#it’d be an eternal watch party

[badwolfarcadiabay]

[suhkusa]

OPEN ARMS.

PAIRING. Bakugou Katsuki x f!Reader

CW. ALL CHARACTERS 18+, angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, childhood friends to fwb to lovers 0-0, he’s dumb, you’re dumb, feelings, smut but it’s not detailed, dubious consent, please let me know if i missed anything!

WC. ~2.8k

A/N. If you’ve seen this before no you haven’t!!! first time writing for mha :p

I.

The first time you fucked Bakugou, it was a mistake.

It was during your 19th birthday party, which he had thrown for you “out of the kindness of his heart”, he’d say.

You two clearly had too much to drink, but so did your friends around you. Too much where none of them seemed to notice as the two of you slipped out of the living room to his own room.

The first time with him was your first time at all.

And even then, even in his drunken stupor, he still handled you with care.

Despite his rough and unruly nature he usually displayed, he was gentle. It was a funny thought though, Katsuki Bakugou fucks gently.

“Are- you sure?”, he mutters, toying with the waistband of your panties.

You managed to slur out a weak, “mhm”, before he began to slowly slip off your clothes. One by one.

And even though it was gentle, it was messy. Each kiss is filled with saliva and teeth. Every thrust is hesitant but thorough. Everything was him.

When the time came and you two were lying in bed, chests heaving as your minds tried to catch up with your bodies. You had just fucked your childhood best friend.

The rest of the night was awkward as the two of you sobered up, yes. But when morning came, it was like nothing happened.

It was a silent agreement, never again.

——

II.

The second time you fucked Bakugou, it was by choice.

Though, not for the reason you thought it’d be.

“The hell are you at my door for? It’s 2 in the—”

“He cheated, Katsuki,”

His eyes met with your tear-stained face, his face dropping in realization.

“Shit,” he looked around before eyes locking back onto you, “c’mere you big baby,”

Bakugou’s arms opened before you fell into them.

His scent and touch are familiar. Somewhat nostalgic of the time you two were kids and he’d comfort you after beating up the boys who’d tease you.

“S’alright,” he muttered, “you know he was ugly as shit anyways,”

You cry more after he says that, knowing he was right, but still hurting more nonetheless.

“Sheesh,” he lets you go to lead you into his house.

Without his help, you make your way into his room, welcoming yourself to the warm blankets. You hog them to yourself, whining when he tugs them off.

“Don’t cry over him, he was a piece of shit, and I told you so,” he snickers, still with a comforting tone.

You sniffle, “I know- I know, it still hurts though,”

It hurts because it was your first relationship. It hurts because outside Katsuki, you’ve never put so much effort and trust into a person. And for it to be thrown away made you feel nothing but worthless. 7 months may not have been long, but to you it felt like eternity.

Bakugou rolls his eyes dismissively, knowing that little to nothing he could do would help, “you need anything?”

To this day, you don’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way he looked at you with care instead of his usual roughness, or the way your heart yearned for touch and comfort. Perhaps it was the way that even though, yes, Bakugou warned you about your cheating ex and you didn’t listen, he let his pride down and came to the rescue.

“You,”

“Don’t say that, freak,” he shrugs your words off as a joke, moving to get up, “I’ll be in the livi—“

Your hands move before your brain can stop it, latching onto his wrist.

“Please,”

Your teary eyes watch the cogs turn in his brain. Before you realize, he’s lifting your chin with a rough hand, bringing your lips to his. And before you can catch a breath, he’s onto you, taking you once again.

——

III.

The the third time you fucked Bakugou, you realize this would become a regular thing.

There was no heartache or liquor. There were two friends, lonely but still content, bored with nothing to do.

You don’t really remember what initiated it, or who, one moment you guys were watching the latest episode of that sitcom he showed you, and the next you were on top of him.

He lifted your hips and slammed into you, over and over until you couldn’t even think about how you got into this position. Until all of your senses were just filled with him, him, and him.

“You’re mine,” he grabbed at your chin, forcing you to look at him, “you hear me?”

In the heat of the moment, you gasp a loose, “yes,” before locking your lips with his.

Your body was hot and wet, and his words only ignited the flames in your stomach even higher before you couldn’t take it anymore, falling against him as your pussy convulsed around his length.

As your chest heaved against his, your mind cleared a bit, thinking back on his words.

His.

The concept of being his was a nice thought. Though you know you could never commit anymore. Especially to him. Bakugou’s your best friend, and your love for him would always be just that.

This is casual. It doesn’t have to mean anything. People have casual flings or friends with benefits all the time. It just so happens yours is with your best friend. You two were grown adults now, you both know well what you’re getting yourselves into. Best friends can fuck without feelings being involved.

Right?

——

VI.

The next couple of times you fucked Bakugou, you noticed a shift.

It was a subtle slow shift, it came in waves that only grew every time he touched you.

In the moment, it was great. Everything about it. The way he fucked, the way he cared for you. It was just a little bonus of your guys’ hangouts. You guys still do the things you would do before this whole arrangement started. Talk, gossip, eat food, sleep. And before you knew it, sex became a part of the routine.

And if you were being honest, you enjoyed it. It filled the hole that had been left by your ex. But now that you had gotten over him, it felt like you were about to burst at the seams by the whiplash Bakugou gave you.

You never gave a second thought to this arrangement you two had. It felt normal. You guys had always been this close. Through school, college, and even having your first jobs together. Of course, there were times you guys were apart, but even still you two managed to remain as close as ever.

After the first several times, you began to experience this weird feeling in your chest. You didn’t want to put a name to the emotion out of the fear it’d create more problems than you needed.

But you could only silence your heart for so long until it begins to boil over.

It was after the second round of the day. You’re dazed as you stare at the ceiling, legs sore, cunt aching.

You feel your throat get caught on itself as you try to make up the words to come out. It feels thick as you say it. Scared to know his answer, scared that this all could fall apart— that you’d fall apart.

“Why are we doing this?” you start, hesitant.

“Not sure,” he mutters, scrolling through his phone, “it’s fun?”

It’s fun. Yeah, maybe that was it. That phrase would simmer in the depths of your mind, constantly trying to convince yourself yes, this was fun. So much to block out the painful tinge you’d feel in your chest after every time you lie in bed together after having sex.

This was your childhood best friend. Bakugou Katsuki. Anyone could have him but he’s lying here with you. You realize the possibility of going back to how things were was slim. He’s not going to be that hard-headed, obnoxious friend you’d known since you were kids anymore. It’s gone past that boundary, and you’re scared to keep exploring the uncharted territory.

It’s then you realize that maybe this was a mistake after all.

——

VIII.

It’s the 7th— no, 8th? You’ve lost count. Nonetheless, it was this time that you realized you loved Bakugou Katsuki.

Perhaps you’ve always known this, just pushing all the emotions to the back of your heart and mind for the sake of the friendship.

But you knew all too well that those boundaries had been pushed too far. Time and time you told yourself that this was all okay, but it wasn’t. And it felt like you were slowly tearing yourself apart.

He was tearing you apart, but it was no one’s fault but your own.

The words he’s been using have been getting riskier and riskier. Toying with the romantic edge of things.

Bakugou was being rougher than usual, a bad day at work being the source. Though you didn’t mind, it felt good nonetheless. It’s rare for him to shock you with his words.

“Fuck,” he groans in your ear, “you’re beautiful,”

His words make you clench around him harder, egging you on to whimper in his ear.

