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ladykailitha · 11 months ago

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The Harrington Pattern Part 1

Hey, guys! Sorry I'm late uploading today, but I went to bed early last night and forgot to schedule this.

Oops!

But! Welcome to what I've been calling Steve is a History Nerd agenda. We see in season two on Steve's essay for colleges that he can link his grandfather's military service with his prowess on the basketball court.

It is also surprisingly well written. *shakes fist at the Duffers stop telling us he's stupid and then showing the opposite, please! Let him be smart, too!*

Summary: The Renaissance Fair is finally back in Hawkins after three year absence (Starcourt was built on the fair site and after the fire it was bulldozed back to it's original field). Everyone is excited, even Steve to everyone's amazement. But Steve is hiding other hidden depths as he offers to help the kids make their costumes for the Fair.

Lucas is struggling with being both a nerd and a jock and fears the judgment of his friends. Steve sets out to help him overcome those doubts to be himself.

Tagging the untaggable: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

***

Nobody expects Steve to be excited for the Renaissance fair. Dustin, Will and Lucas spend hours plotting bribes, schemes and out and out manipulations to get Steve to agree to take them. Even Robin expected him to side with her about the dust and the filth. Eddie expected him to be dismissive of the fantasy aspect of it.

Boy were they all wrong.

For it was Steve to bring up to the group after a rather successful D&D session.

In his hand was a bright pink flier and a wide grin on his face.

“Guys! The Ren Fair is back this year,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “I’ll finally be able to show off that tunic I’ve been working on.”

All heads turned to Steve in shock.

There was a cacophony of questions.

“Since when did you know how to sew?”

“What do you mean back? I didn’t even know Hawkins had one to begin with!”

“You want to go to the Ren Fair?”

“Why would you want to spend all day in the heat and dirt?”

Steve looked around at all off his friends in shock.

“Guys, I love the Ren Fair,” he muttered. “Didn’t you guys know?”

All their jaws dropped.

And Eddie? Eddie felt an icicle to the heart at the sight of Steve’s hurt expression.

“You’ll pardon the peasants, my liege,” Eddie said, bowing grandly. “I’m afraid we have all be harboring under the delusion that Ren Fairs were beneath your notice.”

Steve blinked at him a moment. “But I love that stuff. It’s the history and sword fights and jousting. It’s the like medieval Olympics. It’s the romance and chivalry of knights fighting for a fair maiden’s hand. It’s getting to dress up in fancy clothes and rip into turkey legs like a savage. What’s not to like?”

Dustin frowned. “Who here knew Steve liked history?”

Robin and Nancy raised their hands. They looked around waiting for me people to join them. But they stayed down.

Steve ducked his head and scuffed the floor with the edge of his sneaker.

“The ex-girlfriend I’ll buy,” Dustin continued. “But Robin didn’t become friends with Steve until after he graduated so how did she know?”

Robin blinked at them owlishly. “You mean you guys don’t know?”

Everyone looked around each other and then shook their heads.

“Steve was in my AP history class my junior year,” she said as if this was know fact.

“You do know that AP stands for advance placement, right?” Mike asked.

Eddie smacked the back of his head. “She was in it, dude. Don’t be an ass.”

Steve looked up at him and smiled a little.

Good, Eddie thought. Nothing like a little Mike violence to cheer up Steve.

“He wrote an essay for early placement college exams,” Nancy said. “He didn’t get a chance to turn it in because of our second go round with the Upside Down, but it was really good. It needed a little neatening up with the actual writing, but the history was solid.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks.”

Dustin looked skeptical. “What’s your favorite part of history?”

Steve opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I liked hearing about my grandpa’s time in the US army during WWII, but that was more because he made it interesting. But I really like the Industrial Revolution. Or rather the first Industrial Revolution. There have been four. The first one was from 1760-1840 and featured heavily in the textile movement.”

The room was silent.

“Why textiles, Stevie?” Eddie asked as the silence grew awkward.

Steve lit up like a child at Christmas morning and he began talking about the British textile movement.

“What the hell?” Dustin huffed, breaking into Steve monologue.

Steve ducked his head again and blushed. “Just because I’m not interested in science and fantasy doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” He straightened up. “And yeah, sometimes I get things wrong. But everyone does at some point. In fact I get a hell of a lot more flack for my intelligence than Eddie does and he repeated his senior year twice!” He took a deep breath and then ran his fingers through his hair.

“No offense,” he said waving to Eddie.

Eddie looked up at him with earnest eyes. “None taken. I concur.”

They all looked around at each other in shock. Like they hadn’t realized that they had done that.

After a few moments, Steve put his hands on his hips and pointed at all of them.

“So do you guys want to go or what?”

Eddie sat back with a smile as everyone roared their approval.

“No corsets,” was Robin’s only firm and fast rule for Steve when it came to dressing her up for the Ren Fair.

Steve looked her up and down. “Why on earth would I want you in a corset? Have you looked in the mirror?”

“Uh...” Robin said. “Is that a trick question? Of course I have. I don’t what that has to do with saying no to corsets though...”

Steve rolled his eyes. “In order to give you the curve you need to match the proper silhouette you would need to be cinched to hell. And as this is supposed to be fun.”

He grabbed her hand and started hauling her toward his car.

“Where are we going?”

“Thrifting!” he said with glee.

It took three different stores and a stop at the mall to get everything he needed.

“Give me three days,” he told her when he dropped her off at her house. “And I think you’ll like what I come up with.”

Robin eyed him warily. “If you say so.”

Steve laughed.

He crashed the next D&D session, showing up early to pick them up.

“What is everyone wearing to the Ren Fair?” he asked with a note pad on his lap and wagged the pen in his fingers.

“You want us to dress up?” Mike asked, eyes wide.

“Why not?” he asked with a shrug. “I’ve made my costume and currently reworking some thirfted threads for Robin’s outfit.”

Eddie blinked. “You made your costume?”

Steve shrugged again. “Yeah. I like sewing.”

There was suddenly an uproar and he held up a hand. “I can’t make you a full outfit before the Fair, but I can make over already made clothes to make them more historical. And maybe for next year I’ll have the time to make something special for everyone.”

Dustin eyed him suspiciously. “Like what?”

“Like tailoring pants to a tighter fit,” Steve explained “adding a sash or belt, turning old coats into vests and cloaks, things like that.”

They still weren’t sure how that would work out.

“Now I talked to Joyce and Claudia,” he continued. “And they’re both willing to help out in making sure everyone has something nice to wear. That includes Max and El.”

“Are the fair maidens joining us?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Joyce is doing El and Will, Claudia is doing Dustin and Mike, and I’m doing Lucas and Max. Eddie said he already had a costume, so I didn’t have to worry about him.”

Eddie grinned. “You better believe it, pretty boy.”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. “So we’re all going thrifting with a $5 limit for each of you. But I wanted to brainstorm some ideas of what you wanted to go as so we don’t waste time wandering around.”

Everyone started shouting at once and it took Steve a good ten minutes before he got everyone calmed down enough to get what they wanted. Dustin wanted to go as a hobbit, but Steve had to nix that one.

“You don’t want to go running around the grounds barefoot,” he explained with a wince. “It’s not safe.”

“I’m going to have to agree with Stevie on this one,” Eddie said. “You guys have never been but there is all sorts of stuff laying around. It’s not indoors and the pathways are dirt lined. Think the state fair. It’s more like that then going to comic book convention.”

Dustin grumbled but conceded the point. Steve got them to decide on... well not quite peasant gear, but more rough around the edges than what Steve would be wearing.

Well, all but Lucas. He didn’t want to wear what they were wearing but he refused to say what he did want to wear.

So Steve dropped him off at home last.

They pulled into his driveway and Steve turned to him. “Do you not want to dress up? Because I won’t make you.”

Lucas picked at the loose string on his sweater. “It’s not that. I just remember the last time we did a group costume and they all thought I should be Winston because I was black like he was.”

Steve frowned for a moment. “The Ghostbusters, right?”

Lucas nodded. “I knew if I brought it up they’d shoot me down again.”

“So what did you want to go as?” he asked.

Lucas huffed out a sigh. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a stupid pipe dream anyway. Especially since you have to make Max’s dress and Robin’s costume, too.”

He opened the door to get out, but Steve reached over and slammed it closed.

“One, Robin’s costume is almost done,” he said counting out on his fingers. “Two, do you really think your girlfriend is going to want to wear a dress? And three, let me be the judge on what’s too much for me, okay?”

Lucas huffed a laugh at his second point. “Yeah, that was dumb of me.”

“So what is it?”

Lucas looked down again and heaved out a sigh. “An elf.”

Steve’s mind was whirling with the possibilities. “What colors?”

“What?” Lucas asked, not sure he heard Steve right.

“What colors would you want it to be?”

He pulled out the notebook and scrambled for a pen. Lucas pulled a pencil out of his bag and handed it to him.

“Uh I was thinking of a light blue and with a silver trim?” he said hesitantly.

Steve sketched something out. “Like this?”

Lucas leaned over to look at the drawing. “A little shorter so I’m not tripping over it and maybe those puffy pants?”

Steve adjusted the drawing and Lucas nodded.

“Yeah, like that.”

“All right,” Steve said. “I know exactly what to do and how to do it. It won’t be perfect because I don’t have time to do it right so I’ll be doing a lot of cheating. But yeah, it’s doable.”

Lucas gave him a hug. “Thanks, man.”

Steve called the one person he knew he could help him.

“Eddie,” he said the second the other man picked up. “I need your nerd connections to do a huge favor for Lucas.”

“Wha’cha got, big boy?” Eddie asked with a grin.

“You wouldn’t happen to know any Trekkies would you?” Steve asked chewing on his bottom lip.

“That depends, Stevie,” Eddie replied, “what’s the need?”

“Pointed ears.”

Eddie hummed. “I’m assuming you’re thinking Trekkie because of Spock and that’s a good thought. But I’m guessing since we’re going to the Ren Fair our stalwart ranger is wanting to be an elf?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Do you know anyone who can help?”

“Better than that,” Eddie said. “I know where to get the ears in the right... shade?”

Steve perked up. “Oh? I’m guessing Jeff?”

“Right in one, darlin’,” Eddie said with a soft smile. “I’ll give him a call and then call you back.”

“Thanks, Eds,” Steve breathed. “You’re the best.”

“Thanks, doll.”

****

I am so excited for this, guys. You have no idea. I'm little history nerd myself and this really fun to play around with.

Just a heads up. We WILL be addressing Mike's casual racism from the Ghostbusters scene because I don't like that it's never been addressed.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @artiststarme @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd #tw: racism

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wholoveseggs · 7 months ago

Note

Hi there!! I been reading your works and I love your writing. This my first request ever.

I had this idea, and I was thinking about a gothic vampire reader with the personality and the looks of Morticia Addams, and the love for the macabre. And Elijah catches her attention and she catches his attention. Of course, they meet at a gala, a opera etc. And for weeks, they have been getting to know each other. Until one day, he comes over to her house, they are having a good time then the visit turns steamy and smutty, it is passionate and feral. And maybe with blood sharing between the two.

But of course, if you don’t want to then you don’t have to and you can ignore this.

Decadence

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Elijah meets an intriguing woman at the opera, leading to an evening of music, wine and vampiric indulgences.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @thealienartist!! Absolutely obsessed with this idea, I LOVE gothic romance & horror!!! This was an absolute dream to write. Can Elijah please be the Gomez to my Morticia heart? ♡♡

5.9k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex, blood drinking, I was self-projecting hard with this one... {I just want to be her}, black cats, chocolate cake, vintage wine, a love letter, Victorian gothic everything... I listened to Totentanz on repeat while writing this... {its a vibe}

Elijah had always enjoyed the arts, whether that be in music or literature or even painting and live performances. He found that the arts were one of the only things that made him feel truly alive. Even with his undead heart beating within his chest.

Around the turn of the century, Elijah discovered his love for horror. It amused him to see how humans depicted the supernatural, their interpretations of his kind were rather off. Vampires living in run down castles, with no regard for the world around them, their main purpose to drain the blood of the innocent. It was almost laughable, though some of his kind did enjoy that lifestyle.

It was during this time that he fell in love with opera, something his siblings didn't exactly agree with. Rebekah found it to be dull, Klaus found it to be pretentious and Kol didn't care either way.

They just didn't get it, the music, the drama, the costumes, had him completely enraptured.

So, when he heard that La bohème was being performed, he immediately made plans to go. He had seen it many times, but never got tired of the performance. He just wished that he could have somebody to go with, but none of his family wanted to attend.

He put on his favorite four piece suit, combed his hair, grabbed his black trench coat and made his way to the opera house.

As the lights dimmed and the stage lit up, Elijah couldn't help but feel a little sad, wishing he had someone to share this interest with, but he was content watching alone.

He watched as the curtains parted and the actors began their first scene, he immediately fell into a trance as he took in the performance.

Intermission was announced and he went outside for some fresh air, he was surprised to see a woman, who looked like she was plucked straight out of the past, standing on the balcony.

She was smoking a cigarette, the long stick held elegantly in her fingers. Her nails were red talons and her dark hair cascaded down her back, stopping at her hips. She was dressed in a all black Victorian style dress, which complimented her pale skin, making it look almost ghostly.

She tilted her head at him in acknowledgement, then went back to staring out into the night.

Elijah usually wasn't the one to approach women, he preferred for them to make the first move. But something about this one intrigued him, he was curious about her.

He stepped onto the balcony and approached her slowly. Watching the wisps of smoke rise into the air.

She looked up at him and smiled.

"Elijah Mikaelson, I presume?" Her voice was deep, but still feminine, her eyes darker than his own. She was strikingly beautiful, there was no doubt about that.

"You know who I am?" Elijah raised his eyebrows.

She chuckled, gracefully flicking her cigarette butt away.

"Who doesn't? The infamous Mikaelson's, who rule the streets of New Orleans with blood and fear... I'm a big fan," she said.

He smiled and shook his head, "We do not rule the city, we simply protect it from our enemies."

She hummed, a smirk gracing her ruby red lips.

"You do have a reputation," she replied.

Elijah nodded and stepped forward.

"What is your name, darling?"

She chuckled and leaned against the railing, gazing up at him with a smirk. "Y/n," she said, extending her hand out to him.

He grasped her hand gently, his lips brushing against her knuckles, her eyes sparkled as she watched his lips.

"Hmm, they don't make them like you anymore," she mused, her eyes traveling up and down his body. "You are so very old-fashioned," she added with a sly smile.

"Well I am quite old," he jested, matching her smile.

They stood and stared at each other for a moment before Elijah broke the silence. "What do you think of this performance?" He asked, gesturing towards the theater.

She shrugged, "I've seen worse, I've seen better," she replied.

Elijah found himself smirking at her response, not really knowing why. Maybe because he had found himself feeling the same.

"May I ask what brings you here?" He wondered why she was attending an opera alone.

"I was bored, looking for someone to eat," she stated. Her eyes roaming over his body once more.

Elijah let out a chuckle and ran a hand through his hair. There was only a handful of times in his long life that a woman actually made him nervous, this being one of those times.

She reached forward and placed her hand on his chest, leaning closer towards him, her lips ghosting against his ear, her scent surrounded him, it was intoxicating and Elijah found himself leaning into her.

"I'll see you around Mr. Mikaelson," she whispered and gently pulled away from him, giving him a wink before going back inside. Elijah watched her go, letting out a sigh as he shook his head, not being able to wipe the smile off of his face.

You considered yourself a solitary creature. Even in your human life, you tended to keep people at a distance. You felt misunderstood, even a bit judged by your peers, you didn't really like being around people.

After you were turned, things hadn't really changed that much, you still found it difficult to connect with others, but now you were mostly untethered and unburdened by society's rules.

The freedom of being a vampire was nice, to be able to go and do whatever you pleased, whenever you pleased and live however you saw fit.

You spent most of your years traveling, seeking out new places, experiencing new cultures and meeting people along the way. And with all this knowledge you learned exactly who you are and what you like.

New Orleans was one of your favorite places, full of vibrancy and life. It was an aesthetic heaven for you, a place that celebrated death, promoted the macabre, had strong connections to magic. Not to mention their appreciation for the arts.

For the last few decades, you had taken up residence in an old Victorian home. You compelled the local historical society to allow you to paint the exterior completely black. Planted dark red roses along the windows and hung little chandeliers made of animal bones along the porch.

You had spent quite a bit of time decorating the interior, making it a space that you could feel truly comfortable in. Something that made your home feel like it truly reflected your personality.

The house fit you perfectly; outside looking like something from a B-horror film, but the interior was homely and feminine, decorated with macabre pieces, gothic furniture, tapestries adorned the walls and candles were scattered everywhere.

You never really acclimated to modern society, you were turned in the 1800s and preferred to live according to the time. You liked old things, dark antiques, things that held a certain kind of energy within them.

So when you met Elijah Mikaelson at the opera house, you knew you had to add him to your collection.

You had heard about the Mikaelson family for a long time, whispers of them among the vampires. You had become intrigued, they were the oldest of your kind, the knowledge they possessed fascinated you.

You couldn't help the smirk that had stretched across your lips when you finally came face to face with Elijah, he was exactly how you imagined him. Tall, dark and handsome, dressed to perfection, emanating wealth and power. Finding him at the opera added to your attraction, knowing that his interests matched your own made it all that more charming.

Elijah Mikaelson was the fine wine of men and you wanted to bathe yourself in it. Wanted to drink up every drop of it, savoring the taste of it on your lips.

You sat in your living room, your cat on your lap, purring contently as you ran your fingers through his fur. You were dressed in a large silk robe, your hair tied up in a bun, dark wine colored lipstick on your lips. A mug filled with blood sat on the table beside you.

You were writing out a letter to him, with ink and parchment, your favorite fountain pen adding a certain flourish to your lettering. Your cat jumped off of your lap and you grabbed an envelope to place the letter inside. You folded the parchment and stuck it in the envelope, sealing it with wax and writing Elijah's name onto the paper.

You hoped he would like the gesture, you knew he was an old fashioned man, so sending him a letter with a gift was bound to catch his attention. It had been a long, long time since you felt nervous, and it had been at least a hundred years since you had a crush like this.

You grabbed the parcel with his gift in it and walked over to your front door, slipping on your heels, you headed out of the house and down your side walk, plucking a rose along the way.

The postman was close to leaving, just as you approached his mail van.

"Hello," you greeted, and watched as he turned and jumped, clearly startled by your sudden appearance.

"Jesus lady, I didn't hear you coming," he stammered, looking you up and down, a nervous smile on his face.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to catch you before you left."

He shook his head and smiled, waving away your concern.

"I have a parcel for you to deliver," you said.

He nodded and held out his hand for the letter.

"What's the address?" He asked, staring down at the envelope, taking note of your fine penmanship.

"The Abattoir, in the French Quarter. For Elijah Mikaelson," you told him, running your fingertips along the thorns of your rose.

The postman nodded his head and placed the letter in his van.

"Have a nice day," he said as he walked away.

You watched him climb into his vehicle and drive away, a smirk playing on your lips, hoping your letter would get the attention you desired.

Elijah was spending the day lazing about, enjoying a rare day of peace and quiet, catching up on his reading. He wasn't expecting any visitors, but a knock sounded at the front door, which was a highly unusual occurrence.

He wandered downstairs, a nervous looking postman was waiting at the gate, looking around the old compound with fascination and hesitation.

"Elijah Mikaelson?" He asked timidly.

