#hmm leather jacket.. mm

[dissectress]

fuck it, troublemaker wife and girldad immortan joe

[teamred]

so contagious

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | smut | 2.8k

SUMMARY | following the kissing from your movie night, logan takes you out on a proper date, while you take him back to your place afterwards. // part two of any other way

WARNINGS | smut, breastplay, oral s*x (female receiving), piv s*x, unprotected s*x // this is 70% fluff - 30% smut!

RATING | explicit

NOTES | i didn't intend to make a part two, but so many of you loved it, i had to give it a shot! this one is from logan's perspective. yes, i know this logan is a bit ooc, but, in my head, this takes place some time after worst!logan enters wade's universe and he's softened up. please leave some love if you enjoy it!

Logan has absolutely no idea what he's doing.

Standing in front of the living room mirror, he debates if he should choose the pale blue plaid shirt he's currently wearing or one of his brown ones instead. But if he chooses the latter, it'd be too similar to the one he wore when you saw him yesterday. 

Overthinking isn't his style, and yet here he is, obsessing over something as trivial as his shirt color. It’s been decades since he’s been on a proper date, maybe even ever.

“Well, don't you look handsome,” Wade cuts through his thoughts with a grin and folded arms, peeling himself away from the kitchen door frame. He saunters over, reaching out to touch Logan’s hair, only for the larger man to shove him away immediately. 

“Not now, Wade.”  

Wade sniffs his hand dramatically. “Oh, my God–you even used hair product! This is so exciting. It's like witnessing a teenager on his first date. I feel like your mom!”

“Well, Mom,” Logan refocuses on the mirror, fixing the mess Wade made of his hair, “you can fuck off.” 

Wade points a finger at him with mock sternness. “Hey, watch your language, young man.” 

Then, to Logan’s surprise, Wade grows momentarily quiet as he stands next to him, both facing the mirror. “Also, the blue shirt’s the better choice.” 

“Yeah?” Logan quirks an eyebrow, glancing over at the brown plaid shirts laid out on the couch. 

“Yeah,” replies Wade softly, and Logan catches a genuine smile in the mirror. The heartfelt moment doesn’t last long though when Wade claps him on the back. “And don’t be so nervous, Wolvie. You already went to second base with her last night. The deal’s pretty much sealed.” 

Logan scowls. “I’m not nervous.” 

“Mm-hmm. You say that, but you’re being even more testy than usual. Dare I blame it on the hormones?” Suddenly, he plants a quick kiss on Logan’s cheek.

“What the fuck?!” 

Logan recoils, then almost lunges at him instinctively. However, Wade’s already retreating and walking backwards, making a beeline to his bedroom with a wave of his hand. 

“Be back by curfew, sweetie! But text me if you’ll be out late, or if you need anything. Some snacks, some condoms—” 

“Wade!” he growls, his patience wearing thin. 

Wade blows an air kiss, disappearing into his room. “Love ya! And you got this!” 

Logan mumbles to himself, “Yeah, I sure hope so.”  

Turning to the mirror for one final check, he adjusts his collar and straightens his shirt. His phone vibrates on the living room table and he reads the incoming texts from Laura: 

- hey sorry for the late reply - but if you haven’t gone out already, i prefer the blue over the brown - not that it matters though - she’ll find you handsome either way - don’t worry! it’ll go well :) 

Logan nods, reassured by Laura’s texts. It’s just a date with someone he’s already known for a little while; it’s not like a blind date or anything. He can do this. 

With one last look in the mirror to check his hair and beard, he grabs his keys and wallet, slings his dark brown leather jacket over his shoulder, and heads out the door.

Logan pulls up in front of your apartment complex and gives you a quick call to let you know he’s here. When you step out of the building, his eyes can’t help but sweep over you—fitted jeans hugging your curves, an off-the-shoulder top that shows just enough, and that stunning smile that lights up your face.

He notices you checking him out too. Realizing that his hair might be messy, he quickly combs his fingers through it as you stroll over. 

“Long time, no see,” you joke, referencing how you saw him just yesterday.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Logan greets, trying to sound more relaxed than he feels. He holds a helmet out to you, but catches how his grip is more tense than usual. “You ready for a ride?” 

You nod, eyes sparkling with excitement. As he steps away from his bike to help you with the helmet, he finds it endearing how you lift your chin and pout a little, making it easier for him to secure the straps. He hopes his touch isn’t too rough, but when your eyes meet his and you smile up at him, he knows he must be doing something right.

With his hands so close to your face, his mind flashes to how he palmed your cheeks and neck last night as he kissed you deeply. It’s presumptuous, but he hopes for a repeat tonight. 

Once you hop on the bike behind him and wrap your arms snugly around his waist, he revels in the warmth of your body against his. As he weaves through the city streets, he occasionally glances back to make sure you’re comfortable. 

Logan thinks to himself how good this feels, to ride around freely with someone he cares for by his side. It’s been awhile since he’s let someone get this close to him… 

Maybe he could get used to this. 

Eventually, he pulls up at an old diner he’s grown fond of across town. The place gives him a sense of nostalgia, a reminder of simpler times (and, even though he tries not to think of it, it also brings back memories of that one time with Wade in the Void).

He offered to take you here because it’s familiar, cozy, and he didn’t want to overthink this date with reservations to some high-end restaurant.

Walking across the mostly empty restaurant, a waitress leads you both to a window booth, where you sit across from each other.

At first, there’s a bit of awkwardness—Logan recommends what’s good on the menu, and you take a moment to decide what to order. His foot taps on the floor as he peeks over the menu, sitting in the silence uncomfortably. 

But once the waitress takes your orders, conversation flows more easily, just like it normally does at Wade’s get-togethers.

You check in with how Laura’s doing, if he and Wade have been on any more assignments recently, and how his motorcycle is running since he fixed it last. 

Logan’s grateful you’re leading the conversation and asking questions; it’s always been easier for him to listen than to talk. 

But he’s putting in effort tonight—he takes it upon himself to know about your life outside of work, if you’ve been reading anything lately, and how you felt about the ride over to the diner.

“A little scary, but it was fun!” you grin, resting your chin in your palm. “I’m just glad it’s you driving it. Like I said yesterday, I always feel comfortable and safe around you, Logan.” 

As your foot brushes against his under the table, Logan’s gaze meets yours. You flash him a shy smile, and before he can think twice, his foot instinctively strokes yours in return. A flicker of doubt crosses his mind—Is this the kind of thing people do on dates?—but your soft giggles melt away his hesitation. The lighthearted game continues until the arrival of your food.

You dig into your food, and a random thought crosses your mind. “Have you ever used your claws to cut your food?” 

Logan pauses mid-bite, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. “You know, in all of my two-hundred years of living, I’ve never really thought to try it.” 

“Probably ‘cause you always have a knife around,” you say. 

“Probably,” he smirks. With a glint in his eyes, he unsheathes his claws and the sound makes you jump slightly in your seat. 

“Whoa,” you whisper, eyes widening in awe. Logan realizes you’ve never seen them before. Slowly, he extends his hand, the blades gleaming under the diner lights. 

“Go ahead,” says Logan softly. “Just be careful.” 

You reach out carefully, your fingers grazing the cool, polished metal. You’re both unusually quiet, your attention fully on each other.

Once you pull away, he turns back to his plate with a slight grin. “Okay, let’s see how this goes.”

With surprising finesse, he slices through his burger using his claws, the action both impressive and a little absurd to witness. 

You burst into laughter, the sound contagious as he joins in. “Logan, I think you need to stop before you break the plate.” 

He chuckles, retracting his claws and grabbing a sliced up chunk of his burger. “Yeah, probably a good idea. At least we know the answer to that question now.”

As you move on to dessert, you savor a slice of cheesecake while Logan indulges in a slice of apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. When he’s almost done, Logan takes a slow lick off his spoon and catches you staring at him. 

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?” he asks with a playful smile, raising an eyebrow as he takes another bite of pie.

You scarf down the last few bites of your cheesecake before answering. 

“Okay, I have to ask—” you lower your voice and lean in across the table “—can you actually smell how horny someone is?”

Logan freezes mid-chew, remembering what happened yesterday before you left.

“Fucking Wade…” he mutters, shaking his head. After a beat, he sighs. “Do I really have to answer that question?”

You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands. “Oh, my God, you totally can…” 

All Logan gives you is a brief laugh and a shake of his head. He fishes for his wallet, tosses some cash onto the table, and then stands up with a grin. “C’mon, gorgeous. Let’s get outta here.”

As he pulls you to your feet, you ask half suspiciously and half in jest, “Are you saying that because you can smell something or…?” 

“Maybe, maybe not...” he teases. He grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with yours, and leads you to the door. “Either way, let’s head out. C’mon.” 

As you step outside and Logan helps you with your helmet again, you look up at him with a different look this time than before—one that signifies that the night’s only beginning. 

As you fumble with your keys in front of your apartment door, Logan steps in from behind and grips one side of your waist. He leans in, pulling you close, and kisses the crook in your neck. You inhale sharply, losing focus as you melt into his touch. 

After you finally manage to unlock the door, Logan quickly shuts the door behind him before he presses you up against the wall. Initially, you share an intense kiss, but it soon becomes fervent and open-mouthed. Rough edges of his beard even brush against your lips at some points. 

Both parties quickly kick off their shoes. He peels off his leather jacket and aids you with yours. Still lip-locked, he then lifts you up and has you wrap your legs around his waist; his evident desire presses against your body. 

Logan drags your top off, his heated kisses trailing from your mouth, to your neck, and down to your clavicle. His mouth leaves love upon your breasts before he pushes your strapless bra down. You gasp as his push is so rough, the bra merely snaps off and falls away towards the floor.

But Logan doesn’t stop—he hones his attention towards your hardened tips, sucking and nipping with a fervor that makes him lose himself in you.

The moans that fill your entryway only drive him crazy further, along with your fingers tugging at his hair tightly. His hands are needy, kneading your other breast with a blend of tender and strength. After a moment, he pulls back, gently setting your legs back onto the floor.

He kisses his way down from your breasts to your stomach, dropping to his knees in front of you. Logan blinks up at you as he helps unbutton your jeans, pulling them and your panties off and tossing them aside. The sight of you, completely bare and vulnerable, only heightens his desire.

He kisses your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin as he moves towards your core. The scent of your arousal is unmistakable and intoxicating, but it’s the way your body reacts to him that drives him wild. Lifting one of your legs over his shoulders, he dives in without hesitation, his tongue exploring your wetness.

His tongue skillfully works over your most sensitive areas, each touch and flick of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. Logan is so immersed in the moment, he feels like he's freefalling, lost in the intensity of it all.

The need to be inside you drives him to a point of near frenzy, his own body responding with instinctive thrusts. Each lick and suck against your folds is fuelled by both the need to make you feel good and to be desperately inside of you.

“Logan, Logan—” 

You shatter and unravel for him, jerking your hips against his mouth. He holds you still, securing your orgasm rides out fully. Once you do, he stands up and kisses you gently, intermingling your taste with his tongue.

Dazed, you hook your fingers with a couple of his and lead him towards your bedroom. You lay yourself on the bed first, while he watches you as he strips his shirt and tank top. He sees the inflamed hunger in your eyes at the sight of his entirety. 

Crawling over to you on the bed, his hands roam your body, caressing you passionately before the next part. When he finally undoes his jeans and belts and throws them aside, he looks at you intently. 

“Do you have—?”  

You shush him with a finger, whispering, “Just get inside me, Logan.” 

A smirk spreads across his face as he aligns himself with your slit, teasing you slightly before sliding in. Being inside you draws out a low groan from him, while you throw your head back and expel a long moan.

When you finally acclimatize to his girth, he starts to thrust slowly and kisses you throughout. It’s so easy for him to lose control, to get this over and done with, but he wants to make sure it feels good for you as it does for him. 

But it doesn’t help when your hands dig into his back and your walls clench harder around him. 

“Faster, please,” you beg. 

He checks in with a smug grin, cocking his head slightly. “You sure, gorgeous?” 

You nod breathlessly, “Please, Logan.” 

And that’s enough to make him lose all restraint. He picks up the pace, his movements becoming more intense and primal. His thumb circles your clit, and the combination of his hard thrusts and gentle touch brings you over the edge in unison. He ensures you’re satisfied first before he pulls out and marks you with his release. 

Panting, he catches his breath, and grazes the back of his knuckles against your thigh. Logan turns to look at you. “You ready for round two, beautiful?” 

You laugh with disbelief and exhilaration. “Wait, round two alr—?” 

Logan cuts you off with a deep kiss, his grin wide and satisfied. He feels you smiling into his kiss, your excitement matching his own. 

Oh yeah—he definitely could get used to this.

EPILOGUE — ONE WEEK LATER 

Back at Wade, Logan, and Blind Al’s apartment during another weekend get-together, you’re seated next to Logan at the dining room table, caught up in a quiet conversation with him amidst the animated chaos around you. 

Suddenly, Wade appears behind you, throwing his arms around you both and playfully squishing you together.

“Say ‘thank you, Mommy Wade for our beautiful dating life and we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you and I’m gonna name our kid after you and—’” 

“What the hell is happening?” you cut in, looking at your new boyfriend. 

“Just ignore him, baby,” Logan groans, shaking his head. 

“Already using terms of endearment? Y’all move fast,” Wade quips. “And is that any way to treat the person who got you two lovebirds together?” 