“You’re too fuckin’ good— way- too good,”

His cock pummeled your insides and he thrusted into you relentlessly, praise raining from his mouth like an everflowing river.

“I want you— bad,” his grip on your hips tightens, and the telltale look on his face tells you he’s about to finish.

“I fuckin’ love you,” he murmurs lowly as he cums, so low you barely miss it under your own soft gasps. So low you weren’t even sure you heard it right.

Tears begin to prick at your eyes, what an asshole.

Your insecurity gets the best of you so you just pull him tighter to your body in response to whatever he said.

His words poke and prod at your heart. It feels good to hear it. But it hurts worse knowing it’s the sex talking. It’s the frustrations from work talking. It’s all fake. It’s all talk. No meaning or emotion to back it up.

Bakugou doesn’t even realize it, but he’s encouraging you and your feelings for him. And you don’t know how much more you can take.

——

I.

It was the first time that Katsuki fucked you, he realized he loved you.

You were a constant in his life, and while you were annoying at times, you were always there, even the times where he was shitty towards you.

Katsuki knew you were pretty, always have been— even when the two of you were kids and you’d have mud and dirt all over your face after tussling with him.

But especially now you were gorgeous. Glossy-eyed and so vulnerable underneath him. It was as if he forced himself to sober up, just so that he could remember this moment.

He knew it was selfish to act upon his own desires, and so he asked,

“Are- you sure?”

Everything about you was pretty, his eyes fixated on your lips as you muttered a sweet “mhm”.

Katsuki wishes he had photographic memory so he could remember and cherish every second of it.

He knew this couldn’t happen again. The relationship you two already had was too good for him to let his personal feelings interfere. And he was okay with that. He had his own things to worry about.

There were too many things going on in his life. And even if you wanted him (the chances are slim), he doesn’t know if he’d be able to give you what you needed or wanted. He liked being friends with you for so long because you made everything so easy. He didn’t want to ruin what you had because of his stupid, selfish feelings.

But for now, he’ll indulge in himself. Just this once.

It was the first time that Bakugou Katsuki fucked you that he realized, for him, this wasn’t a mistake.

——

X.

This time would be the last, you told yourself.

You’d let yourself fall into him once more. Let him hold you once more. Be with him once more. And then you’d call it quits. You’d force yourself and him to go back to how things were. No matter what.

You want him, but that’s all it could ever be. And you couldn’t want him. He’s your best friend. The only love you should’ve ever had for him was platonic, but circumstances you forced upon yourself changed that.

You’re able to tell when he’s in the mood. He looks at you daringly with his ruby eyes, and gets touchier. It’s barely ever sudden with him, he eases you into it.

“Katsuki…” you whisper, weak to his touch as he slips his hand under your shirt and straight to your breasts.

“Mm,” he responds, lips already meeting with the soft skin of your neck.

It takes all of you, and you mean all of you, to force the words out of your mouth. You knew you didn’t want to mean it, you’d let him take you as many times as he pleases. But you had to mean it. Because it hurts. Too much.

“I can’t— We can’t do this anymore,” the words fumble a bit, you’re a bit embarrassed and wish you could take it all back.

He freezes altogether, and it scares you.

Bakugou sits back, removing his hand and lips from you before looking in your eyes.

His eyes search your face, lips looking like he’s searching for something to say. You don’t even know what to say.

“I— alright,” he says in a somewhat defeated tone. “Are you okay?”

No.

“Y-yeah, it’s just, weird, you know,” he looks confused at your words but agrees nonetheless. “You’re my best friend and I love you, we just… can’t,”

“No yeah,” is all he says before he sits back in his place on the couch, “I love you, too, I understand,”

You’re scared. His calmness is anxiety driving. Did you really not matter that much? Was the intimacy so easy to let go of? Your heart is breaking, you can feel it. It hurts.

You want to leave, you need to. It’s overwhelming and the silence is drowning. The TV plays in the back but all you hear is silence and all you see is him. It’s too much, you need to-

“Y/N,” you snap your head up at his voice, he’s closer, his hand is reaching out to you, “what’s wrong? You’re crying,”

A rough thumb pad swipes at the tears that had escaped without your knowledge. And the dam breaks.

Bakugou’s eyes widen and he pulls you in to embrace you, “you on your period or what?” He's joking, but you can tell he’s genuinely questioning you as to what the hell happened.

“You, it’s you,” you sob into his chest, and it’s so embarrassing. Shame spreads across your cheeks and body, and you babble nonsense.

“I love you, and it hurts,” you cry, “Fuck, I ruined everything,”

You can’t stop.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki, I ruined it, I ruined us. I was selfish,”

Your mouth is moving on its own.

“I can’t just fuck you and— and be just friends with you, it’s too much,”

You choke on your words, they’re heavy as they come out, fighting against the saliva that builds in your mouth.

“I want you,”

His words startle you. They’re sudden, and cut off whatever else you were about to say. He’s genuine. You can tell by the underlying softness of his voice.

“Are you an idiot? I wouldn’t— fuck,” his grasp around you gets tighter.

“I don’t fuck just anybody,” Bakugou says, “I feel like I’ve told you that,”

“But— that one time-”

“That was my girlfriend at the time, dipshit,”

You sniffle at that, and he realizes you’re still vulnerable.

“Sorry, I just,” he releases you a bit, eyes locked on you, “I love you, have for a while,”

Your jaw drops a bit at that.

“Feelings are just too complicated, you’re too complicated. I didn’t want to break whatever we had, y’know?,” you can tell he’s struggling, “but it became routine, and I was selfish and didn’t want to stop,”

“You’re sappy,”

“Shut it,” he snaps, pinching your side and earning a yelp from you. “Don’t cry, got it? I want you just as much as you want me,”

His thumbs wipe away the stray tears, “you’re such an idiot,”

“No, you are— you’re so mean, saying things you don’t mean to me,” you mutter, eyes meeting his own.

“I’ve never said anything I didn’t mean to you,” he states matter-of-factly. And you realize he’s serious.

You open your mouth to retort, to argue, but he catches you in a kiss before you’re able to. He’s warm and gentle, he’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

You feel yourself begin to tear up again, it doesn’t hurt anymore. But your heart is relieved and feels as though a heavy weight had been lifted off of it. It feels free.

It’s this time where you’re about to fuck Bakugou Katsuki that you realize it was always going to be him, and perhaps those times were never mistakes after all.

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[corroded-hellfire]

As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 6

A collaboration with the incredible and amazing @munson-blurbs 💜

Summary: It’s your first official date with Eddie, and what’s almost as exciting as that is seeing how the boys react to the news

Note: I will never get used to the kind comments and sweet words you send me over this series. It truly makes me so incredibly happy. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Warnings: smut, p in v, mentions of oral, age gap, older!eddie, Eddie’s breeding kink should be a given at this point tbh

Words: 8.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie knocks on the door of the trailer he grew up in, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking on the balls of his feet. It seems like an eternity before his uncle opens it, a huge grin on his face at the sight of his nephew. 

“Ed!” he says, holding the door ajar so Eddie can walk in. “What brings you back down to Forest Hills?”

“Can’t a guy just visit his uncle without needing something?” Eddie teases, leaning against the counter, careful not to get any grease stains on it. “I, uh, did need to talk to you, though.”

A concerned frown tugs at the corners of Wayne’s lips. “Y’okay? The boys good?”