"Yes?" Elijah looked at him in bewilderment, it had been a long time since he had received anything in the mail, it wasn't like he had a registered address.

"This is for you," he said, handing him the envelope and a small package, wrapped in crimson coloured paper and tied with a black ribbon.

Elijah thanked him and made his way back into his home, he wondered who could have sent him a letter, the handwriting was immaculate, a skill that wasn't common in today's world.

He realized who it was from instantly when he saw the initials, y/n. A smile graced his lips, feeling like a giddy schoolboy instead of a thousand year old vampire.

He quickly undid the black ribbon and opened the paper, revealing a beautiful piece of art, depicting a flying demon eating a young woman's heart. The detail was incredibly fine, and he realized after a quick sniff, that the red of the painting was not paint. It was blood.

A thought crossed his mind, he wondered if it was a piece of your art, he found your work to be truly frightening, beautiful and enchanting, reminding him of the piece Nighthawks, though darker and macabre.

Opening the letter, he read it carefully,

Dearest Mr. Mikaelson, I hope this letter finds you well, if not please pardon my forwardness. I never understood the flirting etiquette of the modern woman. I find myself longing for the company of a man with your refined tastes, such a delicate palette. I was intrigued from the moment we met, our meeting felt fortuitous. I must confess that I have not felt this way in centuries, being in your presence awakened something within me that I wasn't aware still existed. I find myself completely enamored. Perhaps my feelings are returned? If not, then please accept this gift in hopes of extending our friendship. Though I do wish you share in my hopes of something a little more. I will be home tonight, perhaps you would do me the honor of joining me for a drink? Until then I remain Your Admirer, y/n.

Elijah couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he gently folded the parchment and placed it on his desk. He immediately went to check himself in the mirror, fixing his hair, combing it neatly to the side. He found himself anxiously changing his tie, nothing matched what he was wearing, but he wanted everything to be perfect.

He found a pair of ruby cufflinks, feeling that they complimented the letter and would perhaps set the mood.

Grabbing his black wool jacket and adjusting his tie, he made his way outside before stopping and running back inside, he couldn't possibly come empty handed and he knew just the thing to bring you.

You waited nervously inside your house, you had decided to wear a simple black slip dress, your hair flowing over your shoulders in waves, your black winged eyeliner perfectly defining your eyes.

You needed a way to quell your anxiety, so you decided to play a tune on your organ, something to fill the silence, create a soundtrack to go along with the nerves that bounced around inside your mind and heart.

If he didn't show, you would understand. It had been quite a while since you've expressed your affections to anyone. It had been a lifetime since you were courted.

Your fingers idly drifted over the ivory keys, producing a somber yet melodic tune. Your nails were filed into sharp talons, painted a deep crimson, matching the lipstick on your lips.

The melody flowed through the house, the tune reverberating against the walls, seeping through the floorboards. Your cat jumped up and settled in your lap, the soft vibrations from the organ lulling him into a purring trance.

A soft knock broke the melody and you felt your heart stutter. Placing your cat on the seat you walked over to your door. Taking a steadying breath, you grabbed the handle and opened the door.

Men usually didn't have you so utterly flustered, but with Elijah, it seemed like even your centuries old blood could grow warm.

"Good evening, I received your letter and gift, thank you."

He greeted you with a genuine smile, an excited glint in his eyes. You let your eyes wander over him, taking in his appearance, he was dressed to perfection, like always, obviously following along with your old fashioned aesthetic. You liked that you didn't have to ask him, he just got it.

"Please, come in," you stepped to the side to make room for him, you shut the door as he walked inside.

"Quite a lovely home you have here," he said, admiring the interior of the house.

You took his coat and led him into the sitting room, pointing to one of the antique sofas.

"Please, take a seat."

He sat and placed the bottle of wine he had brought on the table.

You took the bottle and marveled at the label, your interest peaked, feeling slightly taken back, it was one of the rarest reds, bottles of this were difficult to come by, most of them now lying at the bottom of the sea.

You knew it was not a simple gesture, this was the kind of thing you save for very special occasions. Knowing that he considered this date that special made your stomach flutter.

"Now how did you manage to get your hands on this?" You asked, placing the bottle beside the two glasses you had set out earlier.

"My brother was the culprit behind a number of shipwrecks, during the golden era of piracy," Elijah responded, a smirk gracing his lips.

You chuckled as you grabbed the corkscrew. "That is no surprise," you replied as you popped the cork out.

You grabbed the glasses and walked over to him, passing him one of the glasses before sitting across from him.

You both raised your glasses and clinked them together, taking a drink, closing your eyes and savoring the taste.

"I heard you playing as I approached the house, you have a lovely talent," Elijah said.

You smiled and nodded your head, looking down at your wine.

"That was very sweet of you to say," you looked up at him through your lashes, admiring his handsome features.

You took another sip and watched him over the rim of your glass, his eyes watching you as well.

"What were you playing? Totentanz?" He asked.

"Indeed, it’s one of my favorites," you said, tilting your glass in his direction, "and it felt appropriate," you jested.

A beautiful smile stretched across Elijah's face as he let out a chuckle. His smile made your lips curl up, mirroring his expression.

"So tell me," he began, "What made you decide to come to New Orleans?"

You shrugged and crossed your legs, the sliver of skin left exposed as the fabric cascaded over your thighs, capturing his attention.

"I love it here, the culture, the art, blood tastes sweeter here," you said, letting a sly smile grace your face. "I like the way this city weaves death and beauty," you paused and took a sip, "it just feels like home to me."

Elijah nodded his head in understanding, he appreciated what you had said. "Yes, there is a certain allure about this city,"

"Your family helped build it back in the 1800s, no?" You asked, running your finger along the lip of your glass.

He nodded, "yes we did, from swamps and brothels to one of the wealthiest cities."

You chuckled and shook your head, "yet the swamps and brothels remain," you mused.

"But not nearly as much," he joked.

You both sat and talked for hours, getting to know each other, laughing and drinking. Elijah was surprised to find that you didn't mind listening to him talk about his travels and life, in fact you hung onto his every word. To him, you were utterly enchanting, the way your eyes lit up as you talked, your laugh, the way you looked at him.

At one point he got up and sat closer to you, his hand gently grazing your thigh, leaning in close as you spoke, his eyes locked on yours. Your lips parted and you felt his breath ghosting across your mouth, his eyes flicking down to your lips. He was such a gentleman, waiting for you to initiate the kiss, but you wanted to do one last thing before you tasted his lips.

"I made something for us, if you would like to try it," you whispered.

He leaned back and tilted his head, his eyes curious.

You smirked and placed your wine glass down, slowly standing up.

"Follow me," you told him.

Elijah trailed after you into your dining room, a large wooden table in the center of the room, filled with silver platters and a centerpiece of black and white roses.

You had made a decadent chocolate cake using human blood, the dark rich blood mixing with the cocoa, making a sinfully dark and delicious dessert.

You pulled out a chair for him and motioned for him to sit.

"This looks delicious, did you make this?" Elijah asked.

You nodded and cut a slice for him, placing it on a plate.

"Yes, I made it from scratch," you said, a small smirk playing on your lips. "Gathered all the ingredients from local suppliers."

Elijah hummed, taking his first bite, his eyes widened and he let out a soft groan.

"This is divine," he exclaimed, the veins around his eyes darkening.

You sat and watched him eat the entire slice, his eyes were blown out, the bloodlust apparent in his expression. You bit your lip, trying to hold in your excitement.

You pushed your plate towards him, a wicked grin on your lips. "Would you like another slice?"

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, the bloodlust making him look feral, his eyes completely black.

"I would prefer to taste something else," he said.

Your lips curled into a smile as he stood, pushing his chair back and pulling you out of yours.

His arms snaked around your waist, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair, pulling you flush against him. You ran your hand up his chest and wrapped it around his neck, your lips meeting his.

He tasted like red wine, chocolate and just a hint of blood, his mouth soft and pliant, his tongue brushing against your lips. You nipped at his bottom lip and he growled, pushing his hips against yours, walking you backwards, pinning you against the wall.

"Where did you come from?" He marveled, his hands grabbing your ass.

You laughed and ran your hand through his hair, giving it a light tug.

"Does it matter?" You whispered, pressing your lips against his again, kissing him hungrily.

"You've been in my city for so long, yet I only just met you, how very unfortunate," his voice was gruff as he spoke, his hips rolling against yours.

"I guess we will have to make up for lost time," you said, your voice dripping with lust.

Elijah picked you up and flashed up the stairs, his hands cupping your ass, his lips attached to your neck. He walked you into the bedroom, tossing you on the bed.

You laid there, propped up on your elbows, staring up at him, a teasing smirk on your lips, your dark hair fanning out on the pillow.

He looked at you in awe, your red lips were swollen from his kiss and the hem of your slip had risen up your thighs. He climbed onto the bed and crawled towards you, hovering over your body, his mouth finding yours again, his hands running up to the hem of your stockings, his fingers teasing the skin under the material.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and flipped him, straddling his hips. Your hands ran over his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt, revealing his toned chest.

His hands roamed over your body, slipping the straps of your slip off your shoulders, revealing your black corset, his hands trailing over the boning, the lace covering your breasts, the garters that held up your stockings, and the panties that were already ruined.

"I miss when women would dress this way," he sighed, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, a look of hunger in his eyes.

You chuckled, bending down to nip at his bottom lip, your lips moving along his jaw.

"Happy to keep the tradition alive," you whispered, nuzzling your nose against his neck, your fangs running along the artery, feeling his pulse against the tip of your fangs.

Elijah flipped you over and pressed his body against yours, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing the sides, his thumb tilting your head back. His other hand found the ties inn the front of your corset, slowly undoing the knots, the ribbon sliding through the eyelets, the corset loosening with each pull.

You watched his eyes flicker over your breasts, his fangs extending, his breathing heavy. He looked up and met your gaze, his face shifting, his veins spreading underneath his eyes.

He bent down, his fangs sinking into your chest, your blood filling his mouth, dripping down his chin. Your eyes rolled back as he fed from you, his hand squeezing your breast, his fingers pinching and twisting your nipple.

The pain of his fangs and the pleasure of his hands were overwhelming, you felt drunk, you felt euphoric.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back, your mouth colliding with his, tasting yourself on his lips. He groaned into your mouth and rolled his hips against yours, his bulge pressing against your core.

You both frantically began to undress, his pants and belt tossed aside, your dress and corset ripped off, thrown onto the floor. You laid back, wearing nothing but your stockings and panties, his boxer briefs the only piece of clothing left on his body.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you back underneath him, his lips finding yours, his hand running up your leg, hooking his finger into the thin strap of your panties, tearing them off.

"That was entirely ungentlemanly," you said, a teasing glint in your eye.

Elijah smirked, kissing his way down your stomach, stopping at your pelvis, his fangs lightly scraping the skin above your pussy.

"You don't seem to mind," he mused, his hand pushing your thighs open, his lips wrapping around your clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your hips bucked and your hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging it, urging him on. You appreciated his enthusiasm as he indulged in pleasuring you.

His tongue felt deliciously warm against your skin, your eyes shut, your breath ragged. It had been so long since you had a man between your legs, and Elijah was no ordinary lover, his skill level matched his age.

You moaned and writhed beneath him, his thumb pressed against your clit, your wetness covering his chin.

"Fucking hell," you panted, your body starting to tense.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets, your body a ball of pent up tension, with one final stroke of his tongue, your orgasm broke through the last sliver of control.

You shook and gasped as your climax took over, your whole body erupting in pleasure. Elijah lifted his head, watching you, his lips curling into a sly smile.

"That's a sight," he praised, sitting up and wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

You slowly opened your eyes, a blissful smile plastered on your face.

"Indeed it is," you replied, your breathing uneven.

"But you should watch your language, I thought you were a lady," he teased, his eyebrow raised, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

You narrowed your eyes and smirked, leaning forward, grabbing his shoulders and rolling him onto his back. Your bodies were slotted together, your faces close to each other.

"When have I ever claimed to be a lady?" You asked, kissing along his jawline, nipping the soft skin at the end of his neck.

Your hands trailed down his body, running over his chest, letting your nails run down his torso, breaking the skin, long bloody tracks appearing.

You kissed your way down his chest, licking the blood up, your fangs scraping against his abdomen. You looked up and caught his hungry gaze, his body tensing under you, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers.

Smirking, you kissed the fabric that separated you from his cock, your hands reaching up and tugging at the waistband, pulling them down slowly.

Your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, licking the pre-cum. His eyes fluttered shut and he hissed in pleasure, his hands tangling in your hair.

"Mr. Mikaelson," you said as you slowly descended on his cock. "I may look like a lady," you popped off him and kissed the head. "but I fuck like a dirty, filthy whore."

Elijah groaned at your words, the hands in your hair tightening, gripping your strands, guiding you back down, taking in more of him.

You bobbed your head along his shaft, sucking and lapping at the vein along the underside, one of your hands pumping the part you couldn't fit in your mouth, the other gently cupping his balls, squeezing and massaging them.

Elijah slowly began to rock his hips, matching your rhythm, his breathing heavy and rapid, his voice hoarse as he murmured your name.

Pulling his cock out of your mouth, you looked up at him, tilting your head, "yes?" You smirked, blowing air onto the tip.

Elijah pulled you up and kissed you, flipping you over and once again pinning you underneath him. He pulled your thigh up to hook around his waist, gripping your ass, letting his cock rub along your slit. He pulled on the hem of your stocking, letting it snap back against your skin.

"Gorgeous, intoxicating thing," he cooed, slowly sinking into you.

You threw your head back and let out a moan, your leg hiked up to allow him deeper access. He placed one hand under your thigh, holding your leg in place, while the other found your neck, his thumb grazing your windpipe, applying the perfect amount of pressure. The hand under your leg holding you firmly. You knew that a part of him wanted to give into the bloodlust, the animalistic side of him that was desperate to sink his fangs into your neck. His gentleness mixed with his aggressiveness drove you wild.

You felt every inch of his cock as he slowly rolled his hips, pulling out of you almost fully before entering you again. He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing along yours. It was intense and overwhelming, the way he had all your senses tied up in his touch, his mouth, his taste, the sound of his breathing, his movements.

You struggled to hold it together, your pleasure building with each stroke, and he knew, he loved seeing you come undone.

He began to pick up his pace, his hips snapping against yours. It was like the perfect dance, his hips moving so smoothly and perfectly in time with yours, both of you chasing the inevitable crash.

Your eyes met, and everything else seemed to fall away as you lost yourself in his gaze, everything slowing down. He kissed you softly, tenderly, making you melt in his hands.

You brought one hand down to rest on his cheek, holding his face against yours, kissing him back just as tenderly. You ran your index finger along his jaw line, your sharp nail drawing blood, dipping your finger between your lips. He tasted so much better than you imagined, like pure power and divine lust.

Elijah groaned at the sight of your blood stained lips and he sped up, his lips on your neck, his fangs running over your skin.

You tugged on his hair, urging him to bite you, to drink his fill, you wanted nothing more than to give yourself over completely.

His fangs sank into your neck, your blood spilling into his mouth, some of it dripping onto your chest, his teeth slicing into your skin.

The sensation pushed you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you, your hands grabbing at his shoulders, a strangled cry of his name leaving your lips.

He didn't stop, just as he was reaching his peak, he sank his teeth in deeper. He growled, his hips losing their rhythm as his climax hit him. You were both a gasping, moaning mess, clinging to one another, your fingers digging into each other's skin.

The two of you collapsed in a sweaty heap, tangled in the sheets, your skin glistening, breathing heavy.

You felt light headed and euphoric. His gaze was piercing and loving, his fingers brushing across your neck, softly wiping the blood off. His mouth gently caressed yours, his hands cupping your face.

He brushed your hair behind your ears, pulling you into his embrace, his fingers tracing your skin. It was hard to believe that you had only known him for a night, it felt like a lifetime.

A long overdue release of tension and you were happy to be the object of his affections. He was by far the most interesting man you had ever met.

You melted into him, his hands wrapping around you, holding you close. Everything felt perfect, the dim lights, the sound of rain in the background, the weight of him beside you.

The slow creak of your bedroom door opening, cut through the stillness of the night. The soft mew of your cat greeted the both of you, followed by the sound of him jumping onto your bed. The comforting feeling of his paws walking along the sheets as he came to investigate the disturbance in his home.

He walked along Elijah's body, bumping his head against Elijah's outstretched hand, purring happily.

"And who might you be?" Elijah asked.

"Erebus," you responded, stroking Erebus' fur. "It means darkness."

Elijah nodded, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk.

"An appropriate name," he mused, watching the black cat turn around on his chest, finding a comfortable spot to settle.

Erebus yawned and curled into a ball, closing his eyes.

You smiled and snuggled in closer to Elijah, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I guess Erebus wants me to stay," He chuckled.

You laughed and reached over him, scratching the cat behind the ears.

"It does seem that way," you teased. "And I have no intention of kicking you out."

Elijah smiled, kissing the top of your head.

"Good," he said. "Because I intend on staying right here."

You looked up at him and smiled, your heart skipping a beat. You had never met anyone who could make you feel so special and desirable.

Elijah's face was gentle, his eyes crinkled, his mouth curled into a smile. He kissed you again, a sweet, chaste kiss, and then he turned his attention back to Erebus, who was now fast asleep on his chest.

"Did you know that Erebus fathered Eros, the god of love and desire?" He asked.

"I did," you chucked, watching your little cats chest rise and fall.

"There is a play house not far from here, they are putting on a performance about it, the play is called Sweet Eros. Would you like to go see it? It's quite twisted, it seems like something you would enjoy."

You nodded and kissed him, a grin on your face.

"Mr. Mikaelson, I think this is the start of something beautiful," you teased, your fingers tracing his collarbone.

"Oh my darling," he said, his lips brushing against yours. "It already is."

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bluecollarmcandtf · 11 months ago

Text

My Mall Santa

This is Christian. Right now he's suiting up to work as my Santa for the next few days, but that wasn't what he came in here to do. This guy walked into my mall and began yelling at me for running out of a certain item he wanted to buy; it was some fancy necklace for his fiance. I explained that specialty jewels like that get sold out fast this time of year, but he shot back with his own entitled arguments.

"Do you know who I am?" he yelled, "I'm not some plumber looking for a dime-store watch! Just show me to the high-end stuff!"

By that point, the whole jewelry store was staring, so I quietly relented, "Fine sir, follow me. Hopefully, we can find something for you."

I led him to the back, but I knew he didn't deserve a fine quality necklace, and his fiance didn't deserve a jerk like him. Sure, Christian was quite the catch; handsome, assertive, and obviously rich. Just a glance at him would give that away...

...but my Santa called in sick that morning, so I'd been waiting all day for some asshole to test me and see what happens. Christian was about to discover my favorite hobby, hypnosis.

Once we were in the privacy of the storage room, I pulled out the crowned jewel of my collection. It was a long pendant with a single red ruby weighing the chain down. It caught the light in the darkest of rooms, and it quickly soaked in all of Christian's attention.

The guy had no idea what this necklace was capable of. He didn't notice as his breaths drew longer or as his head dipped lower. I doubt he even noticed that I started speaking to him, "You shouldn't be so rude to strangers. I'm going to use you for a while, but when I'm done, you won't be rude to anyone ever again."

"I won't be rude to anyone ever again..." he repeated. His intense stare continued to burn into the ruby.

"That's right, but for now, you're just going to get dressed and be my Santa, got it?"

"Yes, get dressed and be your Santa..."

