#boy this got longer than I thought it would

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── UNZIP ME ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

𐙚 pairing: nerd!rafe x perv!reader

𐙚 summary: rafe has difficulty undressing you.

𐙚 warnings / tags: smut, some fluff, MDNI!

𐙚 author's note: based on a video sent by nerd!rafe’s #1 stan @raahosh i hope you like it queen <3

PERV MASTERLIST 𐙚 RAFE MASTERLIST

after you and rafe started dating, your favorite part about going out was no longer the part where you’d flirt with everything that moved. it was no longer about batting your eyelashes at some poor bastard and making him think you’d be going home with him if he bought you and your girls a round of shots.

no.

you never thought you’d become one of those girls, but somehow, when you fell in love with rafe, your favorite part about going out was coming back; even better if the place you came back to was his dormitory.

you’d sneak into your boyfriend’s dorm with your heels in your hand, still wearing the dress you’d worn out that night. rafe would boil some water while you changed into one of his shirts that were too big on you (usually something related to star wars). he’d pour the boiled water into two noodle cups, and help you take your makeup off because you were ‘too tired’ when in reality you just liked having him take care of you.

the two of you would then cuddle up in his bed, eating your cup noodles while you told him anecdotes about your night, all the while some show was playing on his laptop.

this time was different, though. not only were you missing rafe, but you were craving him. the entire time you were at the shitty packed nightclub with your girls, only thing you could think about was him. it got so bad you ended up scrolling through your gallery for pictures of you and him.

finally, when you’d had enough, you decided to just tell your friends a little white lie about how you were feeling nauseous, and got an uber back to the boys’ dormitories.

soon enough, you were behind rafe’s door, your boyfriend’s eyes widening when he saw you standing there, “what are you-”

you interrupted his sentence by pressing your lips on his in a heated kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck. rafe moaned into the kiss, slamming the door shut so loudly it must’ve awoken a few other people residing in the dormitories, his touch making you feel drunker than the remnants of alcohol still in your veins.

your hands were on his hips, tugging him closer to you while also pushing him backwards towards his bed. you pulled away from the kiss, pushing rafe down onto the bed, his pupils blown wide as he looked up at you in surprise. you straddled rafe’s lap, tugging on his hair as your chest pressed against him.

“missed you…” you mumbled, your lips pressed against his, your ragged breaths mingling together. “missed you too…” he whispered and you connected your lips with his, your lips greedily moving against his. rafe’s hands started trailing up your back, searching for the zipper of your dress.

finally, though, when he found it, the boy couldn’t seem to be able to unzip it no matter how many times he tugged on it, and you couldn’t help the grin that took over your lips, pulling away from him in a breathless daze, feeling him starting to harden underneath you.

“i have to do everything myself, do i?” you chuckle, rising back to your feet, rafe letting out a disappointed whine, his lips in a pout. you turned your back to your boyfriend, and he watched as your skilled hands slowly unzipped the dress, revealing your bare back to him, his eyes widening.

you let the black dress pool at your feet before stepping out of it, taking slow, measured steps towards rafe, his eyes shamelessly trailing over your bare chest.

you straddled your boyfriend once again, a seductive smile on your face as one of his hands cupped your breast, his thumb pressing over your nipple, the bud starting to harden under his cold hands in a way that made you arch into him.

“much better.” you grin, tilting his head back by his chin, before bringing your lips to his and sliding your hands under his shirt.

TAGLIST: @raahosh @purpleplumpudding @rafesheaven @esotericcangel @mattyskies @bakugouswaif @littlelamy

[tiredwriter2003]

They watched some of the files on the plane. They had hoped it would give them some answer on what was going on.

The file started with a white haired boy. Young, younger than Damian's 16, and glaring at the screen. Hatred was clear in his expression. Whoever held the camera was despised by this boy. He stood in a defensive position in front of another entity. Many of the other "natural encounters" followed the same pattern. Fighting, fleeing, shielding, all in defense of another.

In another area Zatanna and Martian Manhunter were watching the multitude of experiments being carried out on the same young boy, the same ghost. Things were horrifying but it was the final video, on that was well hidden and required intervention to recover for them to see. It was another experiment.

"Initiating test 657, core retrieval attempt 18, subject Phantom_PH001. Electricity will be used in an attempt to gain a response from core in defence. Beginning procedure."

Sparks lit the screen and the boy began screaming.

"Attempt one fail. Increasing frequency." And the screaming began again.

And so it continued. It made them wonder what was special about this clip, it wasn't any different from the others so far so why was it so well hidden? It wasn't until the last five minutes of the video that the question was answered.

"Electricity failure. Now using combined effects. Test one, electricity full voltage and substance A19z. Begin testing." Again there was sparks, screaming, but this time things ended differently. The screams grew younger. There was a flash of bright light and the scientists were thrown back, many becoming impaled on the surgical instruments scattered around the room.

It was what was on the table that made them gasp, however. A young boy, crying, similar facial features to the ghost that had been tortured. There was a significant difference though. This boy, he was alive. Whoever these bozos where, messing with the dead, they had done the impossible. They had successfully managed to resurrect a ghost. There was more screaming, a green flash of light opening behind the boy and then he was gone. The clip stopped soon after. The two watching shared looks and immediately contacted the Batplane. Bruce had to know about this.

Back in Amity Danny had just got home to see no one had noticed he was gone. His parents were still in the lab, Jazz was gone, Sam and Tucker were visiting family and he had gone unnoticed. Something deep within him throbbed at the thought. Danny continued on to his room. A nap would help, he thought, he just needed some rest. The teen ignored the part of him crying out, missing his new family, they wouldn't want him like this anyway.

His nap didn't last long before being interrupted. Clockwork hovered over him, speaking before he could even wake up fully.

"I'm sorry Danny, I know you don't want this." Danny began to panic, something in the old ghost's tone scared him but he found he couldn't move. "The timeline is heading down a dark path, towards your true ending and despite myself I am fond of you. You being gone is not something I am willing to allow. Not anymore. This is for the best, you'll be happy and I'll see you soon though you won't remember me. You'll remember them though. they'll be good to you and your parents will go away for a long time. This won't hurt, I promise, and your powers will be weaker for a while but you'll grow into them stronger than ever. I wish you the best and I'll see you in two months. It shouldn't take me longer than that to arrange things. Now, back down we go." Clockwork poked him in the chest and time began to rewind for the halfa, or so it seemed. It took some careful work to place him back to the age he had been with the Waynes, to also ensure he retained his memories and fondness of them whilst also remaining his half ghost self but it was certainly doable. Another, more selfish, thing Clockwork ensured Danny kept was his fondness for himself. He knew the young half ghost wouldn't remember him, ever, those memories were gone for good, but he made sure the feeling remained. The affection. It was almost better this way, the inherent distrust was gone now and he didn't remember the threats to end him if he went down a dark path.

This was a much better timeline than the one things were heading down, with Danny being disowned and hurt by his parents and being ended through blood blossom exposure. Clockwork was far from impartial now and he wanted Danny to live, thrive and settle, eternally in balance as he stood on the line between life and death.

He would through a fit when he stopped ageing in his twenties though, but that reveal was a while off.

Bruce had been walking out of the WE building when he spotted a child who could fit right in at Wayne Manor looking around. Determining he was probably lost, Bruce approached him and tapped his shoulder. The boy turned around.

"Daddy?" he asked.

[etclouie]

week two; day four — ghost!mattheo

⋆˚✿˖° — title; the soul within (Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader)

⋆˚✿˖° — warnings; ghost!mattheo x reader, first meet, mattheo is dead, ooc mattheo really, uhm that’s it i’m pretty sure? but if i missed any lmk

⋆˚✿˖° — word count; 605

⋆˚✿˖° — a/n; supernatural au’s are way out of my usual spectrum, so please excuse any mistakes

prev day | next day au festival masterlist | main masterlist

the Riddle Manor stood at the edge of the Wiltshire countryside, dark and brooding, like a memory no one wanted to recall. 

it was cold, eerily so. 

eeriness was the first and only thing you’d felt since entering the front door. well, not the only thing, but it was the most prominent. 

you’d felt something else. someone else. 

at first it wasn’t strong enough to bother you, but the longer you stayed in the house, the stronger the presence got. 

ignoring it was the first thing you thought of, yet it didn’t do much. 

it followed. he followed. 

you seen him briefly one night, hidden in the corner as you tried to sleep. his shadow startling, before he disappeared. 

everything you’d heard about the house, about the Riddle family—it all told you to stay away, but he made you stay. 

the house creaked like it remembered things. the floors moaned under your steps, and the shadows bloomed where light should reach. but it wasn’t threatening. not really. more.. expectant.

it started with the mirror.

you caught a glimpse of him in the hallway, clearer this time. the edge of a dark coat, a tilt of a head that wasn’t yours. when you turned, the corridor was empty. 

but the air carried something faint, sandalwood and fire.

the last night of the month, he spoke.

“you shouldn’t be here”

his voice was low, a whisper along your spine. you turned over in bed, heart thudding.

“i don’t mean harm, but this place doesn’t let go of things easily”

he added, softer than his previous words.

you saw him even clearer the night after.

a boy—no, a young man. lean, dark eyed, with curls falling into his eyes and a mouth that looked like it had almost learned to smile once. his presence wasn’t cold like you imagined a ghost would be. he stood neat the window, hands behind his back, like a memory pressed into flesh. 

“are you a Riddle?”

he asked, but the tone he used told you that he already knew the answer before you shook your head ‘no’.

“never heard of your family before i got the keys”

his eyes narrowed, questioning, before he answered. an allure of secrecy to his words.

“that’s why you can see me”

slowly, you learned his name. Mattheo. his voice carried sadness, but not bitterness. his story came in pieces, day by day—an unfinished spell, a betrayal, a life snapped too soon.

“you’re not afraid of me”

he commented, watching as you lit the fireplace.

your head tilted back to him, voice soft as you replied.

“should i be?”

his head tilted, sadness filling the dullness of his eyes.

“everyone else was”

the manor, over time, started to feel less like a mausoleum and more like a place of waiting. the silence grew companionable.

you’d speak to him in the evenings—read aloud from your books, attempt to play the grand piano in the lounge. 

sometimes he would linger near the doorway, eyes half closed like he was remembering something you weren’t part of.

“you bring warmth to this place”

he murmured the night after again, standing behind you in the parlour. his voice sent goosebumps across your skin, not from fear but something deeper.

“it hasn’t known that in a long time, or ever really”

you turned to meet those sadened eyes, but he faded into the wall without a goodbye.

a cold chill left in his wake.

and when you reached out and touched the wall where he faded, your fingers tingled, like the veil between life and death was just a breath away from breaking.

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[spoonfulofmilo]

Contestant Number 2's Introduction

updates will be tues, wed and thursday my time at 7pm aest!

love y'all

the bachelor masterlist is here

part 1 is here

---

my masterlist can be accessed here

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

The moment the next guy walked around the corner, Y/N could already feel the difference.

Less brooding intensity. More... golden retriever energy.

Kimi walked up like he was here to ruin his life. This guy? He looked like he was about to ask if he wanted to grab a smoothie and throw a frisbee.

He wore a cream-colored striped short-sleeve shirt, tucked into relaxed, high-waisted navy trousers. His hair was a little messy in a styled-on-purpose kind of way, and he had that clean, sun-kissed Florida glow that screamed I grew up near a beach. Blue eyes, boy-next-door smile. He looked like a day off.

“Hey! I’m Logan,” he said, offering a handshake.

Y/N leaned in for a hug instead. Their bodies pressed together just slightly longer than necessary. When they pulled back, Logan’s ears were a little pink.

"He's sweet," Y/N thought. "Not my usual type."

“So nice to meet you, Logan! I’m Y/N! Do you want to tell me about yourself?”

“Yeah, totally. I’m 23, I’m from Florida,  Fort Lauderdale, and I’m a DJ,” he said with a slightly nervous smile, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t used to talking about himself.

“Oh cool, I’m an F1 driver.”

Logan perked up. “Wait seriously? That’s awesome. I mean, I mostly follow Indy and NASCAR, but F1’s sick. You guys are going, like, what, 220 kilometres per hour? I can't even imagine.”

“Yeah, so, faster than your car. So what’s got you here? Love, or just the free food and fancy cocktails?”

Y/N smiled as Logan laughed, but tilted his head, waiting.

Logan glanced down, then back up, just slightly shy. “Honestly? I figured love’s always a risk, right? Might as well take a shot.”

Y/N blinked. “A shot on what?”

Logan looked right at him. “You, I guess.”

“Oh, I, um…”

There it was. A flicker of something real. Then Logan’s face flushed and he laughed it off.

Y/N laughed too, trying to catch his balance.

“Where, um, where or rather, what would you do for a first date with me?”

