#i know neither of his halloween skins have shirts but still

[saturnsorbits]

Bugs and Hisses

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Kidnapping, Drugging, Lacking Prep, Con-Non-Con, The Tiniest Amount of Blood, Word Count: 4.9k,

Summary: A Halloween date goes exactly to plan.

A/N: w/a surprise cast.

‘So…’ You run a finger down Sero’s chest, skating from leather jacket, to pressed shirt, to skin. There’s a covering of hair peeking from his collar that tickles as you stroke it, conjuring visions that make you want to know just how far the hair goes. ‘Do I get a second date?’ 

He chuckles, a deep, throaty noise that vibrates the back of his neck. His palms are already cradling your waist, his thumb skating across the fabric of your dress. With each passing second, his composure frays. Fuck. You’d accidentally flashed him your fucking underwear back in the restaurant and he’d been a perfect gentleman and not looked. Well, he’d not stared at least - just tugged at the edge of your skirts and helped you readjust. He cocks an eyebrow, pulls you in tight. ‘Who said the first one is over?’ 

‘Isn’t it?’ You bite back a smile, but it doesn’t work. 

‘My place is like a twenty minute walk -.’ 

Pressing your lips to his, you wink and leave him with the tingling of your apple-spiced lipgloss as you step away. ‘Say less. Just let me text my roommate, tell her not to wait up.’ 

The smile he gives you could light up a room. It’s crooked and too big for his face, but bleeds boyish charm as he rocks back on his feet like he’s just won the lottery. ‘Yeah, yeah. Of course.’ 

You hold up a finger trying to shake the nervous energy bubbling up inside of you. It’s always like this, no matter how many times you do it. You still get giddy. Slipping your hand into a pocket, you snatch out your phone and tap out a quick message. The usual stuff. And, then, you’re back with him. 

His hands are broad and firm, callosed against your palms. He’d told you he was a painter, both commercially and artistically. In fact, some of the canvas’ he’d shown you had been pretty good. Almost as good as the small block of flats he was currently painting ‘Moon Shimmer’ on behalf of an unusually picky client. Slowing his strides so as not to hurry you, he lifts your clasped hands and kisses the curve of your knuckles leaving the stickiness of your lipgloss in his wake. ‘S’not far.’ 

The streets are dark at this hour, with only the jaundiced light cast down from the lamps making your path visible. Still, you’re not scared. Bumping your shoulder against his, you dissolve into a mess of soft giggles when he knocks you back and smiles. ‘I love this time of year?’ 

‘Autumn or Halloween?’ 

You shrug and swing your hands. ‘Both. But, I mean Halloween.’ 

As you near the estate, the decorations begin to crop up. There’s a string of pumpkins nestled in the leaves of a hedge, their mouths glowing with fairy light. In the front garden of the flats is an inflatable ghoul, in the window of a house across the way a model of the grim reaper covered in cobwebs. It’s pretty, quaint in its own pseudo-scary way. 

‘Yeah?’ He cocks his head. ‘Didn’t have you down for someone into spooky stuff?’ 

You bat your eyes at him and bite your lip. ‘No? What did you have me down for then?’

It happens so fast. 

Too fast.

One minute you’re staring up at him with stars in your eyes, flirting with the idea of letting him take you in the street and the next, you’re being held by the throat. Instantly, your hands are at your neck and clawing, desperately trying to free yourself. You kick out and thrash, suddenly aware that your feet are being lifted from the floor leaving you dangling. 

‘Stop thrashing, Sweetheart - Or i’ll do a lot worse to your little boyfriend over here.’ 

The man with his hand around your throat is huge. His chest is barrelled, his arms almost the size of your skull and neither seem strained by the entirety of your weight dangling from his grip. There’s a scar on his face, one that cuts cleanly through his right eye and ends just below his cheek bone. The eye itself has gone cloudy, a white marble nestled in the socket that seems to glow in the low light. Around his threats, his lips seem to shimmer.

You stop, muscles freezing. 

‘Fuck. You can have my wallet, my phone… Just, just fucking take it.’ Sero’s back is pressed to the wall. Despite his lean frame and gangling height, the other man towers over him - a head taller and then some. Although, it’s the blade pressed to his sternum that is doing the job of keeping him still. Stuffing his hands into his pocket, he retrieves his valuables and offers them up, shaking as he does. 

The man laughs. He tosses his head, letting his hood slip backward; exposing a slither of hair. The root is black, an inch of midnight, but after that, fire-engine red sprouts like firelight. ‘I don’t want your shit.’ Smacking Sero’s hand, he sends the offerings to the floor. 

Sero yelps. ‘What do you want?..’ He glances at you, his eyes wide with panic. ‘Just, just don’t hurt us. Okay?’ 

‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ Turning his head, he lets his eyes roam over your body. He looks predatory, with a set of teeth that would put a shark to shame. He winks. ‘Just play with you a little.’ 

The grip around your throat is gone in an instant, abandoning you to collapse to the floor in a heap. You suck air into your lungs, greedily inhale until the blurriness fades from your vision. Scrambling back, you bloody your palms on the floor in an effort to escape, to distance yourself from the man in front of you. 

If he notices, he certainly doesn’t care. Setting one of his large hands loose in his pocket, he retrieves a thin piece of cloth. The handkerchief is red, soft to the touch and monogrammed - an embroidered gold ‘BR’ sitting neatly in one of its corners. It smells of rubbing alcohol and apples. 

‘No. No. Fuck… What the fuck do you want, mate? I’ll do whatever you want.’ There’s a rawness to Sero’s voice now. A broken edge that grates on his throat. Panic swells in his chest. It constricts his lungs and makes his fingers twitchy, his stomach burning on his every vowel as more pleas are kicked up his throat. He glances to you, watches as you scramble backwards and hopes that at least you’ll make it away. 

Flashing his teeth, the man lifts the cloth, pressing it over Sero’s mouth. ‘I told you. I just want to play.’ 

When Sero finally wakes he’s cold. His whole body is curled, his jacket and jeans stripped, leaving large breadths of skin exposed to the bite of the concrete floor. The roof of his mouth is dry, his tongue shriveled, forcing his throat to convulse and spasm. Placing a palm on the floor, he lifts his head. 

The room is dark, unlit apart from a singular light bulb that hangs by its wire from the ceiling. Sero squints. The light puddles at the far end of the room, bathing a fully made bed in clear white. It looks out of place, odd in its decadence considering its surroundings, but it’s there nonetheless and atop it, splayed on its sheets is you. 

Sero’s up. His limbs are numb and heavy, fighting him with every step as he drags himself across the room, but he does it. Collapsing at your bedside, he claws his way to his knees and almost chokes when he notices the state you’re in. 

Thick cuffs wrap your wrists and hold your arms above your head, the chains that connect them securing you to the metal grill of the headboard. Your body is bare, exposed and draped with only the thinnest of shifts to cover your modesty.

‘Oh, no… Hey. Hey. Wake up, c’mon. Wake up.’ He reaches for you, his fingers gracing the curve of your cheek and the plush of your lower lip. Your breath tickles his fingers, makes him sigh with relief. 

Groaning, your eyes flicker open. You swallow and try to sit up. ‘Sero?’ 

The chains keep you down. 

‘What the fuck?’ Yanking on your cuffs, you try to rise again. 

‘Not getting out of those, Sweetheart.’ A smokey laugh trickles from the far end of the room through glistening lips. Leant back in a chair far too small for his frame is the man. He’s shirtless now, wearing nothing, but a pair of black military pants and matching boots that look as though they’ve seen better days. On his knee rests a gun. His arm is relaxed, fingers parallel to the trigger as the butt digs into the flesh of his leg.

 He looks… comfortable.

Sero’s heart stops. He’d awoken at the man’s feet, defenseless, before scampering off to you. He turns his mind away from the thoughts of what could have happened had he not chosen to move. ‘Where are we?’ 

The hair on the back of your neck stands to attention and salutes your demise, the chill slinking down your back to make a xylophone of your spine. You’re shivering, your lack of dress making self-consciousness and self-preservation war in your chest. A scream freezes to your lungs. ‘What are you going to do with us?’ 

‘Me?’ The man relaxes further, the slope of his broad shoulders an upturned bracket balanced on his collarbones. ‘I’m not gonna do anything…’ He lifts the gun, gesturing between the two of you. ‘You on the other hand -.’ 

Sero stands, willing his knees not to shake. ‘I’m not hurting her.’ 

‘Not even a little?’ The man pouts. ‘What if she likes it? I bet she likes it’ 

‘What the fuck are you? Some kind of fucking -.’ 

‘Pervert?’ He spreads his legs, showing off the thick bulge stretching the tension of his zip. It’s massive, the outline evident as his cock sits across his left thigh lazily, leaning into the crease of his pelvis. ‘Something like that.’ 

A snarl twists Sero’s mouth. He’s been in his fair share of fights, come out of them alright too. He swallows, but there’s no way he’s coming out of this one on top. For fucks sake his waist is the same size as one of this guy’s biceps. His heart hammers in his chest, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he runs a million and one outcomes through his mind. 

‘Don’t even think about it, baby boy.’ The man chuckles. ‘Think you’re quicker than a bullet?’ 

A groan ricochettes around the room, echoing off metal walls. 

You still. Squinting beyond your pool of light, you let your eyes adjust to the din. There, in the darkness are cages. Human sized cells bracket the room, the thick metal bars hiding whatever lingers inside. 

The moan comes again. 

‘Oi.’ Kicking at the bars of the nearest cage, the man silences the occupant. ‘Patience. It’s a virtue, y’know.’ 

Sero steps back. He’s out of his depth. The blood in his veins is cold, his skin frostbitten and pale. In the back of his mind, he writes to his mother - apologizes for not coming home more often, for not teaching his little sister to drive like he promised. He makes his peace, condemns himself to whatever might happen next. ‘What the fuck…’ 

‘We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.’ The man laughs at his own joke, pecs bouncing as he settles himself again. ‘You were going to fuck her anyway.’

‘Please.’ 

Sero’s head snaps to you. You sound terrified, broken… Expectant.

‘Just… Just do it.’ The skin around your wrists is raw and bleeding, but still the cuff’s won’t give. There’s no escape. Your stomach turns, bile crawling up your throat as a tsunami of tears threatens to spill over the basin of your eyelid. ‘Please, just - just give him what he wants. I -’ A tear slips your lid, rolling over the curve of your cheek. ‘I just want to go home.’ 

Puffing up his chest, Sero lays a hand on your arm and soothes you with a swipe of his thumb. There’s a heat under his skin, one that makes something disgusting roll in his stomach. He bites the edge of his tongue. Is he really considering this?  ‘And you’ll let us go if we…’ 

‘Yeah, with not a little hair harmed on your heads.’ 

‘Okay. Fuck. Right. Okay.’ There’s a shake in Sero’s hands when he finally clambers on the bed. It wobbles the mattress, making his progress tricky as he perches above you. Splayed out underneath him, you look beautiful - a Princess in chains, all ready for the taking. His stomach clenches. 

A chuckle. ‘If you need a name to scream, mine’s Riot.’ 

Sero’s stomach flips. 

‘Do you need me to -.’ 

Your voice distracts him, pulling him back immediately. He inhales, smells apples on your skin and lets his body relax. 

You glance between his legs and let your words die on your tongue. You’d been about to offer your mouth, or maybe your tits - something to assist him, but as you watch his cock twitch in the confines of his boxers you realise your service isn’t needed. 

He shakes his head, swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth. A tendril of shame wraps itself around the back of his neck and dives, poisoning his organs as it squirms its way to his guts. There it nestles, promising to rear its head again. He coughs, humming through his hesitance. 

‘What?’ Riot laughs, the noise bursting out of his chest as he seems to spread his legs wider. In his hand, the gun jumps. ‘You waiting for lube or something, pretty boy? Because if you need help getting her wet you’re gonna have to get it from the tap.’ 

Craning your head, you squeak when you see it. There’s a wet patch on the front of the man’s pants, the material darkened where the head of his cock bulges. It’s obscene… And so is your body's response. Your cunt pulses, drooling as you feel arousal drip down the inside of your thigh. It makes something roll in your stomach, something deep and twisted and sickly sweet. 

Shaking his head, Sero tries to rattle his brain into shape. His thoughts race, colliding into one another as he attempts to make sense of his imprisonment, but nothing sticks. His chest hollows. ‘I’m gonna… Gonna put it in now, okay?’ 

You nod and lift your hips, watching as Sero takes himself out of his boxers. He gives himself a long, tight stroke, twisting his wrist as he reaches the head and squeezing a droplet of pearlecent pre-cum from its tip. 

His cock is long, peaking an inch past his fist as he glides his hand back towards his base, and slim. A nest of black pubic hair nestles at its base, a series of gently purpled veins snaking from their hiding place to skirt up the underside of his shaft. The head is plump, a brown rose, slick and glistening from his own excitement. He’s pretty, but the thing that draws your eye the most is the trio of bar-bell piercings decorating the underside. Looking at them makes your mouth wet, your tongue an upturned umbrella as you swallow. 

A hand stretches across the turn of your thigh, splaying over the joint as his thumb comes up to swipe at your folds. Holding you open, he feels his lungs stutter as he watches your clit twitch. It’s sickening how he feels his stomach clench, how his cock kicks in his hand and leaks through his fingers. He continues to work himself as he explores. His fingers brush over your entrance, almost dipping in, but never quite breaching you. 

‘C’mon, Pretty boy…’ From the corner Riot sings, his voice silky smooth until it’s not. Boiling in the back of his throat, his words turn to grit as a growl slips through his lips. ‘We haven’t got all night.’ He bends back his wrist, cocking the gun. 

Sero swallows. His Adams Apple bobs in his throat and catches, sticking there as he tries to calm his nerves. He feels frayed, wired as he shifts forwards on his knees and settles down on his haunches. Jutting out his hips, he offers you a smile that is not quite laced with enough guilt before he’s forcing the blunt head of his cock into you.

One minute, you’re empty, your cunt fluttering around nothing, and then, you’re squirming and struggling to take him. The metal of his piercing rubs at your insides, itching at you, digging in and making you want to lift your hips. The lack of prep is immediately apparent. You’re tight, too tight, as he feeds you another inch. Even with his arousal mixing with yours and dripping back down his cock, it hurts. Your skin burns, heart hammering in your chest as you lift your wrists and grip onto the metal chains of your restraints. 

Still, there’s no denying it. 

‘Fuck.’ Sero feeds you another inch and squeezes shut his eyes. It’s too much. The feel of you, warm and wet, is enough to make him falter. For a moment he forgets. He forgets about the man in the corner - his cock hard in his jeans. He forgets about the gun. He forgets about everything that isn’t you. His hips jerk, stomach muscles twitching excitedly as he struggles to rein himself in. The blood in his veins burns, threatening to set his whole being alight. 

‘How’s she feel?’ 

Sero answers. His throat cracks, his words coming out garbled as pleasure leaks over his tongue and fights for acknowledgement. ‘Feels… Fuck, she feels so good. So, fucking wet.’ 

‘Wet, huh?’ A chuckle rocks through the room. ‘How else?’ 

‘She’s…’ Sero moans as he feeds you the last inch of him. Once bottomed out, he relaxes, his rib cage filling once more as he tries to haul in a full breath and fails. ‘Tight.’

‘Yeah? How tight?’ 

‘So fucking tight. So fucking -.’ Dipping his head, Sero locks eyes with you, mouthing a silent ‘You okay?’ as he struggles to contain himself. 

You nod with your eyes half-shut. Each shallow thrust has you feeling him in your lungs. He rocks forward slowly, pressing himself firmly inside of you before withdrawing - only to repeat the gesture again. It takes your breath and makes you wriggle, hips pulling back to stop the fullness as he seems to fill you more and more. The roll of his piercing has you lost, a sea of ecstasy just waiting for you to drown in it. ‘I -.’ You try to speak, but the words don’t come. Instead they transform, leaving you in the form of a pretty moan that makes both men groan back an answer. 

From around Sero’s lithe frame you catch glimpses of Riot. He’s relaxed, his broad shoulders sloping as he lifts a hand to grip the plush side of his chest. A moan shakes his throat as a thumb brushes across his nipple, his eyes flickering from Sero’s back to your face as you roll your head back and moan. 

It should scare you. He should scare you. But he doesn’t.

A broad palm splays across his chest, slinking down the plain of his stomach until it reaches his pants. Tilting his hips, he yanks back the buckle of his belt and cracks the leather. The top button of his pants follows, popped open with a thumb as he dips in and hisses. His cock is hot and hard in his grip, kicking as soon as it meets the rough skin of his palm. Squeezing, he lets a groan vibrate through his chest. The thrum of adrenaline tickles his veins turning him into a live wire, one that’s likely to become deadly. 

Sero continues to abuse your cunt. His thrusts have become sloppy and quick although each shock of his hips still has his cock nailing your g-spot like clockwork. The ache in your stomach has dulled, used to his assault, allowing pleasure to bloom and spread. Wrapping its tendrils around you, you’re dragged closer and closer to an orgasm that is sure to ruin you.

‘You gonna cum on his cock?’ Riot snickers. Removing himself from his underwear, he lets his cock bob against his stomach before taking hold of it again. He’s huge, far larger than Sero, with an upward tilt that makes your mouth water. It bobs there, struggling under its own weight, even with his hand for stability, and pulses when he strokes it with his thumb, spreading pre-cum down his shaft. 

You open your mouth to answer, worried about the repercussions silence would bring and choke on a scream. 

A weight falls over you. Sero’s arms bracket your shoulders, his spine concave as he loses himself to the feel of your velvet walls. Fear and arousal pool in his gut, creating a concoction deadly enough to make him fall. He’s wired, his entire being focused on pleasing as he ruts desperately into you. 

The head of his cock bullies the roof of your cunt, forcing you to feel each pearled metal ball impaled on his shaft. They roll against your walls, making you see static on the insides of your eyelids. Your arms stretch, the muscles in your biceps straining as you thrash against your bonds. The cold bite of the handcuffs marks your skin, couples each of your movements with a starburst of pain that tickles your nerves in a way you’re not sure you hate. It makes you light headed. Around you, the air almost burns - it strokes your skin, licking at the beads of sweat that collect against your curves. 

‘I -.’ Sero gasps. The light disorients him as his eyes snap open. So lost in you as he was, the shock of seeing you again almost makes him dizzy. 

Below him you gasp. With your eyes locked on his, you’re almost able to forget the mess unfolding around you. Arching your back, you press up into him just as he drives down his hips. Your bodies meet, a harsh coming together that almost has your limbs turning to jelly, but you hold on - if only to feel the rush of him again. 

‘I’m gonna.’ Stuttering, Sero’s arms band. 

‘Inside.’ 

Riot’s voice echoes. Closer. Harsher. 

You blink. Riot looms over Sero’s back, his cock is still hard, leaking onto the black of his pants and now, it presses to the fat of Sero’s thigh. A broad palm splays across the small of his back, pressing him forward, forcing his hips flush against yours as he leans in close and nips at his ear growling a singular word: ‘Inside.’ 

Sero spills at the command. You feel it, a rush of warmth before you even have time to protest. Each pulse of his cock brings another thought to the surface leaving no room for complaint. Forced to stay there, you get every drop - feel him fill you until you until his cum begins to leak back out and down his shaft, dripping onto the bed beneath you. 

Sero groans, his body shaking as he attempts to come down from his high as reality hits him like a train. ‘I - Fuck, fuck… I’m sorry. I -.’ 

Riot rolls his eyes. Letting his hand slip up Sero’s back, appreciating the contours of his muscles, he wraps a broad palm around his neck and curls his hand into a fist. He tuts. ‘Well you were a fucking disappointment.’ Using his grip, he launches Sero from the bed and abandons him as he crumbles against the wall. 

You scream. Lurching from the bed, you try and fail to rip the handcuffs from your wrists. The metal burns, cuts deep and dampens your struggle leaving you panting and vulnerable on the bed. 

Riot closer, his cock bent under its own weight and weeping against his thigh as he lifts it to keel on the bed. 

Against the wall, Sero feels his head spin. There’s pain radiating down his spine and spanning his shoulders, making each of his nerves scream as he tries to scramble to his feet. He can see you, chained and helpless, the insides of your thighs still shining with his spend as you lift a leg to kick Riot in the shoulder. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t even slow him, instead, he bares down on top of you to close the gap. Scrambling for purchase on the floor, he fights through the rising bile that threatens to steal his vision and tries to stand. He has to. He needs to get up. He needs to protect you. Needs to…

‘Bakugo.’ The man’s voice is surprisingly sweet when he turns his head and talks to the air, but the smile he offers is anything but. 

Arms emerge from the darkness behind Sero and wrap around his shoulders. The grip is steel, the fingers digging into his flesh tight enough to leave reddened indentations on his skin. He struggles, but it’s useless. He’s stuck fast and tight. Twisting, he turns to sight his captor. 

Bakugo’s eyes are dull. His ruby iris’ are shadowed and hollow, the echo of the bags hanging under them evident in his gaze. Sallow skin stretches across his cheeks, purple and red in all of the wrong places. The skin of his arms is much the same, although the muscle there betrays any thought of malnourishment. His biceps are thick, his hands strong as they pull, holding Sero to the bars of his cage. 

He’s drugged, or something, he has to be. 

His lips are shining. 

He can smell it. Spiced apple. 

Sero struggles. 

Bakugo holds on tighter, pressing both himself and Sero closer together. 

‘What the fuck - What the fuck.’ Sero glances down, feeling the press of something hard and wet at the small of his back. He hadn’t noticed, of course he hadn’t fucking noticed. Bakugo is naked, his cock hard and dripping behind his bars. He tries to pull away, but he should know better by now. There is no escape. With wide eyes, he looks back to you - panic rising in his throat as he swallows the pride screaming at him to save you. 

Riot pauses his assault on you, thick arms holding him up as he hovers above you - a silent threat. He cocks his head, noticing Sero’s blown eyes and slack jaw. ‘Oh, there’s more where he came from.’ Clicking his fingers, he summons movement in the room. 

From the bars of the cages, more arms appear. Another three men step forward with hollow eyes and hard cocks. 

One wears a sleepy grin, his purple hair tousled and twisting from his scalp. Another has coloured hair, red and white, and the body of an athlete as he leans against the bars and stretches out. The third is blonde. Smaller than the other two, he kneels his cheeks pressed to the bars, eyes drawn to Sero’s, now flaccid, cock. 

Behind them, more move. A woman with bubblegum pink hair wraps herself around one of the men, her nipples pebbled. A second appears behind Sero, the smell of her cunt palpable in the room as she smears her wetness across Bakugo’s shoulder. 

All of them have shining stained lips. 

All of them smell faintly of apples. 

‘What the fuck is this?’ Sero yells. His throat is raw, his muscles screaming. ‘What the fuck - How many, are you drugging them?’ 

Riot laughs. He has no intention of answering. Instead, he licks his lips and tastes fruit. ‘They’re all gonna have their way with you…’ 

There’s that smile again, the one that makes Sero feel like he’s being held under a guillotine. 

‘You can have Bakugo last, he’s not the…’ Tongue at his teeth, he thinks. ‘Gentlest. Best you’re nice and pliant before he has you.’ 

Sero’s mouth runs dry. He can feel them looking at him, feel their eyes burning into him, dissecting him like meat. Behind him, he feels Bakugo rut into his back, catching the head of his cock against the cleft of his ass. Then, a sticky kiss is pressed to his shoulder. A gift from the girl. 

He swallows. Hauls in a breath. Condemns himself. 

‘Don’t - don’t hurt her. Do whatever you want to me, but don’t… Don’t hurt her.’ 

‘Awe!’ You twist, roll on your side and cock your head. ‘You’re so sweet’ There’s a pout pulling at your lip, a break in your wonderfully terrified persona. ‘But you don’t have to worry about me.’ 

Riot leans over you and wraps a large hand around your jaw. Holding tight, he yanks you into a beautifully bruising kiss that leaves your lip bloody when he pulls away. 

You smile, and this time - it’s full of teeth. You lock eyes with Sero, just in time to see the last of the hope drain from them. ‘He was right, you know. I do like it when it hurts, just a little bit.’ You giggle. 

Letting the noise ricochet around the room, you reach forward and swipe a small metal fob from Kirishima’s belt loop and press the button at the centre. The screech of metal fills the air, the smell of sickly rotten apple flooding the room as each of the cages opens. 

‘Please…’ Sero begs, watching as people slip into the room from the darkness hunger lingering in their dim eyes. Even Riot shifts, bewitched by your siren’s whim. ‘Please, I’ll… I’ll do anything.’ 

‘Yeah.’ You lick your lips, tasting apple-spice. ‘You’ll do anything for me.’

-> Masterlist

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Twisted Wonderland Characters Signing Your Shirt

So when I was in primary school, on the very last day of term, the year 6 leavers would sign each other's white school polo shirts with felt tips as a sort of parting gift before we all went our separate ways to secondary school. I thought it might be cool if the reader shared this tradition with her friends at NRC.

Warning: I write reader as female

I literally had no idea what to write for bat grandpa and Silver so I just didn’t write them. In return, I’ll add snippets of Trein, Crewel, Vargas and Sam

Word Count: 8k+

Masterlist

Despite the comfort you felt with your friends in Twisted Wonderland and the obvious collective effort that your fellow students showed in making you feel at home in this strange new world, sometimes it did strike you just how different your current abode was - well, barring the universal use of magic that was so common that even infants were capable of it, of course. Such instances when your geographical displacement was most apparent was when you were reminded that there seemed to be little to no shared holidays between your world and this. For example, whilst Halloween did exist here, the concept of Christmas, Easter and Valentine’s Day didn’t - and neither did Mother’s or Father’s Day or even the smaller holidays like International Best Friends’ Day. It made you wonder if this world had any holidays or traditions that yours didn’t. This exact conversation starter was how you found yourself sitting cross legged on the floor of Ramshackle with your fellow first year friends as you all discussed different traditions that you’ve all partaken in (when in fact you were supposed to be using this timeframe to be studying for an upcoming assessment). 

“You know,” you mused out loud, “my primary school had this tradition where on the very last day, all of the leavers would sign each others’ shirts.”

“Really?” Deuce looked at you with sparkling wide eyes, and leaned forward slightly, as if he was hanging onto every word you said and was careful that he would miss a single syllable that came out of your mouth despite sitting less than two feet away from you.

“Yep. It was basically as a parting momentum we’d give each other to show our support even if we are parting ways and may never see each other again. I still have mine hanging in my wardrobe at home. By the end of the day, it was covered in so many felt tip marks that it was more colourful than white,” you gave a nostalgic smile at the memory of your eleven year old self being surrounded by your laughing and tearful classmates as they decorated each other’s polo shirts (and even some a lot of skin) with well wishes, signatures and drawings that were partly sweet, partly adoringly offensive and partly completely random and out there that you had no idea of what to make of them. It did make you wonder how they were currently doing and then it hit you - you had no way of knowing. Atleast back home, whenever you found yourself revisiting your younger years, you had the ability of picking up your phone and finding out for yourself. But here - here in this world where your friends and family didn’t exist, where your life had about as much substance as a black hole until that fateful day you appeared in front of that dark mirror - you had absolutely no way of connecting to anyone you once knew. You didn’t even have any pictures or mementos from your world to remind yourself that they were even real to begin with. How long would you be able to cling on to your memories and -

“Y/N,” Jack's voice pierced through the blurry memories as sharply and swiftly as Rook’s arrow, shattering every thought like glass and every fragment of them fell and dissolved into nothing until you found yourself out of your head and sitting in your dorm’s living room floor with Grim on your lap and your friends nearby. His face contorted with concern the second he noticed your smile going from fond to bittersweet, “are you okay?”

Were you?

“I-”

“Why don’t we do that?” Epel blurted out.

You looked at him in confusion as Jack and Deuce glared at him for his interruption (but, honestly, you were very grateful for that), tilting your head to the side, “huh?”

“The-the shirt signing thing. I never did it when I left elementary. It sounds like fun?” he looked at the other boys, “whatdya fellas think?”

“I’m in,” Ace stretched out his arms.

“Me too,” Deuce said immediately after, sitting up a little straighter.

“I’ll-I’ll join in as well,” Jack stuttered out, “just ‘cause you guys are. Not-not because it sounds fun or anything, alright.”

“Hmm,” Sebek scoffed, crossing his arms and looking down on the rest of the group with an expression that says ‘I’m very much interested but I’m not going to say that because I’m a tsundere who pledges allegiance to my large commissioned portrait of Waka-sama every morning’, “I suppose these human customs seem adequate enough for me to partake in them. If at least to ensure that you do not tread on a path that could cause a disturbance to Lord Malleus, as is my duty as his knight.”

Ace rolled his eyes, “sure, pal.”

“Everyone wait,” Grim yelled out, “I should go first. As Y/N is my minion, she should receive the honour of getting The Great Grim’s mark first.”

When Ace and Deuce looked like they were about to argue, you silenced them with an, “alright, Grim, you can go first.”

GRIM

Since he’s so small, he couldn’t really reach that high, even though you were sitting down

He signed ‘to my favourite minion, from the great grim. P.S buy me more tuna’ at the bottom of your shirt near the hem of your shirt

He added a little simple drawing of a fish and a doodle of a small tin of tuna next to his words

Since he didn’t wear any clothes, you signed your own name with a cute little heart on the dangly end of the ribbon that made up the bow around his neck.

ACE TRAPPOLA

He and Deuce played rock, paper, scissors to decide who should go next

He had to be reminded by everyone not to write anything too big

“That means that I can barely write anything. You’re so short and small that half a sentence would take up half of your shirt,” he snarks with a teasing grin.

Deuce hit him over the head with an unimpressed look for that one

Good boy, Deuce

He uses one of his red pens to sign ‘your best friend and favourite person in the whole world who you like more than Deuce, Ace Trappola’ with a smiley face and a doodle of the ace of hearts card under under your collar, near your chest area before surveying his masterpiece and looking up at you with a smug wink

Deuce, hit him again

You signed your own name on his collar with a heart next to it

“A heart?” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, “are you trying to tell me something, prefect?”

DEUCE!