I smiled and peeled the pendant from his gaze. It took him a moment, but he shook off the hypnosis and straightened himself up.

Christian's brow furrowed in confusion as he stumbled on his words, "I'm sorry about my outburst...uh...I'm going to be your Santa?"

"That's right big guy," I clapped him on the back and shoved an old cardboard box into his arms, "Get changed and meet me out front. Hurry up, there's already a line of excited kids waiting to sit on your lap!"

Christian cringed at the mention of children. He was clearly not a family man, but nevertheless, he unfolded the box and pulled out the old Santa suit. He looked at it with disdain, but got to work taking off his dressy clothes like I'd instructed, shoulders slumped in defeat.

Walking back out into the bustling mall, I searched for some more guys I could recruit. The line to see Santa was getting long, and I didn't want to be the one managing all those snot-nosed kids and their grumpy parents. It didn't take long before I found a pair of arrogant jocks laughing at the little kids. Those two would be perfect as Santa's helpers...

I lured the two of them into the back under the pretense that they would get some free merchandise. Overly-confident athletes like them were almost too gullible. The only thing that finally stopped their dumb snickers was the ruby pendulum. Their smiles faltered as their eyes locked onto the swinging gem.

"You two are going to shut up and be Santa's little helpers, understand," I commanded.

"Yes," they repeated, "We will shut up and be Santa's helpers."

I smiled and dropped the necklace, breaking their trance. The two jocks seemed alarmed as they realized they could no longer joke around with each other. They couldn't do anything other than while out their arms and accept the two sets of costumes I handed to them.

"Put them on, boys," I added, "And remember to keep those big mouths shut. Just keep the kids in line and let Santa do the talking!"

It wasn't long before I finally got Santa and his Elves out on the floor, ready to finally satisfy that long line of waiting families.

Santa might have looked a little different than most kids would have expected, and the elves certainly looked like they hated their lives, but what else can you expect from a mall Santa?

Christian endured each and every child that sat on his lap, mumbling their wishes in his ear. By the end of the day, his legs were sore and his Santa costume was sticky: probably from candy and whatever else was in those kids' fingers.

The two jocks were perfect as elves, waiting quietly behind Santa until they needed to usher a child to and from the big guy. A few of their university mates might have spotted them dressed up as Santa's helpers. I'm pretty sure they laughed hysterically when they saw the two of them, capturing as many photos as they could.

"Alright, today's shift is over!" I announced to them gleefully.

"I'm never doing that again," one of the elves grumbled as he shoved off his costume.

"Actually, you'll be back tomorrow!" I reminded, "You might want to wash your elf clothes, because you'll be here all day again!"

The two jocks pouted and stormed away. The mall was closing down but I was confident the two of them would report back bright and early for another long day of elfwork.

"Crap, I'm late for dinner with my fiance," Christian suddenly stood up in alarm, still wearing his heavy Santa costume.

I pulled the ruby out of my pocket and held it in front of my mall Santa, "Forget about her. You're going to drive me back to my place and be my personal Santa for the night."

With his eyes glued to the red gem, Christian repeated, "I'll forget about her and drive you to your place. Tonight, I'm your personal Santa."

"Good Santa," I patted his head, "And I want you to laugh and talk like Santa would in the movies. That'll really sell the Christmas magic!"

I smiled as Christian woke up from the brief trance. Again, he looked confused but didn't hesitate to grab my hand and lead me to his car. "Ho ho ho!" he bellowed in joyful laughter as he gazed at me, twinkle in his eye.

All I wanted for Christmas was Santa, and for tonight, I could do whatever I wanted with him...

#gay hypnosis #hypno story #male transformation #gay ai art

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stayteezdreams · 1 month ago

Text

An Honest Mistake

Plot: During an ordinary Halloween party, your evening and life are changed when a stranger mistakes you for someone else.

Prompt: They mistake you as their friend at a costume party and accidentally kidnap you.

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Gn!Reader (strangers to ???)

A/n: I was super vague about the reader's costume, so just imagine you are dressed as whichever masked hero you would prefer. Also, do people actually use the term "pursue"? Or is that just a show thing?? lmao

Words: 2.1k

Wandering through the party, you waved at some people that were looking at your costume. You were dressed as your favorite superhero, mask and all. The costume itself was good quality and you liked it, however, the downside was with the mask on, you had to practically yell for anyone to hear you talk.

This led to you taking the mask off a few times throughout the night to save your vocal cords from the strain.

It was getting late in the night at this point, and you were considering going home. Walking from room to room, you were looking for the host, a friend of yours, so you could say goodbye before leaving.

Entering the main room, where a lot or people seemed to converge to dance and play various drinking games, your eyes caught on someone walking your way.

He was attractive, his hair was tied back, and he was wearing an old style royal outfit. It suited him.

You began growing more and more confused as his eyes locked on you before they widened in recognition. He waved at you and began approaching you quickly. You hesitated in your steps out of confusion.

Did you know him? No, definitely not.

Stopping in front of you, he smiled widely, his features even more attractive close up. You tilted your head in confusion as he spoke to you.

"There you are! I've been looking for you!"

"Huh?"

Your heart started pounding as he took your hand in his and began dragging you along to follow him.

"Come on, we should go!"

You shook your head in confusion, "I'm sorry, who are you?"

He frowned as he looked back, "What?"

Before you could speak again, he spoke to some other people that greeted him as he passed.

You were growing more and more confused. You tried to pull your hand away, but he kept his grip tight. You tried calling out to him again, but between your mask and the loud party around you it was pointless.

You continued to doge various people as he pulled you along, never hearing your questions, and his grip never loosening enough for you to pull your hand away.

Seeing he was heading towards the door, you let him finish leading you there. It would be quieter, and you could finally figure out what the hell he was doing kidnapping you in the middle of a party.

As soon as you stepped out of the door, you yanked your hand away and he looked back surprised.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

He furrowed his brow as he heard your muffled voice, not recognizing it. He watched as you pulled your mask off, revealing the confused face of a stranger.

"Oh!" He yelled out and you stared at him stunned.

"Oh?!"

He rose his hand to his mouth, now understanding why you were trying so hard to pull your hand away from him. And why he thought he kept hearing you try to talk through your mask.

"I'm so sorry! I thought you were my friend!" He looked you up and down, his face full of surprise and guilt, "You're wearing the exact same costume."

You frowned at him, unsure if you should believe him. But seeing the look on his face, you couldn't help but give him the benefit of the doubt.

Running your hands throw your hair to fix it, knowing it was probably wild after being in your mask, you missed how the stranger's eyes raked over you.

Wooyoung had to admit, you were very attractive. "I am sorry!" He said again as he repressed a light laugh.

You caught this and looked at him dumbfounded. "Did you just laugh?" You tried to sound serious, but amusement was evident in your own voice.

He shook his head, "Sorry, sorry, it's just... It's not every day I accidentally kidnap someone."

You let out a laugh, feeling a bit less tense at his humor at the situation. It could have been a lot worse.

"Well, it's not every day someone accidentally kidnaps me."

He grinned, and you felt your heart flutter. You cleared your throat, "Why don't you try calling your friend instead?"

He let out a sigh. "My phone died, and I can't remember their number."

"Ah." You stood there in silence for a brief moment, "Well. This was fun, but I should-" as you gestured that you were gonna head back inside, he suddenly stepped forward.

"Wait!" You paused and he smiled softly, "What's your name?"

You thought for a second, "You first."

He smiled brightly as he waved his hand at you in greeting, "Wooyoung!"

You held back a giggle at his actions, he had a much brighter personality than you were expecting.

"Y/n."

"Nice to meet you Y/n, sorry for dragging you out like that, I must have scared you."

You saw guilt flash across his face, and you smiled, "A bit, but it was a misunderstanding, so it's okay."

Another moment of silence passed between you, before you let out a soft breath, "I'm gonna head back in, I was looking for someone too."

He grimaced a little, "Sorry." He started to follow you back inside, "I should try to find my friend again."

You gave him a small head nod before you walked into the crowd. Wooyoung felt an urge to stop you, but let you go, ignoring the instant regret that washed over him as you disappeared in the crowd.

Your heart was still fluttering as you weaved through the crowds, looking out for your friend. Should you have talked to him more? You shook the thought away as soon as it came.

Suddenly, your eyes caught on a figure nearby, dressed exactly like you. You let out a soft laugh as you walked over to them. Tapping them on the shoulder, they looked over at you. You gestured for them to lean in. When they did you spoke up loud enough for them to hear.

"Your friend Wooyoung is looking for you!"

They looked over at you and you gestured to where you had left him. The stranger gave you a thumbs-up before you waved and left.

Just as you were about to give up hope of finding your friend, you spotted them across the room. After saying your goodbyes, you headed back to the front door, ready to go home after a fairly eventful night.

As you made it out the front door, you began walking towards the road before you heard your name called. Looking back, you saw Wooyoung, and his now unmasked friend standing nearby.

He ran up to you and you felt your heart flutter again. "Oh, hello again."

He grinned as he stopped in front of you. "My friend told me you found him in the crowd and pointed me out." You nodded and he continued. "I told him what happened, and he smacked me." He rubbed the back of his head as he said this, and you chuckled.

"Hey, uh, this might be a bit out of the blue, but.... do you think I can get your number?"

You felt your brain short-circuit for a second as your breath caught. "You want my number?"

He nodded with a shy smile, and you felt your heart skip. You bit the inside of your lip before you nodded softly, "Okay."

Wooyoung repressed a grin as you took his phone, typing in your information. He was jittery all over as excitement radiated through him. He really wasn't expecting you to say yes. Maybe you felt the same thing he did when you met earlier.

Handing his phone back, you smiled softly at him. He happily looked at the phone and you couldn't help the butterflies that filled your stomach.

"Do you know the host well?" You nodded and he seemed to grow a bit more exited. "Are you going to their party in a few days?"

You let out a soft breath, "Actually I offered to help set it up, so yeah I'll be there."

He grinned, "I'm going too! Do you mind if we meet up during it?"

Your heart was now hammering heavily in your chest as you shook your head, "I don't mind."

"Awesome." He grinned.

You couldn't repress your smile at his bluntness in showing how he was really feeling. "Anyways, I'll let you go." He began stepping away from you, smiling one more time, "See you later."

You smiled and waved, "See you later, Wooyoung."

Walking away and getting ready to call an uber, you glanced back one time to see Wooyoung still watching you. Your heart jolted as you quickly turned back, your neck heating up from the interaction.

Your mind seemed to linger on Wooyoung for the next few days, the frequency rising as the part grew closer and closer. He messaged you the morning after you met, and consistently over the next few days. Casual conversation and various questions, as he seemed fairly interested in getting to know you.

When the day of the party finally came around, you helped your friend set the party up, all the while you nervously counted down when Wooyoung might arrive.

The party was more of a casual gathering, taking part during the day and focusing more on Autumn than Halloween, though everyone was expected to wear a costume.

This time, you came without a mask, deciding to dress up as another one of your more casual-appearing favorite movie characters.

As you set up various pumpkins on the porch, you weren't aware of the person watching you from nearby. Not until you accidentally snapped off the stem of a pumpkin and heard a soft muffled giggle behind you.

Looking back, your heart jolted at the sight of Wooyoung, dressed in a military-esque outfit. It suited him, of course.

"Wooyoung! Why are you here so early?"

As you rose, he approached you, his charming smile captivating. He hummed softly as he stopped in front of you, his smile becoming a bit shyer.

"I may have asked if I could come early so I could see you."

Your heart jolted in your chest as you repressed a grin, "But you were going to see me later though."

He nodded but smiled almost slyly, "But I couldn't guarantee I'd get you all to myself."

You were a bit stunned by his blunt response and he chuckled softly at your reaction. "Too much?"

Letting out a soft breathy laugh you shook your head, "No, not too much, just a bit unexpected."

"I just wanted you to know my intentions."

You peered at him as you bit back a smile, "Your intentions?"

He hummed and nodded, "Yep."

"And those would be what exactly?"

He smiled slyly as he took a small step closer to you and leaned in, as if he was going to tell you a secret. "That I intend to pursue you."

You almost choked, as you met his eyes with a stunned gaze. He chuckled as he raised his brow, "What?"

"You- you don't even know me!"

He laughed, "I know, but I know enough to know where I want this to go. And we'll get to know each other along the way."

You let out a bewildered scoff as you bit back a bashful smile. Wooyoung could tell you were a bit overwhelmed and smiled almost proudly.

"Plus, we have a good meet-cute story."

"You mean when you basically kidnapped me?"

"It was an honest mistake!" He defended himself, making you laugh. "And it was a mistake I don't regret making." He added on softly, making your heart flutter.

"Sure you won't regret it?"

He nodded his head confidently. "I'm sure."

You hummed teasingly, as if you weren't convinced, and he tilted his head and smiled softly, "I'll prove it."

"Oh really?"

He nodded, "Mhm." He leaned in again, and spoke softly, making your heart beat heavily. "Will you let me?"

You remained silent for a moment as your eyes met his. His gaze both challenged you, and told you his words were in earnest.

You bit the inside of your lip, before you spoke softly, your tone betraying your feelings as you tried to sound equally challenging. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

He grinned at your response, his eyes grazing across your features, making you feel nervous under his gaze as he remained close to you.

You were both challenging each other in a way that excited you. Neither of you fully understood these strong feelings for someone you barely knew, but somehow, deep down, you knew it was gonna last.

xx End xx

The second half sucks, I am sorry. I forgot about this and am hurrying to write it the night before it goes out.

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goodbuckcharlie · 8 months ago

Text

I made it | Jack Hughes

Summary: Jack was Lucy’s first love, they dated in high school but broke up when Jack left for the NHL. After a long debate with a certain older Hughes brother, Lucy decided to invite Jack to her broadway debut, but she didn’t expect him to actually show up.

Warnings: cussing

Notes: well I know I said I would work on the Cole story but I’m kinda stuck rn and this idea came to me. It’s a little shorter than I hoped but I think this one may be my favorite. Also italics means it’s a flash back

Lucy doesn’t even know what she’s doing. She just got the news that she landed her dream role as Elphaba on broadway. Her high school dream just in arms reach. Her thumb floats over his caller id.

Jacky💕

She never had the heart to delete his contact. Not even the guts to change his name. Despite him breaking her heart, he was the one who supported her dreams the most.

It was opening night of her Senior musical. The school musical was Shrek and Lucy was playing Fiona. She kept looking in the crowd, hoping to see a glimpse of her parents, but every time she looked she slowly lost hope. But that dread was quickly replaced with joy as she saw her boyfriend and his family take their seats in the front row. Ellen and Jim were dressed up nice, Jack was dressed nice as well, but his hair definitely shows that he just got out of the shower after practice. Luke on the other hand, let’s just say Lucy was just happy he was there.

At the end of the performance, as she took her bow, Jack was cheering for her so loud that you would have thought he was at a sporting event. Lucy couldn’t help, but blush. Well as much blushing she can do under her green face paint.

Once the curtains close, Lucy rushes out of her costume to see Jack as soon as possible. When she leaves the theater room, she is greeted by Jack holding a bouquet of sunflowers, her favorite flowers.

“You came!!” She pulls Jack into a hug who quickly saved the flowers from being smushed by raising them above his head. He laughs at her excitement.

“Of course I made it.” He kisses her forehead before looking in her eyes, “I’m your number one fan.”

She couldn’t bring herself to call him, but part of her knew she needed to tell someone from that time of her life.

“Hello, who is this?” Of course he didn’t have her number saved.

“This was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have called.” She goes to hang up, but luckily, Quinn recognizes her voice.

“Lucy?! What’s wrong?” She takes a deep breath, before talking to Quinn.

“I’m sorry to bother you Quinn, I just need to tell someone , but I couldn’t bring myself to call him, not after how we left things off.” Lucy holds in her tears.

“Hey you may not be with him anymore, but you are still like a little sister to me.” Quinn’s words brought comfort to Lucy, calming her down. “You can always talk to me.”

One last deep breath, Lucy lets it all go. “Quinn, I’m going to be on broadway.”

“Wait for real!? This is amazing Lulu.”She smiles at the use of the nickname she hasn’t heard for a long time. “What date is opening night, I’ll totally buy a ticket to see it.”

“March 6th, but I already checked your schedule, and you are busy Mr. Captain.” Since this was the first time she talked to Quinn since the break up, it’s the first time she has called him captain. “But it would be knowing someone in the crowd was there for me, besides my brother.”

“You know someone who doesn’t play that day and would drop anything to see you.” She knows exact who she’s talking about.

“No Quinn, I doubt Jack wants to see me after 5 years. He has better things to do.” She still can’t believe it has been this long. “He was the one who broke up with me remember?”

“He misses you Lulu.” She shakes her head in disbelief. She’s seen Jack’s public life, he’s dated other girls, he’s out partying with his friends on the off season, and most importantly he is being successful in the NHL. “You have no idea how many time I’ve been on phone with Jack basically having this exact conversation. Every important game he calls me asking if he should invite you. I always tell him yes, but evidently he never goes through with it.”

“I’ve actually been to a few games believe it or not, last game I went to was the infamous Hughes bowl.” She couldn’t afford the lower bowl seats, but even in the nose bleeds she was supporting Jack, the Hughes brothers.

“Never let Jack know that, he’ll get so upset that you paid to watch him play. Knowing him he would try and figure out how much you spent in total, then would pay you back.” She laughs knowing that would exactly what Jack would do.

“He would also get mad if he knew I bought my own jersey.” She looks over in her closet and sees her number 86 Devils jersey that almost taunts her. “I wear it every game day.”

The two are silent for a little bit before Quinn speaks up. “What if I buy Jack a ticket and send it to him. I won’t tell him about this conversation. He can decide for himself if he goes or not but I can guarantee once he sees that you are performing, he will drop everything to see you.”

“I can’t tell you what to do with your money Quinn , but I can ask that you don’t waste your money.”

“How about this, we make a bet, the Lucy I remember always loved a good bet,” Lucy was very competitive in high school (she still is competitive but she would never tell anyone about that) “If Jack goes, you have to give him another chance . If he doesn’t go, I will never bother you about Jack again.”

“You know what you have a deal.” After making the deal, the two stay on the phone catching up for an hour. They talk about how the team is doing, how Ellen and Jim are and how much they also miss Lucy. They also talked about how Lucy got the role. Overall, Lucy was just glad to talk to one of the Hughes again.

During his lunch time the next day, Jack got a text from Quinn.

Qball- Don’t fuck it up this time.

There was a link attached. So out of curiosity, Jack opened the link and saw it was a ticket to see Wicked on broadway. He immediately send Quinn a text back questioning what he means.

Qball- Look up the cast idiot.

Jack looks up the cast after he rolls his eyes at his brother. But when he saw Lucy’s name in big letter next to Elphaba, his heart feels like it stopped.

Qball- she wants you to go, but was too scared to ask you herself.

Jack😎- It’s been so long, what would I even say to her when I saw her?

Qball- the truth. You love her Jack and I can’t guarantee she feels the same but she does deserve the closure you never gave her.

Jack😎- after all this time maybe it’s best if I just left her alone.

Qball- I can’t make you go but if you don’t please at least give the ticket to Luke or even mom. Lucy deserves to have someone there to support her.

Jack😎- I’ll think about it, but thanks for letting me know.

Jack let’s put a groan and puts his head down trying to think.

“What’s up with him?” Jack forgot that he was with his team mates but he quite frankly didn’t care. Not even as Luke grabs his phone.

