#Spandex arm band

[bigwishes]

Tummy Trouble

Connor flexed at himself in the mirror, he'd been lifting for years but still was no where near as big as he dreamed to be. He looked at some of his buddies in the gym that had gotten bigger than him taking roids but Connor didn't want any of that crap, he wanted to get as big as he could naturally, without risking his health.

Still he couldn't help but wish he was so much bigger.

Connor was on his way out of the gym when someone stopped him.

"Hey bro," the man grabbed Connor by the arm

Connor turned to see a unbelievable tall man who was insanely muscular. The straps to his tank top where barely visable between his shoulders and traps, the length of his tank top wasn't quite long enough to cover up his entire torso and his gym shorts looked more like spandex underwear. Connor was both turned on by the sheer size of the guy and turned off, he was clearly a roid head.

"eer, hey man"

"hey bro you look real fit, are you training to get bigger?"

"yeah man, as big as I NATURALLY can" Connor made sure to pretty much shout naturally at the guy, he'd had too many roid heads try and sell him gear in the locker room before but never had one brave enough to try it out the front of the gym

"aw yeah man, nice nice, look I got a sample for you"

"sorry man, Im not into enhancements or roids or whatever"

"you got me all wrong bro, no roids, its free gym gear we are giving out some clothing samples and asking for feedback for payment"

Connor's face turned bright red with embarrassment, now he seemed like some entitled asshole who thought he was too good to even talk to anyone not natural.

"bro I'm so sorry, I just, normally when a guy like you asks me if I want a sample in the gym" Connor began to stumble over his words trying to back peddle realising he basically just called this guy a roidhead without proof

"a guy like me?"

"yeah, eerrrrr, ya know big and..."

The giant man began to laugh and slapped Connor on the back "I'm just fucking with you mate"

Connor let out a sigh of relief

"but hey mate, so you're all about the natural look yeah? but you also wanna be a massive tank?"

"yeah man, look I know I might be dreaming but I wanna be fucking huge, like you, I just don't wanna take any enhancements"

"I think I got something for you mate, here"

The giant handed Connor a small carboard box with the words "Big and Bulky" written in bold black letters and a gift card for $100 Food delivery service stapled to the top.

"Free of charge mate, put em on when you get home and I'm sure you'll be feelin like a freak in no time" The giant man winked.

Connor took the gift and continued to thank him multiple times trying to make up for the fool he'd made of himself just moments before. He got in his car and sank in his chair. He opened the box seeing a pair of briefs, he couldn't exactly try them on in his car, he thought it'd be better to just come back with some feedback tomorrow.

----------------

Connor stepped out of the shower and dried himself off, he began his normal flexing routine in his mirror but thoughts about being staying lean and small invaded his mind fairly quickly. He contemplated if staying natural was worth it if it meant he'll never get his dream body. Pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind Connor slipped on the briefs he was gifted earlier and......they felt like normal briefs. He couldn't work out how these were made special for athletes but at least he got a food gift card out of it.

Connor picked up his phone going to take a photo whilst he looked good in the light when suddenly a golden light began to shine off the waist band of the briefs. It was like sunlight was coming out of the fabric itself. He saw the letters B....I.....G slowly appear and he watched in the mirror as his body began to swell. His shoulders broadened, chest expanded with every breath, his arms began to swell up and soon his pecs and arms were competing for space. His thighs became tree trunks and he had to readjust his package so it didn't get crushed between them, even his feet began to grow outwards. Soon it all slowed down and all Connor could do was stare at himself in amazement.

Somehow, by literally magic he had swollen up into the size of his dreams. he couldn't help but start flexing and even licking his own bicep. A small noise, like a shop bell interrupted his self worship as a tiny slip of paper was ejected from the top of the box. Connor picked it up...

"Thank you for choosing Djinn.co transformative clothing, the transformative clothes you have chosen will permanently change your body, no need to workout to stay in shape never loose muscle keep the body of your dreams... NOTE: Your attendant for the day was Big Guy Bob he has added extra command words to your transformative clothing, we here at Djinn.co only print two command words on our clothing however your interaction with Bob had him convinced you deserved more"

Connor was amazed, surely this was a dream, there was no way he had stumbled into a pair of magic transforming clothes. As Connor was caught up in this thoughts light began to shine out of the other side of the waist band, the Connor felt his body start to get bigger. A part of him thought he should take the underwear off but he wanted to get bigger, he wanted to be a giant like the guy he met today. Another light began to shine from begin but Connor couldn't see. He flexxed in the mirror looking at the letters B...U....L....K....Y appear on the waist band. He flexed as hard as he could expecting to see his muscles to double in size again.

Connor's muscles became slightly large but nothing really changed. He dropped his arms to his side hearing his stomach make a slight gargling noise.

"awww, is that it, nothing even hap-"

*FWOOOMP

Connor almost fell forward as suddenly his six pack expanded into a loose gut. Hair quickly coated his entire body and he started sweating worse than he normally would at the gym.

"WHA...M...MY ABS...MY SIX PACK WHAT THE FUCK"

Connor rubbed his new tummy on the verge of tears.

"oh god...what the fuck do I do with this thing"

His stomach let out a loud hungry growl as if almost to respond to him.

He picked up his phone and used the gift card to order some food, as if on auto pilot he spent the entire $100 instantly and even dropped another $100 from his own bank account on food.

Connor just stood in the mirror staring at his new belly disgusted. He had all the muscle he had dreamed of but felt his gut, pecs and ass wobble as he flexed. Soon the doorbell rang and Connor went to go grab his bags of food.

Bringing the bags in from inside and placing them on his kitchen bench his hands instantly dove in grabbed a handful of fries out the box without even taking the box from the bag, without realising he had stuff half the box of fries in his mouth, salt fell from his lips into his new forest of chest hair and he simply wiped his salt covered hand on his brief whilst opening a bottle of off the shelf protein shake. He began chugging it down and could feel little bits slips from his lips and into his new beard. Connor picked up all the bags and moved to his couch.

Connor blinked awake as if from a trance, all around him were empty plasic bottles from protein shakes and soft drinks, multiple empty fry boxes littered the look around him and he noticed his chest hair was tangled with salt, some burger lettuce and dried protein shake, his briefs were also covered in stain from where he had wiped his hands. He slid his briefs off noticing 3 words painted on the ass he didn't notice appear. "SWEATY, HAIRY, SLOB". Connor rubbed his new gut and tossed the briefs to the side.

His stomach began to gurgle and it sounded like a water cooler. He watched as his loose gut started to become firm.

"oh...god...whats happeneing now"

each time Connor inhaled his stomach felt worse

"I....god what the fuck"

A small ding noise interrupted Conners panting and panicing as another small slip of paper magically was printed out of the top of a closed chip box. Conner leant forward and read it.

"Hey man, Big Guy Bob here, today you expressed wanting to become a natural tank, so I made sure you got a pair to turn you into an absolute unit but I know you were worried about people thinking you might be on roids, just look at today you were so quick to think I was on them, so I added some key words to not only turn you into a huge tank but to turn you into a huge slob, enjoy the size bro"

Connor groaned as he tossed the note to the ground.

"FUUUUUUUCKKK IM SO.......BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP"

the pain subsided and his stomach went soft again. Connor stared at his enormous body in the reflection of the black glass of his TV.

"mm...mmaybe i can cut?" Conner said aloud, completely unaware of the cupcake he was stuffing into his mouth as he spoke...

-----------------------------------

I hope everyone who wanted me to write a weight gain story is happy with this one, this is probably as far as Ill every go with this kinda stuff but yall voted on it and I was happy to write it.

[a1307s]

Mating Season #1

(Garfield Logan Smut)

[Art is not mine! Credit to mothyx]

Requested by: Liviejc

Keys:

None

Word Count: 3653

Warnings and/or Pre-notes:

Biting

Scratching

Blood

Hickeys

Titty sucking

Oral (female receiving)

Breeding/pregnancy  

———————————————————————

     The sound of my boyfriend moving around the bed wakes me up. On instinct, I reach for Garfield. "You okay?" I ask, my fingertips brushing his bicep. 

     Recently Gar has been acting really weird. He's been super short tempered, to the point that Conner had to break up a fight between him and Bart earlier this week. Though, Conner thinks it was just Garfield being territorial instead of him being upset.  He might be right, Gar has been super clingy lately, so he probably misinterpreted Bart's behaviors. On the other hand, my boyfriend has been picking fights with everyone so I'm not sure what's going on with him.

     "Ya, I'm just warm," Garfield answers, moving closer so I can wrap my fingers around his arm. 

     He's right. His skin feels like it's boiling under my touch. About the time his anger picked up, his body temperature did too. "Maybe you should see a doctor," I say, propping myself up so I can look at Gar. 

     Garfield turns his head so he's facing me. His eyes are a bright green that stands out in the dark. His pupils are a bit slitted, reminding me of a cat. "I'm usually super warm, babe. You know, the whole 'animal kingdom' thing," Gar answers, trying to put my worries to rest.  

     "Ya, I know. You're just warmer than usual and you've been kind of moody. Maybe you're getting sick."

     "I'm not getting sick. I'm just a little warm."

     I sigh in defeat and lay back down. "We could turn down the heat," I offer, sliding my hand from Beasty's arm up to his hair. I softly twirl the ends around my fingers, soaking in the softness of it.

     "It's already at sixty-five. I don't want to make it too cold, you won't be comfortable then," He answers, eyes shut and soft purrs coming from him because of my petting. 

     "We could take the comforter off the bed and just sleep with the under-sheet."

     "Ya, but if you're too cold you won't be able to sleep," Garfield says again, opening his eyes to look at me. 

     "You're pretty much a personal heater at all times. If I get too cold, I'll just snuggle up closer," I answer, scooting over some to place a soft kiss on his forehead. 

     Gar doesn't answer so I pull off the comforter before laying back down. I snuggle up to him, laying my head on his chest and slinging my leg across the waist band of his pj  pants. It seems to help for a couple minutes, but not very long. Garfield starts shifting again, so I roll over to remove my body heat from him. He relaxes again, but again, it doesn't last long. 

     "I'm going to try a cold shower," he says, kissing my shoulder blade before getting out of bed.

     I hum in response but stay curled up in bed. It's silent for a second before Gar turns the shower on. After a couple minutes I start to think that maybe less clothing will help. With this thought, I reluctantly roll out of bed to change out of my long-sleeved shirt and fuzzy pj pants. By the time I'm changed - now in a sports bra and spandex - and back comfortable in bed, Gar is out of the shower. "Did it help?" I ask, sitting up in bed, causing the sheet to pool in my lap, and look towards the bathroom.

     "Ya," Beasty answers shortly, his eyes locked on me. "Did you change?" He asks, taking quick steps towards the bed. 

     "Yes, I did. I figured less clothing might help so maybe take off your shirt and pj bottoms before laying back down."

     Beasty hums, eyes still locked on me as he pulls his shirt off in one swift movement. He drops his bottoms, leaving him in his boxers as he crawls back in next to me. He lays down before wrapping his arms around me and tugging me closer. My mostly bare back is pressed against his chest. Gar's skin feels a lot cooler than earlier which brings a bit of relief to me. Maybe he was just a little warm. 

     I close my eyes and snuggle into him. I lay there, almost asleep, when Garfield starts moving his hands. They rest at my waist for a moment before sliding up my sides. It stirs me a bit, but not too much since I'm use to his wondering hands, especially when we cuddle. His hands slide from my sides, across the band of my bra before dipping down to my stomach. They rest there for a bit before sliding back up to my sides. "Are you going to sleep?" I ask, poking a bit of fun at my boyfriend.

     "Ya," Garfield says, his voice raspier than I thought it would be. "You just... feel really good on my skin," He adds, nuzzling his head into my neck.

     We're quite for a few minutes, the whole time I can feel his skin heating up again. "You should really see a doctor tomorrow," I whisper, moving my arm behind me to run my fingers through his hair. "Please?"

     "Fine," He whispers back, his arms tightening on me and pulling me closer. I can feel every inch of his scorching skin pressed up against me. Garfield shifts his head, gently pressing soft kisses against my neck. He makes a neat line down my neck and over my shoulder before working his way back up. Gar starts down again but rests against my jugular. He makes soft hums against my skin before gently sinking his teeth into me. He follows the line he made before, making soft nips along the way, but soon the nips turn into full out biting. He covers my neck and shoulder with teeth marks, sinking his teeth in as far as he can, causing a stinging sensation along his path. 

     "Hey, hey, hey," I yelp as Beasty starts to work over the bite marks again. "It hurts," I whine, trying to shrug him off.

     "I'm sorry," Gar whimpers, nipping into a pervious made mark, causing prickles of pain to overtake my nervous. "I can't help myself," He whines, running his tongue over the marks. This doesn't help the stinging. Garfield's hands slide back down from my sides, sliding between my legs to paw at them. "You smell so sweet," He bellows as his nails dig into the flesh of my thighs. 

     My heart skips, fear and arousal both rushing through me at Beasty's sudden roughness. In the past two years Gar has always been so gentle with me during everything. He's always so gentle when he intertwines his fingers with mine to avoid clawing me. Always careful not to accidently nick my lips with his canines when we kiss. Always only using feathery touches and making sure to go slow and gentle during sex. He has only ever once left a mark on me, and it tore him up for a month after. Beasty has never acted like this.

     My legs squeeze shut out of fearful instinct. "You're scaring me," I whisper, trying to pace my breathing.

     "Don't be scared," He mumbles into my ear, nipping at my ear lobe before continuing to add to the collection of teeth marks on my neck. Beasty's claws dig further into my thighs as he tries to spread them open. "Open your legs," He hisses. "Please," Garfield's voice softening for a second, sending a wave of relief through me before digging his teeth back into my flesh and starting the feeling of stinging pain all over again.  

     "Please," I whine, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. "You're hurting me, Gar."

     Garfield rolls onto his back, dragging himself away from me. In the process, he tears the skin of my neck where his teeth were buried and his claws tear into my thighs. Warm blood slowly trickles from the wounds. My legs shake a bit, but I can't tell if it's from fear or arousal... or both.

     "I'm sorry," Gar mutters, turning me to my other side so that I'm looking at him. His eyes are still slitted, like a predator looking at their prey and his jaw is clenched. "Did I hurt you?" He asks, running his fingertips across my thighs, causing the wounds to ache more. Garfield's eyes widen for a second before slitting more than before when his fingers come in contact with my blood. "I'm sorry," He repeats, wrapping his hands around my legs and pulling me onto his lap. 

     His body presses against me, my knees resting at his sides as the rest of me rests on his torso. The hold he has on my legs reminds me how defenseless I am against him. The thought makes me tingle, and this time I know it's both with fear and desire. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Garfield repeats again, his eyes flickering from my face to my chest and then my pussy, back up to my eyes. "I just... you... I need... I want... I don't know what's happening," He stumbles over his words, his eyes constantly flickering over me as his hands rub up my legs, over my sides and rest on my chest. 

     He softly paws at my chest, his eyes locked there along with his hands. Garfield lets out a sigh of frustration, squeezing my boobs a lot harder than normal. "Are you horny? It's okay if you are," I say, wrapping my hands around his wrists to try and get him to loosen his grip a bit.

     "I don't know," He answers, letting go and resting his hands against my chest for a moment. Gar's eyebrows scrunch together as he thinks, his hands picking up where they left off, but his touch is softer this time. "I just... I don't know," he says, running his thumbs under the band of my bra.

     "What are you thinking about?" I hum moving my hands from my lap where they've been to run them over Gar's chest. 

     He stays quiet. I take the silence as a chance to line his chest and shoulders with soft kisses. After a couple minutes he stops me, moving his hands from my tits to my shoulders to push me back up in a sitting position. Gar places his hands back on my boobs, squeezing them hard like before as his thumbs start to work my bra up. "Take it off," He orders, glancing at my eyes before focusing on my tits again.

     "Gar-"

     "Take. It. Off," He growls, eyes glaring into mine before snapping down again. My knees squeeze his sides as my pussy tingles at his tone. Maybe I like Beasty being aggressive. "Jesus," He mumbles, sliding the rest of his fingers to the band and ripping the sports bra off of me before tossing it to the floor. The chilliness of the room hits my nipples, causing them to start hardening. "It's been making me so angry; seeing any other dude near you, let alone talking to you," Beasty says, his hands warming my chest up.

     "Is this about my disagreement with Bart the other day?"

     Once the words are out, Garfield flips us over, his weight pushing me into the mattress. My legs are sprawled out under us, and my arms wrap around his shoulders to try and steady myself. One of Gar's knees are pushed into my cunt, the other one is being used to prop himself up some. His hands are digging into the mattress on either side of my head and his eyes are glowing as they burn into me. 

     "Say his name again. Say it again, I dare you. I don't see him being able to sense your heartbeat from ten miles away. I don't see him being able to sense your smell from six miles away. And I certainly haven't seen him dipping his head between your legs every night to help you sleep," Beasty says, digging his claws further and further into the mattress after every sentence. "Do you ask Bart to pump in and out of you when you're horny? Is Bart the one you choose to spend your life with?"

     "No," I mewl out, closing my legs around his knee.

     "Keep your legs open," He orders, ripping my legs open and shoving his nails back into the claw marks he left on me. "For the past month, every time I've seen you sparring with a guy, talking to a guy, being anywhere near a guy, all I've thought about is leaving pretty little bruises all over you so that everyone could see that I'm fucking you. I don't want too. I don't like having those thoughts but they're there. And then, ever since your pretty little body started letting off your ovulation pheromones all I've thought about is putting a baby in you. Thought about filling you up, watching you walk around with my baby in you, seeing your pregnancy waddle when your tummy gets all big and round."

     "Gar-" I start but he cuts me off by bending down and taking one of my nipples into his mouth. "H... hey," I whimper, shoving my hands into his hair. He lifts his hand to paw at the breast not in his mouth. He sucks on me for a while, most definitely leaving a bruise before switching to the other side.

     When he's satisfied with himself, Gar lifts his head up to look at me. His eyes have gone soft and are no longer the predator slits from earlier. "I'm going to leave bruises on you, okay? I'm sorry. I need to. I really really need to. I need to make you hurt. I'm sorry," His words come out almost as cries. 

     "Beasty-"

     "I know. I'm sorry. I don't want to, but I need to. I don't know. It feels like... I don't know. I'm sorry," Gar says, constantly repeating himself as he rubs my hips and nuzzles the unmarked side of my neck. "I can leave. I don't want to hurt you. It's just... in me... in my veins... I feel it, right there. Right under my skin. The need to prove I touched your body. The need to put a baby in you. I can leave if you're not comfortable." Gar murmurs the last part, running his tongue across my skin and rutting his knee against my spandex. "I need it," He whispers into my skin. 

     I can feel Garfield's tears against my skin as he holds me. I move my hands to his shoulder to softly rub them, trying to help him relax as he starts marking up my neck again. He was already rough on the other side but he's being a lot harsher this time around. By the third bite mark, I can already feel the blood tricking from the new wounds caused by him. "Beasty-"

     "I'm sorry."

     "Gar-"

     "I'm really sorry."

     "Garfield," I say a little harsher, moving my hands to his hair in order to tear his mouth off of me. "Beasty... I think you're in heat," I say, trying to ignore the increasing pressure building in my groin from the friction happening between my legs.

     "Ya, sure, whatever," he says, pulling my hand out of his hair and attaching himself to the first thing he can get his mouth on. His mouth works down my shoulder, across my collarbones and down my chest. He leaves hickies and bite marks the whole way down. 

     "Gar," I moan out, trying to get his attention but reacting to his tongue running just above the waist band of my spandex instead. "Garfield, please stop," I whimper, tugging on his hair again.

     He does listen, stopping the movement of his mouth and his knee. I'm left a bit sad from the loss of frication against my pussy, but he is just doing what I asked. "I'm sorry," he says again, his hands rubbing my inner thighs, spreading the blood that's been left there. His eyes are back to being slit but they're red and puffy now.

     "Baby," I say, softly taking his face in my heads. I force him to look at me as I rub circles on his cheeks. "I think you're in heat," I repeat, giving him a second to register what I'm saying.

     "Oh... oh! Oh, ya. That... would make a lot of sense," Beasty says, gently running his fingertips over my clothed pussy. "Though, technically it would be called 'rut' cause I'm a dude," he says, watching my legs close around his arm. "I really want to put a baby in you."

     "You... you really can't put a baby in me," I breath out, leaning my head back and shutting my eyes to soak in Gar's touch. 

     "But I really can," he says, using his free hand to pull my legs open again. Beasty dips his head down, going to leave hickies and more markings across my thighs. "Let me put a baby in you. Please?"

     "No... no baby, Beasty," I whimper, my legs starting to shake from the stimulation and the pain starting to gather from the new and old marks. 

     "Please?" He asks again, wrapping his fingers around the bottom of my spandex, starting to pull them down. Once he gets them off of me, he starts licking over the newly exposed skin, leaving my pussy untouched. 

     He teases me, running his tongue and mouth close to my cunt but not close enough to continue the stimulation I want. "Stop teasing," I beg, trying to unwrap his arms from my legs.

     "Let me put a baby in you and I'll stop teasing," Garfield comments, slowly running his tongue through my folds before lifting his head up to leave bruises along my hips. I whine, getting a retaliation of his claws digging into my legs again.  "I'm going to fill you up by the end of my mating season so you might as well let me now."

     "Gar... please... you... you can fill me up all you want after... after my ovulation, okay? Stop teasing. You're bruising every... every inch of my skin. The least you can do is... is make me feel good." 

     He hums, thinking over my words for a second before ducking in between my thighs. His tongue slithers over my clit a couple times before he latches on it. The feeling mixed with the sound of Garfield suckling on me fills my head. My fingers tangle in his hair, pushing his head further as I grind against his tongue. 

     Beasty continues for a few minutes until I come unraveled on his tongue. He stays down there, slurping up my juices before popping his head up to look at me. "I want to cum in you," he says, wiggling two of his fingers into me. 

     "You can't," I say, shifting around to try and get his fingers deeper in me. 

     "Please? We can get the Morning After Pill tomorrow," he says, pretty much begging before he sinks his teeth into my stomach to mark me up even more.

     "Fine... fine...," I mumble, using his hair to pull him up my body. 

     He smiles up at me, nipping at my breasts as he pulls his dick out of his boxers. "Say it," Gar orders, poking his tip in and out of me. 

     "What?" I ask, digging my nails into his back as I try to pull him forward so I can feel more of him in me.

     "Say you want me to fill your pussy," Beasty says, working his way from my breasts back up to my neck. "Say you want me to try to put a baby in you."

     "Please fuck me, Garfield. Please fill my pussy," I whine, finally winning at my tug-of-war. Gar sinks into me, wasting no time to bottom out. 

     "Good," He murmurs against my skin, bring his hands up my body to pin my wrists down. His thrusts are fast, and hard, the complete opposite of what I'm use too. It doesn't take many thrusts before my hips start to hurt. "I'm going to put a baby in you," Gar whispers into my ear, his claws digging into me as he recks my hips. "You're going to get a nice big belly and a cute little waddle. Your titties are going to swell up and get big and heavy. Then, as soon as possible, I'll fuck another baby into you.  Over and over again until I give you a nice big litter."

     "I don't want a baby," I whine, trying to pull my wrists out from his grasp. 

     I can feel Gar's smile against my ear. "I know baby... I know... It'll be okay." I whine from under him, wrapping my legs around his waist as his thrusts get sloppy. As I'm getting closer, the walls of my cunt tighten around him, not helping the sloppiness he's already experiencing. "For someone that doesn't want a baby, your pussy is trying awfully hard to milk me," He teases, sinking his teeth into my neck again. Beasty thrusts a couple more times before he buries himself in me as deep as possible. His teeth dig deeper, breaking my skin again, as he bottoms out.

     Garfield slumps over, laying on top of me as he falls off his high. His hands are heavy as they slip on to my hips. Our bodies stick together from a mix of sweat and cum. The room is quiet for a couple minutes, nothing but our heavy breathing to fill the room. "I'm going to fuck you again," Beasty says, slipping his hands down my legs to wrap them around his torso again. 

———————————————————————

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[flemingsfreckles]

Armband (18+)

Synopsis: your girlfriend realizes the extent to which the Captain’s armband affects you.

Warnings: SMUT! shower sex, risk of being caught, oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), little bit of teasing, minimal orgasm denial marking, cursing, use of armband as gag… 🫣

WC: 3.4K

A/N: I’m a sucker for the armband ���

“I’m so proud of you.” You leaned over and whispered into Jessie’s ear. She had just formally captained her first game for Canada. She’d worn the armband before, when Sinc wasn’t available, or when there would be a substitute she’d find the armband being passed to her. But now it was hers, she was the captain, the armband was hers to wear all the time and it drove you crazy.

Jessie had always been a leader on the field, she was level headed, smart, she had the experience to back it up, but now the formal indicator of her leadership sat snugly on her left bicep.

“If you stare long enough you might burn a hole through it.” Jordyn had come up behind you, smacking the back of your head lightly and teasing at the way you couldn’t stop gawking at your girlfriend’s new accessory. She gave you a smile as she walked away leaving you and Jessie to have privacy again.

“I’m proud of you, Little Miss. Two Goals and an Assist.” Jessie nudged you back.

“I owe it all to you, Captain.” You let the title drag out, whispering it in a tone that told Jessie everything she needed to know about how you felt with her new title. She turned, one eyebrow raised.

“Seriously? You’ve seen me wear the armband a hundred times now it gets you worked up?” A small laugh falls from her lips as she looks at you.

“I dunno.” You shrug at her, feeling the blush radiate up your cheeks. “It's formal now.”

“Alright babe.” She says before walking off to go sign autographs for some little kids wearing her jersey. You make your way to another part of the field and begin to chat, sign autographs, and take photos. You make a lap before heading into the locker room.

You’re taking off your sweaty shirt when Jessie comes up behind you, her hands on your hips. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“What do you want to do the rest of the day?”

“Anything you want, Captain.” You say to her, turning in her hands so you’re facing her and again trying your best to drag out her new title. You raise your eyebrow, indicating your answer wasn’t meant innocently. You let your fingertips flirt over the band on her arm.

“Is that so?” Jessie questions and you quickly nod. “Go shower, I’ll deal with you when we’re home.” She pushes you in the direction of the showers with a smile. You knew what she meant by dealing with you. She’d fix the aching between your legs you had for her.

You were quick to gather your towel and soap before hopping into the shower, rushing in hopes of getting home and thrown into bed sooner.

You dip your head under the water, feeling refreshed as the sweat washes from your skin. You hear the noise of other showers running, the sounds of shower curtains opening and closing as your teammates clean off.

You're facing the wall when you suddenly feel cold hands on your bare waist. “Oh!” You say out of surprise before turning and seeing Jessie behind you. Her hand quickly covers your mouth. You look her up and down, she’s in her spandex shorts and her bra, her arm still sporting the armband.

“Hi.” Jessie leans into your ear, whispering at a volume only you can hear. “You said anything I want right?” She takes her hand off of your mouth.

“Yes Captain.” You lean in to whisper to her. You watch as Jessie’s eyes widen, maybe she hadn’t expected you to use the title in a sexual manner but given her reaction she seemed to like it.

“Good girl. You’re either going to be quiet, or I’ll make sure you're quiet, understood?”

You nod, you already know you won’t be able to keep quiet, you never could with Jessie. It caused a fair amount of teasing from your teammates from overhearing the two of you in hotel rooms after big games or stressful games. You really didn’t mind, you had no shame in getting fucked good by your girlfriend but you knew Jessie was quick to shy away from everyone knowing what the two of you did in the bedroom, or in this case the shower.

Jessie reaches up, angling the shower head off to the side to not waterboard the two of you, the heat from the water still keeping the air around your bodies warm. She pulls you in tight and brings her lips to yours. Your wet skin comes into contact with her dry clothes and skin. She gently sucks your bottom lip between her own, letting her teeth dig into it. Her hands roam along your waist and up to your back, she gently scratches her nails down. Such a small action already has you letting out a whine. Jessie releases your lip with a pop and gives you a glare.

She brings her finger to her lips, showing you the sign to be quiet. You nod at her, you wanted to give her what you promised, anything she wanted. Jessie also wasn’t one to risk being caught, but here she was, in the showers, teammates of yours just feet away. This was new and it was hot.

Jessie’s hands slid their way down your torso and to your hips. She gently dug her thumbs into your hip bones before pushing you backwards until your back felt the cool rush of the shower tile. That’s when Jessie began trailing kisses down the length of your body. She started with your lips a few pecks before letting her tongue meet yours. Just as you fell into a rhythm kissing her, she pulled back. This time you remembered to hold in the whine, biting your lip hard as Jessie began to place open mouth kisses down the column of your neck.

She paused in place when she heard your breath hitch and felt your hands grab at her biceps. You so badly wanted to moan her name, let your teammates know how good she took care of you, but you couldn’t. You feel a sharp nip at your neck before the strong suction of Jessie’s lips. She was marking you, on your collarbone, a place everyone would see when you changed. When she released the skin you looked down seeing the dark red spot already forming. You shot Jessie a firm look, to which she just smirked before whispering “Anything I want.” up at you.

Clearly wanting to prove her point, Jessie continues down your collarbones, to your chest, making sure to suck a couple dark marks into the flesh there. She brings her hands up each to cup your chest, letting her thumbs circle your nipples, making them harden under her touch. You’re able to hold back moans, instead letting out shakey deep breaths which have Jessie smirking at you, knowing what she’s doing to you. Before moving away from your head Jessie leans into your ear again. “Hold those pretty noises in, don’t want any of our teammates hearing just how needy you are for me, so needy that you’ve got me to fuck you in the showers, do we?” She shakes her head at you and you mirror her actions. “Good, now let’s see how well you can listen.”

Content with playing with your chest, Jessie makes herself a small path of red bites and bruises down your whole body right to where you wanted her. Jessie drops to her knees, one of your hands finding the top of her head and the other supporting you against the shower wall. Despite being on her knees for you, you knew Jessie held all the control in this moment.

Her hand trailed slowly up the back of your leg until it rested in the bend of your knee. She gently pulled your leg up and out before placing it to rest on her shoulder. She doesn’t lean in immediately, instead bringing up one hand to open you up, you watch as she licks her bottom lip, looking at your core then up to you and then back down.

You throw back your head in anticipation as you see Jessie bring her head forward to place her mouth between your legs. With the first swipe of her tongue your knee buckles and Jessie’s hands are quick to grab your thighs holding you up. Jessie dives her head back in, her tongue easily finding your clit and lapping at it. It’s embarrassing how quickly you’re letting out a moan. Or half of a moan, the second it starts to spill from your lips you close your mouth before looking down at the unamused expression on your girlfriend's face.

She gets up from her knees, letting your leg slide off her shoulder. She brings herself face to face with you and places a hand on your jaw. She turns your face to the side and brings her lips to touch your ear.

“What did I say about making noise?” Her voice is hushed and rough. When you go to open your mouth and answer Jessie’s grip on your jaw tightens. “No, don’t make excuses. You didn’t listen, you can’t keep yourself quiet, I’ll do it for you.” She drops her hand from your jaw and her right hand comes up to grab the armband, yanking it down her arm before she folds it up. Her hand comes back up to your jaw, and you suddenly feel your core clench around nothing, realizing the arousing thing Jessie is about to do.

“You like that armband of mine so much, let me put it to good use. Open.” She growls into your ear as she pinches her thumb and index finger hard into your jaw forcing your mouth open before her other hand bunches up the armband and she puts it between your lips and teeth. “That should keep you quiet, don’t even think about taking it out.”

You let out a sigh, testing how well the fabric in your mouth muffled your sounds, it wasn’t completely soundproof but it would work.

Jessie brought herself back to her knees, lifting your leg again and giving you no warning before her face was back between your legs. This time you can tell she’s trying to get you to make noise. Maybe she didn’t care anymore, maybe she liked the idea of you struggling to keep quiet under her. Her lips sucked hard on your nerves and you can’t help but bite down harder onto the fabric. You didn’t want her to stop, you didn’t want to make noise.

You feel yourself tighten your jaw more as Jessie’s fingers begin to tease at your entrance. She lets her fingertips just barely enter before she takes them away. The next time she enters them to the first knuckle before again taking them away from you. A groan of frustration bubbles up in your throat. You needed her. Jessie knew you needed her, that’s exactly why she continued on teasing. She repeated the process, liking how every time she entered you tried to buck your hips, hoping she’d go in deeper. Instead Jessie was more satisfied hearing the tiny noise that came through the armband each time she took her fingers away. She knew your eyes were screwed tightly shut, trying your best to not make noise as she had requested. She was keeping you just where she wanted you, right along the edge. You were putty in her hands and she loved it.

The next time Jessie teases her fingers and takes them away you pull hard on her hair, pulling her face back, her lips releasing from you with a pop. She looked up at you and you tried to give her your best begging look, you thrust your hips slightly toward her hoping she got the hint. Jessie licked her lips as she looked up at you. You were a beautiful sight, your soaked core in her vision, your torso littered in marks she made, your chest heaving from the teasing. On top of it all your pretty mouth was filled with her armband. Jessie was floored by your beauty, deciding she’d give you what you deserved, after all, you had been good for her and you had played well, she knew you deserved a reward.

Jessie brings her mouth to you, this time just sticking her tongue out flat and placing it against you. You stand still waiting for her to begin moving. Instead Jessie’s hands come between your legs to grab your ass. They give a quick squeeze before her hands start encouraging your hips to move. She pushes your hips forward then pulls you back, repeating the movement until you pick up the idea on your own, she wants you to ride her face.

You immediately oblige to her request, you begin thrusting and grinding yourself against Jessie’s mouth and nose. Your hand in her hair grips her tightly, holding her where you need her. It doesn’t take much, a couple moments grinding your clit into Jessie’s nose when you feel your leg begin to shake under your weight. You were getting close. It was becoming harder and harder to keep your noises in. The armband muffled the sounds but your jaw being open meant you couldn’t hold them in the way you would by clenching your teeth and biting your lip. The closer you go the more sounds that come out, pathetic whines and whimpers as you are unable to form any words.

You’re grateful for the armband and the sound of multiple showers running when Jessie pushes your hips hard back against the wall, taking away the pleasure of riding her face. It was unlikely anyone heard the sound of desperation that came from your throat as you tried to rut your hips against nothing.

Jessie stood up again, pressing her whole body against yours, the cold shower tile touching every inch of the back of your skin. She placed kissing along your collarbone as her hand still pressed your hips firmly into the wall, not wanting you to get any kind of stimulation.

She kisses up your neck and gently pulls your ear between her teeth, biting it before talking to you quietly. “You said anything I wanted right?” You nod against her face. Her hand releases your hip for a moment, she places her leg between your thighs helping pin you to the wall while also torturing you more with the pressure on your clit. “Don’t move your hips.” As if she knew what your next move was going to be, Jessie told you off before you could do it. Her hand moves and pulls the armband from your mouth. “Answer me, anything I want, right?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Jessie says, looking at you. You’re not sure what she means until she glances from you to the armband and back to you.

“Yes Captain.” You say and Jessie nods.

“And you’re going to be quiet right? Be a good girl with your mouth full?”

“Yes Captain.”

“Okay, I’m going to let you cum, but you have to follow the rules. Can you do that? Can you cum for me in secret?”

“Yes Captain.”

“Open.” Jessie says and you happily open your mouth for her to place the fabric back in. “Now be a good girl and cum on my face and fingers.” She says before she pinches each of your nipples making you jump and let out a squeal.

Jessie drops back between your legs for the third time, pulling up your leg again and this time thrusting her fingers deep inside of you. Your back arches off the wall and you’re throwing back your head. She had you so worked up you already felt yourself clenching tightly around her thick fingers. She gives you one last look up before closing her eyes and placing her mouth and tongue on you again. Her fingers curl inside of you as she sucks and laps at your clit. You feel yourself flutter around her fingers as the tingle in your stomach builds and builds.

Her fingers stretching you, her tongue and lips torturing your swollen clit, the sight of her between your legs, on her knees in the shower, the shower where your teammates are just meters away, the risk of being caught, other people hearing your desperate nosies, it’s all building your high.

That high comes crashing down moments later. The noise you let out is that of a whine followed by a deep groan, one that definitely could be heard by anyone else in the showers if they were paying attention. Jessie works you through your orgasm before standing up, her hands supporting your waist.

“I told you to be quiet.” She says as she takes the armband from your mouth.

“I tried.” You had, you really had, you just couldn’t handle the pleasure and the moans had just happened.

“Well you need to try harder.” Jessie grabs the shower head, turning it back so the water runs down your body. “Let’s finish getting you clean, when we get home you’re going to learn what happens when you don’t listen to your Captain.” She says before reaching for the shampoo.

You had expected Jessie to leave, disappointed in you, mad at the noises you made, but she didn’t. She stayed in the stall with you, striping off what remained of her own clothes. She helped wash you before washing herself, when she turned off the water she reached outside of the shower grabbing your towel before her own. You step out first checking to make sure no one was actively coming in to see the two of you getting out of the same stall.

You’re not sure why you bothered trying to hide when you caught a glimpse at your appearance in the mirror on the way to the changing room. Your towel covered everything from your knees up to your armpit height. However Jessie had taken it upon herself to mark you across both collarbones and up the right side of your neck.

She watched how your eyes widened at the sight, knowing your teammates would see any second. “Don’t be shy now, it’s not like they didn’t all see you eyeing me up all day. They already know you’re getting fucked by me, what’s a little more proof for them.” She just shrugged. You couldn’t believe her sudden lack of care involving your teammates knowing.

You tried you best to duck your head and make your way to your locker, but it wasn’t long until your teammates started talking.

“Jesus, no wonder the water started to get cold!”

“Holy shit.”

“Y’all are gross.”

“Seems like you two had some good post game recovery.”

You hear a chorus of reactions to your appearance. You duck your head further and turn back to look at Jessie who has an all too proud smirk on her face. You’re happy to see she’s at least supporting a small blush, one that’s minor in comparison to the beet red face you had. You try and make your way over to your locker to change and leave before you are subjected to any more teasing.

“One, two, three, four…” you feel Julia’s finger poking at each of the marks, counting them out for everyone to hear.

“Hey, leave her alone, Captain’s orders.” You hear Jessie say from behind you. Her arm comes up to protectively wrap around your shoulders.

“Sure seems like someone took a lot of Captain's orders in those showers.” Janine says under her breath but somehow to the entire room. Your teammates erupted in laughter while you turned, as red as physically possible, tucking your body into Jessie’s.