DEUCE SPADE

Baby boy is so scared

He’s so worried that he’ll ruin your shirt with something you won’t like that his hands are shaking

Protect him

After you reassure him that you’ll love whatever he does (Ace: not as much as mine, though 😏) he nods, eyes burning with determination as he braves himself and picks up a dark blue biro

He slowly and steadily writes out, in his neatest handwriting ‘you’re my best friend and I can’t imagine NRC without you. You always make me happy, Deuce Spade” with a little coloured-in spade doodle next to his name on the stomach part of your shirt (because the mere notion of idea of going any higher made his head spin and face burn)

The entire time he was diligently writing, he was looking at his handiwork with the most concentrated expression you had seen, with his eyebrows furrowed with great attention and care whilst his tongue stuck out slightly from between his teeth

He does know that this is supposed to be a fun little activity, right? He knows that he’s not signing his last will and testament (of course he does. In his mind, this was way more important)

“That’s great, Deuce. I love it.” you smiled softly at him when he finished

He perks up at the praise before blushing and looked down, his pink face conveying how bashfully pleased he was that he didn’t mess up

He’s so going to tell his mother about this during their nightly phone calls

“Thank you, Y/N,” he shyly smiles back at you

You place your own signature on his shirt as he looks on at you with still pink cheeks

You beam at him after punctuating your name with a small little hear

“You didn’t say anything about miiinnee ~”

FOR GOD’S SAKE, ACE-

JACK HOWL

No, his tail is most definitely not wagging in excitement when he approaches you with a gel pen in hand so shut up

No one said a word, wolfy

Writes a swift ‘keep up the good work. Jack Howl’

A simple wolf, our Jack is

Please ignore the red blossoming along his cheeks and nose and the still wagging tail as he doodles a little cactus next to his name

You give him a smile as you sign your own name on his shirt and add a little smiley face next to it

You can still see some red peeking out from under his hand as he covers the lower half of his face with his palm, his tail wagging like crazy 

You swear that you can hear a faint little “thank you”

EPEL FELMIER

“Hell, yeah! Move aside, losers, it’s my turn!”

*coughs and clears throat* “ahem, I mean - it’s my turn to sign your shirt, prefect.”

Uses his dark purple gel pen to sign his name and draws an apple next to it

Pretends that he isn’t elated to see your name on his shirt

Is planning to proudly wear that shirt to Vil’s etiquette lessons, propriety be damned

Is also whooping and punching the air the second he’s out of sight

SEBEK ZIGVOLT

He strides towards you all stiff and square-shouldered

Signs ‘Sebek Zigvolt, loyal knight and retainer of His Glorious Majesty Lord Malleus, the beloved and awe-inspiring fae prince of the noble kingdom of Briar Valley. It is he who I pledge my eternal loyalty and allegiance to and it is my greatest honour to die in his name.”

You had to stop him from writing a whole essay on your shirt (complete with book references) about the might of the esteemed prince who you once found sulking in the woods because Lilia ate all of his ice cream during a Call of Duty session with Idia

He loudly explains to you that it is of poor taste to allow a human to sully the uniform of the great Waka-sama’s dorm as it is unheard of for a knight to appear as anything less of perfection as his attire reflects the power of his future king-

Uh, alright crocodile boy but why are you leaning closer to me?

You sign your name really small on his shirt so that it’s not immediately visible and only those who know where it is find it.

He doesn’t know why his heart is beating much faster at the sight of this magicless human’s name. Clearly he has contracted an illness. Quick, he must go to Lilia at once and remedy the issue lest Lord Malleus finds out.

CATER DIAMOND

Once you bid your friends farewell, you, Grim, Ace and Deuce, make your way to Heartslabyul for that afternoon’s unbirthday party

The students were still setting up the tables and food in the rose garden so the dorm leader and vice dorm leader weren’t present

Cater senses the four of you approaching as he finishes painting the last of the roses red and his eyes immediately dart to your shirt

“Hey, Y/N-chan. What’s with the get-up?”

You explain how it’s a tradition in your world to sign each other’s shirts and how your friends wanted to do it for themselves

“Aww, no fair,” he pouts at you, “Cay-kun wants to join in on the fun too.”

You offer him a pen, “you’re more than welcome to add your signature, Cater-senpai.”

He grins at you and writes a funky ‘Cater Diamond’ with doodles of the cartoony smiling four diamonds on his phone case on your shirt. Underneath his name he adds his magicam and other social media usernames.

“Well, Y/N-chan?” he sing-songs, twirling the pen around with his index and middle fingers the same way a drummer would a drumstick, “what do you think?”

“I love it, Cater-senpai,” you reply happily

He joyfully pats your head, “anything for my favourite underclassman”

Ace and Deuce: we’re here too, you know 🧍🧍

“Now smile for the camera,” he chirps, holding out his phone to take a selfie of him gesturing towards the area of your shirt with his name on it 

After you quickly jot down your own name on his collar before running off to help with the party preparations, he takes a selfie of himself and then spends a bit more time gazing upon your smiling face on his screen before making a post

#HangingOutWithMyFavouriteUnderclassmen #ShesTheBest #WhenACuteGirlAsksYouToSignSomethingYouSignIt #SheLooksReallyPrettyWithMyNameOnHerThough #ImNeverWashingThisShirtAgain

TREY CLOVER

Comes out before Riddle to make sure that everything is set

And to see if you’re Ace and Deuce are here

Immediately notices the shirt and wants in on it

Uses one of his edible pens that he just happens to be carrying to write his name with a cupcake and clover drawn next to it

“Here you go, Y/N,” he says as he gives you the ‘I’m the responsible and reliable senpai even though you and I both very well know that I am capable of causing the most chaos here’ smile

Pats your head after you return the favour

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

You’re the first thing Riddle notices the moment he enters

Has to take a second to gather his bearings when he sees you smiling when you notice his arrival

At this point he’s gotten used to the teasing smile Cater shoots him when he’s in your proximity but that doesn’t mean he has to DO IT EVERY TIME HE’S GOT A REPUTATION

In Riddle’s head: Y/N’s here 😊 I must greet her with the grace every gentleman must have when they meet a lovely lady like her. Perhaps I should point out how wonderful it is for her to join us. Or personally escort her to a seat as I comment on how happy her presence here has made me.

What Riddle says: What has happened to your shirt 🤨

Don’t worry, Riddle. You tried your best

You apologetically tell him how it’s your fault since Ace and Deuce were trying to cheer you up and then Cater and Trey wanted to join them so you’ll take full responsibility if they broke any rules

“Well,” Riddle states primly, “there’s no rule forbidding it but bear in mind that I shall not accept you making a habit of unkempt attire. As Heartslabyul students and prefects both you and them are expected to possess a certain standard of decorum.”

“Does that decorum include personally fixing the prefect's tie in the middle of a busy public corridor in broad daylight?” Ace asks innocently

Riddle shoots him a sharp glare as he puffs up with anger

Before he can open his mouth, Trey swoops in to save Ace’s neck and Riddle’s vocal chords as he suggests that the unbirthday party should commence and then tells Cater to stop filming and put his phone down

The entire time you swear that you can feel someone gazing at you when you aren’t watching but every time to turn to look in Riddle’s direction, you notice that he’s looking elsewhere whilst Cater and Trey give each other knowing looks

When everyone has finished cleaning up afterwards, Riddle catches you and Grim on your way back and politely asks you if you could join him in the common room

You agree and set Grim down so he can trouble Ace and Deuce

When you get there he stiffly stammers something about wanting to know more about the shirt situation

How someone can be both poised and shy you have no idea but it’s adorably endearing

After you explained how it’s something friends do back in your world, he gets this contemplative look on his face as he looks down and twiddles his fingers before shyly asking if it would be alright if you permitted him to sign your shirt as well

Once you give an enthusiastic reply he gets out one of his fancy rich boy fountain pens and elegantly signs his name somewhere near your shoulder blades, his face burning the entire time

“If it’s alright with you, I could do the same back,” you offered, “I signed everyone else’s shirts but since you’re the dorm leader, I’d understand that it would be improper for me to-”

“No!” he blurts out, startling both you and himself. The red hue on his face gets even darker once he realised what he had just done and clears his throat before continuing in a tone that is much more controlled yet still a tad shaky, “no, I-I’d be honoured if you wanted to do so.”

So you take the pen he offered you from his outstretched hand and sign your name on his collar like you did the others

“Well, I’ll see you soon, Riddle-senpai. I hope you take care,” you smile at him before bowing your head slightly and walking out of the room to rescue Heartslabyul from whatever Grim had done

Riddle stared at the doorway from which you left from for a considerable amount of time before looking down at the hand where your fingers grazed his when you reached for the pen

He smiled slightly before shaking his head and composing himself. Then he marched out to supervise his dormmates

RUGGIE BUCCHI

This sneaky little hyena catches you during one of his errands 

He finds you on his way to deliver lunch to a certain lazy lion

Was about to pawn off the job to you but catches the names on your shirt before he hears a lightbulb go off in his head

“Shi shi shi. It seems like our prefect has been busy.”

Without even asking for an explanation, he asks if he could sign it

Throws in some hopeful puppy eyes to ensure you say yes

You don’t need to do that Ruggie. To quote my non-twst friend when I showed hyena boy’s picture to her: I would commit arson for you

Honestly he’s only doing this 60% because he wants to and 40% because he knows that it would annoy Leona

You hand him the pen you have been carrying and he scribbles on his name with a picture of a sprinkle covered doughnut next to it

He then asks you to do the same to him

You comply, noticing how his tails wags excitedly behind him

You then offer to bring Leona his lunch to give him a break, which he hastily agreed to 

After you leave he wonders if he could sell this shirt to one of your simps before immediately scrapping that idea since he decides it’s not worth it this time

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

It took you a while to shake him ‘awake’

I say ‘awake’ in inverted commas because the second he hears footsteps in the botanic garden his ears perk up and he tries to determine if the scent from the incoming person is yours. If it is, he’s wide awake

But he’s also a jerk so he’s not going to make this easy for you

He’s internally smirking whenever he hears you’re irritated little huffs as you try to wake him up

The he considers that he should maybe throw you a bone so he opens his eyes only to see the names of your first year friends , those uptight Heartslabyul students and his own second in command on you

Something about that does not sit right with him and he has to fight back a possessive growl

At least he can’t see the names of that stuck up beauty queen and - god forbid - that stupid lizard

“You some to have something on you, Herbivore,” he drawls as he lazily flicks his eyes towards your face

Like you did to everyone else, to explain how it’s a thing in your world to sign your classmates’ shirts

At this he gets up, whilst maintaining eye contact, and takes one stride so that he’s right in front of you

Excuse me sir, we like to respect personal space here

Unless you’re a Twisted Wonderland character then no we don’t

“Does that mean you marked other people with your name?” he asks you with a tone that you can’t quite put your finger on but can definitely tell has hints of annoyance

You just look at him in silence, completely off guard by his proximity and out of the blue question

“Well?” he leans down closer to you

“Oh, um, yeah. I guess”

He just hums in reply before holding out his palm

You just look down at it before giving him a perplexed look

“Pen,” he says, “now.”

You place your pen in his hand before he immediately crouches down and writes ‘LEONA KINGSCHOLAR’ in block letters that seemed to be a bit larger than everyone else’s names

He holds out your pen, “your turn.”

“Oh, okay”

The minute you finish writing your name you he stands back up at his full height, green eyes gleaming with mirth

“You know, Herbivore,” he holds up your chin so you get a full view of his smirking face, “I can think of plenty of other ways I could mark my territory if you're ever up for it.”

He gives your head a pat, remarking “you know where to find me” before yawning and sauntering off to god knows where with one hand in the front pocket of his trousers and his tail swinging lazily behind him

…

You just blink at his retreating figure in confusion

“Oookaayy,” you drone out to yourself and then you make your way out of Savanaclaw as Grim mutters something about weird predators

JADE AND FLOYD LEECH

“KOEBI-CHAN! :D” 

Oh dear, it seems as if Floyd has found you for his daily accosting

You know that there is no way you can run from an eel so you just brace yourself with closed eyes as you hear the grunts, groans and shouts of several students being pushed out of the way as Floyd makes his way towards you for his completely necessary squeezing the life out of you hugging session

You open your eyes the second you feel those arms glomp you as you give the eel twin a smile, “hello, Floyd-senpai.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Jade casually strolling along the path that his brother had cleared with a pleasant smile on his face, completely ignoring the still groaning students on the corridor’s floor

“Good afternoon, dear prefect,” he greets you politely as you feel Floyds arms wrap tighter around your waist as he nuzzles his face into your neck, “I see that you’ve run into quite a few students on your way here - if your shirt is anything to go by.”

“Huh,” Floyd lets go of you and notices Riddle’s name at the back of your shirt. He then turns you around to inspect the front of your shirt only to be met with the names of all of these bottom feeders 

“Hey,” he pouts at you accusingly, crossing his arms in displeasure, “how come koebi-chan let goldfish and crabby and sea lion and all these other fish write all over her and not us. I wanna write on koebi-chan too.”

Jade gave a fond sigh at his brother’s whining before turning to you with a gentlemanly smile that barely concealed the grin of a predator, “I must say, dear prefect, I’ve got to agree with my brother here. It does seem very unfair for you to allow others to enjoy this event and not us. I feel rather hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Floyd nods, “koebi-chan should let us write on her.”

“And what luck,” Jade piped up, taking a pen out of his pocket (though you had the strange suspicion that it was used less for writing and more for some weird torture technique that he and his brother liked to dish out), “it appears that I have a pen in my possession. Now, you will allow us to do so, right prefect?”

You knew for a fact that even if your brain decided to take a holiday and leave you to enter the boundless void of nothingness that inhabited your mental stability you would not even think to refuse him

“Alright then,” you said slowly and both of their faces lit up

“Me first, me first,” Floyd gleefully snatched the pen from his twin’s hand and bounded over to you, writing his name in big bold letters on your right sleeve. Underneath it he drew a picture of his eel form and a cartoony shrimp with arrows pointing towards both figures saying ‘ME!! :)’ AND “SHRIMPY!”

Jade then took the pen from his brother and wrote his own name on your left sleeve with a drawing of an anatomy correct shiitake mushroom under it. He then labeled different the different structures with their biologically correct scientific names

“Now write on us,” Floyd demanded, so you took Jade’s pen and did just that.

After he pocketed his pen, he turned to the other eel with a mischievous grin, “You know, Floyd. I believe Azul would love to see our dear prefect. What do you think?”

Floyd matched his brother’s expression with an even more unhinged one of his own, “yes, yes. Let’s go.”

And with that, the both of them each take a firm hold of each one of your shoulders and began to stir you to the Mostro Lounge, paying no attention to Grim, who was yelling at them about how it was his lunch time

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Due to spending almost his entire life with the Leech twins, Azul was fairly accustomed to their antics - which was why he didn’t seem the least bit perturbed to the sound of the door to the VIP room slamming against the wall and Floyd’s cheerful voice loudly exclaiming “WE’RE HERE”. 

He just sighed and continued to finish the sentence he was writing before looking up to greet him when he did a double take when he sway you’re slightly embarrassed self give a small smile and wave from where Floyd had you rooted with the way his arm rested over your shoulders

“Ah yes, Floyd what is-PREFECT??!!”

No his voice did not crack at the end, thank you very much

Jade gracefully stepped into the room, “Azul, Floyd and I were just admiring the prefect’s shirt and thought that you would appreciate it if we brought her here to show you ourselves.”

“Yes, what Jade said,'' Floyd nodded happily, “Jade and I both wrote our names on koebi-chan as well, see. And she wrote on us. Isn’t that great?”

Despite clearing his throat, Azul’s voice still was choked when he let out a surprised, “yes, that does look rather nice.”

The four of you spent the next minute standing in awkward silence. The eels were directing their shark-like grins on a red and embarrassed-looking Azul who seemed to look completely stumped and you just stood there having no idea what to do

“Well,” you started when the silence got too much, “I’m so sorry for barging in on you like this Azul-senpai and interrupting your work. It seems like you are really busy in the middle of something important so I’ll just head back and-”

“Wait, prefect,” Azul pushed his glasses up his nose and made his way towards you with a pen in hand, “If-if you would allow me, I would love to add my name onto your shirt.”

“Go right ahead,” you reply

Now he’s written his name hundreds of times, with the business that he runs, but for some reason him signing his name directly onto the clothing that your wearing has his heart leaping and twisting in ways that he’s never felt before

He’s lying. He’s felt that many, many times before and strangely every instance has occurred in your presence

Once he’s finished he gives you a look that very clearly expresses that he wants to ask you something

“I could sign your shirt as well if that’s okay?” you half offered half asked, thinking you might know what he wanted

He gives you a shocked look, a rosy hue painting his nose and cheeks, before clearing his throat once more

“I can’t say that I would mind terribly if you did that. Of course,” he gives you his signature businessman octopus grin, “if you would much rather sign your name on a contract, I would be more than happy to oblige.”

“Yeah, no thank you,” you deadpan. You turn around, “if that’s it then-”

“Wait,” he grabs ahold of your wrist, “actually prefect, I would very much like that.”

Your face softens and you sign your name onto his collar and left the fish mafia to practice their Godfather impressions or whatever they did behind closed doors when they weren’t dealing with the poor unfortunate souls of NRC

Unbeknownst to you, Azul immediately changed out of that shirt and kept it next to his third draft of that marriage contract he had been preparing

KALIM AL-ASIM

It was after you left Octavinelle when you remembered that Kalim had invited you to a party at Scarabia so off to his dorm you went

Almost ten seconds after you enter, you hear a shout of “Y/N!” coming from above you

“God?” you mutter under your breath as you look up and find the resident sunshine boy of the campus beaming down at you from his magic carpet

You happily give them both a joyful and hearty wave, “HI KALIM-SENPAI! HI CARPET!”

The two of them descend towards you. Kalim jumps off when it reaches a few centimetres above the ground before tackling you into a hug that was filled with unbridled merriment. Carpet, feeling lonely, latched onto the both of you as well, wrapping its tassels around the two of you and squeezed in its own version of a hug.

The two of you laughed at its enthusiasm until it let go and Kalim pulled back

“Y/N, I’m so glad you’re here,” his smile filled with pure sunshine never once left nor faltered as he looked at you with all of the joy in the world, “you’re going to love it. Everyone’s dancing and Jamil made kunafah which is really really tasty and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it and we can go for a magic carpet ride as well and - woah, your shirt looks so cool!”

You giggle at his amazement, “thank you, Kalim-senpai. In my home world, it’s a tradition to sign your classmates’ shirts when you leave school so

“Wait, you’re not leaving are you?” he gives you the saddest tearful golden retriever puppy-eyed look you had ever seen and you instantly hated yourself for being the monster that caused it, “please say you’re not. We haven’t even done half of the things I wanted to do with you. Please don’t say you’re going.”

“No, no, no,” you wave your hand erratically to show that you were most certainly not leaving, “I swear that I’m not going anywhere, Kalim-senpai. I just mentioned that to everyone and they wanted to sign my shirt for fun, that’s all. I’m staying right here, pinky promise.”

Of course, you had no way of leaving this world, what with the headmaster being a lazy idiot who makes empty promises but you didn’t say a word about that part

Kalim smiled and intertwined his pinky with your outstretched one

(Meanwhile carpet sulked because he wanted to join in on the pinky promise but he had no pinkies to promise with)

“So,” he gives you a hopeful look, “does that mean that I can sign as well?”

“Of course you can,” you smile at him.

He beams back at you, holds your hand and scampers towards his room

After bringing you inside, he rummages through his drawers until he procures some limited edition ultra deluxe sparkly golden sharpie pen that you know costs like enough to feed you for a week

He skips back towards you and signs ‘KALIM!’ all big and glittery on your back with a bunch of stars and hearts surrounding it and a smiley face to dot the exclamation mark

He then giddily hands you the pen and asks you to sign his clothes as well

You hesitate because there is no way that you are going to stain a piece of clothing that has enough zeros in its price to pay for your entire neighbourhood back home

But his hopeful/pleading face was too much for you to refuse so you did as you were asked

He now wants to buy an entire store’s worth of clothes just so that the two of you could write your names all over them

He also is so happy that he wants throw another party in your honour and hopefully make an event of having the two of you sign each others clothes

Not going to lie, he’ll probably commission the best painters in the Scalding Sands to make a giant portrait of his shirt so that he can hang it up in his rooms (no that’s not a typo) and show it to his parents, his siblings, his aunts and uncles, his cousins, his pet elephants, his pet peacocks, that tiger he was going to ask for his birthday…

He just wants to keep the memory of this moment forever

“Woah, Y/N, that looks great! Hey, I have a bunch of other clothes in my wardrobe that you can sign, I’ll go get them-”

You had to stop him before he did something that would make Jamil pop a blood vessel or consider alcoholism (again) so you asked him if he could take you to where Jamil was

Thankfully, he agreed and happily lead you to the kitchens

JAMIL VIPER

Jamil had no idea what to feel when Kalim barged into the kitchens

On the one hand, the Scarabia kitchens were his safe haven, the one place where he could be alone without his airheaded master coming in to cause further trouble due to the fact that Kalim is forbidden from stepping foot in it so his annoyance at seeing that bright face in here was more than welcome

On the other hand, however, Kalim had brought you along. The diamond among the soiled charcoal that were his peers, the coolness of his eyes that never failed to put him at ease no matter how unreasonable Kalim’s never ending laundry list of problems became so he did admit that he felt much more relieved when he saw your smiling face pop in to say hello in that enchantingly sweet lilt

But then Kalim dragged you in and showed off all of the names that had been written on your shirt for that bitter python of annoyance that he keeps chained and shackled in his gut to start coiling around in displeasure - only for it to start hissing and biting at his stomach when Kalim happily pointed out his own name standing out on your back and your name on his shirt, it’s teeth sinking into every vein it can find and contaminating his bloodstream with that pungent envy

On the outside, he regarded all of this with the same cool and unwavering expression he usually wore but on the inside he was raging at how happily you wore everyone’s names - how you wore Kalim’s name - whilst casting him to the shadows.

He simply reminded Kalim that he was not allowed in the kitchens and he had a party to host so it was best for him to leave

Kalim turned to you and was about to ask you to come with him when you told him that you’ll stay and help Jamil and you promise to dance with him later

“Alright then Y/N, see you later,” and then he skipped away, a cloud of sparkles and flowers following him

You approached Jamil, who appeared to be a bit more tense than usual and placed your hand on his shoulder

He immediately stopped, took a breath and turned to you

“You know,” you smiled at him, “I didn’t just come here to help you cook, though I would very much like to.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “is that so, prefect? Then pray tell, why did you come here.”

“Well, you see, all of my dear friends have decided to write their names on my shirt after I explained that it was a tradition where I’m from and now that I’m here, I realise that I’m one name short.”

“Is that true?” he mused, his lips twitching ever so slightly

You nodded with the gravitas of a judge giving a sentence, “yes, it is. And you see, Jamil-senpai, the person whose name that I’m talking about happens to be someone who would never go out of his way to do something that he thinks might not be wanted - even if the receiver would very much want it - so the idea of him offering his signature like everyone else seems to be out of the question.”

“What are you trying to say, prefect?” he sighed and put his head down so that he can hide his blush by pretending to rub his temples

“What I’m saying, Jamil-senpai, is that I would absolutely love it if you wrote your name on my shirt. It just doesn’t seem right without you and having you there would delight me to no end,” you reply, taking out the pen you’ve been carrying in your pocket and holding it out to him expectantly

‘How troublesome,’ he mentally sighs, though the thought was directed not towards you but to the pleasant feeling of warmth that enveloped him whenever you were near.

Regardless, he takes the pen and signs your shirt in a manner that appears to be annoyed and rushed but anyone can clearly see that the calligraphy of his name is definitely carefully thought out with strokes that look more like artwork than a teenage boy’s signature

“So, um,” you start, “you can say no if you’d like but would you like it if I signed yours back?”

He shrugged, “I see no reason why not?”

Don’t let his perpetually controlled voice fool you, he is internally punching the air and screaming with elation at the prospect to you placing your signature on him

Usually he would hate to have another's name anywhere near him. He was already cursed with the invisible shackles of the Al-Asim family, he didn’t want any other form of ownership to strip the miniscule amount of control he had in his life. However, the idea of him belonging to you only filled him with bliss instead of the accustomed disdain

‘Oh, prefect,’ he thought, internally smirking to himself as he continued with the preparations of Kalim’s feast with your assistance, ‘the next time you want me to leave my mark on you, I may not be as gentle.’

ROOK HUNT

You swear you take one step out of the mirror chamber and into the corridor before you find yourself face to face with Tamaki Suoh’s long lost cousin, who appeared out of frickin’ nowhere

“Petite mademoiselle trickster,” he cheers, “it has come to my attention that you are going around, letting the students write on your clothing and thus I must implore you to allow me the honour of joining them in this ceremonious ritual.”

Ritua - does he think that you’ve started a cult?!

Although, to be fair, that would be the least weirdest thing that’s happened in this school

You could’ve sworn you saw a bunch of Savanaclaw students standing in a circle and chanting so cultists are not completely out of line

And Crowley’s whole bird mask and making his students wear robes does seem very cult-y

Not to mention Sebek’s whole existence

Deciding to ignore the second part of Rook’s words (a standard procedure when it comes to students dealing with the huntsman) you hand him your pen

“Please allow me to write a sonnet so that I may pour out my awe at your splendorous beauty”

Yeah, you shut that one down hard

“Ah, I see. You’d much prefer a villanelle!”

No, Rook

A ballad or an Ode?

This is going to be another Sebek situation, isn’t it?

He did end up writing something

You must admit, you were impressed that he was able to conjure up a rhyming couplet dedicated to your beauty and general existence

In iambic pentameter no less

Now if only you could get him to stay still and quiet enough for you to write on your name

Great Seven, is he crying?

I’m flattered that there tears of joy but all I did was write my name on your shirt

I’m pretty sure my handwriting looked nicer on that contract that Leona turned to ash you really don’t need to praise the heavens for my existence 

Oh good, Vil-senpai, you’re here 

Your huntsman is broken

I know that he most probably came like this but it’s a bit unnerving

VIL SCHOENHEIT

Vil was strutting through the hallways like NRC was a pageant and his catwalk was going to be crowned as the winner when he noticed Rook singing (yes, actually singing) your praises to you whilst you just looked at him like most people do

“Rook,” he called sharply, his high heels clicking through the corridor and the back of his royal purple robe effortlessly flaring out behind him, “I have been looking all over for you.”

“Roi du Poison!” he called out, “I was just engaging in the most splendid tradition with Petite mademoiselle trickster!”

“Ah, yes, Epel mentioned this during his etiquette lesson,” he looked down at the piece of your shirt that he was pinching between his perfectly manicured index finger and thumb, “whilst I understand the sentiment, I cannot believe you would allow these undeserving potatoes to tarnish your appearance like this.”

He huffs and pulls out a pen from one of his own pockets, “thankfully, I come prepared for situations like these. Honestly, what would you do without me? Be grateful that I’m here to save you from these unruly spudlings.”

He then signs his name onto you with complete precision, most probably from his years of experience as a renowned actor

“Now it would be unfitting for me as the dorm leader of Pomefiore to walk amongst these halls with ink stains on my uniform but I have a suitable substitute for you to use so that the criteria for your traditions have been met,” and with that he pressed an apple scented soft handkerchief into your palms

“Well,” he looked at you expectantly, “aren’t you going to sign it?”

“Oh, um, yes,” and you wrote your name on this obviously very expensive piece of cloth

“Wonderful,” Vil gave you an approving smile and took his handkerchief back before briskly turning around and walking away, calling out for his vice, “Rook!”

“Coming Roi du Poison!”

ORTHO SHROUD

You made your way to Ignihyde for your regularly scheduled gaming/anime watching session with the otaku shut in of the school

But of course you couldn’t do that without saying hi to his younger brother because not greeting Ortho when you enter the dorm of the Lord of the Underworld is a crime worthy of death

“Big sister Y/N!'' is the first thing you hear when you step into Idia’s dorm. The adorable android with flaming blue hair greeted you with stone-melting giddiness, “my scanners informed me that you have arrived! That’s great news! Big brother has been waiting for you to join us all day! In fact, my sensors picked up that his heart rate increased by 15% everytime I or he mentioned you!”

You giggled and pet the little robot’s head, “that’s nice, Ortho. Say, would you like to sign my shirt? All of my other friends have written their names on it and I would be very happy if you did too.”

“Write my name on big sister’s shirt?” Ortho’s eyes widened and he clapped with glee, “yes, yes, I would love to. Please wait a moment.”

You watched with part surprise part wonder as Ortho’s right hand transformed into a tiny laser

“Big brother has downloaded and programmed over a thousand different fonts into my database. Is there a style that you prefer?”

“Um, not really, Ortho,” you reply, “why don’t you choose?”

“Alright then, I’ll apply a random generator to select one for us.”

After doing that he floated towards you and wrote Ortho Shroud onto your back

Well, it was less ‘wrote’ and more lasered ink in straight lines to create letters the same way a laser printer would shoot ink to create an image

“Thank you, Ortho, I really appreciate it,” you smiled at him, but then frowned, “though I don’t know if I can return the favour to you the same way I did to everyone else since you’re made of metal.”

“Hehe, it’s okay big sister,” he happily replies, “I’m sure big brother would be more than happy to have you write to him instead.”

IDIA SHROUD

Y/N’S COMING Y/N’S COMING Y/N’S COMING

If anyone were to ask what our resident technological genius was thinking about for last twenty minutes it would be that

You’d think that him knowing you for more than a few weeks, you rescuing him from his own overblot and learning his entire tragic anime backstory would prepare him for every time you come near him but Idia doesn’t work on the logic of normies

Can you blame him? You were like ultra SSR tier and he was so below you it wasn’t funny

Hey, at least he managed to beat that weird french blond guy with the bow and arrow in the fight over who got to be the leader of the Y/N fan club 

So when you and his brother, his two favourite people in the world, come into the sanctuary of his room with blinding smiles his heart does a one hit k.o

And what’s worse is that his body pillow is all the way over there on the bed so he can’t even sink his face into it for the comfort of darkness

And then when Ortho comes and says that you want him to sign your shirt and then do the same to you?