Eddie nods, all-too aware of Wayne’s omission of Brittany. “We’re all fine,” he clarifies, “but Brittany and I are definitely splitting up. I filed the divorce papers, then she filed custody papers.”

“Shit,” Wayne mutters, rubbing his palm over his coarse gray beard. “‘M sorry, kid. This kinda stuff ain’t easy, even when you know you wanna end things.” He puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and squeezes. “You’ll find the right one for you.”

Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, and he has to avert his gaze from his uncle. “I, um…I think I already did,” he sheepishly admits, massaging the back of his neck to relax his nerves. 

Wayne’s eyebrows shoot up, but he can’t say he’s all that surprised. “The babysitter?”

“How did you—”

“I may be an old man, but my eyesight is just fine,” Wayne jokes, “and I could see the way you looked at her at Ryan’s birthday party last summer. Like you damn near worshiped the ground she walked on.”

Eddie lets out a nervous chuckle and nods his head. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel about her.” 

“She’s good with the boys,” Wayne says. “It was nice to see.” Nice for them to have a maternal figure who loves them is what they both think but don’t say aloud. 

“They love her,” Eddie agrees. He opens his mouth to continue, but his uncle cuts him off.

“So do you.” It’s not a question. It’s a knowing statement from the man who knows Eddie better than anyone. It didn’t take much observation for Wayne to see the possibilities of what could be. Of what are, now. 

“I really do,” Eddie answers. The lovesick expression on his face makes Wayne smile. He’s not seen that look on his nephew’s face since he was in high school. Even then, Wayne thinks, he didn’t light up quite like this. 

“Take it slow though, boy.” Wayne didn’t give a shit that Eddie was in his 30’s now; he’s still going to call him “boy” because he’ll be Wayne’s boy until the day he dies. “You don’t want to rush into anything. That’ll just be trouble for everyone involved.”

“I know,” Eddie says. “I, uh, actually want to take her on our first date this Friday.”

“Do the boys know?” Wayne asks.

“Not yet. But they will. I'm not going to lie to them about where I'm going and who I’ll be with. They get that from their mom, and I will make damn sure they know I’ll never lie to them.”

“Good man,” Wayne says with an approving nod of his head. “Can’t imagine their mom feels too keen about watching the boys while you go on a date, though.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t give a shit how she felt about it. But fortunately for everyone, she’ll be out of town. So, that’s another reason I stopped by. Wondered if you could watch the kids. It’d be up at the house still since I’m staying there while Britt’s gone.”

Wayne’s face lights up. “You know I never need an excuse to spend time with my grandkids,” he chuckles. “Now I just gotta figure out what kinda candy I’m gonna get ‘em hopped up on just in time for you to get home.”

“You’re the best,” Eddie says gratefully, pulling his uncle in for a quick hug. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne appears to brush off the compliment, but he’s beaming on the inside. Being a grandpa is his favorite thing in the world. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, anyway. Made a little something for those two rugrats.” He disappears into his room—what used to be Eddie’s room—and comes back with two of his woodworks: a miniature bookshelf with an R carved on the side, and a small box with an L on the lid. “Figured Ryan could use another place for his books, and Luke can put his Hot Wheels in here.”

“Someone just earned himself a #1 Grandpa mug for his birthday.”

“Hey, rugrats.”

Eddie strolls out of his bedroom—former bedroom, and down the hallway. The muffled sounds of some animated movie he knows he’s seen before become louder the closer he gets to the living room. Both boys are sitting at a Scooby-Doo themed table and chair set that Luke had gotten for his last birthday. They’re sitting too close to the television, but Eddie decides to let that slide for now. As he gets closer, he sees the boys are drawing, peacefully sharing a single crayon box for once. 

“Yeah, Daddy?” Ryan asks without looking up from his art. Eddie picks the remote up off the couch and turns the tv off. Luke’s little head snaps up and his curls bounce as he swivels his body to stare in his dad’s direction. 

“Hey,” he protests.

“Just for a minute, calm down.” Eddie sets the remote down on the coffee table and comes to stand between the boys’ chairs. He’s not entirely sure what it is they’re drawing, but there’s a brown patch that Eddie thinks is the dog that Luke is always drawing and wishing for. Someday, pal. I promise. “I want to talk to you both about something.”

“What is it?” Ryan asks, scribbling furiously with a red crayon. 

“Hey, can we take a break from the drawing for a bit?” Eddie drops a hand to Ryan’s shoulder and his oldest son looks up at him for the first time.

“Why?”

“Just so I can talk to you for a minute.”

Ryan sets his crayons down and turns on his seat to face his father better. Luke copies his older brother’s actions and the brown crayon that was in his hand rolls towards the middle of the table. 

“Are we in trouble?” Luke asks.

“No,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “I just wanted to let the two of you know that I have a date on Friday night.”

Both of Eddie’s sons just stare at him. For a moment, he wonders if he actually spoke out loud or just imagined it in his head. Luke seems completely unfazed by the news, like he just wants to get back to his coloring. Ryan, on the other hand, looks a little skeptical. Eddie was prepared for this reaction, but he knows that as soon as the boys know who his date is with, they’ll be jumping for joy—quite possibly literally. 

“A date?” Ryan asks. “Like, with a girl?”

“A lady,” Luke corrects. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, now truly getting nervous for the first time. Ryan continues to stare at him, and Eddie isn’t sure how to read the usually open little boy. 

“So,” Ryan starts, “does that mean we get to spend time with—”

“Grandpa Wayne is watching you.” 

“Why?” Luke whines, obviously bothered by the fact that someone who is not you would be watching them. That says a lot to Eddie because he knows how much they love Wayne. It takes most of Eddie’s nerves away, hearing that the boys’ first instinct was that they get to spend time with you if he’s going out. Actual excitement bubbles up within him and it’s almost impossible to keep the smile off of his face. A part of him almost wants to keep the boys in suspense—this is just too good. 

“Because,” Eddie finally says, “I’m taking her on the date.” 

Eddie watches their faces, eager for the reaction. Ryan processes the information first and lets out a gasp. Luke takes a few seconds longer, but then he’s standing up from his chair—knocking it over in the process—and his eyes widen as far as they physically can. 

“You two are going on a date?” Ryan asks, voice high and excited. “Really?”

“Really,” Eddie confirms with a chuckle. 

“Oh my gosh,” Luke gushes, his small hands coming up to run through his curls. “Yes!”

The obvious love and excitement these two have towards you only further solidifies an idea that has been floating around his head lately. That you and he were meant to be together. Eddie knew that his sons had a far better childhood than he had, but he could still see the struggles they had living with a mom who never cared like she should. Eddie tried to make up for it, but there’s only so much one parent can take on from the other. He’d wonder if it was some bad karma of his that his kids didn’t get to have the happy little family that Eddie always dreamed of. But now there’s you. And all three Munson men adore you to the moon and back. And what's crazier to Eddie is that you love him back just as much. The boys? Sure, they’re easy to love. But you love three of them as a whole. Eddie can’t wait to tell you how they reacted to this news.

“You guys are happy about this, I take it?” Eddie asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan says, launching himself out of his chair and wrapping his arms around his dad’s waist. 

Eddie lets out an oof as the weight of his son knocks him back a step. But he’s quickly returning the hug.

“Our super-secret plan worked!” Luke says.

Raising his eyebrows, Eddie turns his head to look at his youngest son. 

“Secret?!”

“Okay, how about this?” You hold up a little black dress for your roommate to inspect. 

Jess tilts her head in consideration. “Too clubby,” she determines, and you roll your eyes with a dejected sigh. “Think…romantic but sexy.”