“Oh shit is this for real.” Jack groans again. “Damn dude Lucy looks hot as fuck.”

Jack’s head shoots up and he glares at Luke.

“What, on the cast list there’s a link to her Instagram. And I’m just stating facts look.” Luke hands Jack back his phone and he sees that Luke was right. Lucy had gotten rid of her braces and glasses which he also found adorable, but there was something about her matured look that made Jack awe struck.

“Who’s Lucy?” Nico asks looking over Jack’s shoulder.

“Jack’s high school sweetheart.” Luke says looking Lucy up on Instagram on his own phone. “Jack was an asshole and dumped her when he got drafted. He legit dumped her over text.”

“That was 5 years ago asshole.” Jack mutters

“She’s really talented.” Jack was playing a clip that she posted of her singing and everyone could hear it. “You really fumbled the bag dude.”

“You think she’s single?” John says while Luke showed him pictures of Lucy. “If so you think you could put in a good word for me?”

“Fuck off.” Jack feels himself getting angry but he doesn’t understand why, Lucy was no longer his, and he lost his right to get over protective of her years ago. He storms off out of the living room out to his room m. Luke follows him.

“Come on Jack, you have no right to be upset.” Jack knows Luke is right but he pouts anyways. “So what are you going to do about that ticket?”

“Maybe mom should go, you know how much she misses Lucy.” Jack says looking at a photo that Lucy posted for her birthday. It was a picture of her in high school laughing. Jack was cropped out of the photo but he can still picture the memory in his head.

“Did you not read what Quinn said?” Luk sits down next to Jack. “She wants you there Jack. She wants your support. Don’t you at least think she deserves that?”

“I do support her and she deserves all the support in the world, but she also deserves better than me.” Jack hold back his tears in front of his brother. “I remember the text her brother sent me. The day I broke up with her, I blocked her so I couldn’t see her response. A hour later, Carson texted me telling me that I would never find anyone better than Lucy and that I would have to watch in regret as his big sister became a star. Harshest words I’ve ever heard from an 11 year old.”

Both brothers laugh as the remember Carson, who actually looked up to Jack until the break up. Luke remembers being told to fuck off by the 11 year old, when he tried reaching out to Lucy after the break up.

“I thought in that moment, he was right. I still think he is right, I don’t deserve to walk back into her life now that it’s more convenient for me.” Jack looks at his desk where he keeps a picture of Lucy and his family after her first musical during their freshmen year.

“Yeah maybe you don’t deserve her after what you did, but there is no denying the love you two shared.”Luke puts his hand on Jack’s shoulder before continuing, “I’m not the best at advice so I’m just going to repeat what Quinn said that she deserves closure.”

“I just want her to be happy, Luke.” Jack cries as Luke holds his older brother.

A few months later and a lot of hard work, it was finally time for opening night. After hours in the makeup chair, Lucy was as ready as she’ll ever be.

As she is waiting to go on she can’t help, but think of Jack.

The two were sitting in Jack’s room as they often did. As long as they had the door open per Ellen’s request. They were watching a movie on Jack’s computer as the cuddled under the sheets.Lucy was able to convince Jack to watch Wizard of oz.

“So you are telling me there is a musical where the pink witch and the evil witch are best friends and it’s about how the evil witch becomes evil?”

“Yes and it’s considered to be one of the greatest musicals of all times.” Lucy turns and faces Jack, “One day, I’ll be that evil witch. Although her name is Elphaba.”

“And I’ll be in the crowd cheering you on.” Jack smiles before kissing her cheek, “plus you’ll be the hottest green chick ever.”

Lucy laughs to herself before it’s show time. She seriously doubted Quinn’s plan, but she wasn’t going to let Jack’s absence ruin her night. Because at the end of the day, her little brother was there and that’s all she needed.

Speaking of Carson, he was sat in the orchestra seating, Lucy wanted to get him front row seats but he knew how die hard wicked fans are so he said he was fine where ever he sat as long as he could see her. Carson also brought his girlfriend who just like Lucy was into Musical theatre. Lucy never told Carson this, but his relationship reminded her so much of hers and Jack’s relationship at their age.

Carson and his girlfriend, Macy, were quietly talking during the intermission when Carson realized who was sat a seat away from Macy.

Jack Hughes.

Carson got silent and Macy noticed as well. Of course Macy knew who Jack Hughes was and she also knew about the ‘asshole nhl player the broke Lucy’s heart.’ And with Jack’s appearance tonight and Carson’s reaction, the girl put one and one together. She grabs onto Carson’s hand to comfort him before the house lights dimmed signaling the end of the intermission.

At the end of the performance, it was time for final bows. When it’s Lucy’s turn to bow the crowd and cast all go wild in applause. Lucy looks for her brother and Macy in the crowd but gasps when she locks eyes with Jack Hughes.

Jack is standing up while he cheers her on. She sees Carson who is three seats away. Carson glares at Jack while cheering on Lucy and she hide her laughter at the sight .

When the curtains close and Lucy’s costars all ambush her in hugs, Macy prepares for the worse. Carson goes over to Jack who hasn’t noticed him yet.

“Car don’t do anything stupid.” Carson just ignores her and he taps on Jacks shoulder.

Carson looks very different from what he did when he was 11. He now had a mullet and an eyebrow piercing (one that his friend did in his garage one day much to Lucy’s disapproval). But he was also now 6’0 and had a scarier demeanor. Honestly Jack was only able to recognize him from a photo Lucy had posted on her instagram. Jack goes to say something but Carson holds his hand up.

“Save it, as much as I never wanted to see you ever again, she wants you here so I respect that you came.” Carson softly grabs Macy’s hand, “we are going to the stage exit to go meet up with her. She takes 20 minutes to get out of all her makeup and costume. If you finally want to act like a man and treat my sister like she deserves you are welcome to join us, but if you are only here cause your latest one night stand stood you up or something like that, don’t waste her time and go back to Jersey.”

Jack is stunned as Carson and Macy walk away, but he quickly regains his composure and follows after them. While waiting outside, Jack watches the couple interact. He sees grumpy Carson and his happy girlfriend who is trying to calm him down. He smiles as he remembers how grumpy he got after a bad practice or a bad game and how Lucy would cheer him up.

Actors and actresses leave one by one until it’s time for Lucy. She is radiant as she greets fans and signs playbills. At the end of the group of fans was where Carson ,Macy and Jack stood. When she finally gets to Jack she couldn’t look away.

Carson pulls her out of her trance by hugging her. Macy joins making it a group hug. The teens hold on for a second before letting Lucy go.

“You did amazing out there.” Macy was always star struck at Lucy’s talents, reminiscent of how Carson idolized Jack.

“We are going to head home, I’ll drive your car.” Carson says grabbing Lucy’s car key. He then looks at Jack and then back at Lucy, “Don’t do anything stupid, but also don’t be afraid to give him another chance. I hate to say this, but I always like how happy he made you.”

“Thanks Car.” She leans up and kisses her brother’s forehead before he turns to Jack.

“Don’t fuck this shit up. Break her heart again and I’ll put your ass on the long term injury list.” Jack nods as Macy pulls Carson away.

“Damn when did he get scary?” Jack and Lucy laugh. When the laughter dies down, she looks at Jack with the same adoration she had for him when they were kids.

“You came.” Finally she hugs him, after many years yearning for his warmth.

“Of course I made it.” He says returning the hug. “I so told you that you would be the hottest green chick.”

Playfully she shoves Jack who just laughs. To get away from the crowd they walk to Jack’s car and on the walk they catch up.

“So Carson lives out here now?” Jack recalls Carson saying that he was going home earlier.

“Yeah I got custody of him about a year ago. Mom passed away shortly after you left and dad just got worse. It was no place for him, so I took my dad to court.” She shivers slightly so Jack gives her his jacket before she continues her story. “I have no idea what I’m doing raising a 16 year old, luckily my neighbor helped me out and now Carson is dating their daughter Macy.”

“You know from the small interactions I saw them have, they remind me of us.” Jack test the waters and holds her hand, which she gladly accepts, “Speaking about brothers, Luke and Quinn miss you.”

“How about you Jack, did you miss me?”

“More than anything.”

Jack opens the car door for Lucy and helps her get in before he got into the driver side.

“So miss Broadway do you have any plans tonight or can I take you out to eat?” Jack says while putting his seatbelt on.

“ I have no plans Mr NHL.But if we are going out I need time order delivery for Carson and Macy” Jack pulls out his credit card from his wallet.

“Use my card.” She tries to decline his card, but he shakes his head, “Lucy it’s the least I could do.”

She sighs before calling Macy to ask what they want for dinner. After she got the response, Lucy went and ordered food for the teens. She tried to enter her card, but Jack snatched her phone and entered his card instead.

“So now that, that’s take care of. Would you like to go out to dinner?” He hands her the phone back.

“You know I could really go for a good burger and fries, that’s if your professional team of dietitians would allow that.” Jack smiles remembering one of his favorite dates with her.

Jack had just gotten his license and he was driving around in Quinn’s hand me down car. Right after passing his drivers test, he drove straight to Lucy’s house.

“So where does the princess want to go?” Jack asked as she got into the car.

“You know I could really go for a burger and fries.” She gets into her seat and Jack takes her to their favorite local diner.

When they arrive, the host seats them at their favorite table. While they wait for their food, Lucy tells Jack about her day.

“And in front of everyone my voice cracked, god it was so embarrassing, Jacky.” She hides her face at the memory.

“I bet you have the cutest voice cracks.” The love struck boy laughs as his girl rolls her eyes at him.

“No voice cracks are cute Jacky.”

“Well yours are cause they come from you.” Their food finally arrives and they both grab a fry off the other person’s plate. Something they have done since they started dating. They called it ‘checking for poison’ but it was just one of those silly couple things.

“I love these little moments.” Lucy says as she bites into Jack’s fry.

“Well we have a whole lifetime full of little moments waiting for us.” He says while eating Lucy’s fry.

“A burger and fries sound wonderful, Lulu.”

The two had dinner and it was like nothing changed. They shared food like normal, they talked like it was just a normal Wednesday dinner.

They finished their food and were getting ready to head out and of course Jack paid. Afterwards the two sit in Jack’s car, which was another thing they did often when they dated.

“You’re telling me that Carson became an islander fan after everything happened?” Jack chuckles at Carson’s pettiness.

“Yeah, he even forced me to take him to a game, where we met a few of the players.” She pulls up a picture they took where Carson was wearing a islander jersey and Lucy was just in a normal sweater as they stood next to a couple players, “One of the guys actually asked for my number.”

“Which guy?” Jack felt himself getting jealous.

“Oh Jacky I don’t even remember.” Of course she did after all she did give him her number. But she looks away from Jack. “Even if I did it was a year ago Jack.”

“You obviously do remember, you won’t look at me right now.” Jack doesn’t mean to be sassy towards Lucy, but let’s be honest, being sassy is in his dna.

“Why does it matter Jack? You’ve had other girlfriends why couldn’t I date someone else?” Lucy tries not to cry, but a few tears slip out, “Do you know how hard it was to watch you have other girlfriends while I stayed stuck on you. Yes I did give the Islander player my number, but I told him I wasn’t interested in a relationship. I told every guy that had any interest in me that I wasn’t interested. You want to know why Jack? Because they weren’t you.”

Jack stayed silent not knowing what to say.

“And now you just come back here like you didn’t single handed break my heart last time I saw you,. Oh wait I didn’t even see you when it happened did I Jack.” She cries some more finally letting all of her emotions out. “I should hate you, I really should. But tell me why I feel nothing but love for you.”

“Lucy, there is nothing I regret more than, breaking up with you. I was a coward, but please give me another chance.” He wipes away her tears, “Those girls were my failed attempts on forgetting you, but nothing worked. I know I don’t deserve it but please give me a second chance.”

“I don’t know Jack, I don’t want to promise you anything. But I can say, I’m willing to try again slowly.” Jack smiles and he holds her hand.

“That’s all I could ask for.”

Between hockey games and Lucy’s shows, the two spent any free time together. Despite the busy schedules, they found the time to go out. Tonight, Lucy was singing the national anthem at Jack’s game versus the Islanders.

“Ladies and Gentlemen please welcome the star of broadway’s Wicked, Lucy Masters, with the singing of our national Anthem.”

The crowd cheers before getting silent for Lucy. She sings beautifully and when she hits the high note at the end, the crowd went wild. The song finishes, and she finally locks eyes with Jack. She gives him a little wave before she is ushered off the ice.

At the end of the game, the devils won 4-0. Carson ,who surprisingly wore a Hughes 43 jersey instead of his regular Islander Barzal 13 Jersey, was hyped by the win. He went into a rant as the pair waited for Jack to leave the locker room.

“Damn I miss hockey.” Lucy loves seeing Carson happy more than anything. She was glad that he decided to come, seeing it as a step in the right direction.

“You know if you aren’t too rusty at it, we can go shoot the puck together one day.” Both Lucy and Carson look over and see Jack. He pulls Lucy into a hug. “Hands down the best performance of the night goes to you Miss Lucy.”

“I am not so sure about that, a shut out game and both you and Timo getting two points? Much more impressive.” Lucy praises Jack causing Carson to gag.

“Come on Carson, let’s leave the lovers alone.” Luke comes out of nowhere and directs Carson towards his car. Lucy and Carson were spending the night at Jack and Luke’s place so they didn’t have to drive back to New York this late. So Luke was okay with driving Carson back while Jack and Lucy have a car to themselves. Carson leaves with Luke, but not until he sent a few menacing glares at Jack.

“Just so you know, the team chirped the hell out of me when Luke told them how scared I am of Carson.” To be fair, now that Carson is one of the best high school prospects of the 2025 class and has scouts coming to almost every game now, especially since he is a leftie, he’s a scary teenager.

“In your defense, his pitch is reaching an average of 88 miles per hour as a junior. I would be scared of him too.” Jack looks at Lucy and smiles as he sees her in his jersey.

“You look so good in my number.” He steps back and acts like he is taking a photo of her with an invisible camera, “Picture perfect baby.”

“Jacky you are such a dork.”She turns around and walks away while smiling. Jack runs up behind her and pulls her into a hug.

“I’ll gladly be a dork if that means I’m your dork.”

Jack had been miserable as Lucy was gone at a two week long theater camp. Luke thought if Lucy didn’t get home soon, Quinn would kill Jack. The day she was coming back, Jack sat by the door waiting for Ellen to come back with Lucy. He originally wanted to come with but he forgot to finish his chores the night before so Ellen made him stay home and wait.

When his mom’s car pulls in to the driveway, Jack bolts out the door, almost like a wild animal. Lucy gets out of the car and Jack tackles her in a hug. He gives her small kisses all over her face.

“I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.” Jack repeats this mantra as Lucy struggles to wiggle out of his hold. All the while, Lucy is dying of laughter.

“Get off me you dork.” It takes Quinn pulling Jack off to get Lucy free. He then picks up Lucy like a sack of potatoes and runs away from Jack. The boys run around, as Jack tries to get Lucy back.

“Quinn put the poor girl down.” Ellen calls out. Quinn puts Lucy down carefully and Jack runs over and grabs on to Lucy like a kid hold their favorite toy.

“Fear not fair damsel, your hero has saved you from the ugly ass troll.” (QUINN BABY DON’T LISTEN TO THIS YOU ARE VERY PRETTY) Quinn just flips off his brother before heading back into the house, “I think your hero deserves a kiss for saving you.”

“You’re lucky I find you cute, you dork.” Lucy pulls him down into a kiss. Jack can’t help but smile.

“I may be a dork, but I’m your dork.”

“You’ll always be my dork Jacky.” Lucy pulls him down into a kiss. Their first kiss in five years. Jack would freeze time and live in this moment forever if he could. Sadly time has to go on and the pair pull apart. “Let’s go home Jacky.”

Hand in hand, they leave the arena, full of hope for the future of their relationship.

#jack hughes #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #nj devils imagine #nhl imagine #nhl #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine

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hawkins-losers · 1 month ago

Note

yesss we want the elvira x eddie

This has been on my list since season 4 came out... Forgive me for writing it 2-3 years later (how long has it been since season 4 came out? Feels forever ago)

Happy spooky season! I miss writing for these characters

—

In girl world, Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it.

Early in October, you decided to test the waters by making Eddie watch a movie with a character you had been thinking of dressing up as this Halloween. Witches were always your favorite, but you wanted to see his reaction first, see if he would like it.

Although you doubted this character left any men unbothered.

Your dress was a little risqué, the deep plunging neckline making the girls shine. It took a few trials and errors to get the makeup right, but you finally got it and made your way to Eddie’s house. His jaw was going to drop.

When he opened the door and saw the Mistress of the Dark standing there, he nearly choked. ‘’Jesus Christ," he breathed, the sight making blood rush south.

A smile of satisfaction bloomed on your lips. ‘’My appearance is kind of a shock to everybody.’’

Eddie quickly pulled you inside, not wishing for his perverted neighbor to use you as material to rub his cock and saggy balls. Those tits were his to stare at and touch and suck…and fuck.

‘’Are you trying to kill me looking like that?'' He lets out a low whistle as his gaze continues to roam over your figure.

You leaned in closer, letting your voice drop to a sultry purr. ‘’I thought of wearing her spider bra with the tassels, but figured that might actually kill you on the spot.’’

Eddie’s eyes darkened, and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. ‘’The spider bra?!’’ he repeated, vividly remembering the specific scene from the movie where Elvira wears it. ‘’Fuck.’’

‘’I even practiced the twirling she does with it,’’ you added, a wicked glint in your eyes.

Eddie groaned. ‘’I’m gonna have that image in my head all night…’’ He moved closer to you and gently placed his hands on your hips as he looked down at you, a smirk on his lips as he imagined you in the spider bra. ‘’Do we have to go to Harrington’s party?’’

He would much rather stay here and have you to himself. The costume could stay on, he can work around that.

‘’Of course we do, we promised Steve we’d be there,’’ you said, taking Eddie’s hands off your body so he wouldn‘t try to convince you to stay in. ‘’And I told Robin I would help her with Vickie. I can’t let her down.’’

Eddie groaned once more. He felt like a child who got told ‘no’ after asking if they can get dessert before supper.

‘’I didn’t say we can’t find a room at Steve’s and have some…fright-night fun.’’

Your voice was laced with a suggestive promise, which made the corner of Eddie’s mouth curl in anticipation. ‘’Now, you’re talking, Mistress of the Dark,’’ he breathed, leaning in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

But before he could kiss you, you slipped from his grasp and took a step back. ‘’Where’s your costume? Steve said it was mandatory.’’

Eddie, still in his regular band tee shirt and jeans, held up a Michael Myers mask and pointed at a lump of blue on the couch. ‘’Here.’’

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you gave him a once-over. ‘’Your work mechanic overalls and a Michael Myers mask? That’s the lowest effort one’s ever made for a Halloween costume,’’ you scoffed, shaking your head.

A creative person like Eddie could have done so much better. A few weeks ago, he talked about being Aragorn from Lord of the Rings. He would have looked damn good as a rugged ranger, with a sword and medieval warrior attire. Maybe then you would have agreed to skip Steve’s party.

He rolled his eyes. ‘’Oh come on, it’s not that bad. Michael Myers is a classic, babe.’’

Halloween and its antagonist were a cult classic, but costume wise, it was unoriginal. There’s probably going to be at least three other Michael Myers at the party.