Well, the pink that was forming at the tips of his hair has erupted his flaming locks into a bright pink fuschia 

What kind of shoujo manga otome game special edition event is this

Okay, cool, Idia, cool

He takes one peek at you and then immediately covers his face with his palms as his hair grows pinker if that’s even possible

You tell him that you understand if he’s uncomfortable so it’s okay if he doesn’t want to do it

But, you see Y/N, he does

He would very much like to take part in this event

But his social stats are lower than the bottom of the ocean

And he doesn’t think he’ll be able to level up in the next two or three decades at least 

Seeing his brother’s internal plight, Ortho huffs at him to just do it

So he does it

Because he wants to, alright - not-not because he’s being shamed by his little brother

So he picks up one of his pens with a miniature funko pop of his favourite anime character on it and hastily signs his name without even looking 

Thankfully he signed on a free space on your back otherwise he would never show you his face again

You ask him if he wants you to do the same to him and he passes out

Sigh, Ortho activate the defibrillators 

MALLEUS DRACONIA

You meet Tsunotarou after the sun has set on Twisted Wonderland and you invite him inside of Ramshackle so that the two of you can share some tea you’ve prepared before you can start your nightly walk in the woods

He politely questions you on the state of your dress and you laugh and tell him all about how you mentioned a tradition back in your home world to your friends and how that evolved into a sort of scavenger hunt for signatures 

As delighted as he is that you seem to be enjoying yourself and as thankful as he is that you were able to surround yourself with people who lift your spirits and ease your homesickness, he couldn’t help but feel a dark cloud of dread invading his mind and questioning whether or not this was another occasion that he was not invited to

“Tsunotarou?” you speak up, and hold up the pen that had accompanied you throughout this whole ordeal, “would you like to sign your name as well.”

He gives you a pleasant smile as he takes a sip of his tea, “I suppose I could, Child of Man. But that begs the question.”

You tilt your head in confusion and he internally laughs at how endearing you look, “what question?”

“On how you would like me to sign,” he gives you a smug little grin, “names are very important to the fae, you see. They’re very powerful, as well. In fact, a human giving a fae their name without thinking is often considered an act of foolishness (ouch, you could sense that subtle dig at your initial meeting but, in your defence you were new to this world and the concept of fairies and magic in general, and you didn’t even know the guy). So I would need to ask you if you would rather have me sign as the crown prince, Malleus Draconia or as the Tsunotarou that you met wandering around in the woods near your abode?”

“Is there really a difference?” you pose a question of your own, “Tsunotarou is Malleus and Malleus is Tsunotarou. To me both are the same. I know the rumours of you being powerful aren’t unfounded - I mean, you fixed the entire VDC venue in a second and called it child’s play so I can only imagine how strong you are. But the thing is, when I look at you, I don’t really see some crown prince who can destroy an island in the blink of an eye. All I see is a friend that I enjoy being in the company of - even if he can be a bit odd at times.”

“Odd? How brave of you to describe the future king in such a way. I was right in stating that you have no fear,” he teased you, eyes twinkling with mirth, “very well, I shall accept your request.”

He signs his name on you with the grace and elegance you’d expect a prince would have

You feel a slightly electric tingle from where the pen touches your skin through the fabric of your shirt and you can’t help but wonder if he had cast some sort of enchantment where his name was.

Once he has completed he hands you your pen back and you smile back at him, “I trust you, Tsunotarou. Not just because you’re my friend but also because you were one of the few who truly made me feel welcome even before we even knew each other. Actually, I trust you so much that-

You beckon him towards you, causing him to lean closer towards you. You take the pen and sign your name right on the first patch of white that you can see and reach

-that I would give you my name a hundred times without even a second of hesitation.”

ALRIGHT, TEACHER SNIPPETS: The next day, you take the shirt that you had worn the previous day and carry it around in your hands around campus so that you could ask the teachers to sign their names

PROFESSOR DIVUS CREWEL looks down at all of the names with disdain and mutters something about ‘rowdy mutts slobbering around his pup’ and something about ‘neutering’ before signing his name on your shirt with a flourish

PROFESSOR TREIN looks at you fondly and gives you one of his tea biscuits before signing his name. 

COACH ASHTON VARGAS gives you a booming laugh and a hair ruffle as he gladly signs his name all big and loud with several exclamation marks and some reminder to always work out

MR SAM argues with his friends from the other side on whether or not he should add their names as well. Instead he just signs his name and draws a cute little skull next to it

P.S. Please note that, if given the opportunity, any one of the NRC boys would very gladly and willingly write their names directly onto your skin with no hesitation whatsoever.

[seungkw1]

halloween night — ksy

⛧ pairing: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader ⛧ theme: strangers to lovers, nonidol!au ⛧ word count: ~2.5k ⛧ warnings: smut, swearing, praise kink, oral (m. & f. receiving), softdom!hoshi, petnames (f. receiving - baby, pretty girl, etc.), unprotected penetration (stay safe kids), tiny bit of fluff at the end

your halloween night is going pretty lousy — that is, until you meet a handsome, tiger-print-wearing stranger at a party

♡ moodboard by @myhimbomingi ♡

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“You look fine. Stop worrying, you’re gonna have a good time tonight!”

You stop fiddling with your skirt and look up at your best friend with a sigh. ”I can’t believe you talked me into wearing this stupid thing.”

Halloween is, in your humble opinion, the greatest holiday ever invented. You always love putting together your costume, something unique and creative each year – which is why you feel like a fucking idiot standing here dressed in a cliché sexy nurse costume. But, you needed to get your shitty ex off your mind – it had been two weeks since you found out he was cheating on you – and what better distraction than alcohol. Hell, you might even find someone to make out with if you drink enough. Not your usual M.O., but fuck it.

Now that you’re here though, you’re starting to have second thoughts. Your best friend Mina is bubbly and sociable, so she thrives naturally in a party environment – you, not so much. To make matters worse she’s the only person you’ll know here, so you’re now realizing how awkward this whole thing is going to be. Wishing now that you had worn something more comfortable, you slap on a fake smile as you step inside. Here goes nothing, I guess.

—

Mina spent about 15 minutes introducing you to everybody as you did your best to engage in polite small talk, but she eventually got absorbed in chatting with some old friends while you inadvertently joined a very boring conversation with some cryptocurrency bros where some guy named Chad or something was going on about bitcoin. You pretended to be interested in whatever Brad was saying, but you kept zoning out. Stifling a sigh, you went to make your escape. 

“I’m gonna use the restroom, I'll be right…”

Nobody even looked at you. Brent had moved on talking about stocks or some shit. You rolled your eyes as you walked away. Assholes.

The other room was too crowded for your liking, and so was the kitchen. Spotting the back door, you quickly made your way outside before anyone else could talk to you. 

—

The cool October breeze hits you as you practically burst through the door and out onto the patio. You know you’ll probably get chilled before too long, especially in this dumb miniskirt, but the crisp air feels delightful. The relative quietness is a relief too. Taking a few moments to breathe, you start to relax, but soon enough your mind drifts back to your ex against your will. It’s not like you miss him – you’re definitely over that jerk – but you’re still extremely pissed off about the whole thing. You feel tears starting to form as the anger wells up inside you – you hate that you cry when you get mad, which only makes you even more upset. 

“God fucking dammit,” you mutter under your breath as you go to wipe your tears away before you start full-on crying. You know bottling up your emotions isn’t ideal, but neither is having a breakdown at some stranger’s house.

You can have your breakdown later, you tell yourself firmly. Just not right now. Don’t make a fool of yourself, just hold on out for a couple more hours and then-

“Are you okay?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the voice coming from behind you. Quickly turning around, you find yourself face-to-face with a ridiculously handsome stranger. The man is so striking it takes you a few seconds to process the horribly tacky, bright orange tiger-print shirt he’s wearing.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me,” you say as you collect yourself.

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he says, his sentence trailing off.

You both stand there for a moment in silence. You find yourself trying not to blush at how good-looking he is, but you notice him noticing your low-cut top but trying to act like he didn’t notice it. Yeah, that is not helping…

The man clears his throat. “You just seemed like you were crying or something and uh… sorry, I guess that’s not really any of my business…” he apologizes, turning red. “Sorry,” he repeats, “I’ll leave you be…”

“No no it’s okay!!” you blurt out, perhaps a bit too fast. “I mean, you can stay, I don't mind.”

“Are you sure? If you want to be alon-”

“No, I don’t,” you interrupt before he goes to turn away again. “I mean, I did originally, but uh…”

What are you doing?? You literally don’t even know this man.

You ignore the voice inside your head. Fuck it, didn’t I say I wanted to find a hot stranger to make out with tonight? Here’s one right in front of me.

You introduce yourself and stick out your hand. His face turns into a soft smile as he takes your hand in his – he shakes it firmly, and you try not to think about how strong he feels. He locks eyes with you and holds on to your hand for a few moments too long. Your heart seems to skip a beat. 

“Soonyoung,” he replies. Letting out an even bigger grin, he finally lets go of your hand. “Nice to meet you.”

—

You don’t even know how long you two have been sitting on the patio couch talking. All you know is that not only is Soonyoung incredibly handsome, he’s also funny, charming, and easy to talk to – and, he’s clearly very attracted to you. Usually it takes a number of drinks before you get flirty, but the tension between you two is too strong to resist. It’s taking all of your willpower not to drop everything and kiss him – and the way he keeps stealing quick glances of your lips tells you the feeling is reciprocated. 

Despite how flustered you are, it is pretty chilly out, and eventually you start to shiver. Soonyoung notices and gives you a concerned look.

“Oh shit, we should probably get you inside.”

You glance back toward the chatter of the house party regretfully, not wanting to go back in and be amongst everybody else once again. But you are getting cold.

You look back to Soonyoung and you both sit there in silence for a few seconds. A sly smile creeps back onto his face, and he hesitates for a moment before suggesting, “Or… we could get out of here.”

You can’t help but grin back at him.

—

And so you find yourself on Soonyoung’s couch, straddling his lap, making out with him – the cheesy horror movie you had put on in the background long forgotten. Time seems to be at a standstill as you press your lips into his – softly at first, but more intensely with each kiss. His muscular arms tighten around your waist, pulling your body even closer to his, and a small moan escapes you as he pushes his hips into your core. 

Soonyoung stops kissing you momentarily so he can look at you. “You’re so fucking pretty, you know that?”

His low and raspy voice sends a jolt through your stomach. Your skirt has risen up over your hips, leaving your underwear as the only barrier between your pussy and the growing bulge in his jeans – you push yourself into him even further and this time he lets out a moan as you feel his cock twitch against your aching cunt.

Grabbing onto your waist he pushes you over onto the couch and rolls over on top of you. He kisses you again, his hand cradling your face, his body weight pressing down on you as you feel the blood rushing through your veins. He kisses you for a few moments more before he jumps up, pulling you along as he leads you into his bedroom. 

He stops right before the bed and pauses to look at you, his hand delicately tracing your neckline. “You know, I really like this costume, but I think I’d like it more off of you.”

You let out a laugh as you roll your eyes at him. You begin to unbutton his shirt as you reply, “Well I don’t really like it at all, so you can definitely help me get rid of it.”

He grins back at you. “You look incredible, but I will happily oblige.”

Grabbing the hem of your top, Soonyoung pulls it up over your head and tosses it behind him. He pulls his shirt off too, disregarding the rest of the buttons, and you have to keep your jaw from hitting the floor – to say he was toned would’ve been an understatement. 

He grabs you by the arms to pull you in for another kiss, and you place your hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. You slowly run one hand down the defined curvatures of his abs until you reach the waist of his pants. Your lips still pressed against his, you begin to undo his belt and unbutton his pants.

Getting down as you undo the zipper, you pull down the band of his underwear and his cock springs free. You run your tongue up his length, your mouth stopping to take just the tip in between your lips as you taste his juices before taking him in your mouth. Soonyoung lets out a groan, and you begin to slide his cock down your throat – slowly at first, but as you begin to pick up the pace he places his hand on the back of your head, making sure you take his entire length with each motion.

“Look at me,” he commands.

You look up at him, his cock halfway in your mouth still, your lips red and your eyes teary from choking on him.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice gruff and low.

He thrusts into your mouth a few more times before he pulls your head back up, his cock glistening with your spit. 

“Stand up for me.”

You quickly stand up – it’s impossible to ignore how wet you are at this point.

Soonyoung takes you by the hips and gently pushes you down onto the bed. “Get comfy baby.”

You rest your head against the pillows as he situates himself between your legs. He lifts your skirt up just enough to reveal your visibly soaked underwear. 

“Fuck, you’re already this wet for me huh?” he says he starts kissing your inner thighs, close enough to your entrance to make your clit throb but just far away enough to drive you crazy.

He teases you with one finger tracing over your clothed cunt, sending a shiver down your spine. Not giving what you want just yet, he reaches his hand behind your back and unclasps your bra, taking it off of you. 

“God, you’re so hot,” he says as he begins to kiss your breasts. You let out a small whimper as his hand makes its way back down to your clit, his thumb circling over the fabric gently.

Finally, he reaches his hands under your skirt and slides your panties off, his face resuming its position right in front of your cunt. You let out a hiss as his tongue makes a stripe over your folds, slowly taking in your wetness – you cry out suddenly as he begins to suck on your clit. 

Soonyoung goes down on you for what feels like an eternity, only stopping here and there to shower you in admiration.

“You taste so good, baby.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

“Pussy so pretty for me.”

Just as you feel the heat welling up inside your body, he slides his fingers inside of you. The vibrations of his mouth moaning on your clit combined with the pressure against your g-spot nearly sends you over the edge.

“Fuck, Soonyoung – I’m gonna cum…” you cry.

“Cum for me, baby.”

Your orgasm rushes over you as you grab him by the hair, cumming hard on his mouth. Out of breath and seeing stars, you start to come down and your body relaxes into the bed – you run your hand through his hair as he delicately kisses your soaked pussy, his mouth and chin covered in your juices.

Soonyoung comes up to give you a few soft kisses on the lips. Wrapping your arms around his back, you pull his warm body into yours. His erection presses up against your still-throbbing core – you try to position your entrance right on top of his cock but he teasingly pulls away and starts kissing your neck instead. 

“Please Soonyoung,” you beg.

“Please what baby? I wanna hear you say it.”

“Want you to fuck me.”

He kisses you on the neck once more before slipping his cock inside you, making you gasp at the sudden sensation.

“Mmm I made you so wet baby, you’re so perfect for me.”

He slowly starts sliding his length in and out of you, but before long you find yourself trying to ride his cock, trying to make him go faster – which only makes him slow down even more. He smirks, locking eyes with you – undeniably addicted to how much you need him.

“Such a little slut, you want me to fuck you harder?”

You nod, looking up at him – desperation in your eyes.

“Use your words baby.”

“Harder,” you plead.

“That’s my good girl.”

Soonyoung thrusts into you, picking up the pace this time, until he’s fucking you senseless. Your cries fill the room from the overwhelming pleasure, and much to his enjoyment you start to whimper out his name. 

“That’s right – say my name babygirl.”

You repeat his name as every inch of him continues to pulse into you, stronger with each stroke. 

“You’re taking me so well. My cock so good to you baby?”

You cry out something, presumably some form of yes, but you don’t even know at this point. You feel yourself start to climax once more. 

“Fuck, Soonyoung – I’m gonna cum again.”

“Cum with me, pretty girl.”

Electricity rushes over your entire body as your walls tighten around him, and you feel his cock pulsating as his cum fills you up inside. You both lay there for a few moments, his strong arms wrapping around you as you breathe heavily together. He slowly removes himself from you and rolls over to pull you into an embrace – him as the big spoon. You giggle as he holds you tightly and gives you little kisses on your cheek. 

“You know,” you admit, “I didn’t even want to go to that stupid party.”

Soonyoung laughs. “Well, I’m sure glad you did.”

“I am too,” you say as you begin to yawn. You are completely worn out in the best way possible.

He nuzzles into your neck, clearly also getting sleepy. He pauses a moment before he asks.

“Stay here with me?”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay,” you reply softly. 

You drift off to sleep in Soonyoung’s arms – blissful and content.

[end]

you can also find me on ao3 ♡

[sunny-mercya]

Safe Arms

Poly! Billy Loomis & Stu Macher x FTMale Reader

Fandom -> Scream 1996

Requested by -> Anon

Masterlist

Warning: Mention of Breasts

Woodsboro had quite the big population. Not as large as Los Angeles or Santa Monica of course, but enough not to feel completely out of place or knowing you would be one of the few—like how it would be most of the times in towns and Villages.

And yet, besides knowing you're not the only Trans-Person in Woodsboro, you do feel out of place—like a fish on land.

Maybe it was because throughout your school years and the slow progress of transition, you hadn't anyone to talk about it—to relate with someone who was like you and perhaps that was the reason why you felt like this, as if you didn't belong here or anywhere.

Though yet again, when you're with Billy and Stu—your boyfriends—you felt just right in where you are—because neither Billy or Stu, they knew about you being Trans since the beginning of your relationship, treat you any differently and saw you as what you truly are. A man.

It were moments like these, which proved your inner nagging thoughts into a silence, that you belonged here—be it Woodsboro or any other place you decided to live—and that you're not alone. Moments like these, which made you fall in love with your two mans over again.

It had been some stressful weeks for you, exams and part-time Job piling up onto your nerves—straining them to an snapping point—and when a wave of dysphoria had rolled over you—taunting your mind and self-confidence, which you build up slowly but steady over the years—to feel comfortable—your high strung nerves had snapped in half and you cried, more ugly sobbing it was, for two days.

You had stayed home the whole week—had forced yourself to go to school last week already, till it became unbearable much to even consider leaving your bed at all, without feeling so disoriented.

When Billy and Stu didn't saw you in school, they grew a bit worried about you—especially when you ignored their calls—having a good hunch of why you stayed at home—and once they've asked your older siblings and they confirmed their suspicions, Billy and Stu decided to visit you and do a sleepover.

~~~

Sitting in the middle of your bed, in nothing clad but boxers, you let Billy take off your binder—he's careful not touch whats beneath it—although you being on transition, the much needed operation to remove your breasts would only become real, when you had saved up enough money for it—and once the soft material was off from your skin, you wanted to curl into yourself and hide away.

The feeling of your breast—these ugly breasts, those lumps of flesh—which are now hanging freely on your chest, racked a shudder through your body—visible flinching away from Billy's hands and crossing your arms over your breasts—wanting to hide them, to make them disappear once more.

Billy pry'ed your arms from your chest, pulling one of Stu's shirts—which in terms of size—even though Stu's more lanky limps than bulky wide, he still wears shirts in size of XL or XXL—looks so massive on you, that it looks like as if you're swallowed whole in the material—over you.

You sighed out in relief, closing your eyes, when your breast were now covered—feeling more secure and comfortable again.

Stu, after setting up the dvd-player for tonight's movie marathon—which, despite being summer, consisted of the whole Halloween Chronicles and other Horror and Slasher movies—had crawled onto the bed as well—engulfing you in his long lanky but strong arms and covers your face with little smooches of butterflies kisses.

»You looks so sexy in my shirt, [Name], I could eat you up right away« Stu grinned, licking over his lips—thought about to lock you into a tongue battling french-kiss, but with your current mood it wouldn't be such a good idea to do so, didn't want to make you uncomfortable and cry—when you're already feeling so in the down—so instead Stu decides to give you a big final kiss on the cheek.

»Horrorfilms again?« you asked, cuddling more into Stu's side, when he had pulled you down to the mattress.

You had nothing against Horrorfilms, just to watch them 24/7 a week and throughout the year, could be a bit—a tiny bit—tedious to do so for your eyes and mind.

»What can I say, they are the best to watch. Aren't they? But don't worry, pretty boy, we will watch your favourite movies too.«

Billy calling you „pretty boy“ makes your heart soar—brought a small smile onto your lips—because that's what you are; a boy.

»Yeah, I am a pretty boy.« you repeated, voice still in a hushed whisper, but with confidence in it.

Billy placed the bags of chips around you all, getting into bed himself—pressing the button of the remote to start the first movie—and laying down next to you, draping an arm around your shoulders.

»Don't be a such a hogger, Stuie. I want a share of our darling boy too.«

»You're more a hogger than I am!« Stu furrowed his eyebrows slightly, pouting childish at Billy.

»Such a lie. You definitely hog him more.«

»Boys, I'm in the middle and you both get a fair share. So now, no more fighting and let's watch these movies now.« you said, patting each of their legs—knowing well that once a discussion between your boyfriends would break out, it could last the whole night and probably would go into the nasty side of insults.

Although you had a shitty week and still feeling in the dumpster—as if you didn't belong anywhere anymore at all—having Billy and Stu next to you, their arms around you, felt like the safest place on earth.

[call-me-strega]

How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: ch.4/5 of p.2

First, prev, next, lore, ao3,

I've already said it but thank you for all your wonderful comments and for engaging with my story. It really motivated me to finish up this chapter. I hope you all enjoy and Happy (early) Halloween! As a bonus I'm also releasing some memes for this chapter here.

This chapter a heat wave overtakes Gotham and causes some trouble, but at least Jason gets a title upgrade.

~~~

"Uggh! How is summer in Gotham so miserable that I'm still sweating buckets in the rec center? It has AC?!" John complained, setting down the box he was holding. He stopped, pulling a hair tie from his wrist and tying his hair up in a circle man-bun. "I swear I can feel my hair sweating!"   

"Hah! Sucks to suck whiteboy! Maybe if you chopped off that mop, you'd be less sweaty!" Irene taunted, hoisting a box onto her shoulder.   

"Well, we can't all just decide to shave it off the second we get bored of our braids, now can we Irene!" Johnny fought back, lifting his box with new vigor. "Some of us had to work for this kinda hair growth!"   

"Like I said, 'sucks to suck'! Get good whiteboy!"   

She stuck out her tongue as she trotted past him.   

Jason sighed as he dragged two of his own boxes out of the truck and followed behind.   

"Would you two quit yer yapping? Yer hot cause we've been moving in and out, carrying boxes in the middle of a recorded breaking heatwave during a Gotham summer. And, might I add, that I'd like to finish moving this shipment in on schedule, ya know before my skin melts off? So that I can actually enjoy the industrial-strength air conditioner we installed in this place? Plus, you know Fern won't be happy if they find out that all the equipment for the new kitchens and cooking classes didn't get set up 'cause you two were too busy trying to goad each other into a rumble."   

The pair stiffened.   

Fern was 152 pounds of rage, spite, and mischief, condensed into a 5'2" package, decorated with kitties, glitter, and spikes.   

Neither of them wanted to see Fern mad.   

They promptly stopped their bickering and rushed toward the kitchens, mumbling complaints under their breaths.   

 "Who even says rumble anymore," John muttered. "S.E. Hinton much."   

Jason rolled his eyes, gently bumping the door with his hip to keep it open. He walked over to the table where they had piled the rest of the boxes, setting them down with a soft grunt. He pulled up the bottom of his shirt, using it to wipe his brow as the three of them took a brief pause in the kitchens to catch their breath.   

That's when a ringtone went off.   

"Huh? Whose phone was that?" Irene questioned glancing between Jason and John. "Did one of you change your ringtones?"   

Jason knew exactly who it was.   

He flushed slightly as he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, hoping in vain that neither would notice his embarrassment. Irene sidled up to him with a smirk.   

 "Who's that? Your hot neighbor-dad crush?" she teased with a cheshire grin. "Did you set a special ringtone for him lover-boy!?"   

Jason defensively tried to hide his phone.   

 "Maybe? And what if I did!? Now back off and let me pick up!"   

He shoved the smug girl off him as he picked up the phone.   

 "Hey neighbor," Jason gave his customary greeting, fully expecting Danny to give it back. Instead, he was met with panicked breaths and an anxious little girl's voice.

 "Mr. Jason? That's you, right?"   

Jason's hackles instantly rose.   

 "Yes, it's me, Ellie, it's Mr. Jason. Is something wrong sweetie? Where's your dad? Why do you have his phone?"   

 "You like to help us right? Daddy said you told him we could come to you for help. You'll help, right?"   

 "Yes, Ellie I did say that. I promise I'll help, but you need to tell me where your dad is, okay? Can you take a deep breath for me sweetheart? What's going on munchkin?"   

John and Irene exchanged nervous glances, responding to the way Jason tensed up. They watched on apprehensively, the mood quickly growing somber. This wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, that one of them picked up a call and had to ask questions like these.   

 "Huuup-haaah,  - um well, Daddy took me to the park, the one with the purple swings, because I really wanted to play today, and Sasha said they were doing soccer today and I really wanted to go. And, and I made Daddy run around with me even though he was getting tired. And then Daddy said he was getting too hot, so he was gonna rest, b-but he fell before he got to the bench and he- he's not getting up."   

The young girl explained, fighting back tears.   

"Hey- hey, Ellie, Ellie! I want you to listen to me, okay? First things first, I'm proud of you for reaching out to me when you knew you needed help, okay. That's a very responsible and big girl move. Next, I need you to understand that this isn't your fault, okay? Sometimes the hot weather can make people sick just like cold weather can."

 "Mmm-hmm," she sniffled.

 "Great. Next, I need you to find an adult at the park you can trust. Is your friend Sasha's mom nearby?"   

 "Yes."   

 "Good. Here's what you're gonna do: When I'm done talking, you're gonna go up to Sasha's mom and tell her your dad needs help. Tell her that she needs to call the VPA, okay? The V-P-A. Try to cool your dad off, maybe get him some water. If he can't drink it's fine to pour it on him since it'll still help cool off. I'm going to come get you so I can help. Stay with your dad and Sasha's mom until I get there, alright?"   

 "Alright, Mr. Jason."   

 "Good girl, can you repeat back to me what I said?"   

 "I need to go to Sasha's mom and tell her Daddy needs help. I need to tell her to call the VeePeeAay. I should try to cool Daddy off and stay with Sasha's mom till you come to help us."   

 "That's right. Good job, Elle! You're such a big, strong girl! I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"   

 "Okay, Mr. Jason. Please hurry."   

 "I will sweetie. Promise."   

Jason hung up the call.   

 "I'm sorry guys, but I gotta ditch. It's an emergency. Neighbor's daughter called saying he passed out after playing with her at the park. It's probably heat exhaustion. Hopefully, the Volunteer Paramedics Association will have sent someone by the time I get there."   

He promptly had a pair of car keys shoved into his chest. He made eye contact with John to see him giving him a serious look.   

 "Take my car, Jay. From the sounds of it, it'll probably serve you better than your bike. Don't worry about returning it. I know you'll have Hood get it back to me when you can."   

Jason gave him a look of appreciation. "Thanks, Johnny," he said, turning to leave. He looked back at Irene, who nodded at him in determination.   

 "Get outta here! We'll cover for ya. We can handle the rest of the delivery ourselves. Now go help your lover boy, lover-boy!"   

He nodded in thanks before rushing out the door. He hopped in turning the AC on full blast and taking off.   

~   

Jason tore through traffic as fast as he could, breaking several minor traffic laws along the way. He hastily parked and rushed through the park looking for the Nightingales.   

She said the park with purple swings. Ellie was playing soccer, so they'll be near the field.   

He scanned the area as he approached. Suddenly he felt like his blood froze as he locked onto a small crowd formed near a tree. He assessed the crowd: a few parents, a couple of kids, two people in paramedic uniforms, and them.   

Jason marched over, pushing through the crowd with one single-minded purpose echoing in his head: Help them.   

He could see that the paramedics had laid Danny down and elevated his feet on a balled-up picnic blanket. His face was sweaty and red, his eyes barely open as one of the paramedics helped a pleading Ellie coax him into taking a few sips from a bottle of water. Another used a small hand fan borrowed from a parent in the crowd to cool him.   

He pushed forward, reaching out a hand to call to Ellie, only to be stopped by a hand hastily pressing against his chest. A small portion of him grew enraged as he turned to see who stopped him.   

'Who dares stop us from getting to our people!'   

A tall, lean woman in a t-shirt and athletic pants. Judging by the age lines on her face she was likely in her late-30s, maybe early-40s. Her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail and her face was just as severe, promising pain if she deemed it necessary. She spoke first.   

 "I don't know who you are, but you can't go over there. Don't get in the way."   

 "Tch! Let me through. I'm here for them." he growled out.   

The woman tensed.   

 "Look I don't know what you want from them, but that man is in no position to give you whatever you're after." Her face grew more dangerous. "And don't even think about getting near the girl."   

That's when Jason belatedly realized he had had his mission face on the entire time. This woman mistook him for some sort of collector or enforcer. She was trying to protect them. He felt himself warm up to her a bit, releasing some of the tension from his body. He had to explain to her why he was actually here.   

 "Look ma'am it's not like tha-"   

 "YOU'RE HERE!" a small voice interrupted.   

Ellie promptly attached herself to Jason's leg. Jason bent down wrapping his arms around her. He stroked her hair, trying to reassure her.   

 "I promised I would be, didn't I?"   

 "Ahem," the woman glanced between him and Ellie with a slightly reproachful glint in her eyes. She addressed Ellie first.   

 "Ellie dear, do you know this man?" 'And are you safe with him?' her eyes asked. Ellie nodded in response.   

 "This is Uncle Jason. He lives in the same building as us, near me and Dad. He came to help us b'cause I asked him too. He's the one who told me to ask you for help."   

Jason expertly masked any surprise he felt over the new title Ellie had given him, which implied a level of trust and familiarity he wasn't 100% convinced he'd earned just yet. He simply nodded in agreement, waiting for the woman to confirm his theories on her identity.   

 "I am Katrina Malone; my daughter Sasha is friends with Ellie. We all live in the same building apparently. You can call me Trina." She addressed him this time, holding out her hand. Jason shook it, nodding at her once.   

 "Jason. Ellie called me in a panic, and I got over here as fast as I could." He returned. She simply nodded in acknowledgment.   

That's when one of the paramedics approached them. Jason recognized them as one of the kids that apprenticed with Dr. Thompkins, Emilio something-or-other.   

 "Ah, Jason! I'd say it's nice to see you but, well..." He glanced back at Danny. "If I overheard correctly, you're here for the patient?"   

 "Yes, I am."   

 "Ah-well, it's a pretty bad case of heat exhaustion. My guess is that he hasn't been sleeping right or enough. We've cooled him about as much as we can, but it would be ideal if we could get him indoors, preferably somewhere with air conditioning. That is assuming you don't want to take him to the hospital."   

Jason nodded along. "I brought a car with me. I can take them home; we live next door to each other, and I definitely have AC. I can accommodate them just fine."   

"Great. We've already administered some first aid, but keep in mind for once you get back that he should be kept in a cool environment. Try to elevate his feet if you can and have him drink something with electrolytes. Handle him gently when helping him move. He didn't hurt anything much when he fainted, but his head and side may be a bit tender."   

Jason stood up and walked over to Danny, Ellie trailing behind him. His face was considerably less red, but he was still barely conscious. Danny cracked his eyes open and looked up at him with through his eyelashes. He managed to mutter out a weak "Hey" before trailing off, unable to remain fully cognizant.   

 "Easy does it, your highness," Jason whispered as he went to pick up Danny.   

He slid an arm under his knees, the other supporting his back and hefted him up off the ground, holding him close to his chest. He dismissed the paramedics and said a quick goodbye to Trina before turning to Ellie.   

