#i hope this extends to the fashion side and he gets to do some more modeling

[tyresdeg]

logansargeant i decided to join the givenchybeauty gentleman society because f1 is all about style and speed together 🤝

[amywritesthings]

dating on airplane mode. | part one.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.9k Summary: So you're dating your neighbor who also happens to be a sex hotline dom named Levi Ackerman. Stranger things have happened, right?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), slow burn, eventual smut, sex work, neighbors au, newly established relationship, dual pov, the direct sequel to Press Four For More Options Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics submitted for @levievent 's #levimonth24 / day 22: neighbors

part two. | masterlist

“I'm seeing someone.”

Tea goes flying — metaphorically and physically.

When he confessed a new (and very unexpected) development in his (borderline nonexistent) dating life, Levi hadn’t anticipated Hange Zoe turning directly towards Erwin Smith to unleash a devastating spit-take attack to the face.

It’s a direct hit.

Erwin heroically takes the brunt of the damage, so at least his furniture is spared.

(Levi didn’t need to spend the rest of the afternoon scrubbing down the already scrubbed-down living room.)

Hange’s shout is shrill, the realization hitting them like a full-throttle freight train.

“You’re what?”

“He said he’s seeing someone,” Erwin answers in monotone before Levi can even try. 

The tall blonde extends a hand to leisurely grab the napkin cradling the bottom of his tea saucer. In true Erwin fashion, he doesn’t even blink at Hange’s dramatics — or their consequences unto him.

He raises the napkin to blot the side of his face sprinkled with a mixture of freshly-brewed lavender tea and Hange’s saliva.

(Then again, Hange could abruptly bang pots and pans in the middle of the night and Erwin would merely call it a minor inconvenience to his sleep routine.)

“No, no, I heard what he said,” Hange recovers with a crack to their voice, “but I can’t tell if he’s messing with us.”

“I’m not,” Levi flatly states.

“Okay, but how do we know?”

“Hange—”

Except it’s Erwin intercepting once more. “Because he would never pretend to have a significant other when one of his closest friends happens to be you.”

Hange squints, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose.

“Why? ‘Cause I joked that I’d stalk him the next time he finally found a date? That was one time, Erwin.”

Erwin rolls his neck to the right, offering Hange a pair of thick, disbelieving eyebrows.

“Technically speaking, Zoe, you threatened to stalk either of us if you caught even a sniff that we could be in the midst of a romantic pursuit. Plus, we’re well aware of the disguise kit collecting dust in the trunk of Moblit’s car.”

An instant shit-eating grin passes across their lips.

“Ha. Fair.”

If Levi’s eyeballs could roll any further into the back of his skull, they’d get stuck.

“However,” Erwin adds, those bold blue eyes flickering back towards Levi, “it doesn’t explain why we were in the dark until now. At the very least, we should hope you would feel safe enough to confide in us about someone you are serious about dating.”

Yeah. 

Out of his two friends sitting across from him, Levi figured Erwin would be the most suspicious of the surprise announcement.

Now that it’s been a few days since That Fateful Night, he doesn’t feel as self-conscious to confess his new reality.

It was as good of a time as any to rip the proverbial band-aid off.

(Besides, it was only a matter of mistakes before his friends learned the truth for themselves.)

Hange, Erwin, Moblit — they’re his only remaining connections tying him to this city. The others from his gym days have all found offers in other towns, returned to their old homes—

Moved on.

Meeting Erwin Smith in boot camp changed the trajectory of his life, for better or worse. 

Levi had known the man longer than he knew anyone else — but only by a few days and some change, considering he was destined (Hange’s words, not his) to meet the hyper scientist and their subdued partner, Moblit, in the army as well.

Then, as if attached to the hip, all four of them agreed to work at Erwin’s gym.

When that fell through, Erwin found the Scout Services Hotline.

.

.

— —

.

.

    The announcement came to him one summer evening with a printed job description and a six pack of beer.

Levi assumed Erwin’s confession on taking a sex hotline job had been one weird, shitty joke.

Picturing stoic, pragmatic Erwin Smith telling people how to fuck themselves in their bedrooms late at night for the almighty dollar felt obscene. 

Hell, it was obscene.

Levi didn’t want to consider his oldest friend in such a compromising position, but there it was laid before him without shame or fear of judgment.

Becoming a part-time sex worker for Erwin was as noncommittal as taking up a fleeting niche interest — like exotic bird watching or crocheting sweaters for fucking cats.

“At the gym, we improved upon people’s lives,” Erwin had told him while sipping his beer, staring out to the city sightline from Levi’s balcony. “Who has the authority to say this job isn’t doing something similar to those who may be lonely?”

“You would make yapping on a damn sex hotline prophetic,” Levi scoffed in return. “Selling some shitty porn script a dozen times a night sounds like the closest you could get to Hell.”

“I disagree,” Erwin argued without heat. “When I interviewed, they stated every employee is given the ability to do as they please. To show their strengths and make it their own.”

“Bullshit.”

“It isn’t.” 

Erwin rested the beer bottle on the knee of his trousers. 

“Flexible work hours give me the ability to find another place the gym can call home. The pay would certainly cover any initial costs after several years.”

“Several years?”

Levi frowned, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Erwin… c’mon. Just take a second to listen to yourself.”

“I’m only offering a chance for you to do the same. You may not be fond of people, Levi, but you’re loyal to a stubborn fault.”

Erwin gave him a sidelong glance.

“I know you won’t put in applications to go to any other gym.”

“Tch.”

A dismissive sound was all he could muster at the time.

He always hated how Erwin could open the cavity of his chest and put his damn bleeding heart on display.

“Who says I haven’t been window shopping to pass the damn unemployment time?”

“I wish you would,” Erwin replied with a heavy sigh. “Your skills are better when in use, not lying waste with the rest of us.”

“Hange and Moblit’re doing just fine.”

Hange, a self-proclaimed babbler, returned to Paradis University to make headway on some fascinating research projects side by side with Moblit. 

It was where they belonged, really.

“Fine, then lying waste with me.”

After a beat, Erwin slid his hand across the space between their chairs and held out a slip of paper.

"Look it over. Really sit down and think about what you did for our fighters and see where I’m coming from. You have a knack for leading. Of making people believe in themselves at their lowest."

He made it a point to stop. Stare.

Levi bit his tongue, meeting his friend's stern gaze.

"Conventional or not, you would still be helping people. Even if it’s a job for a month, at least you’ll be putting a hell of a lot of money in your pocket. It's better than waiting for my signal to move on.”

.

.

— —

.

.

    The bastard was always great at a rousing speech.

That night was the night Levi plugged in the damn website and read the job description.

By morning, he had submitted his application for a part-time hotline employee that included an .mp3 file auditioning his voice.

Erwin must have told his boss that he had a life-long friend possibly interested in the position, because by that night?

Levi Ackerman had a job.

A night turned into a month.

A month turned into six. 

Six to a year.

Suddenly denying begging, pleading people from their chased orgasms became as second nature as completing an Excel sheet.

Yet nothing else changed.

Levi still kept to himself.

Considering the friend group worked odd hours — Erwin with his own clientele, Moblit working towards his Masters, and Hange testing the scientific project of the week at the same university when unsupervised — it was easy to.

Wake up. Work out. Eat. Run errands. Clock in for work. Clock out. Eat. Sleep. 

Repeat.

Routine.

Hell, a lot of his life worked like a well-oiled machine until you showed up.

Now his world is slightly spinning off-axis, and he knows:

Without talking to his friends about his (uncharacteristically selfish and) impulsive decision, everything could very well go up in flames.

(Because when it comes to sticking matters of the heart and Levi Ackerman in one room, the former never walks out.)

After a pregnant pause in this three-way stand-off, Hange leans in, pressing both hands onto the tops of their thighs. 

“So when you say you’re seeing someone, you mean like… romantically?”

“As opposed to what?” Levi flatly asks.

“Well, seeing someone could mean anything, especially for you,” Hange reasons. Levi’s eyes narrow when Erwin gives that short huff of air through his nose like he’s stifling a laugh. “You could be seeing someone about finally fixing your dryer.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m just saying, romantically isn’t the first idea that comes to mind!”

“I have to agree with Zoe,” Erwin finally states, shifting his blue eyes to Levi’s. “You never mentioned that you had met someone in our group chat, and you haven’t made any changes in your schedule that suggest otherwise.”

Levi can’t help but scoff.

“Oh, so now you’re following Hange’s goddamn Google calendar?”

That fucking calendar.

The ‘we’re so busy but we can’t lose touch just because the gym went under’ calendar hastily made at two in the morning and sent with a declaration of war if no one accepted the invite.

All four of them did.

(Then again, Moblit didn’t have much of a choice.)

“I check on occasion,” is Erwin’s short rebuttal, before sitting up straighter. “But the former argument stands: you didn’t tell us that you were dabbling in the dating scene.”

“Wouldn’t really call it dabbling, Erwin,” Levi huffs, picking up his tea cup by clawing the rim of the ceramic. “Shit just kind of happened.”

“Uh-uh,” Hange interrupts. “We’re not playing coy right now, Levi. I want details: name, height—”

“Occupation,” Erwin agrees.

“Where they’re from.”

“If they have siblings.”

“Do they live near here?”

“If they’re allergic to cats.”

An involuntary grimace passes over Levi’s face.

“Ooh! We also need to know if they like tennis,” Hange adds excitedly. “Don’t trust someone who likes tennis, spectator or player. They’re always too put together with an underlying layer of batshit crazy.”

Erwin halts mid-sip of his tea. 

“...I like tennis.”

Hange’s thumb and middle finger sharply snap. “Exactly.”

Enough.

Levi hastily pushes his black fringe out of his eyes with his free hand. “I— No, Jesus, can we stop speculating about her?”

“Why?” Erwin challenges.

“Because I told you what you needed to know,” Levi challenges without tripping over his words. “And I’d prefer to keep the rest of myself.”

“Ah, her.”

When he turns his attention to Hange, there’s a wicked glimmer in their eye.

Well, fuck him.

Too much has already been said.

Hange whistles low. 

“So how recently was this fair maiden introduced into thy friend’s life?”

“Don’t start talking like a freak, Four Eyes,” he warns them while they suppress a cackle between pressed lips. “And — fuck, fine. If no one is going to let it go—”

“We aren’t.”'

Erwin interrupts, making it two against one.

With a set glare at his blonde friend, the smaller man sinks further into his chair and sighs with reluctant resolve. 

“I… met her a few days ago. It...”

Trailing off, he sets his tea cup down to rub at his temples with one hand.

This is going to bring on a headache. 

He really doesn’t need it on a work night.

“You’re both going to have an opinion on the how, and trust me, so do I.”

Hange’s face screws up in confusion, but he sees it out of the corner of his eye.

Erwin grows still. Contemplative.

Yeah, he knew this was going to go terribly.

“Huh?” Hange whips their ponytail back and forth to look between both men, smacking themself on the sides of their face. “Why wouldn’t we approve of how? Is it one of the old fighters?”

Levi scoffs, dropping to sit back in his chair. “I’d rather choke.”

“Then I’m not following. You don’t even talk to cashiers at the grocery store.”

“When did she call the hotline?” Erwin asks, cutting straight through the bush instead of beating around it.

His stare is almost indiscernible. Stern.

(Protective.)

The lightbulb clicks. Hange finally settles their attention on him. 

“Whoa — wait, she’s a…”

“Former client,” Levi confesses after Hange trails off. “Emphasis on the former part.”

The room grows silent.

Levi doesn’t have the capacity to see Hange’s true reaction, because he’s keeping eye contact with Erwin.

Their own telepathic argument bounces back and forth like that very proverbial tennis ball Hange had so teasingly laid down.

The ethics of it all;

The logistics of what it could mean for the future;

The gravity of this choice and knowing its weight is crushing him.

Erwin’s gaze softens a fraction.

Levi’s shoulders relax, if only a little.

“And how did that opportunity come to pass?” the taller blonde finally asks, but it isn’t as harsh as Levi anticipated. 

Hell, it’s curious.

Willing — to not judge; to hear him out.

“Accidentally stumbled into her at the bar down the street,” Levi confesses.

Stumbled is an understatement.

.

.

— —

.

.

    “So then — what does this mean?”

He doesn’t know.

God, he has no fucking clue.

Just like he had no fucking clue you’d be at this bar tonight; that you not only lived in the area, but in the same goddamn building just a few floors south.

You were meant to be a fluke thing.

A moment of weakness.

An anomaly he could solve like every other problem in his life, one he could reason to death and move on from once you realized that this hotline is a slippery slope to financial debt.

At the end of the day, it wasn’t meant to be real.

The calls, the laughter, the exchange of stories felt real, but that’s the selling point.

Imagining idealism.

He could send as many discounted invoices as he could to management to ease the cost of your calls, but there was only so much he could do from his position.

Still—

That being said, he wanted this.

For the first time in a long time, he wanted something.

Ever since Erwin’s gym went under and the staff were forced to find something else in the interim, Levi Ackerman turned off his emotions. His passion.

Money was tight. 

Bills were bills. 

But there are worse things to do than apply to a remote-working sex hotline with the promise of flexible hours, medical insurance, and the opportunity to get away from people for a while.

Maybe he hadn’t realized he was simply going through the motions of buying a morning tea at the coffee shop down the street. 

Maybe he hadn’t noticed that his drive to push himself to the brink of exhaustion at the gym all but disappeared.

Maybe he existed to simply exist.

Then you called.

Petra had pinged him to let him know that there was someone looking for a deep voice — not surprising — with a tendency to overtalk and overthink.

Easy.

Those types always cave the second you call them a pet name or sprinkle a little praise.

Yet you burst into his life like a damn firework to the face and he’s never recovered since.

Being nervous is a staple on these calls. He’s heard every justification in the book just as he’s witnessed people use the hotline like they’re robots.

You wanted to talk.

Petra doesn’t send people to him if they want to talk.

(Did she know, somehow, that he needed this?)

Conspiracies aside, the last two weeks became some of the best of his life.

Now you knew his face, and he knew yours.

And Christ, you were beautiful. 

Your voice was one thing — like a soothing balm to his insomnia — but your face nearly took him right the hell out.

Even in the mirror backsplash of the bar, he couldn’t stop staring. Didn’t want to, not when he finally saw what he wanted right in the palm of his hand.

So he was honest.

Honest about his life, his job, his black hole of an existence — maybe to scare you away so you’d choose better than a guy like him.

That he was the first to break the rules.

That he was sorry, because you weren’t looking for more baggage after a shit breakup with a shithead of a guy.

You didn’t care.

So he decided to rip a page out of his goddamn advice book:

Be selfish.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

Autopilot.

Everything is on autopilot when he picks up that damn pen and starts to scribble on a napkin, allowing his nervous system to suckerpunch his logic right out the damn window.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow—”

Bail.

Bail, bail, bail, before you make a damn fool of yourself, Levi Ackerman.

He doesn’t.

He straightens his spine, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand. 

The heat of it almost makes his stomach clench.

If he were bolder, then maybe he’d steal you away from your friends. Keep asking questions to make you talk more. Watch as your eyes light up about your favorite things—

He can’t. Won’t.

You’re with your friends. He’s already taken enough time away from them for you.

“—give me a call.”

Maybe he’s chickenshit for running, but at least there’s a part of him brave enough to leave him his personal cell number in the palm of your hand.

Before you can say anything, he drops some money on the counter to pay for both drinks and a tip and leaves to walk home.

To contemplate.

(Assuming you likely won’t call. He wouldn’t blame you.)

The night air leaves a sobering sting on his cheeks as he steps outside.

It’s considerably quieter than the cramped space of the bar, but cabs bustle in the street.

His pocket vibrates not once but twice.

(So not a text.)

Fishing his phone out, Levi squints at the ‘Unknown Caller’ ID staring up at him.

He swipes right to accept said call, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

His heart falls out of his ass.

Whipping back around to the tinted windows of the bar, Levi can’t help but look for that now-familiar face.

You’re blocked by an endless sea of conversations and bodies, but he still searches.

“My schedule just opened up,” you tell him from the other side of the line, your voice airy like you hold a secret. “I know it’s a little late for some coffee, but — are you free for some tea now?”

Shit.

Maybe he should be giving the headset for the hotline over to you.

“Depends,” Levi exhales. “Any shop worth a damn is closed at this hour.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

He liked it when you cursed. 

Hell, he liked it when you weren’t afraid to be yourself around him the most.

“There’s a pop-up shop about six floors above yours,” Levi reasons with a shrug he assumes you can’t see; autopilot, “if you don’t mind walking a neighbor home.”

.

.

— —

.

.

    “You said that?”

Hange, now at the brink of teetering off of their chair, gawks.

Levi blinks twice, realizing he’s given more of the story than he wanted to.

That they know it’s serious — dead fucking serious for him, actually — and that you’re his neighbor.

Yeah, he didn’t believe it either until you said yes.

“What?” Levi asks. “Something wrong?”

“No, that was just fucking smooth, dude,” Hange whistles low, impressed. “Pop-a-button-and-open-a-window kinda smooth. Holy shit.” They thumb towards Erwin. “You teach him to talk like that!?”

“Self-taught, I’m afraid,” Erwin hums. “Can’t take the credit.”

Hange flops back into their chair unceremoniously. “Jeeeez.”

“Six floors down, then?”

There’s a rare tint of pride in Erwin’s tone, like there’s a joke somewhere in that question he isn’t saying. 

Levi immediately narrows his eyes.

“Yeah. She’s been my fuckin’ neighbor all this time, if you can believe that.”

He sure as hell can’t. The fact that you’re six floors away — have been — has kept him up at night.

He could run down there right now and show you off to his friends.

He could leave you home-cooked meals if you’re running behind at your office job.

He could do a lot of things, but—

“Is she requesting you to end your time at Scout Services?” Erwin asks, interrupting his trailing thoughts.

Levi’s stormy eyes meet a contemplative, oceanic stare.

“...no.”

A beat passes.

Despite his trepidation, he explains himself.

“She’s not asking me to quit it. Says she gets it, a job’s a job, but I don’t know how true that’ll be in the long run.”

“And you believe her?”

He knows Erwin’s skepticism isn’t unfounded, but it sets a fire in his belly.

Questioning you, the newfound gravity keeping him grounded on planet earth.

(You're just a stranger to him, too, at the end of the day, but you don't feel like one. Not really.)

“I can’t expect anyone to stay neutral about what the fuck it is we do, Erwin," he reasons diplomatically. "I can say everything on my mind and put it on paper, but I’m sure the doubt will still creep in. Everything’s too new to tell. It won’t be easy, but it…”

He sighs, running his hand once more through his straight-and-narrow black hair. 

“I just need you two dumbasses to keep me in check. I can’t—”

Hange frowns, and he hates the sympathetic tone they take when they say his name. 

“Levi—”

“Four Eyes,” Levi interrupts stronger yet weaker in resolve, effectively shutting down their protest, “I can’t fuck this up. So don’t let me.”

The air grows thick, like winding vines corrupting the foundation of a tree.

Levi glances between the two of them, nostrils flaring with unspoken difficulty.

Erwin is the first to nod. Wordlessly, but he does.

Hange sighs with conclusion not a second after and nods, too.

“Am I at least allowed to ask one thing?” they chirp, holding out one slender finger to the sky. “Just one teeny, tiny thing — yes or no.”

A part of him really wants to say no.

A part of him really wants to say this conversation is over before he gives them anymore concrete information about you as he navigates these uncharted waters of being a not-so-normal boyfriend to a very-normal-ass person.

He fights.

Fails.

“...fine,” he grumbles. “The fuck’s the question?”

Hange perks up, all too smug.

“Did the pop-up shop six floors up line work?”

The memory blossoms in the back of his skull.

His body warms as if trapped under an electric blanket, heat setting cranked a little too high. 

Instinctively his eyes flicker to the front door of his apartment.

Like you’ll burst in at any moment with your work bags and stress and the hope that he’ll have the same soothing balm you’ve gifted him, hands at the ready to fix your problems for you.

He hasn’t wanted much.

He’s never wanted much, but—

Shit, if he doesn’t want to be good to you.

“...something like that.”

.

Author's Note:

AHHHH HI EVERYONE! WE'RE AT IT AGAIN WITH MODERN!LEVI SHENANIGANS! How are we feeling to be back?

I seriously cannot believe we're here. I've never done a sequel before, but the demand was overwhelming and I couldn't help but agree: we could do with learning what happens after the final call.

And we will, in this seven (maybe more?) part series. I had to actually break up part one because it got way too large of a chapter, so I promise we'll be picking up right where we left off in P4 -- like, quite literally That Fateful Night in part two.

[edenavari]

On the Matter of Mirrors

Eddie is still trying to convince Steve he and Nancy are made for each other. It comes up, like, everytime they hang out, which is all the time, because Steve couldn’t stay away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he also wishes Eddie would quit trying to set him up with someone else. 

‘Cause, like, here’s the thing. Steve likes girls. He also, he realized sometime after Robin came out to him, quite likes boys. He likes Eddie. Like… Really likes him. Practices pick-up lines in front of the mirror kind of like. Wears a little more black and tousles his hair just right to give himself a subversive edge he never used to have, just the right amount to trigger a subconscious response without appearing to be tweaking his fashion sense at all. Has mastered the art of wearing eyeliner without looking like he’s wearing it, and it took him a fucking while to work up the nerve to go out like that, not that anyone but Robin noticed. 

But Eddie just will not drop the Nancy case, no matter how many times Steve tries to stir the conversation away from her, and between his budding crush and the crushing fear that it’s never gonna be anything but one-sided, between the slightest of sore spots Steve still sports about the way things with Nancy ended in the first place and the bitter edge of never managing for something to start with Eddie after weeks of efforts, it’s beginning to grate, right? 

“So what’s the problem?” Eddie insists, bounding circles around Steve like an eager puppy, and something in Steve’s ribcage snaps. 

They’re in Steve’s room studying when it comes up once a-fucking-gain. Eddie is taking accelerated summer classes so he can finally graduate by September, and by some inexplicable fuckery of fate, despite Steve’s own dirt poor records, he’s turning out to be a decent tutor. Something about Eddie managing to focus in a way a classroom environment never allowed him to. Maybe because most teachers and over half the student body were openly hostile at worst and aggressively ignoring Eddie at best, all because of his last name or his tattoos or his loud brassy cheek.

All the same, Eddie does get distracted fairly easily, and an hour in, he’s bounced off the bed and started rattling reasons Nancy Wheeler is definitely Steve Harrington’s soulmate. Steve groans noncommittally, gets up to grab his water from the desk and takes a long swallow as Eddie keeps needling him. 

“You’re the problem, Eddie,” he all but snarls, when he really meant it to come out exasperated at worst.

He snarls, though, and Eddie stiffens, his eyes going cold and hurt and the corner of his mouth turned down in anger. 

“Right,” he says, and it sounds so casual Steve thinks he won’t make a big deal of his tone after all. Fool’s hope. “I’ll get out of your perfect hair, then,” Eddie spits out as he makes for the door, only Steve stands in his way, hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he starts. 

“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” Eddie interrupts, but he steps back, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “It’s not like we’re even friends, you just got saddled with me because of Dustin. We saved the world together? Big deal! My involvement was incidental, really, more of an inconvenience than any kind of help. Why would you want my opinion, of all people’s, right? Even by this point. Get out of my way, I’ll quit stepping on your toes. Go on!”

“I don’t want you to go, Eddie,” Steve tries again. 

“Just want me to shut up, is that it? Not really my strong suit, you might have noticed.”

Steve can’t help smiling. “I have noticed.”

It only seems to rile Eddie up even more, throwing his hands out and making to step around Steve again. “Man, what do you want from me?”

“Is this allowed?” he breathes out, extending the last word beyond its scope. 

Which puts him within reaching distance of Steve, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and presses him, careful not to jostle him too bad but firm enough to counter his manic strength, against the wall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just presses a touch too close, lets himself imagine that he’s going to close the distance entirely, cocks his head and licks his lips and hangs there in a way he hopes spells it out for Eddie without inducing any kind of panic. 

Eddie, hands still up at shoulder height, lets out a little huff close to a whimper when his back hits the wall, bracing himself for a hit that would never come, and maybe some part of him knows this, because he doesn’t look scared or angry anymore, just kind of confused with a side of grief, and it doesn’t take two seconds for him to start to look intrigued, maybe even, if Steve allows himself a little optimism, interested. 

His lips part on a sharp inhale, and they’re close enough to smell each other’s skin, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, a little watery and out of focus, edging forward in a way that could just be a twitch, just a consequence of holding his breath the way he is, plausibly deniable, subconscious no doubt, only when Steve mirrors the movement, he does it again, gaze moving up and down from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back and back again without blinking, until twitch by twitch their noses graze and their mouths connect and Steve closes his eyes and concentrates on maintaining that seal over Eddie’s plush, pliable pout, because if he didn’t focus, he’d be way, way overeager for a first kiss. 

He moves back after several seconds with a shaky exhale, swallows as he finds Eddie’s eyes again. His blood is thrumming in his fingertips, somehow he feels both cold between his shoulder blades and warm down to his toes, and if Eddie looks at all put out he thinks he might never manage another mirror in his life. 

The look on Eddie’s face is pure disbelief. 

Steve shrugs, not quite settled on the matter of mirrors. “I thought you made a point of breaking the rules?”

A glint starts to wake in Eddie’s eye that’s looking more delighted by the minute. 

“Just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“We’re in the clear, then,” Steve whispers, leaning in, just a smidge. 

Both of Eddie’s hands sink into his hair as he pulls him into another, much steamier, kiss. Steve lets his fists fall from Eddie’s lapels and knot over his back instead, lets his mouth drop slightly open, an invitation Eddie wastes not a second to follow through on, teeth scraping and back arching like he wants to sink all the way into Steve, and by the time they’re parting, breathless, cheeks flushed, mouths stinging, Steve’s one hand is braced against the wall, holding himself up, knees too weak to do the job on their own. 