You knew the teasing was worth it, the sex had been great, incredibly hot, and a good fix for your fascination with the armband. Jessie made it even more worth it when she took care of you that night, over and over, as an apology for the teasing you had endured as a result of her actions.

[spicycinnabun]

Good Omega

written with @batty4steddie for day 7 of @steddie-week! we used prompt ‘free space’ which we chose to fill in with rockstar!steddie and omegaverse. 🤘

wc: 19k+ ⋆ rated: e ⋆ tags: a/b/o dynamics, band au, friends to lovers, omega!eddie, alpha!steve, praise kink ⋆ tw: implied past sa, negative self-talk, smut ⋆ read on ao3

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“Damn it!”

Eddie glanced up. He leaned away from the mirror where he had been carefully smudging smoky black along his eyes. He spun around on his stool. “What ails thee, Sir Gareth?”

“My AntiScent,” Gareth answered, putting his head in his hands. “I fucking ran out. I thought I still had some left.”

Ah.

Eddie stood and walked over to the red leather sofa. With his mammoth spiked platforms, he towered over the other omega.

“Been there.” Eddie placed a hand on Gareth’s shoulder and squeezed it, briefly scent-marking him to try and dissipate some of the distressed stink he was giving off.

Over time, they’d developed a sort of familial relationship as the only two omegas in the band. Eddie had gained the little brother he’d never had, and Gareth had gained a hot mess older brother who helped him survive the Alpha-dominated entertainment industry.

Eddie went back to his station and grabbed his kit, digging through it. “Fret not. You can use mine.”

“You sure?” Gareth asked, lifting his head hopefully. “Don’t you need them?”

Eddie tossed him the box. “Nah, not my first rodeo without ‘em.”

It was actually a relief. Eddie hated wearing blockers, which they all knew since he was frequently bitching about it. The closer he was to his cycle, the more of them he needed to keep his scent contained. They itched like a motherfucker and made him feel contained. It was like wearing a prison, like chains with locks wrapped tightly around his body—and not the fun, kinky kind.

While Gareth peeled and stuck on the patches, Eddie finished getting ready with a bit more pep in his step, fogging the room in a cloud of hairspray. 

The stage manager popped her head in to tell them they’d be ready for them in about half an hour. Eddie groaned, spinning in place and vibrating with pre-show energy. He wanted to go now.

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Eddie’s scent was clouding the dressing room unexpectedly when Steve walked in. Usually, hairspray was the only thing he could smell. Eddie hadn’t put on his blockers yet.  

Steve’s mouth suddenly became very dry. He hadn’t talked much that day, trying to preserve his voice as best he could before the show.

He grabbed a water from the mini-fridge to hydrate before trying to settle on the couch. He couldn’t sit comfortably in his jeans, so he lounged back carefully in hopes he wouldn’t pop a button. They weren’t leaving much to the imagination. Everyone could see the outline of his cock and knot in them.

Steve had gone all out on his outfit for their last show. With his short-sleeved, spandex gold button-up that was almost completely open, he was displaying an impressive amount of belly and chest hair, even for an Alpha.

He hadn’t eaten much, either. His pants were way too tight to handle any food. It certainly didn’t ease his hunger with Eddie’s scent filling the room. He smelled like an extremely buttery and spicy Snickerdoodle.

Steve was effectively distracting Eddie from his tantrum of impatience. It was their last show of the tour, so they’d all done just a little bit more than usual. They had to say goodbye with a bang. Always did. Steve was certainly gussied up. He was glistening in metallic gold. Fuck, he looked delicious.

“I said it already, but I’ll say it again: really love that color on you, sweetheart,” Eddie said, flopping over the arm of the sofa dramatically, his head landing directly in Steve’s lap as his legs kicked in the air. He looked up, grinning with all his teeth. “You look like a gold medal.”

It was difficult not to close his eyes and inhale deeply, not to pull Steve’s head down and thrust that sweet mouth onto his. Steve was half a week away from rut, just like Eddie was from his heat, and he could feel it thrumming between them like a live wire.

Eddie had lots of practice controlling himself around Steve and his ludicrously tempting scent. Sometimes—most times—Eddie swore it was made for his nose. Steve, his straight Alpha bandmate and best friend. Friend only.

Years of playing together, touring together, and long nights sleeping on the bus in their bunks only a few inches away from each other taunted him. Eddie had heard Steve jerk off more times than he could count. Had secretly gotten off with him and felt ashamed in the morning. Even more ashamed the time he’d called out Steve’s name with a one-night stand who definitely hadn’t been named Steve. (After that, he'd asked his partners to gag him.)

Steve knew Eddie’s scent well but didn’t get to fully experience it often. It was going to be all over him now. He was used to Eddie’s antics and closeness. He always enjoyed it. He loved omegas; they were so sweet, and they loved being close to Alphas, too. It truly hurt their feelings when Alphas weren’t receptive to their affections.

It was easy being friends with Eddie. He was encouraging and thoughtful, and he always made Steve feel good. Hearing the compliment made him smile really big. He was getting pumped.

Steve had only ever had one other male omega friend in his life: Tommy. He’d fallen in love with Steve, but unfortunately, it hadn’t been mutual, and they’d ended their friendship for good during their senior year of high school.

Steve had only officially met Eddie when he’d decided to audition for his band. He’d seen The Mind Flayer at The Hideout dozens of times before he’d seen their flier looking for a lead singer. They had been purely heavy metal and instrumental until Steve had joined. He’d always thought about singing, but it wasn’t something his parents—well, his dad—had encouraged.

Steve and Eddie had hit it off right away. Eddie was passionate about music and sharing his opinions. Even their clashes created beautiful musical harmony. Steve pushed slower songs with better beats and even some piano ballads, and Eddie pushed him to be louder, more emotional, and to really lose himself in the lyrics.

Steve didn’t care that Eddie was an omega. He was so talented with the guitar and had written some gorgeous songs. Steve was in awe of his style and energy.

Every fiber of Steve’s being had wanted to be a part of the band. He’d had a good feeling about it and never could have dreamt of the places it would eventually take them outside of their small town.

It truly blew his mind how successful they’d become, graduating from a van and bus to finally flying from show to show and staying in hotels. It had become so much fucking fun to sing his heart out and fool around on stage with his best friend.

Eddie turned his face into Steve’s bare stomach, nipping at his belly button with a playful growl. Steve wouldn’t question shit like that. Nuzzling, hugging, cuddling, wrapping himself around Steve like a snake—he was used to Eddie’s jokes and flirtations. Used to Eddie teasing him and scenting him and almost pushing their friendship into friends with benefits territory.

Eddie always toyed with the line, and it was made easy by the demands of their fans. The fans loved seeing him all over Steve—went absolutely bonkers for it—and Eddie was too happy to oblige. Steve always played along, too. He was a good sport and secure in his skin. The most tolerant straight man Eddie had ever met.

And good goddamn, he could act. He always made it feel real. It fucked with Eddie’s head and raging hormones. It was a constant torture, but that was the nature of their relationship, and Eddie was attached. He didn’t know what he was going to do when it ended.

Because it was going to end eventually. Steve wouldn’t be unmated forever. He would find his omega. Eddie always backed off when Steve had a girlfriend. Mysteriously, none of them lasted more than a couple months. Eddie figured it was because of their lifestyle. They were frequently on the road, making relationships long-distance and difficult.

But once Steve officially courted an omega, his and Eddie’s connection would change forever.

Steve was already feeling butterflies for their impending performance. The bites made him squirm a little and suck in. It felt like he was being scented, and Eddie’s tiny growls sounded possessive.

“My mouth is too empty,” Eddie told Steve. Whined, really. “We got candy? Cigarette?” Eddie made no move to get either of those things himself. He knew Steve would take care of him. He pouted pathetically. “Help.”

Steve pushed Eddie’s hair back and bit his lip. Usually, when Eddie’s mouth was empty, he talked a lot or treated Steve like a snack—like he was doing now. Steve slipped out from under him. “‘Course we got candy, Eddie bear. Gummy bears are on our rider, just for you. Let me grab them.”

Steve felt a bit better standing up and being of service to the omega. He lightly caressed his scent gland as he walked over to the treats. He had peanut M&M’s waiting for himself but knew better than to eat them before the show. He was jealous that Eddie could eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, and it never showed. He had the sluttiest little waist. Steve shook his head to rid the thought and tossed the candy to Eddie.

“Thanks.” Eddie caught the bag and opened it with his teeth, pouring an indecent amount of bears into his mouth.

As he stared up at the popcorn ceiling and noshed, his mind couldn’t help but betray him and conjure up a scenario where Steve had answered differently and occupied his mouth with something else.

Steve looked at himself in the mirror. “You’re gonna doll me up a little, aren’t you, with the eye stuff?”

Eddie jumped to his feet, gummy bears scattering across the floor. Oops. He set the bag down on the arm of the sofa. “Of course I am,” he answered with the confidence of a man who had not just been daydreaming about sucking his best friend’s dick two seconds ago.

Eddie usually helped Steve with his stage make-up. While the Alpha was an amazingly talented vocalist, his cosmetic skills were worse than a face painter at a pup’s birthday party.

Eddie knew more than any guy probably should have about makeup. In high school, he had been intensely into Dungeons and Dragons, which sometimes required costuming. Also, one of his close friends had been a cheerleader who had educated him on a lot of things—not limited to beauty and skincare—after she found out what a hopeless homosexual he was.

Steve perched on the dressing room’s stool, waiting patiently for Eddie to paint him up. The last time he’d tried putting on makeup himself, Eddie had laughed, which had bruised his ego, and then there had barely been any time for him to fix it before they’d gone on. He’d vowed never to do it himself again.

Eddie dug through his kit for his eyeshadow palette and popped it open, dabbing his thumb in glittering gold powder and blowing off the excess. “Close, please,” he requested.

It was hard for Steve to close his eyes because Eddie was so fucking pretty. Steve wanted to keep looking, but he obeyed the omega. Steve trusted Eddie. He always improved the way Steve looked, whether it was with makeup or outfit suggestions. Eddie’s dark aesthetic enhanced his preppy style, making him at least look more edgy. Eddie had that ethereal omega beauty most male omegas didn’t have. Truly, Steve never wanted to stop looking at him once he got started.

Eddie gently swiped his thumb along Steve’s eyelids and continued until the color blended to his satisfaction. “Done.”

Steve’s eyelashes fluttered open slowly, meeting beautiful doe eyes staring back at him. He smiled at Eddie sweetly.

Eddie touched Steve’s chin and turned his head for him so he could see the results in the mirror. “Look at that razzle dazzle.”

Steve blushed. Getting painted up was feeling way more intimate than it usually did.

Eddie grinned. “See?” He grabbed the same eye pencil he’d used earlier. Some liner would really make Steve’s eyes pop on stage. “Hold onto me so you stay still for this,” he advised. He had to lean in extra close to do this part, or he’d completely fuck up the lines.

Steve laughed at the instructions but quickly steadied himself and held onto Eddie’s hips. Steve rubbed them when he was finished as a thank you. Eddie’s hip bones were out of this world. “Thanks for making me half as pretty as you.”

Eddie laughed. Leave it to Steve to compliment Eddie when they both knew Steve was the better looking one. He was a gentlealpha for stroking Eddie’s delicate omega ego like that. “Stevie, you know better than anyone that beneath all the smoke and mirrors, there’s nothing but an ugly little rat of a man under here. You’re the beauty; I’m the freak.”

Steve made a face like he always did when Eddie insulted himself. He didn’t like it. He didn't think Eddie was ugly or resembled a rat. Regardless, he smiled a bit at the flattering remark. It made his chest puff out in the typical Alpha’s ego is successfully stroked fashion. 

He let go of Eddie but couldn’t withhold another stronger urge to give affection. As Steve stood up, he leaned in and nuzzled the hell out of the omega. It was an actual scenting, like the ones he reserved for his girlfriends. The breathy noise Eddie made in response and the jackrabbit kick of his heart confused Steve’s brain a little. He pulled back slowly, reluctantly.

The rest of the band shuffled into the room, interrupting them. Steve quickly checked his reflection again. Luckily, he hadn’t messed up what Eddie had just done, thanks to his big nose doing the brunt of the nuzzling.

They began their pre-show group huddle, and Steve gave them a speech reminiscent of his basketball and swim team championships. Gareth and Jeff’s eyes started to glaze over at the sports analogies.

It was dragging on a little, so Eddie slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders and cheerfully interrupted, “Boys, let’s rock and roll!”

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There was nothing like the roar of the crowd, the sea of excited faces waiting just for them, chanting their name as they ran out. Eddie would never get tired of hearing that.

The confetti cannons burst at the start of their first song, and Eddie’s blood sang along with Steve's.

By the middle of their set, Eddie had lost his shirt and shoes, but he was still getting service from Harrington, who kept gyrating his hips in Eddie’s direction and, at one point, had grabbed Eddie’s nipple ring with his teeth.

Near the end of the set, Eddie was so sweaty he could probably bellyflop and glide down the stage like a Slip ’N Slide.

There was a break in their current song, about forty-five seconds of instrumentals, and no vocals: Eddie’s guitar solo.

Steve took ten seconds to play the crowd, going to the edge of the stage and touching the hands of star-struck fans. One girl nearly fainted, her friends catching her when her knees buckled.

Eddie watched, mouthing, “Your majesty!” when Steve turned around. He stuck out his tongue, bratty.

It had its intended effect. Steve crossed the stage and got right up in Eddie’s space. He wrapped himself around Eddie, draping himself along Eddie’s back like a cape. One of his big hands, warm and alive and buzzing from adrenaline and holding the mic, splayed across his abs. (Eddie had those now. Actual abs.) Eddie’s stomach jumped a little, and he felt the vibration of Steve’s laugh, his breath hot against Eddie’s scent gland.

Then, Steve actually had the balls to press his lips against Eddie’s skin and drag his tongue up the side of Eddie’s neck.

That was new for Eddie—and everyone else. The crowd went wild. The girls screamed so deafeningly loud it almost drowned out Eddie’s guitar. Probably a good thing because he fumbled a note and nearly forgot where he was.

Steve laughed again. That absolute fucker. Steve couldn’t have the upper hand. Unacceptable. And the crowd clearly wanted more, more, more. (Just like Eddie wanted more, more, more. Off the stage, away from the audience, alone in their hotel room, on the bed—maybe cuffed to the bedpost.)

Eddie relaxed, tipping his head back onto Steve’s shoulder as his fingers sped up, hammering the frets. He panted out his breaths and pushed his sweaty body back against Steve’s, so Steve was forced to take his weight and hold him tighter. “Two can play at this game,” he hissed playfully.

Because he thought that was what this was. Steve was just playing for the fans, like always. They were competing over who could push this the farthest.

But then Steve looked down at him with something dark and inscrutable in his eyes, something not so familiar that made Eddie’s stomach swoop hard, and then he was tilting Eddie’s chin up and—

They were kissing. Eddie hit the last note on his guitar, and it rang out, his pulse rushing in his ears, his lips moving on their own to kiss Steve back. Too eagerly, too seriously to laugh off to everyone later as a joke, and he let go of his guitar, and it hung there while he reached up to grab Steve’s face and his hair that was still somehow perfectly styled, messing it thoroughly as Steve’s tongue ravaged his mouth.

That was new, too. They'd never kissed each other before. They'd gotten extremely close more than a few times, but like this, for real? No.

The crowd was roaring, but the world around Eddie barely existed until Steve suddenly pulled away and ran back to the mic stand, straddling it, singing to the crowd in a deep, breathy tone. Eddie felt dizzy.

Gareth shot him a look, subtly nodding to Eddie’s limp guitar, and Eddie quickly got with the program again—a huge, fake smirk pasted on that he hoped was convincing. Fuck.

Panicking a little and needing something to obliterate his sudden manic horniness and confusion, Eddie thought, What better way to do that than to dive into a crowd of smelly, sweaty people? Insta-boner killer and slick stopper.

Barb, Mind Flayer’s manager, was going to kill him for this.

Letting out a war cry, Eddie ran towards the edge of the stage and jumped, spread eagle.

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The second they stepped on stage, Steve felt on fire with adrenaline. Goosebumps erupted over his arms when Eddie strummed the first note that kicked off the show.

Steve shot a sultry look in Eddie’s direction as he grabbed the mic and hit his cue. It wasn’t lost on him that what really got the girls and guys going was him and Eddie. Steve shared the spotlight with him. Alphas fawned over Eddie, and the omegas and betas fawned over him. When they played it up with each other, everyone went wild.

It started innocently enough. Embracing Eddie’s body while he played his guitar solo. Eddie losing his platform shoes made him slightly shorter than Steve, and being shirtless made it easy for Steve’s hand to graze Eddie’s hot, sweaty, and toned stomach. His mouth had gone dry again, he was dying for a taste.

Eddie’s scent had been clouding Steve’s mind since he’d walked into the dressing room. Intoxicated, Steve was high off Eddie. He was going feral for him. The second his lips touched Eddie’s skin, Steve knew he was going to scent him much harder than he had earlier. He gave Eddie’s scent gland a slow, rough lick. He could feel the effect immediately. His pupils blew like he’d just consumed the most delicious drug.

He laughed because he was in shock at himself for doing that. The crowd's reaction was one of approval, he could only assume, by the deafening screams.

Eddie leaned back against him while he continued to skillfully play the guitar. Steve had no other choice than to stand there and get rubbed against by the smooth leather covering Eddie’s ass. The payback was sweet; Eddie knew exactly what he was doing to Steve. The rough material of his jeans naturally created a delicious amount of friction between them.

When Eddie looked up at him, Steve guided Eddie’s chin towards him and kissed him. They’d gotten close to kissing a couple of times, but at the last second, one of them would smile or pull back. Always playing, always teasing. This time, it really happened.

Steve knew better than to scent an omega without explicit permission, but his hormones were absolutely raging, and they both consensually scented each other in the dressing room. The way Eddie kissed him back was with enough vigor that Steve felt it in his bones. Eddie’s reaction made him feel like what he had done wasn’t wrong. Steve did his best to let go and not suppress his urges anymore. He was burning up and melting.

Why had he waited so long to…?

Oh fuck, the end of Eddie’s guitar solo was his cue to get back on the mic. While Steve wished it was just the two of them on stage, he had to finish the show.

He caught his breath while he pressed the mic back into the stand. When he leaned in to sing the last line, his Alpha voice simmered just below the surface.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and Eddie’s guitar was thrust into his possession. With his baby in safe hands, Eddie took a graceful nosedive off the mother fucking stage. He was quickly surfing his way through the crowd.

All Steve could do was stand there while a sea of security guards hustled to grab the omega before he got eaten alive. Steve felt a white-hot rage he’d never experienced before as Eddie’s body got violated by their fans.

God damn it, Eddie was his.

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The fans were about as enthusiastic to get their paws on him as Eddie had expected. At first, it was actually pretty fucking fun, looking up at the metal rafters and travelling on an ocean of different palms.

Then, it got a little less fun. The touches got more aggressive—grabbing, squeezing, and tearing at his pants. All of his rings and jewelry were taken. He almost fell to the floor a few times. Somebody yanked out a whole handful of his hair and made him squeal. He was like a gangly zebra in a pack of hungry lions.

He’d never admit it, but he was starting to feel just a little bit frightened. By the time security managed to wrangle him back onto the stage, he was howling with laughter, although around ninety percent of it was relief. “What a fucking ride!”

The rest of the band were waiting in the wings. Only Jeff seemed amused. “Dude, that was insane.”

Eddie’s pants hadn’t come all the way off, but it was a damn near thing. The top of his ass cheeks and pubic hair were on full display. Steve moved to shield Eddie’s body from prying eyes. “I got him,” Steve told their main security guard.

Eddie swallowed his tongue when Steve stepped in. He wondered if Steve even realized he’d used his Alpha voice on Reggie.

Then, Steve pulled up what was left of Eddie’s pants, making him squeak, and started herding him back to the dressing room.  

“Steve,” Eddie said, not knowing whether to laugh more, feel embarrassed or get irritated. He felt like a naughty pup. And why was it also making him kinda horny again? Ugh, hormones. “I know you're trying to protect my modesty here, but it’s nothing a million people haven’t seen already.”

The paps had caught him with his clothes more than a few times in the past. Skinny dipping, drunkenly mooning someone, the list went on.

The dressing room door closed behind them, hushing most of the noise. Eddie got steamrolled by Steve’s scent. Usually, he smelled comforting, like a warm chocolate chip muffin. Now, that muffin was incredibly burnt.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked, his voice naturally dropping to something lower and softer. Without the laces, his pants were a losing battle. When Steve let go, Eddie didn't bother to pull them back up again. Steve was seething. His baseline low rumble was currently a loud, angry growl emitting from his throat. No, Steve wasn’t okay. He couldn’t even smell Eddie anymore. His warm, buttery cinnamon cookie scent was gone, and any trace of his own scent on Eddie was long gone, too. All of it was buried under at least a hundred different scents. They all were flooding Steve’s sensitive nose. The concoction made his stomach hurt and his skin crawl. Eddie took that as a no. Steve looked pissed. Smelled pissed. Sounded pissed. They were all probably pissed that he’d ended the show abruptly like that. It must’ve just seemed like he wanted the attention—which, granted, wasn’t untrue because he loved attention even at the worst of times, but… “I didn’t mean to ruin the show.” “I don’t care about the show,” Steve replied. It didn’t feel like it was Eddie’s modesty that he was protecting. It was Eddie who Steve was trying to protect, albeit too late. Eddie had been so careless it made Steve sick to think about what could’ve happened. He was completely disheveled.

“You reek,” Steve blurted out, unable to hold back his emotion or muster any tact.

Eddie almost flinched. It was small—a barely noticeable hunching of his shoulders. Steve had never told him he’d smelled bad before, but of course he did after so many people had marked him.

It wasn’t like Eddie enjoyed having all their scents on him. It felt pretty repulsive, but doing what he did had given him something he’d needed. Being passed around like a toy by the crowd had bitch slapped Eddie back into reality. Steve hadn’t been scenting him for real. That kiss hadn’t been real. It had only been for show, no matter how much it had felt like Steve had wanted him in the moment.

Steve took his shirt off and threw it on the floor. He wasn’t planning on it but wasn’t above throwing a hissy fit. He crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet, even though he felt like stomping them like a pup who hadn’t gotten the toy he’d wanted. His own scent had turned bitter. He knew it. What had he scented Eddie for? Why had he kissed him? Steve swallowed. He knew why he’d done it, and it hurt that it didn’t seem to mean anything to Eddie. Eddie seemed like he was okay—more than okay. He was acting like he’d had such a thrill and that it had been so much fun.

Steve was close to his rut, so it made sense he would be scentsitive and irritable, especially since he had to share a room with Eddie and would be sleeping near him. Maybe his rut was coming sooner than they thought.

Steve finally looked directly at Eddie, and that was when he noticed. “Fuck. You’re bleeding.” “I’m fine, Stevie,” Eddie said, giving the Alpha a smile that felt uncomfortable on his face. “I can barely feel anything. My scalp is just weeping because it’s gonna have to do some work to regrow that.”

Steve swallowed his pride, uncrossed his arms and went over to get a better look at Eddie’s head. He made a soft noise when he saw Eddie’s hair was just gone in one spot. Granted, the man had a lot of hair, so it could easily be hidden, but it still looked bad. He’d been wounded. “That’s gotta hurt. We gotta get you cleaned up, man.”

Some bruises were forming on Eddie’s alabaster skin, too, and Steve noticed all his accessories were gone. Eddie’s favorite belt, bracelets and rings.

Any other time, Eddie would have squeezed Steve’s shoulders to calm him, but it was clear that his touch would only make things worse right now. Steve looked so tense. He was shirtless. Steam was practically rolling off of him, and his scent wasn’t easing up. 

While Eddie was calm, crashing after the high of his ridiculous stage dive and body surfing stunt, Steve was just getting hotter and hotter.

Eddie grabbed his sweater from the crushed velvet armchair and pulled it on. The adrenaline started to wear off, making him cool down rapidly, and his hands began to tremble. Whether it was from nicotine withdrawal or the little stunt he’d pulled, or maybe both, Eddie didn’t know.

He realized too late that the sweater wasn’t his but Steve’s, and muttered an apology. Steve’s unburnt scent was embedded into it. Eddie resisted the urge to pluck the neckline up over his nose and hold it there. They borrowed each other’s clothes all the time when they were on the road. He’d have to make sure it got washed before he gave it back.

They only had one more night together before they all parted ways. Eddie was flying to Hawkins to visit Wayne for a few days before returning to his home in West Hollywood to ride out his heat. He didn’t know when he would see Steve again—maybe not until a few weeks later for their post-tour photoshoot and interview with Rolling Stone.

Steve spun in place again. Stopped. Eddie was wearing his yellow sweater. That gave him a tiny bit of relief. He liked Eddie wearing his scent more than he would admit. He also didn’t like it when Eddie was exposed when it wasn’t entirely his choice.

He shook his head. “We should head to the hotel now. I don’t think the afterparty is a good idea tonight, Eddie.”

Steve knew Eddie wouldn’t like his opinion, but he didn’t care.

Eddie glanced at Steve and then away, leaving the Alpha’s side to dig in his bag by the mirror for his jeans. He turned as he removed the tattered leather pants, kicking them into the garbage bin, and only turned to face Steve again once his jeans were zipped and buttoned. “Why isn’t the afterparty a good idea?”

The night was still young, after all. Eddie didn’t really feel like partying, but maybe getting blackout drunk would stop him from climbing into Steve’s bed and begging for more of what had happened on stage, which could very well happen if he stayed in. Eddie knew he’d be having slick dreams for weeks, if not months, of that fucking kiss. His mind already had it on replay. “Don’t think it’s safe. Not this close to your cycle. What if someone from the crowd got the wrong idea and took advantage of you?” Like they could’ve done when you threw yourself into the chaotic audience. Steve wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if something bad had happened to Eddie. Even if it would’ve been his own damn fault. He felt responsible for what had happened, almost like what he’d done had triggered Eddie to do it. Then, actually not being able to do anything to protect him was too much. He could control the situation by saying no to the party. “So, we’re going back to the hotel now.”

Whether you like it or not, Steve thought. He started to gather up his stuff and called for Barb to get them a car.

Eddie wasn’t as careful as an omega should have been, and Steve knew it. It worried him to no end when Eddie would go off to be with some rando after a show. If tonight was any indication of how reckless Eddie could be, Steve couldn’t imagine what else could be pulled and with who. 

Eddie paused, taken aback. They both knew he was an omega who was capable of protecting himself. He could be wildly irresponsible, too, but his self-defence skills were on the same level as an Alpha’s. The response only solidified in Eddie’s mind that Steve was very close to his rut—and for some reason, Steve’s pre-rut instincts were being directed towards Eddie.

He guessed it made sense, considering how close they were. Steve had no other omegas he’d been around as frequently as Eddie lately besides Gareth, but their relationship was more formal.

Eddie didn’t want Steve to come to the afterparty with him if he was going into rut. Forget Eddie; Steve could be taken advantage of. Eddie loved the guy, but he was painfully oblivious about some things.

He also didn’t want Steve to be alone in their hotel room while he went out. Not because Steve could potentially find himself a rut partner and bar Eddie from the room…

…Okay, exactly because of that.

Eddie opened his mouth, but Steve had already moved on from the subject and was trying to move out the door.

“Wait—“ Eddie stopped Steve with a hand to his bare, very furred chest. “You’re going to make the omegas faint if you go out like that.”

Christ, Steve was really warm. And he wasn’t thinking clearly. Eddie quickly let go when he noticed Steve reacting badly. He pulled out a tank top from his duffle and held it out. It was threadbare and soft—not likely to irritate Steve’s skin.

Steve put his hands on his hips and turned around. He didn’t know what to do. He was burning up, so he didn’t want to put the shirt on. He wanted to get the fuck out of there and take the coldest shower he could stand. He dropped his hands and took the top. The scent on the shirt was untainted Eddie, so he wasn’t going to object. Making omegas faint was a thing that had happened, but only a couple of times. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, so Steve complied. Luckily, it was just a tank top, too. He didn’t think he could handle a shirt with sleeves.

“Happy?” he asked Eddie once he pulled it on, magically feeling a little calmer.

Steve looked even sluttier now than he did shirtless, somehow. “Still going to make them faint,” Eddie muttered, stepping into his boots and hiking his bag onto his shoulder. 

Steve heard the quiet comment as he led the way out. It made him smirk, but he knew he didn’t have that effect on Eddie anyway. He’d never make Eddie faint.

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The rest of the band weren’t ready to leave yet and would get a separate car, so they said a quick goodbye.

“See you at the after party?” Jeff asked them, his arm around the shoulders of an omega groupie who was giggling into his neck.

“Maybe,” Eddie hedged.

At the same time, Steve growled, “No,” with enough force to raise Jeff’s eyebrows.

“Alright.” Jeff shrugged, happy to ignore them as the groupie murmured something in his ear.

Steve was deaf to Jeff’s response and blind to the slutty female omega hanging on his arm. He was too busy glaring at Eddie for having said maybe. He had said no and meant it. Neither one of them were going to the after party.

Eddie wrapped his arms around his middle as they exited the theatre, and security escorted them to their waiting car. A few paps got pictures of them despite security’s efforts to shield them.

Steve’s brow softened. Usually, they would huddle close together to make it easier for security to block them, but not this time.

Steve followed Eddie into the car. The smaller space wasn’t helping his nausea from the cacophony of scents still raging.

“You want me to shower in Gareth’s room?” Eddie asked once they were settled in the backseat. To be courteous to Steve’s scentsitivity. Gareth wouldn’t mind.

“No, of course you don’t have to shower in Gareth’s room. You can take the first shower, though.” He’d feel better once Eddie was in the safety of their own room and smelled like himself again. The ride wasn’t tense exactly, but Eddie could feel how much Steve didn’t want to be in the car with him. He was pressed against the door as far away from Eddie as possible. Eddie tried not to wilt in rejection.

Steve rested his hot forehead against the cool window. He felt bad for telling Eddie that he smelled bad, but he was angry, and Eddie really did fucking reek. “Sorry about what I said,” Steve added. “We had a good show. It was fun.”

Eddie was surprised by the apology, but he shook his head. “It’s okay, Stevie,” he answered softly.

He had an incredibly overpowering urge to take off his seatbelt and remove all distance between them. Climb into Steve’s lap and cuddle the motherfucking shit out of him. He held onto the seat instead, knuckles turning white as he resisted.

It stung a little the way Steve sprang out as soon as the car stopped, but Eddie understood.

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“You could have been seriously hurt,” was the first thing Barb said to him as she approached them, leading them into the hotel. “I know you don’t like them, but we have safety protocols for you guys for a reason.”

Steve nodded silently in agreement with her but decided not to pile on as Eddie took the gentle lashings with a hangdog head and a sheepish smile. “I know. Won’t happen again, I promise.”

“You’re damn right it won’t,” Barb replied, but her glare softened behind her gold-rimmed glasses, and she smiled back at him after a moment. She left them with a compliment. “You did great out there, by the way. Steve, you’ve never sounded better.”

Eddie smiled a little as Steve’s face turned pink under her compliment. “She’s right,” he said.

Barb handed over their room key, and they said goodbye. Steve led the way to the elevator, Eddie trailing behind slightly.

When they entered the room, Steve dropped his bag, popped the button on his jeans, and fell back onto the bed. “Eddie. Shower. Now,” he ordered. He turned over on his side and grabbed the phone off the nightstand. “I’m calling room service. Do you want anything?”

The demand from Steve shouldn’t have sent a happy zing up Eddie’s spine, but it did. It made him wonder (probably for the millionth time since they’d met) what Steve’s Alpha voice would feel like. Probably fantastic.

“Yes, Alpha,” he sing-songed, dropping his duffle on his bed and kicking off his boots. “Pick something for me?”

Eddie didn’t feel like deciding what to eat, and Steve knew what he liked. He hadn’t eaten much since breakfast, too focused on prepping for the show. Steve might have fed him a few bites of his sandwich at lunch. He couldn’t remember. It felt like a long time ago.

Steve was still burning up, but the response from the omega made him shiver. He liked being obeyed. “Sure.”

“Thank youuu.”

Eddie went to the bathroom and closed the door. Didn’t bother locking it. His reflection almost made him laugh. No wonder everyone had had such a reaction. His makeup was smeared, and his hair was giving Medusa vibes. Those paparazzi pics were going to be interesting. He looked like he’d gone through a car wash without a car. “Bozo the fucking clown,” he said under his breath.

Even if Steve wasn’t straight, why the hell would he want this?

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Steve was starving. He was craving red meat and potatoes. He knew Eddie would want something lighter, so he ordered him a grilled cheese and the soup of the day. Then he ordered red wine, champagne and cake, too. Just because they weren’t going to the after party, didn’t mean they couldn’t celebrate.

While Steve wanted to undress, he figured he’d stay decent enough to answer the door. After he hung up the phone, he took off his shoes.

They were pretty high in one of the presidential suites. Their windows had no curtains, which had made sleeping in the night before difficult, but the view was worth it. Steve stood at the large window overlooking the city. He was still in a bit of shock that they were there. He hadn’t become used to the lifestyle or the fame yet.

Eddie’s shower was going on longer than Steve thought it would. He thought he heard Eddie cry out, but when he went to the door and pressed his ear against it, he didn’t hear anything else.

The food arrived pretty quickly, and Steve gave the bellboy a good tip. He poured some wine for himself and sat down at the table. The guy must’ve thought Steve’s mate was in the shower. He scurried around, insisting on dressing the table in a tablecloth. He lit two candles, too, making the room look incredibly romantic. Steve tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary but gave up and just allowed it since he didn’t feel like explaining.

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Now that he was completely down from his showtime high, Eddie felt everything that had been done to him. Every bruise was throbbing, and it would only feel worse in the morning.

His clothes hit the floor a few seconds later, and he stepped into the shower, eager to wash away the dried sweat, makeup, blood and itchy, filthy scents all over him.

He scrubbed hard and thoroughly, suddenly frantic to get clean, to be Eddie again so that Steve would like him again.

“Ow, ow, ow,” he hissed. The shampoo was burning in the spot where he’d lost hair. He quickly rinsed it out, and the water turned pink.

Once every speck of dirt and scent had swirled down the drain, Eddie finally turned off the taps and stepped out into the foggy room.

The dirty towels from that morning were gone, but the towel rack was empty. Hopefully, the maid hadn’t forgotten to give them fresh ones.

Eddie floundered a little, then went to the door, opening it and sticking just his head out. “Steve? Are there towels out there?”

“Uh…” Steve furrowed his brow, confused as to why there weren’t any towels in the bathroom. Their room had been cleaned. Their beds had been made, too.

He got up from the table and looked around, spotting an abundance of towels stacked neatly under the nightstand. Usually, towels by the bed were reserved for heats and ruts. He grabbed two and brought them over to Eddie.

Again, Eddie’s delicious scent hit him, and Steve’s stomach literally growled out loud.

Eddie heard it. Poor guy. Alphas in rut needed an insane amount of protein to feel good enough to function. Their bodies burned through it quickly since they used so much energy fucking people’s brains out, Eddie supposed.

Steve rubbed his stomach. “Ugh, I gotta eat, man.”

“Thanks. Yeah, don’t wait on my account, big boy. Go eat.” Eddie shooed Steve and retreated to the bathroom.

He dried himself, then wrapped one of them around his hips as best he could. The towels Steve gave him weren’t regular-sized, he realized. Had about as much coverage as a loincloth.

Eddie came out and kneeled awkwardly to dig through his suitcase. He wasn’t prepared for the scent that hit his nostrils, either. Steve had flooded the room with Alpha pheromones, and they were getting stronger by the minute. Enough to make him lightheaded.

Steve took the dome off his plate and found the juiciest steak but nearly choked on the first piece when he saw Eddie. Steve averted his gaze slowly, catching a glimpse not so accidentally. He made a happy little noise, and not just about the meat. Eddie’s scent had returned, and Steve could feel a rumble bubbling up in his chest.

Eddie grabbed some comfortable boxers and an old band t-shirt he’d had since he was a teenager. He’d cut it in half during a particularly scorching summer, so it left his midriff nice and cool. He didn’t bother going back to the bathroom to put them on, changing right there.

When he turned around, he noticed Steve sitting at the kitchenette table.

“Oh,” Eddie said, heat flooding his face. He took in the champagne on ice, the soft glow of the candles, the tablecloth. His stomach lurched. Steve looked like he was waiting for a date. “Are you—um, did you invite someone over? Do you need me to go?”

It was strange, considering Steve had been so adamant Eddie return to the hotel with him, but maybe he had called someone while Eddie was in the shower. He had to realize by now that he was going into rut.

“What?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow. “No, and no. I told you I was ordering food for us. They kinda thought it was more of a romantic occasion… but I thought that since we’re not going to the party, we could still celebrate.” Steve felt bad for putting a damper on their last night together for a while. “I know you like the bubbly stuff.”

The little knot that had tied itself in Eddie’s stomach unwound. “That’s thoughtful, A—Steve,” he corrected himself.

One time calling Steve Alpha as a joke was acceptable. Twice in the same hour put him in the danger zone.

Steve flashed him a smile and got up to pull the second chair away from the table so Eddie would sit with him. Steve stopped him before he did, leaning into his space to scent him gently.

He couldn’t resist. Eddie smelled better than the food and looked like a snack in his comfy clothes. Steve had to restrain himself from licking and nipping him. He had food. He didn’t have to devour Eddie…right now, at least.

Eddie didn’t think much of being scented. He accepted it with a head tilt and a relieved sigh that he hid with a breathy laugh. Family and close friends scented each other casually all the time—he took it as a sign he was back in Steve’s good graces.

The Alpha looked much more relaxed. There was even that endearing rumble tickling Eddie’s ears. Steve sometimes did that when he was enjoying himself. The hotel’s chef must have really nailed that steak.

“Are you happy with the choice I made for you?” Steve asked. “If not, I know you’ll like the cake.” Eddie loved sweet things, so Steve knew the cake would do.

Eddie resisted the urge to wrap his arms around Steve and hang onto him like a koala. He lifted the metal dome over his plate instead. Soup and grilled cheese were the second thing he was craving. The first thing wasn’t on the menu. “You always know what I want,” he answered.

Steve was attentive like that. When it came to everything except… well, you know. Nobody on earth knew Eddie better than Steve, not even his only living relative.

