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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 10 hours ago

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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 20

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17 || PART 18 || PART 19

Chrissy is willing to admit that when Steve doesn’t call her after his date, she panics. If her mom wasn’t such a light sleeper, she would’ve snuck out to check up on him. But instead, she wallows, dozing on the couch, not even able to call Jeff to bitch because what if Steve chooses that moment to call?

So, she can admit, when he finally calls a few minutes after seven in the morning, she’s a little short with him.

“Finally, Steven,” she hisses into the phone, keeping her voice quiet so as not to alert her mother to their conversation. “I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere!”

“Sorry, sorry!” he rushes out, sounding contrite. “We sort of fell asleep.”

Chrissy gasps, a smile slowly spreading on her face as the implications set in. “You guys slept together?” she demands gleefully.

“We didn’t have sex!” he shouts, and she’s glad, for the first time, that his parents are so absent from his everyday life. “We just fell asleep!”

She’s still smiling, twirling the phone cord round and round her fingers. “Does that mean it went well?” she wheedles.

She doesn’t think that Eddie would suddenly realize he’s straight and renege on the date, not really, but Steve had, and she can’t get the terrified tone of his voice out of her head.

“Well—” he drawls, leaving her on tenterhooks for a few seconds more. “He took me to see some shitty horror movie.”

“Oh my god,” she whispers, full-on grinning now. “What a stereotypical move.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he replies so wryly that she can almost see the way his eyes must be rolling. “Except he barely talked to me the whole time and didn’t even try to hold my hand.”

“No!”

“And then he took me into the woods like some sort of serial killer, and then tried to kiss me so abruptly that my lip split a little.”

“No!” she shrieks with laughter before catching herself and slapping a palm over her own mouth as Steve’s own amused chuckle filters through the phone line. “And you still spent the night?”

“He was nervous!” Steve defended. “And besides, the second kiss was much better.”

“Your boy’s a fast learner, huh?”

Steve hums, and she wishes he was here with her, so she could see the dopey grin that must be on his face as he says, “yeah,” with a dreamy sigh. “He took me stargazing.”

Chrissy coos, can’t help it, not when this whole thing’s been building for so long now. Not when there’s been an edge of fear to everything Steve’s said for months. He deserves something nice for once.

“And you’re going out again?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replies, and a knot of fear she’s had tucked beneath her sternum loosens.

He sounds excited, happy, hopeful. If Eddie does anything to jeopardize this, Chrissy will be digging a very deep hole and tossing him into it. She’s got a shovel, and the muscle strength built up from years of cheer—she’ll manage just fine.

So, when Eddie walks up to her in the cafeteria in some sort of fucked up parallel to that first time and bends at the waist in a showy bow, hand outstretched as he asks, “a word, madam?” she’s ready to kill him.

But, when she glances at Steve at her side, his ears are red, and he’s smiling up at Eddie from beneath his lashes. And when she looks back toward Eddie she catches the tail-end of a wink that has Steve sputtering.

Even Jason doesn’t protest from the other side of the table where he’s quietly seething.

So, she takes his hand and follows him out of the cafeteria.

Eddie doesn’t seem to know where he’s going, as he walks through the halls, peering into nooks and crannies until he finds a corner he deems suitably vacant enough. He flops down, legs outstretched in front of him, uncaring of the dirt caking the floor.

He pats the spot next to him, smiling up at her, so she slides down the wall and crouches beside him, unwilling to let her bare legs touch the floor.

Eddie leans away from the wall and wrestles his jacket off before placing it on the floor in front of Chrissy. Gratefully, she sits atop it, crossing her legs to keep them safe. She turns her body so she’s facing Eddie dead on, and he follows her lead.

When he doesn’t say anything, she breaks the silence with a quiet, “I hope you know that if you hurt my friend, I’ll kill you.”

“I have no doubt, Lady Cunningham,” Eddie replies, drawing an X across his heart with his finger. “But, I’m not here to talk about Steve.”

“Then—what?”

He’s grimacing now, no longer meeting her eyes as he fiddles with his rings, one of his fingers bizarrely missing its usual adornment. “We’re friends, right?” he asks hesitantly, like he’s choosing each word with deliberate care.

“Of course,” she replies, eyes trained on the little furrow between his brows. He’s picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans, further fraying the edges. “Why would you ask that?”

He sighs, slumping into himself in a way that makes him look small. “I’m glad I’m here, okay?” he asks, not waiting for her to answer before he continues. “Steve’s great, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. But, you still lied to me—"

"We never lied to you," she cuts in, and he waves his hand in assent.

"Yeah, yeah, but you all like, conspired behind my back, and that feels…”

“Shitty,” she continues for him when he seems to lose his words.

“Yeah! Shitty, it feels shitty that you were all talking about me behind my back all so you could keep this from me."

Chrissy sighs. She’d known they’d have to talk about it eventually–clear all this stale air so they could move on–but it doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable. But, he’s right; no matter their intentions, they’d all made a mess of things. She’d known that even as she’d been in the thick of it.

So, she starts where these things should always start, and looks him dead in the eye as she says, “I’m sorry.”

He finally looks up, seeming almost surprised. “Just like that?”

“Yes, Eddie, just like that,” she replies, maintaining eye contact even as her gut squirms. “We were just trying to protect each other, but that doesn’t mean it was the right choice.”

His eyes are wide, still shocked, and she wonders, something uncomfortably close to pity bubbling up within her, if he’s not used to receiving apologies at all.

“Both of you?” he asks.

Chrissy averts her gaze, mouth twisting up. “You know how Steve said Jason has been kind of stalkery?” she asks, watching Eddie nod out of the corner of her eye before she continues. “Well, it was worse before. He kept coming to my house and cornering me at school, and I just wanted to move on.”

It was more than that, though. She still remembers the way fear crept down her spine as cold sweat when she’d opened her door to Jason smiling at her like they’d never broken up, the way her throat had closed up when he’d scooted far too close to her side at the lunch table.

The way he kept cornering her in the hallway when no one was around to witness it.

“So, when I found Steve trying to write that first letter, I struck a deal,” she continues. She feels bad about that, even now, even still. “He’d be my boyfriend, and I’d help him with the letters.”

She finally turns back to Eddie, braced for, what? Condemnation? But he’s squinting at her like she’s a puzzle he’s trying to crack as he says, “you totally would have helped him anyway,” with so much conviction that it warms her.

“Oh, definitely.”

He’s still looking at her, but he’s smiling at her, eyes warmer than she’s ever seen them.

“Alright, I forgive you,” Eddie says, like it’s easy.

It’s too easy.

“Just because we had reasons doesn’t mean it was fair to you,” she replies, steel in her voice as she squares her shoulders and looks at him dead on. “It doesn’t mean you weren’t hurt,” she finishes, reaching out to pat his knee.

He doesn’t jerk away, just looks at her hand on his knee with a peculiar smile on his face. “You know there was a time when you touching me like that would’ve sent me into a tizzy,” he says, still looking down at her hand.

“And now?”

“Nothing,” he replies, shrugging. “It was never you, Chrissy Cunnigham.”

“You either, Eddie Munson,” she replies, matching his smile as she smacks his hand once before withdrawing. “Now is that it, or was there something else you needed?”

He looks away, cheeks darkening to a blotchy red, she’s almost worried he’ll faint. “I, uh, well, the jacket?”

She thinks of Eddie’s jacket beneath her first, but that’s not where he’s looking. His eyes are planted firmly on the sleeve of Steve’s letterman with a sort of longing that’s almost funny in its intensity.

She doesn’t ask any follow up questions—if he wants the jacket, he can have the jacket. After all, it’s Steve’s no matter how attached to it she’s become, and Steve had looked up at him with the sappiest look she’s ever seen on his face.

She’d do more than give up his letterman to keep him happy.

Still, it feels strange when she pulls it off her back. A shiver runs through her–she feels almost naked without its familiar weight.

Since that first day in the library, it’s been her shield against Jason’s pushy advances, and her reminder that, no matter what happens, she’d still have Steve.

But, Jason’s backed off, and everywhere she turns, she sees her people: Steve, yes, but Jeff, and Eddie, and the Hellfire boys–even Robin. Her life’s full to bursting in a way that it’s never been before.

Chrissy will miss it, but she doesn’t need it anymore. Besides, she knows where Steve keeps his spare key, and she’s not above stealing something else from his closet.

“Jeff’s going to be sad,” she says, patting the bundled fabric in her arms like it’s a favored family pet, feeling strangely choked up. “He really liked it.”

Eddie grimaces down at it and asks, “do I need to get this thing dry cleaned?”

Chrissy throws her head back and laughs. “No, but if you would’ve waited a few more days, you might have.”

He makes a gagging noise, but when she holds it out for him, he readily takes it, even if he doesn’t put it on. She wonders if it’s fear of homophobes or the thought of her and Jeff’s bodily fluids that stops him. She’s polite enough not to ask, even as Eddie says, “Wait, is it you wearing it or him that Jeff likes?”

She opens her mouth to reply, ready to offer up a vague “both,” but Eddie holds up his hand and cuts her off, talking quickly like he’s afraid of what she might say. “Wait, don’t tell me. I really, really don’t need to know.”

Chrissy springs to her feet and picks Eddie’s own leather jacket up off the floor and sliding it on. It’s even baggier than Steve’s was on her, clearly designed for layering. “I’m borrowing this,” she says, turning her back on him and making her way toward her next class just as the warning bell rings. “It’s cold today.”

“Don’t do any weird sex things with it!” Eddie calls.

She laughs again, making a point to neither confirm nor deny her intentions no matter what he yells after her retreating back.

When Jeff slides into her passenger seat after school, he quirks a brow at her new look, and asks, “that Eddie’s?” as he buckles his seatbelt.

“He wanted Steve’s,” she says, reaching out to pat his knee consolingly.

“I’m going to miss that jacket,” Jeff sighs, looking genuinely forlorn for a second before he gets a particular gleam in his eye that Chrissy’s becoming increasingly familiar with. “You know—”

“Eddie requested that we don’t ‘do any weird sex things’ with his jacket,” she cuts in, putting her car in reverse and slowly backing out of the spot.

Jeff groans like he’d been shot, and throws his head back into the headrest. She reaches out to dig her fingernails into his knee, just this side of too-hard so his groan shifts into a hiss.

“I know, baby,” she says, smiling sweetly at him as they pull away from the school. “But, I’ll get your mind off it in no time.”

Jeff gulps, and doesn’t utter another complaint for the rest of the night.

***

Robin watches Chrissy follow Eddie out of the cafeteria. Even after the door closes behind them, she keeps staring, wanting desperately to know what they’re talking about. This might have all started because of her crush on Chrissy, but Robin’s nosy at heart, so even as the flames of her crush burn down to embers, she wants to know.

Steve had called her on Saturday, spilling all the details of what sounded like a truly horrible date as if it was some sort of fairy tale while Robin cackled in his ear. But he’d sounded buoyant with exhilaration, and all Robin had been able to think about was that he’s like her and he’s happy.

Maybe there’s hope for her, too.

Robin’s broken out of her reverie by a shoulder bumping into hers. “Should we help him?” Vickie whispers, and it takes Robin a minute to snap her eyes away from her vibrant green eyes to follow her gaze over to Steve.

All the losers he’s still pretending to be friends are jeering at him, Tommy H. going so far as to slip into Chrissy’s vacant seat so he can jostle Steve around with a decidedly unfriendly look on his face while Steve picks halfheartedly at his lunch.

Robin’s out of her seat before she can even think about it, palms slapping noisily on the table as she calls. “Harrington!” Steve perks up, metaphorical tail wagging as he meets her eyes from across the room. “Come help me win a bet!”

He’s up and out of his seat in a matter of seconds, leaving the remains of his lunch abandoned on his table as he trots over, slipping into the empty seat across from her while all the other band kids look at him like he’s got the plague.

“What’s the bet?” he asks, looking far more relaxed already than he had while surrounded by his supposed friends.

Robin kicks him under the table as she replies, “the bet was whether you’d come when you’re called.”

“Oh, hardy har har,” he mocks, kicking her right back until she links both her feet around his ankle and yanks him so he damn near falls off his seat.

“Poor little puppy,” she coos, reaching across the table to pat his head while he bats her hand away.

Vickie’s laughing from beside her; it rings through Robin’s ears like church bells. She gets stuck, staring at the pink of her cheeks, the red of her hair, the mirth in her emerald green eyes, hand still outstretched toward Steve’s hair.

He kicks her again, and she snatches her hand back, grateful for the intervention until she catches sight of the knowing look Steve’s shooting her. In retaliation, she grabs one of her carrot sticks and tries to shove it down his throat.

“Not a word, Harrington, or we’re through,” she hisses, finally succeeding in shoving the carrot into his mouth.

“You guys are so funny,” Vickie says, still laughing.

Steve smiles, carrot sticking out of his mouth like it’s a cigar until he bites into it with a snap, seeming oddly satisfied.

Chrissy and Eddie don’t come back, and by the time lunch is over, the rest of the band kids have finally stopped sitting there like scared lemmings, waiting for King Steve Harrington to attack. She’s sure they’ll soon learn what Robin already knows: the king is dead, long live the king.

She loves him so much, it’s almost stupid.

“So, Steve Harrington, huh?” Vickie asks, inexplicably walking out of the cafeteria with her even though Robin knows for a fact her class is on the opposite side of the school.

“I mean, yeah?” Robin replies, feeling her face heat from the inside out. “He’s just like, not what I was thinking at all, and maybe the best friend I’ve ever had, which is crazy—it’s crazy, because it’s Steve Harrington, right?” Her hands, she realizes with horror, are miming an explosion above her head while her mouth makes a weird, crackling explosion sound. “Who would’ve guessed?”

When she finally gets her mouth flapping under control, Vickie’s smiling at her, walking close enough that the sleeve of her sweater brushes against Robin’s bare arm.

“I don’t know, I always thought he seemed nice.”

Robin’s nodding along like one of those bobble head hula girls that boys are always putting in their cars, even though Steve Harrington isn’t nice. He’s an unmitigated bitch with a sacrificial streak a mile wide, but he’s not nice.

“He’s like a stray that I let into my house one time, and then my mom fed him, so now he keeps following me home,” her mouth says.

Vickie’s mouth laughs in return, so maybe it’s not all that bad.

Robin’s mind replays the angelic sound as she walks into her class, waving goodbye to Vickie as the other girl rushes away in a mad dash to make it on time to her next class.

God, Steve’s going to be such a bitch about this.

***

After Eddie’s talk with Chrissy, things shift.

Steve doesn’t sit with the jocks at all anymore. He and Chrissy, still joined at the hip like they really are dating, shift back and forth between the band geeks and the hellfire tables at lunch on Tuesday, prompting hushed whispers to filter through the entire cafeteria.

For his part, all Gareth says is, “does this mean you two’s weird feud over Chrissy is finally over?”

Jeff snorts chocolate milk out of his nose while Eddie laughs so hard he nearly falls off the bench entirely, only staying upright because Steve props him up.

“What?” Gareth demands, tearing into his chicken strips with a viciousness that betrays his ire.

“They’ll tell you when you’re older,” Doug replies despite having no idea himself.

Eddie loves his friends so fucking much.

By Wednesday, a clearly fed up Robin frog-marches the pair of them to the Hellfire table and plops down beside them.

“Munson, I can’t do this split custody thing anymore,” she says, making the red-head that’d followed her over giggle. “They’re too much of a handful.”

“Or maybe even two handfuls,” Steve replies, across the table at her like he’s not playing the most overt game of footsie right below it.

“Don’t be gross, dingus,” she scoffs, and Eddie’s mind goes galloping off with thoughts he shouldn’t be having in a room full of teenagers just waiting to push someone a few more rungs down the ladder.

“Are you guys coming back to Hellfire?” Gareth asks, clearly unable to stand not knowing what’s going on a second longer.

Steve looks at Eddie, brown eyes devastating beneath his lashes. “I’d like to.”

Eddie opens his mouth, ready to grovel at Steve’s feet to get him to come, to get him to keep looking at him like that, but then Robin cuts in with a sly, “you know this means you’ll have to come to Steve’s basketball games,” and he slams his mouth shut.

Steve grins, all seduction dropping off his face as he reaches across the table to give Robin a high five like they’re already on the fucking court. She slaps his palm hard enough that the sound of skin on skin damn-near shatters the sound barrier.

“We can sit together,” Jeff says, but he’s not even looking at Eddie, eyes trained on Chrissy’s blushing face. “It’ll be fun.”

Eddie groans and lets gravity overtake him, dropping his head to the table so suddenly that it would have hurt if Steve hadn’t put his palm over the spot just in time. Eddie turns his face so he can glare up at the other boy, but Steve looks so hopeful and excited that he has to look away again, burying his face into Steve’s palm.

“Fine, I’ll go,” he drawls, lips brushing against Steve’s hand with each word.

“What the hell is happening?” Gareth demands.

Much to his dismay, no one replies.

Things slide back to normal after that—Chrissy and Steve showing up to band practice and hellfire and lunch like nothing had ever come between them. But, it’s better now because Steve knocks their feet together beneath tables, and lets his hands settle on knees and stares just a little too long at Eddie’s lips.

It’s driving him crazy; he wants to reach out and touch, reach out and take.

But that’s not something that’s allowed. Boys are born in their own, invisible bubbles to keep them from touching other boys. Eddie doesn’t know how he never noticed it before, but he wants to shatter it like glass, let it cut up his feet if it means he can brush his lips against Steve’s.

There are all these rules left unwritten, but flung at their feet like slurs: don’t stand too close, don’t look too long, don’t dare to touch.

He wants to, though, thinks maybe in the confines of Gareth’s garage and behind the closed doors of the drama room he could, and it would be safe.

But they live in Hawkins, Indiana, and he’d like to live long enough to get the hell out of here.

So he lets their feet tangle beneath tables and doesn’t lean across them to have a taste, no matter how often Steve licks his lips.

Friday can’t come soon enough.

***

Robin’s been twitchy for days by the time she pulls Steve into their bathroom stall. He follows her dutifully, only laughing a little as she pulls a towel out of her backpack and lays it down before sitting on the floor.

“You plan this, Birdie?” he asks, settling across from her, the towel beneath them insulating him from the cold that’s seeping up from the floor.

Robin’s face turns a blotchy red like a blood vessel burst and dispersed beneath her skin. “Boobies,” she blurts, staring at him with beseeching eyes before she slaps her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

Steve nods, his attempt at sage wisdom undercut by the way he has to bite his lip to stop from laughing at her. “Boobies, yes,” he chokes out. “I’ve, uh, heard of them.”

That’s all it takes for Robin to kick out at him. When her foot gets dangerously close to his crotch, Steve grabs her ankle and cradles her foot in his lap, rubbing the bone.

“Don’t make fun of me!” she whines, still trying to kick him.

“Okay, okay!” he cries out, chuckling as he holds onto her leg for dear life. “Sorry, just—what’s this about boobies?”

“Stop saying boobies!”

Steve uses his free hand to lock up his mouth and toss the invisible key into the toilet, smiling as the blush on Robin’s cheeks creeps up her nose and onto her forehead until she resembles an especially square tomato.

“Vickie—”

And Steve can’t help it, he really, really can’t. “Has nice boobies?” he cuts in, already grabbing at both her legs to stop her jackrabbiting feet from finally landing a blow to his balls.

“I hate you!” Robin shrieks, but even she’s laughing now as she writhes atop the towel, scrunching it as she earth-worm-inches closer to him so she can slap at his ribs while he’s defenseless. “Steve Harrington, you’re the worst thing that ever happened to me!”

She tries to say it with conviction, but Steve’s hands have crept beneath her crew socks, and his fingers are tickling against the inside arch of her foot, so her words come out more as shaky exhalations of laughter. He wiggles his fingers as she squirms away, kicking out with such reckless abandon that one of her feet breaks free and kicks him far too high on his inner thigh for comfort.

“Get your boy cooties off me!” she demands, and he does, pulling his hands out of her socks as she backs away until she’s leaning against the opposite side of the wall again, pouting at him. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, feeling lighter than air. “Now tell me about Vickie’s girl cooties.”

Robin smiles bashfully, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them. “Vickie doesn’t have cooties,” Robin replies, gaze distant. She looks wistful, enamored, hopeful. “She walked me to class the other day, even though I know it made her late.”

“Yeah?” Steve prompts, helpless to do anything but to smile back.

“Yeah,” she replies. “And maybe it’ll be like Chrissy again, you know? But you and Eddie…” Robin kicks out at him again, nudging her foot into his and then leaving it there, their soles pressed together. “Maybe there’s more of us out there than I thought.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, absolutely in love with brave, hopeful, honest Robin, here in this stall, in this moment. “Maybe there are.”

They smile at each other, two queer kids in the bathroom together, seeing themselves in each other, again, and again, and again. Steve hopes they’ll always be like this, here, on the bathroom floor, finding hope in each other’s smiles. He has Chrissy, and Jeff, and Eddie now, too. But, Robin will always be the first person who looked at him and made him feel seen.

“We should get married,” he says, not thinking about it before it comes out of his mouth and hangs in the air between them, making Robin’s eyes bug out of her skull. “Just think about it! Eddie and I can’t get married, and neither can you and Vickie—”

“You’ve literally gone out with the guy once, and we don’t even know if Vickie likes girls yet—”

“—but we could totally just marry each other instead!”

