#i wonder if that’s like a real pumpkin

[leafy-m]

So I hit my 700th edit for the WHA wiki today, because I am a totally normal person

[not-the-conversation-starter]

TRICK OR TREAT! Mind giving me some sweets?

You know, I was going to wait to do this. Keep it in my back pocket in case the wretched hands of fame get their fingers along my neck. But I suppose now is as good a time as any, a special exception for a long time mutual.

You know nothing about me. Nothing about this blog truly indicates anything about me, nor will it at any time on the future. I've reblogged many a post I disagreed with and from fandoms with characters I've never known or actively disliked, usually because it was funny. I've reblogged essays and videos and comics I've outright not read past the title. I've accidentally reblogged a picture of a lady with her tits out because her nipples were so pointy my incredibly tired brain registered it as an oil painting of PS1 Laura Croft for some reason. It's all part of the smoke screen of Who I Am Not, blended seamlessly within Who I Am.

This preamble is so you'll believe me when I say:

I Hate Halloween.

And have since before I could remember. It truly makes me day worse, for a long history of personal reasons I care not to go into.

It doesn't matter how many skeleton wars posts I share. Every single skeleton, ghoul, sweater, cosplay, character, pumpkin, and treat. All of it down to the orange leaves in the background? Mean nothing here. If I was even conscious when I held E and left clicked to send it to my followers, it was for the love of skeletons themselves, and nothing for this abhorrent day of the year.

Know this: if you were anyone less familiar to me, you would of been punted off my front porch like a Jawa from the Star Wars: The Force Unleashed DLC mission.

Now begone child, there is nothing for you here.

[what-even-is-thiss]

A lot of stuff you’re taught about “the first Thanksgiving” just isn’t real and was invented as an origin story for it later. Ignore all that stuff. It was made up in the late 1800s like 200 years after it supposedly happened.

Sarah Josepha Hale was an abolitionist living in a divided US during the years leading up to the civil war and she thought that Thanksgiving could bring the nation together.

And I mean it didn’t but to be honest, it doesn’t matter. Thanksgiving is a made up holiday that has not and will never bring this country together but by God is it a wonderful excuse to hang out with people you care about and gorge yourself on pumpkin. God Bless America.

Remember to move your turkey from the freezer to the fridge today. If you are reading this in the days after I posted it, it’s probably too late.

[delulustateofmind]

Trick or Treat

HC for the JJK men and their little ones

WC: 2.5k

TW: Mentions of Miscarriage, pregnant reader (Choso), Pet Names: Honey, Baby, stuff like that. Tooth rotting fluff?

*****

Gojo: 

Satoru had never imagined himself as father material. Taken from his parents at a young age, he was raised by distant mentors and silent servants in traditional hallways. That cold, lonely upbringing was etched into his bones. He had vowed that if he ever had a child, they would never know that kind of isolation. So when you told him you were pregnant, something in him shifted—he found himself diving headfirst into the idea of family. He bought a house in Tokyo, in a warm neighborhood, where children's laughter echoed in the streets. He wanted your child to grow up surrounded by love—something he had craved, but never truly had.

It was Halloween night, and Satoru entered the house with a bright grin. The soft click of the door barely registered before your three-year-old daughter came toddling toward him, her arms stretched out wide. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with pure delight, and the sight made his heart swell painfully in his chest. Without hesitation, he crouched down and swept her into his arms, her sweet laughter filling the room like music he never knew he needed.

“There’s my little pumpkin!” he said, his voice filled with affection as he admired her tiny jack-o'-lantern dress. “I could just gobble you up!” He buried his face in her soft chubby cheeks, blowing raspberries as her squeals and giggles echoed in the air. The joy on her face was everything. 

You stood by the doorway, watching them with a smile that tugged at your lips. Satoru caught your gaze, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the three of you. This was happiness—so simple, yet so profound. “You ready for trick-or-treating?” you asked softly, stepping closer.

He straightened up, pulling you into a gentle kiss, his lips lingering on yours just a little longer than usual. His eyes shone with warmth when he pulled back, the kind of love that left you breathless. “Of course I am. This is her first real Halloween,” he said, his voice soft full of amusement, “and she’s not being carried the whole time.” There was a joy in his voice, but also something deeper, a vulnerability he rarely let surface.

Later, the three of you walked hand in hand down the decorated streets of your neighborhood. Your daughter’s small fingers gripped tightly onto yours, her wide eyes filled with wonder as she took in all the costumes, the glowing pumpkins, and the cobwebbed houses. Satoru held her candy bag, watching her every move with a kind of reverence—like he still couldn’t believe she was real, like he feared this fragile happiness could slip away in an instant. The feeling gnawed at him sometimes, that quiet fear in the back of his mind. But for now, he pushed it away, tightening his grip on your hand to ground himself at this moment.

She waddled up to another door, proudly returning with a handful of candy—and a small pack of raisins. Satoru stared at it, blinking in mock disbelief.

“Raisins? Seriously?” he groaned dramatically, tossing it into the bag with a playful scowl. “Who hands out raisins on Halloween? Let the kids have a sugar high!” His whine was exaggerated, but you knew him well enough to catch the hint of protectiveness in his voice—he wanted her to have nothing but the best, even on a night like this.

You laughed, the sound light and familiar, and Satoru’s expression softened as he scooped your daughter up, placing her gently on his shoulders. She squealed with excitement, her little hands gripping his snow white hair for balance as she beamed down at the world. Satoru chuckled, his heart fluttering at her joy.

As the three of you approached the next house, Satoru glanced over at you, a lump forming in his throat. Moments like these—so small, so filled with love—were everything he’d ever dreamed of, but never thought he could have. He wanted to freeze this moment, to hold onto it forever. The thought of losing any of it, of losing you or her, sent a quiet wave of panic through him. 

He reached out, intertwining his fingers with yours, holding on just a little tighter. 

This was his family. His world. His dream that came to life.

Geto: 

You stepped into the living room, your heart warming at the sight before you. Suguru, your husband, sat on the floor, gently helping your one-year-old into a soft bear onesie. Her baby babbles filled the room, and his quiet coos in response wrapped the moment in a kind of peaceful magic. His fingers moved with ease, buttoning up the tiny onesie, his expression one of complete focus and love.

“Ah-ah, no grabbing the hair," he chuckled softly, gently moving her tiny hands away from his inky black hair, which fell just below his shoulders. A smile tugged at his lips as he looked down at her, his voice playful. "Daddy can’t wait for you to grow out of that phase," he teased, although the fondness in his tone betrayed him. He tugged the little bear hood onto her head, her bright violet eyes looking up at him as she babbled, reaching for him again. “You’re going to make the cutest little brown bear, aren’t you?” he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness as he scooped her into his arms.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, warmth blooming in your chest as you watched them.

Suddenly, the sound of tiny footsteps thundered down the stairs as the twins, Mimiko and Nanako, burst into the room. They had just turned six this year, and tonight they were full of excitement for Halloween. Mimiko was dressed in a little black dress with matching bear ears, going as a black bear cub, while Nanako twirled in a white dress—an impractical choice for trick-or-treating, but she insisted on being a polar bear cub. You and Suguru, in matching park ranger outfits, were there to guide your little bear cubs.

“Well, you both look absolutely adorable,” you chimed, your voice bright with amusement. The twins giggled, bouncing on their heels with barely contained energy, their excitement almost tangible.

Suguru stood up, balancing your youngest on his hip as she reached for her sisters’ ears, her little hands stretching curiously toward them. Mimiko and Nanako burst into giggles, leaning in so their baby sister could touch the soft fabric of their costumes. 

“How precious,” Suguru murmured, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. His violet eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened as he gazed at his girls. In that moment, the world seemed to still. This—his family—was everything. Every challenge, every battle, every dark night that had threatened to swallow him whole, had led him here. To this. The thought made his chest ache, the love almost too much to bear.

But just as the peace settled over him, he snapped back to reality with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hold on—pictures first!” he announced, moving with determined speed toward the camera.

A collective groan rose from the three of you, knowing full well that once Suguru got into “picture mode,” you were in for a marathon. His insistence on capturing every perfect angle meant this was going to take longer than any of you were prepared for.

“Honey! We have to meet Satoru for trick-or-treating in an hour!” you called after him, your tone part exasperation, part amusement, as you hurried to grab the camera from his eager hands.

A laugh escaped his lips as he turned to face you, his eyes meeting yours with a look so full of affection it nearly took your breath away. Behind that playful, beautiful exterior, there was something deeper—gratitude. A thankfulness that you had stayed with him through his darkest times, through every shadow that had tried to pull him under. You had given him this life, this family, and in doing so, you had brought him happiness and purpose he had once thought impossible.

“I promise it won’t take long,” Suguru chuckled, though the knowing smile on his face said otherwise. You rolled your eyes, unable to help the fond laugh that escaped you.

Nanami: 

“Honey, I am so sorry,” Nanami called out the moment he stepped through the front door of the apartment. His voice was tinged with exhaustion, but also with an apology that spoke of guilt. “Did you already—” His sentence cut short, the words dying in his throat as a sigh escaped his lips. His usual stoic expression softened into a gentle smile as his eyes landed on the scene before him.

Your son, perched on the kitchen island, sat with a wooden spoon clutched in his tiny two-year-old hands, covered in flour and batter. You stood nearby, also dusted in flour, your hair a little messy, but your face bright with warmth. 

“Surpwise!” your son squealed, his hands outstretched, proudly showing off the wooden spoon caked with batter like it was the best gift in the world.

Nanami loosened his tie as he walked closer, his exhaustion melting into quiet laughter as he took in the sight. “What’s all this?” he chuckled, eyeing the assortment of cookies spread out across the counters. The soft sounds of "Peanuts: The Big Pumpkin" played in the background, filling the apartment with a cozy, nostalgic atmosphere.

“Well,” you began, smiling up at him as you wiped some flour from your cheek. “Our little one here is still a bit too young for trick-or-treating, so we decided to bake! He’s been an amazing little helper, though we’re still working on not eating all the batter,” you laughed, gesturing toward the sticky spoon in your son’s hand. “We’re making pumpkin bread, just for you.”

Nanami’s eyes softened even more, the corners crinkling slightly as he looked down at you with a tenderness that made your chest warm. He got so caught up in work—too often, really—and it wasn’t unusual for him to miss out on little moments like these. The guilt was always there, lingering just behind the tired smiles.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner,” he murmured, brushing a hand through his hair, his frown deepening. “Ino-kun needed help on a mission. The poor kid is too young to be handling those kinds of assignments alone.”

You noticed the tightness in his shoulders, the way the weariness clung to him, but before you could offer comfort, his frown deepened. You tilted your head, confused. “Invite him over.”

Nanami blinked, clearly surprised.

“I know Itadori-kun is out with Choso and his wife tonight,” you continued with a grin. “We’ve got way too many baked goods for the three of us. Plus, Ino-kun is great with kids. It’d be nice to have him over.” 

Nanami’s expression softened once again, the guilt in his eyes easing slightly as he nodded. “I’ll give him a call.”

And, of course, Takuma came running the moment he was invited, bursting through the door with an enthusiasm that made your son squeal with excitement all over again.

Later that evening, the four of you nestled together on the couch, watching the children’s movie play on the screen. Your two-year-old babbled constantly, munching on cookies and randomly pointing at the TV, too excited to focus on any one thing for long. But eventually, his chatter quieted, and he began to drift off, his tiny head resting comfortably on Nanami’s lap. 

Takuma, too, had succumbed to the peaceful atmosphere, falling asleep beside you with crumbs still on his shirt. You gently draped a blanket over him, smiling as he snuggled into it without waking. 

Nanami glanced down at the sleeping form of your son, his hand gently brushing through the little one's hair. There was a peacefulness in his expression, a quiet contentment that made your heart swell. These were the moments that made everything else—his work, the stress, the guilt—worth it. 

There was something special about this quiet, cozy life you had built together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. And in these small, fleeting moments, it felt like everything you needed.

Choso:

Choso sat beside you on the couch, his brows furrowed in concentration as he wrapped yet another blanket around your pregnant belly. You already had two draped over you, but it was clear he wasn’t taking any chances. This was your miracle baby, the one who had made it past the third trimester after two heartbreaking miscarriages. Choso was determined to make sure everything went smoothly, even if it meant over-preparing for a causal movie night.

“We’re watching Human Earthworm right?” Yuji chimed as he entered the living room, arms full of snacks and his usual bright smile lighting up his face. “It’s perfect for Halloween!”

Before you could answer, Choso’s deep stoic voice cut through the room. “No.”

Both you and Yuji exchanged surprised glances. Choso rarely said no to his younger brother, always indulging his whims. But tonight, his protectiveness was palpable.

“It’s bad for the baby,” Choso continued, his voice unyielding as he placed a gentle hand on your swollen belly. His touch was tender, but his expression was serious. “It’ll scare them.”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, the contrast between his stoic demeanor and his caring nature was always endearing. “My love, it’ll be fine,” you reassured him, but he shook his head firmly.

“No,” he said again, unwavering. He reached over to the side table and picked up a DVD case, holding it up with a hint of determination in his eyes. “We’re watching Mickey Mouse: Halloween Special. I did research. It’s good for babies.”

A wobbly smile formed on his lips, clearly trying to look confident in his decision. His desire to protect both you and the baby was overwhelming, even if it was a bit… over-the-top.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Maybe not that,” you replied gently, glancing over at Yuji, who was trying to suppress his own laughter but looked more determined than ever.

Yuji nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation but still hoping for something more entertaining than a Mickey Mouse special. “Okay, okay… what about The Nightmare Before Christmas? It’s not too scary, I promise!”

Choso’s frown deepened, his protective instincts kicking in. “No. It has bugs. Scary scenes. You might get frightened, and then the baby will get scared.” His hand never left your belly, as if he could shield your little one from any imagined harm.

After what felt like an hour of back-and-forth negotiations, Choso finally relented. He agreed to The Nightmare Before Christmas—but only on the condition that you promised to close your eyes during any parts he deemed “too scary.” His hand remained firmly on your belly, monitoring for any kicks or signs of distress, his focus unwavering throughout the movie.

Even though you knew it was silly, Choso’s constant vigilance filled you with warmth. It was more than just about the baby. He was watching over both of you, ensuring nothing—no matter how small—would cause harm or discomfort. You leaned into his side, smiling softly. He squeezed your hand in response, his gaze still fixed on your belly.

******

a/n: I was going to wait until Halloween to post this but I just could not wait! My baby fever was cured (for now) while writing this. I couldn't think of anything good for Toji right now, he's kind of hard to write for.

[nininikki]

divorced-ish — n. kento

content warnings: ex-husband!nanami, delusional!nanami (he’s cute tho)

author’s note: sigh i need him

ex-husband!nanami who just couldn’t stay away from you if he tried

ex-husband!nanami who you’d originally separated from on account of his work seeming to hold more priority over you, and then your newborn daughter.

ex-husband!nanami who still keeps a photo of you and the baby on his desk at his job (which, ironically, was the thing that ultimately led to his marriage failing). when asked by his nosey secretary why he still kept the photo, he only responded, “it’s my family. why wouldn’t i?”

ex-husband!nanami who had yet to actually finalize the divorce. but really, it wasn’t his fault. he just hadn’t gotten around to sending the papers over (or having them printed up at all), what with all those crazy shifts at work. oh, well, it didn’t matter. he would do it at some point.

ex-husband!nanami who had left you virtually everything in the not-so-finalized-divorce. the four bedroom, four bathroom house, your diamond 6 carat engagement ring, your wedding china, the aston martin db9 he had gifted you for your birthday, the park avenue apartment, the country house in monaco—all of it.

ex-husband!nanami who you had never been able to turn down whenever he stayed over just a little later after dropping the baby back off with you. the two of you would sit on the couch and catch up over a glass of wine. then one glass turned to two, then two to three. and for a minute it would almost feel as if you were still married.

nanami never ended up leaving until the late hours of the night. by which point you began to wonder where he’d gotten all the free time he couldn’t seem to find when you were actually married.

ex-husband!nanami who internally scoffed whenever you mentioned going on a date with another man.