“I’d probably take you to a rave, teach you a little DJing if you’re up for it. But I get it if you’re not big on crowds. We could do something chill. Honestly, I’ve seen clips of you in clubs post-race, don’t think you’d hate it,” he grinned, a little smug, a little playful.

“If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

“Ibiza,” Logan said immediately. “It’s got the beaches, the energy, the music. Reminds me of Miami a bit. I like that vibe. It’s kind of home, but with a Spanish twist.”

He turned to leave but paused, then reached into his pocket. “Oh, right, before I forget. I got you something.”

Y/N blinked as Logan handed over a small box.

“I know it’s kinda dumb,” Logan said, scratching his neck, “but I saw you still use wired headphones. These are noise-cancelling. Figured they might help when you’re traveling or trying to block out the chaos.”

“Oh, thanks so much!”

Y/N tried not to side-eye the cameras, knowing exactly what the producers were going to do with this.

Bachelor Y/N gets headphones from DJ contestant. Will sparks fly, or will he get noise-cancelled?

God. They were gonna milk this for weeks.

(cut to Y/N’s interview)

"Okay, okay. I know I said I wasn’t going to get distracted, but... he’s adorable. Logan’s got this kind of… what’s the word… golden retriever energy? Like, he’s sweet and bashful and clearly trying, but not in a forced way. And that little headphone gift? Are you kidding me? I wasn’t expecting to get emotional over headphones on night one. But he actually noticed something about me, like really noticed. That doesn’t happen a lot. Especially in this... circus. He’s not my usual type, and that’s what scares me a bit. But maybe that’s the point, right? Try something new. Let it surprise you."

(cut to Logan’s interview)

"I don’t really know what just happened. Like, I had a whole plan, I was gonna be chill, keep it casual, just vibe… and then I saw him. And I forgot all the words. He hugged me. And I think my heart just... short-circuited. He’s really cool. Like, really cool. And funny. And fast, apparently. 220 km an hour? That’s wild. I gave him some headphones. It felt dorky, but I thought maybe he’d appreciate something useful. And honestly, I just wanted to show him I was paying attention. I dunno, maybe that’s dumb. But yeah. I took a chance. On him. And I’d do it again."

taglist: @barcelonaloverf1life, @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @badblondebisexualboy, @ghostking4m, @fate-posts, @evelyn-4034, @jupiter-je-taime, @redcrescentmoons, @youraveragebritishamerican, @v3lnys, @thatonesblog, @bangbangdevotee, @annegrey, @pear-1206, @alchemxx, @koalapastries, @saucy-apples, @milessunflowers, @dramaticpiratellamas, @bunnisgreen, @jamesiesposts, @tammyfortis, @sleutherclaw, @blazecosplay

[maddie-dog-story-blog]

The Birthday - 8

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Given everything that had transpired over the last few days, I shouldn't have been surprised by the sight that greeted me in the kitchen. However, despite everything, I still was.

As I waddled behind Melody, still dressed in the abhorrently sexy blue nightie and matching lingerie she woke up in, and entered the dining room, I couldn't help but grimace at the sight. Beside our normal dining room set up, a large, adult-sized high chair was looming in the middle of the room.

"Mommy," I lisped out in frustration and terror, "Pwease, no!"

Melody turned and glared at me as she pulled the tray off of the chair, revealing the white wooden seat underneath as well as the ankle and wrist restraints attached to it.

"You didn't just say, 'No,' to Mommy, did you baby boy?" She crooned with a warning tone. "Maybe I should just take away your ability to use that word at all?"

I felt my bladder release involuntarily at the thought of my wife using her new-found power to remove my ability to even voice the word, 'No.'

"Mommy, no… I mean… Pwease… I'll be good!"

The smile my wife threw me as I pathetically acquiesced to her threats caused me to shuffle submissively on my bare feet. What was I becoming, that I could so easily be cowed by her. Was I really just the male version of the pathetic little diaper girls from my stories?

Before I could ruminate on that thought longer, the sound of flesh on wood snapped my consciousness back into the real world.

"Come here, baby boy! Climb on up your highchair! Mommy's got all sorts of num-nums to feed you this morning!" Melody slapped the seat of the chair, urging me to comply with her command.

Without a word, I waddled over to the childish throne and little Melody help me up. As I climbed into the seat, she took the opportunity to squeeze the soaked padding between my legs.

"Maybe I should have bought you thicker diapers? Hm… I wonder how you'd look in two? You seem to love making those poor little things in your stories wear padding so thick that they can't walk. I know that my itty-bitty little hubby would absolutely love that!"

I felt my face turn bright red at my wife's words. The thought of wearing even thicker diapers overwhelming me. But, I didn't say anything to contradict her. I wasn't going to risk losing my ability to refuse her so near to when the threat had been made.

"But, first things first! Let's get my hungry little man fed!"

Melody strapped my wrists and ankles into the surprisingly comfortable cuffs before sliding the highchair's tray back into place. I pulled against the restraints slightly, testing their strength, only to confirm what I already knew: I was well and truly stuck.

"Sweet pea, I know it's your birthday weekend. And I know you love a big, yummy breakfast. But, it's been more than 24-hours since you made a stinky."

I nearly died inside as I watched my drop dead gorgeous wife sashay into the kitchen as she discussed my bowel movements (or lack there of) like I was an infant. I felt my manhood grow in my soggy pants, betraying the dignity I was so desperately trying to cling to.

"So, unfortunately, instead of the tasty pancakes and bacon, I was going to make you, Mommy's got to make you something that'll help get the poo-poo express moving instead."

I whimper in response, hating the fact I can't use my hands to hide my face from the embarrassment of my situation.

"Luckily for you, I have just the thing."

I watched nervously from my perch, suckling my paci, as Melody got to work making my breakfast. From my vantage point, I couldn't see much until she turned around.

I almost spit out my paci as I stared at what was in her hand. A gigantic bowl of oatmeal topped with prunes, a large spoon, and a bottle full of a purple liquid that could only be prune juice.

I wiggled futilely in my seat as she approached.

Yes, I had wet myself. I had nursed on her tit. I had even debased myself in my sleep in front of her. But, I wouldn't--I couldn't--bring myself to shit in a diaper just for her own, petty amusement. However, with the terror that filled my body at just the thought of a toilet and knowledge of what that meal would do to my guts, I couldn't see how I was escaping this.

So, I did the next best thing I could--well, at least the next best thing that came to my mind at the time. Really, it was the only thing I could think to do. I threw what was, in retrospect, a tantrum.

"No, no, no, no, no! Please, Mommy, please! No! I'll be good! I'll be good! Don't make me eat that! I don't want to poop my pants! I'm not a baby!"

My words flowed from me in a rush as I shook desperately in my seat. Melody shook her head.

"What did Mommy say about telling her no? Such a naughty baby. Mommy says you don't know how to use that naughty word anymore!"

My brain and tongue felt like it shorted out as I tried to continue my cries.

"N… Nnnn… NnNnNnNNn… Mommy… Nnnnn! Not a baby!" Spit dribbled from my lips rather than the end of the word I was suddenly unable to say.

In my highchair, drool dribbling down my chin, babbling like an infant, while throwing a tantrum in a soggy diaper, I couldn't believe my own words. Tears started to stream down my face as I let my body go slack against my restraints.

Melody gently caressed the side of my face soothingly as she set the bowl and bottle down in front of me.

"Hush, baby, it's not so bad being Mommy's good boy. You'll see. Now, let's get you fed."

Defeated, I put up little resistance to my wife when she began to feed me the disgusting mix of fiber and fruit from the bowl in front of me. I opened my mouth and ate spoonful after spoonful of the messy concoction, Melody teasing me the whole time and making sure to insure my face and chest were as messy as possible by making me miss the spoon and overfilling my mouth with the mush.

"Such a messy eater! Look at you! I wonder how long it'll be until your little tushy is as messy as your face?"

I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was anywhere else when, as if in answer to my wife's question, a cramp rocked my stomach, causing me to bend over in my seat.

"Mommy," I chirped out pathetically, "please, nnnnn…"

Tears ran down my face anew as I realized I physically couldn't say no and emotionally couldn't bring myself to ask to use the toilet. I was fucked.

"What, baby?" She responded with a knowing smirk, "Are you thirsty? Here, drink your baba!"

She shoved the nipple of the bottle in my mouth, shutting down my pathetic protests. And I moaned as another cramp hit me.

I didn't want to drink. My stomach suddenly felt too full to take any more. I looked up at Melody with big, pathetic eyes, blushing again as I thought about just how adult and sexy she must look compared to how disgusting and little I felt.

"Mommy says drink."

That's all it took. Reflectively, I began to suckle the sweet juice. I drank so quickly, the prune juice started to dribble down my cheek, joining the remains of the oatmeal.

At the same time, the cramps in my stomach intensified, becoming unbearable. My tears increased as I realized I had no choice. I was going to shit myself for the first time as an adult.

With an audible grunt and a squint of my eyes, I gave in. A torrent of warm, sticky mess exploded from my ass, filling the already soggy diaper. The sticky mess, squishing around my ass, made it feel like I was sitting on a pile of warm playdough. The knowledge of what it was, caused me to get a little, but, despite my disgust, I couldn't stop suckling.

"That's my good boy, making Mommy a big, stinky present!"

The bottle between my lips finally emptied, leaving me sucking air as Melody took it from me.

"Don't you just look like the most pathetic little thing! Why don't I take a picture commemorating this moment!"

She crooned, stepping back and taking out her phone.

"Mommy says smile! Mommy says say, 'Stinky Diapers!'"

Involuntarily, I could feel a huge, stupid grin cross my face. Staring right at the camera, with an embarassingly cheery tone, I yelled, "Stinky Diapers," as my wife took a picture of me in my humiliating state.

She walked back over me, phone in hand, and showed me the photo of myself. I almost felt like my brain broke in that moment.

The person staring back at me with the big stupid grin on his face couldn't be me. His face and chest were covered in oatmeal and juice like a messy toddler. He was strapped into a highchair like an infant. And the white diaper between his legs? It was tinted a suspicious shade of brown and yellow.

Worst of all though, he appeared to be enjoying all of it.

However, as much as I wanted to deny that was me, staring back from the phone, I couldn't.

You can't make someone do something they don't want to with hypnosis.

The phrase ran throw my mind, and I visibly shuddered.

"Let's get my baby boy cleaned up! Mommy's got one more big birthday surprise for you this weekend!" Melody's voice cut through the din of my thoughts.

I nearly wet myself again, horrified to see what new terrors she had in store for me.

[natsoratso]

𓈒 ⸃ Ꮺ playing dumb | lookism v! / m!reader

resumen: m/n figures out that it's better to act dumb around the main characters, so they won't be interested in him. unfortunately, it seems complicated to pull off his plan.

words: 1k

tw: mention of drug use. mention of bullying. mention of implied suicide.

note: i was feeling silly, and i wrote this shit.

꒰ঌ ໒꒱ THE ROOM FELT LONELY, LIKE NO ONE HAD lived in it for ages. but right there, in the middle of the mess—underwear on the floor, booze bottles, cig butts and joints everywhere—there was a guy lying on the floor. his chin pointed at the ceiling, looking deep in thought, like he was really lost in his own world. 

his serious look shifted quick into a nervous one. he bit his lip and hissed in pain when the sting of a fresh piercing hit him. he glanced to the side—not moving his head, just his eyes—and spotted a half-empty bottle of liquor under the bed. like someone had been drinking and just forgot about it. he grabbed it with a sigh, sniffed it, and scrunched up his nose at the harsh smell. but it didn’t disgust him. guess this body was used to it.

no hesitation—he brought the bottle to his lips and drank hard. he figured maybe, just maybe, if he blacked out from drinking, he’d wake up in his real body again.