Steve was pretty pleased with himself after receiving Eddie’s compliment. It fed his ego perfectly. He reached for the champagne. “You wanna pop it? I know it’s like your favorite part.” He chuckled and handed the bottle to Eddie.

Using his thumbs, Eddie popped the cork on the champagne bottle. They cheered as it foamed over, and Eddie poured them each a glass before sitting in the chair Steve had pulled out for him. “To Mind Flayer?” he suggested. “And another tour success.”

They toasted.

“Are you looking forward to going home and sleeping in your own bed again?” Eddie asked once he had sat down and taken a sip of champagne, trying to ignore the way the candles were making Steve’s eyes look darker than usual. Eddie probably wasn’t going to survive the rest of the night.

Steve sipped from his glass. The liquid was refreshingly cold from being on ice. Steve hadn’t cooled down yet, so he threw back the entire glass to help do that. He wasn’t aware of what was happening to him yet—what Eddie’s proximity and scent were doing to him.

He wasn’t sure how to answer Eddie’s question. “I’m going to miss you.”

Steve felt his lips tingle after he said it. He knew it wasn’t just from downing the bubbly way too fast. They’d kissed. Steve hadn’t had time to process it or reflect because of what had happened after.

Eddie did a lot of things that made Steve want to kiss him. Naturally, he was adorable, but finally, Steve had given in to his impulses. It wasn’t Eddie who’d instigated it, but he’d kissed Steve back, and Steve couldn’t quit thinking about it. Their kiss hadn’t been chaste. Steve had been able to taste the gummy bears Eddie had eaten and everything.

He’d always had a feeling Eddie had a thing for him. He’d tried his best to ignore it, feeling like it wouldn’t be right even though he played into it on stage. They’d never really crossed the line.

Off stage, he’d tried to be with women, but he hadn’t been able to commit to any of them. Weirdly, he felt like he had been betraying Eddie, and he hadn’t found anyone significant. He hadn’t been happy going through the motions every time their tours ended. He was not looking forward to going back home and being alone in his bed.

“I’ll miss you too, dude,” Eddie said, hiding a pleased smile behind a bite of grilled cheese. Maybe the casual use of dude would help deflect the way his scent perked up like a flower in the sun.

Eddie didn’t miss his place one bit. He was thinking of getting a cat. Now that the tour was over, he would have plenty of free time he wouldn’t know what to do with. Getting a pet was a solid idea. Eddie had never had one before. Cats were cuddly and warm and could take up some of the vast space and silence in his house. Maybe he would get several cats.

“It’s so hot,” Steve complained.

He had to take the tank top off. He pulled it from the bottom up and over his head in one fell swoop. Steve sighed as he let it drop to the floor, which only helped slightly.

He reached into the champagne bucket for ice. Steve got a piece and moved it up his neck to his jaw. It felt so good that he moaned a little, but the ice cube melted in seconds.

Any thoughts about felines fell right out of Eddie’s head when Steve started molesting himself with an ice cube. Eddie’s eyes widened into saucers, fist clenching around his spoon. What in the wet o dream was going on here?

“Gotta get out of these fucking pants,” Steve added. While the button wasn’t attacking him anymore, the heavy fabric was roasting him.

Eddie tried to keep acting normal. The shirt was okay—Eddie was used to Steve losing that during the night, but when the pants came off, Eddie dropped his spoon and choked on his soup. It went down the wrong pipe. He coughed. Thumped his chest. “Usually, it’s tequila that makes people’s clothes fall off,” he wheezed.

Sweet baby Jesus, he was gonna die today.

If this were a date, Eddie would absolutely be getting lucky. But since it wasn’t—

“How about we open a window?” Eddie got up, giving the almost naked Alpha a wide berth as he went to approach the one closest to them. He grabbed the handles and heaved upwards. Nothing happened. “Christ, it's stuck.”

He tried again to no avail when suddenly two muscled arms appeared by his sides, and two big paws circled his wrists. “Let me try, Eds.”

“Good day, biceps, my fair gentlemen,” Eddie said to them.

The joke was weak due to the fact he sounded like he was being strangled. He could feel Steve’s body heat along his back even though they weren’t touching. There was a small, minuscule space between them. Steve was like a furnace. Eddie let Steve remove his hands from the handles, and Steve’s hands settled onto them instead.

Steve laughed. He was still reeling over the tequila reference. It only stroked his ego more. His Alpha had a raging hard on from the omega’s continued praise. It stupidly fueled his faith that he could get the window open for them.

He leaned into Eddie instead of suggesting he move. It felt like Eddie being sandwiched between him and the window was helping somehow. His scent was so strong; the aroma was like Steve had just walked into a French bakery. The freshly baked chocolate croissant was calling his name.

Eddie should have ducked out, but for some reason, he stayed frozen where he was. There was straining, veins bulging, and some grunting right in Eddie’s ear that he really had to try not to imagine in a different scenario.

Finally, he could bear the torture no more. Also, the window wasn’t budging. Not a fucking inch. (And, of course, that had Eddie thinking about how many inches Steve had in those paper-thin boxers.)

“Steeeve, I don’t think these were built to open,” Eddie said, not turning around and subtly clenching his cheeks because his slick was trying to make a damn prison break and also, hey, that was an erection. “Maybe we should try the air con.”

Why hadn’t he thought of that first?

Steve should’ve realized the window was sealed shut. Hotels didn’t take kindly to people jumping out of their windows. Eddie was right, even though opening a window was his idea. “Oh yeah,” he murmured, pulling back.

Steve went over to the thermostat and cranked it down, then moved to stand in front of the vent and breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the cool air blasted hard enough to blow his hair back. A happy rumble left his lips, and after a minute, he joined Eddie, who had returned to the table. “Wine time,” Steve declared.

He poured a generous amount into their glasses and sat back down. Steve’s temperature was no longer spiking, but Eddie was smelling more and more delicious. “Eddie, you smell so fucking good. I feel like devouring you instead.”

Steve reached for Eddie’s hand and tugged it across the table, pressing his whole face against Eddie’s inner arm and nuzzling his way up. Steve scented him again and playfully gnawed. “Would you be okay with that?” he asked, eyes dark and hungry. 

Eddie had folded his napkin strategically across his lap. He had barely recovered from what would forever be referred to in his spank bank as the window incident when Steve unleashed more on him. Eddie was glad he hadn’t taken a sip of wine yet because he would have sprayed it all over the table. Instead, he failed spectacularly to repress a noise and a full-body shiver.

Was he hallucinating? Had the loud concerts finally gotten to his ears and damaged them?

“Would I…” Eddie swallowed. Hard. Would he be okay with that? Fuck yes! “I think we should have some cake! You probably just have a sweet tooth.”

Steve was leaning across the table, almost like he was going to kiss Eddie again (sweet mother of fucking mercy). In a desperate attempt not to give in and just let it happen, Eddie snatched his arm back and picked up his fork, stopping Steve’s trajectory with a big mound of cake. “Here, eat up.”

Eddie didn’t give Steve much choice unless he wanted icing smeared all over his face. While Steve worked on his mouthful, Eddie picked up his wineglass and threw it back, throat working as he downed the whole thing and stared determinedly at the wall instead of Steve, who was still trying to penetrate him with his eyes.

Jesus, who’d never listened to Eddie once in his entire life, help him.

“Alright, Alpha— fuck, Steve, you’re going into rut,” Eddie said. It didn’t feel right—not morally —no matter how happy his omega was by the turn of events. Steve seemed not in his proper mind anymore. At all. “You are in a vulnerable state. I can’t let this continue, even if I do want to offer my body as dessert.”

What was he saying? Was the wine already hitting him? He wasn’t really a wine drinker, but surely his tolerance for it wasn’t so weak. Eddie deflected and ripped his arm away so swiftly that Steve couldn’t compute what had happened. Since Eddie had shoved the cake directly into his mouth next, he couldn’t even make a noise in protest. The rush of moist chocolate cake wasn’t what he was craving. It was too much. Steve tried not to choke on it. He had difficulty chewing it and getting it down, so he had to sip the wine to dissolve it quickly. He wasn’t happy that Eddie had done that or about what he’d said. “You didn’t wear your blockers tonight,” Steve pointed out when he could finally talk. He still had enough sense to know that he wasn’t hot and bothered for no fucking reason at all. He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth free of icing and crumbs.

Eddie was hot as hell, so there was always that, too, but he’d scented Steve. Threw himself in Steve’s lap and scented his entire stomach when he’d bit at it. The antics in the dressing room had only escalated on stage, and being that close and intimate enough to kiss an almost ripe omega had accelerated it, too. “I don’t have to worry about you taking advantage of me. And there isn’t a crowd of fifty thousand people you can throw yourself into in our room.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

Okay, so he still wasn’t fucking over that. He couldn’t stay mad, though. He cared about Eddie a lot.

Steve knew that he had the power to make Eddie succumb. He wouldn’t. He wanted and needed Eddie’s permission. Steve couldn’t take advantage of the nearest omega like some Alphas did. Eddie was the most important omega in his life. He wasn’t going to tarnish their relationship.

Eddie’s heart started to pound. “Gareth ran out of blockers. I gave him mine. I wasn’t trying to bait you or manipulate you or anything.” Not consciously, anyway. His instincts were a bit more tricky, but he hadn't had some slinky plan to induce Steve’s rut. “And even if I had been, I wouldn’t expect it to work. You’ve never been into me that way. Not in private.”

At least, that had been what Eddie had always assumed up until tonight.

As for his other behavior… Eddie shrugged weakly. He didn't have an excuse. “But I can’t always help the way I act around you.”

Eddie’s omega was convinced Steve was the one for him, and it was hard to argue with it.

Steve didn’t think Eddie was trying to do anything by not wearing his blockers, but he couldn’t deny what it had done to him. Steve already had a natural magnetic pull towards Eddie. He could never fully figure out why. He hadn’t gotten to experience Eddie’s scent like this until now. It was the missing piece.

Of course, Steve knew blockers were the best protection for an unmated omega, and they had to be worn constantly when they were in crowded public places. It kept Eddie safe against any Alpha that had bad intentions. It was imperative on show days where there were known to be rabid fans.

Steve reached out to touch Eddie’s arm again so the omega would look at him. “I know the timing is fucked up, Eddie, but I can promise that if I didn’t really want you, I wouldn’t have insisted that we come back here. Especially when you didn’t smell like you or me for a little while.”

That had really bothered Steve. He didn’t realize how much until now and what he’d blurted out. He’d never experienced it before. He didn’t like his omega smelling like anyone other than him. He knew he didn’t want Eddie’s scent to be tainted by anyone else ever again. Steve didn’t think it was his rut talking. He felt like claiming Eddie tonight so this wouldn’t happen ever again.

“The kiss on stage. Scenting me. That was for real,” Eddie said slowly. “Not just for the fans?”

It was maybe redundant after what Steve had just said, but Eddie wanted direct, verbal validation. Maybe it was the omega part of him.

“You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever seen, but chicks, man.” Steve thought he was one hundred percent straight. He had been a bit of a hound dog when it came to women. “Felt like I wasn’t allowed to,” he acknowledged. He thought he had to be with female omegas and hadn’t experienced a male one until he’d walked into Eddie’s band. Steve had always thought Eddie was attractive. He wasn’t blind. “You’re a guy,” Steve pointed out, then laughed because, yeah. “Obviously…” It had given him major reservations at first. Guys had liked him before, but he’d never liked any of them back until Eddie.

Steve had been apprehensive about fan service, but he was so comfortable with Eddie that it hadn’t felt wrong. It had only made their shows better. It had become fun to push the boundaries of his sexuality and their Alpha and omega dynamics. It had pushed other people’s buttons and had gotten them talking, making their band even more popular and Eddie a gay icon. “It was real,” Steve confirmed. “I wouldn’t kiss you for fan service, especially not for the first time. I couldn’t help it… I had to.”

Steve hadn’t been thinking. His hormones had been raging—still were—and his real feelings had taken over. He wasn’t sure if it’d make headlines since the more pressing news was the epic stage dive.

Eddie waited patiently while Steve explained his feelings in his own way, not trying to interrupt, just letting him work it out. It was probably the most quiet and attentive Eddie’d ever been in his life, but this was Steve. He was fucking important.

It all made perfect sense, even though part of Eddie still couldn’t quite believe his feelings were being reciprocated. And hey, what, hello, prettiest man he’d ever seen? That could not be correct. 

He thought it tragic that Steve had thought he wasn’t allowed to like omega men all this time. Didn’t surprise Eddie, but it made him sad and angry at their closed-minded society for drilling that into Steve’s head.

“I wanted to keep your scent on me.” Eddie touched Steve’s hand, upset with himself. Steve seemed genuinely wounded by what he’d done. He always got a little waspish when he was hurt. “I only jumped because I panicked. I didn't think it was real, and I didn't want you and everyone to see how much I…”

Eddie stopped. Poured himself another glass of wine because it was suddenly confession hour, and he was spilling his guts. He had been dreading this conversation since the day they’d met. Had hoped it would never happen because he had never pictured it ending well. He didn't want to lose Steve, and he was sure that would happen when Steve figured out just how deeply Eddie felt for him. This wasn't some light-hearted puppy love, as much as Eddie tried to twist it that way in his head when he was “harmlessly” flirting.

“I just don’t think I can do this if…” Eddie took a deep breath and looked Steve in the eye, ”…if it’s going to be a one-time thing. I feel more than want for you, Steve—more than like for you, and I have for a long time. I’m not asking you to claim me,” he added quickly, nervously. “You don’t, uh, have to do that. Obviously. Just—I’d want to date you.”

Hearing Eddie's confession melted Steve’s heart a little. “You wanna date?” he asked. “You’ll allow me to court you? So, if we fucked tonight, it wouldn’t be in sin after all?”

Eddie went to toy with one of his rings but forgot it wasn't there, and he ended up rubbing his mating ring finger in an accidentally telling way. He smiled uncertainly. “I don’t want to be friends who fuck. Or friends who fuck and then go back to being just friends. Don’t think I could stand it, honestly.”

Steve’s teasing smirk softened. “Honestly, I don’t think I’d be okay if I never even got the chance to claim you.”

Steve knew his rut was responsible for him wanting to claim Eddie right now. He felt ready because he’d been so angry about not getting to have Eddie in the first place that he just wanted it to be official already. He knew he hadn’t scented Eddie thoroughly enough, so he got up and dropped down in Eddie’s lap.

Eddie’s body was practically vibrating with need for contact. Like Steve knew that, he was suddenly there, sinking his heavy, reassuring weight on Eddie and laying that delectable chocolate scent all over Eddie’s neck. Eddie leaned back with a groan, making the chair creak (it probably wasn’t suited to hold the weight of two grown men).

“Babe, consider me courted.” Really, it didn’t take much more than that. This was his dream come true. Eddie laughed, and even that sounded like he was in ecstasy, threaded with a deep purr that didn't make an appearance very often. “Besides, you’re the one who needs my courting before I pop your cherry.”

Two could play at the teasing game, always, and Eddie was relieved to get back to their banter. Now, it was just sexier. Steve was a virgin who’d never experienced men before, after all—and there Eddie was, unworthy but happy as hell and honored to be the one to give him all the experience he could ever want.

“Hello, thunder thighs.” He meant that in the best way possible. Eddie squeezed them greedily because he was allowed to do that now. He tipped his head up to look at Steve, putting on his silky omega voice. “You know, a few perks come with dating a male omega, and one of them is…”

It had been enough time that his legs no longer felt like cooked spaghetti. Eddie stood up, taking all one hundred and sixty pounds of Steve with him, and dropped his sweaty body onto the bed. Eddie smirked. “ We can do shit like that.”

Steve was turning red, his temperature spiking again. It was a first, getting carried and thrown onto the bed like he was the one who was going to get fucked. Eddie was strong. Steve didn’t hate it.

“That was hot,” Steve said, rumbling as he pushed himself to sit up. He pulled Eddie by the shirt and guided him into his lap. “Don’t think you should be wearing this anymore.”

Steve removed it for him, and as soon as it was off, he went in for a kiss. Eddie tasted sweeter than he had on stage. It felt good to be kissing again. Properly, without a time crunch, and in the privacy of their room where they didn’t have to stop.

All of Eddie’s weight baring down on him felt good, too. Steve’s hands settled on Eddie’s ass. They needed something to hold onto. Since Eddie had shamelessly groped his thighs, it was only fair that Steve kneaded Eddie’s ass like dough through his boxers. It was the only other fluffy part of Eddie’s body besides his hair. Steve had always admired it.

“For the record, the only thing that’s getting popped tonight is my knot,” Steve promised, locking eyes with Eddie.

Like a trained dog, Eddie’s ears perked, and his pupils visibly dilated at the word knot. He’d been trying not to think about Steve’s most of the night. Trying very hard not to think about it stretching him out before locking inside. You know, respectfully, you didn’t think about your best friend’s knot fucking you stupid, especially when said best friend was in the room with you. (It was a little different when you were alone in your bed at 2 AM with your Turbo Knotter 3000 buzzing away.)

Now, that was mostly what was on Eddie’s mind as they kissed again, and Steve massaged his meagre ass like it was more than what it was. Eddie couldn’t resist rocking his hips in Steve’s lap, gushing slick like a river in preparation for it. The other thing that was on his mind was how desperately he didn’t want to fuck this up. He couldn’t be a lousy lay, had to be a good omega, the best omega, couldn’t do something to ruin this—but with his track record…

The thin material between them wasn’t leaving much up to the imagination. Eddie had a big cock—he acted like he did, too—so it wasn’t a surprise for Steve to feel it poking in his stomach. Steve smelled Eddie’s slick and then felt it saturating Eddie’s boxers. He was pleased. He knew he’d done a good job turning an omega on when slick started. He was ravenous for it and its source.

Steve broke the kiss to speak in his Alpha voice. “Let me get you out of these, baby. You soaked them, didn’t you? Just for me. I made you get that wet, huh?”

It was a shock, the filth that spilled from Steve’s mouth. Eddie was stunned into almost bashful silence (which wasn’t right because he didn’t do bashful), an aroused flush blotting his cheeks and working its way down his neck. He’d never experienced Steve’s Alpha voice. It was better than he’d imagined. Between his thighs, he throbbed with want.

In the past, he may have heard Steve’s voice through the paper-thin walls of the motels they used to stay at, but that was more painful than stimulating since it had been directed at whoever Steve had brought to his den for the night.

“Just for you,” Eddie echoed with a dumb smile.

Steve smiled devilishly. He pushed Eddie’s boxers down over his ass, then laid him back at the end of the bed so he could take them the rest of the way off. “I’m totally keeping these, by the way.” Steve sniffed them playfully, then tossed them to the floor.

Eddie had been reduced to a lovesick, brain-dead groupie. Future him would be sickened remembering his impulse to do anything for Steve’s voice. The way his body melted under it. He was glad he had the mattress underneath him for support. He was so wet, now rid of his boxers that Steve apparently wanted to keep as a snack for later, that he was making a puddle on the bed. “They’re all yours, gorgeous. Have them.”

Way to be subtle, Munson. Might as well have said you own me.

Speaking of owning, Eddie didn’t touch his dick, even though it was arching up along his belly and painfully hard, flushed dark red and ready for use. His omega was telling him that also belonged to Steve now. He could do whatever he wanted with it.

Steve sighed, rumbling deeply at the sight before him. He didn’t know where to start.  He spotted some slick on Eddie’s milky and much skinnier thigh and leaned down to lap it up with his tongue. “Fuck, it’s good,” Steve praised.

He got down between Eddie’s thighs and licked and sucked his way up to the source, lifting Eddie’s legs for full access to his ass.

Eddie’s breath hitched. Steve liked how he tasted?

“Been a while since anybody’s been down there. Might have to clear the cobwebs and bats out before you start.” A crappy joke. Eddie began rambling. Why was he fucking nervous? Oh yeah, because he was living his fantasy. He should have drunk that second glass of wine. “Thought I might have to be your teacher during this quest, but you—mh!” Steve’s lips were kissing his hole, his tongue circling Eddie’s sensitive rim. Eddie whined, legs closing briefly around Steve’s head before he got ahold of himself and opened them again. “You seem to be doing okay down there without my tutelage.”

Tutelage? Did he just say tutelage in the middle of sex?

Steve would’ve laughed if his mouth wasn’t busy. Eddie was so fucking cute. He was hungry. While he hadn’t eaten ass before, he didn’t hesitate. His need for Eddie was the driving factor behind his confidence. The fact that it had been a while since Eddie had an Alpha between his legs pleased Steve, too.

Eddie’s slick was delicious. Steve took his time licking and kissing. All he could think about was making Eddie feel as good as he could, considering it’d been a while and that he didn’t even know what the fuck he was doing. He just wanted Eddie to feel treasured and give him some good foreplay.

Steve’s face was getting messy. He loved it. When Eddie’s thighs put him in a headlock, he figured what he was doing was good. He could fuck him easily with his tongue. The texture was new, but the gush of slick onto his tongue made him hum happily. This was the sweetest slick he’d ever experienced. It was so addicting.

Eddie groaned. “M’already fucking this up, aren’t I?” Eddie closed his eyes, sinking his fingers into Steve’s hair, which was still semi-stiff and crunchy from all the Dippity Do. He tried to relax and stop thinking so hard. “Swear I’m usually better than this.”

Not too many of his past partners had done this to him before. Eddie wasn’t particularly interesting down there. His cock he was incredibly proud of, but he knew as far as omegas went, his ass was kind of a snore. Being up close and personal with it like Steve was probably wasn't as exciting as Steve was used to. Eddie knew he didn't compare to any of the curvy female omegas Steve had been with.

Eddie was fine with his lack of assets now, of course, but when he’d first started hooking up with Alphas, the lack of compliments had felt admittedly shitty, especially when he knew other omegas got a lot of them during sex. He’d had to work extra hard to get praise and attention there or pretend he didn’t care. Felt like he didn’t deserve any.

Now that he was famous, guys would tell him anything he wanted to hear and more, but it was rarely genuine.

Steve was confused. What was Eddie talking about? He was having a good time. He was working his way up to getting laid. They both were, but Eddie was worrying about being a good omega. Steve didn’t want to, but he had to stop and keep Eddie from spiralling. He licked up from Eddie’s hole, along his taint and balls and finally lifted his head to look up at him.

“You know, whenever I’m getting head, I never think about if I’m doing a good job.” He had to tease. He just wanted Eddie to enjoy this.

Steve was sitting up, which made Eddie panic a little, thinking things were ending, but it was probably for the best since he was starting to tense up so much that his slick had nearly stopped. He laughed weakly and resisted throwing an arm over his eyes. “Perk of being an omega: constantly needing validation.”

All omegas were whores for praise. Eddie didn’t want to be needy, but his biology just dictated some things for him. It was annoying, more times than not, but it was who he was.

“You’re perfect, Eddie. Look at my face.” Steve smiled, soft and big and genuine. “I’m so happy.”

Steve rumbled as he moved up Eddie’s body, kissing everything, his dick, stomach and chest. When he got to Eddie’s neck, he scraped his canine teeth along it.

Eddie made a noise, torn between embarrassment and that natural euphoria pleasing the Alpha elicited. Perfect? Was Steve telling the truth or just pitying him? It felt genuine, was the thing. Steve wasn’t a liar.

The command to look was easy to follow. Steve did look happy, actually. His cute little brown eyes were sparkling, the lower half of his face messy with slick, hair messy, debauched. Eddie smiled back, a gentle purr vibrating through his chest. 

“Being with you like this is making me so fucking nervous, Stevie,” Eddie confessed with a chuckle as Steve laid kisses on him that felt like little electric buzzes against his skin. As if it wasn’t obvious already, and the way his heart was pounding like Gareth’s drums under Steve’s lips. “I’m a wreck. I’ve thought about this—you—a lot.” Don’t want you to regret me.

There was a low ache in Steve’s belly when he got his mouth on Eddie’s neck. His knot started throbbing. Eddie’s words were music to Steve’s ears. He was so close to biting; his mouth was watering. Eddie’s scent gland was right there.

Eddie pulled Steve’s hips into the vee of his legs, his hands travelling down Steve’s heated back and caressing it. When he felt the sharpness of teeth near his gland, his nails dug in, making Steve gasp, and his eyes fluttered closed. “Fuck,” he breathed. His pulse sped up even more, finding a new rhythm like it was learning a song. “Careful, sweetheart, you might…”

Mate me.

“Don’t be nervous, Eddie bear. I swear I want to. I want you,” Steve said with a possessive growl. He kissed the spot tenderly instead of heeding the warning.

His mating mark would look so good there. Everyone would know Eddie was his, and no one else could claim him. Why wasn’t he claimed yet?

Steve didn’t really know why either of them hadn’t found their mate. Maybe they were waiting for each other. Steve felt a relief tonight for the first time since he’d met Eddie. Eddie had always been closed off to him in a couple of ways. Through their friendship, the band and scent blockers. Their heat and rut schedules were always planned and purposely spent apart.

Steve also didn’t know why he hadn’t taken off his boxers. It was the last thing separating them from full-body contact. Steve moved to get them off. He was still burning up, knowing there wouldn’t be any true relief until he was knot deep inside of Eddie. He sighed a little when he was free and rolled them onto their sides so they could kiss again.

He’d missed Eddie’s mouth. While they kissed, Steve found Eddie’s hand and moved it to wrap around his cock. It needed attention immediately. He wanted Eddie to feel how hard he had gotten because of him.

Somehow, hearing Steve’s sweet nickname for him in the Alpha voice made Eddie’s blush deepen. He tried not to pant like a bitch in heat at the declaration, but it was hopeless. He was gone, gone, gone. Mating bells were ringing in his head. Steve sounded greedy for him. Holy shit. Steve wanted him for keeps. Eddie would do a little jig if he weren’t, y’know, horizontal and busy being utterly seduced.

They were making out again, and Steve’s thigh was between his, pressing up against his wet and sticky cock. Eddie groaned into Steve’s mouth at the friction. It was funny. Eddie had never enjoyed kissing all that much until today. Don’t get him wrong; it was fun sometimes, but more often than not, nothing to write home about. Like, he could do without it easily.

It was nothing like this. Steve tasted like cake and wine and Eddie’s slick, and he knew how to kiss an omega. They fell into sync naturally, both of them going back in for more and more like they would die if they stopped.

Eddie’s lips felt swollen when Steve grabbed his hand—Eddie was a little contrite to note he had just been clutching onto Steve’s side like a lifeline—and guided it to his big, gorgeous cock. It was so heated in his hand. Hard as steel.

“Eddie, baby,” Steve rumbled sweetly in between kisses. “You feel me? You did that because you’re so fucking hot. You have the sweetest slick.”

Eddie squeezed, though he was the one who gasped and shivered as Steve continued to stroke his ego. That was what he’d done. Made Steve hard for him. “I-I feel you,” Eddie responded.

Steve nudged his nose against Eddie’s. “You’re making my knot hurt.” He whined a little as he met Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie ran his thumb along Steve’s throbbing knot reverently and felt an echoing deep throb in his hole, slick running down the back of his thigh.

“You’re gonna let me pop it, huh? I’m gonna fill you up so good. You’ll feel full,” Steve promised. He planned to absolutely ruin Eddie for any other Alpha’s knot. Only his was going to fit. He pulled Eddie’s thigh towards him so he could have access to his ass.

Steve’s rut smell was heady and thick in his nose. Eddie was so thirsty for him that his vision was glazed and blurring, and he was nodding like a bobblehead. “Yes, yeah, yeah, please. Want all of you. Want your knot. Please. Need it, Alpha. Please.”

That was three times he’d said please. His nerves had run away. He really just wanted to be fucked into next Tuesday by his (yes, his!) Alpha.

Steve’s fingertips met so much slick. He rubbed his thumb against Eddie’s hole before pressing his index and middle finger inside. His eyebrows rose, feeling the resistance around his fingers. He slowly twisted his wrist, drilling his fingers to get them in while watching Eddie’s face.

By the time Steve had two fingers inside him, Eddie was so turned on his eyes were trying to roll up in his head, and his leg was trembling around Steve’s hip. Fuck, it felt good. No, it felt fucking incredible. Steve had thick, long fingers. Eddie had watched them closely and touched them when he’d taught Steve how to play the guitar a few years back. (He’d also jerked off furiously after each teaching session because… well because.)

“I know there’s this spot...” Steve worked Eddie open. His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he focused on feeling it.

Steve’s concentrated expression was hilarious and endearing as hell, but Eddie was in no state to tease him because Steve had found his golden ticket.

“Oh god, oh my god, oh my god,“ Eddie moaned. Too loud, too loud, shit. It had only been a short, experimental press of Steve’s finger pads, but it left Eddie shaking like an overstimulated chihuahua and gushing slick.

“Fuck yeah, there it is.” Steve grinned and added a third finger, readying Eddie to take his knot.

Eddie’s hand had gone limp around Steve’s dick since his brain had leaked out of his ears, but he got with the program again and renewed his grip, stroking Steve from knot to tip to the same rhythm Steve was fingering him.

The head of Eddie’s cock knocked against Steve’s from the fast motions. Eddie whimpered and tightened around Steve’s fingers as pre-come jetted out, hitting Steve’s chest and getting caught in his hair. “Steve, now? Now, please? I’m gonna co—not gonna—make it.”

Fingering was hot and a lot of fun. Steve loved using his hand first. He knew, without the declaration, that Eddie was going to come. “Oh, Eddie,” he said. “Baby, you can come now. I promise it won’t be the only time you’ll get to.”

Steve kept his fingers firmly inside of Eddie. He wasn’t going to stop, especially with the way Eddie was quivering. He was going to make it happen. It’d be cruel to stop and start again with him this close. Steve loved to get omegas off, especially without it directly triggering his own need to come.

It helped that Eddie was touching him. His hand was big and fit around Steve’s cock and knot perfectly, stroking everything. He moaned softly in Eddie’s ear. “You’re making me feel so good. It's so hot that you’re gonna come for me already. Just from my fingers? That’s amazing. You’re such a good omega. You’re easily pleased by your Alpha, aren’t you?”

Another shock to Eddie’s system was Steve’s… kindness towards him. Generosity. Those words didn't go together with sex. He wanted to make Eddie come more than once? Even though he was in rut that had to be demanding he just flip Eddie over and mount him already. It didn't make sense why he was putting Eddie’s needs before his own. It didn’t make any sense at all.

All the Alphas Eddie had ever been with treated him the opposite. It was never good omega. It was always bad omega. Needy slut. Desperate whore. You’re just pathetic for it, aren’t you?

And sure, Eddie looked like the type who would be into that sort of thing, he’d admit. His whole persona kinda screamed I’m a brat, put me in my place. He didn’t look like an omega who wanted to be treated nicely, and he’d never corrected anybody who’d assumed so.

But he was that kind of omega. It actually stung sometimes—okay, every time—he was called names like that. Made him feel as worthless as a broken guitar string. The worst part was that his partners had never had any problem crossing the finish line, even if Eddie had gone limp.

So this, being called good? Being hot? Making Steve feel good? Being his baby…Shit, it was like nothing Eddie had ever experienced, and it was hitting him so hard he probably could have come from the affirmations alone. Eddie was making animal noises instead of actual words. There was a direct line from his ear to his heart to his dick. The prostate stimulation was now just a bonus. The cherry on top.

Steve dug his fingers into the spot he found and jackhammered them as Eddie whined and came between them. Steve kissed him once more before gently pulling his fingers out and pulling back. “I can’t wait to give you my knot.”

Eddie had never come so hard in his life, and as the pleasure center in his brain lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, it became Eddie’s sworn duty—his eternal vow—to make sure he was Steve’s good omega forever.

Eddie could barely kiss back, uncoordinated and panting. “No more waiting,” he swore.

Steve made a little show out of sucking Eddie’s slick from all three of his fingers. He rumbled at the taste. Afterward, he used his hand to push Eddie onto his back. There was a good amount of come on Eddie’s stomach, fresh and glistening. “Goddamn, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie’s last brain cell took a swan dive to its death. Steve was acting like he was a delectable treat. Steve liked Eddie’s taste. Eddie was good.

Eddie flopped back bonelessly against the mattress as Steve maneuvered him, hair that was now mostly dry splaying out on the pillow beneath it. He watched Steve with hearts in his eyes, his post-orgasm scent overpowering the room and almost consuming Steve’s. He felt like he was floating, but also—

“Holy fuck, Stevie, you’re gonna kill me,” Eddie said, completely breathless. Steve had leaned down and was eating his come. The look on his face was predatory and ravenous. He let out a rumbly growl like he was still starving. Eddie’s abs clenched, and his cock gave a valiant twitch, aftershocks wracking his body before settling again as Steve finished his meal. He grinned. “And what a sweet death it’ll be.”

No way he’d rather go.

Steve hadn’t tasted come before. Eddie’s was good; salty and sweet but not as syrupy as his slick. “Definitely not going to kill you, Bambi.” That nickname slipped out easily with Eddie’s long, skinny legs in the crooks of his arms.

Eddie laughed. Now that the edge was off, he felt relaxed and happy, though no less needy. He could make sure his Alpha was taken care of. He wanted to make Steve feel more than good. He wanted to make him feel great and amazing. Eddie spread his legs a little more and lifted his hips, presenting his dripping hole as much as the position would allow. He clenched his muscles purposefully so Steve could see it gape open and closed, smirking playfully at the reaction. “Shove that pretty cock in me. Go as hard as you want. I can really take it.”

Steve didn’t have to hold back any longer. He could let his Alpha out and let it take him over, take what it wanted. Eddie was still soft—his refractory period was a lot slower out of his heat cycle, but he had no doubt he’d get hard again before Steve popped his knot. Honestly, probably as soon as Steve slid home.

The vision in front of Steve felt like a dream. The view of Eddie’s wet and prepped hole was perfect. It felt tight around his fingers. He watched Eddie control himself, and Steve’s jaw dropped in awe. “Okay, so that… that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie grinned, a proud purr erupting from his chest simultaneously. He loved Steve’s reaction so much; how his face went slack and almost amazed. Eddie had done that to him.

Steve had to laugh in disbelief. He’d never been so turned on. He’d never had Eddie, so it made sense. Eddie was telling him he could… could go as hard as he wanted.

Steve was so hard. He didn’t want to hurt Eddie. He guided Eddie’s legs to wrap around him so he could take his cock. He made a noise as he touched himself to Eddie’s hole for the first time, eyes trained on the target. He had to thread himself inside an incredibly tight hole. His eyes widened in surprise as he pushed, and Eddie pulled him in.

“Christ.” He breathed through it. Hot, almost searing, pulsing pleasure surrounded him. All Eddie’s tight resistance would allow was a painfully slow descent. He was so tight it felt like he hadn’t even been prepped.

Eddie crossed his ankles, heels resting along the small of Steve’s back as Steve pressed against his waiting entrance. He was more than ready to be fucked, to be taken, for his ass to be claimed (for all of him to be claimed). It was a pleasurable surprise when there was no shoving. Steve went slow instead. Slow, slow, deliciously slow, filling Eddie up one thick inch at a time. With each push, Eddie let out a soft ah, head tossed back.

Eddie was fully hard again by the time Steve’s knot teased at his rim, rocking against him, and if he didn’t have self-control, tears might’ve sprung to his eyes at just how whole he suddenly felt. Like a fucking missing piece of him had finally slid into place, and Steve was that piece. Jesus Christ. How were his thoughts turning this fucking corny when he wasn't even in heat?

Steve fell forward and caged him in with his arms. Fucking face-to-face was new. Eddie didn’t do missionary. Usually, he’d just be bent over the nearest surface, standing, or on all fours somewhere. He was pretty well acquainted with rug burns and bruised knees. This was intimate.

Steve nudged Eddie’s nose sweetly with his own, then tilted his head back and let out a guttural moan. “Feels like you got me in a goddamn vice, Eddie.”

A small, overwhelmed smile touched Eddie’s lips.  The moan was deep, satisfied, and raised all the hair on Eddie’s arms.

This must have been Steve’s first time. It made sense. Female omegas didn’t have a sweet spot in their ass like guys did. Of course, that didn’t stop greedy Alphas from using that hole anyway, but Eddie was quickly learning Steve was considerate in bed. He probably hadn’t fucked any of his girlfriend’s asses. He was too sweet. The thought was oddly comforting. (Eddie’s head was fucked up, man, okay. He knew it.)

Eddie watched Steve’s face, enrapt, and pet his hands down Steve’s shoulders and chest, wanting to touch. Steve was a beautiful Alpha. Pleasure looked so damn good on him, and he deserved so much. Eddie couldn’t believe his luck. What had he done to deserve him?

There was absolutely no give for Steve’s knot yet. He was used to some. Certainly, Eddie had taken a knot, maybe not as big as his, though. The realization inflated Steve’s ego.

Moving got easier as Eddie adapted and stretched more for Steve as he started moving his hips. “Good omega, you’re so tight for me. You’ve probably never had a cock this big and thick.” Slick started pooling as if on cue, and it made Steve smile. “You’re getting ready for my knot.”

Steve could feel it when he really started fucking Eddie. Eddie was so wet it felt like he had gone into heat for Steve. Steve picked up the pace, rumble growling as he slammed in harder with every thrust, rocking his knot. Steve was feeling frantic, his heart racing and knot throbbing.

“I’ve had guys tell me their dicks were as big as yours,” Eddie replied with a hitched moan. He cracked a grin, toes still curled from the second good omega of the night. Eddie had never smiled or laughed this much during sex before. It was fun. The most fun he’d ever had with anyone. “Always a disappointment. But you’re… fuck, fuck! ” A deep thrust had Eddie spasming around Steve and adding shakily, “Really living up to your nickname, big boy.”

That was the last thing Eddie could say for a while. The mood shifted. His hands were pressed to the pillow on either side of his head, and his fingers interlaced with Steve’s as they went harder and faster until Steve was drilling into him.

Again, it was incredibly intimate. The most vulnerable Eddie had ever felt, and it had nothing to do with the pounding his ass was taking. He was more than naked. His soul was bare. Steve was staring into his eyes like Eddie was the center of his universe—like nothing else mattered. He didn’t think it was just his omega hormones that were being dramatic and romantic. Was it?

Steve didn’t advertise that he had a big dick outside of sex. Sure, he’d mention it, like he just had in context. Eddie calling him big boy always made him blush. He hadn’t fully realized until now it was because of his dick. Steve’s face was already hot; he was sure it was crimson now.