“do you think you could watch her on saturday? i’ve got a date i really don’t wanna miss.” you’d asked at the tail end of an already too long (thirty minute) phone call.

nanami breathed a recognizable, pensive sigh on the other end, chewing through what he’d earlier told you was tempura, but considering how long it was taking him to answer, it may as well have been your nerves.

“you know i will, but, uh,” you heard him swallow. “a date?”

although your ex-husband didn’t exactly sound like he was joking, you couldn’t help the giggle that vibrated through your body. glancing at the clock on your nightstand that read eight-thirty and the baby sleeping soundly in the crib next to your bed, you propped the house phone between your ear and shoulder. what was the harm in killing another thirty minutes?

“yes, kento, a date. his name is scott. he’s an art dealer. i think you’d like him.”

“does scott know you’re still married?”

“separated,” you corrected him. “and no, he doesn’t. do you tell every woman who asks you out that you’re married?”

nanami hesitated for a second before answering, “yes, i do.”

ex-husband!nanami who came to your house with flowers and a store bought pumpkin pie for thanksgiving. more than you’d like to admit, you liked having him around for the holidays. he was so good with the baby, and so attentive to everything else. cleaning up all the leftovers and stray baby toys as the night came to an end.

it was nearing ten o’clock when he had successfully put the baby to sleep, and then came down to help you tidy up the downstairs. “y’know you didn’t have to buy a pie, right?” you told him after you’d discovered it hidden amongst the array of leftover pots and aluminum pans. “i know it’s your favorite. i’d have made you some.”

nanami brought his task at hand (loading the dishwasher) to a stiff halt and joined you at the island countertop. “but hey,” you added, tearing the lid off the pie. “we could see if it’s as good as the real thing.”

your ex-husband, usually the most well-spoken man you knew, could only stiffly nod in your direction while you retrieved a pair of shiny silver forks, still in the drawer they’d always been in. “and i got some whipped cream if you want.” you added as you gave him a fork, now taken aback by his sudden lack of speech. seriously, he hadn’t spoken this little since the year leading up to your separation.

what you didn’t know was that nanami couldn’t speak if he wanted to. he needed this. the three of you hadn’t had a real holiday together since last halloween, and even that was admittedly very bleak. “i miss you,” nanami blurted.

and he did. he missed your desserts for every holiday—savory pumpkin pie for thanksgiving, sweet apple pie for christmas, strawberry eclairs for valentine’s day. he missed opening his eyes every morning to the sight of your face smushed into a pillow, or a bit of drool gathering at the corner of your mouth. he missed coming home from work to the sight of you and the baby sound asleep on the couch. he missed being your husband, and even more knowing you were his wife.

ex-husband!nanami who spent the night fucking his ex-wife into the couch as though they were still married. wrapping you in his strong arms, while murmuring promises of change and betterment. “i’ll never go to work again, swear,” he said, shuddering between deep thrusts. “please just take me back, baby.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

moth to a flame

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, praise, body worship, eye contact, public sex act, dry humping, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your friend invites you to a bonfire where you meet a man who knows you better than you think. plus! reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: this is my first of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Natasha is the coolest person you know. Probably the coolest person most people will ever meet; if they have the privilege. So it is that you wonder how she’s your friend. It’s really too good to be true which is why you can’t help but feel a bit enamoured by her. 

It has to be real though. If you’re not friends, she wouldn’t invite you to her annual bonfire. A sacred tradition for her, or so you’ve heard. A gathering of all her closest friends. They are truly elite company. Not just your everyday schmucks, but The Avengers. 

You’re sure you’ll seem a bit lame walking up with your basket of pumpkin muffins home-made cider. Still, you were taught to always bring something with you. Though it does provide an obstacle to getting to the front door smoothly. 

You carry the large glass jug of cider by the metal handle as you hug the basket to your side. You struggle you hit the lock button on your keys and stop short as the cider sloshes around dangerously and throws your balance. As you try to correct yourself, footsteps scuff up behind you. 

“Need help?” The deep voice is like silk. 

You look over your shoulder, nearly tipping over as you do. The stranger manages to scoop up the basket before you tip it and you giggle in embarrassment. You sigh and let him take it from you. 

Oh, he’s not a stranger. Well, you know his name, even if you don’t know him. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. One of Natasha’s many high-profile friends. Again, you ask yourself how you ended up there. 

“Oop, thanks so much,” you say. “I should’ve made two trips.” 

“No problem,” he assures you. “You a friend of Nat’s?” 

“Uh, yeah,” you smile, turning back up the walk as he keeps stride with you. “New friend, I guess.” 

“Friend is a friend. She only keeps me around because I made friends with a string bean back in 1930.” He chuckles. 

“You mean--” You stop yourself and look away. You don't want to come off as a fangirl that quick. “Uh, well, we met at an event. She was teaching self-defense for the woman’s shelter.” 

“Oh, you work there?” He asks. 

You keep your eyes off of him, “I lived there. Not anymore.” 

“Ah, well, that’s good? You’re in a better place?” He asks. 

You nod, “much better.” You swallow and exhale. “I know who you are. You’re Bucky Barnes.” 

“I’m never gonna get used to that,” he scoffs. “Takes the excitement out of meeting new people.” 

“Oh, sorry, I...” you trail off before your nerves can break through.  

You don’t think Natasha would ever have become your friend if she knew you were such a geek about her other friends. Cap and Iron Man and even Thor. They were the real-life heroes that inspired you to be your own. And it was a poster of Steve Rogers himself that sparked the last fight that led to you leaving your ex. 

“It’s fine, so, do I get a name? Unfortunately, I don’t have the whole mind-reading thing going on,” he knocks on the heavy door as you shift the jug in your grip. You give your name as you peek over at him sheepishly. “These smell...” he lifts the basket and takes a whiff, “delicious.” 

“I hope they are. My first time using my apartment stove. It’s gas. I’m used to electric,” you explain. “Uh, pumpkin muffins, if that’s what you were asking. Sorry, I...” you turn to the door and rub your lips together, “if I’m honest, I’m super nervous.” 

“Nervous?” He echoes. “About?” 

“Well, I’m not the greatest with crowds. Especially since the shelter... ugh, I don’t know why I keep bringing that up.” You cringe, “but uh, just... new people. I guess.” 

“Ah,” he nods and teeters on his treads, knocking again, “damn it, Nat, what the hell are ya doin?” He grumbles. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m not really a people person either. The arm... it’s quite the ice breaker.” He sniffs, “I hate talking about the goddamn thing.” 

“Um, yeah, that would be... awkward,” you utter. 

The door opens before he can respond. You’re glad for it. You hadn’t thought about it but now all you can think of is if his arm has a built-in can opener. 

“Oh, he-eyyyy,” Natasha stutters as her eyes flit between you and Bucky, “you’re here. Both of you. At the same time?” 

“Uhhh, yeah,” you peek at Bucky. 

“Ran into each other a few steps back. You’re shit at introducing people, Natty.” 

She rolls her eyes and waves him off. She turns to you. “Wow, and what’s all this?” 

“I brought cider and--” 

“Muffins,” Bucky finishes for you as he lifts the basket higher. “I’m not much of a baker.” 

“Or a guest,” she retorts. “That’s so amazing, thank you.” She reaches to take the basket, “come on, I’ll show you around. Bucky, I think you already know where the litter box is.” 

Bucky tuts and shakes his head, “nice seeing you too.” He follows you in and faces you, “try to enjoy yourself. I know she’s a bit of a party pooper. Even if she is the host.” 

“With guests like you, how can I not be,” Natasha trills and beckons you onward, “don’t worry about your shoes. We’ll most be outside so I’ll do a full sweep and mop tomorrow.” She turns and struts away. 

Your eyes creep down her hour glass figure. You feel like a pervert as you do but you can’t help it. Even in a flannel and jeans, her body is perfect. The cowl neck of your red sweater and your corduroy feels a little less cute. 

“You made these yourself?” She asks as she leads you into a large kitchen.

There’s a square island with a hardwood top and matching counters and cupboards; the tile is burgundy with black iron accents. You marvel as you compare it in your head to your boxy apartment with the peeling laminate and squeaky faucets. 

“Uh, yeah,” you answer as you lift the jug of cider onto the counter. “Apple cider and pumpkin muffins.” 

“You are too sweet. I have to admit, I got catering for tonight. I'm no good in a kitchen,” she chuckles. “Lived off of Hydra rations for so long, I can’t do much more than open a can or vacuum seal.” 

“Oh, right. Nothing fancy,” you shrug. “You know, I just found the recipes online. Got some apples from the farmers’ market... I don’t know if it’s any good.” 

“I’m sure it’s all delicious. Bet the cider would be great with some whiskey,” her voice is smokey as she smirks. “Wanna put that theory to the test?” 

“Um, if you want. I’m okay either way.” 

“I won’t blame you if you need some liquid courage before facing the rest. Work friends can be a bit much,” she chuckles. “Besides, I have a bottle that’s been sitting in my cabinet for too long.” 

“Sure,” you accept, not wanting to be rude. And she’s right. You need something to take the edge off. 

She hums as she leaves the muffins next to the jug and she spins to the cupboard. She takes out two glasses that resemble jars and a dark bottle of liquor. You watch her put it all together with ice and a cinnamon stick to boot. 

“May as well get some before the rest devour it,” she slides a glass toward you and lifts the other, “cheers.” 

You smile and clink her glass. You taste it and your cheeks pinch. The cider is good but you can definitely taste the whiskey. You hold back a cough and cover your mouth. 

“I am just rewarming the hors d’oevres but if you want to wait, I can introduce you to everyone.” 

Heat roils from the oven as it glows from within and there are trays waiting for serving. She’s already put so much in. You don’t want to make her day even more strenuous. After all, she didn’t have to invite you. 

“No, it’s... you’re busy but if you need help.” 

“Don’t be crazy. You’re a guest. Go, enjoy the party. I’ll be out shortly. Everything’s mostly out there already.” 

“Okay, but um, I can take the muffins at least.” 

“Alright,” she agrees. 

You grab the basket and go to the door. You pause as you realise you don’t know where you’re going. Natasha laughs again. 

“Other way, back door is right on the other side of me,” she sweeps around the kitchen swiftly. 

“Right,” you turn back and cross the tile; one arm around the basket, your other hand cradling your glass. You push outside with your shoulder and step out onto the deck.  

There’s a long table of snacks as promised. You go to it and put down the basket as you dare to glance up at the guests speckled around the yard. Pairs and trios stand in the grass and around the already crackling fire. They all seem to know each other and you recognise quite a few of them. 

“Buns?” The question has you lurching in surprise as you face another partygoer. 

“Oh, uh, no, muffins,” you lift the lid to show the contents. “Pumpkin.” 

“Oooh,” the blond grins. The golden hair, the square jaw, broad shoulders; how could you mistake Captain America? “Can I try?” 

“Of course. I brought them for everyone,” you smile and tightly clutch your glass of cider. “You’re... Captain America.” 

“Ha, well, not here. I prefer Steve,” he takes out a muffin and peels away the liner. “And you’re... one of Xavier’s recruits?” 

“Xavier? Who—no. I’m...” you introduce yourself as he sinks his teeth in to the muffin. Your stomach flips. What if it’s bad? “Natasha’s friend. Erm, I guess that’s what we all are but nope, I’m just me. Just a... civilian?” 

He laughs, “just a civilian? Damn good baker. I don’t go for pumpkin often but this is amazing.” 

“Really?” You beam and bounce on your toes. 

“Oh, yeah--” 

“Save some for the rest of us, punk,” Bucky comes up from behind Steve. “Just like him to be chatting up the cutest girl at the party. What line did he use?” 

“Line? I’m just having a muffin,” Steve grimaces. 

“Mm, muffins,” Bucky reaches in front of his friend to claim a treat of his own, “was waiting on these.” 

He eyes your glass of cider and you take a sip. You pull your lips off the brim and gulp, “oh, the rest is inside if you want some.” 

“She made that too,” Bucky points at your cup. “Who knew Natasha had cool friends?” 

You giggle, “no, I’m not... just muffins.” 

“Good muffins,” Bucky says through a mouthful, “mmm.” 

“Might be good to hide them,” Steve remarks as he gives Bucky the side eye. 

“Hey, these two meatheads giving you trouble?” Another figure approaches from the back door. You turn as Tony stark flips up his dark sunglasses. He sports a red velvet jacket with collar popped. 

Bucky’s lips thin and Steve shakes his head, “you’re late,” the latter rebukes. 

“It’s a party, capsicle. Chill. Wait, don’t do that. We might not see you for another seventy years.” 

Steve scowls and takes another bite of his muffin. Bucky picks at his own and looks away. You nervously glance between them all. 

“Tony Stark,” the new arrival offers his hand, “but you already know that, don’t you, sweetheart? So who are you?” 

“Charming,” Steve comments. 

“It’s called getting to the point, Rogers. Some of us aren’t gonna wait around until they’re in the nursing home.” 

Steve growls and Bucky nudges him. The blond nods and looks at you, “I’ll see ya around.” 

“Sure,” you accept. Bucky waves with two fingers and follows Steve’s retreat. You turn back to Tony and shake his hand as you recite your name. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Natasha didn’t say this was a meet-cute,” he winks. 

“Ummm,” you glance around nervously. 

“Teasing ya. You look lost. You want the low-down on the dweebs,” he flicks his index towards the grass. “Now, you see, that kid right there, that’s Parker. His alias is top secret. For his safety. He might blurt it out anyway. And that’s his buddy Miles,” he points at to younger guests. “Someone should really separate them. We don’t need a mess.” 

He snickers and puts his arm around you as he moves you toward the top step of the deck, “and there’s the mighty God of Thunder. We all know the puppy dog, and then there’s his stray cat of a brother. Trust me, I tried to have him ejected into space but apparently, they can survive that.”

He tuts. “And there’s Bruce, good guy. When he’s calms. And Brock. Real question mark, that guy. Maria, Coulson, Sam, Strange; the better Steve if you ask me. And Wanda, her husband; I made him, his name is Vision but I guess Victor is more ‘human’.” 

He runs his hand up your arm as he pulls you closer, “there’s Charles, he prefers Professor, and his group of ragtag individuals. I could tell you their names but I’m already bored. Oh, except that one, the angry one with the swoopy hair. That’s Logan. Leave him alone. He’s even worse than the bozo with the vibranium arm. 

“Now, T’Challa has more important things to do so we don’t got anyone else worth mentioning,” he drags his hand down your sleeve then lets go, “I’m sure you’ll be tired of all of us before the night’s done. I assure you, heroes save people, not the vibe.” 

He clicks his tongue and jumps off the top step. You watch him strut off and you stare after him. There’s a lot more people than you expected. Familiar but still strangers.  

The only good thing is there’s more than enough guests for you to fade into the background. You’re tempted to go back in and offer to help Natasha. You know better than that. She always sees right through you. She’ll know immediately that you’re just hiding from social interaction. 

🔥

The night wears on into darkness. The large pit burns brightly as voices buzz and shadows waver. You stand watching the lick of flames, unnoticed amid the furor. Or so you think. 

“Hey, there’s cider left,” Bucky appears at your side, his sleeve brushing yours. “Got you a top up.” 

“Oh, that’s... nice.” You accept the glass as he holds another for himself. “You didn’t have to.” 

“You look... lonely. I don’t know. Felt bad. You went to all that trouble and you’re wading through this sea of people you don’t know.” He shrugs. “Hate these things myself. I just came ‘cause Nat asked. Well, she tells. You know, you can’t say no to her.” 

“Ha, yeah,” you agree. She isn’t just strong-willed, she’s intimidating. 