“…this can’t be real…” he muttered against the bottle, feeling that familiar burn slide down his throat as he kept chugging. “why the hell did i wake up here...? did someone kidnap me or something? not like my family would pay anyway…”

he ran a hand through his hair, noticing it was longer than he remembered—not down to his back, but long enough to touch his shoulders. he got up from the floor, wobbling, feeling weak. the buzz from the booze and the weed was starting to fade.

with blurry vision, he wandered through the unfamiliar house. it was small—probably made for just one person. he found the bathroom right next to the room. it was all white, but the weird green light made it look creepy, like those old horror flicks he used to watch with his uncle.

he looked at himself in the stained mirror. his eyes were red and unfocused—probably from the weed (he assumed…) and all the drinking. his haircut was short up front but long in the back—kinda weird, but it actually suited the face. it looked like him… kinda. but also not. something was just… off. he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

his face looked like it was made of porcelain. like one of those old dolls he used to beg his mom to buy him. flawless. that’s what made it look so different.

he sighed, turned the tap on, and stared at the water. he cupped his hands under it, waited for them to fill, and splashed the cold water on his face.

after staring hard into the mirror, trying to find a flaw and coming up empty, he went back to the room. the mess hadn’t changed—clothes and boxers everywhere, empty and full bottles, smoked-out cigarettes, leftover weed. yeah, whoever this body belonged to wasn’t exactly a role model. on the nightstand, there was a full ashtray—and weirdly, an inhaler. wait… was this guy asthmatic?

then why the hell was he smoking?

he had a million questions and zero answers. he went over to what looked like the guy’s wallet and checked the contents carefully. the id told him what he needed to know.

last name:

chén

li

first name:

m/n

nationality:              sex:

chinese                        m

birthdate:

xx / _______ / 2007

“so… m/n chén, huh,” he mumbled, licking his lips. a small smile crept onto his face when he realized he had the same name as his old self. “that’s wild…”

“you settling in okay, user?” said a voice suddenly, with a weird purring tone. he looked around until he spotted some cat-like eyes, yellowish and glowing. a boy—looked like a high schooler—was lying on the messy bed. pale as a ghost, almost sickly. jet-black hair in a jellyfish cut, weird whisker-like lines drawn on his cheeks. dressed like a japanese student in a dark green shirt. around his neck and shoulders, there was a rope, tied in a way that looked like a tail behind him. a bell dangled from the rope around his neck. on his head? a police-like hat that matched his shirt, with a little rope and a japanese symbol on top.

so yeah—basically, a cat-boy. totally normal. just another chill day in his life.

“what? you fallin’ for me already?” the guy teased with a lazy grin.

m/n just stared at him, debating if it was even worth answering, or if he should just let the guy talk to himself. the second option sounded way more appealing. ignoring the strange figure, he kept digging through the bag.

an annoyed, almost offended sound cut through the silence.

“hey! don’t ignore me!” the cat-boy yelled, floating around him. he glared hard when m/n didn’t react at all. seriously—what was up with this guy? didn’t he even care there was someone else in his house? “i’ve got the answers about why you woke up here," he declared proudly, flashing a crooked grin. but that grin disappeared fast when m/n grabbed him by the collar, messing up his uniform.

“was it you who brought me here?” m/n asked darkly, eyes locking with the intruder’s. his pupils looked like a cat’s when it’s excited, and the whites of his eyes were yellowish. he looked like a character straight out of a webtoon.

“mmm~” the guy purred, smiling like a smug little devil. “not me. that was my superior. i’m just here to supervise… and maybe answer a few questions."

m/n still had a tight grip on the cat-boy’s shirt, and he wasn’t exactly letting go. but instead of freaking out, the guy just smirked—like that made everything better.

“ah-ah, i wouldn't be so quick to kill me, you know?” the cat-boy said, sticking his tongue out like a naughty cat that just knocked something off a shelf. “if i die, you’re not gonna have a clue what to do next. you’ll probably end up offing yourself or something…”

that made m/n loosen his grip a bit. eventually, he let go.

with a heavy sigh, he flopped back onto the bed, sinking into the sheets like he was trying to disappear. everything was so damn confusing. all he wanted was to know why the hell he woke up in someone else’s body after just going to bed like normal.

the whole situation reminded him of those reincarnation manhwas—the ones where the depressed main character suddenly wakes up in the body of some villainess and has to figure out how to not die at the hands of the male lead. yup, he’d read way too many of those.

“just talk." m/n muttered, shooting a tired glare at the floating guy. the cat-boy floated over until he was hovering above m/n, then pulled out a notebook from... somewhere.

“ahem. so, as you already saw on the id, this person is m/n chén. a school bully who gets his kicks picking on weaker kids. he drinks and smokes to fit in, even though he’s asthmatic. recently suspended for going too far and burning someone’s neck with a cigarette.”

he casually tucked the notebook away, like he hadn’t just said the most messed up stuff ever.

m/n blinked, stunned. “so... this guy’s basically human garbage?”

“yeah, pretty much.”

“awesome…”

“…any questions?” the cat-boy asked with a mischievous grin, clearly entertained by how m/n’s eyes started to glaze over.

“…yeah…” m/n mumbled, feeling like his whole body was floating. “where… exactly… am i?”

“hmm… should i tell you or not? not really sure if i’m allowed to share that," he said, giggling like a little kid. he batted his eyes at m/n, who was already shifting around to get comfier in bed.

“come on, just tell me, don’t be…”—a big yawn—“…mean.”

“…you’re in lookism. you’ve heard of it, right?”

“…ah, that webtoon where the main guy has two bodies. didn’t that end already?” he asked, his voice starting to slur.

“i guess not. so, yeah—m/n’s a jerk, and his role is to bully daniel, the main character.”

“oh. cool.” m/n replied—and passed out instantly.

“jeez… drugs, man,” the cat-boy muttered, gently pulling the covers over him. “sleep tight, m/n. you’re gonna need all the luck you can get to survive this webtoon.”

and just like that, he vanished into thin air, leaving the gloomy room in silence—except for m/n’s soft, sleepy whimpers.

read more in quotev...

[hbyrde36]

Steddie | R: Explicit | WC:5877 | Ch 4/8 | AO3

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 <-

Chapter 4: The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak

For the next few days, Robin’s words continued to echo through Eddie’s mind. 

“I don’t know what is or isn’t going on between you two, but be careful with Steve, I don’t want to see him get hurt again.”

That wasn’t all she’d said, but it was the part that struck him most.

While he was stuck combining forces with her to make Steve stay in bed resting and healing, as best they could without direct communication anyway, Eddie tried to be angry that she had essentially given the shovel talk to a dead guy, which felt a little insensitive, and more than a little fucked up. But, the longer he thought about it, he had to admit she kinda had a point. 

He was a ghost.

Probably. 

There was no version of his story that included a happy ending, and he didn’t want to trap Steve in a horror flick when he deserved nothing less than a fairytale romance and a happily ever after.

In death was a hell of a time to find out that the ‘straight’ guy he’d been crushing on and flirting with the entire time they'd been preparing for battle with Vecna was not as straight as previous estimation. And, sure, Eddie’d had his suspicions before. It’d been hard not to wonder when Steve couldn’t seem to stop staring at his mouth when they were talking in those creepy woods, or think twice about the way Steve had started to reach for him in moments of pain or joy, almost as much as Eddie had done the same, relying on one another like they’d known each other better, and for far longer, than they really had. 

If only he’d known then that he actually had a chance, before those fucking devil bats had gone to town on his flesh and ruined everything. He would have risked it all for one kiss from Steve to bring with him to the afterlife. 

Taking Robin’s words to heart, for his own sake and sanity as well as Steve’s, Eddie tried to keep a little distance. It wasn’t all that hard at first, with Steve sleeping so many hours of the day and night. He still spent more time than was probably healthy lying in bed next to Steve’s sleeping form, but from shovel talk on, Eddie made himself scarce whenever Steve began to stir.

Naturally though, there came a point where he and Robin could no longer keep Steve contained. Steve was feeling better, stronger, and even Robin couldn’t argue that his wounds were finally on their way to mending.

Eddie stuck close that first day when Steve was up and about, though he kept quiet—by Munson standards—feeling a bit unsure of how to act around the other boy now. Nothing had changed exactly, but also, everything had changed. He was happy enough to stay a shadow for now, letting Robin and her motormouth take the lead on convincing Steve to take it slow and let the ghost research go for one more day. 

Unfortunately for Eddie and his plan to suffer in silence, a frantic phone call from Robin’s parents was about to leave him alone with Steve for the first time since Robin had all but confirmed that Steve was into him.

Shit.

As soon as she hung up the phone, she whirled on Steve with narrowed eyes. “I swear on Dustin’s mother, if you so much as look at that attic door before I come back here tomorrow morning, you’ll be sorry.”

“Are you really threatening me with bodily harm when I just got out of the hospital?” Steve asked, looking unimpressed as he leaned against the kitchen door frame.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, pursing her lips, tapping them as if she were deep in thought. “I was thinking more like telling Munson something embarrassing. Your middle name maybe? Or—ooh! How when you found out your precious Farrah Fawcett hairspray had been discontinued you cried like a ba—”

Steve lunged forward to slap a hand over her mouth, the tips of his ears burning pink as he began to walk her forcefully towards the front door. “Oookay, you better hurry home before your mom sends Powell and Callahan after me.”

Eddie stifled a giggle, following along at a safe distance behind them.

“Where is Casper anyway?” Robin asked.

Steve hitched a thumb in Eddie’s direction, turning to catch his eye. 

It was the first time all day that Eddie didn’t avoid Steve’s direct gaze, stomach fluttering traitorously at the sight of those gorgeous hazel eyes.

Robin turned too, facing the general area Steve had pointed and glaring at a spot roughly a foot to Eddie’s left. “I’m counting on you to keep him from doing anything stupid.”

“And how exactly do you expect me to do that?!” Eddie quipped, for whatever good it would do, and glared right back at her.

A heavy pause and a sideways glance later, Steve relayed what he’d said to Robin.

“Use your words, Mr. Dungeon Master!” She shot back with an attitude and air quotes.

“First of all,” Eddie sucked in a loud, sharp, affronted breath. “Watch your tone when you’re talking about my life’s work, Buckley. Second of all, what makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

“Can you both stop talking about me like I'm a child?!” Steve snapped. “It’s extra insulting when you figure I have to translate for one of you.”

In an impressive act of synchronicity considering the circumstances, Eddie and Robin swung their gazes around as one to look at Steve, wearing matching raised eyebrows.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve muttered quietly, pressing two fingers hard against the bridge of his nose. “Look, my only plans for the night are to finally take a shower, and go to bed. Scouts honor.”

“Fiiine,” Robin ground out.

Meanwhile Eddie could only grimace at the implications. “Please tell me you weren’t really a boy scout.”

Seriously, the polos were one thing, but to have a crush on a former badge collecting goody-two-shoes?

Steve rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I used to be cool, remember?”

Robin looked between Steve’s face, the air Eddie’s form occupied, and back again, before bursting out in the most obnoxious laughter imaginable.

“Thanks, Rob.” Steve deadpanned.

“You’re welcome!” she chirped cheerfully, finally pulling the front open and stepping out. “I’ll see you both in the morning. Well, I’ll see Steve in the morning, and I’ll just assume the ghost of Christmas past is floating around somewhere too.”

“I don’t float,” Eddie grumbled in reflex, only realizing what she’d actually said after she was gone. He quickly rounded on Steve, mouth agape. “Wait, can I float? Have I been out here walking around like an idiot and missing out on all the fun parts of being a ghost?!”

Steve grinned wide enough to make his eyes sparkle, and suddenly it dawned on Eddie that his buffer had just left for the night. He looked away abruptly, an awkward tension, completely of his own making, pulling taut now that they were unsupervised. 

“N-nevermind,” Eddie mumbled, before Steve even had a chance to reply, keeping his head down as he stepped wide around him, “I-I just remembered I don’t like heights anyway, so—”

“Eddie, wait—” Steve called out.

Though every instinct in Eddie’s body shouted at him to run, his traitorous, unbeating heart could hear the sad and timid quality of Steve’s voice peeking out from behind those two words, giving him no choice but to stop and face his friend.

“I’m sorry if I-I said or did something to make you uncomfortable. I thought…” Steve paused, giving a little shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought, but iIt feels like you’ve been avoiding me and considering the fact that I’m the only person who can see and talk to you, I figure that means I must have fucked up pretty badly.” 

And, god, that wasn’t what Eddie wanted at all. 

He knew he was doing the right thing here. For both of them. For himself, who didn’t need to go into whatever eternity he faced with a dinged-up heart, and for Steve, who had his whole life ahead of him. But he couldn’t bring himself to let Steve go on thinking he’d done something wrong when that was the furthest thing from the truth.

Eddie’s shoulders sagged, and he started and stopped half a dozen times before the words finally came out. “You’re… amazing.”

Steve raised a perfectly arched brow.

Okay, not what Eddie’d meant to say, even if it was the truth. He cleared his throat, and tried again. “I mean, you didn’t fuck anything up, Steve. And I don’t know exactly what you thought, but if it’s what I think you thought, you weren’t wrong.”

Jesus Christ… did that even make sense?

“Um, what?” Steve asked.

Right.

“I like you,” Eddie pushed on, figuring the direct approach was his best course of action here. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure for a while if you even realized I was flirting with you while all this shit has been happening. If I was the only one feeling like there was something between us. I mean, after shoving a broken bottle up to your neck, it would have been fair if you hated me.”

Steve tilted his head thoughtfully. “For the record, hate is definitely not what I was feeling at the time.”

Fuck. 

He should have known Steve wasn’t going to make this easy.

