once again pulling from J&H, Jackson is taller than Holt, and Jackson is almost freakishly tall. Jackson is around 6'3" and Holt around 5'4". Holt usually wears platform shoes to make the height difference less noticable, but the difference is still definitely there. This also ties into my sweet sweet Jackson/Holt x Frankie heart, with Jackson being significantly taller than Frankie and Holt being a bit shorter (with Frankie at about 5'7").

-In addition to Crossfade, Jackson has three pet rats that he keeps in his coat pockets. Their names are Plato, Thales, and Socrates.

-Holt can play eight instruments: the guitar, bass, keyboard, drums, trumpet, alto saxophone, violin, and the lyre.

-Thanks to his fire elemental heritage, Jackson can create a small fire at his fingertips. However it takes a decent bit of concentration and it only lasts as long as he can hold his breath. In addition, he can withstand higher temperatures than most humans and, when exhibiting a strong emotion, his body temperature rises to the point that small heat waves can be seen rising from his shoulders.

-If Deuce gets to be besties with Jackson, he gets to be besties with Holt too. They hang out after Holt's shows and at Deuce's job.

-Jackson asked Deuce to stone him once "for science". Deuce refused adamently. Jackson is still trying to get him to agree.

-Due to my own personal backstory for the boys, they live with their dad in the monster world.

-They still hang out with Heath sometimes. Holt more often than Jackson.

-Jackson does all of their schoolwork save for music theory.

-Jackson likes sitting on elevated surfaces. Holt, to one-up Jackson, often sits on even more elevated surfaces. It's not uncommon for him to climb up onto the roof of a car or the top of a dresser.

-He also just likes climbing things.

-Both Jackson and Holt know sign language. Jackson because he's just kind of a nerd, and Holt because he can't really hear when he's out because of the fact he needs loud music to stay out in the first place.

-Jackson would never admit it, but he logs onto Holt's Spotify every now and then to listen to his playlist. They share similar music tastes. And maybe sometimes Jackson adds random songs just to be a little shit, but that's partially why he'd never admit it.

-Okay so maybe I have a 3 and a half hour playlist of songs I think Holt would like. You can't prove anything.

-Holt has only ever turned down an invitation to DJ once. It was for one of Cleo's parties that was shortly after that one Halloween. He still holds a grudge against her, but is willing to hang out with her for the sake of his friends.

-I have a song I associate with each of them the most. Jackson's is Mister Glassman by Scotty Sire and Holt's is Instant Crush by Daft Punk.

-In addition to music being a trigger for switching, another trigger is over/understimulation. If Jackson gets overstimulated, boom, Holt. If Holt gets understimulated, boom, Jackson. It's not as prevalent or common as music though.

-Jax makes dolls of his friends with locks of their actual hair and flakes of skin. His friends find it disgusting. He finds it endearing.

-he's been trying to off Heath with his doll for 4 years.

-Jax is kind of a homicidal maniac,,,,,,,

-While Holt is chill like,, 98% of the time, if he wants to be scary, he is downright TERRIFYING. Picture like,, bright blue flames, unblinking eyes, and a crooked-toothed grin. Enough to make almost anyone piss themselves.

-Holt is really only loud in big social settings. If he's ever one-on-one with someone or all alone, he's almost completely non-verbal. Whether it be social battery or the tism is unknown.

-Jackson, on the other hand, is quiet in big social settings, but will talk someone to death if they're alone with him. Rambling on and on about different chemicals and metals and their interactions with each other.

-That's all! Feel free to add your own hcs in reblogs or notes, I'll probably add on every now and then.

[ask-lock-shock-and-barrel]

If shock wanted to be a mom, what would her kid(s) look like?

((So I'll put this answer below the cut for anyone who doesn't wanna see fankid interpretations, but for the record nothing of it is ever gonna ACTUALLY be relevant on this blog it's just my own personal hc stuff for things beyond the canon storyline of this universe.))

So initially some months ago I designed two potential future kids based on both Shock and Rosa, and then I added a third, who I'll introduce last

Frederica aka Fred is the oldest and is truly the spiritual successor of the mischievous side of the trio, she's not afraid to get her hands dirty and takes a lot after her moms, like Rosa's uncanny ability to hunt things down like they're easter eggs, and Shock's thirst for chaos. But she's not particularly booksmart or a fan of school or wanting to apply herself to succeed, which can cause a bit of friction with her mamas, but they both adore her prankster heart.

Glenn is the second, and he's fundamentally the opposite of his sister, he's very quiet and likes to observe things rather than get involved and he's not one to create mischief or pranks like his sister or his parents and relatives. But his braininess and fondness for books and contemplation will put him in the company of his moms a lot, and especially when he is very little, Shock, or as he calls her 'Maa' will carry him EVERYWHERE, and she admittedly wishes he was a little more stronghearted and tries to toughen him up and help him be independent, but he's a bit of a mama's boy.

Fred loves to tease Glenn and drag him around to be a second hand in her schemes and games and most of the time he suffers for it, but ultimately they are each other's closest ally and if you mess with one of them, the other WILL make you regret it. Just because Glenn doesn't enjoy pulling pranks doesn't mean he CAN'T. He once managed to send some bullies of Fred running in absolute terror from a prank he pulled in revenge.

And then their dynamic is challenged when a third surprise baby is involved in the mix (theyre all concieved by magic, healthcare in halloween town is wild), introducing Magnolia AKA Maggie.

Maggie takes after Rosa way more in appearance, and is arguably the cutest of the three, but she makes Fred look tame when it comes to how much she can actually terrorize and destroy, but she's also a lot more bubbly and cheery and loves to mimic everyone in the family. She especially is obsessed with witches and magic and erroneously thinks her mothers are witches because of Shock's halloween costume, and Rosa's apothecary skills, and wants to be a witch SO bad.

The three get handed down the OG trio's masks, and the bathtub, and go on misadventures in town, and cause enough trouble that they make Lock Shock and Barrel's childhood antics look relatively mild.

Lock gives Fred his mask because they have a very close bond and Lock was instantly enamored with his little niece when she was born. She gave him a pretty serious bout of baby fever, and it resulted in him being a chaotic babysitter and her favorite uncle.

Barrel still remains politely allergic to children, ESPECIALY when Fred was born but they are still warm and caring, and eventually does bond a lot with Glenn over common interests in cooking and music theory. So Glenn gets their mask.