“I usually end up just drifting around until everyone’s distracted, then I dip,” he explains. “Or find somewhere quiet.” He quiets to take a sip, “how about it? Everyone’s out here, there’s a sofa up on the deck.” Your teeth chatter as you try to taste the cider, “and A blanket.” 

“Mm, it said it wasn’t supposed to get cold,” you look down embarrassed. You finally get a mouthful. It’s sweeter than before. Maybe because there’s no whiskey. 

“Huh, well, you don’t gotta hang out with a boring old man like me. Just figured I’d offer,” he says. 

“Thanks, that’s nice.” 

“Well, I can be nice when I want to,” he raises his glass slightly and turns away. 

As he marches off, you watch his back. Your eyes wander around. No one else even notices you. They’re all so wrapped up in each other. Even Natasha’s barely stopped to chat. 

“Wait,” you call after Bucky, “I could sit down.” 

He stops and turns as you scurry after him. The fire light flickers and limns the sharp angles of his face. He waits until your right beside him to continue on. 

“So, you already know what I do for work. What about you?” He asks as you climb the steps in tandem. 

“I’m a cashier,” you answer. “I work at a pet store.” 

“Hm, I like animals,” he leads you to the sofa. You can see the glow of the fire but the voices aren’t so raucous from up there. 

“Yeah, we mostly just have birds and hamsters there. Nothing very big. It’s a small place,” you explain. “I... It’s a new job.” You keep yourself from mentioning that the shelter helped you find it. It’s not really what you want to do forever, but it’s something. 

“Still, that’s nice. You get to help people in your own way. Make sure they can spoil their pet,” he leans back as he balances his glass over one knee and you drink deeply from your own. “I got a cat. Demanding. A bit abusive.” He laughs then chokes on it. “Jeez, I’m sorry. That was a bad joke.” 

You shake your head, “no, it’s not... really. I’m not upset.” 

“You sure?” He angles towards you. 

“Yeah, really. I can handle it,” you say. 

He nods and hums, “yeah, I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse than words.” 

You’re silent as you look down at the cup. You take another sip. He clears his throat as he shifts in the seat. He reaches back to put slide his phone from the back of his jeans. He leans forward to place it on the table. 

“Ugh,” he sits back. “Better.” 

You smile, “well, you don’t just work, do you? When did you get your cat?” 

“Oh, she just made herself at home really. It wasn’t exactly a conscious or willing choice,” he laughs. You fold one arm around your middle and shiver again. “Ah, where’s that blanket--” 

He reaches to the back of the couch and pulls down the blanket. It hits his glass and he loses grip of both. He huffs as he soaks the flannel in cider. 

“Damn,” he stands and holds out the sopping blanket before it can drip onto him or the couch. “Just like me. Hold on. I’ll go get another blanket and clean this up.” 

He untangles the cup from the blanket and sidles past you. You sit back silently as he heads for the back door. You glance over and consider sneaking over to the table to pick at the leftovers. Instead, you huddle down against another evening breeze.  

You finish all but a mouthful of side and reach to place it on the wooden table. His phone lights up and draws your attention. You blink as your eyes instinctively find the screen. You get a glimpse of the wallpaper right before it goes dark again. Huh? 

You shake off what you think you saw and the phone lights up again. You lean over and sink your teeth around the gasp that threatens to spill out. That can’t be. 

You check over your shoulder before you reach for the phone. You tap the side button and gape at your own image staring back at you. There’s a chat bubble floating on the front screen; new messages. You tap and expand the preview. It’s from Nat; ‘you find her?’ 

Your stomach sinks and you nearly drop the phone. The door opens and you quickly set it back down and sit back. You cross your arm and stare out at the other guests. Nothing can happen as long as you don’t leave. 

He comes back and you flinch as he drapes a blanket over you. He drops down onto the couch as he pulls it snug around your front. He drags his grip down the edges before he lets go. “Better?” 

“Mhmm,” you agree and blink. Your eyes feel dry. You reach up to rub them. 

“Really good cider. You’ll have to send me the recipe,” he insists. 

“Sure,” you slur and try to shake it off. “I’ll find the link...” you swallow and cough. You don’t feel right. You need some space to think. “I need to use the bathroom, one sec.” 

You try to stand but don’t even get your ass off of the sofa before you slump over. Your head crashes into Bucky’s shoulder. He opens his arm around you and rubs your back. He hushes you as you babble. 

“You’re okay, baby,” he rubs your back, “I got you.” 

You try to make a noise but you can’t. You can’t whine or whimper or scream. You can just squeak as he pushes you back up so you fall back against the arm. 

“I measured...” he says quietly. “You shouldn’t pass out.” 

You gurgle and lift your arm. It takes so much effort that it drops down like a bag a sand. The cider...

He shifts and stands, moving your leg behind him before he lowers himself back down. His hand rests on your thigh. His thumb presses into your soft flesh. 

“God, you’re so beautiful, doll,” he traces up and down the seam of your pants. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He runs his finger along your pelvis, making a vee back and forth, “soft and... warm.” 

“B--B—B--” you stutter. 

“The moment I saw you, I knew you needed me,” he moves even closer, his hand crawling up your stomach. “Whoever chased you into that place, he didn’t deserve you. You deserve better.” 

He moves carefully, lifting himself and twisting onto his knees. His hand glides back along your thigh as he folds it around him. You twitch but can’t do more than that. He bends and holds himself over you. 

He curls an arm under your head and nuzzles you. Your eyes roll back as you hide behind your eyelids. This can’t be real. What is he doing? How can he have photos of you on his phone? And that text... did Natasha set this up? Why would she do that? She’s your friend. 

“Look at me,” he growls. His voice is scary. Your eyes snap open and you groan. The tip of his nose rolls around yours. “God, you’re beautiful. Doll, I’m gonna take such good care of you.” He leans his pelvis against you as he presses down, “I’m going to keep you safe.” 

He tilts his hips until you feel his bulge against you. Your eyes round and you puff out a foggy breath. What is he doing? 

“Don’t look away,” he snarls as he slides his arm back and grips the back of your head. “Mmm, I just... I love the way you look at me. The way you feel beneath me.” He rasps as he rocks his hips steadily, “I can’t wait to have you on me, doll. To feel you on top of me. Around me. Mm, I wanna taste you so bad. 

“Mm, your chest,” he touches your tits, “your stomach, your hips,” his hand explores with his declaration and he hooks his hand under you, “your ass. All mine.” 

His coarse whispers tingle through you. What he says is nasty and wrong and yet it’s thrilling. Terrifying because you can do nothing to stop him. Defeating because all the people only feet away won’t either. 

[mysteryshoptls]

R Epel Felmier - Nightmare Suit Voice Lines

Due to event restrictions, Groovy related lines are locked until the event has been cleared. I will update once these are unlocked. Login line has been captured. Nightmare Suit Epel does not have a Vignette

Summon: This is Halloween! We gotta make sure we have a ton of fun no matter where we are.

Groovification: --LOCKED--

Home: What kinda trick should I pull?

Home Transition 1: The pumpkin faces on my socks each have a different expression. Wanna check 'em out? It'll put a smile on your face 'cause of how expressive each one is!

Home Transition 2: Sally-san was teaching Trey-san how to cook their dishes. The ingredients here are very different than what we're used to, so, uh, I wonder if it'll be okay to eat...?

Home Transition 3: Apparently, the Doctor can survive even if he drinks poisoned soup. Man, these Halloween Town folk sure are something... Something awesome that is!

Home Transition - Login: This town might look scary, but there's a ton of cool people here. I especially like Jack-san! I get a kick outta talkin' with him.

Home Tap 1: Jamil-san looked sooo cool with how his jacket fluttered behind him every time he walked. I should try that out with my own blazer jacket sometime.

Home Tap 2: Skully-kun really talks all polite and fanciful, huh. I got told, "You should learn a thing or two from him." ...Urgh, I can still feel that piercing glare staring daggers into me!

Home Tap 3: Azul-san was opening a locked box real slowly and carefully. Maybe he already fell for a trick once already.

Home Tap 4: I look at those three brats runnin' around and I think back to when I was a kid. I might've pulled a few pranks myself on the adults of my village way back when.

Home Tap 5: You're gonna give me a treat? Man, I woulda rather you let me play a trick. ...I wanna show you just what the Felmier family Poison Apple can really do.

Requested by Anonymous.

[soldearestsoulmate]

Sol x GN!MC

No real proof read lol

Warnings: It's mainly fluff but with subtle suggestive and implied non-consensual stuff. (If you played the nsfw version of the game. You'd get what I mean.)

"I know this is a weird request but...I really like listening to you read poetry...So I was wondering if you could...uh...If it's alright. Could you record yourself reading some one day? So I can listen back to it whenever I want, maybe whenever I am about to go to sleep too? To...help me sleep?"

Sol was speechless after hearing you say what you did. He already knew what he wanted to say. A thousand times yes! But his heart was racing and pounding so hard, he feared it would burst out of his chest at any moment now.

"...Sol?"

Hearing you say his name, only made his breathing hitch but he tried to compose himself. Though the clear blush on his face gave away his real nervousness and shyness in the moment.

"I...I--" He struggled to speak, he felt like screaming from joy but also running away too.

"This was too much to ask. I'm sorry I--"

"WAIT! I--" You were startled by his outburst but tried to let him speak. "I'll do it! I just--Is there anything you have in mind for me to read for you exactly or...?"

"Anything is fine, if its from you."

He was thanking any gods right now for this moment, for bringing you back into his life. Oh if he could, he would pull you in and kiss you now but he refrained himself.

Not yet...Just wait...The right time will come again, after all...

"Alright...I...I'll get something recorded for you then."

"Great! Thank you so much, Sol! I appreciate this so much!!" You didn't think twice when you rushed in to hug him, pulling him close. Which he stiffed at the hug at first, then quickly melted into it as he hugged you back. Pulling you in closer, burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent...He felt like dancing with joy right now.

Though he felt himself getting too excited from this alone, feared you'd find out. But you let go just on time before anything were to be noticed.

"I better get going, since class is going to start. Talk to you later alright?"

Sol nodded, giving a small "Yeah" with a smile, love struck over what just happened. Then said his goodbye, but was okay with parting ways with you for now, since you'd be talking again later with certainty.

"Talk to you again soon, pumpkin~."

As requested Sol did as you asked, but he didn't record a few lines. He recorded hours of reading poetry for you...As well snuck in some of his own made for you.

Though he felt that alone wasn't enough...He was nervous about it, but even offered to call to read some to you live, to help coax you to sleep. Which did its charm...But those sleeping pills did the real trick on helping you sleep as well.

You'd think that would be it, but like most nights now. He'd sneak into your room, sit by your bed side, or slip into your bed if brave enough to risk it, and cuddle with you. To then whisper more poems of love into your ear as you sleep, as he shows just how much more he loves you...

[darkbluekies]

Trick or treat, end in defeat

Yandere!female!mafia OC x reader

Summary: Halloween ends in a bloody game

Warnings: yandere, jealousy, threats, knives, guns, humiliation, killing, drugs, alcohol, sexual suggestions

Word count: 2.6k

She’s dressed as a dead 1920’s flapper girl. Her shoulder length black hair have been forced into wavy swirls, her dress bloodied down. You’ve taken for granted that she didn’t buy her blood at a hobby store. She was wearing white contacts in her eyes. You have dressed as a vampire without fake teeth. Jerry said that you look stupid with them on. 

“Who wants to make out with a vampire with dentures?” she mutters before grabbing the back of your neck to bring your face to her lips. “Not me.”

She devours your mouth. Kissing and sucking on everything she reaches. She has the ability to suck the air out of your lungs when kissing you, leaving you breathless and dizzy. 

“If you do something stupid tonight, baby, I’m going to show you what the ‘trick’ in trick or tret is”, she whispers against your lips. “Maybe I’ll use you skin as a pumpkin? But if you’re good, I will give you a treat. And I promise you’re going to like it.”

You’re going to be her cover for a mission, a halloween party where she is going to be handed an envelope with a list of locations for weapons and money by a man you have never heard of before. 

“What’s the treat?” you ask. 

“Me, of course”, Jerry smiles smugly. “Aren’t I a yummy treat when I look like this?”

She spins, giving you a full view of her costume. 

“It’s real blood … isn’t it?” you find yourself asking. 

“Of course it is. Come now, we have to leave.”

She grabs your hand and walks out of the apartment. Her boss has sent a car for the two of you in which you jump into the backseat. 

The car stops outside a club. The loud music can be heard out to the car, despite the doors being closed. Jerry jumps out and helps you out on the sidewalk. 

“Remember what I said, okay?” she says, looking into your eyes warningly. 

The white contacts makes her look manic. You nod and swallow. Jerry leads you into the club. Everywhere you look, you see Barbies, Jack Sparrows, Spidermen and sexy nurses. The music pounds in your ears and you’re sure that you’re going to leave the club with no hearing. Jerry takes you to a pair of round couches by the wall and sits you down. 

“What do you want to drink?” she asks you, mouth close to your ear to be heard. 

Her breath fans against your skin. 

“Whatever”, you reply. 

Jerry nods. 

“Stay here”, she tells you. “Don’t move.”

She disappears into the sea of pretenders. You look around, wondering how many in here are aware that this more than a dance floor this evening. Could the girl dressed as a tiger be aware that this is a meeting place for illegal dealing? Or the man dressed as a cowboy, is he in on it? How many eyes do Jerry have? And how many do her enemies have? Is the man in the zombie costume the one to deliver it? Or the one in an astronaut overall? 

Jerry returns with two drinks. One lime green and one black. 

“One if sour and one is cola”, she says. “Which one do you want?”

“The cola.”

She gives you the dark one. You take a sip and grimace. 

“Oh yeah, it has vodka in it”, she laughs.

“I can tell”, you cough. 

She takes a sip of her toxic green one and grimaces. 

“God, that’s undrinkable”, she mutters. 

A woman comes up to the table. She’s dressed as a pirate. 

“Do you want some?” she asks — clearly on something — and waves a little, clear bag with white powder in it. 

Jerry shoots her arm over you, as a barricade. 

“They don’t want anything from you”, she says coldly. 

The girl stumbles away. Jerry moves closer to you. Although she’s wearing her contacts, you can tell that she’s gotten that look in her eyes again. She’s alert, ready to lash out at anyone that comes near you. She grabs your jaw, turning your face to her.

“If anyone offers you something you better decline and tell them to get the fuck away, you’re not into that”, she tells you. 

You nod understandably. Jerry kisses your lips. 

“How long do we have to stay here?” you ask. “When will you meet your contact?”

“He said around midnight”, Jerry replies and you are about to point out that it’s almost two hours until then, but she continues talking. “But we had to get here some time before so that it doesn’t look like we’re here to get something and then leave. That way, it’ll look suspicious.”

“My head hurts already.”

Jerry lifts your glass to your lips. 

“If you drink some more you’ll feel better”, she says. 

She watches you gulp it down until the glass is empty. You cough, trying to get rid of the burning in your throat. The liquid leaves a warm trail through your body. 

It’s as if you can feel your head fog up, feel your body burn up. The air inside the club is hot from all the dancing people. The costume sticks onto your body

“My poor girl/boy”, Jerry coos and brushes your hair out of your face. “Feeling hot? You’re sweating.”

She leans in and kisses your temple, licking her lips of your sweat. Someone sits down on the couch beside you. Jerry is quick to make them leave. She pulls you even closer. Her nails dig into your hot skin. Jerry knows that you need to go out for fresh air, but there’s something about your look that makes her want to keep you here. Your eyelids hang heavy over your eyes, your glowing, sweaty skin and tired pout. It doesn’t take much to get you here, and yet she loves to see it every time. 

“Can I have a water?” you ask. 

“Wait here”, Jerry tells you. 

She disappears once more and returns with a glass of water. She feeds it to you as you rest against her shoulder. 