 "Come on princess, let's get you dad home."   

He led her to the car, carefully buckling into the two most precious pieces of cargo Jason had ever transported. And then they were off.   

~   

Jason gently placed Danny down on his bed, taking great care to make sure he was comfortable. Ellie, in an attempt to be helpful, shoved a cushion under her dad's feet. Jason couldn't help but give her a slight smile at the cute gesture. He reached over and gently ruffled her hair, before moving around the room.   

First, he double checked that his AC was working, even setting it to a lower than he normally used. Then, he dragged out some folding chairs he kept in his closet for the sake of convenience. One for him and one for Ellie. He set them up next to the bed and gestured to Ellie to go ahead and sit. Finally, he went to his kitchen.   

'He needs something simple and easy to eat that will help rehydrate and cool him off ', he thought.   

Jason ended up going with some simple orange slices with a sprinkle of sea salt and the light blue Gatorade (he refused to call it "frost glacier freeze". It was light blue, goddammit!). He set them on a tray with some pretzels, hummus, and carrots that he cut up into little sticks for Ellie.   

He walked back into the bedroom, placing the tray on the side table.   

"Come on munchkin, you've had a lot of excitement huh? Come have a snack. I'll watch your dad."   

She looked up hesitantly, glancing between Jason and her dad.   

"He'll be alright sweetheart. He just needs some rest."   

Eventually, Jason managed to coax her into eating while he attempted to get Danny to drink some of the Gatorade. Danny managed to pull himself into consciousness long enough to drink a fourth of the bottle and stomach a few orange slices. Before he went out again, he managed enough energy to reassure Ellie he'd be better after a nap, and lock eyes with Jason briefly saying "thanks" and then he was out again.   

Ellie finished her snack and hopped up onto the bed, laying down next to her dad. She left some space between them but reached out to hold his hand as he slept. She looked at him from her place on the bed and murmured a small voice, "Thank you 'ncle Jas'n."   

Jason felt his heart clench. He wanted to ask her why she had called him that. To ask if she really trusted him that much. Could he really say he deserved the opportunity to become such an important figure in her life?   

"You're welcome sweetheart," he whispered back instead, letting her rest with her dad.   

Jason decided to step out of the room at that point. He went to sit in the living room for a bit to try to get his thoughts in order. He updates John and Irene on the situation, thanking John again for the use of his car, then heads to the kitchen to whip up a quick lunch. Something the Nightingales could eat when they woke up. He ended up making some fruit salad, ham and cheese roll-ups, and using some left-over grilled chicken to make chicken pesto sandwiches with tomato and mozzarella. The rhythmic motions of his knife calmed him as he mulled over the day's events.   

'Her actions were calculated. She wanted to express her trust in me so that her friend's mom would ease up and let me help,' he analyzed.  'But... but there was no hesitation or unease. She knew what she was doing and did it anyway. I- I want to make the most of her actions. I'll prove I deserve the trust she placed in me. '   

Once he was finished, Jason carefully stored the food in his fridge before going to check on the father-daughter duo.   

Jason cracked the door open, peaking in at the pair sleeping soundly on his bed. He walked over to one of the chairs he'd set up earlier, quiet as an assassin. He sat as softly as he could and observed the pair.   

Danny's complexion had greatly improved, beginning to return to his normal color. His chest slowly moved up and down and his calm face was at peace. Likewise, once Ellie had fallen asleep her worry melted off her face, leaving a calm expression so different from her usual boundless energy. She looked so much like her father it was almost uncanny.   

Sitting there looking at the two, absolutely relaxed and trusting nothing would happen as they lay in his bed, Jason came to a realization. One he honestly should have expected sooner or later what with his Big Realization, last week. He closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair.   

'I want to protect them.' he thought.  'When Ellie called me, I was so scared something was wrong. But the two of them are safe with me. In my apartment. In my bed. I don't want to lose this trust. I don't want to lose them.   

~   

Jason woke up with a crick in his neck.   

He groaned, straightening himself out and cursing himself for falling asleep sitting. Couldn't he have at least fallen asleep on the couch? He stands up from the chair, stretching out his back. 'It's nearly 5', he thinks as he checks the time. They've all been asleep for around 3 hours. 'Oh well, at least I'll be rested for patrol later’ he thinks, heading to the kitchen to go eat something, never mind the fact that it won't be dark for a few more hours.   

He pulls out the lunch he made earlier, serving himself a portion. It's closer to dinner now but he'd be damned if he let food go to waste. As he was eating, he heard the sound of light groans and shifting coming from his room. Abandoning his plate Jason gets up and goes to check on the Nightingales.   

He opens the door to see the pair sitting up in his bed, both rubbing the tiredness out of their eyes in the same way.   

Like father, like daughter, huh?   

"Feeling better your highness?" He says leaning up against the wall.   

In unison, the two stare at him with wide, innocent eyes before smiling those smiles that never fail to make Jason's heart melt.   

 "I'm feeling much better. Thank you so much for taking care of us Jason. I'm sorry to have worried you," Danny began, a finger coming up to scratch his cheek as if trying to dust his embarrassed blush away like a few stray crumbs. "I've had some health issues in the past which make me more susceptible to the heat. I really should have planned better, even if it did get hotter than I thought it would. I must have given you and Ellie a big scare, huh?"   

He turned to his daughter pulling her into his chest. She hugged him back for a few seconds before abruptly pulling away. Danny stared at her in shock only to find her pouting. Ellie scrambled off the bed and made her way to Jason. She indicated for him to pick her up. He obliged. Once she was in his arms, she reached up awkwardly hugging his face to show her dad and gave him an ultimatum.   

 "You scared us both, daddy! If you don't take care of yourself and scare us again like that, then me'n Uncle Jason will just move in together until you learn to take care of yourself! So, if you don't wanna be lonely, you better not scare us again!"   

'What is she saying!?’  Jason sweat-dropped, nervously staring at Danny's shocked expression.   

 "Is that right, Uncle Jason?" Danny asked, raising an eyebrow.   

'Fuck what am I supposed to do now!?'

 "Uuuh- uh, yeah! Me and munchkin here will just stay together if you don't take care of yourself!" He wondered what the hell he was thinking as he doubled down on her words.   

 "So, please," he continued genuinely pleading, "We care about you, try to take better care of yourself."   

Or at least let me help. 

Danny gave a bemused chuckle, getting off the bed. He sauntered over to Ellie and Jason, wrapping his arms around both of them. His face slid into the gap between Jason and Ellie's, fitting in easily as a puzzle piece. Jason couldn't see his face anymore, but he could practically feel the affection rolling of the man in waves. Danny squeezed them tight before speaking.   

 "Alright. I promise to take better care of myself. I don't want to worry either of you."   

 "Pinky promise daddy?"   

Danny pulled back and extended his pinkie out to his daughter.   

 "Pinky promise, Ell."   

His pinkie was larger than hers, wrapping her own finger like a hug. Keeping their hands in place, Ellie turned her unwavering gaze to Jason.   

 "You too, Uncle Jason."   

Jason agreed, giving her a slight smile.   

 "Alright, me too."   

Jason brought up the hand that wasn't supporting Ellie's weight and wrapped his own finger around Danny and Ellie's. His finger was bigger, thicker, rougher, and covered them nearly perfectly. He almost felt like he was acting as a protective barrier, which he felt wasn't an unappealing thing to be.   

Eventually, they all had to let go. Jason, remembering that they hadn't eaten properly, led them to the kitchen. The three managed to easily fall into a comforting and familiar atmosphere.   

Once the Nightingales finished eating with Jason they returned to their own apartment. They stood in Jason's doorway stretching out their goodbyes.   

 "I really can't thank you enough for all your help, Jason. Is there anything I can do to pay you back for this? I'm just so thankful for all your help."   

 "Hey now, I already told you there's no need. Really, I was happy to help."   

 "Oh, but I insist."   

 "Look, it really wasn't that big a deal but if you really insist, I'll accept some more of that fudge you gave me," Jason joked.   

 "Deal. I'll make a special batch just for you," Danny replied with a light blush dusting his nose.   

He leaned over, giving Jason a brief hug.   

 "Good night, Jason."   

 "Good night, Danny."   

 "Me too!"   

Both of them looked down at Ellie before glancing at each other. In unison, they bent down and took her in their arms.   

 "Good night, Ellie," Jason spoke softly. Her small hand tightened its grip.   

 "Good night, Uncle Jason."   

With that, Danny and Ellie went back to their apartment. Jason closed his door, sitting on the floor with his back against it, his head cradled in his hands, and pondered these newfound desires swirling in his chest.   