“Fine,” you grumble, rummaging through your closet. “Does this one pass the test?” You show her a floral lilac dress with a small slit up the side. 

“Perfect!” Jess determines, grinning as she grabs a pair of strappy wedges from the closet floor. “Wear these with that, and he’ll be putty in your hands.” She pauses. “Actually, he basically already is. But, still, you’re gonna look hot.”

Your cheeks burn at the compliment, as well as the thought of Eddie turning into mush when he sees you. “Yeah, yeah. Let me get dressed; this show ain’t free.”

“It is for Eddie!” she trills, but leaves and closes the door behind her. 

You finish applying your makeup just as Eddie rings the buzzer. “Jess, I’ll be back later!” you call out. “Thanks again for the wardrobe help.”

“No problem! Hope you get laid!”

Same, you think, opening the door to find your handsome date standing in front of you. “Wow,” you breathe out. He’s wearing a dark green button-down shirt, black slacks, and his signature leather jacket. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. Your palms become slick with nervous perspiration at the mere sight of him. 

“Wow, yourself,” Eddie smiles, pulling you in by your waist and kissing your lips. It starts off gentle, but he gradually deepens it, grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze. “If we don’t leave now, I’m not gonna let you leave the bedroom,” he growls in your ear, punctuating his statement with a quick smack to the soft flesh of your bottom. 

“Let’s get going, then,” you say, grabbing his hand and leading him to the car. 

You’re filled with anticipation; the secrecy of the evening is driving you insane. “How long until we’re at this mystery location?” you ask, trying to keep your eagerness at bay. 

“Soon.”

“Okay, but what’s ‘soon’?” you press. “Like, five minutes? Half an hour?”

Eddie chuckles. “Jesus, you sound like Luke.”

Your jaw drops and you cross your arms over your chest. “Did you just compare me to your five-year-old son?”

“Are we there yet?” Eddie exaggeratedly mimics in a high-pitched voice. 

“I do not sound like that!” you protest through your giggles. 

“I do not sound like that!” he echoes, keeping the obnoxious tone. 

“Now who’s acting like a five-year-old?” you retort, laughing as he scoffs at you, putting your mind at ease. It’s Eddie, your Eddie, and no matter what he’s planned, you know it’ll just make you fall further in love with him. 

Eventually, Eddie pulls onto a highway, and you head in a direction you’re unfamiliar with. All it does is make you even more curious, but you know that Eddie isn’t going to be answering any questions. As if it’s his way of telling you not to say anything, he turns on the radio and fiddles with a dial until he comes to a song he likes. His hand doesn’t go back on the wheel, though. He reaches over and takes one of your hands into his own. Butterfly wings stir inside of you as he brings the back of your hand up to his lips. After pressing a few kisses to the skin there, he laces his fingers with yours and rests them comfortably on the center console between you. 

It feels like forever until you reach your destination. According to the clock on the truck’s dash, it was just under half an hour, though. Gentleman as always, Eddie comes around to your door to open it for you. He even offers his hand to you to help you out of the car. Once he’s shut the door behind you, he doesn’t let go of your hand again. Honestly, it wouldn’t bother you if he never let it go. 

The parking lot of this mystery date spot is pretty crowded on this Friday night. As the two of you get closer, you inspect the large red brick building. It’s old enough looking to be charming, but not derelict or decrepit. Green foliage adorns the outsides, a few benches every couple of feet—mostly occupied at the moment. The other people you see are dressed at the same level as both you and Eddie so the little worry that you’d be over or under-dressed finally fades away. 

Above the front door, there’s a white and gold sign that says “Scott & Ollo’s.” Eddie holds the heavy brown door open for you and, regrettably, you have to let go of his hand to step inside. You don’t have to go long without his touch, however, as he steps up behind you as soon as you both enter, his hands resting lightly on your waist. The first thing that you register is the music. It’s loud—not overbearingly so, but enough where you can tell its live music instead of a recording being played over the PA system. Next, you take in the waiters in their all black attire that are buzzing between tables covered in white tablecloths and an array of foods—that smell delicious, you also notice.

“Hello,” the hostess greets you and Eddie as you walk up to her podium.

“Hi,” Eddie says, keeping one hand on your waist as he speaks to her. “Should have a reservation for two. Under the name ‘Munson.’”

Your eyes are flitting around the space and Eddie watches you with a fond smile on his face as the hostess searches for his name. 

“Ah, here we are. Right this way, please,” the hostess says. 

Eddie once again laces your fingers together and guides the two of you through the decently filled restaurant. As you walk, you notice that the restaurant is arranged in a circular fashion, and that people at the tables keep looking in towards the center of the room. You try to crane your neck to see around some of the patrons, but you’re unable to see what they see. The hostess leads you down a few steps that lead down to another landing where tables are laid out. From here, it’s easier to see what has everyone’s attention. The middle of the restaurant has a live band playing and a dance floor that a few couples currently occupy. 

“Here you are,” the hostess says as she presents your table. She sets a menu down at each place setting as Eddie waits for you to sit in your seat so he can push it in for you. “Your waiter will be Harris and he’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you,” you say before she steps away. Now seated, you let your eyes take in everything a little bit more. The small lanterns on the middle of every table, some women looking longingly at the dance floor while the men they’re with look terrified of it. At the grand chandelier that hangs over the whole space, the crystals on it reflecting the light all around. “Eddie, this place is beautiful. Where did you find it?”

“A buddy of mine from high school proposed to his girlfriend here. I’ve never been but they both said it was incredible. So far, they’re right.”

“And are you actually going to dance with me?” you ask with a small giggle as you pick up your menu. 

“Getting to hold you close to my body while we listen to slow music? Hell yeah.”

You shake your head fondly at how unromantic he makes it sound; but you know that’s just him messing around. There’s no way he would’ve chosen this place to go if he didn’t want to have a romantic evening and dance with you. 

“Should we get some wine?” Eddie asks. 

“Sure, but you’ll have to order it.”

“Why would—oh, right,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “Sometimes I forget your age.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” you ask.

“I don’t really think of it one way or the other. You’re just…you. My person. Not my person who is twelve years younger than me, just my person.”

His words have your heart picking up speed, and it’s quickly pumping heat up towards your face. His person. It felt not too long ago you could only dream about Eddie ever saying that to you. 

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and you look up to see what’s so funny. But he’s just smiling at you.

“What?” you ask.

“You haven’t stopped smiling since we walked in the door,” Eddie says. You hadn’t noticed, honestly. But now that he points it out, you can feel the tightness in your cheek muscles at the long-held grin.

“You just make me really happy,” you tell him, love practically radiating out of your every pore. Eddie sets his menu down and reaches across the table to take both of your hands in his own.

“Baby, you’re it for me. Always. Don’t forget that, okay?”

The only response you can give is a nod, as you feel the emotion welling up behind your eyes. After taking a moment and clearing your throat, you think you’re able to speak.

“You’re my forever.”

Harris comes and takes your orders: Eddie gets a New York strip, medium rare, and you choose the chicken florentine. They’re delivered on intricately garnished plates; so beautiful that you’re almost afraid to eat. 

“Been awhile since I’ve been to a restaurant that didn’t serve a Happy Meal,” he jokes, dragging his knife through the tender cut of meat. 

“At least you have your kids as an excuse,” you tease him. “Before that, you were just a grown man eating a very tiny pouch of fries.”