“I thought you could barely stand me,” Eddie heaves.

“I can’t,” Steve admits. “You drive me nuts. Just not how you thought.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly serious. 

“You should forget all about Nancy.”

Steve frowns too. “That so?”

“Hm-mm. She’s taken, man. And not all that. You need to move on.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “Am I being desperate?”

“Pathetic,” Eddie nods, barely a whisper against Steve’s lips, and they break into smiles in tandem. “Forget all about her,” Eddie repeats. 

“Who?” Is the last word Steve gets out. Then he’s busy enough he really does forget. 

When he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror in the morning, he walks away with a wink.

Give us a kudos, if ye dare x

[mickyschumacher]

style was so fucking good HOLY SHITTTTT can u please please please do a part 2 xx

[STYLE! PT.2]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after separating from carlos, you thought you would never ever have to see him again. but fate is demanding and it demands you bumping into him in a club. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), jealousy (bc where would we be without it), reader is younger than carlos but not like insanely, reader has vagina, angst, ferrari SLANDER, charles moves to redbull oop, GOOGLED SPANISH! I'M SORRY 😭, teasing, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap ur willies peeps!), oral sex, cumming inside, car sex = dangerous car driving, brief handjob, dry(?) humping, confession time AHHH, incorrect modelling stuff again lol, nicer!carlos ♡︎

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: complicated ex!carlos sainz x model!fem!reader, bestie!lily he x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6k+ (whoops)

𝐀/���: a lot of people wanted a part 2 so.... here it is! i hope this is up to your par with what you were thinking about ♡︎ has bit of a build up but the smut is there! decently proof read... i think? my eyes are vv tired from these exams :(

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Three years.

A lot can happen in three years.

For you that meant with some crazy luck becoming the World's top supermodel. Kendall Jenner, Gigi and Bella Hadid, Emily Ratajkowski... whoever the top once was, you had put them all to shame. You were booked and busier than ever. You could've sworn you used to get your beauty sleep but now you were lucky if you could even get an hour let alone eight. The billboards and the magazines loved you and the public, god the public, they cherished you.

Never had the world needed a relatable, kind role model more and there you were. A diamond in the rough, waiting to be seen. You were even on your way of becoming an entrepreneur in sustainable fashion.

Everything was going your way.

It was a surprise for you. After Carlos, you thought you would be moping forever. And you did, at least for a few days. But when your manager and stylist advised you to release your pent up emotions, you thought the best way to do that was fully committing yourself to your work.

No more relationships. No hookups. No races. No Carlos.

And somehow, it worked. You were a single supermodel who won over the public. No races, no Carlos. You were bringing your company money.

But yet, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop thinking about Carlos. His smugness, the puppy brown eyes, his touch, the little signs that he cared; the softening of the side of his eyes when he looked at you before they were ridden with lust or his need to have some part of him touching you; his hand on your thigh, an arm around your waist, or soft circles rubbed on your inner wrist.

You missed him.

But that was three years ago.

You and Carlos didn't even run in the same circles anymore.

For Carlos, three years meant extending his contract with Ferrari, although God knows why, losing three chances at a championship, fighting with Adami over the radio far more than he liked, and losing Charles to Red Bull. All while feeling very empty. No one really recognised who Carlos was anymore. Not his family, not the drivers, and not the fans. Hell, he himself didn't know who he was.

Whoever Carlos was right now... it was the mere shell of who he used to be.

He was drinking far too much for an F1 driver celebrating other's podiums. And now he got angry. He didn't get angry, he seethed. He let himself feel vexed in order to get motivated. But now he was just angry and torn but not for no reason.

Carlos was an idiot. He had made an irrevocably stupid decision. Separating from you was the worse decision he had ever made. And that said something considering he had extended with the most infuriating F1 team of the past few years.

How could he have even made that decision? Normally, he thought things out. He was an F1 driver, for God's sake. Some sort of thought could be accounted for. But he didn't know what it was... maybe he was too emotional the night he was with you. Whatever it was, he should've thought it out.

God, Carlos should've realised that all he needed to do was put more effort it. You and him... it would've worked. He would've stopped hurting you. He would've been fully committed to you.

But no. He had fuck to it up.

To say Carlos hadn't been stalking your socials everyday was an understatement. Cumming to your name was a pre-race ritual that had now turned into checking what projects you were doing. Not to be dramatic, but to him, it felt like you were just keeping him alive, giving him a reason to live.

Carlos couldn't even muster the courage to call you and ask if you could talk. He didn't deserve that. Like he said, you deserved more. And all these fans and the fame and money... you deserved all of it and more. Staying away from you was the best thing he could do for you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Carlos had made a terrible, terrible decision to attend the Miami after race party after saying he wouldn't. In fact, he couldn't. Not when he knew for a fact that you were in a club only down the street.

The temptation to see you was strong.

The club lights flared across the dance floor while the heat and humidity of all these dancing bodies clung to his warm skin. Carlos' hands shook silently at his side while Charles and Lando mixed in conversation. Every fibre of his body was telling his feet to stick to this floor. He couldn't see you. He was only going to ruin your night. He bit down on his lip, feeling a familiar ache in his chest.

But his heart... it was a strong heart. And it was telling him to take that five minute walk.

"I'm just going to get some fresh air," Carlos yelled over the music blaring in his ears. Charles and Lando gave the Spaniard a nod before returning to their conversation.

Carlos tried to make his walk to the club as long as possible, veering off to the side, staring far too long into the windows of other stores. But eventually, he stood in front of the thriving club.

You were celebrating having reached 50 Vogue covers, including the Big Four twice. You told your manager you were fine with having dinner at home but the refusal was immediate and came with the claim of you needing a break. So here you were, dressed in the most sparkly, skimpy, backless deep cleavage silver slip dress, dancing your ass off.

When Carlos entered the club, it was hard to miss you. How could he? You were the centre of attention, dancing around in your little dress that was fighting to cling to your body while everyone cheered you on.

He shouldn't of come. He knew it. Because now, he couldn't leave. No matter how much he knew that to leave was the right decision.

You, on the other hand, didn't notice Carlos so easily. You were having the time of your life, swaying your hips side-to-side as the beat coursed through your veins. Your skin was dotted with sweat while a handsome stranger had come up to you, clearly looking to hook up. And while you weren't looking to screw just anyone, you couldn't shy away from the little bit of grinding your body so desperately craved.

The euphoria wasn't as high as you had once felt but it was enough to keep you on your toes. Heat travelled through your stomach while your eyes closed and your head fell back as another man moved behind you. You were in a haze of pleasure that made your pussy ache.

God, maybe you were too desperate for some pleasure. Because why did it feel like Carlos' cologne had engulfed you? Why did the fire burning within you flare up even further all of a sudden?

Your eyes shot open and a gasp fell from your lips when you felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at the man with wide eyes.

"Cariño," Carlos breathed out, hooded eyes peering down at you.

Your throat felt constricted. Your eyes watered with anger and shock.

"No," You said, pulling yourself away from him.

"No, no, no," You repeated while Carlos took a step towards you, hand reaching out to stop freaking you out.

"Y/N... I–" Carlos was cut short as you raced towards your table and picked up your purse and jacket, heading towards the exit doors of the club.

You could hear Carlos jog to catch up with you. Sighing, you put on your jacket, striding as far as you could in those stupidly beautiful heels you had worn. But you seemed to forget that he was an athlete at the end of the day.

"Y/N, please. Don't do this," Carlos begged, an inch away from you.

Your lips sunk into your bottom lip, ears attempting to block out the warm voice you had been craving for the past three years. Your heart was racing against your chest while your mind fell into disarray.

"Y/N," Carlos repeated, grabbing your arm gently.

You sucked in a sharp breath at his touch, feeling the hairs of your body stand straight. You turned and looked up at him with with reddened eyes, making him pause for a second.

"Three years, Carlos, three goddamn years... of nothing," You exasperated with the familiar words falling off your tongue all too easily.

"I know. I'm–"

"'... so sorry, cariño. I don't have any excuses.' Is that what you were going to say, Carlos?" You asked incredulously, arms folded as if they were going to protect you from all this sudden pain.

Carlos winced at your words, staring at you helplessly.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I was doing fine... and you... what the hell were you thinking, Carlos?"

A silence settled between the both of you as the cold night air raced to cool down your flushed cheeks. Carlos breathed deeply. "I-I... I missed you, cariño. That's what I was thinking. That what I have been thinking for the past three years. I miss you all the time."

You stared at Carlos silently, chewing down on your lip nervously. This was what you wanted. You had waited all this time to hear those very words fall from his lips. Yet all you could say was: "So? That doesn't change anything." The lie made you crumble on the inside but you continued to speak. "You said it yourself, Carlos, we aren't good for each other. That I... deserve more."

"And you do!" Carlos spluttered, hands flailing about. "You deserve more than a better man, Y/N. You deserve the fucking universe. But I was wrong! I was wrong to say that we aren't good together. We can be good together. I think you complete me and if you let me even have the chance, I would be the luckiest man ever to be with you."

Carlos' hands were now gently holding your face, thumb gently brushing your heated skin. Your heart was now pounding in your eardrums. Your throat was caught. You felt impossibly warm. Your eyes burned, but no tears came out. "I... I gave you so many chances," You whispered.

Carlos' eyes softened at your broken voice as a sorry expression fell over his face. "I know," He sucked in a sharp breath. "I don't think I can ever forgive myself, cariño. But if I have to spend forever trying to make it up to you, I gladly will."

"Carlos," You sighed, closing your eyes. You were annoyed with yourself. Annoyed at the fact you were leaning into his touch and annoyed at the familiar heartache that always let him get away with what he wanted. "I'm terrified. I don't want to hurt again. I don't want to hurt you either."

Carlos felt his heart clench, jaw taut with irritation. Every fibre of him hated that you even had to say that. But you were right. You always were. He whispered softly, letting his forehead meet yours, "You won't. I promise. I promise to be a better man. Just please give me a chance... give us a chance."

You opened your eyes to see those desperate puppy eyes boring into yours. You brought your hand to the one holding on your face, rubbing it gently. You knew your answer the moment he asked. "Okay," You responded with a small smile.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Initially, it was hard to get as comfortable as you once were with Carlos. You took every step with caution and he could tell by the scrunch of your nose and the chewing of you lip when you pondered for a moment too long. It was eating at him but there was nothing he could do but fufill his promise to you.

Carlos took you out on several dates as opposed to the few he previously taken you on. They weren't grand. No. Instead they were intimate. Dates that showed he was putting effort in. Like the time he decided to have a dinner date at his house where all the food was prepared by him. It was disastrous to say the least but you were also convinced he had gotten his sisters to help him out given that there was burnt food in the trash and it's aroma covered by candles and perfume in the air.

A sunset picnic followed after that. It was one of your favourites. The sun was setting, of course, and the warm breeze brushed past you while you ended up reading one of your favourite childhood books to Carlos. He listened intently as his hands roamed your skin. It wasn't necessarily sensual but it was intimate. Like all he wanted to do was just bathe in your presence. And bathe Carlos did as he began to ask you questions about your childhood and your family.

It bugged him that despite being with you for some time, he knew nothing about you. At least not really. Knowing your body reactions felt superficial in comparison to finding out you had a family pet that you cherished so much, your financial hardships, or that your parents disapproved of your modelling. That really hurt him. You didn't have anyone close to you. And he had just left you.

Carlos mentioned to you how much of a polla he truly was, apologising for all you had gone through. And while you laughed at his comment, you thanked him, hesitantly pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

Carlos gazed at you as his heart throbbed at your action. He stared at you with a twinkle in his eyes. There was something about this moment... he wasn't quite sure whether it was the setting sun that made you glow or that breeze that made your hair gently fly while your perfume consumed him, but it made him nervous and happy.

Carlos smiled at your raised brows. "You're just so beautiful, cariño."

You sucked in a sharp breath. That look in his eyes... it was the same one you gave him when you were just mesmerised by his beauty. And now he looked at you the same way.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Three months had passed and you had finally stepped into the paddock after what had felt like forever. Everyone was psyched that you were back here. Fans were screaming your name and the drivers had finally seen the reason behind the sudden change in Carlos.

"So... you and Y/N?" Lando queried carefully, watching you talk to Lily and Alex about all the things the both of you had missed.

Carlos peered over to you, catching your passing eyes. His heart skipped a beat at your little wave and smiling eyes. He grinned at you and waved back.

Lando watched the exchange with curious eyes, pulling a feigned pained expression. "Yeah... you and Y/N."

Carlos rolled his eyes at the man who had become one of his closest friends. "Yes, Lando, we're together. We've... we've been taking it slow. So I don't fuck it up."

Lando smiled at Carlos' words. He slapped his hand on the Spaniard's shoulder. "Good," He chirped, before dropping his smile. "You better not. That's basically my best friend right there. You hurt her, you better keep an eye out for Lily and I, and Alex by association."

Carlos chuckled. "Imagine if Fewtrell heard that."

"What Max doesn't know won't hurt him," Lando shrugged.

Carlos smiled in amusement, finding you walking towards him with the previously mentioned couple. "What are you two trying to get my lovely lady to do?" He asked with narrowed eyes when you appeared with a suspiciously wide smile. A beautiful smile, but suspicious nonetheless.

You flushed at his words, taking in a deep breath. "I may have been convinced to do a bit of... ugh, golf."

Golf. Your most dreaded sport. From the moment you knew what it was, you could not think of a more boring sport to save your life. No offence to Lily, but it was an old man's sport. And every F1 driver playing it did not help. But Lily being the amazing girl she was had changed your mind.

Lando cheered and Carlos' eyes widened slightly. "How did you manage to convince her? Even I couldn't get her to join me. Me out of all people."

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics. "I think your win from me golfing is a little different from Lily's. Lily wants me to learn."

"Yeah? And what do I want that is so different?" Carlos asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to me.

You stood on your toes a bit, reaching his ear. "Quieres verme con esa diminuta ropa de golf," You whispered in Spanish, pulling away from his ear. "Esa es la diferencia." You want to see me in those teeny little golf clothes. That's the difference.

You felt a familiar tingle creep up your spine as you met Carlos' darkened eyes and tightened grip on your waist. His tongue darted out, swiping his bottom lip while he eyed you carefully. You were a vixen. A final smug smile rested on his face. "You're right, cariño. That's exactly what I want."

Lily looked at you two blankly. "Anyone catch that?" She asked Alex and Lando, who both shook their heads. She sighed, "Leave it to us to not know one of the most popular languages in the world. See you tomorrow, lovebirds. Try keep your hands off each other, there's kids."

Lando gaped at Lily's side glance towards him. "Well I never!"

Carlos grinned at Lando's words, keeping an eye on you. "I'll try."

You drew a sharp breath. What kind of mess had you exactly set up for yourself?

━━━━━━━━━━━

To be honest, Carlos wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting when you had told him that your manager had sorted out a golf outfit since it was not like you were playing an official tournament. But when you arrived to meet Carlos, Lando, Lily, and Alex at the golf course, Carlos let out the most strained sigh he had ever released.

You were a model, sorry, a supermodel, you looked good in everything already. But you dressed up for his favourite pass time was killing him.

You stood in front of him in the sun visor that hid your long hair, wearing the absolute tightest sleeveless polo shirt known to mankind tucked into small little pink skirt that rested at the middle of your thighs.

God, you were leaving very little for Carlos to imagine. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do to you first: 'accidentally' splash that white shirt with water because he just knew by those nipples that you weren't wearing a bra or excuse the both of you to the bathroom where he could bend you over and fuck you senselessly.

Lily let out a low whistle when she saw you. "Y/N, the woman you are..." She clicked her tongue while shaking her head.

You laughed lightly as Alex look at her incredulously. "I'm right here, you know."

"Alex, are you a woman named Y/N?" Lily asked genuinely.

"I– no," Alex stuttered with furrowed brows while Lando grinned.

"That’s what I thought!" Lilly gave a smug smile, pressing a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek before linking her arm with yours.

Alex stood with Carlos, blinking blankly at your retreating figures. “I don’t get it,” Alex told the Spaniard.

Lando chuckled while Carlos placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “You don’t need to. It’s Y/N. Now come on. From what I know, you have a lot to learn from Lily.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Carlos was already bracing himself for whatever antics you were going to put up. He was expecting your full on ass up against him, teasing him to the point where he did end up taking you in the bathroom.

But you had decided to go the hard way.

When Carlos was teaching you how to hit the ball and what angle to use the golf club, he severely used the opportunity to put his hands on your hips. He thought you were going to fall back into his chest and press up on him. But instead you decided to listen to his instructions all so intently.

Then he saw it.

Your tongue darting out past those perfect lips of yours, wetting all those crevices with a natural sheen before you sunk your teeth to concentrate on hitting the ball.

And after he had seen it, Carlos couldn’t see anything else normally. Or he would argue that you wouldn’t let him.

No way was the slip of the golf ball accidental. Not when he watched you slowly bend down to get it, revealing your delicious cleavage in the so very unfortunate cut of your polo. Not when he watched your pink skirt cling to your thighs tightly as your lips jutted out to blow away the dirt from the ball.

It was a golf ball, for God’s sake. Of course it was going to have dirt on it.

And as you stood up, you turned so your ass faced him, skirt hugging your ass tight enough so he could see a sliver of your bare pussy.

Carlos could swear that he had never clutched a golf club as hard as he had in his life.

To make matters worse, all you did was strut away with a smirk while you shamelessly checked him out all throughout the games, leaving him with a semi-hard he tried his best to hide behind the thin handle of the club.

You were torturing him without even touching him. And he hated it.

Carlos couldn’t even excuse himself nor you to the bathroom after you purposefully decide to cling to Lily, who was suggesting different methods to play.

The dreadful day had finally come to an end as everyone began to feel the kick of playing golf for so long. You and Carlos bid goodbye to Lily, Alex, and Lando, after your boyfriend definitely did not inform you that you were going back home with him instead of your manager.

After packing your things away in Carlos’ red Ferrari, you happily took a seat in the front, letting out a small yawn as you stretched your arms.

Carlos quietly eyed you as he reversed out of the parking lot. “Tired?” He asked.

You nodded with slightly heavy eyelids. “It takes a lot of energy.”

“I agree,” Carlos nodded. “Teasing takes a lot of energy, hmm?”

Your eyes were fully awake now. You peered at the side of Carlos’ face. His jaw was taut and hands tightly gripped the wheel. You tried to hide your teetering smile but it was difficult. You just loved riling up Carlos. Especially sexually.

“A lot,” You agreed, also nodding before you moved your eyes out your window to prevent you from fully grinning.

Carlos internally sighed. You were a menace.

As he drove to his hotel, an idea popped into Carlos’ head. He knew the way to hotel and golf course like the back of his hand. He also knew that in two left turns, there was the most sketchy but quiet road in town.

Carlos pushed down the indicator, watching the left arrow blink rapidly at him while he turned the wheel. He could see your head turn to him in curiosity.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

Carlos smiled softly, shaking his head as if it was nothing while taking the last left turn.

You raised a brow. You feigned a gasp. “Is this where you kill me? Is this how I die? On some road in Miami?”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Yes. How did you know?” He deadpanned.

Carlos parked the car in between some trees, ensuring that all the windows were fairly covered because no matter what, at the end of the day, he cared for both for your images.

Carlos turned to find your eyes already on him, waiting for an explanation. “You know the last time we met in Miami?”

You blinked blankly at him. “How could I forget?” You retorted sarcastically, covering up any last few traces of pain associated with that trip.

Carlos pursed his lips, smiling apologetically. He took your hands into his, rubbing them gently. “Well, when we were in the car, I had this vision—well I always have this vision but it was strong then, anyways—I had this vision of fucking you in this car, on the highway, ass on the wheel, making a mess on me, and making you cum so hard that you cover that Ferrari logo.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes dilated in pleasure. Suddenly you felt tingly all over your body and a strong heat pulsating in between your thighs. You pressed your thighs together at the thought.

“So I thought,” Carlos confused, smirking at your action, “although you’ve been a tease, I would still like to fuck the life out of you, cariño. Isn’t that so nice of me?” He asked as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You wish you had the urge to roll your eyes. You really wish you did. But your breath was caught in your throat and you just felt a dribble of arousal leak past your aching core.

Instead you moved over to Carlos, putting a leg on either side of him and brought your lips to his.

Carlos immediately responded, hands flying towards your hips, gripping on your skin while he intensely kissed you back. He kissed you not just as a starved man, but a parched man. As if your lips were water and all he could do was drink you.

Your stomach churned with a familiar fire of pleasure. Your skin raised with goosebumps as Carlos’ thumbs circled your skin through the fairly thin fabric of your polo. A muffled moan was lodged in your throat the sound of Carlos’ grunts.

Carlos’ hands moved from your hips to the hem of your skirt. His hands dipped under the pink material that had been enticing him all day, feeling the ample flesh of your bare ass. An audible moan came from his throat as you had moved your lips to his neck to stop drinking those beautiful sounds.

“You’re such a tease, you know that? No fucking underwear so I could see those juicy lips of yours? Were you just waiting for me to take you from behind? What if Lando saw? Hmm?” Carlos queried, groping your ass while his fiery puppy browns pierced into your eyes.

You let out a small whine against his heated neck, bucking your hips against his cock.

“You like that, cariño? The idea of getting caught?” Carlos asked even though he clearly knew the answer if he looked down at the dark stain beginning to form on the front of your skirt.

Carlos smiled softly at your impatient eyes, pressed your hips onto his groin. “Grind on me, cariño. Make a mess on me,” He whispered, taking your lips with his once again.

You moaned as you rocked your hips back and forth in his bulge. The wave of arousal you craved slowly creeped up on you. The hard textured material of his shirt felt like a sin against your pussy. Carlos’ hands helping you keep your pace and making sure you felt every part of hard-on set you on fire.

Smoothly, Carlos used one of his hands to sneak up your thigh, the rough pads of his fingers leaving you in a blaze as he grazed your skin. “That’s it, cariño, that’s it,” He murmured against your lips. His fingers confused past the apex of your thigh, nearing your burning core.

Fuck, were you turned on. The heat radiating off your pussy was dangerous. His thumb edged towards your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves ever so slowly.

“Shit,” you swore, arching your back against the steering wheel. Your pussy ground up against his fingers while trying to press further on his cock; entertaining both levels of pleasure.

Carlos felt his cock tighten painfully against his hands when he moved his eyes from you and down to where your pussy met him. God, you had made a mess. His eyes flickered back up, watching you obscenely cover the Prancing Horse. “Merde,” He cussed.

This was how he wanted you. Fuck. Making a claim on everything that belonged to him with your body. Just the way he wanted.

You could feel Carlos dip his head forward, giving a long lick to your right nipple. You were sure your white polo was now see through, letting your pebbled mounds become available for Carlos’ disposal. You moaned, feeling your pussy become sticky with pleasure as Carlos pulled down the cut of your polo, freeing your breasts from those teasing confines, watching them bounce in admiration before he wrapped his lips around your nipple.

You arched your back even further, pushing your breast into his mouth while the other hand resting on your hip moved to fondle your lonely nipple, leaving you to do the rest of the work. "Carlos," You cried out breathlessly, speeding the pace of your hips as a familiar coil began to unwind at the pit of your stomach.

Carlos knew that tone better than he knew his circuits. Unlatching his swollen lips from your nipple, he looked up at you, making you moan even further. It was hard to disagree that Carlos was a good looking man, but right now, you were seeing him like no other: puffy lips, sweat-ridden tousled brown hair, cheeks freckled with pinks and reds, dark lust-hazed eyes... all for you.

"Don't cum just yet, cariño. I need to be inside you," Carlos panted, his tongue swiping his lips drenched.

You shuddered at the action before looking at him in dismay. "Carlos. Papi, no. Por favor." Please.

Just when Carlos thought his cock couldn't harden any further, you had proven the impossible. He held your chin in his hand, forcing you to hold his gaze. "Don't do that, cariño. Don't papi me. I'm already being so nice, hmm? Be a good girl and listen to be, okay baby?"

You sighed in frustration but you hips eased it's speed, succumbing to Carlos without a second thought.

Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of your head, continuing to rub your clit excruciatingly slow. "That's my girl," He praised, pressing you right against the steering wheel as he lifted his hips up.

Naturally your hands fell to his shorts, eagerly pushing down the pair of clothing as far as you could in this space. Your mouth salivated at the large bulge in his grey boxers. It was like his cock was greeting you; aching to me to you. In awe, you put your hand over his hard cock, softly brushing over the pulsating bulge.

"Fuck," Carlos sighed, eyes closed, feeling like he was on an obscene high already. He felt you gently trace over his thick cock, going even slower when you reached his tip, painstakingly grazing his slit through his boxers. He shot out his hand, holding yours in place.

Carlos swallowed all the saliva that he had gathered after seeing your wide, almost innocent, eyes beaming at him while a sickly sweet smile sprawled across your face. Jesus. How did he ever let you go? Now that he had you, he most certainly couldn't.

You grinned, knowing exactly how to awake the monster within him. You pushed down his boxers, letting him fully settle into the seat of the Ferrari and his cock stand against his toned stomach with a shade that almost made it look like it was angry with you for taking this long.

Gathering all the saliva in your mouth, you let the hot clear fluid slowly fall from your lips and onto his cock. Carlos sighed at the feeling, thumb reaching out to gather the last few drops from your lips before you brought it into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the pad of his thumb, giving him a pre-show before you released him.

Carlos watched as you bent down towards his cock, using your hand to rub your saliva down his throbbing cock. You could feel him pulsing in your hands, dying to be inside you. You lifted yourself back up, signalling Carlos you were ready.