‘’If by classic you mean a very common and lazy costume, I agree.’’ You grabbed the overalls and pushed them at Eddie’s chest. ‘’Now, hurry and put it on. I need to get there before Robin starts to drink and the word vomit gets unstoppable.’’

—

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3 @cursedandromedablack @Slashersimpfor @savagejane1 @wh0reforbucknasty @eddiemunson-slut @slvdsjjk @hehehehannahthings @dreamdancers-world @eddiemunsonbby @notbeforelong @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog @tatespillows @alwayslexii @lilygreennn @milkiane @imahomeslice @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick @wandamaximoffs-deadchild @horrorstreet @rmeddar123 @pastel-abyss-x @lil-tracys @luvmybbies @chloepricesgrafitimarker @inluvweddiemunson @i-like-trains @kittenfrostt @simp-for-slasher @m-rae23 @kenzi-woycehoski @amberputh @sea040561 @wayfaring----stranger @amberputh @starstruckspring @nluvwitheddiemunson @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @kiszkathecook @Original_babababoo @kittenfrostt @yourfavdummy @kenzi-woycehoski @violetsleftfist

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @straycatarang @fourlokiss @eddiemattress @ghoulishlygrey @paola-carter @bubsonnobx @pauldanoswifereal @ofherscarlettwitchways @kiszkathecook @truewdw1 @bubsonnobx @ohhrexella @Dreamtiara @pastelbabygirl19 @steves-robin @eddiemunsonbby @jenlouvre @bonked-beyond-belief2 @tvserie-s-world @bootlegmothman420 @courtmr @chrisxevans-seb @satinselenite @thikkiesixx @jennilynn63 @nia-um @welcometohellfirw @strangermarvelgirl @sugar-simz @fandomloversvaries @miakatharinaa @julsss321 @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @Minksblog @soph69420world @ameliakf13 @nancewheelersworld @parasadic-blog @nluvwitheddiemunson @veniceb1tch88 @ali-r3n @Luv.eddie @stephylovesmayahawke @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetheart-im-the-boss @jusstdreaaming @hoeformunsonandhargrove @buckyswhxre @tomspidertingle @stormyparker @thechoiceslookgrimm @ilikechocolatemilkh @bbylyneth @bobafettsleftglove @princesseddie @yourfavdummy @xbreezymeadowsmunsonx @rosaliesrealwife @munsonswhore86 @eddiescvmslvt @slightlyvicked

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things

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cinnabun-faerie · 2 months ago

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FFXIV: Your child dresses up as them for All Saint's Wake

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Sorry, I really do love adding these moments with Y'shtola, Thancred & Urianger. These three are so chaotic and iconic. Note: Y/C/N = Your/Child's/Name I imagine they're either a toddler or a young child

Characters: Alisaie, Alphinaud, Estinien, G'raha Tia, Thancred, Urianger, Y'shtola, (Bonus) Emet-Selch

Frightfest 2024 Masterlist

She's shocked at first

but she is in awe

your kid wanted to dress up like her?

she's honored

and the costume looked so well done! Tataru must have made this for them

"Hey Y/C/N, let's go bother Alphinaud together."

"Is Y/C/N dressed like me?"

he's stunned and impressed

"You've got the braid and my sage gear as well!"

No doubt his mother had a hand in this

she would be more than thrilled to give Y/C/N an outfit to match his

When he sees Y/C/N in mini-dragoon armor, he does a double take

"What do we have here? A little dragoon?"

Y/C/N shakes their head and points at him

and Estinien doesn't miss a beat

"You're dressed as me are you? I should have known."

he's impressed by the attention to detail

there's a tiny lance that is nearly identical to his as well as a plush version of Vrtra

He knows right away

"So this is where my scarf went"

he felt so happy when he saw Y/C/N's costume

he must mean a lot to Y/C/N if they wanted to dress up as him

"Shall we go to the library, Y/C/N? Perhaps I could read to you."

Bonus: If your child isn't a Miqo'te, I could see them wearing a pair of fuzzy cat ears that wiggle every now and then like G'raha's

He's smug

"You're dressed as me? I knew I was your favorite."

He would parade Y/C/N around and declare to everyone what their costume is

honestly, he's proud

he's always tried to be a positive role model to them and this really shows that he is important to them

He would smile fondly at Y/C/N

"You have outdone yourself this time, Y/C/N. I pray this is your best costume yet."

not to mention the attention to detail on the costume

their Astrologian costume sparkles and sways just as his does

not to mention they even have the holder for cards

if there were no cards, he would give them a deck of their own that would be small enough for their hands

though he does chuckle at the facial hair Y/C/N has, the squiggles are very thoughtful

She could recognize that outfit anywhere

"Y/C/N, what is your costume?"

"I am Master Matoya! The avatar of destruction!"

Of course

She'd turn and glare at you, Thancred & Urianger

cue the reaction in Endwalker when Thancred looks away and Urianger hides his face behind his cards

She will deal with the three of you later

regardless, she was flattered

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say I were looking in a mirror."

He'd look at Y/C/N and then at you

"What is this?"

yeah, he supposed that the costume was good

nothing was wrong with it

Y/C/N even had the duel hair colors

and how in the world did you manage to get the eye color exact-

why was Y/C/N scowling like that

"Well, one of us has to go home and change, Y/C/N."

Surprise Pikachu face when Y/C/N points to him and makes the gesture to shoo him

this mini version of you had quite the nerve

honestly both he & Y/C/N would try and out-sass each other

even if Y/C/N could only babble

#frightfest 2024 #ffxiv headcanons #ffxiv #alisaie leveilleur #alphinaud leveilleur #estinien varlineau #g'raha tia #krile baldesion #tataru taru #thancred waters #urianger augurelt #y'shtola rhul #emet selch

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tojisbbygworl · 1 year ago

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Just Hungry - Vampire!Sukuna x Reader - Halloween Special

He knows that if he were human, those chocolate brown eyes would have sent him into cardiac arrest. Your full lips wrapped around his dick would have made him fall to his knees. You cute moans and pet names for him would have done him in good. He would have kissed you passionately, and told himself he wasn’t going to let anyone have this pussy. And he would have gotten that. He can see you wanted the same.

Naïve girl.

Tags: 18+, Smut, Public Sex, Cunnilingus, Blood Play kinda, Slight Angst, Sukuna Is An Asshole, Kinda Dark tbh

My AO3

Masterlist

author's note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! Idky I just got the urge to write something for Halloween like I'm really in the Halloween spirit yall. So this is the result of that. I thought of it like a few days ago so I hope it's not too shitty lmaoooo Okay, enjoy!

There was something in the air that told him he was in for a meal tonight.

The wind was cold and uninviting, not that it bothered him. No, what was bothersome was that it was chasing many potential snacks indoors where it was warm. At least it didn’t stop any revealing costumes, these humans so desperate for attention and approval that it left them more than susceptible to his insatiable hunger.

Sukuna has made barrages of friends and acquaintances alike over the past 1000 years. This centuries group were party animals. It didn’t worry him that he couldn’t snatch a cute little thing off the street and drain her dry in an alley, the white haired one would find an event for them no doubt. He would just have to hunt there.

Halloween was undoubtedly his favorite holiday. He thoroughly enjoyed dressing up and schmoozing his way into someone’s good graces enough for them to let him pull them away into a secluded area. Of course, he could always compel, but where’s the fun in that?

And from the looks of it, he was going to have a lot of it tonight.

You were the only Daphne he’d seen tonight, and the cutest by far. Your real hair was dyed a blood orange, which added to how nice the costume was. He could tell from how loosely you were dancing, that you’ve had quite a few drinks and maybe something to smoke. He was going to continue scoping the scene before he made his decision, but the two of you locked eyes with each other. He thought there was no way you could see him well, but you looked him up and down, then turned back around to your friends.

You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

Maneuvering through the crowd came easy. His large stature commanded space and anyone who didn’t understand that was simply moved. You would look back at him occasionally and he could smell the fear dripping off of you as he approached you. But, you didn’t stop dancing. In fact, you invited him with your eyes. He smirked, then grabbed your waist.

Fuck, you were making him hard. He pressed his growing erection against your short skirt. You gasped quietly. He heard your heart go a mile a minute. Your blood would be nice to sip on. And you smell so sweet when you’re dripping with arousal.

He pushed off of you almost as quickly as he pulled you into him then left into the crowd. You didn’t stay on the dance floor for long after that. He pretended not to notice, but he could see you meandering about, trying to cross his vision and hiding it as mingling. He bet you didn’t even know most of the people here.

He humored you for a bit, then he decided that he’d had enough of waiting for his meal. He caught eyes with you and watched as you jerked up in shock and turned around. He finished his drink and followed after you.

He didn’t feel you deserved a respectful greeting. The both of you were alone in the corridor where it was a bit quieter. He whistled. You turned around, like a good little pet. He beckoned you with his index finger. You came waltzing back down to him, eager for some attention.

You were too quick to leave with him for your friends to even get a word in. It doesn’t matter, they would never see him again. Maybe even you, depending on how sweet you tasted.

Aww, you poor, sweet, thing. Those girls in the party were the only people you knew here, you moved to this town only a couple months ago. You were so scared to come out to this party and hated being left alone. He wonders why you were so willing to be left alone with him. Maybe you were just another human whore.

You said that you trusted him. Ah. No. You were just naïve.

He loved the way your pupils shrunk when he grabbed your arm just a little tighter and piled you against his body. He took your hand and put it on his hard dick. “See what you did to me?” He didn’t even need to compel you, you were so entranced by his voice.

“I can fuck you wherever you want,” he continues, already reaching to pull off your clothes. It was the middle of the night on the city streets. Eventually, a car would pass. “Choose quickly or I’ll fuck you out here so everyone can see you.”

In your panic, you looked towards an alley way. You didn’t even look back as you grabbed his hand and began to drag him there. That was a personal favorite for him. Easy cover, easy to dump a body if necessary.

He wasted no time pushing you face first against the wall and pulling your bottoms down. He kneeled down and planted his face in between your thighs. His tongue took one long lick from your clit and into your dripping pussy. You were fucking delectable. And the squeal you made left him starving for more.

It didn’t hurt that you were certainly one of the prettier humans he’d selected for dinner as well. He knows that if he were human, those chocolate brown eyes would have sent him into cardiac arrest. Your full lips wrapped around his dick would have made him fall to his knees. You cute moans and pet names for him would have done him in good. He would have kissed you passionately, and told himself he wasn’t going to let anyone have this pussy. And he would have gotten that. He can see you wanted the same.

Naïve girl.

Sukuna felt nothing as he thrusted into you, your back against the brick wall, legs around his torso. Your “yes daddy” and your “fuck that feels so good” does nothing for him. It’s not just that he’s heard it all before. You’re a human. You are inferior to him.

You should be writhing in pleasure when he fucks you. There’s no other man on Earth that could give you better dick than him. But there are billions of others just like you. Why bother?

Even as your eyes fill with tears as you cum all over him for the umpteenth time, he feels nothing. When he’s finally spent and he cums inside of you, he feels nothing. It’s only when he finally gets his reward, taking advantage of your debilitated state, and plunges his teeth into your damp neck that he feels satisfaction.

But then, you moan.

He stops and looks at you, a drop of blood running down his lip. You look almost drunk, the. You blink a few times and tense up. You must have been embarrassed. You had no reason to be. It was the sexiest thing you had done all night.

He leans back down slowly, and licks at the wound he made. You shudder in his hold and he bends his leg in between yours. Like the good fucking slut you are, you start to rock on his thigh getting more and more loose as he sucks on you.

You taste so fucking good right now. And you sound like a goddess. He can’t believe this turns you on. He wants this more. He thinks he needs it. Maybe…he’ll keep this human? Just…as a pet. Fuck, you sound too good to let go. He needs more of your blood. More of you. He grips your entire body in his large arms, groaning into you as his mouth drops red.

Sukuna doesn’t notice how long the two of you stayed that way, but you eventually go quiet and start to give out, and he finds himself carrying you in his arms with his head deep in your neck. Sukuna lifts his head up and sighs. He blinks a bit, his vision unusually out of focus. He catches his breath the looks down at you.

You were alive, but you were passed out. The only injury on you were his teeth marks. Those would heal.

Or not. He truthfully couldn’t give any less of a fuck.

He stands up, turns around, and walks further into the dark alley leaving you on the ground for someone else, or something else, to find.

You were an interesting one. But, he got his fill. He was just hungry.

#halloween fic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #vampire #vampire sukuna #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna smut

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shortnspidey · 3 months ago

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CHAPTER FIVE: TRICK OR TREAT, FREAK

Eddie Munson x OC!Reader || WC: 2.2k

A/N: this chapter is definitely my favorite one that I've written for this series! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it! This made me realize I'm SO ready for Halloween! 🎃

➩ previous chapter || next chapter

➩ main masterlist

➩ series masterlist

"That's your costume?" Max's eyes were wide, a mix of surprise and the typical candor that Lyra had come to expect. There was no malice there, just the blunt honesty. Taken aback but not entirely shocked by her bluntness, Lyra's gaze dropped to her last-minute costume. The leather clung to her like a second skin, the fishnets adding a layer of punk rock chic that she had thought was perfect for the night.

Yet, seeing herself through her sister's eyes, she couldn't help the grimace that tugged at her lips. "It's that bad?" Her voice was a soft echo of doubt amidst the certainty of her sister's judgment. Max simply shrugged. "Neil's going to freak when he sees that nose ring." There was a hint of amusement in her tone, the kind that suggested she was picturing the scene already.

Lyra reached up instinctively, her fingers grazing the small, gold hoop that adorned her right nostril. It was a bold choice, but it was also a harmless rebellion. "It's fake." She replied quickly, the defense a knee-jerk reaction to the implied criticism. The nose ring was just another part of the costume, a temporary addition to her look that could be removed with the same ease as the leather jacket that hung off her shoulders.

It was all part of the night's facade, a character she could put on and take off at will. But for a moment, under her sister's scrutinizing gaze, it felt almost real. "You and Billy could be twins." Although she knew the redhead meant it as a joke, Lyra's stomach twisted into knots thinking back to what had happened a few hours prior. Max's voice cut through her reverie, pragmatic and laced with concern.

"So I take it you're still going to that party?" Lyra nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. "You know I have to go, Max. Billy's a completely different person when he's high and wasted," She sighed, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and protectiveness. It wasn't just a party for her; it was a mission to keep her brother safe from his excesses.

Max's expression softened, her teasing demeanor giving way to sisterly affection. "Just...be careful, okay?" She urged, reaching out to squeeze Lyra's hand. Lyra offered a small, determined smile. "Always am," She replied, though the promise felt as flimsy as the fake nose ring she wore. Tonight, she'd be the guardian angel dressed in devil's clothing, watching over her brother, hoping the night would end with nothing more than a hangover and a few good stories.

After trudging through the neighborhood for what felt like miles, their shoes scuffing against the cracked sidewalks lined with jack-o'-lanterns, Max turned to Lyra with a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine Trick-Or-Treating on my own if you want to go to the party. Knowing Billy he's already there." Lyra bit her lip, the streetlights casting long shadows as costumed children darted past them, their laughter a stark contrast to the unease knotting her insides.

She wasn't fond of the idea, the protective streak in her always on high alert during nights like these. Max could see the hesitation dancing in Lyra's eyes, the way she clutched her candy bag a little tighter. With a playful roll of her eyes and a dramatic sigh, Max launched into a full-on campaign.��She promised she'd stick to well-lit streets, and, most importantly, be back before Niel got home.

After what seemed like an eternity of bargaining, Lyra's resolve began to crumble like the leaves beneath their feet. With a final, half-hearted grumble, she caved, extracting one last pinky promise from Max that she'd stay alert and stay safe. Lyra watched her sister disappear into the sea of costumes, the weight of worry settling in her chest. With a sigh that misted in the chilly night air, she reached into her jacket pocket, her fingers brushing against the crumpled edges of the orange flyer that had been burning a hole there all evening.

She unfolded it with trepidation, the bold letters announcing the party she dreaded. Unlike her brother, who seemed to thrive in the chaos of loud music and raucous laughter, Lyra found no joy in such gatherings. The very thought of the noise and the crowds made her skin crawl. But the image of Billy, with a drink in hand and his judgment clouded, forced a knot of anxiety to tighten in her throat. Their argument earlier that day replayed in her mind, the harsh words still echoing.

Despite their spat, her protective instincts wouldn't allow her to turn a blind eye. Especially not when she knew all too well the kind of trouble Billy could find—or cause—when alcohol loomed over him like a puppeteer. And if he didn't have her there to keep him in check, he'd either land himself in a situation they'd all regret, or worse, he'd come home to face their father's temper alone. The mere thought sent a wave of nausea through Lyra, her stomach plummeting.

She knew what she had to do.

As the crowd mingled in the front yard of Tina's house, ranging from Cobra Kai to Madonna lookalikes—the rumble of a motorcycle engine cut through the chatter. Heads turned as Lyra made her grand entrance, the engine of her cherry-red motorcycle purring like a beast ready to pounce. She pulled off her helmet, releasing a cascade of dirty blonde waves that caught the moonlight just right, giving her an almost ethereal glow. As she kicked the stand down and swung her leg over the bike, the crowd's awe was palpable.

Whispers and murmurs spread like wildfire, and for a moment, it felt as if time had slowed down just for her. Lyra's confidence was magnetic, her presence commanding the attention of everyone around her. She tossed her helmet under her arm and strutted towards the party, her smile a mix of daring and delight.

The partygoer's eyes followed her every move as she walked past. As Lyra made her way through the front door, the chaos of the party hit her like a tidal wave. The house was teeming with teenagers whose inhibitions had been left at the doorstep. Raucous laughter and shouts filled the air, punctuated by the occasional pop of a beer can opening. She sidestepped a couple who were far too engrossed in each other to notice her, their lips locked in a fervent embrace against the living room wall.

Everywhere she looked, there were scenes of revelry and abandon: groups of friends clustered together, some dancing with abandon to the thumping bass that vibrated through the floorboards, others engaged in animated conversation that was mostly yelling to be heard over the music. The floor was a graveyard of empty beer cans and red solo cups, discarded without a second thought by hands eager for the next drink.

Lyra's eyes darted from face to face, searching for the familiar contours of Billy's features, but he was nowhere to be seen within the crowded rooms. The knot of worry in her chest pulled tighter with each passing second. Then, a commotion from the backyard caught her attention the unmistakable sound of a ruckus that Billy was so adept at causing. Deciding to momentarily ignore it, she walked over toward the kitchen island hoping to find a non-alcoholic drink.

Instead, she found a punch bowl that looked a little too intimidating for her taste. "Care for a drink?" A tall sandy-blonde guy in a football jersey asked, catching her off guard. She quickly shook her head, hoping he would get the message and move along. Upon noticing the helmet tucked under her arm, the sandy-blonde boy made the connection. "Shit, so you're the chick that owns the Yamaha FZR600 parked outside." Lyra nodded, surprised that her arrival had already become a topic of conversation in such a short amount of time.

With a confident smile, he introduced himself as James, clearly trying to make a good impression. "And what's your name, gorgeous?" He asked, stepping closer. "We've met before." She responded nonchalantly waiting for the jock to recall their encounter in the hallway. She watched as he quickly made the connection once more. "I remember you," He smirked, his tone dripping with flirtation. "It was pretty hot seeing you all fired up." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at his comment, not impressed by his choice of conversation.