Eddie laughs, popping a bite of the steak into his mouth. “Speaking of those two,” he starts, “I told them.” About us, is what he doesn’t say, but he doesn’t have to. 

You offer him a nervous glance. “What…were they okay with it?”

“Oh, yeah. They were only upset that you weren’t watching them until I told them that you were my date.” He chuckles at the memory of their excited little faces, leaning in to add, “and did you know that their ploy to get us together was a secret?”

Clapping a hand over your mouth to keep your giggles from escaping, you widen your eyes. “I think we can cross ‘CIA agent’ off of their list of future career choices.”

“And professional poker player,” he agrees, running his thumb across the back of your hand. “But I really can’t believe my luck. Y’know, how much they love you, and how much you love them.”

“Of course I do,” you tell him. “Even if you and I weren’t together, I’d adore your boys. They’re great kids, Eddie. The best. Because of you.”

Eddie stands slightly to reach over and kiss your forehead. “I love you so fucking much,” he declares. Part of him wishes he had a ring so he could propose right now, make you his forever. 

Once you’ve finished eating, Eddie’s by your side and offering his hand. 

“May I have this dance?” he asks. He keeps his tone serious, but he waggles his eyebrows as he says it. 

“Such a gentleman,” you smile, placing your palm in his. You can feel every crease and callous, and you’re immediately overtaken with a sense of safety and belonging. “Of course you may.”

He leads you to the dance floor, taking you into his arms. Your left hand rests on his right bicep, and your right hand takes purchase in his left. His free hand is soon pressed to the small of your back so the two of you can sway impossibly close. 

The band plays the opening chords of “Something,” by The Beatles, and your face lights up with joy. 

“I love this song,” you tell him, adjusting your stance so your left hand can travel to the nape of his neck. 

Without missing a beat, Eddie says, “I’ll learn how to play it for you.” Shit, he thinks, I’d go home and figure out the chords right now if I wasn’t on the best date of my life.

You’re not totally convinced, tilting your head in disbelief. “Even though it’s not metal?”

“Only for you, my love.” His response is sincere, and you rest your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. If you had to take bets, you’d guess that yours was beating in perfect tandem. 

After you’ve finished dancing, you both agree that you’ve worked off some of your delicious dinner and have room to split a decadent dessert. You settle on a piece of cheesecake with cherry topping and Harris serves it to you with two forks. Eddie tuts you when you go to take the first forkful, but when you look at him in confusion, he spears a generous bite of the dessert and holds it up to your lips. A bubbly feeling floats through your body as you open your mouth and accept it from him. It’s amazing how the littlest things Eddie does give you full body reactions. 

Once the cheesecake is devoured and the bill is paid (which Eddie snatched up the moment it hit the table cloth), Eddie offers you his hand and you walk out of the restaurant and into the chilly evening. There are no clouds in the sky, revealing the black canvas dotted with tiny diamond stars and a luminescent moon. You’re so busy taking in the view, you didn’t even realize Eddie shrugged out of his leather jacket until he’s draping it over your shoulders. It’s pure instinct to clutch it tighter around you, wanting Eddie’s scent and essence as close as can be. 

The band can still be heard outside, muffled, but clear enough to tell that they just started playing Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” The two of you are approaching the first row of cars in the parking lot when Eddie tugs on your hand, pulling you to a stop next to him. Before you get the chance to open your mouth and ask what’s wrong, Eddie wraps one arm around your waist and tugs you up against his chest. He takes your left hand in his right and laces your fingers together as he begins to sway from side to side.

“Wanted one more dance with my girl tonight,” Eddie mumbles, giving you a warm smile. 

“Dancing in the moonlight? Who knew you were such a romantic, Munson,” you tease. He leans in and nips at your earlobe, causing you to giggle. 

“You would’ve thought you’d caught on by now,” Eddie retorts, giving your hand a light squeeze. Letting your eyes slip closed, you lean in and rest your head against the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. 

“This is perfect,” you say, tone dreamy and light. 

“You’re the best dance partner I ever had, Sweetheart.”

The words bring a smile to your face, and you press a light kiss against Eddie’s throat before looking up at him. “Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Course baby,” he replies, his hand that’s on the small of your back tracing patterns over the material of your dress. “You can tell me anything.”

You pick your head up and look at him from beneath your eyelashes. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

That’s all Eddie needs to hear before he’s taking you by the hand and tugging you to the car. 

“Slow down; I’m in heels!”you protest between giggles, but Eddie is not about to waste precious seconds that could be spent inside you. 

You assume he’s going to drive home as fast as he can, which is why you’re more than confused when he opens the back door instead of the front. He slides in and pats his lap with a mischievous grin. 

“In your car?” you balk teasingly, already ducking into the vehicle and draping a leg over his. “Eddie Munson, you’re a little horndog.”

He doesn’t deny it; he simply closes the door and bunches your dress to your hips. You certainly weren’t lying: there are no panties to be found. He inhales sharply at your perfect pussy on display like this for him, and his burgeoning erection twitches behind his fly. “Fuckin…holy shit,” he manages, letting his middle finger graze your glistening folds. “And already wet f’me, hm? Was it my dance moves?” He gently bites your earlobe, and you shiver at the sensation. 

“Was…just you, baby,” you breathe, bringing your lips to his neck and trailing kisses along the side. His hands grip your bare ass, and you use the leverage to grind against the seam of his pants. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Eddie fumbles with his belt buckle, finally unfastening it with a relieved sigh. “‘S you. So fucking gorgeous, and all mine.” He whimpers when your fingers brush up against the outline of his cock while you unbutton his pants and tug down his zipper. “Tell me ‘m yours, please, baby.”

“You’re mine,” you whisper in his ear, taking in the new sensation of his cotton boxers on your throbbing clit and rubbing yourself against it needily. “All mine, only mine.”

Instinctively, Eddie finds your hole and slips a finger inside. “Bounce on it,” he instructs, pouting when you shake your head. “Whas’ wrong?” Shit, he thinks, was car sex a bad idea?

But you chase away his worries when you tell him, “Need more. Another finger. You’re too big for just one, Eddie.”

He happily obliges, making you feel full in the second-best way he knows how. With that, you take what you need, holding onto his shoulders as your pussy grips his thick fingers. He’s plunging them in and out of you as you ride them, the two of you working in perfect tandem to bring you to your release. 

Eddie knows every last inch of your body like the back of his hand, and he curls his fingers slightly to drive you over the edge. 

“F-Fuck, ‘m coming!” you moan, and it must be louder than you realize, because Eddie laughs and lets out a sshh. 

“You’re gonna get us caught, pretty thing,” he warns you, but he doesn’t slow his pace. “I’ll have to tell the cops that I just couldn’t help myself; ya looked too damn gorgeous tonight. Had to be inside you.”

The thrill of being discovered has your orgasm crashing over you, and you cry out Eddie’s name as it hits. He removes his fingers from your pussy, popping them in his mouth and swirling his tongue around to lap up your slick. It’s enough to nearly make you cum again. 

“Gotta feel you,” he mutters, taking his cock out of his boxers and into his hand. Pre-cum leaks from the tip, and if you had more room, you’d lean down to lick it off. “Gotta feel you around my dick, sweet girl.”

“Mhm,” you squeak out, aligning yourself over his length and sinking onto it. Inch by inch, you take him inside you as he stretches you in the most delicious way. The thick vein that runs from base to tip is heaven against your walls, and you steal a second to just feel him before you start moving. 