“Hey, I helped too,” Laura interjects from Logan’s side.

Wade waves her off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. You might’ve mentioned something here and there, but I saw the vision, and not Wanda’s, might I add.” 

“I’m not gonna call you ‘Mommy Wade,’ but I will thank you.” You lean over and give him a quick peck on the cheek. He gasps theatrically and ruffles your hair with exaggerated affection. Times like these remind you why Wade has always been one of your closest friends. 

“Well,” says Wade, as he steps back to return to his seat, “at least one of you appreciates Cupid Wade’s handiwork.”

Later, while you’re chatting with Yukio and Ellie, you notice out of the corner of your eye Logan and Wade exchanging glances across the room. Logan gives Wade a small, grateful nod. 

“Thank you, Wade,” Logan mouths, his expression soft and sincere. 

“Anytime, Wolvie,” Wade mouths back with a wink, raising his beer in a mock toast. 

You catch Logan’s eye, and both of you share a smile that speaks more than words ever could.

[thesecondhandwoman]

Can u do Vi x Reader. Where Vi was coming home from hanging out with her sister. She saw her girlfriend laying on their shared bed and she was holding Vi’s jacket cutely in her arms and she was cuddling with it with a cute face expression. Vi stared in awe and she said adorable. She came over and try to take it out of her hands but no use. So vi worker her up and she yawned cutely and saw her girlfriend and quickly grabbed Vi’s arm and hugged her and kissed her.

JACKET THEIF

Vi x f!reader

Synopsis: After a visit with Jinx and Ekko, Vi comes back home, expecting a big welcoming as always from you. But when she doesn’t, she remains confused, looking around and finding you cuddled up with her jacket.

Request: Anon 🤍

Vi trudged up the creaky staircase to her apartment, the worn steps groaning under her boots. The visit with Jinx and Ekko had been… eventful, as usual. Jinx was her usual chaotic self, and Ekko had been quick to remind her how overdue she was on catching up with other stuff the two have done. It was good to see them, but as much as Vi loved her family, especially after everything that has happened, nothing beats coming home to you after a long day.

Pushing the door open, Vi stepped inside and let it close behind her with a quiet click. She kicked off her boots and shrugged off the weight of the day.

“Babe?” she called, her raspy voice breaking the quiet.

No response.

Vi frowned. You were usually quick to greet her, a ball of energy running into her arms, peppering her face with kisses. She scanned the room, her eyes softening when she saw the faint glow from the bedroom.

Noting this, she padded quietly toward the door.

And there you were.

Curled up in a cocoon of blankets on the bed, you were the picture of peace. Your face was partially hidden by the thick folds of fabric, your expression serene as you slept. But what really made Vi stop in her tracks was the leather jacket clutched tightly in your arms.

Her leather jacket.

Vi’s heart melted on the spot. The sight of you cuddling her jacket like a child with a teddy bear, your face nuzzled into the worn material, sent a warmth through her chest that nothing else could.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’re gonna drool on it,” she murmured under her breath, stepping closer.

The floor creaked faintly beneath her as she approached the bed. Carefully, Vi knelt down and reached for the jacket, her fingers brushing against your hands as she tried to ease it free.

But you stirred.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the moment they met hers, your entire face lit up.

“Vi!” you squealed, tossing the jacket aside in favor of launching yourself at her.

Vi let out a surprised laugh as you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her down onto the bed with you. She stumbled, but the sound of your laughter and the feel of your lips pressing excited kisses to her cheek made her forget everything else.

“You’re back!” you said, your voice muffled as you buried your face in her neck.

“Yeah, I’m back,” Vi chuckled, wrapping her arms around you. “But you’re supposed to be sleeping, not stealing my jacket, ya little thief.”

“It smells like you,” you mumbled, pouting slightly as you leaned back to look at her. “And I missed you.”

Vi’s grin softened, her thumb brushing over your cheek as she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Missed you too, babe. But that’s no excuse to drool on my stuff.”

You gasped in mock outrage, lightly swatting her shoulder. “I don’t drool!”

Vi smirked. “Mm-hmm, sure you don’t.”

Before you could argue, she tackled you back onto the bed, her laughter mingling with yours as the two of you wrestled for a moment, the jacket forgotten on the floor.

When the laughter finally died down, you lay curled up in her arms, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

“Welcome home,” you whispered sleepily.

Vi tightened her hold on you, her lips brushing against your hair. “Mm, glad to be home when you are in it...”

“Likewise, baby.” You cooed as you both tangled up in eachothers’ warmth, relaxing until you two drifted back asleep.

Note: Sorry that this is a bit short, it was kinda rushed, but I hope y’all like it!

[tinkaaabutt]

Supermodel- ekko.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A fix inspired by Supermodel by our fav liar sza!

Ekko leaned against the brick wall of the bodega, his skateboard resting beside him. The low hum of the city was like a song he couldn’t get out of his head—car horns blaring, laughter spilling from a nearby hookah lounge, and the faint bass of a song blasting out of someone’s car. He pulled his hoodie tighter against the chill of the evening, but his attention wasn’t on any of it.

It was on you.

You stepped out of the corner store, all legs and confidence, carrying a bag of snacks and a look that could stop traffic. Your oversized leather jacket fell off one shoulder, showing off a fitted tank top underneath. Gold hoops glinted in your ears, catching the light, and your sneakers—freshly creased Air Forces—were spotless, as usual.

You looked like you belonged in the pages of a magazine, but the thing was, you didn’t care about being noticed. And that’s what made it impossible not to.

“Damn, you just gonna keep staring?” you called out, your voice cutting through the city noise like a melody.

Ekko smirked, pushing off the wall. “Maybe. You make it kinda hard not to.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile playing on your lips betrayed you. “Don’t start, Ekko. What’re you even doing out here? Waiting for me?”

“Who says I wasn’t?” he shot back, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, brushing past him. “Well, if you’re gonna waste your night following me, at least make yourself useful.”

You didn’t wait for him to catch up, but you didn’t have to. Ekko grabbed his board and fell into step beside you, matching your pace as you strolled down the block.

“Where we headed?” he asked, glancing over at you.

“Nowhere special,” you said with a shrug. “Just needed some air. You know how it is.”

Ekko nodded. He did know. Life could feel heavy sometimes, like you were carrying the weight of everyone else’s expectations. You wore yours well, though—like armor. But Ekko had seen enough to know it didn’t always feel like it fit.

“You good?” he asked after a moment.

You side-eyed him, raising a perfectly arched brow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just asking,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “You know, in case you needed someone to talk to or whatever.”

You laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made his chest tighten. “You’re cute for that. But I don’t need a therapist, Ekko. I’m fine.”

He didn’t push it, but he didn’t believe you, either. Instead, he pulled a snack out of the bag you were carrying—a bag of spicy chips—and opened it without asking.

“Seriously?” you said, stopping to glare at him.

“What?” he said, popping a chip in his mouth. “You weren’t gonna share?”

“I didn’t say that,” you muttered, snatching the bag back. But your lips twitched, and Ekko knew he’d won.

The two of you wandered aimlessly, weaving through side streets and alleys lit by the warm glow of streetlights. The conversation shifted from light jokes to music recommendations, to shared memories that made both of you laugh until your stomachs hurt.

By the time you found yourselves sitting on a park bench, the city had quieted, and the air was filled with that late-night stillness that made everything feel softer.

“You ever think about how people see you?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Ekko glanced at you, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“Like…” You hesitated, your fingers toying with the hem of your jacket. “People think I’ve got it all together, you know? Like I’m some kind of supermodel or whatever. But they don’t actually see me.”

Ekko leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you. “I see you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I see you. Not just the way you walk into a room like you own it, or the way you roast me every chance you get. I see the way you care about people, even when you don’t want them

to notice. I see the way you hustle, the way you never let anyone catch you slipping. I see you.”

Your laughter faded, replaced by a soft, almost vulnerable expression. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out. For once, you didn’t have a witty comeback or a sharp edge to deflect with.

“You don’t gotta do that,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “Act like I’m… more than what people see.”

“You are more,” Ekko said without hesitation. His brown eyes met yours, steady and unshaken. “And if nobody else is gonna remind you of that, I will.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. The city lights reflected in your eyes, and for a moment, Ekko forgot where he was.

“You’re really good at this, huh?” you said after a while, breaking the tension with a smirk.

“Good at what?”

“Making a girl feel seen,” you teased, though your voice was softer than usual. “Careful, hero. You keep this up, and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

Ekko chuckled, leaning back against the bench. “Maybe I do.”

You blinked, clearly not expecting him to admit it so easily. “You don’t scare easy, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

For the first time, you didn’t have a quick retort. Instead, you leaned back, the tension in your shoulders easing as you let out a quiet sigh.

“Alright, Ekko,” you said, your voice light but sincere. “You think you can handle me? Let’s see if you’re about it.”

He grinned, pulling out his phone and holding it up like a microphone. “I’m ready for the interview. First question— how does it feel to be the most smartest caring girl on this lousy ass planet?”

You burst out laughing, swatting at his arm. “Shut up!”

“Not until you answer!”

And just like that, the heaviness between you melted away. The two of you stayed in the park for hours, talking about everything and nothing, stealing chips from each other’s bag, and daring the city to try and interrupt.

Because if ekko couldn't see anything he'd always will see you.

Ahhh i love him sm👌🏾👌🏾 i wrote this one for the non gay gyals hopefully theyll enjoy it

[loveinhawkins]

The RV careens out of the trailer park and hits the open road with what pretty much amounts to ‘all speed, no grace.’ The turn Steve makes is, quite frankly, abysmal; he’s sure that if his driving instructor could see him now, the poor man would be weeping in distress.

Yet his passengers erupt into cheers as they pass the Leaving Hawkins sign, like he’s pulled some kind of James Bond move.

And, for all his insistence on being the absolute antithesis to so-called ‘jock culture’, Eddie rushes over to the driver’s seat, starts squeezing Steve’s shoulder with decidedly jock-like exuberance.

“Holy shit, holy shit, that was so fucking cool, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s definitely broken through the depression stage of the ‘finding out there’s an alternate dimension in Hawkins’ journey—landing firmly in the fuck it, might as well have some fun stage.

Steve could tell they’d reached that point even before the goddamn ‘big boy’ comment, when Eddie had taken one look at the Michael Myers mask, looked Max dead in the eye and said, “This is gonna be. So fuckin’ stupid. Let’s do it.”

Steve goes through a few seconds more of having his shoulder pummelled before saying, “Dude, you’re doing a shitty job at being undercover, stay down.”

“Like, do you have any idea,” Eddie says breathily, as if Steve hasn’t spoken, “just how perfect that was? That was, God, a childhood dream fully—”

“You dreamed of stealing an RV?” Steve says dubiously.

“Not in such crude literal terms, no. C’mon, Harrington, you must’ve had an imagination once—”

“Hey!”

“—didn’t you ever dream of, like, daring escapes, pulling the sword outta the stone, all that shit?”

Steve thinks about it. “I mean,” he says, “when I was a kid, I just kinda… climbed trees and stuff.”

Eddie sighs as if he can’t decide whether Steve’s done something especially annoying or endearing. “Of course you did.”

They reach a stop sign and Eddie finally flops into the passenger seat, facing Steve like he’s sitting side saddle on a horse.

“So,” Steve says, “I take a right after this, yeah?”

“Mm-hmm, well remembered, Mr Getaway Driver.”

Steve scoffs, glances over—finds Eddie framing him with his index finger and thumb, like a director trying to capture the perfect shot.

“James Dean,” Eddie says authoritatively, dropping his hands.

“What?”

“Was tryin’ to figure it out, your whole look, you know? Very Rebel Without a Cause.”

“Okay,” Steve says, “but I have a cause, we all do.”

Eddie just blinks at him, and Steve chuckles.

“You, idiot.”

“Oh.”

Steve has a moment to appreciate the way Eddie’s eyes go all soft and maybe just a little shiny, before he has to set off again. He takes the right turning.

“We should watch it,” Eddie says eventually. “Hell, I’ll take any movie. Just gimme, like, two hours of not having to think.”

“Tell me about it.”

Steve’s sure he’ll never complain about double VHS tapes ever again. Then a thought occurs to him.

“Shit.” He calls to the back. “Rob?”

“Yeah?”

“Y’know when we left Family Video, did we even lock up?”

“Yes,” Robin says followed immediately by, “No?”

Steve snorts. “God, we’re so fired.”

He hears Robin making her way up to the front, then Eddie saying, “Oof, Buckley, that was right in the ribs.”

“Why the sudden concern about our jobs, dingus?”

“I’m not concerned, I just got reminded of—Eddie was mentioning—”

“—Rebel Without a Cause,” Eddie finishes.

“Oh, Steve, I know you’ve seen it, I put it on last week!”

“Uh, maybe I was preoccupied doing, I dunno, my job.”

“It’s the one with—”

“James Dean,” Eddie cuts in.

“Yeah, I gathered, thanks,” Steve says sarcastically, but he can’t help smiling as he does so.

“—and it’s, you know,” Robin goes on, “troubled kid moves to a new town, and—”

“Aw,” Steve says, “you think I’m troubled, Munson?”

“It’s all in the eyes, Harrington. Such depths.”

“Right?” Robin says, and she’s laughing, tongue-in-cheek, “I’ve always said so.”

“You ever considered wearing a leather jacket?”

Steve laughs, too. “Tell ya what, Eddie, why don’t I just wear all your clothes?”