However, James was completely oblivious to her lack of interest. "Over Byers, though?" He laughed, making Lyra clench her jaw in annoyance. "Shit, he's just as much of a freak as Munson," Lyra rolled her eyes. "Believe me, you don't want to be seen around them. They're not worth your time, gorgeous." She didn't have a chance to respond due to immediately spotting Billy stride across the room, a look of determination written all over his features. She saw her brother corner a brunette boy, their standoff radiating of testosterone.

"We've got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington." She overheard one of the guys cheer tauntingly. "Suck it, King Steve." Another teased making a triumphant smirk appear on Billy's face. She could only guess that he was the 'King Steve' whom Billy had dethroned. Suddenly, Billy's eyes locked with Lyra's from across the crowded room, and a protective glint sparked in his gaze as he noticed James lingering nearby. Giving Steve, one final glare, Billy made his way over to his sister, not even acknowledging James with a word. "Beat it," He grumbled, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Lyra couldn't help but stifle a laugh as she watched the jock grab a nearby beer and saunter off, clearly intimidated by Billy's presence. The silence between Billy and Lyra felt heavy, as if they were both searching for the right words to say. Finally, Billy broke the silence, his eyes falling on the helmet in Lyra's grasp. "You brought the motorcycle?" He questioned, a mix of surprise and curiosity in his voice.

Lyra shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I wasn't gonna walk," She scoffed, reaching for a rogue water bottle on the counter. Billy couldn't help but comment on Lyra's attire, raising an eyebrow. "Dressed like that?" He deadpanned. Lyra's defenses immediately went up. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" She scoffed, her tone defensive. Billy let out a frustrated sigh, a cigarette hanging from his lips. "No surprise that dirtbag was hittin' on you. You're lucky I saw you in time," He mumbled, his concern evident. Lyra's frustration grew.

"I've told you several times before, I can take care of myself," She retorted which made Billy scoff. Fed up with the tension, Lyra couldn't help but snap, growing tired of his attitude that was giving her whiplash. "You know what, screw you. Go back to doing whatever the hell you were doing before I got here." She growled, her frustration boiling over. But before she could storm off, Billy reached out, his hand circling her wrist. "Lyra, wait," He called out, his voice filled with a mix of regret. "Can we just forget about all this? Just have a reckless night for once?" He motioned vaguely between the two of them.

Lyra looked at him, her expression softening. "This?" She questioned, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I only came to this stupid party because I didn't want you to get in trouble with Dad. Even if we fought, some part of me wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid. So, forgive me for looking out for you." She huffed in frustration and anger. Lyra felt the sting of tears threatening to spill, a mix of emotions swirling within her.

She didn't know whether the tears were for the sun-soaked memories of California. Or whether they were born from the unfamiliar strain between her and Billy. A strain that had been absent in their lives until they found themselves in the strange, unsettling world of Hawkins. "Sunshine-" Lyra's heart clenched at the nickname, a vestige of a simpler time. She shook her head, trying to ignore the warmth that spread through her despite the coldness she wanted to project.

"You're forgiven," Her voice was barely above a whisper, betraying the turmoil inside her. "I—I just need some air." She didn't linger to catch the look of relief that flickered across Billy's face, nor did she stay to see it quickly replaced by the familiar shadow of remorse. She pushed through the door, stepping out into the night where the chill wrapped around her like a much-needed embrace.

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bucky-barnes-lover · 1 year ago

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Kinktober day 11: Public sex

Fic: Bucky Barnes

Warnings ⚠️: Public sex, Dirty talk, 18+ SMUT!!

W.C- 1229

"Happy Halloween" greeted Pepper as I walked through the large brass doors, into the compound. "You look amazing," I exclaimed, admiring Pepper's pirate outfit. "Are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself?!" She questioned taking in my outfit. "You look gorgeous. Bucky is gonna love it!" Pepper exclaimed, leading me through, to the hallway.

"I knew Buck wouldn't be able to keep his hands off me all night, so I went with the sluttiest Harley outfit I could find" I laughed off. "Well, I thought something similar so I did the same with Tony. He hasn't seen my outfit yet so I'm a little nervous," she replied.

"Have fun Pepp's, I'm gonna go look for Nat and the others" I said as we made our way into the bar room.

After searching around the party for a bit, I eventually found Bucky playing a game of pool with Steve and Sam.

"Hi baby" I greeted him,

"Hi doll, you look great tonight"

"Thanks, you look sexy" I replied, eyeing his brand new Joker outfit. (His new favorite movie.) "You boys look great too" I said to Steve and Sam complimenting their Men in Black outfits. "Thanks" they replied in unison.

"I'm going to go look for Nat and the other girls"

"Okay, I'll see you later doll" answered Bucky. I walked over to the bar and found Nat, Maria and Wanda wearing matching Alvin and the Chipmunks costumes while chatting about their latest mission. "Hey y/n. You look absolutely gorgeous!" Exclaimed Natasha as I made my way towards their seats. "Thanks girl, you three look so cute" I replied.

After a couple of drinks and conversations with the agents, it was time for the costume presentation. Everyone went up one by one, everyone else casting votes for the best dressed. Clapping and cheering echoed around the room as Tony walked up to the stage. "Welcome to the best Halloween party you will ever attend in your life." He started with. I rolled my eyes, knowing he would say something so cocky.

"I want to start by thanking everyone for being here, I've seen some amazing costumes and I've had some great conversations tonight. But it is now time to announce the winners of the Costume Competition. The winner for the best couples outfit goes to… Y/n and Bucky Barnes for their Joker and Harley quinn outfit"

Clapping erupted from the audience of where Bucky and I were standing, as we made our way up to the platform to collect the gift basket, full of Candy and Cute decorations and accessories that no doubt Pepper put together.

Tony continued his speech as Buck and I exited off the stage. "The winner for the best Group outfit goes to… Thor, Valkyrie, Steve, Sam and Jane for their Men In Black outfit." Tony continued, "And the Winner for the best outfit overall, goes to… Yelena Belova, for the Regina George outfit.

I must say, I've seen some very creative outfits by far. Thank you everybody for coming out tonight, Enjoy the rest of your evening"

As the presentation ended and everybody went back to their pool games and drinks at the bar, Bucky walked up to me from where he was at the front, chatting with Steve.

"You should've thought about wearing longer shorts,doll. You know I can't keep my hands off you all night, yeah." He whispered in my ear sending shivers down my spine.

"Oh I know." I replied with a smirk.

"That's why I chose this outfit"

"Really? Well then I better put your dirty thoughts to good use" Bucky continued. I could feel his hard cock pressed against my ass, I knew neither of us would last long but I continued playing it dirty. "Well if you like me in this outfit so much, why don't you fuck me in it?" I questioned, knowing my innocent stare and pouted lips would work on him.

"If we go so hard at it, I may as well put a baby inside you" Bucky laughed off, though I knew he was serious. "Then let's get the fuck out of here and I'll let you put a baby inside me!" I exclaimed, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the party. "Where are we going doll?" Bucky asked as we ran through the hallway.

"The bathroom" I declared, enthusiasm creeping into my usually relaxed tone. I had to admit, having sex in a place where we could get caught excited me. Although I'd never tell Bucky about it otherwise he'd take me in every single public bathroom we passed by.

As we entered the bathroom, I ran across the rows to check no one was in the stalls, before hopping onto the counter top. Bucky stood in front of me, pants already half pulled down and his erection free. Grabbing my hips, he pulled my shorts down and without thinking twice, ripped my panties off.

"May I?" He asked politely, receiving a small nod from me. Inserting a finger into my entrance before adding a second one. My soft moans echoed through the bathroom as I felt Bucky's warm breath on my neck. Sucking on my sensitive areas as he rubbed my clit with his thumb. Still thrusting his fingers in and out of my soaking wet cunt. "Bucky, please just fuck me properly" I moaned as I could feel the sensation building up inside me.

Within seconds he was inside me. His huge cock stretching me out. "Oh Bucky" I moaned as he thrusted into me slowly. "Babydoll, you make me feel so good" Bucky moaned as his thrusts became faster and faster. Suddenly we heard a door slam down the corridor and somebody walked right by the bathroom door. A wave of panic ran through me but excitement took over the feeling. I giggled as I realised Bucky had stopped his movements. "C'mon Buck. It's just a door" I smirked at him.

Continuing our session, We both became more and more impatient. "Bucky, harder!" I exclaimed as I felt him hitting that same spot over and over again. "C'mon doll. When you're ready just go for it" He replied, a pleasing expression on his face.

Before long I had come undone under his touch, him cumming right after.

The wonderful feeling washing over me, as my muscles relaxed. "Hello?" Asked somebody from outside of the room. "Is everyone decent so I can come in?"

He asked as he knocked on the door.

"Give us two seconds will you" asked Bucky as he exited my pussy. Leaving an empty feeling inside me, causing me to only want more.

Aggressively he pulled up his pants and got himself dressed before handing me his button down shirt, which I conveniently tied around my waist as I no longer had underwear.

"All good" I yelled at the man waiting outside. To my surprise Thor walked in, looking as white as snow. Clearly confused and disgusted by the situation he had been caught up in.

Bucky and I left the bathroom and the compound before Thor could spread the news about us. "When we get home, I will fuck you so hard, you won't remember your own name" Bucky said to me as we walked towards the car. "Sure" I smirked at him in the reflection of the car window, "As if"

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

I freaking pray u guys like this, bc this took me like 5 days to write 😳🙃

#marvel fanfiction #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan fandom #bucky imagine #sebastian stan characters #sebby baby #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky fic #beefy bucky #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader

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gummilutt · 1 month ago

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Happy Halloween!

I don't usually post stuff from my game on here, but I posed out a little themed scene this week and I wanted to share it :) I promise I will try to bring some treats as we head into the final two months of this year, I got a lot of things that are done I just need to buckle down and get to it. But in the meantime, enjoy some pictures from my 14-year old custom hood Evergreen! :)

Trick or treat! 🎃👀💀The Sawyer-family kids are enjoying their newfound freedom to do fun things by dressing up and going out and asking for candy 🍭🍪

Lulu Belle volunteered to chaperone her younger siblings, which surprised everyone, but it really shouldn't considering the Sernman-Nilsson house was among the destinations. They are finally here and Lulu is excited!

"Omigosh Karl, I didn't know you were going to be Danny this year! You look so cool!!" But of course, she knew 😉 No self-respecting teen girl will be unprepared for such an occasion! She overheard him discussing it with his buddies during lunch break, and her choice of dressing up as Sandy was most intentional. She is a smitten kitten and is just waiting for a sign that he feels the same 💘💝

"That's cool baby. You know how it is, just rockin' and rollin'."

Karl has been acting the goof ever since he grew up to a teen. Flexing, styling his hair… he thinks he's the coolest. No doubt Lulu's constant fan girling over him contributes to that belief. He's secretly pleased to see her costume matches him. Every Danny needs his Sandy, after all! 😎

Joe Bob is a little shy about this whole going around to people's houses thing, but when he's holding Anna Nicole's hand it's okay.

Her costume is his favorite, dragons are cool! And if that knight guy even thinks of coming for his dragon sister, like the knights in the stories his mother reads to him, he's going to show him what bears are made of! He can growl real scary, just you watch him! Rawr! 🐻

Tamie Lee bravely holds out her pumpkin to ask the lady in the dress for a treat. She's not sure what Halloween is but if it means she gets a bunch of candy, she's all for it! 🍭🍬🍫

Emma, the mother of this house, is very happy to see the Sawyer kids come by. She runs a play center for local kids that offers play-time for children that don't have space at home, or whose parents can't afford much toys. Karl who visited the Sawyer home once has told her how depressing the trailers these guys grew up in were, and she's been especially welcoming to the Sawyer kids ever since. These guys get extra candy rations! And an invitation to come to the play center real soon 🥰

Sigrid is pleased that her friend Junior stuck to their plan to dress up as Santa's Elves. She wishes she could go with him and his siblings on their rounds, but her parents already arranged for her to go with her cousins later. Dang parents! Maybe next year Sigrid! 🙂

#gummi evergreen #gummi posed pictures #sims 2 halloween #wcif friendly

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moonlight-prose · 1 year ago

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BLOOD ALONG THE MOON

➛ 03. WICKED NIGHTS

a/n: honestly i didn't expect to take a year to ever post about this fic again. if i'm being honest i figured this would become an abandoned series. solely cause the inspo for this character completely left my head. but i couldn't let go of our reporter and their love story with this bat. so while the updates may take time, i'm ready to keep going with this. enjoy.

summary: halloween was always been your least favorite night of the year, but circumstances make it so much worse.

word count: 8.2k+

pairing: bruce wayne x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, cussing, angst, fluff, awkward beginnings, a small bit of romance, murder, death, crime scenes, grief, gratuitous prose about the darkness of gotham.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Halloween. Your least favorite night of the year.

The city streets were crowded with people; a sight not unusual to the dark pit that Gotham transformed into. But that didn’t mean you had to like it. Even getting to work was a struggle due to the overcrowded platform of the subway and the scarcity of cabs. If you had your way you’d wish everyone would suddenly vanish—giving you a chance to find some reprieve before the onslaught of darkness that plagued this night every year. Although you were foolish enough to hold out hope. Foolish enough to believe that things would be different; that nothing wicked would befall this night.

If only you’d known.

Work was filled with people milling about, some in costumes, some not. You wore your usual black coat—a pair of boots accompanying your look. If someone were to ask you’d claim you were dressed as you were every other day of the year—as a reporter working yourself to the bone. It would be sure to get a laugh from a person or two in this office.

It always did in the end.

Only this time…you weren’t laughing.

The interview you had with Bruce Wayne yesterday continued to bounce around in your mind; the thought of how to write it, still missing. You didn’t want to sound like every other magazine that sprouted nothing but gossip. There’s a reason why you chose to work at the Gotham Gazette. So you could get into the nitty and gritty of the story—no matter how dark it got in the end. To you this was either a story people would talk about forever, or it would remain a forgotten piece that would later wind up in people’s trash cans come morning the next day.

“Day.” Henry leaned against the doorway of his office. A pencil behind his ear, his glasses propped on the end of his nose, and a cup of crappy coffee in his hand. “I need to talk to you.”

You hoped you would have at least five minutes of time to breathe before you were called into what you liked to claim was the equivalent of the principal’s office. But it seemed that Henry Goldfinch decided to pick on you this week more than anyone else.

The interview notes you’d jotted down during the night were crammed into your small black notebook—nearly burning a hole in your pocket. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d ask you about them; intent on seeing a full story by tomorrow night.

“Look Henry I did the best I could with the guy, but he barely even spoke—” You were cut off at the look on his face. “Am I in trouble?”

“I just got a call from Mr. Pennyworth.”

Shit, you were so fired.

“If he wants to retract any statements then I’ll work with what I've got, but you were the one who gave me this story and I think I can do a damn good job on it.”

“Would you let me talk?” Your jaw snapped shut, cutting off the remainder of your ramble; or what you’d like to call reasons why he shouldn’t fire you. “Don’t unpack your things.”

You felt your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently you caught Mr. Wayne’s eye,” he said, settling down in his seat. “That call was Mr. Pennyworth giving me notice that Bruce Wayne is heading down to The Gotham Gazette today.”

“What?” you exclaimed, nearly falling into the chair behind you. “What the fuck for?”

“He wants to take you to lunch, kid.”

You fell into the chair, staring wide eyed at Henry who regarded you with a smirk.

Bruce Wayne wanted to take you to lunch. He was coming to your work in order to…pick you up.

Any way you tried to string it together, the news still remained hard to comprehend. Still you caught on to Henry’s words from before. You’d caught Bruce Wayne’s eye and now you were going to have to deal with the consequences of that. This would be the first time in years since he’d left Wayne Tower to do something as mundane as go to lunch. Let alone with someone like you.

“What do I do?” you croaked, trying not to panic as the reporter in you attempted to take over. Was this only a social call? Or did he want to do a follow up interview?

Henry leaned forward, the damned smirk still on his face. “You go to lunch with him. Maybe he likes you.”

“Likes me,” you scoffed. “I’d no sooner learn the identity of The Batman before Bruce Wayne admitted to liking me.”

You wanted answers like any sane person would, but the idea that Bruce Wayne possibly liked you left words unavailable to you. That was the farthest thing from the truth, except coming up with some other alternative left you with nothing yet again. What the fuck were you being called to lunch for? You hoped it was just him personally asking you to rip up the notes you took from yesterday while he watched.

“They’ll be here soon. I’d get your ass moving.”

“Right.” You stood slowly, a feeling of unease spreading through you with every step towards the door. “Did—um—Mr. Pennyworth…did he sound upset?”

Henry scoffed, taking a sip from his coffee. “And here I thought you didn’t give a shit if you pissed people off Day.”

You felt the switch flip in your mind. A reminder of who you truly were on the inside coming back like lightning cracking across your body, and you stood taller in your place. You didn’t care. You never had.

“I don’t.”

“Atta girl.” He tipped his cup slightly your way, watching as you walked back out into the office—the straight set of your spine once again returning.

You didn’t come to Gotham to make friends. You came here to work, to build a career that would outlast you if you were determined enough. Pissing off Bruce Wayne had never been on your list, but you figured it was bound to happen eventually. It was either now or later in life. Thankfully everyone had their hands full worrying about The Batman and the election—so you pissing off the Prince of Gotham would go unnoticed.

Grabbing your bag, you did a quick sweep of your desk to make sure that everything was accounted for before you left. You weren’t sure how long this lunch would take, but you didn’t intend to come back later.

The elevator doors opened once again with a loud creak, thankfully revealing it to be empty. Your heart thrummed in your chest a mile a minute, the tension still in your shoulders as you walked towards what might be the end of your career. While you knew the possibility of this simply being a social call was high, you couldn’t ignore what might very well happen. The ding of your stop brought you out of your daze enough to get out and head towards the front doors.

Glancing up towards the sky you saw the gloominess still remained—a reminder of where you were, what this city was reduced to. While you may have called it pollution of the environment, others would call it weather. After all there was always a difference in opinion when the opinion came a bit too close to the actual truth.

A sleek black car sat directly outside of the doors, a man in a black coat was hunched beneath an umbrella leaning against its side. You recognized him the second he raised his head, his blue eyes practically singeing your skin. Henry really wasn’t kidding when he said Bruce Wayne himself was coming to pick you up from the Gazette. People stopped and stared at the spectacle that was this man. By all means he was considered a hermit from the rumors that spread through Gotham like poison, and yet there he was, meeting with an unknown woman—a reporter nonetheless.

“You don’t seem like the lunch date type of man,” you said, standing far enough under the awning of the building where you didn’t get wet from the rain, but still felt it splatter against your coat.

His lips twitched, eyes skimming your figure before flicking up back to your face. You wanted to ignore the flutter in your chest from that simple gesture, but your body wouldn’t let you. It seemed that whoever Bruce Wayne was…he had an affect on you—a hold that refused to be severed.

“It wasn’t my idea.”

Scoffing, you turned to glare at a man who stood only a few feet away, clearly eavesdropping in on the conversation.

“So you aren’t here to have lunch with me. You’re simply here by the orders of Mr. Pennyworth,” you retorted.

“Alfred,” he said, finally standing to his full height for the first time since you met him. He was taller than you actually anticipated. “He thought it would be a good idea.”

“He thought going on a date with a reporter was a good idea?”

He shrugged slightly, the tension in his shoulders made the movement awkward. “Would you call this a date Miss…”

“Day.”

“Day,” he repeated quietly, his lips forming around the word as if it was already familiar to him. “Interesting name.”