His hands grasp your waist, sinking into the plush of your ass as he helps you ride him. “Thas’ perfect,” he growls, nodding as you bounce on his cock. “You make me feel so damn good. We were made for each other, I fuckin’ swear.”

The tempo is slow at first as you ease into it, trying to balance the fullness within you and the newest setting for your trysts. Gradually, you pick up a bit of speed, and he matches it, balls slapping against you. 

“I love you,” you tell him, adding the promise of, “I’ll always love you.” You brush his hair from his face and kiss him passionately, tongue brushing his. When he pulls away for a breath, he gives your lower lip a little bite. 

“I’ll always love you,” he swears. “Always, always, always.”

You can feel how close he is, and you’re right there with him, so you pull the trigger. “Prove it,” you murmur. “Fuck me so full that your cum drips out of me. Or maybe I’ll keep it inside me and get nice and knocked up for you.”

A string of swear words leaves his lips as he spills into you. “Oh, fuck yes, holy fuckin’ shit. Wanna get you pregnant, y’gonna look s’good havin’ my babies.” He presses his hands into the plush of your thighs. “Cream my cock, baby. Show me who makes you cum.”

Just a few more bounces is all it takes for you to cum again, flopping against his chest as you take big, heaving breaths. 

“Can’t believe I scored on the first date,” Eddie jokes, and you bite his shoulder in retaliation. “Ow!” He rubs the spot dramatically. “C’mon, baby. Let’s get home, yeah?”

“Don’t wanna move,” you mumble, smiling as Eddie chuckles and kisses your scalp. 

“Faster we get home, faster we can fuck on a nice, cozy bed,” he murmurs, trailing a fingernail up and down your arm. “And I can go down on you like a goddamn gentleman.”

The next morning, you’re barely awake and pouring yourself a cup of coffee in the kitchen when two rambunctious boys burst in.

“You’re here!” Luke cheers—which sounds more like shouting, this early in the morning. You and Eddie had talked about how it might look having you in the house when the boys woke up. But you figured they wouldn’t ask questions, and if they did, Eddie was ready to provide a long explanation on how something was broken in your car, and he couldn’t work on it while it was dark outside. 

“Hi,” you say, voice still groggy from sleep. You shuffle over to the table and take a seat. A Munson boy takes a seat on each side of you, and you let out a chuckle. “Can I help you?”

“How was it?” Ryan asks.

Shrugging your shoulders, you bring the Garfield coffee mug up to your lips and take a sip. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Oh, come on!” Luke whines. It’s hard not to smile and play it cool, so you just take another sip of your coffee.

“What is all the racket?” Eddie walks into the kitchen, the palm of his hand rubbing at his right eye. He’s wearing blue plaid pajama pants hung low on his hips and nothing else. You know there’s nothing beneath them because you watched him put them on as he rolled out of bed. He had tossed you a pair of his sweatpants to put on since you’d only been wearing a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts. 

“Daddy!” Luke calls, making Eddie wince at his volume. 

“Take it down a few notches, kid.” Eddie ruffles his youngest son’s curls before walking over to pour himself a cup of coffee. 

“How was the date?” Ryan asks, eyes looking back and forth between you and Eddie. 

“Date?” Eddie asks. He walks over and takes a seat at the table before taking a casual sip from his mug. “Did someone go on a date last night?”

“Luke, you had a date?” you tease, poking him in the ribs. He gives an overdramatic roll of his eyes and runs his hands down his face.

“No! You two did!” he says.

“Oh, that’s right,” Eddie says, looking at you now. “I do remember seeing you at a restaurant last night.”

“You guys are the worst,” Ryan sighs, slumping down in his seat. It makes both you and Eddie chuckle. 

“It was a wonderful date,” you tell them, deciding to end their misery. Now that they sense they’re going to get some answers, the boys are very alert and paying attention. It reminds you of how your childhood dog would react when you asked her if she wanted a treat. 

“Was Daddy a gentleman?” Ryan asks. Eddie scoffs, as if insulted by the insinuation that he would be anything but. 

“Of course he was.” 

“What did you eat?” Luke asks. Leave it to him to ask about the food.

“I had steak,” Eddie says. “And…other things.”

Heat comes to your cheeks at the way he eyes you over the brim of his coffee cup. Giving him a light kick under the table knocks the smug smirk off his face, though. 

“Like potatoes,” Eddie says, though you expect it’s more to appease you than anything. 

“Ryan said I look like a potato,” Luke adds. 

Coffee almost shoots out of your nose, and you have to quickly cover your mouth so you don’t spray the table with joe and creamer. This was life with the Munson men. Unpredictably hilarious and quite honestly the best thing you’ve ever had in your life. 

“You don’t look like a potato,” Eddie responds.

“He did as a baby!” Ryan rebuts. 

Eddie rubs his thumb and index finger over his eyebrows as he lets out a sigh. “It’s too early for this,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Are you going out again?” Ryan asks, and you’re thankful for the subject turning back on track. 

“I don’t know,” you muse, tapping your fingernails against the porcelain mug. Both Ryan and Luke frown at your response. “I haven’t been asked yet.”

“Daddy, ask her!” Luke chides. 

“Pretty sure I did ask,” Eddie says, raising an eyebrow at you. You know what he’s referring to, but panting out “fuck, when can we do this again?” while you’ve got his dick down your throat doesn’t count. 

“Did you? When?” You smirk at him, backing him into a corner. Now he has no choice but to ask you properly. Eddie’s eyes narrow at you, and you can practically hear him saying you’ll pay for this later. 

“Fine,” he grunts. He takes another sip of coffee before setting the mug down and clearing his throat. “My darling, would you like to go out with me again?”

It feels so infinitesimal to be asking for a second date. This is something teenagers do in high school, not adults with someone whose body you’ve already memorized or when you’ve already declared you’ll love them forever. But it makes the boys happy to hear and he does want to take you out again. 

“I would be honored.”

Your reply still causes Eddie to break out in a beaming smile and reach across the table for your hand. Happily, you lace your fingers with his and don’t even notice the two boys watching with glee. 

“Can we come?” Luke asks.

“Luke,” Ryan groans, “that’s not a date, then.”

“Did you kiss?” Luke asks, ignoring his older brother. Suddenly, Ryan is leaning on the table, eager to hear the answer as well. You see the heat you feel in your face reflected in the pink of Eddie’s cheeks.

“Boys—” Eddie starts before being interrupted by both of them whining.

“Daaaaad!”

“Come on!”

Trying to stifle your giggle, you give Eddie a nod to let him know it’s okay with you if he tells them. Receiving your signal, Eddie nods his own head in reply and shifts in his seat.

“Yes, we kissed.”

Both boys cheer; Ryan throwing his arms in the air and Luke dancing in his seat. You laugh in amusement as you watch them. The fact that they’re almost as happy as you are about you and Eddie being together warms your heart in a way that’s new. It feels as if a new compartment of your heart has been unlocked and all of this love is flooding into it. 

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, trying to calm the boys back down—even if he’s still grinning himself. “We’re all going to the Harrington’s today, so after breakfast I want you both to get dressed.”

“Uncle Steve’s?” Luke asks. “Why?”

“For a play date.” Eddie shrugs and rises from his seat. “More coffee?”

“Yes, please,” you tell him. He picks up your mug and presses a kiss to the top of your head. Neither boy misses the act of affection, and it feels like a surge of adrenaline spikes your blood. You’ve always been so careful not to let the boys know what’s going on between you—ever since that very first night. But now, getting to be so open about it, knowing they’re going to start seeing you as their dad’s girlfriend instead of their babysitter…it’s a lot. It’s not bad, but it’s a bit overwhelming. 