The silence of the bathroom rings once Steve’s declaration is out there. Robin swallows, throat bobbing, eyes wide enough that Steve can see the little red veins near the back. Suddenly, Steve wonders if he’s stepped over some line he didn’t even know was there.

Before he can spiral too far, Robin launches herself across the space between them, knees bracketing Steve’s hips as she leans over and bites his shoulder, hard.

“Ow, Robin!”

“You’re insane, Dingus, you know that?” she asks, moving away from his shoulder to plant a kind of wet kiss against his forehead. “I’m sixteen, and you’re proposing in the boy’s bathroom.”

She rubs her hand against his head, likely fucking his hair up beyond repair, but he doesn’t even care because she kisses him again, this time on the top of his head.

“I meant like, later?” Steve says shyly.

He’s always fallen hard and fast, knows that about himself. It’s a fundamental law of the universe: gravity makes things fall down, the earth’s always spinning on an axis, and Steve Harrington puts his whole heart into people who don’t always give it back.

But Robin’s on his lap, kissing his head, and leaking what’s either snot or tears into his hair. “Alright,” she warbles, sounding embarrassingly soggy. “When I get a girlfriend, we can just be permanent beards for each other.”

Steve puts his arms around her and hugs her tight, mashing his face awkwardly into her neck as she laughs. “Grow old in separate bedrooms,” he replies.

“Gotta keep our cooties separate,” she says, like she’s not currently dripping on him on the floor of the boy’s grimy bathroom.

He just squeezes her tighter and gives her a little shake, like a dog with its favorite toy. “Tell me about Vickie,” he demands, but it sounds a whole lot like I love you when it comes from his mouth.

“Okay,” she replies, and it sounds a lot like I love you, too.

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #steddie #my fic #me in a steddie fic: but what if robin and steve get married #also shoutout to gareth for now being the oblivious one

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jasvtsc · 2 days ago

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losing your powers simply meant one thing—you couldn’t disappear whenever or wherever you wanted to. in fact, you pretty much couldn’t do anything.

and with your preservation skills or rather the lack of them? yeah, you were screwed.

as much as dean loved your innocence and good-hearted nature, sometimes he wished you could be a little more reserved and bitchy. not so open to anyone. and by anyone, he meant anyone.

so when he found out that you’ve been hitchhiking with strangers? he was fuming after experiencing first signs of an early stroke. you couldn’t spot a dangerous situation if it was pointed at with neon signs and blasting horns—you thought that since your favourite human was nice to you and his younger brother was also a good man, everyone else would probably be the same.

that’s when dean noted that you needed some exposure to other human beings, like a resocialized puppy.

because when he called you (teaching you how to use the phone was like teaching a baby how to walk, but you got there in the end, your phone only having dean’s number) you were once again hitchhiking.

“what? birdie, no, what the hell are you doing in nebraska?” he sighed, running his hand through his tired face. you were going to be the death of him.

“research,” you said as if it was something obvious. “sam said you needed to check something out here, and since you didn’t have time, i did it,” he knew you were grinning right now, and it just tugged at his heart.

“birdie—” he didn’t have it in himself to scold you. or at least not right now. instead, he sighed and got up, getting his keys to Baby. “tell me where you are exactly. i’ll pick you up,” he said, although he frowned when he heard some weird commotion on the other side of the phone.

“you don’t have to. i’ll be back in the bunker in a few hours,” you said with excitement, and when something revved up, dean’s face went pale.

“birdie, what are you doing? what was that?” he asked, panic already evident in his voice and in his tightly he was gripping the phone.

“oh, i’m on a bike! it’s bigger and louder than normal ones, but it’s so cool! and the kind mister has such a cool beard! it’s so fun!” you practically squirmed in excitement, sitting behind some biker since his gang decided to drop you off.

dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. at least you weren’t in a car where they would lock you up. at least on a motorcycle, you could just jump off (he knew you were capable of doing that).

“tell me you’re wearing a helmet,” he let out an exasperated sigh, closing his eyes as he expected your answer.

“i did. but it was squeezing my head too much, and i couldn’t think, so i took it off. also it was ruining my hair.”

lord have mercy.

drabble inspired by this ask <3

#🫧 — kas writes #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x angel!reader #dean winchester x angel!reader drabble #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural drabble

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quintessenceofdust88 · 13 hours ago

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perfect (it's not all it's cracked up to be)

Hello everyone! I promised you guys that the sequel for this prompt would be up by the weekend, right? Turns out I only sorta lied cause it's still Monday hehe. I hope you enjoy it!

You can read it on AO3 if you'd prefer! ❤️

When Tommy wakes up, it’s like his body is on fire and freezing at the same time; half of his body feels numb, and the other half is hurting like never before. Huh, maybe his father had a point and all queer freaks end up in hell. Then again, considering one of his last deeds on Earth was walking out on sunshine itself, maybe it’s not about his queerness after all; it’s about Tommy himself.

He hears a heart monitor at his side, and that gives him pause; he doesn’t think the afterlife bothers with medical devices, so… So maybe he’s alive? If only opening his eyes didn’t feel like it would hurt so much, Tommy could try and find out (not that he knows what hell looks like; it could be like a hospital room, for all he knows). He tries it anyway, letting out a grunt as it, indeed, hurts like a bitch.

“Oh my God, you’re awake!” A voice says to his right side, and yeah, now Tommy’s pretty sure he’s not in hell. Evan Buckley doesn’t belong in hell, not even as part of Tommy’s eternal torture.

As his vision clears, Tommy sees Evan is on a chair by his side, and he looks… Rough. There’s stubble covering his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’s looking at Tommy with despair clearly written in his permanently wet eyes, as if he’s afraid Tommy will disappear if he looks away. And to Tommy, it’s still instinct to comfort Evan, to try and find something to say that’ll make him feel better.

“You found your present” He says dumbly, his eyes not leaving the burgundy hoodie that’s so beautifully wrapped around Evan’s frame, making him look as cozy and adorable as Tommy expected. And, well. It might not have been the smartest thing to say, but he supposes there’s a lot of morphine going through his body right now.

“Well, yeah, after you told my sister where it was as your helicopter crashed? After you wished me Merry Christmas and Happy New Year as your parting words?! It wasn’t so difficult” He answers with a somewhat hysterical chuckle. “What the hell, Tommy?! You’re too much of a coward to actually let yourself be loved and see a future with me, but not to send a farewell message to me through dispatch?! You’re unbelievable!”

“Buck…” He starts, but it’s clear he won’t get to say anything this time. For one, his brain is still working a little too slow to translate thoughts into words. Evan seems to notice it, and lets out a defeated sigh.

“We… We’ll talk later, ok? Let’s get a doctor to check on you first. Sorry, that should have been the first thing I did” He says grumpily, and presses the button by Tommy’s bed.

From them on, it’s a flutter of doctors and nurses, and Tommy learns the extent of the damage: a broken femur, at least five crushed ribs and a small concussion, not to mention the thousand bruises that turned his whole left side black and blue; he hasn’t looked at a mirror yet, but it can’t be pretty.

“Yeah, well, you should’ve seen the other guy, doc” He attempts to joke, and Evan’s scoff and the doctor’s exasperated look make it clear it wasn’t his best attempt. “So, let’s talk business, doc. Will I fly again?” Tommy asks, because that’s the question that matters the most.

He realizes with a treacherous skip to his heart that Evan looks as interested in the answer as Tommy himself. During the whole time the doctor is talking to him about treatments and physical therapy and his perspective to get back to work, he stays by his side, nodding attentively at everything the doctor says (as if he’ll be involved in your treatment, a hopeful part of his brain that should have quieted down weeks ago supplies, and Tommy does his best not to listen to it, because it’ll hurt so bad when it’s not the case).

When the doctor makes it clear that Tommy will not go back to the air for at least six months, Evan squeezes his hand and gives him a look of solidarity that goes a long way to make it not feel like the end of the world. And when the nurse comes to up Tommy’s dosage of morphine and redress his wounds, he doesn’t let go of his hand. Tommy wants to say something, anything, but he’s received a lot of information and the morphine running through his veins makes it difficult to put his thoughts into words. But he doesn’t want to fall asleep; he doesn’t want to let Evan go.

“Sleep, Tommy” Evan tells him in a firm tone. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Then we’ll talk”

It sounds too good to be true; Tommy refuses to believe it. Evan would have every right to leave him to fend for himself; he wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. He closes his eyes, fully expecting to find an empty room when he wakes up.

But contrary to all expectations, when Tommy opens his eyes again, feeling slightly more like a person and less like a shapeless bruise, is to find Evan in the same chair, only with the black hoodie this time, and a cup of coffee in his hand.

He’s impossibly handsome in black, Tommy thinks dazedly, taking advantage of the fact Evan’s looking down at his phone to take a good look at him. There are dark circles under his eyes, and Tommy wonders if he’s been home at all.

His heart does another one of those treacherous leaps, and Tommy is having a hard time keeping the hope from bubbling in his chest. Because if this man saw Tommy at his worst, physically and (especially) emotionally, and was willing to stay this long by his side, who’s to say he won’t stay longer? He was willing to; Tommy was the one who fled, thinking it was about the excitement of a new relationship, but staying by his side after a helicopter crash is something entirely different. Who’s to say he won’t just… stay?

Tommy has to be brave; hell, he’s been brave before, on that glorious night where he took a leap of faith and placed a kiss to the man who had maimed his best friend for Tommy’s attention. Evan had been brave, if a little misguided, when he invited Tommy to move in with him. He owes him some bravery right now. If nothing else, he owes him some honesty after everything.

“You were right” He blurts out, and Evan looks up from his phone, staring at him with widened blue eyes.

“H-hey, you’re up! Do… Do you need anything? I can call the nurse…” He trails off when Tommy’s hand, the one which is less covered in scrapes and bruises, reaches out to lightly touch his.

“I just need you to listen to me. You… you were right, Evan. I was a coward. I am a coward. I… I don’t know how to be loved. I never was” He admits it, and hates himself for choking up as he says it. This isn’t a pity party; he’s just stating a fact: the sky is blue, alcohol is flammable, Thomas Kinard was never loved. He hates how it makes Evan’s whole demeanor soften, because Tommy doesn’t deserve it.

“Then let me love you” Evan whispers, taking Tommy’s hand in both of his. “Let me teach you how it feels. It’s… It’s not like I’m an expert at it, ok? I… I haven’t always been loved either. But… but I love you. You broke my fucking heart, Tommy, and I still love you. Do… do you love me?”

“With all of my heart” Tommy whispers back, and he can’t keep a tear from running down his face. Hell, he almost died, he’s allowed to be emotional. “T-that’s why I had to leave, Evan. If… If you didn’t love me back… If you found out I wasn’t perfect…”

“I know you’re not perfect, Tommy. But guess what? I love you anyway, you idiot” He says, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead, another to the tip of his nose, and a very tender one to his lips. “You… You always wanted me to see you as perfect. You barely let me in all the time we were together. But I saw it anyway, Tommy, and I still wanted you. I still want you”

“I… I was so afraid of being hurt that I didn’t think I’d be hurting you” Tommy admits with a sigh. “A-actually I didn’t think you’d be hurt. I… I thought you’d be okay. I’m sorry, Evan”

“Well, I wasn’t okay. Just ask all of my friends and the thousand loaves of bread in their pantries” He says with a chuckle, and then looks Tommy deeply in the eyes. “Next time, talk to me instead of doing a dramatic exit. And don’t wait till you almost die to let me know where my Christmas presents are”

Tommy chuckles, and squeezes Evan’s hand. He wishes he could sit up and kiss him within an inch of his life, but it sounds a little out of his physical abilities right now. He’ll content himself, with a peck on the lips before Evan sits back down, still holding Tommy’s hand in his.

“I promise Christmas will be perfect” He says, and Evan shakes his head.

“I don’t need perfect, Tommy. I just need you”

–

And Christmas is not perfect. Tommy’s still mostly on bed rest and his leg’s still in a cast. Buck’s staying at his place for now to help him around, but they decided to leave any serious conversations about moving in to after New Year’s. They haven’t really decorated (Tommy was too depressed to bother, and Buck didn’t really have the time between his shifts and taking care of Tommy) and their plans for the day mostly consist in staying in bed and alternating between cheesy rom-coms and documentaries.

It’s not perfect. They are not perfect. But they’re together, and Tommy finds himself thanking any deity out there for his accident. That it brought Evan back to him, and more importantly, him back to Evan.

Buck’s wearing his new burgundy hoodie, and he gives Tommy the airplane model that he stubbornly kept in the hood of the Jeep all this time. They assemble it together, and it’s not the best, because Tommy’s hands are still a little sore and Buck’s not very good at the whole arts and crafts thing, but Tommy puts in his nightstand with adoration anyway.

And if there’s no tree, no Christmas dinner, no cheesy sweaters, well. They can always make up for it next Christmas.

Tag list: (let me know if you’d like to be removed or if I missed anyone! Also if you'd rather only be tagged on Little Blobs' verse, also let me know! ♥)

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tommy kinard needs a hug #tommy kinard needs therapy #angst #crash that helicopter #gabby writes #stay

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shadialwan1 · 2 days ago

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🇵🇸Free Palestine🇵🇸

I am Suheila Alwan, a mother of four daughters and one son. I am 34 years old, but the weight of life and suffering has made me feel much older. We once lived with dignity in a modest home, and my husband’s boat provided for all our needs. But the war has left us with nothing. Our house has been reduced to rubble, and my husband’s boat, our sole source of income, was completely destroyed.

Today, my family and I live in a tent that barely shields us from the cold and rain. My youngest child asks me every day, "Where is our home? When will we go back?" And I find myself standing helpless, unable to answer. My little girls sleep on the hard ground without enough blankets to keep them warm, and my eldest son tries to be strong for his siblings, but he’s just a child—he needs safety and care, things I can no longer provide😭😭😭😭😭

We have no electricity, no clean water, and no consistent access to food. Every day is a struggle to secure even the basics that once felt so ordinary😭😭😭😭😭

I am not asking for much—only for the sake of my children. I wish I could protect them from the biting cold and the hunger that weakens their small bodies. I dream of seeing them smile again, to hear their laughter free from fear and sorrow😭😭😭

I know there are many others suffering like us, but as a mother, I cannot give up on my family. I appeal to you with all the love and desperation in my heart: help us rebuild our lives. Even the smallest gesture of kindness could mean everything to us—a chance to live again with dignity and hope😭😭😭

The campaign has been checked by

@90-ghost

Donation Link

#gaza #free gaza #gaza genocide #free palestine #save palestine

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wolftarotcrafts · 1 day ago

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Hey guys, if you haven't checked out my last future spouse tarot reading, it was about how they look. You can find it here.🤗

Pile One

Hi, pile one for your future spouse's personality. I do see them as a very caring and compassionate person. I see them as a risk-taker and an adventurous person. They are also very ambitious, and they will go after what they want. I see them being hard workers. I will say it because they are ambitious. I see one flaw that they do have is that they may be a little bit of a manipulator in their career. I see they may try and use others to gain an advantage or use others for their own gain. I don't think they do that with ill intent, because I see them as nurturing and compassionate. I see they don't play about their career either. They aren't heartless; they do care, but their career and their goals matter to them greatly. It could be that they use the people that used them or use others that aren't the best people. They could think of it as repaying the favor in a way. I can also see them being a little petty, but again, they do care; they are very nurturing individuals, and they have soft spots. They are kind people, and I see them giving back to the community and to people in need. Your future spouse is a very balanced individual.

Extra: 1, 10, 22, 222, 1212 Cancer, Aries, Sagittarius, Pisces, March, E, Z, I, V, J, Hardworking, Career, Canada, Asia, birthmark, pursuit, chasing dreams, Overseas, seahorses, traveling, going abroad, sightseeing, hotels, Big Ben, bus, plane, countryside, big city, children, wanting a family.

Pile Two

Hello pile two! I see that for your future spouse, I see them being an introvert; they may like to spend more time at home than going to parties. I see them being really spiritual and very smart. I see them being very wise, and they give some really great advice. They are really good listeners. I do see that they may have some emotional scars, and I see they have been through something that really hurt them, but I also see that they pushed through. I feel they are very quiet and shy, and above all, they have a safe and calm aura and energy about them. I see them as healers and creative people. I see they take their self-care very seriously. I see they like to spend time alone doing their meditation and hobbies. I see if they are working on something, they will give it their all and put 100% into it. I don't see them being the type of person to half-ass anything.

Extra: 444, Virgo, short, blue eyes, cleansing, love, journal, writing, painting, artwork, novel, reading, solo time, bookworm, swans, body of water, ponds, wish, (pink) flowers, November, Shadowhunters.

Pile Three

Hey, pile three. I see that your future spouse is very loyal and dependable. If you need them, they are there; no questions asked. If you need help with something, they will help you out as much as they can. For example, if you need money, they will give you the money; if you need a ride, they will drive you. No matter how big or small the task is. Whatever you need, they will help you out. I can see them being very wise people. I do see that they move very fast and can possibly love bomb, but I just think they want to do these nice things because they are really generous, so communicate and talk to them if you feel uncomfortable. I think they move fast without even realizing that they are doing it. I see they really like to experience new things, and they might be bold. I see them liking to dance and try new things.

Extra: 12, 15, 20, 29, H, fire signs, Capricorn, Leo, elegant, classy, funny, smart, USA, South America, Mexico, October, muscular, moving, shake it up, purple, brown hair, straight hair.

I offer tarot readings here like soulmate readings, love readings, career readings, and pendulum readings.

#daily tarot #free tarot #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #tarot pac #tarot pick a card #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarot #future spouse

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mingkismain · 20 hours ago

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Detective Kim - hongjoong x reader

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

an; finally got inspo to write again!

hongjoong x fem!reader

genre; smut, pwp

word count; 4,091

warnings/tags; pwp, piv, unprotected sex (as i always say don't do that), sort of meandom!hongjoong (SORT OF), non-idol!au, little bit of choking, quite literally one (1) ass slap, lil bit of degradation, pet names (babe, baby), creampie, overstimulation, if i missed anything lmk <3

MDNI - smut under cut

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

it wasn’t unusual for you to have to bring in a body during night shift, but a double homicide was definitely a little weird.

You’d been working for the county coroner for about three years now, and in that time you had only had one other double homicide, and that one was on your very first night shift.

You could’ve sworn this one only came in because your coworker made the mistake of wishing you a slow shift, ultimately cursing you to a nightmarish shift. While it wasn’t as bad as you thought, the scene where the bodies were found was about 30 minutes from your office, which meant this trip would take at least an hour, which meant you lost at least an hour of possible sleep.

Great.

“I’ll make sure to wish him a slow shift next time he’s on nights,” you grumbled to yourself as you loaded up the coroner van. As soon as you were done checking the stretchers and making sure you had enough gloves and body bags (plus your camera), you pulled out of the garage and made your way to the scene.

When you arrived, local and state police were already there waiting for you, Detective Kim walking up to your van to greet you.

“Ah, so good to see you!, sorry it’s under these circumstances, but always a pleasure to see you,” Detective Kim stuck his hand out for you to shake.

You smiled, “hi Hongjoong, yes sorry I have to see you here too, we always seem to meet at the worst times!” You tried to keep the mood as light as you could, as the unknown of the scene inside was starting to make you nervous. “What do we have here?” You hopped out of the van, grabbing your camera and some gloves, walking with Hongjoong to the front door of the scene. It appeared to have happened inside a townhouse.

He kept up with you, pausing so you could capture your photos as you two walked, “so apparently there was a 911 call made by a neighbor, they had heard a lot of banging coming from this unit and it was originally a noise complaint. While the person was on the phone with dispatch, they said they heard gunshots. We’re still figuring out the details, but we needed you to come in and do your work before we started ours.” Once you two had made your way to the first line of crime scene tape, you were met with a policeman holding a sheet of paper.

“Before you two go in, sign this please.” He held the clipboard out in front of you, it had the scene log on it. “Make sure we know who is coming in and out of here. We don’t know what happened yet, but better safe than sorry.” You and Hongjoong nodded and each signed your names and what departments you two worked for. You then snapped a shot of the scene log for your own evidence folder.

You continued to talk to Hongjoong as you made your way through the front door, snapping more photos as you moved inside, “so they heard gunshots, anything else? And where are the bodies?” You moved to the living room, finding bloody footprints, snapping a photo with your scale and being careful to not step on them.

“The local police are still gathering their witness statements, so I really don’t know what else they heard. But I think it was a couple, a male and a female. I think the man was dealing with some shady people, then his girl got caught up in it. Oh, and the bodies are upstairs. Whenever you’re done down here we can go up to the bedroom.” He trailed behind you, watching as you photographed from the living room to the kitchen, eventually going to the stairs.

Once you made your way to the stairs, you started to notice bullet holes and marks in the walls leading up to the hallway. You grabbed some photos of those as you continued up the stairs, “Joong, which bedroom are they in?”