Maggie's fixation with witches almost endeared her to the mask, and Shock let her take it without question.

I have done some concepts of a fourth child who is kind of a spiritual hippie flower child but their design isn't really tied down, and I think their existence is questionable, so for now there's a definite three to carry on the trio's legacy of madness hahaa))

[louferignojr]

Trick or treat :D

Okay ti's the season of Halloween soooo

- - - - -

The zombie apocalypse was definitely not on Buck's bingo card for 2024. It wasn't even on his card for the rest of his life.

He always thought that kinda thing could only happen on TV, in horror movies with a comedic twist, in the video games some of his patients would play on their laptops, not in real life.

Being at work as a nurse practitioner on the day of the outbreak meant he got a first row seat at the virus and everything that came along with it.

It was so far out of his control that it's like he blinked, and the entire world was gone. Just him and his favorite patient still there, because he'd had the bright idea to just grab the kid and hide while the army showed up at the hospital and shot up anyone who could've been exposed.

Which was everyone.

Buck's many late-night Wikipedia binges have been good for one thing, and that's his knowledge. He's got a damn good memory when it comes to that shit.

It's how he knows which plants are good to eat, which herbs will help with what, what kind of things they can use to make things better on themselves.

Hes gotten quite good at this whole survival thing.

"How will we know that the treatment worked?" Ravi asks him as Buck hooks him up to his last dose of chemo. "I mean, there's no way to really know it worked."

"This last round of chemo was just to make sure you go into remission, remember?" Buck replies, handing Ravi the stressball he always likes to hold during these moments. "They removed the tumor, they got all of it. They said one last round of chemo, and you'd most likely be in remission. We'll find a way to test it somehow, once you've recovered."

"I miss my mom." Ravi sniffs, leaning his head back on the armchair he's curled up in. Its made of leather and no matter how hard Buck cleans it, it still smells of whiskey and cigars. "I know there's a chance she's alive but... odds are..."

"Hey," Buck says, sitting down on the sofa next to the armchair. "It's better if we don't think about it. I want to believe my sisters out there but... I'll just go insane if I think about it."

"She went out to pick my sister up from her fucking ballet recital." Ravi mutters, looking away. "How could the one moment I'm without my parents be the moment those army men march in?"

Buck just sighs. It's not the first time Ravi's said something like this and it certainly won't be the last. There's nothing Buck can say to make it better.

The kid is 16, battling cancer and the zombie apocalypse. He's allowed to complain and be a little depressed about it. Buck would never begrudge him that, especially when the kid's just lost his entire family.

"I'm sorry, Ravi.' Buck says, giving him a sad smile. "I wish I could make it better, but I can't. All I can do is help you stay alive."

"What's the point?" Ravi asks, letting out a miserable sigh. "Seriously. The world's gone to shit, why do we need to keep living in it?"

"Because life is precious." Buck reaches out and takes Ravi's hand, holding it gently. "Your parents would want you to keep living. We'll find a community eventually, find some way to be safe, even with all this bad. I'll just keep believing enough for the both of us. Okay?"

Ravi doesn't reply, already looking away. They're on the third floor of an abandoned library, because Buck remembered how many useful things could be found there.

There weren't that many zombies to get rid of when they got here. Buck's taped over most of the windows, he's put up all kinds of barriers just in case.

Hes read every survivalist book in this damn building. He's planning on trying to become one of those pre-medicine healers. He knows it will never replace actual doctors and medicine, but he can do a damn good job with what he's learned so far.

Ravi sticks to comic books and horror novels. Buck doesn't understand why he can read the dark horror stuff, but he's just glad the kid's found something he likes. He's even built himself a little annotation kit out of all the supplies found in the library desks.

They don't have electricity, but Buck's found a way to keep things going. He found a radiator that runs on batteries. He found a way for them to use the toilets without needing to flush (plastic bags and mountains of toilet paper from storage).

The sofas actually make pretty good beds. They sleep in a nook designed for reading comfortably, with pillows and two seater sofas and a soft mattress on the floor where Buck knows kids came for a story time in the before.

He pours some water in their little gas stove, and makes Ravi his anti-nausea tea. It was one of the only things left behind at the little corner store Buck raided a couple days ago.

They're only staying here long enough for Ravi to get through his treatment, to recover, get better. Buck has the will to keep him alive, and the skills to do it.

- - - -

No idea why it won't let me select all to make the font smaller but 🙄 sorry it went a bit long heh

[aew-kun-age-regression]

Regressor!Kylo Ren Headcannons

He is little baby/child. <3

2-4 age range.

Chews on his sleeves.

Regresses because of stress. He just wants to do his best.

Tantrums. He throws a lot of tantrums.

^ it allows him to let his emotions out.

He will hit anyone and anything. Lashes out at people.

So many tears. Only when no one else is around tho-

Too young to really be left alone, however he doesn't like the idea of being alone :(

Really just needs to be loved </3

(until the next movie I don't see more of him with Ray but I think she'd look after him when small and if they don't bond more we're going to ignore it because I think it would be cute soooo)

He will not EVER admit that he regresses.

He's already pretty distrustful of people but when regressed that's amped up even more. He trusts no one, (except Ray) not after what happened with Luke 😭

I feel like he'd love to pick up a stick and swing it 😂💀 (he can't have his light saber, it's design means if it slips it's even easier to get hurt)

He would happily keep himself occupied with a ball. (He will hit it against a wall and it will go anywhere and everywhere.)

He mostly says in his room when small, wanting to stay far away from anyone

He doesn't have loads of regression gear.

^ I don't really see him owning any Plushies. However he has a blanket (it's white and relatively thin like Leia's outfit in a new hope) He loves it to bits but absolutely no one has any idea it exists.

He sucks his thumb

^ He tried to get a Paci once however quickly learnt that it didn't feel right (so now he rarely uses it. Normally only uses it if he has a particularly bad tantrum and thinks that if he uses his thumb he may accidentally bite himself)

Likes playing with wooden blocks (he actually just likes making towers with them and then knocking them over 😂)

I don't see him as someone who would necessarily enjoy colouring however he does like scribbling on paper with different colours. (Again it kinda helps him express his emotions)

He ties his hair up into a half up kinda style (he doesn't like it in his face)

He'd like holidays like Christmas and Halloween, he'd love decorating his room with stuff for each season.