'What do I do now?' 

~~~

Okay y'all that's all for this chapter. I hope it was enjoyable. Let me know if you think the flow and pacing is going well. As always, I'm open to constructive criticism. Also, I'm thinking about adding an extra to the series where I go over my visions for some of the side character OCs so if you are interested in more info on them or to see anyone in particular, let me know.

[delopsia]

the haunted house drabble was such a fucking gift to return to 💐 that it got my mind wheels whirring: the trio’s halloween costumes...

are they trying to find a cohesive throuple idea? and if so, is it a funny idea? like, as long as the three of them are entertained it’s fine—or are they shooting for serious, like, “no! we ARE winning the costume contest at payback and fanboy’s halloween party this year!”

or do they wear individual costumes? especially rhett who might not have done a lot as far as dressing up past the age of twelve, but is actually really good at successfully making homemade costumes?

and are they giving out candy? do they wear cozy seasonal loungewear and compliment all the children’s costumes, or do they leave a full mixed candy bowl out on the porch, knowing full well that a number of these kids are NOT going to take just one (!) but it’s halloween so who cares 😌🎃👻

Omg, I have been dying to find the chance to answer this 😭🎃

Bob, again, is the instigator for the Halloween costumes, but this time, it wasn't exactly his idea! He simply got caught up in the crossfire when Maverick was bickering with Reuben and Mickey about how Halloween parties are lame, and the next thing Bob knows, he's been invited to the yearly party against his will.

So what do you do when you've been invited against your will? You drag your two partners along with you! He tries sugarcoating it, says he already has some costume ideas, aaand...well...

"I ain't dressin' up as a goddamn condiment!"

"What, you think you have a better idea?" And maybe Bob's words were a little too snappy because Rhett looks like he's about to eat him alive.

Neither Reader nor Bob expects for Rhett to bark a, "Yeah, I do, actually!" Before vanishing up to the attic, wrapped up in his own little storm cloud, grumbling under his breath about how he hates store-bought costumes.

Come to find out, when Rhett was 19, he and his buddy Archie got together and crafted Ghost Buster's costumes for Wabang's yearly Halloween Costume contest. All because they'd gotten sick and tired of seeing Billy and Luke Tillerson win every damn year. Rhett's still got the cheap blue first-place ribbon, pinned on his old suit.

The costumes are elaborate, with properly sewn patches, purposeful wear and tear, and hand-built gear that genuinely looks useable. It's dusty. The suits need a good wash, and that still leaves one person without a costume, but it's better than store-bought.

Only for it to become glaringly obvious that Rhett is much bigger than his 19-year-old self. Not in height and weight but in muscle. Reader and Bob fit into the suits just fine, but Rhett? His shoulders have gotten broader, and his biceps are so thick that the seam on the sleeve busts open.

"I ain't that big!"

"Yes, you are!"

And maybe that's the reason why Rhett gets turned into a dead cowboy. Because what's a ghostbuster without a ghost?

Rhett's entire outfit is black and gray, complete with a torn cowboy hat, deliberately ripped shirt and jeans, beaten-to-hell chaps, and spurs that chime with every step he takes. He's missing part of his left sleeve (he accidentally busted another seam), flannel only buttoned halfway, and Bob's meticulously painted his skin to create the appearance of a skeleton.

There's a last-minute addition of fangs and a singular, white contact because, in the Reader's words, Rhett's eyes were far too sweet and made him look friendly rather than scary.

The party is massive.

Leave it to Mickey to pull some strings and get a damn venue in San Diego for the party when it very well could have been held in his Aunt's backyard again. There are so many people that Bob can't find his friends for a full half hour, and Rhett's actively about to crawl out of his skin if another person stops him for a picture. Half of these people aren't even dressed up!

Natasha is the biggest competition. She's rebuilt her phoenix costume from two years ago, and this time, she has not held back. Has even gone as far as to make proper wings, feathers, and all.

And she would have won, too, if Reuben, the toughest costume judge in the damn city, didn't dock her points for reusing the same theme. Leaving Bob, Reader and Rhett to switch places with her, snatching first place by a hair.

Rhett doesn't take it as a win and is now actively drawing plans for a quote, "costume that don't need no damn luck to win."

With all of the competitiveness, it's a given that the Floytt household is elaborately decorated for Halloween, but not in the way that you'd think.

Bob and Rhett, to the Reader's amusement, are in a silent war with the dad down the street, in trying to create the spookiest house on the street. Cobwebs on the porch and boarded-up windows, a big ghost on the garage, and a damn spider that jumps out at your feet as you walk by.

Oh, and fog machines galore.

All of that effort, and...nobody ever sits outside to hand out candy. Whoever gets home first fills the candy bowl, sets it outside, and settles down with the other two for a cozy night of scary movies. It's all comfy loungewear, soft blankets, and cuddling on the oversized couch, occasionally checking the doorbell camera to watch kids get spooked by the spider.

They did sit outside for the first Halloween spent in the new house. For less than a half hour before Rhett started shivering, and Bobby fell asleep on the porch swing.

Let it be known that Bob's favorite Halloween candy is candy corn, and Rhett actively throws said candy corn at his head. The Reader sometimes gets caught in the crossfire, and it always ends in candy corn being found months later in places it shouldn't be.

[skitter-kitter]

👀👀👀 looking at u with my big ol eyes

Alright here’s a fic I’ve been cooking up for a while. “Mama’s Boy” (title is a work in progress) is a fic set during Halloween where ghosts are able to be seen by normal people and so Lear ends up seeing his mom and getting to have one last conversation with her. However, it doesn’t go well as he’s forced to confront everything he’s gone through by someone he can’t lie to.

Lear gasped for air in what breaths his body would allow him, the broken sound feeble and unbecoming of royalty. “I missed” — he accidentally cut himself off with a heaving gasp as another wave of anguish ran through him — “you, too. Dad— he didn’t— he— I missed you. I missed you so much, Mom.”

“I know what he did,” Clementine muttered in his ear. Her tone changed from the adoring, soft tones she addressed him with to a harsh, bitter tone. Her long, beautiful black hair ran over her back and around her shoulders. Lear tried his best to not get snot on it, though he could not save her shirt from the same fate. “You don’t have to lie to me. Neither of you should have ended up like that after I died, I thought he would have been better to you, but he wasn’t. I thought nothing would change. That was my fault. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Lear asked. His arms were wrapped around her stomach, constricting so tight he might as well have been pretending to be an Arbok. His mom leaned her head away from him, prompting him to do the same. The prince could only manage a few inches of distance from her, but her loving smile almost managed to make him forget about it.

Clementine lifted her hand to his cheek, wiping away his tears and removing his glasses in the same motion. She folded them up and placed them on the collar of his jacket. Their matching purple eyes met; something seemed to shatter in her when she looked at him. The queen looked at him like he was the sun in her galaxy. Lear looked at her like he looked at the stars, yearning for a life he knew he could never have. A mother who would never survive.

“For the way your tutors treated you.” Lear’s eyes widened and his mind went silent. He stopped crying. His mother’s expression fell, but it didn’t kickstart his heart. “I’m— I’m sorry, Lear, I didn’t know he would react like that. If I had, I would have done something, I promise you.”

“How do you know about that?” Lear’s voice was frosty and horrified. From the opposite side of the front hall, he felt someone react to his heightened emotions. He stared at Clementine like he would Giovanni or any other threat to his safety. “No one is supposed to know, and you were dead, so who in the hell told you?”

Lear couldn’t help the way his body was shaking, couldn’t help the betrayal surging through his blood, but he could help himself from touching this— this fake! His mother was dead. Whoever was in front of him, whoever dared to apologize for something they had no right knowing about, didn’t deserve his touch. His skin crawled with disgust as he pushed himself away from Clementine’s imposter.

His back slammed against the railing, leaving him with two choices. He could stay and face this liar— or he could jump and hope Hoopa would catch him in time. It was harder to find the unending trust that had been there moments earlier.

Tears ran down his face, but this time they weren’t ones of relief but of fury. Or, at least, that’s what the prince wanted to believe. From his mother’s perspective, he knew she would see nothing but a terrified child scrambling away from her. But, she was wrong. Lear wasn’t a kid anymore! He was a self-sufficient adult… who was still scrambling away from her with tears falling down his face.

[hbyrde36]

Chapter 5!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 ao3 link

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

It had taken Steve and Robin all afternoon to find an outfit that was not only appropriate for the occasion, but that he would actually be willing to wear. Some of the pieces Robin tried to talk him into were more straps than clothing. When he’d complained, she rolled her eyes and called him a prude.

Neither of them actually knew what the proper attire for a freak party was, but they assumed it was similar to any other kink event or play party. In the end, Steve had settled on a pair of tight black leather pants that laced all the way up the sides, tying on either side of his groin. The shirt was short sleeved and made entirely of sheer black mesh. He wore thick leather cuffs on each forearm, although those had more to do with having additional weapons hidden on him, than for the aesthetic. He already owned a pair of black boots so at least he didn’t have to break in new footwear to complete the look. 

Robin followed him home, just in case he needed help getting any of the garments on, and wound up talking him into a little bit of eyeliner. When Steve finally looked in the mirror, he expected to look ridiculous. Like he was wearing some god awful Halloween costume. But he had to admit, the little bit of makeup really did make his eyes pop, and the pants made his ass look great. It was almost a shame that the only people that would be seeing him like this were those he would never in a million years consider dating. 

“So, tell me about this girl Chrissy.” Robin prodded, as she gathered her things.

“Honestly I don’t really know much about her besides what she likes to do in her free time. She’s gorgeous, hell of a dancer, and after spending a little time with her I can say she seems very sweet and kind. Kinda funny too.”

“Damn, she's probably straight though, right? Is she straight? I mean, I'm not sure about the whole vampire biting thing, but who am I to judge?”

Steve laughed, Robin was getting flustered and rambling at a vague description of Chrissy, god knows how bad it would be if she ever saw her in person. 

“I don’t know for sure but I was definitely getting at least bisexual vibes from her. Maybe once this is all over I'll see about introducing the two of you.”

Robin smiled and poked him in the chest. “I hope she knows I'm counting on her to keep you out of trouble tonight.”

“I’ll be fine Robin, we’re just…gathering intel, and if anything does go wrong at least i’ll be slightly better armed this time.”

They walked out together. Robin was heading home for the night, and Steve was due to pick up Chrissy soon.

Robin paused at the door to her car, turning towards him.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything until I knew more, but with you going to this party…I just want to make sure you watch your back. I got wind of a rumor that some of the more zealous vampire haters are trying to put together a death squad. I don’t think they’d hit an event with that many witnesses or humans, but you never know.”

He nodded. “I still doubt that human amateurs, even a group of them, could be doing this, but I'll be careful. Let me know if the rumor becomes anything more.” 

-

Steve is a bit stunned at first, when Chrissy comes out the front door of Guilty Pleasures. If this girl had been the one to walk on stage last night, he wouldn’t have second guessed her presence. She wore fishnets tucked into thigh-high boots with a 5 inch heel. Her top was essentially a bra made of the same  shiny vinyl material as her skirt. Straps criss-crossed her upper body in a way that made it look like she was tied up. She'd even done her nails. They were shiny, black, and so pointed it looked like they could break skin.

It was so different from the style he had seen her in so far. He wondered which was the real Chrissy. He figured it probably lay somewhere in between. Most people were not all one thing, it was something he needed to keep reminding himself. 

She threw open the car door, blinding smile on her face. “Steve! You did so good, you look great!”

Bondage wear or not, this girl simply radiated sunshine when she was happy.

He blushed. “Thanks. I can’t take all the credit, my friend Robin helped.” 

“I see. She talked you into the eyeliner too, I'm guessing?”

“Yea. don’t tell anyone, but I kind of like it” he said conspiratorially. 

“Your secret's safe with me”

-

It takes them about twenty minutes to get to the party, which was apparently being held in someone’s nice upper-middle-class house just outside of the city. On the way, Chrissy had explained to him their cover story. Steve was her new boyfriend. They met at the club and had been dating for a few weeks now. He became interested in the scene after seeing her act on stage, and hearing stories about the parties. That’s why they were here tonight, so he could see for himself. Everyone knew why she stopped coming, this provided a good excuse for her return. 

It was still light out when they parked and got out of the car. Steve was doing his best not to feel self conscious about his appearance, but couldn’t stop himself from looking up and down the quiet street. He saw more than one set of curtains twitch and groaned internally.  

Chrissy took his arm, patting him lightly on the bicep and steered him towards the front door. A woman opened it as they approached, her outfit a mirror of Chrissy’s, except all in red. The woman smiled lecherously at his date for a moment, expression turning to disgust when her eyes flicked over to Steve. 

“Gwen.” Chrissy said, in place of a greeting. Her voice was colder than Steve had ever heard it.

“Good to see you, Chris. This the guy?” Gwen asked, hooking a thumb in his direction. 

“Yes, this is Steve.” Chrissy replied, tightening her hold on him. He took the hint and leaned in, 

dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

Gwen glared at them before turning on her heel and stalking off further into the house.

“Friend of yours?” He asked, smirking.

“Ex-girlfriend, actually.”

Well, that answered that question. 

“You have excellent taste.” He teased, sarcastically.

She threw her head back and laughed as she elbowed him hard in the ribs.

They mingled in the main room with everyone else who had arrived early. The vampires, of course, wouldn’t show until full dark, but more human partygoers were expected too. Steve wasn’t sure what he would do once the party really got underway, he was sorta winging it tonight. He had told Chrissy he was trying to be more open minded, and he was, but that didn’t mean he would allow himself to be bitten. Not even for a cover story. That was a problem for later. For now, he would smile, be charming, and hope a clue fell in his lap. 

Apart from Gwen, everyone he met was warm and welcoming. He was assured over and over again that there was no pressure to participate if he was nervous, most people were the first time. Several of his new acquaintances told him stories about their first parties and gradually Steve started to relax. He hadn’t expected these people to be so friendly. It was a nice surprise, and went a long way to prove that he was wrong for judging before. 

He learned that it wasn’t all about the vampires either. Yes, most of the people there wanted to be fed-on tonight, but many would then pair off with their own dates or friends to enjoy some private play time in the other rooms. Some slept with their vampire partners, but just as many didn’t. No one pretended like the vampires weren’t dangerous, in fact that seemed to be part of the appeal. The event organizers did apparently try their best to only invite vamps with good reputations, and so far there had only been a handful of incidents like Chrissy’s.

New guests trickled in regularly over the course of the first hour, and at some point Steve had stopped looking at the door every time it opened. He was sitting on a couch with Chrissy in his lap, deep in conversation about baking, of all things, with a very good-looking guy who was there on his own. They were interrupted by a loud throat clearing. 

Thank god he was already sitting because he might have fallen over in surprise when he saw who was now standing in front of him, clad in nothing but a hot pink bra and panty set, with shoes to match.

“Nancy?”

And really, he shouldn’t have been so surprised.

“Fancy meeting you here! Who’s your friend?” She asked, giving the girl in his lap a curious once-over.

“This is Chrissy.”

“Nice to meet you.” Nancy said, and it almost sounded genuine. She was definitely the better actor of the two of them.

He scanned the immediate area for Nancy’s companion, but she didn’t appear to be with anyone.

“No date?” He finally asked.

“Not tonight.”

It was curious. He recalled Chrissy’s insistence that he would need an escort, since this was his first time. If Nancy was here without a date, did that mean she was in the community? It had to be an act, there was no way the Nancy he knew was an actual freak, no offense to his date.

Some things were starting to come together for Steve. Is this how Nancy got her inside information? Talk about the proverbial fox in the henhouse. He wondered what these people would think if they knew they were helping her hunt vampires. 

He had so many questions, but he knew better than to ask them in front of present company. Actually, he knew better than to ask at all. Nancy would tell him what she was up to, if, and only if, she wanted him to know. 

He looked up at Chrissy, intending to ask her if she wanted to get a drink, as a valid excuse for walking away, but he stopped when he realized she had gone extra pale and stiff. She stared out the window, where the night had finally grown dark. He leaned in to whisper in her ear. 

“Are you okay?”

She leaned into him, whispering back. “It’s dark. They’ll be here soon.” Poor girl was shaking like a leaf.

“Do you need to go? It’s okay if you do.” Steve said.

This is exactly what he had been worried about. Nothing they could learn tonight was worth re-traumatizing her. He’d figure this out one way or another, but not at her expense. 

She looked at him with wide wet eyes. ”But, we didn’t learn anything yet.”

Privately, Steve begged to differ. He had learned quite a bit this evening, though nothing that would be helpful to the case.

“It’s okay,” He assured her, trying to put every ounce of sincerity he could into his face and voice. 

She looked into his eyes for a long time, weighing his words, probably trying to determine if he was telling the truth.

“Can we step out back for some air and I'll see how I feel?”

They excused themselves and Steve was relieved when Nancy let them go with only a nod and a wave. He was sure he’d be hearing from her later. 

Outside, Chrissy pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her small purse and quickly lit up. Steve was surprised she smoked, was surprised that anyone did these days really, but he didn’t comment on it. She was a grown woman and could do what she liked.

They stood in comfortable silence in the dimly lit backyard. Steve was lost in his own thoughts when a chill slowly snaked its way up his spine, the skin on his arms breaking out in goosebumps. Power emanated from somewhere out in the dark. It was a familiar energy and he felt compelled to follow it. 

He turned to Chrissy, ready to ask her to wait here while he checked it out. One look at her closed-off expression reminded him of why they were outside in the first place, and he knew he couldn’t leave her here alone. 

She spotted him looking at her and quirked a brow in question. 

He kept his voice low. “I feel power. Someone nearby is performing some kind of magic or ritual. I think we should check it out.”

“We?”

“Of course, you're my partner tonight.” He smiled, letting their shoulders bump briefly. ”Let’s go investigate.”

She smiled back, and though he didn’t like putting her in harm's way, it might just be worth it to see her become more herself again. There was no guarantee she’d be safe if she stayed behind anyway. 

The backyard of the house was surrounded by a tall privacy fence, but there was a gate in the back corner that led to the property abutting this one. Chrissy kept an arm on Steve's shoulder for stability as they crossed the short yard, walking through the gate and into the thin band of trees beyond. He had no doubt she was suddenly regretting her choice of footwear for the evening, but it’s not as if either of them knew they’d be stalking through the woods that night.

Past the trees was the back end of an old farm. The farmhouse itself was way out in the distance, but about 30 yards to the right of where he and Chrissy stood, were the remains of an old private cemetery. The night was dark, almost pitch black when the moon ducked behind the clouds, but thanks to the boost in powers granted to him by whatever the fuck Eddie had done, Steve could see the small group gathered within it perfectly.

The vampire, Tommy, was there, along with a handful of others that Steve didn’t recognize. In the center of it all was Martin. A goat lay off to the side, dead. It looked like the man was trying, and apparently failing, to raise a zombie.

They should probably have turned around right then and gone back to the house. Nothing good could come from interrupting, but Steve needed to find out what was going on here. It couldn’t be a coincidence that they were here, could it?

Steve kept Chrissy behind him as they approached. He knew, in all likelihood, that the vampires had already sensed their presence. Sure enough, several sets of eyes turned to them when they reached the boundary of the small cemetery. 

“You heard the boss. If you don’t raise this zombie, you’re done, dead, and I get to do whatever I want with you.” Tommy hissed at Martin. He seemed to enjoy the way the man cowered back from him in fear. 

Steve didn’t like the guy, hadn’t liked him from the beginning, but he couldn't stand by and watch Tommy torture and kill another human being. He just couldn’t. 

He walked up to Martin, ignoring the sounds of protest from the surrounding vampires. The other man watched him with suspicious eyes. Steve quickly assessed the situation. It looked to him as if the other animator had done everything right, and he had certainly felt powerful enough.  

The ritual to raise the dead was a fairly simple one. You needed a sacrifice, usually a chicken but occasionally something bigger, and to draw enough blood to create a circle around the intended grave. The rest of it came down mostly to an individual’s power. Steve didn’t bother with a lot of theatrics, he didn’t need them. For him, raising zombies came easy, second nature. Most of the other animators he’d met, however, needed words and special tools to guide their practice. 

“What seems to be the problem?” Steve finally asked.

“She’s too old. The woman Billy asked me to raise. I tried, but..”

They both kept their voices low, though the effort was futile with the vamps superior hearing. 

“What does he want with her?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I think it’s just an excuse to kill me. He knew I couldn’t do it” He sounded resigned.

“We’ll see about that.” Steve declared.

“You raise a lot of 100 year old zombies, Harrington?”

“No. But, we could do it together.”

“Why?”

“I can’t stand by and watch them kill you knowing I could have stopped it.”

Martin only paused for a moment before nodding. He knew he was in no position to refuse. 

“How do you want to do this?” He asked.

“Follow my lead.” Steve wasn’t sure how to explain what they had to do. He didn’t truly know himself, only had a feeling about what was needed. He would follow his instincts like Wayne had taught him. They rarely steered him wrong.

A knife lay on the ground by his feet, It was obvious that this was the tool used in the sacrifice. Steve snatched it from the ground, grimacing at the blood coating its blade. He went to wipe it off on his own shirt before realizing the sheer cloth would do little to clean it. He reached over to grip the front of Martin’s button down shirt and pulled. Buttons flew as it popped open. The other man sucked in a harsh breath, but said nothing as Steve used the cloth to wipe off the knife. 

Steve's eyes flicked down, noticing the necklace Martin wore for the first time. It must have been hidden under the shirt. It was an unusual piece of jewelry, a chunky pendant made from several different stones that hung from a thick cord. It also pulsed with its own aura of power. He wondered what it was for. There wasn't time to dwell on it now, but Steve added it to the list of things he needed to figure out. 

He took the now clean-ish blade and ran it across his palm. The power in the circle thrummed weakly as his blood welled up along the cut. Steve handed the blade to the other man, hilt first. He took it, wincing as he cut himself in the same fashion.

“Now, drop the blade and face me.” Steve instructed.

He reached his bleeding hand out, using it to hold the other man’s upper arm. Martin caught on, quickly mirroring the position. 

When his hand made contact with Steve, it completed a circuit between them.  The blood circle flared to life, power flowed thick, filling the space around them. 

Steve closed his eyes, using his other sense to seek out the intended target. When he found her, he could almost see it in his mind. There was no body, per se, in the old wooden box, not this many years later. All that was left now was a collection of bones and bits of cloth. Steve gathered all that power and pushed it into them, willing the body to reform and crawl its way to the surface. 

The ground beneath his feet rippled and Steve kept his eyes shut. He always hated this part. 

He’d watched in the beginning, of course, when he was learning how to harness his powers. It was important to understand the full process, or so Wayne had told him. Where others seemed to watch on in fascination, Steve felt nothing but horror when he watched the earth turn over, spewing out the undead like a bizarre mockery of birth. 

Realizing how much it bothered Steve, it was Wayne who had suggested he keep his eyes closed until the magic was through with its work. He thought it would make him appear unprofessional and worried that his father would think he was weak. “I wouldn’t worry too much about what your father thinks, son. Man’s a jackass” Wayne had said. “And most folks don’t pay enough attention to notice. Those that do, will just assume you're concentrating extra hard. This is your craft, you do it the way that makes you feel best.”

Chrissy gasped somewhere off to his left. He’d almost forgotten she was there. The ground stilled as he opened his eyes, snapping his head in her direction. She stared at him, expression unreadable, but she was fine. Thank god. 

Billy chose that moment to step out from behind a nearby tree, Dustin following close behind. He clapped slowly as he approached. They must have been watching the show. 

“That was quite a thing to see, wasn’t it folks?” Billy said, with his arms thrown wide, voice filling the night air. He wore a wide smile that looked anything but happy. 

“Well, Brenner, are you going to just stand there, or are you going to thank Stevie-boy here for temporarily saving your ass?”

Steve froze. Brenner? 

He had thought the man looked familiar before, but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on why at the time. Now, Steve had the sinking feeling that he knew exactly where he’d seen this guy before.

Raising the dead was not a common ability, and there were precious few animators in the United States.  In a group that exclusive, it was big news when one of them died. It was considered polite to attend the funeral, even if you didn’t know the other animator personally. 

Hearing that name again, Brenner, Steve knew in his bones that he had attended this man’s funeral not one year ago. How was it possible? The necklace? He knew that type of magic existed, but it was rare. Too hard to find practitioners willing to do it, and the spell always came at a very steep cost. It begged the question, what was Martin Brenner doing to keep himself alive?

The other animator turned to look at him, a quiet ‘thank you’ falling from his lips easily. Brenner looked into his eyes and Steve knew he couldn’t hide it. It would show all over his face that he had finally recognized the man.

Brenner paled. His hand thoughtlessly reached towards the thing at his neck before he realized and stopped the motion. 

“Are you going to tell them?” He mouthed the question at Steve, not even daring to whisper.  

“I haven't decided yet” Steve replied, tight lipped. He was furious, no longer sure he had done the right thing in helping this man. He had to walk away, he needed a minute to think. 

He strode away, vaulting the low wall that bordered the cemetery, and heading towards the tree line. 

Billy was at his side in an instant. Steve hadn’t heard him move. The vampire licked his lips as he circled Steve like a shark.

“Damn Harrington, you dirty up real good don’t you? Picture perfect in all that black and covered in blood. Like a gift wrapped up in a big red bow. Eddie’s going to kick himself for missing this.”

Steve was fuming. He knew there was no answer that would satisfy him but he couldn’t stop himself. 

“What was the point of all this, Billy? If you want to kill the guy why not just do it, why make it some sort of sick game?”

“Because games are fun Steve-o. I think we all need a little more fun in our lives, don't you? What do you care anyway? It seems to me that you don’t even like the guy.”

“It doesn’t matter if I like him, and what about the zombie, huh? That poor woman you asked him to raise for no good reason?”

“What about her?”

Steve would never get Billy to understand why it bothered him. The fact that this zombie used to be a human being, and she didn’t deserve to have her memory disrespected this way. He’d try another tactic. 

“What will it take for you to let me put her back, right now, unharmed?”

He looked Steve up and down, lingering on his left hand. The one he’d sliced open.

“Let me have a taste.”

Steve didn’t know what his face was doing, but his disgust at the request must have shown loud and clear. 

“Oh don’t give me that look. I won’t bite, just let me lick the blood from your palm and she’s all yours.”

Who would lay the zombie to rest if he didn’t? What would they do to her remains if he refused? Oh god. He was actually going to do this.

“Fine.”

Billy grinned, pleased. He considered Steve carefully for a moment, seeming to think about how he wanted to do this. He finally made a decision and knelt down in front of him. Steve held his palm out to the vampire, who grabbed it tightly with both hands. One wrapped around Steve's wrist, the other cupping the backs of his fingers.  The position takes him back to the dream with Eddie and it’s all he can do to swallow back the whine building in the back of his throat.

Billy flattened his tongue, licking wide strokes across Steve's palm. It took only a few passes before his hand was clean. Steve tried to pull away, wrongly assuming the task was now done. Billy tightened his grip, probing at the cut with the tip of his tongue until blood started flowing freely again. Steve cried out, it stung like a bitch.

He could hear someone running up to them, but he couldn’t drag his gaze away from Billy. He wasn’t completely under his power. The pull wasn’t as strong as last time, but Steve could still feel the vampire’s will pressing against his own. Knocking on his mental walls and trying to gain entrance. 

“Stop it Billy!” Chrissy yelled. Now standing only a few feet away from them. “You promised he wouldn’t be hurt! Let him go!”

Steve’s heart sank. Was she working for him? Had he been wrong to trust her?

She looked anxiously between the two of them. Tears streamed down her face.

Billy raised his mouth from Steve’s skin, blood staining his lips. “I’m not harming him, sweet thing.”

She stepped closer, as if getting ready to physically separate them. Steve didn’t know if she was truly on his side or not, but, damnit, he didn’t want to see her get hurt.

“Stay back, Chrissy, I made a deal. It’s okay.”

Someone pulled her back, and Steve was grateful. He’s pretty sure it was Dustin, unless one of the other vamps was also short with a mop of unruly curls. 

The assault on his mind was getting harder and harder to ignore. His newfound powers clearly had limits, and he wasn’t sure what would happen if he didn’t get away from Billy soon. 

“How are you resisting me so well, Harrington? You were all but putty in my hands last time.”

Steve didn’t know how to respond. He knew it was because of Eddie, that he had made him a human servant, or whatever, but he didn’t really know what that meant. Somehow, he knew it would be a bad idea to let Billy find out about it. 

A gunshot rang out in the distance, sounding like it came from the direction of the party. It was Steve’s saving grace, as the group of vampires scattered and only Billy and Dustin remained. Brenner took advantage of the distraction, taking off at a sprint towards the farmhouse. 

Shouts and the sound of fighting were carried to them on the wind. Billy looked torn. Finally, he dropped Steve’s hand.

“I will find out how you are resisting me, human. You can count on that.”

Then he was gone. So fast Steve didn’t even know what direction he went. Dustin and Chrissy both rushed over to him. She started babbling apologies so quickly it made his head spin. 

“I”m sorry Steve, i’m so sorry. Billy made me promise to tell him anything you found out about the murders. I haven't even told him anything yet, I swear. I’m sorry, I didn’t have a choice. Please forgive me. I was so scared, and with Eddie gone…”

He couldn’t be mad at her. This wasn’t her fault. She was as much a victim here as anyone else. He had to shout her name a few times to get her attention, but eventually she stopped her ramble long enough to hear him.

 “It’s okay, Chrissy. I understand. I’m not mad, alright?”

He wrapped himself around her in a one-armed hug and she melted into him, quietly sobbing.

Dustin watched the two of them curiously, small smile playing on his lips. Steve knew what the kid must be thinking, and he should probably have corrected him, said that it wasn’t like that with her, but it wasn’t exactly his top concern at the moment.

“Thanks for holding her back, buddy. Don’t take this the wrong way, but, what are you still doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you two were okay.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. With all of the vampires now gone, he was obviously okay. So…

“Okay, okay, fine. I did want to make sure you were fine, but I also don’t know how to do that nifty quick disappearing trick yet.”

Steve laughed. God, he was still so…Dustin.

“I don’t think there's a trick to it, kid. I think vamps can just run really really fast.”

“Huh.” Dustin hummed, as if he hadn’t thought of that.

“How about I give you a ride, for old times sake?” Steve asked.

“Good Idea. You might need the extra set of hands to get to your car anyway. I don’t like the sound of whatever's happening at that party.”

Chapter 6

[max-cortez]

Strength had been a component instilled within the both of them. Without it, neither would have survived the loss. It came in many forms, some trivial, some essential for the game of life. "You think so?" The artist nipped at the corner of his bottom lip as he drank up every ounce of her attention. It was something he'd found himself in the mood for all too often. Whether it was a long day tattooing strangers and friends alike or quiet hours lodged within his private space, it was the illumination of comfort from her hazel hues that he craved the most at the end of it all.

"It'll take a little be more to make me shake in these boots," he countered, missing a beat or two to swim in the warmth of her gaze a little longer. A sharp breeze swept over him, nipping at every inch of exposed skin. Not even the sun's rays could shield them from the bite. "Oh, we'll make it worth it." Competitive nature aside, standing in her mere presence was far more than enough to face the combative fall breeze.

Naturally, he'd fallen into a routine with the professor and podcast host, though he'd grown all the more curious about the latter. It was her place where he sought out solace, the curve of her body where he'd felt the most at home as they settled in for the night allowed the darkness to lull them to sleep. Grief had pushed him out of his home in Texas, but with Chey, it had taken a different form entirely. Rather than the overwhelming feeling to run, he wanted nothing more than to stay.

Fingers curled into her waist while thumb traced uneven lines into the material of her shirt. What would he carve? It was a million dollar question. Halloween was one of his favorite times of the year, but every thought circled back to the woman at his side. "I don't know?" He echoed the question through a low hum of laughter. Brows pinched together in mock confusion and a smile still inevitably stretched upwards. Whatever she had in mind, it surely topped the nothingness that had settled in his own.

Her hazel eyes, speckled with golden flecks, held a captivating tale that he longed to immortalize on paper. Despite his persistent attempts, he had yet to fully capture the essence of their enchanting allure. "Careful, your competitive nature is showing." He liked that about her, craved it too, even if it meant submitting to a loss. After the terrible thing she'd gone through, she deserved a win and knowing the resilience that riddled her veins, she'd get it.

"I won't steal anything, alright? You have my word." A boyish laugh rumbled from the back of his throat, the hand at her waist giving a firm squeeze of reassurance. To be an artist was a blessing and a curse. The blessing being that he could create on a whim when posed with a challenge, but the curse? Breaking away from the muse in the form of Chey O'Hara.

If he believed capturing her essence was difficult on paper, the canvas of an uneven pumpkin would have posed even more of a challenge. Besides, what kind of lover boy was he mentally attempting to be?

Max drank up the warmth of the brunette's petite frame and stood with a bated breath as she lingered close. His own arm slipped further around her, fingers now splayed across her stomach as his gaze dropped to her lips. Jaws. Of course it would be something outside of the typical box. "I'm familiar," he assured with a beaming smile. "You weren't kidding about giving me a run for my money."

The tattoo artist forced air into his lungs, the close proximity causing her perfume to flood his mind as it had many times before. How was he supposed to think about anything else? "Honestly... I was just going to roll with the first thing that comes to mind when I started. Sometimes no plan is the best plan." Given that he was able to detach himself from her side, a feat he wasn't thrilled about conquering anytime soon.

@cheyohara

“Maybe I just know my strengths,” Chey gently argued. “And, for that matter, perhaps I know yours too.” There was a smile on her lips that beamed up to the tattooed man she stood with at the farm, surrounded by orange and themed decorations, yet the professor had a difficult time peeling her gaze away from the artist laying down a challenge. “Is it a threat that makes you shake in the those boots a little,” the brunette questioned, a single brow arching in amused curiosity. Without a doubt Chey knew he’d lie to her and say yes but she always enjoyed the back and forth game they played.

Possibly a little too much.

“If not, then it’s not really worth it, is it?” A smirk tugged at her full lips as the glint of her tease flashed at the man her heart had become increasingly confused over.

While most people wouldn’t look at Max and think artist, Chey knew a lot better. Not only had she been witness to the types of lines and scenes he could make with the stroke of his hand and a needle, but the stargazer had seen the way he appreciated all that surrounded him. The way he took in colors, shapes, and moments— appreciating them in ways that she hadn’t stopped to consider. Well, that would always be something she admired of the man that had been at her side for months. In her humble opinion, Max truly had it, the artist’s eye. 

Sometimes there was really nothing that could prepare Chey for the way he touched her and how her body reacted to it. That large hand on the dip in her back had shifted to grip her side when she’d turned to face Max and all the brunette wanted to do then was melt into his touch. In that moment, she would’ve given anything for that strong arm to wrap securely around her waist and be held against him.

In the darkness of the past quarter of the year, the artist had been a source of great comfort for her, and while that was never confused she sometimes ventured back to the night they’d met. A time where his hands had molded her body and brought the woman out of her, so many times. So easily. The thought, his touch had produced a heat that crawled up her neck and kissed her cheeks. The flush could easily be explained away with the bite of the cold, but instead of pulling away immediately Chey lingered in the heat coming off his larger frame. 

Speaking of fire…