Carlos' hands skated up your skirt, grabbing your bare hips as he guided you over his cock. All this time he had been teasing you as awfully as you had teased him today, so when you felt his cock against your wet folds, you let out a gasp while you hips bucked against involuntarily.

"Jesus fucking Christ," You swore, shuddering at the intoxicating high swarming through your body.

Carlos' cock throbbed against your pussy. He loved your sensitivity, so he pushed himself through your folds again, tip rubbing against your stimulated clit. He grunted against you. He could watch your body defy you over and over again.

But as much as he loved it, Carlos had been waiting to be in you liked a starved man.

Carlos' eyes flittered up to yours while he slowly pushed his cock into you. He memorised you carefully. Every twitch, every quiver. Your parter lips, the frequency of your moan. The contortion of your eyebrows while pleasure laced your eyes. He could remember you like this forever; his beautiful girl.

"Carlos," You panted, "more, please."

"Your wish is my command, princesa," Carlos whispered against your skin, pushing his hips further into you. His hands tightened around your waist, the warm grip of your folds pulling him in like a drug.

You knew it then and you knew it know. Carols had bewitched you. You would never be able to get enough of this feeling. The feeling of his cock jerking into your pussy because he just can't control himself. Nor the feeling of sucking him in like a vice because you want him all to yourself.

Carlos moaned, thrusting his aching cock while he muttered obscenities as if he was under some sort of spell. For what it was worth, he was. Every day, you entranced him. But right now, the sight of you against the Prancing Horse that was waiting to be covered in your cum... your saliva-covered breasts bouncing, your arched back against the wheel... it was driving him crazy. You were driving him crazy.

Your hands travelled to his hair, lips grazing past the bridge of his nose while you groaned. Your fingers wrapped his dishevelled brown waves around them, giving his locks a slight tug that coursed down his body.

Your hips ground against Carlos harshly, attempting to take any extra sliver of euphoria. His cock drove in and out of you at a rate that left no innocence in this car. It was lewd; the slapping of your sticky skin against one another, your breathless pants mingling together, and the fogged windows occurring from your feverish skin. Fuck, the both of you were in overdrive.

You let out a small whimper when you felt your body start to shake. You looked down at Carlos, who was peppering your bare shoulder with long sloppy kisses as he continued to thrust. Your eyes softened and the coil in your stomach began to tighten. "Carlos, I–"

Carlos smiled at the urgency in your voice. He began to pick up his pace, let out a few breathless pants. "Cum for me, mi amor."

You shook your head. "No, fuck, fuck, I–" You closed your eyes at the nearing high but forced them to open again, finding those puppy browns staring you down with confusion and maybe, just maybe, a bit of trauma from the last time. But you just had to say it. "I love you, Carlos. I love you so fucking much, mi amor. And I'll love you forever," You sobbed out.

Carlos gazed at you with wide eyes, his pace faltering slightly. As much as it turned him on, his heart was probably ten times happier. He felt warm; complete. He softened his gaze, bringing one hand to your cheek. His heart swelled at your natural lean in. Brushing his thumb gently, "I love you so much, Y/N. So much. And I'll never forget to remind you until my very last breath. You're my entire universe, querida (darling)."

Your eyes watered with a sickening amount of love as your body was hit with wave after wave. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," You cursed, clenching your eyes, a few tears slowly falling. Your hips bucked up against him, reaching for the high as Carlos rubbed your clit in fast circles.

"That's it, mi amor. Cum for me. Cover the the entire fucking wheel. Make a mess," Carlos encouraged, pushing you against the wheel, making your body convulse even further at the new texture.

"Fuck!" You swore, pussy throbbing and hips involuntarily jerking, reaching your climax.

Carlos groaned at the tight clench around his cock.

"Cum for me, Carlos. Look at the mess I made. All because of you. All for you," You coaxed, riding your sensitive pussy over him slowly.

His eyes flickered to the black Prancing Horse covered in your arousal; each little crevice of the wheel soaking up your cum. God, the monster you made him... He grunted, speeding up his pace as the coil in his stomach began to unwind quickly.

"Fuck, fuck," Carlos moaned loudly, holding you tightly to him. "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," He muttered like a mantra, hips stuttering against you. He twitched inside you, feeling the hot salty strings of his cum spill into you.

"Oh, fuck," He sighed again, head falling on your chest while you moaned at the feeling of his cum inside you, clenching just one more time. His cock throbbed with another small high, pumping the last few ropes of his cum into you.

You let out a slow exhale, lifting Carlos' head by tilting his chin to face you. You rubbed his face gently, leaving a trail of kisses on his face as you both calmed down. You eyed the fogged windows and turned to see the Prancing Horse that had started this whole thing in the first place. You laughed softly.

"Well that was a stylish vision you had there," You remarked with a grin.

Carlos grinned right back at you. "Oh, cariño, we are doing that at least once every week."

"Oh, really?" You teased, putting your hands around his neck. "Well this type of car sex is definitely my style," You agreed after some feigned thinking.

Carlos smiled, tucking your sweaty hair behind your ears. He placed a long kiss on your lips. "It's our style."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[weregonnaneedabiggerboat]

That Stupid Rabbit!

Lee!You x Ler!Jax

CW: Some baby talk, lots of teasing, Jax is a mean ler, and obvs tickling so scroll if that's not your thing!

A/N: Your persona is a squeaky toy plush here! This fic is sort of an addition to this drawing of Jax that I did. Also, this is my first tickling fic so let me know if you enjoyed!!

∘₊✧─────────✧₊∘

Stumbling back into your room after a long and tedious adventure, you collapse in your bed and heave a huge sigh. You were mentally and emotionally exhausted, and also a little bit annoyed.

What made Caine think that doing a dangerous labyrinth would be a fun adventure!? Why can't it just be an easter egg hunt or something!

You grunted loudly and covered your head with a pillow, hoping to get some shut eye soon so you could forget about today. It wasn't just the adventure that bothered you, but also the troubling transition into a whole other reality. You loved all your new friends, but sometimes their cynical attitudes towards everything was discouraging to deal with.

Not that you could blame them, being stuck here for a long time must have done something to their minds, evidenced by the fact Pomni understood you the most.

You just sighed and turned over in your bed, trying to brush all these thoughts away. Your arm extended to reach out for the lamp next to your bed, when all of a sudden you saw a shadow standing at the doorway.

You yelped, a brief look of surprise crossing your face, but your expression fell flat in annoyance when you realized who came knocking.

Course you left your door unlocked, because how could this day get any worse?

The stupid purple bunny man, Jack or whatever his name was, grinned at you as he leaned on the frame of the doorway.

“Hey there, Squeaky,” he teased, tilting his head, feigning innocence.

Yeah. Squeaky. That's what he called you. So original.

“Someone's happy to see me~"

“@#$& off, Jax,” you grunted, collapsing on your bed again and covering your face with the pillow. “I'm not in the mood for another stupid prank of yours, leave me alone.”

Jax always looked for excuses to make your plush body squeak, either by dropping you from a small height or by pushing you against something. You only figured he came here for some cheap entertainment, since the others were all ganged up and you were alone.

“What? Can't a guy check on his best buddy in the whole world without it bein a crime?" he taunted, raising his arms as if he was being accused.

You heard him welcome himself into your bedroom, and he stopped right before you. From the limited vision you had looking at the bottom of your pillow, you could see his looming figure standing before you.

“I'm serious, you cottontail jerk, get out of my— H-Hey!!”

You jolted when you felt him poke your belly, making your stuffed body squeak again. Only this time, you squeaked too.

“J-Jax!!” you exclaimed, immediately flipping the pillow to cover your belly instead of your face. However, you quickly realized how awful of an idea that was, evidenced by your slight sinking into your shoulders, since Jax could now fully see just how much that move made you blush.

Betraying you, your face heated up the more his grin widened. If it got any longer it could probably wrap around his face, you thought, and that idea almost made you smile if it wasn't for your situation right now.

“This is new, Squeaky,” he teased, poking your side from below the pillow. Jax laughed as your hand swiftly came to the rescue, smacking his wrist out of the way. “What’s the matter, Squeaky? You're awfully squirmy today~"

“Jax enough!!” you growled defensively, though it came off way less threatening than you would've liked, especially with how much your face was blushing.

However, in typical Jax fashion, he totally ignored you and poked your side again, and again, and again. And each time you tried to cover it he'd just switch his hand to poking the other side.

You started to giggle and kick your legs, squirming even more to get away from his fingers. This reaction seemed to entice him even more, as the more giggly you got, the more he poked you in different places.

“Aww is the little squeaky toy ticklish~?” he cooed with a mocking voice, grinning smugly when you returned his tease with an embarrassed glare.

The t-word!? Seriously!?

How does he always find such effective ways of bullying you?

Also, the way he said it so confidently made you sink into yourself even more, using the pillow as some sort of shield to protect you so you can hide away and never come out.

And of COURSE your reaction to that word didn't go unnoticed by him, because his ears flicked straight up in curiosity once he saw you look away. He almost looked intrigued at this new vulnerability he discovered, lidding his eyes and raising his eyebrows.

"Sh-Shut up,” you murmured.

“What? Why?” he chuckled, wiggling his fingers in the air and snickering at your embarrassed reaction. “Are ya ticklish, Squeaky~?”

You let out a whine and tried to hit him with the pillow, pleading for him to get off. Which didn't help at all by the way, since he just grabbed it from your hands and tossed it aside.

“I said shut up!!” you scolded.

“Haha, there is no way you get flustered from the word tickle!” He was laughing at you at this point, and it was starting to make you feel embarrassed and a little belittled.

You looked away and pouted sadly, which he noticed, and his expression calmed down slightly as a result.

Of course he was just mocking you, what did you expect? There was no way he was ever going to—

“There's no need to be so ashamed, Squeaky,” he chuckled with a less taunting tone than before, interrupting your invasive thoughts. Jax didn't stoop as low as to make fun of something so vulnerable. Then he added, “Buuut, don't think this is going to save you from anything~”

He cracked his knuckles and grinned down at you, and your eyes widened in response, because now he climbed on top of your bed and sat on your legs, limiting your movement.

No. No, he wouldn't, he can't! You'd probably explode into a million pieces or something!! What the hell did he think he was doing!?

"What the heck are you—"

“Get ready, Squeaky, because I'm... going to…” He watched your expression with narrowed, amused eyes, looking down at you with maybe the most evil look you've ever seen come from his face. He then raised his hands and slowly made a clawing motion with his fingers.

“Tickle you~”

Before you could respond, he quickly descended his wiggling fingers into your ribs, and you squealed out in a fit of giggles, trying to kick your feet or push him or something! But his weight on top of you prevented you from squirming too far, and your arms uselessly wrapped around your chest.

“Tickle, tickle~” he cooed, and every time you squealed, it just encouraged him even more. “Yeah? That make you blush?" he taunted, moving his fingers into every corner that made you giggle.

"Hmm, what about... Coochicoochicoo~” he cooed, his fingers scrambling into your ribs, as he poked and prodded around in there.

“JAHAHAX!!” you shrieked through your laughter, feeling like you were about to have a heart attack from all this out of nowhere teasing coming from him. Your face felt hot with embarrassment, and you closed your eyes tightly to avoid eye contact. “STOHOHOP!! IHIHI’M SERIOUHUHUS!!”

“No way! This is way too good!!” He laughed along with you, experimenting with different spots, his fingers squirming and poking anywhere your arms failed to block, almost as if he was searching for something.

“Where's your tickle spot, Squeaky? I know you have one~” he sang. “Is it here? Or here? Or maybe here?”

You felt his fingers wriggle at your ribs, then your belly, then your neck. Each touch tickled even more than the last, and it didn't just feel like tickling, it felt like tickling that he was very much enjoying.

You swiped your arms up and down your body helplessly. Every time you blocked your sides, he tickled your ribs, and every time you blocked your ribs, he tickled your sides. There was no winning!

And then, you made a big mistake.

You lifted your arms to grab at his wrists and finally pull them off of you, but before you could catch them—

“Oh I know, HERE!!” he declared, pushing his index fingers under your arms and making you scream even more with embarrassed laughter. He laughed at his own victory, and you just couldn't seem to catch a break.

“NOHOHO!! NO JAHAX STOHOHOP PLEHEASE!!” you pleaded with the rabbit, clamping your arms down on his hands and trying your best to arch your back. It was no use, you just trapped his hands under your arms, and you couldn't find the strength to lift them.

“You're just making this easier and easier for me, Squeaky,” he chuckled, grinning down at you and continuing to wriggle his fingers under your clamped down arms. “Tickle, tickle~”

You couldn't even get any more words out now, not that it mattered because he wasn't going to stop anyway. Your indecipherable pleads for him to stop fell on deaf ears, and it seemed like he really was never going to stop until he was satisfied.

“Say it, Squeaky~ Say you're ticklish~” he teased, moving his fingers to that sweet spot right between your ribs and armpits.

“NOHOHO!!” you cackled, hugging yourself so tightly that you might as well be tying yourself up with your arms. You really wanted him to give you a breathing break, but the catch being that you had to SAY it? Out loud? To him of all people!?

“Say you're ticklish and I'll stop~” his voice cooed playfully to you, even with your eyes shut tightly you can still hear the grin in his words. His hand moved to your belly, and he scribbled his fingers all over your midsection, keeping his other hand poking your ribs.

“FIHINE I'M—” you whined through your laughter, trying force the word out through resistive lips. “I-I’m!! I- Hihi— I-I'm—!! @#&$!! I'm NOHOT saying ihihit!!"

“Oh well," he chuckled at your adorable reaction, humming in disappointment. "Looks like I'm not stopping any time soon, then, Squeaky~” he shrugged nonchalantly, as if he could go all day with this.

“F-FIHINE I'm—" you giggled with a tiny voice, squealing as you felt both his hands scribble all around your belly and sides."Ihi'm ticklihish—!!"

Jax grinned at that, feeling quite victorious in doing his job properly. He pulled his hands away and sat up, resting them next to you.

You heaved a giant gulp of air, panting strongly from that entire episode. He was such an evil, evil ler. And way to jinx it, too.

“Say it again, but this time look at me,” he decided to add with a smug look, then wiggled his fingers again. “Or else…~”

You squeaked as he gave you a warning poke at your sides. No way he was really going to do all that again, right…?

You just stared at him with wide eyes, frozen in place as you decided between enduring that again or actually having to say the t-word out loud. Both options sounded just as anxiety inducing as the other.

“Come on, Squeaky, we don't have all night~”

You yelped as you felt him poke you again, and quickly blurted the words out loud. “F-Fine I'm ticklish!! I-I am!!” you stammered, your voice high pitched and embarrassed.

Satisfied, Jax finally got off of you, stretching out his back, then poking your nose playfully.

“See ya around, Squeaky~” he chuckled with a wave, turning to walk away.

“Jax—"

His ears flicked curiously, and he looked back at you, hands in his pockets.

Your eyes flicked between his hidden hands and his eyes, but this time you caught yourself quickly before he could notice. Still panting a bit from the adrenaline rush, you managed to compose yourself enough to sit up and hug your pillow.

“...Please, don't tell anyone,” you pleaded with a small and timid voice, anxious at the idea of everyone knowing about this secret of yours. Maybe there wasn't anything wrong with it, but it was way too vulnerable of a subject for just anyone to know about.

Jax raised his eyebrows with a smug smirk, he definitely noticed you looking at his hands. Part of him wanted to tell all your friends just to make you mad, but seeing your genuine expression made him reconsider. Making you feel unsafe was beyond his interest, and besides, having this just be between you two would make for some way more fun teasing.

Still, not wanting to give in so easily, he just gave you a vague answer and a shrug.

“Hmm... We'll see, Squeaky," he hummed, turning and walking out of your room, that ever smug expression on his face.

You saw his shadow disappear from your doorway. What did he even mean by that?? Was he going to tell them or no!?

You swallowed nervously, and got up to go and silently lock your door closed for the rest of the night, not wanting to face the others whilst being such a flustered mess.

Slumping back into your bed, you sighed heavily, trying your best to process what just happened. Your stomach flared up in butterflies as your mind played the past 10 minutes over and over in vivid detail.

Knowing Jax, there was absolutely no way he was going to let go of this so easily. And as much as you wanted to deny it for your own peace of mind, you knew he was going to tease you about this forever.

Still…

You curled up around your pillow, laying on your side and staring at the clock tick on the wall. As anxious as that thought made you, you still smiled a bit. And you couldn't help but feel a little excited at the same time.

Ugh… That stupid rabbit.

[dixons-sunshine]

Unholy | Vamp!Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: While on a run for some supplies, you and Daryl stumbled across some of his old “friends”. Something happened that struck up an old hunger in the archer. However, with the strict “no feeding on humans” rule that Deanna enforced on Daryl, that hunger wouldn't get satiated. Well, not without your help, at least.

Genre: Smut.

Era: Early Alexandria.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, death, dry humping, ejaculation (male).

Word count: 5.5k.

A/n: Um, so this got way longer than I had originally planned lol. Whoops. Anyways, this was written for two of the loveliest people I have the pleasure of knowing. @darylssunshine and @lazyneonrabbitt. I hope I did your ideas justice. (Although I feel like I failed because the plot is all over the place.) Also, before anyone comes at me for the way I wrote Daryl as a vampire, I know the lore isn't factual. I just wanted to create a version of him that resonated with me, y'know? Anyways, apart from that, I hope y'all enjoy!

“Christ, woman. Ya gotta be more careful. One wrong slip and yer tumblin' down, and somethin' tells me the landin' ain't gon' be soft.”

You chuckled as Daryl tightly wrapped his arm around your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the platform that you had been attempting to hoist yourself onto only a mere five seconds prior. The platform wasn't that high and the climb wasn't that difficult, but your partner was being extremely overprotective that day. Well, you guess you couldn't blame him. You had just been given the go-ahead to go on runs again by the community doctor, so his overprotectiveness came from a place of good intentions.

“Careful, Dixon. It's starting to sound like you actually care about little old me,” you replied, a playful edge to your voice. You extended a hand and helped hoist Daryl onto the platform. You knew your help wasn't needed, but your partner would never make that known to you.

Daryl straightened his vest and rolled his eyes at your playful comment. “Nah, I dun' care.” He walked off and allowed himself a small smile at the sound of your hurried footsteps to keep up with his speed. “M'only keepin' ya 'round 'cause ya make a mean deer stew. If it weren't fer tha', I would'a gotten rid'a ya a while ago.”

You scoffed and hit the archer on his chest, before bringing your hand to rest over your heart in mock-offense. “How dare you?” you started in a dramatic, over the top fashion. “I'll have you know that I have a million different qualities for people to want to keep me around. I can't think of specific examples right now, but I'm sure I have other qualities.”

Daryl chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, placing a tender kiss to the side of your head. “Yeah, ya do. I was jus' playin'.” He pulled back and took your hand in his, allowing you to intertwine your fingers together. “And I can think'a specific examples. For one, yer incredibly smart. Yer loyal, a good friend, and ya—”

Daryl suddenly cut himself off, making you frown. The archer pulled his hand away from yours as he took a few steps forward, his eyes darting all over the place. His head was slightly cocked to one side, a clear sign that he was trying to hear something, something that you couldn't. His body was visibly tensed up, and his entire defensive demeanour had you on edge.

“Daryl, what's wro—”

You never got to finish your question, because in a matter of milliseconds, Daryl was rushing towards you and wrapping his arms around you, before throwing the both of you over the edge of the platform you were on. Your mind could hardly comprehend what was happening, so no screams or anything escaped you. Before you knew it, the two of you landed on the ground, with Daryl laying flat on his back and you on top of him. The archer had clearly situated himself in a way so that he would take most of the damage the fall caused. Before you could even begin to comprehend what had happened and ask him why the hell he did what he did, an array of gunshots echoed through the air, the bullets ricocheting off of the metal on the platform you and Daryl had stood on a few seconds ago. As quickly as the bullets started flying all over the place, just as quickly, they stopped. In their place, all that could be heard were the bloodcurdling screams of the perpetrators.

Your heart was attempting to pound out of your chest. The screams were dying out one by one, and you could only assume that the walkers had gotten to the people who had shot those guns. The feeling of Daryl's hands gently yet firmly lifting you off of him snapped you out of your thoughts. “Daryl, wha—”

“No time.” In one, swift movement, Daryl was on his feet and he had tugged you up as well. He grabbed your hand and started pulling you behind him, clearly in a rush to escape the building. “We gotta go. They can't see ya. They're gon' kill ya. I can't let that happen.”

“The walkers?” When Daryl didn't respond, you harshly yanked your hand out of his grip. The pain spread through your body at the movement, but you couldn't think of that. The archer spun around to face you, his eyes showing how panicked he was, something extremely rare to see. The panic in his eyes stirred up a sense of dread in you. “Dar—”

A few whistles echoed through the room, effectively startling you. Daryl cursed under his breath and hurried to stand in front of you, shielding you from whatever danger lurked in the shadows. Your heart sped up considerably, the fear in you spiking through the roof. Daryl clearly sensed it, and apparently, so did the danger in the shadows.

“Aah, yes,” a deep voice ominously snarled from the shadows. “She smells fucking good.”

“So good,” another voice chipped in. “She'll make a nice addition to our feast tonight.”

“We're adding her to the rain?”

“Hell yeah. Everyone should have a taste. We're not selfish, Stevie.”

“Holy shit,” another voice chipped in, this one much higher and more feminine. “Boys, look at that. Are you seeing what I'm seeing?”

“We sure are, Janine,” the first voice agreed. “It's Daryl motherfucking Dixon, back from the grave.”

With that, the voices made their visual presence known. From the shadows, three bodies appeared. Two guys and one woman, all sporting smeared blood on their mouths, emerged from the shadows. Daryl visibly tensed and shifted in front of you, forming a protective barrier between you and the unknown people.

“Hey, guys,” Daryl drawled out hesitantly, his body still acting as a protective barrier in front of you. “Where's the others?”

“Holy shit, it really is him,” one of the guys laughed, clapping his hands together twice for added emphasis. “Daryl Dixon. What's up, man? Last I heard, Tommy told us you were dead. Told us that asshole brother of yours got mixed up with some hunters and killed you. Glad that isn't true. The gang's still going strong, believe it or not. The others are out searching for food. They will be thrilled to see you. We missed you around here.”

“Speak for yourself, Stevie,” the woman—Janine, you guessed—scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. “This asshole left us to die all those years ago. We should kill him and that bitch he's trying to protect.”

“What, that human?” the guy barked out with a laugh. “Please, Daryl here is too smart to be hanging around with humans. He's keeping her alive to feed on her. You know how tough it is to get decent food nowadays. The flesh eaters are beating us to it.”

“Please, don't make me laugh. Dixon?” the other guy piped in. “Guy's too much of a pussy to keep a human around for that. You know how hard it was to convince him to feed on humans. Son of a bitch was planning on going vegan and drinking animal blood. It wouldn't surprise me if the little human is his friend or something.”

As the two guys started arguing, with Janine rolling her eyes and trying to break up the argument, Daryl started whispering to you. “Ya see tha' openin' there, righ' between those two pieces'a metal?” When you nodded, he continued. “I'mma need ya to stay real quiet, head tha' way and hide, alrigh'? Thing's are gon' get messy. I need ya outta the line'a fire. I know ya have a bunch'a questions, and I'll answer 'em all later. I jus' need ya to do wha' I ask, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumbled quietly. “I love you.”

“Love ya too. Now go.”

Following his orders, you slipped away from behind him, praying harder than you ever had before that you didn't capture the attention of the others. You weren't stupid. You knew exactly what these “people” were—vampires. And based on that little interaction, and Daryl's panic, you were certain that they weren't exactly the friendly type of vampire, either.

You were nearing the opening that Daryl had talked about, succeeding in not making a sound, until you felt a whoosh beside you. You stood face to face with one of the men, the guy giving you a creepy smile. “Where do you think you're going, baby? The fun is just beginning.”

Before you could make a run for it, the guy had pushed you and you were flying through the air, your back soon making harsh contact with the wall. All the wind got knocked from your lungs, and your vision got a bit spotty. Bringing a hand up to the back of your head, you could feel the stickiness of the red liquid before you saw it. You were bleeding.

The scent of your blood filled the air, and hunger instantly dawned on every vampire's face—every face except Daryl's. In seconds, they were all lunging for you, only stopping short because Daryl used his body as a protective barrier again. “Don't,” he warned them.

Janine laughed wickedly. “Looks like Derek was right after all. You're still the same fucking wimp you were all those years ago. Still protecting your precious little humans.” Janine licked her lips, her fangs elongating. “I'm gonna have so much fun watching the life drain from her eyes.”

The last shred of the archer's patience snapped, and before anyone could properly see what he was doing, he lunged for the woman, snapping her neck effortlessly. The woman's life drained from her eyes—temporarily, as Daryl had told you that the only way to properly kill a vampire was by getting it in the heart—and that was enough to send the other two into a fit of rage.

“You motherfucker!”

Daryl grabbed the guy that was charging at him and threw him to the other side of the room. He briefly turned to look at you, quickly helping you to your feet. “Go! Get to tha' openin'!”

You definitely didn't need to be told twice. Walkers were predictable. They were loud, clumsy. You could handle walkers. Vampires were an entirely different ballpark. Daryl could easily overpower you without even using his full strength. You definitely did not want to find out what a vampire using its full strength could do to you. Ignoring the pain in your body, you bolted for that opening, wanting to get out of the line of fire. You didn't want to leave Daryl alone with these psychopaths, but you knew you didn't really have much of a choice. You'd be more of a liability than much help. Being safe would ensure that Daryl had a clear mind. He could defend himself. He'd be okay.