"the last thing I saw was the eyes of a frightened boy" he truly is just a lil kid. :(

[akiscigarette]

One Shot Summer Day 2: "Cicatrices" (Scars)

Inspired by Cicatrices, perfomed by Kalimba. If you're Mexican, you understand why there isn't any link to the song.

Ven y dime corazón, ¿cómo empezar Come here and tell me love, Una vez más sin ti? how can I start again without you? Ven y dile al corazón que puede seguir Come and tell my heart that it can move on Que puede vivir sin ti That it can live without you Este amor que se fue This love is already gone Y que no puedo vivir sin ti And I can’t live without you Este amor que se fue This love is long gone Y que no puedo tener And I can’t have it anymore Que era de los dos, pero se olvidó It was ours, but it’s already forgotten Dejando cicatrices Just leaving scars behind

Another day long gone, another day in which Kazutora Hanemiya didn’t receive any letter from the outside.

He felt like he was slowly losing it completely, because he kept waiting from that particular letter since he came back to juvie. Only 15 years old, and two murder chargers were already weighting on his shoulder. He was lucky enough that his father’s money could afford an outstanding lawyer that managed to prove that his guilty confession was just a trauma response for seeing that boy of his same age lying lifeless next to him. He was even luckier that he wouldn’t get transferred into an adult’s prison before he became of age.

Maybe that was the reason no one wrote to him. He was a murderer.

But he still looked up to the moment in which mail was delivered to his fellow inmates, waiting anxiously for an envelope with the messiest handwriting that has been known to man. Sometimes, Kazutora could swear that the kanjis used were actually mistaken, but he just shrugged it off with a chuckle.

 He knew that his best friend was a little slow. But he didn’t care. Why would anyone mind that he had a hard time spelling when Keisuke Baji was the most loyal person that had ever lived?

Not matter what kind of hell awaits us, I’m with you until the end!

Kazutora was proud to admit that he spared Baji the hell that juvie was. As physically strong as Baji was, he was too pure to survive a system in which only the deranged survived. Even if both were present when Shinichiro Sano was murdered, Baji – who tried to stop Kazutora and was already struggling with adapting to junior high – was held back for a school year. But he was free.

And it was all that matters.

Unlike the others who eventually turned his back to him, especially those who were closer to Mikey, Baji still wrote to him every single week.

But he was a liar.

Baji died before they both saw the end to the hell that Kazutora was going through.

However, Baji didn’t die. Kazutora killed him. Instead of running away, Kazutora stayed behind when the police arrived at the junkyard in which the Bloody Halloween took place.

I died on my own.

Those words still echoed Kazutora’s mind whenever he started to drift into sleep.

That big oaf was trying to reassure him on his last breathes.

Baji could’ve saved them. Maybe if he hadn’t exhausted himself, he wouldn’t have been declared dead on the scene.

Kazutora still regretted not being able to face his mother. She already hated him for the incident at SS Motors, and she asked her son to end their friendship as soon as she learned the first verdict. Baji was the one who confessed it in one of his letters because that idiot couldn’t hide anything from Kazutora.  

But only if Baji hadn’t gotten in the way of his knife, maybe Kazutora would’ve done anything and beyond to earn Ryoko’s forgiveness instead of spending his days wondering when Baji’s next letter would arrive.

Kazutora couldn’t change the past. What was done, was done.

He wondered if he ever told Baji how much he loved him. Did he feel it? Were his actions enough?

Kazutora still loved Baji.

Love felt like such a strong word, but it was the only right one to accurately describe and label his feelings towards Baji. He remembered that his mom once told him that love endures all things. The only one who had been by Kazutora’s side since the day they met was Baji. And he never left him behind. He was the first one to openly calling him out for being bullied, but also stood up for him without expecting anything in return. Baji was also there during the trial. And he also followed him to Valhalla just to assure that he was safe.

Kazutora wasn’t sure if his feelings for Baji were romantic. Both were still so young. But love didn’t have to be romantic, right? Love could be manifested in numerous ways…

Even in a destructive manner, just like his parents had shown him. And the way in which Kazutora himself had loved, ending the life of the only person that had deeply cared about him.

Yet, he was still holding to the delusion of receiving another Baji’s letter to keep himself sane.

His gaze was already lost, looking at nowhere in specific, when he heard a distant voice calling him.

Hanemiya, it seems like your little girlfriend finally forgave you for coming back to this hole. You got a letter.

Not even the warden’s mocking made Kazutora react. Silently, he just took the letter and walked back to his bunk bed. It wasn’t exactly quiet, but his cellmate was somewhere else.

The calligraphy on the envelope was different. It was cleaner than Baji’s, even elegant. If he didn’t know better that the only girl he actually talked to before juvie was Emma, he could’ve believed it was indeed a girl who wrote that letter to him.

Hanemiya-san,

I don’t think we have truly met, and it isn’t like I really want to because you’re far from being my favorite person right now. But Baji-san wouldn’t forgive me if I left you alone… Whatever. My name’s Chifuyu Matsuno, vice-captain of the Tokyo Manji First Division…

[kingkaratejohnnylawrence]