Eddie pulled at his shirt collar. Was it getting warm in here? Could ghosts even feel room temperature? “Noted,” he choked out.

“So—that moment we had the other day, when we almost…” Steve took a few careful steps closer as he trailed off. 

“Kissed?” Eddie breathed, finishing Steve’s sentence, fighting both the instinct to back up and meet him halfway.

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

It’d been such an almost… normal—for lack of a better word—moment, between two people who were growing closer, getting comfortable with each other and opening up. There’d been heartbeat there, the briefest of seconds when Eddie realized they were both leaning in, where he forgot he was dead. He was just a guy and his crush, about to share their first kiss.

Until they weren’t.

Though Eddie technically managed to stand his ground, with Robin’s warning stuck in his ear, running still won out. Just, not with his feet. “I’m dead, Steve. You, more than anyone, should understand what that means.” 

Steve’s gaze dropped, so many different warring emotions dancing across his pretty face before he finally looked back up. Eddie desperately wanted to know every single one, but he stayed quiet.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve said it like you believe it,” Steve said eventually, a small, sad smile curving his lips.

Eddie shrugged, trying so hard to smile back but he couldn’t seem to make it reach his eyes. “Well, I guess I'm starting to.”

For someone who’d been trying to convince him of the reality of his existence from the moment he’d appeared, Steve sure didn’t look happy about his sudden willingness to accept it. Eddie wasn’t thrilled with it either, particularly given his recent realizations, but there was no use in fighting the truth.

It wouldn’t change anything.

“Look, I wish things were different but they’re not and we just—we can’t go there, okay?” Eddie sighed, backing his way towards the hall, desperately needing to be anywhere but here, at least for a while. 

Standing there, looking into Steve’s wide puppy-dog eyes begging him to stay, was torture of the worst kind. It was also a foolproof recipe for surrender to this thing between them, and he couldn’t risk giving in no matter how much he wanted to. What could he even offer Steve like this?  Yes they could talk, and he would always be there for Steve in that way, or for however long he was allowed to haunt the guy, but there were some needs, and wants, that required more… right? 

Steve had to realize that.

“Besides, Big Boy,” Eddie said as he turned, unable to stop the frown that was tugging at his lips. “What would be the point?”

This time when he walked away, Steve let him go.

Steve took his time in the shower, letting the warm water run over his body long after he was clean, as if the spray alone could ease the disappointment that had settled into his bones. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the sad, resigned look on Eddie’s face when he’d said it.

‘What would be the point?’

Steve had wanted to scream.

Everything?

Nothing?

What was the point of any of this bullshit if they were just going to roll over and give up when something good actually presented itself, without even trying to take it!

Inevitably, the hot water ran out and Steve had no choice but to leave the comfort and safety of his shower, carefully drying himself off and taping new clean bandages to his healing wounds.

He slipped on a pair of clean boxers and nothing else before falling into bed, more tired than he felt like he should be when all he’d done that day was walk around the house and argue with Robin, but he supposed that was what he got for not taking care of himself. He was leaning over to switch the bedside lamp off when Eddie appeared in his open doorway, left so out of habit and maybe a small spark of hope that Eddie might have a change of heart and seek him out.

“Hey,” Steve said, sinking back down into his bed and pulling the covers up higher on his chest. If by chance they were about to rehash the conversation from downstairs again, he didn’t really feel like being so exposed when Eddie doubled down on his rejection. 

“Can I come in?” Eddie said, the first time he’d actually asked permission to do anything since his arrival.

It didn’t feel like a good sign, but Steve grit his teeth and nodded.

“I, um…” Eddie stepped over the threshold and into the room, but hovered an awkward distance away from Steve and the bed, eyeing it cautiously. “I don’t—uh—I didn’t really like the way we left things earlier.”

Steve snorted, giving him half an eye roll. “I wasn’t a big fan either.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Eddie pleaded, taking a few slow steps closer. “But you know I'm right. I mean, this whole thing is ridiculous anyway. Don’t we have bigger, much more important things to worry about than having stupid crushes on each other?!”

By the end of his brief speech Eddie was practically shouting, and Steve tried and failed to stifle a grin. It was so obviously taking all of Eddie’s self control not to stamp his feet.

“I don't recall actually admitting—”Steve began, but was quickly cut off.

“Harrington—” Eddie growled, glaring with all the fierceness of an especially adorable house cat as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

Steve couldn't resist copying him, sitting up to cross his own arms and pitch his voice as low as possible. “Munson—”

Eddie let out an exasperated sigh, raking a hand roughly over his face before stumbling closer, falling to his knees next to the bed. 

“Look, Eddie,” Steve said gently, something tight in his chest releasing as he scooched himself towards the edge. “If there's one thing I've learned in the last three years, it’s that there’s always going to be something else to worry about. But I’m done waiting to live my life when I know full well It could end with a snap of Vecna’s disgusting fingers. None of us knows how much time we’ve got left, and if all I have are these stolen moments between world ending disasters, then so be it. We’ll deal with Vecna when the time comes, but until then…” 

Steve trailed off, trying to find the words to explain to Eddie that he wanted this, that he’d already fought through his own worry and doubt, weighing the pros and cons as he rotted away in sleep for the last few days, but Eddie was already shaking his head.

“But I’m—”

“A ghost, yeah, I know,” Steve spat, cutting him off with a wave of his hand, and went on to say the single last sentence he ever thought he’d utter aloud and truly mean it. “It’s a good thing I was born a Harrington then, isn’t it.” 

Eddie said nothing, his jaw tightening, and his gaze remaining set on the comforter below.

“Unless…” Steve mumbled, worried now that maybe he’d misjudged. Maybe Eddie was trying to let him down easy, when really he just wasn’t all that interested. “Unless you don’t want—”

“Oh, I want,” Eddie blurted out, raising his head, his eyes burning with enough open, naked desire that it lit Steve’s skin on fire and burned away the last of his uncertainty. “More than what I ever thought was realistic to hope for. But you deserve better than what I could give you like this. I'd be happy enough to just be your platonic invisible friend for the rest of your life. What if we try this and you regret it, and then you're stuck with the ghost of your ex hanging around?”

Steve sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. It was a fair thought, and this was uncharted territory, but even if it was just a crush, as Eddie had called it, even if they got together and one day it fizzled out, Steve couldn’t imagine regretting any time spent with Eddie. 

“The only thing I regret is not getting to know you better when you were alive. Not being able to touch you now? Yeah, it kills me. And I know we could never have a normal relationship, that it’ll never be real, but I want this, you, in whatever way I can.”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching them tight, the faintest hint of a whine escaping him as he let his chin fall to his chest.

Steve worried at his bottom lip, letting the silence stretch on in hopes that Eddie would say something, anything.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie finally whispered as he raised his head again, a new resolve  reaching out to hover his hand just above Steve’s cheek, warming it, and making the rest of his body shudder, suddenly aching with need. “Just because we can't touch the usual way, why would that ever mean it wasn’t real?”

The impulse to surge forward and capture Eddie’s lips was intense, but Steve managed to hold back. This would be a delicate dance to learn, but he was sure they could figure it out together.

“Tell me,” Steve purred, letting all the longing he felt leak into his tone, just as he would have made Eddie feel it through his kiss if he could have. Gathering his old confidence, he tossed the covers aside, revealing his mostly naked body, save for the thin white briefs he wore and the fresh gauze at his sides. “Talk me through it, Eddie. What would you do to me right now, if you could?”

Eddie’s eyes raked up and down his body hungrily, a low groan emanating from deep in his throat like a warning, “Steve.”

“Tell me,” Steve said again, quiet as a whisper, as he let his fingers play along the hair on his lower stomach. He felt so exposed, but so safe at the same time under Eddie’s reverent, watchful gaze. “Please?”

“Fuuuck,” Eddie cursed softly, raising himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. “Okay, yes, I…”

A thrill ran up Steve’s spine, anticipation already making him reach for the waistband of his underwear until Eddie’s voice, deeper than he’d ever heard it, made him freeze.

“Wait.”

For one frightening moment he thought Eddie was changing his mind, calling it off, and he almost reached for the covers in embarrassment, but then Eddie spoke again, leaning over his body with shining, eager eyes. 

“I wouldn’t rush it if I had my way with you, Steve,” Eddie said softly, running his tongue along his bottom lip. “I’d start with that lovely mouth of yours. I’d spend hours memorizing the feel of your lips against mine, and the taste of them, if you’d let me.”

Steve slowly raised his hand to his face, running the tips of his fingers softly over his lips as he met Eddie’s eyes, wishing it was the real thing.

“Close your eyes,” Eddie whispered.

Without hesitation Steve complied, pursing his lips again to kiss the pads of his fingers and found it really was easier this way. Easy to pretend he could taste Eddie’s mouth. Lips dry, but soft. Sweet with a hint of cigarette. He imagined the scents that would fill his nose as they made out in the backseat of his car, hairspray and smoke, the warm earthy smell of leather as he grabbed Eddie by the collar of his jacket and pulled him in impossibly closer.

“Only when we’re both panting and desperate for air would I stop, giving your swollen lips a rest while I kiss down your neck.”

Steve pressed his lips to his fingers one last time before running his tongue over them, trailing the wet touch down his chin and over his throat.

“Would you let me mark you there, sweetheart? Suck a bruise into your skin where everyone could see it?”

The possessive bite to Eddie’s otherwise softly spoken question was enough to have Steve already whimpering pathetically. “Yes,” he gasped, hardly able to recognize the wanton, breathy sound as his own voice. “Please, Eddie.”

“So pretty when you beg for it.” 

This time Eddie’s words were spoken right next to his ear, so close to where his own fingers were pressed. Close enough for him to feel a bit of the warm aura that surrounded Eddie’s form, like it was Eddie’s real hot breath washing over his skin. His cock twitched for it, filling out and straining against the tight fabric of his briefs, a sensation so similar to that of a hand palming him that his hips bucked, searching out a deeper friction.

“Needy boy,” Eddie murmured. “I’d make my way to your chest next.”

Steve sucked in a breath, forcing his hips to still as he ran both of his hands down to his chest without needing to be told.

“So good for me.” Eddie’s voice trembled, a strained quality to it that told Steve without a doubt that this was all affecting Eddie just as much as it was him. 

“Do you have any idea how long I've wanted this?” Eddie went on at a whisper, the sound moving lower just as Steve’s hands had. “To rest my hands against that chest of yours, rake my fingers through all the thick hair. I almost lost my mind when you took your shirt off on that little boat, and not out of fear.”

Steve remembered the moment well. The terror of knowing what he was likely to find at the bottom of the lake, the fear that nothing they did would make a difference in the end anyway. A fear that had partially come to pass, but he wasn’t thinking about that now. Instead he recalled the way he’d looked back to see Eddie staring at him openly, those big brown doe eyes catching the moonlight almost as well as they’d caught Steve’s attention. It was far from the first time he’d noticed Eddie in that way, but it was the first time he realized the attraction might be mutual. So, he’d smirked, and he’d thrown his sweater into Eddie’s stunned arms for safekeeping, a subtle attempt at flirting, but an attempt nonetheless.

“I would have let you,” Steve said with a grin. He kept his eyes shut tight but it was easy to hear the answering smile in Eddie’s voice when he huffed a laugh.

“I can see that now.”

Picturing ringed hands in place of his own, Steve could almost feel the cool metal gliding over his skin when he ran his fingers through the thatch of hair on his chest. He paused, taking a handful and gripping it tight, giving it a light tug. He hissed at the sharp feel of it, pulling harder and arching his back as he moaned. 

“That’s it,” Eddie cooed softly. “I had a feeling you’d like a little pain with your pleasure.”

Eddie wasn’t wrong. Steve had often longed for a rougher hand, and maybe some other things, in the bedroom, but hadn’t quite known how to ask any of the girls he’d been with for what he wanted, even if they’d have been willing to give it to him. With Eddie though, he was starting to get the most wonderful feeling that he wouldn’t have to ask at all.

“Mustn’t neglect the most sensitive part of your chest, hmm?” Eddie hummed. “I’d keep playing with your chest hair, teasing little pulls that are never quite enough to reach that sting you’re craving, until I take one of your nipples into my mouth, rolling my tongue around the edge until it pebbles up, and finally biting down.”

Though his dick was screaming for attention, Steve obeyed, performing the torturous touch to himself with one hand just as Eddie had described, using his other, and the light touch of a fingertip, to circle his already pert nipple before pinching it as hard as he dared.

Lightning shot down his spine, while a high-pitched whine was forced from his lips. It wasn’t until he let go, fighting to catch his breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, that he felt the small wet spot in his underwear, the almost cold feel of the cotton pressing back against him. 

He was dripping. 