“You’re so cute when you’re drunk”, she chuckles.

Are you drunk? Or are you dying of heat? You can’t tell. But she was right. Your head isn’t hurting anymore. 

“There he is”, she suddenly says and stands up.

She turns to you, holding your jaw and directing your face up towards her. 

“You’re going to stay right here, do you get that?” she says. “I will be back in a little while, and you’re going to remain here, do you understand?”

You nod. Jerry gives your jaw a warning squeeze before walking off. You follow her with your eyes, seeing how her and a man dressed as a detective walks into a backroom. Something else catch your eyes. A man in a spiderman costume. A very familiar man. An old friend. You feel your heart skip a beat. Oh, how you’ve missed him. 

“Y/N!” he shouts out, happily and hurries over to the couch. 

You give a quick glance towards the door to the back room. Still closed. 

“It’s been so long!” he says and hugs you. “How are you?”

“I’m good”, you answer and clear your throat. 

You can’t tell a drunk man to go away without it becoming a scene … and this is a drunk friend. 

“I’ve been wondering what happened to you”, he said. “None of our friends have seen you for a while.”

If only you knew. 

You give the door a new glance. Closed. 

“I’ve been busy”, you say. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

You force yourself not to glance at the door. Your heart beats inside your chest, causing a wave of fear induced nausea to reach your head. 

“We should do something soon”, the friend suggests. 

“Oh, sure”, you reply, knowing very well that it’ll never happen. 

But you can’t really tell them that the reason you’ll never do anything with him is because you have an insane girlfriend who is in the mafia. 

“What are you doing nowadays?” you ask. 

“I work at the bank”, he replies and laughs. “Basically their runnerboy.”

“What? You run their errands?”

“Pretty much.”

You tug at your lips, trying to imagine him run back forth between men in suits. You glance towards the door. Open. Your entire body goes cold, and for a few seconds you can’t hear anything. You look around, as in slow motion, trying to find her. She must already have seen you — talking with someone else, laughing with someone else. 

“What’s wrong?” the friend asks worriedly. “You look like you’re going to throw up.”

You want to shout at him to stop being stupid, but he doesn’t know why you’re suddenly mortified. He can’t be blamed for anything. 

You, however, know what's going on … and you know that you have to save him before Jerry gets to him. But where is she?

“You have to go now”, you tell your friend and push him towards the exit. Your voice is short and direct, trying your best not to show how scared you are. 

Where is she? Where is she? Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?

“What are you doing?” your friend asks. “Stop pushing me.”

“You have to leave”, you try again. “I’m not trying to be mean, I’m trying to save your life!”

“What?”

“Just walk!”

You manage to get him out of the club, out into the fresh air. Quickly, you look around. Jerry’s nowhere to be seen. You don’t want to leave your friend before you’re sure that he will be okay. If you leave him now, you won’t know if he will be okay.

There is only one thought in your head. WHERE IS JERRY?

 “Listen to me”, you say and grab your friend, forcing him to look at you. “Listen closely, okay? I don’t know how long I have. You have to leave. You have to run. If we’re lucky, she didn’t get a good look at you.”

“Who? Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring myself. Please believe me. Just go. Now. Run. Please.”

The words seem to have trouble coming out. The man frowns, but starts to back away before turning around and running away. You dare breathe out, but the relief don’t last long. Someone grabs a handful of your hair and force your head backwards, cutting off the air in your throat. 

“Who the fuck was that?” Jerry hisses in your ear. 

“N-No one”, you manage to choke out. 

“Oh, so now I need to go to the optician?” Something sharp presses against your throat. “I’m asking again: who was that?”

“J-Jerr-” You can’t get anything past the bending point in your throat.

The knife presses closer to your skin. 

“Did you find him hot?” she asks teasingly, but with a sharp anger in her voice. “Did you want him to fuck you?”

You shake your head frantically. 

“I know that’s right”, she says and lets you go. 

You cough and desperately heap in air. You stumble forward with dark spots dancing over your vision. Before you have the time to register that she’s let you go, she’s pushed you up against the brick wall and put the knife against your chest. 

“I didn’t know my pet was a little news reporter”, she scoffs. “Talking to people left and right.”

“He was a friend”, you breathe out. “Someone I knew from school!”

“Mm, and I guess that you were so happy to see him again?”

“Jerry-”

“You either love the attention or to piss me off.” She tilts her head. “Where did he go?”

“I won’t let you hurt him. He did nothing wrong.”

“Oh, he did nothing wrong, did he? I saw him clinging onto something that belongs to me! I think that’s a bit fucking wrong, don’t you?”

“Jerry, I swear that I told him to go away.”

“Yeah, I saw that too. I saw quite a lot, actually. I saw too much and it made me fucking nauseous.”

“Jerry, please …”

“Mm, I love it when you beg.”

“I’ll beg all you want if you spare him.”

She uses the knife to point onto the ground. 

“Down on your knees.”

You sink down on your knees and stand eye to eye with the point of the knife. 

“Beg”, Jerry orders you. 

You lick your lips, preparing yourself for this humiliating task. 

“Please”, you say and look up at her with the most innocent, pleading eyes you can muster. 

“You can do better than that, baby.”

“Jerry, please, I’m sorry.”

“How sorry?”

“Very. Please.”

Jerry grabs your jaw, smiling cockily. 

“You say ‘please’ so sweetly, how can I not forgive you?” she coos. “I will let him go … if I don’t find him until the night is over.”

“W-What?”

“It’s halloween, isn’t it? Shouldn’t we have some fun?”

“Jerry, please, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“He was at the wrong place at the wrong time, h-he didn't know. It’s not like he tried to piss you off. He doesn’t deserve to be punished for that. Punish me instead. I shouldn’t have answered him, I should have ignored him.”

She stares down at you, clearly contemplating. 

“Please”, you beg weakly, hoping that your ‘sweet please’ will be enough to make her agree.

“Okay”, she says. “Let’s play a game. If you win, I’ll leave him be. If I win, I get to slaughter him and you have to watch me do it.”

“Can’t we have something else?”

“Like what?”

“If you win, I’ll do whatever you want for a week-”

“A year.”

“A-A year …”

“You know I can make you do whatever I want? I can decide to humiliate you for no reason at all.”

“I know. But I can’t have a human life on my consciousness. If you kill him, I will never be able to forgive myself.”

“Aren’t you just adorable? Okay. Deal.”

You get to stand up. 

“What game do we play?” you ask.

“Russian Roulette”, Jerry decides. 

“W-Will one of us die?”

“Are you dumb? No, we’re not going to play with our lives. I have a guy we can use.”

She takes you to the HQ’s basement. You hate the HQ. A man sits on the floor, bloody and chained. Jerry picks up her gun and shakes out all bullets but one. She spins it and holds the gun towards you.

“Do you want the first try, my love?” she asks. 

“No”, you breathe out.

Jerry doesn’t hesitate before shooting the guy. You flinch and have to squeeze your eyes shut. The sight still haunts you. 

“Your turn”, Jerry says and presses the gun to your chest. “It was blank.”

“Fuck, Jerry …”, you whisper without opening your eyes. “This is insanity …”

“If you don’t shoot, you lose. Do it.”

You open your eyes slowly and take the gun in your shaking hands. You have a cold sweat. It’s a mistake to look at the man, one you regret immediately. His eyes are widened, taped mouth begging you not to shoot him.

“Jer-”

She stands behind you, holds her hand over yours and pulls the trigger. The following moments feel like an eternity. It’s blank. Your knees buckle and you stumble backwards. Jerry shoots. Blank. She holds the gun towards you. You shake your head and swallow thickly. 

“I give up, I can’t kill him”, you pant. 

“You might not kill him”, Jerry says and grins. “I might. Oh, the possibilities.”

“No …”

“Okay.”

Jerry lifts the gun and shoots until the bullet hits him. You swallow a scream and cover your head with your arms. She throws the gun on the cement floor. 

“I win”, she says in satisfaction. “Now, get those legs moving, the night is not over. On the contrary, it has just begun.”

[trendywaifus]

Asking zhu yahn to keep her uniform top on so you can use her handle bars till she's a cock drunk and whimpering mess....the devious backshots you could do with them

GOOD HEAVENS. i think those handle bars are connected more to her tights and belt. I wonder what that designer was thinking when they made that tbh. like what’s the technical use for that? ik he was NOT thinking good thoughts when he put that on her.

anyways, not only will it be impossible to use those hand bars on zhu yuan naked, I think she’ll oppose the idea of having sex with you in her uniform (unfortunately), she has a lot respect for her job and it’ll be dishonorable. buttt that doesn’t mean you can’t give her those devious backshots! (: (cw: gn! with a dick/strap, overstimulation, restraints (toy cuffs), doggy style, dirty talk, creaming

“ taking me so well, aren’t ya, big girl? “ you’d groan, smacking your hips into the fat of zhu yuan’s ass, repeatedly stretching her gummy walls out with thick inches of your cock. your girlfriend, who’s hands are cuffed behind her arched back, face pressed against the pillows with her pretty ass in the air just for you, lets out a drawn out moan. your palms rub her hips as you slow down your momentum to fuck her nice and slow. she feels it—every drag of your dick rubbing up and down her sensitive walls, reaching further and further inside little by little. the fat head grazes a sweet, spongy spot she’s weak to and her knees almost cave in.

zhu yuan drools, swollen lips parted open. ecstasy sinks into her clouded mind, thinking nothing but about you, and only you. “ i-i. .” upon hearing her muffled voice, you arch a brow and settled with grinding yourself into her to focus on what she’s trying to say. “ yes, pumpkin? i’m listening. “

“ n-need you, i-i need you. . . “ she babbles, fluffy sable and orange streaked hair obscure over her eyes. you coo at her, dipping down to leave a trail of warm kisses up along her well-structured back. “ i know you do, big girl, you’re clenching me right now.”

your back straightens up and you retract your hips back. you bite your lip at the sight of your dick lathered with her slick and juices. strings of her fluid deliciously separate and stretch until it’s thin. “ you’re sopping, zhu yuan. “

she whimpers, mostly due to the emptiness, walls fluttering over nothing. “ (n-name), please, pleaseee. .” aligning yourself with her dripping entrance, you grasp her forearms. you slide yourself back in with ease and zhu yuan moans brokenly at the pleasured stretch. “ don’t hafta beg, baby. i’ll take good care of you. now, up, up. “ with a firm pull of her forearms, you maneuver her upper body upwards; doggy style. heaps of silky hair move accordingly with the slow startup of your thrusts, some pieces of her tousled hair sliding off to the side of her back.

“ you had a long day at work today, i’m gonna make sure you sleep real good tonight. “

zhu yuan’s body temperature become a few degrees higher at from your words, an involuntary shiver of anticipation skims up her back like a zap of lightning. your pace speeds up and the wet, addicting sound of your hips repeatedly smacking into her ass turn increasingly loud in your ears. if you’d had an audio recorder, you would gladly record how pretty your girlfriend’s moans are right now. compared to how she usually behaves outside of her work, this is the loudest you’ve ever heard her. your thrusts are snappy and rhythmic, zhu yuan’s knees quivers.

your eyes wander down, tongue swiping over your bottom lip from the memorizing sight of zhu yuan’s creamy skin leaving behind small ripples with every collision between your pelvis and her ass. “ oh my god, “ her pussy is greedily swallowing you up as if it needs you. zhu yuan’s a babbling and whimpering mess—you can’t see her face but you just know she’s at her prettiest right now. “ y’know what? i wanna fuck this pussy all night until you, mm, can’t walk straight tomorrow. all i want you to think about during your shift is me, sweetheart. “

after a few moments, you feel stickiness and sounds of slushing in your ears. again, your gaze dips down and it took every part of you to not rearrange her insides. a creamy ring pools around the base of your cock. “ you’re creaming on my dick, ‘zu. you must like the idea of getting fucked to the point of not being able to walk correctly, huh? i never knew you was secretly this dirty. “

a throaty moan crawls its way out of her throat. “ n-not tr-true, “ her head hangs low, face bright red, “ d-don’t say things like th-that, hngh! “ you give her forearms a firm tug, jerking her body into your rough thrust.

“ not true? then what is, big girl? why should i believe your words over what she’s showing me right now.”your hips rock against her ass in a circular rotation. her slick-coated walls throb and clench irregularly around you. zhu yuan mewls, digging her nails into the fleshy part of her palm until half crescents are engraved into her skin.

“ just let your pussy do all the talking. you don’t have to worry about a thing. “

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

Can you please write a fic for the prompt “late night chats”?

The sound of Ron’s footsteps treading up the stairs to the dormitory slowly fades, and they’re finally alone in the Common Room. 

Ginny makes a show of checking to make sure the coast is clear, and then she burrows happily into Harry’s side, snuggling deeper into the squashy sofa by the fire. His arm snakes around her waist to pull her in closer. They should probably go to bed, too, but it seems wasteful not to eke out every moment she can, to wring this weekend completely dry of moments with him. 

“Thought he’d never leave,” Ginny says with a sly grin. “I was ready to sit on your lap just so he’d get the hint.”

“Were you?” Harry says with interest. Then, he turns his head toward the stairs, and calls, “Ron?” as though to summon him back. 

Ginny snorts and pokes him in the side, and he turns that devastating smirk back at her - flashing green eyes, crooked lips, the hint of a dimple - the one that’s had her slowly losing her mind for months. 

She still can’t quite believe she’s allowed to kiss the smirk off his lips, now. She does, just to prove it’s real. 

Every moment alone they’ve stolen has taken on this oxymoronic tone: bodily tangible, like she can reach out and grasp their growing tangle of feelings as easily as a Quaffle, but wholly surreal, like they’re some elaborate daydream snatched from her subconscious. Both, and neither. 

She pulls back and smiles at him, and he does too, something wry creeping into their expressions, something that seems to say, we’re nauseating but I can’t help it. 

He’s made her so quickly greedy for more, the git. It’s been two days of kissing and banter and touches, overwhelming and not enough. 

“Tell me something,” she says, suddenly, “that you haven’t told anyone before.”

His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, and Ginny’s plunged immediately into the vulnerability of her question, the implication of it. I want to be closer, she’s asking, do you? But, she’s not in Gryffindor for nothing, and so she holds his gaze and withstands his onslaught of silence. 

“Hm,” he says, looking thoughtful. “About what?”

“Anything,” she shrugs. “Whatever.”

Harry furrows his brow, stares ahead into the middle distance, and Ginny holds her breath, waiting to find out whether he’ll hand her a key or if she’ll have to keep knocking, knowing already she’s succumbed to knocking at his door until her knuckles bruise. 

“I dunno if my dad was a good person,” Harry says without preamble. 

Ginny doesn’t know what she’d expected him to tell her, but it hadn’t been that. “What makes you say that?”

He stares at his knees and explains about the Occlumency lessons with Snape. The memory he was never supposed to see. His father, every bit the bully Snape had always claimed. 

“--that’s why I wanted to talk to Sirius, last year,” Harry admits. “When you helped distract Umbridge. Stupid, I know–”

“It’s not stupid,” Ginny says fiercely. She feels the weight of it, what he’s told her. Wondering about someone who isn’t around to ask. Grieving someone and the idea of them at once. “What did Sirius say?”

“He said he grew out of it,” Harry says, though his tone says loud and clear that this explanation hadn’t been satisfactory to him. “But, I dunno. Means he was still a git before, doesn't it?”

“Maybe,” Ginny agrees. “Or maybe that was his worst moment.”

“Pretty shit moment.”

“Yeah,” Ginny admits, leaning her head on her hand, propped up on the back of the sofa so that she’s turned to face him. “Pretty shit. But I’d hate it if my future children only got to see me… oh, I dunno. Hex Zacharias Smith. Or slip that itching powder into Romilda Vane’s pumpkin juice.”

Harry shoots her a look. “When did you do that?”