Eddie felt so good he was questioning his sexuality altogether. Of course, he’d admired other men, but fucking one—fucking Eddie—he didn’t know it could feel this good.

Steve didn’t have any complaints about his past, but he didn’t want to fuck anyone else after this. It couldn’t be his rut making him want to claim Eddie. Steve knew he loved and cared about Eddie. He thought Eddie was gorgeous and talented. He was fun and funny, and Steve always felt nauseous when Eddie spent the night out when they were on the road.

The following day, he’d always show up disheveled, alabaster skin bruised and looking worse for wear—almost like he had escaped something dangerous. Steve never liked it, and his Alpha would get snappy. He’d end up blaming his bitchiness on his need for his morning coffee.

Claiming the omega could put a stop to Eddie’s reckless behavior. Steve had had about enough of it after the stage dive tonight.

Eddie’s back bowed, and he squeezed Steve’s hands like they were the only things tethering him to the bed. Whimpering moans punched out of him. It felt so fucking good, his cock was slapping against his stomach, and tears did spring to Eddie’s eyes then just from the sheer intensity of it all.

“Knot me, please?” he begged, feeling that molten hot buzz building up inside him too fast to control. He was about to come again. “Sweetheart. Alpha. Steve. I—I’m ready.”

And he was ready, so ready that I fucking love you had almost slipped free. It was true. It was way too soon to say that. He didn’t want to scare Steve away. But he couldn’t stop his next instinct. Chin lifting, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His neck baring itself, begging to be bitten.

Eddie was begging for his knot. Steve could feel with his thrusts that Eddie was almost there. So was Steve. He’d been in pain, his knot and heart aching in sync.

Eddie bared his neck, and Steve dropped their gaze for the first time since they’d started fucking. He licked his lips. He knew he had to and that he was going to do it. Enough was enough, and Eddie was finally going to be his.

“It’s yours. I’m yours. You’re all fucking mine.” Steve squeezed Eddie’s hands because he was going to do it. Eddie was ready for it—ready for his bite and knot.

Eddie shuddered hard, moaning. He couldn’t believe his ears. His lucky, lucky ears. Steve was giving himself to Eddie, verbally claiming Eddie.

Steve leaned down and kissed the prettiest place for his mark to be forever. It was his favorite spot on Eddie’s neck; his hair could hide it, but part of it would always be on display.

Steve bared down, popped his knot and let out the most pleased, possessive, growly moan he didn’t know he had in him as he locked in and came harder than ever before.

Steve’s knot grew in Eddie. It filled him up, so full he could barely contain it, but he did, closing around it greedily. The noise Steve released as he came made Eddie feel like a prize Steve had won. He sounded victorious. He hadn’t even had to hunt. Eddie had submitted completely to him without being chased. He’d always been by Steve’s side waiting, after all.

Steve’s face buried in his neck, accepting Eddie’s offering. The skin broke under his canines, and Eddie cried out as Steve’s teeth sank deeply into him. It was painful, burning, white-hot stinging—but he loved it. He loved it so fucking much. He loved Steve so fucking much.

Steve tasted Eddie’s blood, signaling a successful claim. A rush of it hit his tongue, and he moaned. He sucked the wound gently and lapped his tongue over it for good measure, making it clean. He pulled back and admired it. It looked so fucking good on him. Steve had an omega now.

It felt like his heart was fluttering out of his chest. It was beating so fast from the amazing sex. Eddie did pop his cherry, literally. He was panting and sweating, his body lightly shuddering from the aftershocks of his orgasm and being tied to Eddie.

Eddie was going to remember this until the day he died. He was going to replay this memory whenever he could, was going to play Steve’s Alpha voice in his mind forever and ever and ever and ever and—

“Yours! Steve, I love you! ” he gasped. He came hard. Even harder than the first time.

Then he promptly passed out.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮❤️️✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Steve hadn’t gotten to touch Eddie’s cock, but clearly, he had come again. Steve was happy he hadn’t broken his promise. He was feeling a little bashful when Eddie told him he was his and that he loved him.

“I love you, too…” he managed to say, but Eddie hadn’t heard him.

Eddie was unconscious. Steve could’ve sworn his heart stopped. “Eddie!” he yelled, and immediately grabbed Eddie’s wrist to check his pulse because had his dick killed him?

Eddie wasn’t sure how much time had passed when his eyes opened to Steve’s panicked face above him. "Whoa. Shit, did I just…”

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Steve said, still wide-eyed, though part of him felt like dying laughing for thinking his dick was capable of committing murder.

Eddie cupped Steve's cheeks with both hands when he was lucid enough to. He laughed in disbelief, stroking the apples of them with his thumbs. “Sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m okay. …Guess I’m not immune to that Steve Harrington fainting charm after all.”

Eddie tilted his chin up to kiss the Alpha (he couldn’t believe he was allowed to do that now) gently and languidly, tasting the sweet iron tang of his blood on Steve’s tongue.

Steve accepted the kiss because, yes, it would make everything better after the fright he had just experienced. It was kind of funny—or would be later when they told people the story of how they had become mates.

Eddie used the last dregs of his energy to roll them over so he was on top, straddling Steve’s knot—which still felt enormous and wonderful, and Eddie was already so addicted to it he was going to be knot-stupid for days. It would be a while before it went down and they unlocked, and he wanted Steve to be comfortable. He’d been holding himself on top of Eddie for a long time.

Steve gasped a little as the switch tugged his knot deliciously. He was happy to rest on his back and get to cup Eddie’s sweet ass. He petted it gently and smiled up at him. They were a hot mess, sticky and wet.

Eddie reached up to touch the marks on his neck with his fingertips. The marks that said Property of Steve. They were sore and throbbing in the best way. “Fuck,” he muttered.

He opened his eyes, unaware he had closed them. He immediately zeroed in on Steve’s neck. Unmarred, pretty skin, waiting for a bite in return. Eddie’s gaze flicked up, and he found himself trapped under Steve’s. His face suddenly flamed as he remembered what he’d said before the world had gone black. I love you.

He felt shame, especially because he was riding such a high right now—his whole body was vibrating with his purr, giving away his feelings that had already been so thoroughly outed.

He wanted to apologize for his behavior, for offering his neck like that when Steve was in rut and not of full sound mind. He’d just wanted it so badly. It had been selfish.

The apology stuck in his throat. Eddie just couldn’t bring himself to say sorry. It wouldn't be genuine. He didn't feel sorry.

“I hope it’s okay… that I did that,” Steve said. “You don’t have to do it back right now. You’ll let me take you out when we get home, right?”

Steve was going to court the hell out of Eddie.

Eddie was fucking floored that one, Steve thought he might not be okay with having been bitten, and two, Steve thought he was worthy enough, respectable enough of an omega that he needed to be formally courted. Eddie never thought he’d be one of those omegas who would get to experience that. As a celebrity, sure, but as himself, as regular Eddie? No way.

He didn’t need any grand gestures—Steve staking his claim was more than enough—but Eddie would admit that it did make his dumb little heart flutter to think about it —just a tad.

“Of course I’ll go out with you, pretty, but you don’t have to go through the trouble of romancing me.” Eddie flashed Steve a smitten smile that showed off his set of canines, much shorter than the Alpha’s but no less sharp. “I’m kind of a sure thing.”

More than kind of. Why play coy now? His heart was in Steve’s hands.

He’d have to bite Steve for their bond to take. Otherwise, his marks would heal and start to fade in a few months. A one-sided claim. The last thing Eddie wanted was for Steve to think Eddie was rejecting him. There was no way, in any world, in any fucking universe where that would happen. It was actually hilarious how unlikely it was.

“I just want to wait a little while. When your rut is over, and you’ve had more time to think about it,” Eddie added in a softer tone.

While part of Eddie—an extremely large fucking portion—wanted to latch onto Steve’s neck like it was a chew toy and never let go, the sober part of him wanted Steve to have some time, with a clear head, to make sure he really did want this.

Steve was slowly coming out of the fog of his rut, but he already knew that being sober from his hormones wasn’t going to change how he felt about Eddie. Eddie could make it official right fucking now, and Steve would probably sing Hallelujah. He was frustrated Eddie had told him he didn’t have to go through any trouble. “I do, and I will go through as much trouble as I think you deserve. Which is a lot.”

Steve wanted to take him on dates, buy him things, and, most importantly, love, protect and respect him. It wasn’t lost on Steve when Eddie told him before they’d started that he didn’t want this to be casual.

“You don’t have to spend your heats alone either. You have an Alpha now, and I’m going to take care of you.” Steve would’ve been dramatic about pulling out the stops if they had put off the fucking part during his rut, but he did think courting was important. Like most things, he’d overcommitted and claimed Eddie as soon as his knot had popped. It was what they’d both wanted deep down. Steve wanted to give Eddie experiences he’d never had, and there would be no more throwing himself into crowds or running off with lousy Alphas.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmured. He chewed on his bottom lip, filled with emotions. Emotions even bigger than the knot inside him. He didn’t believe he was deserving of it, of any of it, but Steve’s solid conviction was making him doubt that a teensy bit.

Nobody had ever wanted to take care of Eddie before. Fuck him, yeah, of course. But care for? That would be a significant change from his heat routine. “I’m going to take care of you, too,” Eddie promised.

He would. Even better than how he was taking care of Steve now. He had already been fiercely protective of the Alpha as his best friend, but with their friend barrier broken down (or levelled up), Eddie’s natural instinct would be to protect Steve and please him even more. Whenever Steve wanted or needed him.

Also, Eddie guessed he would be retiring the Turbo Knotter 3000—hopefully forever. Eddie should probably thank it for its years of faithful service. About a month ago, he had been looking at the new Turbo Knotter 4000 in a sex shop and had been planning on buying it soon. He was glad he hadn’t.

“It’s a good thing you never brought any of the Alphas you’ve been with around. I probably would’ve kicked their asses for not treating you like they should.” Steve knew they hadn’t, and it made him bitchy, witnessing his best friend getting mistreated. “Their loss,” he huffed.

Eddie couldn't repress his chuckle. Steve wanting to defend him was cute as hell but unnecessary. Smartly, Eddie didn't say what he was thinking—that they'd treated him fine, that it was normal for a guy like him to be slapped around during sex, never anything out of the ordinary.

In the past, he'd noticed a pattern of Steve’s bad moods swinging on the mornings after Eddie had been with someone. He’d be tense during soundcheck or snippy with everybody while they had breakfast. Eddie still didn't understand why it was a big deal, but he regretted upsetting the Alpha each time.

(He had a feeling Steve wouldn’t be very pleased if he ever found out tonight wasn’t the only time he’d passed out during sex. The other time, it had been after some erotic asphyxiation gone wrong. It had been unplanned, mostly unasked for, and after that night, Eddie had never tried it again. Or at least, he’d requested it not be done to him.)

Eddie had to kiss Steve again. More than just a need. It was vital. Eddie was amused and flattered to note Steve’s hands were still on his ass as he carefully leaned down.

“You’re just unreal, you know that?” Eddie murmured. His hair fell off his shoulders, curtaining each side of Steve’s face. He copied Steve’s move from earlier, giving him a gentle nuzzling, nose to nose, before kissing him thoroughly.

Steve’s hands navigated up from Eddie’s ass to his back as he kissed back with a deep, satisfied rumble. He rubbed it gently. Eddie smelled like him now. There would be no mistaking that he wasn’t Steve’s. It was incredible. It almost didn’t feel real. Could this be the best dream he’d ever had? If so, he didn’t want to wake up.

“Goddamn angel.” Eddie smiled at him. Steve was still wearing his stage makeup, looking particularly angelic, if not innocent, as he blinked up at Eddie in gold. “Do you wanna come home with me tomorrow? To Hawkins?”

Besides the fact that Eddie would probably (definitely) be climbing the walls and biting his nails down to the bone if they were states apart in the next few days, he knew Wayne would love to see Steve. Especially if they were going to be mated in the near future. Wayne already considered Steve to be like his son, so Eddie was sure it’d go over well and his uncle would be happy for them.

Maybe it would be better if Eddie gave Steve the space alone to think, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to curl up in the jet with his Alpha, then take him to their old puphood haunts and kiss him silly all over their small-minded little town. He had also long since bought Wayne a house to replace his trailer so they wouldn’t even have to sleep in Eddie’s old twin bed.

Steve laughed a little and blushed. What he had done to Eddie wasn’t angelic, but hearing Eddie say something so sweet about him made him smile. “Yes. I don’t want to go anywhere without you,” Steve said honestly. He didn’t want Eddie going anywhere without him either. “You’re my omega.”

Fuck, that was music to Eddie’s ears. Steve’s omega. “I am,” Eddie confirmed.

Steve gently tucked Eddie’s hair behind his ears so he could see his face. “You’re so pretty, Eddie.”

The compliments weren’t going to stop now that they’d fucked. Now, he could just say what he was thinking.

Eddie’s purr ratcheted up even more, though he complained with a quiet, “ Steeeve,” because he didn’t know what to do with himself. How to act. He’d never purred so much in his life. He was going to get a sore throat.

“It’ll be fun to go home. I want to take you on a date to the place we met.” Going back to The Hideout would be romantic, but it was probably still a dive.

Going on a date would be fun. They’d made a lot of memories at The Hideout. Eddie would never forget the first time he saw Steve’s face in the crowd, how preppy and out of place he’d looked surrounded by drunks in ripped jeans and leather, watching the band play—watching Eddie. But he’d fallen into place with them so quickly. The perfect fit.

Eddie smirked. “I fully expect you to get up on the stage and serenade me,” he joked. “Better get busy writing me a love song.”

Steve’s heart fluttered. “I think serenading you is all I’ve ever been doing.” He laughed at the realization. He loved to sing, but seeing Eddie’s reaction to him doing it almost brought the same amount of pleasure. “It’s funny that you think I’ll have to write one and don’t already have one up my sleeve.”

Steve had written about Eddie before, but now he had a hell of a lot more material.

Somehow, Steve had managed to turn his joke into the most romantic thing Eddie had ever heard. He didn't even have a response. Damn Steve and his smoothness.

“Its been so long since I’ve been home,” Steve added. “I think the pups will be happy to see us, though I guess none of them are really pups anymore.” Steve laughed and rubbed his hands over his face. He was always going to feel like the pupsitter.

Eddie’s smirk softened into a smile. Steve’s pups. Not his biological ones, but basically adopted. Eddie had herded them into the fold, but Steve was the one who’d taken care of them like the protective Alpha mother he was.

“I wanna fuck you at skull rock, too.”

“Oh, the famous skull rock.” Eddie turned his head and kissed Steve’s palm, then nipped it playfully. He batted his eyelashes. “Take me to prom, too? I’ll wear your corsage.”

He was sure his prom experience, had he had one, would’ve been much more fun with Steve on his arm.

“Yes, that skull rock. The one that I made famous.” Steve leaned up to nuzzle Eddie and nibbled on him for the palm bites he received. God, he was so insatiable now that he had gotten a taste. “Of course I’ll take you to prom! Good thing I got that pesky virginity thing out of the way. We’ll probably both be crowned prom kings.”

It was a fun fantasy to think about. He’d taken Nancy to prom, and he was crowned Prom King, but Tammy Thompson had been Prom Queen—which reminded him that Robin was going to fucking die when she found out that he’d claimed Eddie.

“I’m okay with being a queen,” Eddie said. He sat up, making them both groan, and motioned to his ass. “Clearly.”

Steve’s knot was fully deflated now, and Eddie’s legs were starting to go tingly from being folded so long. Eddie slowly lifted himself off. He didn’t want to be empty, but he had no doubt it wouldn't be for long.

Steve groaned softly when Eddie dismounted. He felt at home inside of him, but his knot had deflated, so they weren’t tied anymore. They had just been chatting away in the afterglow anyway.

He watched Eddie gracefully saunter over to the bathroom door even though Steve’s come was trickling down his legs. It was a sight for his sore eyes. He couldn’t wait to fill him up again and again.

Eddie glanced over his shoulder, turning on his best British accent. “I’m filthy, your highness. Does the king care to join me for a royal bathing?”

Steve grinned at the invitation and leapt up to join him in the bathroom. He gathered Eddie’s hair to the side so they could see Steve’s mark on him in the mirror. Steve rumbled. He was so proud of it and Eddie.

He wrapped his arms around Eddie’s middle protectively as Eddie checked it out. Steve squeezed him tightly and kissed all over his bite. “Mine.” 

[fangirlmermaid]

You promised!

Summary: Reuniting with someone from the past. It doesn't go as planned.

Pairing: Logan x G!N Reader (platonic) x Deadpool x G!N Reader (Platonic)

Warning: Smoking, language, death, death threats, Angst

maybe some bad grammar and wrong punctuation.

(sorry if Deadpool isn't funny enough)

That night still haunts you, the screams echo in your ears, and the pile of your friends' dead bodies that you had to dig your way out of still makes your skin crawl. Fortunately, your ability to summon/ commune with the dead also gave you the power of immortality. 

You did everything you could to help but you were just a kid…your heart racing trying to find the one person who you thought could protect you…your kitten. Of course, he would rather be at a stupid bar than wear the stupid yellow spandex. When he came stumbling back where he found you covered in ash crying. Sadness turned into spite, how could he leave you? He promised to keep you safe! 

You couldn’t stand the sight of him…so you ran. That was the last time you saw Logan..or so you thought.

You tried to use your powers to conjure your friend's spirits but you couldn’t.

Years passed, and you lived a normal life. Until some weirdo with outdated references wearing a red spandex suit was in your apartment building lobby. He cut you off at the stairs spreading both his arms out so you couldn’t walk around him “Well hello pookie” The weirdo welcomed you as you glared at him “Do I know you?” You muttered, reaching into your messenger bag to grab something that could be used as a weapon. You were in no mood for what this ass has to say. The weirdo stood more relaxed “I’m Deadpool aka Marvel Jesus” the Spandex introduced, you raised an eyebrow “What? Marvel Jesus? What the fuck?” you wondered making Deadpool gasp at you “Oh just spit in my face! Did my peanut teach you that?! You’re too young to be speaking like a drunken sailor” Deadpool declared, clenching his nonexistent pearls. You wondered why he acted like you knew his peanut? If his friends were half as annoying as him then you doubt that you knew them.

Deadpool booped your nose making you swat his hand “My, my aren’t you a violent child” Deadpool teased, if he kept doing this Applebee's comedy night routine you were gonna need a joint. You dug through your bag, grabbed a joint from the container you kept, and lit the one in your hand. “I need your help saving the multiverse from this asshole named Paradox which is the stupidest name ever!” Deadpool announced, and you raised an eyebrow “The multiverse?” You repeated in disbelief that what this man was saying was true. You blew a cloud of smoke into Deadpool’s masked face, “as much as I would like to inhale secondhand smoke” the comedic took the joint out of your hand “I’m gonna need you to be sharp” Deadpool explained pressing the lit part of the joint on the no smoking sign. You crossed your arms “to save the multiverse?” You laughed, at this point you were expecting that you were on a prank channel.

Deadpool's whole demeanor changed “The point cupcake, is that everyone I care about will die if we don’t stop that asshole Paradox.” Deadpool was serious, there was no funny tone in it. You released a heavy sigh, ever since the fire you were done with all that heroic shit “Why me?” You wondered, he could have picked an actual crime fighter “Why you?! You’re Y/N! You were a part of Baldilock's merry band” Deadpool reminded you. The memories of when you were an X-men in training that you tried so hard to forget came rushing back, you tilt your head your eyes threw daggers at the dickhead in front of you who the fuck did he think he was making a joke about your friends.

You scoffed “it’s Deadpool, right?” You asked clenching your fists, the jackass got all giddy “Oh my god! Y/N remembers my name!” The mercenary exclaimed as if he was meeting Hugh Jackman. You grabbed him by his chest and pulled him towards you till you were inches apart “Get out of my way or I’m going to ram your head through a damn wall” you threatened beneath your breath.

Deadpool didn’t look intimidated, he looked over his shoulder “I can see why you like her, Peanut!” Deadpool yelled as if that was a queue. You heard footsteps coming down the stairs, you released the mercenary from your grip “You can thank Marvel H. Christ later” Deadpool patted you on the back before standing in front of the door that leads into the streets. Your heart sank into your stomach, Did this guy want you so badly that he brought someone with him to rough you up?!

The backup descended the stairs, and when his face came into view you froze, Your eyes glossed no, not him…anyone but him. You hoped this was just a nightmare, you kept pinching yourself hoping you would wake up in your apartment…but nothing happened, he was here.

 Logan gave you a warm smile “Hi, bub” he took a small step towards you, but you took a step back “Don’t!...don’t call me that!” your voice muttered, why would he think that it would be okay for him to call you that?! “Bu-kid, we need your help” Logan begged in a hushed tone like you were going to agree because the alcoholic asked nicely. You started to laugh “You…think…I’ll go…anywhere… with you?” You asked in between, you had to hold your stomach because you were laughing so hard. Deadpool took a step towards you two “Hi, sorry to interrupt but I’m kinda on a time crunch so can we-“ “Shut the fuck up!” You and Logan yelled in unison, Deadpool stepped back.

You looked back at Logan ”Y/N I’m so sorry” Logan apologized, you glared at him “That’s it?! That’s all you can say?! You went to get fucked up instead of being there…and all you can say is your sorry?!” You scoffed; it was like putting a band-aid over a bullet wound. It does nothing. You felt all the old feelings you tried to suppress seep through “I know and I’ll hate myself for that for my entire life” Logan admitted, you shook your head pinching the bridge of your nose to contain your emotions, trying not to cause a scene that would get the neighbors attention, “I can’t do this” you mumbled re-adjusting your messenger bag on your shoulder. 

Your eyes glossed as you tried to make it to the stairs but Logan blocked your path “Logan, please just step to the side. I don’t want to do this” Your voice cracked

“I can’t do that, Y/N”

“Just please move”

“I can’t kid” 

“Please move Logan”

“Bub, Please!”

“GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY!”

Tears started to run down your cheeks your fist pounded against Logan's chest “Move” you weakly repeated, he didn’t budge or fight back. You felt as powerless as you did the night of the fire. You felt like you were one big joke to the universe.

 Logan tried to wrap his arms around you but you pushed yourself away from him, “Y/N” Logan called, you didn’t let him say more of his half-ass apology “Why weren’t you there?” you wondered crossing your arms over your chest, you remembered that he went to the bar but you wanted him to admit it. The man in front of you never answered, your eyes glossed “Why weren’t you there?! I needed you and you weren’t fucking there! You promised me that you would protect me! I trusted you! I looked up to you! You were my hero!” You admitted wrapping your arms around yourself as tears ran down your cheeks once again. Logan looked like he was on the verge of tears himself “I’m sorry, I’m here now” Logan promised, You shook your head “I don’t need you now! I needed you back then! Where were you…when I needed you?” You stated you noticed some people were opening their doors. 

Your eyes met Logan “I hate you” you sniffled, and Logan's lip quivered “I wish you would kill yourself, you would be doing me and everyone else in this world a fucking favor” Your tone was emotionless, Logan was taken back even Deadpool was speechless. You were emotionally drained, this time you successfully pushed past Logan and ran upstairs to your apartment.

You slammed the door Bang! You threw your bag on the ground and jumped into your bed shoving your face into your pillow to muffle your cries. You hate him. You hated that you trusted him. You wished you never met him. 

Back in the Lobby

Logan kept staring at the stairs silently hoping that you were going to come back down, hoping that you had a change of heart and the two of you could start over, a single tear escaped down his cheek. 

Wade stepped towards the Wolverine, “Why didn’t you tell her that those sons of bitches could fix your shit?” the mercenary wondered, Logan wiped away his tear before looking at that red fucker “They’ve been through so much…I didn’t want to get their hopes up. It’s not like they would believe me anyway” Logan admitted Wade placed his hand over his heart “Aw look whose heart grew three sizes” Wade mocked, making the Wolverine glare at him. Wade internally panicked, he needed Logan since he was an anchor beam and it’s not like this Logan could start fresh with the Y/N from his universe since they're dead. Meaning that Wade had to come up with something and fast.

Wade groaned making Wolverine snap his head toward him “This is the worst episode of Dr.Phil ever!” Wade whined. Wade grabbed Logan “You stay here and I’ll go talk to your precious Y/N who left like they were about to cut their hair, okay Peanut” Wade explained, surprisingly Logan agreed. Wade skipped towards the stairs. Wade saw some neighbors snooping “Yes children it’s Moi. Nothing to see here” Wade assured, he was about to introduce the peepers to Baby Knife but the peeping toms got the hint and closed their doors.  

As Wade reached Y/N’s apartment he tried to figure out how to persuade them to join him and his Peanut. He needs them to say yes so he can save his family.

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 11 (Humiliation)

Kevin Moskowitz (The Deep) x Reader (NSFW)

(1,127 Words)

Summary: the one where you peg him

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, strap-on, oral (on the strap), humiliation (duh), degradation, dom/sub, dom!reader, hair pulling, premature orgasm, pegging

Notes: I love bullying him LMAO this can be read as a sequel to this or a standalone, anyway enjoy the fic!!!

-

“God, you’re so fucking pathetic.” You grit out. Your words are cruel and disgusted, but your mind certainly feels the opposite way. In front of you is a beautiful sight: The Deep- Kevin, on his knees taking your strap in his mouth. He sucks on the artificial cock throughly, gingerly sucking just past the tip. “Make sure you suck it real good,” you grip his hair firmly, “get it all nice and wet, since you’re the one who’s going to be taking it up the ass.”

You can hear his pitiful whimpering around the silicone cock. His oceanic eyes slam shut as he swallows the strap further down his throat. He’s slow with it, but that’s to be expected. As he gets further down the base, you can hear him gag around you. Barking out a spiteful laugh, your hands continue to grip at his chestnut hair.

“Good job, Kevin!” You praise, voice laced with a mocking cruelty. “Make sure you really get every, single…” you thrust into his mouth, causing a mixture of a moan and a gag to erupt from his throat. “…Inch.” You chuckle as The Deep writhes below you. Saliva trickles down the corner of his mouth.

Looking down, you spy his massive cock, erect and practically aching through the spandex of his supe costume. It was utterly gratifying to Kevin in a position as compromising as this. In the public eye, he could talk the talk, but behind clothes doors? He was nothing but talk, and in your mind, someone who talks should probably be putting their mouth to other uses; especially when the mouth they have spouts arrogant and douchey remarks.

“Please,” Kevin asks imploringly, “can we just, um, rip off the band aid?” You roll your eyes, deciding to play dumb.

“What do you mean, Kevin?” You ask, playfully. “There is no band aid.”

“Oh come on!” He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “You know what I mean.” It was almost embarrassing to see how badly The Deep wanted you to fuck him. Unfortunately for him, you didn’t want to give him that satisfaction so easily.

“I know, but I want you to say it.”

“God,” he sighs, “this is so-”

“Humiliating? Yeah that’s kinda the point, you fucking idiot.” You grin, sadism dripping from your voice.

Kevin lets out a defeated sigh. His eyes refuse to meet yours as he mumbles his wish.

“Can you, p-please…”

“What was that, Kevin?” You reply, thoroughly enjoying his torment. “I don’t think I caught that.”

The Deep says nothing in reply.

“Aw Kevin, that really is a shame,” you pout mockingly. “I thought you would be more confident in your sexuality, you know, since you didn’t have a problem with humiliating those women.” You jab venomously. “But really?” You make your way around him, bringing a hand to pat on his shoulder, where The Deep tenses almost immediately. “Is it because you have no control?”

“Okay, now wait a-”

“It’s because of those, huh?” Your head is in the crook of his neck, staring at his gills. “Are you really that insecure of them, that you feel the need to have so much control?” You turn your head to Kevin’s, staring intensely, waiting for a reply.

Kevin stammers, completely taken aback. A bewildered expression is splashed across his face when he realizes that you’re right. Swallowing his pride, the sweet words you’ve been waiting to hear finally make their way out of his lips with a grunt of desperation.

“Please just fuck me already.”

You clap your hands together, with a wicked chuckle. The Deep stands there, stupidly and full of anticipation.

“Oh wow,” you push him forward onto the bed. He flips himself around, leaning on his arms to face you, reverently. “If only I knew that’s all it took.” Your eyes glaze up and down Kevin’s chiseled body, practically eye-fucking his gills. Clearing your throat, you lift the strap for emphasis. “Ass up, Kevin.”

He obeys quickly. Pulling down the bottom half of his spandex and tossing it to the side, Kevin is nude, bending over to give you access to his ass. Giving it a quick slap, he flinches. You snicker before easing the strap inside of him. He lets out a guttural exhale as you begin thrusting into him at a steady pace.

As he gets used to the feeling of being fucked in the ass, you decided to test ho much more he can take. Raising an arm to steady yourself on him, Kevin arches his back so he can feel the strap with every thrust.

“God, look at you,” you chuckle barbarously. Shameless moans erupt from Kevin’s throat. “Taking me like the bitch that you are.”

“I-I, please…” is all that he manages to stammer out in his amorous state.

“C’mon, you can get the words out,” you drawl, voice tarnished with cruelty, as you push into him harder, making it more difficult for him to get the words out.

“Please… I want, I-”

“You can do it, Kevin,” you taunt in his ear. “Tell me what you want or you’re only gonna make it worse for yourself.”

“I w-want to come, so f-fucking bad,” he groans wantonly.

“You do?” You ask playfully. You bring your mouth to his neck, biting gently. He whimpers in reply. “You can come when I tell you to.”

“F-fuck, you,” he mutters.

“What was that?” You ask, voice dripping poisonously.

“Nothing, I-”

“No, no I heard you,” your hand snakes it’s way through The Deep’s hair, and like a serpent, you strike, grabbing a fistful of it to pull him back. “No way you’re that fucking stupid, talking back to me. I think this behavior is deserving of a punishment, don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” Not wanting to make it worse by defying you, Kevin whimpers pathetically. You can’t tell if it was out of fear or pleasure, but you continue with your threat.

“I swear to you,” you continue thrusting roughly, “I’m going to make your life a living hell, fucking you so stupid, so rough, you won’t even be able to-”

You soon get your answer to Kevin’s response as he finishes all over the bed, coming in thick white ropes. You pull out and pull back, shocked. He turns around in shame, eyes doe-like. Your anger soon dissipates into a sadistic chuckle and evolves into uproarious laughter.

“Holy shit, looks like you couldn’t hold it all together, huh?” you giggle venomously, putting your hands on your hips. “Oh well, looks like we’re gonna have to train up this little pain slut before any real damage can be done, right?” Kevin says nothing, breathing heavily. He’s embarrassed, utterly exhausted. He sighs, ready to face the music.

“Right.”

[the-kr8tor]

Happy fluffy Friday!! Can I request the Hobie and the reader having to take Billie and Ramona to run errands?

Thank you!

S'cute!! Thank you for requesting, hope you like it 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Dad! Hobie, Mom! Reader, Billie and Ramona AU, Twin AU, cw food mentions, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“Crisps me up, Mac” Hobie's hand is reaching behind him, fingers flexing for the twin's snack, his eyes fixated on the road ahead.

The sedan rattles as it hits a speed bump. It's been the Brown family car since the girls were born. Hobie traded his old band van for it so the girls would have somewhere to comfortably sit from the hospital. You still remember the day you brought them home, Hobie practiced with a doll weeks before so he knows how to work a car seat even before they arrived. He's now an expert in handling the contraption.

The seats still smell like baby powder, under the powdery fragrance lies the cheesy aroma of their snack that has made you crack open the window a smidge.

Billie slaps her dad's hand away, the bag crinkles in her tiny hands. “Not crisps, dad! They're cheesy pretzels!”

You watch the interaction in the rearview mirror with a smile. Mona giggles next to her sister, their car seats full of stickers they got from family and their dad. Both girls are still in their gymnastics leotards, oversized shirts and jackets over the sparkly spandex. They look absolutely adorable, you just want to reach behind to squeeze their cheeks but you fight the indulgence.

“Alright, pretzel me up you gremlin. It's payment for driving you” He doesn't relent, a teasing smile on his lips.

“We're almost there, dad” despite her disapproval, Billie still gives him a handful of cheesy pretzels.

Hobie gobbles it up in one bite, reaching behind again to wipe his hand clean on Billie's shirt. She squeals, laughing and kicking at his hand. Her tiny shoe falls off, thudding softly on the car floor.

“Daddy’s driving, Bee!” Mona grabs her sister by the arm. “Mum, stop them”

“Okay, that's enough, you two can goof off in the store.”

Hobie sticks his tongue out at the rearview mirror, Billie does the same, her scrunched face making you laugh.

Hobie's cheesy coated hand slyly snakes to yours, locking your hand in place.

You give him the stink eye. He laughs, bringing your hand closer to him, pressing a quick kiss on your knuckles.

“What? You've got wet wipes with you right?” He says in-between chuckles.

You only stare at him with your eyes narrowed, pretending to be annoyed as you feel the stickiness of the cheese on your palm. Good thing you actually have those wipes.

Hobie parks the car, it makes a rumbling sound as he turns off the ignition.

“Blinky sounds like he's hungry” Mona comments, the twins dubbed the car ‘blinky’ since they could talk, but it's only making it hard for you and Hobie to finally get the car replaced.

“Yeah, he's hungry for some petrol.” Hobie unclips his seatbelt before unclipping yours and stealing a kiss right under your nose.

“Hey,” you beam at him, “I'll get you later, you'll see”

“Lookin' forward to it” he gets out of the car with a smile that could rival the sun.

Hobie gets Billie out of her car seat, pausing to put her shoe back on, he makes the signature dad groan when he lifts her up.

“You smell like cheese, mac. Maybe we should switch you to cheese and Mona could have mac instead, huh?” He looks at Billie like she's the most precious cheese coated jewel in the world.

“Okay! If Mon says yes.”

They both look at you and Mona. You're just about releasing her, having a harder time than Hobie with the car seat.

Ramona looks at them with a pout. “Mum can't get me out again”

“You need help, love?” Hobie asks.

“Nope,” you curse whoever made the straps so complicated for your hands. “Anddd got it!”

“In record time too” he teases, taking each girls' backpacks from the floor with ease. Show off.

“Good job, mummy” Mona murmurs, placing a cheese filled kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you, baby”

With each girl in tow, you place them both in a cart. You and Hobie quickly learned that letting them roam isn't such a good idea when either girl suddenly wanders around, because for sure the other would follow.

The wheels squeak, the handle of the grocery cart is cold against your palms. Hobie, who has the foresight, takes the cart from you, looping his arm around yours so he's still technically holding your hand without taking his hands off the precious cart that holds his babies. And at the same time shielding you from the wretched cold.

“Daddy, cereal!” In some twin telepathy, both girls yell the exact same thing.

“We'll get to that aisle, thing one and two. We still need to get other stuff first, yeah?” He bends at the waist to wipe a powder of cheese on Mona's cheek.

She scrunches her nose. “Thank you, dad”

“So polite,” he looks at her like she hung the stars, all cheese and stardust. “Where'd you get that from huh?”

“Mummy” Mona doesn't miss a beat. You snicker from the side.

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, the girls giggle at their dad making a funny face.

You seize the opportunity in the empty soup aisle. Kissing the corner of his lips, you smile into the quick peck.

“Had to do it or your face will get stuck like that.”

“Got me good, gorgeous” he grins, his eyes crinkling happily at the corners. “Would you still love me if my face stays forever like this?” Hobie makes the face again, the girls guffaw like it's the best comedy special ever.

You whisper, “that's what the mask is for, Spiderman”

“So rude, I can't believe you've done this, in front of our children too.” He feigns hurt, clutching at his chest. “I hope Mona didn't get that from you”

You fake a gasp.

The girls fully know their father's antics and how you two weirdly flirt with each other. Billie impatiently taps Hobie's hand while Mona yawns from her seat.

“Let's go, Mon’s sleepy” Billie's tapping gets faster with every heart filled stare you throw at each other. “Stop with the kissy faces! We're tired!”

“Alright, alright! How impatient, you know you got that from your dad” you wink at Billie.

—

“One only, choose wisely” Hobie holds up two different boxes of sugar filled cereal in front of the girls.

You watch as their eyes flick from one pink box to a brown box with a bunny mascot on it. It's like they're watching a tennis match.

They converse amongst themselves, the council of cereal you and Hobie once called.

“This is going to take a while, d’you want to get the detergent while the council's deliberating? I'll stay here with them and be the referee.”

“Sure, tell me their reasoning this time” you squeeze his bicep, smooching his jaw.

“‘course. No stopovers at the candle aisle!” he half yells while you're walking away.

You give him a thumbs up, winking at him.

“Your mum's definitely going to sniff some candles.”

“We got it, dad! We want the chocolate–” Billie starts.

“Strawberry one–what?” Mona continues.

Hobie has a thought to just buy both boxes, but he doesn't want them to get spoiled too much. So he lets them argue, huffing out air when they get particularly catty with each other. He's definitely gonna have to be a referee.

—

You carry Billie right at the end of the register, her eyes are bright and curious while watching the cashier scan the items incredibly fast. She holds onto your hand as you face her towards what appears to her as the greatest show ever. She's getting heavier and heavier but you'll be damned if you stop carrying your daughters. Even if it means breaking your back.

Snuggling close to her neck, she giggles, her bubble jacket crinkles as you rub your chin atop her shoulder.

“Mum!”

“Okay, okay I'll stop, for a kiss?” you face your cheek to her side. She places a sticky kiss, leaning away with a smack of lips. “Thank you”

“You're welcome” she gets back to observing the laser, her eyes transfixed, ears perking at every beep.

You watch as Mona sneaks a chocolate bar to the lineup, she barely reaches the top of the counter, trying her best not to get noticed by her dad, her eyes flicking from him to you. He notices alright, but Hobie lets it slide, he even sneaks his own candy bar for Billie. You pretend you do not see. They deserve the treat, you both think, just for making huge progress with their cartwheels during class.

While Hobie places the groceries in the trunk, you place both girls in their car seats securely.

“What do you guys want for dinner?” You ask as you lock Billie's seatbelt in place.

“I want spaghetti” Mona yawns in the middle of her sentence.

Billie nods, fighting to keep her eyes closed. “With extra meatballs please”

“Okay, will you help mum and dad like last time?” They slowly nod, rubbing at their sleepy eyes.

They jump slightly when Hobie closes the trunk, “sorry” you hear his muffled apology.

Driving home was much quieter, both girls are sleeping soundly in their car seats, head lolling to the side. Mona embraces her blanket even asleep while Billie’s foot twitches.

“They even sleep like you,” you softly say.