Played Killer Frequency the other day and finished it last night, I know there's a photo of Peggy on the wall of the survivors/deceased at the end of the game but I decided to experiment a little bit and see what I could come up with, I know she doesn't have long enough hair to be tied up like that (As it's short and kind of bouncy in the silhouette you see when she's in her booth but I was bored) I was going to HC she was older than Forrest but her personnel file puts her birthday in 1959 (Forrest being born in 1940) so I made other HCs to make up for it! SPOILERS BELOW IN THE FIRST PARAGRAPH!! Had this idea that when she was in the school sports hall (tricked into going there) she was attacked by Marie Campbell (One of the killers/her sister) but her injuries were quickly treated by Teddy Gallows Jr who was kidnapped alongside her once Marie ran from the police (Peggy still thinks Teddy is a jerk) and she was taken care of properly by paramedics who came from Henderson which Leslie brought over alongside more police as Gallows Creek's officers were deceased (Sheriff Matthews and Martinez), though Martinez could be a survivor if you make the right choice during the start but I ended up getting her killed and Leslie who had to drive out 6 hours (3 hours there and back) just to get backup which meant Forrest Nash was the 911 operator for the night. Another HC I have is that Peggy's way of dealing with it was talking to Forrest because she knew he would know how she felt and also went to Roller Ricky's because skating kept her distracted and she got to see Max the dog which she deemed better than going to an actual therapist. Playing the game made me think of how similar it was to Scream so another HC I imagine is Peggy went to see Scream in 1996 and was reminded of the events that happened on the night of the murders (The 3rd of September 1987) but she wasn't too affected anymore but still told Forrest (He made a joke and Peggy laughed about it). OTHER NON PEGGY HCs: -Gallows Creek discovered the Gallows family were corrupt and voted again for Linda Cartwright to be mayor as they didn't want someone like Teddy in charge. -1987 was the last time The Whistling Man night "tradition" happened although the kids will most likely bring it up from time to time much to the annoyance of the other residents (mainly the survivors). -The only time Gallows Creek deemed it "acceptable" for people to dress as TWM was Halloween and even then a group of people somehow convince Mayor Cartwright to pass a law that the people dressed as the killer must sign a document between the 28th-30th of October with their home addresses just in case and then have it sent to the police station. -Leslie became the new Sheriff mid October and trained new recruits since there wasn't anyone else in the force and by the start of November, the police force has a total of 60 officers (She offered Forrest a spot but he declined). -Ponty's pizza still does exist of course (He still likes calling the KFAM radio station hoping to promote his place).

[punkscowardschampions]

GC, Ronali & Cali

Ali: Who’s gonna fill me in on what I’ve been missing out on/did any of yous care I might’ve been 💀

Ali: Carls not included, of course 😘

Ronan: ‘Course we did

Ronan: not much you’ve missed is all

Carly: told u 🥱😴💀👻

Ali: Boo 👎

Ali: is it not the season, like

Ronan: Barely, like

Ronan: cut us some slack

Carly: no we shan’t

Ali: oh mein gott

Ali: it’s actually THE most festive night of the season, you’ve just reminded me Ro

Ronan: What? You’ve lost me

Bartley: Is she speaking German

Ali: Barely, like

Ali: you don’t know about Krampusnacht?

Ronan: Are you on about [insert some crap krampus horror film you think she’s talking about cos they exist]

Ali: Yeah but it’s not just a film, boy

Ali: it’s folklore, so tonight 🎅 & 👹 come, if you’ve been good, you’ll have a present from 🎅 if you’ve been bad, 👹 will get ya

Ali: [tell them about the Krampus run vibe and how it’s an excuse to get pissed and scare people, in a nutshell lol] so…

Ronan: Ah, now I get it

Ali: Did you keep your costume, you’ve got a headstart if you did

Bartley: Once again mine is useless

Carly: my ma’s for sure a whip yous can borrow 🎅👹😈❤️

Ali: See, resourceful

Ali: sure [Halloween pop-up girl] sold you a lasso

Moses: Sharing is caring

Carly: tis the season 🎁🎁

Bartley: I thought you had a boyfriend, Ali

Ali: What’s that got to do with anything?

Moses: Where’s your sense of fun, Bart

Ronan: He only means what’ll he, if not your parents, say about partying for a made up holiday

Carly: made up when yous dont wanna party

Carly: any excuse when yous do

Ali: Honestly, like

Ali: if no one is bothered, I’ll take the party elsewhere, no big

Carly: it’ll be fun eejits 🎅🎁👹🔔⛓🌜😈🐐

Moses: Ignore them, it’s a party, ‘course, where else would you want to be, really

Ronan: It weren’t a no

Ali: the enthusiasm I love to see

Carly: what a day when im w mosey boy

Carly: never thought I’d see it again

Bartley: didn’t you say that last time

Carly: have u something to say yourself boy?

Bartley: I just said it

Moses: 🤣 fuck’s sake, calm down children

Ronan: I am calm

Ronan: confused as to what’s going on or not now though

Bartley: that’s new

Ronan: Who got you out of bed on the wrong side?

Ali: let’s not, a fake holiday is not worth the aggro

Bartley: Fine by me

Moses: Jesus, you really are in a pissy mood, boy

Johnny: Leave him be, taking the piss’ll make it no better

Moses: A party’d sort you out

Moses: all work no play, as they say

Johnny: Enough, least he pulls his weight on jobs

Johnny: you want to worry yourself less about parties little girls throw

Moses: I don’t pull my weight? How come I got picked for [a job, idk, but you know the vibes lol] and you didn’t?

Johnny: How come you reckon you’re to air our business here when it’s no place? Sort yourself out and find me where you’ve the knowing I’ll be if you’ve something more to say when there’s no girls listening

Moses: I’m not trying to talk to you

Moses: and no one else is trying to talk about work but you

Johnny: What you’re trying to do is lead my brother astray how you did your own

Ronan: Come on, don’t let’s fight

Bartley: Yeah, stop it

Ronan: Ali, if the party goes ahead and I’m still invited, count me in

Ali: not going to be accused of not being able to read a room that much, like

Ali: but I’ll be sure to catch you soon

Ronan: [private @ Ali]

Ronan: What was all that? Do you have a clue?

Ali: Maybe I really did bring demonic vibes to the chat because no, not really

Ronan: I had myself crossed you coming back would be a different vibe, yeah

Ali: Sorry

Ali: if it’s consolation at all, that’s mutual

Ronan: Some

Ali: you’ve forgotten how boring school is, that’s the problem

Ali: lost so many IQ points forcing myself in that place every day

Ronan: Every day? I don’t believe it

Ali: Alright, alright but Carly really did need me that day

Ali: compared to my usual, gold stars all ‘round, like

Ronan: What’s wrong with Carls

Ronan: she seemed grand then, unlike the rest

Ali: Girl problems

Ali: I thought all that might be family troubles, hence I kept myself tactfully quiet

Ronan: No one’s told me of troubles but I’d be last to hear

Ali: ah, look, I’m probably way off and it’s just me coming around again pissing them off

Ali: long as you’re more pleased to hear off me than you gave out at first?