“She tried to give you a love potion and got my brother poisoned, Harry.”

Harry snorts. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Well, that’s what I mean. We’ve all had shit moments that’d look terrible without proper context. My future children wouldn’t have any idea what Romilda had done to get on my bad side, would they?”

“I suppose,” Harry says, though he still sounds unconvinced. “But I don’t reckon there’s any context that’d make him look much better. I’m not saying Snape was a saint, I’m sure he gave as good as he got. But it… my dad was humiliating him. On purpose.”

“Mm,” Ginny hums slowly, mulling it over. “Do you reckon Sirius was right? That he did grow out of it?”

Harry swipes a hand through his messy hair. “He must’ve. My mum married him. Sirius and Lupin said he was better. But, I dunno. Maybe he did. I’ll never know, anyway.”

Ginny reckons that’s the real problem - the never knowing. Forgiveness is a difficult thing to offer when the person isn’t around to ask for or receive it. 

“I wish,” she says wistfully, “you’d got to see more. People can’t be all bad, I don’t think. I’m sure Sirius and Lupin have hundreds of memories that you would’ve liked him in. Makes it easier not to like him in that one.”

Harry’s lips part, and then he nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

She’s still thinking about it when Harry shocks her. “What about you, then?”

“Hmm?” she asks, confused. 

Harry jerks his head at her and nudges her knee with his own. “Your turn. Something you’ve never said to anyone.”

Ginny meets his eye, the warmth billowing through her chest like a cloud of candyfloss. He wants to know her, too. The thought - I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone - threatens to spill from her lips, but she holds her tongue, wanting to offer him something of equal weight. 

“I use the bathroom on the second floor whenever I can,” she says, knowing he’ll understand which one she means. “Just to prove I’m not bothered by it. Only, it does bother me. Maybe that’s why I keep using it.”

He looks stricken. “Do you still think about it a lot? The Chamber?”

Ginny shrugs, perhaps a bit more nonchalant than she actually feels. “A bit. Still get nightmares sometimes, but not as often as I used to.”

“Yeah,” he says, and she’s struck for a moment by the fact that they might be haunted by the same ghost. “Me, too.”

She shoots him a commiserating look, and continues. “But it’s not about… about Riddle, really. I mean, it is. But it’s more about… me.”

“What do you mean?” His stare is so piercing, like he’s trying to see straight through to her soul. She imagines he can. 

“I dunno. It was awful, obviously, what happened. But when I think back on it, what actually bothers me…” she chews on her words, trying to articulate the vague shame that always clings to these memories, “is that I was so stupid.”

“What?” Harry says sharply. “You were eleven. That diary… it’s… you weren’t stupid.” His words are so firm that it steals her breath. “That was a powerful bit of Dark Magic, you couldn’t have done anything.”

“No, I know that. Logically, I know that. But, I dunno. I wrote so many pathetic things in that diary.” She tries to laugh, but it comes out a bit scratchy. “I was so lonely, after Ron left for school. So desperate to go off to Hogwarts and have mad adventures and play Quidditch and… meet you.” She stares down at her hands, the embarrassment threatening to overwhelm her. “I just hate that he knows all that, that I was this pathetic, desperate little girl–”

“He doesn’t,” Harry says. “The version of him you wrote to is gone. The real one doesn’t know any of it.”

“Oh,” she replies, coming up short. “How do you…? Well, never mind, you haven’t got to answer that, I suppose–”

“It’s not that I don’t want to–”

“No, I know,” Ginny says quickly, unable to bear some platitude, not from him, “Really, you haven’t–”

“Whatever you wrote in that diary died with it,” Harry says firmly. “I promise.”

Ginny nods, and lets the words sink in. Ever since Riddle had come back, she’d wondered whether pathetic little Ginny Weasley was somewhere in the back of his mind. Weak. Stupid. An easy target, close to Harry. The relief that she might just be anyone – no one, even – to this version of Riddle, is palpable. 

“Thanks,” Ginny breathes. “That makes me feel a bit… better.”

“You weren’t pathetic,” Harry says, like the thought is so absurd he’d never considered she might feel that way. “It’s quite impressive you managed to resist it for so long, actually.”

Everything that had happened with that diary has been so tinted with shame, with weakness, that Harry might consider her brave for it… it feels so antithetical to everything she’d ever thought, she nearly laughs. 

“Right,” Ginny says, deflecting away with a joke. “I’m sure all those roosters thought I was very impressive.”

To his credit, Harry doesn’t laugh. “That wasn’t you. It was him.”

Easy to say, harder to feel. “The Department of Mysteries wasn’t you, either.”

Harry stares at her, and she holds his gaze unwaveringly. She can see she’s made her point, can read in the pull of his brow that Harry understands exactly the weight of a guilt so heavy that words can’t lighten it. Just as plainly, though, she can see that he hates that she’s carrying it at all. 

Fair enough, really. She hates that he is, too. 

She breaks eye contact and nestles back into his side. She lifts up his hand with hers, plays absently with his fingers. “Why haven’t you ever told Ron and Hermione about your dad?”

He considers for a long moment, letting her play with his hand and pulling her in closer with the other. “Dunno, really. Just felt… defensive, I suppose. Like whatever they’d said, it would’ve bothered me.”

“I get that.” She winces. “Did I upset you?”

“No,” Harry says quickly. “It’s not like that, with you.”

The words melt in her heart like honey, covering everything in sweet, sticky warmth. She ceases her mindless fiddling with his fingers and looks up at him, knowing her face must be an open book, knowing it must be apparent that he’s got her whole honey-coated heart in his hands. “It’s not like that with you, either.”

He stares back at her, deep into her eyes, and for the first time it occurs to her to check her own palm for his.

He leans down and kisses her deeply, and she pulls herself up and snakes her arms around his neck. This thing has always been irritatingly there, for Ginny - the way she can read exactly what he’s thinking without even trying, the way she trusts him absolutely, the way he makes her heart skitter like she’s in a free fall. 

It’d never honestly occurred to her how powerful it would be to have it reciprocated. To have him understand what she’s saying so completely, to have him offer her something vulnerable just because she asked, to feel his heart hammering against her own. 

It’s been two bloody days, and yet she’s slipped past the point of no return with him already. Perhaps she’d started there. 

She pulls back from the kiss, feeling breathless. Harry looks a bit winded, himself. 

“We should probably go to bed,” he mutters, eyes still locked with hers. 

They should, probably. 

And they will. Eventually.

[luvzshy]

billie x reader halloween fic with their baby girl! maybe reader and billie go in mike wazowski/ sully onesies and their baby going as boo🥹

Monstrous Love

Summary: Billie, the reader, and their daughter Lily, dressed as Mike, Sully, and Boo, go trick-or-treating on Halloween night. Lily charms everyone with her costume, and Billie and the reader cherish the sweet moments together as a family.

Warnings: None, just pure fluff!

Word Count: ~500 words

Halloween night had arrived, and the living room was filled with excited giggles as you slipped into your big, plush Sully onesie. The material was soft and cozy, and as you pulled the hood over your head, you could see Billie fumbling with her own costume in the mirror across the room. She wore a bright green Mike Wazowski onesie, complete with a giant single eye on the hood and tiny horns at the top. It suited her in the most hilariously adorable way, and you couldn’t help but laugh as she struggled to get the eye to sit just right.

“Stop laughing, you blue furball,” Billie muttered, sticking her tongue out playfully. She turned to you with a mock glare but couldn’t keep a straight face. You pulled her into a hug, and she leaned into you with a contented sigh, her arms wrapping around your waist.

“Alright, where’s our Boo?” you whispered, glancing around the room.

At that moment, Lily toddled in, clutching her favorite stuffed animal. Dressed in a little pink T-shirt and purple leggings, with her hair tied in two tiny pigtails with matching pink bows, she was the spitting image of Boo. Her chubby cheeks were rosy with excitement, and her big eyes lit up as she saw the two of you in your costumes.

“Baba! Mama!” she squealed, clapping her hands. She toddled over as fast as her little legs could carry her, reaching up for Billie, who instantly scooped her up.

“Are you ready to go trick-or-treating, Boo?” Billie cooed, kissing her forehead. Lily nodded enthusiastically, patting Billie’s face as if to make sure her mama was real.

You chuckled, reaching out to gently tug on one of Lily’s pigtails. “Come on, monster fam. Let’s go show the world the cutest Boo there ever was.”

Walking through the neighborhood was like stepping into a storybook. Pumpkins glowed on every porch, skeletons hung from trees, and children in costumes of all kinds dashed from house to house. You held Billie’s hand tightly, while Billie cradled Lily against her hip, the three of you drawing attention wherever you went.

Each time you approached a door, Billie would make a goofy monster face at Lily, who would squeal and bury her face in her mama’s shoulder, only to peek out with a giggle as soon as someone opened the door. The neighbors cooed over Lily, offering her tiny candies that she clutched with all her might, her little fingers sticky as she tried to hold them all.

“Mommy! Mommy!” she babbled, her eyes wide with wonder as a group of kids in spooky costumes ran by. She pointed excitedly, her gaze shifting between you and Billie as if to share every little thing she saw.

Halfway down the block, Billie gave you a playful nudge. “Can you believe how obsessed everyone is with her?” she whispered, grinning. “I mean, I knew she was cute, but…”

You laughed, squeezing her hand. “She takes after you,” you teased, making Billie roll her eyes.

By the time you finished making rounds, Lily was starting to nod off, her little head resting on Billie’s shoulder. She clutched a lollipop in one sticky hand, refusing to let it go even as her eyes began to droop. You reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face, your heart swelling at the sight.

When you finally arrived back home, Billie carefully laid Lily down on the couch, covering her with a soft blanket. She gazed at your sleeping daughter with a soft smile, brushing a hand over her tiny fingers.

“She was perfect tonight,” Billie whispered, looking up at you with a mixture of exhaustion and pure joy.

You nodded, wrapping an arm around Billie’s shoulders and pulling her close. “Couldn’t have asked for a better Halloween,” you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Our little Boo stole the show.”

With one last glance at your sleeping Lily, you and Billie snuggled up on the couch together, still dressed in your onesies, hearts full and grateful for the perfectly imperfect family you’d built.

[iknwreid]

pumpkin – spencer reid x reader.

spencer loves autumn and halloween so much, and you and him are always togheter, this time for a pumpkin carving.

wc: 2.5k | disclamers: fluff, realy fluffly. bau!reader. no use of y/n. | a/n: english is not my first language, also, this is my very first time writing a fic in english, lmk if theres anything i can improve. glasses reid is my favorite. text divider by cafekitsune.

Reid and you were more than work colleagues, you were friends. You were always talking to each other, even outside of work, using your free time for friendly dates, going to cafés, museums and anything else you'd like to do on your own but didn't dare, because leaving the house alone had been a bit of a problem since high school. And deep down you knew it was a problem for him too, not a problem but probably an inconvenience. Going out alone was always awkward for everyone, the feeling of people looking at you and wondering what they were thinking – Not that it really matters what people think, but social anxiety is a real thing.

So you and Spencer were always together, your teammates already had jokes ready when you left the bullpen together, with Morgan and Prentiss always being the first to say something they found hilarious. “Going away together again? Soon you will be living together too.” Morgan’s voice echoed through the office in a joking tone. Spencer looked at him with an annoyed face. “Yes, Derek, but better than living with you, tho.” You replied, also jokingly. The dynamic between the two of you was sibling-like and you were constantly annoyed with each other. 

“We're going to the fair to buy a pumpkin to carve.” Spencer said, packing up his things. “Halloween season is starting!” Reid loved Halloween, everyone knew that, and you loved it too, not as much as he did, but his excitement and anticipation infected you too this year. 

The Halloween season had not started yet, it was only the middle of September, but for him it was Halloween season when fall came and the pumpkins were sold. You could not count how many ghost stories Reid knew by heart that he told you over and over again. You did not really mind all the excitement, but you knew it could be overwhelming for the others. In fact, you loved his excitement at this time of year, loved watching the movies on his list even if you had already seen them all last year, loved the pumpkin-flavored things he bought, and loved the smile on his face when he saw a pile of leaves in the street. 

If you looked out of the window, you could see that the trees were beginning to look autumnal. The hot summer air had already faded away, welcoming the cold breeze and the orange paisaje he liked so much. It was nice to have fall again, to not feel hot all the time and to not see Hotch’s disapproving face when you broke the dress code a little just because it was too hot for all the formal wear. 

When your thoughts were interrupted by Spencer’s touch on your shoulder, you turned your head towards him and smiled a little. “Are you ready?” he asked with his typical face, but it was impossible not to see his excitement. “Yes, yes… Sorry. I've been thinking too much.” It was normal for you to get tangled up in your thoughts, you loved thinking to yourself. “I love this time of year.” I love seeing you like this, you meant. 

You grabbed your purse and coat and began to walk with him to the elevators. He was silent for a moment, then you smiled as he began to speak. “Did you know that the fall season used to have a completely different name? In the 12th and 13th centuries, autumn was known as ‘haerfest' in England -" You beamed at his words, because every time you walked towards the elevators, he regaled you with another fact that he had probably read one day years ago. “One of the reasons it has that name is because the full moon closest to the fall equinox is called the Harvest Moon. The other reason was that harvest time was also a time when farmers could finally reap the fruits of their sowing, resulting in an abundance of produce.” 

“Have you noticed that you tell me a different fact every time we walk this way?” You say, looking at him after pressing the elevator button.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to–"

“No! That's not what I meant, Spence. I just think it's really nice that you always have something on the tip of your tongue. It's pretty impressive.”

Spencer's rambling never bothered you, it was so nice to hear him talk about anything, anything at all really. His voice echoed in your head every time, and you remembered the random things he said when you didn't have important things to do– sometimes when you did have important things to do. The truth was, you thought about Spencer a lot more often than you should. Probably way more than he thought of you.

“Well, I'm glad you like it then.” He said after wetting his mouth with his tongue. It was a habit, maybe a tic, but you always saw Spencer doing it. Adorable. “I have a feeling that saying facts to you is almost unconscious. It's just nice to share.”

You laughed a little, then the elevators came. You got in as usual, waited a second for Spencer, then pressed the button to the floor. Spencer practically never pressed the button, he thought there were too many people pressing and he didn't know how clean their hands were beforehand. Since he had told you that, you had a small bottle of hand sanitizer in your purse, and even before you took the bottle out of your purse, Spencer’s hand was already extended in your direction, waiting for you to put some in his hand. And you did, as always. You and he had everyday rituals that no one knew, that no one could interfere with. Just you and Spencer doing silly little things together. Like going pumpkin hunting to make incredible Halloween decorations, even though it's not even October yet.

You loved his companion, the world felt lighter every time you were together. And as always, the elevator ride was quiet, the silence that only comes when two people understand each other. And Spencer understood you and vice versa. Rambling on your walk, being silent in the elevator after your hand sanitizing ritual. It was better than all the silly little jokes Morgan or Prentiss made. And you knew that and hoped Spencer knew that too.

“I don't think I tell you often enough how much I enjoy being with you.” You commented after you exited the elevator and looked at him.

“Well, you don't have to.” He explained, turning his eyes away from you. “I think I know. In fact, I like to think you're enjoying it as much as I am.” His tone was calm and flustered. You giggled and touched his arm briefly. “I guess I do, Spence.”

The walk to the fair was so nice, the laughter and the conversations and the short break to buy coffee. You would stop every time you could at the tiny coffee shop that made the best coffee near work, and the seasonal flavors began to appear. Spencer got his usual pumpkin spice latte, you got a chai latte, which is always good, but at this time of year it was just hitting different.

The two of you spent the whole walk chatting non-stop. You felt the stares of some people when you were talking louder over excitement about something, but it did not matter when you were together.