“Well, we know denim suits you.”

“If only you saw his last car-stealing outfit, Eddie.”

Steve sighs. “Robin, shut it.”

“Excuse me,” Eddie says, “d’you have form, Harrington? Grand theft auto form?”

“Literally once. Crazy circumstances.” Rest in peace, Todfather. “It was a Cadillac.”

“A Cadillac.” Eddie sighs dreamily. “Do you have any photos?”

“Uh, no, I was kinda busy.”

“I shall mourn the loss.”

“Take the next left here,” Nancy calls, which Steve is grateful for—the directions had gone completely out of his head.

“Wheeler, come up to the front,” Eddie says, “it’s a party.”

She must do, because her voice sounds much closer when she says, “Shit, I think I forgot to lock up, too.”

“Don’t worry,” Steve says, “no-one’s gonna ransack The Weekly Streak.”

Another stop sign—Steve looks over, smirks at how Eddie has ended up squished between Nancy and Robin, all of them sharing the one seat.

“They better not.” To Eddie, Nancy adds, “I think I gave your uncle the impression that I’m doing a big piece on you. Like, testimonials for an innocent man, stuff like that.”

For a flicker of a second, Eddie looks nauseated at the thought—Steve spots the shift, the decision to make a joke about it.

“Well, Wheeler, you better make me sound good.”

“Oh, I was going more for journalistic integrity.”

“Hey.”

Steve hears a couple of thumps behind him; without even glancing in the mirror, he says, “Sit your asses down, shitheads, don’t make me turn this thing around.”

“Don’t make me turn this thing around!” Lucas parrots.

Max scoffs playfully: “Nineteen going on forty.”

“Eddie was standing before!” Erica points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, Eddie’s a law unto himself. Look, just sit down and, like, make a list or something, I’ll stop off for food after we’ve—”

Dustin laughs. “You really are forty.”

“Uh-huh, one more wisecrack and you’re not getting any chocolate pudding.”

Steve’s hamming it up, he knows he is—smiles to himself as he hears a quartet of giggles.

“Can you believe they used to think I was cool?” he says.

“I dunno, Harrington,” Eddie says warmly, “at least one of them doth protest too much.”

Nancy stands in search of a pen, Robin following, insisting to Dustin that, “We’re getting one of those camp stoves, if I don’t eat something hot soon, I’m gonna die.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. Maybe it’s because they’ll soon be arriving at The War Zone; his levity slips just a little when he says, “It’s probably, like, a proximity thing. Henderson’ll have a scientific term for it.”

Eddie chuckles. “What, the Steve Harrington effect?”

Steve shrugs. “You get too close, the shine wears off eventually.”

He doesn’t realise until he’s said it that the joking, perhaps, has stopped somewhere along the way.

“Huh,” Eddie says. “I’m no scientist, but that doesn’t sound like the Steve Harrington effect to me.”

“No?” Steve says.

He can see the parking lot in the distance, and he gestures for Eddie to duck.

“Nope,” Eddie says. Steve can hear him moving, crouching to hide behind the driver’s seat.

He parks and everyone’s abruptly all business, deciding who’s staying in the RV, who’s going into The War Zone.

Steve hates it, has a sudden intense longing to keep talking about movies, to just be stupid.

And maybe Eddie can tell, because just before Steve heads out, he catches his eye, smiles.

“Hey, don’t worry, Harrington,” he says with a tiny, fleeting wink. “You’re still my leading man.”

[vintageshanny]

Unlaced

Content: Elvis at the Memphian circa 1963, physical comfort from a fan, 18+

Darla glanced over her shoulder and sucked in her breath. Elvis had arrived! He looked even more beautiful than she remembered. An absolute dreamboat. He was wearing light blue pants, a black shirt, a black jacket, and black leather gloves, with a little boating cap on his head. She noticed that his pants had some sort of lace-up detail instead of a regular zipper. It gave her a funny feeling inside to look at that part of him. As her gaze lingered, she wondered how he looked underneath those pants, then scolded herself for the thought. She forced her eyes up to his face, which bore a somewhat sour expression as he sauntered down the aisle. Was she imagining things, or did his face light up when he spotted her?

“Darla, honey, i-i-it’s so nice ta see ya. I’m glad ya could make it.” He smiled and fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. He seemed almost nervous for some reason.

“Of course, Elvis. You were gone so long this time, I had ta come see ya first chance I got.”

“Yeah, six months is too long ta be gone from home. But I got two of those dang movies outta the way at least. I missed ya though. I-I-I mean, I missed ever’body, y’know?” Even in the darkness of the theater, Darla could see that Elvis was blushing as he smiled at her.

She returned his beaming grin, hoping that her eyes wouldn’t accidentally trail down his body again. As if to remind herself why she shouldn’t look at him like that, she asked “No Priscilla tonight?”

Elvis’ face transformed back to a slight scowl before he shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Nah, she didn’t feel like comin’. I never…” he trailed off, seeming to think better of unloading his relationship problems on a fan. “Well I’m sure glad you’re here though, honey.” He gave her shoulder a light squeeze before heading to his usual spot in the middle with his buddies.

“Hey Jerry, does Darla look different ta ya?” Elvis whispered as he removed his gloves. They both glanced across the aisle to study her. Darla quickly turned her head toward the movie screen, hoping they hadn’t caught her staring. She tried to discreetly peek back over and, to her surprise, they both seemed to be staring at her. She shifted a little in her seat, trying to focus on the start of the movie.

“I mean, I guess a little bit,” Jerry responded thoughtfully. “She’s 18 now. She’s not a little girl anymore.”

“Yeah, she seems ta have, y’know, filled out in all the right places,” Elvis murmured as he leaned forward onto the back of the seat in front of him, still unabashedly staring in Darla’s direction.

“Mm-hmm, she’s pretty,” Jerry nodded, being cautious not to overstep and ignite Elvis’ possessiveness. “She’s a sweet girl, too.”

“She really is, huh?” Elvis leaned back, deep in thought about how sweet Darla had been since she first started coming to the gate a few years ago. Always had a kind word of support, laughed at his jokes, wanted to be around him whenever she could. She’d probably never say she didn’t feel like comin’ to tha movies with me…

“I, uh, gotta take a leak,” Elvis announced just loud enough for Darla to overhear as he stepped past Jerry and out into the aisle. Darla couldn’t stop herself from glancing up as he walked by, and her eyes widened with surprise as he gave her a wink.

Darla remembered the welcome home card she had brought in her purse. She was too embarrassed to give it to him with other people watching, and this might be her only chance to catch him alone. She quietly snuck out of her chair and walked back to the lobby, where Elvis was just coming out of the bathroom.

“Elvis, I was lookin’ for ya, I, uh, I have a card for ya,” Darla stumbled over trying to find the right words to explain why she’d followed him to the bathroom, but he didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

“A card for me?” Elvis repeated. He sounded pleased and reached his hand out as Darla pulled the card from her purse.

“I’m sorry, it’s probably just silly, I mean you get things like this all the time,” Darla nervously rambled as he opened the card. To her horror, he began to read the message out loud.

“Dear Elvis, Welcome home ta Memphis. The whole city seems duller without ya. I always count the days ‘til ya return and bring the joy and laughter back with ya. I feel a lot less lonely when you’re around. With love, Darla.” Elvis looked up at Darla’s flushed face, his mouth turned up in a crooked grin. “That’s real sweet, honey. Not silly at all.”

Darla thought the world might just stop as Elvis pulled her into a warm hug. That funny feeling inside returned as she drank in the smell of his cologne and cigars.

Elvis was starting to feel a little funny himself as he felt Darla’s ample chest heaving against him. It was always flattering to make a woman’s heart race. He cleared his throat a little bit as he pulled back. “Hey, want me ta show ya somethin’ neat?” Darla nodded and followed as Elvis led the way.

First he grabbed some popcorn from the concession stand and then headed up a narrow staircase to the balcony seats. It was roped off, but Elvis just stepped over and then helped her up. He tried not to stare at her shapely legs when she had to raise the skirt of her royal blue dress a little bit to step over the rope. Elvis sat down in one of the seats and motioned for Darla to do the same. He put a finger to his lips, letting her know to keep quiet, and grabbed a piece of popcorn. Instead of eating it, he took careful aim and launched it over the balcony. It landed directly on Jerry’s head, and Darla had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing as Jerry started looking around to see what had happened. Elvis pulled Darla down to the floor before they were discovered, and the two of them started giggling quietly as they knelt there.

“That bastard thinks it’s rainin’ popcorn now,” Elvis joked with glee.

“You have such good aim!” Darla exclaimed, delighted to see him so happy.

Elvis got a funny look on his face and leaned closer. “I have good aim with my lips too,” he whispered. Before Darla knew what was happening, Elvis’ soft plush lips were smushed against hers, and her heart was thudding right out of her chest.

“Elvis, should we be doing this?” she whispered nervously as he pulled back.

“It’s jus’ a little harmless kissin’ baby, nothin’ ta worry ‘bout.” Elvis leaned back in, and Darla knew she would give him anything he wanted. He put his arm around her and helped gently lower her until she was lying on the floor. He leaned over and let his body collide into hers, the two of them pressed tightly together as he kissed her again, this time letting his tongue slip into her mouth.

Darla felt tingly all over as Elvis’ tongue intertwined with her own, his hand tracing up and down her side and then softly caressing her breast. He finally pulled back and stared down at her with a blissful expression.

“Did ya like that, honey?”

“That felt real nice, Elvis. I’ve never, uh, I mean it felt real nice,” she repeated nervously, feeling embarrassed to admit her inexperience.

Elvis smiled and helped her up into the seat again. He held her hand and stroked the back of it as they both pretended to focus on the movie. Elvis took his hat off and set it on the seat next to him, running his hand through his hair, hoping it didn’t look a mess. He glanced over and saw that Darla’s chest was still heaving and she seemed to be clenching her legs together. He wondered how aroused she was. She seemed so sweetly nervous about it all. He let his hand creep up under her skirt, his fingertips dancing along her soft thigh.

“Elvis wh-what are ya doin?” she whispered, but she didn’t grab his hand to stop him. Instead she subconsciously spread her legs a little further apart, allowing him to walk his fingers all the way up to that spot that had been feeling funny and achy since she saw him walk in earlier.

“I ain’t gonna hurt ya Darla honey,” Elvis spoke in a hushed tone that sent a little shiver through her body. His fingers pressed gently against her privates, stroking softly up and down, but he kept them outside of her panties, which she now realized felt oddly damp. Her body felt like it might go up in flames and she released a soft moan as Elvis’ fingers moved slowly back down her thigh, leaving a little trail of wetness behind. “I jus’ wanted ta see if you’re as excited as I am.”

“Are ya excited too?” Darla asked, looking down at where she knew his excitement might show. The laces on his pants looked even tighter than before, like they were struggling to contain what was underneath. “I like those laces,” Darla murmured, unable to take her eyes off him.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that honey? What do they make ya think about?” Elvis smirked at the way Darla was blushing so deeply now.

“Makes me think about unlacin’ ‘em.” Darla moved her hand steadily up his leg, hoping he enjoyed it as much as she had when he touched her. “And lookin’ at what’s inside there.” She swallowed nervously and looked up in apprehension as her hand reached the thick bulge underneath the laces.

Elvis nodded reassuringly, although he looked a little nervous too. “Go ‘head baby. You can have a look.”

Darla pulled on the laces, loosening the waistband of his pants. She tugged it open and let out a small gasp when she saw he wasn’t even wearing any underwear. She stared down, frozen, unsure of what to do next now that she was face to face with his privates.

Elvis reached down and pulled his penis out of his pants, breathing a little sigh of relief. “Ah that’s better. Was gettin’ a little tight in there.” He smiled as Darla continued staring nervously. “Ya wanna touch it baby? He likes ta be touched.” Darla nodded. She could feel her panties getting even wetter as Elvis took her hand and wrapped it around himself. He felt so thick and warm. A quiet moan escaped him as he guided Darla to pump him up and down.

“I like ta see ya feel good,” Darla whispered, noting the way Elvis’ head had dropped back and his eyes closed. He looked relaxed except for the way his breathing was speeding up.

“Ya know what would feel even better baby?” Elvis had almost a pleading look in his eyes. “Could ya give him a little kiss?”

Darla’s eyes widened in surprise, but she couldn’t deny that the thought excited her. She leaned down over his lap and pressed her lips against the tip of his penis. She decided to kiss it how he’d been kissing her and slipped her tongue out of her mouth, letting it run all over him, all the way down to where his hair grew at the base. It felt good to have her mouth on him like that.

This time Elvis’ moan was louder. Almost too loud. “Okay, baby, we gotta stop or I’m gonna have a mess to clean up.” Darla leaned back in her seat as Elvis tucked himself back in and tied the laces of his pants. “We should go back down to our seats before the whole dang movie’s over.”

Darla nodded and rose from her seat, feeling a little funny about going back down to sit alone after all that just happened. She straightened her dress out before heading for the stairs. Once they got to the lobby, Elvis headed toward the bathroom. “I, uh, gotta take care of somethin’ real quick.”

“That’s okay, I should probably get home anyway.” Darla turned to leave the theater, but Elvis grabbed her real quick, pulling her into another tight hug.

“Darla, I hope I see ya again real soon. I feel less lonely when you’re around too.” He pressed a kiss to her lips and headed into the bathroom so he could take care of his issue.