Ronan: I didn’t mean nothing by calling it a made up holiday

Ronan: I’ve missed hearing off you

Ali: I know you didn’t, we’re all good

Ali: it’s been so weird, not coming ‘round here

Ronan: Been as bad not having you

Ronan: as you can see

Ali: Be why I was trying to bring you the party

Ali: but it’ll wait

Ronan: It shouldn’t

Ronan: Moses had his point, who can be in a mood and have a face on in the middle of a party

Ali: He would think so

Ali: I don’t want to piss off Bartley and Johnny though

Ronan: The one’s that way through no fault of yours and the other’ll cheer up for it, trust us

Ali: Should you try talking to Bart or is that the worst idea ever

Ali: worse than switches and forked tongues, even

Ronan: I’ll give it a lash

Ali: You might wake up to a present yet, boy

Ronan: What’ll it be?

Ronan: and don’t say a surprise

Ali: 🍊🪙is probably traditional

Ali: you’d rather coal, I bet, or a surprise 

Ronan: You can decide on what you reckon my saving the party is worth, was your good idea in the 1st place

Ali: You really want to?

Ronan: Yeah

Ali: and obviously I’m gonna bring way better presents, you knew that right

Ronan: Might’ve crossed my mind

Ali: ‘tis the season 🎀

Ronan: Have you watched [more bad krampus films]

Ali: [tell him the ones you have from that list but some you have not]

Ali: I could definitely make a better one tonight though 📹😱🩸

Ronan: Find me whenever you’re after being filmed, I’ll do it for you

Ali: Okay Mr. Director

Ali: it’s a shame how well your name lends itself to a Roman Polanski ref because it’s not a compliment 

Ronan: Am I best not to look up who he is?

Ali: In your defence, you’re allowed to date teenage girls

Ronan: Right, he’s that sort

Ronan: someone should’ve filmed him strung up by the balls

Ali: There’s still time, along with the rest still working

Ronan: Gonna need to give us a minute

Ali: 📜🔪⏱

Ali: you can have the night off, as you’re coming to my party

Ronan: You’re having it then

Ali: things can’t be made worse by it, can they

Ronan: Nah, I don’t reckon so

Ali: Blame you entirely if it’s not so then, yeah?

Ronan: Yeah

Ali: 💛 you wanna be on the nice list so bad

Ronan: I’d be a dope to wanna be on the other tonight

Ali: 👹 not a fan?

Ronan: Be a list who’d volunteer if I was after being beaten up without 👹 busying himself

Ali: Never

Ronan: Join us in the nice corner, like

Ali: I don’t know if that’s a possibility 

Ali: but I have banked a whole fortnight so we’ll see

Ronan: You’ve a start made

Ali: 😇 make heaven yet

Ronan: Gates are staying closed a long time with all the living you’re yet to do, getting ahead of yourself there, girl

Ali: no 💀 wish

Ali: just

Ronan: Just?

Ali: Sorry, that was ominous

Ali: nothing important

Ronan: Or nothing you want tell me

Ali: I’ve just missed you all

Ronan: Least you never forgot all of us

Ali: am I 👩‍🦳, boy?

Ronan: Taken like you are now

Ali: Hardly

Ronan: What’s hardly to mean

Ali: I’m not 🤰💍🤱

Ronan: I wasn’t saying that, going there

Ronan: you who called him your boyfriend, don’t it matter?

Ali: It matters how?

Ronan: To you and to how you act

Ali: I can still party

Ronan: Well, I’ll talk to my moody cousin and get the party brought

Ali: I can

Ronan: I don’t know his mood’d be improved but go for it

Ali: Dunno about that either but least I can do

Ronan: You’ve done nothing to upset him far as I can tell

Ali: Everyone just gets lairy in group chats, sure it’s nothing more

Ronan: Maybe he’s been working too hard, everyone heard that said

Ali: Oh, I thought you meant Bartley

Ronan: I do, who else would I?

Ali: like you’ve not so many cousins, cut me some slack

Ronan: Could always be more

Ronan: [and tell her about some other peeps you know who have loads more than you]

Ali: Crazy I could have that many

Ali: but my parents families aren’t exactly around, they don’t feel real even if they exist

Ronan: We’re all of us within shouting range here, I can’t think what you having family you don’t see must be like

Ali: I feel sorry for my daddy, he never wanted to leave his brothers and sisters

Ali: just how it is though, for me, always has been

Ronan: ‘Til we arrange our roadtrip for you to go and stay 

Ali: 😁 ‘til then

Ali: awkward if they all suck

Ronan: Bad craic and odds if it’s all of ‘em, yeah

Ronan: yours are both good enough to make the amends for it though, I reckon, and pick up any slack

Ali: when’d you get so good at pep talks, damn

Ronan: I dunno that I am really

Ali: I’d not lie to you

Ronan: I’ve alright odds for getting the party back on track then

Ronan: just give him his own

Ali: Godspeed, Ro

Ronan: Be grand

Ronan: have yourself ready for your fake holiday when wes show up later on

Ali: do you even know me

Ronan: I’ve some knowing of you, sure

Ali: then you know dressing up is half the fun

Ronan: Were on halloween

Ali: see

Ali: your costume was sick

Ronan: We might’ve left a 👿 mask over somewhere, see if I can’t wow you again

Ronan: [speaking of trying to impress her talk about what you currently have in your fireworks stash and what you could feasibly get in the short notice of this impromptu affair]

Ali: my kid brother is not invited this time so 🤩🤩🤩

Ronan: Between us we’ll give him something to watch from his window so’s he’s not left out

Ali: you’re adorable

Ronan: I know the aggro when they are, ‘course I’d spare you

Ali: can blame himself for his previous making it a no-go

Ali: learn him a lesson

Ronan: Would’ve had you down as a more fun sister

Ali: Wow, shocking 

Ronan: No harm done, ah come on, could let him have his invite

Ali: it’s my parents not me!

Ali: also who do you propose looks after him all night, boy, ‘cos I know it wouldn’t be you

Ronan: Carls

Ronan: do you not trust her to?

Ali: I don’t think that’s how she wants to spend her evening

Ronan: She spent ages with him at your last party, what’s the difference

Ronan: and won’t your brother who likes doing women’s work be there?

Ali: that’s a new one, he’ll like it, so retro

Ali: and he’ll be keeping his keen friend away from Bart, like

Ronan: There’s why you’re the smart one, you’ve only gone and solved what his pissy mood must be about

Ronan: I’d forgot her

Ali: Mhmm, he’s wishing she’d forget him sharpish 

Ronan: Ha

Ali: You could do the right thing and distract her yourself

Ronan: Distract her how, she’s keen on him not us

Ali: You don’t think you could change her mind, come on

Ronan: Nah, I don’t

Ali: you could

Ali: but I’m also just messing around, obvs

Ronan: You reckon?