“Originally, jack-o’-lanterns would have been carved out of potatoes, turnips and beets, but when immigrants came to America, pumpkins were more fruitful, so they became part of the tradition.” Told Spencer as you sipped your coffee and nodded your head in agreement to what he was telling you.

“I think it's easier too. Imagine having to carve something out of a turnip, it's so tiny.” You gesticulated to express how difficult it would be to make tiny faces in the little vegetable. He chuckled and his face showed pure confusion as he tried to understand the gestures, you rolled your eyes and laughed as well.

“You understood what I was doing, don't make a fool of me.”

“Yeah, I get it. All those little knives to make little faces. Really hard.”

A little further and there you were, some stalls with big vegetables and some with baked goods, toys or decorations. There were fairy lights everywhere, so your eyes hurted a little, but it was so beautiful that you could forgive the inconvenience. The way the lights reflected on Spencer’s face, in his glasses, made him look really pretty too. You felt like this moment had lodged itself in your brain like a core memory. He gave you a quick glance as he began searching through the stalls to find what he was looking for: a big ass pumpkin.

You followed him and looked at all the cool stuff that was being sold  there. All the trinkets were so interesting to you, you loved little objects that you could display in your home. It was tempting to buy them all, but unfortunately you did not. Every time you liked something, you showed it to him and he said, “You should buy it. It would look good in your house.” And you and Spencer would think about whether it was really worth it. For him, the Halloween decorations were always worth it, but you laughed and left it to save up for something greater.

“Hey, look at this!” He said, pointing to a big pumpkin, a really big one. Honestly, you shouldn't buy it, it was big and it would be a pain to get it home. But the way his face lit up when he pointed at the orange vegetable, you knew you wouldn't have the courage to say no. “Spencer, this is huge.” You said, stepping closer to him to look at the pumpkin. “Yeah, exactly. It's perfect for us.”

A few minutes later you were on your way home with the pumpkin. When your arms got tired, he carried it and when he was tired, you carried it like a little child who wants his parents. Apart from that, it was a nice walk to his apartment. You already knew the way by heart, just like he knew the way to your home and where you had hidden your key. It was only natural. You and Reid were a natural product of friendship– of love. The two things came together, but you couldn't help but wonder if this love was something more, something bigger. Whether Spencer's skin burned as much and his heart ached as much as you did. The September flush hit your face and made you shiver for a moment, in stark contrast to the feeling you had just a second ago when you thought of the possibility with him.

You were near his home now, turned the corner of the street and there you were. Spencer and you entered the building and now came to the worst part. “The stairs,” you said with a giggle, imagining yourself walking up the stairs with this thing. “That's on you, Dr. Reid.” you added, handing the pumpkin into his arms. 

“That's definitely not fair.” He whined, but he knew it was more than fair. It was his idea to buy such a large pumpkin, so it was his responsibility to carry it upstairs. “You should be glad you live on the second floor,” you laughed, touching his back to encourage him. “Let's go. You're strong.”

With some difficulty, you and Spencer got into his apartment, you took off your coat and put it in the coat rack with your bag. You went into his kitchen and searched for a large knife and all the other utensils, a bucket for the pulp and smaller knives for the details. He was prepping the floor with some old newspapers, so it would be easier to clean after. 

“Well, what face do you want to make?” You knew he'd never done the original Jack-O-Lantern face, so it must be something original, spooky and funny. “Maybe a scary cat?” He looked at you as he sat on the floor and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. “I think we can do this, yeah.” It can't be that hard, can it? you thought. You grabbed the big knife, sat down next to him and started to slice open the lid. It was a messy part, because you had to take the lid off to remove the pulp and seeds. As you did this, Spencer drew on a piece of paper what he wanted the pumpkin to look like and showed it to you to get your approval. You kept nodding and saying it looked nice. And it did. Spencer had many talents, some people wouldn't say drawing was one of them, but you really liked the little doodles and all the things he drew. A creepy little cat face that had a strange charm.

“I love it. I might steal that for myself.” You say, admiring the drawing. Spencer smiles and looks down at his knuckles. Still today he didn't know how to deal with compliments.

It was an intimate atmosphere, you on the floor, close to him, so close that every now and then you felt your arms against his, your skin touching and radiating the hot feeling in the area. His elbow casually touches your forearm, triggering a chaos of emotions in your head. You sigh and admire him drawing on the pumpkin. Your eyes linger on the way his strands of hair fall perfectly into his face, highlighting his profile. His glasses on the tip of his nose and his slightly open mouth show how focused he was. In an unconscious moment, you move your fingers and adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Spencer looks at you and giggles after wetting his mouth with the tip of his tongue. You love it when he does that. 

“Spence.” You call his name in an almost non-existent tone, so softly that he only listens because you were so close. He calls your name back in the same way. You can literally feel your breath catching and mingling with his. Feel how hot his face was, see how his glasses start to fog up. “Can I kiss you?” You say it without thinking, because your subconscious wanted this, needed this. “Y-yes. Absolutely.” Spencer's answer sounded like he wanted it as much as you did, like he was just waiting for confirmation.

And there was. The confirmation. You move eagerly to join your lips as his hand drops the pen to cup the back of your head. The kiss was gentle, just like his touch. You moved a little closer, placing your hand at his waist and tilting your head to better accommodate him. It was so much better than you had expected. Your lips met softly and tenderly and his hand held you like it was the most precious thing ever. The tip of his nose caressed your cheek and the glasses tingled against your skin in an endearing way.

You didn't want to let him go, but when your lungs demanded help, you slowly parted your lips. You both smiled while your faces were still close together. You kiss the corner of his mouth, looking at him. “I thought you'd never ask that,” he said, kissing you on the forehead.

At that moment, you realized that this kiss was only the first of countless kisses to follow that autumn night. 

[craziechwiv]

Jnpr Berries Small shorts.

Ruby: Hey Jaune, wanna have a movie night?

Jaune: Sorry Ruby, it's a very important night for my team. We can do movie night tomorrow though!

Ruby: Oh...okay. May I ask, what's so important about tonight though?

Jaune: Well, we sorta like to just be by ourselves.

Cut to tonight, with Jaune, Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren all cuddling up with each other on their couch, a giant blanket covering them all as they watched Pumpkin Pete cartoons.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Weiss: Pyrrha! I've been meaning to talk to you about something.

Pyrrha: Not her again...Uh, y-yes. Hello Weiss, what is it you need to discuss?

Weiss: You...you remembered my name?!

Pyrrha: We literally see each other every day...and you say your name so proudly...kind of hard not to. What did you need again?

Weiss: O-Oh right, I was wondering if you'd like to study with me?

Pyrrha: Oh, sorry Weiss. I gotta help Jaune and Nora study...their grades are just, the worst right now.

Weiss: Oh...I see. I'm sorry you have to deal with those two, but I understand. I can't expect nothing less of the champion herself helping out those in need!

Pyrrha: Yep...thank you!

Pyrrha begins to walk off and wave at Weiss before turning the corner and breathing heavily over the lie she told the Ice Queen. After which, she calls Ren.

Ren: Hello?

Pyrrha: Hey, sorry. I got held up, we still having our quadruple date?

Ren: Yeah, Nora and Jaune both are ordering though, so hurry up.

Pyrrha: I'll be there in a bit!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blake approaches Ren who was meditating on a slone mat in the gym.

Blake: Excuse me, Ren?

Ren: Hm?

Blake: Mind if I borrow your time for a second? I wanna try this yoga thing to try and ease my mind a bit.

Ren: Sorry, but I'm trying to think peaceful thoughts at the moment and need some alone time. If you want to try this out, do it by yourself. It works well like that.

Blake: Oh, okay. Thanks for the tip, sorry for interrupting you.

Ren: No worries, I'm just thinking of peaceful thoughts...

Ren breathed slowly as his mind was filled with thoughts of Jaune's exposed muscles, Nora's tightly packed thighs, and Pyrrha's sweaty abs.

Ren: Very, peaceful and enjoyable thoughts~...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yang: Hey hey, energizer! Mind if I spar with you real quick?

Nora: Wha- Right now?! Sorry Yang, but I really need to get somewhere, and I can't be held back!

As Nora began to make her way towards the entrance of the gym, Yang blocks her way as she held up her fists.

Yang: Uh, yeah no. At least try to get past me, then you can go~. So me what you got short-iEEEEEE?!

Nora picks up Yang and does a suplex on Yang, slamming her hard onto the ground as she began to run out the gym screaming.

Nora: I MUST BE THERE FOR ICE CREAM DAY! I CAN'T LET REN AND JAUNE SMEAR ICE CREAM PYRRHA'S ABS WITHOUT ME!

Yang: ...wha...what just happened?

[hayakawalove]

Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater

Summary: You're happy with your husband, you swear. Except you actually aren't. You're so unhappy in fact, that you find yourself in a cheap bar late one night. Two men find you, and it leads to a night of fun.

A/N: Yeah. It goes without saying that I DON'T CONDONE CHEATING! I don't know why I wrote this. I actually used to really hate cheating fics, so much so that I would filter the tag out. They used to trigger me super bad. I'm not sure why I wrote this. Maybe as a way of doing exposure therapy, maybe just to practice writing things I normally don't write. Whatever the case is, here you go. I hope y'all enjoy! As always, I appreciate your guys comments so much, seriously!

CW: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Cheating (You Cheat on Your Husband), Hand Jobs, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Finger Sucking, Spit Kink, Protected Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Alcohol, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, Praise Kink, Cum Swallowing, Hook-Up, No Strings Attached, Reader Feels Bad (Doesn't Last Long), Hair-pulling, Female Reader, AFAB Reader

W/C: 6,154

Credit to cafekitsune for the banner

You’re happy. 

You really are. 

Those are the words you find yourself repeating like a mantra, a self assuring prayer on a loop in your mind. 

You have a great life. 

A wonderful job, a nice house, the perfect husband. 

People live their entire lives searching for what you’ve been so graciously dealt. 

So why did it feel like you were lying to yourself when you repeated that mantra? 

The words felt uneasy in your mind at first, the weight of them feeling unknown on your tongue. You’d never really thought about it before. Were you happy? The more you told yourself that you were, the more the saying turned your stomach sour. 

You were happy. You were happy. You were happy. 

You weren’t happy. 

At first, it began like a tingle in the back of your throat. Not disruptive, but most certainly there, no matter how hard you tried to get rid of it. It was the most obvious when you felt like you should be grateful for something.

Before going to bed at night, finishing a big project at work, when your husband kissed your cheek. 

The doubt simmers in your gut, barely a blip on your radar.

It was hardly noticeable, until it wasn’t. 

The thought became a raging forest fire, drowning out all your other senses. Every day was the same. It was so boring. Nothing lit a spark in you. 

You weren’t sure how to even remedy it. Not only that, but you would listen to your friends talk about their lives, and how it was monotonous for them as well. Maybe life just had to be like this. 

There’s a pit in your stomach as you walk to your car. You really didn’t want to go home tonight. Not when you knew your loving husband would be waiting for you; not when you knew you had all the reasons in the world to be happy, but you just weren’t. 

“Hey, sexy lady!” A man’s voice rings out around you. 

When you flick your head around you see a man who’s much older than you sizing you up. Your knee jerk reaction is to be disgusted, but you aren’t, not fully at least. 

You’re flattered. 

When was the last time someone paid you a compliment like that? Your husband told you you were beautiful all the time, but it felt rehearsed, like the words had lost their meaning. Sure, a stranger calling you sexy was a bit half assed, but at least it was real.

“Thank you! But I’m married-“ you reply, even though the man is long gone by now. 