“Hmm? What do you mean? You sleep like that too. Your foot twitches like that”

“And you cuddle me like that”

“Told you, we'd make a perfect blend”

“Yeah, they're perfect” you lean to the side to kiss his cheek, careful not to mess up his driving.

He hums, wishing to kiss you back. Maybe he can pull over real quick to kiss you properly this time.

[rimunagenius]

(HC) Soft!Naomi Mcpherson x photographer!reader

You knew Naomi since college. Met them before they had met Katie and Josette.

They had been your first friend in college, and since you were majoring in photography, and they were getting their band up and running, you both decided you could be their photographer/media manager.

When MUNA started gayotic, you had been behind the cameras laughing and watching them talk about the funniest topics or the most strangest things. Never on it.

Muna was playing a show in France which meant a long bus ride before the ferry and an impending deadline for a new ep

The three members were about to start the pod, you meddling about in the bus looking for a change of comfy clothes

“Hey, Naomi? Where did I leave my black spandex shorts?” You called from the small hallway

“Yeah, Naomi…where did she leave them?” Josette looked at her bestfriend, eyebrows wiggling

“In my bunk, babe.” Naomi shouted, “We started the pod already, btw.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, thank you, love you.”

You and Naomi started dating after MUNA’s first record came out. You guys had basically been a couple. Kissing and cuddling and sometimes sleeping with eachother ;) had to celebrate records releasing and deadlines being met somehow ;)) WINK WINK 😜

You put on black spandex, your leg tattoos all on display, above ankle white socks, doc marten boot shoes (idk how to describe them..basically their laces boots but ankle boots?) with a black crop top tank so your arm and sternum tattoos are on display (with hair in a half up half down claw clip with curtain bangs out…i wore this outfit today and i loved it LET ME HAVE THIS)

“Y/N, come and talk with us.” Katie shouted into the small doorway of the small room.

“Oh, okay” You walked in, Naomi’s cheeks reddening, smile forming at your look. At you.

“Gorgeous! Do a spin for us!” Josette shouted, her being your biggest hype man

“So, introduce yourself and what you do for us.”

“Uh…I’m MUNA’s photographer and media manager.” You smiled at the camera, this being a filmed ep.

“She’s being modest…she’s our bestfriend and the one and only Naomi’s girlfriend”

“Yes. That I am.” You smiled and look at your partner.

“Prettiest staff member we have. Might kiss her on the lips, among other things…” Naomi said, sliding their glasses down the bridge of their nose to look at you “seductively” while wiggling their eyebrows

Naomi basically has their hands all over you the whole time your on the pod

When Frankie and Gio join, you sit on their lap to make space, Naomi’s hands wrapped around you securely or hands on you hips

“You look so pretty, baby” They’d whisper in your ear when everyone was talking loudly over eachother

or “My pretty girl”

“Okay say bye and then say your name and then ‘I love you’” Katie said after her and Josette said bye

“Bye, thanks for having me, I love you Y/N”

“I love her too” Naomi said, leaning over and kissing your lips before they continued the outro

Getting up after the ep, you stood up infront of Naomi because you were still on their lap, they smacked your ass

“Ow!”

“Oh im sorry, it was just right there…any excuse to touch it” they smiled cheekily

“Haha, very funny” You grabbed the hat on their head, forcing them to stand up

Holding it away until they leaned in to kiss you, their hands holding your waist pulling you impossibly closer to their body

“I accept your apology”

“Oh, I didn’t know i needed to apologize for smacking my girlfriends ass” They stood infront of you, sass all over their face

“Okay, apology acceptance, revoked”

“Okay im sorry. I really am”

“Uh huh”

“Would a kiss better my chances?” they asked leaning in in

“Nuh uh” You rolled your eyes

“Apology sex?”

“There you go, baby. Your getting it now.” You smiled and walked away, blush rising on Naomi’s cheeks once again

[mxtives]

where she goes

pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

rating: mature

word count: 3.6k+

cw: nsfw | 18+, roommates w/ sexual tension, arousal, biting, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, rough sex, praise, unprotected, p in v

story summary: miguel has finally had enough of you walking around the apartment half naked. so he catches you off guard this time.

notes: I haven’t even watched the movie yet so if there’s any spoilers, they’re v minor. this is also my first tumblr post n I have no idea how to work this 😭 it messed up all my formatting when I brought it over from ao3, where I first posted it. either way I hope it’s still enjoyable

song I named the fic after bc I have no creativity :D

He pressed harder against your backside, bringing your hips flush to the marble counter. By this point you were certain that he wasn't trying to hide the heat just below his waist band. "Your-"

"Don't move," he spoke gruffly, just above a whisper. You stilled as his arms encircled your waist and he leaned his head into the crook of your shoulder, inhaling deeply. He exhaled just as heavily, fingers gripping your sides like his life depended on it.

"Miguel-!" You started, trying to turn your head to face him. One of his hands flew to your jaw, gripping your chin tightly and forcing your gaze forward toward the wall where you could see the shadow of his overwhelmingly large figure stretching across the cabinets before you. "Stop that," he mumbled it against your neck, following up with a harsh bite. You felt his fangs sink into your skin, not deep enough to draw blood but enough to leave an impression. Miguel O'Hara was here. It brought a loud whine from your throat and he lifted his head from your neck in response.

"You can't be prancing around in my apartment in this getup," Miguel grunted, lips against your ear. His hand began to travel, from your waist upward, bringing the hem of your tank with it. "For fucks sake," he said, tugging your tank down harshly. The collar dipped, exposing more of your chest along the way.

"But it's just us in here..." you trailed off as you felt his fingers creep under your tank, now pressing against the base of your ribcage.

"Exactly. Do you even know-!" He cut himself off with a heavy sigh. "Oh you don't know. You don't know at all," he said darkly. His hand didn't stop. Soon it was pressed between your breasts. You swallowed weekly, wanting so badly to look up and see the look on Miguel's face.

"You know what I'm gonna do next, right?" He asked, hands finally coming to a halt. Goosebumps rose across your skin, you lost confidence in your voice, only nodding in response. "Hm? You know what I'm gonna do? And you want it?" He asked again, shifting his hips to where you could feel him even more through your thin spandex shorts.

"Mhm," you hum desperately, not trusting your voice. He only grunted, and the hand on your chin drifted down to your throat, where he gripped firmly enough for you to feel a slight pressure. "Say it."

"Yes," you breathed out, lips trembling as you tucked them into your mouth.

"Good."

His hand left your body for a brief moment, leaving your skin feeling cold in the absence of his touch. After a second and what sounded like a huff from behind you, he was touching you again. All over, his hands trailed from your shoulders to your chest, gripping and massaging in a way that made you mewl. Your waist to your lower back, pushing against it with a large palm. Pushing your stomach further into the counter almost painfully. He rubbed his cock against your ass and you flinched unsuspectingly as you felt his lips on the back of your neck, sucking softly as he massaged your ass with his right hand.

"Mm," he groaned in your ear, a low sound—almost like a growl, from the back of his throat. The heat from your stomach pooled into your panties, and you pushed your ass further against the bulge in his pants. His hand landed down on your ass with a loud clap in response, making you yelp and squirm as pain erupted over the surface of your skin. "Don't move just yet," he growled in your ear.

When his left hand found the waistband of your shorts, you didn't make any attempt to stop him. How long has this been going on? This pent up sexual frustration between the two of you. Countless times has Miguel imagined taking your pants off, slipping your panties down your legs and licking at your cunt until you cried. Bending you over the washing machine and fucking you senseless, every week when you fold clothes past midnight wearing your skimpy fucking 'pyjamas' that hide next to nothing. What he would do to just touch you. Get familiar with the feeling of your skin against his, moulding your figure to his, and learning every surface of your body until he had it all memorized. And now he had all the access he ever wanted, because you gave it to him.

"Can I take these off?" He asked, fingers already dipping past your waistband. You nodded rapidly, barely sighing out a yes. You had barely nodded once before he was yanking the shorts harshly down your legs, jolting you in the process.

Miguel was in a dangerous position. The curve of your ass mesmerized him and he was all so absorbed he almost forgot that he was presently in this moment. He swallowed thickly, bringing his attention away from your backside and to your tank. You had already began to tug the hem upwards before he joined you, pulling the top over your head in one smooth motion.

The removal of your shirt left your hair slightly messy, and Miguel felt his length strain against his slacks as he began to imagine what it'd look like once he was done with you.

You heard the metallic clink of a belt, followed by a zipper and a little bit of shuffling before something heavy was resting against your ass. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you tried to gauge the size of him. Even with his thighs no longer flush to yours, he easily grazed the center of your back. You tried to turn again. Miguel didn't stop you this time, and instead pressed his lips against yours as soon as they were within reach. You sighed into his lips, bringing your arms around his neck.

His shoulders were firm beneath your palms, muscles moving fluidly as he moved to cup your ass. He tugged your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up onto the island counter, making space for himself between your legs. His lips were warm against yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he cupped your throat again. His tongue was warm when it pressed against yours, and you couldn't help but moan into his mouth, clenching your fingers against his back. You could compare kissing him to swinging between buildings, jumping from a skyscraper. That adrenaline rush that you loved, you found it all over again in his lips.

"Fuck," he cursed lowly as he pulled away. You tried to chase after him but he was already making his way down your throat with his lips. And he kept moving downwards, until he sunk to his knees and his face was lined up with your navel. Then you finally clued in on what he was about to do.

"Oh, you don't have to..." you trailed off. He was shaking his head, the look on his face indicating no sign of swaying.

"I want to. Of course, you can say no," he uttered, gaze piercing yours. You were basically leaking onto the counter as you stared at the broad man from above. The sight of his hulking figure between your legs, face just inches away from where you ached most, fingers gripping either thigh with enough force to leave bruises. It had your stomach coiling. In fear of what noises you might make should you open your mouth, you placed your hand in his hair instead, just barely nudging him towards you.

The corner of his lip lifted—you think it did, just enough to look like a smirk and not a second later, his face was buried in your pussy.

The long striped he licked from your entrance to your clit had your toes curling, arm going rigid below you. "Oh, fuck," you moaned. His soft brown locs peaked from between your fingers as you gripped at his hair, anchoring yourself while he licked at your cunt like he hadn't eaten in days. When he sucked particularly hard at your clit, you couldn't help but try to clench your thighs closed around his head, but his strong grip kept them where he wanted and he grunted against you in protest. "I'm not done with you," he looked up at you briefly, giving you a glimpse at the mess you'd made of his face. You bit your lip as your clit throbbed, holding in a moan and instead gripped at his hair, looking up at the ceiling through bleary eyes. Miguel let out a delicious moan in response to the tug at his scalp, and the heat in your stomach coiled tighter.

"Ah!" You yelped as you felt him pinch at your inner thigh. "Eyes on me," he murmured against you. The vibration against your clit made you shudder as you snapped your eyes back down to him. He was already looking at you, and for some reason, the intensity in his eyes made your face flush as you struggled to maintain eye contact.

You felt a finger prod at your entrance, Miguel was still looking at you, one brow raised in question. He wanted to know if he could keep going, and you thought of what a stupid idea it would be to say no. You nodded softly at him, urging him on. Slowly, his middle finger presses against you and slips inside with little resistance. Your mouth falls open and you can barely voice a moan when his finger bottoms out inside you. Miguel can feel your cunt flutter and pulse as it stretches around his finger, he can feel every ridge inside your plush walls as you squeeze him tight.

“Mm, oh fuck,” you cried out, fingers gripping at his hair for purchase. This was nothing like it felt to have your own fingers inside you. It was nowhere near close. His fingers were long, thick, and every brush of his knuckles had you jolting around him.

Your stomach felt tighter and hotter as he only fed the fire, curling his finger just barely as he slid it in and out of you. With one quirk of his digit, he was brushing directly against your sweetest spot, and he kept doing so. Over and over again.

“Can you—fuck, can you add another,” you we’re seeing stars. You had never been stimulated like this. Everything felt different with him. Everything felt more. And so you begged him to put another finger in you, knowing that nothing would ever make you feel the way he was. The earlier embarrassment was long gone, you were far too overwhelmed with the sensation he was giving you to care.

When he brings his eyes back to yours, he adds a second finger and glides his tongue over your clit, he feels you clench be wildly around his fingers. He moans along with you, even smiling softly as he watched your face scrunch in pleasure.

Miguel’s fingers begin to move faster, his knuckles slapping against your cunt lewdly as his tongue continues to toy with your clit. It was wet and messy and the sounds you were making only had him moving faster.

“I-I’m-! Miguel!” your jaw was slack as you stammered.

When he brought his thumb up to replace his tongue and rub circles at your clit, you felt the pressure build inside you, the swelling and consuming warmth of your orgasm rock violently against you, your jaw going slack as you fought to keep your eyes from rolling back. Your legs attempted again to close and shut him out, trembling with the shocks of your orgasm. Miguel grunted as he watched you shudder with each pass of his tongue and fingers. If not for your hips canting away from his lips, he might have never stopped, lost in the way you looked as you orgasmed above him.

You were out of breath, but you could've sworn you heard the muttering of what could've been beautiful, fuck or just good girl over your harsh breaths.

Miguel was above you again, swiping a hand over his lips, tongue snaking out to catch what was left of your juices. Your stomach was coiling all over again at the way he was looking at you. Yet, before you could even tell him how good you felt, you were in his arms again.

"Oh!" You barely gasped out before his lips were back on yours. They slid against yours with a renewed fervour, bitting and nibbling at your lips aggressively. His length rested hot against your stomach, and it almost freaked you out how he was so heavy on your navel.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard," he panted against your lips. "Miguel," you breathed. You felt his length twitch against you. Miguel cursed under his breath, looking down where his dick rubbed against your dripping sex.

No longer feeling patient, you wiggled a hand down between your bodies and wrapped a hand around his length. Miguel sighed above you, tensing as you pumped him once, twice. You shifted your hips closer to his, dragging his tip along your swollen folds.

"Go slow," you advised with a soft whisper, still in the afterglow of your last orgasm.

"Yeah, fuck, I don't wanna rip you in half,"

And then you were easing him into your entrance.

"Cariño," Miguel groaned out as he sunk into you. His eyes were still trained on where you two met, as were yours. You were biting your lip, hard. The stretch wasn't nearly as painful as it could be given your previous orgasm, and the pressure felt good, you felt full. The pressure is delicious, stretching and aching, and exhilarating, intoxicating, and all you can think is how much you've been longing for this. The sharp sensation of something far too big pushing inside you, the way he mutters fuck, your name and a plethora of other curses.

"You're squeezing me tight," he breathes against your temple, sounding like he was under deep strain. "I wish you knew the things I've thought about you at night," he groaned as he canted his hips once softly.

You let out a moan, a mix between a grunt and an embarrassingly loud mewl that you cannot possibly believe came from your mouth. "M-me too," you felt so full you could barely speak. It was a grosse understatement to say you thought about him here and there, but it was all you could muster in the moment that he started to move his hips.

"Yeah?" His teeth are at your neck again, licking in time with his thrusts and leaving marks wherever he could reach. "Good. 'Cause you're all I can think about,"

Your stomach stirs at his words, clenching around him as he moves inside you, once, twice, and a third time, particularly harsh.

Miguel doesn't last long before he's hoisting you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and trapping himself within you. Your breath hitches as the movement seats him inexplicably deep inside you, forcing your chest high in the air as if trying to escape the intrusion.

"I wanna take you to bed," He's already walking away as he says so, walking swiftly with you in his arms as if he was holding a sack of feathers. With every step, you jostled against his length, every footfall pushing him in and out of you and up against your womb. Your hands were in his hair and your lips tucked tightly into your mouth, holding back your many sounds of pleasure.

Before you could even reach for the light switch, Miguel was whisking you away, depositing you on the bed like you weighed nothing and holding himself above you, arms pulled taught as he strained to keep himself still. His eyes strayed across every surface of your skin in the dim room, and his hands followed his gaze, trailing up your sides, your arms, your hips. "Fuck, look at you," he mutters, eyes low and dark. You want to cower away from his gaze, use your hands to make a feeble attempt to cover yourself up, but something in his eyes tells you that he wouldn't stand for that.

"C'mere," he's on your lips again, still buried inside you. Just a minute ago, he was pushing deeper inside you than you thought was possible, and now there's this gentle sliding of lips and tongues, Miguel is nibbling at you and his hands hold the sides of your face, the back of your head, and suddenly your neck. His hand covers the blossoming hickeys on your skin and your head begins to empty itself of anything but the thought of him.

"I want to kiss you everywhere," he mutters against your mouth, weakly kissing at the corner of your lips. You couldn't muster a response, instead placing a palm flat against his lower stomach. You needed him to move again. Your core was aching so badly for him, it almost made you want to cry.

"Move," you breathed out, one hand wrapping around his own that was gripping your throat. Miguel's lips formed a weak smirk, peering down at you a lust filled gaze.

"C'mon cariño," he was thrusting again now, softly, in and out of your cunt. The arm he'd been leaning on begins to shake visibly. "You must know by now," Your neck craned in his grip, tipping your head back against the pillow as your core began to heat up all over again. "Know what?"

"How hard it's been to keep my hands off you. Fuck, how much I've wanted this, wanted you, almost since the very beginning," His eyes are glazed, muscles taught as he peers down at you through heavy lids. Your chest begins to rise and fall dramatically, short of breath and short of words. Your knuckles go pale as you fist the sheets, while Miguel moves his supporting hand to grip at your hip, fingers practically piercing your skin. You shudder as he cants his hips with new rhythm, thrusting harder and deeper into you. He tells you how beautiful you are, how he wants to feel all of you, kiss you and fuck you for hours. You cling to his arms as you feel the spasms rise, your body rocking with each of his sharp thrusts.

He slips out, and back in again while his hand explored the small of your back, pulling you into him. Your head fell back against the pillow, a mewl escaping your lips as his thrusts turned fast and consuming, forcing tremors of pleasure up your spine.

"You gonna come sweetheart?" His thumb was tracing your bottom lip, hand still tight around your neck. You nodded wordlessly, eyes focused on the vague image of his face through blurry eyes. You couldn't muster very many words in your fucked out state. "Say it," Miguel said firmly, his hand shifting back to your hip to find more purchase.

You had both of your hands gripping his wrist now. "I’m gonna come," your eyes were watering. "P-please," you gasped out between thrusts.

He was smirking. "Good girl," Then the hand on your throat returned to your hip, gripping tightly as he began to piston his hips into yours at an unforgiving pace. Your chest jolted with every thrust and Miguel couldn't seem to draw his gaze away from your blissed out face. You cried out, back arching away from the bed, legs locking around his waist to bring him impossibly closer to you.

"C'mon cariño," he coaxed you and the spasms started, the heat in your stomach exploding across your body. "Miguel," his name left your lips with a moan as your hips rose from the bed to meet his thrusts, eyes screwing shut as the sensation washed over your body, your legs twitching.

"That's it cariño, good girl," He voice came out strained, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm while chasing after his own. Everything was still blurry when you heard him make a crude noise, shuddering as he pumped hard and muttered nonsense into your neck. You felt his orgasm, his trembling arms as he spilled inside you and his hips came to a halt. A new shiver ripped through your spine as he filled you, and you couldn't stop a smile from growing on your lips. You both panted heavily, the air hot around you as sweat slicked your bodies.

"Fuck," Miguel grunted as he slipped out of you and leaned over your twitching body. His palms ran the length of you thighs, smoothing over the goosebumps erupting on your skin. You took a moment to catch your breath, looking up at his face in the pale light of the moon. He looked handsome even when his face shined with sweat.

"Good?" He whispered, eyes on yours as you gazed at him silently. It took you a moment to nod, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. Whether he was confirming that you were okay, or if the sex was good, you weren't sure, but the answer to both was yes. You leaned into the hands that were caressing your skin gently.

"Yes," you voiced it out loud, pushing yourself up slowly with two weak arms. "That was amazing," you sighed out. You made a move to draw your legs to yourself, meaning to head to the washroom, but a hand on your waist stopped you.

Oh.

When your gaze fell curiously back to Miguel's blank face, you realized, upon looking down, that he was still painfully hard. "I'm not done with you," he said lowly, just like before, pushing you back towards the bed with a hand on your shoulder. "Yeah, I should've known better," you smiled weakly. Miguel chuckled, his figure looming over you becoming all too familiar. "You should've. It's gonna be a long night."

[itsabouttimex2]

Oooh Mei needs some love ! Love to hear your thoughts on Yandere Best friend Mei 🥰

Yandere Mei Headcanons

Mei is doting in a very ‘big-sister’ sort of way, rough and tumble protectiveness meeting an honest (if obsessive) love for you.

So much of your relationship with Mei consists of doting touch. Her hands are always on you whenever she finds a good enough excuse for skinship. A tangle in your hair? Mei brushes it out and makes you sit down so she can check through your hair for more. Your clothes are skewed? Hold still and let her fix them. Hungry? Hop on her bike and wrap your arms around her waist- she’ll take you somewhere!

Speaking of which, she takes you on bike rides whenever the chance arises. It can be a simple ride to a nearby arcade, or a trip out to the countryside to camp out and stargaze. She opts for the latter more often, given that it allows you both to be alone for days on end, isolated from the world, from anyone who would take your attention and presence away from her.

She involves you in a lot of her livestreams, in the most flattering light possible. Lots of ‘Look what my bestie can do’ or ‘Y/N making their famous home-made cookies’ videos- short and fluffy content that her viewers praise for being heartwarming. In this way, she ‘shares’ you with the world, allowing her viewers to marvel over you like a glittering relic.

Lots of showing you off, actually- like a proud dragon flaunting a cherished treasure from her hoard. Mei also uses her money to keep you dressed and presentable, in the same gold and white that she wears. Several of the outfits in your closet were custom-ordered for you, with the excuse that she won them in a giveaway, but weren’t to her personal style. Then you can accept them without guilt or the need to repay her.

Each expensive outfit is specialized just for you, to fit your tastes and preferences while still being in her own colors. If you like to frolic around in sundresses, she adds in wide-brimmed hats to keep you from getting burnt. Do you wear skirts on all occasions? Mei throws in high-quality tights to keep you modest and leggings to suit the weather. You have autism and can’t touch rough fabrics without discomfort? She skips over cheap swathes of spandex and wool, opting to have silk used instead.

Matching jewelry, too- the only difference between her bracelet and yours is differing birthstones. (MK has one too, obv- her obsessive feelings probably extend to him, albeit on a much less extreme scale.) An immediate #twinsie posts, Mei’s fingers wrapped around yours as she takes the photo. She’ll admit that she bought these glittering bands, but point out that MK already accepted his, so you have to take yours too- and you do, but with the promise that you’ll make something tasty to repay her.

Mei comes over whenever you bake or cook, bringing trendy drinks along to share with you. And, if you have no important responsibilities for the next day, then our upbeat dragon girl is hellbent on a sleepover. Same bed, bestie! Mei wraps around you tightly, clinging with her powerful arms and legs to keep you close. (I like to imagine that dragons share warmth in little cuddle piles- it’s too damn cute to not think of.) Her draconic aura surges out sometimes, wispy green trails illuminating the dark bedroom around you. A pair of leering xanthous eyes stare down at you, adoration etched deep into every glowing inch of yellow.

Sometimes she drags MK along to these little slumber parties, both your heads resting on her chest, an ancient warmth pulsing with each beat of her heart. She holds you and him tight to herself, her arms bringing her beloved friends as close as possible. To Mei, the two of you are the closest to ‘perfect’ that the world gets. If she has you both in her her arms, then everything is good and just and right.

And god forbid anyone try to take that from her.

[sehtoast]

A Good Punishment is its Own Reward (Homelander x Reader Smut)

18+

Word count: 2k

Fic Directory

Summary: Homelander doesn't take too kindly to being smacked on the ass- in public, at least.

Warnings: Vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, semi-public sex, getting weird with the web holes again, spit

Reader is written as a trans man but is kept gender neutral save for two or so gendered terms. Reader is written in the spirit of my spidersona oc

You knew not to tease.

After all, it was like dangling meat in front of a tiger that’d been starved. But, in the end, could you really complain? Once the aches had faded and he settled against you, could you really complain?

Not at all.

That’s why, as the meeting of The Seven adjourned and Homelander walked past, you took a quick swat at his ass.

The look he gave you sent a chill down your spine, tingling in your core. It wasn’t like you did it when the team would see.

“Hehe,” you chuckle. “Sorry babe, it’s just looking extra smackable today.”

He approaches you in a slow gait, hands behind his back, leather gloves creaking with the restraint he was so carefully exercising. Despite your own superpowered strength, he has you at his mercy in a fraction of a moment. A gloved hand gripping your neck, tilting your gaze up to meet his.

Those beautiful blue eyes that took you back to the clear, summer skies of your youth– that warmed you all the same.

“What, exactly, made you so bold today, hm?” John purrs, teeth bared as though he meant to threaten his prey.

You’ve nothing to say as his free hand snakes down the length of your spandex covered body, moving to press his palm against your heat.

“I could smell how fucking wet you were during the entire meeting…” Homelander murmurs in your ear, breath hot against your flesh as he blows on it. His hand remains at your neck, squeezing to punctuate his words. “Do I really work you up so much? You want me so badly that even corporate bullshit gets you soaked? So long as it’s coming out of my mouth?”

He relishes the way the emotive lenses of your mask mimic the way your eyes widen, though he finds it infinitely more delightful to utilize his x-ray vision to peer through to your reddened cheeks, the way you bite your lower lip in anticipation. You nod breathlessly, and he’s upon you immediately, tearing the mask from your head, tongue parting your lips, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit through your suit.

You moan into his mouth, hips bucking toward him for more.

“John…” you whine, and you feel his lips curl into a devilish grin.

He nibbles at your lip, and suddenly you’re being manhandled onto the conference table, his hands splaying across your upper body, thumbing at the spider emblem on your chest.

“I think you owe me, now…” He growls. “For taking without asking.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” You bite your lip, cunt clenching around nothing as his words settle deep in your core.

He stands expectantly, hands on his hips as he waits for you to pay what you owe.

Your hands are at his belt immediately, dropping the metallic article to the floor without care– for you’re far more invested in stripping his pants away. You slip your hand between the band of his red briefs, simply taking him in a hold for a moment as you wrap your arm around his neck to tug him in for a kiss.

Your tongues dance as you begin to stroke, his cock twitching in tandem with his little moans. It’s enough to drive you insane, but you’ll find your sanity once more when he’s had you in every way he wants– every way you want.

"You like that, don't you baby?" You whisper in his ear teasingly.

His hand is at your neck again, and your breath catches.

“Maybe we should put your mouth to good use,” he rasps, tongue darting out to lick the shell of your ear. “On your knees, little spider…”

You obey, hopping off the table to kneel before him as he shimmies his pants and underwear to his ankles.

“That’s it…” he groans as you grasp him, tongue darting out to swirl the bead of moisture from the head of his cock.

Your free hand strokes at his thigh, the softness of your touch mixing with the heat of your mouth as you take him in, dragging your tongue along the underside of his shaft as you swallow every inch of him. He hisses, and your pride swells.

As does your audacity.

You trail your hand along the curve of his ass, then swat it down in a sharp smack, gripping a handful of the soft flesh to knead.

Your hands are trapped in his grip in seconds, and a leather glove has you snatched by the hair, pulling your head impossibly closer until your nose is buried in the thatch of hair at the base of his cock and you’re gagging around him.

“Thought you’d be fucking cute with that, huh?” He snarls, hips snapping forward to fuck your throat. The hand in your hair jerks your head back and forth, using you to his heart’s content, groaning with each deep stroke.

“Gonna make you regret it,” he promises with a sly smile, ripping you off his cock to stare at him with your lidded eyes, drool dripping off your chin. “Look how fucking messy you are for me. Can’t get enough, can you?”

He grips his cock with the hand that previously held yours captive, and he smacks the length of it on your cheek, dragging it across your lips to paint your face with your own spit.

Your tongue darts out, desperate for his taste once more, but he pulls your head back, cock just out of reach of your wet muscle.

“Bad boys don’t get what they want. Only I get what I want.”

Suddenly, he’s dragging you up from where you knelt, hands seeking out the zippers to your suit– somehow patient enough to strip you properly. He took you in another kiss, strings of your saliva connecting you as you parted.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he commands.

So you do, and he’s using his grip in your hair to tilt your head back to spit in your mouth.

“Swallow it.”

You obey, gulping loudly, and the devious look on his face only becomes more wicked.

“Such a fucking slut,” he praises as he works your suit down your body. “Look how fucking wet you are.”

He’s right, too. As he pulls your underwear down, your arousal clings to your clothes.

You want to say something quippy, to tease him, but your thoughts melt away as his leather clad fingers swipe through your folds, dragging your wetness up to your engorged clit. Your head falls back, and he’s nibbling at your neck, licking and sucking marks onto you– claiming you.

“All for me,” he lilts, tongue dragging up the column of your neck. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whimper, hands gripping in his hair, tongue painting your flesh like a brush on canvas. “Yours…”

As the word leaves your mouth, his fingers sink into you, curving right away to find that spot that drives you fucking wild. His fingers squelch each time he drags them out and slams them back in, fingerfucking you with delight as he watches how your face contorts in bliss.

“Johnny!” You cry out as the pressure builds, hips bucking to chase the sensation, almost there, almost–

“N-No!” You whimper as his fingers leave you, and he’s chuckling.

“Didn’t I tell you? Bad boys don’t get what they want.” He shoves you back to lay on the table, hands gripping your wrists to thumb at your spinnerets.

You yelp at the sensation, still infinitely grateful for his fascination with your previously undiscovered erogenous zone.

“Do you deserve to cum?” Homelander asks, leaning over you with predatory eyes and mussed hair. You swear you see a flash of red in his pupils as he licks the tip of one of his sharp teeth. “Do you deserve to have me fuck you?”

You nod furiously, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him in against his own strength.

“Please…”

He brings one of your wrists to his mouth, dipping the tip of his tongue into your widened spinneret, making you howl, your back arching as the sensation shot straight down to your cunt.

“I could take you apart so fucking easily,” he proclaims proudly. “I could have you any way I want.”

Homelander rocks his hips, sliding the length of his cock up and down your slit. You can see the way his control falters for a moment, pleasure clouding his focus. His brow furrows and his expression softens, and you seize your chance.

“C'mere…” You coo.

As he leans down, you nudge your forehead against his.

“I love you so much, y’know…” Your eyes shut, and you plead through your needy haze. “I need you, baby. I need to feel you in me."

Always so brittle when it comes to affirmations of love, Homelander presses a kiss to your forehead and grips himself, the head of his cock nudging at your sopping entrance.

"Mm," you hum, leaning up to kiss him properly. "Please, Johnny. Please take care of me…"

You can practically see the nickname push him over the edge, and he sinks inside in one push. You swear you can feel him throbbing between your walls, his little moans quivering in the air.

"Damnit," he groans as he bottoms out, gritting his teeth to stave off his release. As he takes a moment, you reach for his hands, slipping the gloves off, exposing him to the world.

To you.

He moves to lean over you, peering down with something utterly carnal in his eyes as he starts to move.

His thrusts start slow, mind still addled from your declaration of love. It always was the most perfect way to pull him back to earth.

You grip at his forearms, his hands grabbing you firmly by the waist as he lets loose, pace increasing by the second until he's driving into you like a madman.

"Fuck!" you hiss, your body jostling with every thrust. Your mind hazes, and you submit to however he wants to use you– pleased that you got what you wanted.

His grip leaves your waist, slender fingers wrapping around your throat, a palm over your mouth to quiet you.

He doesn’t quite know why he stifled your noises, only that the sick sense of control he got from it brought him to the brink. To know he could control you, down to even the sounds you made, was nothing short of fucking ecstacy.

“The only thing,” he pants, “I want to hear out of that fucking mouth is my name. Do you hear me?”

You nod, eager to please him. As he lets go, you make sure the first thing you do is moan his name into the air like a prayer.

“Mmm, fuck!” He pounds into you, fingers traveling down to toy with your clit. He spits on it, using his saliva as lube to glide across that tender bud, relief coming to him as you throw your head back.

“John, oh f– I’m gonna–”

You clench around him, vision tunneling as he keeps the pace with both his hips and fingers. You cry out, each breath spent on his name as you crest higher and higher, bliss overtaking every molecule of your body.

You feel him coming deep inside of you before anything else. Before the whimpers of your own name meet your ears, before his head falls down to rest in the crook of your neck as he ruts through the waves of his orgasm. He’s warm, his breath is hot, and the cock twitching and spurting inside you is delicious.

You come down from your haze first, and you take the time to press a kiss to the side of his head.

“Heh,” you breathe a laugh. “Maybe I should smack your ass more often…”

Despite his groan, you feel him smile against your neck. “Keep it up, and you’ll get much worse.”

You pull him impossibly closer, limbs wrapped around him as his body lays limp against you. Above, Homelander finally cracks, and a lighthearted laugh leaves him. His fingers card through your hair, and he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Babe, if that’s your threat, I’m gonna do it as soon as we stand up!”

He can hardly wait until you get the bright idea to spank him again.

[tfxtime]

Newfound Understanding

Greg was an understanding Father to his kids, he was attentive and patient. He just wasn't very active, in areas where most Dad's would be teaching their kids how to catch, Greg was teaching them mathematics and history.

This of course didn't stop his kids from partaking in sports, his youngest son Arthur was now in college leading the wrestling team to the State Championship. Greg was always so supportive and went to as many matches as he could, with his wife passing away his kids had become his world.

During the meets Greg would be cheering in his usual song song voice. Normally this was drowned out by most of the crowd, and if you weren't paying attention then you wouldn't have noticed the thin man in his plain dress shirt and pants. Unnoticed by everyone except Arthur, Arthur always heard his Dad's weak chants through the crowd and it made him shrink, which in wrestling is the last thing you want to do. The match went well and Arthur's team won, despite some slip ups on his part. The team was coming together and celebrating as Greg's meek voice came through trying to reach Arthur.

"Artie!" He called as his son then turned his head towards his Dad eyes widening slightly as he pulled away from the group.

"I am so proud of you! You really wrestled well!" Arthur grabbed his Dad and led him into the locker room and had him sit down.

"Dad you know I really appreciate you being here, but I got distracted because of you." Arthur explained as Greg looked up at him with a sad expression creeping over his tired face. "I'm just starting out here and I need to be at my best you know? I just could tell you were watching me cause you care, which is great! It just felt like a new kind of pressure...I'm sorry."

"No no...I'm sorry for putting that on you. I'll still come to the games, just won't be as loud I think." He stands up placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"Don't exactly fit this place anyway." Greg admitted as one of Arthur's teammates came in.

"Artie we're going out, you coming?" He asked as Arthur looked at his Dad, Greg nodded with a small smile. Arthur nodded and leaned briefly into his Dad and then left leaving Greg alone.

Greg sighed as he sat down again his eyes staring blankly at the grey floor. His eyes trailing around absently until he laid his eyes on the singlet laying on the floor half in the locker half out. He sighed standing up his hands gingerly picked it up and then looked around. He rolled it out after just folding it up and placed it over his chest.

"It's...it's so skimpy?" He mutters to himself as he then looks around. The gymnasium had fallen quiet as now most people had left. "Well...never tried it before." He thought, he quickly stripped himself of his plain office attire. He shimmied his way into the singlet and pulled it up over his shoulders. Even though it was spandex it was still loose and clinging barely to Greg's frame. He brought up his arms and gave a paltry flex.

"That was silly." He sighed as he moved to take it off the bands pulling away only to snap back to his body. A small yelp was heard from Greg as he tried and tried to get the singlet off. He stopped as he felt a wave of heat wash over him, beads of sweat forming on his brow. His breathing became heavy as he lunged himself onto the sink counter by the showers. He put his hand against the mirror, the glass began to fog up from the intense heat Greg was producing. His eyes traveled over his body, it was covered in sweat and the singlet was tight against his frail musculature until he locked eyes on his hands. He could feel his skin boil and pop crackling underneath as now both hands rested on the mirror. His hands grew outwards the fingers swelling larger, hands growing callouses from the intense training hours they did.

As his hands grew the changes spread forth his forearms swell up veins snaking their way up through his arms as his hands balled up into fists as his muscles began flexing. His biceps began to blow up with muscle the fibers twisting under the skin as he felt his shoulders snap and pop. He let out a lewd moan as he felt the shift in his neck his voice dropping lower as well becoming thicker. His beard was replaced with a square jawline. Years of wrinkles washed away as his face began to twist and turn younger and younger. His hair shortened and became a warm chestnut blonde, while his hair was finishing up his chest practically ballooned out. The fabric of the singlet stretched over the expansive muscle as the pecs jiggled with growing mass. Greg's legs nearly buckled at the new growth, his cock was already strained against the fabric a measly 5 incher that barely had a dent on the groin. He moaned as his cock snaked upwards towards his hardening torso. It felt almost as if the singlet was massaging his cock and stretching it out. It compressed tightly against his shaft causing him to grip the countertop as his legs exploded with girth and mass. His ass filling out the singlet even further than before. He could feel his nuts swell and tighten up as he let out a deep and gutteral moan as he shot stream after stream of cum against his midsection soaking into the fabric disappearing.

Nearly dazed to the point of seeing stars Greg slowly stood himself up his new stature was impressive 6'4 versus 5'8 and about 100 pounds of muscle Greg couldn't help but run his hands over his body. His pecs popping as he teases the new form.

"Greg!" Arthur's voice echoed through the locker room as Greg stood up straight before turning around to see his son looking at him.

"Hey before we go we gotta take pictures for the school c'mon."

"Yeah of course." Greg nodded unsure in the moment before they both walked out of the locker room.

Greg smiled for the picture with his new best friend Artie.

"Hey man how's your Dad?" Greg asked between shots as Arthur nodded.

"He's good, busy but good." He answered leading to Greg to smile wide, his old life fading from memory all that remained was his new life filled with huge possibilities.

[3minsover]

Steddie Dancing With the Stars AU (posted on twitter a little while ago)

Eddie Munson used to be in a band.

They were successful, hit the mainstream at just 19 years old, and had almost 4 years of success. But it’s been 8 years since the band fell apart, and when Eddie’s manager suggests he do something like Dancing With the Stars, he’s initially appalled. He’s a Serious Musician. He’s not about to make a fool of himself fucking about in spandex on live television. But management feed him the Exposure line; it’ll make him a household name again, remind people he exists. So he has his people say yes. Though, he’d left it late to agree to the offer, so he’s only a back up in case someone else drops out. He���ll most probably not have to even do it. Sweet. Except, a week before filming starts, someone does drop out. bumping eddie up to main cast.