Darla left the theater feeling a little better about it all. She didn’t think it was possible that she could be as special to Elvis as he was to her, but being able to make him feel so good put her on top of the world.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @lookingforrainbows @thatbanditqueen @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @arrolyn1114 @atleastpleasetelephone

[jobean12-blog]

His to Protect

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker AU)

Word Count: 1,776

Summary: It’s your best friend Jade’s birthday and she wants to go out dancing. Joel might not love the idea of dancing  but he loves you so he’ll go and when some rando guy gets handsy he’s there to protect you, just like he always is...even if he gets a little carried away (and slightly possessive)- but it’s all out love! 

Author’s Note: I just love the protective/possessive goodness and my lovely friend @pedritosdarling made this beautiful edit that you will see below the cut (surprise hehe) that totally gave me the right vibes. Thank you so much sweets! And thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Dividers by sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 💕

Warnings: lots of fun, flirty fluff, tension, Joel is protective and maybe a little caveman-ish but it’s all because of the love that’s there, he’s also a cheeky litte sh*t :) 

The edit below the cut is not mine, @pedritosdarling blessed us with it, thank you love! 🥰🥵

Joel Miller Masterlist

“Son of a bitch, I wish Joel were here already.”

You mutter the words as you make another reach for the zipper of your dress but your fingertips just graze it before it falls out of reach.

“UGH!”

Picking up your phone you start to type him a text to ask for his ETA but you hear a key in your door and stop, dropping the device to the bed.

“Sunshine?” he calls.

You round the corner of the hallway. “I’m right he…”

The moment your eyes meet his you stop dead in your tracks and blatantly sweep your gaze over the length of him.

“Too much?” he asks, fiddling with the open buttons of his shirt. “Should I lose the jacket? I have my leather one in the truck.”

You slowly walk over to him, resting your hand on his shoulder as you sashay around him to get a look from all angles.

“Don’t change,” you reply in a breathy tone.

When you return to face him his lips are quirked up in a smirk.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body along his as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“So I’m presentable?” he asks, his eyes sparkling.

“Mm hmm,” you reply, letting your tongue trace your lips.

He studies you for a brief moment. His hands encircling your waist and then sliding teasingly up your back.

“You’re not even dressed yet,” he simpers, toying with your open zipper then smoothing his hands over your bare skin. “And you look perfect.”

“My zipper is not cooperating,” you answer with a demure lift to your shoulder. “I need some help.”

Your fingers slip inside the open buttons of his shirt and you drag a nail over the dark ink that lines his chest then slide them lower, hitting the first closed button and fiddling with it until it pops open.

“Good thing I’m here then,” he murmurs as his hands move higher, tempting the thin straps of your dress.

One strap falls from your shoulder and he brushes his rough fingertips over your delicate skin, producing a wave of goosebumps in their wake and making you shiver in his arms.

The front of your dress becomes looser exposing the swell of your breasts and just a hint of the lace beneath.

“You’re supposed to be helping me get dressed,” you breathe out.

“Now where’s the fun in that…” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to your newly revealed skin.

His fingers move from your shoulder and lightly graze along your collarbone, tracing the outline before falling lower.

“I know but Joel…”

You feel him hard against your stomach as he pulls you closer. His lips ghost along your jaw until they meet the skin just below your ear. He presses a soft kiss there, his warm breath caressing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “it’s still early…we have plenty of time.”

As you continue to trace his tattoos you can feel his muscles flex beneath your touch and he suddenly captures your wrist, drawing your hand from his skin and kissing your palm.

“Just a taste,” he murmurs, his nose running along your jaw.

Your phone rings, the familiar song echoing loudly in the quiet but heated moment.

“That’s Jade,” you sigh, letting your face fall to his neck.

His grip tightens as you place a trail of kisses along his throat before reluctantly stepping out of his embrace and turning to walk back into your bedroom.

“You coming?” you ask over your shoulder. “I need you to zip me up.”

You giggle instantly as you hear your own words, dirty thoughts running through your mind.

“I was planning to make you come but I guess this phone call is more important,” he mumbles grumpily as he follows you.

You bite your lip and eye him tauntingly from your dresser as you pick up the phone.

After hanging up with Jade and assuring her you’ll be there shortly you step between Joel’s spread legs as he sits on the edge of your bed, leaning your hands on his muscular thighs.

His hands settle on your waist so he can turn you around. He traces the shape of your body as his hands move higher to the zipper of your dress. He takes the small piece of metal between his large and thick fingers, pressing his free hand just above your ass as he starts to drag it upward. He reaches the middle of your back and stops, bringing you closer so he can press his lips to your skin.

The tickle of his beard makes your gasp turn into a giggle and you squirm in his hold.

“Sorry darlin’,” he says softly but continues tracing the curve of your spine with his lips.

He stands slowly, nudging you forward so he can pull the zipper all the way up.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” he grumbles.

You spin to face him again and step back, wearing a playful smile.

His eyes slowly peruse you from head to toe. “Sometimes I wonder why I ever let you out of the house.”

Your mouth falls open and you press a hand to your chest, feigning shock. You start to admonish him but he stands and takes you in his arms, his mouth twitching with a triumphant smile before he kisses the words right off your lips.

“Do you see them?” you ask, searching the bar.

He grabs your hand and pulls you through the crowd to the back corner. Jade spots you and her whole face brightens in a smile. She rushes at you and envelops you in a big hug. You squeeze her right back and greet her boyfriend and your friend Dan.

After ordering some drinks you all fall into easy conversation. Joel is his usual quiet self but you can tell he’s relaxed and every so often he interjects with something witty that makes everyone laugh.

“Are you gonna dance with me?” you ask Joel when there’s a lull in the conversation.

He stares at you and grunts.

You roll your eyes with a huff.

“Was that supposed to be an answer?” you ask.

He raises a challenging brow but remains silent.

“Then Jade and I are going to go dance,” you announce.

Jade downs the rest of her drink and hops up excitedly, grabbing your hand and dragging you out to the dance floor.

You give Joel a twinkly wave before disappearing into the crowd.

The two of you work your way closer to the center of the floor, enjoying the music and moving your bodies to the beat. After a few upbeat songs, a slower more sensual melody starts to play and you feel someone grip your hips.

Before you can turn around the stranger pulls you closer and presses you against his chest. You jerk forward, completely uninterested and appalled at the audacity of whoever is touching you without even asking.

You turn on your heel and stick your finger in the man’s face.

“I don’t want to dance with you and maybe ask first!”

“Aw, come on honey, don’t be like that,” he drawls, a slight slur to his words. “You’ve been moving those hips so pretty.”

“Don’t be like what?” you answer harshly.

Before you can get away you feel a familiar presence and a deep, gravelly voice says simply, “enough.”

“What the fuck, man?” the stranger retorts with venom. “You trying to cockblock me?”

Joel takes a step in the strangers direction, the action causing the man to take a tentative step back.

“That’s my girl,” Joel growls. “Mine. So back the fuck off.”

The guy puffs up. “What, you want to start something?” he asks.

Joel’s eyes narrow and his body tenses but he instantly relaxes when he feels your gentle hand on his, coaxing him to relax the fist he already made.

“Joel…”

He looks at you, his eyes soft as he cups your cheek and kisses the corner of your mouth. He turns back to the guy and gives him a hard look, his expression filled with a dangerous promise that sets the asshole back a few more steps.

Once the guy is out of sight Joel escorts you back to the table, a protective hand at your lower back until you’re safely tucked away.

“Oh my god! Are you ok?” Jade asks as he rushes over, Dan hot on her heels.

“She’s fine,” Joel confirms.

“Of course you are,” Jade grins, her eyes floating from you to Joel and then back to you. “I’m going to get another drink. Want anything?”

You tell Jade your order and watch her and Dan head toward the bar.

Joel sits down, his long legs spread wide at the edge of the bench and pats his thigh.

“A gentleman would offer me his seat,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Sit,” he commands.

You purse your lips.

“Please,” he adds.

You do as he says and perch yourself over his thigh, squeezing your legs together when you feel the thick muscle flex under you.

“Happy now?” you ask when he leans in close and kisses your neck.

“I’d be happier with you over my knee,” he whisper against your skin. “But…”

“But we’re out in public and you’re acting like a cave man,” you finish.

“I still wanna knock the shitheads teeth out,” he grumbles as he moves his lips to your shoulder, carefully moving the strap of your dress out of the way so he can continue his trail of kisses.

“I’m pretty sure he knows I’m off limits,” you say as you turn your face to look at him.

“You’re mine.”

“You made that very clear,” you state.

His eyes widen slightly before he hangs his head with a sigh.

“I’m sorry darlin’,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean to get all…it’s just…”

You tuck your fingers under his chin, lifting his gaze then brushing your thumb across his lips.

“It’s just what?” you whisper.

“I know you can handle yourself. You’re perfectly capable.”

You nod, your smile growing.

“I just want to protect you.”

“I know,” you coo, peppering his face with kisses. “And you do. Always.”

“But” he simpers, his mouth lifting into a wicked grin as he takes your chin between his fingers.

“Another but,” you tease, but the lightness of the moment quickly transforms into one of anticipation and need when you see the look in his eyes.

“But I want to bend you over this table, fill you up, mark you inside and out so everyone knows you’re mine, darlin’.”

@sstan-hoe  @beccablogsthings​ @justkinsey​ @hiddles-rose​ @laineyreads​ @blackwidownat2814​ @lorilane33​ @littleseasiren​ 

[the-kr8tor]

OKAY I JUST WANNA SAY IM NOW BIBLICALLY OBSESSED W COWBOY HOBIE

AND NOW I NEED COWBOY HOBIE DOING THE HAT RULE WITH THE READER THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGTH

This prompt got me giggling and kicking my legs 😍😍😍 thank you, ly ❤️

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Cowboy AU, Western AU, CW drinking, CW suggestive, lovestruck Hobie, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Watching you attempt to square dance is like watching a chicken run without its head.

Hobie watches you with a smile hidden behind his glass, amber liquid sloshing inside. It's his first glass of the night and he's sure he won't be needing another one when he's already drunk off of you. On any day he would've finished the entire drink in less than a minute or two, but his eyes and lips have been occupied with watching and smiling at your plucky dancing.

The bar is incredibly crowded, smoke from cigars invading his nostrils, music blaring in his ears. And the dance floor is completely full but that doesn't stop you from twirling all over the polished wooden floors; giggling and smiling at your friend who's trying her best to keep you from smacking someone on the face with your wild limbs. Hobie blames all the sugar from the sweet tea you've been consuming.

He places his glass next to your guarded ones, his palm never left the rim of it, determined to keep you safe. Chuckling, you make your way back to him, sweat covering your forehead, breathing heavily from all the dancing. Despite all these, the giddy smile on your lips never left.

“I'm back!” You stop in front of him, all smiles and skin warm. The yellow overhead lights make your eyes sparkle, like a man dying of thirst, he can't help but drink all of you.

“I can see that.” Hobie casually pulls you in by your jean belt loops, knees knocking on his own. “Had fun?” he looks at you through his lashes, eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Mm-hmm!” You nod fervently, he stops your movements with his hand on your jaw before you make yourself dizzy. Your cheeks are incredibly warm. “Thank you for bringing me here, neighbor.”

He chuckles deeply, eyes never leaving yours. “Shit, we're still on those terms after everythin’ we've been through? Do I have to make myself clearer or does velvet need to push us together again?”

“Making the horse do all the work again.” You click your tongue without malice. He has no idea how but he grins wider. Holding to the lapels of his old leather jacket, you lean closer to his touch.

“Dance with me? Please?” You blink your pretty eyes for emphasis.

Hobie cranes his neck closer to your face, breath fanning across your lips. You close your eyes, waiting for the sweetest thing to graze your lips.

“Nah.”

You open your eyes to a smirking Hobie, he takes a sip of his drink, teasing eyes staring at your flustered face.

You scoff, blinking rapidly. “The nerve.”

“I told you I don't dance.”

“Is that so?” With a burst of confidence and adrenaline still coursing through you, your hand flies quickly to his hat, taking it off from his head to place it on your own. “Look at me I'm Hobie Brown and I don't dance. See? That's you. Ridiculous, I know you can dance.”

Hobie closes his eyes for a second before downing his entire drink in one gulp. With an exhale, he squeezes your hips. “You'll be the death of me, love.” he flicks the brim of his hat to see your eyes better. “You have no idea what you've done do you?”

You smile sweetly, leaning closer, taunting him. “What if I do know? What are you gonna do, cowboy?”

For the first time since you've known Hobie, he stutters. “H-home, I'll go home” he clears his throat, composure coming back to his senses. “Maybe you'll join me. Only if you want to.”

“After everything we've been through,” You copy his own words. “do you think I'd say no?”

Hobie smiles, coiling his finger around your belt loops, leading you out of the crowded bar. His hat is still on your head, holding on to his wrist, you let him guide you.

[satansapostle6]

The Man Who Sold The World | Luke Castellan

Spotify Playlist Link

Katherine. She was the one who started it all for Luke Castellan, the reason he did what he did.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Smut. Switch dynamic. Praise. Rough sex. Oral(both receiving). Slight choking. Overstimulation. Spitting. Blood. Minors DNI.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine: Coney Island Baby

After their return from Hades, Luke and Katherine slept for an entire two days. They were exhausted beyond understanding. It had taken Luke a while to readjust to mortal luxuries, like time and space.