His ears perked up at the little nickname, people rarely used it on him but whenever you said it, he would feel his face flush. He cleared his throat, “go up the hallway, second door on your left. I’ll be right behind you.” You nodded and continued up as you photographed the hallway upstairs, finding even more bullet holes and a couple of shell casings. As you entered the bedroom, you saw the two bodies, the woman was in bed, the man was face down on the floor.

Hongjoong stood behind you, “Jesus.”

You turned around, brows furrowed, “have you not been up here yet??”

“No, I seriously was waiting for you! I didn’t want you yelling at me if I touched anything! I remember how you were on that suicide scene not too long ago!”

You huffed, “well thank you for not touching anything, but are the weapons secured? Do we even know if this guy had a gun? Has anyone done ANYTHING prior to my arrival???”

He stifled a laugh, “yes, the cops secured the scene for you, they have the gun in an evidence bag downstairs, but we can give you a description and everything when we’re heading down again. And don’t worry, we took our own photos before we moved the gun.”

“Thank you, remind me when we go down please.” You began to move into the room, being mindful of where your feet were placed.

The room wasn’t a bloodbath, but it certainly wasn’t spotless. You started with the man, as he was closer to the door. He was lying face down, feet closer to the door. It looked as if he had been running. You took photos of him as is before getting up close. Once you finished with overall shots, you put your gloves on and began to move the body, turning him over so you could get a clear shot of his face. It looked as if he had been shot in the back of the head, with the exit wound dead center of his forehead. You opened his eyes to check for other injuries, and to document in your photos. As you moved him so he was now on his back, you found more wounds scattered throughout his torso.

“Oh my god, Doc is gonna have a field day with this guy,” you snapped photos of every single bullet wound. Some had exit wounds, but a few did not, which meant your coroner was going to have to search for the bullets during the autopsy.

Once you were done with the man, you moved to the woman in the bed. She seemed to have a less painful demise, as she only had two bullet wounds. One straight to the heart, and one slightly to the left of the kill shot.

As you continued to move the body so you could clearly assess her, Hongjoong stood by the door, “what’s it looking like?”

You stood at the foot of the bed, taking more pictures of the woman, “looks like he was the one in the altercation. I think she may have woken up, but whoever was chasing this guy must’ve gotten her pretty quickly. She only has two wounds, and I think he’s got at least a dozen holes in him.” You turned around to face him, “can you come back downstairs with me? I need to get my body bags and stretcher out of the van.” He nodded and followed you down. You handed him the two bags you brought and went around the back to grab your stretcher. Since there was only one and both the decedents were relatively small in weight, you could fit both of them on the one stretcher and call it a day.

Before you went back inside, you found some of the local cops. “Listen, I need some big strong men to help me with these people in this house. How many of you want to have the honor of helping lil’ ol’ me?” You batted your lashes at the cops.

Don’t ask what sexism can’t do for you, but what it CAN help you with. You damn well were not about to haul two bodies down some stairs on your own.

Hearing that you needed strong men made them start puffing their chests, one out of the group piped up, “sure doll, me and Chris here can give you a hand. Do you have extra gloves?” He grabbed his buddy by the vest, volunteering him to help with the dead.

You put on a big fake smile, “of course I do! Here, take these and let’s go!”

They followed you into the house, Hongjoong behind them with the body bags still. He had watched you with the cops and may have started ruminating on it. He was a strong guy, right? He alone could’ve helped you with the bodies? What the fuck?

Pushing those thoughts to the side, he stood in the doorway again, watching you and the cops handle the bodies into their bags. Once everyone was zipped in, you and one cop handled a body down the stairs, while Hongjoong and the other cop carried the other bag behind you two. Once they were loaded onto the stretcher, you got them into the van, closing the door behind you. Before you got on your way, you gave the cops your work email so they could send you photos of the gun from earlier.

You thanked the cops and sent them on their way, Hongjoong hung out by your van for a second, “I’ll meet you back at your office.”

“What? Why?”

He huffed, “because you aren’t going to be able to move two bodies on your own that’s why!”

“They’re both pretty light Joong, it's fine, really. You probably have other cases sitting on your desk—”

He sighed your name out, “seriously, quit it, I’m not changing my mind. Plus, I really don’t wanna go back to the office yet. I’ll meet you at YOUR office in a bit. Drive safe.”

“You too.” You spoke as he walked off, you hopped back into your van, plugging your directions in.

While on your drive you contemplated why Hongjoong’s mood had shifted towards the end of the scene. Sure you had only known him for two years, but that felt like enough time together to know that tonight was a little strange.

“Maybe he’s dealing with shit outside of work,” You thought out loud. Maybe the bodies in the back would perk up with some advice.

Unfortunately, neither the dead nor the living had anything insightful to say as you pulled back into your office garage, Hongjoong already in a parking spot out front. Once he saw you parking, he made his way to the garage door. He barely said a word as you got the stretcher out of the back.

“Where do you want it?”

Your eyebrows raised, “huh?? Oh, the bodies. Um, put them over there for now, I have to get their weights, but I need to put them on separate tables for that.” You shook your head. The fuck? He knew what he was doing phrasing it like that.

He literally does NOT, you just haven’t been laid in ages. Wake up.

While you busied yourself with the toe tags, Hongjoong made his way over to you, leaning in to see what you were writing down. He was so close you could smell the cologne on him, it’s amazing that after a scene as gross as that one and now being in the morgue with more dead bodies mere feet away, he still smelled so delicious. It took a lot of willpower for your hand to steady as you finished with the last tag, turning around and nearly bumping into him with how in your space he had gotten.

“Sorry hon, was just curious. I don’t get to see this side of the investigation too much,” he moved out of your way so you could go place the toe tags with their respective bodies.

Was it a full moon tonight? Why am I sweating when this morgue is literally 50ºF. I hate it here.

As you finished with the toe tags, you moved to grab the storage trays out of the freezer for the bodies. You figured you could weigh one of them on the stretcher and the other on the tray, then move them both to trays for storage until autopsy. You motioned for Hongjoong, “Joong, come give me a hand please?”

This time there was no hiding the flush to his face as he walked towards you; though he could blame it on how cold this damn place was. Regardless, he made his way over, helping you weigh the bodies. Once all that was done, you rolled them into storage, shutting the door and double checking that it was locked. You sighed as you headed back to the van to collect your camera so you could upload your photos and hopefully sleep the rest of your shift.

Unfortunately (or maybe not?) Hongjoong followed you to your desk inside.

“I thought you were just going to help with the bodies?” You unloaded your camera bag as he rolled up an office chair next to yours.

He took off his coat, putting it on the back of his chair, “yeah, but now I want to see your pictures. Crime scene rarely shares with the detectives. I don’t know why, but they’re so weird. It’s like a little cult over there, they never wanna give us anything even though it’s usually OUR cases they’re helping with.”

You let out a small sigh, “alright, fine. You can look at mine, but I’m kicking you out after that. You’re cutting into my sleeping time.”

He laughed, “listen, I’m cutting into my OWN sleep time, but I get lonely at the office, it’s different from here.”

You focused on your screen, beginning to label all your photos in numerical order. “What do you mean?”

He leaned in, looking as you labeled, “oh wow you’re great at this. It’s just different. Here you’re on your own sort of, it’s only you on night shift, not a lot of overhead really, it’s comfier. At my office it has the same vibes as a fraternity house sometimes. There’s more than one person each shift, and everyone is fighting for the same promotion most times, so you really don’t know who you can trust. It sucks most days, but I love the actual work I do.”

You blushed at his quick compliment about your photos, the day you can take a compliment normally is the day your praise kink dies. Regardless, you continue to listen to him vent about his office as you catalog your work. By the time he was done ranting, you had finished with your photos, Hongjoong leaning over your shoulder the entire time you were working, eventually moving so close to your screen that your heads were lined up next to each other. But you blamed the closeness on him manually zooming in instead of waiting for you to do it on the computer. Now that you were done with labeling, you could spend more time looking at the pictures with him. He never moved his head, if anything he got even closer to you, putting the hand that was originally resting on the back of your chair, now resting on your shoulders. He stood out of his chair in favor of practically leaning over you.

You tried to crack a joke, “Joong, I think you need glasses, you’re so close you’re going to fall into my screen,” you let out a nervous laugh as you both turned your heads to each other. The eye contact you were now holding made your body temperature skyrocket.

He continued to hold eye contact, breaking for a second to look at your lips, “Sorry doll, I didn’t want to bother you too much and ask you to zoom in on every single picture.”

You thought about how he said doll, then it hit you, “is that what this attitude change was caused by?? Because I asked some stupid local cops to help me move BODIES? You cannot be serious right now Hongjoong.” You were still technically under him in your desk chair, yelling up into his face. He gave it right back to you, one hand moving to your upper thigh, giving it a squeeze, “yeah that’s what this was about! Why were you flirting with the cops? You didn’t need to do that and you know I would’ve been able to help you with the bodies myself!”

The hand on your thigh did little to distract you, “oh my god you and your fragile ego! We would’ve dropped the fucking bodies had it just been us two! Don’t read into it too much! The flirting meant jack shit!”

He sighed heavily, the hand on the back of your chair moving to your chin, pulling you in for a rough kiss. Pulling away, he said, “it didn’t feel like jack shit to me, do you do that on all your scenes?” He lifted you out of your chair, dropping you onto your desk, going back in for a heavier kiss. “Whore yourself around so the men can do the heavy lifting? I wonder what else you offer so they can do your dirty work,” He pulled you into him by your waist, a hand snaking up to the back of your head, pulling your hair so you would look at him. You bit back a moan, not wanting him to have the satisfaction of knowing how hot you were getting.

He gave your hair another tug, “answer me pretty girl. Do you act like that at all your scenes or just when you know I’ll be around?”

You tried to even out your heavy breathing, looking into his eyes, “I do it on most scenes, regardless of if you’re there or not. It’s not my fault you can’t handle it.” His grip in your hair loosened, you thought this would be the end of it.

Clearly you were wrong.

He tilted his head and smirked at you, pulling you off of the desk in favor of bending you over it.

Thank god this office didn’t have any fucking cameras.

You braced yourself with your arms but not for long, you heard movement behind your back before your arms were taken out from under you. Hongjoong had taken his belt and secured your arms behind you with it. He then moved to unfasten your pants, dropping them along with his. He bent over you so he could whisper in your ear as his hand snaked down to play with your already throbbing clit over your panties.

“We’ll see who can handle what. I don’t think those other cops ever get to see you like this.” You turned your head away from him, trying to hide the fact that he was making you feel fucking amazing, but he was having none of that. Instead of going for your hair again, he brought the hand that wasn’t on your clit to your neck, grabbing you tightly, making you arch off the desk. As he brought you up to him, a moan escaped you and it immediately drove Hongjoong up a fucking wall.

“Aw see baby, you can’t hide from me, I know what you like. It’s too easy,” he emphasized ‘easy’ with a stronger hold on your neck, making your vision fuzzy for only a moment before fully dropping his hand in favor of going to rip your underwear off. He brought you back down to the desk with a huff, getting rid of his underwear in the process.

He took his cock out and began to line himself up with your entrance, you only wish you could’ve seen his face when he finally slid into you, but you were too busy squeezing your eyes shut. You could hear him let out a shaky moan, “jesus fuck you feel so good, it’s a wonder we didn’t do this sooner,” you gasped as he bottomed out inside of you, even though you didn’t get a chance to see his cock, he felt heavy inside of you, thick and long, practically touching your cervix.

Once Hongjoong felt you were adjusted to him he began to pound into you, moving you up and down the desk. He held onto your still secured arms for leverage, grunting into your ear as he did so.

Leaning down to bite your ear, he growled at you, “say it.”

In your nearly fucked out state, you had no idea what he was talking about. “What?” You managed to get out through several moans.

He repeated himself, bringing a hand to slap your ass as he did, “say it. Tell me you’re a whore. My whore.”

At the mention of him calling you his whore you swore you could’ve flooded the office, you felt yourself tighten around him as he said it. Earning another, rather loud, moan out of him.

Through broken whimpers and moans, you managed to say it, “yes, fuck yes! I’m yours Hongjoong,” you let out another particularly loud moan, practically drooling onto your desk, “your dumb whore.” You were pretty sure you came as you said that, body feeling a little more weak and a lot more sensitive, but he continued to fuck you through it, bringing you to that sweet spot of overstimulation.

Hongjoong must’ve felt it too, he leaned down to leave a kiss on your shoulder, “aw what’s the matter baby? Haven’t been touched in so long it only takes a couple hits to get you there? Don’t worry, I’m close too.”

He in fact was not close.

He continued to pound into you, switching up from fast and hard to slowly dragging his cock in and out of you, it was torturous at this point. He was driving you crazy, you felt like you were close again, he made it even worse by bringing his hand back down to your clit to rub it again, harder and faster than before, making your legs shake so badly. You were beginning to get so overwhelmed by all the pleasure, you could feel tears running down your face, landing on your desk. You were sure you were going to pass out if he didn’t cum soon, the pleasure beginning to make you feel lightheaded.

You could hear Hongjoong’s groans and moans getting louder behind you. He reached down to undo the belt from your hands, freeing you to brace yourself on your desk again. You pushed yourself up, arching your back and making him fuck you from a slightly new angle, sending you both right to the edge.

He bit your shoulder and moaned loudly, “baby, babe I’m close, so close, where do you want it?”

You shivered at his words, reaching back to grab his hair, “inside—haah—fuck inside please!”

He moaned and cursed your name, “fuck, fuck! coming, oh my god i’m gonna—” he groaned as he released inside you, triggering you to come again, legs practically giving out underneath you. Hongjoong felt you slipping and held your hips up while you both rode your highs out. Once your both caught your breath, he pulled out of you, making you both shudder as he did so.

As you turned around to redress yourself, he was doing the same, he reached down to you and gave you a deep kiss, but this one was softer than the earlier ones. Once you both were redressed, your work phone rang.

You groaned, answering the phone, “coroner’s office. Huh? Uh huh.” Hongjoong stood close by, trying to listen in, “alright, where are you? Do you have a name? No? Alright, do you at least have race and sex? Weight? Rough estimate is fine. Alright. I’ll be out in under an hour. And what was your name? Got it. See ya.” You hung up the phone, scribbling the last bit of info down.

Hongjoong spoke up, “what was that about?”

You reached for your jacket that read ‘coroner’ on the back, “another death, apparently this one was a suicide. I think it’s in your jurisdiction if you wanna come out with me.”

He followed your lead, reaching for his jacket, “I guess aftercare will have to wait till later huh.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

this was also crossposted to my ao3 :3

please do not repost or translate my work

#ateez smut #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez #kpop #kpop smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #ateez hard hours

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r-eatyourfriends-n · 1 day ago

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SMOKED | l.hs 이희승 | Collide pt. 2

bestfriend!heesung x bestfriend!reader

READ PT 1 HERE.

warnings: smut (mdni), pwp (plot's there if you look hard enough), unprotected sex, overstimulation (sort of?), no use of "y/n", light switch!dynamics from both reader and heesung, car sex, unsafe driving lowkey, dryhumping, minor argument, heesung is down bad honestly.

wc: 3.8k

synopsis: days have passed after your first hook up with Heesung, though neither of you have said anything about it. Instead, you continue your search for a good one night stand somewhere else, but your mind and body know where you should be.

a/n: wow! the moral obligation I had to finish this before posting anything else was crazy, but after a huge block it's finally here. If you think this is better than pt1 it's because it is, but it's also because it has been approved by the one and only @molloygendered !!!!! my bestfriend and editor. he wanted to review this again before posting it but I'm a kid on sugar so I held him at gunpoint to approve this. any feedback is appreciated !!! hope you enjoy.

4 unread messages.

sorry to bother u so late

can u pick m up? pls

[Address]

idk if ure awake sorry

Heesung's screen lit up on his desk, breaking his focus from the heated game in front of him. He unlocked his phone, the other hand still gripping the controller tightly. His eyes moved quickly from the texts popping up and then back to the screen, which nearly got him killed.

The team won eventually, but just barely. Heesung logged out as soon as it was over. He spent the whole time wanting to check his phone.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?”Jake yelled at him through the call. “We almost lost."

“My bad. Gotta go,” he said in a monotone voice, showing no remorse as he hung up the call despite Jake's groans.

He looked back down at his phone and texted back a short "omw" before getting up from his chair, stretching his arms. His bones cracked, so loud it made him wince at the sound.

With quick steps, he changed into something a bit more decent, just a plain white t-shirt on top of his cargo pants, which had been slowly losing their black tone after each wash. The chains on his thick belt dangled as he walked out of his room and began to head out of his apartment, taking his keys from the cat-shaped key holder you had put on his wall. He had been surprised the first time he hung his keys and a white cat popped up. It was supposed to be a prank, but Heesung never found it in him to take it off despite the fact that it didn't match with the overall vibe of his room one bit. The kitten disappeared inside the box as he left.

The distance to your location was short, or perhaps Heesung was driving a little too fast. Either way, he arrived about fifteen minutes after telling you that he was on his way to pick you up. He parked in front of a small, black gate which led to some stairs. The complex seemed fairly little, but somewhat cozy, with small balconies filled with pots and all kinds of houseplants. Although it was past midnight and dark, he could still make out the colors of the flowers that were placed by the edges of the windows, leaves moving along with the wind.

Leaving the car on, he hopped out, leaning back against the driver's door to wait for you. Admittedly, it was ill-intended. He hoped your date would see him and would be thrown off.

The wait felt like eternity. When the door opened, your figure finally appeared in a white dress with black dots, just a bit above the knee. The cleavage allowed for the black choker to stand out, your name's initial dangling softly. Heesung had always wished it was an H instead.

You smiled at Heesung when you saw him, tilting your head in confusion because why was he out of the car? Heesung smiled back at you, a soft beam on his lips. Then looked to your side when a boy appeared next to you.

He eyed your guy up and down as he said goodbye to you. He was tall like you liked them, with flawlessly tan skin and a face that was nothing short of charming, with a sort of boyish appeal to him, and it was obvious why you had said yes to a date in the first place. Heesung swallowed hard, his own jealousy burning down his throat.

You didn't seem too enchanted by the guy, though, looking almost uncomfortable as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. You fake-giggled (at least, he thought you did) and grinned at him politely before making your way to Heesung. The guy appeared to be a little turned off by you getting picked up by another man, for he did not take his eyes off of Heesung as he walked to the passenger's seat to open the door for you, a gesture that you were used to. Before hopping back in, Heesung winked at him, a smug grin forming. After that, you two were off speeding down the road. He'll take the long way home, he decided.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you broke the silence after a few minutes of driving. “You didn't have to wait outside though, it's freezing.”

"I was trying to scare him off,” Heesung chuckled, a half joke that managed to pass as just something playful, making you laugh and hit his arm.

“I don't think he liked that,” you said after your laugh subsided.

“I think it was you who didn't like him.”

You went silent for a bit, sulking on your seat.

“So, how was it?”

“I liked him,” you mumbled, biting your lip in thought. “It was good, yeah.”

“But?” Heesung inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess I was hoping for something more... intense?”

Heesung turned his face, pretending to check something on the rearview mirror so that you wouldn't notice him biting his lip. He hoped you were referring to him, about the intimate moment you two had shared a few nights before, about the bite that was still decorating your shoulder so beautifully. A purple light enough to resemble a bruise; poor clumsy you, tripped and hit yourself with his mouth.

“Intense how?” he asked.

“To hell if I know,” you shrugged.

He furrowed his eyebrows, glancing your way quickly.

“You clearly do know.”

“I don't. If I did I would tell you, Hee,” you said, confused.

“Like how you told me you were off to see another douchebag?” Heesung spat.

His words made you quickly turn your head. And although he wasn't looking at you, you knew he could feel your glare burning through his skin. The sudden change in attitude had been nothing short of baffling. He seemed to keep his eyes on the road to avoid your stare rather than for safety. You couldn't tell if bouncing his leg was anger, anxiety, both, or something entirely different.

“How do you know he was a douchebag?! I told you it was fine!” you whined.

“Did he even make you come?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to fight back, but the only sound that came out was your breath hitching. It had been such a simple question, but it ignited the memories of your one time affair with him. The soft promises, the surpassed expectations, the sweet, sweet release. Your body began to tingle in the places where his hands had lingered, and you found yourself shuddering on the seat. Of course Heesung had asked that, while knowing your answer, too.

“Sex is not all about that.” you said finally, voice low with uncertainty.

“Oh, so that's why you fuck every idiot with a mushroom cut.” Heesung mumbled.

“What the hell is your problem? You don't even know him!” your ears rang as your voice raised in pitch.

“Oh I know him; clerk job moron who thinks sticking it in is enough.”

You tried to ignore the fact that he was a receptionist at your esthetician’s clinic who you happened to make conversation with during a long wait. He had been bold enough to ask you to grab dinner and two days later you were kissing in the elevator of his one-bedroom apartment.

That kiss had set your expectations through the roof, hoping that you had landed your perfect match. And it had been nice, sort of, but not like you had wished for, or had imagined. The way you had envisioned things and the way said things happened were complete opposites. Maybe it had been your fault for already having something in mind.

The conflict his words caused reflected in your face, a turmoil evident as you stumbled out your next words.

“I still don't understand why it bothers you so much. I know I'm sleeping with a bunch of idiots.”