Eddie was taking him apart piece by piece with nothing but his voice and his words. He was harder than he’d ever been in his life, leaking precome, and his briefs hadn’t even come off yet.

“You’re so fucking hot like this, all laid out for me like a banquet, letting me do whatever I want with you.”

“Anything… everything. Just, please… don’t stop.”

“Anything, huh?” Eddie mused. “So if I kissed a line down the center of your chest and ran my tongue along the length of your delectable happy trail, only to stop cold at the waistband of your underwear, you’d just lay there and take it?”

Steve’s hands moved to comply of their own volition, even as he pleaded for more.

“Please, Eddie. I need… I need…”

Eddie shushed him quietly. “I know, baby, I’ve got you. I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise. I just prefer to open my gifts carefully, that’s all. I would take that bit of fabric between my teeth and slowly pull them down your hips, your thighs, and all the way to your ankles and off so I could spread your legs as wide as I like.”

With shaking fingers, Steve finally took hold of his briefs, tugging them down bit by bit until his cock was freed, slapping against his lower stomach with a light smack. He had to tuck his legs up to finish stripping them off, but he didn’t let that take him out of the fantasy, and when he was finally laid bare he placed a hand on each of his knees, pushing them apart wide until he heard Eddie choke on air.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect.” 

As much as the compliments and praise were doing for him, and they really were doing it for him, Steve felt like he was on the verge of losing his sanity. 

Thankfully, Eddie seemed to be of the same mind.

“Lovely as it is to torture both of us, I wouldn’t be able to resist wrapping my lips around you immediately, letting your cock fill my mouth until my spit pooled at the base of it, taking it all the way to the back of my throat until I choked.”

Just being surrounded by the husky sound of Eddie's voice, hearing him explain in detail how he’d work him over with that clever mouth had Steve ready to blow, and it almost had him hesitating to take himself in hand.

Almost.

His need for relief, for release, won out over his worry of ending their fun too soon. Besides, if this experience they were sharing now meant what he desperately hoped it meant, then there would be other opportunities to expand their play in the future.

Still, he started slow, taking only the head of his cock in his palm at first, smearing around the precome that had been steadily leaking from his slit this entire time, and envisioning Eddie’s tongue circling before his lips closed tightly around his shaft. He groaned at the sight in his mind’s eye, gripping himself tighter and letting more of his cock slide through his fist as he thought of the way Eddie’s eyes might begin to water when he took the full length to the back of his throat.

“Has anyone ever explored this tight little hole of yours?”

There was no mistaking it, Eddie’s voice came from directly between Steve’s legs. He really was laying there, probably spread out on his stomach, his face inches from Steve’s most intimate parts.

Steve’s breath hitched, speeding up the pace of his hand as he jerked himself off. “No, but I–I want you to. Want you to be the first,” he choked out.

In truth he had attempted to finger himself once or twice, but no one else had ever touched him there. He never managed to get the right angle to find his prostate, but the feeling of being entered, that fullness, had still helped him come in record time.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie cursed, sounding as wrecked as Steve felt. “You’re a dream, sweetheart, I can’t believe I get to have you like this. I’m gonna need you to wet my fingers for me, since my mouth is a little busy elsewhere. Do you think you can do that?”

Steve nodded, too lost in the heady cocktail of lust and desire running through him to form any more words, the lines between fantasy and reality blurring as two fingers were shoved into his mouth. He moaned around the intrusion, nearly gagging himself as he took the digits deeper, wanting to make sure he did the job thoroughly for Eddie.

“Good fucking boy,” Eddie crooned, a deep rumbling bass. “I think you’re ready for me now.”

While one hand still bobbed up and down his length, Steve reached under his raised leg with the other until he found his rim, circling, spreading the spit around the edge of his hole. He tried to push the tip of one finger inside, gently at first but the resistance was too much and he was too keyed up to wait or relax. He pressed in hard, a loud, piteous whine forcing its way out of his throat when it finally popped inside. The burning stretch was small, fading too quickly for Steve to really enjoy and he was quickly begging for more. 

“Another,” Steve gasped, working the finger in and out of his hole until it slid easily, down to the knuckle. “Please, Eddie, I need more.”

“Okay, baby. If you're sure.”

God, Eddie was going to ruin him with all these pet names just as sure as he was ruining him with the rest of it. Every baby, every sweetheart, had his heart filling dangerously close to the brim.

“I’m sure… need you.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open as he worked his middle finger in next to the first, and quickly got what he’d been wanting, that intense pressure bordering on pain, the incredible feeling of being stuffed full. As he fucked himself in earnest, caught between bucking his hips up to drive his cock into his fist, and wriggling down to meet the thrusting of his hand, he lost control of himself completely, loud cries of pleasure falling from his lips near constantly.

“You close, baby?” Eddie asked, voice gone taut, strained as though he were the one balancing on the edge of the most intense orgasm of his life.

“So close. I’m—” was all Steve could manage in reply as he felt his length suddenly being engulfed by Eddie’s unique effervescent warmth. It was such a surprise that he couldn’t help finally snapping his eyes open, seeing Eddie’s translucent fist hovering around his own as he rabbited up into the clutch of them together. The sight alone was more than enough to send him hurtling over that last breathtaking cliff.

He came with Eddie's name on his lips, looking deep into Eddie’s eyes and it made all the pretending, all the imagining feel so fucking real. His orgasm seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over him as his dick pulsed in his grip, coating his hand and dripping down his inner thigh.

“Kiss me!” Steve cried, forgetting for a split second that they couldn’t. 

But he didnt take it back. It didn’t matter that it wouldn’t feel the same, the phantom brush of Eddie’s mouth on his would be better than a normal kiss from anyone else. He was absolutely sure of it.

Eddie crawled up higher on the bed, and as if he too had forgotten his limitations brought his mouth crashing down onto Steve’s without hesitation.

The first touch was indeed warm, as all Eddie’s touches were, but it was also firm and real. Eddie’s lips were plush, as soft as they looked, a perfect compliment to the light scratch of stubble as they both leaned in, deepening the kiss. For a solid minute Eddie licked into his mouth, and it tasted exactly as Steve had imagined, but better. 

Because it was really him.

All too soon the feeling was gone, whatever connection they had that allowed for such things failing in an instant.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled, pulling back, as if it were his fault.

Steve wasn’t so sure it was, but hopefully their research tomorrow would help shed some light on it all. “Don’t be sorry, it was perfect,” he said with a small shake of his head. “You were perfect.”

Reluctantly Steve slid off the bed, knowing he had to clean up before the sticky mess he’d made spread any more and got on his clean bandages. He plucked his still damp towel from the hamper and gave himself a quick wipe down before climbing back into bed, next to a now pensive looking Eddie. 

“Lay with me?” Steve asked through a yawn.

Without a word Eddie laid down facing him, and after only a second’s hesitation slid his arms around and sort-of through Steve’s body. 

It made for an unusual sight but it was everything Steve wanted, and needed, in that moment, caring, comfortable, warm. He let out a contented sigh, feeling his body go boneless as he relaxed into the sheets, and was asleep before he even registered that his eyes had closed.

Thanks as always to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta and an absolutely amazing cheerleader!

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Fic taglist (open): @geekymagicalpotato

[kaunis-sielu]

Small Town, Big City: End

Steve is standing to the left of you and you’re not sure how he got there, or when he got there. His taser is pointed at Brock and he looks furious.

“You’re gonna let T move away from the door then you’re gonna lay flat on your stomach with your hands behind your back.” Steve orders and for a second you’re afraid that Brock might do another stupid thing and not listen. He seems to be weighing his options when Steve says, “Do it now or you’re getting tased.” Brock glares for a moment longer before stepping away from you and lying down on the floor.

“Tor, get over here.” Steve orders gently, you scurry around Brock to behind Steve where Bucky has moved. Steve moves in then planting a knee in the middle of Brock’s back Steve handcuffs Brock quickly.

“How did you find her? How long have you been stalking Tor?”

“I haven’t been stalking her. She let me follow her on the stupid app.” Brock grumbles and your jaw drops open. Sam’s app.

“Buck stay in here with T okay?”

“Yea.” Bucky agrees as Steve yanks open the front door and leads Brock out in front of him. Fury comes charging back into the house once Steve and Brock are out of the way. He comes directly to you and you sink to the floor wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You good boy. You good, good boy.” You praise Fury who wags his tail. “Thank you for coming Bucky.” You say not moving from where you’ve got your arms around Fury.

“Smart move letting Fury out the front.”

“I hoped you’d bring him home again. I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this.”

“Don’t be sorry. I called Steve to come get him and he figured something must be wrong.” Bucky tells you as the door opens again and Steve comes back into the house.

“Sweetheart. You okay?” He asks making a beeline for you. Instead of you standing Steve drops down and pulls you to him.

“I’m okay. Sorry I put Fury at risk, I didn’t want Brock to get bit and have to put him down or something.” You tell Steve wrapping one of your arms around his body so you can keep hold of Fury too. Steve buries his face into the space between your shoulder and neck. You close your eyes and slowly relax against him.

“How did you get in the house?” You murmur,

“Climbed in through the window.” You pull away from him in surprise,

“What?”

“The side window. If you jiggle it just right you can pop it open. I keep meaning to fix it but haven’t found the time yet.”

“Thank god.”

“I was getting to you one way or another. Thankfully Bucky was game to play distraction while I called for backup.”

“What if he had a gun?”

“Buck’s armed.” You look to where Steve’s best friend had been standing last time you saw him but he’s gone. “He’s an expert marksman.”

“Holy shit.” You murmur and he laughs softly,

“Yea, when we were in the service together, he saved my ass more than once. You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yea. He’s delusional. Thought we were still together.”

“I’m pressing charging for breaking and entering. Do you want to press charges for stalking?”

“I don’t know. I just want him to go away.”

“Sweetheart, that would be the best way to keep him away.”

“It just seems so harsh.” You admit with a soft sigh, as you move away from Steve. You don’t want to ruin Brock’s life or anything.

“Tor, it’ll just make it easier for any other victims he gets in the future.” Steve tells you standing up and holding a hand out to you.

“You think he might do this again?” You ask as he pulls you to your feet.

“I think it’s a possibility. I don’t mean to scare you but this could have been really bad.” He’s right. You know he is but you kind of can’t help but feel bad for Brock. You really hadn’t been that heartbroken over your break up, more annoyed and frustrated.

“I think, I think I’d like to press charges.” Steve nods,

“I have to go in and write this up.”

“Tonight?”

“Yea. I also have to get his truck towed.”

“Was that him? The black truck?” You ask and Steve nods, “I’m so sorry Steve. If it wasn’t for me.”

“He made his choices. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You end up going with Steve to the station. Since you’re pressing charges it makes sense for you to go but you’re glad that Clint had come to get Brock so you didn’t have to ride with him in the back of Steve’s cruiser. You also convince him to bring Fury with, he’s the best boy and deserves the reward of hanging out with you both for the night. You know that Brock sees you when you come in, but you ignore him and go into Steve’s office to give your statement. Clint joins you and when you look confused Steve explains,

“There’s a conflict of interest because we’re dating so Clint is going to take your statement. I can leave or stay but I’m here as your boyfriend not as sheriff.” You give your statement holding tightly to Steve’s hand.

After you give your statement you, Steve and Fury head back home. You’re quiet on the ride home, kind of stuck in your own head about all the Brock shit but when Steve kisses you softly you forget all about Brock.

“Are you okay?” He asks brushing a thumb along your jaw. You nod,

“Can, can I sleep in your room tonight? I don’t think I’m ready to be alone.”

“Yea. I also want to jam the window I came through. Just in case.”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t we take this in baby steps?” When you look at him in confusion he clarifies, “why don’t you head upstairs while I let Fury out then deal with this window. Be alone, in a safe space, in a safe way, for a little bit.”

“I think I can do that.” You admit softly, “thank you.”

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to thank me for. It was my fault that he came in, if I had stayed.”

“Don’t.” You tell him cutting him off, “if you won’t let me take the blame then you can’t take the blame either.”

“Okay.” You go to start upstairs but Steve holds onto your hand. “I love you.” He says, his ears turning red.

“I love you too.” You tell him, before wrapping your arms around his torso. Steve laughs softly as he wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Oh yes, there is Knowhere like home.

Tag list:

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[l1v-jzn]

„Bite The Blade” Series – Chapter 05 – Games & Graves

pairing: Ghostface!Seong-Je x FinalGirl!Reader

genre: Horror, Thriller, Dark Romance

summary: Silence hangs heavy over the city. At the hospital, Si-Eun checks on Su-ho—until a call from Hu-min then a sudden appearance by Seong-Je at the hospital.

Meanwhile, outside the bowling alley, the Union boys are mid-beatdown when they freeze—Seong-Je is coming. Inside, Si-Eun and Baek-Jin trade words in his office, each sentence laced with quiet menace.