Ali: Totally

Ronan: If I weren’t messing myself, like

Ali: there’s so much else for us to be getting on with 🎇💥🎆

Ronan: True enough

Ali: can’t let me down now

Ronan: Never

Ali: You’re the best

Ronan: Give over

Ali: sorry sorry, lack of socialisation getting me cheesy

Ronan: Your boyfriend coming this time?

Ali: Do you think I’m making him up?

Ronan: I’m asking when’s he gonna prove he exists if you’re not

Ali: coming for me hardcore tonight, I see how it is

Ronan: Or him, why don’t he wanna be at your party, all your parties

Ali: shy is going to sound like a copout at this point

Ronan: It does

Ronan: girl who’s mates with your brother is shy, she still parties when you throw ‘em

Ali: He just prefers alone time, idk, it doesn’t bother me that he doesn’t want to be at my parties

Ronan: Aren’t you bothered about him meeting your friends?

Ali: would you be?

Ronan: I’ve no girlfriend

Ali: if you did, would you want her to meet all that lot

Ronan: Isn’t how we do things

Ali: yeah, there you go

Ronan: There I go, but it’s different for you

Ali: girls usually only intro their boyfriends if they want to show off, in my experience

Ronan: He’s not worth showing off, is it?

Ronan: say no more

Ali: Ha ha, dickhead

Ali: some things make for good secrets, that’s it

Ronan: If you’d rather keep secrets

Ali: if you’d been given the choice, wouldn’t you have rather no one knew about you and Carly?

Ronan: Me and Carly was shaming

Ali: would it have been if not for everything Moses did

Ronan: Would’ve been a mistake still

Ronan: is your boyfriend that?

Ali: no, I like him

Ronan: What’s the sense keeping secret and away someone you like?

Ronan: I don’t get it

Ali: He’s older, alright

Ali: old enough he’d get in trouble

Ronan: Old enough he’s the need to be strung up himself, like?

Ali: nah, still a teenager

Ali: but you know how my kind can be if the mood takes

Ronan: Where’d yous meet, school? Be why you’ve been going in regular

Ali: that was all down to my ma, trust me

Ronan: If you say so, I do

Ali: he doesn’t go to my school, I don’t get to see him much

Ronan: Don’t he drive?

Ali: he does

Ali: but when I’ve school I HAVE to go to and we’ve both jobs, barely any time really, what I meant

Ronan: Your ma’ll ease up now you’ve behaved, she’s not banned the party

Ali: she would if she knew of him

Ronan: None of us’ll tell her, even Barty boy at his sulkiest and he won’t be when I’ve finished

Ali: I appreciate it, you know that, yeah

Ronan: Carls might want watching when she’s a state but it’s nothing you don’t know yourself

Ali: She’s cool

Ronan: No troubles is what I like to hear

Ali: You and me both, boy

Ronan: I’d hate for you to be off the minute you’re back

Ali: No way

Ali: unless I get a better offer, of course

Ronan: I was the best earlier

Ali: and I had all the faith in you that you didn’t yourself

Ronan: Keep it, unless your secrets are weighing you down

Ali: You’re acting like it’s weird but think about it, you never told anyone what happened between us

Ronan: To do you a favour, he’s the man you’re not to protect him it’s the other way ‘round

Ali: it does me a favour too

Ronan: With your mammy but as I’ve said none of us are snitches

Ali: so what favour were you doing me?

Ronan: Of Moses not treating you the way he does Carly

Ali: I can handle Moses

Ronan: You’ve no need to with how I handled it

Ali: Sure but you get my point

Ronan: Yeah

Ali: you don’t want him to come to the party?

Ronan: When did I say he’s not to come?

Ali: I’m asking

Ronan: I’m cool with him, I dunno why you’d ask

Ali: Okay

Ronan: Right then, I’ve a cousin to find and fireworks to source

Ali: In a bit then

Ali: [Private to Carly]

Ali: Well

Ali: that was tense

Carly: - craic all round ☔️🥀

Carly: cept your boy making himself known to tell mosey to shh 😅

Ali: wasn’t expecting a banner or anything but damn

Ali: he’s probably pissed off with me now too

Carly: why youre talking to me instead of him 👀 none taken baby

Carly: & you can always have your banner off us 🥳🥁🏆🎊✨🎉🎈🎁

Ali: I wanted to check on you, actually, shh

Carly: im grand

Ali: that was a dick move from him

Carly: used to moves like that & its nothing a party won’t fix

Ali: he seems really bothered, too bothered to just be business as usual

Carly: I got too in his & hes 😤😠😡🤬 @ me

Ali: in his head

Carly: idk

Carly: werent far enough to find sense still 😵‍💫🙃🤯

Ali: boys are so confusing 

Carly: ive never had the knowing of a boy so 🥵🧲😈🔥🧨💥 to 🥶🧊🍦❄️⛄️

Ali: conflicted comes with the territory, sadly

Ali: does he want what his body is saying he wants or what his head is telling him he should

Carly: w them 2 the other 2 acted on what they wanted

Carly: no chance of whiplash like only different injuries

Ali: do you reckon you’d rather

Ali: or it’s a ❌ for all of them for now

Carly: spite of what hes putting about in the groupchat I’d never go back esp not crawling to moses, my god

Carly: ive sense I was born w if no more

Ali: you know I’m not judging

Ali: I remember all too well what 🥶🧊🍦❄️⛄️ was like to act otherwise

Carly: moses true colours arent ❤️🍄🧡🐅💛🌞💚🍀💙🧿💜🔮

Carly: his 🥵🧲😈🔥🧨💥 scares me, what he’s said & i know he’d do

Ali: I won’t let him

Ali: and he doesn’t need to come

Carly: im in no danger @ this distance & thats to include if he comes

Carly: idm

Ali: only if Johnny comes which he never will

Carly: theyve 💪🥊🤕 from 👶👶 nothing’ll get em to quit never

Ali: too much difference between them

Ali: it happens

Carly: look @ my ma & me 🍏 & 🍊 to be sure

Carly: we’ve only no bad 🩸🩸 cos I let none spill

Ali: I know, problem is Moses is made to be his when there’s nothing to be done

Carly: maybe he’ll outgrow it some as an elder, hes time to

Ali: never say never

Carly: I did ⬆️ but I take it back 💙🧿💙

Carly: & 🙏💙🔮💜🤞🌠 on everything they’ll find their peace of sorts 1 day

Ali: you don’t owe nice

Carly: u sound like bb when hed have me leave my ma for 💀👻

Ali: that’s your mother, like

Ali: nothing is that simple

Carly: he dont know complicated, his cooks & cleans for him when hes home from a long day working w his daddy 🍀🐇🌠🎲

Ali: their parents seem really sound, from what I’ve been told and seen around

Carly: I love his mammy shes really nice to me 🦘👑💎🌞🐻😇🐘

Carly: not that she would b if she’d found me in his van but hey for now shes 

Ali: I wish I could know her

Ali: have you been back to his since?