You straighten your shoulders and open your car door, accepting the fluke. 

~~~

You’re craving the attention again. 

You feel like an addict craving their next hit. You didn’t want anything else, other than a bit of attention from a stranger. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? 

Over the next couple of days you craft a plan. You were going to get dressed up and go to a bar, nothing major. You just wanted to put yourself in a situation where you could receive attention, maybe get a couple of compliments. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. 

Your husband texted you to inform you that he would be at the office late tonight. You try to ignore the pang of guilt that shoots through you when you tell him that it’s okay, you wouldn’t be doing much anyway. 

Liar.

The dress you’re wearing feels a bit too tight, fitting to your form like another layer of skin. You hadn’t worn it in years. There never was any need to. You and your husband didn't go on dates much anymore, instead choosing to settle down for movie nights or dinner. 

Your makeup is more extreme than usual. It highlights all your favorite features, and the colors are a bit dramatic. Even though it felt different, you had to admit that you looked good. 

You fiddle with your ring, watching the way it catches the light. Reluctantly, you pull it off and put it in your purse. You feel naked not wearing it. Hopefully, more people would compliment you if you didn’t have it on.

You sling your purse over your shoulder and turn your phone off, you wouldn’t be needing it anyway, sliding your high heels on. 

The bar you decide on is on the furthest edge of town, in a much seedier neighborhood. On any chosen day you wouldn’t be caught dead on this side of town, and neither would any of your loved ones. Which is precisely why you chose to be there in the first place. 

Nobody would recognize you. Not that it would be a problem if they did, you remind yourself. You weren’t doing anything wrong. 

The bar is loud as you enter, eager voices discussing a variety of topics over cheap alcohol. The smell of liquor is strong, the astringent scent nearly burning the inside of your nostrils. 

You slide over to the counter and take a seat on one of the rickety stools. It’d be a miracle if it doesn’t break under your weight, it looks like it’s two seconds from collapsing on its own. 

You order a mixed drink and smile as the bartender passes it to you, your heart fluttering at the way he grins back. 

Validation springs throughout your body. It feels like you’re being rejuvenated, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

See? What you were doing wasn’t so bad. 

“What's a fine young thing like yourself doing over here?” 

When you turn around to catch a glimpse of the man shamelessly hitting on you, you feel your stomach turn. You had never seen someone so attractive before. 

A head full of soft white hair, messy in an almost endearing way. You can’t catch a glimpse of his eyes due to the sunglasses that rest on his nose. On anyone else it would come off as douchey, it was dark out and you were inside a bar, but for him it seemed oddly fitting. 

There’s a cocky grin on his face as he leans against the counter where you sit. He’s close enough that you can smell the soap he used to scrub himself with. An intoxicating scent, cedarwood and bergamot.

“Enjoying some alone time.” You reply, deciding on playing hard to get. 

It would be nice to see him continue to try, even if you didn’t make it easy. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt. I just had to tell you how gorgeous you were.” 

He didn’t sound sorry, didn’t look it either.

“I know.” You take a small sip of you drink, staring up at him as you do so. 

You would never be so forward in your day to day life. You much preferred to be humble. Humble was cute, humble was safe. 

You were tired of being safe. 

The strangers lips spread even further and you catch a glimpse of him running his tongue along his teeth. You can’t see, but you feel like he’s staring down at you, gaze assessing your features. You hope he likes what he sees. 

“Sir, can I get another one of these for her?” He flags down the bartender and motions to your drink. 

“I didn’t tell you I wanted another one.” You reply, stirring the drink you’re currently nursing. 

The man beside you raises a brow, before sliding out a wad of cash. He hands it to the bartender without looking away from you, confidence leaking from his pores. 

“You shouldn’t have to. A gentleman should be able to notice.”

You feel a heavy weight drop on top of you. He was right. True gentlemen should take note of the small things, right? 

Your husband hardly ever did. 

The crack inside your heart begins to deepen; you know there’s not going to be a way back from this. Do you mind that you won’t be able to recover? 

No. 

You don’t. 

You grin at him and toss back the rest of your drink before taking the new one from him. It’s cold against your hand, a sickly sweet scent wafting up from the cup. 

“Who’s your little friend?” A second voice enters.

You flick your eyes from the man beside you to see who’s talking. Long black locks and chestnut eyes. 

“Suguru. This is…” The first man talks.

You state your name, nerves beginning to take hold in your chest. When it was just one of them it was fine, but two of them? 

“I’m Satoru Gojo, and this is Suguru Geto.” The original man says. “Pleased to meet you.” He finishes, dipping his face down to look at you above his glasses. 

Electric cerulean greets you, nearly taking your breath away. 

He smirks and pushes his glasses back up before tossing a look over his shoulder towards his friend.

Suguru circles around you, and you can’t help but let your eyes follow his movements. It feels like he’s sizing you up, a dark gleam in his gaze as he settles in the spot beside you.

It feels a bit like the walls are caving in on you, except the metaphorical walls are in the form of two bulky men. 

You wanted attention, that much was true, but you weren’t sure you were ready for this amount. 

“What brings you to this dive bar?” The one called Suguru questions. 

You take a sip of your drink as you ponder a response. What should you tell them? You were here with friends? The truth? 

“Needed to get out of the house.” You decide on. 

Well, it wasn’t completely wrong. 

“So you decided to come to this shit hole?” Satoru says. 

“You decided to come here too, didn’t you?” You reply back.

Satoru looks away, his bottom lip pouting out. It was a shit hole. The two men looked oddly out of place. Their clothes looked to be worth more than half your rent, and there was an effortless elegance flowing from them. You were sure that they belonged anywhere else. 

“We were just passing through town, and this was the first place we found.” Suguru responds for Satoru. 

You wonder how true that statement is. 

Could it be that the both of them are also running away from something in their personal lives? 

You could only hope. 

Maybe it would make you feel less guilty. 

Suguru’s nursing a whiskey now, lips shining in the low light from the tantalizing liquid. It’s a bit hypnotizing, watching the way his lips pucker as he takes measured sips. 

You feel like nothing can break you from the trance you’re in, nothing that is, until something brushes your thighs. It’s Satoru’s fingers, skimming your skin under the guise of tugging your dress down. 

“I like your dress,” Satoru murmurs, his knuckles causing goosebumps to erupt along your thighs. 

You watch as he slowly drags his fingers back, letting your eyes trail up until you reach his face, only to see that he’s already staring at you. 

“Yeah?” You ask, breathless.

Satoru hums and flicks his gaze back down to your legs. There’s lead in your stomach as you watch his pupils flicker. You can only guess what’s on his mind. 

“Say, do you have any plans for the night?” Suguru questions, settling his arm around the back of your chair. 

His thumb brushes against your shoulder, making your breath stagger. The ambiance is more than heavy, a thick understanding settling over the three of you. 

“No, I don't.” You take one last sip of your drink before looking at the boys once more. 

“Want to go have some fun, then?” Satoru asks, an evil glint in his eyes. 

You begin to understand how Eve could not resist the temptation.

“Please,” you all but plead.

You reach a hand out and Satoru laces his fingers in yours, tugging you along until you’re forced to navigate through the crowds in the bar. There’s a heat behind you, and you register it as Suguru’s presence shortly following after you. 

There’s something bubbling up in your stomach, anticipation you think, as you watch the back of Satoru’s head. 

He’s so tall. 

You briefly wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through his hair. Would it be soft? Would he like the way it feels? 

Satoru pushes the bar door open, a gust of wind whipping your face. The sensation almost shocks you to your senses, but Satoru doesn’t allow it. 

He slows down and stops beside you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. You’re being tugged beside him, smooshed against his lean frame as he walks you to their car. 

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” he comments, whispering into the crown of your head. 

Your stomach flips. You think he may be right. 

Suguru walks ahead and spins keys around his fingers before unlocking the car. You’re unable to recognize the brand, only able to see that it’s expensive. 

Satoru opens the passenger door and you’re greeted with fine black leather. It dawns on you that someone’s going to have to sit in the back. 

How was this going to work? 

Were you supposed to sit in the back? 

Wouldn’t that be weird? 

When you come to, you see that Satoru’s already sitting in the front seat, his hand holding yours as he looks up at you with an expectant gaze. 

“Come on.” He murmurs. 

He pulls you closer, spreading his legs to make room for you. He wants you to sit on his lap? 

You look around, noticing how empty the parking lot is. You were already making bad choices, so you figure you may as well go all in. 

You inch in the car, settling on top of his lap. His thighs are warm beneath you, your exposed legs shifting back and forth. He shuts the door, settling his hands on your body while Suguru starts the car. You never once stop to think about how this may be considered dangerous, all you can think about is how you want more of it. 

“Ready, princess?” Suguru’s voice is like velvet as it comes out. 

As ready as you’ll ever be. 

“Yes.” You fake confidence, shining a grin that feels entirely too exaggerated. 

Suguru chuckles and reverses the car, the action fluid. Satoru’s still holding onto your thighs, the proximity to him causing your heart to race. You don’t know who to focus on. Even their hands have you in a trance. Suguru’s fingers grip the steering wheel, knuckles making your mouth water, while Satoru holds your legs, his palms suspiciously moving further up.

You can feel the outline of something beneath you, and you think you know what it is, but you want to be sure. 

You shimmy your ass a bit, turning your head over your shoulder to look at Satoru. There’s a dangerous grin on his face as he looks at you over his glasses. 

“Careful there, baby.” He warns. 

Your mouth immediately dries, desperation crawling up the back of your throat. The outline below you is much thicker than it was several minutes ago. He was hard. 

The engine stops, and your stomach turns over. You’re stopped at a hotel. It’s on the nicer side of town, luckily the part of the city none of your friends ventured to. The building in front of you is at least twenty stories high, the air of wealth floating over to you. 

Just what did these guys do for a living? 

“Come on.” Satoru says, patting your thigh twice. 

You snap out of it and hop out of the car, eyes drawing to the two men next to you. Suguru stuffs his keys in his pocket and slides beside you, snaking his arm up your back. His hand rests against the nape of your neck, softly holding you. The act feels borderline protective.

You peer up at him and he grants you a smile before leading you next to him, guiding you by your neck towards the hotel entrance. It’s even nicer on the inside than it is on the outside. 

A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, you know that it must be made of glass but at first glance it looks like diamonds. There’s little dots along the walls from the reflection of the fine material, hypnotizing you. A soft tune echoes in the background, Mozart you think, that lulls you into a sense of relaxation. 

“Good afternoon.” The check in attendant nods at Suguru. 

Does this scene look weird to him? 

Suguru acts as though it’s completely normal, dipping his head down in response before facing forward again, heading towards the elevators. Maybe it was normal for Suguru. 

Maybe they’d done this countless times before, and you weren’t special. You have to remind yourself that that’s the point. You weren’t any better. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’re objectively worse. Tonight wouldn’t mean anything. Just a quick, nasty fuck. 

Out of your periphery you see Satoru jab his finger into the elevator button. He seems a bit impatient. Excited, maybe. 

He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking up as the numbers on the screen decrease, indicating the elevator was inching closer and closer. 

He’s a bit beautiful. 

You knew that before. But his beauty looks different under the fine chandelier light of the hotel. The way he looked in the dingy bar, although still incredibly attractive, was a far cry from how he appears now. Almost ethereal, you’d say. The warm glow of the lights above make him look like a painting. 

Suguru’s the same as Satoru. The lighting and surroundings of the hotel are making him appear even more stunning than before. When you peer up at him, he glances down and grins back at you. It feels like you’ve been caught red handed. You look away quickly, just in time to watch the elevator doors slide open. 

Satoru hops in and waits for you and Suguru to enter before pressing ‘18’. 

The music inside the elevator is much more quiet, yet you’re still grateful for it. You’re nervous, your fists clenching and unclenching at your sides. It was hard to believe that you were really doing this. The soft piano helps soothe your nerves, as you will your mind to stop racing.

Suguru’s hand slides off your neck and you find yourself almost missing the sensation. The warmth from his palm fades away, along with the sense of protection it provided. 

You only have a moments reprieve before the other man jumps at you. 

Satoru’s mouth is on yours in an instant, his tongue smoothing along your bottom lip. You groan in surprise before following along, letting your hands slide up his shirt. 

He’s muscular. 

Images flash in your brain of what he may look like shirtless. Your mind paints up a mouthwatering scene, full of hard lines and bulging muscles.

Your mouth opens to accept him, his tongue quickly entangling with yours. It’s hot and messy. Spit dribbles from the sides of your lips, and you can hardly catch your breath. 

“Don’t be so greedy, Satoru.” Suguru chides. 

Shit, you had almost forgotten he was there. 

Embarrassment fills your veins instantly. It suddenly hits you that you were going to have sex with both of them. How was this going to work? The idea seems daunting. 

Satoru grunts in retaliation and you almost think he doesn’t want to share. The man proves you wrong though, when he tugs you forward towards him. His body crashes against yours, and you have to hold his firm biceps to stabilize yourself. Suguru glides behind you, his hands quickly finding your hips. 

You’re trapped. 

Satoru parts from your lips, a thin string of saliva snapping once he removes himself. Your mind is crowded by lust as you look up at him with heavy lids. 

You want more. 

It’s a good thing there were two of them. 

Suguru grips your chin from behind and turns your head sideways, pressing his mouth against yours. His lips aren’t as sweet as Satoru, but it makes your knees weak all the same. 

Suguru is more methodical in his approach. He waits until you’re reaching a hand down, squeezing his arm against your waist. With a chuckle he parts his lips, sliding his tongue along your mouth, the movement painfully slow.

Satoru has moved his focus to your neck now. He’s kissing and biting down the column of your throat, the heat from his breathing making you shiver. You use your other hand to glide through his hair, urging him forward to continue his attack on your throat. 

Only when he starts sucking do you realize the severity of his actions. 

“N-no hickeys.” You tear yourself away from Suguru to say. 

Satoru looks at you for a second before chuckling, dragging his tongue up your throat. “Sure thing, princess.” 

Your shoulders sag in relief as you feel Satoru begin to go easy on you, only licking and kissing your tender flesh. You’re grateful you caught him in time. 

Suguru kisses you once more and you moan, a sound that spurs the two men on. Satoru raises a hand to paw at your breasts through your dress, and Suguru’s grip has tightened. 

The elevator dings just in time. 

Your entanglement felt longer than a life time, but it couldn’t have been more than two minutes. Suguru reluctantly tears himself away from you, watching as you catch your breath. Satoru is a bit more stubborn, only stopping once you say his name. 

Luckily the hallway in front of you is empty. The three of you step out, and you let them guide you to their room. 

“Here we are.” Satoru murmurs. 

Suguru, apparently master of the keys, lifts up a card and unlocks the door. When it opens he pushes the door in, letting you and Satoru go first. 

The room is huge. 

There’s a living room with a decent sized kitchen, along with two doors that can only lead to what you assume to be bedrooms. 

“Home sweet home,” Satoru lifts up a hand, waving it towards their hotel room. “Well, I guess hotel sweet hotel-“ 

“Satoru.” You all but plead, looking up at him desperately. 

His eyes flick down to you and he grins before stepping closer. 

“Sorry baby, you need something, huh?” He crashes his lips against yours again. 

The kiss is even more urgent this time around. Satoru lifts his glasses up blindly, before walking backwards to lead you further inside. 

You reach behind your back and pat around, trying to feel for your zipper. You need your clothes off now. When you don’t feel the flimsy tab, you turn around and look over your shoulder as if that will help any.  

“Keep having your fun, princess.” Suguru murmurs, his fingers expertly finding the elusive zipper. 

You whine and face forward again, kissing Satoru once more. Suguru carefully pulls it down, a cool rush of air grazing your back once it’s open. 

He leans down and kisses your spine, slowly making his way up while you shove your tongue down Satoru’s throat. 

The room’s spinning, you’re sure of it. 

Suguru takes his lips off your back so he can slide the dress off your shoulders, his hands grazing your skin causing you to break out in goosebumps. 

The dress falls to the floor, leaving you exposed in only your bra and underwear. It was an expensive set, one you had bought years ago yet hadn’t gotten much of a use out of. 

Satoru pulls his lips away to glance down at your figure before looking back up at your face. Your lips are swollen, eyes fluttering in need. 

“Shit…” he whispers to himself before kissing you again. 

Suguru’s hands roam your body, letting you have your playtime as he explores your skin. His palms glide against your stomach and thighs, moving slowly. 

You must be soaked already. 

Satoru tears himself back again, hands reaching for his shirt. He undresses in a matter of seconds, leaving himself only in his underwear. His body is even more amazing than you had conjured up in your mind. 

He was muscular without being overtly so, leaning more towards the body of a runner. His skin is pale, matching the tone of his hair. 

You run your hands up his stomach to his chest, letting your fingers dance along the grooves of his muscles. His head hangs low as he watches you drag your nails against him. 

Suguru stands next to you as he pulls his shirt off his head, the action catching your eye. You turn around and allow your gaze to float down to his chest. He looks just as perfect as Satoru. 

You tug Suguru closer and kiss him, his slow pace allowing you a chance to recuperate. 

“Want you to sit on my face.” Satoru says, his hands skirting along your body. 

So much for recuperating. 

“O-okay.” 

Satoru leads you and Suguru into one of the bedrooms before making himself comfortable on the bed. His form takes up the whole length of the bed, head at the end as he looks up expectantly. 

You look over your shoulder to see Suguru watching you. His lids are heavy as he stares at you, desire unmistakably falling over his features. He dips his head as if he was comforting you, or giving you permission. You slide your underwear off before tossing a leg over Satoru’s face, lowering yourself just above his mouth. You’re facing the end of the bed, Suguru standing in front of you. 

“So fucking wet.” Satoru mumbles to himself before sticking his tongue out, tugging your hips down until he meets your pussy. 

“F-fuck!” You moan, your hand latching onto his white locks. 

“That feel good?” Suguru asks. 

You bite your lip and look up at him, watching as his hand reaches down to unbuckle his pants. The sight makes you flustered. He maintains eye contact as he tugs them down, his cock still contained behind his underwear. 

“Open.” He says in a hushed tone. 

Your lips part, jaw dropping open at his order. 

“Atta girl.” 

Suguru eases his thumb into your mouth, watching as your lips wrap around him. You suck softly, bobbing your head as you lick the sides of his thumb. 

He looks delighted as you perform for him. You try your best to focus on the task at hand, but Satoru is making it increasingly difficult. His tongue is sticking out, flicking against your swollen clit. He drags it down before teasing your entrance, poking in several times before retreating to suck on your nub. 

You tug at his hair, grinding your body down against him. His hands have a tight grip on your ass, helping you hump against his mouth. 

“There you go, ride my fucking face.” Satoru growls below you. 

Your eyes roll back in your head, the pleasure coursing through your body. 

Suguru uses his other hand to pull down his boxers, allowing his cock to jump free. Everything feels too good. When you look back down, the sight makes you lightheaded. His cock is hard, tip leaky with anticipation as he watches you. 

He pumps it several times before reaching down to grab your free hand. Suguru wraps it around his cock, giving you free reign to pump him. 

His thumb never leaves your mouth. You’re sort of glad it doesn’t. If it did, you aren’t sure how loud you would be moaning. 

Suguru looks at your face as you begin to jack him off. He’s far more interested in watching you suck his thumb.

Satoru sucks on your clit, his eyes closed as he focuses on your body. You can feel yourself drip into him. 

“You gonna cum for us? On Satoru’s face?” Suguru coos. 

You moan around his thumb and squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck, you were going to cum on Satoru’s face. Soon, probably. 

Your palm slides down Suguru’s cock as your fist fucks him. He’s hot and heavy in your hand, his precum making the glide that much easier. 

Satoru speeds his actions up, his lips wrapped tightly around your nub. Your body tightens up in response, and you begin to cum. 

Satoru aides you through your orgasm, sucking the entire time as you twist above him. Your hand slows against Suguru’s cock as you pant around his thumb. 

Satoru flicks his tongue against your clit slowly before removing his mouth from you, allowing you to slide off his face. 

He sits up once you’re off, his chin completely covered in your essence. You’re almost embarrassed. Satoru looks unaffected, letting his tongue clean the cum on his lips. 

“Let’s go baby.” Satoru says. 

Suguru eases his thumb from your mouth, chuckling at the whimper you let out. You were really starting to get into it, too. 

Satoru helps you get onto your hands and knees, facing forward towards Suguru. Suguru reaches down to unclasp your bra, pulling it off your body before tossing it to the side. Your nipples instantly harden from the cold air. 

Satoru smoothes his hands down your back while admiring your trembling form beneath him. Aftershocks from your previous orgasm were still racking through your body. He tears his gaze away to look at the bedside table, grumbling before he finds what he’s looking for. You hear the sound of a condom being opened as you stare at Suguru’s cock. 

Would you be able to fit that in your mouth? 

“Alright,” Satoru mumbles, sliding the condom on before lining himself up with your entrance.

You part your lips, waiting for Suguru to slide himself in your mouth. Satoru’s cock pokes at your entrance, pushing past as he sinks into your pussy. You groan, your walls rushing to accommodate the stretch. 

Satoru’s jaw is clenched as he looks down, watching your pussy greedily accept him, squeezing his cock until he’s finally all of the way in. 

He pauses for a moment, and you slip Suguru’s cock into your mouth. His tip eases past your lips, precum dripping onto your taste buds as he pushes himself in further. 

You gag a bit, nose flaring as you try to breathe around his cock. It’s more difficult than you anticipated, drool sliding down your chin as you go as far as you can. 

Satoru begins to shallowly pump inside you, while Suguru starts to rock his hips. 

It doesn’t take long before Satoru is fucking you properly, the slick of your cum making it easy to glide inside you. Suguru lets you control the pace, bobbing your head against his cock as you swallow around him. 

Satoru pushes against your gspot with each thrust, the sensation making you moan around Suguru. 

This felt so good, you were left wondering why you didn’t do it sooner. 

Satoru groans behind you, feeling like his cock was being choked by your pussy. He reaches down and his fingers find your clit, rubbing in tight circles. You moan and your pussy tightens around Satoru in reaction. 

“Thaaaat’s it.” Satoru sounds almost breathless. “Bet your husband doesn’t fuck you this good, does he?” 

You stutter around Suguru, confusion sparking inside you. 

Husband?

How did he know?

Satoru laughs loudly, continuing to fuck into you. 

“What? You didn’t think we’d notice?” Suguru inserts himself into the discussion. “There’s a tan line around your ring finger, darling.”

Satoru thrusts into you even harder. “No hickeys? Come on.” His fingers speed up around your clit, making you moan against Suguru. “So I’ll repeat myself, your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” 

The humiliation was almost suffocating, yet it turned you on so badly you could hardly stand it. 

Suguru pulls himself from your throat, watching as you loudly gasp for air. 

You feel ruined. But you like it. 

“N-no,” you moan out. 

“No? That’s right.” Satoru mumbles under his breath. 

With each thrust it feels like he’s knocking all common sense from you. Your fingers dig into the sheets below, hoping it will relieve some of the pressure but all it manages to do is crumple the bedding. 

Suguru presses himself back into your throat, throwing his head back as you bob your head along him. You run your tongue down the sides of his cock, stroking him as you suck. 

“Can tell you aren’t happy with him, you just needed to be fucked properly, is that right?” Satoru continues. 

You moan around Suguru, unable to reply. Satoru understands the sentiment, pressing harder against your clit. You tighten up around him again, unable to control the way your cunt squeezes him. He keeps filling you up, his cock somehow pressing into all the right places. You’re getting close to cumming again, body begging for the sensation once more. 

Satoru’s hands are gripping your hips hard, so hard that there’s a voice in the back of your brain telling you he may leave marks, but you’re in too deep already. Drool is seeping from your lips, hanging in strings down your chin as you swallow Suguru’s cock. You wonder who’s going to cum first. 

Your orgasm inches closer, made possible by the strum of Satoru’s fingers against your needy clit. He’s groaning behind you, the sounds spurring you on. 

“Come on, come on baby. Cum on my cock.” He urges with a groan. 

Your pussy clenches around his cock hard and you release, cumming harder than you ever have before. 

“Just like that, just like that.” He talks you through it, a whimper breaking his voice. 

Suguru makes good use of your slack jaw, pounding so hard into your throat that you surmise it’s going to bruise. There’s no oxygen in your brain, no thoughts in your head, just pure bliss as you cum on Satoru. 

“You’re gonna make me-“ Satoru lets out a long moan, hips jerking against you, his cock twitching as he fills the condom with his cum. 

You’re trying to breathe heavily through your nose as you come down, allowing Suguru to use you as he sees fit. His face is concentrated as he stares down at you, admiring the mess you’ve become as he fucks your throat. He swears under his breath before coming to a stop, spurting hot cum in your mouth. 

You struggle to swallow it all, briefly feeling like you were drowning in the fluid, before you gulp it down. It’s messy, some of his cum paints your lips as he slides his now softening cock out of your mouth. 

The room is filled with the sounds of your mixed panting, bodies all entering a state of relaxation. Satoru eases himself from your pussy, inhaling sharply as he slips out. He removes the condom, tying it before tossing it into the bin beside the bed. You’re in complete bliss, fucked out from every orifice. 

Suguru smoothes your hair down and finds a washcloth to wipe the filth from your lips, smiling to himself at your expression. 

“You can stay the night, if you’d like.” Satoru says as he relaxes on the bed. 

He glances at the clock and ascertains that it’s much later than you were intending. You mumble to yourself and nod, not fully comprehending what ramifications may be waiting at home for you. 

Satoru opens the blankets for you, waiting as Suguru cleans between your legs. The actions are a bit sweet. Everything is. You were expecting them to kick you to the curb after you had sex, so you’re pleasantly surprised when they slide in bed next to you, laying on either side. 

Satoru’s arms are wrapped tightly around your frame as you nod off, and you feel truly happy for the first time in years. 