Later, under flickering lights at a convenience store, Hu-min vents to Y/n about his father—until a message arrives after. A photo. A threat. Baek-Jin knows they’re together… and he's watching.

taglist: @thepoeticfirefly @kyungjunnies @hikaerys @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @miyawwn @sanaxo-o @feralmaneater @jeewhat @satorustorm @jaymiwrld @satoru2716 @heeknow @indarius @yinyangcchii (and anyone wanna be tagged here!)

— All Chapters — — Next Chapter —

the hospital was cold—not the temperature, but the air. Quiet. Still. The kind of silence that felt like it was listening. Si-eun stood at the front desk, pen in hand, filling out the visitor form.

Patient Name: Ahn Su-ho

Visitor's Name: Yeon Si-eun

Relationship to Patient: Friend

he stared at Su-ho’s name for a second too long before putting the pen down. The nurse barely looked up. Suddenly his phone buzzed.

[Incoming Call: Hu-min]

“Hello?” His voice was quiet, flat. Unbothered on the surface.

the voice on the other end lit up with sunshine. “Yeon Si-eun? It’s me, Hu-min.”

the hallway stretched quiet around him, Si-eun didn’t reply right away—just blinked, lips parted slightly, not because he was surprised, but because he was calculating. Searching the tone. Feeling the shape of the conversation before stepping into it. “What’s up?” he finally said.

“Nothing’s up, man.” Hu-min’s voice came a little too fast, a little too light. “Just checking to make sure you got home okay. So, nothing happened, right? No one followed you or anything?”

that stopped Si-eun in his tracks. A slow pause.

“No,” he said after a moment. “I just went home.”

a pause on the other end now—just a split-second crack in the conversation.

then Hu-min’s voice brightened again. “Really? Hey, anyway—you know how I got turned down by those girls today? Well, it occurred to me… maybe girls are into guys like you these days. So what do you say? Why don’t we pick up chicks together next time? Deal?”

the smile in his voice was aggressive—like a joke he already knew wouldn’t land but told anyway.

Si-eun didn't even blink. “Why would I do that?”

the question landed like a brick. No sarcasm. No inflection. Just cold math.

there was silence on the other end. Then a sigh, like Hu-min was trying to pretend it didn’t sting but it did. “Okay, fine. Asshole.” The line cut off. Just like that.

Si-eun lowered the phone and just stared at the blank screen. His gaze stayed locked for a few seconds longer, breathing shallow. Not sad. Not surprised. Just tired.

he sat quietly on a bench beside Su-ho's room. The hallway was empty, Si-eun pulled out his phone again, to type something—to rant about his day. The SMS app glowed soft blue in his hand.

“I did some volunteer work today. Once I got there, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The weather was nice too. More than anything, it took my mind off things for the first time in a while. I wondered how that happened. I think it was because of the guys I was with.” His thumbs stopped.

he just stared at the text. No expression. But his eyes betrayed him—just a flicker of longing, of something broken. It felt like a confession. A truth too raw to press “send” on.

through the hospital door's glass panel, a figure was peering in—hands in pockets, His hands were deep in his jacket pockets, like this was all casual. Like he’d just stumbled across something interesting and wanted a better look.

but his eyes, those sharp, and cold eyes were locked on Su-ho. That smirk curling on his lips… It was the kind that made your blood run cold.

he didn't say anything at first. Just stood there, watching Su-ho’s unconscious body, taking in the machines and the fragility.. "So that's Ahn Su-ho. Your friend. The one whose life you ruined, right?"

he turned slowly, like a wolf bored with its prey.

their eyes met. Si-eun’s heart slammed once in his chest—too loud, too fast. But his expression didn’t shift. Not much. He stood, measured and careful, not a single twitch wasted.

Si-eun’s face didn’t move, expression unreadable, except for his eyes. His terrified eyes. "Why are you here?"

Seong-je stepped closer. "What? What are you gonna do?"

Si-eun didn’t respond. Just stared. "Come with me for a second." Seong-Je said smirking at Si-Eun. "You shouldn’t interrupt your friend’s sleep."

he turned, motioning toward the hallway. His voice was more casual than it should’ve been. "Damn, you have a real punchable face. Just my type." He laughed under his breath.

Si-eun didn’t move at first. Just clenched his jaw, his hands tight at his sides. But then, as Seong-je walked further down the hallway— he glanced back at Si-Eun. "Hurry up, you fucking asshole." Then he laughed. Not a loud one. Just a little breathy snicker.. Si-eun stood frozen in place. And then he followed.

Bowling Club — ?:?? p.m

the alley behind the bowling center reeked of cigarette smoke, wet pavement, and trouble.

it was late, the kind of late that made everything feel lawless. The only light came from a flickering overhead lamp, buzzing like a fly trapped in amber. Shadows pooled in every corner, but the boys from the Union weren’t hiding.

they were loud. One of them—a lanky, tall, wide-eyed freshman with shoulders too small for his hoodie, flinching with every word thrown at him.

“You’re part of the Union now,” barked the older student, and an ego twice his size. His palm slapped the side of the newbie’s face—once, twice, harder the third time. “So do as I fucking tell you, okay?” The kid nodded furiously.

the older boy sneered. “Fucking answer me.”

another slap. More snickering from the others. They were gathered in a loose semicircle, like a pack of hyenas watching someone else bleed for once.

but then—one of them froze. Eyes squinting into the darkness beyond the alley mouth.

a silhouette approached, slow and deliberate, hands stuffed in the bright orange windbreaker that clung to his lean frame like fire. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips, the cherry burning like a devil’s eye. He wore a pair of clubmaster glasses—dark, sharp, deliberate—perched on the bridge of his nose.

“Hello, Brother!” one of the boys shouted, too eager, straightening up as if summoned to attention. He gave a quick bow.

the others followed like dominos. “Hello, sir,” they chorused, heads down, voices tight with nervous respect.

he didn’t even glance their way—just kept walking, straight through their little circus of false bravado like it wasn’t even worth noticing. The cigarette stayed pressed between his lips, untouched, smoke curling lazily from the tip. Eyes half-lidded behind those clubmaster glasses, jaw slack with indifference, he let the silence hang for half a second before cutting through it like a blade.

“What the fuck is this?” he muttered, voice low but razor-sharp. “The mafia?”

“Don’t talk to me,” he said flatly. “Or I’ll kill you.” No one laughed. He wasn’t joking.

his voice didn’t rise. Didn’t snap. It dropped—low, dangerous, like the edge of a blade pressed against skin. “People will report the noise, you dumb fucks.”

the tension popped like static. In sync, the Union boys snapped into a chorus of apologies. “We’re sorry, sir!” Heads down. Shoulders hunched. All swagger gone.

Seong-je didn’t respond. He just kept walking, as if the alley didn’t deserve his time and none of them were worth his gaze.

behind him Si-eun followed, silent as a shadow. But his eyes were wide, jaw tight.

they walked in silence. The kind of silence that didn’t feel empty—but loaded, like a gun cocked and ready. Every footstep echoed against the concrete, the thump of Seong-je’s sneakers hitting pavement calm, unrushed. Si-eun trailed behind, eyes locked on the back of that orange windbreaker like it was a warning sign dressed in neon.

Seong-je didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

just as they neared the side door of the bowling alley, he brought the cigarette to its curtain call—took one, long drag without missing a beat. Smoke coiled from his lips like it knew not to linger too long.

then—without looking, without hesitating—he flicked it away with a lazy snap of his fingers.

it spun through the air like a shooting star no one made a wish on, bounced off the curb, and died in a quiet hiss on the wet pavement.

they got inside of the bowling alley. Si-Eun looked at the surroundings of the place—loud noises, neon lights, lots of people there, union guys. But it didn't matter, they just kept walking until they got into the back of the counter—lockers, helmets, and other things that is belong to union. Seong-Je stopped in front the door, as well as Si-Eun, he looked at door then at Seong-Je. Seong-Je looked over at his shoulder, “What the hell are you staring at? Go inside.” with that, Seong-Je turned to leave, leaving Si-Eun in front of the door.

Si-Eun approached and opened the door, revealing a simple white interior with a glass table and two leather couches on either side. Si-Eun proceeded directly to the desk of Baek-Jin. “Just a sec.” Baek-Jin was too preoccupied completing the problem off his test paper to even look up to check who it was. "I'll say this only once. Listen carefully.” Si-Eun spoke in a deep, hoarse voice. Baek-Jin halted in the middle and slowly turned to face him. "I don't care what Park Hu-min and all of you are up to. And I didn't need to come here.” Si-Eun went on to say, “But I came... just to make this clear.” Si-Eun stopped and looked at Baek-Jin, her eyes wide with fear and rage. "If I ever see you again around Su-ho's hospital..."

“I'll kill all of you. I will kill all of you.”

Baek-Jin scoffed at Si-Eun and leaned back in his worn leather chair. Baek-Jin sighed, and Si-Eun sighed, looking down briefly before returning his gaze to Baek-Jin's page. Then he glanced back at him. "You need to separate the variables to solve it quickly," Baek-Jin said, looking down at his notepad and listening to Si-Eun. "A fixed range variable is no different from a constant." Si-Eun continued, then slowly turned and proceeded to the door, about to leave, when Baek-Jin spoke up, stopping him in his tracks. "Keep your words, and no one will be hurt." Baek-Jin gazed at him, "Stop hanging out with Hu-min." Si-Eun turned to face Baek-Jin, "Fine. I understand. So keep your words, too.”

Si-Eun exited the office and headed directly to the stairs, ready to depart, until Seong-Je called him out, phone in hand—playing games on it, left hand inside his orange windbreaker, "Hey. Don't look at me like that or I'll gouge your eyes out," Seong-Je remarked, chuckling and smiling as he looked at Si-Eun. Si-Eun then stared at him for a moment before turning to go.

Seong-Je lighted a cigarette from his lips while sitting on the couch and leaning against it. "Is that fun to read?" he asked. "You just let him go? Then why did you tell me to bring him?” Seong-Je questioned Baek-Jin. Baek-Jin sighed. "Do I have to explain it?” Seong-Je took a drag from his cigarette and wheezed before removing it from his lips. "I mean, fuck, why are you so obsessed with Eunjang?" he said. Seong-Je then turned to face Baek-Jin and said, "It's not like they bring in much money."

“You know you can't outmuscle Baku. Right?”

“So I need to make him come to me.”

Seong-Je squinted, eyes narrowing in disbelief as he tried to process what had just been said.

“Did our boys go to his dad's restaurant?” Baek-Jin continued.

Hu-min’s House — 10:52 p.m

“44, 45, 46..” Meanwhile Hu-min was working out in his room, doing push-ups, “47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55–” Until his phone started ringing, making Hu-min stop mid push-ups, turned to look beside at his bed where he put his phone to see who it was, [Incoming Call: Dad], “Five more!” Hu-min said continuing his push-ups, “50, 60, 70, 80, 90, 100!” then Hu-min switched his position, before grabbing his phone and answering it. “Yeah, Dad?”

“Hey, Hu-min. It's Officer Han. Your dad got into trouble again. Can you come talk to him?”

Hu-min quickly ran to his Dad's restaurant, two police cars were in front of the restaurant, some policemen were trying to stop Mr. Park from getting near the boys, as Hu-min already got close to the scene, he helped them stop his father. “Dad, stop.” Hu-min said, as he tried to drag his father away. “Come on. Please stop!” Hu-min couldn't handle his emotion, and snapped. Hu-min's Dad stopped, and looked at him for a moment. “You punk.”

Hu-min faced the police who was stopping his dad and bowed at him—apologizing for what just happened. “I'm sorry, I'm really sorry.” Mr. Park pushed Hu-min away—angry, “Why did you apologize, punk?” Mr. Park said—angrily, “I did nothing wrong at all! Why say sorry?” Mr. Park continued, “ Damn, please–!” Hu-min didn't continue his words, “Mr. Park, I understand.” One of the policemen said, “So let's go and fill out a report first. We have rules to follow.” The policemen continued, “He wasn't a minor! I even checked his ID! His photo too! Damn it” Mr. Park debate back. “Yes, so let's talk at the station.” The policemen pleaded—trying to lead Mr. Park into the car. But Mr. Park keeps fighting back, until he gets tired of defending himself and goes into the car, with the lead of policemen.

the other cops there also led the teenage boys to another car, one of them stopped in front of Hu-min, “Hey, Baek Jin asked me to tell you this, ‘I miss you’. ” Then started to walk away. Hu-min then suddenly got a call, he lifted his phone to see who it was, it was Baek Jin. He answered the call. “Where are you?” Hu-min asked furiously—almost gripping the phone in his hand from anger.

“Tomorrow, I'll send the address.”