There was a challenge that had been laid out and the professor quickly came crashing back to reality, eyes and instinct focused on giving it her best shot. Winning the competition ultimately held no real weight for her aside from the fun that would be had in the process. What really mattered to Chey was impressing the man that had become so entangled in her life.

“I don’t know,” the brunette rasped then cleared her throat, all that had flooded her at a simple touch pushed out of the forefront of her thoughts, “what if my idea is better than yours and you try to steal it? Or, better yet, pick something different because I struck fear in you and now you’ll have to go further above and beyond.”

While Chey’s idea was solid and would look pretty good when a finished carving, she really needed not speak such a big game. This wasn’t the bar, they weren’t entering a game of pool or darts.

Then, under the guise of the chill in the autumn air and not wanting the fellow contestants to overhear, the professor’s arm wrapped around Max as she hugged onto him. “I’m gonna do the Jaws cover. You know, with the swimmer on the water’s surface and the shark rising up from the depths?” Hazel reached up to those dark, soulful eyes and a little smile tugged at her mouth. “What about you?” / @max-cortez

[milagrosen]

Next..The Return of the Witch☾

[yandere-sins]

Good Omega

a/n: Halloween part one! I was actually a bit surprised someone would request A/B/O!AU for this, but I can never deny a bit of omegaverse for the soul ♥

Fandom: Original Content     Pairings: Yandere!Alpha!Werewolf x GN!Omega!Reader   Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Lemon!, Omegaverse kind of sexual, Overall horniness, going into heat, Genderneutral genitals and then one cock, Creampie mention, Impregnation wish, ...Beastiality? Do Werewolves count in that? It is lowkey consensual tho lol, But of course Dub-Con), Violence (Off-screen murder mention, Blood mention, Claws mention, Biting/Marking mention, Minor Injuries like scratches and bruises, Fear, Dread), Hunting/Chasing (non-kink)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

With your breathing wrecked from the untrained sprint your forced your legs into, you crashed into the thicket surrounding you.

The forest was never-ending tree trunks in your way, bushes tearing at your clothes and skin, sucking out the blood from your cuts and bruises. Dread coated your tongue, and fear choked you, tightening your throat so you could neither swallow nor scream. There was no way for air to go in or out of your lungs, but even so, you kept pushing onwards.

But there was no escape.

"Human," the creature snarled, its heavy body crashing into the trunks behind you, claws ripping off the bark of the trees it clawed into in a cacophony of horror. "My omega."

Its snout sniffing after you was so loud, so eager. So pleased. He could have been right behind you or still far away, yet, the sound grated over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your breath hitched, and a low growl of knowing echoed through the forest.

"You can't run from me. I know where you are."

Falling to his four legs, he left thuds whenever he landed on them, bolting, running, hunting. You choked back a scream as you kept moving, an especially tough branch getting stuck on your shirt, ripping off a scrap of it. You turned, briefly, holding the side of your chest and feeling the scratch bleed over your fingers. It will keep him busy, you thought, hurrying along before he could catch up.

You didn't deserve any of this. Not the exercise much too hard for your poor body, and not the pain going through every muscle while adrenaline and fear kept you moving against their wishes. Your Halloween had been supposed to be a fun party night with friends, walk the streets, laugh at silly costumes, and admire the carved pumpkins. But when you sat down on some tree trunks, laughing and drinking, things turned into the horror movies you'd secretly watch when you were still a teen, thinking they could never be real.

The costume had looked so sick but amazing. Faux fur intricately weaved into a bodice and mask. No one had feared the person approaching your group, everyone much more in awe than anything. But you couldn't have known that this wasn't a friendly encounter. That the full moon illuminating the forest ground had been an indication, the warning signs in front of the forest entrance weren't just for the common wildlife, but every life!

A howl rattled through your bones as the werewolf following you must have found your blood-smeared piece of fabric. It made your gut turn, wanting to throw up the alcohol you had consumed. But there was no time to idle. No time at all. Your core clenched with ecstatic fear as the sound vibrated through your ears, a throbbing sensation going through you every time the beast did anything to let you know it was right behind you.

You had no idea what was wrong with you, a part of your brain so muddled by your feelings it wanted you to lay down into a submissive mess, ass presented in the air for your pursuer. At the same time, your sanity and reason were appalled by your sudden need pulsing between your legs.

"I'll make you mine," the creature growled, no longer occupied by the shabby piece of fabric after having a whiff of you. "Cease this chase, Omega, or I'll make sure you won't be walking for a long time after I'm done with you."

There was something excitingly dominant about the creature calling you his and asking you to give up. You knew—you knew—it was crazy to consider, but maybe you were infected by a poison that had gotten into your bloodstream after getting cuts and stings all over your body in this forest? Perhaps it was the alcohol? But whatever excuse, you felt your face flush with heat, and you bit back a moan.

More growling. More throbbing.

You resisted and kept moving. But for how long would you be able to? When would it stop? Where was the exit to the forest? Did you want to leave?

"Fuck!" You could hear his fangs snapping angrily as his body bumped into the trees you had just passed. He was so close to you now, and a breathtaking odor filled your nose, making you gasp, your legs wobbly.

"I can smell you, Omega. You're so fucking wet. Why do you keep running from me?!"

"Go… go away!" Finally, you found your voice, screaming the words as loudly as you could, desperation and fear choking the building lust inside you into silence. That monster killed your friends! Chopped them right up, and you were next! This was no time to get horny! Your body's reaction to being chased by a six-foot-tall monstrosity was genuinely unhelpful. Why did it make you want to spread your legs in the middle of this dirty, thorny forest ground so badly?

"NEVER!" it echoed back, and you shuddered, the last resistance giving away with your legs that could no longer support you.

Sinking to the ground, it wasn't the painful roots and leaves combo you expected, but soft moss welcoming you into a cool embrace. The air, too, felt icy even though it had been an unexpectedly warm day. Had the temperature dropped, or were you just unimaginably hot from all the running?

The heavy footsteps approached you, animalistic snarling and teeth snapping together gave you a visceral reaction shooting through your whole body and into your loins. Whimpering, you squeezed your legs together, trying to hold back the tears as the sight of the monster came into view. Clasping a hand over your mouth, a smell so sweet it threatened to overwhelm you with pleasure, your heart demanding to be let out of your chest while your remaining clothes got soaked in your juices.

"Please be quick," you sobbed into your palm, tears overflowing. You didn't want to die. You didn't want to be mere blood dripping out of his murderous snout with teeth sharper than any thorn caught against your skin. Closing your eyes, you were shivering as he drew closer, his gaze scanning over you. It was like he could see right through you, and you hoped his nose wasn't actually good enough to really smell all the nasty reactions you had to him. He wasn't a very good-looking monster, shaggy, unkempt. And yet, at the same time, you wanted to wrap your arms around his neck, let him take you one last time before you'd die.

But now that your body had given up, what else was there for prey to do but wish for a quick and painless death?

"Omega," the werewolf snarled, lowering onto all four feet so he could crouch over you. The snout drew along your face, down to your neck and your instinct was to bare it to him, the slimy feeling of his tongue dragging down your skin, the long muscle wrapping around your throat appreciatively, making the small scratches sting but your heart race.

"Good," he grunted, the praise hitting you with a jolt of pleasure right in your core. Letting out another whimpered moan, you bit your finger, trying to muffle your reactions, and he grunted in response. "Finally you get it."

"Get what?" you babbled. "What's happening to me?"

One clawed hand found its way under your shirt, and you gasped, feeling the rough pads of his palm stroking over your skin, a burning hot sensation left behind after every touch. Lowering his body to yours, he gripped your waist—looking mightily tiny in his huge grip—and pressed you up and against him, a bulging, throbbing resistance meeting your hips as you crashed into his.

This time, you could not hold back the gasp, and he took his chance, sliding his tongue down yours, burying it deep in your throat. You were choking on the eagerly exploring muscle, a mix of saliva and blood coating the rough texture of his tongue. Yet, you couldn't help but relish in the affection, cupping his elongated face with your hands. Wiggling only caused more friction between your bodies, and you weren't the only one moaning. However, the creature's version sounded gruff and desperate, not as lovely as yours.

"You're in heat, Omega. When we met, your body recognized what it was meant to be. Soon you'll need me so much it'll drive you insane."

"I- I don't… what?" you asked, dazed by the disgusting yet almost intoxicating taste still running down your throat even after the werewolf released you. He made no sense to you, neither his words nor why he kept calling you "Omega" or why he hadn't killed you yet. In fact, he was almost gentle handling you, as much as his mutated body allowed. "What will happen?"

"You'll go insane, little Omega. I will have to rut you, fill you with my seed. Mark you, nest you, take care of you. Until you are satisfied with me, I won't rest."

Fuck. What was he going to do? Rut you? Fill you? Mark you? Didn't that sound divine–

"WHAT?" you screamed, suddenly snapping back to reality. His ears folded in an angry expression, the sound positively jarring to sensitive ears. "No! No, no, no! I– No! I can't!"

Your last sentence came out in a pitiful whine, a sound you didn't even know you could make.

"You can," he growled, pressing his hips forward, his cock long and demanding and ready for your tender body to swallow. "And you will!"

"No! No, please, no!" Sobs releasing from your throat, you clasped your hand over your mouth while watching the werewolf's expression grow irritated again. You didn't want to die. You didn't want to die. But you couldn't do this either!

"I'm scared," you whimpered, and the werewolf breathed out in a kind of long sigh, though he relaxed some of the tension in his body.

"No need, little Omega. I'll prepare you. Make good use of this tongue for you. I'll take care of what's mine, and all of this–"

Sitting back on his knees, he gripped your body, lifting you from the ground and onto his lap. You gasped in surprise as he pressed you tightly against his chest, slowly standing up while carrying you without so much but a huff. "All of this omega is mine. I waited so long. I deserve this."

"I still don't understand…" you whimpered fearfully, but your legs betrayed you, wrapping tightly around his waist and pressing you against him. The werewolf let out an appreciative hiss as your fingers scratched over his skin, a purr building and rumbling in his chest. You still didn't know what was going on, except for how warm this body was and how tired you suddenly felt, snuggled into the surprisingly fluffy fur of the monster while his purr vibrated deliciously through you.

"You will, Human," he assured you, putting these strong, crooked legs into motion as he carried you back deep into the forest. Looking over his shoulder, you saw the space opening up beyond a few more trees, your eyes widening as you realized how close you had been to escaping the forest. Perhaps not the werewolf, but almost you had done it. Though it didn't really matter now that you were holding on to him, letting his comforting scent embrace you.

Every movement rubbed you against the creature's body, a massive, thick cock pressing at the entrance between your spread legs. Only the fabrics between you two kept him from rutting right up inside you. Moaning, you buried your face deeper into his shoulder, getting drenched in aphrodisiacal musk, making not just your mouth water. Without warning, you opened your lips, bared your teeth, and bit down.

The monster staggered, a long growl snarling out of his snout before he regained composure, though his steps quickened, urged by desire. "Patience," he gritted out through his teeth, though his husky voice sounded immensely satisfied. His words did not apply to him as his cock twitched against your rear demandingly, the taste of his blood inflaming you more.

"I built you a nest where I'll claim you, and you might too, if you so desire, little omega."

"Mhm," you sighed, leaning against his shoulder drowsily. Nest. That sounded good. Cozy and warm. Hopefully full of blankets and pillows and more of his scent. How far were you gone that you wanted to be buried in his fur while clinging to him?

"Good omega," he purred—purred—and you threw your head back in relish as the sound alone almost pushed you over the edge. "You're so needy and ready for me, aren't you?"

Fuck, you were. There was no denying it.

You hated this. You didn't want to be with this monster, much less accept what he promised to do to you. But your body betrayed you, writhing in his grasp, letting his cock dry hump you all the way to his cave. You knew as the darkness swallowed you that you were done for, but all you could think about was just one more bite, the comfort of a nest, and a cock filling you like the missing puzzle piece to your body.

You knew he'd give it to you, all of it. And when he laid you down into the softest of hides, mixed with the fabrics of clothes, picnic blankets, and anything one could imagine to be found in the forest, you spread your legs, letting him rip off your clothes and cover you with the warmth of his fur before preparing you as he promised, the orgasms never ending as you begged and pleaded for more like a good little slut. Eager to be filled with his seed until your stomach would swell with his pups.

All while you didn't know and didn't care that you were lolling in the bloody clothes of your friends.

It was a small cost for finding your alpha. Some lives in exchange for learning about your true calling. Your destiny.

Because you were a good omega.

[pedrito-friskito]

it takes two - dieter bravo x fem!reader

summary: dieter gets his second shot, and he’ll be damned if he wastes it.

warnings: no angst here my babies! rejoice! oral (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v, dieter is a soft caring motherfucker, fluff, I love these two so much

a/n: fuck I really broke everyone’s heart with seeing double, huh?? I still don’t know where that bit of heartache came from, but it made for some delicious angst, and putting back together what I broke was a blast!

(also new post format? who is she)

series masterlist / main masterlist

Where is it?

Where is it, where is it, where is it?

You’ve looped your way through your apartment at least seven times now, every basket overturned and rummaged through, every closet and cupboard door flung wide open, every bag you own upended onto the ground.

Where the fuck is it?

It’s here. It has to be here.

Defeated, you lean against the kitchen counter, rubbing a hand over your forehead, sipping the Irish coffee you’d made yourself the moment you stepped through the front door. It has to be here, but now that you think about it, you know exactly where it is.

Fuck.

Dieter.

Of course, you left it at his apartment. Shutting your eyes, you know exactly where it is in his condo, slid onto the lower shelf of his coffee table, your name emblazoned across the front cover, one of your favourite pens tucked in the little flap in the leather. Your precious notebook, the refillable kind that has been your crutch since you broke your way into the world of screenwriting. You have stacks of old notes carefully filed at your desk in your apartment, the pages reverently removed from the book and replaced with fresh ones for every new project. If there’s one thing you’ve always been meticulous with, it’s your notes, and that notebook is a lifeline.

Not to mention the new project you’re working on is supposed to start production early December, and here you are, pacing your apartment, the script sitting on your desk, and you don’t have your fucking notes because you left them at your boyfriend’s house.

Ex-boyfriend?

Fuck.

It’s been a few weeks now, since the fiasco on Halloween. Since the awful encounter with discount James Bond and the horrible ending to what could have been a ridiculously sexy night with your favourite human. You hadn’t counted on any of it, the drunken fight, the screaming at each other on the front lawn, your scared confession — the admission that you didn’t feel ready, that you didn’t feel like you belonged in his world, tiptoeing on the edge as you were. The ride home was the longest cab ride you’ve ever taken, reduced to quiet sobs in the backseat that you stifled enough that the driver only looked at you in the rearview twice.

You couldn’t blame him, it was probably quite the sight - a sobbing girl, dressed like Dieter fucking Bravo, clutching a Mandalorian helmet in her lap.

Once you were back in your own apartment, you completely broke down. You were still wearing his clothes, his sunglasses pushing your hair back over your head, his robe too big and hanging off your shoulders, his t-shirt too soft against your skin. You hadn’t even made it to your bed, stopping short in the living room. You crashed on the couch, throw pillow crushed to your chest, and cried yourself to sleep.

You haven’t called, or texted, and neither has he. There’ve been no updates on his Instagram (you’ve checked) and you’re too much of a chicken to make the first move. What is there to say? How do you politely ask someone to give you another chance when you literally left him bleeding on the sidewalk? When you walked out on him when he had only been trying to defend you? 

But he asked. He asked, and it shouldn’t have mattered. That had been the last straw, the thing that sent your mind screaming into a frenzy of I don’t belong here, I shouldn’t be here. “It doesn’t matter,” he’d said, trying to backtrack, but the damage was done. It didn’t matter that you were drunk, or that him launching himself to your defence in the house had been one of the sexier things you’ve ever seen. It didn’t matter.

“If it doesn’t matter, then why the fuck did you ask?”

You scrub a hand over your face, pushing the memories of that night away. At the end of it all, you need your fucking job, and that means you need your fucking notebook. So time to put on your big girl pants and fucking deal with it.

He answers on the third ring. There’s shuffling on the other line, the sound of rustling fabric and his familiar sleepy groan before the sound of his earring clacking against the phone reaches your ears. “Y’okay?” is his first coherent word, and you try to stifle the way your chest gets tight.

“I’m fine,” you reply, propping your phone between your shoulder and your head, knotting your fingers together. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“S’late,” he slurs. He’s not drunk, you know that much; probably stoned, but dead tired. Then you remember: he was in London for a week and a half after Halloween. You were supposed to go with him for part of the trip, but after that night, you’d cancelled your ticket. He’s jet-lagged. “Didn’t expect you to call me.”

“It’s not late,” you say, glancing at your watch. “I’m guessing you’re still on London time.”

“Mmm.”

You chew your lip, foot tapping against the floor. “Listen, I’ll cut to the chase. I left my notebook at your place, the one I use for work. And that new movie I’m working on starts production in a week and I got my script and I really need the note—”

“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes,” Dieter declares, cutting you off, and you nearly choke on your own tongue. “You want Chinese? I’m dying for wonton soup.”

Before you can even protest, the line goes dead.

The next forty-three minutes are spent sprinting around your apartment, cleaning up the empty take-out containers and pizza boxes, evidence if your weepy nights spent watching romcoms on your couch. There are tissues stuffed between the couch cushions, and you’re shoving the lid on the garbage can down when there’s a knock on your door. Every nerve in your body zips to attention, a chill shooting down your spine as you steel yourself, glancing in the mirror beside the front door and fixing your hair before you’re reaching for the knob.

“You’re two minutes early,” you say by way of greeting, door swinging inward to reveal Dieter fucking Bravo. 

Of course, he looks fucking delectable. Dressed in that awful brown fuzzy coat that you thrifted for him — you’d been terrified of his reaction when you told him it was secondhand but he told you bluntly that he didn’t fucking care it’s fucking beautiful — and a cream-coloured button up. His throat bobs as he looks you over same as you’re doing to him, and you’ve got half a mind to hook your fingers in his collar and yank him into your bedroom, but you stuff your hands in the back pockets of your jeans instead.

“Traffic was surprisingly non-existent,” he tells you, and your heart is in your throat as he brandishes your notebook towards you, offering it first. You snatch it out of his hand, crushing it to your chest as you step out of the way so he can step inside, spotting the tied white bag of Chinese take-out in his other hand. You just watch as he heads into your kitchen, stepping out of his shoes. “I went to that place you like, near the laundromat?” He chuckles, setting the bag on your kitchen counter. “They remembered our order.”

You can’t help yourself. “Extra egg rolls?”

He scrunches his brow at you, nearly rolling his eyes as he shrugs out of his jacket. “Obviously. Fortune cookies too.”

God, I love you, is what you nearly say.

“You didn’t have to bring food, D,” is what comes out of your mouth instead, but he just waves you off. “Thank you, for the notebook. I could have come to get it.”

He’s rummaging through your cupboards, finding plates and cutlery. Should you be mad, that he just invited himself over like this? Maybe, but you can’t find it in you. You’re too happy to see him, and the feeling sits on your chest like a little ball of sunshine, warm and bright.

“S’okay,” he says, getting himself a glass of water. “I needed a reason to get out of bed.”

“Jet-lag that bad?”

He groans loudly, head dropping back on his shoulders. “London was hell, babe,” he tells you, the pet name rolling off his tongue so easily your stomach does a backflip. He pauses, sets his glass on the counter, wipes his hand on his jeans. “I missed you, wished you were there.”

You chew your lip, leaning against the kitchen doorway. “Me too.”

“Let’s eat,” he declares, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, “and I…I have something I need to tell you.”

You just nod. “I have wine.”

His head snaps up, eyes widening slightly. “Wine would be good.”

You nod again in agreement, turning to the cupboard that holds the glasses. You don’t miss the way Dieter’s eyes linger on you as you reach up to the second shelf, your sweater riding up in the process. By the time you sink back down onto your toes, he’s clearing his throat and turning towards the kitchen table.

Healthy amounts of wine are poured, and you’re both quiet for a few minutes as you eat. You can’t stop yourself from glancing at him every so often. He looks…different, but the same. It’s only been a few weeks, and his beard has mostly grown back from when he’d trimmed it for Halloween, his hair a bit more wayward. There are dark circles under his eyes, which you know can be partially blamed on the jet-lag and the travelling, but something tells you you are also the reason.

Dieter’s cleared his plate, and you’re twirling noodles on your fork when he speaks, his voice so clear it startles you. He’s got his elbows braced on the table, hands curled around his biceps.

“I love you,” he states, the words casual, simple, like he’s telling you his favourite colour. He hasn’t said them out loud before. Your McDonald’s napkin confession is still pressed between a book in your bedroom. “I’m in love with you, and I’ve been in love with you for a long fucking time now, and if I’m totally honest with you, baby, I still don’t totally know what I did that night that made you so upset, but I know I’m gonna regret it for the rest of my life if it means I’m losing you because of it.”

You lean back in your chair, fork clattering to your plate, noodles discarded. It’s a long moment before you find the courage to look at him, reaching for your wine glass and draining the dregs before you can say anything.

“We were drunk,” you start, and he just nods, his head dipping slightly, eyes removed from your face, focused on his empty plate. “And after that guy threw himself at me, I just…” You shake your head. “I just wanted to go home, and then you asked me if I kissed him and—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupts, and you lift a hand for a moment before letting it rest on the table between you.

“But you asked. You asked, and I just wanted to go home and forget about it, but you kept pushing, D, and it hurt. It hurt a lot, and my drunk brain wanted out.”

His brow hardens, and slowly, he walks his hand towards yours, fingers tiptoeing across the table until they’re curled around your knuckles. “I’m sorry, baby.” He clears his throat. “I’ve been thinking a lot, about what you said that night. That you’re not…built for it, the cameras and the parties and well, me, and I just—”

“I didn’t mean you,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “I never meant you.”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “Good to know. But the paparazzi and the parties and all the bullshit, I know it’s a lot, baby. I do. I hate it. You don’t know how many times I wish I could just turn it off. And you were right, you never asked for any of this, and if you wanted to walk away from that, I wouldn’t blame you. I wouldn’t stop you either.”

His eyes flick to yours, and you stare at each other for a long moment, the air growing thick with tension. He’s offering you an out, specifically, explicitly. If you wanted to walk away from that.

If you wanted to walk away from him.

Slowly, you start to shake your head. His brow twitches before it lifts in question. “I can’t walk away from you, Bravo. Not in a million years.”

Dieter smiles as you push your chair back, getting up and stepping towards him. He moves his own chair back, opening his arms to you as you slide into his lap. His hair is silk beneath your fingers, and you don’t give a fuck about the weird Chinese-and-wine taste on his lips as you kiss him.

“Baby,” he murmurs against your mouth, the word reverent as hell, the closest thing to a prayer you think you’ll get out of Dieter Bravo. He slides one hand up the back of your sweater, palm skimming along warm skin, and your back arches into his touch, familiar and fiery.

Your free hand fists in the front of his shirt, and for a moment, you forget about all of it. The party and the fight and the screaming and all of it. It doesn’t matter — it truly does not fucking matter — and you’ll be damned if you let it get in the way of being with him. Being with your best friend.

His curls wrap around your knuckles as you drag your mouth down, kissing the bare patches in his beard. Lashes fluttering, his head tips back when you tug lightly on his hair, his other hand slipping down to cup your ass through your jeans. “My pretty fucking baby.”

“You’re mine too,” you say into his collar, the words spoken into his skin as you graze your teeth over the thin skin, stifling a moan as he rolls his hips up, chasing yours, the layers of denim between you creating a teasing sort of friction. “You’re my pretty baby too.”

You can feel his grin as you mouth moves back up to his, another kiss pressed to the bare spot along his jaw before you take his bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling lightly, pulling back slightly before you release it. He groans, the hand under your sweater curled around your ribs. You’re not wearing a bra underneath, and it would be all too easy for him to—

“Dieter,” you breathe out as his hand scoops around, deft fingers squeezing your breast, rolling your nipple between his knuckles.

“Tell me, honey,” he nearly purrs, and now it’s his mouth dragging down your jaw, aquiline nose sliding against your throat as your body reacts to his touches. “Tell me what you want.”

“Do you wanna have sex with me?” you ask, the words nearly slurred, accompanied by an erratic roll of your hips.

He kisses your pulse. “Only if that’s what you want.”

“It is, D,” you answer, your voice almost frantic now. “Please, it is, I promise. I want you.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, keeping him close, tugging at his hair until he tilts his face back up to you. “Always.”

You’ve never seen him smile like this, all crinkly-eyed and beaming, and you swear those brown eyes go shiny before he pulls you back in for a kiss. He’s got both hands on your ass now, and with a grunt, he lifts you up and onto the table, blindly moving the plates and glasses out of the way once you’re seated.

It’s a mad scramble after that, your legs hitched around his hips. Your sweater is yanked over your head, your fingers fumbling around his buttons until his shirt hangs open. He lays you back gently, one hand beneath your head, and you choke on a gasp as he leans over you, lowering his head to your chest and sucking on your nipple. You thread your fingers in his hair again, holding him in place while he slides his other hand beneath the waist of your jeans, straight past your underwear, two fingers finding your clit with expert precision as he lets his teeth scrape a little.

“Fuck.”

“Y’know, I musta got myself off twenty times just thinking about the noises you make,” he grumbles, still attached to your chest, pushing at your jeans. “Fuckin’ brain doesn’t do you justice, baby.”

You start to giggle, but it drags into a gasp when he gives you more teeth, getting your jeans undone and tapping your hip.

“Lift,” he commands, and you do, long enough for him to yank the material down your legs, your underwear gone with them.. His mouth leaves your chest only then, laving a path of wet kisses down your stomach. He bites at your hipbone and you keen, his name echoing through the kitchen. “Pretty baby,” he nearly growls, pushing your legs wide, wasting no time spreading your pussy and dragging his tongue through your folds. “Beautiful fucking girl.”

You let out a whimper that sounds pitiful as all hell to your ears, but it sets Dieter off. He sinks to his knees right there on the kitchen floor, both hands hooking around your thighs, sliding your legs over his shoulders as he devours you. He’s relentless, loud with it, slurping at you, sucking at your clit and shoving his tongue as deep as he can. It’s anything and everything, it’s far too fucking much and not nearly enough all at once.

You can feel your orgasm barrelling towards you like a freight train already, and your hand slaps hard against the wood of the table, nails scratching at the surface, other hand knotted in his hair. “D, please,” you groan out, one heel sliding between his shoulder blades. “Ohmigod, fuck, please, please, please.”

“Use your words, baby,” he murmurs into your thighs. “C’mon, don’t be shy.”

“I need your cock, Dieter,” you spit out, his name more like a shout. “Fuck, please, baby.”

Normally, he’d make you work for it. You’ve been in this situation before, his face buried between your thighs and you begging for his cock. Usually, he’d yank another orgasm or two out of you, leaving you dripping and aching to be filled, maybe tease you with a finger or two before he carried you to his bed or yours, before he gave you what you really needed.

This time, there’s none of that. There’s a feral, almost desperate look on his face as he pulls himself back up to stand, hastily undoing his jeans and freeing himself. He’s hard as a rock, stroking himself as he makes a home between your legs. You push up on your elbows, legs hitching over his hips again as he drags the tip of his cock through your soaked pussy. You can’t hold back the mewling noise that falls out of you when he taps himself against your clit, drags himself back down, notched at your entrance and—

—just stands there. Frozen. One hand on his cock, the other splayed on the table beside you, he leans in until his nose is just brushing yours. “Look at me, baby,” he says, his voice soft. “I wanna watch your face while I fuck you, okay? Wanna see that pretty face come undone.”

His words send a zap through you and as he pushes inside you, filling you completely, his hand moves to your throat, fingers wrapped around and squeezing ever so slightly.

“There she is,” he whispers, voice still so soft, but husky and gravelly. “There’s my pretty baby. I fill you up so perfectly, don’t I?” Your eyes flutter shut, and he squeezes your throat, prompting you to answer. “Don’t I?’

“Uh-huh,” you mewl, leaning up into his touch. You pull yourself closer, burying his cock deeper inside you as you inch towards him. Reaching back to grab a handful of his ass, you tilting your face towards his, feeling his fingers twitch up your jaw. “So fucking good.”

“Missed you so much, baby,” he grits, and slowly, starts to move, dragging himself out of you almost completely before he’s sliding back in, gliding easily thanks to how fucking wet you are. “Missed your pretty face and the way you laugh and your touch and your kisses and your pussy and you.” He’s babbling, and his pace starts to pick up as he speaks, hand moving higher up your face until his grip is more on your jaw than your throat. “Don’t ever wanna lose you again, baby,” he whispers, kissing you hard. “Never.”

You shake your head, lips brushing his, pulling him into you. “Never.”

The intensity is next level, and you can feel it, the way words seem to lose their meaning. He’s still talking, you think, but you can barely understand the consonants and vowels he strings together, your eyes glued to his lips, his face, those dark eyes pouring into yours as he holds you at the very edge of the table.

Your orgasm comes out of nowhere, the pleasure ramped up enough as it is, but Dieter moves his hands from your jaw around to the back of your head, tugging your hair until you tilt your head back and he can lick a stripe up your throat. It makes you mewl, but coupled with his husky I love you so fucking much, you’re a goner.

Yeah, you heard that.

White noise fills your head, drowning out any other words, any other noise. You nearly slide off the table, your legs twitching hard as your pussy clamps down on him hard. You’re vaguely aware of his grip changing, both his arms wrapping around your torso, holding you as close as he can. Your knees slide up his ribs as he drives forward, and after a low noise you barely make out, there’s a familiar warmth between your legs, his head dropped onto your shoulder, hot breath spilling across your bare chest.

After a few minutes, after your nerves have returned to a normal frequency and your breathing isn’t as heavy, you slump back on the table, and Dieter goes with you. You’re both sweaty messes, his hair plastered to his forehead and you can feel the droplets on your back. 

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes out, head against your collar, one hand roaming your side. You hum, amused, and he lifts his head slowly. “You good, baby?”

“Mmm,” you nod, reaching out to card your fingers through his hair. “Sooooooo good.”

He laughs, a genuine sound that zips through his features, eyes crinkling with mirth, and he drops his head to kiss your sternum. “How’s about I take you to bed?” he murmurs into your skin, curls flopping back across his forehead and skimming your skin. “Gotta make up for lost time, hmm?”

By way of answer, you lean up slow, the pair of you disentangling from each other, whimpering when your bodies are no longer joined together. He folds himself around you once you’re standing, and you shriek when he sweeps an arm behind your knees, lifting you into his arms and nearly sprinting from your kitchen.

Your back hits the bed a second later, and Dieter steps out of his undone jeans, shrugs off his open shirt. He crawls over you then, caging you in with his arms, and even exhausted and pleasure-soaked as your body is, you still find yourself keening up into his touch, lips chasing his. Your arms slide beneath his, fingertips skating up his ribs and towards his spine, roaming his skin as he leans down to kiss you.

“You don’t have plans this weekend, do you?” he whispers against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. You shake your head. “Good, cuz I don’t plan on letting you out of this bed.”

+

“Oh, shit!” 

You nearly shout the words, and Dieter jumps, eyes going wide as you start kicking back blankets, pulling yourself out of his arms. He protests at first, a whine rising in the back of his throat, refusing to let you go, and it makes you giggle, turning to peck his cheek. “I’ll be right back,” you tell him, another peck to his nose, then his lips. “Promise.”

Reluctantly, he releases you, pouting as you scramble off the bed and pad towards your closet.

“What are you doing?” he asks, reaching for the bottle of water balanced on the nightstand. “You’re not getting dressed, are you?”

“Why, so you can just get me naked again?” you quip, lifting a brow as you reach for the doorknob. “No, I have something for you.”

Dieter lets his eyes rake over your body, your top half covered by his button-up, though none of the buttons are done up, and your bare legs, looking miles long as you pull the closet door open and disappear behind it.

“Can I guess?” he calls, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Is it…edibles? A pony? That really good bourbon we had at that one bar in LA where the bartender tried to take you home?”

You poke your head back out, brow still raised. “And I threw said bourbon in his face? No. You’re not even close, Bravo.”

You disappear again, and Dieter chuckles to himself. The tightness in his chest is gone, the lurking anxiety that had riddled his body in the weeks since Halloween mostly dissolved. Ever since that night, he’d been going over it in his head again and again, everything he’d said, everything you’d said. It played on a seemingly endless loop, and he’d paced his apartment for hours, did the same in London, trying to come up with something to say to you, the right way to broach the silence that had formed between you.

He’d lost you. The one thing he’d tried his hardest to steer clear of, he’d managed to sprint headlong into.

If he closes his eyes, he can still hear it perfectly, the way your voice had cracked when he asked if you’d kissed that fuckwad at the party, the tears that had followed when he’d finally forced himself to look at you. It didn’t matter — it still doesn’t matter — and yet, he’d persisted. His drunken brain had refused to let it go, demanded to know, demanded to get an answer. It had all spiralled out from there, you’d admitted fears he didn’t realize you had, and before he knew it, he was trudging home in the dark, breaking down in the elevator and whipping that little velvet box into the back of his closet as hard as he could. It’s still sitting there on the floor, buried amongst the pieces of his Mandalorian armour, save for the helmet, which he doubts he’ll ever see again.

He wasn’t lying; London had been hell. He’d dragged himself through the early morning call times and let the jet-lag eat him alive, drinking and smoking himself into a stupor each night before filling his veins with caffeine come morning. He’d basically abandoned his phone for most of the trip. Every time he looked at the screen, his fingers itched to call you, text you, send you a fucking DM on Instagram. Or he’d flip through the photos on his phone, the candids and the few professional shots of you he’d gotten from his agent, your red carpet debut at the awards show so many months ago, that fateful night where he’d asked you to stay after you fucked each other senseless, and by some stroke of luck, you’d said yes.

Coming home, he’d tried to come up with some semblance of a plan. Maybe dinner, maybe lunch, maybe a simple coffee at that one café you both loved. He wasn’t sure where, but he had a laundry list of things to say, a million ways he hoped to prove himself, to win you back. He was deciding between texting or calling to ask you to meet him when his phone rang, and your face lit up his screen. A silly little candid photo from that drunken night, when you’d dragged him into McDonald’s and he’d drawn your portrait in on a napkin. Your fingers are curled around the pen he’d used in the photo, the end tucked between your teeth, a cheeky grin on your red-stained lips.

You’d called.

He’d planned a whole speech, and it didn’t start with the love confession. He’d get there, to be sure, but originally, he’d wanted to give you the out to begin with. If you wanted to walk away, he wouldn’t stop you. It would hurt like hell, to be sure, but Dieter couldn’t let himself keep you roped into a life that even got the better of him sometimes. It wasn’t fair. To either of you, but the fame was his burden to bear, mostly, and if you didn’t want a part in it, he wouldn’t force it. He couldn’t do that to you.

But even now, your answer rings out clear in his head.

I can’t walk away from you, Bravo. Not in a million years.

“Close your eyes!” you call, your voice slightly muffled. Dieter cocks a brow, but does as you say, palms pressed to his eyelids. “Are they closed?”

“Either that or it just got really fucking dark in here.”

“Smart ass.”

He grins. “You love me.”

“You’re damn right I do.” His cheeks heat. “Keep them closed.”

He hears the creak of the door, and drags his hands down slightly, keeping his knuckles together to block his view. “Can I open them?”