Carly: how we left things hes probably moved his spare 🔑 since

Carly: wouldnt blame him but Ive not got it in me to check

Ali: I wouldn’t be able to either

Carly: i’ve already been knocked 🤢🤮 giving up everything for him to still call me mental the same as if I never

Ali: what about your proper meds?

Carly: ive my knowing of the date cos u said it idk

Ali: no wonder you feel 🤢🤮 babe, you have to taper that shit if you wanna go off it or your body is gonna go crazy

Carly: oh

Carly: so maybe hes right & I am ❤️🐇🐛☕️🌹

Carly: ah no the 🎢 is me

Ali: well, he could’ve definitely still been a prick, no need to rule it out but yeah

Ali: we’re to get an appointment and the doc will tell you how to get off ‘em and not feel insane/terrible

Carly: am I to get off em?

Carly: should I?

Ali: do you want to or did Bartley tell you to?

Carly: idk if he’s knowing about 💊👨‍⚕️ i dont remember ever telling him it werent all from cavante

Ali: he could’ve misunderstood, saying to stop them is more reasonable if simplistic 

Ali: I’m not going to go and smack him one anyway

Carly: is erin coming tonight cos he’ll be 👀 for me to smack her

Carly: I’ve memory of saying so

Ali: I’ll get Tommy to put her off

Ali: no 👊 needed

Carly: I cant 👊 you’d have to do it 🦋🐝

Ali: I’d begrudge it when Moses and now Bart have been nos, like

Carly: if I talk to him either @ the party or before & hes in a worse mood for it please please don’t be 😤😠😡🤬 @ me too

Ali: of course not

Ali: the bad vibes are nothing if not appropriate, I guess

Carly: theyre my fault & its your 1st party since ur ma got 😤😠😡🤬

Carly: i feel so bad

Ali: you feel bad because you’re poorly

Ali: we can just cancel the party

Carly: no feckin way r we 🎅🎁👹🔔⛓🌜😈🐐

Carly: i’ll drag myself to yours if ive to & bring the deadliest party on my own

Ali: well, we can’t have you getting gravel burn

Carly: wouldnt be the 1st time but the most worth it of many a

Ali: okay, okay, no party💩ing, promise

Carly: yay

Ali: though I am going to have to brave talking to Johnny now, as you’ve brought up gravel burn, so, give me all the luck I need

Carly: you dont need none he loves u

Ali: maybe he’ll talk to his brother

Ali: though I don’t think Bart would tell him the truth? Idk, still might make him feel a bit better

Carly: I’d bet hes as wes talking

Ali: yeah, he will be

Ali: I’ll not bother him for a bit, be good

Carly: might be they’re 🍻🎱🎯 down the local

Carly: name a lad who wouldn’t be 😁 by it ☔️☀️🌈

Ali: a shout

Ali: I’d be 

Carly: me too but only if theyve 🎵🎶 & not just 👴🍺🚬 ive often that craic waiting @ home

Ali: no music no party

Carly: your 🎤🍯💛‘d get it going anywhere

Carly: sing tonight & everything’ll turn round

Ali: I’ll sing for you, how about that

Carly: do you mean to?

Ali: Yep

Ali: whatever you like

Carly: I’ll sing for you too then though I’ve nowhere the power you’ve

Carly: weve to stick together & combine our 🌑🌌🔮🌠🎱🎇💣🌌🌑 all we can when it’s shite & wrong, how u said

Ali: 🐇🐣🦋🌼 soft power all of your own

Ali: 🔁 always

Carly: ive felt im a trapped 🦋🐞🐜🐛 climbing walls

Carly: after ripping my wings or legs off like

Ali: we’ll get it in the morning, okay, first thing

Carly: dr’ll be 😤😠😡🤬 @ me

Ali: they just don’t know how to talk to people nice, not like nurses, I’ll be there and do the talking, so they know how upset you are and struggling

Carly: he cant be told that, he’ll away me to somewhere like your brother is

Ali: no he won’t, not for that

Ali: you can tell me what you want me to say but trust me, they don’t have the space to be putting everyone with struggles in there

Carly: [her mum’s name] says I’m to keep my gob shut or lie if its to be open & all I do’s make her look bad telling I’ve struggles at all

Ali: It isn’t about her, it’s your brain and your feelings

Carly: yea but she’ll be v 😤😠😡🤬 if we go

Ali: we’ll say we’ve gone for me then

Carly: k that’ll work

Ali: it’s all in hand

Ali: and you’ll feel all the better for it

Carly: I wont have to speak to him you’ll do it?

Ali: Yep

Carly: k 💛

Carly: drag myself there next 🍓🩸

Ali: 🚲 us there

Carly: ilysm id carry u

Ali: I love you too

Carly: I wish you could talk to that boy how u are the dr

Carly: youd find words to put to whats wrong w us & they’d be right 1s not like what comes out of me all wrong

Ali: If I thought he’d appreciate that and not be full 😤😠😡🤬 at the lack of privacy

Carly: I just want him to understand

Carly: when he asked me what I shouldve said so

Ali: you weren’t in a good headspace, the fact you got any words out to make sense is impressive enough given

Carly: he were impressed by my 🧽✨🧼🧺🧹🥄🍴🍳 anyway 

Carly: least that sort of mental has its use

Ali: Of course he was

Ali: they’d have gorja girls so incapable we don’t know how to work a microwave, bless ‘em

Carly: my ma’s example doing nothing ever to change their way of thinking

Ali: but she’s really got the aesthetic, eh

Carly: ah that what we’re calling it now?