Luke eventually woke one morning to sunlight pouring in through the window, a welcome improvement from their time in the Underworld. Katherine slept beside him in their shared bed, and all was well at the moment. He knew to relish in the present calmness, as it naturally wouldn’t last.

He was happy to wake up without anywhere they had to go, or a nightmare to recover from. Luke was pretty sure he’d had a nightmare some time in the first few hours of sleeping, but eventually, so much time had passed he’d since forgotten them. He laid in the hotel bed with his feet curled into his body as Katherine faced him, mirroring his body language.

“You okay?” she asked softly, a smile on her face for what felt like the first time in forever.

He nodded, genuinely able to mirror that smile. “Yeah. I’m okay. I feel a lot better.”

“Me too,” Katherine nodded. “I feel like the Underworld really fucked us up.”

“Yeah… I guess we have more to be haunted by than most people.”

“We should do something fun,” she sighed, “And not be miserable for once.”

“I think… that’s a really good idea,” Luke decided, his voice still deep from exhaustion. “I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“I wanna go to Coney Island,” she said slowly. “I’ve never been. I wanna know what Lou Reed was talking about.”

“Okay,” Luke agreed, not needing any further reasoning. “Coney Island it is.”

It felt great to the both of them waking up at 2 PM. As Luke finished his shower, towel still wrapped around his waist, he heard Katherine speaking, but couldn’t hear the words. Opening the bathroom door, he emerged with wet hair.

“What’s that?”

Standing coquettishly against the wall, in only an oversized shirt that he’d lent to her, she didn’t bother to hide the grin on her face as she spoke.

“What should I wear?” she asked.

This was a question Luke never expected from Katherine. He’d always felt that she was a very confident sort of person, the kind of person who just always woke up knowing exactly what they wanted to wear. If anything, he would’ve thought she’d tell him what to wear.

“…What do you want to wear?” he asked, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

“I don’t know. Something I wouldn’t usually wear,” she admitted. “Something you can’t find somewhere that sells fishing bait.”

“What do you like?” Luke asked, genuinely curious what she actually liked that wasn’t leather jackets or jeans.

“I don’t know,” Katherine admitted. “…Should I wear a skirt?”

“If you want to, yeah,” he nodded, kind of flustered. “That’d look nice.”

“Alright,” she shrugged, still looking at him even though the conversation had come to a conclusion.

Luke watched as her eyes slowly trailed downward, chuckling as he put his hands on his hips.

“What you looking at?” he asked.

“Your face,” she smiled innocently, crossing her arms as she met his gaze.

“That’s not my face.”

“Oops,” she shrugged, wandering off as he just shook his head.

Luke truthfully wasn’t really sure what was going on with Katherine, but he didn’t really question it. They were both having fun. He figured eventually, he’d figure out if she would be a friend, girlfriend, or something in between.

He decided to put on his nice brown leather jacket and a dash of cologne, putting in the effort that he felt someone like Katherine deserved.

“You ready?” he called, car keys in hand.

“Yeah,” she called, slowly coming out of the bathroom after putting on her makeup.

Luke had almost forgotten she was one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. She had the softest skin, the prettiest lips, and long, shiny hair. She was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, and what he could only describe as one of the shortest denim skirts he had ever seen, along with a pair of heeled leather boots.

He could smell her perfume, and it made him feel lightheaded with ecstasy.

“How do I look?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Like I’m gonna have to win you every stuffed animal they’ve got,” he said proudly.

He playfully threw his arm around her as they climbed into the Pontiac and headed for Coney Island.

“I’m gonna tell people you’re my boyfriend so they get scared you’re gonna beat the shit outta them,” Katherine said as she put on her lip gloss on the car.

“I’m gonna tell people you’re my girlfriend so they think I’m really cool,” Luke smiled.

For once, the voices in his mind were quiet. There was no screaming, and no pain or guilt. All he thought about was how much he really, really liked Katherine as they sang along to Smashing Pumpkins in the car. Wandering around Coney Island and going on the roller coasters with her was enough to make him forget about being anything more than a person.

For the first time in his life, Luke didn’t have to do anything. He wasn’t too busy saving the world to realize that his world might just be someone else.

As he watched Katherine genuinely laughing and smiling, he felt he didn’t deserve the chance to see it. It was so unusual to him, seeing her enjoying herself. It definitely felt strange that it was being with him that made her enjoy herself. But he loved every minute of it, whether it was exploring with her, or sitting next to her on rides, or standing behind her in lines so that she could live in peace.

“Oh, look. A basketball game,” Katherine pointed out.

“You wanna play?” he asked her.

“No, I wanna watch you play,” she grinned.

“Okay,” he sighed jokingly, “Which one do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

Luke examined the wall of various sizes of stuffed animals, trying to decide which one he liked the best. Eventually, he settled on a tiger, because in a strange way, Katherine reminded him of one. It didn’t take long for him to make enough baskets to win one. He’d gotten just about every single one, which Katherine admittedly found attractive in him as she picked at the pink cotton candy he’d decided to get for them.

Luke turned around with a goofy grin as he showed off the stuffed tiger he’d won for her. Laughing happily, Katherine excitedly jumped into his arms as he caught her instinctively, stunned and touched by the gesture. Luke gladly spun her around in a circle as he allowed her to wrap her legs around him, the two of them fitting in with the families around them surprisingly well.

Katherine pulled away as Luke held her in his arms, throwing her own arms around his neck as she went in for a big, romantic kiss in the middle of the boardwalk. In that moment, the one thought swimming around in Luke’s head was that he really had been to hell and back with this girl.

Neither of them were in any rush to pull away. The kiss ended very slowly as they separated, only to see one another’s smiles.

“I’d kill for you,” Katherine whispered, giggling as they seemed entirely wholesome to the people around them.

“I’d die for you,” Luke reminded her, setting her back down on the ground. “And. You deserve all the tigers in the world.”

She eagerly accepted the gift, taking the animal as she made it face him, playfully snapping her teeth in a joking bite as he admired her.

“Thank you. For today,” he told her.

“Why are you thanking me?” she asked.

“Because, you let me see you smile,” Luke stated simply.

“I’ll let you see it even more if we can ride the roller coaster again,” she incentivized.

“Again? I’m gonna throw up,” he groaned.

They had spent almost all of their waking hours at Coney Island before they decided to go. Luke certainly didn’t mind driving as he watched Katherine blissfully do nothing for once.

“So, what do you wanna do?” he asked her readily. “Today’s about you.”

“Wanna keep the fun going?” she asked, a mischievous grin on her face.

Luke raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Why? What’ve you got in mind?”

“Let’s find a dive bar,” she suggested, an array of ID’s in hand. “I’ll kick your ass at pool.”

“You’re on,” he accepted.

Playing pool with Katherine while they each had a beer at a dive bar would’ve been fun, if it weren’t for the men in the room. Luke wasn’t sure if it was how much he cared about Katherine, or how he felt he owed her for completing Ares’s ‘quest’, or just common decency, but he wanted to gouge out every wandering eye in the room.

It was all he could think about as they played and drank. He knew it was ridiculous, because Katherine could easily kill everyone in the room probably better and faster than he could, but he still wanted to ‘defend her honor’, or something. Perhaps he just wanted to murder anyone who looked at her the wrong way.

He knew she could sense it. She knew why he stood right behind her every time she leaned over the pool table to take her shot. But, what he didn’t know, was that she took pleasure in the way he would lightly brush up against her. The tension definitely made several hours go by pretty quickly.

“Hey, Katherine?” he said, wanting to be serious for a moment.

“Hmm?” she looked up.

“I, uh… I know we moved past it, but… I just wanted to apologize for the way I treated you that night. With Ares,” Luke reminded her. “I should’ve told you how grateful I was to you, for what you did.”

“You don’t have to,” she promised him, knowing it was bound to come up sooner or later. “I know.”

“Okay,” he nodded, feeling less guilty.

“Alright,” she smiled, taking his hand in hers as she squeezed it for reassurance.

“For the record,” Luke purred, leaning down and whispering softly in her ear. “I wish I could’ve killed them myself.”

She looked up at him in surprise, feeling as if Tartarus had changed him.

“You deserve that much,” he told her, lightly brushing a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she remarked.

“You want another drink?” he asked, cautiously glancing behind her at the man leering as he sat at the bar.

“Why don’t we go back?” she suggested.

“Sure. You go out to the car, I’ll just be a second,” Luke told her.

Katherine took the car keys from him and disappeared as Luke headed to the bar, crossing his arms as he approached the man who had been hungrily eyeing her for the past hour.

“Hey,” he said, his tone rather confrontational.

“Hey,” the man grinned in response, not perceiving a single reason as to why Luke could be angry with him. “Quite the hottie you got there. What an ass.”

Luke made a face, at both the comment and its unfortunate phrasing, watching as the man’s friend seemed to also think it was somehow cool. Not appreciating the lack of common decency, Luke heard a voice in the back of his head that just said ‘fuck it’. He snapped and pulled a folding knife from his pocket, holding it inches from the man’s face as he slammed it onto the bar.

Everyone around him stopped, not quite sure how they wanted to react to the situation yet. Luke calmly held the knife to the man’s face as both he and his friend panicked.

“Ah! What the fuck?!” the man hissed, his face smashed into the table.

“Yo, we don’t want any trouble!” his friend blurted out drunkenly.

“Talk about my girlfriend like that, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out,” Luke threatened, waiting for him cry.

Not having anything else to add, the man nodded quickly, begging Luke not to hurt him as he roughly shoved him, leaving the bar as everyone, including the bartender, just watched, fully aware that calling the police to that particular establishment would just be bad for business.

Luke eventually joined Katherine in the car, climbing into the driver’s seat as she looked at him calmly.

“You okay?” she asked coolly.

“More than,” he assured her, feeling as if he’d done his part. “Also, we can’t come back here.”

“Okay,” Katherine shrugged, fully aware of what must’ve happened.

Luke started the car angrily, starting to wish he’d followed through on his promise. She could definitely tell the mood he was in.

“I bet it was really hot,” she said finally, “Watching you make that guy squirm.”

Luke stopped, turning to look at her as he knew exactly what she wanted.

“That’s nothing. You should see me make you squirm.”

That was what did it. Never before had Luke ever seen two eighteen year-olds more determined to do anything. It was practically a race back to the hotel. Luke had to fight every urge to carry Katherine through the hotel lobby, elevator, and hallway. As soon as the door closed behind them and Luke’s jacket was thrown off, it was a free-for-all.

Katherine jumped into his arms, kissing him passionately as she felt his strong arms wrapped around her. He sighed heavily into the kiss, high on her scent as he set her back down on the ground.

“Are you sure?” Luke asked her, searching within her eyes.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything,” she promised him.

That was all he needed to know. They all but slammed into one another in a messy kiss, his tongue driving her insane. She helped him pull his shirt over his head, gasping lightly as she felt his cold hands underneath her skirt, kneading her skin, hard.

“I want your thong in between my teeth,” Luke said suddenly.

Katherine sighed. “I love ADHD sex.”

Her hands slowly ran all the way down his bare chest as he kissed her, still playfully groping at her ass.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” she teased.

“Neither do you,” he promised her.

He slid her skirt down her legs in one swift move, watching, aroused, as she got down on her knees to get his pants off. She patiently pulled down his briefs, her response to which could only be described as a greedy gasp.

“I don’t fucking deserve you,” he gasped, his hand slowly combing through her hair.

Grinning up at him, Katherine’s eyes darkened as she only opened her mouth, tongue just barely sticking out as she silently told him what to do.

“Oh fuck, I could die right now,” he groaned.

He slowly inserted himself into her mouth, gasping at the sensation. His pace gradually picked up as he held onto the back of her head, thrusting as fast as she wanted him to. She looked up at him coolly, eyes calm and serene as he fucked her face, thrusting so hard he was surprised she didn’t choke or cry at all. She didn’t even seem fazed; she was enjoying it wholeheartedly. Luke groaned, enjoying every second of it.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good…”

He hardly even felt the need to contain his excitement. But eventually, he couldn’t wait anymore. Pulling out of her mouth, Luke grabbed her by her face, pressing a hard, wet kiss to her lips as he forcefully pried her mouth open and spit in it roughly, gulping as she looked him in the eyes as she swallowed. He could’ve fallen in love right then and there.

“You’re so fucking nasty, I love it,” he said in a low drawl.

Katherine loved that he didn’t care if kissing her after she’d had his dick in her mouth was disgusting. She mounted him eagerly, chuckling as he impatiently started grinding against her as she peeled off her undergarments.

Before she could, Luke aggressively flipped her over, grinning in an animalistic fashion as he pinned her down, nipping at her neck as he made his way down her body.

“Fuck,” she gasped.

She pulled, hard, on his hair as his veiny hands pawed at her breasts, not sparing her the pain as he took each of her nipples between his teeth, encouraged by her pulling his hair. He whined hungrily as he moved downward, positioning himself between her legs as he dug his fingers into the soft skin on her thighs.

Luke hungrily bit down on her hip bone as she laughed maniacally. He bit down on her thong, slowly pulling it down with his teeth before taking it off.

“You’re a fucking goddess,” he moaned, burying his face in between her legs with greed as he just breathed her in for a moment. “I’d do anything for you. Fuck me, you’re so wet.”

Katherine sighed as he suddenly latched his mouth onto her clit, roughly massaging her hips as he strategically overstimulated her.