When Daryl saw you crawl into the opening, all hell broke loose. The guy—who Daryl knew from his life before the outbreak to be Derek—met a cruel, agonizing end. He had made the mistake to try and get to you. Daryl rushed over to him, grabbed him and pushed him forward, right into one of the metal rods sticking out of the wall. The rod impaled him in the chest, right through the most vital organ that kept him alive. Derek yelled as the rod drove right through him, but as soon as his heart was touched, he fell deathly silent—emphasis on the deathly. Two down, one to go. Daryl turned around and faced Stevie, the biggest and strongest vampire of the three. The archer knew that he had his work cut out for him.

Stevie approached Daryl threateningly. “What the hell are you doing, man?” he asked in a low, dangerous tone of voice. “That one human can't be worth more than years of friendship with us. All can be forgiven. Hand her over, add her blood to the rain, and everything will be fine.”

Daryl practically growled, his eyes alight with a fiery glare. “Ya add her blood to tha' fuckin' rain yer talkin' 'bout, I'll fuckin' kill ya.”

Stevie shook his head in disappointment. “Matt was right,” he began. “I never should've turned you. I should've left you to die on the side of that road.”

“Yeah, ya prolly shoulda.” The two men lunged for the other, the two colliding against each other harshly. However, by some stroke of luck, Daryl quickly got the upper hand. He unsheathed his knife and plunged it deeply into the other man's chest, eliciting a scream from him. Daryl firmly gripped the shirt of the man, bringing his face dangerously close to his. “Nah, scratch tha'. Ya definitely shoulda let me die tha' day. Guess s'a bit too late for tha' now, huh?”

With that, Daryl withdraw his knife and threw the almost lifeless corpse away from him. However, what the archer didn't know was that he threw the body right into a lever, the same lever that activated the rain the other vampires had been talking about—a blood rain.

Human blood sprayed out of the sprinkler system and rained down on Daryl, drenching him in seconds. The scent was extremely overwhelming to him, and when Daryl lifted his head to see where the blood was coming from, a few drops fell onto his lips. Against his better judgement, he licked his lips, the taste of human blood filling his taste buds for the first time in years. The taste overwhelmed his senses completely, and it took every ounce of self-restraint he had not to just open his mouth and greedily absorb every droplet of blood that fell from the sprinkler.

“Daryl?”

The sound of your voice instantly caught his attention, and he forced himself to snap back to reality. Janine would only be out cold for a few minutes more at best, and he had no idea when the others would return. He had to get you out of there. “C'mon, we gotta go,” he spoke up hoarsely. He quickly walked over to the woman and plunged his knife into her heart, ending her life completely, before making a beeline for the door you had come through earlier.

You quickly followed behind him, confused by his haste, but you refrained from saying anything. Your head was still throbbing painfully and your body was aching all over. Plus now you were drenched in blood, so that added to your discomfort. You silently climbed into the truck you had brought out with you for the run and started it, watching Daryl climb onto his newly-assembled bike and speed off. You shifted the truck into drive and followed behind him, leaving the factory behind you.

The drive back to Alexandria was long, and all you had to accompany you were your own thoughts. You had a million questions you wanted to ask your partner, and you needed answers. One problem you encountered when you finally got home, though? Daryl wouldn't be near anybody, not even you. When you got showered and wanted to settle down, Daryl was nowhere to be found.

The only thing that was left in his absence was an open window and a short note explaining that he'd be fine and not to worry about him.

Three days. It had been three days since that incident at the old factory. Three days since Daryl had disappeared. Three days since you were promised an explanation.

As quickly as you were given permission to go on runs again, just as quickly you were placed on bed rest again. That vampire had thrown you with quite the force. According to the doctor, Denise, you had bruised your ribs, and rather badly, too. She told you that you were lucky they weren't broken. Your back was also really badly bruised. It made sleeping rather hard, and without your partner there, your own personal space heater, sleep completely eluded you.

The house was relatively quiet that day. With you being placed on bed rest and banned from helping out around the community, you laid on the bed while staring at the ceiling, the only thing occupying your mind being the memory of you hugging Daryl for the first time; it also happened to be the first time you had commented on the warmth his body emitted, despite his “undead” nature. However, the archer had simply chuckled, vowing to explain it to you another time.

The sound of the window to your bedroom opening had your senses peaking to high alert. You grabbed the knife that rested under your pillow and hurriedly sprung up from the bed, clutching the weapon tightly. However, you calmed down once you saw who it was; your partner, gripping his crossbow while holding a dead squirrel between his teeth.

“Daryl, oh my god,” you breathed a sigh of relief and helped him through the window. However, once he was inside, Daryl firmly pushed you to the side and tried to put as much distance between the two of you as he physically could without having to leave the room. That made you confused. “Daryl, what—”

“Dun' come any closer. Please,” he mumbled out weakly, removing the dead squirrel from his mouth and tightly clutching it in his hands. “I dun' wanna hurt ya. Jus' needed to see if ya were alrigh'.”

“Hurt me?” You took a small step forward, stopping short when Daryl tensed up. “What do you mean hurt me? That's impossible. You can never hurt me.” You took a tentative step towards the archer, determined to show him that you didn't fear him, despite the warning that he could hurt you. You didn't believe that. He could never hurt you. Of that you were certain. “I don't know what's going on in that amazing mind of yours, but I want to understand. Please. Talk to me.”

Daryl let out a shuddered breath when your hand made contact with his cheek, unknowingly dropping the dead animal on the ground. Your scent was heavily intoxicating, like some drug he could easily get addicted to, and it made it extremely hard for him to keep his hunger at bay. Still, he tried. He tried his hardest. He would never willingly hurt the most precious thing in his life. He'd much rather have his own heart get ripped out than hurt you.

His instincts somewhat got the better of him. Daryl slightly turned his head and kissed your wrist, his teeth barely scraping against your skin. You inhaled sharply at the contact, your mind instantly flooded with thoughts that Gabriel would declare unholy, but you forced yourself to think straight. There would be time for things like that another time. For now, you had to get through to your partner. You had to figure out what was going through his mind. And you had to figure out why his gorgeous ocean coloured eyes had adapted that crimson colour when he was actively feeding not even five minutes prior.

“Talk to me,” you begged, pleaded, in a soft tone. “What's going on?” A few beats of silence passed. Daryl withdrew from your touch and took a few steps back, and you were convinced that he was going to shut you down, but you were pleasantly surprised when he let out a deep sigh and nodded.

“Ya remember those vamps tha' we encountered three days ago?” When you nodded, he continued. “I guess ya can say tha' they were my “friends”. When I got bitten by Stevie way back when, they took me in, showed me the ropes. They told me tha' if I wanted to survive, I'd have to live according to their customs. I'd have to feed off'a humans. For a while, tha's all tha' I knew. I mean, they've been alive for decades. I was a nobody, jus' some kid they took in. It didn't mean tha' I liked it, though. I wished more than anythin' for a way out.”

Daryl stopped for a moment and sat down on the bed before continuing. “But then they said tha' to prove myself, I'd have to kill my brother, drink his blood. Tha's when I jus' couldn't do it anymore. I got some vamp to pretend to have gotten into a scuffle with me and to tell everyone tha' he had killed me. I got my act straight and searched for alternatives, and tha's how I started becomin' “vegan”. I haven't had human blood again since then. Well, not since...” Daryl cleared his throat, his breath hitching when he inhaled too deeply and caught a whiff of your intoxicating scent again. “Not since tha' whole ordeal with those bastards. The blood tha' rained down on us was human blood. I made the mistake of tastin' it. Now nothin' s'satisfyin' my hunger. Not deer, not squirrel, nothin'. M'so goddamn hungry and I dun' know wha' to do.”

Silence. It got so silent that one could hear a pin drop. It got so silent that you could hear someone fiddling around with the pots and pans in the kitchen, that someone being Gabriel. The priest, although not very liked by your group, had been allowed to stay in your home. You were sure that if he had heard Daryl's confession, he'd run to Deanna first chance he got. But that wasn't your main focus at that moment.

Nothing would satisfy his hunger. No, that definitely wasn't something you believed. No animal would satisfy his hunger. However, you were sure that you could think of an alternative to his problems; you could be his solution. Seeing your man in such a state broke your heart, and if you could help him out of his terrible predicament, how could you say no?

With your decision made, you moved over to Daryl. You slowly straddled his lap and looped your arms around his neck. Daryl inhaled deeply and moved to grip your hips and lift you off of him, not trusting his own instincts, but you didn't allow him to do so. “Don't,” you whispered, gently brushing his hair away from his eyes.

Daryl's now blood red eyes stared at you, a small whimper escaping him. God, you smelled so good. It was getting to be too much to handle. If he didn't put some distance between the two of you, he'd most certainly do something he'd end up regretting. “I dun' wanna hurt ya. Ya smell so good and m'not sure I can control myself much longer. I have to go. I—”

“Don't,” you repeated your earlier statement. “No matter what you do, nothing satisfies your hunger, right?” When Daryl nodded, you continued. “No animal blood satisfies your hunger. My blood will.”

“Nah. I ain't doin' tha',” Daryl denied your offer, his breathing starting to fasten at the idea. He had to admit, the thought of tasting your blood sounded extremely appealing to him, but he couldn't. He didn't know if he'd be able to stop.

“It's either with me, your partner who won't snitch on you for this, or some innocent person. If you don't feed now, some innocent person is going to die. We don't want that.”

“Nah, I can't.��� Daryl's words rung through the air as his breathing became more erratic. Although he was steadfast in his denial to your gracious request, his fingers tightened their hold on your hips. “I haven't drunk from a person in years. Wha' if I can't stop?”

“That won't happen,” you told him reassuringly, your fingers gently working through his hair. “I trust you. You'll know when to stop.”

Daryl inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as his self-restraint started to dwindle even more. “But, Gabriel's here. He's gon' hear everythin',” he mumbled, lowering his head to rest on your shoulder. “Ya've heard me when I feed on animals. Increase tha' by ten when it comes to human blood. He's gon' tell Deanna and m'gonna be kicked out, maybe even killed.”

“Well,” you began with a seductive smirk. You pulled back, moved your hands down to grip the edge of your shirt and tugged it over your head, leaving your upper body completely bare to your partner's now lustful gaze. “I guess you need some motivation to stay quiet, huh?”

Daryl let out a shuddered breath, his eyes trailing over your body. Any ounce of his self-restraint flew out of the window. All he thought about was you, and how absolutely amazing you'd taste, and he didn't want to admit that the thought sent blood rushing straight down to his dick. “Wha' do ya have in mind?”

Your smirk widened slightly at the feeling of him growing hard beneath you. Your hands moved to the back of his head, your eyes alight with mischief as your idea came out to play. “I'm gonna give you what you told me was your favourite thing and pair it with feeding you,” you began, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his lips before pulling back. “This.” Without even giving him time to process your words, you gently yet firmly brought his face down to your boobs, stuffing his face between them. “Drink.”

To say Daryl was surprised would be an understatement. He definitely hadn't expected that. Even just offering to help satisfy his hunger by drinking your blood was unexpected, and then that happened? However, he knew that you weren't about to take no for an answer, so very slowly and gingerly, he pressed a few kisses to your now bare chest, mentally preparing both you and him for what was about to transpire.

The small action had a white-hot fire shooting down through your body, all the way to your core. Without even fully registering what you were doing, you moaned softly and slowly ground yourself down against his erection, eliciting a broken groan from the archer. His self-restraint fully dissipated. His fangs elongated and he finally sunk them down into the flesh of your boobs, right above your nipple.

You yelped at the unexpected pain that came from his fangs penetrating your skin, but you refrained from pulling back against the pain. The pain would soon go away, you reassured yourself. The thought barely had time to sit in your mind until it was proven correct. The pain very quickly dulled into something more manageable and, dare you even say it, something way more pleasurable. The feeling had you rolling your hips against his, a desperate attempt to relieve the ache that formed at your core.

Daryl groaned at both the feeling of the pressure you bestowed on his clothed cock and the taste of the delicious crimson that filled his taste buds. You tasted better than anything he'd ever had before in his entire existence, human or animal. It was almost unbearable. His senses were acutely aware of you. Only you. He couldn't focus on anything else.

Subconsciously, Daryl started moving his hips up against yours, begging for any sort of friction to relieve the ache in his pants. You moaned at the feeling, grinding yourself down against him harder. Daryl wasn't going to last long, and you knew it. You knew his tells for when he was close. And for some reason, the thought of him falling apart simply by the taste of you and the little bit of friction pressed against him was so incredibly hot to you.

Daryl was close, in more ways than one. He was close to coming. He was close to retracting his fangs from your flesh as to not take too much of your blood. He was close to metaphorically dying. He was on cloud nine at that moment, and he never wanted to come down. Your blood was an addictive drug, one that he never wanted to get clean from. There was no rehab for him when the drug he was consuming at that moment was so damn good. He couldn't get enough of you. And after this whole ordeal, he doubted if he'd ever be able to go back to his former animal-drinking ways.

One last suck, one last mouthful of your delicious crimson liquid and one last grind of your hips had him tumbling over the edge. His body shook at the powerful feeling of his orgasm, white, hot spurts of his release coating the insides of his jeans. Daryl whimpered against your flesh, the intensity of it all making his mind incredibly foggy.

“That's it. Good job, Baby. You did so good,” you whispered soothingly, your mind also hazy from both the blood loss and the loss of your approaching release. However, you wouldn't tell Daryl about that last part. He could take care of you another time. Besides, even if he was willing to help you out at that moment, you doubted that you would be able to. You felt very light-headed, and all you wanted to do was collapse into your partner's arms.

Daryl withdrew his fangs from the skin of your breast. He looked up at you with his now-blue eyes, only small specks of red still coating the beautiful irises. “Ya alrigh'?” he asked you quietly, warily eyeing the way you eyes started to droop. “I didn't take too much, did I?”

You slowly shook your head. “No. I'll be okay. Just a bit light-headed.” You forced your eyes to focus on Daryl, desperately wanting to reassure him that you didn't regret a thing and that you were indeed just fine. “I promise I'm okay, Dar. You didn't take that much. I just need to rest and I'll be fine.”

Daryl hesitantly nodded before lowering his head to the wound his fangs had made onto your flesh. He gingerly licked at the blood that poured from the open skin before going back to the source, gently licking at it. “This'll help it heal faster,” Daryl explained, although he didn't have to. You were well aware of the healing attributes his spit carried. He had “magic spit”, as you had jokingly called it once before.

When he was done, he gently lifted you off his lap, placing you down next to him. He grabbed your shirt from the ground and helped you to put it on. “C'mon, in bed with ya. Ya need to take it easy.” When you complied with his request, he took it upon himself to clean up the mess he made in his jeans. He shuddered as he slowly undressed himself, his release sticking to him in a way he didn't like. He grabbed his rag and cleaned himself up, before grabbing a fresh pair of sweatpants from the dresser and putting them on. When everything was done, and with the immediate risk of hurting you gone, he clambered into bed with you. He wrapped his arms around you, cuddling you from behind. He was certain that you had fallen asleep, but he was pleasantly surprised when he heard your voice.

“Should you be this hot?” you asked him, turning around to place your head on his chest.

“Wha' do ya mean?” Daryl asked you in confusion, his arms adjusting to hold you close to his chest.

“Well, vampires are considered to be dead, right? Dead things are usually cold. You're not. I wanna know why.”

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. “I dun' really know why. There are a bunch'a different types'a vamps. M'guessin' the reason I have human heat s'cause I didn't fully complete the “transformation” process. Yer supposed to drink the blood'a the vamp tha' bit ya to fully transform into one. I never did tha'. Stevie didn't want me to and said it didn't matter whether or not I did. Guess tha's wha's keepin' my human traits in check.”

“What happens to those that don't fully transform?”

“Not much. We dun' become immortal. Tha's why m'agin' jus' like everyone else. Tha's a huge plus for me. I definitely dun' wanna live forever. We need human food to survive jus' as much as we need blood. Can't survive purely off'a blood and can't survive purely off'a food. Need to have both.” He stopped, placed a tender kiss on your forehead, and continued. “We can walk in the sun without dyin', so tha's good. And, uh, we can make babies who are completely human, but I dun' know how true tha' is. Never tried it 'fore.”

You giggled and pressed a kiss to his clothed chest. “Well, I'm always up to try it. To test out that theory. Just tell me when.”

Daryl's breath hitched in his throat. You couldn't be serious about that, could you? “This yer way'a tellin' me ya want a baby?”

You shrugged and closed your eyes, letting out a contented sigh. “I'm not getting any younger. I kinda want to start a family. But it's okay if you don't want to. I'd never force you to...” you trailed off, your breathing evening out.

Daryl looked down at you in surprise at your revelation. You wanted to start a family? With him? The thought both scared and excited him. “Ya really want tha'? With me?” he asked you. However, he got no reply. You were fast asleep. He chuckled and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. “We'll talk 'bout it when ya ain't delirious from blood loss.”

[freyito]

Can you do the type of dates Mk1 guys will take you on?

idk if yall caught on but i absolutely love making these big ass drabbles for everyone... takes so long but its always so worth it. i got like 3 more in the drafts el oh el

cw: gn reader, juuuust fluff, bonus characters!, proofread

ᴛʏᴘᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴ

⎯ Liu Kang

Need I say it? I'll say it anyways. Stargazing. Liu Kang loves taking you stargazing. He'll take you absolutely anywhere in the world. It does not matter that he's lived under these stars for ages and ages. He enjoys seeing Earthrealm's natural beauty. And the stars, of course.

⎯ Bi-Han

Bi-Han prefers private moments with you, so his favorite date is simply a nice stroll. Sure, he could be lavish and drop a whole bunch of money on you, but he feels like that does not display his love properly. He just likes quality time with you, really. A nice, private dinner with you doesn't sound bad, either... or even ice skating. As cheesy as that is for someone like him.

⎯ Kuai Liang

As much as Kuai tries to be simple, he really loves taking you to festivals. As often as he can, of course that kind of amounts to like eight a year. But he loves them, he loves every single aspect of them. Mainly pampering you and buying you all the food you could want. His favorite festival is actually the Lantern Festival, he loves sending off lanterns with you.

⎯ Johnny Cage

Johnny sets up the most fancy, frivolous, and expensive dates for you, always. Truth be told, however, he really just likes a night in with you. Ordering your favorite take-out, cuddling up on the couch, watching one of his favorite movies- which, surprisingly, isn't one of his! He really loves horror movie nights, too. He chooses the corniest movies, and gets kind of disappointed if you don't AT LEAST squeeze his bicep during the scary parts.

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

I like to think Kenshi is a good ol' fashioned lover boy. He loves extending the date through the whole day. He starts off with surprising you with flowers in the morning, maybe going on for a nice little stroll, have lunch at a quaint little café, and finish it all off with some dancing. Perhaps in the kitchen, or at a club, whichever you choose. Kenshi is actually terrifyingly good at dancing, he's just smooth like that.

⎯ Kung Lao

Madam Bo's. Breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Are you surprised? No. I know you aren't. Kung Lao loves any date that involves food, but enjoying something as simple and humble as a meal at Madam Bo's specifically has been and always will be his favorite.

⎯ Raiden

Raiden loves picnics! Somewhere in the secluded country-side, just enjoying your time with him. A myriad of home-made appetizers and what not. He believes it's one of the most intimate ways to spend time with you. He also loves to admire the way the sun compliments your figure, as well.

⎯ Zeffeero

Zeffeero seems particularly excited when it rains. Of course. It's in the job description. He urges you in the most nonchalant way for a quick stroll in the rain. Which inevitably leads to dancing in the rain. He tries to keep his composure around you, to look like that respectable wizard all the damn time. But you make him crumble, and he just can't help but giving in to breaking that façade with you.

⎯ Tomas Vrbada

Tomas also loves taking you out for dinner at Madam Bo's. Partially because he still feels guilty. But he loves the food there, and he hopes you do, too. To be honest, any time spent with you is worth it. So when it comes to dates, he doesn't exactly have a go-to or a favorite.

⎯ Baraka

Stargazing. The wastes provide a great space away from any sort of light pollution, and truth be told, Baraka prefers any time away from any populated places with you. He's afraid of the backlash you could get, as well as just the overall fear of spreading Tarkat. He knows his place, really. But those moments, deep in the night, where the stars are the brightest make up for all the worry.

⎯ Geras

Geras kind of has... no concept on dates. Like, none. He's a construct, and he doesn't really know much of the human connection. He's content simply by seeing you- which is kind of all your dates amount to. He's busy regardless, he has to watch over the hourglass.

⎯ Syzoth

Would it sound weird if I said Syzoth really liked hiking...? Aside from just cuddling up with you, he likes to explore. Especially with Earthrealm being so new to him. Being all sort of tucked away in the mountains, just with you, where he's free to transform and explore and enjoy his new-found life and freedom just... sparks something within him.

⎯ Havik

Oh boy. Havik also SUCKS at dates. Given his rowdy and anarchist nature, it's really hard for him to find a proper way to settle down and enjoy the day with you. Aside from naps, he genuinely would like you to tag along with him on all his... excursions. Extreme they may be, dismantling some sort of order with you really makes his heart burn for you.

⎯ Shao Kahn

With his status, it's kind of hard to find proper time to take you out. However, when he does, it's always a stereotypical quiet dinner. He's got some pretty damn connections, and somehow always manages to land the right table. Under the moonlight, just talking about your days. He enjoys those quiet, mundane moments.

⎯ Shang Tsung

A day AND night out shopping is really what Shang Tsung loves. He spoils you (and himself), and he's all chatty while you two walk down the market. He's very observant, actually. Any little thing you so much as spend more than 2 seconds looking at is now in your hands. He loves buying you the little things.

⎯ Reiko

Being second in command to Shao, Reiko kind of knows his way around dancing. He's a soldier, yeah, but especially when he's close to the royalty I imagine there's some sort of luxury he has to uphold. Reiko's not the best at dancing by all means, but whenever some sort of ball event starts in Sun Do, he's bringing you. And he gets better, each time.

⎯ Bonus Points! Takeda Takahashi

KARAOKE. Takeda SUCKS at singing, but it's not about that. It is so fun with him. Getting a break from the Shirai Ryu, his father, the special forces, pulling you to some dive, screaming his heart out to some white girl pop, he loves it. And he loves it when you two do those silly little duets. He could care less about how bad he sings, it's just those moments he gets to let loose with you.

⎯ Bonus Points! Hanzo Hasashi

It may come as a surprise, but Hanzo loves little pottery dates. For a man like him, it seems so unlikely. But it's quiet, and actually needs a lot of focus. That's what he likes about it. It's something calming to do, with his love. And he likes to see what you come up with, especially. He kind of sucks at painting, though. So he'll pass off the bowls or cups he makes for you to paint.

© freyito, 2023 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[something-tofightfor]

A Wonderful, Awful Idea / 3

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Female Reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 8,953

Summary: Learning more about Pero - and his motivations is eye opening. Not only does it give you a better understanding of him as a man, but it makes a great deal of his behavior make sense.

Moving forward never comes without a few setbacks, though.

Rating: M: language. (warnings: talking about childhood trauma, Pero's injury, bullying, Pero and William's work - nothing in detail)

Author's Note:

Sorry this took so long to get out, but it's here now so please enjoy. I thought this would be the last part ... but in true Rachael fashion, it isn't. Hope you don't mind extending the holiday season into mid January.

The title comes from Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

Thank you for reading, and happy holidays!

*dividers by @/strangergraphics

You placed the order as he drove, and by the time you’d arrived at Pero’s place, everything was in motion. It would take just under an hour to get delivered, which gave you some time to talk. He led you inside, guiding you with one hand on your back. “It is not much, but it is mine.” 

Even though he’d told you it was two bedrooms, it was smaller than you anticipated based on what you knew about him. But it’s perfect for a single person. “It’s cozy.” Turning around in a slow circle, you unzipped your jacket as you spoke. “I really like it, Pero.” 

The walls were light, but almost everything else was dark - furniture, shelving and window coverings included. He had a comfortable looking recliner on one side of the living room, and a large couch on the other, sitting just behind what looked like an antique wooden coffee table. Another quick look around revealed a dining room table large enough for two, a small kitchen with a set of pots and pans hanging from hooks on the wall, and a door that likely led out to a patio and the back yard. 

“I use the second bedroom as an office.” He showed you down the hallway, pointing out the bathroom and his bedroom, both of those doors pulled mostly shut. “William tells me I need to get a cat to keep me company.” 

“You should.” You turned around to look at him. “I think a cat could break through even your grumpiness.” He wrinkled his nose but didn’t disagree, instead pointing you back out and toward the living room. “And you could leave a cat alone for a couple days if you ever went out of town, too.” 

“That would be good.” He went into the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?” You did, but instead of asking what your choices were, you went into the kitchen to look yourself, peering over his shoulder and into the refrigerator. “I have wine. That would be -”

“Pero.” You rested your hand against his back again, feeling him stiffen briefly at your touch. “Look at me for a second.” He stood back up and spun toward you, his eyes betraying him: he was nervous. “I don’t expect anything from coming here.” Taking a deep breath, you continued. “If you don’t want to talk about what happened at my house, we don’t have to. If you don’t want to talk about what I said earlier today to Christina, we don’t have to. You invited me here for pizza, and that -”

“I want to talk about those things.” He stepped closer, one hand rising to rub at the back of his neck. “I want to talk about them very much. But I also …” He reached for you with his other hand, Pero’s fingers sliding up the length of your arm before he settled his palm against your shoulder. “I also want to kiss you, if you’ll let me.” 

“I’ve been waiting all fucking night for you to do that.” He moved first again, stepping forward to push you back against the edge of the counter as his arms went around you. Pero held you close and paused just before he kissed you, inhaling through his nose. “Pero.” You whispered his name and that was all he needed. 