Carly: of all the cultures to take from what matters the least she didn’t bother herself to venture far from the front door

Ali: suppose I’m not to talk when I’m trying to think of a Krampus costume but yeah

Carly: but no youve an important point

Carly: what are we to wear? he told me I looked nice when I dressed for him

Ali: you could go full 🤶?

Carly: feels too erin idk

Ali: right, we need to workshop that

Carly: im still me w out 🍭🍬🚬🌿🌼🍄

Carly: or I hope ive some personality underneath

Ali: of course you are, you’re always the youiest you

Carly: heads together 🧠💫🧠

Carly: we’ve need to be of a mind to shut em up calling u 🥱😴💀👻 for being taken by ur man johno while we’re about it 

Ali: do you think I am

Carly: don’t u be daft!

Carly: theyre gobshites

Carly: ro for his jealousy, moses to stir & bb cos of my carry on

Ali: I know I’m different but I don’t know how to act as if I’m not

Carly: you’ve no cause to act no way for them lot

Carly: youre magic as is & theres nothing in all whats unreal to b changed

Ali: 💜💜💜

Carly: 💛👼💡👩🏼‍🎤🌟🐱🧚‍♀️🏆✨🐝🧙🏼‍♀️🌞🦁🌻👑🌝🧜🏼‍♀️🍯🎇👩🏼‍🚀

Ali: You’re my best friend

Carly: i’d never had 1 before & now I dont want another ever ever again but u

Ali: you better not replace me

Carly: w who? erin? or your neighbour girl?

Ali: yeah, exactly

Ali: you’re too smart to waste your time

Carly: youre the only 1 to say im smart & not mean it as slagging

Ali: people are dumb if they don’t see it in you

Carly: or blind by ur 💡🌝💫🌞🌠🎇🌟🌜✨🌌⚡️☄️

Ali: i’ll go 🖤 with my outfit, you shine solo

Carly: I’m not after no solo spotlight, duet or never

Ali: 💞 it is

Ali: but there’s a lot I need to cover for real

Carly: & lots im to get out since im no longer ❤️💜💙

Ali: fur bikini for sure

Carly: sure id win @ 🥶🧊🍦❄️⛄️

Ali: they’d all be 🥵🧲😈🔥🧨💥 but right so they’ve not earnt it

Carly: if his attention could be earned id try it

Ali: he’s paying attention, fuming or otherwise

Carly: how many drinks in him before I give mine?

Carly: 🍺🍺🍺? 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺?

Ali: 🍺🍺🍺

Ali: too much could go badly as easily as it could go well

Carly: & we’ve no knowing if theyve started yet

Ali: I’ll ask Johnny for you

Carly: as you’ve to talk yourselves, yea

Ali: 🤞🤞🤞

Carly: 🌑🌌🙏💙🔮💜🤞🌠🍀🐇🎱🎲🎇💣🌌🌑

[twentytanya]

Sunday, November 5 -- Family Ties One-Shot: Write a one-shot revolving around your character’s family, include 3 family members minimum. (This can include whatever your character’s definition of family is.)

You're On Your Own, Kid | Sonam

Date: 27 October 2023 Featuring: Sonam, Mrs. Tiwari, Mr. Tiwari Warnings: References to death, grief, and mental health struggles.

Sonam left the Friday before Halloween, after a week at the Inn. She’d thought about extending her stay, because she did really want to— every moment with Tanya felt like sand slipping through her fingers— but the staff around the Inn had mentioned that the holiday weekend was a busy one. She knew to take a hint, whether or not one was being dropped on purpose.

Anyway, it was time to get back to her own life. She had classes to teach, after all, students to mentor and a department chair to report to. Her editor was in touch again, asking about that manuscript Sonam had promised ages ago. 

And, of course, there was Sunday roast with her parents.

Sonam didn’t go every week. But her parents ���wanted to hear about her work trip” and they would need help with cleaning for Diwali and Sonam didn’t have an excuse not to, and yes, she had told them that she was attending a lecture at a university in the west country. She’d lied to them. Everyone remembered Sonam’s absolute conviction last year that Tanya still roamed the country as a ghost, but they remembered it as a likely recurrence of her well-documented mental health issues and nothing more.

Now that Sonam had proof Tanya was, indeed, still a ghost, though… she wasn’t sure she actually should tell anyone. It was all too real. And she’d seen the way her sister had disappeared after being sought out without warning, and she’d asked Sonam not to tell their parents, and for once… Sonam thought that maybe her little sister was right. At least for now.

After all, if she did decide to move on… well, their parents were under the impression that her soul was at peace. Was it really worth it to introduce them to that kind of grief?

Sonam had reasoned through all of this on the drive back to Leeds, but as soon as she stepped into her parents’ house, she felt like a teenager with a secret all over again. “Sonam!” Her mother descended on her, throwing her arms around her. Her father trailed behind, smiling. Guilt burbled in Sonam’s stomach. Once, keeping secrets from them felt as easy as breathing. But something changed. She wasn’t nineteen anymore, keeping her little sister’s exploits from their overreacting parents. Even if Tanya was still a kid— and would be, forever.

“Sonam, what’s wrong?” Of course, Sonam should have known that her mother could tell the tiniest difference in her expression, was well-practiced at interpreting her many moods. 

Sonam put on a smile. “Just a little tired,” she said, clocking her father’s concerned expression as she gave him a hug too. “Let me just freshen up and then I’ll be ready to help with the cleaning, alright? It was a long drive.”

Her parents exchanged a look. “Yes, good idea. We’re almost done for the day, really, though. You should just rest.”

“It’s really no trouble, I-”

“Sonam. Rest,” her father said kindly, but firmly.

Lying on the floor of her room (which felt somehow both kinder and unkinder on her forty-five-year-old bones than it had when she was a teenager) Sonam could hear the hushed tones of her parents debating her state of mind downstairs. It was strange how things stayed the same. Tanya had died twenty-five years ago. Life moved on. The world changed. And yet her fate wasn’t spoken of. And yet Sonam was still fragile and breakable. And yet the carpet still smelled like that deep-cleaner that came out every year for Diwali. 

Why was she still lying here? What did she expect to hear that she didn’t already know? Because another thing hadn’t changed. Twenty-five years had passed, and Sonam still missed her sister. Even though she'd seen her again. Twenty-five years had passed, and Sonam still felt alone.