“Fuck!” she hissed, giving his hair a harsh tug as he moaned into her, tongue still lapping at her insides. “I’m gonna rip you apart!” she vowed in anger.

He pinned her down to the bed by her his, grunting crudely as he ate her out. He wouldn’t let anything interrupt him.

“Wrap your legs all the way around. Fuck my face. Let me make you come on my face,” he ordered impatiently, sighing into her as she sucked him into her.

He felt as if she were some sort of violent ocean that he couldn’t help but get sucked into. He flicked his tongue faster and faster, groaning as he felt her thighs shaking around him. His head was completely trapped, not that he even cared. He stayed out, attacking her with his tongue until he felt her finish. Even as she got even wetter, he didn’t stop, reveling in his accomplishments as she pulled on his hair.

He looked up at her, eyes wide and locked on her as she glared at him. When he was finished, he didn’t waste a second. Flipping her over and manhandling her like a rag doll, he made it so that they were both sitting up on the bed, as he slowly buried himself in her, as she still came, losing his mind.

He held her close to him by softly holding onto her throat, his big hand wrapped around her neck for balance. This was essentially his love language.

“Fuck, Luke! Holy shit!” she gasped, feeling how long it took for him to completely bottom out. “Luke…!”

“That’s it,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he lost himself in her, “Let everyone know my name… Please, Katherine, please,” he begged her.

She gasped as he picked up the pace, his cold hand on her neck somehow making her chest feel even hotter. He slammed into her harder and harder, making her groan as she impatiently pulled away from him, lying down as she pulled him down on top of her, kissing him hard.

“I wanna see the stupid fucking look on your face while you fuck me,” she hissed.

“Katherine!” he cried out, almost collapsing on top of her as he lovingly kissed all over her neck. “Fuck. You’re everything.”

“I’m gonna fucking destroy you,” she cooed mockingly as she shoved his face into her neck, her hands resting on his back.

“Go ahead,” he pleaded, “Make me yours. Fucking destroy me, just use me…!”

He moaned loudly as he penetrated, trying to control himself as felt her fingernails digging into his back. He nearly screamed like some sort of horror movie character as she clawed her fingers down his back so hard she started to draw blood.

Luke huffed excitedly as he thrusted in and out of her, completely burying his face in her chest.

“Shit!” he gasped. “Oh…”

He cried out, overstimulated as she scratched up and down his back. He knew there was blood dripping, but hardly even thought about it. He didn’t want to finish yet, but he also knew that he was enjoying being with her too much to really do anything about it.

“It’s okay baby,” she promised him, one hand playing with his hair. “Just come. Come for me,” she whispered.

“Tear me apart!” he hissed. “Fucking destroy me!”

He felt himself fuck like he never fucked before. He thrusted in and out of her so hard, she saw splotches of black as she dug her nails into his muscular back. She sighed as he kissed the side of her neck, refusing to stop worshipping her with affectionate little kisses. Just as he felt her getting so wet he knew she must’ve came again, he moaned softly as he braced himself.

“Luke,” she whispered, mouth agape as he kept going.

“Fuck, that’s so unfair, don’t say my name like that,” he whined.

Reaching a shared climax unlike anything either of them had ever felt before, he pulled out, coming all over her bare stomach with her nails still digging into his back. Panting hard, he collapsed on top of her, continuing his worshiping as he kissed all over her neck.

“Katherine, you’re so beautiful,” he gushed. “You’re a fucking goddess. I don’t deserve you. I love the way you hurt me,” he moaned, falling on top of her.

She appreciated the way he put his full weight on her, sighing in exhaustion as she worked her fingers through his hair. There was come and blood kind of everywhere, but to both of them, it seemed to feel right. That’s what they were together, just come and blood.

“I think I’m in paradise when I’m with you,” she murmured.

“I’d come in my pants if you told me you hated me,” Luke confessed, flipping over beside her to give her some room to breathe.

Sitting up, Katherine momentarily excused the come on her lower stomach as she looked at the old digital alarm clock on the bedside table.

“It’s 7:23,” she told him, her voice still breathy as she realized it was already light out.

“What time did we get in?” Luke asked in confusions staring up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know, 11:48?” she approximated.

“Shit,” he breathed, thinking hard. “Did we just fuck for seven hours?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I think so.”

Luke had forgotten that he was a demigod.

-

Chapter Ten

[jerzwriter]

Thanks to @liaromancewriter for sending this prompt for Ethan x Kaycee: "I love you, I swear I do, but we're not wearing matching costumes." I swear I wanted to have this done by Halloween, but things just didn't go as planned! lol

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Kaycee MacClennan (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 968 Summary: Halloween snuck up on Kaycee this year, but she still wants to make it memorable. But will her "secret" boyfriend comply?

A/N: Participating in @choicesmonthlychallengenov2024 - holidays

Everyone has a favorite holiday, and Kaycee’s was Halloween. Each year, she’d spend countless hours deciding upon and creating the perfect costume. But this year was different than most. Being a medical resident was chaotic and by the time she realized Halloween was upon them, she only had two days to put together a memorable costume. She was not happy.

Ethan wasn’t happy, either. After all, seeing his girlfriend upset brought him no pleasure, but he was able to find a silver lining in the dilemma. Even though their relationship was still a secret to most, he knew Kaycee would have still tried to wrangle him into a couple’s costume. But now, with only a couple days to spare, he was confident he found a reprieve. His fear of dressing up as Mickey and Minnie, Morticia and Gomez, or peanut butter and jelly was put to rest

His doorbell rang, and Ethan rushed to answer, finding a delighted Kaycee beaming from ear to ear. She kissed his cheek and buoyantly stepped into the foyer, her arms loaded down with shopping bags.

“You managed to do this much damage in just two hours?” Ethan asked, eyeing the bags.

“Mm-hmm,” she smirked. “You, of all people, should know that I always get what I want.”

“There’s no denying that,” he agreed, looping his arms around her waist. “Did you manage to put a costume together?”

“I did, but I had to go simple,” she sighed removing a pair of black spandex tights and red stiletto heels from a bag. “I’m going to be Sandy from Grease.”

“Really,” Ethan grinned, recalling the crush he had on that very character during his early teens. “You may have to model that costume for me in advance.”

“Why? So it ends up in tatters," she laughed. "No chance, Ramsey!”  

They were setting the table for dinner when Kaycee crushed Ethan’s hopes in another way. “Now, we have to work on your costume,” she grinned.

“My costume?” He froze in place. “I think we can skip that.”

“Oh, no, we're not!” she replied. “You need a costume, Ethan! Having fun will keep you youthful. And this year, you’re going to be Danny Zuko!”

“Danny Zuko?”

“Yeah, from Grease!”

“I’m aware he’s from Grease, Kaycee. But are you forgetting, only a handfull of people know we're dating. A couple's costume wouldn't be the best idea.”

“But that’s what makes it so cute,” she insisted. “We're not arriving at Donahue’s together, so it will look like a coincidence! Then, we'll have an adorable story later on once everyone knows."

He shook his head with a grimace. “Kaycee, I love you. I swear I do. But we are not wearing matching costumes.”

“Why not?” she pouted.

“Because in all my years in Boston, I have had one costume and one alone...a curmudgeonly, sarcastic physician. If I show up as anything else, it will be suspect.”  

Kaycee rolled her eyes. “You won’t dress up? Not even for me?”

“I think we just covered that,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, Dr. Crumudgeon! Have your way,” she sighed. “But I’m still going as Sandy.”

When Halloween arrived, Kaycee sauntered into Donahue’s, looking like the perfect 1950s bombshell. She twirled a lock of blonde hair around her finger as she scanned the room, expecting to see Ethan perched on his usual stool wearing his old grey cardigan as he nursed a Scotch.

But then, she saw him. He leaned against the bar, wearing a fitted pair of blue jeans, a classic white T, and a black leather jacket. The casual observer may not have recognized it as a costume at all, but Kaycee knew, and her heart began to flutter.

She rushed to his side, a small smirk lifting one corner of her mouth. “Danny Zuko, I presume?”

Ethan's eyes met hers, and a warm smile was shared between them. "Look, I wasn’t about to wear a T-Bird jacket or brush my hair into a pompadour. But this was simple enough, and I needed a new leather jacket, anyway.”

“Uh-huh,” Kaycee replied, her eyes sparkling. “Sure you did."

She didn’t thank him; she didn’t have to. Her face was radiating pure joy, and Ethan stared back with a stupid grin. Life was sure different with Dr. Kaycee MacClennan in his life, but it was different in a very good way.

Eventually, some of their coworkers noticed the matching costumes and rushed to surround them, eager to know if the rumors they had been hearing were true.

“I knew you two were a thing!” Nurse Sarah squealed. “A couple’s costume is the perfect way to announce you’re, well, a couple!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sarah,” Ethan said nonchalantly after putting down his Scotch. “I’m James Dean. I was just telling Kaycee I’ve never even seen Grease.”

“Never seen Grease!” Harper shot back. “When we were dating, you told me you had a huge crush on Olivia Newton-John after seeing her play Sandy.”

“Oh, is that so,” Kaycee teased. “Well, Ethan, I’m pretty sure James Dean was Danny Zuko’s inspiration anyway. So we could technically enter the couple’s costume contest if you want, that is."

“What’s the prize?” he asked.

Kaycee looked around to make sure no one was in earshot, then leaned over and whispered in his ear. “The prize is my costume scattered across your bedroom floor later this evening. I'm sure you'd be pleased.”

Ethan downed his drink in one gulp. “Then, by all means. Where do we go to sign up?"

"Follow me!" Kaycee grinned.

Harper and Sarah exchanged knowing looks as the two walked away.

“Do they really think they’re fooling anyone?” Sarah asked.

"Let them have their fun," Harper shrugged. “But if they think they're fooling us, then neither of them is as bright as we think."

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[saintbleeding]

Hii~

So i saw this on a tumblr post but is very jonmartin

"Jon and Martin are planning their wedding, they want to have their cat as ring bearer (is this how it's called?) But Martin doesn't know the name of the cat because they always call it different nicknames and jon just doesn't tell him and he don't want to admit that after all that years don't know.

Because jon didn't know either! he thinks that the cat is Martin's and he also is trying to figure out the name."

Martin’s not a cat person.

Honestly, he’s just not really an animal person. Like, in general.

The same isn’t true for Jon, of course. On, like, their second date, Jon—who, up until that point, had been all leather elbow patches on his stupid tweed jackets and “hmm, perhaps” and thoughtful squinting—got approached by a cat in the street, and pretty much melted on the spot.

Martin melted, too, but for slightly different reasons.

So it wasn't really a surprise when Jon moved in and Cat started turning up. Sure, it felt a little bit out of character for Jon not to excitedly announce that, one, he'd gotten a pet cat really recently, and, two, he was bringing it into Martin's place, which is a relatively humble little cottage, but Cat seems to free-roam most of the time, so it's not like she's encroaching on much of the space. And, anyway, it's not like Martin hates cats, so he doesn't mind. He just sort of thought Jon would have said something. But he didn't.

So.

You know.

There's a cat.

She's grown on Martin over time. In fact, it's usually him that wakes up with her purring and headbutting him at fuck-off o'clock in the morning, and Jon's not a heavy sleeper, so if she'd attacked him first, Martin would know.

But she's nice. Lovely little tufts of fur between her toes, and quite a deep meow for such a pretty lady. He'll call her Lady Catherine sometimes, and Jon's got the gall to pretend he doesn't think it's hilarious. Mind you, Jon's terms of endearment for her skew a bit more—pejorative, for lack of a better term? Like, Cat will take the opportunity when Jon is hunched over a stack of student essays at the dining table, and she'll leap onto his shoulders, and do that loaf thing, and Jon always says "unhand me, you infernal creature", or the few times she has bothered Jon in the middle of the night for pre-dawn breakfast service, he's grumbled "vile beast" even as he gets up to feed her.

Martin's tried telling him he shouldn't be encouraging her. But Jon just turns around and says "yes, I know, that's why I chastise her".

Martin stays impressed that someone so smart can be so stupid. Which he means affectionately, obviously. If he didn't, they wouldn't be getting married.

Which is great, by the way. It's great.

Does present some—unique problems, though.

Martin's got absolutely no bloody clue what her actual name is.

Which, you know, it's not like he's filling out adoption papers or anything, but at some point after some late-night banter it became part of the plan that Cat should be the ring-bearer at the wedding.

And he can't not know the name of a member of the party at his own wedding.

So he starts sleuthing.

"Hey," he says one evening, when GBBO is over and they're just sitting there with the telly on mute.

Jon looks up from his thorough inspection of Cat's beans, her paw gently clasped between his thumb and forefinger, and goes "Mm?"

"Been thinking."

Jon lifts one eyebrow. "Mm?"

"We could get her a proper little collar and everything."

Jon blinks a couple of times, then smiles. "Oh, for the wedding, you mean?" Martin nods. "Oh, yes, it could match your tie."

Okay, that's adorable, but also, unfortunately, not the point.

"Ooh, yeah," he says, then: "Oh! And, like, a little engraved name-tag. Really fancy."

Jon's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.

"Yes," he says, tone completely unreadable. "Silver or gold, do you think?"

Martin's suddenly wondering if it's a trap.

"Dunno," he says, turning his eyes back to the brightly-coloured advert on the screen. "What's her vibe, you think?"