Shit.

He’s paired with a guy, Steve. Has no issues with dancing with a man; they’re not the only same sex couple this season and it’s cool to see even a little progress. What he very much does have an issue with, however, is Steve Harrington. Who made no effort to hide how disappointed he was that the man Eddie’d been replacing - some ex-football player - had dropped out last minute, and how he ‘guesses Eddie’ll do.’ Steve’s pushy and demanding, and frankly a bit of a bitch. But he’s a fucking great dancer. Even Eddie can see that. they get through the first couple weeks of live shows easily enough, but it’s tough faking a smile and agreeing that, ‘Oh, i’m just so lucky to have Steve as my partner.’

The night after the third live show, when Eddie had missed a step and nearly tripped Steve, when muscles are sore and nerves are frayed, they get into it in the parking lot out back of the studio.

Eddie confronts Steve about his attitude, and Steve bites back about Eddie’s own. It takes one of the other dancers to break them apart, all up in each other’s faces as they were. They’re told to cool the fuck off, start again on Monday. Only, when monday rolls around, Steve announces their dance this week is the Argentine Tango.

Eddie’s heard of it, another couple danced it last week. lots of twisting and stepping and flicking of legs. Fucking nonsense, honestly. Steve sits Eddie down and shows him the choreo he’ll be doing, gliding over the studio floor, arms raised at the elbow, hands floating in the air in front of his chest, and Eddie finds himself itching to be clasped within those hands. He almost slaps himself at the thought. They work through the first few sequences, Eddie giving lacklustre leg-raises between Steve’s calves. after a particularly half-hearted flick, Steve tightens his grip on Eddie’s biceps and jolts him, forcing Eddie to look at him. They’re chest to chest, nose to nose, heartbeats already elevated from the movement.

"You don’t get to fuck this up for me," Steve growls, eyes boring into eddie’s with a darkness he’s not seen in the month they’ve known each other.

"You think I’m doing this on purpose? I can’t do it, it looks stupid."

"It only looks stupid if you don’t try," Steve snarls in response. "Let’s keep going." He swings the pair around to their next position. And then Steve does something that has Eddie’s jaw dropping open.

Steve drops into a crouch, sliding one leg swiftly out to the side. the angle seems impossible, and it has Eddie thinking all sorts of things about how flexible Steve is. Steve’s hands have slid down Eddie’s arms and are circling his wrists, pulling on them just enough for Steve to keep his balance.

"Okay, and then you’re going to spin me round from left to right. Can you do that?" Steve asks. But Eddie’s unable to focus on the question, because all he can see is Steve, face-height with his junk, looking up at him through those long lashes.

"Uh. Can I- gimme a second." Eddie tears himself away from Steve’s grasp, rushes out of the studio and into the foyer. He’s lightheaded with lust and his cheeks are burning.

This isn’t happening. He doesn’t like Steve. He’d been secretly planning to sabotage their performance so they’d get voted off, but now. Now he’s already craving the featherlight touch of Steve’s fingertips as he repositions Eddie’s head, as he guides his hands to the correct place. He eventually returns to the rehearsal room, having splashed some cold water over his flushed face.

Steve does the move again, and Eddie spins him, staying silent but for confirmation of Steve’s instructions. And then Steve slowly raises himself up until he’s pressed back against Eddie’s chest, leaning ever so slightly to his left to look back at Eddie’s face.

"The Argentine is about desire. Want. Lust. It’s about craving. You have to look at me like you crave me," Steve almost whispers, and Eddie’s legs feel weak. Eddie swallows, blinks hard, can’t help the way his gaze dips down to trace over Steve’s plush pink lips. When he looks back up, Steve’s eyes are wide and searching. "Yeah, like that," Steve breathes, though Eddie had been making no conscious effort to look at Steve in any way other than the way Steve makes him feel.

And if Eddie realizes now that that feeling is desire, then that’s just gonna make this whole thing a fuckton more interesting.

[r4ins]

Dick Grayson x Male Reader

cw. bottom grayson x dom male reader

grayson is the prettiest boy and i stand by that

It's well past midnight when Dick tumbles through the living room window. He sways a little on his feet and looks around, as if he's not sure what to do next. Y/N looks up from his spot in the corner of the couch, then sets his book on the table as he gets up. Dick was supposed to be back three hours ago, for Christmas Eve dinner and a nice, well-deserved night in, but – but so it goes.

Y/N gets his hands on Dick’s arms, rubbing up and down. “Hey there, sweetheart,” he says, keeping his voice low in the quiet of the room. Dick’s attention snaps to him. “What's going on?”

Dick shakes his head, leaning his weight into Y/N’s hands. “Nothin’,” he says. “Tired. Busy night.”

“Hm, I bet,” Y/N agrees with a hum. “You okay?”

Dick nods. “Yeah, I'm alright,” he says, shaking off the last of that post-patrol haze he gets sometimes. “Just a couple bruises.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to Y/N’s in a light kiss, hands finding his waist, fingers tracing along the band of his sweatpants, ghosting along bare skin. He pulls away, swaying back on his heels, and there's a moment where Y/N just takes it in – Nightwing, in all his glory, standing in the pale night city lights, a soft, relaxed smile on his lips, all for him – before he's using his grip on Dick’s arms to reel him in again, kissing him harder, longer.

“C’mon,” Y/N says, when he wishes the feeling of Kevlar-spandex under his hands was Dick’s smooth, golden skin. “Bedroom.”

Dick goes willingly, Y/N walking him down the hallway with little urging, quick, lingering kisses all the way there, and Y/N closes the door behind them, an atmosphere settling around them almost instantly. The lights Dick strung up around the ceiling are lit, casting the room in a warm golden glow, and Dick’s suit looks out of place, the thought of their night jobs something too heavy, too dark for this space the lights have created.

Y/N rubs his thumb against the lower edge of Dick’s domino, and the sudden desire to see his eyes strikes him, vicious.

“Let me,” he says, eyes following the movements of his thumb, and he catches Dick biting his lip from the corner of his eye. He runs his free hand up Dick’s shoulder and down over his arm, trails his fingertips against the stripe across his chest. “Let me take care of you,” he says, and his voice is already rough and halfway to wrecked, but he knows Dick is there, too, knows Dick loves being cared for, looked after, loves having nothing to do but receive affection.

He nods, tilting his head up into Y/N, and Y/N lets his hand fall from the domino to Dick’s mouth, traces his thumb along his bottom lip, pressing in and pulling down a bit, until Dick whimpers, a quiet, swallowed sound, but it's the one Y/N was looking for, one that drives him crazy every time.

He steps away from Dick, then, which earns him another noise, a low whine of protest, and Y/N hurries up where he's mixing the chemicals to break the domino seal, gathering the cotton pads and the washcloth.

When he returns, he hands Dick the chemical bowl to hold, and he gently, carefully, slowly, runs the pads along the edges of the domino until they begin to peel up just slightly, and then he's taking the chemicals from Dick, picking at the edge of the mask to pull it completely off, the material placed onto the dresser next to the chemical bowl. He takes the washcloth, after that, murmurs at Dick to close his eyes, and he runs the warm, damp cloth over Dick’s face, cleaning away the chemical residue, the grime the city always seems to leave on their skin.

Dick’s face is a slight pink when he's finished, and he steps back, and Dick, eyes still closed, leans forward after him until Y/N catches his chin between his fingers, and then Dick’s eyes flutter open, his eyelashes long and ridiculous and so fucking beautiful, looking up at Y/N like he's something good, like he's something Dick wants.

“Should get you out of the suit, too,” he says, and Dick mumbles an assent, body pliant to Y/N’s urging. Dick disabled the suit’s security when he climbed back through the window, so all Y/N has to do is get it off, trailing his fingers along the lines of Dick’s shoulders to his neck, freeing the zipper to pull it down, sliding the fabric off Dick’s arms as he goes, caramel-golden skin revealed in its wake.

He gets the suit down, tugs it past Dick’s hips and holds onto each of Dick’s legs to pull it all the way off, and he makes the mistake of looking up from where he's kneeling on the floor. Dick’s eyes are closed, again, his head tilted up towards the ceiling, and – and they haven't even done much, yet, besides the kiss in the kitchen, and Dick’s already looking like this. It's ridiculous, Y/N thinks, ridiculous and hot and a constant, heady reminder that Dick wants him, wants his touch and his care and his attention.

Y/N stands, and Dick opens his eyes, and Y/N’s nearly distracted by the way Dick looks under the lights – now that Nightwing’s been put away – the edges of his body turned soft, bright spots of light reflecting in his eyes. He guides Dick backward until the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, and he presses his hands on Dick’s shoulders to get him to sit, going willingly, eyes wide and blue and exactly the thing Y/N wanted to see, looking up at him.

Y/N looks back, gaze wandering, and he slides his hands up from Dick’s shoulders to the sides of his face, palms wide and rough-warm on his cheeks, and Dick’s letting him drive this thing – has been since the beginning, like usual – but they're reaching a point, now, the edge of something, rising up between them, under Dick’s skin. His skin is hot to the touch, warm under Y/N’s hands, and he imagines he can feel the heat from his chest even from where he stands between Dick’s open knees, increasingly familiar and so, so inviting.

Dick’s skin is soft, chin a little rough with faint hair, and Y/N runs his thumbs over his cheekbones, tracing the lines of them over and over. He could stare at Dick forever, he thinks, at the lines of his face and the shapes of his features, never tiring. Y/N follows the line of his nose, curving into a flat point and falling into full lips, bitten flush. He lingers there, finds himself leaning forward, but he isn't ready to fall into him yet, and so he pulls his eyes away, brings them up and up until he meets Dick’s gaze, heavy-lidded and focused. He's watching Y/N, pupils huge and dark, ocean eyes black like the sky, and it's so heady, knowing that's for him, so much better than any high could ever possibly be. Dick Grayson, the picture of desire, for him and only him – it's dangerous, addicting, delicious.

It's enough to draw him in, to take him over, and Y/N holds his face still as he leans in, kissing him, finally, pressing their lips together in something chaste, almost sweet, contradictory to the fire Y/N can see in Dick’s eyes, is sure is reflected in his own. It's short, a simple press, before Y/N’s pulling away again, flicking his gaze between Dick’s eyes. He shifts his hands, sliding one back over Dick’s ear to wrap into his curls, around the back of his head, and the other falls to Dick’s chest, curled into a half-fist to hold onto him, and then – and then it's like the collision of two black holes, swirling around and around until they finally, finally sink into each other. Y/N presses their lips together, tightens his hand in Dick’s hair, and then Dick’s pressing back, one arm tight around Y/N’s waist and his other hand a wide heat on the side of Y/N’s neck. He tilts Y/N’s head, kisses him deeper, traces his tongue along the seam of their lips until Y/N gasps, and then he's everywhere, pushing himself into Y/N’s mouth as he pulls Y/N down, down onto him, the two of them falling back onto the bed, Y/N against Dick’s body.

Their chests press together, Dick’s inhales shifting Y/N’s body against him, and they've still got their hands curled into each other. Y/N kisses him harder, feels Dick’s heart where he's resting, and then he's pulling away to mouth along Dick’s jaw, sucking lightly at the bone and then down his neck to his collarbone, biting carefully at the skin there until he's left a red mark that'll last at least a couple days.

Dick’s hand has moved into Y/N’s hair, and he uses it to tug Y/N back up, to bring their lips together again, kissing Y/N’s mouth open all over again.

Dick likes kissing, Y/N knows, loves the weight of another pressing him into the couch, the wall, the bed, loves the push and pull and slide of lips and tongue; he'd happily let Y/N kiss him for hours, would gladly kiss him back until their lips are red and sore, until Y/N’s forgotten everything outside of Dick and the way he feels, his body and his breaths and his lips.

And Y/N – Y/N loves that he has this, has Dick, that he's allowed to press Dick into the couch, the wall, the bed, allowed to kiss him for hours and hours, that Dick’s chosen him, let him in and held onto him despite the masks and the troubles that seem to follow Y/N everywhere.

Dick slows their kissing, gentling his pulls on Y/N’s lips until he comes to a stop, eyes lidded but trained on Y/N, warm, searching.

“What's wrong, Y/N?” he asks, voice soft and hoarse in a way that drives Y/N absolutely crazy. Y/N shakes his head slightly, gaze tracking around Dick’s face.

“Nothing’s wrong, gorgeous,” he says, carding his hand through Dick’s hair. Dick squints at him, disbelieving.

“You're thinking too much, I can tell,” Dick tells him, freeing a hand to rub his thumb at the skin between Y/N’s eyebrows. Y/N shrugs.

“Just about how pretty you are,” he says, dropping a short kiss to Dick’s lips.

“Sure,” Dick says, rolling his eyes. “It's Christmas Eve, Y/N,” he says, hands moving to thread into Y/N’s hair. “Relax. I'm not going anywhere.”

“So you keep saying,” Y/N says, and Dick’s got a hand in his hair again, fiddling with the curls, rubbing at his scalp.

“So I'll keep saying,” he says, an edge to his voice that's sure, certain in a way Y/N doesn't think he could ever be. He sighs, tilts his head as he looks at Y/N. “I'm sorry about our plans,” he says, and Y/N rolls his eyes.

“Don't worry about it,” Y/N says, almost like a scoff, and he pushes up from Dick’s chest for his lips, kissing him again, deep and sure. The nothing is guaranteed goes unsaid, this time, and maybe it's the holiday spirit, or maybe it's just the way Y/N losses himself in Dick every time they're together, but for once he doesn't feel the need to remind him of it, doesn't want to break this mood they've created.

Y/N pulls back, says, “You're here now,” and the smile that gets him is bright, blinding, brilliant, and his heart must be in his eyes, but when Dick looks at him like that he can't find it in himself to care.

That beautiful, beautiful smile turns into something mischievous in a blink. “Better get to making the most of it, then,” he says, rolling his body up into Y/N’s, and god does that never stop doing things to Y/N, takes him from zero to a hundred in less than a heartbeat. Dick’s body is sinful, lithe, corded muscle and powerful, carefully controlled movements – and Dick knows it, knows how to use his body and how to use his body, a masterpiece of self-awareness and control, the peak of physicality in every aspect of the word, and it never fails to make Y/N a little heady.

“God you are magnificent,” Y/N tells him, a little breathless, and maybe he didn't quite mean to let that slip, but it's the truth and he's been meaning to say that more often these days. “Stunning.” There's a light blush coloring Dick’s cheeks, now, and Y/N rubs his thumbs against the lines of his hips. “Absolutely gorgeous, sweetheart.”

Dick presses his hands against Y/N’s chest, looks down, away from his face. “Come on, quit it,” he says, more of a mumble, a faint kind of laughter behind the words, and Y/N shakes his head, frees one hand to run through Dick’s hair, to cup his chin and turn those eyes back to Y/N.

“I won't,” Y/N says, “Not till you really believe how much I'm in love with you, babe.”

Dick’s eyes flutter closed, his eyelashes ridiculous and long, casting flickering shadows on his cheeks, and he shifts in Y/N’s lap, which causes them both to hiss. Dick leans forward until he can kiss Y/N, heat and velvet soft, and he's keeping up a vague rhythm with his hips, and Y/N’s thinking he might be done before they even begin.

“Love you, too, Y/N,” he murmurs, pressed into Y/N’s lips, and it's a steady movement, now, rolling hips with the intent to get off, and a part of Y/N wants to do more that just this, wants his hands, his mouth on Dick, wants the tight heat of a good fuck, but this – this fits, somehow, the atmosphere they're still in, something not quite gentle but not rough, either, just desperate enough, and Y/N does rather like the way it makes him think about the early days of their relationship, half the time too eager to get any clothes off at all, on each other like teenagers who'd never gotten off.

When Dick comes, Y/N feels like he's looking at a painting, some new age masterpiece of passion and pleasure and total surrender. There's a pink hue to his golden skin, and his head’s tilted back, the column of his throat endlessly inviting, and some of his curls are sticking to his forehead, and his mouth’s open in a soundless shout, and – and it's enough to send Y/N himself over the edge, always is, Dick lost in the pleasure Y/N’s brought him to.

“God, I love you,” Dick says, still breathing hard, and he looks down at Y/N with that stupid, stupid smile like he hasn't just had his mind blown, and what's Y/N supposed to do but stare up at him, honestly, looking like that.

Y/N shifts his hands from Dick’s hips to trace up his sides, over his shoulders, up his neck, and into his hair, a little damp and sticking a bit to his fingers. He drags Dick down for a kiss, something filthy and messy until it turns into something slower, sweeter, as Dick comes down, bringing Y/N with him.

“Got a bit of a mess to clean up, there, Dickie,” he says, once Dick’s sat back up, and he watches as Dick swings his leg around, pushing himself off the bed. He's halfway to the bathroom when he pulls his boxers off, wadding them up on the floor to be cleaned later. Once he's reached the doorway he turns, a grin and a raised eyebrow in response to Y/N’s open staring.

“You coming or what?” he asks before disappearing, turning the water on as Y/N definitely does not launch himself out of the bed, shedding his sweatpants on the way.

He comes up behind Dick, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Dick,” he says, quiet, and he knows Dick’s smiling without even having to see his face.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

[ellswritings]

Wolf Moon 1x01

Episode 2

 Loud music blares through Fallon’s headphones, keeping her in the zone as she finishes her fourth set of pushups. Thirty reps each. The alarm clock on her night stand read eleven-thirty PM. Rather late for the night before school, but she was determined to get a couple more minutes of training in before the big day. 

Fallon happened to be one of the star players on the lacrosse team at Beacon Hills high school. She worked her tail off to get to the position she’s in. She’s the only female on the team and with that came a lot of struggles with the males on the team. Coach Finstock though was never one to let the sexism slide, especially when she had more talent than most of the guys on the team. 

There weren't many other sports in the small town. She would’ve loved to play volleyball, softball, or even field hockey, but none of those were really options. Lacrosse was everything, so Fallon made sure she was good at it. Her father never protested her sudden passion for the sport. It became a good outlet for the emotions she likes to keep suppressed. 

It also was a good way to keep busy in such a boring town. Nothing really happens in Beacon Hills. It’s the same thing everyday. The only thing that provides a little relief for the brunette is her two best friends. Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski. The same two boys she met in the third grade. They were the only things that made the bleak town bearable. She especially enjoyed their weekly movie nights which involved many complaints from Stiles when Scott would refuse to watch Star Wars. He was especially peeved when Fallon had managed to convince him to watch the entire Harry Potter series without much effort. But even though he was mad, he still enjoyed her pick just as much as Scott did. 

Standing up from her workout position, she wipes the sweat off her forehead before taking a sip from her water bottle. She briefly glances at the unfinished book on her head and internally groans at the fact she’ll have to discuss it in English the next day. Fallon absolutely loves to read, but tends to have a hard time when it turns into an assignment rather than something she does for fun. 

She takes a moment to stretch her muscles, hearing a satisfying crack come from her back when she twists. She sighs contently before throwing on one of the many oversized shirts she stole from Scott and slipping on a pair of sweats rather than the spandex she was just wearing. The rubber band that was once holding her hair in a tight ponytail is pulled out, letting it cascade over her shoulders in its natural position. A frown makes its way on her face when she sees how frizzy the top is. 

There’s not much time to fix the mess as her phone begins to buzz on the wooden desk that holds her large mirror. She furrows her eyebrows, wondering who would be calling this late on a school night. A familiar smirk takes over her face as she sees her most recent embarrassing photo of Stiles pop up on her screen. 

She lifts the phone to her ear, “Hello freckles,” she greets. 

“Hey, would you look at that? The Incredible Hulk answered,” he teases making Fallon roll her eyes. The Incredible Hulk is something he and Scott frequently called her after she had gotten in trouble for the third time over punching a kid. In her defense, it was always to protect Scott and Stiles. But she has been told on multiple occasions that she doesn’t usually think before smashing, hence the nickname. 

“Shut up,” she says with a smile. “What’s up though? Why’re you calling so late?” 

Her question is answered with a small pebble hitting her window with a small ‘click.’ Fallon sighs, knowing her buzzcut friend is waiting for her to open said entryway. She clicks her tongue, finding the whole situation amusing. When she walks over to the glass box, she looks down to see Stiles frantically waving his arms in the dark. His jeep is waiting just up the street, lights off in order not to disturb the neighbors. 

She rolls her eyes but nonetheless puts her makeshift ladder out the window. She, Scott, and Stiles had made this for her room a while back so they could sneak in late when needed. Not that Michael would ever mind, but they thought it would be easier than having to make a bunch of noise getting downstairs. 

She watches with her arms crossed as Stiles ducks and rolls into her room like a ninja. It doesn’t look as graceful as he probably assumed it did, but she’s never been one to burst his bubble. Unless it’s funny. 

His roll ends up with him hitting his head on the corner of her desk, due to him overshooting the size of her room compared to his body. He groans quietly and sprawls out like a starfish. 

Fallon shakes her head, walking over to help him up. “I knew that was gonna happen.” 

“Shh,” Stiles puts his finger to his lips. “You know nothing,” he claims with a whisper before gratefully accepting her hand to pull him up. 

“Oh, but I know you,” she counters. “And every time you do that, you manage to hit your head on at least one piece of furniture in here.” 

“You know what?” He challenges. “One of these days I’m gonna prove you wrong when I roll in here so smoothly that you won’t even see me. Count on it. Cause it’s gonna happen.” 

“Mhm, yeah, I’m sure it will,” she replies with fake enthusiasm. “Now do you wanna tell me why you’re sneaking into my room quarter till midnight or…?” 

“Right!” Stiles shakes his head, getting back on track. “Well, I overheard my dad’s call–”

“Meaning you eavesdropped,” she chimes in. 

“Tomato, potato,” he waves her off. “Anyway, that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that there’s half a dead body in the woods, and I need you and Scotty to help me find it.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Fallon raises an eyebrow. “Stiles, why the hell would I voluntarily go look for a dead body?” She asks him incredulously. “You shouldn’t even be wanting to look for a dead body. We have school tomorrow.” 

“Seriously?” He scoffs. “That’s the line you draw? School?” Fallon gives him a pointed look making him roll his eyes, “You seriously need to sort out your priorities.” 

“Stiles, I do not want to go out and find a dead dude!” She exclaims. “That’s a trauma I don’t need this early on in my life.” 

“C’mon,” he begs with his perfectly brown puppy dog eyes. “Please? You’ll have Scotty and I with you the whole time. What’s better than trauma bonding as a group, huh?” He smiles, placing his hands on her shoulders to shake her a bit. “Besides, how cool would it be if we did find it? Then we’d finally have a cool story to tell.” 

Fallon feels her resolve breaking. She taps her foot before sighing, “What did Scott say?” 

That’s when his smile falls. He clears his throat awkwardly before rubbing the back of his neck, “I haven’t exactly um… told him yet,” he admits. “I came here first.” 

“Why?” She asks but feels as though she already knows the answer.

“I uh– Okay, if I tell you gotta promise not to get mad because I don’t mean it offensively,” he sticks his pink out, waiting for her to lock hers with his. Fallon sighs but nonetheless links their pinkies together. Not that she would’ve gotten mad anyways. It’s just fun watching him squirm when she pretends to be mad. “I just figured you would be easier to convince,” he admits shyly. “And then Scott would follow if I got you on board.”

The brunette smirks at his answer, “You’re not wrong,” she concedes. “I suppose it wouldn’t be the most terrible thing getting one final adventure in before school starts.” 

Stiles claps loudly before dancing around in a circle, “Yes!” He celebrates. 

Fallon snags her jacket off the chair in front of her desk, slipping it over her body. “Alright, let’s go,” she nods at the window. 

Stiles furrows his eyebrows as he begins to follow her down the ladder, “I-Is that my jacket?” He asks her rather loudly as their feet hit the ground. 

Fallon shrugs with a small grin, “Maybe.” 

“Yo-you can’t just keep stealing our clothes, Fall!” Stiles scolds, gesturing to the whole top half of her outfit. Both items were from his and Scott’s closet. “I’m pretty sure half of your closet consists of our stuff. We’re gonna have to start going to school naked at this point.”

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes. “You guys don’t even wear the stuff I take anyway.” 

“I wore that jacket last week!” He points out, opening the passenger side door to his jeep for her. “Until apparently you stole it.” 

Fallon raises her eyebrows at him and moves to take off the zip up, “If you really want it back that badly–”

“No!” Stiles stops her, making the girl smile smugly. “Just– just keep it,” he grumbles. “You already know it looks better on you anyway.” 

She reaches over, patting the side of his cheek, “That’s the spirit,” she teases. “Now, step on it. I’d like to get at least three hours of sleep after all this is over.” 

Fallon admires how much Stiles blatantly ignores the law. Watching him swerve around each corner in a Jeep that is only one duct tape roll away from falling apart is impressive. She wonders if he’d still be like this if his dad wasn’t the sheriff? Not that Noah wouldn’t put his son in a jail cell for his behavior, but it’s much less likely to happen. 

When the two get to Scott’s, Fallon watches with amused eyes as Stiles attempts to climb onto the roof. She shakes her head at his grunting before stepping forward to give him a small boost. He mutters a thanks before telling her to wait for him on the porch. The brunette takes a seat on the railing, kicking her legs back and forth as she waits for Scott to emerge from his house. She didn’t bother texting him, figuring that he heard Stiles’ pitter patter on the roof. 

She assumed correctly as she heard the front door to the McCall house creak open. She laughs quietly as Scott barely pokes his head out of the doorway before coming out with a bat clutched tightly in his hand. Before he even gets a chance to turn the other way, Fallon is already standing directly behind him. 

“Hey Scotty,” she whispers with a tap on the shoulder. 

He jumps with a high pitched yelp, turning around to see one part of the chaotic trio. “Fallon! Don’t. Do. That,” he exhales loudly, trying to calm his nerves. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

That’s when Stiles drops from the rooftop, dangling top down causing Scott to scream once more. The loud reaction makes Stiles screech in the same pitch as Scott, both of them freaking out at the other one freaking out. Scott’s knuckles are almost white with how hard he’s gripping the baseball bat. 

“Stiles!” Scott scolds. “Jesus! Wha– Why are you guys at my house?!” 

“You weren’t answering your phone!” Stiles yells back before glancing at the weapon in his hands, “Why do you have a bat?” 

“I thought you were a predator,” he answers obviously. 

Stiles looks at him like he’s the dumbest person alive, “A pre– I– wha–” he clears his throat, not having the words to address Scott’s concern. “Look, I know it's late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called. They're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even State Police.” 

“For what?” Scott wonders. 

“Two joggers found a body in the woods,” Fallon answers as Stiles drops down, quite gracefully, from the roof. It baffles her how he can’t sneak into her window without injuring himself but flinging off a roof he does absolutely fine. 

Scott’s eyes widen, “A dead body?” 

“No, a body of water,” Stiles responds sarcastically. “Yes, dumbass, a dead body.” 

He climbs over the railing to join his friends on the patio. He leans his body weight on Fallon making the girl shove him playfully. “You mean like murdered?” He asks them, his brain not fully processing any of the information. 

“Nobody knows yet,” Fallon shrugs. “Just that it’s a woman, probably mid to late twenties,” she regurgitates the information Stiles had given her on the ride over. 

Scott shakes his head, “Hold on, if they found the body, then what are they looking for?” 

“That’s the best part,” Stiles all but squeals, buzzing in his beat up sneakers. “They only found half!” He can see the apprehension on Scott’s face and narrows his eyes, “We’re going.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     “I can’t believe you seriously agreed to do this,” Scott says to Fallon as they trek through the woods, trying to avoid stepping on anything that will make too loud of a sound. 

“It doesn’t take much to convince me to do anything,” she points out. “Plus, we’re always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town. So this gives us something to do.”

“Exactly!” Stiles high fives his best friend. “Thank you! See? This is why I went to get her first.” 

Scott huffs loudly, his asthma starting to flare up with all the sporadic walking. He loves Stiles and Fallon, but they can’t seem to keep a steady pace for the life of them. “I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow,” he complains. 

“Right, ‘cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort,” he mocks. “There’s only one person in this group who is actually good at lacrosse, and it’s definitely not you.” 

Fallon smacks his back, “Be nice.” She scolds. 

“Well, I plan on playing this year,” Scott states confidently. “In fact, I’m making first line.” 

Fallon smiles, finding Scott’s newfound faith in himself refreshing. They had been practicing a lot this summer. Both of them have gotten a lot better, she just hopes coach sees it the way she does. 

“Hey, that’s the spirit. Everyone should have a dream,” he pauses for dramatic effect,” even if it’s a pathetically unrealistic one.” 

“I think you’ll do great,” Fallon pats his back. “If you wanna make it off the bench, you just gotta believe in yourself.” 

“What is this a Disney movie?” Stiles scoffs with a laugh. “Sing a song and do a little dance all about faith and suddenly your first line? That what you did, Fall? ‘Cause that would explain a lot.” 

“Shut up,” she shoots a nasty glare at him. “I’m just saying you both have the talent to do it. Scott just might have a better chance ‘cause at least he has hand-eye coordination.” 

“I so have hand-eye coordinati–” Before he can finish his sentence, he yelps in pain as he smacks his hand on a tree when using it to talk. 

“Would you look at that?” She smirks, strutting past him with her arm around Scott’s shoulders. 

Stiles grumbles something incoherent, no doubt cursing Fallon out for the comedic timing of that situation. He barges forward, separating her and Scott by placing himself in the middle. He wraps his own arms around the two of them and wiggles his eyebrows, “Who says there’s a crowd?” 

Scott and Fallon both laugh as they move branches out of their face, “Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?” He inquires. 

Fallon can’t help but wonder the same thing. She feels stupid for not asking prior to coming out here, but she was too caught up in the spectacle that is Stiles. 

There’s an elongated and uncomfortable silence between them as they await a response. “Huh. I didn’t even think about that,” he reveals thoughtfully. How ironic. 

Fallon narrows her eyes at him, “And what happens when whoever murdered the body is still wondering out here? Waiting in the shadows for three idiotic teenagers to come rolling through.” 

“Also something I didn’t think about.” 

“Great,” she nods with a faux smile. “It’s really comforting to know you planned out what could potentially be the end of our lives with such a grueling attention to detail.” 

“I know,” he says, feeding into her sarcasm. 

As the three of them begin climbing up hill, Fallon stays behind Scott to keep an eye on him. She can hear him heaving loudly and knows that he’s going to need to stop soon. He trips over a small twig due to lack of light since Stiles is so far ahead. Fallon puts her hands on his back to guide him up the rest of the way.

“Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?” Scott pauses, leaning against a tree to take a hit of his inhaler. 

Suddenly, Stiles is flying forward and pushing his body so low to the ground that Fallon was convinced he wanted to become part of the leaves. That is until she sees the search party from the Sheriff’s station a mere few feet ahead. She yanks Scott off the tree before pulling him down towards Stiles. All three of them lay stomach down growing increasingly more nervous as they hear the search dogs barking. Fallon reaches over, turning off Stiles’ flashlight since he seems to think that won’t give away their presence.

They wait for a brief moment until the group of people begins turning the other way. Stiles smirks before shooting up from his spot and sprinting forward. “Hey, come on!” Scott groans, standing up along with Fallon. “Stiles!” 

Weaving through trees in the dark was not Stiles' most brilliant idea. Fallon narrowly avoids tripping over a tree trunk, gaining some ground as she begins to catch up to Stiles. She can hear Scott wheezing behind her so she just hopes he can manage to keep up. 

“Stiles!” Fallon yells, trying to get him to slow down. 

He seems to hear her warning scream before slowing down. He squints to try and see her form through the darkness. A loud barking catches his attention as he spins around, screaming when a bright light gets shone in his face. Not even a second later, he’s launched forward by Fallon’s body colliding with him from behind. 

The two teens groan loudly. Fallon places a hand over her face to shield her eyes from the light. “You seriously couldn’t have stopped before literally ramming into me?” Stiles asks, pushing himself off the ground before helping her up. 

“It’s not like I could see,” the shorter girl seethes. “You’re the only one with a freaking flashlight.” 

Stiles goes to argue but the deputy holding a light in their face already looks tired of their antics. He goes to grab the two by their forearms until the exact voice the teens didn’t want to hear calls out. 

“Hang on, hang on,” Noah Stilinski steps forward, looking at Fallon and Stiles with different levels of disappointment. “These little delinquents belong to me.” 

Fallon smiles at the man awkwardly, feeling shame rise in her throat at his disapproving gaze. She tries her best to clean the mud off her sweats but figures it would just be best to wait until she gets home. “Hey Sheriff,” she says meekly. 

Noah can’t help but let himself smile a little, “Hey Fall.” His stoic demeanor returns as he switches his attention over to his son, “So, Stiles, do you, uh, listen in to all of my phone calls?” He questions, knowing exactly how his son got the information to be out here. 

“No, heh.” Stiles tries to deny, but the stern look from his father causes him to fess up. “Not the boring ones.” 

Sheriff Stilinski raises his flashlight to analyze the woods around him, “Okay. Now, where's the third stooge to make up this incomplete set?” He asks, continuing to look around.

Fallon internally hopes Scott stays hidden. The last thing they all need is for all three of them to get caught. “Scott?” Stiles asks.

Noah nods, “Who else?” 

“Sc-Scott’s home,” Fallon covers. “He was smart and said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for the first day back at school.”

Stiles looks at Fallon, impressed with her lie. He nods in agreement, “Ye– Yeah. It’s just us two. In the woods. Alone.” He glances at his best friend who nods her head rather obnoxiously. 

The trio never really had trouble lying. They do way too many mischievous things not to be able to lie with ease. However, whenever Fallon does lie, especially to Noah and Melissa, Scott’s mom, it slowly chips away at her soul. They trust her more than they trust their own kids, whereas Fallon’s dad seems to trust the boys more. She’s a year older than them which adds to the reason why their parents take her word more often than Scott and Stiles. It’s a maturity difference. 

It’s not that Michael didn’t trust his daughter, he just knows she’s just as bad as the boys are, if not worse. Even though he spends a lot of his time at the hospital, being as he’s a well renowned surgeon, he still knows his daughter. His job is the reason why they move so much. When she was younger he used to be a surgeon in the military and they would have to move to different bases. But after her mom died, Michael decided it was time to settle down and give Fallon a chance to actually have a childhood. His daughter finally found a group of friends that’s a perfect fit for her, and he couldn’t take that away. Hence why he’s found a steady job at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. 

Noah looks in between the two unsurely, “Scott, you out there? Scott?” When no one answers, the sheriff sighs before wrapping his arms around the two troublemakers. “Well, young man, I'm gonna walk you both back to your car. And you are going to drive Fallon home where I expect an update that you made it safely,” he says to the young girl who nods. “Then when I get back, you and I are gonna have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy.” 

Fallon nods, giving him a tight-lipped smile. She looks down at her feet as Noah lectures the two. He more so scolds Carver for listening to Stiles and going along with his crazy plans. The two of them say nothing and try to take responsibility for their actions. Well, Fallon tries. Stiles probably isn’t listening. Once the blue Jeep comes into view, Noah pushes the two gently towards the vehicle, sending them off. “Please Fallon, don’t sink down to his level. You’re the only one out of the three of you that really has a brain,” he says, poking fun at his son. 

“Hey!” Stiles scoffs. 

“I won’t, sir. Thank you for not calling my dad,” she hugs him gratefully. 

“Of course, kiddo.” He pats her back. “Now get going you two. You got school in the morning.” 

As soon as the doors to the jeep shut, Fallon glances back out into the woods. Stiles starts the car, staring at his friend curiously, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m worried about Scott,” she tells him, not looking away from the window. “I didn’t see where he went. And how is he gonna get home?” She wonders worriedly. 

Stiles places his hand on her thigh, squeezing it softly to get her attention. She turns her head towards him and his soft brown eyes force her to listen, “He’ll be fine,” he reassures her. “Scott’s smart. Plus, it’s only a ten minute walk from here to his house. He can call if something bad happens.” 

She bites the inside of her cheek, but ultimately nods. She takes her best friend's hand in hers, squeezing it as he drives her back home. 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon whips her motorcycle into the small parking spot near the front of the high school, Scott hugging her back tightly trying not to fall off. She laughs before putting the kickstand down and taking the small key out of the ignition. Scott is the first one to hop off the bike, taking off the extra helmet she purchased just for him so he wouldn’t always have to bike to school. 

“I’m telling you Scotty, I think it would be beneficial if I got a sidecar for you to ride in,” she teases, tightening her backpack straps around her shoulders. 

“No way,” he shakes his head. “I already hold onto you like a desperate koala bear, I don’t need to look like an actual child too.” 

Fallon laughs, looping her arm through his. She’s careful to avoid the bloody bandage that covers his side. Scott had called her and Stiles that morning, informing them that he had been bit by some creature in the woods when trying to find his way home. He confided in Fallon, revealing that he believes what bit him was a wolf. She, of course, was skeptical as there aren’t really many wolf sightings in California, let alone Beacon Hills. But she wasn’t going to make him feel worse about his situation. She did leave him in the woods alone which resulted in this injury. Plus, she can just leave it to Stiles to burst his bubble. 

“Hey, Donovan!” Her friend Danny Mahealani greets with a smile. “You ready for practice?” 

Fallon smiles back, doing a little handshake with him, “Yeah, I’ll see you there!” 

The goalie is quick to run off, catching up with his best friend, Jackson Whittemore. The blonde boy with an icy exterior looks over at Scott and Fallon, sending a small nod of acknowledgement to the brunette girl, completely ignoring Scott’s presence. Falling waves at him in response as she and Scott walk up to Stiles. 

“I still can’t believe you willingly talk to that guy,” Stiles glares at Jackson with distaste. 

Fallon rolls her eyes, “Good morning to you too.” 

“I’m just saying,” he defends himself. “He’s kind of a jerk.” 

“He’s really not that bad once you get to know him,” Fallon reasons. “Don't get me wrong, he can be a complete asshole to people he doesn’t like, but he’s not that bad.” 

“You got me out of a potential three month grounding so I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” Stiles tells her before giving Scott his undivided attention. He gestures to his side where the bite mark is, “Okay, let’s see this thing.” 

Fallon removes herself from his arm, giving him space to lift up his shirt. Scott winces as the material lightly hits the bandage. She can’t help but scrunch her face up with disgust. Even after he changed the badge this morning blood is still seeping through it. She can’t even imagine the amount of pain he must be in. 