“Nick-name,” you replied.

He nodded slowly, his gaze so intense you found you had to keep looking away. “Your real name isn’t printed on any of your bylines.”

You smiled albeit rather ruefully as you stepped close enough to be underneath his umbrella with him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to earn my real name Mr. Wayne.”

Again you watched—entranced—as his lips twitched slightly. Almost like he wanted to smile, but forgot how exactly to do it. He’d been in pain so long, suffering the grief of losing those he loved most for nearly his entire life, and not once had he learned what the true meaning of happiness was. For some unknown reason, you wanted to be the first one to show him.

“Okay,” he murmured, turning towards the passenger seat door and opening it for you. “And it’s Bruce.”

The words were accompanied with an outstretched hand to help you into the car, his hold simultaneously gentle yet firm as you sat. Your eyes met his briefly, something flickering to life between your gaze, before the door shut entirely and you were left in silence for a few brief seconds. It gave you enough time to catch what little breath you had in your chest—the interaction far too electric for someone like you.

Get some fucking sense.

You weren’t the type of person Bruce Wayne would fall for. One day he would find someone as wealthy as him, someone who knew his life due to shared experience. You hated those fucking words with a burning passion. Shared experience with people never went over well in your line of work. For a reporter, shared experience meant you had nothing original to say. It meant that you were the same as everyone else around you and to you that was damnation itself.

“Where would you like to eat?”

The question was barely loud enough for you to hear over the traffic and rain, but his soft tone caught you in its hold until you were solely focused on him. Once again that unfamiliar spark of energy crackled in the air. You were afraid that if this continued, you’d walk out of this lunch date with a newfound crush on Gotham’s Prince. That thought alone was enough for you to tear your gaze away—settling in the seat and staring through the front window.

“You invited me, Mr. Wayne. Why don’t you pick?”

He fell silent, hands shifting from his lap to the steering wheel and back again. “I don’t know many places to eat around Gotham anymore.”

Of course Bruce Wayne of all people would eat at home day in and day out. Thus was the luxury of having a personal chef in the Wayne Tower. Although you couldn’t stop the small grin from forming at how funny you found all of this.

Going to lunch with this man. It should have been absurd—almost laughable—but there you were. About to tell him to drive into the heart of the city just to take you to your favorite diner. Reporters would murder you just to stand in your spot. To spend mere moments with him. Yet it seemed that all you had to do was exist.

Rather than dwell on the moment any longer, you told him where to take you and it seemed that he knew the city a lot better than you expected. Pulling out of the spot with ease, he swiftly swung the car around in a rather illegal u-turn before making a quick right turn. You had to hand it to him…he knew how to handle a car. Part of you wanted to call it sexy, but you killed that echo in your head before it could manifest into something else.

Feelings were dangerous in your line of work—having seen the pain several reporters went through when they fell into bed with lethal people. You wouldn’t wind up like them. All you could allow in your life was friendship, nothing more. A friendship with Bruce Wayne wouldn’t hurt you. Not when he refrained from speaking to anyone, let alone the worst of the worst that roamed Gotham.

He turned another corner, the rain getting worse the further you traveled into the city. Driving in this weather would have stopped you from going, but it didn’t seem to phase him. He took it in stride, focusing intently on the road with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting between you. It would be so easy to pick it up, to run your fingers over the lines in his palm. And for a moment you indulged. You imagined what being with him would actually feel like.

Would he treat you the same way? Or would you suddenly become special. You couldn’t picture him treating anyone in a loving manner, let alone you and that’s where the fantasy died.

“That’s it,” you said, pointing to the flickering sign out front that only read DEM as opposed to its usual bright DEMETER’S TABLE name.

“Is it closed?”

You laughed, barely a puff of air, but you knew he heard it. Opening the door you ignored the downpour that threatened to soak you down to your very soul, and patiently waited until he got out himself. The expression on his face caught you slightly off guard as you watched him get out. You would have figured it was nothing—having seen him wear a grim expression all throughout your interview with him—but this looked different.

“I know it’s not the best place, but the food is—”

“I could have opened the door for you.”

That killed the worry filling your chest in an instant. He wasn’t upset that you brought him to what looked like the shittiest diner in all of Gotham. In fact, he could care less about that. He wanted to open the door for you…like a gentleman.

You nearly laughed in his face, but the rain was starting to seep into your shoes, causing your whole body to shiver and he fared no better. It caused his hair to stick to his face, the coat doing absolutely nothing to keep him dry.

The sign from the diner cast a luminescent glow across his face, highlighting his high cheekbones. You found yourself wanting to brush your lips across them. Though it was daytime and the sun remained stuck behind the clouds somewhere, you still felt as if night encased you in its cold embrace. Yet standing there with him in the rain, keeping his stare, you felt warmth flicker in your chest. As if he had placed a piece of the sun in your heart.

“You don’t have to do that with me,” you said softly, turning away before you grew too attached to this odd man.

The bell above the door rang throughout the building, alerting her of your presence. Your friend Dem stood behind the counter, her graying black hair wrapped up in a loose bun—a pen going directly through it to hold it in place. She looked up at the sound, a broad smile pulling at her wrinkled cheeks and bringing to light the soft lines around her eyes. When you first moved to Gotham she was the person who practically took you under her wing.

“Day! You are soaked hun. You shouldn’t be out in this weather.” She walked around the counter, immediately handing you a hot steaming cup of coffee. “Especially not since you just got over pneumonia. What are you trying to do, kill your…”

She trailed off, her eyes growing wide as the bell rang again and Bruce entered behind you, looking worse than you did. You knew the shock she was feeling, having gone through it about thirty minutes ago yourself, and did your best to drag her back to the present.

“Got a free table?” you joked, knowing the diner was practically empty.

That seemed to do it. The smile—though hesitant this time around—was back as she gestured to the second booth by the door. “I’ll be right with you sweetie.”

“Thanks Dem.”

You slid into the old brown booth, feeling your clothes stick to the fake leather. “Here.” You pushed the mug of coffee his way. “It’ll help with the cold.”

“I’m okay.” He reached up to push it back, but you held it in its place.

“I’m not asking Wayne.” Smiling, you leaned back. “Besides…can’t have one of the most important people in Gotham getting sick on my watch. I’d definitely be fired for that.”

Without another word, he lifted the mug to his lips, placing them directly where yours were mere moments ago. The spark flared to life again, cracking like a familiar bolt of lightning through your body and burning you to the core. Looking away, you clasped your hands together in an effort to seal in any heat that might try to escape your body. You weren’t sure if you liked the feelings that were causing your body to go haywire. For all you knew, you could have been imagining this entire thing.

You wouldn’t put it past your mind to play tricks on you as you sat across from him.

“Why this place?” Once again, his question caught you off guard.

“What?”

He set the mug down, pushing it your way. “Why this diner?”

His blue eyes were fixed on your face, as if attempting to see past the shield you wore day in and day out. When a person suffered enough pain to last an entire lifetime, they tended to become closed off. You were that person and from what you could see…so was he. The temptation to ask him how he survived through the pain, how he managed to come out of it at the end somewhat of a person, was on the tip of your tongue.

But you figured it was better to stay silent—keep it to yourself until the right moment came up.

“It was the first place I came to when I first moved to Gotham. I used to live a block away from here.” Sipping on the coffee, you tried to busy yourself to avoid his piercing gaze. “Though, I had to move because my apartment got broken into while I was sleeping.”

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger? No…something else.

Clearing your throat, you continued in the hopes of appeasing your now racing heart. “Anyways. Dem took me in, she took care of me and it felt nice. So I stayed.”

Before he could reply, Dem arrived with two plates in her hands. You smelled the burger before she even placed it on the table—your stomach clenching with hunger. Her specialty that you first ordered when you came here. It made your heart warm seeing her place it in front of Bruce, her smile kind and welcoming. No matter who he was, Dem always saw the good in people. Saw what they needed and willingly gave it to them without question.

She was a mother to the strangers that wandered into her diner.

“More coffee?” she asked, staring at the single mug that sat empty in the center of the table.

You noticed she didn’t ask if you’d like a second cup, her body language telling you enough. She thought this was a date. You weren’t sure if you should correct her or not.

“Please,” Bruce said, interrupting your thoughts. He handed her the mug, never asking for an extra one, but seemingly happy to share with you.

Once again your heart fluttered and this time…you let it.

“Dem’s burgers are possibly the best thing to be created.”

His lips pulled up in a small barely there grin. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should,” you replied, smiling around a bite of your fry. “As a reporter all I have is my word.”

You didn’t catch the way he looked at you, his eyes shining with something that hadn’t been there in a very long time. Instead you focused on gazing out the window at the rain. The way it transformed the city into something dangerous. Yet even through the darkness you could see it. The small hints of the light seeping through the clouds and shining down on an otherwise grim place.

Carole King played on the old speakers—a favorite of Dem’s you learned early on—and it created a soft symphony of warmth as it mixed with the rain. You wanted to stay there forever. In a place of comfort and love.

You’d even include Bruce in it too.

He bit into the burger, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the taste burst across his tongue. The sight caused your heart to lurch in your chest, warmth spreading up your neck and into your face. And you tried your best to shove it down. How ridiculous of you to find the sight hot, but there you were. Speechless, watching as he enjoyed one of your favorite meals.

Dem’s voice humming to the song snapped you out of your ogling; you looked to her to find something else to focus on. Except the small knowing smile she wore on her face and the wink she threw your way did nothing to help your situation. Rather than dwell on it, you began to eat. Content to remain silent until the both of you finished.

The singular cup of coffee was set down in between you two, dragging your gazes back to one another. You glanced at the mug, then back at him. As if that was the defining factor of whether or not this was a date. He chewed thoughtfully on a fry, his eyes still on you, while you mulled over whether or not you could magically turn the one mug into two.

It turned out to be an impossible feat, but one you found you didn’t mind.

“So tell me—” You pried your trench coat off, draping it over the back of the booth. He’d discarded his thirty minutes ago, his black button down now rolled to his elbows. “What’s Bruce Wayne been up to?”

His eyebrow quirked, lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “This isn’t a second interview is it?”

You shrugged. “I’ve gotten enough for my article already. This is me asking.”

“Hm.” He leaned forward, hands clasped together and hair falling back into his eyes. “And who are you exactly?”

The smile you’d been fighting for an hour came through. “I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.”

The coffee mug had been refilled three times now, your energy coupled with the spark of attraction (you were still denying) between you brought life back into your body. While he didn’t disclose much about himself—saying bits and pieces here and there—you still found yourself engrossed in his words. You wanted to know more, to see the man behind the mask that was Bruce Wayne.

Maybe if you were lucky enough he’d show you his true self one day. For right now you were content to remain just as you were.

A reporter who shied away from any aspects of love, sitting with a man who was discovering what the meaning of joy was all over again.

“I can wait,” he murmured, his eyes no longer resembling the cloudy skies outside. You could see the lightness in them—the shining blue unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You glanced down at the mug, seeing something in it you hadn’t before. For whatever unknown reason Bruce Wayne—the man who had been reclusive his entire life—trusted you. Even though he didn’t say it outright he didn’t have to. You saw it well enough and something told you…he knew you could see it. He wanted you to see it.

Time was slowly ticking away, reminding you that you had a job to get back to, but you still remained. Sitting with your elbows pressed to the table—unconsciously trying to get as close to him as possible. Maybe if you never left the world would melt away. If you became a permanent part of this diner, the city that happily ate away at every resident would leave you be. You’d be forgotten in a place that thrived on the lost and forlorn.

“Why me?” you inquired after the beat of silence threatened to swallow you whole.

The soft lilting notes of Billie Holiday echoed in the empty diner. Dem was nowhere to be found and the only two remaining customers were you and Bruce. Still sharing that singular cup of cold coffee. It had created a ring on the table, your lipstick a slight stain on the white mug. The color smudged off from where Bruce had placed his lips. Sharing a hint of a kiss that would never be.

He leaned back in the booth, no longer stiff—the nature of a man who had hid from society for years now traded in for someone different. His body language was enough to make you stare. Transfixed on the way his shirt continued to hug his figure even though it had dried an hour ago.

“Why not you?”

You huffed. “Answering my question with another question. And here I thought I was the only reporter in the room.”

“I’ve had my fair share of interviews.”

“None that I’ve read.” You slid your plate to the side and clasped your hands together in the hopes of looking as intrigued as you felt. “Do tell Mr. Wayne.”

The tension was beginning to set in his shoulders again. A small overlay to the man that lingered beneath. As if he was bringing up a mask he constantly carried with him. He hid constantly day in and day out, but right now he didn’t sit before you the Prince of Gotham, but instead a man who was trying to relearn how to live. Whether you wanted to admit it to yourself or not…Bruce Wayne was like you in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

“Alfred keeps them from printing.” The admission alone was enough for you to change the subject, but he continued to talk—cracking open yet another small sliver to the impenetrable armor he wore. “People they don’t…they always look for something wrong.”

You nodded, digging your nail into your palm. “Flaws are sometimes easier to sell.”

The sad truth of being a journalist is more often than not people weren’t looking for the truth. At least not in Gotham. They wanted something to sell. A piece of the person that one would deem too vulnerable to be shown to the rest of the world. They wanted to satiate the greed that clawed its way to the front. Rarely was the truth their only reason for writing a story.

“You’re not interested in flaws.” His eyes grew softer, hand splaying on the table to trace a random shape as he watched you. Saw through the facade you wore. He dug right down to the depths of your persona and dragged it to the surface—a relenting and brutal act.

Yet you wanted it to happen all the same.

“I like the truth.” You distracted yourself with the shape of his finger, the length of it as it shifted. “It sounds better.”

For a split second you allowed your eyes to flicker up, to meet his in the dim lights of the diner, and you finally caught hold of that niggling emotion. The one that held you captive in your own right. You liked him. Despite only meeting him yesterday, you found yourself drawn in by his haunted eyes. The same ones that practically burned a hole in your skin, until he was forever a part of your form.

Bruce Wayne felt familiar to you.

Not in the way that a stranger finds a face in the crowd familiar. Not even in the way an old friend would feel seeing someone from their past once more.

He was familiar in the way two souls separated beyond time and space were familiar. You couldn’t quite explain it, but somehow you knew these eyes that traced the lines and curves of your face. Committing you to memory. You were two distant beings made up of different particles of the universe. Yet there in that diner you found one another—as if gravity had dragged your cells together all along.

Two halves of a celestial being finally forming to be one.

You almost wanted to laugh at the notion that Bruce Wayne and you had anything in common. Let alone that there was any physical attraction between you.

But there it was. The truth you’d been searching for all along.

You could almost laugh at how fucked it all was.

How horrifically beautiful.

Night was beginning to settle over the city, calling to the horrors that lingered in the shadows. Prompting them to finally emerge for the one night where fear ran rampant in the streets of Gotham. Being scared on Halloween wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but this year things felt different. You could practically taste the blood that would run through the grime filled streets come morning. The same one that you would later have to report on.

Bruce stood beside his car next to your apartment building. You had directed him here after another hour spent in Dem’s diner barely speaking yet saying more than you would have liked. For some reason he was able to unearth more about you than you had found out in the entirety of yesterday’s interview with him. If being a Wayne didn’t wind up working out for him, he’d make a killing out of being an investigative journalist.

You told him as much before you left.

“Got any plans for tonight?” you asked, already knowing the answer you’d receive.

He looked up to the slightly darkened sky, at the way that the clouds did nothing to allow even slivers of the sunset to break through. You had to hand it to the city. There was some irony in the way even nature plagued the city in darkness. As if its legacy was always meant to be this. An abyss that drowned everyone within.

A barely there quirk appeared on his lips. “I’ll be out of the city tonight.”

Convenient.

The thought crossed your mind of asking him to join you for a lonesome dinner and half a bottle of wine. But the line had been drawn in the sand long before you agreed to accompany him for lunch. An invisible border you couldn’t cross. He was a Wayne. A part of a world you could only reach through second hand stories and gruesome aftermaths.

If the lunch had been more than strangers sitting across from one another, you would have joked about your house being Capulet and his Montague. But something told you irony wasn’t his strong suit. Nor would it favor you being able to see him another time. That is…if he even wanted to see you. For all you could tell this was merely a social call placed on his shoulders by Alfred—the man you came to see as Bruce’s father figure.

“Well…”

“Would you—”

You smiled, feigning being professional for the sake of your giddiness. “You go first.”

He cleared his throat. “Would you be available in a few days?”

“Oh…” Rather than take it easy on him, you decided that the best course of action was to jab at his wall just a bit. Just to see if something would crumble even further. So with a smile you stepped closer, watching the rise and fall of his chest quicken just a bit more. “That doesn’t sound like Alfred speaking.”

A heavy breath left his lungs—washing warm across your skin. “It’s not.”

“So this is you asking?”

He nodded, probably irritated with the way you were clearly teasing him. But that’s the thing. He let you tease him. He gave in to your small ruse and let it play out until you felt like you were finished.

If you could get away with this, who knows what else you’d be able to get away with. Perhaps calling him a stupid nickname. Or even getting to know his favorite color.

Something told you it was brown.

“What’s your favorite color?”

His eyebrows rose, mouth parted slightly as if you’d thrown him for a bigger loop than anyone had before. And much to your own surprise…he answered. Honestly.

“Black.”

Ah…you were close.

“Tuesday. The rush of Halloween will be over and my paper should give me some free reign. I’ll be available then.”

Another solemn nod as if you just informed him that you were attending a funeral for a recently departed loved one. You learned to realize that his nods were simply a part of his personality. Eventually you would be able to decipher what each one meant, what they were attempting to say without using words. His voice seemed to be an afterthought—actions speaking louder than words could say.

“Tuesday it is,” he replied with a soft hesitant smile. You wanted to see it again, ask him to never frown again, but this was merely a fleeting moment in the grand expanse of things.

He stood there for a minute more as if leaving was the last thing he wanted. Then got into his car, turned the engine once, and drove down the street. And you watched him disappear into the already dark horizon. The day never existed to begin with, but the storm wouldn’t stop the chaos of the night. So you gave one last glance to the street before heading inside, ready to hole yourself in your locked apartment til sunrise the next day.

The shrill ringing of your cell phone startled you from your small nap on the couch. A throw blanket that was a mishmash of colors was thrown over your body, a half empty wine bottle on the coffee table and the book Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde face down beside it. Ever since finding it in the Wayne tower, you began to look through the old text. With the silly hope that you would find pieces of Bruce Wayne in the words.

“What?” you grumbled, rubbing a hand over your face to rouse yourself from the groggy state of sleep. Your brain was sluggish, body content to remain on the couch for many more hours, but Henry’s grim voice startled you awake.

“The Mayor’s dead.”

You sat up. “What the fuck do you mean the Mayor’s dead Henry?”

A quick glance at the clock told you it was nearing the middle of the night. The noise outside still persisted though. People always partied the worst on this night. Especially in this city.

“If this is a joke—”

“Shut up and listen will you.” Your mouth clamped shut, eyes falling to the book. “They found him in his home. And it’s gruesome. Whoever did it was a right fucked up person, but I can’t get there at this time. The streets are too packed.”

The breath caught in your throat, even as your eyes stung with exhaustion. “And I’m closer to the scene.”

“It’s a favor and it’s a big one Day.”

You sighed. “I’ll leave in ten. Who’s on the scene?”

“Gordon.”