In the corner of his eye he sees Jon's jaw working silently as he searches for something to say.

"I think your input should be taken into consideration," he says, lifting his chin as Cat stands, stretches, and headbutts him. "Since... you know."

Martin considers whether or not Jon's messing with him, because frankly, he very much does not know.

"Mmm. Well! Uh- I- I like gold. Would match our bands."

"True enough," Jon says. Cat leaps onto the back of the sofa, and they're both silent till she curls up there and falls back asleep.

Jon doesn't seem very eager to say anything else.

Bugger.

"So..." Martin says, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes. "Um... what's the spelling, again?"

Jon's blurry form sits up straighter, and when Martin puts his glasses back on he sees his mouth open in shock.

"Might I ask why you're asking me?" Jon says, which doesn't make any sense.

"W- um. Y- you know, you're the English teacher."

Jon inclines his head to the side, frowning. "Hmm," he goes. "W- I- I- yes, I—mm." He lowers himself back against the sofa again. "The usual way."

Martin sighs.

"Right," he says. "Okay."

The silence gets a bit fraught, then. When Martin stands up to take their mugs to the kitchen, he might be a tiny bit huffy. It's possible.

Jon follows him, and he stays huffy, because it's easier to keep up than neutrality when he's trying to hide that he's a bit annoyed and a bit embarrassed.

"Everything alright?" Jon says, leaning casually against the fridge as Martin puts way too much effort into scrubbing both mugs clean.

"Mm."

Several seconds pass.

"Could I say something?" Jon asks, a bit hesitantly.

If Martin had to guess, he'd put money on "you're a negligent idiot for not paying enough attention to know my cat's name and I hate you".

"Yeah."

Jon exhales audibly behind him, as though amused.

"With all due respect and affection, darling—" He pauses till Martin is finished aggressively rinsing the mugs. Martin still doesn't turn to face him, though, because he's a tiny bit scared of where this is going, honestly. "If you've forgotten how to spell your own cat's name, that's not, strictly speaking, my fault, is it?"

Martin turns around.

Several things occur to him at once.

First, Cat's a dirty freeloader who owes Martin like fourteen months of rent.

Second, it might, legitimately, have been a coincidence that she and Jon moved in around the same time.

Third, he can't remember a time he's heard Jon use any method of address on her except for creature, or beast, or the ones Martin uses himself.

Which means, fourth, Jon doesn't know her bloody name either.

Because she's not his cat.

Well.

"Okay," Martin says. "Let's assume I have forgotten. Couldn't you just—help me out—and spell it?"

"Martin," Jon says disparagingly with a frown.

"Jon," Martin says, trying really hard not to smirk.

Jon does that thing where his mouth starts in a flat line, but as his irritation grows, his nose scrunches up, and the line of his mouth slowly rises up his face until he exclaims inarticulately and throws his hands in the air in defeat.

"Fine!" he says. "Fine, okay, alright, fine. I—I don't—I don't know. I don't know! I meant to ask, but I felt negligent not having known when I moved in, and then, after a month or seven I couldn't very well come out and ask, could I? And then—good heavens, it's been more than a year, there was no subtle way to recover!"

Martin's not laughing at him.

But he is laughing.

Breathlessly, uncontrollably, doubling over—to the point where Jon actually crosses the few steps separating them in the tiny kitchen to place a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him upright with a concerned look on his face.

"Sorry," Martin manages eventually, wiping tears from his eyes. "Christ, sorry, I'm just—"

He takes a deep, measured breath.

"I've got to tell you something," he says sheepishly. Jon puts his hands on Martin's shoulders and looks into his face with the earnest sobriety that, even now, gives Martin butterflies.

"Anything," he says, still frowning intensely.

Martin averts his eyes. "She's not my cat either."

When Jon stops laughing, he spends the rest of the evening lecturing Cat in his Not Mad Just Disappointed voice ("identity fraud is an extremely serious matter, young lady, and you are terribly lucky you have such sweet little eyes, or I might be compelled to take legal action against you, please let go of my nose").

Oh, but they do end up getting her an engraved gold name-tag for the ceremony.

It says 'Lady Catherine (Beast)'.

[ylw-soldier]

He moved towards venya. not really saying anything as he stepped around the Soldier before lowering himself onto the grass beside him...though not without a twist. Unlike venya whos laying down, he tugged the edge of the others jacket underneath him, shielding himself from the disgusting damp earth. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, arms lazily slung over them

as much as he wants to take in the moment. He already has his Dr. Martens, 1461 Smooth Leather Oxford Shoes (in white) dirty from stepping on the grass and mud to even get here. and he wont risk getting his GG cotton faille jacket (in green. obviously) dirty as well...though it already has, considering hes wearing A SOLDIERS jacket. he shudders at the thought, wondering 'who knows where he even got this from

Mm. I suppose

he began, his tone carrying its usual detachment, but the facade faltered...his eyes, typically sharp and guarded, soften ever so slightly, their edges smoothed by something unspoken... something almost...at ease

there is something to what you are saying. The quiet... the solitude... I can see how it would appeal to someone like you...

He tilted his head up slightly, eyes skimming the stars above, though his posture made it unclear whether he was looking at them or through them.

But, to me? It is simply dots in the sky. Bright, yes....distant, untouchable, and... well, there.

He flicked a hand vaguely toward the vast expanse with a shrug seeming like he was trying too hard to sound unimpressed. There was a beat of silence before his gaze shifted to Venya briefly, a small crack peeked through the facade

...But I suppose there are worse ways to pass the time.

the man he rested his chin against his knees, his smirk faint, but barely visible in the dim light. Even without looking at the soldier again, there was a quiet understanding to his presence, a subtle acknowledgment that this moment, perhaps, wasn’t as meaningless as he pretended.

Ĝ̶̱̘̋̐̀̂̋̌̅̍̈̽̏̀͠͝i̶̛̭̖̱̠̣̜͙̲̱̣̅̀̓̑̑̈́̌́̚͘͝͠͝ͅo̶̢̱͌̆͆͌̀͋͝v̴̦͈̹͓̱͉̥̳̘̇̂͗͛á̵̢̛̩͓̯̬̰͓̰̠̟͒̀͌̽͆́͋͐͗̓̂͜n̴̼̬̮̅͛̍́̈́n̷̬̲̗̤̹̏̎͘̚ǐ̷̹̗̘̖̊̌̌̔́͆ and the other sat in silence. though there was none of the usual hate sort of tension between the two...no...it was simply just silence and pure calming bliss

@silent-grn-snake

*He splayed his arms out to his sides, took in a deep breath and sighed. He kept his eyes up at the sky, in fear that if he even glanced over at the Spy the steel-grey stare would make him just disappear, like an old myth he heard somewhere in the past.

He smiled a bit when the other sat down to join him. Despite all his reservations about his attire and reputation and such, he'd decided to have this moment; Giovanni he had decided to spend this time with him specifically.

Venya listened intently to every word, and waited until that comfortable silence had settled for a bit to speak his own.*

(Mmm-hmm. Worse ways.)

*He couldn't help but turn his head so he was looking at the Spy. If he were risking some imaginary danger in his brain with that, so be it.*

You know, it's kind of silly but... *Another deep breath, to collect his thoughts.*

...When I first learned to rocket jump, my aim was to reach the stars. Of course, not literally — they're too far away for that — but I wanted to be closer. To know them. To figure out how... how they do it, you know, how they can be so distant and yet be there in the first place.

I think one time when practicing I tried to take my camera with me, see if I could get a good shot of the — I think Orion's belt that time? —from up in the sky. Of course, it didn't turn out any good since I was moving but...

*He drew his knees up a bit, tapping his foot on the ground gently.*

It was fun trying, and it worked out in the long run anyway. For me, at least. Maybe not for you.

[kawaii-queen-kaiju]

Teenagers

Gotham City. What the hell was Mme. Bustier thinking?! Here she was thinking her PowerPoint had proved her- well, point,- but apparently not. So here she was staring at the plane that was gonna take her and her hellish class to their doom. Okay, maybe she was exaggerating, but with trigger-happy mental patients (literally!), no Miraculous Cure, and Lila of all people, this was bound to be a dumpster fire! 

"Ugh, come on, Dupain-Cheng. Are you gonna stand there all day or are you coming?"

Chloe. Her unlikely ally against Lila, the only person she hated more than Marinette herself. After the rest of the sheeple had migrated to Lila's side, Marinette found that the only people she had left standing beside her were Kagami, Luka, and- surprisingly- Chloe. Adrien was disappointingly neutral, but she didn't hold it against him. His upbringing had left him horribly socially stunted, and she was 90% sure Lila had some kind of unholy alliance with Gabriel, keeping Adrien in check.

"Yeah, I'm coming, don't get your panties in a twist."

"Dupain-Cheng!"

-

The hotel was fancy. Like, Grand Paris Hotel fancy. Stupid billionaires.

The rest of the class got paired up, two to a room, but Chloe managed to get hers changed to the penthouse suite, oh so graciously deigning to let Marinette stay with her.

"What am I supposed to do with two beds, Dupain-Cheng? Hmm? Besides, if I left you alone with the rest of the heathens, they'd tear you to shreds!"

Marinette thinks she enjoys the company after Sabrina flocked to Lila.

The itinerary has them set for resting the jet lag off that night, then touring the Gotham Wayne Enterprises office. Unfortunately, while Chloe is snoring away in the next room over, Marinette is lying awake worrying. Sure, she knew that no one was going to find the Miracle Box in her sewing box, magically locked, in her suitcase, with a padlock on it, stashed in the hotel provided safe, but she still felt paranoid having it out of her bedroom.

As a result, her night with little to no fitful sleep compounded on the jet lag, leaving her feeling like a literal zombie.

Wait, she's died before, so is she a zombie?!

Coffee. Her eyes zero in on the drink of the gods in Chloe's manicured hand.

"You are a goddess, Chloe, and I love you." She says, chugging the coffee down like a man in the middle of the desert. She completely missed the astonished look on Chloe's face.

"Alright class, I'm gonna do a quick headcount, then we'll head out." Mme. Mendeleiv said.

Despite the fact that Mm. Bustier wanted to go on the trip, she found out that she's pregnant and decided that the other teacher should go in her stead. Honestly, it was the only thing that salvaged the trip for Marinette. If Mme. Bustier were here, she'd have probably left her behind!

They quickly boarded the bus (dodging a foot stuck out by Alya. God, to think she almost confessed she was Ladybug to her!) and got on their way.

The W.E. office was, quite frankly, huge. Really! The only building that Marinette had seen that could hold a candle to the building, was the TVi studio back home. The lobby was equally as impressive. It was huge with marble floors and columns that probably cost more than her parents would make in their whole lives.

"Hi! Are you the French class?"

They were greeted by a woman who... honestly, looked out of place in the large pristine lobby. Her brown hair was long and curly, up in a ponytail, revealing shaved sides, and heavily pierced ears. Her rock t-shirt, cargo pants, and leather jacket clashing with the business casual the rest of the people bustling about were sporting.

Oh, wait. Was she saying something?

"-guest I.Ds, they'll let you access the elevators up to the fifth floor. Any questions?"

"Yes, one." Mme. Mendeleiv said. "I thought our tour guide was a young man, Richard Grayson?"

The woman's eye twitched (she tuned out her name, damn.).

"Yes, he was scheduled to lead the tour, but something... came up." She seemed awfully annoyed with this Richard. Hmm.

"Excuse me? Riley?" Lila piped up from the back. Ew. The woman's- Riley's- smile sharpened. "That's Mrs. Miller-Todd to you. Yes?" Lila flinched back, like her words physically hurt. That little- "W-Well, I was wondering why our passes only took us up to the fifth floor?"

"W-" Mrs. Miller-Todd (damn, that was a mouthful, is this how people feel about her name?), opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Alya. "Yeah! For your information, Lila's dating Damian Wayne!" 

Well, shoot. She might not have to deal with Lila for much longer. At Alya's exclamation, all the movement in the lobby stopped, every single person staring at Lila and Alya like they grew another head. Their tour guide raised an eyebrow looking amused, baffling Lila and the rest of her flock. "Really? I wasn't aware that he had even been to France, let alone gotten a girlfriend five years older than himself." Did... did that just happen? Did Lila just get called out in front of a bunch of people who seemed to not believe her?! "Pinch me." Marinette whispered. Unfortunately for her, Chloe heard her. She whipped around and pouted at her.

"Lila's not from France! She lived in Italy before; that's where she met him, and the Wayne's are very secretive, that's why you didn't hear about it! And five years isn't that much!" Alya stoutly defended Lila, reminding Marinette vaguely of a pomeranian.

The poor young woman covered her mouth with her hand, looking like she was contemplating running out the door and not looking back. "You know what?" She muttered, "Bruce is gonna have to actually pay me to get me to deal with this shit." Out loud though, she said; "O-kay, well, supposed girlfriends aside, the first five floors are the only ones open to visitors, the rest are various labs and offices for employees, nothing very interesting."

Marinette wanted to argue that the labs sounded very interesting, but like a good visiting student, said nothing.

They went up the elevators in two groups, up to the third floor. "The second floor is a food court, and you'll be stopping there for lunch and getting turned over to your teacher. Now this floor..."