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat under their gazes. “You can play with Theo and Natalie for a while.”

It doesn’t escape your notice how Ryan flushes at the mention of Natalie’s name. You force yourself to bite back your smile but make a mental note to bring it up to Eddie later.

“Alright, Munson’s,” Eddie says as he places your coffee mug back down in front of you. “What do we want for breakfast?”

“Pancakes!” Luke says.

“Daddy burns those,” Ryan reminds him. 

“Good thing I’m here,” you say, standing up from your seat. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do that,” Eddie says, ghosting a hand against your waist. 

“I want to,” you tell him. “Sit.”

“No, let me help you at least.”

“Okay,” you agree. “Can you help me get everything I need together?”

“Course I can.”

Ryan nudges Luke across the table. The younger brother raises his eyebrows in question. Ryan nods his head in the direction of you and Eddie. Luke turns his head to see the two of you moving in tandem to get things out of the cabinets that you’ll need. You share passing words, gently touching or brushing up against one another as you work. It’s so domestic and comfortable for the two of you. But to Ryan and Luke, they’ve never seen something so peaceful. An activity as simple as making pancakes was a potentially explosive event in their lives up until now. It’s the first time both Ryan and Luke are realizing this is how it’s supposed to be. It’s meant to be, “can you pass me the flour?” instead of, “Jesus Christ, where did you put the goddamn pan?” like they’re used to.

The boys stay silent, just watching you and their dad help one another and him make you giggle. It’s possibly the warmest moment they’ve ever felt in this house. Ryan has the sudden urge to hug both of you, but he doesn’t want to interrupt the moment and have it stop. Luke watches in awe at the easy smiles you and Eddie give one another, never shooting the other a glare when they aren’t looking. It’s happy and it’s soft and it’s warm and tingly in a way he didn’t know existed. He’s never been so happy to have to wait for food to be made. 

“Luke,” Ryan whispers, never taking his eyes off of you two.

“What?” Luke’s gaze never falters either. 

“Daddy’s so happy.”

Luke nods enthusiastically. “And it’s all because of our super secret plan.”

Eddie rings the Harrington’s doorbell not once, not twice, but five times. 

“Will you stop that?” you snap, but a smile dances on your lips. “You’re like a child.”

Eddie doesn’t have the chance to retort before Steve swings open the door. “Munson and Munsonitos! And, uh,” he stammers when he gets to you, “Lady Munson?” he tries, nervous to see your reaction. 

Eddie wraps his arm around your waist. “Lady Munson, huh? Kinda like the sound of that.”

The four of you pile into the living room, and Steve encourages the boys to head into the family room where Natalie, Theo, and Danny are playing. “Amelia’s napping, but she’ll be awake and demanding Uncle Eddie cuddles soon,” he promises, laughing when Eddie huffs impatiently. 

Steve walks over to the old record player a little too nonchalantly, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “Let’s set a little mood music, shall we?”

Your boyfriend catches on before you do. “Nope, Harrington, no way. Absolutely n—”

Whoa oh oh oh oh oh oh

Whoa oh oh oh oh oh

Uptown girl

She’s been livin’ in her uptown world

“I hate you,” Eddie grumbles, but his eyes give away his true feelings. 

Steve doesn’t buy it, either. “Look at that shit-eating grin,” he teases. “You can’t even listen to this song without making eyes at her.”

“Harrington, I will throw all your hairspray in the dumpster if you don’t shut up.”

You’re spared from breaking up their ridiculous fight when Nancy comes in the room, twisting the cover onto a bottle. She waves you over, and you dutifully follow, not wanting to witness whatever nonsense the two men were about to engage in. 

When Steve realizes that there are no women around, he leans in and whispers to Eddie, “I told you, didn’t I? Came to your work and said you should be fucking the babysitter.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest and shakes his head. “Overachiever that you are, you went for the whole relationship.” 

“Overachiever, huh?” Eddie muses. “Never heard that one before.”

“I figured. She probably only says you’re not so tough, just because you’re in love with an—”

“HARRINGTON, I SWEAR TO GOD.”

You and Nancy can vaguely hear the end of Eddie shouting something at Steve, but you’re both in the playroom now and the kids drown them out. Ryan and Natalie are using an array of crayons and markers to create masterpieces that are surely destined to hang on the refrigerators of their respective houses. Luke, Danny, and Theo are playing with Legos and Hot Wheels. The three young boys try to make obstacles for the toy cars to overcome out of the small plastic blocks. 

“I can’t lie,” Nancy says as the two of you take a seat on the couch at the far end of the room. “Steve and I were really impressed by the way you handled Theo and Luke’s candy bar argument.”

The praise catches you off guard but brings on a smile so large that it hurts your cheeks. 

“Oh, um, thank you! It wasn’t anything major,” you tell her. The music playing in the other room suddenly switches off and Nancy lets out a melodious chuckle. 

“I told Steve not to play Billy Joel,” Nancy says with a shake of her head, “not unless he wanted Eddie to kick his…” she trails off as she looks at the kids, “…butt.”

You’re not sure what to say in reply to that. Nancy knows the friendship between the two men far better than you do, having over a decade more of experience with them. Anything you could think to add would be so generic or minuscule next to any of her anecdotes about them that it would be obvious you’re just trying to fill the silence that is becoming more awkward by the moment. But you need to say something. 

“So,” you start, Nancy’s full attention coming back to you at the sound of your voice. “You saw the Innocent Man tour? How was that?”

“Oh, wow.” Nancy blows out a breath and looks down at the floor as if she’s trying to conjure up the memories. “It was forever ago…but from what I remember, it was amazing. He just kept singing and singing.”

Just imagining that brings a smile to your face. 

“Sometimes, I like to just focus on the piano keys and drown out everything else. Helps me clear my head,” you explain. 

Nancy nods along. “I find myself doing that when I’m driving. If I ever play it at home, the voices of four children drown it out and it’s a little harder to clear my head.”

“You really are a great mom, though,” you tell her. “I can see how much your kids adore you.” 

“Thank you,” Nancy says, a bit of emotion snaking its way into her voice. “And having a partner like Steve is the best.”

As if the sound of his name being spoken somewhere in the house summons him, a loud commotion comes from the room you’d left the two men in.

“Munson, let go of my nipple!”

“Not until you apologize!”

You and Nancy share an amused glance before shrugging at one another. Ryan even hears the ruckus and looks in that direction. When he sees that neither you nor his aunt are reacting, he goes back to his drawing. 

“Well, most of the time he’s the best,” Nancy says. 

The clock is ticking until Eddie and Steve come back in the room, but there’s something you feel the need to get off your chest while it’s just you two women there. 

“I have to be honest with you, Nancy,” you start. “I was so intimidated by you. Like, almost scared of you.”

“Of me?” Nancy asks, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” you say with a huff of laughter. “I mean, just meeting you at Ryan’s birthday I could tell how sophisticated and intelligent you are. And then when Eddie talks about you — because as I’m sure you know, he loves talking about his friends — I heard how well accomplished you are and all that you’ve achieved and while being a mother of four. It’s beyond impressive.”

“That’s really sweet, actually.” Nancy gives you a shy smile and a touch of pink coats her sharp cheekbones. “But I promise, I’m a nice person. There’s no need to be afraid of me.”