After the Incident on Baku Chicken restaurant — 11:38 p.m

the convenience store hummed quietly beneath the weight of things unspoken.

it was late—so late the city felt like it had paused, leaving just two souls sitting at a plastic table in the back corner. Fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over Hu-min’s face, washing out the color, but not the rage in his eyes.

Y/n watched him, patient. He hadn’t touched the can of coffee in front of him. Just sat there, hands trembling slightly around it, eyes fixed on a point past the freezer aisle like it owed him an answer.

“It wasn’t even his fault,” he finally said, voice low and strained.

Y/n didn’t interrupt. She knew better. Hu-min didn’t rant often, not unless it cracked him wide open.

“He didn’t know they were minors,” he continued, jaw tightening. “They had fake IDs. Good ones too—legit as hell. You would’ve believed them.” His laugh came out sharp, bitter. “He checks every ID, Y/n. Every single time. Now he’s sitting in a holding cell like some scumbag.”

Y/n’s hand moved across the table, gently tapping his wrist for reassuring. No big comfort. Just enough to remind him he wasn’t alone.

Hu-min shook his head, breath shuddering out of him. “They planned it. The Union boys. Walked into our restaurant like it was theirs. Drank, laughed, made a scene and when the cops came, they were smirking. One of them even winked at me.”

his voice broke on the last word, and he gripped the coffee can tighter, as if it might keep him grounded. “They knew what they were doing. Setting him up. Like it was just... sport.”

Y/n leaned in, voice soft but unshakable. “He’s going to be okay, Min. We’ll make sure of it.”

His eyes flicked to hers, wide and furious and scared all at once.

“I want to fight back,” he said. “I don’t care if I get beat bloody. I can’t let them get away with this.”

“I know you won’t,” she said, not missing a beat. “But you have to do it smart.”

he stared at her like she was the only steady thing left in the wreckage. Slowly, his hand inched forward, settling over hers. No heat. No drama. Just the quiet weight of two childhood friends who’d weathered too many storms and still kept showing up for each other.

outside, the neon sign flickered. Inside, they didn’t need words for the rest.

they just sat there, hand in hand, while the city moved on without them.

the cold air clung to Hu-min as he walked down the quiet street, kicking at a stray soda can that rattled along the curb. The city had thinned out—most shops were closing, and the occasional bus hummed past like background noise in a dream. His hands were stuffed into his hoodie pockets, the same ones that had just waved goodbye to Y/n.

she had insisted she was fine walking home alone. “I can handle myself,” she’d said with that sly little smile that always managed to shut him up. So he nodded, told her to text when she got in, and watched her figure disappear down the sidewalk.

ding.

Hu-min flinched. The sound echoed louder than it should’ve in the stillness.

he yanked out his phone, expecting a "got home safe" message. But the screen showed something else. Baek Jin. The contact name alone made his stomach twist.

a single image glared back at him—a photo of him and Y/n outside the convenience store.

she was holding her banana milk, mid-laugh. He was leaning in, grinning at something stupid he’d said. It would’ve been a cute pic if it weren’t for the off-kilter angle and grainy zoom—someone had been watching. Beneath the photo, Baek Jin sent a message.

“If I were you, I'd move faster. Childhood’s a fragile thing. Real easy to ruin.”

Hu-min’s jaw clenched just by reading it. He tried calling Y/n. Straight to voicemail. He tried again. Still nothing. He was getting worried as hell.

Hu-min’s pulse roared in his ears. His fingers trembled—but not from fear. From fury.

he turned on his heel and ran. He couldn't let this happen again, not her, not his friend again.

The Next Day — Billiards, 6:04 p.m

the billiards hall buzzed with low music and laughter, bass humming beneath the floorboards. Neon lights bled over green felt and polished cues, casting everything in electric blue and sinful red. The air smelled like waxed wood, soda, and sweat.

Y/n leaned over the table, cue sliding through her fingers with practiced ease. She didn’t blink as the 9-ball sank into the corner pocket—clean, precise, deadly.

Soo-min groaned. “Swear on my tuition, you’ve done this before.” Y/n smirked without turning. “Maybe you’re just easy.”

Soo-min gaped, then laughed—loud and dramatic. The kind of sound that let Y/n forget, just for a second, the world outside this glowing room.

then the door chimed. A sound barely louder than the music. Y/n didn’t even flinch. Didn’t care. People came and went. None of them mattered.

“Oh. My. God,” Soo-min hissed. Y/m sighed. “What?” Still, Y/n lined up her next shot.

but a ripple moved through her, low and deep. That eerie, pricking awareness, like the air got heavier just behind her. Like something dangerous had entered the room wearing skin.

tall. Cold. And wearing those black Clubmaster glasses like he owned the word intimidation. The neon light kissed the sharp lines of his jaw, making the silver chain under his collar gleam like a secret. His dark hair was artfully disheveled, and his expression? Utterly unimpressed.

behind him, three boys from Ganghak swaggered in, loud and brash muscle for the Union. They laughed too loud, jostled each other, clearly the reason Seong-Je was even here. He looked ready to leave. Seong-Je, though—he looked out of place. Or maybe he was the place. Everything else just moved around him.

until his eyes found her. He smiled. Not the charming kind. The kind that said I’m going to set you on fire, and you’ll thank me for it.

he murmured something to the others, shook them off, and stalked toward her like gravity worked differently around him. The crowd parted. He didn’t look at anyone else. He started walking towards her.

“You play?” he asked. His voice was low. Laced with heat and challenge.

Y/n blew on her nails. “Obviously.”

“You stalking me now?” she added, turning just enough for him to see the gleam in her eye.

“I don’t need to.” His gaze dragged across her grip, her posture. “You always end up exactly where I want you.”

“Life’s full of disappointments.”

“Mmm.” He stepped closer, glasses reflecting the table lights. “Not tonight.”

his eyes swept her up and down like he was reading a blueprint he already memorized. “You hold that cue like you’ve broken people with worse.”

“Haha, funny.”

a pause. A flicker in his smile. He leaned in. Not enough to touch—but close enough for the heat of him to brush her skin. The scent of him—smoke, spice, something sharp and expensive—coiled in her lungs.

“You shouldn’t look so calm,” he said, voice barely audible. “Unless you want me to misread you.”

“And you shouldn’t look so desperate,” she snapped. “Unless you want me to call your bluff.”

his lips parted. A sharp breath—barely there. His gaze flared.

and then he grinned. Full teeth. Dangerous joy. Like pain was something he wanted to wear.

“Careful,” he whispered. “You talk like that, and I’ll start thinking you want me to lose control.”

just then, Soo-min stormed over like a war siren. “Okay, break it up, Bonnie and Clyde! Some of us are trying to not get turned on in public.”

Seong-Je chuckled low, like he actually enjoyed being interrupted. He stepped back—but never looked away.

“This place just got interesting,” he said, more to himself than anyone else, then turned and wandered back to his group like nothing happened.

Y/n watched him go. Watched how the air didn’t move quite right after he left. Her pulse still thudded loud and traitorous beneath her skin.

Soo-min dragged Y/n a few steps back by the wrist. “Girl, that man is the final boss of bad decisions.”

“I’m aware,” Y/n said, voice calm. Too calm.

Seong-Je was halfway to his group. One of them tossed him a cue stick. He caught it without looking. Started lining up a shot like he actually cared about the game. Then he glanced back right at her.

cue still in hand, he cocked his head and mouthed, “Watch this.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. The nerve of this man.

he didn’t break eye contact as he sank the 7-ball with a single, sharp shot. Cocky. Clean. Effortless.

then he turned—sauntered back. Like gravity pulled him to her. “You like watching?” he asked, lips barely moving. “Or do you just like watching me.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head, stepping into her space again. “You think I lose often?”

“I think you like to pretend you're in control,” she said, tone soft but cutting. “When really? You only play games where pain is the prize.”

his smile went crooked. Deeper. More... unchained.“Who says that’s not the fun part?”

he leaned in again—too close for public, not close enough to be satisfying. His fingers brushed the cue she held, ghosting over hers.

“You’re sick,” she said, chin tilted up.

“I’m yours,” he said, grinning. “If you ask nicely.”

still, Seong-Je didn’t move. His voice dropped lower, velvet over a knife’s edge. “Next round, me and you. One-on-one.”

“I don’t play with guys who can’t handle losing,” she said.

“Oh, but I can.” He leaned in, lips nearly brushing her ear. “In fact... I think I like it.” He whispered to her before going back to his group.

After the conversation of Seong-Je & Y/n

the game was still going when Y/n wandered toward the vending machines near the back, her jacket half-zipped, the buzz of neon giving her skin a cold glow. The hallway was quieter here, tucked between the restrooms and a storage door. She didn’t notice the guy at first—just another college-age dude in a beat-up hoodie, beer can in hand, eyes a little too glassy.

until his voice slurred behind her. “Hey… you got a name or just a face like that?” Y/n barely turned. “Walk away.”

the guy chuckled. Wrong move. He stepped closer, arm swinging up—and suddenly, there was a hand on her waist. Fast. Unwanted. Too casual. Like he thought he was owed something.

her reaction was instinct. Sharp. She twisted, elbow flying back hitting him in the ribs—hard enough to make him stumble back to the walls. He grunted, stumbled, and reached again.

she shoved him hard. “I said don’t touch me.”

“You're playing hard to get–”

it happened faster than her breath could catch. The guy staggered forward. A blur of motion shoved him violently against the vending machine with a metallic screech. Then another blow. A fist connecting with jaw. Bone-on-bone. Blood sprayed.

“Touch her again,” Seong-Je growled, voice low and steady and deadly, “You'll not be able to walk again 'till you die.”

Seong-Je wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t swearing. He was smiling. That slow, terrifying curve of his lips that meant something inside him had snapped, and now he was enjoying it.

the guy tried to crawl—gasping, whimpering, drunk bravado long gone. But Seong-Je grabbed him by the collar, slammed him back down, and punched again and again and again.

the thud of knuckles against flesh echoed like war drums.

the guy was barely breathing now—coughing up blood, slurring some weak apology but Seong-Je didn’t stop. Couldn’t. His knuckles were already raw, skin torn open from bone-deep rage, but he just kept going.

blood splattered against the sticky billiards floor. Somewhere in the distance, a pool cue rolled off a table. No one moved to stop him. No one dared.

until sirens can be heard from a distance. Red and blue lights danced against the grimy windows, flashing in rhythmic pulses—like a countdown ticking toward disaster.

one of the Ganghak High student called him out. “Seong-Je!” he hissed. “Cops.”

Y/n’s friend, Soo-min, was already moving. Her hand shot out, grabbing Y/n’s wrist in a panic. “We have to go,” she whispered, urgent, pulling her back, away from the scene unraveling in front of them.

Y/n couldn't say any word just by looking at that scene, it leaves her speechless—couldn't process what in the world just happened. It's brutal as heck. Y/n didn't even bothered on being pulled away by Soo-min. She yanked Y/n toward the back exit, pushing past crates of cue chalk and cigarette smoke.

Seong-Je has already stopped, he stood up and moved away from the unconscious body on the floor. He smiled at the sight in front of him, just the corner of his mouth, twitching upward.

sirens, screaming louder now—cutting through the smoke and sweat of the billiards room. He didn’t run. He just let the police get inside and grabbed him from the back. He didn’t fight it.

the door burst open—sirens howling, boots pounding against concrete—and before the echo of the chaos could settle, they had him. Hands yanked behind his back, metal cuffs biting into bruised wrists. A knee shoved him forward. He stumbled.

still no resistance, no curses, no struggle, just a laugh—low, breathless, bitter.

after the Billiard Incident — Sunday, 2:13 a.m

the storm had passed, but the world still felt soaked in it.

pavement shimmered under dim streetlights, puddles reflecting the broken skyline in fragments. The air clung to everything—humid, thick, charged. The kind of quiet that comes only after thunder has screamed itself hoarse. In that silence, Seong-Je waited.

ghostface mask sleek and unforgiving, black hood pulled low. The fabric of his coat hugged him tight, the hem still damp from the storm. His boots moved like whispers—no splash, no sound. The knife in his gloved hand gleamed like a secret.

then the man from the billiards that day—still has that bruise from the beat up on his face, suddenly got a call—the man flinched, cursing under his breath as he fumbled in his pocket, damp fingers slipping on the screen. His heart thumped once—too hard. The screen glowed against the darkness.

[UNKNOWN NUMBER]

he snorted. “Who the hell…” He swiped to answer.

“Yo, who is—”

“Do you always talk so loud when you’re about to die?”

the voice on the other end was distorted. Glitched. Smooth like smoke, sharp like broken glass.

the man froze. “What kind of sick prank is this?” The man turned in a full circle, breath quickening.