The tour was actually pretty interesting. They got to see a few finished projects going up for sale, and an in-depth explanation of which department does what. They managed to get to the R&D department before Lila's Possi(trademark pending) caused more trouble. "So, is it true that you make Batman's gear? How about nuclear weapons?" Alya asked, whipping her phone out. Mrs. Miller-Todd sighed. "Mlle. Cesaire, I believe that in the form you signed allowing you on this trip, it said 'no recording devices of any kind'?"

Alya frowned, but put her phone away. "Good. That was your first warning, Mlle. Cesaire. If it happens again, I will have to confiscate it. As for your question, I'm afraid I can't answer it." Alya grinned, her hand twitched, obviously wanting to grab her phone, but refraining. "So you do!"

Mrs. Miller-Todd narrowed her eyes. "I did not say that. I mean, that I don't know. I'm not an employee at Wayne Enterprises."

Everyone's eyes blew wide. Not an employee? "But, if you're not an employee, then why are you giving the tour?" Mme Mendeleiv asked. Mrs. Miller-Todd sighed in annoyance. "I lost a bet." 

"Yeah, but who let you do this?" Alya demanded, placing herself in front of Lila, like the loyal guard dog she was. Mrs. Miller-Todd raised her eyebrow (it was starting to seem like her signature move at this point. Or maybe... someone else found her class as annoying as she and Chloe do?). "Bruce Wayne." 

Marinette could feel the panic in Lila from the back of the group, and watched the reporter in Alya sit up and beg. She whipped her phone out and started rattling off questions, asking about her relationships with Bruce Wayne. In a second though, her phone was taken from her hand, cutting her off. "I warned you, Mlle. Cesaire. You'll get it back at the end. Now, last time I checked, this was a tour of the building, not my personal life." She proceeded to turn on her heel and stalk off down the hallway, expecting the class to follow.

"I like her." Chloe said next to her ear. "Mmhmm." Marinette hummed back, agreeing whole heartedly.

Maybe Gotham wouldn't be a disaster after all.

~

Cross-posting from Ao3, attempting to lure followers here all because of a bit :)

[abiiors]

Begging for more Ross fluff 🙌

Absolutely! 💞💖

Warnings - There are mentions of alcohol in this one and some very slightly suggestive content

Ross x fem! reader

Drunken Nights

‘How much have you had to drink?’ 

You hold up two fingers, then three. The room spins and the sound ebbs and flows around you. You aren’t sure what the question was in the first place or why you’re holding up your fingers. So just to be safe, you hold up three more fingers on your other hand. 

‘Ah,’ he barely suppresses the smile on his lips and nods sagely, ‘I see…’

‘How much have you had to drink?’ you try to ask but it mostly comes out slurred anyway. 

‘Nothing,’ he replies, ‘I need to drive you home, remember?’

He takes a step forward and goes to wrap his arm around your waist but you push him away.

‘Noooo,’ you whine, ‘I have a boyfriend!’ 

He raises an eyebrow and stops in his tracks. There’s something so familiar about his face, about the way he’s trying to suppress his smile. 

‘And what’s his name?’ he asks. ‘He must be a very lucky guy indeed.’

You let the last comment slide and eye him from head to toe. 

‘His name is Ross and he has this really cute smile and just gorgeous dimples. Oh oh he’s also in a band and he was supposed to come pick me up…’ You ramble for a bit more and watch as his restraint slips and his face breaks into a breathtaking smile. 

A smile with just gorgeous dimples.

‘Ross!’ you shriek and throw yourself in his arms with barely any warning. Of course, he catches you effortlessly.

‘Good job, baby,’ he laughs in your hair, ‘should we go home?’

He holds your waist for support as you stumble and sway to the exit and then out of the door. He listens to your half-finished distracted stories and reacts at all the right moments. The night air is chilly against your skin and despite the alcohol blanket, you feel the goosebumps rising. It doesn’t take him long to notice them too and instantly he goes to take off his warm leather jacket. 

Wearing the jacket feels like being enveloped in a big cosy hug. It reaches mid-thigh for you and the sleeves extend a good few inches past your fingertip but the jacket smells exactly like him. Once he makes sure you’re no longer cold, he presses a kiss just above your brow and goes to unlock the passenger-side door. 

‘Come on,’ he coaxes and helps you get into the seat. Once he’s in the driver’s seat, he reaches across and clicks your seatbelt in place. 

‘Did you have fun, darling?’ he asks as he starts the car but the softness of the jacket and the warmth of the car is already lulling you to sleep.

‘So much fun…’ you mumble as your eyes close on their own.

***

The next memories you have are of him carrying you out of the car and into the house. How he managed to unlock the front door is beyond you. All you really remember is being surrounded by his scent and his warmth as he hums some song under his breath. 

You feel the soft bed under you and feel his hands trying to make you sit upright. 

‘Are we going to bed?’ you ask already stifling a yawn. This room spins just like the last and being lulled to sleep in his comforting arms sounds like an absolute dream. 

‘In a minute, okay?’ he runs a hand through your hair and then crouches down to undo the buckles of your heels. 

‘Mm-hmm,’ you nod obediently and watch him as he puts the shoes in one corner of the room. 

You watch as he grabs the emergency makeup wipes from your dresser and gently starts to wipe away the makeup on your face. He’s so focussed on it that he barely sees it coming when you place a sloppy kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

‘You’re my pretty boy, did I tell you that?’ you try to flirt terribly when he laughs. 

‘Your pretty boy, huh?’ he asks and wipes off the last of your lipstick. 

‘Mm-hmm,’ you reply confidently. 

‘Will you let me take you out of this dress?’ he asks and instantly realises his mistake when you start giggling like a ten-year-old. 

‘Buy me dinner first, at least!’ 

‘Not like that you pervert,’ he laughs, ‘I need to get you ready for bed. Or do you not want to sleep anymore?’

‘Whyyyy,’ you ask coyly, ‘you have other things on your mind?’

He doesn’t even dignify that with a response, instead he opens his wardrobe and gets one of his t-shirts out.

‘Arms up,’ he instructs and you let out an oooooh

‘You’re going to have a raging hangover tomorrow, you know that?’ he teases as he finally manages to get the dress off you and put you in his clean t-shirt. 

‘I’m not,’ you declare, ‘I’m invincible!’

‘We’ll see about that,’ he says as he fills a glass of water from the bedside table. ‘Drink this for me?’

‘And what will you give me for it?’ you wink—or at least, attempt to wink and he simply rolls his eyes. But you don’t miss the small smile that’s tugging at the corner of his lips. 

‘My darling, light of my life, will you pretty please drink this for me?’ he asks as he crouches down to your level. 

‘Only because you asked so nicely.’

***

Once the lights are off, he pulls you in his arms, plays with your hair till you feel your eyes getting heavy again. 

‘You’re my pretty girl, you know that?’ he asks and he almost sounds shy.

Your pretty girl huh?’ you mumble repeating his words back to him. 

‘Mm-hmm,’ he replies just as you had, ‘the absolute prettiest girl ever!’

[splatooshy]

@crossedsabers10s

making this up as i go along, gonna give myself 30 minutes to come up with something. prompt generator dot com or something gave me the prompts [friendship bracelets] + [miscommunication].

start: 10:51pm

end: 11:21pm.

rating: T

summary: speedwritten drabble of denzo + prompts (friendship bracelets + miscommunication). unedited, unfinished.

“…What are you doing?” Enzo asks amusedly, watching Damon try and creep up on him with all the subtlety of a baby horse wearing sleigh bells on its hooves.

The other vampire walks closer, casually—far too casually—and stops right in front of Enzo, who narrows his eyes and takes in his ex-cellmate’s appearance. He’s got his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, a glint in his eye that just oozes ‘DANGER’, and a wicked little smirk to tie the whole look together.

“…Nothing,” Damon sing-songs. “Just hangin’ with my BFF, that’s all.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s all?”

There’s a vigorous nod. “That’s all.”

Blue eyes gaze, unblinking.

Brown eyes gaze right back.

Five, ten minutes pass, neither vampire breaking from their impromptu (and unspoken) staring contest.

Blue eyes gaze even harder, and their attached person grabs Enzo’s hand. “Mine.”

“Yours,” Enzo agrees.

Damon smiles evilly at that admission, and Enzo wonders—not for the first time—whether his (ex) friend might be part-fae. It’s not outside the realm of possibility, from what he’s been taught about the supernatural world these days.

Something cold wraps around his wrist, quickly, silently —— until the sudden click! causes Enzo to break the staring contest so that he can glance down at his hand in confusion.

“Ha!” Damon giggles maniacally, practically vibrating out of his own skin, “I won!”

Enzo wiggles his hand inside the attached cuff. Which doesn’t look like any of the ones he’s ever seen; not even the official ones he’d accidentally nicked from the Sheriff — This one’s strange. A bit heavier. Not by much, not Augustine-level, but the difference is there. Maybe it’s a new thing, heavy handcuffs. “So you did,” he concedes, “but what does that have to do with handcuffing only one of my wrists?” Part of him wonders if he’s gonna get locked in the Salvatore’s creepy basement again. He hopes not. He hasn’t done anything wrong, right? Definitely not enough for Damon to be the one locking him up…right???

“I won,” Damon tells him, simple as that. “And you lost. Loser has to be handcuffed to the winner for a week.” Damon pulls his hand out of his jacket to click on the other end of the metal cuffs, so they’re sitting nicely around his own wrist, connected to the chain of Enzo’s own jail bracelet.

“Handcuffed. Right.” Surprisingly Safe For Work of Damon, actually. He’s not really sure what the whole staring contest thing had to do with it, though.

Then he grins at the British vampire. “Think of it like… a friendship bracelet.”

“A friendship bracelet?” Enzo echoes, and Damon nods emphatically. “Yeah,” he says, jiggling their conjoined hands, “a best friendship bracelet.”

Let the record show that Enzo definitely does not smile at this. At all. Because it’s terribly inconvenient and not in any realm cute.

“Why?”

The jiggling stops.

“Why?” Damon asks quietly, hurt seeping into every corner of the singular syllable. “Do you—was thi—Why wouldn’t I? You’re my best friend.” He says it so simply, so certainly, so honestly that Enzo wishes to believe him more than anything.

And part of him does.

But there’s another, bigger part of him that wants more than what Damon’s offering.

“Not that,” he retracts, “why the handcuffs?”

Damon brightens up a little, and so does Enzo’s traitorous heart. “Bonding activity. Spell wears off in a week, but if you hate this, we can probably get Bonnie to undo it before then.” He takes a deep breath. “I-I just… thought that maybe we could have some fun with it. Because…you’re moving out and all, ‘n I….” He scrunches up his face. “I don’t want you to!”

Enzo lets out a hopeful breath. “You don’t?”

“Of course not! That’s why I orchestrated this whole thing!”

A stupid inconvenience birthed from good intentions? That checks out. “You chained us together, with magical handcuffs… all because I’ve been thinking about finding my own place?”

Damon nods sullenly, then shrugs, pulling Enzo’s cuffed hand up with the action.

“Damon… you could’ve just told me.”

“You’ve been avoiding me. I just wanted to make sure you couldn’t leave.”

“And I wanted to make sure you couldn’t ask me to.”

11:22pm.

that… i’m quite proud of that. i’m typing this on my phone, so go me! yeehaw never gonna put myself through that again.

[ellsieee]

@respectthepetty's post about Chains of Heart's MiB got my sleuthing juices flowing. Now I just have to know how many different masked men are attacking/helping Ken. Is Tee Lue? Are they all the same person? Who else could it be?

Just who are these masked men?

Masked man #1. He microwaved a phone and blew up some dudes in a meat locker.

It's hard to make out the face because it's so dark and he's looking down.

Masked man #2. He helped fight off Fin(?) on the bridge and saved Ken from his first choking.

No clear shots and blurry. Again, it's hard to tell.

Masked man #3. He attacked Ken at the hotel and told him to go back to Taiwan.

Masked man #4. He saved Ken from Nok at the party.

Masked man #5. He tried to kill Ingpha with a tiny knife.

The Suspects:

The only clue we have are the eyes and eyebrows. It's hard to tell with the eyes making different expressions, but eyebrows don't lie.

1. Lue

Lue's eyebrows are pretty full and flat with a small rise in the fullest part. I think these are the eyebrows from all masked men except maybe #1 where I can't see the eyebrows.

However, would he really be MM #3? If it is Lue that means he runs out to ask Ken if he's ok right after beating him up. Is that his way of saying I love you, sorry for beating you up, but it's for your own good?

Lue being MM #4 makes even less sense. Wasn't Lue shot and knocked out maybe 5 minutes before #4 charged in to save Ken? When Lue meets Ken on the bridge in episode 6, Ken is limping, but Lue is totally fine, so maybe the shot was just a graze and Lue was just groggy and not knocked out from getting kicked in the face. But where did he get the ski mask and leather jacket from? Did he have a duffel bag stashed somewhere? 😅

2. Din

He also has full eyebrows, but with a bit more arch. A possibility for masked man #5, but if Lue is Din then it can't be Din.

3. DeeDee

I don't think it's DeeDee. The eyebrows and eyes don't feel similar to any of the masked men.

4. Inspector Don

A possibility for masked man #3? But I feel like #3's eyebrows are a but more manicured.

5. Payu

I think Payu's eyes are too round to be any of the masked guys.

6. Hin (just to be thorough)

Hmm.... could be... But I think his eyebrows have a bit more arch, similar to Din's.

Conclusions: I think Tee is Lue and all the masked men are actually just Lue. It doesn't make sense for some of the situations, but then again, does anything in this series make sense?