~~~

You aren’t sure what wakes you up in the morning. Your internal clock, maybe. Your body is sore as you groan, flipping onto your back. The hotel ceiling greets you as you crack your eyes open. A brief bit of panic courses through you. 

So last night was real, huh? 

You turn your head and notice the bed beside you is completely devoid of anyone else, both men seemingly having vanished. You aren’t sure if you feel more sad or relieved. Sad because you enjoyed their presence, but relieved because now you could pretend like nothing happened. 

Is that what you wanted to do? 

You were having a hard time believing that that would be easy, that you could go back to your old life and be content when you knew there was so much more out there. 

You sit up and look towards the clock. You were in deep shit. There’s a note on the beside table that catches your attention. You lift it up, reading the words on the page. It fills you with a deep sense of satisfaction once you notice a phone number on it.

“Call us if you want to have a good time. -Satoru and Suguru.” 

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @mikisspeak, @sad-darksoul, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @sakui1, @reiluvr, @gothicwhore666, @bunviixo

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[ladykailitha]

The Rise of the Fallen Part 1

The thrilling sequel to Icarus and Around the World is finally here!

This universe has decided though, completely without prompting to do a little Christmas story set in this verse. So.... yeah!

Enjoy!

Summary: On the ten anniversary of The Fallen's eponymous debut album, the band decides to do an unmasking. This is the interview with Variety journalist Karla Lopez. SEQUEL TO ICARUS AND AROUND THE WORLD READ THEM FIRST!!!

~

Exclusive Interview with The Fallen Behind the Veil by Variety reporter Karla Lopez.

Karla Lopez: I am deeply honored to be chosen to do this, you have no idea.

Astraeus chuckles: Oh I think we have an idea, yeah.

KL: Why did you decide to do a reveal now? You have all been pretty vocal about not wanting to break persona.

They all look around at each other like they trying to decide who’s going to answer that. Finally Abbadon speaks.

Abbadon: Back when we were first asked about it, Asmodeus said that maybe if we were still here ten years on. This marks the 10th anniversary of our first album, so I guess it just felt right.

KL: Fair enough. There were talks about this being live so you could answer questions from a chat on air. But all of you nixed that. Can you tell me why?

Asmodeus laughs: We all wanted to see the reaction on our friends and family’s faces when they find out who we are.

KL: You have fans among your friends and family?

Abbadon: Oh yeah. It’s funny having to pretend to hate metal so much I won’t go to our concerts.

Astraeus: You have to film yours, man. I have to see his reaction.

Abbadon laughs: Don’t worry, my partner has it on lock.

KL: Someone we’ve been told we can’t talk about until after the reveal.

They all snicker

Azrael: That’s because he’s here and them being a couple is also being revealed today, too.

KL: Awww, that’s so sweet. So this is how the reveal is going to work: each of you will take turns in the hot seat I point to a large red leather armchair off to the side a little and you will take off your mask, tell us your real name and a bit about yourself.

They all nod

KL: So you guys picked the order. Youngest to oldest, right? Again they nod So who’s up first?

Azrael stands up and moves over to the hot seat and sits down. He takes a deep breath and removes his mask. He pushes back his hood. Behind the mask is an unassuming man with blue eyes and wavy blond hair that goes to his shoulders. He’s conventionally handsome but he’s got a bump on the side of his nose where it’s likely been broken.

Azrael: Hi, I’m Spencer Peters, I’m 32 years old with a wife and twin little girls aged four. No she didn’t know I was a drummer for a metal band only that I travel a lot for business. He waves Hi, honey! Shout out to Sweet Pea and Pumpkin. I was an EMT before I met the rest of the band. I had been playing drums since I was ten, but I never thought it would become my job.

KL: Why did you chose the name Azrael?

Azrael: Because I wanted to pick something I wasn’t. As an EMT my job was to save lives. I figured that if I chose the angel of death no one would guess it was me. He huffs a bitter laugh And it fucking worked.

KL: No one in your life even wondered?

He shrugs: If they did, they didn’t tell me. As far as I know, no one in my life put together that my business trips line up with our touring dates.

KL: Do you feel angry about that?

He looks over the other guys and then back at the camera: Sometimes.

Abbadon ducks his head as Azrael (Spencer) stands up and walks back over to the group.

KL: Do you want to talk about that anger?

Abbadon lifts his head: My partner figured it out. Before we got together. It’s partly why we got together. But as far as any of us are aware no one else in our lives have figured it. Not spouses, parents, siblings, close friends. So yeah sometimes it hurts that they don’t know us well enough to guess.

KL: That’s got be hard. How does no one else know? Aren’t there dozens of people milling about after shows?

Asmodeus: Certain people have to know, our agent and our manager. Our chief security; they all sign NDAs but we’re also very quiet about it. We don’t get ready in their dressing rooms unless we have to. And if we do, we have armed guards in front of the door.

Abbadon waves: Shout out to Murray Bauman, though. He guessed I was the frontman for one of the masked bands. Just didn’t care which one. So he’s not on the list of people who knew I was Abbadon, because he didn’t. Until now. He wags his eyebrows.

Azrael: Plus once we’re ourselves again, everyone thinks we’re roadies or PAs or whatever role we can slip into that won’t draw suspicion.

I laugh: I guess I can see how they might make that mistake. Who’s next?

Asmodeus stands up and walks over to the hot seat and sits down. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Abbadon walks over and puts his arm around his shoulder and they whisper for a couple of moments. Abbadon stands up and moves just enough out of view of the camera but close enough that Asmodeus can still see him.

Abbadon nods and Asmodeus takes off his mask and pushes back his hood. The man’s coal dark eyes are apparently natural as he doesn’t remove any contacts. His hair is as dark as his eyes. He has a square jaw and a sweet smile. Abbadon smiles back encouragingly.

Asmodeus: he waves awkwardly at the camera My name is Simon Olsen. I’m also 32, but older then Spence by two months. I’m the biggest nerd of the group. I play D&D, I’m big sci-fi nerd, huge Trekkie. I was trying to write a sci-fi novel when I met the other guys. It’s not very good. I’m a better guitar player than I am a writer. I started playing when I was sixteen to get girls.

KL: Has it worked?

He laughs: As Simon? No. As Asmodeus, girls are always throwing themselves at me. But I never felt that was genuine so I’ve never indulged. I guess I’m a 32 year old virgin.

He winces and looks up at Abbadon. Whatever he sees there soothes him and he clears his throat.

Asmodeus: Like Spence, I picked Asmodeus because he was the antithesis of me. Someone to drive the girls wild. Cool, confident. I like being him more than me sometimes.

Abbadon holds out his hand just out of frame but Asmodeus stands up and takes it and they both walk back to the group.

KL: Is that something you all feel? That you like being your alter egos over yourselves?

They all glance around at each other.

Azrael (SP): Sometimes. We’re all what people in the 80s called preps. I’m not sure what they would call us now, probably nerds. Polos, chinos, Henleys. Suburban dads, I guess. So our alter egos, our personas if you will aren’t like that. They are so much cooler than us so it’s easier to be them.

KL: Has it been hard keeping the two lives separate?

Astraeus: More than you’ll ever guess. It’s why after a tour we don’t immediately go home we learn how to be regular guys again.

KL: I laugh How does that work?

Abbadon: Military grade specialists.

I laugh again but they don’t laugh with me: Wait, you’re serious?

They nod

Asmodeus (SO): They have these people that teach incoming soldiers how to turn off being soldiers and be people again. They’re kinda like that. Not exactly but close enough. Our head of security heads this up. He’s really fucking good.

Abbadon: I was the reason for this, by the way. My persona is so unlike my real life that there was actual talk about me being cursed. Our manager helped me that one time, because she knew me before I went on tour, but it was clear it wasn’t perfect. So she found a couple of people that would be willing to help us get in and out of character before and after our tours. It’s been a real life saver for sure.

Astraeus: And believe me, I know it sounds absolutely ridiculous. But it’s really helped us out.

KL: Who’s next?

Astraeus stands up and makes his way over to the hot seat and curls up on it like a large house cat. It’s a jarring affect to see the large bassist tuck his legs under him like a teenage girl about share secrets with her bestie.

He takes of the mask and drops the hood. He runs his fingers through a riot of tight red curls. His face is freckled and his has a gap-toothed, goofy smile.

Astraeus: Hey guys! My name is Shane Kendrick, I’m 33 and me and Abbadon have the same birthday, year and everything. I’d call us twinsies, but he already had a soul twin in the form of our manager, and you so don’t want to get into the middle of that!

Abbadon, their manager, and Abbadon’s partner all burst out laughing. Astraeus winks at Abbadon.

I am starting to see a pattern and it’s making me a little upset if I’m honest.

Astraeus: I tease, I tease. They’re super cute. I chose the name Astraeus because there aren’t that many night gods, lots of goddesses, but not whole of gods. But I am a huge mythology nerd. In fact I helped everyone come up with their names. I chose Astraeus because he’s not a god of night, he’s the titan of night and that sounded way more metal than just a god.

I was actually studying to become a history teacher for the middle school grade when I met the rest of the band.

KL: Where did you guys meet?

Astraeus (SK): Abbadon was working at a little cafe where the three of us would come in for coffee. Me and Simon would spend hours there. Him doing his writing and me doing my homework. Spence would come in after his shift and just sit in a corner to decompress.

KL: How did you guys become friends?

They all laugh

Astraeus (SK): Abbadon was playing Corroded Coffin on their speakers. First cafe I’d ever been to where they didn’t play some new age shit.

There is a choked off laugh from Abbadon’s partner and Abbadon ducks his head. I’m sure if the mask was off, we’d see him blush.

KL: You bonded over Corroded Coffin?

Astraeus (SK): Yeah, I told him I had a crush on the drummer and he told me that he had gone to high school with them.

My jaw drops: Wait? Really?

Abbadon nods: All Hawkins High alums. Almost all different years though, too. Eddie was ahead of me, Jeff and Brian were below me one year and Gareth was two years below me.

KL: Wow!

Astraeus gets up and swaps with Abbadon. They give each other five as they pass as if they they are tagging the one out and the other in.

~

Part 2

Tag list: CLOSED

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2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

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8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @clockworkballerina @eyehartart