“You're hellbent on letting these assholes touch you.” he grunted.“ I can't stand it, I don't get it. It's pointless, it's…”

You were barely able to make out the words; he was just rambling, or so you concluded.

“How is that your problem?” you cut him off, bringing him back from his thoughts.

Only then, Heesung realized the slip up. Yes, you were right, and regardless of how close the two of you were, it was ultimately your call who you slept with, which bothered Heesung to no end. Why were you so against calling him again? Why didn't you ask to have sex again? Why did he finally have you, only for you to slip through his fingers?

He hoped you hadn't caught onto it, but you knew him too well not to. Everything made sense after; his seemingly sudden offer, waiting for you outside of the car, this angry fit.

“I said, how's that your problem? What about it?” you pushed, in response to Heesung's answer, which had been silence.

“You can do so much better than that.” he finally said.

“So,” you smiled at him. “Think you can be my better?”

Heesung pulled the car over, so quickly your body flew towards the door, and he almost hit his chest with the steering wheel. His grip on it was tight, and he began panting. You thanked god about the empty, dark road, otherwise it could've ended in a nasty crash.

Both of your eyes meet, his pupils blown out with a hint of a gleam in them. There was hope, a tad bit of anger, and an undeniable desire. His hands were twitching, itching to touch you, and you didn't remember ever feeling so wanted.

Heesung's gaze slowly drifted to your lips, almost involuntarily. Your mouth fell open to breath, uneven and quick. The car was cold, but your temperature went up like a fever.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

His gaze met yours once more. “Can I?”

You nodded. It was all he needed to pull you in, holding your face with both hands as gently but firmly as he could. Afraid, in a weird way, that you would disappear if he let go. That this was all a sick dream from his hungry mind and that he was soon to wake up alone, in bed, with you far away from his grasp.

Despite how much he wanted to keep it slow, the kiss was just plainly instinctual. It had started soft, as if he wanted it to last forever, which he did. Then it was relentless, like nothing was enough, with your faces pressed so tightly together that you almost felt you couldn't breathe properly. Heesung allowed you a few seconds of air before he was onto you again.

It was hard to keep up with him, but you managed, because this was what you wanted anyway. It was hard to tell if you would ever get to feel something like this again; the desperation, your blood pounding in your ears from the anticipation before he made the move, and your whole body shaking in excitement as if it had a memory of its own, and could recognize the touch.

“Backseat,” you muttered between kisses.

He heard you, loud and clear, he just couldn't stop himself. He wanted more. Heesung wanted to do so much with you, and to you, that he was unable to do anything at all. He couldn't bring himself to separate his mouth from yours despite needing the air, and his hands roamed mindlessly and only for the sake of getting a feel. The once deliberate and calculated Heesung was now a wreck in your hands, melting in the heat like a popsicle. Sweet.

But you really had to pull him off, otherwise you'd turn blue. Your nails scratched his scalp as you yanked him back, making him whimper in the process. The way he looked burned in your memory; eyes half-lidded, lips pink and swollen, parted, panting. Even with his eyes nearly closed, you could see his darkened eyes.

“I said backseat, Heesung,” you repeated, letting go of his hair. “Do you want to fuck me or not?”

In every single position there was. Fingers, tongue, cock, he wanted to give you everything and more, so he scrambled to the backseat as you had ordered.

This is who you were; demanding and controlling. That one time he manhandled you? Only that, a one time thing, now you wouldn't give in so easily. Not after the little jealousy number he pulled, at least. You weren't all that resilient yourself, but you would drag it as far as you could.

Heesung thought that he had chosen the worst type of clothing possible. Had he kept the sweatpants instead of changing into something else, then maybe the friction would've been more bearable. The rough material of his pants brushing against his cock made him groan whenever he slightly shifted. And when he finally found comfort, you seated yourself on his lap and grinded, hard.

“Ohfuck,” he whined, his hands flying to your hips to find some leverage. His nails dug into your sides. “You're gonna— I'm not gonna last.”

You grinded down again. And again, until you set your pace, ignoring his cries. The nails trying to claw at your skin drove you further despite the sting. As much as he tried to slow you down in the name of ‘lasting longer', he still thrusted his hips up to meet you halfway, though his eyes were tightly shut, and lips pressed in a straight line.

“Please, please baby, I don't wanna come yet, please.”

“Did I just hear The Lee Heesung begging?”

He looked up at you, teary eyed. His bangs were stuck to his forehead, as sweat had already begun to drip from his hair. That had been enough of an answer.

Yes, you had. It had been about the hottest thing you had ever heard as well. Usually confident Lee Heesung, always took the lead Lee Heesung, would rather die than humiliate himself Lee Heesung, whining and whimpering about coming too fast after some kissing and humping. That same Heesung that had been able to get not one, but three orgasms out of you before even getting close. It was a sight to see.

You stopped, and Heesung sighed in relief, although the calm didn't last long. As a smirk formed on your lips, his eyes grew panicked.

“If you come, I'll leave this car,” you said, rolling your hips again.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he whimpered. He squeezed his eyes shut again, the shape of his fingers imprinting onto your skin. Back then, when the two of you first had sex, this was the reality of what Heesung felt, even when he did a good job at not letting himself seem so desperate.

He'd be damned if he looked like a loser in front of you, or so he thought. Because now that your wet underwear was soaking his pants, he was a mess. A hard, pathetic mess, desperately trying not to burst in his jeans from having you on top of him.

You yourself didn't believe you could keep torturing him, only because you were also torturing yourself in the process. His hard length along with the rough fabric of his pants brushed against your clit in a way that sent jolts through your body. It was harsh and uncomfortable while still feeling good enough not to stop.

Heesung's hips twitched with a mind of their own, searching for release against his wishes. You halted, leaning your body back to unbuckle his belt. He groaned at the loss of contact though didn't complain any further, and instead helped you get rid of his restraintments quicker. His breath ghosted over your skin as he sighed in relief, which made you shudder.

His fingers went down to tease you under your dress, rubbing over the wetness seeping through your panties, and even with the layer in between, he could feel his fingers dampen. Heesung continued until you were left whining and attempting to grind your hips harder onto his hand. Only then did you feel him push the fabric to the side, and the tip of his cock pressed against your cunt.

After Heesung had you the first time, he knew that he couldn't let you go. Days went by where he would still feel your lips against his; the skin of your thighs, hot and sweaty, burning his cheeks as you closed your legs around his head while you came on his tongue. Not one day went by where he didn't fantasize about pushing himself inside you, and in some dreams, he would just stay there.

But nothing was able to prepare him for when it actually happened. He thought the desperate way in which you lowered yourself on his cock might be too much for you. In reality, it was almost too much for him, as it forced a deep moan from his throat.

It was a little painful, walls tightening and loosening around him to accommodate the quick stretch, though the sting was worth Heesung's debauched expression. You wondered why,despite the uncomfortable, small space, it felt so much better than the first time. Maybe it was how much both of you had seemed to crave it, or the car forcing even more proximity between you two, as the things you could do were limited. Regardless, you could feel your lower region sticky and warm with the slick that had, apparently, dripped out of you and spread around your thighs and ass.

You could barely hear your over breathing over Heesung's heavy one. His hands massaged the skin of your waist where he held himself, mostly to ground himself to earth, or so you guessed, because he looked completely gone. His cheeks cherry red and his lips a peach pink, and you succumbed to the urge to kiss him.

This time, it was slow and calculated. He took the time to feel the rest of you, from threading his fingers in your hair, to ghosting his fingers over your spine from under the dress. You didn't fall behind, though, raising his shirt as much as you could to run your nails over your stomach, stopping to feel his muscles tense beneath your hands as you began to move your hips.

“Slow, baby, please,” he breathed out, it came out way more high pitched than he intended to.

As much as you wanted to keep messing with him, the world had seemed to fade away, leaving you two alone with the car and the small piece of road that you were parked in, and you didn't feel like breaking the moment just yet. You placed your hands on his shoulders for better stability, and rested your forehead on the crook of his neck.

Whispers of praises poured from his lips. You're beautiful, you're amazing, could stay here forever, and another handful that got lost between all the shit's and fuck’s that also came nonstop. He followed all of his words and phrases by kissing your neck, sometimes even biting. You might find a mark when you look in the mirror, but you cared little about that. Instead, you decided to leave a mark of your own, sucking and biting on the most visible place that you could think of. That's when he began to meet your movements, thrusting up messily in an attempt to pick up a pace.

“Say you're—,” he gulped, interrupting himself. “You're mine.”

“Always have been,” you smiled against the light red bite mark.

Your voice as you rode his cock kept driving him closer to the edge. Every moan and whine just made him go faster, having already been close to his orgasm from the grinding before. And as you grew tired, it felt as if he was regaining some form of control. Heesung smirked when you laid, practically limp, against him, allowing him to set the speed that he wanted. He remembered that he loved being in control as much as he had loved giving it to you.

“F-faster,” you pleaded lowly.

Heesung pouted, even when you couldn't see him. “No manners, sweetheart?”

Most likely, you were about to pay a small price for threatening him to leave.

You swallowed, so loud you were sure he had heard. “Please.”

“What? I didn't hear you.”

“Go faster, Hee, please!” you nearly yelled. It had been hard to get the words out after getting him where you wanted.

“There we go!”

Were you being pushed down on his cock or was he pushing up into you? By this point, you weren't really sure. What you were certain about, though, was that he reached wherever you needed him to, and the squelching sounds were at its loudest.

“Was he good like me?” Heesung asked, grunting through his teeth. “Were you thinking about me while he fucked you?”

He wasn't expecting to get answers, and he didn't. You were too focused on the feeling of your body overheating from the inside out, and all of your muscles tensing. Your walls clamped around him involuntarily as pushed you closer to the orgasm that you had been chasing since the beginning of your date a few hours ago.

Heesung wanted you to finish first, he truly tried, but there was no way to stop the waves of pure pleasure that hit as he came, and the fact that he got to come inside of you just made it hit harder, and you had to help him ride out his climax because he really couldn't move, just kept himself there with his brows furrowed.

You were close as well, so you didn't really stop despite Heesung reaching his orgasm first. Even through his over sensitivity, he helped you reach your own high. He sneaked his hand between your bodies to rub messy circles on your clit. You kept it slow on him, but he went fast.

It didn't take long for you after that. Feeling you on his cock as you orgasmed almost made him hard again, if it wasn't so late and you hadn't been going at it for what felt like forever—not that he was complaining—. He got to watch your face contort into pure pleasure, better than any daydreams.

Heesung pressed his forehead against yours, unable to do anything other than show you something, whatever that something was. It lingered in the air, in the way he looked at you through his teary gaze. He kissed you, slower than ever before.

Whatever was going through his mind was deeper than lust, you could feel it in the way his lips moved so softly against yours, holding your face with both hands. You wondered if he knew that you didn't plan on slipping away again.

#eatyourfriendsfics #lee heesung smut #lee heesung x reader #reader x lee heesung #reader x idol #enhypen heesung #heesung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #x reader #reader insert #fem reader

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isak-dot-gov · 1 day ago

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Bubblegum Pink

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Girly girl!Reader

Word count: 1137

My Matherlist :)

..................................................................................

You and Rhea had always been an odd pairing, but one that worked. Her brooding, gothic style was the complete opposite of your sunny, feminine aesthetic, but it never caused any problems between the two of you. In fact, you both liked the contrast. She loved how unapologetically girly you were, while you found her dark and edgy vibe pretty hot.

But now, with the release of the new Barbie movie, your worlds were about to collide in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

It all started when you saw the trailer. You’d grown up with Barbie, and seeing your childhood icon brought to life on the big screen filled you with pure joy. Naturally, you couldn’t wait to see it. Even more so, you couldn’t wait to share the experience with Rhea.

One night over dinner, as you twirled your fork through your salad, you casually brought it up. “So, the Barbie movie comes out this weekend. Want to come with me?”

Rhea, who had been chewing on a piece of steak, glanced up at you with raised eyebrows. “Barbie?” she repeated, her tone filled with playful disbelief.

You nodded eagerly, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Yeah! It’s going to be so much fun. I was thinking we could, like, dress up a little for it? You know, something pink and Barbie-like. What do you think?”

Rhea leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a smirk. “Pink and Barbie-like, huh?” Her dark lipstick accentuated her teasing smile. “Babe, I don’t really do… pink. Or Barbie.”

You felt a pang of disappointment in your chest, but you didn’t let it show. You knew Rhea was right—dressing up in something so opposite of her usual style was a big ask. “I know, I know,” you laughed, trying to brush it off. “It’s okay, I was just being silly. You don’t have to. We can just go as ourselves.”

But deep down, you’d been hoping she might at least entertain the idea. Not because you wanted her to change, but because it would’ve been fun to share this experience together, dressing up and embracing the moment.

The rest of the week passed without much mention of the movie. You noticed Rhea hadn’t brought it up again, and you didn’t want to press her about it either. You told yourself it didn’t matter—after all, what was important was that she was coming with you, not what she wore. Still, a tiny part of you couldn’t shake the wish that she might try, just a little, to embrace your world the way you always embraced hers.

The day of the movie finally arrived, and you woke up early, excited to get ready. You’d been planning your outfit for days—a dreamy, pink flowy dress with cute accessories, glittery heels, and even a sparkly headband to tie it all together. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you smiled at your reflection, feeling like you’d just stepped out of a Barbie dreamhouse.

But when you turned around to check your phone, your stomach twisted a little. Rhea hadn’t said anything yet, and you weren’t sure if she was going to dress up at all. Maybe you had been silly to even hope she would.

You tried not to let it get to you as you waited for her in the living room, adjusting your purse strap and fidgeting with your phone. When you finally heard her footsteps, you stood up, ready to go, but bracing yourself for her usual all-black attire.

As expected, Rhea came in wearing her typical style—black jeans, a black band tee, and combat boots. Her dark eyeliner and signature smirk were firmly in place. But something caught your eye, and you blinked, not sure if you were seeing things.

Pink socks.

They were subtle, barely peeking out from the tops of her boots, but they were there. Bright, unmistakable, bubblegum pink socks. You stared for a second, processing the sight, and then your heart swelled.

Rhea shifted on her feet, her smirk faltering just a little as she noticed your reaction. “Don’t say anything,” she grumbled, glancing away with a slight blush rising in her cheeks. “It’s just socks.”

You were speechless for a moment, but then a wide, beaming smile spread across your face. “Rhea…” you whispered, your voice soft with affection. “You didn’t have to do that.”

She shrugged, still trying to play it off. “I know, but I figured, you know, it’s important to you. And they’re just socks. Not like I’m wearing a pink dress or anything.”

Your chest tightened with emotion. It wasn’t about the socks—it was about the gesture. Rhea had seen how much this movie and dressing up meant to you, and while she didn’t go all out, she’d made an effort. She’d stepped out of her comfort zone for you, even if in a small way, and that meant everything.

You rushed forward and threw your arms around her, squeezing her tight. “Thank you,” you murmured against her chest, your eyes stinging with happy tears. “This means more than you know.”

Rhea wrapped her arms around you, chuckling softly as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re lucky I love you,” she teased, though her voice was warm and tender.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at her with a playful grin. “I know I am.” You glanced down at her boots again, eyeing the pink socks with a twinkle in your eye. “And for the record, pink looks good on you.”

Rhea rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her expression. “Don’t get used to it, alright?”

“Too late,” you teased back, leaning up to press a kiss to her cheek.

With her arm around your waist, the two of you headed out the door. As you walked hand in hand to the car, you couldn’t help but feel like this day was going to be even more special than you’d imagined. Rhea might not be covered head-to-toe in pink, but she’d met you halfway. She’d made the effort, and that was more than enough to make your heart burst with love.

As you drove to the theatre, Rhea glanced over at you, taking in how happy and radiant you looked. “Alright, so what’s this movie actually about? Are we gonna sit through two hours of Barbie just being… Barbie?”

You giggled. “Oh, you’ll see. There’s a lot more to Barbie than you think.”

Rhea smirked, giving your hand a squeeze as she rested her arm over the console. “As long as I get to see you happy, I’ll sit through whatever you want, babe.”

And just like that, with her pink socks slightly hidden under her boots, you knew you had the best girlfriend in the world by your side.

..................................................................................

#the judgement day #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #mami rhea #rhea ripley

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wheels-of-despair · 1 day ago

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Stargazer Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie and Evil Woman do a little stargazing. Contains: Budding romance, fall (of '84) vibes, a wish upon a star. Words: 700ish

You've never really thought of yourself as a romantic.

But lying on your back, on a blanket in the grass on top of a big hill Eddie calls Weathertop, holding the hand of the best person you've ever met, and looking up at the stars glittering against the night sky?

Eddie Munson has changed your opinion on a lot of things.

He brought you up there to see the leaves. The colors had just started to turn, and he assured you that the highest point in Hawkins was the absolute best place to take in the view. It did not disappoint.

You'd taken a few photos of the beautiful autumn landscape - and a few of Eddie when he wasn't looking - then sat on a blanket as the sun set, sharing a thermos of cider and a bag of cookies your mom had made. When the sun sank into the trees, you laid back and watched the stars appear.

"Do you know much about the constellations?" he asks.

"Uh… I could probably find something that resembles a dipper, if pressed," you chuckle awkwardly. Star-gazing wasn't really something you'd done a lot of in the past. Maybe if you'd had stars this bright to look at, or someone like Eddie to look at them with…

"Well you're in luck, 'cause I'm quite an expert," he says confidently.

"Oh yeah?" you ask. "Impress me."

"Okay." He scoots closer, so that your heads are touching. Your shoulders are pressed together. Smooth, Munson. He lifts the arm closest to you, his jacket brushing against yours. "See that one?" He points to a star, and you hum, pretending to see the same one. He traces a seemingly random pattern from star to star. "Did you see that?"

"Yeah," you lie.

"That's Judas Priest."

You snort.

"And this?" He keeps pointing at another imaginary constellation. "The Manowar."

"Wow, you're really good at this," you grin. He chuckles.

"You try one."

You laugh and search the sky, looking for a pattern. "Okay, see that one?" You point to a random star on the other side of Eddie, meaning you have to lean over him a little bit to show him. He doesn't seem to mind. You trace a pattern in the sky. "Diamond Head."

"Good one," he whispers, turning his head to face you.

You stare at each other, holding your breath, for far too long. What the hell is happening? You've kissed him before. Like, a lot. Why does it feel different right now? Why can't either one of you make a move?

A dog howls in the distance, breaking the spell, and you both turn back to the sky.

"Right," Eddie clears his throat. "And this one…"

You quickly fall back into your constellation-finding. When you run out of bands, you turn to body parts. The game ends when Eddie points out the massive Munson's Cock, and you both dissolve into hysterics.

"Game over," you wheeze. "I don't think we're gonna beat that one."

"Aw, man," Eddie mourns. You both crack up again.

When you finally catch your breath, you reach for Eddie's hand. You stare up at the sky, dreading your looming curfew.

As if he can read your mind, Eddie holds up his wrist and checks the time on his light-up watch.

"We should head back in a few," he says quietly. You nuzzle a little closer to him, not ready to go back down the hill yet. Why can't you stay here forever, just the two of you? He gives your hand a squeeze, clearly not ready to let you go yet either.

"Look!" Eddie exclaims, pointing at a shooting star. You follow his finger and turn your head as you watch it streak across the sky in your direction. "Make a wish," he rumbles, right up against your neck. Your hair stands on end. Your whole body turns to jelly.

Somehow, you gather the strength to turn your head back to him. The stars are so bright, you can see them twinkling in his eyes. He's so fucking beautiful, you could burst.

"I wish you'd kiss me," you whisper.

Eddie leans forward and places a sweet kiss on your lips.

"Kind of a wasted wish," he smiles when it ends, his face only centimeters away from yours. "I was gonna kiss you anyway."

You shake your head.

"Not a waste," you breathe. "Not with you."

You can see him blushing, even in the dark.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman #eddie munson

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twiishaa · 1 day ago

Note

HI CONGRATULATIONS ON 100 🫶🏽 i would loveee to attend the sleepover :p i’m bringing gone girl by gillian flynn and tangled (2010)! we should also have a midnight feast 4 sure 🙌 (with suna pls)

MWAH MWAH CONGRATS AGAIN

! 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 twisha’s 100 followers slumber party ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ - it’s cold, but maybe you’ll warm me up

suna x reader , wc approx 800 warnings i am a pusher of the down bad but nonchalant suna agenda

check out the event!

—

oh how you wish you had brought your jacket today. trying to ignore the people’s stares and whispers as they walked past you, you walked a few steps further from school gates, wiping your tears.

see, the thing was you were supposed to go out on a date with your boyfriend. he had been busy with his club the past week, so when he finally said he was free you got excited and started planning your date. but, once he met you outside the school gates, he said he wanted to break up, and left seconds after, leaving you alone in the cold.

maybe you were getting ahead of yourself; this was your first relationship after all, you even ‘forgot your jacket’ so that he would give you his. but, maybe, the people who said high school romance only lasts so long were correct.

winters in hyōgo were not for the faint of heart. the icy wind hitting your face made you wince, and the cold air made your shallow exhales condense. the cold left you shivering and numb, but left your heart toyed with, and your feelings raw.