Stiles on the other hand was completely enamored with the situation.

“Ooh!” Stiles almost admires the wound, reaching out to touch it. 

Fallon slaps his hand roughly, “Dude!” She looks at him like he’s crazy. “Boundaries.” 

Stiles frowns, shaking his hand to get rid of the burning sensation her smack left. Scott pulls his shirt down, “It was too dark to see much, but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.” 

Fallon discreetly looks at Stiles to see that he is in as much disbelief as she was when Scott told her his theory. “A wolf bit you?” Stiles asks, sending the shorter brunette a bewildered expression. 

“That's what he said this morning too,” Fallon sighs. 

“No, not a chance,” Stiles denies bluntly. Which is what Fallon wanted to say, but she didn’t have the heart to ruin Scott’s story. 

“I heard a wolf howling,” he insists.

“No, you didn’t,” Stiles laughs at the absurdity. 

Scott scoffs, “What do you mean, ‘No I didn’t’? How do you know what I heard?” He asks, slightly offended. 

Fallon tilts her head sympathetically, “Scotty, California doesn’t have wolves. They haven’t in like sixty years,” she explains. 

“Really?” Scott stops in his tracks, surprised by the new information. 

“Yes, really!” Stiles throws his hands up for emphasis. “There are no wolves in California.” 

“Okay, so since we’ve settled this, can we get to class please?” Fallon asks, grabbing their arms to drag them through the bright blue double doors. 

Scott shakes his head with a cocky smile, “All right, well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf then you’re definitely not gonna believe me about when I tell you… I found the body,” he reveals. 

Fallon’s jaw drops. She blinks rapidly, hoping she truly just heard what he said. Stiles seems to be in the same state of shock before completely freaking out. “You– Are you kidding me?” He bounces up and down. 

“No, man,  I wish.” Scott readjusts his lacrosse bag. “I’m gonna have nightmares for a month.” 

Stiles and Fallon have a mini freak out together, laughing at how their little escapade didn’t end in complete disaster. “What half was it?” The older girl asks curiously. 

“The top half,” he tells her. “And let me just say, it was brutal. It looked like her body was ripped in half by some kind of animal,” he recalls, shaking his head to rid his mind of the haunting image.

“Oh my God, that is freaking awesome!” Stiles exclaims. “I mean, this is seriously gonna be the best thing that’s happened to this town since– since the birth of Lydia Martin…” Freckles trails off, watching after his long time crush as she walks up the steps.

Lydia’s strawberry blonde hair flows beautifully behind her with every step. Each and every curl in its rightful position. Her lips glisten under the sunlight from the cherry lip gloss she applies every morning. Her dress fits her figure wonderfully as it moves up and down with each step she takes. Her heels click, catching everyone’s attention as she struts by. It’s a crime that she hasn’t been recruited by a modeling agency yet. And by the drool on Stiles' chin, he seems to agree. 

“Hey, Lydia, you look–” 

“Hey Fallon, love the shirt,” Lydia swiftly cuts him off, looking directly at the brunette as she compliments the long sleeved, off the shoulder red shirt. It’s accompanied by her low rise black ripped jeans and white converse. 

Fallon smiles politely, “Thanks, Lyds. You look beautiful, as always.” 

“I know,” Lydia confidently hums before walking into the school with one of her many friends. 

Stiles looks at Fallon, steam practically coming out of his ears. He’s fuming. She can’t help but laugh at his unfortunate circumstances. He’s had a crush on the girl since they knew what the word crush meant. It always peeved him when Lydia would only talk to Fallon. He supposes it makes sense since pretty people always seem to herd together. 

“I hate you,” Stiles directs jokingly to their girl best friend. “After all these years, you still haven’t even gotten her to look in my direction.” 

“I can’t force her to look at you, Stiles,” Fallon chuckles. “Lydia’s her own human. She does as she pleases. Hell, I'm lucky if she even looks my way.” 

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “I hope you know that you’re the cause of this,” he then moves the blame to Scott. “Dragging me down to your nerd depths to the point where even Fallon can’t save me. I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been scarlet-nerded by you.” 

The bell rings loudly indicating it’s finally time to walk inside. Fallon wraps her arms around Stiles, “Not sure if it’s Scott’s fault you’re stuck in the nerdom. I think you got yourself there just fine on your own.” 

“You seriously make me want to rethink my policy on hitting a girl.” 

The trio continuously bickers as they walk down the hallway to their shared English class. Fallon was pleasantly surprised when she noticed how many classes they had together. They each find their seats, Stiles one row away from Scott while Fallon is directly behind her freckled friend. 

Their teacher is quick to write the first topic of study on the board, “As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night.” The trio all share collective smirks at the mention of their most recent quest. “And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody, which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester.” 

Everyone in the class audibly groans, hating the extra paper that comes with the syllabus. No one in their right mind actually reads the words on those pages. She truly thinks it’s a waste of time and trees for teachers to make these. Students don’t usually look ahead that way. They simply wait until the topic comes up to worry about what comes with it. Without much thought, Fallon immediately starts folding the paper into a ninja star, not really caring if her teacher sees. Stiles reaches over, handing her his syllabus so she could do the same for him. 

When she finishes, she throws it back at Stiles, nailing his neck. He glares at her, but it’s short lived as the two of them notice Scott glancing around the classroom. He looks confused. Fallon watches him carefully, trying to find exactly what he’s searching for. His eyes stop at the window as he stares outside, looking completely zoned out. There’s a girl sitting on the bench in the direction he’s looking. Gorgeous, long brown hair is covering her face as she rummages through her backpack. 

Fallon shakes her head, assuming that Scott must be staring at the girl. She returns her attention back to her ninja star, also throwing it at the back of Stiles’s head. He flinches roughly, the pointy paper hitting him on his sensitive scalp. He rubs the spot and Fallon goes to laugh but is interrupted by the door to the class swinging open. 

The principal walks in with the same girl who was just sitting on the bench outside. She’s new. Fallon leans back in her chair, grinning at the nervous brunette standing at the front of the room. Their teacher pushes his chair back to stand, the wheels squeaking loudly as he does so. 

“Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent,” the vice principal introduces. “Please do your best to make her feel welcome.” 

The new girl walks to the back of the classroom, taking the open seat behind Scott. Fallon can already see how smitten her friend is by the girl. Allison looks to her left and sees Fallon, smiling slightly at her. She waves in return, trying her best to come across as friendly. Her eyebrows furrow though when Scott spins around and hands Allison one of his brand new pens. 

She smiles gratefully, not understanding how Scott knew of her desperate need for a writing tool. She accepts it with a hint of wariness, “Thanks.” 

Stiles slowly turns around to Fallon, looking as completely confused as her. They both shrug at each other, not having an explanation for their friend's odd behavior. 

Soon enough the bell rings, releasing them from the tiny prison that is their English class. Fallon stands from her spot, gathering all of her items before walking out of the room with Stiles and Scott. The three of them make their way down the hallway until Fallon notices Allison stopping at her locker. She realizes that Scott and her locker is just down the way as well, so she wordlessly drifts away from her two guy friends to hopefully try and befriend the new girl. 

Scott and Stiles don’t even notice Fallon’s absence until they reach Scott’s locker and realize she’s no longer behind them. They both quietly freak out when watching her approach Allison. 

“Hey,” Fallon greets, getting the taller brunette’s attention. 

Allison spins around and immediately smiles at the sigh of a familiar face, “Hi…” she greets back. “You’re the girl who sits next to me in English,” she recalls. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Fallon chuckles. She sticks her hand out to formally introduce herself, “My name’s Fallon Donovan, but all my friends call Fall.” 

“Are you saying we’re friends?” Allison raises a teasing eyebrow. “Next thing you know, you’ll be my date to prom,” she jokes, opening her locker to get another book. 

Fallon shakes her head, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as super forward or anything.” 

Allison laughs, “You didn’t,” she reassures. “I was just teasing. I’d actually love to be your friend, you seem nice. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have at least one person in this school I can talk to.” 

Fallon grins, “Well, I’m honored to be your first real friend.” 

“That jacket is absolutely killer,” Lydia’s voice catches the two girls' attention as the strawberry blonde zeroes in on Allison’s outfit. “Where’d you get it?” 

Allison quickly looks at Fallon, her anxieties rising from Lydia’s approach. She clutches onto her bag before answering, “My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco,” she says.

Lydia smirks, “And you are my new best friend,” she giggles. “Especially if you’re already in good with our lacrosse star here,” she nods over to Fallon. 

“I hope you’re not talking about Donovan,” Jackson’s voice calls out as he walks up to Lydia, wrapping his arms around her from the side. “Because there’s a reason she’s not the captain,” he teases. 

“Yeah,” Fallon nods. “Because someone had to make sure your ego wasn’t too bruised,” she quips back without much thought. 

Lydia slaps Jackson’s chest before kissing his cheek, “Play nice,” she scolds. 

“She knows I’m joking. It’s just how we talk to each other,” he explains. 

“Just remember who keeps you from getting your shoulder bashed in,” Fallon reminds him in a sing-song tone. 

“Ignore them,” Lydia tells Allison fondly. “That’s what I do.” She shifts her position so she’s putting her entire body weight on Jackson, “So, this weekend there’s a party,” she reveals. 

“A party?” Allison asks unsurely. 

“Yeah, Friday night,” Jackson confirms. “You guys should come,” he says to Fallon and Allison.

Fallon can tell immediately how tense the offer makes Allison. She can see her mind running a million miles a second to try and come up with a lie. Luckily, she has Fallon who seems to be quite adept at making things up on the fly. 

“Uh, unfortunately we can’t this Friday,” Fallon says, looping her arm through Allison’s. “She actually just got done inviting me to her Family’s game night. Y’know, board games, dinner, all that jazz,” she clears her throat. “But we really appreciate the invite. Maybe next time.” 

Allison squeezes Fallon tightly as a thanks, “Yeah,” the taller girl confirms. “She’s the first friend I made so I want to introduce her.” 

“You sure?” Jackson narrows his eyes. “I mean, everyone’s going after the scrimmage. I know Danny will be disappointed that you’re not going,” he says to Fallon. 

She doesn’t fall for his guilt trip, staying strong with Allison. “You mean like football?” The jacket clad girl asks. 

Jackson scoffs at her question, “Football’s a joke in Beacon Hills.” 

“The sport here is lacrosse,” Fallon adds before whispering, “I know it’s weird. But there’s literally nothing else to do here.” 

Lydia nods in agreement, “You’re either on the team or you’re in the stands cheering them on,” she squeezes Jackson’s cheek. 

“We’ve won the state championship the past three years,” Fallon reveals impressively. 

“Because of a certain two players,” Lydia dotes on both Fallon and Jackson, making her blonde boyfriend roll his eyes. 

“Keep rolling those baby blues Whittemore,” Fallon tilts her head tauntingly. “Maybe you’ll find a brain back there.” 

“Oh dear God, not again,” Lydia huffs, begging for the two to not start play fighting. 

“Well, we have practice in a few minutes,” Jackson tells Allison, fighting off the urge to say something else to Fallon. “That is, if you don’t have anywhere else–”

Allison tries to find an escape route, “Well, I was going to–” 

“Perfect,” Lydia cuts her off. “You're coming.” 

Lydia grabs both Fallon and Allison’s hand as they walk the former and Jackson to the locker rooms. Fallon leans over to Allison, “Sorry… But hey, you can wear my number if you want,” she wiggles her eyebrows. 

Allison simply giggles as the shorter brunette disappears into the girls locker room. 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon exhales loudly as she finishes her fourth lap around the track. Coach has them run a full mile before practice starts to keep their bodies warmed up on the field. He blows the whistle, yelling something incomprehensible to a group of guys. That’s when she notices Scott and Stiles finally making their way out to the field. She laughs as she watches Stiles overdramatically berate Scott for trying to play this year. The brunette places her hands above her head as she travels over to her best friends. 

“Took you guys long enough,” she smiles, readjusting her lacrosse jersey with the number six plastered on the front. She chose number six as her number last year because it’s always been somewhat of a lucky number for her. It’s also even and Fallon has always had a thing for even numbers. It scratches an itch in her brain when everything is even. 

“I still don’t understand how you get out here so fast,” Stiles breathes out heavily. “Like do you full on sprint or something? Wear your gear under your clothes? Or are you like some witch and didn’t bother telling us?” 

“Definitely not,” Fallon replies sassily. “If I was, I’d use a spell to make you have better aim.” 

Scott’s attention is completely elsewhere from his bickering friends. He’s too focused on Allison who is smiling directly at him from the bleachers. His heart jumps slightly, and he’s so distracted that he doesn’t even hear Coach Finstock walking up to him.

“McCall!” The loud man catches his attention, making Scott spin around.

“Yes, Coach,” Scott stands straighter as if he was  addressing a drill sergeant. 

He throws him a different lacrosse stick with a bigger net and a helmet, “You’re on goal.”

Scott looks lost at the instruction, “I-I’ve never played,” he reminds. 

“I know,” Coach nods. “Scoring some shots will give the boys and Donovan a confidence boost. It’s a first day back thing,” he pats Scott’s shoulder, acting as if he didn’t just say something extremely offensive. “Get them energized, fired up!”

“What about me?” 

“Try not to take any in the face,” he advises, smacking Scott’s cheek. 

Fallon frowns, walking up behind Scott. She rests her arm on his shoulder, “You got this,” she encourages. “Show him that you’re so good that he’ll have no other choice but to make you first line. You’ve got this.” 

Scott still looks rather uneasy so Fallon stands on her tippy toes, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I believe in you,” she whispers before running off to join the rest of the team. A half smile etches its way onto Scott’s face, but it quickly fades as he makes his way to the goal. 

Fallon and the rest of the guys line up, getting ready to throw their balls in the net. Coach blows his whistle, signaling for the first player to start. Fallon watches with furrowed brows as Scott clutches his head tightly. She goes to say something, but she’s too late. The ball flies through the hair, colliding directly with Scott’s helmet. He falls over, making both Fallon and Stiles, who is on the sidelines, wince.  

Everyone else on the team, including Coach laughs at the situation. She shoulder checks the guy in front of her, getting him to stop making fun of Scott. Her glare was enough to get him to shuffle away from her. Thankfully, Scott rises from the ground not seeming to be hurt by the collision. She breathes out relieved, whispering words of encouragement under her breath. Not that he could hear her, but it couldn’t hurt to put it out in the universe. 

Coach Finstock throws the ball at the next player as he runs forward at full speed. Fallon almost makes herself look away, but she’s so grateful she didn’t as she watches Scott catch the ball with ease. Her eyes widen the same way Scott’s do. He smiles dopely at Fallon who laughs victoriously. The rest of the team looks just as surprised as they do, but no one bothers to question it out loud. 

The next guy goes, seemingly more determined since Scott caught the last one. He chucks the ball near Scott’s ankles, the goalie moving nimbly to catch it. “Go Scott!” Fallon cheers, earning a few glares from her teammates behind her. 

As the line moves forward, Scott continues to catch the balls without breaking a sweat. She has no idea where this sudden burst of skill came from. Sure he’s grown over their training sessions over the summer, but not this much. She grins happily as she watches Scott’s confidence grow with each success. 

It’s finally Fallon’s turn and she gets ready to run at him. Scott gets into position, looking more determined than ever. The whistle blows and the ball is thrown in her direction. She catches it like a professional, weaving in different directions to throw her friend off. She’s proud of him, but that doesn’t mean she’ll go easy on him. She spins before cocking her stick back and throwing the ball toward the upper left corner of the net. Her jaw hits the floor as Scott moves with an unnatural speed, her ball sliding into his net like butter. 

She nods her head impressed, “It’s so on,” she whispers.  

Scott winks at her and she shakes her head before moving to the benches with the rest of the players. She plops down next to Stiles who suddenly is sitting up much straighter. Fallon looks out and notices Jackson has cut the rest of the line, taking the next spot. She swallows thickly, noticing the way the blonde’s jaw clenches. He’s not happy about Scott’s sudden burst of talent. 

Everyone sits on the edge of their seat as Jackson moves in almost slow motion. He jumps high in the air, chucking it with the intent to knock Scott off his feet. Fallon holds her breath as the ball soars through the air and Scott maneuvers with just as much determination, catching his ball as well. 

Everyone shoots up to their feet, clapping and hollering for their new star player. “That’s our friend!” Stiles screams, shaking Fallon’s shoulders. 

“Whoo!” 

        · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon jumps into the small stream after Scott and Stiles, her beat up sneakers getting completely soaked. She cringes at the feeling of wet socks, but distracts herself by listening to Scott’s explanation on how he suddenly became a lacrosse God overnight. 

“I–I don’t know what it was,” he says, almost in disbelief himself. “It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball,” he explains breathily as they keep walking forward, retracing their steps from the night before. “And that’s not the only weird thing. I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. Smell things.”

“Smell things?” Stiles scrunches his nose. “Like what?” 

Scott sniffs in their direction, “Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket and the raspberry chapstick in Fallon’s.” 

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, digging her hands into her jeans. Her brain almost explodes as she pulls out a small chapstick container with a raspberry on the wrapper. “I didn’t even know that was in there,” she mumbles. There’s a small pause before she shrugs her shoulders, popping the lid off and applying it to her lips. 

Stiles scoffs, believing that it must be a coincidence. He grumbles something about not having gum in his jacket pocket, but closes his mouth when he pulls out a half eaten piece of green gum. He looks at Scott, then Fallon, the adderall not doing much to keep his overactive mind at bay. 

“So all this started with the bite?” Fallon inquires, keeping pace with the two boys. 

“Well, w-what if it’s like an infection? Like my body’s flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?” He voices his worries, the most over dramatic scenarios filling his mind. 

“You know what? I actually think I’ve heard of this,” Stiles begins with a straight face but Fallon can already tell his end goal is to mess with their anxious friend. “It’s a specific kind of infection.” 

Scott stops in his tracks, his face turning pale white, “Are you serious?” 

“Yes,” Stiles deadpans. “Yeah, I think it’s called lycanthropy.” 

Fallon has to stop herself from laughing out loud. She covers her mouth with her hand as Scott looks even more concerned than before. “What is that? Is that bad?” 

“Oh, yeah, it’s the worst,” Stiles confirms. “But only once a month.” 

“Once a month?” Scott stares at him confused. 

“Yeah,” Fallon nods, grinning like an idiot. She leans on Stiles’ shoulder,  “On the night of the full moon…”

Both her and Stiles howl in the air, stumbling backwards as Scott shoves both of them. They laugh obnoxiously, Fallon clutching her side from the stitch forming since she’s laughing so hard. Stiles drags her along as they follow after a butthurt Scott. 

“Hey, you’re the one who heard a wolf howling,” Stiles defends himself and Fallon as the girl wipes a tear of joy from her eye. 

“Dude, there could be something seriously wrong with me!” 

“We know,” Fallon nods. “You’re a werewolf,” she growls in his face. “Pretty lucky if you ask me. It would be pretty cool to be able to hear everyone else’s conversations.” 

“You would just wanna eavesdrop on Scott and I when we talk without you,” Stiles scoffs. “No gracias,” he wags his finger in her face. 

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes. “I would not waste that on something as small minded as your guys’ conversations. Plus, it’s very rare you guys are even together without me, so.” 

“She’s got a point,” Scott adds. “And we also end up telling her everything anyway.” 

“Okay, who’s side are you on wolf boy?” Stiles glares at Scott. “Y’know, don’t be surprised when you find me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find. Soon as the full moon hits on Friday, I’m shooting your ass just for that.” 

“Again, Sti, shooting anything requires hand eye coordination. Something that you lack desperately,” Fallon insults smoothly, almost running into Scott’s back because of his abrupt stop. 

Stiles takes the chance and flicks her on the back of the head making the girl whimper. She places a hand on the back of her head before kicking Stiles’ shin. “N-no, I could’ve sworn this was it,” Scott points to the ground, ignoring the two behind him like he usually does. “I saw the body, the deer came running,” he bends down to get a closer look at the ground. “I dropped my inhaler…” he trails off, moving some leaves around in hopes that it got buried somewhere. 

“Maybe the killer moved the body,” Stiles suggests. 

Scott sighs, “If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like eighty bucks.” 

Fallon bends down a few feet away, moving some stray leaves and twigs around to see if the inhaler could’ve fallen somewhere else. If the deer came running at him, it could’ve been launched further away then he assumed. She looks up at the sky, watching as the clouds part, giving way for a small ray of sunlight to shine through. The yellow glow covers the forest and makes her smile when she hears some birds chirping overhead. The woods in Beacon Hills is actually a beautiful place when there’s no dead body’s found in it. 

The hairs on the back of the brunette’s neck stand up. She hears the small crunch of a leaf and turns her head over towards a large tree trunk. There is a bit of movement and suddenly her doe eyes are met with a pair of bright green ones. She rapidly scrambles to her feet, standing up impossibly straight as she maintains eye contact with the strange man watching them with a scowl written on his face.

It takes her a moment to process, but when she does she’s kicking the back of the boys’ legs. ���Guys,” she whispers urgently. “Get. Up.” She commands through her teeth. 

When they turn around, they both practically crawl out of their skin. They had no idea the stranger was standing there. They mimic Fallon’s previous actions, trying to make it to their feet without falling over like the clutz’s they are. 

“What are you doing here?” The man asks as he begins to approach the trio. “Huh?” He mocks, waiting for one of them to answer. “This is private property.” 

Carver gulps, her hands becoming very sweaty as he grows closer. She fiddles with her fingers, “Um we were just uh– yeah– um, we– we didn’t know that,” she stumbles over her words, trailing off at the end. Stiles looks at her with disbelief. He’s never seen Fallon at a loss for words on any topic. Especially with people who are trying to appear intimidating. She’s the first one to try and knock them down a peg. 

Fallon didn’t know why she was suddenly so nervous. She’s reciting what she wants to say in her head, but it can’t seem to come out of her mouth. The man keeps his eyes focused on her for a moment, Fallon doing the same. They both appear to be analyzing the other. He tilts his head in interest, looking her over before his attention is pulled by Scott. 

“Yeah, we were just looking for something, but…” He pauses, getting an almost eerie feeling from the leather clad man. “Uh, forget it.” He shrugs, getting ready to walk off with his friends. 

The man reaches into his jacket pocket to grab something, tossing it at a rapid pace directly towards Fallon. She catches it, surprised by her own reflexes. That's when she notices it’s Scott’s blue and white inhaler. She glances back up at the man, their eyes connecting once more. “Thanks,” she mutters. As he begins to walk away, she calls out, “Nice jacket by the way.” 

He stops, his frown never fading. He narrows his eyes like she’s some sort of puzzle he can’t find all the pieces to. He nods his head in response to her compliment and continues on his way. Fallon keeps staring at his retreating form until he disappears behind the tree line. She drops the inhaler into Scott’s hand who looks just as baffled as she does. 

He wipes the curiosity off his face, “Alright, come on. I need to get to work,” he states, nudging his friends to follow after him.

Stiles quickly jerks in front of them, preventing either of them from going anywhere. He slaps Scott’s chest, “Guys, that was Derek Hale. You remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us,” he explains, making Fallon look back in the direction where Derek had walked off. 

“What are we supposed to be remembering exactly?” Fallon asks curiously.

“His family,” Stiles answers. “They all burned to death in a fire like ten years ago.”

“What?” Fallon’s posture slumps out of empathy. She had moved to Beacon Hills only a few years after that, and if he’s only a couple years older than them, he must’ve been pretty young when it all happened. “That’s terrible,” she frowns. “I wonder why he would come back after something like that.” 

Stiles stares off into the same direction as Fallon. He scoffs before shaking his head, “Come on,” he mumbles. “Let’s just go.” 

It takes the brunette girl a moment to move from her spot. She keeps her eyes stuck on the scenery ahead, trying to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man. She doesn’t know if it’s just her empathetic heart, but she feels the need to check if he’s okay. But judging by his behavior, he probably doesn’t take too kindly to strangers, or anyone for that matter, checking in on him. 

“Fall,” Scott calls out. “You coming?” 

Her head snaps in their direction, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.” 

The trio walks back the same way they came, jumping over puddles and kicking up leaves. She finds her mind continuously wandering back to Derek. She didn’t understand how he managed to appear out of thin air. Then he disappeared just as quickly as he came. Picturing him in her mind, the only emotion on his face that she could identify was anger. Nonetheless, he still seems like a very intriguing character. One she wouldn’t mind seeing again. 

She turns around to look at her best friends. They stare back at her expectantly, waiting for her to say what she clearly has on her mind. She sighs dreamily, “You know, I can’t lie, I know he’s a creepy stranger we just found in the woods, but he is one good looking man,” she compliments. “I’ve never really been one to have a type, but that might be it.” 

“Shut up, Fallon,” Stiles squints his eyes at the girl in disgust. “I should’ve known you’d have an affinity for older men. You thought John Stamos was hot when we were in sixth grade.” 

“And I stand by my statement.”

        · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Walking through the hospital doors, Fallon adjusts her scrubs and volunteer badge before making her way over to her father’s office. She knocks on the door and is greeted with a tired ‘come in.’ When she walks in, she can see her father looking more drained than ever. He’s been on call for the past four days because he’s been covering for the other surgeon who is currently on vacation. 

She smiles softly at him, “Hey dad.” 

He looks up and for a moment, the creases in his forehead disappear as he stares at his daughter with happiness in his eyes. “Hey honey,” he replies, getting up to give her a hug. “That time already?” He asks, referring to her uniform. 

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Gotta get some hours in if I wanna make money,” she laughs breathily. For the past year or so, Fallon has been a paid volunteer at the hospital. She brings patient’s food, medication, takes their vitals, that sort of stuff. She wants to be a firefighter–paramedic after graduation so she needs some medical experience before going into training. Hence why she’s at the hospital. Thankfully Melissa and her father got her in without much of a hassle. 

“You should be focusing on school and teenager things,” Michael lectures gently. “You have the rest of your life to work and worry about making money.” 

“It’s still good experience, dad,” she continues, setting down the small bag that contains her father’s dinner on his desk. “It’ll look good when I apply to the academy.” 

Michael sighs, “Are you sure that being a firefighter is what you wanna do?” He questions. 

“Firefighter–paramedic,” she corrects. “And yes, I’m sure.” There’s a distant yet painful look in her eyes and Michael knows exactly what caused it. “They’re the first ones on the scene. They have the opportunity to save people before they even get to the hospital. And after everything that happened with mom, I–” she sucks in a deep breath. “I just want to help people,” she whispers. “And I feel like this is how I can do it.” 

“I know,” Michael nods, kissing the side of her head. “I just don’t want you to limit yourself because of– well, you know…” 

Her mom’s accident. Yes, she knows. 

“I’m not limiting myself, dad. I just know what I want to do with my life. That’s all,” she shrugs, pushing down the negative feelings rising up in her throat. 

“And I’m proud of you, kiddo,” he pinches her cheek lightly. “I wake up everyday grateful that you turned out the way you did,” he grins. “Despite your attitude here and there.” 

“Oh don’t pretend like you don’t secretly love it,” she giggles, stealing one of his fries. “Plus, you can’t be mad since I get it all from you.” 

“I don’t know,” he jokes unsurely. “You definitely got your mouthiness from your mother,” he says fondly. “She didn’t have much of a filter either.” 

“Hey, I have a filter on some occasions,” she defends. “It’s just the very rare occasions.” 

Michael laughs at his daughter's humor. He shakes his head before digging into his turkey club sandwich that she picked up from the deli. “So how was school?” He queries. “And lacrosse practice? You finally accept the co-Captain position?” 

Fallon sits down across from him, “School was good. Lots of syllabi, some homework from Mr. Harris, but that was to be expected,” she rolls her eyes. “Lacrosse practice went well too. Scott’s now the team's star player,” she reveals playfully. “Guess the summer practices actually paid off. But uh, no. I haven’t accepted the position. I just don’t really feel the need to be co-Captain. It’s just a title. Besides, most of the guys listen to me over Jackson anyway.” 

“You’ve always been a natural leader,” Michael admits. “But it wouldn’t hurt to take the opportunity while you have it. You work hard. You should get recognition for it.” 

“I do,” she chuckles. “I’ve played in every game since I got on the team. That’s all the recognition I need. I might have a big ego, but it’s not that bad.” 

Truth be told, Fallon has never felt the need to be co-captain with Jackson because she already gets the respect she desires from the rest of the team. They know how good she is and they know she’s been offered the position, so they treat her as if she said yes. It’s a comradery thing in a way. She doesn’t want them to look at her as if she’s stuck up. She’s heard the things some of the guys say about Jackson, and she doesn’t want them to view her in the same light. She’s just as much of a team player as anyone else. She doesn’t need to be team captain to prove her worth. 

“Alright,” Michael nods, moving on. “So Scott’s all of a sudden super good? That’s awesome,” he celebrates. “That means you’re a good teacher. What about Stiles? How’s he doing?” 

“Stiles is… Stiles,” she answers with a laugh. “He’s still a genius spaz head, but of course, his lacrosse skills are still a bit lackluster. Nothing a little more practice wouldn’t fix,” she says optimistically. “I mean, he’d probably have to take a whole bottle of adderall to focus long enough for practice, but I think he could do it.” 

“I’m sure he appreciates your optimism,” Michael responds amused. “Well, I should probably get back out on the floor,” he huffs. “I’m sure Melissa is waiting for you to do her rounds so you should get out there too.” 

Fallon nods, standing from her chair. She hugs her dad, “I’ll see you at home. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     The next day at lacrosse practice, Scott informs Fallon of how Jackson confronted him about his newfound skills before heading out to the field. The girl scoffs, glancing in Jackson’s direction. He may never have any real issues with her, but it angers her to no end seeing how he treats Scott and Stiles. She forms a plan in her head on how she can hurt him in the most brutal way possible during today’s eliminations. The only person she’ll allow to harass Scott besides her is Stiles. 

Speaking of the devil, “Scott! Fallon!” Stiles screams out, his voice a few octaves too high. He slides to a stop in front of his friends who are trying to finish gearing up before heading out onto the field. “Guys, wait up.” 

“Sti, we’re playing the first elimination,” Fallon rushes out, gripping her stick. “Can this wait until after we’re done?” 

“Just hold on, okay?” He places his hands on their shoulders. “I overheard my dad on the phone. The fiber analysis came back from the lab in L.A. they found animal hairs on the body from the woods!” He rushes out, panic evident on his face. 

“Stiles, we gotta go,” Scott grabs the rest of his stuff, pulling Fallon after him. 

“We’ll finish this right after, okay? I promise. But we gotta focus on this right now,” Fallon adds before being completely taken away. They run out to the center of the field, leaving an exasperated Stiles in their wake. 

Coach blows his whistle to get their attention, “Let’s go! Gather around! Bring it in. Come on!” Everyone rushes to form a semi-circle, waiting for the first instructions. Fallon notices Allison walk over to the bleachers, waving at Scott with a smile. She smiles endearingly when Scott waves back, but the smile is replaced by a cringe of embarrassment when Coach walks up to the boy. “Got a question, McCall?” 

Scott blinks, “What?” 

“You raised your hand, do you have a question?” 

The teens face flushes. He stutters a bit before shaking his head, “Oh, no, I was just uh… Nothing. Sorry.” 

Coach gives him an odd look, “Okay.” He turns his attention back to the team, “You know how this goes. If you don’t make the cut, you’re most likely sitting on the bench for the rest of the season,” he explains bluntly. “You make the cut, you play. Your parents are proud. Your girlfriend loves ya! Huh?” Fallon crosses her arms, lifting an eyebrow. Coach Finstock can feel her hard stare. He slowly spins around, “Or boyfriend. Whatever you prefer. No judgment here. I kissed a turtle once,” he blurts out, trying to remain as non-offensive as possible. “Anyway,” he shakes his head, “Everything else is, uh, cream cheese. Now, get out there and show me what you got!” 

Fallon rolls her eyes at the barbaric screams the boys let out. She simply spins on her heel and gets ready to play. She and Scott both happen to be on the same team with the burgundy jersey’s. The ball is in her position as she weaves out of Jackson’s reach. She notices Scott standing wide open and throws the ball directly into his net. He looks stunned for a moment but regains function as he takes off towards the goal. She follows closely behind, blocking for him if need be. He twirls around one of the players, but is met with a shoulder to the face by Jackson. 

Fallon feels her fury bubbling once more. She stomps over to Scott, helping him onto his feet. “Keep your personal issues off the field, Whittemore,” she warns. “Whatever problems you have can wait until after eliminations. And if we all need to sit in a circle together to share our feelings, I can assure you that I will make it happen.” 

Jackson’s jaw tenses. He glares at both Fallon and Scott before pulling his helmet back down and running back out to the field. The shorter brunette sighs, “Say the word and I’ll kick his ass,” she whispers to Scott. 

He shakes his head, glaring after the blonde boy. “I’ll be fine,” he insists. “Thanks though.” 

Fallon swears she could’ve heard him growl as he walks off, but she just chalks it up to his anger. Her body tenses when she realizes it’s the two boys against each other trying to get possession of the ball. She crouches down, getting ready to intervene if a brawl breaks out. The whistle blows and before Jackson can even blink, Scott’s already running away with the ball. 

She yells for him to pass it to her as the opposing team makes their way to corner him, but he doesn’t seem to hear her. He continues bolting across the field with such elegance and grace that it makes Fallon want to just stop and watch him work. She stumbles over her own feet as she watches him flip over three guys, landing without so much as a hit from his inhaler. Her pace slows and she narrows her eyes at her best friend as he throws the ball into the goal. Sure, everything he did at practice yesterday was impressive, but it was believable that he improved. This is completely different. There’s no way he’d suddenly have this amount of skill just overnight. It shouldn’t be physically possible for him to do that, especially since he’s a severe asthmatic. 

Her eyes travel over to Stiles and he looks more than nervous. He wrings his hands together as he stares at her with worried eyes. She’s starting to wish she would’ve let their buzz cut friend finish his story before they ran onto the field. 

After practice, and congratulating Scott on making first line, Stiles pretty much drags Fallon back to his house. He pulls her arm up the stairs, tripping up a few on the way there. He immediately slides into his desk chair, patting the small box he has on the side for her to sit down on. She does as he tells her, knowing that if he isn’t rambling incessantly yet that it must be really important.

“The animal hair they found on the was a wolf,” he finally blurts out, logging into his computer. 

“What?” Fallon furrows her eyebrows, not fully believing what he just said. “But, there aren’t–”

“Wolves in California? Yeah, I know,” he cuts her off. “But apparently now there is.” His fingers fly over his keyboard quickly. “Or at least some form of wolf,” he trails off, clicking on the first website that says the word lycanthropy. 

Fallon’s jaw falls slack at his selection, “Stiles, you don’t actually think…” She shakes her head. 

“I don’t know,” he exhales loudly, his eyes skimming over the information. “I mean, it would explain where his sudden superhero abilities came from. Look at this, one of the first things that comes up is enhanced abilities. Sense of smell, hearing, speed, strength, healing. It’s all here. If he was bit by an actual wolf, don’t you think it would’ve taken longer to heal?” 

Fallon thinks about it. He’s right. When she saw Scott changing, there wasn’t so much as even a scar on his side from the night he was attacked. And that was only two days ago. She stares at the photo that pops up on his screen. There’s a black wolf drawn on an old piece of parchment paper being pierced by a silver bullet. She reads over the article with him, all of the pieces seemingly falling into place. It makes sense, but at the same time seems impossible. Werewolves can’t be real. If they are, does that mean every other supernatural being exists? Or are she and Stiles just looking for something more intriguing to think about than what’s really going on?

“Here, read this,” Stiles hands her a book with the title Werewolves: A History typed in big bold letters on the leather cover. 

“Why the hell do you have an entire book about werewolves just sitting in your room?” She asks him, not sure if she really wants the answer. 

“It was for a D&D campaign,” he waves her off. “Just read it, and take notes on what you find.” 

Fallon sighs, reluctantly getting up from her spot. She opens up her backpack, grabbing a black pen and three different colored highlighters. Green, yellow, and red. Stiles catches the color scheme and pauses for a moment. Those are the colors he uses when trying to solve his dad’s cases. A small smiles makes its way onto his lips, wondering if they mean the same thing for her as they do for him. 

Fallon brushes a strand of hair behind her ear as she reads the information in front of her. She figures Stiles won’t mind her highlighting certain parts in the book. She takes some time to decorate a page in her notebook for the cause, titling it in cursive, creating three separate columns, and drawing the flower that’s on the first page, wolfsbane, in the four corners. 

She highlights the exact symptoms Scott is experiencing in green, the ones that they’ve got a feeling he’s experiencing, but haven’t fully seen yet in yellow, and the ones they have no clue about in red. She also makes note of them in their own separate column. Her eyes widen as she quickly makes a fourth column and grabs a blue highlighter. She’s now using this to identify and write all the dangers that come with being a werewolf. 

She gets particularly stuck on the blood lust section of the chapter she’s in. During the full moon, a werewolf will be in their most ferocious state, wanting to kill anything and everything in sight if they cannot control their power. She swallows thickly, her hands suddenly becoming clammy at the thought of Scott trying to maul her and Stiles on the full moon. 

“What’ve you found so far?” Stiles asks her gently, sitting down next to her on his bed. He rubs the sleepiness from his eyes before looking at her work. His jaw falls slack. She’s got her entire page filled with notes. From left to right, top to bottom. It’s covered in black ink and the corresponding highlighter colors are the bullet points in each column. “Holy crap,” he mutters. 

Fallon can feel herself getting overwhelmed. She looks at Stiles with overstimulated eyes, “This is crazy, right?” She breathes out shakily as she scans over everything. “There-there’s no way Scott is a werewolf. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any sense, Sti. It can’t be real.” 

Stiles hushes her before pulling her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “I know it’s all a bit much–”

“Understatement of the century,” she quips sarcastically, snuggling into his arms. 

“But you know that this aligns perfectly with everything that’s been going on,” he continues. “I mean, I’m assuming the green column is all the things we’ve seen Scott experience, and that’s the one with the most bullet points in it,” he says, continuing to read the information as he plays with her hair. “It’s all starting to add up, Fall.” 

“I know,” she sounds muffled due to being buried in his shirt. “But that doesn’t mean I want to accept it.” 

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” he tells her. “If we’re gonna break all this to Scott, I’m gonna need your help. The full moon’s tonight, and if this is true, we need to keep him contained. For his safety and everyone else’s.”  