“You don’t remember her,” the voice drawled, amused. “But I remember you. I remember what your hands did. And I remember what mine are about to do.”

the man jerked the phone away, stared at it like it might explode in his hand. “Who the fuck is this?!” Click. The line went dead.

the man’s breath caught in his throat, legs twitching like they couldn’t decide whether to run or drop.

that’s when Seong-Je moved. A blade flashed—quick, clean. The man turned just in time to see the glint, and slash.

the cigarette fell from his lips as Seong-Je pinned him to the wall with one hand, blade at his throat, the Ghostface mask tilted like he was smiling underneath.

the man struggled. Big mistake. Seong-Je dragged the knife down—not enough to kill. Just enough to scar. Just enough to teach his muscles what helplessness felt like.

the man begged. Mumbled excuses. Said he didn’t mean it.

Seong-Je leaned in. Close. “You touched what’s mine.” That was it. The switch flipped.

the knife plunged deep—once, then again, then a third time for good measure. Not frenzy. Precision. Controlled, almost graceful. Like choreography soaked in vengeance.

the body dropped. Limply. Blood pooling beneath him like spilled paint on concrete.

Seong-Je stood over him, shoulders relaxed, breaths steady, not even a flinch from him it's like he’d just finished stretching—not murder. He wiped the blade on the guy’s shirt.

he stared at the corpse for a moment. Tilted his head and with one last look, he vanished into the alley.

[waltzing-rats]

They are going to a sleepover :)

[cementcornfield]

UGH

[mortalprinceoflies]

Closed Starter | @runyou-clever-boy

They were being watched. He’d tried to ignore it, write it off as paranoia from this being their first family trip outside of the country. This wasn’t an installment in the ‘Taken’ franchise; surely, no one was lurking in the shadows, waiting to kidnap one of his girls. No matter what he told himself, however, Luke’s anxiety wouldn’t leave him, especially when he noticed how tense Delaney was. Riley was taking photos nonstop, and Morgan and Jayden were animatedly pointed out landmarks that they wanted to visit next, with the Tower of London being the most prevalent on the list at the moment. They were blissfully unaware that their parents’ heads were on swivels, scanning the crowded London streets for whomever might be following them.

Delaney spotted him first. “Pretty blond with the pouty lips,” she muttered, squeezing Luke’s hand. “He’s definitely tailing us. I saw him when we walked out of the Jack the Ripper Museum.”

“So he’s been on us for at least fifteen minutes,” Luke sighed, hating the fact that he’d been right. “Great…alright, keep moving with the girls. I’ll take care of this guy and catch up with you.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Luke…”

“I won’t! I’m just gonna have a polite chat with the guy, try to discourage him from pulling whatever bullshit he wants to pull. I think he knows he’s been made, though.” Luke had locked eyes with the mysterious young man by mistake, and now couldn’t stop looking at him for fear that he’d lose him in the crowd. This was just too weird. He gave Delaney a quick kiss on the cheek, pretending not to notice as she slipped one of her lucky charms into his pocket before leaving with the girls. It was her way of saying she was worried about him, and he honestly found it endearing.

Squaring his shoulders, he turned to confront his stalker, brown eyes turning steely and briefly flashing red. “Look, buddy, I know you probably thought I’d be an easy target because I’m some country bumpkin tourist, but you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree. I’m just tryin’ to have a nice vacation with my family. I don’t need you to ruin it with whatever scheme you’re plannin’ on pullin’. Stop followin’ us!” Hands balled into fists at his sides briefly before loosening again. He didn’t want this to turn into a fight, but if the other decided to get physical, he would gladly defend himself.

Little did he know that he had yet another pair of eyes on him. Vigoraunt had been haunting Luke and his family for far longer than this angelic menace; he had just been more subtle. Blending into the crowd was just as easy for the incubus here in England as it had been back in the States. Hells, he’d probably turned it into an art form at this point. The trick was to simply mind one’s own business while remaining in the general vicinity of one’s target, although being able to turn invisible certainly didn’t hurt. Truthfully, he hated being a spy, but restoring Lucifer to his infernal throne was more than worth it. A nosy fallen angel, however, could throw a massive wrench into that plan. Vig readied himself to intervene if necessary. This could get messy.

[quicksweetdreamer]

Do you… do you also think that Charles is so upset over that particular secret because it involves someone (probably) doing someting to Edwin but he doesn’t know what and that hits a little too close to home and his own secret?

Like, maybe the CK did something really bad to Edwin and he doesn’t want to tell Charles (for similar reasons as to why Charles himself doesn’t want to share his secret with Edwin)?

And at first it seems unlikely so he’s not too alarmed but as time goes on he learns tidbits of infos (like the CK getting into Edwin’s space) and Edwin STILL doesn’t want to tell him what happened but he looks distressed and Charles wants to help but with the Devlin’s House and all the trauma resurfacing he’s getting angrier and angrier and it’s starting to truly scare him…

#classic jealous bf behavior

dead boy detectives s1 | charles + edwin

[axvwriter]

THE Love Spell -start-

Featuring my oc-inserted-yuu Bobo and my twst ocs, Paulie and Tuck.

Bobo gets hit by a particular spell by Paulie, though at least he isn't claiming she'll need a kiss to break it. She'll just be stuck with it with a vague claim of a few hours.

Bobo had several reasons, well maybe just two really, for hating the Royal Sword Academy. It was just her luck that one of those reasons had bumped into her while she was out in the island's town to run an errand.

"Bobo! How nice to see you!" Paulie, one of RSA's supposedly few troublemakers called out upon reaching her. "Are you all alone? Isn't your familiar usually with you?"

"Grim is not my familiar." Bobo sighed, meeting Paulie's cheerful grin with a frown. "I'm actually not alone, but Grim didn't want to come along. I got separated from my friend thanks to the crowds." Oh if only the crowded market had kept Paulie from reaching her.

"Which friend is it? I bet I could help you find them!" Paulie leaned over her, resting an elbow on her shoulder as he peered about the swarm of people. "Is it the blue or the red one?"

"I don't need any of your help." Bobo practically snarled as she swatted his arm off of herself. Paulie pouted at her before suddenly perking up.

"Ohhh, I get it. You're on a date! That's why you don't want to tell me!" Paulie tugged lightly at the second blazer draped over her. Bobo scowled as she grabbed his wrist.

"What type of assumption is that? I don't need to tell you anything, especially considering we are not friends." Bobo's words caused Paulie to fling his free hand over his own chest.

"Not friends?! After all the things I've done for you. You're just as mean as any Night Raven College student." Paulie sulked before jumping back to his usually cheeriness. "I got it!"

"Got what?! No! Don't you dare do another thing for me! All you ever do is inconvenience me!" Bobo released him to try running away. Running, sadly, wasn't an option with how packed the streets are.

"Cheer up! I'm simply casting a spell to help you better express your love!" Paulie's grin slipped into a rather mischievous smirk as magic startled to crackle around his fingers. "Why, someone like you loves everyone, don't you? What a shame to hide that. For the next few hours, I declare you'll only be calling out your love to all!"

"Bobo!" A familiar voice called out just as Paulie's spell hit Bobo in the back. Unfortunately for Paulie, and for Bobo, people noticed the commotion the young fae caused. Paulie laughed, shouting something about it being harmless as he easily fled the crowds.

"Bobo, what happened? Wasn't that the RSA guy who keeps bothering you?" Tuck's voice called out again as he pushed past the concerned passerby's to check over Bobo. Bobo patted herself down before grabbing onto Tuck's arm.

"Come on love, let's find somewhere quieter to talk." Bobo told him before addressing the passerbys that she was fine. "If only love hadn't run... though he never explains what spells he casts anyways..."

"D-did you call me love?" Tuck stuttered as he helped Bobo wind her way away from the busy streets and into a calmer spot.

"What? No? I'm sure I called you by your name, love." Bobo paused upon hearing herself. "Love... love... I swear I'm trying to say your name!"

"Do you think that's the spell that guy casted? Just replacing my name with... that?" Tuck rubbed at one of his ears.

"He didn't know who I was with though... I... I tried to say love's name as well. Great... Come on, we still have some stuff to buy for love, right?"

"For... Trey? Oh, I did get one thing! Though that's before I realized I lost you..."

"It's fine, love. Just keep close to me."

"Vice-housewarden Trey! We're back!" Tuck called out as he led Bobo into Heartslabyul's kitchen. He placed a bag of goods onto the nearest counter before turning to Bobo. She held a large bag of flour, just barely able to peer over the side to actually see where she went.

"Prefect, do you need help with that?" Trey asked as he stopped what he was doing upon spotting her. He walked over to try taking the flour from her.

"I got it, love. Just point me to where you want it." Bobo side-stepped him. Trey paused briefly before taking the flour.

"Right, you can handle it, but you wont be able to reach the cupboard this goes in." Trey carried it away, motioning for Tuck to open a specific cupboard for him. A cupboard that was indeed too high for Bobo to reach.

"Does it make any sense to put heavy stuff up that high?" Bobo mumbled as she eyed the weird furniture of Heartslabyul. "Where's love? Did he and love- oh rot, how am I supposed to clarify who I'm talking about?!"

"You feeling okay, Prefect?" Trey questioned, looking over her. Bobo looked over to Tuck for help. Tuck didn't notice, busy putting away the ingredients they had bought for Trey. Bobo sighed and went over to tug on his shirt-sleeve.

"Huh? Oh! Oh right! Vice-housewarden, Bobo got cursed by some RSA guy!" Tuck explained.

"Curse sounds a little strong. Just some sort of spell that's messing up my speech." Bobo added.

"A RSA student casted magic on you?" Trey gently pulled Bobo away from Tuck to try inspecting her. "Are you hurt at all? Do you know who was it?"

"It was that love guy! Gah!" Bobo threw her arms up in frustration before looking over at Tuck.

"...Sorry... I don't know his name... but I've heard he's trespassed on campus few times before to mess with Bobo." Tuck sheepishly offered.

"That sounds like it was Paulie." Trey sighed, stopping his inspection of Bobo. "He always seems to target Prefect for his pranks. His pranks are usually harmless though."

"Right... I suppose it's not too big of a deal to just call everyone love." Bobo pulled out her phone and started typing away. "Let me test something. It would help to know how strongly this affects me." She hit send, causing Trey's phone to beep. He pulled out his phone to check what she sent him.

"Ah." Trey coughed into his fist, "It says "Hi love"." Trey gave a sheepish smile as he wondered why such a small thing was starting to embarrass him.

"I was certain I typed your name in... Though... I recall actually typing the word love." Bobo groaned, hovering a hand over her forehead. "Love said it will only last a few hours... but I'm not sure if I should trust his sense of time enough to try avoiding people. At least it's the weekend."

Start (you are here) | Next (yet to be written)

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

sigh. I miss when I liked Kiwami

[rebloggingrexan]

this scene was one the franchise creator had wanted to write all his career

Things that I SWEAR I'm not making up about the Star Trek franchise:

A shifty alien bartender, his brother, and his nephew were what happened at Roswell

There are three mutually contradictory canonical explanations for what exists at the centre of the Galaxy, none of which are "A fuck-off gigantic black hole"

Two of these things are, respectively, God and the Devil

(The crew got along well enough with the Devil, but Spock had to blow-up God with a torpedo)

One of the most compelling and sympathetic characters in the franchise is a hologram of Professor Moriarty who gained enough self-awareness to realise that he didn't need to be evil just because he was written that way

If you fly too fast, you turn into a salamander

(Said salamanders are actually the inevitable endpoint of human evolution)

The universe is balanced on the back of a giant koala (why is it smiling? What does it know!?)

There have been three separate groups of Space Nazis (not just aliens with a fascist government; literal Nazis with armbands and swastikas)

There are also: two (2) cowboy planets, two (2) planets that are just post-apocalyptic versions of Cold War-era Earth, one (1) planet ruled by Chicago mobsters from the 1920s, and one (1) version of Earth where the Roman Empire never fell

The Roman planet has its own Jesus

There is an anthropological law governing parallel planetary development that holds that planets are likely to recapitulate eras from Earth history

Because of the intervention of an ancient race of ur-humanoids, most sentient races in the galaxy look like human actors with rubber prostheses glued to their foreheads

There are so many planets centred around sex and hedonism that people in the fandom use the term "Roddenberry Sex Planet" to describe them

Jack the Ripper was an alien ghost

Amelia Earhart was abducted by aliens

If you have a high ESP score, you turn into a god when you try to fly outside of the Galaxy

The major antagonists are: Space Vikings/Samurai, Space Romans (not the Romans mentioned earlier), Space Fascists (not any of the nazi groups mentioned earlier), the Space British Empire (ruled by goo people), and Space Bees (except you'll turn into one if they sting you)

Klingons have two dicks

Borg assimilation can be catalyzed by eating car batteries