—

maybe running would warm you up. after going a fair distance from the school, you sat down on a bench you found. the metal was cold. everything was cold. you brought your knees up to your chest and hugged them, it was your way of giving yourself a hug.

maybe he planned to leave you from the beginning. maybe he was never serious about it like you were. maybe you were the problem, maybe there was something wrong with you. were you too eager? too enthusiastic? too clingy? lost, you could feel tears welling up in your eyes and spilling down your bitterly cold cheeks.

at least your tears were warm.

—

it could’ve been a few minutes or even an hour since you found that bench; you hadn’t kept track of time since you were eagerly waiting your boyfriend (well, now your ex) outside the school gates. suddenly, you felt a jacket wrap around your figure, warmth instantly flowing back into your body.

there was a guy standing in front of you. before you looked up, he said,

“are you purposely trying to get pneumonia or something? you look like ice,” you recognised that voice; it was one you’d heard in your brother’s room so many times before.

why would suna, your brother’s best friend, be here? you lifted your head, your tear-streaked face catching his attention. there was a slight hint of worry in his almond-shaped eyes.

“woah, what happened? did your brother eat your last sweet or something?”

“my boyfriend broke up with me.” you said weakly.

“oh, that rat lookalike?” he questioned, sitting down next to you, warmth in his tone.

that comment made you giggle a little. suna smiled.

“we were supposed to go on a date after like, two weeks and then he just said he was done and left!” you cried.

suna guided your head to the crook of his neck, letting you cry into his shoulder.

you stayed like that for a while.

suna couldn’t lie; he always thought you were cute. in the beginning, he thought it was some kind of brotherly love since he saw you nearly every day, when he went to your brother’s house, but it had evolved into something else, now that you two were in the same high-school.

—

your crying soon subsided, you were just resting your head on suna’s shoulder— his hand was still resting on the nape of your neck. the smell of his cologne was comforting, but at the same time it made you dizzy, the warm notes of vanilla and musk flooding your senses. slowly, you raised your head when you had finally mustered up the courage, looking into his eyes; suna’s heart sped up a little. he wiped a residual tear from your face with his thumb, his hand resting on the side of your face for a little longer than it should’ve.

“don’t waste your tears on him, pretty girl. he doesn’t deserve it.” he got up from the cold bench, now warm.

the side of your face was warm. you ghosted over his touch.

“come on. i know an arcade near here. if i win you a teddy, will you feel better?” he said, pulling you up from the bench.

you blushed a little. getting up after him, and the air didn’t feel nearly as piercing as it did before.

“don’t tell your brother,” suna added, grabbing hold of your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours.

note atlas my love my life this may be my favourite thing i’ve written so far 🩷🩷 this felt like night by alice munro on the igcse edexcel english spec (this is extremely niche im sorry)

#twisha’s 100 follower slumber party!#suna x reader #suna x you #haikyuu fic #suna rintaro haikyuu #hq suna #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu suna

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dira333 · 9 hours ago

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Mom Friend - Kenma - part 3

Hinata’s dating someone.

He tells you first - at least that’s what he claims when he knocks on your door that Sunday, asking to be let in.

Kenma had been right, after all. Hinata doesn’t mind being mothered.

His girlfriend, one of the team's managers, doesn’t mind mothering him.

“I’m happy for you,” you tell him, hugging him tight. “Should have seen that coming, really. You’ve always been giggling during the breaks.”

He blushes adorably. “We’re going out as a group this Sunday. Are you coming?”

“Sure,” you agree easily. It’s different now. Easier.

The night is still warm, though you can smell the crispness of autumn. You bring a warmer jacket, unsurprised that you get to lend it out only five minutes after sitting down.

You sit in the corner, with an empty chair to your left. You don’t think much about it until a shadow falls over your table.

Kenma is quiet as he slides out the chair, waves at everyone and sits down.

You don’t make a fuss either and turn back to the conversation on your right, trying your best to forget about him.

It’d be a lie to say you manage. His knee hits yours as he tries to find a comfortable position and though neither of you says anything, your eyes meet for the briefest moment.

Kiyoomi changes seats right after ordering and you know it’s just so he can talk to your friend sitting across from you, but if you don’t want to butt into their conversation every five seconds you have no choice but to talk to Kenma.

“How’s work?” You ask, twirling your glass between your fingers.

“Good. Yours?”

“Good.”

Silence settles over you. Kiyoomi says something about a movie he wanted to watch and you add that you’ve seen it. The conversation moves onto your opinion about it before turning to something entirely else and your focus drifts again.

Kenma’s staring at the tablecloth.

It’s a little weird that he’s not playing on his phone.

“Is your battery dead?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“Oh, okay.”

You wish you could just pull your own phone out and play around with it, but you’ve always thought that a little bit rude, not to mention that the only book you’ve got downloaded is pretty boring.

“There’s a movie-” Kenma starts but cuts himself off when the server arrives with the first few plates of food.

It’s easy not to talk as long as you’re eating. Just chew slowly, stare at the plate or smile at someone at the end of the table, ask them how they’re enjoying their meal.

Soon, though, the plates are cleared again. Dessert is ordered, but that takes some time.

Your eyes trail over the flowers decorating the patio. The little path separating the tables. The edge of your table. Kenma’s hands, pressed flat onto the tablecloth.

“You were saying?” You ask, turning toward him. “About a movie?”

Relief washes over his face.

“It’s similar to the one we watched. Back in, uh, May, was it?”

“April,” you correct him.

“Right.” He clears his throat awkwardly, folds his hands, and separates them again. He’s nervous. “It’s not about the same game, but it’s very similar. You liked that last one, yeah?”

“It was okay,” you agree quietly, thinking back. “The ending was good.”

Kenma nods. His pupils are wide as he looks at you.

You can’t help thinking back to that night in April, how you thought about the size of his pupils then. Did they tell the truth then? Or is it just nonsense you read somewhere?

“I was thinking about going to watch it,” he mutters. “I wanted to ask around… maybe you want to come?”

Time seems to stand still for a moment.

You want to turn, to check on the others, see if they’re laughing, if they’re in on a joke you don’t get, if they’re even here with you right now, or if you’re dreaming, but you can’t move.

“Sure,” you say because you don’t know what else to say. “If I’m free.”

This time, Kenma doesn’t look relieved. Maybe he wanted you to decline? You don’t care enough. Though that is a lie and you know it.

You push yourself up from the table with an apologetic smile.

“I need the bathroom real quick,” you tell him, turn to your friend but she’s still deep in conversation with Kiyoomi. “You know what I ordered if it arrives before I’m back.”

The toilet seat is cold, but you stay there longer than necessary.

It feels like a Deja Vu or your very own version of Groundhog Day.

“He does not love you,” you tell yourself like a mantra until you can feel it settle in your bones.

Only then do you feel ready to go back.

- - -

The air is crisp, your cheeks sting from the wind. If air had a taste, you think it would taste like fresh soda, bubbling on your tongue.

You’re still unsure if this is a good idea, even as you walk up to the cinema, the same one you went to last time.

You dressed comfortably and not to impress. As far as you know only a few people confirmed. Kenma, of course. Kuroo, too. Hinata and his girlfriend. And you.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket as you reach the front door, but you don’t want to look at it yet.

You’re early, it seems. Or maybe everyone canceled, just like last time.

You wait another minute before you pull out your phone.

Kuroo has to work longer. Hinata’s caught a stomach bug.

You wait for the next text, for Kenma to decline as well.

“Hey.”

This time it’s you, head buried in your hoody, eyes on your phone.

Kenma’s dressed well. He must have had a work meeting earlier, though you remember he often dresses in sweats for those as well.

But he did wear fancy pants to the hangout too, so it doesn’t have to mean anything.

“Everyone canceled,” you tell him, raising your phone like it means something.

He nods and moves as if stretching out his hand before pushing it into the pocket of his blazer.

“I’m still going to watch the movie,” he points out, looking up at the sign above the door. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You think about it for a second. Think about the last time you went in there with him. Nothing good came from it.

But you’re not scared of him. Nothing he can say will hurt more than what he said last time. And you survived that, right?

The movie isn’t bad.

You know even less of this game, but it doesn’t seem to matter. They’ve built up the story well. It almost makes you forget that Kenma paid for the Popcorn sitting between the two of you, the giant basket he asked to share.

“I want the limited edition bucket,” he had explained, his eyes darting around. “But I don’t want to eat the whole thing by myself.”

You offered to pay for the drinks but he’d declined, quietly but firmly.

And now you’re sitting here and it feels like a date when it clearly isn’t.

“Do you wanna eat something?” Kenma asks once you leave the cinema, dust your clothes off and get rid of the last remnants of popcorn and stray skittles.

You hesitate for a second.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

Kenma’s face twists.

“I’m not-”

“Okay,” you nod to yourself. “So why are you being so nice to me?”

He hesitates.

“Can we talk?” He scuffs his shoes on the linoleum floor. “Somewhere more private?”

You look at him for a while before you nod.

“Same as last time?”

He nods and you follow him out of the Cinema and down the street.

The wind is biting and you pull your jacket tighter around you.

A couple walks down the street, facing you. The girl shivers and the guy pulls her close. Kenma turns his head to look at you and you swallow around a lump in your throat.

As they pass, Kenma steps out of their way, careful not to bump into you.

It feels like a sign. You wish it didn’t.

The warmth of the restaurant has you sniffling. Kenma finds a booth at the back and promises to order while you hit up the bathroom.

Your eyes are watery and your nose is red. You look like you’ve cried.

No amount of cold water is going to save that so you leave it as is, blow your nose one last time, and go back. Your stomach is tight, your hands cold.

Kenma’s looking at you as you walk over. His phone is not on the table.

Whatever he has to say must be important to him.

“Do you still have a crush on me?”

His voice is even, like he’s reading from the menu and it takes you a second to register the meaning of the words.

Your mouth opens, but you have no answer.

This time though, you don’t look away. You hold his gaze, find anxiety darkening the gold in his eyes.

Eventually, you find your voice.

“Why do you ask?”

“I-” He hesitates. “I’ve been thinking about it. A lot.”

“Okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Kenma mutters and there’s a weight to his words and to his gaze.

“Okay.”

He says nothing more for a while and you swallow around the questions in your throat. You don’t want to ask them.

The food arrives and he stares down at it as if he forgot how to eat.

“It’s not going to be like it was before,” you eventually add when he makes no move to pick up his chopsticks.

“I know.”

“And yet you apologized.”

“It’s not just what I said,” he tells the table instead of you. “It’s how I said it.”

“It hurt a lot.”

“I can only imagine.”

You sniffle. It’s so silly that it makes you tear up again, the memory of it. But you can’t help it.

“It would have been okay, you know.” You tell him quietly. “If you just… told me that you weren’t interested. Why did you have to try and set me up with someone else?”

Kenma picks his chopsticks up and puts them down again.

“I wanted to make you happy.”

A dry laugh works its way out of your throat.

“That’s not how you do that?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I gathered that. I’m… I’ve never…” He stops. “I’ve never felt that way before.”

Something in the way he says it irks you.

“What way?”

A nervous blush works its way up his neck.

“Protective,” he mutters. “Like… I needed to make sure… That you’re happy. And you wouldn’t have been happy… with me.”

Realization sinks in heavy and you gasp for air.

“Do you have a crush on me?”

“Kuroo thought you might be into Shouyou,” Kenma tries to avoid your question. He’s staring out the window too. “Because you were always mothering him.”

“That’s not the que-”

“You’re like Kuroo, in that way,” Kenma adds on, as if he’s not hearing you. “So I thought maybe you’d be happy with him, too. You could take care of each other. God knows Kuroo works too much. You do too. Always care too much about your coworker's needs. Or what your friends want. You bring extra water bottles and extra painkillers and a snack in case someone gets hungry and you remind them of their appointments-”

“Kenma.”

He sinks into himself. Kenma’s not tall, at least not compared to his friends. He’s not sturdy or broad-shouldered or anything. He’s just Kenma.

“I really messed up, didn’t I?” Kenma asks, his eyes finding yours.

“Yeah, you did.”

Quiet settles over you. But it’s not stifling or uncomfortable.

Instead, it’s the soft quiet of knowing the truth.

You straighten and pick up Kenma’s chopsticks, press them into his hands.

“Eat,” you tell him. “We can’t figure things out on an empty stomach.”

“Figure things out…” He repeats, almost phrases it like a question. Almost.

“Yeah,” you try a smile. “If I’ve learned anything these past few months is that you can’t get anything done without good communication. And I think we’re really mastering that today.”

His lips break into a shy smile and he starts to eat.

You don’t know what’s going to happen after this.

All you know is that you’re breathing a little easier.

Everything else you can worry about later.

- OPEN END -

Join my Taglist: @notsochillnerd @fuzztacular @callingmyself

@kaykaystrings @alienaiver @alexxavicry @tsxkishimx @stellar-haikyuu

Mom Friend - Kenma pt one two three

#my writing #kenma angst #kenma x reader #kenma #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu

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ladyeyrewrites · 3 days ago

Text

Bun in the Oven

Rated M

Chapter 1/4

2160 words

chapter One of the trans!Tommy mpreg episode 8X07 rewrite I posted a snippet of on Wednesday.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

There was a knock on the door.

Buck frowned. It was a bit early for it to be Maddie and Chimney but maybe they’d lucked out with the traffic situation. He wiped his hands on his apron, stepped away from the stand mixer, and answered the door.

It wasn’t Maddie and Chimney.

Instead, Tommy’s broad frame filled his doorway.

Buck’s breath caught in his throat. “Tommy, hi,” he said. “I was just thinking about you.” It was true. Buck hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Tommy since he’d overcorrected after the whole Abby reveal and asked Tommy to move in only for Tommy to break up with him because of some bullshit about Buck breaking Tommy’s heart in the future. So, Buck had done the only logical thing: purchased a stand mixer and filled his fridge with baked goods.

Honestly, Buck wasn’t sure if he was more angry or sad about the whole situation, but he did know that his stomach still swooped at the sight of Tommy standing in his door and it took every bit of self-control not to lean in to give Tommy a kiss hello. Not to wrap his arms around Tommy and pull him inside and never let him go.

“Sorry, I should’ve called before just showing up,” said Tommy. “But I think I left one of my chargers here and I can’t find my other one. So, dead phone.” Tommy sounded on the verge of tears which seemed strange when he could’ve just gone out and bought a new charger rather than checking to see if he’d left one at Buck’s. But maybe it wasn’t about the charger, maybe Tommy just wanted an excuse to see Buck.

Or was Buck letting himself get his hopes up for no reason?

“I uh, haven’t seen it. But are you okay? You look like you’re about to cry.” He wanted to reach out and touch Tommy, to offer some sort of comfort, but that wasn’t his place anymore. Tommy had taken that away.

Tommy shook his head. “Mood swings,” he says.

“Yeah, well break ups will do that I guess,” said Buck.

“That and I think I’m still adjusting to my new birth control,” said Tommy. About a month before the break-up Tommy’s primary care physician had suddenly retired and Buck had helped Tommy scramble to find another in-network provider who understood the healthcare needs of trans men. It had been such a headache and then once they’d found a doctor he’d wanted to adjust Tommy’s dosages and change Tommy’s birth control method from an oral contraceptive to an implant in the hopes that it would lessen the daily dose of dysphoria Tommy got when taking the pill.

“Listen, Buck—” Tommy started.

Buck flinched. God, it sounded so wrong hearing his nickname coming out of Tommy’s lips. It made him want to scream. But he was trying to be mature about this. Trying to be civil. Trying not to cling since that was clearly what Tommy wanted, and Buck could respect that even if he hated it. “I found some of your shirts in the laundry,” Buck said before Tommy could say anything else that was probably going to break Buck’s heart again. “I was going to text you.” Which was maybe a lie, because sure Buck had thought about texting Tommy, but never about the shirts.

He'd composed texts with everything he’d wished he’d said to Tommy instead of letting him walk out the door that night.

Texts that devolved into spiteful rants.

Miss you texts.

u up? texts.

All deleted and transmuted into baked goods: cakes, cookies, scones, loafs, Baked Alaska.

It seemed Tommy wanted to look anywhere but directly at Buck, which was just another thing Buck had lost. Buck blinked against threatening tears as Tommy glanced around Buck’s loft, eyes taking in the subtle changes that had taken place since they’d broken up, until his gaze settled on the mess that was Buck’s kitchen island. “You’ve been baking.”

Sure, Buck had baked with Chris before to help out with a school bake sale since Eddie was so culinarily clueless, but he hadn’t really done it in his own time until he’d found out about Tommy’s sweet tooth. He’d been practicing to make something for Tommy’s birthday but then Tommy had to go and dump him. Bitterness spiked through him. “Yeah. Anytime I get the urge to call you, I just I channel the impulse into something positive, like Baked Alaska.”

Tommy’s face twisted with regret, eyes growing glassy. Buck wasn’t sure if that had been his intention or not, but maybe it would be good for Tommy to really see how much Buck had been thinking about him. So, Buck walked over to the fridge and pulled out three loaves, making sure the fridge door was opened wide enough for Tommy to see the extent of Buck’s foray into baking and how often he’d been thinking about reaching out. “Here, you should take some.” He plopped three loaves into Tommy’s unprotesting arms. “Here’s a lemon loaf, and a walnut loaf, and a pumpkin loaf.”

“That’s a lotta loaf,” Tommy managed to say. “Buck, I—”

“Hang on, let me go grab those shirts,” said Buck because hearing Tommy call him by his nickname rather than his name made him want to scream and he didn’t want to do that, not when Tommy looked like anything could cue the waterworks at any moment. So, Buck might have fled his kitchen, jogging upstairs to grab the reusable tote bag of Tommy’s tee shirts and flannels he’d accumulated over their six months together. That bag had been haunting him every night as he lay in bed – alone – trying to fall asleep, wondering if Tommy was also alone or if he’d already managed to find a rebound.

Buck hefted the bag and his heart panged. Once he gave this stuff back, Tommy would well and truly be gone from his life. There’d be no excuse for Buck to reach out. No trace that Tommy had ever been in his life save for the indelible mark he’d left on Buck’s heart. So, Buck did something maybe a little impulsive and indulgent; he snagged one of Tommy’s flannels out of the bag and shoved it under his pillow.

He was absolutely not going to bury his face in it and cry himself to sleep later.

As he was engaging in some of the most pathetic breakup behaviour ever, his kitchen timer went off downstairs.

“Buck, do you need me to do something?” Tommy shouted up the stairs, voice carrying over the shrill timer beep.

“Yeah, could you just grab the baked brie out of the oven?” he asked. He snagged his favourite Tommy t-shirt out of the bag and stashed it with the stolen flannel too. If Tommy was allowed to unceremoniously dump Buck, then Buck was allowed to steal his clothes and not return them.

Buck gave a satisfied nod and started down the stairs to join Tommy. He was halfway down when he heard Tommy gag. Buck looked up from his feet in time to see Tommy turn literally green before unceremoniously dumping Buck’s baked brie on the counter, bee-lining for the sink and vomiting down the drain.

Buck raced down the stairs, rushing to Tommy’s side and rubbing smoothing circles on his back before he even realised what he was doing. “Are you okay?”

“Are you sure that cheese is okay?” Tommy asked catching his breath. “It reeks.”

Buck frowned as he got down a glass and filled it with tap water for Tommy to rinse out his mouth. “Uh yeah,” he said. “And brie’s not a stinky cheese.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Tommy sagged, leaning against Buck’s counter. “But my sense of smell’s been really weird the last few weeks.”

A sinking feeling filled Buck’s stomach. This all sounded very familiar.

They’d always been so good about using protection and between birth control and testosterone Tommy hadn’t had a period in well over a decade. But there’d been that little lapse before Tommy had found his new doctor and oh, God they’d definitely had unprotected sex that one time when they were both a little tipsy after getting back from babysitting Eddie. “You’re pregnant,” Buck blurted before his brain could send his tongue anything more tactful to say.

Tommy turned white as a sheet, eyes going wide. “I can’t be,” he said. “We were always so careful—” he trailed off and from the way his eyebrows shot up into his hairline Buck bet that Tommy had just connected the same dots he had. “Shit. You might be right.” His hand went to the back of his neck in a self-comforting gesture and Buck recognised all the signs of Tommy starting to spiral that he’d steamrolled over the night Tommy had ended things.

The last thing he wanted was for Tommy to leave right now. And that was probably the last thing Tommy needed right now. “Okay,” said Buck. He put his hands on Tommy’s upper arms and gently guided him to one of the bar stools. “Sit. Breathe. I need to make a phone call and then we’re going to talk. Okay?”

Tommy nodded, gulping down an unsteady breath.

Buck fished his phone out of his apron pocket and dialled Maddie. “Hey Mads, you and Chimney haven’t left yet, have you?”

“No, the sitter’s running late,” said Maddie. “Why?”

“I’m gonna need to take a rain check,” he said. “Tommy’s here.”

“Oh!” said Maddie. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I don’t know yet,” said Buck.

“Well, let me know when you do,” said Maddie. “And take care of yourself.”

“Thanks, Mads,” Buck hung up and turned back to Tommy.

As soon as Buck’s eyes landed on his ex-boyfriend Tommy bolted up off the stool. “I should go,” he said. “You had plans and I should go.”