His kiss that time was purposeful, the ends of his mustache tickling your upper lip when your mouths met. You put your hands against his sides, urging him to stay close. Finally. Pero groaned, the sound low, and when you heard it you felt your fingers curl. That noise. “No.” He backed away, shaking his head. “No, we haven’t…”

“This answers one of my questions.” You took as deep a breath as you could. “My porch, it wasn’t … you don’t regret it.” 

“I don’t.” He shook his head slowly. “I have not stopped thinking about it … about you since that night.” Pero’s hands dropped to your waist. “When you turned around to look at me, I almost … I almost rushed forward again.” 

“I did too.” You laughed quietly, closing your eyes. “I wanted to. But I didn’t want to scare you. I figured I’d already gotten lucky enough with a kiss that if I pushed my luck, it would … not end well.” 

“I told you I am not good at this.” He wet his lips, dragging his tongue slowly over them. “I don’t like … it isn’t easy for me to tell people how I feel.” It was a gamble, but you decided to go for it. 

“Then don’t tell me.” You leaned in, turning your head so that you could softly press your lips to his bruised cheek. “Show me, Pero.” You’d have plenty of time to talk afterward - and you wondered if Pero would be more open to talking once he knew for sure that you had actual feelings for him, too. 

“Show you?” You nodded, meeting his eyes again. “Really?” 

“Yes.” Reaching up, you pushed the hair back from his brow, guiding it behind his ear. “I’ve got a feeling that there’s a lot more in there waiting to come out, and I think you’ve been holding yourself back.” You were right - you could see it in his eyes and feel it in the way he carried himself. But I don’t want him to. “You don’t have to ask my permission to kiss me. If I didn’t want you to, you’d know.” 

“And you don’t have to approach me like I am a scared animal.” He frowned, brow furrowed. “You always hesitate before you touch me. It is not necessary.” 

“I’ll remember that.” Stroking the back of his neck, you took a deep breath. “Might take me some time to get used to it because I’ve had to keep my distance for so long, but …” He ducked his head, lips finding the edge of your jaw. “Oh, you…” Pero kept going, lips trailing over your skin toward your chin and then up, his mouth landing on the corner of yours before he paused and then turned his head inward. “Pero, please. I’m going to lose my mind if you don’t -”

He didn’t keep you waiting. Pero’s lips crashed into yours, and that time, they were already parted. Finally. Finally, it’s… You opened your mouth, too, and even though you’d vowed to let him lead, you didn’t think twice before you flicked your tongue against his lip and then past it, Pero’s meeting it immediately. 

You’d started the kiss, but he deepened it, moving his hands from your waist up so that one of them was flat against your back and the other curved around the back of your head. He tasted like the coffee he’d had as you left the venue, and when you sighed into the kiss, he took the opportunity to graze your lower lip with his teeth. 

You tightened the fingers you had in his hair, and that made Pero growl, the sound accompanied by another swipe of his tongue against yours and then more teeth, that time biting down and not letting go right away. “How is that?” He broke the kiss to breathe, but didn’t back away, instead dragging the tip of his nose along the side of yours. “For showing you?” 

“It’s a good start.” You fought to catch your breath, too, letting your hands fall to his shoulders. “Fuck, Pero. I have no idea how you don’t have women beating down your door after kissing them like that.” He laughed then, finally stepping away and crossing his arms. “Why is that funny?”

“You think I kiss everyone like that?” He shook his head, eyes locked with yours. “Not a chance. That is the result of it taking this long to kiss you for the first time.” You laughed too, and reached for him, pulling him into a tight hug. “And now you have made good on what you said to Christina today.” He winked at you, and your response was to close your eyes and groan. 

“I shouldn’t have said that. I just didn’t like her assuming …” Shit. You trailed off, feeling like you’d overstepped again while apologizing for overstepping earlier. “I have no right to assume anything either, but it was just … I couldn’t stop myself.” 

“I don’t want you to.” He reached for you, using one finger to tip your chin up to bring your head level. “I’ve never had anyone do that for me before.” He frowned briefly, but it was more contemplative than anything else. “Claim me? It… I was not expecting it.” His lips lifted into a smile - small but genuine - and he continued. “I liked it.” 

It made you feel better, especially since you knew how difficult it probably was for him to admit that to you. “That’s good to know.” You reached out, taking his hand and linking your fingers together. “Can I be honest with you?” He nodded, flexing his fingers. “I think it would be really easy to get carried away with you. I think that if I got the chance, I’d like to let that happen.” He smirked at your words, but didn’t speak. “We only have one more event together before your assignment ends, and then who knows what you’ll have to -”

“Unless there’s an emergency, we’re done from Christmas Eve through the first week of January. William and Lin are going on vacation.” He gestured to the living room. “And I planned on staying on that couch and doing absolutely nothing for as much of that time as possible.” Pero said your name. “Unless you wanted to see me then. I know you agreed to three “dates” but -” 

“Yes.” You pushed off of the counter and closed the distance between you again. “I would like that.” And… “I’ve also got some time off and a very comfortable couch in my house that you can use, too.” The smile that lit up his face felt like an early present, and you returned it immediately. I wish he’d smile more. Maybe I’ll be able to make it happen. “The food will be here soon, won’t it?” 

He looked over his shoulder and at the clock on the stove. “It will. Where would you like to eat?” 

“It’s your house.” He stepped away from you and back toward the refrigerator. “You choose.”

“Couch. Then we can put on the TV.” He pulled out the bottle of wine. “If I drink some of this, I will still be able to take you home. But if you’d rather I didn’t, I -”

“I trust you.”   You pointed. “But I also want some water.” He nodded, and as the two of you headed back into the living room, you realized that even though having someone in his house wasn’t common for Pero, he was handling things well. And when you told him as much, he sighed, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. 

“It is very … I’m surprised I am this comfortable with you here.” He held out his other hand, motioning for you not to interrupt before he finished. “Are you comfortable?” 

“Pero, we just made out in your kitchen for a solid ten minutes. Yes I’m comfortable here.” He held back a smile at that, but only barely, and it made you buzz with happiness. “I do have a question for you, though.” He gestured for you to take a seat on the couch and then sat next to you, leaning back against the pillows. “You realize that Christina was hitting on you earlier, right?” He nodded slowly, mouth set in a thin line. “And that proves that women are interested in you… like, beautiful, successful, women?” 

“Her success does not matter to me.” He frowned. “And there is a difference between being interested in me and being interested in me keeping her safe.”

“You offered to protect me if I ever needed it, and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t… appealing to me.” You rubbed your hands together, looking around the room. “But she wouldn’t have kissed you like that if she wasn’t attracted to you. You have to know that. I think… I think you’ve spent so long convincing yourself that everyone else must feel a certain way about you that you actually believe it’s true.” 

“Maybe.” He took a deep breath. “But it changes nothing. I don’t want to stop working with William. I don’t want to leave home for months at a time. And I would never kiss someone I worked for. It is unprofessional.” 

“But you don’t really work for her now.” You looked down at your hands, hating the uncertainty that filtered into your voice. “And after the party, you won’t, so -”

“I have no interest in Christina aside from finishing the job we were hired to do.” Pero reached over, using two fingers to tilt your chin upward. “And you know very well just how … difficult it can be to change my mind.” He smiled at you, the expression softening his features. “How long did it take you to do it?”

“Years.” You bit your lip. “I know I’m being stupid, Pero. But this is still so new, I can’t help it.” He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, the doorbell rang. “Pizza’s here.” He closed his eyes and nodded, pulling his hand away before he stood. 

“Plates are in the kitchen, above the sink.” 

Even though you talked while you ate, the conversation stayed light, and never circled back around to what you’d been talking about in the kitchen. Pero told you about jobs that he and William had worked, and you told him about some of your coworkers - and more about yourself. It happened naturally, work stories leading into revealing more about yourself outside of the office, along with telling him about your family and friends. 

He listened intently, giving you time to talk while he chewed through mouthfuls of pizza, but Pero said very little about himself, even though you left it open for him to do so. And though you wanted to give him time and space to only tell you what he was comfortable with, part of you wondered if he’d only elaborate if he was directly asked questions. 

So once the plates were cleared and the leftovers were in the refrigerator, you and Pero got comfortable on the couch again, the TV playing quietly in the background. “You said you were born in Spain?” He nodded, fingers smoothing over his mustache. “How’d you end up here then?” 

“It is a long story.” He paused, shaking his head. “No. That is a lie. It is a short story that I do not tell many people.” Pero sat up, putting his hands on his knees. “My birth parents were very young when they had me. They were not ready to be parents, and could not keep me. I went through a few different homes over there, and none of them worked out. I ended up coming here when I was almost 11.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “The couple that adopted me were … they gave me everything, but they could not give me friends.” Pero looked over at you, a sad smile on his face. “I tried very hard to make the other kids like me, but it did not work. They avoided me. They teased me. As I got older, I began doing foolish things, just for attention.” 

“Pero, you don’t have to -”

“No. You should know. If we are going to …” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was only sixteen when some classmates dared me to go into a building that had been closed off. It was very dark and I did not have a flashlight.” Pero wet his lips. “I think they planned to have someone inside to scare me, but I tripped and fell. I hurt myself badly.” He pointed at his face, making a slashing motion with his fingers. “I should have lost my eye. But I didn’t. And afterward… I just did not care anymore whether or not they liked me or talked to me.” 

“Oh, Pero, that…” Reaching over, you put your hand on his knee, squeezing it. “Kids are the worst. There’s no one more cruel than a high school kid.” He didn’t say anything in response, and for a few moments, the two of you sat in silence, thinking. You tried to imagine teenage Pero, attempting to make friends in a new and strange country. You wondered what had happened after the dare - if the other kids had felt bad, or if they’d apologized, or if they’d just gone further in their dismissal of him as he healed, making him more of an outcast. He didn’t deserve it. “When did you meet William?” 

“After I graduated, I did not want to go to college.” He scoffed. “My parents gave me the option, but they just wanted me to be happy with what I did.” You understood that, and as encouragement for him to continue, you reached over, setting your hand on top of his. “I am strong, so I did more of what I’d done in school and took physical jobs.” He smiled for the first time in long minutes. “I worked for a moving company. I did landscaping. I worked security at different venues.” He shrugged. “Anything people would pay me to do, I did. No one cared what I looked like or how friendly I was as long as I got the job done and didn’t ask too many questions.” 

“How strong are you? I have a chair I need -” Pero reached over, shoving your knee with his hand - but as you both laughed, he didn’t pull it away, instead squeezing and then leaving it in place. 

“Very strong. But you asked about William, so be quiet and I will tell you.” Miming the act of zipping your lips, you widened your eyes at him. “After he retired from the military, he started working the same kinds of jobs as me. We met while working during football season. He and Lin had just moved here for her job, and we were assigned to the same team.”

“Let me guess. He started talking and wouldn’t stop?” Pero nodded, his thumb moving slowly over the outside of your knee. “He does that. It’s kind of annoying.” 

“Very annoying. But somehow, with William, I didn’t… he wasn’t talking to me out of pity. He just wanted to talk to someone, and I was a good listener.” That didn’t come as a shock, but Pero wasn’t done. “Lin’s family has money, and there were a few times they needed security for things they did - events and trips. They paid William to find people to provide it, and he asked me to help. I did, because even though he was annoying, I did not mind the work.” 

“And you became actual friends.” He nodded. “How long did that take?” 

“Only six months.” Pero rolled his eyes. “Lin is very persistent.” That made you laugh again, and even Pero’s scowl was less severe than usual. “And when William came to me and told me he wanted to open a company of his own - with just the two of us? I could not say no.”  

That had been before you’d met any of them, because when you’d gotten to know Lin and William, he’d already been working with Pero, and the business’ reputation was well established. “It’s good that you met him, then.” Pero nodded. “It’s just the two of you? Doesn’t that limit the -”

“We have a few other people we can call if we need them. Some of William’s old military contacts have been reliable in the past.” He looked down. “But yes, mostly it is just us, because people trust us. And that is …” He looked up and at you again, a pensive expression on his face. “I’m still not used to that.” 

“But you’re good at what you do.” He nodded. “So why wouldn’t people trust you to do your job? In your line of work, I feel like word of mouth is -”

“Very important, yes.” He inched closer, averting his eyes briefly. “But there are times when we …” He gestured at his bruised face with his free hand. “Do not deserve that trust.” He feels like he failed because he got hurt? But he said he handled it. He said… “I do not like having to get physical, but sometimes … sometimes it is unavoidable.” 

“Have you ever seriously hurt someone, Pero?” You asked the question before you could stop yourself, and once it was out, you worried that he wouldn’t answer. 

“Yes.” He looked you in the eye as he answered. “Do not ask me if I have done worse than that, because I cannot answer.” What? You stiffened, but didn’t move away. Does that mean he’s killed someone? “The job, it does not always … we don’t stick around. I only know what happens while I’m there.” What kinds of jobs do they take? 

“Is that another reason you don’t want to get close to anyone?” Your voice was steady, and you hoped that helped convince him you weren’t reacting poorly to his words. “Because you’re afraid that they wouldn’t… accept what you do?”

“Yes.” The word was accompanied with a single nod. “I don’t want to lie to someone, and unless I tell them exactly what I do, I’d have to.” 

“But you just told me.” You spoke quietly, heart pounding as understanding coursed through you. “So what does that mean?” 

“I don’t know.” He smiled, but it was short-lived. “I don’t usually do this.” You had a lot of thoughts, but didn’t know how to vocalize them. Pero opening up to you in such a big way was unexpected, and you knew that if it felt that way for you, it must have been even more of a shock for him. “I understand if you don’t… if knowing this makes you uncomfortable.” He pressed his lips together. “I did not mean to tell you all of it.” 

“I’m glad you did.” You thought for a few seconds and then moved even closer, saying his name softly. “Thank you for trusting me.” It still wasn’t everything - and you knew it. But what Pero had revealed to you was more than enough to make you look at him differently, and with more understanding. “Did you really think that I knew the nitty gritty parts of what you and William do? That isn’t … something that Lin and I talk about. And William and I -”

“I thought you would just assume.” He waved a hand in the air between you. “You watch enough TV to know that private security isn’t always safe and simple for anyone involved.” 

“Pero, we need to work on this.” You lifted a hand and reached for him, thumb stroking along his cheekbone. “You can’t just assume that I assume things. And you can’t write shit off before you give it a chance to happen.” He leaned into your touch, the expression on his face relaxing slightly. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but if you and I are going to be friends, we need to have an understanding.” 

“You want to be my friend?” He blinked, and used the tip of his tongue to wet his lips. “Just a friend?” You hadn’t meant it like that, but it didn’t surprise you that he’d chosen that to focus on. 

“Ideally, we’d be more than friends.” You closed your eyes, exhaling. “But even if it doesn’t get to that point, it’s still true that you can’t be friends with someone you hide from.” Pero was silent, and when you reopened your eyes, you were worried that you wouldn’t like whatever expression he chose as a response. 

“It really does not scare you that I am capable of violence?” You heard uncertainty in his voice, immediately understanding that Pero was completely out of his element with you. “Bruises and scars and secret jobs wouldn’t make you want to -”

“Pero.” You took a breath and then leaned in, kissing him on the lips. “I’m not afraid of you. The rest of it… I don’t like to think about it, but it’s not enough to make me run for the hills right now, no.” He considered your words for long seconds, his lips parted and eyes searching your face. Go for it. Just do it. “You just told me that you spent years trying to make friends and get close to people but it didn’t work. Now I’m trying to get close to you, and -” 

He hauled you closer, your eyes widening as he leaned back into the corner of the couch, pulling you with him. “Is this close enough?” He mumbled the words before he kissed you, lips soft as they pressed to yours. “Because I think we could get closer.” 

It stunned you how quickly Pero seemed to waver between moments of uncertainty and confidence, and you wondered if it had been that way for him for his whole life, or just when it came to friendships and relationships. He doesn’t seem uncertain about his abilities or his competence, it’s just … people. “This is good.” You pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath your palm. “Are you alright with it?” 

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, Pero shifted more, moving so that his back was against the backrest of the couch and he was laying on his side. He urged you closer, and without giving yourself time to think about it, you pulled your legs up and stretched them out, laying on your side to face him. He draped an arm over you, fingers lazily moving against the center of your back. 

You stared at each other, both of you adjusting to the new - and unexpected - position you were in. He didn’t look afraid or unsure; for the first time, Pero seemed like he was comfortable with the proximity to you, and the fact that he’d been the one to initiate it. “How much longer would you have waited?”

“For?” You raised a hand, using two fingers to push hair away from his brow. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“For me to get my head out of my ass and speak to you.” He closed his eyes and groaned. “To do something that was not shut down any conversation you tried to have.” 

“I wasn’t waiting for you.” You sighed and continued to move your fingers through the softness of his curls. “I’ve dated. I’ve always been interested in you, but I knew it was pointless to just … hope that someday you’d change your mind and decide you wanted more than saying hello or asking how I was.” His hand stopped moving and his fingers curled inward, pressing against your back. “And part of me thinks that without this assignment and your need to blend in, that wouldn’t have changed.” 

“William and Lin have been encouraging me to …” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Quote ‘get over my shit and tell you how I feel.” You stifled a laugh, and even Pero’s lips twitched. “You would have worn me down eventually, unless you just … stopped trying.” 

“Three years is a long time, Pero.” You shifted your hips and his hand dropped lower, gliding over your lower back and stopping on your hip. “And I honestly thought you hated me, so … I’m not sure how much longer I would have kept at it.” You hadn’t known the words would come until you spoke them, and from his reaction, you knew that he could tell you were just as surprised as he was that you’d admitted it. “I can only handle so much rejection.” 

“That makes two of us.” He sighed again, closing the distance and turning his head so that he could speak into your ear. “I never hated you. It was always the opposite.” He squeezed your hip as he kissed your cheek. “And I am glad you did not give up on me.”

It felt good to be held by him, and it didn’t seem necessary to reply… so you didn’t. Instead, you inched even closer, tucking your head against his body and closing your eyes. Things were moving fast, even by your standards, and that meant that for Pero, it must have been at an unthinkable pace. 

“This is nice.” You took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. “Let me know when you want me to get up, or when you want to take me home or -”

“If I pull the blanket down, we could sleep here.” The words startled you, and you backed away, lips parted and eyes wide. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Would you want that?” He moved his hand slowly, sliding it back up and pushing your shirt with it. “Oh, you…” You shivered at the way it felt to have his skin touch yours for the first time, his fingertips moving against your side. “Just to sleep?”

“If you would be comfortable.” He looked scared but certain. “Sleeping in those clothes, I mean.” You didn’t like the idea of sleeping in your jeans, but you did have a sleeveless shirt on beneath the sweatshirt you’d chosen - and you hated the idea of saying no to something you’d fantasized about for months. I can unbutton my jeans. It’ll be fine. 

“I’d like that.” You nodded. “What about you?”

“My clothes are right down the hall.” He smiled, tapping his finger against your skin. “I can go change.” 

“Do you have a toothbrush I can use? Or mouthwash? I don’t want to go to bed without -”

“I do.” Pero sighed and then reluctantly sat up, which forced you to do the same. “Come. I will show you.” 

He let you use the bathroom while he changed. The whole time, you tried to ignore the fact that you were going to spend the night with Pero on his couch, which meant extremely close quarters. It’s not the bed. It’s not going to lead to anything. You figured that that was why he hadn’t mentioned the bed; not because it would result in you having sex, but instead because he didn’t want to imply that he was thinking of sex. 

But it was impossible not to let your mind wander when you emerged from the bathroom and saw him leaning against his door frame, arms crossed loosely over his chest - and the light gray t-shirt he wore - with his hip popped, dark gray sweatpants hanging low enough on them that there was a sliver of skin visible at his waist. I’m fucked. 

“I put a second pillow on the couch. He gestured with his chin. “I will be out in a few minutes. Anything you need from the kitchen, please take.” You nodded and then turned away, biting down hard on your lip as you headed back into the living room. 

If Pero’s choice in pajamas had such an effect on you, you could only imagine how you’d react to seeing him without clothes. If I ever do. It only took you a minute or so to get a couple bottles of water from the fridge and set them both on coasters atop the coffee table, putting them within reach. You removed your sweatshirt then, folding it it - and your bra - and setting them over and onto the chair before your hands moved to your waist, and the button there. 

“If you take those off, it’s going to be even more difficult for me to only think about sleeping.” He emerged from the hallway, arms swinging by his sides. “But if that’s what you want…” He winked at you, pausing long enough to flip the light switch, which plunged the room into darkness aside from the glow of the TV. “I will not stop you.” 

“I’m just unbuttoning them.” You did it as you spoke, watching as his eyes dropped to watch your hands. “Sorry to disappoint.” Was that an invitation? “Do you have to be up early tomorrow or anything?”

“No. You?” You shook your head as he took a seat on the couch, reaching for the large blanket that was folded and resting on the back. “Good. We can sleep in.”  

Pero laid down on his side, and you laid in front of him, choosing to face him instead of put your back to his chest. As the blanket settled over the two of you, Pero’s arm moved back into place - but that time, he didn’t wait to push his hand beneath your shirt, resting his palm against your lower back. 

That gave you the courage to do the same with him, but instead of leaving your hand low, you slid it up the center of his back, following the line of his spine. “Is this too much?”

“Never.” Voice thick, he continued. “If I trusted myself we would be sleeping in my bed.” I was right. He cleared his throat and then sighed, breath washing over your cheek. “I have wanted this with you for … too long.” 

“Well, now you’ve got it.” Tilting your head back, you kissed his stubbled chin. “Are you going to kiss me goodnight, or not?” It seemed that he’d been waiting for your invitation, because as soon as you finished your question, Pero’s mouth was on yours, his upper body angled so that it pressed against your chest. 

The kiss started slow, Pero taking your lower lip between his gently before releasing it, a quiet sigh escaping from deep in his throat. When you parted your lips and grazed one of his with your teeth, his touch on your side tightened, fingers digging into your skin. You wondered if you’d just caught him by surprise - or if his reaction meant that Pero liked a hint of pain with his pleasure. I hope I get to find out. 

He moved his hand up your side as the kiss deepened, Pero’s tongue poking between your lips at the same moment his fingertips touched the underside of one breast - and you moaned into his mouth, back arching slightly. 

With anyone else, it would have been embarrassing that all it took was one simple touch to get that kind of response out of you, but with Pero, you didn’t care. He broke the kiss, murmuring the words such pretty sounds, and then trailed a series of kisses across your cheek and down, over your jaw. Each kiss was accompanied by a swipe of his thumb, the rough pad of it traveling over the swell of your chest. “Pero, I -” He circled your nipple with that same thumb and you whimpered, eyes squeezed shut. 

“You like that.” He spoke without lifting his mouth from your skin, instead nudging your head to the side with his nose and then dragging his lips over the column of your throat. Who the fuck wouldn’t? You freed your hand from beneath his shirt and buried your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, Pero’s mouth descending further toward the collar of your shirt. 

You felt the bite of his teeth against your skin, followed by his tongue soothing the same space, and you hummed, tightening your grip on his hair. “Keep doing that, please.” You forced the words out, pushing the hand trapped between your bodies beneath his so that you could grab at his hip - and when you did, you felt him through his sweats where he was pressed against your thigh. Oh, fuck. 

Testing your luck, you pulled him forward, urging him closer - and Pero rewarded you with a roll of his hips, the motion giving you a better idea of exactly what was waiting below his waist. And when he did that, you decided to push things even further, slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of his pants and back, following the curve of his body. 

Pero smiled against your throat, rocking his hips forward again and allowing you to feel the flex of muscle beneath your touch. But then he cleared his throat, hand staying in place as he raised his head. “I need to slow down.” 

“No you don’t. I wasn’t stopping you.” He smiled at your words, closing his eyes as he shook his head. “What?”

“You deserve better than a couch.” When he opened his eyes and met yours, you saw resolve in them, and any argument that you might have made died on your lips. I need to let him do this his way. “I did not invite you here tonight to end up in bed with you. I just wanted… to get to know you.” 

“I did say it would be easy to get carried away with you.” He nodded. “But if you want to stop, we’ll stop.” You gave him a squeeze and wrinkled your nose at the way his eyes flashed at the feeling of your touch. “I -”

“I do not want to, but we should.” He ducked down, mouth meeting yours again. “It will give us something to look forward to.” That was an understatement; you knew that all you’d look forward to was the time when Pero didn’t feel the need to hold himself back. As he settled back into place beside you, he pulled you with him, bringing you both back into the position you’d been in before the kiss. 

But he left his hand in place high on your side, the warmth of his palm comforting. “I’m glad that this job happened.” Snuggling closer to him, you sighed. “I’m glad we’re getting this chance.” He kissed your forehead but didn’t speak, hand slipping around to your back and stopping there. “Goodnight, Pero.” 

“Goodnight, you.” You felt him move as you shifted, too. When both of you were comfortable, you sighed again, arm tightening over his side. It felt good to be held by Pero, the deep, even breaths he was taking lulling you even closer to sleep as the moments passed. The TV’s volume was low enough that you could barely hear it, but aside from your breathing, that was the only other audible sound. I like this. I really like this. 

Time ticked by, and Pero’s breaths got slower and longer, though his hand didn’t move from where it rested. “Pero?” You spoke quietly, figuring that if he didn’t respond, you wouldn’t say anything else. But he grunted, the sound something that could have been your name. Good enough. “You don’t snore, do you?” 

“Maybe if you’re quiet for long enough, you will find out.” Cracking an eye open, you saw that he was glaring at you, but as soon as he noticed you looking, the expression changed to a smile, followed by his arm tightening. “Sleep. It has been a long day.” 

You couldn’t argue with that, and only minutes later, both of you were past the point of no return - neither of you snoring. 

You finished Christmas shopping over the next few days, stopping to pick up last minute gifts after work and wrapping while you relaxed after dinner. 