“There’s no way he’s gonna believe us, Stiles,” Fallon sits up, closing the book she didn’t even realize she got most of the way through. “I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around everything.” 

Suddenly a knock sounds at his bedroom door. Fallon looks at him confused. Noah said he’d be at the station until tomorrow morning. By the apologetic smile on Stiles’ face, she already knows who’s on the other side of the door. 

“Well, now’s the time to finish wrapping it,” Stiles whispers, standing up. He wipes his hands on his jeans nervously before opening the door. 

Fallon can feel her stomach twist in knots as Scott walks into the room. She feels the need to vomit and hide in a far away corner at the same time. How are they going to break it to their best friend that he’s a supernatural creature? That will most likely try to claw someone’s eyes out tonight if they don’t chain him up to a tree within the next couple of hours. 

“You’ve gotta see this, dude,” Stiles gestures for him to come closer to the bed. He silently asks Fallon for her notebook, figuring his explanation will be more put together by using her notes. She nods her head, allowing him to use the overly decorated page. “We’ve been up all night reading. Websites, books. All of this information,” he rambles quickly. 

Scott chuckles, “How much adderall have you had today?” 

“Too much,” Fallon answers, recalling when he popped at least three of the tiny pills in his mouth. 

“That doesn’t matter,” he dismisses the question. “Okay, just listen.” 

“Is this about the body?” Scott continues with his questions. “Did they find out who did it?” He plops down right next to Fallon who side eyes him warily. 

“No, they’re still questioning people, even Derek Hale,” Stiles says, spinning around in his chair. 

“Wait,” Fallon stops him, not remembering him telling her this. “The guy we met in the woods yesterday? Why would they be questioning him?”

“Fallon!” Stiles huffs, waving his hands in the air causing her notebook to crinkle. “Not the point!” The brunette girl closes her mouth, not knowing when it became her out of the group who had a hard time focusing. 

“What is the point then?” Scott looks between them, perplexed by their odd behavior. 

Stiles sighs, looking at Scott with a serious expression. “Remember the joke from the other day?” 

“Yeah…?” Scott glances in between his friends. 

“It’s not a joke anymore,” Fallon adds, pushing the book that was on her lap towards him. 

Scott smiles when he reads the title, clearly thinking they’re joking. Stiles can tell he doesn’t believe, “The wolf. The bite in the woods,” he proceeds with their reasoning. “We started doing all this reading–” he abruptly stands up, coming across an important part in the blue section of Fallon’s notes. “Do you even know why a wolf howls?” 

Scott shakes his head, “Should I?” 

“It’s to signal its location to the rest of the pack,” Fallon tells him. “When a wolf is alone or in distress, it howls so that its family, per say, knows where it is. So if you actually heard a wolf howling that night, that means others could have been nearby. Maybe even a whole pack,” she finishes, fiddling with her fingers anxiously. 

“A whole pack of wolves?” Scott wonders, amazed, not getting the actual point they’re making. 

“No, werewolves,” Stiles corrects. 

That’s when a shift in the dynamics between them changes. Scott’s face falls into an irritated frown as he stands up from the bed. Fallon can sense the annoyance radiating off of him and she doesn’t even need werewolf powers to see it. 

“Are you two seriously wasting my time with this?” He scoffs, grabbing the stuff that he brought with him. “You guys know I’m picking up Allison in an hour.” 

Stiles moves in front of him to stop his escape, “We saw you out on the field today, Scott. Okay, what you did wasn’t just an amazing product of Fallon’s training, all right? It was impossible.” 

Scott shrugs, “Yeah, so I made a good shot.”

Fallon stands up as well, “No, you made an incredible shot,” she counters. “Scott, I couldn’t make a shot like that in my wildest dreams. I mean, the way that you moved, your speed, your reflexes. No matter how hard someone trains, they can’t just manage to do that overnight,” she says. 

Stiles nods his head, “And then there’s the vision and the senses, and don’t even think we didn’t notice that you don’t need your inhaler anymore–”

“Okay!” Scott raises his voice, halting the rambling. “You guys, I can't think about this now. We’ll talk tomorrow.” 

Stiles stares at him like he’s crazy, “Tomorrow? What? No!” He exclaims. “The full moon’s tonight. Don’t you get it?” 

“What are you guys trying to do?” He glares at them angrily. “I just made first line. I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you both trying to ruin it?” 

“We’re just trying to help,” Fallon says, her own anger rising at his behavior. She doesn’t know whether to be wounded or furious by how he’s treating them. “You have this weird crazy thing going on with you. And it’s not just the moon that's going to cause you to physically change. It’s also when your bloodlust is going to be at its peak,” she tries to convince, but by the look on his face, it’s all falling upon deaf ears. 

“Bloodlust?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. “Your urge to kill.” 

Scott’s eyes turn dark as he talks through clenched teeth, “I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles,” he seethes. 

“You gotta hear this,” Stiles ignores him, still reading from Fallon’s notebook. "The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse. All right? I haven't seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You gotta cancel this date,” he shakes his head, snagging Scott’s phone from the bed. “I’m gonna call her right now.”

“What are you doing?!” Scott whips around trying to regain possession of his phone. 

Fallon clenches her fists, feeling the situation escalating simply by the energy in the room. She wants to tell Stiles to just give his phone back, but they already seem too far down the path to return. She jumps out of the way as Scott practically almost plows through her to get to Stiles.

“I’m canceling the date,” Stiles states obviously, opening Scott’s phone. 

“No, give it to me!” Suddenly Scott is pinning Stiles against the wall, his fist raised as if he’s actually going to strike his friend. Fallon is quick on her feet, charging over to Scott and roughly pulling him off Stiles. 

She shoves him to the ground, “What the hell is wrong with you?” She snaps. 

Scott looks like he just came out of some daze. He struggles getting to his feet, his eyes apologetic. Fallon doesn’t move from her spot in front of Stiles, keeping the boy protectively behind her. “I'm sorry,” he mumbles, grabbing his stuff. “I - I gotta go get ready for that party,” he heads straight for the door, sending them a fleeting glance, “I'm sorry.”

As soon as the door to Stiles’ room shuts, Fallon releases a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. She turns around and can see Stiles visibly shaking. He clears his throat, “You can go home if you want…” he mumbles quietly as he moves to pick up all the papers Scott knocked down. 

Fallon places her hand on his shoulder, stopping him from cleaning anything. She doesn’t say anything, simply wrapping her arms around him. “Are you okay?” She asks him softly. He’s obviously not, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear what’s going through his head. 

“Yeah,” he replies, reciprocating the hug by placing his hands around her waist. “I just know that this is the only explanation, but there’s no way to make him listen. He’s going to kill somebody tonight if we don’t stop him.” 

Fallon looks him in the eyes, “Then I guess that means we have a party to get ready for.”

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     “Lyds, I am not wearing that,” Fallon scoffs as her friend tells her to wear the skimpy red dress she bought her last year for her birthday. Fallon wasn’t necessarily against wearing dresses, but she’d prefer to save them for special occasions. Lydia had gone out of her way last year to buy Fallon the shortest and most revealing red dress she could. While it does look good on her, she doesn’t think wearing it tonight of all nights would be the best decision. 

Lydia sighs through the phone, “But it’s so cute.” Fallon could hear her pout even without seeing her. “And I’ve never seen you actually wear it out.”

“Because if I were to bend over everyone would have a full view of my business,” she laughs loudly, searching her closet for the perfect outfit. She comes across a black lace tank top and lifts an intrigued eyebrow. Lydia furrows her eyebrows as she hears Fallon scuffling across her room, “Did you find something?” 

“Yeah,” she grunts out, trying to pull a pair of light-washed skinny jeans on. “I’ll send a picture, just gimme a sec.” 

She stops herself in front of the mirror, admiring how well the outfit she chose fits her body. The lace top is tucked in tightly to the jeans, hugging her waist perfectly. There’s rips throughout the skinny jeans, one rather high up on her thigh, but it looks good. She smiles at her decision and sends a quick picture to Lydia who squeals loudly into the speaker. 

“Okay, I stand corrected. That is literally perfect,” she compliments. “And if you’re coming on your bike, so hot,” she adds with a high level of praise. “Everyone’s gonna be drooling over you.” 

Fallon laughs, “I sincerely doubt that, but thanks for the confidence boost.” 

Lydia huffs annoyed, “Just shut up and take the compliment. Now, hurry up and get your cute butt over here.” 

As the two girls hang up, Fallon shoots a quick text to Stiles, informing him that she’s on her way. She sticks the device in her pocket before also grabbing her pepper spray and small wallet. She frowns, not wanting a bunch of random bulges in her pockets from the items. She sighs, reluctantly grabbing her license from her wallet and just taking that. She shouldn’t need any money for the evening, so she settles on taking the item that will get her in legal trouble if she doesn’t have it. 

She runs down the stairs, smiling at the small note her dad left her on the table. He’s back at the hospital again until tomorrow morning. She pins it on the fridge, on top of all the other notes he’s left her and walks out the door. 

The ride over to Lydia’s was rather uneventful. Fallon loves riding her motorcycle through Beacon Hills. The quiet scenery is always a nice break from everything. She doesn’t have a problem driving a car, but she’s always preferred her bike for some unknown reason. 

Pulling up to the large home, Fallon is shocked by how loud the music already is. Cars are piled into the driveway, forcing her to park near the ditch. She hangs her helmet on one of the handles, shivering from the slight breeze that hits her. She silently curses herself for not thinking of bringing a coat. 

She walks in and is greeted with a few polite smiles and hellos from the people she knows. Danny is the only one to come and hug her, handing her a red solo cup within the first five seconds. The boy is definitely already on his third or fourth drink. She giggles at his behavior before escorting him back over to his date. 

Fallon maneuvers through the crowd, periodically sipping for the cup as she finds her way through the crowd. She finally makes it outside and isn’t surprised by what she sees. Teens making out and grinding on each other haphazardly, definitely not following the beat to the music. She sighs before beginning her search for Scott and Allison. Her feet carry her around the edge of the pool as she tries to find a good angle to continue looking. She stops at the far corner of the yard by the gate. Her phone buzzes with a text from Stiles, informing her that he’d be there soon. 

She nurses the cup in her hand, drinking it sparingly as she wants to remain as logical as possible. Not that Fallon’s ever been a big drinker. It was just nice to have a little something here and there. 

Her eyes travel to the glistening blue pool. It blows her mind that even with all these people here that there’s still not so much as a leaf or plastic cup floating on its clear surface. The light of the full moon makes it all the more beautiful. Fallon’s always had a fascination with the moon and the power it holds. In all the old folktales she’s read, the different genres of mythology, the moon has always held an important place. It creates balance, an elegance that nothing else can. She sucks in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she basques in the moon's pale glow. 

When she opens them, a thick fog starts to cover the sky above. She tilts her head, still admiring the mystery of it all, the fog only adding to her intrigue. She takes another small sip of her drink before setting it down on the small table next to her. She folds her arms over her body, completely unaware of the moving individual behind her. 

A finger pokes her side, causing her to jump with a small yelp. Carver turns her head and sees Lydia standing there with a smile on her face, “You hungry?” She asks, holding up a small charcuterie plate. 

Fallon shakes her head, “No, I’m good, Lyds. I already ate–”

“Just take the plate,” she begs. “I have to get it away from the lacrosse boys. They don’t understand the delicacies of a good gruyère and prosciutto,” she huffs irritatedly, placing the dish in Fallon’s hand before walking off. Fallon looks down at the plate of meats and cheese, taking a piece of bleu cheese before setting it down on the same table her drink was on. She doesn’t know how she became the designated food scapegoat, but she can’t complain. At least Lydia didn’t force her to go out and dance with Greenberg or something. 

A familiar head of floppy brown hair comes into Fallon’s eyesight and she immediately tenses. She watches as Scott and Allison dance with one another, holding onto each other tightly. She wonders what is taking Stiles so long. She can’t handle a wolfed out Scott on her own. If their theory is even correct. For all they know, they could be absolutely idiots for even thinking this is true. 

“Do you make it a habit of standing alone in corners, or is it just tonight?”

Fallon startles slightly, getting rather tired of people sneaking up on her. She looks behind her and her eyes widen at the sight of Derek Hale. His expression is as stoic as it was when they met, despite the humor behind his question. She stares at him warily, not knowing why he would be wasting his time at a high school party. 

She smirks, “Depends on who’s asking,” she replies, her playful side showing. “Derek, right?” Her eyebrow quirks up.

The man nods in response, keeping his hands shoved in his jean pockets. “I know we’ve only met once, but you don’t really seem like the party type,” Fallon continues, tilting her head at the man. 

“I’m not,” he says dryly. “But I get the feeling you're not exactly here for the experience either.” 

Fallon chuckles, turning her body to fully address him. “What makes you think that?” She asks. 

Derek’s gaze hardens, not amused by her teasing tone. “The fact you’re standing here keeping an eye on Scott rather than mingling with the people who invited you here,” he says curtly. 

Fallon narrows her eyes at him, trying to gauge his intentions. “So what if I’m watching him? What’s it to you?” 

Derek leans in a bit closer, lowering his voice, “You know there’s more going on than what meets the eye. You’ve seen the signs.”

Fallon’s body tenses and her heart begins to race at his insinuation. She rolls her neck from side to side, trying to keep her cool. There’s no way he’s hinting at what she thinks he is. “… I don’t know what I’ve seen,” she admits quietly. “But what I do know is that he’s been acting differently. And I’m here to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” 

Derek looks away from her and towards the party. Kids were clinging onto each other, shoving their tongues into each other's mouths, dancing wildly due to the alcohol's influence. But when he looks at Fallon, she’s calm, grounded. She’s not behaving like the others. This is the exact environment a young woman like her should thrive in. So why is she not having fun?

“You’re not clueless,” Derek states firmly. “It’s more than just him acting differently and you know it. You need to start believing that what you’ve read, what you’ve seen, is real. And it’s dangerous.” 

“Dangerous?” Amusement dances spiritedly in her eyes. “Are you saying the big bad wolf is gonna come huff and puff and blow my house down?”

Derek’s jaw tightens, growing increasingly more irritated at her flippant attitude. “Close enough. And if you’re not careful, you’ll find out just how real it is.” 

“Seems a bit immature for a grown man like yourself to be engaging in such silly theories,” Fallon pushes his buttons, trying to see how far she can go before he snaps. He knows something more about what’s going on with Scott. Or else he wouldn’t be here. 

“It’s not a theory.” 

“Well, if you’re also here to keep an eye on Scott, then what does that make you?” She asks provokingly. “The werewolf police?” She chuckles at her own joke.

Derek rolls his eyes, “I’m someone who knows the truth.” He replies shortly. “And so are you.” 

Fallon’s smirk fades just barely, but she keeps her taunting tone evident. “You’re really mysterious, you know that?” She stares at him with delicate eyes, looking him over with curiosity. “All broody and serious. What’s your deal?” 

There’s a hint of exasperation in Derek’s eyes. She's infuriating. Everything that comes out of her mouth is either a challenge or a joke. But he still can’t help but be fascinated by her. “My deal is keeping people safe,” he says firmly. “And right now, that means making sure you’re not in over your head.” 

Fallon laughs softly, enjoying the feeling of getting under his skin. She takes a chance, poking his arm, “Aw, you care about me? How sweet. But it seems a little soon don’t you think? We did just meet yesterday,” she has a shit-eating grin plastered on her face as he rolls his eyes. 

“Just stay out of trouble.” 

“Maybe trouble should stay away from me,” she argues. Fallon huffs when she notices his expression is still as stiff as it was when he got there. It’s like he only has one emotion. “Are you not having fun? I mean, an adult at a teenage party– fun is why you came, isn’t it? Or were you just looking for cheap alcohol?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?” He glances briefly at her.

“Would you like me to answer that with a question of my own?” She wiggles her eyebrows, feeling victorious as her quick wit continues to serve her well. “I’m just kidding,” she chuckles. “I just like to know things, I guess. Helps me feel in control,” she admits. “Do you always wear the same expression? Or is it possible for you to crack a smile every once and a while?”

“I don’t smile unless I have a reason,” he replies.

Fallon looks at him, faux offense on her face, “And I’m not enough of a reason? Y’know, you could at least pretend to be enjoying my company.” 

“No.” 

“All right,” she nods, lips formed in a tight line. “Point taken.” Her eyes travel back up to the sky, getting lost in the warmth the moon provides her. A moment of silence passes between them, Derek taking notice of her interest in the bright ball in the sky. “I’ve always loved the moon,” she tells him quietly, having just caught him staring at her. “It’s always constant even when you feel like you’re drowning,” she says thoughtfully. 

Derek’s eyes travel upwards as well, the crease in his eyebrows disappearing slightly. His expression is unreadable, “The moon can be a reminder of both strength and vulnerability.” 

She nods her head, her signature smirk returning. Derek internally groans at the sight. “How poetic,” her teeth shine brightly in the pale light. “I have to say, you are full of surprises.” 

A shiver runs down Fallon’s spine, goosebumps forming on her skin. She didn’t even notice how much colder it had gotten out until just now. She wraps her arms around herself trying to preserve some warmth. It’s times like these where she wishes she could find Stiles to steal whatever coat he brought. 

Her eyebrows scrunch up when she feels a blanket of warmth cover her. She glances up, now seeing a black leather jacket encompassing her entire body. Derek stands there in just a tight t-shirt, looking at Scott in the distance, not even addressing the fact he just gave her his jacket. 

“And there’s another one…” she mumbles with a more genuine tone, referencing the amount of surprises this man has stored beneath his icy exterior. 

“You were cold,” Derek shrugs, his voice as gruff as ever. “Don't read into it.” 

“Relax,” she smiles. “Your secret is safe with me.” 

He glances at her with a confused expression, “What secret?” 

“That you actually have a heart beneath all of those walls you put up,” she puts simply. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. I get that the werewolf police have a certain reputation to uphold.” 

Something happens across the way. Fallon can’t see it or sense it for that matter, but Derek can. He can feel Scott getting ready to shift. His eyes travel once more to the shorter girl next to him, “You need to be careful, Fallon,” he cautions. “If anything happens, if you see something you know isn’t normal, you need to get out.” 

She isn’t surprised by him blatantly ignoring her joke, but she can see a new sense of urgency behind his eyes. He has somewhere he needs to go. She nods in understanding, “Got it. Thanks for the warning, Derek.” 

Then he’s gone again without a word, and that’s when Fallon notices Scott and Allison’s absence from the loud party. She mentally curses herself for getting so easily distracted. Even Derek managed to keep up with her and watch Scott at the same time. 

A hand snags her wrist, spinning her around. She comes face to face with an out of breath Stiles. He pants heavily, “W-where– agh, gimme a sec.” He puts his hands on his knees, trying to collect himself. He manages to stand back up, “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Scott, he’s–”

“Turning,” she huffs, running a hand through her hair. “I know. I was watching him, but I got distracted. Where is he now?” 

“Gone,” Stiles looks at her worriedly, both of them not knowing what their friend is capable of. “And we have another problem. Derek took Allison.” 

“What?” She asks in complete shock. How did he manage to do that so quickly? He just walked away from her a few seconds ago. 

“Yeah,” Stiles nods vigorously as he begins to guide her out of the party. “We need to find him. And Allison. And make sure he doesn’t kill anybody. We have a long list of things on our plate for this evening and–” he pauses for a moment, taking in her appearance. 

“Where did you get that jacket?” 

        · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Stiles and Fallon reluctantly parted ways after he dragged her from the party. The brunette sped off to Allison’s house, hoping that when she got there the Argent girl would be safe and sound in her house. Thankfully, she was. It seems all Derek did was what he said he would do. Give her a ride home. The only reason Fallon could think of why he made such a big deal out of it was to get a rise out of Scott. 

“Shouldn’t you be home?” Allison asks Fallon, handing her a cup of tea that her mother, Victoria Argent, made for them. “It’s late.” 

The two girls get comfy on the couch. Fallon takes a small sip of the hot beverage, “My dad’s working all night so… I don’t really have anything else going on,” she admits. “I just saw Scott kind of storm out of the party and I wanted to make sure you got home okay.” 

Allison smiles at Fallon’s kindness, “You really didn’t have to do that.” 

“Of course I did,” she insists. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t? Besides, it is family night, remember?” She teases, nudging her shoulder.

Allison cringes as she remembers the blatant lie they told to Jackson and Lydia. “Then I ended up going anyway.” 

“We both did,” Fallon reassures. “I don’t think they even remember we lied in the first place. They were just happy we showed up.” 

Allison sets her mug down, the humor from what they just said dying down. There’s a beat of silence, the only sound between them is Fallon tapping the side of the mug with her nails. She glances at Fallon with a serious expression on her face. “So, I know you and Scott are really close and everything and I just–” she exhales, sinking into the couch. “I don’t really know what to do with him,” she says quietly. “I mean, does he always ditch his dates when he’s there ride? Or is that just a new thing he started with me?” She asks with an upset laugh.

Fallon pauses. She should’ve known this would come up. Not that she blames Allison’s curiosity. Scott definitely should not have abandoned her like that, but it’s not as if he could control turning into a killer werewolf. She clutches her mug in her hands, “Well, Scott’s never actually had a date before, so no he doesn’t ditch his dates often,” she says with an awkward chuckle. “But I suppose the answer to your second question would be yes as he’s never had the opportunity to act this dumb with a girl,” Fallon explains. 

Allison looks as if she’s trying to remain angry, but hearing that she’s Scott’s first ever date makes her soften a bit. “He’s really never been on a date?” She asks with genuine affection. 

Fallon shakes her head, “No. He’s never really found someone who interests him in that way. Well, until he met you at least.” 

She didn’t know when she became Scott’s wing woman, but he owes her big time for this. Talking him up to her new girl friend was not on her agenda for the evening. “Am I gonna regret being with him?” Allison turns to face Fallon fully, crossing her legs over each other as she sits on the couch. 

Fallon shrugs, “Probably. But I can promise you that he’s a really great guy. A little dumb and misguided, but he would do anything for you,” she says with a small smile. “Once Scott has taken a liking to someone, he’ll do anything for them. That’s just the kind of guy he is. I can guarantee that he’ll probably be knocking on your door tomorrow morning begging for you to give him a second chance.” 

“Do you think I should?” 

“That’s up to you,” Fallon pats her leg. “While I love Scott with every fiber of my being, you’re my friend too. I’ll support both of you no matter what happens.” 

Allison’s heart warms at her words. She leans forward, pulling Fallon in for a hug. Fallon’s eyes widen, but she accepts the physical affection anyway. “Thank you,” Allison mutters. 

“Alright ladies,” Victoria comes sauntering out of the kitchen with a different assortment of cookies on a tray. She smiles, but there’s something unsettling about it. About her, really. Fallon can’t quite put her finger on it. “I brought some snacks,” she places the small tray on the coffee table before sitting down on one of the lounge chairs near the couch. 

There’s a newfound tension between the three of them. Perhaps it’s because Fallon is new to their home. “Thank you, Mrs. Argent,” the shorter girl nods gratefully. “Again, I’m really sorry about coming by so late. I just wanted to make sure Allison made it home okay after the get together at Lydia’s.” 

“No need to apologize,” Victoria waves off. “It’s nice to see that Allison has made such a good friend so early on.” She takes a sip of her own tea before glancing out the window. She looks slightly shocked before glancing back to Fallon, “Is that motorcycle yours?” 

Fallon tries to decipher if her tone is curious or judgemental. Her consensus is that it’s both. She swallows thickly, “Um, yeah. Yeah, it is.” 

“And your parents are okay with you using that as your vehicle?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Mom!” Allison says warningly, shooting her a scolding look.

“No, it’s okay,” Fallon assures her friend before looking back to her mother. “Well, it’s just my dad and I. My mom passed away a long time ago,” she explains. “He’s not the biggest fan of it, but he knows it makes me happy and that I’m safe when I ride it, so he lets me.” 

“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry to hear about your mother,” Victoria frowns. “It must be difficult living without her.” 

Fallon shrugs, “It is. I miss her everyday. But she was a happy person. She would be really angry with my dad and I if we lived our lives just mourning her.” 

“Well, she sounds like a wonderful woman,” Victoria says thoughtfully. 

“She was.” 

There’s a moment of complete quiet between the three. Allison feels terrible for how her mom practically gave Fallon the third degree about her life. She internally groans when noticing her mom getting ready for another round of questions. 

“So,” Victoria clears her throat, “How did you two meet?” 

“At school,” Allison answers. “We have the same English class. She came up to me afterwards and actually tried to help me get out of going to the party we just went to,” she says, both girls laughing at the situation.

Victoria goes to speak but is cut off by their front door opening. An older man, no doubt Allison’s father, trudges through the door. A large gun is slung across his body making Fallon’s eyes bug out of her head. A million thoughts run through her mind as to why he would be returning so late with such a large weapon. 

“Victoria, whose motorcycle is in the front yard?” The man yells before looking up and seeing a complete stranger in his living room. “Oh,” he says, more surprised by her presence than Fallon was by the gun. 

Fallon’s hands begin sweating profusely. She wipes them on her pants before standing up and walking over to him. She smiles with no teeth, trying to hide her nerves. She sticks her hand out, “That would be mine, sir. My name is Fallon Donovan, I’m a friend of Allison’s,” she introduces. 

“Chris,” he shakes her hand. “Allison’s dad.” He nods rather impressed by the young girl in front of him, “Firm handshake, very nice.” He glances over to his wife, “I’m gonna go clean up. It was really nice to meet you, Fallon. Hopefully we can have a better conversation the next time we meet,” he nods, walking away from the three women. 

Fallon walks back over to the couch as Victoria stands up, “I should probably go make sure the sale went well,” she says. “Chris is a licensed arms dealer to law enforcement,” her explanation comes off a bit too naturally, but Fallon doesn’t think too much of it. They’re probably desensitized to how interesting of an occupation that is. “Fallon, why don’t you stay over tonight?” Victoria suggests. “I’m sure Allison would love that, right honey?” 

Her eyes widen, some cookie crumbs covering her lips. She swallows the fudge stripe she no doubt just shoved in her mouth. She nods, “Yeah, yeah that would be cool. If you want?” She glances at Fallon. 

“You know what?” Fallon smiles. “Let’s do it. I’ll just text my dad and let him know I won’t be there in the morning.” 

“Great,” Victoria nods. “Make yourself at home Fallon. Any friend of Allison’s is family to us.” 

As Victoria disappears down the hallway, Allison mumbles something about getting extra blankets for the two of them. Fallon stands from her spot, gathering all of her things to move upstairs with Allison. She shoots her dad a quick text and to her surprise he responds with a thumbs up and heart emoji. She giggles, knowing he must be running between rooms right now. 

Her eyebrows furrow when Scott’s name flashes at the top of her screen. Where are you? His text reads. 

Allison’s house. Nice move btw, leaving her alone at a party. Fallon types back sarcastically. She’s okay, but you better be thinking of some way to make it up to her. 

Wait, you’re at her house?!

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, Yeah… Didn’t Stiles tell you we separated so he could find you and I could check on Allison? 

Is her dad home? Scott asks. 

Yeah. He just got here. Allison yells for Fallon to meet her upstairs. The brunette girl makes way over, still staring at the phone as she begins to climb. Why?

Because he just got done shooting at me in the woods. I don’t think he knows it was me. Just be careful. Don’t tell him what you know.

Fallon’s eyes snap over to the left as she watches Chris emerge from his bedroom. The two of them make eye contact, making a cold sweat break out on her neck. She sends him a tight-lipped smile, trying to make everything seem normal. He nods at her and she responds with a small wave before clambering up the stairs and into Allison’s room. 

It's real. You’re a werewolf? 

Unfortunately.

[haileybeehappy]

Drug Dealer Harry

Long Hair Harry because I’m in love with him.

Idk the word count. It won’t let me check.

Warnings: ummm. Drugs… obvi. Fingering. Oral (fem receiving) switch reader and Harry

There is no love confession. There is no spilling of the heart. So you lay in your bed with your finger hovering over the send button of the text you have typed out for Harry.

Do you think I could get a few grams tonight?

I’m not to far from your place now if you want me to drop in

You pop out of the bed and shoot to the bathroom fingers typing as fast as you could get them to move.

Sure. Pop in whenever. Door is unlocked.

You slip the lock of your door and bolt into the bathroom to throw yourself together before he gets there. Brushing your teeth while trying to pick an outfit that says ‘I definitely wear this when I’m alone lounging around the house but I still wanna look hot asf’. You settle on an old band tee you had stolen from an ex and a simple pair of spandex shorts that weren’t too short. You brush some mascara onto your eyelashes before applying a little blush and highlighter to give your face some life and just as you finish running your finger through your hair you hear your door open.

“You know it is very unsafe to leave your door unlocked. Anyone could just walk right in,” Harry jokes as he takes his shoes off. You have wandered out of your. Bathroom and Into the living space of your one bedroom apartment

“Good thing we know every single person who lives in this god forsaken place. Who’s gonna break in?” He shrugs.

“I don’t know man. I hear there’s a drug dealer in the loose out there,” he says with a smirk.

“Oh no! In our precious little town?! What are we gonna do?” You feign shock. He just shakes his head and reaches into his pocket and throws a small ziplock baggie at you. You catch it at the last second between your fingers. Harry plops down on the couch and starts digging around his backpack. Pulling out a rolling tray and papers. You watch as he rolls a joint. His fingers moving at a steady pace. The motions being muscle memory by now. He brings the paper up to him mouth and licks the edge. Watching him roll joints is quite literally your favorite thing in the world to do. You love watching his hands. His tattooed ring clustered fingers. He looks up and catches your eyes on him as he brings the j to his lips and lights it up. He motions you with his head to sit next to him. You slip into the couch next to him and after he takes a drag he hands it off to you. Your fingers tracing his as he lets go. Your breath hitches in your throat as you inhale and start to cough.

“God y.n. Don’t die on me,” his hand comes to your back and soothes you as he rubs from the small of your back to your shoulder blades and back and forth.

“Holy shit,” you cough through the smoke.

“You’re definitely more of a professional than that damn,” you let out a laugh and his hand stills on your back. You give him back the joint and lean back into the couch. His hand moves up and onto the back of the couch. Keeping you tucked into his arm.

“I don’t know what happened. Damn went lil bitch on you,” you laugh. Dropping the back of your head and into his arm.

“There’s times you’re not a lil bitch?” He feigns shock. You gasp. You smack your hand against his chest.

“You’re so mean!” You exclaim. Before you can pull your hand back he captures it in his hand. He has always been relatively touchy with you. But he was with everyone else in his life too. Your heart quickens at the contact of his hand over yours.

“Hitting isn’t nice y.n ,” he has the j in the same hand he has pressed against yours. He brings the hand from around the back of the couch and switches the j from on hand to the other. He then brings it to his lips and inhaled. Your body and his so close you can feel each others heart beat. His hand doesn’t go far after he release the joint from his mouth. He brings it to yours and tips your head with his hand that is still holding yours. “Come on, take it,” a pulse is sent through your body. You slip it between your lips and let the smoke flow into you. “Good girl,” you close your eyes and hold it in your lungs. He’s definitely doing that on purpose. There’s no other meaning to that right. You blow the smoke out and stay propped against his body. Leaning into him more as you slowly feel your body slip into the comfort of your high.

“How come I haven’t seen you in a while?” You had avoided him due the creeping up of feeling and the fact that you had some very vivid sex dreams about him and couldn’t look at him without blushing. So you’ve been stretching your weed out longer and buying more in one go.

“Things have been busy. And I haven’t really had the money,” you shrug after a long pause.

“You and I know you only pay cause you want to y.n,” you open your eyes and look up at him. Your nose almost bumping against his.

“Oh? This is news to me,” you smile at him. He nods in an affirming way.

“Of course y.n. I would give you anything for next to nothing,” you cock an eyebrow at him.

“Well what is next to nothing then?” He leans closer to the point his lips are hovering over yours.

“I’m sure you can figure something out,” you lean up and close the gap between the two of you. His hand release yours and his fingers come to touch your face. Taking your chin between his fingers. You lean into him. Your legs colliding with his. He pulls back from you and leans forward. Dropping the joint onto the rolling tray before sitting back and in one swift move grabbing your leg and guiding you to straddle him. You let a laugh like yell. He smiles up at you before slipping his hands up from your thighs to your ass. To your hips. To your waist. His fingers gripping at your waist as he rubs his thumbs over your hip bones. Your lips not quite touching ghosting over his you tease him as he comes up to kiss you. You pull away ever so slightly. He lets out a whimper as you pull away one last time. You look down at him with a smile as he pouts up at you.

“I’m sure you can figure something out,” you laugh as his hands tightly grab your exposed skin under your t shirt.

“Please y.n. I need it,” you smile through the kiss as you press yourself into him. His hips grind up into yours as being your hands to rest on his neck. Lightly pressing your thumb into his skin. He lets out a little moan and pulls down harder into his lap.

“So good for me Harry,” you mumble into his lips. He just hurriedly nods his head.

“So good for you y.n,” you swoon at his little whines. You slowly start to grind down onto him. Not using speed but pressing against him hard. “Please, I just wanna feel you,” you grasp the back of his head pulling his face into your chest, gripping his hairs at the base of his head pulling on them slightly.

“Be quiet and let me play,” you whispered in his ear. He nodded. Head still tucked in your chest. His hands tap twice on your back. You release your grip on his head and he comes up with a gasp. You run your hands through his hair as he takes a few more breaths. Your hips starting to circle and grind down onto him. His erection pressing into all your sensitive spots. You drop your head back his hands move their way up into your shirt. He adjusts so he can lean up and he starts to press kisses onto your skin. You let out a moan, his hands move up to the center of your back and grasp at your bra.

“Can I?” He asks. Barely a whisper.

“Yes. Please,” his continued to place kisses as his hands very easily slip the clasps off the hooks. You freeze and sit up looking down at him with a surprised look on your face. “I can’t even take my bra off that fast,” a small smile cracks across his face.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. I’m not gonna mess it up by fumbling your bra,” he nods.

“That or you’re a little whore huh?” He freezes. His eyes searching yours. “But you’re my little whore huh?” The tension in his eyes dissipates.

“Yes ma’am,” he whispers.

“My good little whore huh?”

“All yours,” he whines. You smile at him and pull away. You reach down in one swift movement your bra and shirt are off and onto the floor. His hands come back around from where they were resting in your spine. Hovering in the edge of your breasts.

“It’s okay, you can touch baby,” you give him permission. His hands gently grab at you. His mouth pressing warm kisses across your pebbled nipples. His touch so soft it’s almost comforting. You can feel yourself coming to the edge as you continue rubbing your clit against him. You don’t stop as you bring yourself to orgasm. As you start to slow you reach your peak his hands grip onto your hips and helps you move at a fast pace. You ride out your orgasm and come to a slow stop. You rest your head on top of his while you grip him around the base of his neck. The both of you breathing heavy. He has his arms secured around your waist. “Such a good boy for me,” you huff out. Slipping off his lap and laying back flat against the couch cushions. Your legs up onto him.

“Now it’s my turn,” he says and he moves between your legs and hovers over your body. His arms locking you, placed on either side of your head. “You be good for me now baby, you think you can do that?” He questions you. A stern lookin in his face.

“Yes.”

“Yes Harry,” he corrects.

“Yes Harry,” you respond.

“Good. Girl,” close your eyes tight and trying to keep yourself from whining. He leans down presses kisses along your collar bones. Kiss. “God,” kiss “you’re,” kiss “fucking,” kiss “beautiful,” kiss. He has worked his way from your collar none up to your jaw. He brings his hand up and grips your chin. His fingers slowly moving from your chin and entering into your mouth. “Suck,” he demands. You wrap your lips around his thumb and begin to suck. Your tongue coming up to press against the digit intruding your mouth.

He pulls himself from your grasp and drags his wet fingers down your chin. Your neck. Your chest. Yours stomach. To the waistband of your shorts. He traces the hem back and forth. Back and forth.

“Please Harry,” you whine. He smirks and dips his hand into your shorts. Past your underwear. He hovers over your clit. You raise your hips to meet his touch but the second you try he pulls his hand out of your shorts.

“Don’t move,” he says sternly.

“Yes sir,” you whimper. He smirks at your response. He sits up and dips his fingers into the hem of your shorts. He pulls them off your body in a clumsy move. He flings them over his shoulder in an exasperated way once he has them off your ankles.

“I can’t wait to taste you,” he says almost inaudible. You raise yourself up into your elbows looking up at him.

“Please Harry. I need something. Please,” he smiles and lovers himself so he’s face level with your pussy.

“I think you’ve forgotten you’ve gotten off. This is all for me,” he glances up at you. “You better not come until I tell you that you can,” he hooks his arms up around your thighs and places his large hands on the tops of your things pulling at you legs so they fall open and he holds them firm. He starts slow by placing kisses around your clothed center. Your thin underwear leaving the smallest amount of space between the two of you. You try your best not to move your legs but the second his lips touch your clit you go to lift your hips and close your thighs out of pure stimulation but his hands keep your bottom glued to the couch and he forces your legs back open. Holding them down and apart before placing another kiss on your clit. Lingering longer.

“Please Harry, please.” Your hands let go of the couch cushions and find their way to his messy hair. Tangling the long strands between your fingers. You pull at his roots and he lets out a moan against your pussy. Which causes you to pull harder. He lets go of your legs and brings his fingers to your underwear. Grasping at the lace and tearing it right in half pulling the gusset of your underwear apart and giving himself full reign to your soaked center. You let out a yelp at the sudden act and sit up a little straighter.

“Hey!”

“I’ll buy you ten more pairs,” a smirk on his lips and he dives into you. His long licking a slow stripe across your slit before coming to your clit and suctioning his mouth around it and ever so slightly applying pressure with his tongue. You let out a loud moan and pull at his hair again.

“Holy fucking shit baby yes,” he releases his mouth from you and goes back to licking at you. He continues to suck and lick at you. Bringing you right to the edge and then pulling back and letting you wind down.

“Harry please,” you whine pulling at his hair. He smiles against you.

“Come,” He demands. His tongue laps through your folds as his fingers dip into your core. With that simple move an orgasm rocks through your body. You tug at his hair, hard. Your hips raise up off the bed as your toes curl. His name escapes your mouth over and over like chanting a spell. He groans against your pussy as you come down from your high.

Your orgasm fades, your body still tense as you look up at him. He has brought himself up into his knees and is looking down at you. A slight smirk on his face.

“If I didn’t think you’d explode I’d spend all day between your legs,” you roll your eyes at him.

“Shut up and fuck me,”