Buck took advantage of the fact that his legs were longer than Tommy’s and intercepted him before he reached the door.

“Buck move,” said Tommy. “I need to leave.”

“Nope,” said Buck. “I’m not going to let you walk away from me again. Not until I’ve said what I need to say, and we make a plan to move forward.”

“There is no moving forward,” said Tommy. “There is no “we” anymore. We broke up.”

“No, you broke up with me and left,” said Buck. “You didn’t let me say anything. You just decided on your own that there was no way I’d want you around in the future and then you left. Also, if you’re pregnant, I want to be there for you no matter what you decide to do, even if it’s just as a friend.” Because even though Buck so desperately wanted more, now wasn’t the time to say as much.

“It’s probably just a stomach bug,” said Tommy.

“If you really believed that you wouldn’t be running away,” said Buck.

Tommy flinched and Buck hated himself a little, but he needed to say everything that had been circling through his head in the time since Tommy had broken things off. “I don’t know what happened that made you think you could never be my last,” said Buck, speaking carefully so he wouldn’t say something he’d regret. “I know nothing I say right now is gonna convince you of the truth because now there’s maybe a baby involved and that complicates things, but I really wanted you to be my last Tommy. I still do. And this isn’t me asking you to change your mind about breaking up, but maybe it’s me asking you to trust that I actually know what I want. And what I want is to be there for you no matter what’s going on, in whatever way you’ll let me. Please let me.”

Tommy sighed and he looked at Buck so tenderly, despite the dark circles under his eyes that Buck had to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep himself from reaching out and cupping Tommy’s face in his hands to try to rub some of that fear and exhaustion away. “Okay,” said Tommy. He backed away from the door, returning to the bar stool at Buck’s kitchen island.

“I guess we should probably see if you really are pregnant,” said Buck, relief flooding through him.

“Probably,” said Tommy.

“I can run to the drug store and grab a few tests,” said Buck. “But you have to promise not to go anywhere.” He fixed Tommy with a meaningful look until Tommy met his gaze and nodded. Buck took his apron off and grabbed his wallet and keys.

“You promise?” Buck asked.

“Yeah, Evan, I promise,” Tommy snapped.

Buck grinned.

“What?” Tommy asked.

“You called me Evan,” said Buck and Tommy probably hadn’t meant anything by it. It was clearly a slip up, but it soothed something within Buck to hear Tommy call him that.

Tagging those who asked and those who seemed interested:

@silversky9 @unhingedangstaddict @ironspiderdad12 @beanarie @sporadicmakerwerewolf @azaharinflames @aisatsana441 @bugboybuck

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan #tommy kinard #evan buck buckely #mpreg #trans tommy kinard #pregnant tommy kinard #8x07 rewrite

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lucifers-little-light · 2 days ago

Text

Lucifer sat at his desk, his face buried in his hands as papers lay scattered in front of him. The weight of his sleepless nights and his dark secret pressed down on him, making it harder to keep up the facade.

The sound of hesitant footsteps drew his attention. He looked up to see Alastor standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable but his presence imposing. The radio demon clutched his ever-present notepad, his gaze fixed firmly on Lucifer.

Lucifer: *forcing a smile, his voice tired but cheerful* Ah, Alastor. Come to check on me, have you? Don’t worry, I’m quite alright. Just busy, as always.

Alastor didn’t respond. Instead, he walked into the room, placed the notepad on the desk, and began writing. Once finished, he slid it toward Lucifer.

Alastor: "You haven't been sleeping. You're pale, shaking, and distracted. What's going on?"

Lucifer stiffened, his hand twitching as he read the note.

Lucifer: *forcing a laugh, leaning back in his chair* Oh, come now. Surely you’re not here to lecture me, Alastor. I’m simply overworked, that’s all.

Alastor narrowed his eyes and wrote again, his movements sharp and deliberate.

Alastor: "Stop lying. You look like you're falling apart. What are you hiding?"

Lucifer’s confident mask cracked slightly. He clenched his jaw, avoiding Alastor’s piercing gaze.

Lucifer: *with a strained voice* Alastor, I appreciate your concern, but it’s nothing you need to trouble yourself with. I can handle it.

Alastor slammed the notepad onto the desk, the sharp sound making Lucifer flinch. He wrote furiously, his movements erratic.

Alastor: "You're not handling it. If you keep this up, you'll collapse. Tell me the truth."

Lucifer’s fists clenched on the desk. He stood abruptly, turning away from Alastor, his shoulders trembling.

Lucifer: *softly, almost to himself* I can’t tell you…because I’ve messed up so much…

Alastor’s silence pressed on him like a weight. Finally, Lucifer turned back, his face a mixture of anger and despair.

Lucifer: *his voice rising* Fine! You want the truth? I was violated, Alastor! *his voice cracks, his composure crumbling* And now I’m...

He couldn’t finish the sentence. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he sank back into his chair, burying his face in his hands.

Alastor froze, his eyes widening in shock. He stared at Lucifer, his mind reeling. Slowly, he reached for his notepad again, his movements hesitant and uncertain.

Alastor: "...Pregnant?"

Lucifer nodded slowly, his voice barely a whisper.

Lucifer: *brokenly* One of the souls... the twins we lost. *he places a hand on his chest* I managed to save them…only one of them. He needed a new body and I couldn’t create it on my own and my body was weak hosting the souls would over a month. That’s when…I was assaulted. Only now I think I know by who…

Alastor’s mind raced. He thought of his own experiences, the trauma he carried, and the way Lucifer had stood by him in his darkest moments. After a long pause, he scribbled a message, his hand shaking slightly as he slid it back to Lucifer.

Alastor: “So…you’re carrying our son then?”

Lucifer looked up at Alastor, his expression raw and vulnerable.

Lucifer: Didn’t you just hear me. I was—

Alastor: *cups Lucifer’s cheek and wipes away his tears* O…our…s-son…

Lucifer: *eyes widened* You’re…talking…

Alastor: *nodding* S-still hard…b-but…I-I wa-wa-…to s-speak ag’in.

Lucifer: I’ll help you! Alastor please let me—! *lips are covered by Alastor’s finger, silencing him*

Alastor: Y-you do t-too much…rest…

Lucifer: I wish I could. But…I just have nightmares…

Alastor: *looks around the office and sees a small radio nearby. Using his powers, he turns it on and a song starts playing*

Lucifer: *confused*

Alastor: *offers his hand to Lucifer with a slight bow and smile*

Lucifer: *with some hesitation, accepts Alastor’s hand*

Alastor: *pulls Lucifer close and leads him to the center of the office, and the two dance slowly*

Lucifer let Alastor guide him, his trembling hand resting on Alastor's shoulder while the other clasped Alastor’s hand. The melody from the small radio filled the room, soft and soothing, contrasting the chaos in Lucifer’s mind. Alastor’s movements were deliberate and gentle, his touch steady and grounding.

Lucifer: *closes the gap between them and lets the tears flow from his eyes. His voice barely above a whisper* Alastor… I don’t know how you do it. After everything you’ve been through…

Alastor: *his voice shaky but determined, his words carefully chosen* W-we…g-go on…f-for those w-who…n-need us.

Lucifer’s chest tightened at the words. He gazed at Alastor, seeing the cracks in his usually unyielding exterior but also the strength that shone through.

Lucifer: *his tone softening* You’re stronger than I am.

Alastor: *smiling faintly, his words still hesitant* N-no…y-you…ke-keep g-going…despite…e-everything.

The two swayed gently to the music, the weight of their burdens momentarily lighter in the shared silence. Lucifer’s tears fell freely now, but his breathing steadied, his grip on Alastor firm as though afraid to let go.

Alastor: *nodding, his voice soft but firm* Y-you h-helped m-me…n-now…I h-help…y-you.

Lucifer’s lips curled into the faintest smile. The two resumed their slow dance, the music wrapping around them like a protective cocoon.

As the song came to an end, Alastor gently led Lucifer to the couch, gesturing for him to sit.

Alastor: *smiling faintly, his voice stronger now* R-rest. I-I’ll w-watch o-over…you.

Lucifer hesitated but eventually nodded, sinking into the cushions. He lay back, exhaustion finally overtaking him as Alastor sat nearby, the quiet hum of the radio keeping the nightmares at bay. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Lucifer closed his eyes and drifted into a peaceful sleep.

youtube

Bunny: This is the song I had in mind. Tumblr won’t let me link this to text. Idk why.

#Lucifer’s little light #radioapple #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #alastor #Alastor the radio demon #healing arc #lucifer mpreg #can’t help falling in love #sax cover #Youtube

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lexosaurus · 3 days ago

Text

From Goth to Ghost (part 2)

Here's part 2 to my @ecto-implosion fic for @blonchie's incredible art! Check out both of their pieces HERE!

Characters: Sam, Danny, Tucker Tags/warnings: No Warnings, Halfa!Sam (temporarily) Summary: The last thing Sam expected to wake up to was her body frozen on her bed. But unfortunately, thanks to a certain jock's midnight ponderings and the interference of one wish-granting ghost, that was exactly how she started off her morning.

[read on ao3]

[part 1]

****

Somehow, through sheer force of luck, and—well, actually, no, it was all luck—she managed to survive the school day with little more than a bruised knee.

But at least no one saw her fall!

Is what she would have thought if that were true. Unfortunately, everyone in her history class had seen her spectacular tumble to the floor. And yes, most of them had also laughed.

Which was the icing on the cake.

But, she supposed it could have been worse. She could have been like Danny who'd infamously dropped forty-two beakers and cost the school so much in damaged equipment that he was banned from ever handling fragile objects again.

Unlike Danny, however, she actually had a brain. And some impulse control. So perhaps that was why, unlike him, she managed to stay mostly on her feet.

She had to be nice to him, she reminded herself. He was the one who was going to teach her how to use these powers. She wasn't allowed to make fun of him for being a butterfingers—she wasn't going to say a word.

Of course, that promise lasted all of a minute after the final bell rang.

Actually, she wasn't sure she'd even made it off the property before she was smugly rubbing it in Danny's scrawny face that unlike him, she actually managed to keep her shit (mostly) together during school. That it was obvious that in this competition of who could be the better halfa she'd only just invented, she was winning by a mile.

And no, his protesting and whining didn't change a thing.

"Face it, Danny, I'm just better at being dead. What can I say? It's the goth in me."

"No way! I'm so much better at being dead. Skulker even wants to skin me and turn me into his rug because of how good I am at being dead!"

"Please! Skulker will turn anything that moves into a rug. You're not that special."

"You both are fantastic at being dead. Happy?" Tucker asked.

"Only after I get all this energy out!" Sam looked around, confirming that they were alone in the treeline of the park. Her heart pounded slightly, but her excitement won out. She barely contained her grin as she turned to Danny and asked, "Here?"

"Sure," Danny said.

"How often do you come here again?" Tucker asked. Beside him was a tree with marks running along the bark that suspiciously resembled ecto-burns.

"Now? Almost never. But especially when I first got my ice powers, I was here a lot. The sudden shift in my core energy was pretty intense at first. You guys remember."

Tucker snorted and leaned back against the trunk, folding his arms. "Oh yeah. You nearly froze half the city over!"

"It wasn't pretty," Sam agreed, then faced a tree. "So what, I'm just supposed to blast it? I don't wanna hurt the plant!"

"Yeah, Danny, plants have feelings too!" Tucker agreed with a shit-eating grin.

One that Sam definitely knew wasn't sincere. "Oh, shut up, Tucker."

Danny face-palmed. "You won't hurt the tree. I've done this plenty of times." Then, he paused, adopting that aloof expression that so-often had Sam throwing her combat boot at his head. It was an agonizing pause before he finally opened his mouth and forced Sam and Tucker to listen to him say, "Or, I guess you could say I've done it plant-y of times."

Sam had never felt so disappointed in him in her life. But he didn't seem to notice, instead facing them with a proud chuckle as he continued the torture, saying, "Hah, get it? Plant-y? Get it? Like plenty but with plants?"

He bent over, clutching his knees with his hands as weak chuckles forced their way up his throat and desecrated the natural air around them.

"My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined," Tucker responded.

"I agree," Sam said.

"Well I could leaf you two right here!"

It took two full, long, painful minutes before Danny could stand upright without bursting into another fit of giggles. By the end of it, Sam was pretty sure that if he laughed over his awful puns one more time, she was going to use him for target practice instead of the tree.

"Okay, okay. I'm good now, I promise," Danny said. "I'm not going to branch out into a new—"

It was with Sam's deepest regrets that the last of her restraint failed her and she ended up blasting the ground at Danny's feet, causing him to leap into the air with a yelp and reflexively throw his hands out as if to defend himself. Except, what he'd forgotten, was that he didn't have a ghost core anymore, and thus couldn't do things like fly or blast Sam back, and he ended up with his ass on the ground.

Of course, Sam apologized from the bottom of her heart. It was incredibly convincing, which she knew because Danny totally didn't roll his eyes and "yeah yeah" her when she was done.

Once everyone got back on their feet, the real work could begin. Except...

Sam crossed her arms. "I'm still not blasting a tree. We need trees for the environment, Danny."

"I told you! They're fine. They like being blasted!"

Sam glared.

"I don't know, you're the tree whisperer! Do any of these trees look like they're dying?" Danny asked.

Other than the minor, surface-level burn marks she saw on a few trees, she couldn't see any significant damage.

"Fine, but only because there's literally nowhere else for us to practice in Amity Park," Sam conceded. "So, how exactly do I do this?"

Danny’s face lit up. "So you feel that cold spot in your chest?"

Sam touched her chest. She could feel it, and with the growing anticipation of being used, it had began silently humming like a songbird. It was gentle, but excited all the same. "Yeah, I do feel it."

"Grab it. That should trigger your transformation. From there, it's just a matter of taking the energy and directing it. The more electric feeling ones are the blasts, and ice is colder."

Sam mentally poked at the core, and it almost jumped back at her, desperate to be brought to the forefront. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and this time when she mentally poked it, she didn't back away.

The transformation felt like being dunked in the Arctic Sea. Cold energy zapped through her spine as bright light overtook her vision. The rings split and traveled apart, and she shivered as she felt the energy course through her body like a charged magnet. It was spiky and tangy, and yet strangely smooth and right.

She closed her eyes as the rings washed over her face and sizzled into her aura. Her body lightened, and her feet left the ground. She threw her arms out to the side and took a moment, feeling every sense heighten—her ears, her nose. It was as if she could hear every rustling leaf and smell each blade of grass. When her eyes opened, the world had sharpened, and she could see tiny details in the distance with more clarity than she thought possible.

"Whoa," was all she could think to say.

"I know, right?" Danny smiled.

"Wow. I had no idea this is what your vision was like." Sam glanced down at him. "It's like putting on glasses or something. That's insane."

Tucker whistled. "You pull off the goth-ghost look pretty well! A little too much Danny, though. Too bad!"

Sam had nearly forgotten that her appearance had changed. She swiveled around—a little clumsily, she wasn't used to this whole flying thing—to face Tucker who had his phone already prepped and raised on camera mode. Leaning forward, she saw herself. Her previously black hair, like Danny's, had turned white, and her hair elastic holding up her half-ponytail glowed ectoplasmic green. Her eyes too had taken on that acid green color from their previous violet. Her suit was very much the classic Phantom suit with its black body, white gloves and boots, and the white DP logo on her chest. The only minor difference was unlike Danny's straight-lined white loop at the waist, hers was shaped like a V.

She backed away from the phone camera slightly, twirling so she could see more of herself. Sam had never particularly been one for appearances, and she certainly always scoffed at the way the A-Listers like Paulina liked to make their appearance the center of the Universe, but even she had to admit that yeah, she really did pull off the ghost look well.

Well, if that wasn't an extremely goth thing to think, Sam didn't know what was.

"I'm stealing your look, Danny," she joked.

He returned her grin. "Careful, and I might have to steal yours right back."

Tucker laughed. "Yeah, I'd love to see you in a skater skirt."

Sam rolled her eyes. Boys.

"So, what, I just direct the energy into my hands and then that's how I blast things?" she asked.

"Yup! Try it out."

"Just don't hit me!" Tucker called, retreating back to his tree trunk where he settled down on the grass and leaned back to return his attention to his phone.

"Just for that, I'll hit you twice!"

"Go for it!" Danny encouraged.

"Shut up!"

Sam steeled herself, facing off against the tree. Even if logically the ectoplasmic blast wasn't going to hurt it, the thought of blasting a tree was a little much for her. So, gathering her energy, she decided to get a little creative.

The chill covered her body like a blizzard, and she'd seen Danny do this enough times to know that her eyes were glowing blue. It surged forth, propelling down her arms and through the tips of her fingers until there was nowhere for it to go but out.

Ice billowed into the open air with more force than she was expecting. Like a blizzard, it wanted to commandeer the woods and fill every inch of the ground with spikes. She strained her fingers, forcing them to flex toward her palm. The ice followed her direction, collecting in one singular mound rather than fanning out. It wasn't smooth or delicate like she'd envisioned, but it worked.

Eons later, but it was likely only a few seconds, she finally let go and the last of the power dwindled from her fingertips. She'd been pushed back slightly, and she drifted back toward Danny and Tucker.

"Not bad!" Danny said, bringing his hands down from their position shielding his face. "A little rough around the edges, but overall that's pretty damn good!"

Sam looked to her creation, the mound of ice that didn't really have much of a shape, but it existed and she'd made it. Pride surged through her, and she raised her fists in the air with a triumphant cry. "Fuck yeah!"

"An ice show? Now she's really stealing your style, dude," Tucker said.

Invigorated by her small win, Sam whirled around and tried again, this time picturing a shape. Something simple, she thought, like a box.

Actually making her vision come to life was more difficult than she'd anticipated, and she wasn't exactly perfect. It resembled more of a rectangular shape than the cube she'd been picturing, and one of the corners was definitely jutting out—not to mention that big ice spike sticking out right in the center—but once again, she'd done it!

And then, now with a target that wasn't a living plant, she switched her core over, tapping into the icy hot, tingly acid that dominated her senses. Like the ice, it was more than happy to respond, lighting her body with what she could only describe as pure and unfiltered energy. Her hair stood on its ends, and she could see her aura’s glow intensify as she raised her green palms and let out a singular blast.

The whiplash was intense, and she flew back, her spine hitting a branch behind her. The blast hit its target—not perfectly, of course, but with all her practicing with the ecto-gun, she had been at least confident that she wouldn't miss.

The semi-cube splintered, and the jutting corner that she'd hit fell into the ground and shattered to pieces.

Sam pushed herself off the tree, a giggle of adrenaline crawling up her throat. "Holy shit!"

Danny stared at her, mouth agape.

"Guys!" She lowered herself, her feet touching down on the now-frosted ground. "Did you see that? How cool was that?"

"That was fucking awesome!" Danny said, nearly jumping over to Sam with bright eyes.

"Right? It was so insane! How do you control the power level? It all came out in a giant flood, I could barely see! And you can make low-powered ones? How the hell do you do that?"

"Ah, yeah." Danny rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "I'm not sure? I just kind of dial the power level down. Like, in my core, I mean."

"Wow, Danny, you're so helpful!" Despite her excitement, she managed to get the sarcasm across.

"Hey, don't look at me! I haven't had these powers for that long, you know."

"Like over a year! And you haven't even sat down to study them at all?"

"Has it really been a year?" Danny asked.

"Yes, space-case!"

"Superpowers, ice blasting, blah, blah! You know what else is cool?" Tucker cut into their bantering, tapping away at his phone. He paused to wave it in the air. "Yo, lovebirds! Ember was spotted downtown!"

Sam and Danny froze, eyes glancing between each other and Tucker's phone.

Sam was the one to first break the silence. "Alright, let's go!"

Danny reeled back. "What do you mean, let's go?"

"I mean exactly what it sounds like. Let's go! Ember's downtown and is probably hypnotizing a bunch of people right now, so we have to go save them! Let's go!"

"Wait, wait, back up," Tucker said, holding his hand out. "You're gonna fight her? Ember?"

Sam huffed. "Well, duh! Who else? Danny? The one without ghost powers right now?"

"Well, I do have more experience—"

"Fighting with ghost powers, you do!" Sam retorted.

"Hey, I have some experience fighting in human form too, you know! Vlad's shorted out my powers plenty of times..." He broke off, grumbling.

"Okay, well, I'm the one with the firepower right now, unless you forgot. So let's go! Seriously, I'm not gonna wait around for you two if you want to stay here thinking about it. The sooner we get there, the easier it'll be to take Ember down."

Danny stood here, brow furrowed and hand rubbing the back of his neck for another beat until he finally relented with a sigh. "Fine," he said, holding out his arm for flight. "Go on!"

Actually figuring out how to get the three of them into the air invisibly was harder than Danny had been making it look. In her defense, he didn't start flying the three of them together until over a month after he'd first acquired his ghost powers, and Sam was out here trying to do it on day one.

Especially since she found that unless she was constantly paying attention to the invisibility, it had a bad habit of shortening out.

Which it did. Twice.

And that was where the phone call came from.

It was her mom, of course, who'd been watching the news and had seen flickers of Danny and Tucker being "kidnapped"—as she'd so elegantly called it—by Phantom. Now, her mom was entirely convinced that the three of them had been kidnapped or brainwashed or both by Phantom, and would not let Sam explain that she was safe and sound.