You usually bought things for Lin and William, but that year, you decided to get Pero something, too. You figured that if you handed the other gifts over on Christmas Eve, it would be weird not to have one for him. It wasn’t anything big - you bought a bottle of the wine you’d seen in his refrigerator and a gift card to one of the restaurants you’d talked about and he’d said he liked. 

But you signed the card that you put the gift card into the card differently than you signed the others, chewing on the end of the pen for long moments before you started writing. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, Pero. I’m glad we finally made it happen - let’s not stop. 

The bag with his gift in it joined the ones for William and Lin on your kitchen counter, the colorful wrapping catching your attention each time you were in the room. 

The morning of Christmas Eve, you woke up before your alarm, giving yourself a few minutes to stare at the ceiling. This is it. Today is … Your mind wandered back to Pero, and waking up in his arms. It brought a smile to your face, the same way it had when it was actually happening, the muted morning sunlight filtering in through his blinds and giving you a clear view of his features. 

It was the first time you’d ever seen Pero truly relaxed - jaw slack, a lock of hair hanging over his eyes and all of the tension he usually carried in his body gone, the rise and fall of his chest at regular intervals. He was almost more handsome while sleeping than he was awake, and the best part of it was that even though you’d both shifted during the night, neither of you had let go of the other. 

You wondered if it was because of the forced proximity on the couch, or if unconsciously, the two of you just hadn’t wanted to separate after so long spent dancing around each other. Whatever the case, you didn’t care. You liked being in his arms, and if the kiss he’d given you immediately after opening his eyes was any indication, Pero felt the same way. 

The two of you spoke a little over the following days, but you were busy with work, and he and William were busy with their company, too, getting contracts set up for the new year as well as making contacts for potential future business. 

But each time your phone screen lit up with a message from him, you smiled. And every time you sent one back, you hoped that he was looking forward to reading it. It felt like the beginning of a new relationship, and even though there were no actual promises of it continuing after the party, you had a feeling that it would. 

Those kinds of thoughts got you through until early afternoon, when you got into the shower so that you could begin to get ready for the night. You spent a lot of time under the spray, the bathroom filling with steam and the scents of all of your different products. It calmed you, which you needed, and by the time you stepped back into your bedroom, robe wrapped tightly around your body, you’d convinced yourself that the night would be the actual start of something between you and Pero. Why wouldn’t it be? After the last couple weeks? 

You did your hair and makeup before you got dressed, paying careful attention to your reflection - and your overall appearance. Again, you wanted Pero to know that you’d taken care to look good for him, especially after learning about his past - and more about the way he viewed himself. 

Lin texted you while you were finishing with your clothes, telling you that when you got to their place, you should park on the street. You sent back a reply along with a thumbs up emoji, and just before you could set the phone back down, a new message came  though - that one from Pero. 

Should I shave? 

He’d included a picture, something that he hadn’t ever done before - a shot of himself in a mirror, his head turned to the side so that you could see his heavily stubbled cheeks. His hair was wet and slicked back, and there were telltale wet spots on his t-shirt, evidence that he’d recently showered. Thank you for putting a shirt on before you sent this, otherwise I would have dropped my phone. 

You thought for a few seconds and then typed a message back, chewing on the inside of your cheek the entire time. 

Up to you. I like how it looks either way, Pero. 

Truthfully, you wanted him to keep the stubble, and it was for a selfish reason. You wanted to feel it when he kissed you, the scrape of it dragging over your skin. The thought made you shiver, and sent you back to the memory of kissing him at his front door, Pero nuzzling against your cheek before whispering goodbye. 

But I have to say I’m partial to you keeping it. 

It took him a few seconds to respond, but when he did, it was just a single word, followed almost a minute later with another short message. 

Done. 

See you soon. 

You parked where Lin had instructed you to and then made your way up to the front door, carrying the box of gifts. After knocking once, you stepped inside, calling out for your friends. They didn’t answer, so you went into the living room and put the packages beneath the tree, standing back to admire the way it looked as you removed your coat. “You look amazing.” Turning your head toward the sound, you grinned at Lin, who was standing in the doorway. “He’s going to love that outfit.” Is he? 

You’d opted for a pair of high-waisted pants in a soft material, and a dark red long-sleeved shirt that had a lower cut neckline than you typically wore - but that had caught your eye while you finished shopping. You’d paired it with simple jewelry - a pair of necklaces and a sparkling bracelet on one wrist. It was likely more dressed down than many of the other party attendees would be, but you wanted to be comfortable… and ready, just in case. “I hope so.” You looked down and then back up at her, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply. “I almost wore a dress, but it’s cold out, and I bought a new pair of boots but they wouldn’t have matched, so -”

“It’s perfect.” She stepped forward, reaching out to take your hands. “He’ll be here soon, William said he’s on his way.” Good. I’m excited. “Are you coming over tomorrow? We’ll be eating at four, and I think Tovar’s said he’ll come, too.” You hadn’t expected that; Pero had never been at a holiday gathering before, and part of you wondered if he’d opted not to come because you’d been invited. Not this year though. 

“I am.” You squeezed her hands and then pulled yours free, gesturing at the tree. “I put your presents under there, so we can open them after we eat.” She nodded, eyeing you up and down. “What?” 

“You look different.” Cocking her head to the side, she crossed her arms. “You haven’t said anything about what happened after the concert, but -”

“We’ll see what happens after tonight.” Your heart thumped, but you looked her in the eyes while you spoke. “I don’t want to jinx anything, Lin. But he and I will have time to talk, and -” You both turned toward the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps in the front hall. He’s here. 

“Tovar? Is that you? We’re in here!” Lin spoke up before you could, and only moments later, you watched as Pero stepped into the room, unzipping his jacket. You opened your mouth to say hello, but froze when you saw what he was wearing. 

Oh, he looks … I’ve never seen him dressed like … 

He’d kept the stubble. And even though his hair was styled, it still looked a little wild, the ends of it curling over his forehead and out from behind his ears. But it was his outfit that rendered you speechless. 

It did have plenty of buttons; Pero’s dress shirt was a charcoal gray color that had a slight shine to it, the material stretched over his broad frame - unbuttoned at the neck and tucked into a pair of fitted black pants. He’d traded his usual boots for dressier ones,  and when you brought your gaze back up, you watched as he reached over to set his jacket down on the back of a chair. 

That gave you a peek at his chest and wrist, and you actually gasped out loud at the glimpse you got of two pieces of silver jewelry: a thick chain around his neck, and one in the same style - though thinner - around his right wrist. 

You suddenly felt wildly underdressed, but when you watched his eyes widen as he looked you over, that changed. He looked at you with want, Pero’s gaze almost hungry as he closed the distance between you. I need him to look at me like that all the time. I need … wow.

“Hello.” Pero stopped just before he reached where you stood, turning his head toward Lin and smiling. “You look beautiful, Lin-Mae.” She gave him a wide smile and stepped forward, throwing her arms around him and telling him that he was being too kind. 

“I’ve had this dress for years. It was a gift from my mother right after William and I got married. I only wear it for special occasions.” 

“And you.” He turned back to you, reaching out for your hand and waiting until you took his to speak again. “Perfect.” That was a stretch, but you weren’t going to correct him. You maintained eye contact as he raised your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Hi.” Mouthing the word back at him, it took everything in you not to take the final two steps forward and pull him close for a kiss. 

“William is in his office.” Lin sighed. “You should go and see if he’s ready, Tovar. We have to leave in like fifteen minutes, so -” He nodded, giving your hand one final squeeze before dropping it. “We’ll be in the kitchen.” 

He turned away and toward the office while you and Lin went into the kitchen and took seats at the raised countertop. She stared at you but didn’t speak, and when she raised an eyebrow, you held up a hand. “Don’t even start. That was -”

“It’s good to see him like that with someone.” She spoke quietly, sighing as she reached over to put her hand on top of yours. “I’ve been hoping that he would open up. And it looks like he has.” She smiled at you. “And after only two nights? Impressive.” 

“Technically three, because we went out for coffee before the fundraiser. And a morning, because I spent the night at his place after the concert.” She gasped, and you had to bite your lip to hold back a laugh. Surprise. “Not like that. We just slept.” 

“And you didn’t tell me?” She scoffed. “I thought we were friends.” 

“We are. But that isn’t something that -”

“Was it all a lie?” You both turned toward the sound of his voice, finding Pero standing in the kitchen entryway with a small stack of papers in his hand. “Was any of the time you spent with me because you wanted to?”

“What?” You stood, taking a half step toward him. “Pero, what are you -” He held up the papers, sneering. 

“You are on the payroll, no? This is just a job to you? I am just a job to you?” He tightened his grip on the paper, the sound of it wrinkling loud in your ears. The contract. He found the contract. 

“It had to be official, yeah, because William needed to file it, so -” He laughed, the sound humorless, and then closed his eyes. “So I signed a contract, but -”

“I have paid women before.” He looked nowhere but at you when he opened his eyes, and you sucked in a breath at the hurt you saw in them. He isn’t mad. He’s just sad. I didn’t … but it’s just incidentals. Not paying me to … “But with them I knew exactly what I was getting.” He crossed the room and slapped the papers down onto the countertop before meeting your eyes again. “I trusted you. I told you things I have never told anyone. And for what?” He shook his head. “Enjoy your money. You will not need to spend more time with me tonight to earn the last of it.” 

William appeared in the hallway then, holding another stack of papers, the sound of Pero’s name spilling from his lips. “Tovar, you need to look at -”

“No. I need to look at nothing. All of you… you all knew. You planned this and did not tell me.” He pointed a finger at William. “I will finish this job tonight, but then I am done.” You gasped at that, and so did Lin. Even William’s eyes widened, his mouth still open. This makes no sense. That’s not what we … 

“Pero, please.” William moved forward, holding up the papers again. “If you just -” But instead of answering, he gave you one final look and then turned away, striding past William and back into the hallway. Moments later, the sound of the front door slamming made you flinch. He left. He left me here and he … 

“William, what the fuck just happened?” Lin got up, making her way to where her husband stood. “Tovar was fine in the living room, and then …” 

You finally moved, reaching for the papers that Pero had set down in front of you as your eyes welled up with tears. It doesn’t make sense. Yes, I took this as a job, but it isn’t… that’s not what … 

But when you started reading the top sheet of paper, it all made sense. 

Somehow, Pero had gotten his hands on the original version of the contract William had presented to you - and not on the updated one. 

Stay tuned for part 4!

[darkmuffinstudios]

Was bored and decided to create a silly little one-shot of Errormare for @inkywellcrow 🤭

Who knows, I might get more motivation to make more parts, I might not haha

Baking One-Shot (Errormare) (1.7k words)

Darkxsoulzyxcaliberx

Dream’s birthday (and by extension, Nightmare’s) was only a few days away, and the two most dastardly villains of the multiverse were in the middle of making something for it.

You see, after many decades of struggle, the two guardians grew weary of the constant back-and-forth and had since settled on a truce; No more bloodshed and no more overbearing war meetings. After so long, however, the two had long since forgotten times of peace. It was nothing more than echoes of what could have been, as well as what once was… So, as always in their relationship, Nightmare decided to be the first to extend one of many olive branches that will occur down the line.

To show a sign of good faith and to celebrate the occasion, Nightmare had his boys come up with gift ideas that they would give to his brother. The dark king had hoped that, whatever the gifts may be, that the action alone would show that he intended to support this truce and to keep friendly relations with his other half.

But asking a band of miscreants and murderers was a bad decision in hindsight, and so after many, MANY days of brainstorming, he eventually caved to Horror’s insistence on a birthday cake.

Which brings us to the present…

“Error, you’re whisking batter, not pummeling it into submission.” Nightmare scolded lightly. He wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing, trying not to get too irritated at how sloppy of a job his partner was doing.

“This is stupid.” Error grumbled.

“Error— slower, slower.”

“Don’t— !” His body locked up at Nightmare’s complaining, and he drastically slowed down his pace to a glaringly slow tempo. He gave Nightmare a frustrated look, to which the king easily brushed off. “Don’t tell me what to do. I read the recipe too.”

“Uh huh.” Nightmare deadpanned, setting a metal tray on the counter. “You're also as blind as a bat without your glasses, my dear.”

“They would have just got in the way.” Error huffed. After a few more mixes, he decided that surely was enough of that, and he dropped the bowl into the counter with a loud CLANK. “There. Done mixing.”

Nightmare rubbed his temples. What was that method of reducing stress? Counting back from five? Whatever it was, it surely wasn’t working as well as he had hoped. “Please don’t slam the bowl down.”

“Mmhm.” Error leaned against the counter, dismissive.

For his own mental (and Error’s physical) wellbeing, Nightmare opted to ignore him for a little while. Once he sprayed down the baking pan, he glanced over Error’s work. There was still some dry clumps of the batter mix floating around, but he wasn’t going to correct any of it since he knows how much his partner loves to throw his tantrums. Besides, Dream has been a pain in his ass for decades— the least he can do is crunch on some raw flour to save him from future headaches.

Carefully, he lifted the bowl and poured the mixture into the baking tin. Using a tentacle, he grabbed a spatula he set out beforehand to scrape any excess, and quietly put the bowl down. He gave Error a mild look.

Error met his gaze and paused, looking to either side of himself. “… What?”

“That’s how you put a bowl down. Silently.” Nightmare said, his voice dripping honey and tar.

“Oh, fuck you.” Error griped, rolling his eyes so over dramatically that his head went with it. Nightmare couldn’t help but smile at how stupid he could be.

After making his point, he walked over to the oven with the pan. After opening it with a tentacle (fashioned with a cute little baking mitten), he placed the pan inside and shut it with his hip. Making note of the time, he finally allowed himself to slump against the counter.

Nightmare looked up at the ceiling. How the hell does Horror do this every single day? Willingly?? He couldn’t even imagine how difficult it would be to order his men around such a small space, never mind how destructive all of them already are. Just the thought started to give him a headache…

“So,” Error started. “Why didn’t you ask your uh…” He thought for a moment, his body glitching a little from the effort.

“Horror?” Nightmare offered.

“Yeah— the big, freaky guy— to do this for you? Doesn’t he do this stuff already?”

Nightmare sighed. “… Well… Monster food is magic—”

“Uh. Yeah— I know.”

“I know that you know—“

“Then why say it—?”

Nightmare turned and glared at him. “Just let me talk!” Error held up his hands defensively, glaring right back at him for a moment, before Nightmare eventually continued.

“Well, because monster food is made of magic, then cooking monster food involves magic too. It incorporates the chef’s intent, and can communicate unspoken feelings through each bite.” Nightmare idly messed with one of the spoons on the counter, staring at the oven glass as he spoke. “To put it simply, it has to be made by me. I may not be the best at baking, but he will understand and appreciate the gesture anyways. He is that kind of guy, unfortunately.” He scoffed.

“So why drag me into this?” Error groused. “I couldn’t care less about making ‘Mr.Sunshine’ feel any better than he already feels.”

“Oh.” Nightmare turned to flash a smug look at Error. “Because I didn’t want to suffer alone.”

Error stared at Nightmare. For a long, long moment. A quiet, high-pitched sound began to come from Error’s body— the telltale sign that he was starting to crash. “You’re joking.”

Nightmare shrugged. “Am I?”

Error grabbed the whisk from the counter, chucking it with all his strength at Nightmare. “YOU ASS!! I COULD HAVE LEFT AT ANY TIME?!?”

The king chuckled, letting the whisk hit his shoulder. “Of course you could have. You weren’t obligated to do any of this.”

Error threw his arms around, already hellbent on destroying the kitchen. He ripped the toaster from its electrical socket, threatening to throw it on the ground when Nightmare continued. “But you stayed because you love me.”

That got Error to freeze in place. He stared at Nightmare, bewildered for a few seconds, before slowly lowering the toaster onto the counter. “… Whatever.” He mumbled, stewing.

Nightmare smiled at Error’s obvious admission of defeat, finding himself slowly walking over to him. He stopped a good few feet away, settling on leaning against the counter once more. “You love me, and wanted to help me because you loved me.” He teased lightly.

Error bristled. “I will leave!”

“But then I’d be so sad if you did.” Nightmare touched his own chest, right over where his apple soul would be. “All alone… abandoned…”

Error huffed, crossing his arms. “Good! Feel bad!! Feel bad for tormenting me for HOURS while I slaved away in this kitchen for you!!”

“It was only an hour, dear.” Nightmare chuckled.

“NUH UH!! You’re wrong!!” Error scowled, swinging an arm out to the side and ripping a portal open to a random, unsuspecting world. He gestured wildly to the setting sun. “See!! HOURS!! It’s already growing dark!!”

Nightmare rolled his eye. “Mmhm.” He knew he wasn’t winning this fight.

Error smiled triumphantly, leaning a little closer to Nightmare. The portal fizzled next to them, disappearing soon after. “Apologize.”

Nightmare raised a metaphorical eyebrow at Error. “For what?”

“For being mean and awful and terrible!” Error demanded, counting on his fingers as he went.

Nightmare rolled his eye for the second time. “Mmmmmmno. I don’t think I will.”

Error leaned back, pouting now. “Asshole.”

Nightmare sighed. A brief moment of silence grew between them as they waited for the cake to bake before Nightmare sighed again, shoulder sagging. He looked at the clock hanging on the far wall of the kitchen, then back at the oven glass. The cake wasn’t rising at all.

“… Do you think he will like it?”

Error didn’t look at Nightmare, arms still crossed. After another beat of silence, Error’s shoulders sagged a little and he quietly responded. “What do you mean.”

Another beat of silence. Error didn’t like it. He turned back to glance at Nightmare, only to see the other have his hands folded against his chest in a sort-of self hug. His tentacles were curled inward on themselves, and Nightmare hadn’t looked up once from the oven glass.

It bugged Error. He tried again, softer. “What... do you mean by that?” Nightmare sighed again, a third time, and it was starting to get to Error. He shook his head. “No one hates chocolate cake. If I find out he does, I’m throwing him.”

“Not the cake.” Nightmare answered quietly, though he did smile a little at Error’s threat. The spectacle of the destroyer of worlds tossing his brother like a football was amusing, to say the least. He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words. “My… message.”

“Message?” Error echoed, clearly confused.

“My intent.” Nightmare tried instead. “It’s… I want this to go well. I want this to be our first steps in making up with one another, and I tried to put as much as I could into this cake… I tried to not fill it with…” he sighed, the fourth time. “… with my lingering feelings of the past.”

Nightmare raised a hand. “I’m certain I didn’t, and I know this won’t make up for everything that has happened between us… but…” He slowly brought his hand back towards himself, back to where it was wrapped around his chest. “I don’t know… I lack the proper words at the moment.”

Not that Error needed all of the words to understand. He thought a little bit before he spoke. “That’s why you asked me to help you with this.” The dots started connecting more in his head as he turned to Nightmare. “You didn’t want to do this alone.”

Nightmare considered Error’s words. “… I suppose I didn’t.”

Error stared at Nightmare, trying to get maybe just a little bit more out of him, before turning to look back at the oven. “… I think he’ll like it.”

“You think so?” Nightmare’s voice sounded uncertain.

“Yeah.” Error shrugged. “He is that kind of guy, like you said.”

Nightmare smiled a little. “I guess you’re right.”

[minkdelovely]

kinktober — day XXI

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It is my honor and privilege to provide you little devils with the schedule for Week Four of Kinktober, put together by our dear @hazelfoureyes! I hope you’ve all been enjoying yourselves so far — idk about the rest of y’all but it’s been an eye-opening month for me! Who said an old dog can’t learn new tricks? 🤭❤️‍🔥

If you’ve missed any — or are looking to binge read some smut — please be sure to check out the masterlist I have linked below that @synamartia has graciously been maintaining for us 🙏🏻

And without further ado, here is my fourth offering to you all. I’ll see y’all again on Sunday! ♥️

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prompt: size kink

sanctuary

“let me satisfy your soul.

i’m not a saint

but do i have to be?”

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Alastor x Lucifer ; RadioApple ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: top!alastor x bottom!lucifer (or is it? hehe), alastor is down bad, luci worship, very brief mention of blood and viscera (yk, just horny cannibalistic demon things) 🕊️✨

word count: 1.2k

summary: alastor gets sentimental about how much he loves how small lucifer is.

author’s note: hello darlings! i am once again pushing my romantic radioapple agenda. while i never set out to instill a rose-colored haze, i nevertheless hope you enjoy. in regard to my agenda, well… it will happen again. quote is from holy ghost by børns — and this falls under my previous warning; don’t be surprised if you see it again in the future lol

coven: @fraugwinska @hazelfoureyes @macabr3-barbi3 @sugoi-writes @synamartia 🕯️♥️

the coven's kinktober masterlist

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“You’re so fucking small,” Alastor groaned.

It wasn’t a new observation, by any means. In fact, it was one of the first that Alastor made mention of when he and Lucifer met all those months ago.

You are much shorter in real life!

Typically, a comment on Lucifer’s stature was just an impudent barb to throw at the King. A sure-fire way of pissing him off whenever Alastor felt like seeing that smug look on Lucifer’s face wiped clear off. Replacing it with one he found much more attractive: anger.

Lucifer didn’t always take the bait though, so Alastor had learned to measure the usage of this weapon. There were still plenty of other ways to achieve the same result. Knocking Lucifer’s hat off his blonde bouffant the other morning had been particularly enjoyable. He really did look so much better without that garish thing he dared to call a fashion choice. 

But right now it wasn’t an insult.

Alastor was slightly propped up on some pillows, admiring the pretty King of Hell whine from his words as he bounced on his cock. It was a sentiment Alastor had felt many times, lost in the awe inspiring sight that was Lucifer in the throes of passion. That golden glow radiating from under his skin like a divine beacon he couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to. Pillowy wings extended on either side of them, and Alastor loved the way they tickled his thighs with their light touch.

In these moments, Lucifer seemed almost fragile. 

His lean, petite frame was easily held in Alastor’s hands. He had them on that delectable waist now, the tips of his fingers laced behind Lucifer’s back. Alastor wasn’t directing the angel’s pace, instead he was relishing the feeling of Lucifer under his touch. Soft alabaster skin, strong muscles flexing underneath; dew drops of sweat that Lucifer benevolently created to bead from pores that didn’t previously exist, solely because Alastor had complained over it once. How unfair it was for him to be the only one dripping with effort, and worse still, losing out on a facet of Lucifer that only he was allowed to indulge in. 

What a marvel it had been when Alastor felt the slick perspiration the next time they copulated. How the sweet and acrid scent of it filled his nostrils and made his mouth salivate. Somehow managing to taste even better than it smelled when he ran his tongue up the length of Lucifer’s body. Needing only to straighten the arch of his back to elongate himself and complete the path from belly to neck, finishing off with a flourish of his tongue along Lucifer’s throat and the underside of his chin. 

Alastor’s head fell backward, his jaw hanging open to let out an unrestrained moan just remembering it. He really was so spoiled.

“You feel like glass under my fingers,” Alastor panted, tightening his grip on Lucifer as if he meant to test the theory. His ears and cock twitched as Lucifer cursed wantonly, sinking down to grind himself against Alastor’s pelvis. Lucifer’s walls fluttered, managing against all odds to squeeze him even tighter. “Fuck, you take me so well for such a tiny thing…”

The words were husky in this throat, thick with lust and static. Part of him couldn’t believe his raw honesty nor how the words seemed to pour so easily from his mouth. Moaning again as Lucifer cried out his name, droplets of arousal falling onto Alastor’s stomach; his muscles tensing in reaction to the heat and weight of them. 

“I want to see you fall apart…want you to use me until you cum,” he continued, hissing as Lucifer’s hands left his chest to clasp over his own the best they could. His pace invigorated by Alastor’s words.

How delicate those hands were. Dark and graceful, with long slender fingers that could tear him to shreds if he so wished. Alastor felt, as well as heard, his antlers creak; branching out as the image of Lucifer’s pristine, radiant skin covered in his blood and viscera flashed in his mind. Mercifully, he managed not to climax, silently chastising himself for almost finishing first over a fantasy after his admission of wanting to be used. 

“Fuck baby, what’s gotten into you?” Lucifer’s voice was whiny and just above a whisper, but he was glowing with pride. Rolling his hips and clenching around Alastor’s cock with a familiar determination. “Can’t wait to cum on your cock. Gonna milk you fucking dry…”

Alastor groaned and bit his lip, the sharp taste of copper on his tongue as his climax inched closer and closer. Normally he wasn’t this affected when Lucifer spoke this way, the vulgarity of it making him feel more embarrassed than inspired. But this is precisely what he wanted now. To be used by his love as nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure. It was within his power, as all things were.

Lucifer’s hands tightened over his own, which still encompassed that slight waist. His movements were becoming stuttered but Alastor refused to guide, writhing in the blissful agony of anticipation. His resolve was put to the final test as Lucifer took one of Alastor’s hands and brought it to his member, his own hand remaining on top as Alastor began to stroke with an even tempo. Squeezing the tip a little harder in his palm in the way he knew Lucifer enjoyed before moving back down.

The room was filled with nothing but the blended sounds of their affection, until finally Lucifer screamed, wings fluttering as he slammed down onto Alastor’s hips as his orgasm peaked. Alastor didn’t even notice the hot release in his hand, his eyes drinking in the vision before him. Disheveled, sweaty blonde hair framing Lucifer’s ethereal face. Mouth open to reveal sharp teeth and a forked tongue between gasps for breath and the velvet sound of his voice. The vice grip of his walls shuddered around Alastor’s length as he quickly followed suit, spilling into Lucifer’s heat with a relieved cry. Both of their chests heaving to catch their breath as their bodies twitched and jerked from sensitivity and delight.