Good. Gordon never gave you shit for being a reporter like the other detectives did. Many wanted your kind out of Gotham all together simply because of how good you were at getting your nose into places it shouldn’t be. With Gordon there at least you would have a chance to do some meaningful reporting—or at least help where you could in figuring this out.

Henry listed out a few details they told him, what was going to occur within the next few days. But all you could think about was Bruce. You’d miss your chance to see him Tuesday after all. Too stuck in the midst of a city wide crime scene that would take up more or less all of your time. Which left him on the outs. You scribbled down in your black notebook a note to call him and ask for a rain check.

At least then one good thing in your life wouldn’t disappear without a trace.

You grabbed your coat, shoved your arms in the sleeves, and locked up your apartment as the weight of the news rested heavy on your shoulders.

With the death of the Mayor came an investigation. One that would no doubt lead to more bloodshed in the streets and leave a city divided amongst itself. You had heard about shit like this happening in Gotham, but you were never around to see it yourself. Yet there you were. Right in the thick of it with no other option but to see the chaos through.

People filled the streets. Some drunk, some not. Which didn’t make getting to the scene easier. You fought through the crowds, managed to catch a train down there, and somehow came out unscathed. And above in the night sky…his sign hung like a full moon. It called out to the chaos of the night, and made a promise to those who liked the cover of darkness that they would only be safe for so long.

“Shit,” you muttered, feeling the rain strike against your cheek. It stung as you crossed the street.

Police cars lined the sidewalk, sirens blaring and bright, and for a moment…there was light in Gotham. You could barely see in front of you, but at least they illuminated the pathway to the front entrance. Many of them were taping off the building, others standing around and gazing at the sky—probably asking themselves if he would show up.

“If it ain’t Miss Day!”

You felt the weight lighten as you reached the top of the building steps. “Officer Martinez. Funny seeing you here.”

“You come to talk to me tonight?”

The smile was involuntary on your lips as he let you head in with him, holding the door open for you. Martinez always had a soft spot for you when things like this befell the city. After all he was usually around when it came to Gordon and with a job like yours, you ran into cops a bit too often for your liking. But Martinez was the exception. He brought you coffee on long nights at crime scenes, cracked jokes at the worst times, and even drove you home if he was around.

“Of course,” you said with a grin, bumping his shoulder. “I’m here to write a piece about the greatest cop in the city.”

He scoffed. “Flattery will get you everywhere chica.”

“Do you know what happened?”

Another flight of steps revealed even more cops scattered around the place. You could see the flash of a camera in the distance, whispered voices filling the air as you entered. Several cops gave you nasty glances, scoffing to themselves at the fact that you were allowed to enter. A reporter. Someone beneath them. To them you were the vulture that came to pick apart the mess they were left to clean.

“All I know is what Gordon told me. And even that’s not much.”

“Where is Gordon?”

Martinez shrugged. “Went out to fetch someone. Figure another detective.”

One more step into the room and you felt it. The pressure in your chest, the pinch of pain in your side where you were still healing. As if crime in Gotham called to crime. A horrid likeness that permeated the air. When Henry said the scene was gruesome he wasn’t kidding. You were ready to bolt the second you could smell the blood—the sight nearly too much for your stomach to take.

“Fuck,” you murmured, eyes wide and body wracked with fear.

“It’s not easy to see.”

“He’s…oh fuck.”

You didn’t need words to know Martinez was concerned about you. His eyes told you enough. They lingered a bit too long, tried to see past your mask you quickly pulled up when it came to scenes such as this. If you were lucky you would make it out tonight without any nightmares.

You were rarely lucky.

Someone called his name, causing him to leave you alone in the room with a few other people. Yet all you could focus on was the Mayor. The message scrawled across his head screamed so loud you could practically hear the voice of the killer. It punched right through your chest, made you pay attention without any barriers. Without mercy.

“What the fuck?”

You turned when someone’s voice filtered through the air, disbelief clear in their tone. Perhaps they found something worse. Something that would make you want to unsee everything that happened tonight. But what came to your attention was not what you expected. Your heart dropped to your stomach, a flutter going through your body, as the sight of him filled your view once more.

For some reason he seemed bigger in the room. He towered over everyone here, eyes still striking against the dark color of his suit. For a moment you couldn’t breathe, nerves filling your body with each heavy thump of his boot against the hardwood floor. How he would react to seeing you again took over your mind. Yet you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe…he forgot about you.

Maybe to him you were just another lost soul in a sea of tragedy.

Someone he saved once and didn’t think twice about second.

He stopped midstep, gaze falling to your form, and for a split second…he stiffened entirely. Recognition flashed in his eyes before something darker took its place. You were reminded of the night he dragged you home, the night he held you as you cried about death. As you begged him to keep you alive.

You wondered if he was thinking about that too. If you stepped close enough maybe you could see it in his eyes. Fragments of a memory that still burned bright and alive in your mind—a bad movie you could never turn off. So there you sat in the theater. Forced to watch it replay.

Maybe if you asked he’d sit with you. Keep you company in the darkness.

“Daywalker.”

Gordon had a habit of using the formal version of your nickname. A call sign that seemed to jolt you from your own mind—eyes snapping from The Batman to the man standing beside him. He regarded you with a confused look. A question lingering on his tongue.

One you quickly overlapped with one of your own.

“What the hell happened Gordon?”

His eyes went soft. “Chaos.”

The pain in your side flared to life again. “And what’s he doing here?”

The thump of his boots echoed behind you as he circled the scene. No doubt taking notes about what happened, what was left behind for them to find. Gordon held up a green envelope, writing scratched into the paper as if it was left there in anger—the pen nearly breaking through. A formal address to the man who still remained behind you. A call out to The Batman himself.

Either this guy was insane…or he understood what The Bat would react to.

“So all this…was for him?”

Eyes burned into your skin when you said the words, another thump letting you know he still remained, still listening in the shadows of the room.

Gordon shrugged. “That’s what he’s here to find out.”

You nodded, stepping back to let Gordon do his job with the others as you surveyed the room yourself. Every once in a while your gaze fell back to him. How he stalked about with purpose, each step measured and calculated. He understood the tension in the room, how cops hated that he stood amongst them.

After all, he fell lower into their likeability category than you. To them you were the vulture, but he was the thief. He took their image—their reputations—and made it worse. He took their jobs right under their noses. Not because they couldn’t do it, but because with him it would come to a final end.

You caught bits and pieces of the conversations at hand, heard how the Mayor must have died, but your attention still remained with The Bat. How he stood wary with his back to the window. Every now and then you swore his gaze fell to you, but that might have been your imagination. Your mind hadn’t stopped racing since you stepped past the threshold; the crime scene doing nothing but wracking your body with fear and anxiety. Two things that were an enemy to a good reporter.

“Killer may have come through the skylight.”

You glanced up, eyes tracing the metal lines of the glass above and tried to imagine the scene playing out before you. How they’d get in, how they’d hide. In your head it matched up, but something felt off—as if the scene itself was too perfect. Too pristine for you to gather anything notable.

Gordon’s voice peaked your interest, drawing you closer. “What does a liar do when he’s dead?”

“There’s a cipher too.”

Something flickered in the back of your mind. You remembered Henry having a book of riddles on his desk. Some cheap Christmas gift someone in the office got him in the hopes of giving their boss a sense of humor. You had flipped through it once or twice while waiting for him to show up for a meeting. But you could recall the same riddle being printed with all the others—in a list of nearly three hundred, you remembered that one for its dark flair.

“Lies,” you murmured to yourself, attention forced to the outburst towards Gordon.

But it was the darker and much deeper voice behind you that sent a cold shiver down your spine. “He lies still.”

The answer to the riddle.

Yet even that didn’t tell you much. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t going to give Gotham the easy way out. No, you could see the darkness lingering in the distance. The threat of something more on the way. And there wouldn’t a fucking thing anyone in this room could do about it. Except for him. His name was on the envelope, his sign in the sky and soon…Gotham would be turning to him for more than just an answer to a riddle.

“Happy fuckin’ Halloween,” the commissioner spat, turning away from the scene with enough anger to rival the killer. Grief plagued the air and while you should have stayed, asked for statements, all you wanted to do was go home.

So you bid Gordon goodnight with the promise to call him tomorrow for more than just this. Your stomach was in knots, bile filling the back of your throat, but you could barely move. His gaze still burned a hole in your back, watching as you left on semi-steady feet—the wound that lingered now a reminder that you were nearly this person. You were nearly another story in a newspaper.

Martinez came up beside you as you stepped out into the hall, a cup of hot coffee in his hands. He must have grabbed it from down the street, because he held his own. The rain still pounded outside striking loudly against the window but it had become a drowned out echo. Simply background noise to a tragedy that kept you locked tight in its grasp. You could see the headline of tomorrow’s paper. The words bold and loud amidst the gray color—a color that matched the sky.

GOTHAM MOURNS.

“Want me to give you a ride home?” Martinez asked, eyes still plagued with concern. You wanted to wipe it from his face, place his carefree smile back where it belonged. Except no one would be smiling tonight.

You sucked in a cold breath, sensing the presence of The Bat as he followed Gordon out to the hallway.

“Yeah. A ride would be nice.”

Tomorrow was a new day, but the truth still remained, waiting to break free. Darkness ran through Gotham so deep it would take prying the streets up to see it, but something told you exactly that would happen. This was not the end of the blood that would turn this city red.

It was only the beginning.

#bruce wayne x f!reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #the batman x f!reader #the batman x reader #the batman x you #battinson x reader #battinson x you #the batman #my writing

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thesixthplaneteer · 9 months ago

Text

Here is my entry for the Masquerade Breach zine!! I have been hitting that word limit like a brick wall for the past month, and I am too excited to keep it to myself! My piece is titled Hell-O-Ween! A Masquerade Breach Story because we like cheesy horror in this house. Thank you for reading!

It’s the late 1980s in Las Vegas, Nythanel, and Noa are attending a Halloween party being put on by Don Jacob Rothstein. Held in a mansion in the desert far away from the city, so the more illicit activities don't fall under unwanted scrutiny, and only those in the know are supposed to be there. One person slipped past security, an ancient enemy of the Giovanni whose true motives are unknown, but their eyes are set on Noa tonight. What can a neonate necromancer and waterblooded sorcerer do when things really start to go bump in the night?

The green makeup of his Audrey Two costume hid the redness but Nythanel still felt the warmth of embarrassment and anger on his face. Fighting back tears he side stepped between costumed guests, tray toting servers, and did his best to fight the urge to bull them over as he went back to the ballroom. Don Jacob Rothstein's Halloween party was in full swing. The dance floor was lively, the bar was packed, and the live band seemed like they could go all night long.

He wanted to make his problem everyone else’s problem but held onto his senses, making a scene at the head of Clan Giovanni’s party wouldn’t make his night better. Noa’s bright red hooded dress and silver devil mask were easy to spot, but seeing her didn’t bring the ease to his mind he wanted. A tall figure in an elaborate red Venetian masquerade costume with a matching laughing mask loomed over her, holding her wrist.

The party-goers near them shuffled away and gawked. No doubt they thought some crass couple brought their backroom fun to the front. A wall of bodies formed to watch, but over their shoulders Nyth could see another masked person grab Noa from behind. Nythanel shoved over a woman in a peacock dress and jammed his elbows into the sides of two clowns to get through.

Noa struggled to get out of their grasp, but Red Mask jerked her arm the other direction. The snap was audible over the music, a pained scream erupted from Noa, a jagged peak shot up from under the sleeve of her dress. The crowd around them gasped, some retched, some clapped for what they thought was some Halloween entertainment, some quickly fled, others watched on unsure what to make of the display.

Nythanel burst free of the crowd and charged them, seeing that the second assailant's costume was also Venetian - though far less elaborate and the color beige. Red Mask noticed his approach and abandoned Noa with a leap backward as Nythanel slammed into the tussle, bringing them all down to the floor hard. Noa’s silver mask clattered to the ground while Beige’s mask was knocked askew but stayed on their face. The thin fabric of their costume tore as Nythanel gathered a fistful of it and pulled, the other fist delivering a hard blow to the back of their head, forcing them to surrender Noa in order to defend themselves.

The surrounding crowd was now comprised mostly of individuals thinking this was simply a show for the party. Some clapped, some cheered for who they picked as their favorite, while a few pulled their partners away.

Moving with trained agility, Nythanel threw his leg over Beige, pushing them onto their back, gaining control of the situation. Flesh exposed itself, the torn collar of the costume revealing their throat. Nythanel gazed at the sight for a moment. He had no Beast. There was no voice demanding he feed, no inner monster begging to kill. This desire was all his. He opened wide and lurched forward, his fangs breaking skin. Any scream to come was cut short by the crushing of their windpipe beneath teeth. Fresh warm blood cascaded into his mouth. Mortal, musky, the sting of alcohol, and a wine-like sweet finish. Sanguine he thought to himself as it empowered his own weak vitae.

Nythanel didn’t see where the sawed-off shotgun came from, nor notice how Beige was able to pull the concealed weapon, he only heard the deafening bang that brought him back to reality. A shower of blood and bone poured from a bystander’s face. Screams of terror erupted from the crowd, they slammed into each other in their mad scramble, going toward the back of the manor to get away from the no longer entertaining brawl. The band abruptly stopped, the gunshot ending the revelry. Not wanting to risk Noa or himself being the target of the next round he twisted and wrenched, flesh and inner tissue tore until he ripped free the section of throat seized by his vicious teeth.

More yells of fearful confusion came from the guests, the handful of them brave or drunk enough to think they could stop a gunman turned and ran as Nythanel spit the chunk of meat onto the floor. Suddenly, he felt pressure build in his ear drums, his heart became heavy with dread despite the flood of passion from the blood. He'd felt this before, when Noa had shown off her necromantic powers in their rare moments of being able to be alone together since arriving in Las Vegas. Nythanel had thought he’d become accustomed to it, or at least shouldn’t be caught off guard by it. Still it numbed the hot anger and hatred he felt. A curtain of wispy, incorporeal figures began to fall from the ceiling. They manifested into the material world like shadows cast into the air itself as they drank in the light, only allowing a dim glow to illuminate the room. Recognizably human, yet completely otherworldly. One such shadow fell over the victim of the beige thug’s gunshot. The body began to twitch and jerk, a sickening gurgle came out of its throat as the air pushed out of its lungs. Nythanel reeled back from the corpse shambling back to its feet, and turned to see Red Mask holding a black stone.

Noa moved to stand, and for a moment she was awestruck at the blatant display of Oblivion's power. Her already dark eyes turned black like a starless night. She wiped her palm across Nythanel’s chin, wetting her hand with the blood of his victim. Willing forth her vitae through the protruding wound in her arm, she let it drip down and mix with the cooling blood before taking hold of the locket around her neck. The air around her became humid and cold. A shiver went through Nythanel as he felt an icy touch trace his spine. The rose on his lapel wilted, and the few mortals that tried running past them collapsed, their eyes went dull, skin turned pale. Sapped of life. She waved her hand out in front of her and took measured steps forward, like a priest performing a sanctifying prayer, and the wispy shadows began to retreat.

The sound of wet choking reminded Nyth of the reanimated corpse, and as his head turned back, he saw it rush past him. His body at first couldn't move as a deep and primal terror seized him. It was walking death, but not his kind of death. True death, the kind even the undead feared. He didn't want to go near that thing, but as it closed the distance between itself and Noa, he knew he had to act or he would lose her. Grabbing hold of his dying lapel rose, he squeezed hard along its thorny stem to draw blood, calling upon the sanguine power within him. He mumbled the incantation and the rose revived in his hand, more vibrant than ever.

Nythanel willed the rejuvenated plant to grow, attempting to whip it towards the corpse to stop it in its tracks. With perhaps more luck than skill, the branch wrapped around the creature's throat, barbs digging into dead flesh. Nyth pulled hard, managing to stop it mere inches from Noa, yet the body remained upright as it struggled to fulfill its goal of reaching her.

Noa didn’t waver at all, either completely confident Nythanel would help her, or far too focused on taking control of the descending wraiths.The room was a thunderous cacophony of horrified cries and screams of dismay, the shattering of glass on the ground, the panicked stampeding of a mob with no direction to go in. Those who had witnessed Nythanel's attack and the arisen corpse tried to run away, but those who hadn't seen pushed back to try and reach the front exit. Spirits accosted various bystanders, forcing themselves into unwilling bodies to inflict more fear onto those surrounding them. Poltergeists scattered plates and knocked over chairs, some managing to even drop a large chandelier on top of the crowd. In the confusion, they didn't care who was trampled. The guests desperately lashed out at anything impeding their own escapes. Jewelry, costume accessories, blood, and bodies all dropped to the floor and were stomped on without a second thought. The wraiths were erratic, but Noa fought, countering the incantations of Red Mask as the shadows ebbed and flowed around them like a turbulent ocean. To an unknowing observer, the two appeared to be simply standing in place and muttering strangely, but Nythanel knew they both were manipulating the thin fabric separating the land of death from the land of the living.

The rose Nythanel turned into a weapon was also being sapped of its life and desperately it drank from him to stay alive. He shifted his weight and pulled as hard as he could to try and bring the corpse to the ground. There was little hope in killing something that was already dead. He forced his will onto the rose once more, allowing it to drink even more of his vitae. It expanded rapidly in response, sprouting more branches that ensnared the body and sawed into its skin with mutated spikes. Despite it being controlled by a spirit, it was still limited to the strength of the muscles it still possessed, or so Noa had previously explained. The writhing and wriggling vines continued to tear, severing the veins and nerves and rendering the wretched thing immobile for good.

His vision started to blur, his head swimming as his vitae was near exhausted. The rose had taken root in his arm and now it threatened to drink him dry. With nearly all he had left, he willed the passing of seasons on the flower, advancing its life cycle to the point it began to wither and decay until it too became immobile and dead.

The two necromancers were still locked in their strange duel, fighting for control of the spirit current that flooded the manor. Nythanel knew he had to help Noa, something better than running headfirst into a death dealer but his options were limited. His eyes went to the floor for answers, and sure enough there was: shotgun. Hurriedly he picked it up and aimed, hoping it had the promised second shot, though the room spun in his hungry near-delirium. With a squeeze of the trigger the weapon thundered, sending its payload into the shoulder of the Red Mask. Crimson exploded from their wound as they stumbled back, their concentration breaking enough for Noa to gain the upper hand. Her good arm raised higher, and the undulating ceiling seemed to calm as the wraiths obeyed her. The shadow over the ballroom lifted slowly as she brought them to heel.

The Red Mask despite all of the trouble and their fresh injury seemed to have accepted their defeat. With only a glance to Noa and a dramatic throw of their cape, a cold silence surrounded them as they simply walked away. Despite the chaos of the still frightened crowd, they were swallowed within the mob as if they had not even been there. Nythanel at first made a move to follow, but stopped himself as Noa began to buckle. Good riddance, he thought sheepishly as he turned to her, relieved the death dealer decided to just leave. She was more important to him, anyway.

As the full brightness of the lights returned and the pressure lifted from his ears, the distinct sound of Italian leather stomped across the floor towards them from behind. A ham-handed man took hold of his collar and jerked him into the air, the shotgun crashing loudly onto the marble.

"You're gonna wish you were fuckin' dead when I'm through with you, Warlock." Growled Adolfo Puttanesca, right hand of the Don.

#vtm #vampire the maquerade #my writing #world of darkness #nyth #nythanel #noa #noa hidalgo #thinblood #clan giovanni #clan hecata #masquerade breach #vtm oc #harbinger of skulls #wilted roses

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