Especially since Ember was currently downtown. Where Phantom had been spotted with his equally captive audience.

"Shit," Sam swore, hanging up her phone and stuffing it into her backpack that Danny was now holding. "I don't know what to do! My mom is on her way down here to come rescue me!"

"Then turn back into yourself?" Tucker said.

Sam heard a scuffle, and she peeked around the dumpster to glance down the alley they were hiding in, but fortunately, the source of the sound was only a squirrel.

She turned back to her friends. "I can't! I have to go stop Ember. You saw the crowd she'd already amassed! That busking performance is going to turn into a mob before we know it."

"Sam's right," Danny conceded, surprising Sam. He held her gaze, and his eyes were steel. It was an expression she'd only seen come out when Phantom was involved. "She can't go home. As much as I hate to admit it, I don't think I can stop Ember in human form. Sam has to be the one to fight her."

"Okay, then who's fighting Mrs. Manson?" Tucker asked. "Because that woman can be a freaking force when she wants to be."

"Easy!" Danny snapped his fingers. "We’ll just do the old switcheroo!"

Sam and Tucker looked at him blankly.

"The what?" Tucker blurted.

"You know! Like you guys did for me!" Danny opened the small front pocket of Sam’s backpack, and before she could protest, he brought out a little black hairband like it was some sort of prize. To her utter confusion, he began pulling the longer strands of his hair back and forming something of a messy half-ponytail. "Ta da! How do I look?"

"Danny, what the hell?" Sam asked deadpan.

"I told you, didn't I? You steal my Phantom style, and I'm going to steal yours."

Tucker guffawed. "Oh man, I was joking before, but are you really about to put on a skater skirt?"

"Not unless you want to. But something tells me Mrs. Manson won't be convinced if you try to be Sam."

"It's my eyes, I know," Tucker bantered. “They’re just too beautiful to be Sam’s.”

"Definitely your eyes," Sam agreed, then turned back to Danny. "You're being for real right now? You're cool with pretending to be me and letting my mom chase you around town while I deal with Ember?"

"Listen, my stamina's gotten pretty good fighting ghosts."

"My mom does crossfit."

"I thought she did pilates?" Tucker asked.

"She does that too."

Tucker tsked his tongue. "Oh shit, Danny, you're screwed. You can still back out, you know."

Danny rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine! Being chased by ghosts all the time has built me some endurance, you know."

“Some?” Tucker asked.

“More than you have, anyway.”

"Alright, let's do this," Sam agreed.

Her boldness only lasted so long, unfortunately. The clothing swap was just as awkward to do as it sounded. Tucker, laughing maniacally, was forced to stand guard facing away from them as Sam transformed back into human form, they swapped outfits, and uncomfortably redressed behind the smelly dumpster. Only when they'd both given the verbal consent that they were decent again did they turn around and survey each other.

Sam felt as ridiculous in her new attire as she was sure Danny did in his. While she was normally used to her tighter, dark clothing, she felt like she was swimming in his baggy, bright white T-shirt and blue jeans.

"You guys are good?" Tucker yelled.

"Yup!" Danny called back.

"Hang on!" Tucker said, rushing over to them with a speed he hadn’t even reserved for gym class. As soon as he caught sight of them, he burst into laughter. "Oh, man! Oh my god, I gotta get a picture of this!"

"Tucker!" Sam stomped her floppy red feet. "Danny's doing me a solid right now!"

Tucker ignored her, pulling out his phone and not being subtle about the way he'd begun pointing it directly at the two of them. "I know I said I wanted to see you in a skater skirt, dude, but I never thought it'd actually come true!"

Danny took it in stride, putting one hand on the back of his hair and the other on his hip to strike a model pose. "As I said: Sam steals my style, I'm taking hers!"

That sent Tucker into another fit of giggles.

"You're sure about this?" Sam asked, watching as Danny bent down to lace his combat boots.

"Totally!" He gave her a cheesy smile from his crouched position. "I got this! You go get Ember!"

"Right!" Sam touched her core, and this time the transformation washed over her with easy familiarity. At once, her body felt light as gravity became optional, and she levitated into the air, inhaling a deep breath despite being keenly aware that she didn't really need to anymore.

Her aura settled around her skin as her veins became rich with ectoplasmic power, and when she opened her eyes to give one last look to her friends, she did so with determination in her eyes.

"Okay, I'm ready."

"Hell yeah, you are," Tucker agreed.

"You got this!" Danny said.

She nodded to them both once more and then took off, shooting down the alley and swooping up into the sky. She climbed the air high until she spotted Ember's rapidly growing crowd, and then with acrobatic ease, dived down in the direction of Ember's glowing figure.

As she approached, the crowd that hadn't seemed too large from the sky suddenly looked much more intimidating up close. She stopped above them, surveying the sea of chanting faces.

"Ember! Ember!"

No one had noticed Sam yet, too entranced by Ember’s spell. And there was Ember herself at the center of the crowd, twirling to wave to the crowds all around her.

"Thank you, everyone! Thank you!"

"Ember! Ember!"

This wasn't good. If they fought here, Ember would have a never-ending energy supply from the crowd's chanting. Like most ghosts, fighting Ember was a battle of endurance, and here, Ember could endure for hours. Meanwhile, Sam...had no idea what her limits were.

She probably couldn't last that long, based on Danny's early fights.

So, Sam needed to get Ember away from her adoring fans. But how?

The first time Danny had to fight Ember, they used Tucker's ear-bleeding singing voice to snap the crowd out of their hypnosis. And...she'd left Tucker in the alley.

Shit!

Okay, so she couldn't use Tucker. Turning invisible, she flew lower, scanning the crowd to see if there was anyone else she recognized who probably had an equally terrible singing voice.

And...there! Perfect.

Ember's back was still to Sam, and she was still too distracted by her narcissism to notice Sam creeping forward, at first slowly, closer and closer until she was just fifteen feet away from Ember.

And that's when Sam saw it—Ember's shoulders stiffened. She'd noticed the chill of Sam's aura, and so before Sam could think, she shot forward, ripping the microphone from its stand at the same time as Ember whirled around.

Sam regained visibility and darted back triumphantly, a whoop at her lips.

"You—" Ember stopped, her fierce brows melting into an expression of pure confusion. "Wait, you're not the dipstick!"

Sam didn't respond, instead flying down to greet her future savior: Kwan.

"Do you love Ember?" she yelled into the mic and then held it to Kwan's face.

"Yeah I do!" Kwan answered.

Behind him, the crowd roared in approval.

Ember's face pinched in confusion.

"So why don't you show us how much you love her by singing one of her songs?"

Kwan snatched the microphone from Sam's fingers, his eagerness overtaking all sense of reason. At the same time, still in the center of the crowd was Ember, who—based on her shifting facial expression—was just now catching up to Sam's master plan.

But she was too late. Because as soon as Kwan opened his mouth, Sam had already won.

"Ember! You will remember!"

If Sam Googled the definition of tone-deaf, she was pretty sure Kwan's name would appear as the first entry. For as athletically inclined and blessed with powerlifting genetics as the teenager was, his musical skills were....well, not even lacking, they were nonexistent. It was as if Kwan had never tried to sing before in his life. But, either through Ember's spell, his general affinity to being a total airhead, or a combination of both, he was so invested in belting out every approximation to a note that he could muster that he didn't notice the instantly dulled crowd around him as people began snapping out of their hypnosis.

"What happened?" a girl muttered nearby.

"Why does my head hurt?" a boy said.

"Ugh, what's that awful sound?"

"Ember! One thing remains!"

“I think that boy is dying.”

“Should someone call an ambulance?”

"No!" Ember screeched, her legs disappearing into a ghost tail as she abandoned all pretense of acting human and clawed at Kwan.

Sam raised a hand and blasted her away.

Ember recovered swiftly, pulling up midair and grabbing her guitar off her back. "You!" she bellowed, and then strummed a note, sending shockwaves crashing into the crowd that Sam couldn't dodge.

"Ah!" Sam was forced to kneel under the pressure of the soundwaves. Around her, people screamed.

She activated her ice and used it to push her body upright. Gripping onto one ice tower for support, she raised her other hand and sent a blast of ice Ember's way.

Ember dodged smoothly, but the movement had taken her hand off her guitar, and thus interrupted her torturous playing.

Sam steadied herself with the reprieve. Beside her, Kwan groaned, now waking up too after Ember’s attack.

"Ugh…where am I?"

"Don't worry about it," Sam hissed. Then she spun around, grabbing the microphone from Kwan's hand to address the crowd. "Attention everyone! The ghost Ember is targeting this area! Go home or run to a safe zone!"

"You little twerp!" Ember screeched from above.

Meanwhile, the crowd was looking at her blankly.

"Wait...since when is Phantom a girl?" Kwan asked.

Ah. That would be why.

Sighing, she raised the microphone back to her lips. "Yes, everyone, I'm Phantom's...sister. Yup, I'm his sister! He's, uh, on vacation right now and asked me to cover for him! Hello, nice to meet you all. Now please RUN!"

And with that, the crowd took off, running in every which direction. It was chaos, but the people were leaving and that's what Sam wanted.

She dropped the microphone and turned around to face her foe. "Hey, Ember!" she called, her voice catty.

"You're not Phantom's sister. Who the hell are you?"

Sam floated into the air until she was at eye-level with the rocker ghost. "I'm Sam! Remember me? I'm Danny's best friend."

"I thought the geeky weirdo nerd was his best friend."

"I'm the other best friend!"

It took a moment before recognition dawned on her features. Her green eyes widened, and the blue flames on her hair somehow sharpened as she leaned forward, eyes narrowing and lips curving into a smile as she said, "Ooh, I remember you. You were the one who ruined my debut!"

Sensing the challenge, Sam flared her aura in kind. "That's right! Now I've returned."

“Since when were you a ghost?”

“Don’t worry about it!”

"I’m not. I'm gonna make you pay, dipstick number two!"

Ember raised her purple pick to strum just as Sam hoisted her glowing hand up. The two released their powers simultaneously and their energies clashed in midair, sending ectoplasm and sonic booms crashing all around.

Below them, people screamed and ducked down, cowering as the blasts showered over them.

Sam blanched, but barely had time to take in the damage before she saw Ember's hand raised again, her guitar poised for another attack.

"Shit!" Sam raised both hands this time, pushing more energy into the countering blast. But she missed, and Ember's wave hit her like a semi truck.

She was catapulted down, slamming onto the pavement which cracked under her. Pain blossomed on her head, and she thought her vision may have flickered for a second.

But while this kind of injury would have certainly sent her to the emergency room as a human, as a ghost, all she could feel was the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She rolled over and shot out to the side, narrowly dodging Ember's next attack. The edges of the sonic blast still hit her, but she was able to push through the pressure and climb back into the air.

She couldn't fight Ember here. Not so close to all these people.

When Ember raised her hand again, grinning wickedly, Sam shot a blast of ice over to her. Though this time, aiming for the strings of her guitar.

It was a risk, but it paid off. The ice met its mark milliseconds before Ember's pick landed, and at once, the guitar strings were covered in a layer of ice.

Sam laughed. "It's my first day as a ghost, did I forget to mention that? How does it feel to be beaten by a newbie?"

Ember's face darkened, cheeks flushing with green. "Why you little asshole!"

"Oh yeah?" Sam goaded. "Why don't you say that to my face?"

Without waiting for a reply, Sam took off in the other direction. She had the thermos, but Ember wasn't weak enough yet for it to trap her inside. Sam had to wear her down first.

"Get back here!" Ember shouted, but Sam paid no heed, racing down the street and twisting between buildings.

The wind whipped across her body, stinging her exposed cheeks. Cold tears welled at the corners of her eyes, but she made no move to wipe them away. Ember was gaining on her. She needed to fly faster, fly faster.

She pushed her core more until it was at its limits. Street signs, LED lights, and the shapes of people blurred into one. She'd never moved this fast in her life, and like driving down an icy road, she could feel her control slowly slipping away. Panicked, she called forth her intangibility.

Fatigue was beginning to bubble in her chest, but she batted it away. It was too early. She couldn't give up yet.

Ember screamed behind her, hurling fire from her hair. It licked Sam's spectral tail, and she yelped, rolling sideways and narrowly avoiding the brunt of the attack.

She shot down an alley and out the other side into a residential neighborhood. Looking around, she didn't see anyone out and about nearby.

Perfect.

She stopped in the air and whipped around just in time to see Ember throw another fire blast her way.

Sam raised her hands, forming an ice shield. The fire melted it instantly, and she tried to form another, but she wasn't quick enough.

"Shit!" Sam yelled, ducking down as the fire sailed over her head. She could feel the heat singe the tip of her ponytail. Too close.

"That's right! Cower, dipstick! Just lie down and give up!"

Sam straightened, firing another ectoblast back at Ember, who dodged it by a hair's breadth. "The only person cowering here is you, hiding behind all those fake fans!"

Ember glared, her eyes burning with rage. "They're my fans and you took them from me!"

"You hypnotized them! They were never your fans to begin with!" Then she paused. "Well, Tucker might have been your fan anyway, but still!"

That didn't seem to quell Ember's rage, who sent a gust of fire that Sam only barely had time to counter with a blast of ice.

"Just admit it! You've lost!" Sam said. "So why don't you pack up and go home?"

"I can still get them back!"

Sam had to refrain from rolling her eyes hard enough to send them flying off her skull. "No, you can't. I won't let you!"

"Like you're the boss of me!" Ember geared up to shoot more fire at Sam, but then out of seemingly nowhere, a blast of green nailed her shoulder.

Sam spun around, the question dying from her lips the moment she saw who was behind her.

Tucker stumbled out from between two houses. He coughed, half hunched over from panting so hard, half cheering with a single-raised fist. "Booya!" he gasped, sucking in air in between each word. "And that's...what I...like...to call...a sneak attack."

And with that, he collapsed on the ground in a sweating heap of gaudy orange and yellow clothing.

"Tucker!" Sam shouted, reaching out as if to save him.

"Who?" Ember asked.

"Sam!" came another voice from Tucker's hiding place, this one filling her with relief.

Well, until he stepped out into view and she remembered how entirely ridiculous he looked in her black skater skirt, purple leggings, and black crop top.

She grinned. "Danny!"

"I'm all good!" Tucker craned his head up from the sidewalk. "Don't...don't worry about me! I'm gucci here!"

"I'm so glad my mom didn't kidnap and murder you!" Sam said.

Danny smiled mischievously. "Your mom spotted me as planned, and then I ran in the other direction. Managed to shake her off somewhere between Elmer's Park and the Nasty Burger. As far as she's aware, we got out of downtown safely! Though, she might ground you later for ignoring her when she was following you."

"She was....so fast..."

"And persistent," Danny added.

"That...too..."

Sam face-palmed. "Oh man, I'm so grounded later."

"Yup! You are." Danny said, seeming far too cheery for the torturous news he'd just delivered to Sam.

"Okay, okay. Pause." Ember held up her hands in the universal time-out gesture. "What the fuck is going on here, exactly?"

"Oh, hey, Ember!" Danny said as if noticing her for the first time. "How's it hanging?"

"How's it hanging?" Ember guffawed. She pointed to Sam. "Well, your sister just ruined my evening, so pretty shit, actually."

Danny didn't look at all remorseful as he responded, "Oh, bummer! Well, I'll just have to let this supposed-sister handle the rest of it. As you can tell, I'm really not dressed for the ghost-fighting occasion!"

He turned to Sam, offering her a thumbs-up as he said, "You got this!"

Sam smirked, folded her arms, and turned back to Ember. "Yeah, I do got this."

"For sure!" Tucker added, though he still sounded far too on the verge of passing out to offer any sort of confidence.

"So, Ember, you wanna go for round two?" Sam asked.

Ember blinked, gaze swiveling between Sam and Danny, and then again, before she threw her hands up and cried, "No, seriously, what the fuck?"

"I ask myself that same question every day," Tucker said.

"It's called an outfit swap!" Danny said, sweeping his hands over his outfit. "It's all the rage with us teens nowadays."

"You look fucking insane, you know," Ember said.

"You mean I look gorgeous."

"I didn't."

"I think Sam pulls off the ghost look pretty well, though. Don't you think?" Danny asked.

"It's totally goth," Sam agreed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Then, summoning some ectoplasmic energy to her palms, she added, "I think the green really suits me, too."

"It does!" Danny said.

"I'm so confused."

"Aren't we all?" Tucker said.

"You know what? No." Ember threw her hands up. "Nope! Fuck this shit. Listen, I don't know what the hell is going on, but I refused to be sucked into your weirdo shenanigans tonight. I'm out of here!"

Sam's brows raised in shock. Was confusing Ember really all it took to get her to go back to the Ghost Zone? "You're being for real?" she asked.

"Yup!" Ember pivoted around until her back was to the trio. "I'm going back to the Zone. I'm tired. See ya!"

And with that, she disappeared.

The three of them waited a heartbeat, and then another. But then, Sam felt it: the telltale coolness of her chest receding as her ghost sense ceased detecting Ember around her.

Tucker struggled to his feet. "Are we sure she's actually going to the Ghost Zone?"

"Yeah, she will," Danny said, unconcerned. "When she gives you that look, you know she's over it."

"Wow, congrats then, Sam. You beat Ember!"

Celebratory giddiness washed over her, and she didn't try to fight the smile that overtook her lips. "Wow. Yeah, guys, I did it! I beat Ember!"

Above them, a window slid open. Then, a voice boomed out into the open air, filling the street with a cry so insane, that Sam could have sworn her head exploded right then and there.

"WHOA! PHANTOM! IS THAT YOU?"

Danny cringed, ducking down into his hands while Sam plastered a smile on her face and turned around to meet who could easily turn into her greatest foe of the evening: Dash Baxter.

"Uh, hi," Sam said.

He gasped and leaned so far, he nearly fell out his window. "IT IS YOU! MY WISH CAME TRUE!"

"Your...wish?" Sam asked.

"YEAH! I WISHED PHANTOM WAS A HOT CHICK INSTEAD OF BEING A DUDE, AND THEN BA-BAM! YOU TURNED INTO A HOT CHICK!"

Below them, Tucker guffawed. Thankfully, Dash seemed too preoccupied in his fanboying to notice.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE MY WISH CAME TRUE! THANK GOD! IT WAS TOO WEIRD CRUSHING ON A DUDE, YOU KNOW?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Danny slowly make his way back between the houses and, thankfully, out of Dash's eyeline.

For as exhausted as Tucker was, he quickly followed suit.

"Well...um...thanks? I guess?" Sam looked around as if to plan her escape. But unfortunately, she couldn't see one. It would have been so much easier if Ember had lied and instead of returning to the Ghost Zone, tried to attack her right here and now. That might have been preferable to whatever the hell was happening in front of her.

When the silence turned from awkward to entirely painful, Sam jabbed her thumb over her shoulder and said, "Uh, I'm gonna go now."

"WAIT!"

"What?" Sam asked, internally admonishing herself for responding.

"WILL YOU BE MY GHOST GIRLFRIEND?"

She heard a choke of laughter sound from behind the house, and she shot a glare to the two idiots in hiding.

"Thanks for asking, but...sorry, I have to say no. I'm very busy fighting ghosts, you know."

Dash nodded with more empathy in his eyes than Sam had ever seen him display in his life. "I UNDERSTAND. THANKS ANYWAY AND ENJOY THE TITS!"

Sam would have loved to say that she maintained Phantom's pristine people-pleasing image by giving grace to every single citizen no matter what.

But, of course, Dash was a fucking moron. And as far as Sam was concerned, morons like him deserved to have their face punched in every once in a while.

So, shaking the bruise from her knuckles, she rejoined her friends. Danny's face was beet red, while Tucker, on the other hand, was wheezing laughing so hard, his airy gasps of, "I'm going to piss myself" took about five tries to sound intelligible.

"No funny, Tucker!" Sam glared.

"Are you kidding?" His eyes were wet with tears. "That was hilarious! Dash has a crush on both of you! Oh my god, that was the single greatest thing to ever happen in my life!"

Danny fell to his knees and raked his fingers over his face. "I'm never living this down, am I?"

"Never!" Tucker howled.

"I want to go back to a time where I never had to hear Dash speak," Sam mourned, then she flexed her fists, brightening slightly. "Though, punching him felt pretty cathartic!"

"Wish that were me," Danny bemoaned.

"He'll probably blame you for it anyway, so consider it done."

Tucker doubled over, rasping in uncontrollable laughter all over again. "Oh man, and you punched him! You actually punched him!"

"Hell yeah I did." Her eyes glinted over to Danny, who was still growing redder by the second. "Call that payback for getting me grounded."

"Fair," he said.

"I can't fucking believe you punched him, and that he has the hots for y'all—this is the greatest day of my LIFE"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!"

"You know," Sam said, cutting the boys off, "at least we learned something."

"Yeah, we did," Tucker giggled, clearly not thinking along the same lines as her.

Sam zapped him with her finger and ignored his subsequent yelp, continuing, "We learned that he wished for you to change! I bet you anything Desiree was the cause of this."

Danny perked up. "Wait, you're right! If Dash wished this, that definitely means Desiree was involved."

"So, what? We just find her and wish ourselves back to normal again?" Tucker asked.