Slowly, Alastor lifted Lucifer off him, both of them groaning a little from the loss. Lucifer waved his hand absently to whisk away their mess as he climbed down from his seat in Alastor’s lap, taking refuge on his tufted chest while Alastor’s fingers gently carded through his plumes. Their body heat mingled as their breaths evened out and synced, and Alastor couldn’t help the hum of contentment that vibrated through his chest, earning a sleepy chuckle from Lucifer.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Lucifer concurred, burrowing himself further in Alastor’s embrace. 

Alastor stifled a laugh as he felt Lucifer’s tail eagerly wrap itself around his left thigh, the tickle catching him off-guard but the feeling of security more than wanted. He kept up the grooming of Lucifer’s wings as a comfortable silence settled over them, quickly punctuated by the deep, even sound of Lucifer’s breathing.

If Alastor enjoyed sleep as much as Lucifer did, he would be jealous of the angel’s ability to fall under in what seemed like mere seconds. Instead, he gazed down at the relaxed, statuesque face on his chest, his immortal heart swelling just underneath it. Beating as both a lullaby and a vow of his ardent devotion. 

His whole world encapsulated in this small, resilient, all-powerful form that he was lucky enough to provide sanctuary for.

“Pleasant dreams, mon ange. I shall be here when you wake.”

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banner by @synamartia

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @hyperfixations-keep-me-going, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts, @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @littlebluefishtail, @nxcxllxsevens, @swagkittybear

[potatoplace]

Omega Needs - chapter 3

Feylin, eventual Feysand

Chapter 2 Chapter 4 Series Masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Words: ~2.1k

Warnings: just A/B/O dynamics, Rhys being a bit of a dick

Author's Note: having lots of fun writing this, I'm gonna try to post on AO3 too if I remember. I enjoyed this chapter, I hope you will too!

18+ only pls

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

“It’s… not what I expected?” Feyre admitted, surprise lacing her tone. “It’s a lot less… ominous then I thought it would look.”

Rhysand laughed, a lighter one than he used back in Spring. “You are probably picturing the other half of my court, but no need to worry my darling Feyre-”

“I’m not your anything!” Feyre interjected, moving a few paces away from him. “Do not act like me being here for a week every month gives you any kind of ownership over me!”

Rhysand held up his hands in surrender, attempting to placate Feyre’s still wired emotions. “I meant no claim in my statement, Feyre. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to where you’ll be staying when you’re here,” he told her, walking in the direction they were facing.

Feyre stared at him for a moment, wondering why he seemed so much more relaxed now that it was just the two of them. She tried to take a step forward to follow him, then remembered that she was still wearing those cauldron-damned heels that were far high and far too thin for her to feel safe in.

Carefully, she lowered herself to her hands then sat on the floor, attempting to reach past the skirts of her dress to untie the shoes.

“Feyre, what are you-?” Rhysand started, turning to face her again. “Oh, Feyre darling, would you like some help taking off your shoes?” He asked in a playful tone, already returning to her side, his citrus and sea scent washing over her in a wave of calm.

Seeing as she still hadn’t managed to get her hands on one of the shoes yet and her hands didn’t seem to want to help now that she’d scented him, Feyre sighed “Yes, please.”

“Good manners too, better than most of the times I’ve seen you.” His voice was full of mirth, but the compliment made her feel more at ease. Her omega was settling down, happy to be acknowledged for something, anything positive. He gently lifted the skirts of her dress, and quickly untied the heels from her feet, his hands lingering for a moment before grabbing the heels and standing up.

He extended his free hand, which Feyre ignored. She managed to get on her knees again, but the weight of the dress and her exhaustion combined was too much for her to get her feet beneath her again. She sighed again, grabbing his hand and letting him help her the rest of the way up, brushing against his chest on accident, getting an even deeper breath of him this time.

Lovely. Refreshing. Safe.

“They really didn’t want you to run away, did they?” Rhysand asked after they started walking.

“Excuse you?” Feyre asked, stunned by the question and her thoughts.

“I just mean that they have you in a dress you can barely walk in from the weight and shape, and shoes that seem a bit dangerous to wear. Especially on grass,” he points out, shaking the heels still in his hand.

Feyre leaned over and snatched them from him. “Impractical is the fashion, it does not mean they want me to be shackled to Spring.”

“Two things can be right at the same time, Feyre,” he said, stopping in front of a door to their right, turning the handle and pushing it open, allowing Feyre to walk in first.

The open wall at the back had silk curtains of different hues of blue covering it and swaying in the slight breeze. The bed was situated against the left wall, also covered in deep blues and purples, and a canopy of fabric above it, with drapes tied up and ready to be let down- perfect for feeling safe in a heat, her omega whispered inside of her, a thought she crushed down deep inside of her.

The bed was lovely though, it looked soft and comfortable and ready for her to take a nap in.

Looking over the rest of the room, Feyre saw a large open archway at back of the right wall, presumably leading towards a bathroom, as well as a vanity with a mirror, a large armoire, and a plush looking chair in the corner. Near the back of the room was a small round table with two chairs, and she knew she wanted to have breakfast or tea there one of her days here and look out at the mountains… she might even daydream about painting them.

Feyre walked further in, wanting to see the bathing room. And she wasn’t disappointed- her mouth fell slightly open, staring at the large tub, nearly the size of a small pond, with an open wall facing towards those very mountains she wanted to admire.

Maybe this was where she would take her tea.

Today, if possible.

She moved back into the main room, back towards where Rhysand was standing in the doorway.

“What do you think?”

“It’s… beautiful,” Feyre admitted reluctantly. She had been prepared to hate her time here. Hate everything here. But so far, everything… even Rhysand has been tolerable. Lovely, even, in the case of her room.

“Thank you, Feyre. I’m glad you like it.”

Feyre chewed her lip, trying to force out the question sitting in her throat.

Violet eyes tracked the movement, his brow cocking a moment later. “Yes, Feyre?”

“Were you…” she paused, embarrassment at the question building. “Were you serious about returning me to Spring if I… gointoheat?” is forced out of her, needing to know the answer.

“Of course, sweet omega. I would never deny you going back to your chosen alpha when in need,” he said reassuringly. Her cheeks flushed at pet name, unable to make herself as mad about it as she should be, since he had taken her away from said alpha and her wedding ceremony itself-

Oh, the anger was coming back. She had been taken from her alpha.

“But you’ll take me from him on my wedding day.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “You were panicking over your wedding day Feyre, shooting all of those emotions right down the bond at me,” he said, waving his left hand at her. “I saved you from having to run away in front of all those guests, from the alpha who still hasn’t claimed you after a year.” His voice quieted at the end, rage pouring into it.

Feyre inhaled sharply, her fear suddenly a gaping wound, she knew it wasn’t right that Tamlin hasn’t marked her yet-

“And while I would love for you to be my sweet, claimed omega, I know that you are very much in love with Tamlin.” Feyre bared her teeth slightly at his words, anger bubbling to the surface over her hurt. “It’s just too bad that there were all those petals everywhere, too bad that your betrothed couldn’t bother to make the ceremony feel safe for you.”

“How dare you!” Feyre yelled, hurling one of the shoes in her hand at his head, striking him on the forehead. She raised the remaining shoe as he opened his mouth again, ready to hit him again if he continued insulting her alpha.

“I have merely stated the truth Feyre.”

The second shoe went flying, disappointingly caught in his hand instead of by his stupid, perfect face. “I did not ask for your warped version of the truth, Rhysand. I also did not ask for you to save me from my wedding.”

He considered her words for a moment, and then the shoe was dissolving into nothing but dust. “And yet I did anyways,” he said with a smirk, turning to leave her room. “Do remember, I gave you a whole year before calling in the bargain. I was simply worried about you, Feyre darling, and decided to pay you a visit.” He picked lint off of his finely tailored suit, before looking Feyre in the eyes again. “I will see you for breakfast in the morning, Feyre. Taking your meals with me will be my one requirement of your time here. Dinner tonight will be on your own, however. Nuala and Cerridwen will be available to help you if you need it-” he paused at her look of confusion. “The shadow wraiths who helped you Under the Mountain,” he explained, and Feyre nodded her head tightly at the reminder.

Rhysand moved towards the door, taking a moment to look back at Feyre, still in her wedding gown. “Would you like me to have them come in now to help you take off that monstrosity of a wedding dress? Or perhaps I could-”

“Rhysand!” Feyre yelled in answer, storming over to the door as fast as she could to slam the door in his face.

Feyre turned the lock on the door, nearly sliding down it before she remembered that she was unable to get up on her own. She trudged over to the vanity, observing herself in the mirror. Her makeup was still alright, but her hair looked worse than before, now a frizzy mess on her head. She began pulling the various pins from her, each one followed by a small sigh of relief. Once she had finished, she shoved the pins into one of the drawers of the vanity, not caring about being clean at the moment.

All she could think about was getting out of this cauldron damned dress and into that amazing tub just a few feet away.

She tried to remember how Alis had put her into this thing, but her memory was of no help to her. She knew it had gone over her head, but she thought Alis had secured it somehow, buttons maybe?

But she couldn’t reach them. No matter how hard she fiddled around, she was stuck in the dress.

If Tamlin were here, this would be so much easier. He would probably rip straight through it and tear it off me, Feyre thought, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. But Tamlin wasn’t here. So she continued trying to free herself.

After a quarter hour struggling with the damn thing, she gave in and reached out through her bond with Rhys.

Could you send Nuala and Cerridwen in to me?

Of course, darling, was his answering, insufferable reply.

A minute later, the two wraiths were at her door, before Feyre remembered she had locked her door, and would take a while to get up alone. “I locked the door and can’t get up, could you come in anyways?” She asked, her voice small.

They passed through the door, becoming corporeal on the other side.

One of them helped her to stand, and the other immediately set about finding the buttons holding her inside of the dress.

They worked incredibly quickly, one twin working on the buttons as the other lifted the layers upon layers off of her body, and within five minutes she was left in just her slip dress and lingerie.

“Thank you,” she smiled at the two.

“Of course, Lady Feyre,” said one of them. “Is there anything else we can do for you before dinner?”

Feyre chewed her lip, then asked “would you get me a pot of tea please? On a tray I can have next to the tub, if that’s possible. Oh, and please call me Feyre.”

“That should be no problem at all, Feyre. We’ll be back in a few minutes, feel free to get comfortable in the bath if you’d like.”

And with that, the quiet and gentle twins left the room, taking the pile of tulle with them.

Feyre looked over to the archway, and like a moth to a flame drifted into the bathroom, landing on the edge of the tub, dragging her fingers through the water. Already the perfect temperature.

Her slip went over her head as she walked back into her room and was thrown onto the large chair near the armoire. She sighed as she slipped off the bra and panties she had been so excited to show her husband fiancé, and tossed those on the chair as well.

Returning to the bath, she tested the water again with one foot, and then stepped in fully, sinking down and submerging herself up to her neck, tilting her head back to wet her hair.

She floated over to the edge of the bath, resting her head along it and looking out into the beautiful, snow capped mountains.

Aside from how annoying Rhysand can be, and how he knows just how to get on her nerves, the Night Court doesn’t seem to be as horrible as Tamlin and Ianthe claimed it would be.

After all, she has a room fit for a queen and a view so spectacular, her fingers are itching to paint for the first time in over a year.

[sitp-recs]

heyo!! been loving the super specific rec lists youve been making lately :)

do you have favorite fics that include riding! as in. riding cock. bonus points if there’s good dirty talk about it. don’t care who’s on who as long as it is HOT! but obv i love drarry most. hope this is fun!

An ask after my own heart 🥹 thank you for the delicious request anon, here are some fics with memorable riding scenes imho. This reminded me of my fave Starker PWP but that’s neither here nor there so I’ll keep this short & Drarry. I hope you enjoy! 🔥

Move by @shealwaysreads (829 words)

“Come on, fuck yourself on it. I won’t make it move until you do.”

You Either Fuck or You Get Fucked by @fw00shy (2k)

"That's not how fucking works. Fucking's…" Draco waved a hand in the air. "You either fuck or you get fucked." "Sure," Harry said. He took out a Sickle. "Toss for it?"

in charge by @bonesliketambourines (2.4k)

Draco's bossy. Turns out that extends to the bedroom, too. Harry likes it—a lot.

Mens Rea by @lqtraintracks (E, 3k)

Mens Rea: the mental element of a person's intention to commit a crime; or knowledge that one's action or lack of action would cause a crime to be committed. “Draco Malfoy, how do you plead?” I’m super fucking guilty.

Like Gold by @the-sinking-ship (4k)

Draco runs away from home on the back of his boyfriend’s motorbike.

Catch the Snitch (No, Catch My Heart) by prolix (4.5k)

Draco secretly loved when Harry lost a match.

A Delicate Arrangement by mindabbles (E, 6k)

Harry's learned over time that a delicate touch is sometimes superior to a harsh grip. If he can remember that with Draco, he might solve the case, protect a dozen children, and he may, he may just get what he wants most.

Sexplanations (Of the Horrible Sort) by @bixgirl1 (7k)

Harry's willing to put up with a certain amount of injury, as long as he and Malfoy can keep doing... whatever it is they're doing. Maybe. Mostly. Especially if there might be more to it than sex.

Team Building for Dummies by InnerLilith (E, 7k)

Tensions run high when Harry and Draco are both drafted (as starting Seeker and substitute, respectively) for the English national team ahead of the 2002 World Cup. An impulsive bet on the outcome of a practice game resolves the tension in ways Harry wasn’t expecting.

The Page Eleven Wars by fireflavored (E, 8.5k)

In a gossip-hungry post-war Wizarding World, Rita Skeeter has a wildly successful column in the Daily Prophet known as Page Eleven. Naturally, her favourite targets are the poster boys of the two sides of the war: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. Bored and annoyed, the two take up tabloid baiting for sport and pleasure.

like a scratch on the roof of your mouth by eleadore (E, 9k)

Two weeks into the new year, Draco Malfoy saves Ron's life in a spectacular fashion.

It's the Love of the Chase (That Created the Ride) by @lqtraintracks (14k)

Draco and Harry are new Auror partners. It's a bit dull. Until they finally see some spell action and things get a lot more interesting (in Draco's pants).

An Act of Kindness for One Harry Potter by a Sympathetic Draco Malfoy by 0idontknow0 (15k)

As Draco leaned on the wall to wait for them to get dressed, he could not help feeling like he had done a very kind thing by disrupting them. Someone should give Potter a better rogering than that sorry sod had. The man had saved the bloody world—okay, mostly Europe—the least someone could do was give him a proper shag.

you look so fine by michi_thekiller (E, 16k)

In which Draco is a Veela and Harry is his mate. Dark!Humor or Crack!Horror, you decide.

Buy A Heart by xErised (E, 17k)

Draco's cock hardens as he looks at the invitation to the charity auction; his golden ticket to one wild night of desperate sex with Potter to get rid of this inexplicable obsession. His heart whispers that one night will never be enough, but Draco is beyond caring. All he knows is that he will pay any price to have Potter over and over again.

White as Snow by @bixgirl1 (19k)

After a quick escape from danger, Harry and Draco find themselves trapped in a blizzard, a small cabin their only refuge from the storm. It's the perfect place to recover and regroup — and to have a long-overdue conversation or two.

Five Weddings and a Potions Accident by lauren3210 (20k)

In which Harry thinks he’s a playboy, everyone else knows better, and Hermione will kill Seamus if Ron tries to collect on that bet.

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (22k)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

Touch Me Fall by @lqtraintracks (23k)

Malfoy was such a ponce. And he was a complete snob. And he was so fucking fit Harry wanted to jump him where he sat. It would be too easy to forget his objective tonight: to really, really, really get Malfoy out of his system.

In Your Arms, Rests My World by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (24k)

Harry presses his mouth to Malfoy's forehead; he wants to tell him that he’ll never leave, that he wouldn’t dream of it. “You make me feel safe, Potter” Malfoy whispers. “You keep me safe.”

Embers by @shiftylinguini (41k)

Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice.

[anjukurada-fanfic-rec-blog]

HELLUVA BOSS SEASON 2 EPISODE 7 SPOILERS!!!

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One of the themes for this episode seems to revolve around Parasocial Relationships at many different levels. For those who are unaware of what that means, here's a quick definition:

"Parasocial relationships are one-sided relationships, where one person extends emotional energy, interest and time, and the other party, the persona, is completely unaware of the other's existence. Parasocial relationships are most common with celebrities, organizations (such as sports teams) or television stars."

Parasocial relationships ARE COMMON and are, at a base level, normal! Humans are social creatures, even the most introverted will be driven to find even a small connection with another person. We find connections based off interests, personalities, common personal themes (such as lived history and trauma, happy moments, etc.) A person with certain insecurities or trauma may find a connection with a character or actor with similar insecurities or traumas, and find comfort in that shared experience.

Honestly, anyone in a fandom has had some level of parasocial relationships! A favorite actor. A favorite sports star/team. A favorite character that you hold dear. You may collect things in regards to that person/team, you may follow their social media, you may keep track of what they're doing with their lives. As I stated, Parasocial relationships are normal.

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ALL of Fizz's fans are in some form of parasocial relationship with him. You have some really wholesome and innocent ones like these:

And you have ones who are a little TOO comfortable and end up crossing boundaries and comfort zones simply because they BELIEVE it would be acceptable. The image that Mammon has made for Fizz would imply that Fizz is comfortable with this treatment, and therefore, the fans show their support in a more uncomfortable fashion. But there is still a disconnect there. Most of these fans still see Fizz as a character. An actor and a performer, NOT as a personal friend. They all still have that understanding that THEY are not any more special than the person next to them. They are there FOR THE COMMUNITY, for the bonding and the sharing of experiences. None of these people believe that they actually have a chance at being something special for the Real Fizz. Some may cope with that by buying a Robo-Fizz to fulfill fantacies, but they still understand the disconnect. They're there for the community and the experience, and they're fine with that.

But then you have THIS MOTHERFUCKER. The physical representation of the Darker side of Parasocial Relationships. He doesn't understand the disconnect, he doesn't understand that boundary that he's crossing.. The emotional intensity of this parasocial bond makes him act recklessly, obsessively, and downright threateningly, resulting in stalking and harrassment in order to attain even a modicum of attention from his obsession. Blitz mentions that this Imp has been snooping around their dressing rooms in order to get to Fizz, and he stalked them this whole way after Mammon's show just to have this interaction. He continues to be obsessed with Fizz into adulthood.

It is normal to have an emotional connection to other people, even celebrities and stars. We can relate to them, they give us joy and entertainment, it is even normal to hope to have an interaction with these people. But this imp has bypassed "normal" and has convinced himself that Fizz would give him the time of day. That their connection would be enough for Fizz to have a personal relationship with him. He believes that he is owed Fizz's time and attention. He either refuses or is unable to see the fear and discomfort he causes the person he claims to care about, and will lash out at anyone who tries to get in the way of him and his obsession. He has created this fantasy world where he and Fizz would meet and be together and be happy for the rest of their lives, completely disregarding Fizz and his emotions. When he tries again in adulthood to get Fizz to talk to him and acknowledge him, he becomes angry when Fizz refuses to "play his role" in this imp's fantasy. When he is rejected for the last time, he becomes so angry and hurt that he actually goes into Fizz's room prepared to attack him with a knife.

People keep saying that this imp was cringy, that this whole thing was cringy and unrealistic, but this is actually a REALITY that many of us either don't acknowledge or we just don't see. We hear stories of obsessed fans ALL THE TIME. Ones who show up at celebrity's homes and places of work, who stalk and harass them, who demand some form of communication and respect. We hear of fans who claim that they are dating a celebrity, and actually believe that they are simply because the celebrity SPOKE to them. There have been attempted and successful kidnaps and attacks by these fans.

As cringy as this is, THIS is a reality for many people who are in the spotlight. There are a lot of people who don't understand the boundaries, the limits, and the social norms, and will fully believe that they are fated to be with a certain person. We have all, in some way, felt that desire to have an interaction with someone 'special'. Many of us pay hundreds of dollars in order to have a picture taken with a special person because that moment is SO important to us. But for some, they cross that line and it becomes a very dangerous situation...

I love how they portrayed that situation here. Realistic, even if cringy.

[tmwcs]

S E 7 E N : M A M M O N P A R T F O 4 R

M A S T E R L I S T

Warnings: Just lots of fluff, mentions of bodies being mutiliated, torn, shredded, turned into statues, enveloped by metals, people getting smacked, (they had it coming) and i think that's it really.

You couldn’t recall but you were quite certain that that was the first time he had cursed as throughout the day, he had displayed himself in a composed and fashionable manner, in an overly polite display.

Yet the moment that he witnessed the audacity of the regulators refusing to heed his tone, the vulgarity in his choice of words came out, and it came out deadly.  

Looking back at you, with his hand reaching up to cup your cheeks once more, he places a passionate and deep kiss, the first and only one he has given you since the moment you met him earlier in the day. Pulling back, he lovingly gazes into your eyes as you hear the lashings of the members in the background.  

“Tell me….pretty kitten…..are you ready to see some dark shit?” he smiles at you, his nose tip touching yours.  

Nodding, you were beginning to get used to witnessing the full extent of what these men were capable of.  He chuckles affectionately.  

“You want to know my real name?” he gently whispers against your lips, slightly breathing against it as he rubs his own against yours…from left…..to right. “You want to know where I come from? What I do? What I’m capable of?.....Pretty kitten?” he whispers as he continues to affectionately rub his lips against yours.  

“……Yes…..” you whispered back at the feel of his warmth.  

With a gentle kiss to your lips, he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs and tells you softly.  

“Good girl…..watch what I do.”  

Turning around, as he extends his arms back to cradle you in against his broad shoulder blades. Taking both of your hands in his, he loops them around and places them over his waist, making you hug him from behind as he pulls you closer, causing your chest to plaster itself onto his back muscles. With his hands softly placing yours around his waist, he takes your strong one, lifts it towards his face, and places a kiss on the back of your hand, before gently reaching towards his back and placing your hands on to your side, and walks forward.

 “Alright you morons, hope you said your prayers….” Jungwon chuckles out.  

With one hand tucked inside his pocket, as he did before, slightly ruffling up his black jacket, while the other lifts to eye level, he positions his fingers as he prepares to snap them.  

“Time to say good night.”  

Snapping them, you watched at how, on que, with a hollowed gut feeling taking place in your body, that the pieces of jewelry that adorned each member, the metal of their weapons, the rings, and the badges, had all started to expand and morph, appearing as if they were melting and yet coating their bodies as they hysterically run around, scattered, trying to remove and push the seemingly liquified substance off as the golden shine of their rings turned them into gold statues, or the silver blades of their knives extended into a greater length and it’s jagged edges spiraled all around them, cutting them to bits and pieces.  

Members who didn’t adorn any pieces of jewelry, not even their rings or badges, witnessed their peers being slaughtered in such an usual manner, or turned into statues of gold.  

“Fucking get him and kill that whore!” You watched as the remaining members rush in, all aiming their guns and batons towards Jungwon.

 “Oh don’t worry…I got you.” Jungwon smirks as he narrows his eyes at the men rushing in.

Taking off one his rings, with a large diamond in the center, he tosses it before him, and in doing so, within a blink of an eye, a series of speared shrapnel disburses by the numbers, piercing, jabbing, stabbing, and tearing through the men’s bodies as they soon become unrecognizable from the amount of punctures and piercings they suffer from the diamond arrows.  

With the members collected on the ground, dying, issuing out their last breaths, Jungwon speaks out… 

“You fools….go ahead and flare your diamonds, gems, silver and gold…

For I will bestow upon you, the tales of the old.  

The sickness of GREED infects you, your selfishness follows suit. 

Stemming from the moment, you consumed the forbidden fruit. 

You yearn for money and treasure…

the sparkle of a virgin’s pleasure. 

Until you raise high, far, wide, and reaching Heaven’s height.

I watch as you strip the innocent, of their rightful birthright. 

So witness as I, Mammon, Prince of Greed, The Golden Demon and Treasurer of Hell...

Will turn your flesh into silver and gold, forever marking my story to tell.”  

After hearing him call out his name as he displayed an introduction similar to that of Jay’s as he notoriously announces his title, you realized that with Jungwon, it was all started to make sense.  Jay and his affinity with insects, the butterfly he drew out and named after you.  

‘Beezlebub…Lord of the Flies…’ 

And Jungwon’s lavish pieces he adorned on his fingers, the diamond earrings he had on as well as the high valued pair he created for you… 

‘Mammon…Prince of Greed.’

It was all coming together as you realized, these men, were what you’ve ounce recounted reading about in the Bible… 

‘The Seven Princes of Hell….the Seven Deadly Sins.’

The only you haven’t been able to tell was Helel…though you knew you were going to find out soon enough.  

With the park now decorated with blood, torn flesh, and golden statues of the forever cursed members of the cult and the screams of pain and agonizing torture fading out to silence, Jungwon smirks as he turns back over to you.

Reaching for your hand, he pulls you in and walks you, leading you by his strong hold. Looking at the gold statue of one of the regulators, he softly tells you.

 “Its okay, you can touch it.” he nods to the statue as he softly gazes at you. "Go ahead."

Glancing over to him, he softly smiles as he leads you by the hand and gently swings you over towards the statue. Touching it, you don’t know why you were surprised after everything you’ve witnessed, yet you issued a gasp as you felt the legitimate value of the gold figure, who was just a moment ago, a man of flesh and bone.  

Chuckling softly, he continues to lead you with his grip, swaying your hand as he holds on and walks you back to your apartment.  

Opening the door, he leads you in and walks you into the center of the living room. Little Kimchi napping on your sofa as he leans over and greets the baby kitten with his gentle fingers.  

Straightening his posture and standing directly in front of you, he smirks.  

“Stay here, go to sleep, and wait till morning. Okay?” he softly issues out as he raises a piece of your hair that grew from the nape of your neck.  