“Not yet!” you squeak, and he can feel the bed shift as you climb back on the foot. The soft skin of your legs brushes his, and he tries not to moan at the warmth between your thighs as you settle onto him. A pause, and he makes a questioning noise. “Okay, now!”

He spreads his fingers, cracking one at you, and promptly bursts into laughter.

You’re wearing the helmet.

You’re wearing the helmet, and his shirt, and nothing else. The image is both the absurdest and sexiest thing he’s ever seen, but he’s laughing so hard his ribs start to hurt. You sit there triumphantly, astride his lap, your hands on your hips, chest puffed. 

“You left it at Sean’s,” you say, your voice muffled by the metal, “and…I liked the costume, okay?” You lift the helmet slightly as Dieter’s hands find your hips, revealing your bitten lips and sparkly eyes. “I liked it a lot.”

His laughing abates slightly at the tone in your voice. He pulls you close by the waist, shifting until your hips slide over his. “I liked yours, too.” Dieter leans up, presses his mouth to the underside of your jaw, feeling the quiet sigh that slides from your throat. “Although I’m probably a bit biased.” He nips at your skin. “I’ve always loved the look of you in my clothes.”

“D,” you breathe out, and his grip on you tightens, mouth moving up to yours as you pull the helmet all the way off, letting it fall onto the bed beside you. Your arms are around his neck a second later, pulling yourself impossibly closer to him, closing whatever distance has formed between you. He inhales deeply, drinking in the sweet scent of your skin, his hands guiding your hips over his. It’s such a familiar feeling, teasing and warm, and Dieter leans back, taking you with him.

There’s a quick shuffle of bodies and fabric, legs adjusted and the blankets pushed off his hips, freeing his hard cock. You gasp as it smacks against your ass, grinding down into him as he continues to litter your jaw and throat with kisses. There’s no barrier between you, no silk or lace for him to hook to the side, and you’re warm and wet and wanting as your knees widen around his hips, opening you up to him. It’s a slick slide inside, your fist thumping into the pillow beside his head.

“How’s it feel, baby?” he grunts into your jugular, arms moving to wrap around your torso, keeping you pinned against him as he kicks the blankets back further, planting his feet and thrusting up into you. You make a choked noise, like the air has been punched from your lungs, one of those little noises he loves so much following close behind. “Always so fucking tight for me.”

You thread one hand in his hair, holding him close, while the other reaches behind you, palm skimming his thigh. “Go slow, D, yeah?”

There’s a strain in your voice he’s never heard before, and he freezes. “You okay?”

You nod, chin hitting the top of his head. “I’m good. Just a bit sore.”

“Sore?” he repeats, detaching his lips from your throat to pull back so he can see your face. It’s a familiar sight, your features screwed up in pleasure, but there’s a pinch to your brows that makes him wary. “We don’t have to, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“But I want to,” you whine, your hips moving over his slower than molasses. It makes his cock drag through you deep, and he bites back his own moan, but you make a little noise he knows is a whimper of pain, not pleasure, and he can’t.

“Baby,” Dieter says, the pet name terse on his lips. “It’s hurting you.”

Before you can bite back any further protest, he’s rolling you, cock slipping out of you in the process. The movement makes you gasp, your back hitting the mattress, hair splaying across the pillows. It makes him stop for a moment, the look of you beneath him, the almost dazed look in your eye. But then your eyes catch on his, locking together, so bright and full of trust his heart aches, and the image of that little black box slides into his brain.

Not yet, something in him says. You just got her back. Do it right. Not yet.

“Hey,” you murmur, fingers catching on his chin, nail scratching at his scruff. “Love you.”

He beams back at you, returning the words, and dives in. You squeal as he grabs at your sides, ticklish fingers against your ribs, your thighs hooked over his as he kisses your lips, cheeks, neck, collarbone. He pushes away the fabric of his shirt on your body, nips at your tits, sucks your nipples between his teeth each in turn, giving each of them equal attention. Your hands find his hair again, and he silently wishes they’d never leave as his tongue swipes against the underside of your breast, teeth scraping the pillowy flesh. You’re so soft, and you react to each of his touches.

When he drops a wet kiss to the little tattoo on your hip, you yank lightly at his hair. He lifts his head. “Wha—?”

“Nothing,” you reply, chewing your lip. “You just look really good like this.”

“About to devour my baby’s pussy?” he quips, and he can see the shiver run through you, your head tipping back against the pillows as he moves lower. “I fuckin’ better.” He dips his head again, plants a kiss on the inside of your thigh. “Gonna make you cum now, baby, okay?”

He thinks you nod, hears you make one of those tiny noises again, and seals his mouth over you. You’ve never tasted better to him, and some debauched part of his brain realizes that you taste like the both of you, the evidence of your reunion sharp on his tongue, the multiple rounds that had followed seeping out of your pussy as he pushes his tongue inside. Your noises are music to his ears, not a single bit of strain in your voice as you lift your hips against his mouth. He hooks both arms around your thighs, keeps you tight against him, locks his hands over your stomach. You claw at him, back arching, tits bouncing, and his eyes rake over you.

My baby, my pretty baby, my perfect fucking baby.

He hums against you, nearly growling as he feels your pussy clench against his tongue, pulls back only enough to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking hard until your thighs go tight around his ears. You’re chanting his name, tugging at his hair hard, and it just spurs him on.

He’s hard as a rock, rolling his hips into the mattress with every lick he gives you. He can feel his own orgasm sitting at the base of his spine, curled around his nerves like a snake. He’s gonna make a mess, he already knows, and part of him is trying to hold it at bay, but then you start to cum, nearly shouting with the force of it, your head tossed back, hands holding him close as possible, and he loses it. He can’t hold it back.

“Dieter,” you breathe out, your back arched so hard he’s almost worried, but you’re clenched around him so tight, thighs a vice around his head, hands locked in his hair. He’s twitching against the blanket, cock emptying into the fabric, and he moans into you.

He loses track of time, laid there between your legs, cock pulsing against the sheets, the taste of you heavy on his tongue. He waits for you to catch your breath, busies himself with kissing every inch below your waist, hands still locked together on your stomach. You make a pleased little noise as he gives you gentle kisses, nose dragging along your skin as he goes.

“Hey,” you murmur again, fingers soft in his hair now, brushing wayward curls from his forehead. He lifts a brow, mouth still pressed to your skin. “How about you come kiss my mouth instead?”

He groan as he moves onto his knees, and glances between his legs, the wet spot on the blanket underneath him. Heat rises in his face as he looks back at you. “I made a mess.”

Your lips part, something flaring in your eyes, and you’re grabbing at his shoulders, hauling him up and over you. “I don’t care. That’s so fucking hot.”

Dieter chuckles into your mouth, kissing you soundly. He knows you don’t care about the taste of yourself on his lips, sighs when your tongue pushes past his teeth.

Baby, baby, baby, baby, baaaaaaaaaby.

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. Breathed into your mouth.

“Move in with me.”

You inhale sharply, pulling back slightly, and that same flare is still in your bright eyes. Your grip on him adjusts, one hand in his hair, the other wrapped around his chin. His stomach fills with regret instantly, the silence that stretches on as you stare at him making him wish he could time travel or some shit, go back thirty seconds and—

“Yes.”

—————

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[albakore]

Away From Home

Characters: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Thoma/Tohma (fem!reader) (fic)

Synopsis: (office!au) Even your boss Zhongli has moments where self control goes out the window to make way for carnal desires.

Warnings: not sfw (18+) reverse harem, (an orgie?), semi public sex again, creampie, oral (giving), petnames (angel, princess, gem), squirting, umm? did i miss anything?, not proofread because im lazy if you catch any errors feel free to shoot me an ask,

A/N: This is a part two to Office Adventures but t's not necessary that you read it before this. I don't know if people were expecting a direct continuation of the last one but I took some creative liberty because I felt like that would be boring and instead created a whole new scenario, I hope you all enjoy it just the same!

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘•⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ ⊰ ⋅•⋅

The sexual tension in the office since that (ahem) eventful meeting had been nothing short of palpable, as Lisa had been ever so kind to point out. Even Jean and Eula were starting to grow frustrated with the way Childe and Kaeya made it painstakingly obvious their lust for you, and as you explained to Jean apologetically, they just wouldn't seem to take your request to tone it down seriously. Though you couldn't deny that even you often found your mind wandering as you sat alone in your office, frequently coming to remember the way you wobbled out of the meeting room that day, cunt quivering and leaking cum.

Luck seemed to be on Jean's side however, because this week you found yourself away from the office on an important regional business conference accompanied by none other than the men themselves, leaving her alone in charge of the office for a few days. The adventure of being in a new place was always exciting; there was light in your eyes as your plane touched down just outside the city, the skyline stood shimmering off in the distance. Though, as Diluc so gracefully reminded you, this was not a vacation but a business trip and most of your time would be consumed by meetings and other work-related affairs.

"(Name)!" You heard someone call from behind you. You were walking back to the hotel after another boring day of drifting in and out of meetings with people you hardly knew and topics you hardly cared about.

"Hm?" Your head turned to see three familiar figures waving at you as they approached.

"Care to join us for dinner? It'll be our treat." Childe asked once they had caught up to you, falling into step beside you.

"Where are you guys going?" You asked. You silently took in the appearance of the boys beside you. You hadn't gotten a chance to see them all day since you greeted them at the complimentary hotel breakfast bar this morning, and you had to admit they cleaned up nicely. You admired the three's formal dress, remembering the way Zhongli had specifically lectured them on the importance of appearance at an event like this. You notes Thoma's expensive looking watch and Kaeya's tailored button-up shirt that was, of course, unbuttoned halfway now that the workday was over. Childe had his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder, one hand holding the jacket the other shoved in his pocket.

"Mr. Zhongli found this fancy looking French restaurant a few blocks away, he wanted us to get there before we missed our reservation time." Thoma answered.

"Where is he?" You asked, taking note of his and Diluc's absence from the group.

"He and Diluc got caught up in some last minute business they had to attend to. It's times like these I don't envy the higher up positions of our company's cofounders." Kaeya answered you this time. "No matter how attractive the pay increase may seem, I can only handle so much overtime."

"You can say that again." Childe chuckled in agreeance, "I can't tell you how many times I've left the office only to come back in the morning and find Zhongli still hunched over some paperwork."

"Hey, guys, I think this is the place." Thoma motioned to the building you were approaching, and you immediately realized that 'fancy looking' was an understatement. "Will you be joining us, Lady (Name)?" Thoma questioned, extending his hand as an invitation to you.

"I don't see why not." You flashed him a smile before placing your hand in his, allowing him to tug you along. Kaeya opened the door for you, gesturing to allow you to step inside first. You were awestruck by the inside -- if you thought ‘fancy looking’ was an understatement for the outside, then the inside could be described as nothing short of grandiose. There were round tables covered in white cloth and fancy silverware, a fountain sat in the middle of the room behind the hostess desk and elegant trimmings lining the staircase off on the far side of the room. You quickly quelled your shocked expression as the hostess approached you.

"We have a reservation for six under the name Zhongli." Childe told her. "We'll have two more joining us later."

She checked her ledger and quickly crossed off the name. "Right this way, sir." She said to Childe with a polite smile. She led your group away from the main room, opening the door to a nicely decorated single-table room with a pleasant and romantic vibe, most likely accredited to the soft lighting.

“Thank you.” Childe told her as you four took your seats. One side of the table had booth-style seating and the other side had individual chairs. She closed the door with a click, and before you knew it you were sat in between Kaeya and Childe on the booth side, with Thoma directly across from you. You picked up a menu and began flipping through it to get a feel for what items might interest you. Before long, Childe’s hand had found its way onto your thigh. You looked down at it before looking back at him, a silent prompt for an explanation. “What?” He inquired mischievously, thumb rubbing your skin gently.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could your server opened the door with a brief knock. Childe’s hand stayed firmly in place as the server introduced themselves before asking if they could get you guys anything to drink. Thoma and Childe ordered regular fountain drinks, and requested two extra waters be brought out preemptively for Diluc and Zhongli whenever they should arrive.

“Ah yes may I have a glass of your finest red wine.” Kaeya asked with a smile once it came his time to order, earning a look from you. “What? It’s coming out of Diluc’s pocket not mine, might as well make good use of it.”

"And I'll have a..." You started, feeling Childe's hand inch upwards as the servers gaze remained fixed on you. "Just a r-regular glass of water please." You managed to force out while trying to ignore the growing feeling of need that Childe's attention was causing you. You smiled at the server as they stated that they'd be right back with your drinks.

Moments after the server left, Thoma's phone started buzzing. He answered it and paused for a few moments before he stepped away saying something about needing to meet Diluc and Zhongli in the lobby. That left you alone trapped in a booth with two mischievous gazes focused on you. "I must say, (Name)," Childe started, "you look absolutely stunning tonight. You really took Zhongli's 'Dress to Impress' speech to heart it seems." His flirty demeanor was predictable, earning a chuckle and an eye roll from you. His fingers were tracing patterns into the flesh of your inner thigh, head resting in his other hand as he studied you. You felt Kaeya's arm snake around your torso, hand coming to rest on your hip.

"He's right, you should wear this outfit more often." Kaeya whispered into your ear.

“You know, typically you’re supposed to wine and dine me before you-“ A knock resonated from the door, cutting you off and causing Kaeya to pull away from you but neither him nor Childe made any effort to remove their hands from where they were situated. The server entered with the table’s drinks on a tray, dishing them out to their respective spots on the table before asking if anybody was ready to order. Kaeya told them politely that we would wait for the rest of the group to join us first, and with that they turned and exited the room again.

You watched as Kaeya reached for his no doubt expensive wine, taking a sip and letting out a satisfied hum. "This wine is absolutely divine, it's not often I get the chance to indulge in such luxury. Would you like to try some, angel?" Kaeya asked you while his fingertips traced your hips.

"Sure." You hummed back, reaching out to grab the glass but Kaeya stopped your hand. You looked at him quizzically, watching as he dipped two fingers into the glass and let the crimson liquid pool at his fingertips. He brought his fingers to your lips, waiting for you to part them. You did, but only ever so slightly, letting your tongue drag along his slender fingers with a hum of delight as you maintained eye contact with him. Once upon a time you may have been flustered by his actions, but ever since the incident in the meeting room you have become no stranger to these types of occurrences. You pulled away before pressing a kiss to the pads at the tip of his finger.

"Divine indeed, captain." You added teasingly, the nickname a reference to a costume he wore to a halloween party last year that had caught on and stuck around even months after. You watched his unreadable expression closely as you awaited his response. He grabbed your face, tugging you toward him so he could plant a firm kiss on your lips while he caressed your cheek gently. You felt Childe's hand inch upward yet again further and further before finally reaching your clothed sex. Your breath hitched as Kaeya deepened the kiss, Childe rubbing you through thin material at a teasingly slow pace. You shifted your hips, trying to gain more friction from his fingers.

Kaeya pulled back from the kiss to let you catch your breath. "You know, there is one thing that would make this wine taste better." He kissed along your jaw and down your neck, breath fanning your skin as he continued. "If I could pour it over your chest and lick it off of you, slowly, inch by inch while you squirmed under my touch. That would make this experience undeniably perfect." You felt a shiver run down your spine, hand intertwining with his hair. As if working in tandem with Kaeya, Childe took this opportunity to slip his fingers past the barrier of fabric, your slick making his fingers run smoothly over your folds. Your free hand extended over to Childe's lap so you could palm him through his pants, thumb caressing the imprint of his erection. He let a breathy moan right next to your ear, fingers slipping into your heat.

"This is our reserved room, correct?" Zhongli’s voice resonated from just outside the door before the door swung open. He stepped in, followed by Diluc and Thoma. Your eyes met with Zhongli's as you tried futilely to push the lustful duo off of you. You filled with embarrassment when you thought about how sleazy you must look with Kaeya's lips attached to your neck and Childe's fingers squelching in and out of you. "Thoma, switch with (name), please. Evidently these two are incapable of practicing self control."

"W-what?" You protested, stomach sinking at the thought of disappointing your boss.

"Seriously, you two wouldn't know good timing if it hit you in the face. Your hotel rooms are literally a few yards away from each other." Diluc scoffed, tossing his suit coat over the back of his chair before pulling it out and sitting in it.

Childe pulled away from you, frowning at Diluc's words. "If I'm not mistaken, it was you who was moaning her name last night while you were alone in the shower, no?"

"And if I'm not mistaken, I'm still your boss. Watch how you talk to me." Diluc shot back immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. You scooted out of the booth, over Childe's lap, effectively pulling away from the two.

"Sorry.." You fiddled nervously with the hem of your skirt, still trying to recover from the embarrassment.

"You misunderstand me, gem, I'm not upset at you in the slightest." Zhongli smoothed over some of your hair comfortingly. "I specifically had a talk with these two about keeping things professional on this trip. This has nothing to do with you or your actions." You stared at him for a second before nodding. You took your place in between Zhongli and Diluc, directly across from where you had been previously sitting.

"How did your meetings go?" Zhongli asked you, tone much softer than the one he had just taken with Childe and Kaeya.

"They were boring for the most part, I managed to make a few connections though so that's good. What about you?" You responded, tuning out Diluc and Childe's bickering in the background.

"Stressful, I had many presentations to give, and only few bode over well."

"That's just how it goes." Thoma chimed in. "Tomorrow is a new day filled with new opportunity, I'm sure you'll do better."

"Stressful, eh? Fortunately for you, I know of the perfect way to relieve stress." Kaeya, ever the troublemaker, fixed his gaze on you pointedly for a few seconds to allow his point to get across. He just couldn't help himself when the ball was set up fo perfectly for him to spike it. You studied Zhongli's expression, his face remaining stoic as he processed Kaeya's innuendo.

"Unfortunately, the rules I set for you two apply to me as well. It would be wholly unfair to not hold myself to the same standard I hold my staff." Zhongli answered effortlessly. Seems like all these years of press conferences seemed to have really sharped his ability to form charismatic responses. Wait, 'unfortunately'?

"C'mon, Zhongli, (name)'s had eyes for us just as much as we've had eyes for them. You should see the look they get on their face when they're alone in their office." Childe laughed after ending his bickering session with Diluc. Your eyes went wide at that, having whole-heartedly believed you were being careful about when to indulge in your fantasies. "Besides, doesn't fucking them senseless sound like the perfect pick-me-up after a long day of meetings."

Zhongli seemed like he was still struggling to process his comment, resolve chipping with every second. He couldn't deny the nights he spent replaying the image of you bent over that table while he pleasured himself, and tonight was shaping up to be no different -- well, that would have been the case had he not attended this dinner. His eyes shifted over to you, inner turmoil apparent in them. Evidently, your response would be the deciding factor that pushed Zhongli to either side of the fence.

"He's not wrong." You shrugged, offering Zhongli a small smile. It was a simple sentence, only three words and yet… You watched his expression darken in that moment, his half hard erection already apparent in his pants.

"Thoma," you immediately noted the way his voice seemed to have dropped an octave. His gaze never once left yours.

"Yes boss?" Thoma responded almost instantly.

"Lock the door." Zhongli growled. Your heart skipped a beat, you felt heat rush straight to your core. The way Zhongli was looking at you made you feel bare even though not a single article of clothing had been removed from your form, at least not yet.

"The waitress is going to come back to place our order though." Diluc seemed to be the only voice of reason in this scenario. Thoma returned, scooting back into his spot in the booth, forcing Childe to be the one trapped in the middle this time. "That's gonna look awfully suspicious."

"Frankly, I can't seem to bring myself to care about that right now." Zhongli stood from his seat. He turned toward you, motioning for you to stand as well. "We'll tell them I had an important announcement that I didn't want getting interrupted or something." He lifted you at the hips and set you down on the table, placing himself in between your legs and pulling your core to meet his crotch. His lips caught yours, deep and breathtaking, as his hands roamed over your body. He tugged your shirt to untuck it until his fingers came into contact with the hem. He pulled it up, breaking the kiss to allow him to discard your shirt.

You found yourself rocking against him as his lips worked down your neck and chest. A new pair of hands hooked themselves under your bra clasp. You looked back to see Childe's arm extended. He pushed the straps off your arms, allowing the bra to fall away and expose your breasts. The cool air made your nipple perk instantly. You felt Childe's hands tug you down gently, allowing your back to lay against the cool cloth. You looked over to see Diluc's hands full of your table's drinks as he set them off to the side to avoid any accidents. Thoma eagerly took one of your nipples into his mouth while Kaeya's cold hand cupped the other.

Childe scooted the table away from him to provide him with the room to stand up. Your cheeks burned as you found yourself face to face with his still clothed erection. He chuckled at your expression, fingers caressing your cheek. He let his pointer finger trail delicately down your jaw to your chin, and then from your chin down your exposed neck. You shivered slightly at the way it tickled.

You felt someone tug down your skirt and your underwear, cool air rushing over your core. Zhongli had managed to free his member from his pants and was pumping himself outside of your field of vision. His other hand was pressed to your hip. He admired the way your chest heaved. Thoma and Kaeya littered your skin with bite marks and kisses. You watched intently as Childe followed in Zhongli's lead, freeing himself from his pants. Your lips parted slightly in anticipation, breath fanning the tip of Childe's dick with every exhale. Zhongli lined himself up with your entrance, you clenched your fists when you felt his tip push in. He sunk the rest of the way into you, a sigh of relief falling from his lips. He silently thanked Kaeya and Childe for prepping you so well before he had even arrived. Childe repeated this same process with your lips, slowly sinking into your mouth and relishing the feeling of your warm tongue wrapping around him.

The men both started thrusting at the same time but at very different paces. Childe was eager and less restrained, holding you steady while he fucked your face. He was also louder, not seeming to care if the staff or other patrons heard how good you were making him feel. Zhongli on the other hand was slower, drawing all the way out of you before slamming back into you. Though, after a few moments he seemed to compromise with himself and picked up the pace slightly, only drawing partially out of you, but still enough to let you feel his tip hit deep inside of you with each powerful thrust. You felt Diluc's familiar fingers come into contact with your clit, rubbing you in just the right way to make you clench around Zhongli and moan around Childe. Diluc left kisses all over your lower half, his long hair spilling over his shoulder and tickling your stomach.

The lewd sounds of slapping and kissing and sucking were all that could be heard in the room, along with Childe’s occasional unrestrained noises of pleasure. He moaned your name, head thrown back and mouth agape. His cheeks were flushed bright pink, and they only seemed to glow brighter the closer he got to cumming. Childe's pace became sloppy and erratic as he drew near to his own orgasm, thrusts becoming shallow as he chased euphoria. He pulled out right as he hit his high point so he could paint your chest with his cum. He moaned your name particularly loudly as he did, using his own hand to slowly lower himself down from his peak.

Kaeya pulled back and marveled at the marks he left on your skin, the imprints of his teeth visible in several spots. "My turn already?" He hummed, fingers tracing over the splotches and bruises on your skin. "A shame, I wasn't finished with my work of art yet." He stood up nonetheless as Childe fell back on the seat behind him, still trying to catch his breath. Kaeya quickly took his place, much to Thoma's disappointment. Kaeya's signature smirk hadn't left his face once while he admired the way your breasts glistened with a mixture of sweat and cum. He slowly undid the button to his pants, pushing them partially down his legs before moving to his underwear. You swear his cock bounced when it sprang free, tip flushed and absolutely beautiful. It seems this man truly didn't have an ugly bone in his body.

You felt Zhongli slowly coming undone inside you too, his cock twitching more and more every time he pushed himself into your smooth walls, even more so whenever Diluc's added stimulation made you clench around him. You felt yourself rock against his fingers, your own climax on the horizon. Zhongli gave one final thrust into you before you felt him spill his hot seed into you, his fingers digging into your hips in an attempt to ground himself. You moaned at the feeling of your walls being coated white. Kaeya took this as an opportunity to muffle you with his cock. He stuffed your mouth full of him, watching in a sort of satisfied sadistic fashion as you choked slightly on his length.

Zhongli pulled out of you after he finished cumming, panting heavily. You whined around Kaeya's cock at the loss of contact, hole clenching desperately around nothing. You squirmed your hips and mewled, hoping someone would get your wordless plea for some form of stimulation. Diluc, ever so observant, was the first one to pick up on your discomfort. "Aw, does my little princess want to be filled up again?" He asked tauntingly. "Do you want my cock inside of you?" His fingers continued to push you toward your orgasm. He chuckled at the way you jerked your hips into his touch, whines becoming louder still even with your mouth full of Kaeya's erection. As he felt your body start to tense, he withdrew his hand from your clit before you could cum. You pressed your thighs together while a groan left your lips, feeling frustrated tears well up in your eyes.

Diluc switched spots with Zhongli and unzipped his pants loud enough to get the anticipation in your stomach building rapidly. You heard fabric bunching and shuffling, and in turn took advantage of the adrenaline rush you were getting to eagerly please Kaeya. You hollowed your cheeks and allowed your tongue to work over him, lewd sucking noises escaping your lips. Kaeya groaned in response, his grip on your head tightening still as he bucked his hips into you frantically. You felt Zhongli's rough hands run over the skin of your breasts, centering on the nipples. You felt him wipe some of Childe's cum off you, and moments later the feeling of his fingers got replaced with his tongue as he sucked slightly on the soft flesh.

You sucked in a sharp breath when you felt Diluc's tip at your entrance, face contorting as you prepared for him to stretch you out just like Zhongli had. You paused as he pushed in -- not all the way, just an inch or so -- to truly revel in the feeling the he was providing you. He sunk in a little bit more to let you get used to the feeling of him in your tight sex, he was a little more girthy than Zhongli. Finally, he pushed into you until he bottomed out, filling your cunt to the brim with his member. A quiet groan escaping his lips; you would give anything to see the blissful look on his face right now.

You squirmed as he started to move. He went slowly at first, letting himself become coated in your slick to make his job easier. He took a few moments to find a good rhythm, one that was much different from Zhongli's. He was steady and consistent, pulling out an inch or two only to push back into you. He lifted one of your legs to give him a better angle, you let out a muffled moan as his tip kissed your sweet spot. Kaeya groaned again at the vibration of your voice. You felt Kaeya’s thumb press slightly against the center of your throat where he could feel himself thrusting in and out of you. You swallowed around him as he gave his last few thrusts before he was sent over the edge, cumming in spurts over your tongue. He let out a long moan that you wanted to keep on repeat forever.

You caught sight of Thoma eagerly awaiting his chance to feel your mouth around him. Kaeya pulled out slowly, stepping to the side (albeit a little bit grudgingly) to let Thoma have his turn. Thoma has already freed himself, precum leaking from the tip. He seemed a little nervous as he found himself finally aligned with your awaiting mouth. “Are you sure this is alright?” He asked, closely watching your face for signs of discomfort. His gentleness was refreshing after the way Kaeya and Childe so unceremoniously face-fucked you.

You giggled, kissing his tip causing his ears to flush red. “Mhm, of course. You’re so good for me~” His eyes went wide at your praise. You let your mouth hang open as an invitation for him to enter you, a high pitched whine escaping him almost immediately after sinking into you. He cupped your head gently, pulling out of you slowly before pushing back into you, truly appreciating the stimulation you were giving him.

Kaeya truly could never sit still with an opportunity so grand in front of him. His fingers found their way to toy with your clit, his cold fingers making you squirm under his touch. Childe, who was still on the couch, had gotten hard again and was pumping himself as he watch you slowly get your holes stuff full of cum. You moaned as Diluc’s dick hit your sweet spot again and again, Kaeya’s cold fingers causing your head to spin. You could feel your orgasm coming fast, and it felt like it was going to be an intense one. You arched your back off the table, whines becoming increasingly more frequent the more pressure built up. Diluc also seemed to be nearing his release, you could always tell by the way he moaned your name. A few more thrusts into you was all it took for you to come undone. You cried out, thighs quivering as you squirted all over Kaeya’s fingers and Diluc’s cock alike. Diluc followed a few seconds after, burying himself inside of you as he came hard, eyes intently watching the sight of you during and after your orgasm.

Thoma’s cock twitched as he watched you make a mess over Diluc’s cock, his breathy moans of your name getting louder and louder. He knew it wouldn’t take long for him to finish, not with the way your tongue traced his veins and your hand assisting him with whatever he couldn’t fit in your mouth. You felt the knot come undone and Thoma’s sweet cum flooded your mouth. He pulled out, gently wiping the spit from your face.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of heavy breathing as everyone came down from their highs. Zhongli was even nice enough to grab your water from where Diluc had set them off to the side and offer you some as he dabbed away some of your sweat with a napkin. Diluc finally pulled his now softened member out of you, admiring the way your cum-filled hole leaked. He had to fight the urge to fuck every last drop back into you.

A knock resonated from the door, causing everyone in the room to freeze. “Um, sorry to interrupt,” the servers voice sounded meekly from outside the door, “you guys reservation time is up…” You cringed at the idea of having to walk back to your hotel room in this state, legs still wobbly and cum all over you.

“I supposed to ‘important announcement’ excuse won’t work now..” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Zhongli sounded amused. “No need to fret, I’ll just pay them a generous tip to overlook this little.. endeavor.”

“You mean I’ll pay the tip.” Diluc cut in flatly. You all were lucky the company had the money to be avoiding scandals like this or else you’d all be done for. Maybe he could convince you to, uh, thank him for it later…

[galaxyedging]

Requested by an Anon.

More of Us Part 2

Joel x f!reader.

The tables are turn and Joel and Ellie find themselves in the reader's world.

WC: 4.1k

Warnings: Game type violence, gore and swearing. Kissing, naughty thoughts, no real smut.

'Non-slip paint my ass!' You thought as your foot slipped on the steps, sending you crashing to the deck. Rolling on to your side, preparing to push yourself back up, you came face to face with one of The Infected. PlayStation graphics really didn't do them justice. Their sallow skin, worn unnaturally thin. Their blood shot eyes. Rotted teeth that add to the stench of decay. The whole effect left no doubt that these things were no longer alive.

"Look out!" Joel shouted.

One of his feet slammed down onto the creature's chest. Gripping the handrail, he raised his other leg. Clamping your eyes and mouth shut, you rolled away as Joel's foot came bursting through the thing's head, almost spraying you with blood in the process. Ellie was on the back of a third monster. With everything she had, she was stabbing the thing in it's chest and neck. Joel stepped forward brutally shoving his knife through it's eye socket. It's eyeball burst like a grape, it's body jerked, held in place by Joel's knife. Ellie's safely jumped down as the body crumpled to the ground.

"Shit. Shit." Panic gripped you. What the fuck had just happened? You clawed at you the neck of your shirt, as if it was the thin material that was hampering your breathing.

"Hey. Hey! You're okay. It's okay." Joel held your hands tightly. It was reassuring until you thought about the fact that you should not be able to touch this man. He should not be a living, breathing solid being.

"Here, let's get you inside." He hooked an arm under yours, pulling you up and guiding you inside.

"Wait! The...bodies. We have to hide them." Some of your sense returned. You highly doubted you could pass the mangled bodies off as Halloween decorations. They had to be moved before someone saw them.

"Why?" Joel looked at you like you were insane. Maybe you were but not for this reason.

"There's a hole dug at the end of the yard. A foundation. We can bury them there. Please." You urged him.

"Sure." He shrugged it off before beginning to drag the bodies away, his touch lighting the way.

With the evidence of your gruesome visitors tidied away, you all headed inside.

"Why did you have me bury them?" Joel finally asked as you all sat in your living room.

"If someone found them we would have gotten in trouble." You tentatively began.

"What kind of trouble? More to the point how the fuck did we end up here?" Joel's temper began to flare.

Taking a deep breath you decided to bite the bullet. "I don't know how you got here but this isn't your world. The infection isn't real here."

"What the hell do you mean not real?!" He was furious now.

"Joel." Ellie was stood stock still by the TV.

"Well.." How would you even start to explain?

"Joel." Ellie called again.

"Not now Ellie. What do you mean?" Joel barked.

"I'm not sure how to explain..." How do you tell someone they're not real? Especially when they are sitting right in front of you, real as anything else in the room.

"Joel." Ellie persisted.

"Well, you'd better.." Joel was barely holding in his rage.

"Joel!" Ellie whined.

"What?!" He finally snapped, whirling to face her.

Silently, she handed him the game case she had been staring at.

"What the....?" He trailer off as he turned it over in his hands.

"It's us. We're a video game like The Turning."

"A game?" Joel was eerily quiet. The anger had drained from him.

He sat, deflated, for a long time. Ellie sat to the side of him, looking unsure. It was probably the first time she had seen him without a plan or a purpose. Neither of you knew what to say to him. Although your reason for not knowing what to say was vastly different from the young girl's. How in hell do you explain that you play the traumatic events of his life for fun? Just as you decided that pretty much nothing you could say would make that fact any worse and opened your mouth to speak Joel stood straight up before storming out.

"Joel!" Ellie moved to catch up with him.

"Ellie, stay here." There was no way you could have the two of them running around out there.

When you moved between her and the door she protested. "No! I'm going with you."

"Ellie, he's covered in blood, carrying multiple weapons, that's not normal here. I have to find him before a concerned neighbour or the police do. Having you with me will just draw the same attention."

Looking down at the floor she nodded slowly. "I understand."

"OK, good. I'll be back soon." Facing the wall to slip your shoes back on you didn't notice her move, until she ducked out of the open door. "Ellie! Shit."

Slamming the door behind you and breaking into a jog it didn't take long to catch up to Ellie. Thankfully, it didn't take long to catch up to Joel either. Your neighbourhood was real close to the city. It loomed in the distance all lit up. Joel was stood at the intersection staring at it.

"Joel?" You approached him cautiously.

"It's true. This isn't our world." His voice was a whisper, luckily it carried on the cool night air.

"Look, I have no idea what is going on here but I'll help you look after Ellie and work it out. I promise." Some of the tension left him at your mention of looking after Ellie.

The tension snapped back into him as a touch was shone in your faces. Joel reached for the metal pipe on his back. Recognising your local nosy neighbour, masquerading as neighbourhood watch, you grabbed Joel's arm.

"What's in the world is going on here?!" Mr Fitzgerald asked.

"Cosplay! For a Halloween competition. We're on our way to show a friend. We have two weeks to refine them. They're characters from a video game." The weak, clunky explanation fell out of you while your voice went through several pitch changes.

Mr Fitzgerald eyed Joel and Ellie for a little longer, running the flashlight up and down both of them. His expression turned serious. Flicking your eyes briefly to Joel, you could see his arm slowly moving towards the gun in his waistband. Mr Fitzgerald was still looking at you all, weighing you all up. As your hand came up again to hold Joel's arm in place and your eyes locked with his, silently pleading with him as he glared back, his stare was cold. With all his quiet charm and good heart, it was easy to forget Joel was a killer. Right now, you couldn't think of anything else. His warm eyes turned dark, they bore into you, conveying what he wanted with no room for argument. The whole thing was intense. It was terrifying and when you looked back on it later, and were completely honest with yourself, arousing. Before either you imploded or Joel exploded, you were interrupted by Mr Fitzgerald's sudden exclamation. "The Last of Us!"

Joel flinched, quickly you grabbed his arm, tugging it into yours and pulling yourself flush to his side.