That was, in fact, exactly what it meant.

The trio searched high and low for any unusual wishes that had come to light, but unfortunately for them, it seemed that Desiree had practiced laying on the down-low since her last escapade into the Human Realm. That also meant she was incredibly difficult to find.

So difficult, in fact, that despite searching for her for another two hours and Sam receiving a text from her mom stating that if Sam didn't get her ass home right now, missy, then the cops were going to be called, they didn't actually find a single wisp of Desiree at all.

Well, not until in a moment of complete and utter exasperation, did Tucker throw in the metaphorical towel and shout into the air, "Ugh! Where is she? I wish Desiree would just show herself already so we could finally go home!"

The wind picked up, and a transcendental feminine voice graced the air, saying, "And so you have wished it, and so it shall be...."

Danny—now back in his normal attire—stared dumbstruck at Tucker. "I can't believe none of us thought of that earlier."

"Oh my god, guys, we're idiots," he agreed.

Sam could do little more than nod numbly as stray leaves and twigs gathered gently in the air, spiraling until the graceful form of Desiree, dressed in her blue and purple Persian attire, appeared before them. Her thick, black hair flowed down her back, fading at the ends midway down her spectral tail. She raised a silver-bangled hand, her glowing green skin standing out in the night air, and said, "Hello, you three. I had a feeling I would be seeing you soon."

"Yeah, you think?" Danny asked. "What gives?"

"I was merely granting a wish." Her red eyes trailed over to Sam, hovering at the ready just in case. "Though, it seems that you've already caught on."

"You could say that," Sam answered.

Desiree clasped her hands together, looking almost like a ballerina as she did so. "I'm assuming you would like me to set you right again?"

"Yes," Danny said readily.

"Please. I'm so tired," Tucker agreed.

Sam tilted her head. Despite the rocky start to her day, she'd done pretty damn well as a halfa if she did say so herself. And now that she was starting to get the hang of these ghost powers, they were very fun.

But in fairness, they weren't really her ghost powers to begin with. As fun as they were to borrow for the day, she knew she had to return them to their rightful owner. Even if it pained her to do so.

"Alright," she relented. "You can take them back. It's not like I'm going to be able to use them with how grounded I'm about to be, anyway."

"I'd be surprised if your mom didn't put surveillance in your room after this," Tucker said.

Yeah, she'd be surprised too.

Danny stepped forward, head held high as he commanded, "I wish my ghost core was back in my body!"

"So you have wished it, so it shall be!"

The air picked up around them, and Sam felt her body rise as an invisible blanket gently wrapped itself around her and hoisted her into the air. Her aura glowed like a thousand lightning bugs illuminating at once, and she shut her eyes, letting it take over. The core in her chest stirred, and her body was plunged into a snowstorm as it seemed to expand, growing stronger, stronger, until Sam was sure it would burst. But just before it became unbearable, like a marionette on a string, it was gently guided from her chest.

She gasped, her breath freezing in her lungs as the glowing orb of pure ectoplasmic energy exited her body. Her eyes flew open, and she watched as it slowly drifted to Danny who was floating across the way.

As soon as it entered his body, she felt the liquid ice that had been a constant in her veins since she'd woken up begin to recede as her enshrouding aura began to pull toward Danny. As the last strands of it left her fingertips, she was tenderly lowered to the ground.

Heat rushed into Sam’s body, filling in the gaps where the chill had abandoned her. A shiver crawled up her spine, and then her body settled, the heat dispersing around her torso, spreading out to the tips of her fingers and toes. It felt…strangely right, somehow, even as her chest was missing that persistent core.

There was a moment of silence where the world seemed to hold its breath, and then Danny raised a timid hand to his chest, and a grin spread across his lips. “I’m back.”

“Thank fuck!” Tucker cheered. “Now I can finally go home and sleep!”

“Congrats, Danny.” Sam offered a small smile, flexing her now-human fingers. Without the cold, all her bruises were beginning to hurt. At least the one on her knuckles was for a good cause.

“Thanks for keeping this safe for me,” Danny said.

“No problem.”

Desiree brushed the invisible dirt off her clothing. “Well, now that my work is done, I assume I’ll be off.”

“To the Ghost Zone, right?” Danny flashed his eyes at her.

It was a challenge, of course, that she picked up on instantly, giving a wry smile in return. “But of course.”

Danny insisted on accompanying her to the portal, which while he claimed was only because he wanted to be polite, Sam knew fully well was because he didn't trust her as far as he could throw her, even if their relationship had improved since their first few encounters. But true to her word, Desiree took the directive with grace, going through the portal to the Ghost Zone with little more than the tilt of her head Sam's way.

They watched the swirling green fizzle out from where Desiree had left them, and with a final sigh, Danny closed the portal doors behind her.

Tucker nearly slumped over his chair. "Oh, thank god. I thought this day was never going to end."

"Right?" Sam yawned, fatigue washing over her. "I'm beat."

"Well, at least you don't have to worry about not having the ghost powers anymore. 'Cause after this, your mom is definitely going to kill you."

Her stomach dropped. "Oh, fuck. I'd forgotten about that."

"At least you won't have to feel Dash's disappointment at being punched by his hero tomorrow." Danny slumped over.

"You could punch him too, you know. There's nothing stopping you," Sam pointed out.

Where she thought he would argue with her, he just tilted his head, as if weighing the options. "You know," he started, speaking slow. "I guess...yeah, I mean, I could punch him. It's not like I haven't already gotten enough detentions. One more wouldn't hurt. Or, do you think they'd suspend me?"

"Are you kidding?" Tucker snorted. "Dale and Austin were swinging at each other last week and they were sent back to class an hour later."

"Fair point."

"Alright, I better go home before my mom calls SWAT. Danny?"

"On it!" Danny sauntered over to them both, transforming. "Let’s get you guys back home."

"I've never heard such sweet words come out of your mouth before," Tucker said.

"Oh, shut up."

Sam wrapped her arm around his cold body, and instead of the ominous chill she normally felt around ghosts—even Danny, though she'd never tell him—this time, it felt oddly familiar. Comforting, even.

"I did pretty good today, admit it." She smirked at him.

"Don't get cocky now." He returned the grin and took off into the air. This time when he turned invisible and intangible to shoot through the basement, it was almost nostalgic to her skin. And when the air rushed over her face, she felt herself preen like a peacock in its gusts.

"But yes," Danny said, leaning into her once they leveled out over the air. "You did awesome."

She already knew she had, but the validation still made her feel warm all the same.

Well, until she had to step through her front door, at which point the click of a high heel and a screeching "SAMANTHA EMILY MANSON" pierced her ears.

And thus, her second death of the day commenced.

#ectoimplosion2024 #danny phantom #my writing #fanfiction #dp fic #i was genuinely laughing while writing Dash's bit here #well also in the first chapter #but his dialogue with Sam here is probably my fave part

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beautification-tales · 1 day ago

Text

The Wereslut part 2

A tale of periodic transformations

"Come on, Ginge, you've got to check this out!" exclaimed Brigitte, her eyes glued to the screen as a group of pirates fought with exaggerated flailing and yells.

Ginger rolled her eyes, the scent of popcorn and the warm glow of the TV the only comfort in the otherwise cold apartment. She knew full well what was going to happen next, having watched the episode a hundred times with her best friend. But she couldn't help the smile that crept onto her lips as she leaned in closer, the anticipation of their favorite scene building.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the dramatic music and the clanging of swords like a knife. Brigitte's enthusiastic "Who could it be?" was met with Ginger's knowing look. It was Sam, the neighbor who had a knack for interrupting their Friday night marathons.

Sam waltzed in, his cheeky grin lighting up the room. "Looks like the weebs are at it again," he said, tossing a bag of chips onto the coffee table. He was tall and muscular, a stark contrast to Brigitte's plush figure. His teasing was all in good fun, though, and the girls had grown used to his playful banter.

“Babe I told you tonight it’s girls night ok?” Ginger called out as Sam sailed through the doorway, a playful scowl etched on her face. She knew he was joking, but she couldn’t help feeling a little annoyed. “I just miss you babe.” Sam said with a shrug, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He knew that Ginger’s friendship with Brigitte was sacred, almost a religion in itself, and interrupting was like walking into a church mid-mass. But his curiosity always got the better of him.

“You are so lucky you are cute.” Ginger replied, approaching her tall boyfriend. She got on her tiptoes and pouted. Sam bent down and kissed her lips. “But seriously, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She glanced back at the TV, where the climax of the battle was reaching its peak. “Dinner and FullMetal Alchemist Brotherhood right?” Sam asked with a hopeful smile. Ginger nodded, her eyes never leaving the screen. “It’s a date.”

With a dramatic sigh, Sam kissed her on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.” He turned to leave, waving at the screen. “Take care of the Straw Hats for me!” he called over his shoulder, his laugh echoing down the hall. Brigitte turned to her best friend. “You didn’t have to make him leave you know.”

“I know, but we need our time, bestie,” Ginger said, tossing a piece of popcorn in the air and catching it in her mouth. “Besides, you know how he gets when he watches with me. After two episodes…. There isn’t much watching.” Ginger giggled at the thought of Sam's inability to sit through their anime binges without trying to have sex with her.

Brigitte nodded, her cheeks reddening slightly. “I totally get it. You guys have that kind of relationship. But, you know, I wish I had someone who was like that with me.” She playfully elbowed Ginger's side, causing her to spill some popcorn on her shirt.

“But seriously how did things change between you two? A few months ago you were crushing on him. Now he can’t get enough of you.” Ginger threw another piece of popcorn at Brigitte, who caught it with a grin. “What can I say, the universe finally realized I’m irresistible.”

“Come on you know I know you better than that. Remember Frank? You were a nervous wreck around him and he’s not even close to how hot Sam is. So what is the secret? Are you a witch now?” Brigitte said, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Huh? What? No! Me?” Ginger stuttered, her cheeks flushing. She paused the episode, turning to face Brigitte. “It’s just that Sam’s really into me, you know? And I figured out what makes him happy. That’s all there is to it.”

“I was joking but now I know you’re hiding something.” Brigitte said, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Ginger felt a knot in her stomach, realizing she might have said too much. She also felt her burn mark ache as it typically does on the full moon. It was a secret she hadn’t shared with anyone, not even her best friend.

Ginger looked at her friend. She knew lying would be impossible as Brigitte was practically like a sister. Plus, she had always been terrible at keeping secrets. She took a deep breath and decided to tell part of the truth. “Ok a few months back. Sam came over to talk and we had sex… but like animals. It was like I was someone else that night.”

Brigitte’s eyes widened. “Oh my god Ginge, you gotta give me the details! What happened?” Her voice was a mix of excitement and shock. Ginger felt a thrill run through her as she remembered the night she had transformed for the first time.

“It was just... intense. Sam was being sweet like always and… I couldn’t help myself. I just let my instincts take over and next thing I know, we’re tearing into each other like it’s the last night on earth.” Ginger paused, her eyes glazed over with the memory. The burn mark on her hand began to throb faintly.

“Wow, that’s so not like you. It’s about time you got some though. At least one of us anyway.” Brigitte said, popping another piece of popcorn in her mouth. The crunch was loud in the suddenly tense silence. Ginger inhaled hard as her senses heightened in the moment. Her heart beating so fast as she massaged the mark on her hand. “You just need something to bring out the slut in you.” Ginger said licking her lips.

Ginger’s mind raced as she felt a familiar tingle throughout her body. It wasn’t a full moon tonight but the beginning feeling of pain and pleasure grew stronger. “You know what? Maybe we should call it an early night.” She said, trying to change the subject. “Oh no you don’t! You finally spill the beans and talk about being a slut” Brigitte shook her head knowing something was up with her friend. “I fucking knew you had something up your sleeve. How did you do it? Lingerie? You’ve been practicing BJ’s on bananas? Spill!”

“Mmmm all of the above and more.” Ginger said, her voice trailing off. The burn on her hand was now a constant pulse, a gentle reminder of the power that lay dormant within her. Ginger’s nails began to grow longer and sharper, a hint of the transformation that was slowly taking over. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that tonight. “I fucking took his cock and squeezed every last drop of cum out of it. You should have heard how he screamed my name.”

Brigitte’s eyes widened further, her cheeks turning a darker shade of red. “Holy porno Batman, you never talk like this!” She leaned in, eager for every detail. Ginger couldn’t help but feel a thrill as she revealed her deepest secret. “I was just so wild, Brige. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It was like I had to have him, like my life depended on it. And after that, everything changed. He just couldn’t get enough of me. And I liked it.”

The room grew warmer, the tension thick as the scent of Ginger’s arousal filled the air. Her pulse quickened and her teeth grew sharper, Ginger enjoyed the feeling as she could smell her best friend’s excitement. She inhaled and closed her eyes as the animal within her took charge.

“It’s like I become someone else. Someone fierce, someone who knows exactly what she wants.” Ginger whispered, her eyes snapping open to reveal pupils dilated with desire. The TV flickered, the battle forgotten as the two friends locked eyes. “Someone who’s not afraid to take it,” she finished, her voice a seductive purr.

Before Brigitte could respond, Ginger leaned in, her sharp teeth grazing the soft flesh of Brigitte’s neck. She gasped, a mix of fear and arousal. Ginger’s grip tightened around her friend’s arm, the claw-like nails digging in slightly, leaving red marks. “What the hell, Gin?” she murmured, her heart racing.

Ginger clamped down as her fangs pierced her friends skin. Ginger closed her eyes as it felt so right to taste the flesh of her friend. Brigitte’s scream of surprise and pain woke Ginger from her trance as she pulled her teeth out and jumped back.

“Owww! That fucking hurt!” Brigitte exclaimed, pushing Ginger on her shoulder. Ginger’s eyes snapped back to normal, the painful throb in her hand subsiding. She looked tongued at her teeth, surprised to see them still human. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Are you okay?” she asked, genuine concern lacing her voice.

Brigitte rubbed her neck, her eyes wide. “What the actual fuck, Ginge? Did you just bite me like a vampire?” She was more shocked than scared, looking at her friend like she’d just sprouted a second head. The two girls stared at each other, the air in the room heavy with confusion.

Ginger’s eyes grew wide with horror. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I just felt... I don’t know, something strange.” She took a step back, her hands shaking as she tried to understand the sudden, uncontrollable urge she’d had.

Brigitte closed her eyes as she breathed in slowly, her hand still pressed against the spot where Ginger’s teeth had grazed her skin. “I-I think I should go home,” she stammered, her voice shaking. She grabbed her bag and coat, her movements jerky and unsure. “Ah, yeah, maybe that’s for the best,” Ginger said, her own voice trembling. She felt a pang of guilt and confusion at her actions, unsure of what had come over her.

As Brigitte moved towards the door, Ginger reached out to grab her arm gently. "Sorry again about this. Forgive me.” she whispered, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

“It’s okay. It just hurts.. a lot. So next time you want to get kinky with me… Warn me. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Brigitte replied, her voice quivering as she tried to put on a brave face. Ginger nodded, her mind racing as she watched her best friend leave, the door closing behind her with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine.

Alone now, Ginger took a deep breath and sank into the couch. Her heart was pounding, and she could still taste the coppery tang of Brigitte’s blood on her tongue. She stared at her hand, the burn mark now pulsing in rhythm with her racing heart. What was happening to her?

Brigitte went down the stairs and got into her car. The cold air outside was a stark contrast to the heat that was still burning through Ginger’s apartment. The pain in her neck was subsiding but the memory of Ginger’s teeth remained vivid in her mind. She couldn’t shake off the feeling of Ginger’s teeth sinking into her flesh, the sharpness of pain giving way to a weird sense of warmth.

Once home, she tossed her bag onto the chair and flopped onto her bed, still in shock. She touched the bitemarks on her neck, feeling the slightest hint of arousal. It was weird but she couldn’t help but think of it as some kind of strange foreplay. She lay there for a while, trying to process the events of the evening. Her thoughts were interrupted by the throbbing pain in her neck growing stronger, pulsing with each beat of her heart.

Her eyes grew heavy, and she felt a strange lethargy wash over her. Her body begged for sleep, and she gave in, drifting off into a fitful slumber filled with vivid dreams.

The next evening, Brigitte awoke to the harsh light of day streaming through her bedroom window. Her neck was sore, and she touched the bitemarks again, feeling the roughness of the scabbed skin. She sat up, the events of last night playing back in her mind like a surreal movie. She knew she had to talk to Ginger about it, but what was she going to say?

Ginger had been her best friend since they were kids. They had been through thick and thin together, sharing every secret and every awkward moment. But this was different. This was something she couldn’t just laugh off or pretend didn’t happen. This was something that could change everything between them.

Brigitte took a deep breath and stepped out of her apartment, the cold night air hitting her face like a slap. She hurried down the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest. The thought of facing Ginger was terrifying, but she had to know. Was she okay? Was it some kind of weird kink she had stumbled into? Or was there something more?

When she arrived at Ginger's door, she paused, her hand hovering over the buzzer. What if Ginger had done it on purpose? What if she had some weird vampire fetish she hadn’t told her about? But she knew Ginger wasn’t like that. She was her best friend, her confidant. There had to be a reasonable explanation. With a determined nod to herself, she pressed the button and waited, her heart racing with anticipation.

The door swung open, and Ginger’s face fell when she saw Brigitte. "Oh, hey it’s not a good time tonight," she said, her voice shaky. "Sam and I have plans." Brigitte gave an annoyed look as she barged in. “Tough titties! We need to talk about this!” Brigitte angrily pointed to her bite.

As if on cue a knock on the door interrupted the tension. Ginger looked at the clock, surprised to see it was already 8 PM. She rushed to the door opening it. Sam was standing outside, looking as handsome as ever. “Tonight’s the night baby we are going to fuu oh hey Brigitte! You’re here too!” Sam said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Brigitte, noticing the redness around her neck.

“You have to go Brigitte. It’s late we’ll talk tomorrow.” Ginger’s voice was firm but her eyes were filled with regret. “No fuck that! Sorry Sam but your girlfriend bit me last night. It was definitely sexual so… What the fuck?!” Brigitte’s voice grew louder as she stepped into the apartment, noticing the candles and rose petals scattered on the floor.

“Plus it’s like still hurting like a bitch! Do you have rabies or something?” In unison Ginger and Sam answered Brigitte. “Or something.” They exchanged a nervous glance as Sam stepped into the apartment, his smile fading as he realized her puncture marks.

Ginger felt the burn on her hand grow hotter, the transformation starting to take hold. She knew she had to tell her, but how could she explain something she didn’t fully understand herself? The room spun as her body began to shift, the pain and pleasure mixing into a heady cocktail that made her knees weak. She leaned against the wall for support, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Too late to explain it.” Ginger whispered to herself, the transformation taking her over. Her body grew taut, muscles stretching and bones popping as she began to morph before their very eyes. Her skin shimmered and her eyes grew brighter, her short dull red hair lengthened and thickened into fiery waves that cascaded down her back. Her teeth grew sharp and her nails elongated into gleaming red claws.

Ginger moaned in pleasure as her breasts grew larger, the fabric of her shirt straining against the newfound weight. Her body was changing, and she could feel the power surging through her as her skin shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Her bra straps dug into her shoulders, a stark reminder of the human constraints that no longer applied to her. The burn on her hand had spread up her arm and across her chest, leaving a trail of fiery agony that only added to the exhilaration coursing through her veins.

Brigitte’s eyes widened in shock and pain as she watched Ginger’s transformation. The bitemarks on her neck burned like a brand, the pain searing through her body and bringing with it an unexpected arousal that made her knees buckle. She reached up to touch them, her hand shaking as she felt her own body begin to change. Her breasts swelled, pushing against the fabric of her sweater, and she could feel the weight of them in a way she never had before. Her skin grew warm, and she felt the sudden need to rip the fabric from her body.

Her eyes grew brighter, and she could see the room with a new clarity, as if the world had been painted in high definition. The colors were more vivid, and the sounds around her grew sharper. The scent of Sam’s aftershave filled the room, making her nostrils flare as she took in his musky scent. Her own body was responding in ways she had never felt before, and she knew that she too was becoming something more than human.

Brigitte’s transformation was more subtle but no less dramatic. Her once soft, plush figure grew taut and curved in all the right places. Her hips widened, and her waist narrowed, creating a figure that was both powerful and alluring. Her skin glowed with an inner fire, and her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. She had always felt self-conscious about her weight, but now she felt like she could take on the world.

Sam’s jaw dropped as he took in the scene before him. Two beautiful, powerful women, one his girlfriend and the other his girlfriend’s best friend, were standing before him, both of them oozing a sexuality that was almost palpable. His eyes darted between them, his body responding in a way that was almost painful. He could feel his cock swell in his pants, and he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out and touching them.

Ginger’s transformation was complete, and she now stood before him in all her glory, her fiery red hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of molten lava. Her eyes glowed with an inner fire that made him want to drop to his knees and worship her. And Brigitte, oh Brigitte, she looked like a goddess in the making, her skin a soft glow that made him want to trace every curve with his tongue.

Ginger growled “oh Sam life just keeps giving you gifts.”

#beautification #transformation #f2f transformation #breast expansion #bimboification #beauty is power #ass expansion #musclegrowth #wereslut

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