Looping his finger under your collar bone, he hooks the small piece in his fingers, rubbing the tips against the strands as he enjoys the feel of the smooth silkiness that transpires from his movement.  

Seeing a faint bit of smoke that emerges from the side of your peripherals, you watch as he burns off the piece, and holds it in between said fingers, just like he did before with the brazen woman at the store.   

Holding up the small bit of strands he burned off, he looks at you with an affectionate expression.  

“Taking a piece of you back with me.” He issues softly.  

You smirked and nodded, and he responds by pocketing the burnt off strands, and rubs the tips of his nose against yours one last time.

 Taking Kimchi into his arms, he cradles the baby animal as he stands before you, leans in, and whispers… 

“See you in a little while…both of us will.” He stated as he nudged against the sleeping kitten, referencing how they both will welcome you when it is time for you to come ‘home.’  

As he continues to cradle the kitten, he leans in and places a gentle and faint kiss on your lips.  

The moment you opened your eyes, he, along with the small kitten, were gone…  

"And I say unto you, Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness; that, when ye fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitations." – Luke 16:9                      

Taglist: @deobitifull; @solstramaii; @vampiregirl215; @nshmrarki; @enhypen14; @iamliacamila; @lisaaannna; @nikstrange; @jaehaki; @luv-enhy-skz33; @silcry @honeysjae

[good-yonji-au]

So I discovered this AU about 5 hours ago and it has me in a chokehold. Your Yonji is a precious bean and he must be protected at all times, and Sanji being a big brother is everything I didn't even know I wanted. <3 I hope you don't mind the influx of questions I have after going through the whole tag.

So speaking of Sanji being a big brother, have he and Yonji ever hugged? If so, what prompted it? Is Yonji more touchy-feely than Sanji in general, or are they both pretty touch-averse?

How does Yonji fight? Did he develop his own style of fighting after leaving Germa 66, much like Sanji did, or does he still fight the way he did when working under Judge? Is he still really good at fighting, or does he easily become a nonfunctional, overwhelmed mess, bombarded on all sides with everyone's heightened and fraught emotions?

Does Yonji's prosthetic arm have attachments and hidden weapons? How does he upkeep it? Does he know how it works decently enough do to it himself, or does he have a mechanic that he goes to for tuneups?

Who taught Yonji tailoring and fashion? Sanji had Zeff to help him become a master chef, so did someone take Yonji under their wing in a similar fashion? Or is he entirely self-taught?

Does Yonji ever feel bad for leaving his brothers and sister behind? Unlike Sanji, who had normal human emotions from the get-go, Yonji's been on both sides of the fence, and he knows what it's like to be the sociopathic killing machine their father turned them into. Does he wish there was some way to trigger what happened to him in them as well? Do he and Sanji ever talk about their family? We know Sanji was the only one to regularly go and visit their mother, but do you think Yonji has any memories of her as well? Does he beg Sanji for stories about her?

Where does Yonji live? Does Sanji swing by to visit him every so often, or do they keep in touch by air mail, does Yonji join the Strawhats or just travel with them?

Does Sanji ever have a "O shit, I think I might actually love him" moment when it comes to Yonji? It could be something domestic like laughing together in Sanji's kitchen they work together to prepare a meal, or something like seeing Yonji about to be injured or even killed in the middle of a fight and going "This is the only little brother I've got, not on my watch, dammit!"

Lastly, do you have any songs in mind for you AU, aside from the ones you've used for your animatics? Some that came to mind for Yonji are:

"Stray Italian Greyhound" by Vienna Teng

"To Be Human" by Sia

"Zephyrus" by The Oh Hellos

"Stigma" by V

And I think "Soap" by The Oh Hellos maybe fits Sanji's feelings toward having his brother back in his life and being willing to extend a second chance to him after seeing how he's changed.

Holy shit that's a long ask! Lemme see...

So speaking of Sanji being a big brother, have he and Yonji ever hugged? If so, what prompted it? Is Yonji more touchy-feely than Sanji in general, or are they both pretty touch-averse?

They've hugged, mostly at WCI arc. But for the most part they're touch adverse (despite being touch starved). Yonji enjoys instigating physical affection to anyone but he's not great at taking it.

How does Yonji fight? Did he develop his own style of fighting after leaving Germa 66, much like Sanji did, or does he still fight the way he did when working under Judge? Is he still really good at fighting, or does he easily become a nonfunctional, overwhelmed mess, bombarded on all sides with everyone's heightened and fraught emotions?

Yonji very rarely fights anymore. He usually quickly gets overwhelmed and becomes a mess, yes, due to all of the emotions. Whenever he gets into a fight he loses control of his Haki and it's a bad time. However, if he has a goal, (protecting someone, getting something etc.) he can power through it. His fighting style is still mostly brute force punching because he hasn't learned any other way. However, when he joins the Revs, he gets taught to be more smart about it.

Does Yonji's prosthetic arm have attachments and hidden weapons? How does he upkeep it? Does he know how it works decently enough do to it himself, or does he have a mechanic that he goes to for tuneups?

It used to! He broke a lot of them/refuses to use them. He knew how it worked enough to keep it functional up until he meets the Strawhats and upon finding the frankly horrendous state of the prosthetic, Franky helps make Yonji a new one, specialized for tailoring! He rarely gets issues with the new are but if he does he can usually troubleshoot himself or attempt to contact Franky.

Who taught Yonji tailoring and fashion? Sanji had Zeff to help him become a master chef, so did someone take Yonji under their wing in a similar fashion? Or is he entirely self-taught?

For the most part, he's self-taught! Maybe I'll give him a mentor but I'm usually pretty adverse to making OCs for my AUs. Hmmmmm. He definitely had a training arc under some big name shops at one point though.

Does Yonji ever feel bad for leaving his brothers and sister behind? Unlike Sanji, who had normal human emotions from the get-go, Yonji's been on both sides of the fence, and he knows what it's like to be the sociopathic killing machine their father turned them into. Does he wish there was some way to trigger what happened to him in them as well? Do he and Sanji ever talk about their family? We know Sanji was the only one to regularly go and visit their mother, but do you think Yonji has any memories of her as well? Does he beg Sanji for stories about her?

*smacks yonji on the head* This good boy can fit so much guilt complex in him! He's guilty about everything all the time! Yes, he does want to help Ichiji and Niji, which comes into play post WCI. While Sanji and Yonji tend to avoid talking about Judge or their siblings, Sora has been brought up before. I know I haven't mentioned it on tumblr yet, but I sometimes draw Yonji with a necklace, which is supposed to be a trinket of Sora's that Reiju gave to him when Yonji ran away. Yonji's memories of Sora is hazy and he pretty torn up about it. Yeah, he asks Sanji for stories about her. <3

Where does Yonji live? Does Sanji swing by to visit him every so often, or do they keep in touch by air mail, does Yonji join the Strawhats or just travel with them?

He lives on this random island along the Grandline! Something kinda like Saboady or Hand Island. The Straw Hats (specifically) Sanji has visited few times post the initial meeting but Yonji does not actively travle with them. He might had, like, one adventure with them but otherwise he's not part of the crew or anything. He does get the SH's den den mushi number and keeps in touch that way. Occasionally he'll send packages- usually at the behest of Sanji at the behest of Nami, lol. Later, Yonji ends up getting roped into joining the Revs and he splits his time between being at his shop and at Baltigo.

Does Sanji ever have a "O shit, I think I might actually love him" moment when it comes to Yonji? It could be something domestic like laughing together in Sanji's kitchen they work together to prepare a meal, or something like seeing Yonji about to be injured or even killed in the middle of a fight and going "This is the only little brother I've got, not on my watch, dammit!"

YES! Specifically Yonji crying and gushing about how good Sanji's cooking is. Yonji is a little foodie and while he can't cook to save his life, he does happen to know a good bit about how food gets made and really learned to appreciate the effort that goes into cooking. Sanji is not normal over this fact. He has the "Don't touch my brother!" moment at WCI screaming at Judge. Which sends Yonji into a blubbering mess. (A lot of things happen WCI lmfao.)

Lastly, do you have any songs in mind for you AU, aside from the ones you've used for your animatics?

My ass doesn't actively listen to a whole bunch of music but I have made a playlist for this AU! The vibe mostly is like upbeat songs with sad lyrics lol.

Forgive my terrible terrible taste in music:

Thank you for the songs! Gonna snag 'em and add 'em to the playlist hehe.

Also, thank you for the ask!!!! <3 <3

[phillippadgettwrites]

Blackout

Rated X / 3724 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

When the power cuts out, they’re sitting on the floor in her living room with a fully loaded Monopoly board on the coffee table between them, plus two open beers. The wind has been howling for hours, sideways rain pelting the windows with each mighty gust, but they hadn’t had the forethought to prepare flashlights or candles.

The evening so far feels a bit like a date, at least compared to how they typically spend their time together. Mulder hadn’t even used the excuse of some exciting new case or research to invite himself over, he just asked if she wanted to hang out. Most people would have evenings like this before getting to the point of sleeping together, but they aren’t most people. And while it only happened the one time, they’ve been working their way back to that point in a more typical fashion, including a few hot and heavy makeout sessions. She had hoped that might be the direction they were headed this evening, but when her apartment goes dark she turns her focus to more pressing issues.

It’s well after 10:00pm, and with the moon obscured by heavy rain clouds and not a drop of ambient light, they both slowly stand and carefully make their way towards the kitchen.

“There’s a flashlight in the drawer to the left of the oven,” she tells him, moving her hands in an arc in front of her and sweeping her feet back and forth before each step to avoid tripping. “And there are some candles and matches in the bathroom.”

She heads toward the bathroom, operating off her mental map of her apartment to guide her way, and she’s so caught off guard when Mulder crashes into her from the side that she falls without any attempt to catch herself. Her shoulder hits the hardwood and within milliseconds Mulder’s weight is on top of her, squeezing the air from her lungs.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he sputters, rolling to the side and pawing her all over as he tries to figure out how her body is oriented. She turns onto her back and his palm lands squarely on her breast, giving it a squeeze before he snatches it away and adds another, much more contrite, “Sorry,” to his extended apology.

Scully laughs, though she’s probably going to have a bruise on her shoulder tomorrow.

“It’s okay,” she reassures him as she sits up.

“Do you want to feel my breast? Even the score?” he asks, and she knows that the joke is his way of managing his embarrassment.

“Maybe later,” she says, then slowly gets to her feet.

They find the flashlight, as well as the candles, all of which have mere inches of wick left at most. They light one and attempt to resume their game, but the strain on their eyes makes them decide not to light another when the flame flickers and dies out.

“How new are these batteries?” Mulder asks, and she hears the rattle of him shaking the flashlight.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t used it in a while,” she tells him, and he sighs.

“I’d be lying if I claimed I wasn’t judging you for your lack of preparedness, Scully,” he says in a lecturing tone.

“You don’t have toilet paper at your apartment half the time, Mulder,” she shoots back.

“Touché.”

They decide not to use the flashlight save for lighting their way to the bathroom, or to sneak another beer from the fridge. Mulder suggests heading home, but Scully suspects that it’s nothing more than an attempt to be sure he isn’t overstaying his welcome, and she insists that it would be unsafe for him to drive across town with all the traffic signals out and low visibility.

“Are you cold?” she asks as she pulls the blanket off the back of the couch to cover herself. Based on the sound of his voice, Mulder is still sitting on the floor across the coffee table.

“Nope, I’m good,” he says.

They talk about other power outages they’ve experienced, comparing notes to determine that three days is the longest either of them have gone without. Scully tells Mulder about an occasion where Ahab made them eat all the ice cream in the fridge so it wouldn’t go to waste, and then Maggie had to clean the bathroom in the dark with no hot water after Charlie gave himself a stomach ache and didn’t quite make it to the toilet.

“It really makes you think about how dependent we are on electricity, doesn’t it?” Mulder remarks. “I don’t think I could accomplish three-quarters of the things I do in an average day without it.”

“True, but you have to consider the fact that we’re only so dependent on it because we’ve built modern life around it,” Scully says, stretching out on the couch. “You could accomplish many, if not most, of the things you do in an average day without it—you’d just have to accomplish them in a different way.”

“Indoor plumbing doesn’t require electricity,” he says. “I could heat water over an open fire to make my coffee. Use a straight razor to shave. I think I could get as far as needing to drive before things would get tricky.”

“Work itself would be practically impossible,” Scully says. “Without phone or email, I’m not sure we could do anything at all.”

They’re quiet for a bit, and the complete lack of mechanical hum in the building makes the intermittent rumble of car engines and the spray of the rain sound like thunder.

“It’s wild to think about how much time and energy used to go towards just trying to survive,” Mulder says suddenly, startling her.

“The four F’s of evolution,” Scully replies, sitting up a little only to realize how much the beer has gone to her head. “Fight, flee, feed, and fornicate. We’ve always had the same needs, we just meet them in different ways depending on the resources available to us.”

“Clubs, swords, muskets, atom bombs,” Mulder lists off.

“Feet, horses, cars, airplanes,” Scully continues.

“Hunt and gather, farm, supermarket, McDonald’s,” he adds.

There’s an awkward silence when the fourth “F” hangs in the air.

“I suppose the last “F” is the only one that hasn’t changed much,” she finally says, feeling silly for feeling embarrassed.

“I don’t know, there have been quite a few modern advancements,” Mulder offers, and she hears in his voice that he’s changing position. She imagines him lying on his side, his head propped up on a fist. “Where would feminism be if not for the advent of the Hitachi Magic Wand?”

Her cheeks flush, and she’s grateful for the cover of darkness. It makes it all feel pretend somehow, like they’re talking on the phone. Like he isn’t sitting just a few feet away from her.

“I didn’t realize you were so knowledgeable about vibrators, Mulder,” she teases.

“Eh, I read a lot of magazines,” he says casually. “And it’s a personal massager, Scully. For the record.”

“I stand corrected,” she says with a smile. She feels warm and giddy. “Gratefully, a lack of electricity would have no impact on me in that respect. I suppose that makes me old fashioned.”

There’s another silence, and as it stretches on she realizes that she just disclosed her masturbatory preferences to him. She presses her cold hands to her flaming-hot cheeks and hopes that he somehow didn’t pick up on it.

“Well, that’s gotta be handy,” he finally says, and his voice sounds rough. “I’ve heard that mysterious vibrating suitcases are a common occurrence for the baggage handlers at Reagan International.”

She doesn’t know how to respond. If she agrees with him, she’s further disclosing that she masturbates when they’re on assignment. Apparently he takes her silence as offense, because before she can think of something to say he speaks again.

“Sorry, that was a bit presumptuous,” he says. “I forget that women aren’t prone to the same…fixation as men are in that particular vein.”

The lack of accuracy in his supposition bothers her enough that she doesn’t let it slide.

“That’s not true,” she says, looking in his direction even though her pupils are filled with only vacant darkness. “It’s a puritanical myth that women experience less sexual desire than men do. The difference is that men are celebrated for their libido while women are shamed for it. Repeat that for hundreds of years, and people start to believe that it’s by design.”

“Hm,” is all Mulder offers in response at first. He seems to be giving what she said quite a bit of consideration. “Not to be invasive, and you can feel free not to answer this if you aren’t comfortable, but are you suggesting that women think about sex just as often as men do?”

“They’ve done studies on the subject,” she answers confidently, feeling much more secure speaking in terms of scientific fact than personal experience. “There are numerous variables at play, but when you account for them and compare apples to apples, yes.”

“Hm,” he says again, sounding genuinely surprised. “But you don’t—” he starts, then pauses to reconsider his words. “It can’t be the same in terms of masturbation. I just find that hard to believe. No pun intended.”

That, of course, makes her think about his dick. She squeezes her thighs together when her clit jumps, alerting her to the fact that it, too, is thinking about his dick.

“What do you mean?” she asks, unwilling to risk a misunderstanding.

He laughs a little and she wonders if he is also drunk.

“I don’t know how to clarify without asking you an extremely personal question,” he admits.

She’s still thinking about his dick. She didn’t get a good look at it, but she did cop quite a feel as she helped guide him inside her. She’s glad she did, or she would have been more caught off guard by the pain.

“Try me,” she says, feeling bold.

“How often do you…?” he asks, letting the rest of the question hang in the air.

She probably shouldn’t answer that, but none of this feels real.

“Most days,” she says plainly, like she’s telling him how often she showers. “Not quite every day, but almost.” The silence that follows is so loud her ears ring. She feels a sudden surge of panic, a blast of reality that makes her nauseous. Maybe she should pretend she misunderstood the question. “Mulder?” she finally says, just to make sure he’s still there. As though he could have somehow left without her noticing.

He clears his throat.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Are you…okay?”

“Yeah.” More silence. She feels a little bit angry at him for doing this to her. For leaving her hanging after such an admission. “Every day?” he says with astonishment, emphasizing both words.

“Not every day,” she corrects him. “I said most days.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, and his voice sounds closer.

“What do you mean, what does it mean? It means exactly what I said.”

“You do more days than you don’t?” he asks, and his urgency confuses her.

“I believe that was indicated by my use of the word most,” she says, a bit more tartly than she intended.

“Wow,” he says, and then is quiet again.

“And you?” she shoots back. “I think it’s only fair that you answer the same question.”

If he’s bothered, he doesn’t let on.

“The same, actually,” he says. “Most days. Not every day, but most.”

“Hm,” she says, injecting as much sarcasm as possible into a single syllable and with no body language to support it. “And what does that mean, Mulder?”

“It means that I typically do, unless I’m too tired or not in a situation to procure the necessary privacy,” he answers. “For example, on occasions where we’ve needed to share a motel room, or currently when I’m stuck at your apartment.”

“My apologies for ruining your evening,” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest like a petulant child.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks incredulously.

“I just don’t appreciate being made to feel like a sexual deviant,” she tells him.

“What did I say that made you feel that way?”

“I don’t know, Mulder, between the multiple ‘hms’ and the ‘wow,’ I got the distinct impression that you think I’m some kind of…perverted nymphomaniac.”

“A—what?” he asks, now incredulous for different reasons. “I apologize if my brief responses gave you that impression, but honestly I was just trying not to say any of the thoughts I was having out loud so I didn’t make you more uncomfortable than you clearly already are.”

“And which thoughts were those?” she asks, intending to make a point. She expects to hear him express surprise that someone like her would do something as uncouth as touch her own damn body for no purpose other than pleasure.

He doesn’t answer right away, which only makes her seethe. If he hadn’t been drinking she would tell him to leave.

“I’m not sure you realize what you’re asking me to say, Scully,” he says carefully, which gets her attention. “But I assure you, the thoughts are complimentary in nature. I’m not judging you.”

“Tell me one,” she requests. “Just as a point of reference.”

He sighs, and she can practically feel the gears turning in his head as he works out what to say. Which thought to share.

“Well, we travel a lot,” he begins. “So when you said most days, my immediate thought—or question, more accurately—was whether you…indulge when we’re on assignment.” She feels her entire body flush. “I’m not asking you a question,” he quickly clarifies, “I’m just sharing that as an example of the type of thought that I had. Nothing derogatory, scout’s honor.”

“Hm,” she says, not intentionally, and Mulder huffs a little uncomfortable laugh.

“My sentiments exactly.”

Now it is she who lets the silence stretch on, leaving him wondering what she’s thinking. The spike in adrenaline set off by her anger wanes, leaving her feeling sleepy and unguarded.

“Sometimes,” she says.

“Sometimes what?” he clarifies.

“I do when we’re on assignment sometimes, depending on how close your room is to mine.”

She no longer reads his silence as judgment.

“Is proximity a deterrent or an incentive?” he asks, and she can tell that he’s choosing his words carefully.

“If we share a wall I don’t—I worry that you’ll hear me,” she says. It’s the honest answer.

“You worry?”

“Yes.”

“About what?”

“...That you’ll hear me,” she repeats, confused.

“And that would be…bad?”

She hesitates, challenged to explain something that seems so straightforward it doesn’t require explanation.

“It’s private, Mulder,” she finally says.

“Well,” he offers, “for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t be bothered by overhearing.”

“No?”

“No. I…um…At the risk of sounding like a perverted nymphomaniac, that might be the most erotic thing imaginable, actually.”

She’s never really considered it from his perspective. She’s only ever thought about how she would feel knowing that he had heard her. She’s imagined him making an offhand joke at breakfast, or giving her a round of applause when she finishes. She’s imagined him poking fun at her, making her feel silly. She never imagined, even after it became clear that he was attracted to her, that he would get off on it.

“Oh,” is all she can manage to say.

“Have you, um…Have you ever heard anything from my side of the wall?” he asks awkwardly.

She feels so embarrassed for him that she considers lying.

“I think so,” she says, allowing it to sound like she isn’t 100% sure. Like she hasn’t pressed her ear to the wall so hard she could hear his fist slapping against his lap and feel the vibrations of his voice when he moaned through his orgasm. Like she hasn’t touched herself while listening to him do the same. “But it didn’t bother me, you don’t need to apologize,” she adds.

“Wow,” he says. “So much for being discreet.”

“Difficult to do when the walls may as well be made of cardboard.”

She’s marginally aware of the fact that she’s wet. If he were with her on the couch, it would be easy to initiate something. But she’s not sure exactly where he is or how he’s laying, and she can only imagine herself tripping over his legs and quashing her own confidence, so she stays put. But the more she thinks about all of it—him wanting to hear her touching herself, the times she’s listened to him through the wall, their one, harried fuck on his couch that they’ve barely spoken about—the more aroused she feels herself becoming. Her clit gives off a few little flutters, and she knows that Mulder can’t see his own hand in front of his own face, much less her form against the backdrop of the couch. She can hear him breathing, and she keeps her eyes trained in the direction of his breaths as she slowly inches one hand under the waist of her cotton lounge pants.

When her middle finger slides over her clit, she involuntarily sucks in a breath that’s louder than she anticipated.

“You okay?” Mulder asks, and it sounds like he��s sitting up.

“Yeah,” she says tightly, shaking her head at her lack of self control.

She should stop, but she doesn’t. She’s so ungodly wet, and it feels so damn good. One finger circling her clit, dipping just inside her opening to gather wetness before making another loop, has her cunt clutching and her mouth open in a silent scream. She wants to come so badly, but there’s no way she can stay completely quiet. There’s no way that Mulder won’t hear her.

“Scully?” he says in a voice entire octaves deeper than normal.

“Yes,” she breathes out.

Somehow, a question was asked and answered in only those two words. She hears him swallow and shift around on the floor. She imagines that he’s touching himself. It’s possible that he is.

“Do you want me to talk, or stay quiet?” he asks.

A tiny moan escapes her throat, and she morphs it into an, “Ohhh–I don’t care.”

“Okay,” he says, and then nothing. She becomes too aware of how intently he’s listening to her.

“I changed my mind. Talk,” she tells him.

“About anything in particular?”

“Oh my god, Mulder, just talk,” she admonishes him.

“Okay, um…” She slows while she waits for him to find a topic. “Can I confess something?”

“...Okay.”

“The times when you heard me through the wall, when we were on assignment?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“I hoped that you would. I wasn’t trying to be discreet. I wanted you to hear me,” he says with a kind of syrupy vulnerability in his voice.

She gasps as a surge of pleasure rushes through her, bringing her close to the edge.

“Really?” she keens, slipping two fingers inside. She’s so wet it’s audible, and she hears a strangled moan from Mulder’s side of the room.

“Yes,” he says tightly. “I know that’s wrong, and I’m sorry.”

“Ohhhh, don’t be sorry,” she whimpers, pressing the heel of her hand into her clit. “I liked it.”

“Fuck, you did?”

“Yes.”

She’s so close. So. Close.

“I’m glad. Because I was thinking about you. That’s what I’m always thinking about.”

Her voice is so loud she startles herself. A piercing cry is followed by wave after wave of descending groans as she comes so hard she sees stars behind her eyes. For a moment she loses touch with reality, forgetting that Mulder is in the room and the circumstances of what she’s doing. She rides it out, wailing without restraint, until it begins to fade. The stars behind her eyes burst into a wash of bright light, and to her horror she realizes that the power has come back on.

The first thing she does is open her eyes, with pulling her hand out of her pants being a close second. Her head snaps over to where Mulder was sitting and she finds him lying on his back, looking straight up at the ceiling. There’s a pronounced tent at the front of his pants.

“Excuse me,” she says, then makes a beeline for the bathroom.

She uses the toilet and washes her hands, but she can’t bring herself to look at her own reflection in the mirror. After a handful of minutes, Mulder knocks.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she tells him, wishing he would just leave.

When she can’t reasonably stay in there any longer, she turns off the bathroom light and opens the door to find the apartment submerged in relative darkness. Not the complete opaque dark from when the power was out, but all the blinds are drawn and he’s thrown a blanket over the window that allows the most streetlight in.

“Hey,” he says softly, catching her by the elbows before she can walk past him.

“You can stay if you want. I don’t want you driving home if you’re not sober,” she says, all business.

He quiets her with his palms on her cheeks, and two thumbs brushing across her lips.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and she feels like she could melt from the concurrent conflicting emotions rushing through her body. She can’t find her voice, but he feels it when she nods.

He kisses her so sweetly, considering what she just did. Long, lingering pecks that slow her heart rate and ease her nerves.

“That was incredible,” he whispers with his mouth still hovering over hers. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I am, but thank you,” she replies.

He takes one of her hands and guides it down, under the waist of his pants. Her eyes widen as he wraps their joined hands around his erection and pumps slowly.

“Would it make you feel better if I jerk off in front of you?” he asks, then adds, “Those are not words I ever thought I’d say to you,” in a jovial tone.

She laughs and leans into him, and his hand falls away as she strokes him firmly.

“It would, actually,” she says with a smile. “But maybe this time we can leave the lights on.”