"I knew I recognised you. It just took me a while to remember. My son plays the game. He even has the poster on the wall. You both look great. All this blood and gore looks well, real. I'll let you go on your way. You have a great night er, 'Joel' and..." he looked at Ellie while he searched his brain for her name.

"Ellie. We will, Sir. Dressing up is so much fun! I really wanna win first price!" She beamed up at him.

She really was something else, even after all she's been through her sense of humour is still there. A childlike imagination and sense of fun still runs through her, even if it's buried under a weight she shouldn't have to bare.

Mr Fitzgerald smiled back at her. "That's a good kid you have there." He aimed at Joel before turning and heading back up and across the street.

It was only when he and his flashlight disappeared that you allowed yourself to breath and distance yourself from Joel when you realised how close you still were to him. He looked at you when you did, you couldn't quite read the look on his face. Opening your mouth to say something, you felt like you should, there was nothing there, you closed it again awkwardly.

"See, Joel? It's true. These people think we're from a game. Which is kind of fucking cool! Is there a button that makes me do this?" She started to bounce on the balls of her feet and throw punches. "Or this hi-yah!" She side kicked the air.

"Ellie." Joel warned, sounding wary.

It made you want to look after him. Any discomfort you felt from knowing what they had been through while you sat in your safe little world was pushed aside. The past you couldn't change but you could care for them now. "Joel. I can't even imagine what you're going through. All I can say is that you are safe here. I have room at my house, you guys can stay until we figure all this out. Whatever the this is."

"I supposed there's no point to me running around this place like a headless chicken." There was the tiniest hint of humour in his tired voice.

The three of you walked home in comfortable silence. Joel seemed lost in thought, Ellie was enthralled by all the Halloween decorations, you had no idea what to say.

Instead you were practical, making a list of what you had in and what you would need. Some of your drawstring work out pants could be pulled in for Ellie to wear. You still had some of your super comfy clothes, the ones you wore a size or two bigger, when you were a few sizes bigger, they'll be big enough for Joel. You could wash their clothes for now. The kitchen was pretty much empty, tomorrow was your shopping day. Takeout it is. Woah, you could just call and have food delivered, they had to hunt, gather and probably sometimes kill for theirs. That though rattled around your brain and gnawed at your guts until you got home.

"I can get you guys some clothes. I have two bathrooms so you guys can get cleaned up with I order some food." You nervously offered. Would the offer be welcome or bring up resentment?

"Order food?!" Ellie blinked at you. "Bullshit! I saw all those posters with 'Order now' and their numbers on but I still though people were messing with me."

Pulling out your phone, which only served to delight her further as it actually worked. The ones she had seen turned on maybe let you play a game but that was it. Turning it to her you showed her all the places you could order from.

"Real pizza?! They called the stuff they fed us on a Friday 'pizza'. I seriously doubt that's what it actually tasted like of there wouldn't have been restaurants everywhere." Ellie scoffed.

"We can get real pizza if you like. Joel?" You voice seemed to jolt him out from wherever he was.

"Yeah, pizza sounds great. No pineapple though." He offered with a slight smile.

This whole things was obviously weighing on him. At least when you were thrown into his world you thought you knew what was going on. Plus all the adrenaline kept you going. His journey was the opposite, he had no idea what was going on, and there was a sudden stillness after years of being on the move.

"Pizza, no pineapple it is." The three of you smiled as you entered the house together.

Preparing your order, you went upstairs to lay out everything they would need, clean clothes, towels, spare toothbrushes, trash bag for their dirty clothes to be brought down in.

Stopping outside the main bathroom, you didn't know who's things to put in there. "Ellie would you prefer a bath or a shower?"

From the sounds of her footsteps she practically flew up the stairs. "There's enough warm water for a bath?!"

"Here." Placing their things down, you began to fill the bath. Ellie squealed behind you as the hot water gushed out. Joel's broad framed filled the doorway behind her. He leaned on the frame, watching the delight on Ellie's face.

"Joel, are you seeing this?!" She waved her arms emphatically at the tub.

"Yeah, kiddo. I am." He grinned.

The whole scene was oddly domestic, you playing host to a dotting dad and his loving daughter.

"Here are some bath bombs, salts, bubbles. They all have different scents use what you like." Opening a draw in the counter top, you presented her options to her.

"What's a bath bomb?" Ellie peered into the open draw.

Picking up a lavender one you held it out to her. "Smell."

Ellie took a tentative sniff. "Oh, it smells nice. Why is it called a bomb though?"

Handing it over to her you instructed her to drop it into the water. When the bath bomb fizzed below the surface, releasing dried lavender and changing the water a pale lilac, Ellie was impressed.

"Woah, better than Joel's bombs that just release people parts." She teased.

Joel took it with good humour. "We'll leave you to it. Don't forget to wash behind your ears now."

Ellie has already started peeling her dirty clothes off as you and Joel left the room, closing the door behind you.

"You can use the en-suite off the guest room. This way." Finding yourself alone with Joel suddenly made thing awkward.

A slightly uncomfortable silence fell between you while Joel followed you to the room. "The shower is just through there. Help yourself to any toiletries. There's a towel in there. Oh, I have these. I hope they fit."

Joel held up the the t-shirt against himself. It looked like it would more than fit. "These from an old boyfriend?"

"Old me, actually. I started looking after myself, lost a lot of weight." You rushed out, it wasn't your favourite topic.

"I'm glad you took the time to look after yourself. I really appreciate you looking after us. Thank you." He leaned forward just a touch as he spoke.

"You kept me alive in your world, the least I can do is let you use my shower." Your body tilted towards him as you spoke.

"Well, thank you anyway." He repeated.

"You're welcome, anyway." You nodded.

The silence between you became less awkward, more weighted.

"I better send this order." Waggling your phone at him, you left him to it.

Only when you got downstairs did you feel how fast your heart was beating and the goosebumps that had erupted on your skin. Nevermind a video game, this was turning into one of those action movies where they needlessly shoehorn in a romantic subplot. It's ridiculous even in a movie, there was no way it would happen in read life. There were other more important things to think about. Unfortunately, that didn't stop you from day dreaming about Joel for ten minutes causing you to completely forget to place your order. Once you snapped yourself out of it, dinner was on it's way.

Wondering upstairs, you checked on your guests. Ellie could be heard happily singing away as she splashed about in the tub. "Ellie! Dinner will be here in twenty minutes."

"Can I eat it in here? I don't think I can ever leave this tub again. I've grown accustom to the finer things in life, I simple can't function in the harsh world again." She called back dramatically.

"I don't know, kid. You're pizza would end up pretty soggy with the steam. You better rough it out here." You called back making your way to check on Joel.

"Joel?" You tapped on the guest bedroom door. There was no answer so you figured Joel was still showering. Slipping into the room you headed to the bathroom door, about halfway to it Joel emerged. A towel was slung low on his waist, water dripped down his chest, their trails highlighting every curve of hard earned muscle. A smattering of scars were visible across his torso. One low on his stomach made you wonder if it was an appendix scar or an old injury. A trail of dark hair led from his bellybutton down to...this was the point you realised you had been staring for way longer than would be considered polite. Definitely in creepy gawking territory now yet you still couldn't look away.

"Sorry. I just wanted to tell you that dinner will be here in twenty minutes. You'll wanna get it while it's hot." You inwardly cringed at the accidental suggestive phrase.

"Yeah. A hot meal would be nice." He smiled broadly, nothing but amusement behind it. "I better get dressed."

"Right." Turning to leave as Joel turned to grab his clothes, you caught sight of a fresh wound across his back. An involuntary gasp left you. His eyes shot to yours. "Your back."

"Oh, yeah." He shrugged off the concern in your voice. "It's not too deep. It'll heal."

"At least let me take a look at it? I have some supplies to clean and bandage it. Please?"

After a decent dose of puppy dog eyes, Joel sat down on the bed, angled away, to give you access. "Go on then, darlin'."

Luckily for you he couldn't see the blush that rose on your cheeks at his term of endearment. Rushing off to the bathroom, you returned with the first aid kit and, hopefully, blush free.

"Here." You set about cleaning the wound and applying an antiseptic with a mild numbing agent. Making sure to be very thorough, for Joel's sake, not that you were enjoying the feel of his muscular back under your finger tips. Or that he somehow made your coconut shower gel smell even better. Joel let out an audible breath.

"Did I hurt you?" Attempting to withdraw you hand, Joel was faster, he caught your fingers as they moved away.

"No. It's just been a while since anyone touched me so gently. I'd forgot what it felt like." The wasn't any real sadness in his voice, maybe a edge of bewilderment. I didn't seem like Joel spent a whole lot of time thinking about what was and what might have been. He probably hadn't took stock of how long he hadn't been touched gently for. Or how long he'd been touched in other ways. The time must have crept up on him.

Joel's thick fingers were still gripping yours, resting against his broad shoulder, just at the juncture of that long, kissable neck. Turning to you, he held your hand in his properly, palms facing upwards. His calloused fingers traced the skin, causing you to shiver.

"So soft." He muttered, before pressing a kiss to your palm. That single kiss caused you to forget how to breathe, sucking in a sharp inhale and sighing out a shuddering exhale, Joel was left in no doubt about how he was affecting you. He pressed another kiss to you forearm, watching how your face contorted in bliss. His lips were firm and soft, and searingly warm. There were so many places you wanted to feel them. You would start with on your own lips. As he pressed another kiss to the crux of your elbow, you caught him by the chin and tilted his head towards yours as you leaned down. Before your your lips met he asked. "How long did you say we had until dinner arrives?"

"About 10 minutes now." You answered practically into his mouth.

"I'd prefer longer but that's time enough." With that he rose to meet you. His lips landing on yours perfectly as he surged forward. One hand tangled in your hair, the other grabbed a handful off your ass, pulling you flush to him. Never in your life had you been kissed like that. It was like he needed to kiss you, to feel you, to have you feel him. Right then you could feel all of him. His large hands slid under the back of shirt, spreading across your lower back to keep you pinned to him. Every time you took a breath or gasped quietly, Joel took the opportunity to claim your mouth in a new way, his tongue explored you, his lips demanded to be on yours. Turning you both he backed you towards the bed until...

"Joel, you ready? The pizza will be here soon. I wanna watch them bring it." Ellie's excited voice cut through the room, right through the very narrow gap between you.

"Almost." He moved round to grab his clothes from the bed. "I'll see you down there." He looked at you as he spoke, he looked a little embarrassed. His hand came up to absently scratch at the back off his head. It was actually adorable.

Once he was sure Ellie was out of earshot he spoke. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so forward. There you go again, making me lose all sense."

"You don't have to be sorry. I enjoyed it."

"Me too."

"I have something else that you'll enjoy.

"Oh, I bet you do."

Blushing at his suggestive tone, you avoided looking at him. "It's in the kitchen when you are ready."

Leaving Joel to dress, you found Ellie glued to the window by the front door. Her eyes wide with excitement. Giving her shoulder a little squeeze, you left her to it, heading to the kitchen to prepare a surprise for Joel. Joel arrive in the kitchen just as you finished.

"Coffee?" He laughed lightly. "God, I missed this."

He cradled the mug in his hands, hands that had been roaming your body not ten minutes ago. The lips that the bitter, brown liquid flowed over were on yours, the moan that rose from him was being drawn out by you. Thankfully, the pizza delivery guy had impeccable timing, arriving just in time to save you from your wanton thoughts.

Ellie was hot on your heels as you brought the boxes in. "It smells so good better than the bath bomb."

Wasting no time, you opened the box for her. Even though she was clearly starving, she waited politely. "Go ahead."

Half the slice disappeared into her mouth in one go. Some how she still managed to have room to speak.

"S'good." She mumbled, trying to shove the rest of the slice into her mouth.

"I'm glad you like it." You smiled at her.

Joel waited until you opened both pizzas before getting a slice. "Mmm. Better than I remembered." He and Ellie ate in silence, save for the occasional happy noise of approval. Switching on the TV you discovered that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles existed in their world too. The 2012 version played as the three of you settled in for the night, cosy and full.

Too preoccupied with how weird it must be for them and trying to make them feel welcome, you hadn't thought about how truly weird the whole situation was. How had two video game characters become real in your world? Shrugging your brief visit to their world off as a vivid dream, to be forgotten in time, was relatively easy. There was no way you had actually gone into a game. Having them here in your living, after other people had interacted with them too was harder to deny. Was this bit a dream and the their world was a dream within a dream? Damn it, you really should have made the effort to watch Inception, not just learn about it from memes.

Too caught up in debating your own sanity, you didn't notice both Ellie, fully reclined with a blanket pulled up to her neck, and Joel, relaxed back into the soft sofa cushions, had fallen fast asleep. Joel looked downright peaceful, every line of concern eased on his face. Taking him in and watching his slow even breaths, it didn't take long for you to drift of next to him.

"Fuck! Joel!" Panic hit you at Ellie sounding so distressed.

Your eyes shot wide open to be met by the sight of the dilapidated old room you had fallen asleep in after surviving the hoard of hunters earlier.

All you could do was echo Ellie's sentiment, "Fuck."

Tags @kirsteng42 @babydarkstar @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom

[doeeyeseddie]

i’ll make the moon shine just for your view

this is not a 5+1 fic, but it IS a fic about 5 times buck and eddie find comfort in each other. but mainly, it’s a birthday gift for @seacoloredeyes, happy birthday manon!!! i love you and i hope you love this 🥰❤️

Some calls are harder than others, and this one was particularly gutting - a car crash with multiple fatalities, some DOA but some not yet. Eddie will never get used to losing someone on a call, to doing everything you can and it still not being enough. They’re silent on the ride back to the station, the mood in the Engine subdued. Eddie stares out of the window and wishes the end of the shift was closer, so he could go home and hug Christopher. It’s the only thing that helps him feel better after a call like this, he thinks - but then Buck’s knee nudges against his and Eddie exhales. He nudges back until their legs are pressed together from hip to ankle and gives Buck a half smile. Buck’s gonna suggest they call Chris when they’re back at the station, and they’ll do it together, letting Christopher’s laugh push away the images in their minds for a while. It’ll be enough to tide Eddie over until morning, and he feels gratitude for Buck wash over him, gratitude to be understood, to be known like that. He leans over until their shoulders press together too, and feels a little lighter.

~

Buck winces when he goes to dry his face and the towel rubs against the swollen skin around his eye. That’s gonna bruise like hell, and it’ll look like he got into a fistfight. He finishes drying off and dresses in his uniform pants and t-shirt, then pulls the zip-up hoodie on on top because it’s warm and soft and doesn’t hurt when he puts it on, so it at least doesn’t make him feel worse, though it doesn’t do much to improve his mood either.

When he gets upstairs to the loft, it’s dim and quiet, so everyone must be in the bunk room. Buck doesn’t feel like lying down, not with the way the skin around his eye is throbbing, so he heads for the kitchen instead, planning to look for something to cool the bruise with.

“How’s your face?” a familiar voice asks behind him, and Buck only just manages not to jump.

“Jesus, man, you can’t sneak up on me like that, especially not on Halloween.”

Eddie laughs. “Were you hit in the face or the ear? I wasn’t quiet on the stairs.”

Buck rolls his eyes at him but even that hurts, so he winces again. Eddie’s face immediately flashes with concern.

“Did you put ice on it?”

“I was just gonna get that,” Buck says, but Eddie’s already rummaging through the freezer for an ice pack.

He pulls one out, wraps a clean towel around it and steps up to Buck, pressing the cool package to his face gently. “Hold that and sit down,” he says, “I’m gonna get the pain relief cream.”

Buck bites down on his smile and takes a seat at the table, sighing at the relief the ice pack brings. Eddie returns with a tube of pain cream and sits down next to him, eyes intense on Buck’s face in a way that makes him equal parts want to squirm away and lean in closer.

“I’m fine, Eddie. It’s just a little bruise.”

Eddie hums. “Let’s put this on it anyway, it looks like it hurts.”

It does hurt, and Buck can’t refuse Eddie anything, so he lowers the ice pack and sets it down on the table.

The legs of the chair Eddie was sitting on scrape across the floor as he pulls it out of the way and steps in between Buck’s legs. Buck stops breathing for a second and then forces himself to continue so Eddie won’t notice. He’s just doing this to put cream on Buck’s bruise. He cares, but he cares as a best friend. Buck can’t make this weird just because he recently discovered he may want to kiss said best friend.

Eddie cups his good cheek with one hand to tilt Buck’s head slightly, and starts applying the cream with the other hand, fingers soft and careful.

He’s close, and he’s so gentle that Buck’s heart squeezes painfully. Shit. When he looks up, their eyes meet and catch, neither of them looking away. Eddie’s hands are still on Buck’s face and Buck aches to touch him too, to reach out and pull him all the way in, to hold him.

But Eddie drops his hands and steps back, reaching for the ice pack next to Buck and handing it back to him.

“You should keep cooling it for a while,” he says. “Take this while I get you a new one.”

Buck nods mutely and swallows. He’s not sure what just happened.

~

Eddie hates funerals. Granted, so does everyone else, probably, but...they’re hard, for him. This is nothing like Shannon’s funeral, obviously, but Eddie’s been tense all day. Firefighter Sullivan from the 124 died in a structure fire a few days ago, and the A-shift from the 118 have collectively decided to pay their respects. Eddie didn’t know him well, they’ve only spoken a couple of times, but it’s always horrible to lose one of their own. And to see his wife and two teenage kids in the front row, knowing exactly what they feel like - it sucks.

He can’t focus on what any of the speakers are saying, just keeps staring at the coffin covered by the American flag. Eddie pulls on the collar of his shirt, feeling too hot in his dress uniform. His mind flits from Shannon, to the Army, to the very real possibility that something like this might happen to someone close to him one day, never settling on anything for long, a carousel of dread.

From next to him, Buck shoots him a worried glance and Eddie stops fidgeting, trying to pull himself together. He breathes slow and deep, counting to five with each in- and exhale. He hasn’t had a panic attack in a while, and he’s not even sure that’s what’s happening here, but he can’t risk it.

“You okay?” Buck whispers. He’s intimately familiar with Eddie’s panic attacks, and his elbow nudges Eddie’s lightly as he shifts closer. “Or do you need to get out of here?”

Eddie knows that Buck’s not just asking that, that he’d come with him, no questions asked, and the knowledge of that alone eases some of the tension in his body.

He’s known that he’s in love with Buck for a while now, but Buck still keeps finding ways to make Eddie’s heart beat faster and double down on his feelings. It’d be great under different circumstances, but Eddie still hasn’t worked up the courage to tell him, too scared he’s misreading the signs. So it’s hard, feeling like he’s bursting at the seams with love for Buck.

“No, I’m okay,” he tells Buck, eyes catching on Sullivan’s grieving family again and making his stomach feel lead-heavy. But it’s more sympathy now, and a little less dread. “I think.”

When the bagpipes start to play and Eddie has to swallow thickly, Buck reaches for his hand and entangles their fingers, squeezing tightly. Eddie doesn’t look over, but he squeezes back. And holds on.

~

Nothing is different the night it finally happens. They’re at Eddie’s house, like countless nights before, they watch a movie with Chris and read him a story at bedtime, then head to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers.

Buck’s standing with his head in the fridge, telling Eddie about an article he read earlier on what space smells like (hot metal, apparently), when Eddie says, apropos of nothing: “I love you.”

And Buck hits his head on a shelf in the fridge, making everything on it rattle loudly, a jar of pickles falling over and nearly rolling off the shelf. His instincts take over and he somehow catches it in time and closes the fridge before he turns around, finding Eddie right up in his space, a worried expression on his face and already reaching out to cup the back of Buck’s head where he hit it.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, and his face is adorably flushed. Buck still can’t do anything but stare. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m good,” Buck manages to get out, blinking a few times. “I- Eddie, what?”

Eddie closes his eyes and drops his hand, but stays close for now. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you like that.”

“But you meant to tell me?” Buck asks. He lifts a careful hand and grabs a handful of Eddie’s t-shirt to stop him from going anywhere. Something flashes in Eddie’s eyes and Buck smiles, heart beating in his throat.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and there’s that smile he gives Buck so often, soft and private. “I did. I’m...I don’t have a speech prepared-”

“Eddie,” Buck interrupts, tugging on Eddie’s t-shirt until Eddie takes a stumbling step closer, bracing himself with a hand on Buck’s chest. He can probably feel Buck’s heartbeat like that, and it only beats faster at the thought. They look at each other for a long moment, then Buck tips forward until his forehead rests against Eddie’s. He watches as Eddie’s eyelids flutter closed and closes his own eyes too before he continues. “I don’t need a speech. I just...need you.”

Eddie’s nose brushes against Buck’s, and there’s a smile in his voice when he asks, “You need me?”

“You and Christopher,” Buck says, lifting his free hand to the side of Eddie’s neck. When he strokes his thumb along Eddie’s jawline, Eddie shivers. His hand is warm on Buck’s chest, the other one now holding him by the waist. “If you’ll have me.”

Eddie leans back just enough to look Buck in the eye. “You know Christopher thinks the world of you. And I kind of just told you how in love with you I am, so…”

“Well, you didn’t say it in so many words,” Buck teases, and Eddie shoves at his chest but doesn’t move away. “I love you too, though.”

~

Not much later, they’re on Eddie’s couch. It’s too small for two grown men, but they’re making it work, Eddie thinks. Buck’s sprawled out, half sitting up against the armrest with Eddie between his legs, lying half on top of him, and he’s finally, finally kissing his best friend. Has been for the past hour or ten, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

Buck smiles against his lips and Eddie pulls back.

“What?” he asks.

Buck shrugs, lifting a hand to cup Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie leans into it. “Just happy.”

“Me too,” Eddie smiles. He takes Buck’s other hand and laces their fingers together, marveling at how well they fit. Buck watches him with a smile. “We should do this more often.”

“What, hold hands?”

“We fit, don’t you think?”

“Oh,” Buck says with a gleeful smile, “you’re secretly a romantic, aren’t you?”

“Says you! Did you forget you told me how you once rented a hot air balloon for a date?”

“Well, it’s not a secret that I’m a romantic, I’ve just never seen that side of you. Will I get to see it a lot?”

Eddie lifts his hand to Buck’s face, running a careful thumb over his birthmark. “Maybe. But it’s also not just about being romantic, you know? I like holding your hand, or when you hug me, I like being close to you, because…you make me feel safe. Like I’ll never be alone, like you’ll always be there to have my back.”

“And you’ll have mine,” Buck says, pressing their foreheads together again. Eddie’s pretty sure there are tears in his eyes. “You say that as if it’s not the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Eddie chuckles and shifts a little until he can rest his head on Buck’s shoulder, his ear right above Buck’s heart. “Can we just…stay like this for a while?”

Buck kisses Eddie’s forehead and squeezes his fingers where their hands lie entangled on his chest, his other hand sweeping warmly up and down Eddie’s back.

“For however long you want, Eds.”

[hepaliensterekrecs]

Sterek AU Fic Rec

Special Instructions by @trilliath [G, 1.6k]

Human AU, Different First Meeting AU

The pizza place Stiles works at gets an odd prompt for their Special Instructions: Send your cutest delivery boy.

Nothing Like the Sun by @halffizzbin [T, 1.6k]

Human AU, Writer Derek, Fluff, Pining, Oblivious, Humor, First Kiss

“Your eyes, blue and bright / Like Mountain Frost Gatorade,” Stiles reads aloud, not bothering to contain his glee. “Now that is powerful stuff. Oh, but this next line is my favorite: Your skin, warm and soft / As an underbaked loaf of bread. Bread, Derek? Really?”

(Or, the one where Derek is a failtastic poet and Stiles is the editor who likes him anyway.)

Dammit, Gym by @aggybird [G, 1.8k]

Teacher AU, Human AU, Humor

Derek the gym teacher asks Stiles the music teacher for a favor.

Nailed It by @aggybird [T, 2.1k]

Different First Meeting AU, Humor, Deputy Derek, Still Werewolves

Deputy Derek Hale bought a fixer-upper, but he's pretty bad at fixing, so he hires a snarky carpenter to help him out.

more under the cut

You Had Me At Latte Batman by Hatteress @goddammitstacey [T, 2.1k]

Coffee Shop AU, Writer Stiles, Oblivious

The one where Derek’s a barista who accidentally woos Stiles with latte art.

Put That Wolf Back Where It Came From (or so help me!) by Jerakeen @jerakeenc [T, 2.8k]

Monsters Inc AU, Crack

"There there, you poor monster, you."

Something’s Telling Me to Leave but I Won’t by starswalkbackward @officiallallorona [T, 3.2k]

Human AU, Different First Meeting AU, Deputy Derek, Humor

In 2nd grade, Nicki Welch told Stiles Stilinski that his plaid shirt and Spiderman graphic tee looked stupid. He responded by looking pointedly at her stomach and saying that bloodsucking hookworms were inside about 700 million people.

She cried for two hours, and Ms. Briar made him go to the quiet chair. “One day, your mouth is really going to get you into trouble!” she’d scolded with a wagging finger.

Stiles contemplates those words as his dad’s new deputy hauls him into the station.

He’s still totally going to blame Scott for the situation, though.

dust off your highest hopes by takeittothestars @alphaass [T, 3.9k]

Human AU

For this prompt from Niamh:

"Yes I know we all love the pretend-boyfriends trope but why aren’t there 100 more stories of Derek or Stiles pretending to be someone else’s pretend boyfriend and the other getting really fucking jealous about it - because one-night-stands are one thing but seeing someone they’ve been in denial about crushing on act all affectionate and boyfriendly with someone they’re comfortable around is a new brand of hell.

Like Erica taking Derek to her high school reunion as a little fuck-you to all the idiots who never noticed her, or Lydia recruiting Stiles to some smart people convention still stuck in the Dark Ages and only taking men’s research seriously, so she uses the most convenient boy in her life as a gateway to get in there and shame all the closed-minded assholes.

Like of course it’s all pretend but they’re a little TOO good at acting it out and then whoever isn’t in on it is at the hotel bar angrily ordering ice cream sundaes and looking for someone to hit on to take their mind off it and failing miserably.

WHY ISNT THERE MORE?"

Everybody Make a Scene by skoosiepants @pantstomatch [G, 4.5k]

Neighbors AU, Alive Hales AU, Still Werewolves

Stiles starts out with three jack-o-lanterns in front of their modest little pack house, but when he sees Derek staple-gunning orange lights around the entire front of their porch, he comes home with a six foot dinosaur skeleton with glowing red eyes.

No one actually hangs Halloween lights unless they’re going to war.

Or-

Stiles and Derek have some kind of unspoken Halloween decorating competition that also involves baked goods and flirting.

Void ab initio by Leslie_Knope @leslieknopeismyshiningstar [E, 4.6k]

Human AU, Fluff, Smut

Tumblr prompt: “We were best friends in middle school and promised (signed a contract and all) if neither of us were in a relationship when we turn 30, we’d marry each other. You moved 5 years later and I haven’t seen you since but you just reached out on my 30th birthday to find out if I’m single. Minors can’t be held to contracts but puberty hit you like a truck and I just broke up with my long term boyfriend a month ago so what the hell I might as well catch up with you.”

A Single Magic Bullet by The Feels Whale @miscellea [G, 4.7]

College AU, Magic AU, Werewolves Are Known AU, Magic Stiles

It’s Stiles last week before graduation and it seems like everything is going wrong. Between Scott finding True Love, werewolf kidnapping rings, sadistic professors, and his final projects, it’s not like Stiles doesn’t have plenty on his plate… but he’s a Stilinski and Stilinskis deal with it. Fortunately there’s a new lycanthrope on campus who seems amenable to pulling his bacon out of the fire.

(Now if only Stiles could figure out why he keeps waking up with his window open, that would be just peachy.)

too long to the weekend by DizzyRedhead @dizzy-redhead [E, 5.3k]

College AU, Werewolves Are Known AU, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Smut

When Derek agreed to show Stiles around Berkeley, he was thinking of Stiles at fifteen, his childhood friend, the son of his mother's best friend.

He was not prepared for Stiles, all grown up.

be my dar(jee)ling by takeittothestars @alphaass [M, 5.4k]

Tea Shop AU, Human AU, Derek POV, Humor, Fluff

‘You alright there? Need any help?’ someone from behind him says, and Derek startles badly from where he’s been judging the tea (Cardamom with ginger for Sherlock Holmes? And almonds for Jack Harkness? Really?). The person laughs when he knocks over a few tins, and Derek knows that laugh. Sure enough, he looks up as he puts Moriartea back on the shelf and it’s Stiles fucking Stilinski, #24 on the lacrosse team and captain of Derek’s heart since he dropped Cora off at a game once, the cutest, hottest thing on the planet since – since – since ever, if Derek’s honest with himself.

-

A tea shop AU in which Derek is an editor, Stiles works in a tea shop, both are dumb, and there is tea. For this prompt

Game On by stilinskisparkles @stileshale [T, 6.4k]

College AU, Oblivious, Pining, Nerd Stiles, Jock Derek

Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by. He flicks the page in his book and highlights something, tossing the cap up in the air and catching it with his teeth.

Simple Math by lizzstomania [G, 6.7k]

Human AU, College AU, Coffee Shop AU, Angst, Fluff

"It's just math, Derek. It's me and you; it’s not rocket science and it's not Shakespeare. It's basic arithmetic and you, for some ungodly reason, never bothered to learn to add."

Sideways and Slantways and Longways and Backways by @hologramophone [T, 7.8k]

Human AU, Office AU, Fluff, Pining, Repression

“I called you a slave-driver!” Stiles cried hysterically. “I called you an ogre! I stole all the blue paperclips!”

Derek raised an eyebrow at him.

“That’s company property!” he shouted, waving his arms madly in distress.

Derek ran a hand over his face. “It’s not theft if the vice president of the company gives you permission.”

(Otherwise known as the Elevator AU)

(im)Perfect System by theroguesgambit @halekingsourwolf [T, 7.9k]

Soulmate AU, Alive Hales AU, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Angst

Stiles has always felt pretty lucky about his soul mark. After all, how many conversations tend to start with “This is private property”?

(Apparently more than you'd think.)

In the Next Room series by twentysomething [E, 7.9k]

Cis Girl Stiles AU, Still Werewolves

"But for some reason, when Stiles sees Derek talking to Lydia, the two of them painfully good-looking, all she can think about is that her hair is in a messy ponytail and there's pizza sauce on the hem of her t-shirt. It's not like she wants to go on a montage out of a '90s teen film and come out like Rachel Leigh Cook on a staircase, but Stiles maybe thinks she doesn't want to look like the homeless one in the pack."

CSI: Beacon Hills by Jerakeen @jerakeenc [T, 8.2k]

Different First Meeting AU, CSI AU, Still Werewolves, Deputy Derek, Hurt/Comfort, Mates, Protective Derek, Oblivious Stiles

Back when Stiles was in high school Beacon Hills didn't have a crime lab, because they simply didn't need one. Those were the days.

Dog’s Best Friends by otter [G, 8.9k]

Different First Meeting AU, Fluff

Other people might have found the name of the place off-putting. Stiles didn’t. He was actually relieved, when Scott handed him a business card that said “HALEHOUNDS” across the top, because clearly, if anybody could recognize and understand the evil that lurked within his dog’s fluffy precious body, it was these people.

covalent bonds series by @halffizzbin [E, 9.2k]

(All in) High School AU, Human AU, Alive Hales AU, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Jock Stiles, Nerd Derek

Awkward Nerd Derek has been crushing on Handsome Jock Stiles since forever—so getting paired with him on a Chemistry project is definitely the best/worst thing that's ever happened to him.

Love Runs Wild by @devildoll [E, 9.5k]

P/rnstar AU, Still Werewolves, Possessive, Marking, Neckz ‘n Throats

"You've got a hickey on the back of your neck!" A Neckz 'n Throats story.

Last Lovesong of a Dying Lemon by wldnst [M, 10.4k]

Human AU, Mechanic Derek

Stiles' Jeep keeps breaking down. Derek is a mechanic.

Putting the F-U-N in Funeral by apocryphal @the-apocrypha [T, 10.8k]

Human AU, Alive Hales AU, Bakery AU, Fluff, Humor

"Hale & Daughters Funeral Home," Derek says dully.

"Oh ho! And which daughter are you?"

Derek casts his eyes up to the ceiling. It's going to be one of those calls.

(In which Derek is a bored secretary, Stiles is a baker who may or may not have ulterior motives, and there are entirely too many macaroons.)

Unmapped by Jerakeen @jerakeenc [E, 11.4k]

Sentinels AU, Soul Bond, Hurt/Comfort

Stiles can never leave a good mystery alone.

Chances Are… series by @relanafanel [T, 11.6k]

Human AU, Alive Hales AU, Bets

“What kind of bet did you lose that you have to go out with this?” the guy asked, gesturing to himself.

“First person to flirt with me,” Derek grumbled.

even a bad cup of coffee (is better than no coffee at all) by @vlieger [E, 13.5k]

College AU, Coffee Shop AU, Different First Meeting AU, Werewolf Reveal

AU where Derek and Laura stay in New York and open a coffee shop after the fire, and Stiles meets them when he moves there for college.

First Impressions Are Overrated by Leslie_Knope @leslieknopeismyshiningstar [T, 14.6k]

Different First Meeting AU, Kid Fic, POV Stiles, Single Parent Derek, Werewolf Reveal, Fluff

In Stiles’ defense, he didn’t deliberately ram his grocery cart into the (evidently precarious) pyramid of oranges.

Around the Bend by lupinus, uraneia [E, 14.9k]

Alive Hales AU, Different First Meeting AU, Gym AU, Fluff, Crack, First Time, Misunderstandings

The first time Derek catches sight of the new yoga instructor, Stiles is in the middle of showing a class how to do downward-facing dog. Derek walks into a wall.

Things don’t exactly improve from there.

Derek can't stop staring at Stiles, the bendy new yoga instructor at his family's gym. Stiles thinks Derek's a repressed homophobe who hates Stiles for making him want the D. They fall in love.

Fireman Derek’s Crazy Pie [Cheeseburger Baby] by owlpostagain @thegloryof [T, 17.7k]

College AU, Human AU, Everyone Lives AU, Bakery AU, Fluff, Oblivious, Fireman Derek

“He can't blame me for the fact that I live in a building full of people united in the singular effort to ogle Hot Fireman as often as humanly possible."

Laura laughs, loud and echoing in the empty restaurant.

"Hot firemen can make a girl do crazy things," she agrees, nodding towards her brother's name on the menu. "Derek won't let me date anyone from his company, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eye candy."

"Send them my way," Stiles suggests, finally loading up a forkful of pie. "Apparently I'm incompetent enough that I need to be babysat at all times, because it would be cheaper than dispatching a truck every time I try to use a kitchen appliance."

Binomial Coefficients by @devildoll [T, 20.8k]

(All in) High School AU, Nerd Stiles, Jock Derek

In which brainy freshman Stiles Stilinski wants star quarterback Derek Hale to join the math team, AKA math nerds in love.

In Which Stiles is Secretly Magic series by apocryphal @the-apocrypha [T, 27.6k]

(All in) High School AU, Alive Hales AU, Magic Stiles

All Stiles wants from life is to learn to control his magic, keep his grades up, and not die horribly while saving Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. It's all going pretty well until Derek Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, has to go and ask him on a date. That asshole.

DILF by twentysomething [E, 30.9k]

Human AU, Kid Fic, Single Parent Derek, Teacher Stiles

"Today is Scott's first day of kindergarten and Derek is terrified."

Murder, He Wrote by @mklutz [E, 31.7k]

Human AU, Alive Hales AU, Deputy Derek, Murder Mystery, Writer Stiles

And that was how Stiles accidentally became a New York Times bestselling author.

Losers by stilinkskisparkles @stileshale [E, 34.2k]

College AU, Oblivious

Where Derek is new to college, eager to spend his time learning, and Stiles is everything he didn't want in a room mate. He's loud, he's into sports, and he keeps trying to make Derek do things.

Or, the one where Derek falls for a jock, Erica will cut you if you disturb her studying, and Jackson is a closeted romantic who pretends to hate everything.

My Taco Sparkles by @butyoureyessaidyes [T, 36.9k]

Human AU, Office AU, Alive Laura, Hurt/Comfort

The first time he sees Stiles Stilinski, the kid’s on his hands and knees in Derek’s office.

--

Or the one where Derek has to battle corporate espionage, meddling family members, clothing turned choking hazards, and inappropriate feelings for his obscenely attractive new intern.

When You’re Close I Feel the Sparks by Leslie_Knope @leslieknopeismyshiningstar [M, 39.7k]

(All in) High School AU, Alive Hales AU, Magic Stiles, Emissary Stiles, BAMF Stiles, Friends to Lovers, Werewolf Reveal

The guy is hot as hell, sure—leather jacket and glasses, Jesus, be still Stiles' poor, bisexual, beating heart—but more importantly, it must really suck being new on the first day of senior year.

“We’re adopting him,” he decides, tugging Scott and Kira by the elbow in that direction. “Let’s go.”

Exactly Like You by Jerakeen @jerakeenc [M, 70.5k]

A/B/O AU, Pride & Prejudice Fusion, Werewolves Are Known, Pack Fic, Soul Bond, Magic Stiles

“It was Jackson’s idea,” Lydia explains, looking perfectly serious while standing in front of a March Madness bracket of Beacon Hills’ eligible bachelors.

Jackson looks smug. “It only makes sense.”

Stiles meets Isaac’s eyes over the heads of all the crazy people in the room. Isaac shrugs with a slight wince. “’Tis the season.”

play it again series by @metisket [T, 74.7k]

Everyone Lives AU, Magic Stiles

In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself.

“Laura wants to lure the kid in with food and kindness and make a pet of him, like a feral cat. Derek wants to have him arrested for stalking. They’re at an impasse. (And the rest of the family is staying emphatically out of it in a way that suggests bets have been placed.)”

Gravity’s Got Nothing on You by @zosofi [E, 84k]

Alive Hales AU, Fake Relationship, Humor, Romance, Crack, Magic Stiles

“Three weeks,” Derek says.

“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.

“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…

“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“

“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”

“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.

The Boy and the Beast by Dira Sudis @dsudis [M, 116.7k]

Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Pack Fic, Wolf Derek, Slow Burn

In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)