For the rest of what you have to say, you find it harder to look Nancy in the eye as you speak. Your hands fiddle with a loose thread on your jeans as you cautiously glance back and forth from your thigh to the woman sitting next to you. 

“Plus,” you say before you can lose your nerve. “I know how I look from an outsider’s perspective.” You risk a glance over at the kids, and even though they’re busy playing, you still lower your voice. “Young babysitter starts working for a family and then the parents are separating and I…ya know. With an older man. I know what people are going to assume when they look at me. And I don’t care, I really don’t, because I love him. And he loves me. But I care what the people in Eddie’s life think. What his family and friends think. Of me.”

Nancy lets out a sigh and there’s a sympathetic look in her eye as she nods her head. 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have some of those thoughts when I first found out about you two,” she confesses. “Not long, but longer than I’d like to admit. But you know what I said to Steve once we got home? That if you’re the light that lit a fire under Eddie’s ass to get him to dump Brittany, then thank God.” 

Questions you want to ask Nancy about Brittany fly into your head in rapid succession. It doesn’t sound like the two of them were close. Does everyone hate her? It’s not hard to believe at all, but you’d love to hear it from a perspective other than Eddie’s. But between not wanting to look like a gossiper and the fact that the guys make their way into the room, you keep your mouth shut. 

Nancy must share this sentiment, and possibly doesn’t want to discuss Brittany much in front of the kids, because she changes the subject as the men settle into seats around you.

“You’re in school, right?” Nancy asks you.

“I am,” you reply. “Finishing up my basic education courses.”

“Do you know what you want to do once you graduate?”

“Not a clue,” you admit with a sigh. “Right now, I’m really enjoying babysitting.”

“The kids love you,” Nancy gushes, leaning forward and resting her hand on your arm. “Not just Luke and Ryan—Natalie and Theo couldn’t stop talking about you, either.”

A sense of pride swells in your chest and you can’t help the bashful smile that grows on your lips.

“They’re all such great kids,” you say. 

“Would you happen to have time to add the four great Harrington kids to your schedule?”

Having Nancy ask you that question makes you feel about fifty pounds lighter. Not only is she acknowledging you as part of Eddie’s life, but also has enough trust and faith in you to watch her children. The acceptance by her, Steve, and the kids makes you more emotional than you would’ve thought. It takes a moment for you to compose yourself to answer without your voice trembling.

“Of course!”

Your shoulders sag in relief and you hear a familiar tune being hummed behind you. Turning in your spot to look behind you, you see Steve perched on the back of the couch, a smug smile on his face. It takes your brain a moment to realize it’s Uptown Girl that he’s humming. Letting out an overly dramatic irritated groan, Eddie lunges at Steve, who shrieks and covers his chest.

“Stay away from my nipples, Munson!”

Nancy sighs and shakes her head.

“Would you look at that? There’s two more kids I didn’t account for.”

[britany1997]

Fate Yields For No One

Chapter Four

Were you wondering what the boys were doing while reader and Maria were bonding at the video store those two weeks? Wonder no more! Here’s what they were up to lol

I strongly recommend going back to at least read chapter 3 before reading this one, as some of the scenes will be the same, but from Paul’s perspective:)

Poly Lost Boys x Max’s Daughter Reader

FYFNO Masterlist

California, 1986

Paul’s eyes widened as he realized who you were to him. You wished you could have stopped the word that fell from his lips.

“Mine.”

Paul stared at you, his eyes raking up and down, taking you in. God you were beautiful, the others would love you. As his shock wore off, Paul felt a giddy feeling bubbling in his chest.

He had a million questions to ask you. Your favorite food, your favorite color, your favorite band. Paul had to know anything and everything. (Even if you liked Tiffany or something, he could get over it…eventually.)

As your lips parted, Paul prepared himself to be enchanted by whatever honeyed words you’d speak to him. He reached forward to caress your cheek.

Instead of leaning into the touch as he’d expected you to, you recoiled. His brow furrowed.

“Oh my god I totally forgot I have to go stock things in the back, so nice to meet you, bye!” He heard you blurt out before you moved away from him.

There were few times in Paul’s life when he was actually rendered speechless. This was one of them.

Paul’s brow furrowed, “what?” He whispered as he moved to stand in front of the desk’s swinging door you’d been headed for. Surely he’d misunderstood (wouldn’t be the first time), you had to at least talk this out.

He watched your face twist into a glare, “you’re in my way…” you bit out at him.

Paul’s confusion turned to frustration. “What?!” He repeated, “but we’re…I mean we-” he stumbled over his words, desperate and utterly flabbergasted.

“I know what we are,” you told him, “and I don’t care. So can you please move aside so I can do my job?”

Paul’s jaw dropped.

You…didn’t want him? Didn’t want a mate? Someone who’d love you unconditionally for eternity? Who’d do anything for you? God what was wrong with you?

He stumbled a bit as you pushed past him. “Hey!” He called after you, his ego more bruised than it’d ever been.

“This isn’t over you know,” he promised, resolved to win your heart, even if he had to recruit some…reinforcements.

You scoffed, oblivious to Paul’s plotting. “Seems like it is,” you replied before slipping into the back of the video store.

“What the fuck just happened,” Paul murmured to himself as he rubbed his forehead.

Maria whistled “tough break Paulie.” She bumped him with her hip before she went back to returning DVDs.

Paul scoffed. She didn’t know the half of it. “I gotta go Maria,” he muttered, stalking off with his tail between his legs.

She snickered softly as she watched him go.

Paul shook his head, he was gonna be in for one long conversation when he got back to the cave.

Paul slunk across the boardwalk, hands in his pockets, as he made his way back to his bike.

His head nodded along to the beat of the music playing over the speakers. Paul started to tap out a four count on his thigh as he walked and hummed.

“Are you going to that bonfire Friday?” “I dunno, is Jason gonna be there?” “Ugh, probably” Paul huffed a laugh as he eavesdropped on the vapid boardwalk talk.

A bonfire on Friday did sound fun though. Should he and the guys throw a party? Who would they even invite? Maria? Maria, who worked at the video store with his new mate. He sighed. What a mess.

As he walked, his mind wandered to her pretty face. He wished she would have let him touch her. She looked so soft. He just wanted to hold her. He could be gentle!

He huffed.

Didn’t she realize he was hers? Didn’t she know he’d do anything for her? He’d be anything she needed? He’d probably even cut his hair for her if she asked. As long as she let him hold a memorial service after.

She was pretty, and soft (probably), witty and fiery, and she was right there at the video shop and she didn’t even want him. How fucked was that.

Paul frowned as he finally reached his bike, looking back over his shoulder in the shop’s direction. It’d been a while since he’d felt that hollow longing feeling of being alone.

But he wasn’t alone, not anymore. And whatever had happened back there, he and his boys were gonna fix it, he knew they would.

Paul revved his engine with renewed determination. ‘Just wait pretty girl,’ he thought, ‘cause we’re comin back for ya’

When Paul arrived at the cave, each of the boys were too immersed in their own activities to notice.

On the couch, Dwayne was two-hundred and twelve pages into his thirty-first reread of Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov and from the way Dwayne was hunched over the book, quite literally on the edge of his seat with his brow furrowed, Paul could tell it was just starting to get good.

Though Paul could barely think over the harsh whirring sound of Marko’s sewing machine. He’d been occupied with making patch-work vests and skirts lately to expand his wardrobe. And while Paul appreciated having some extra pieces around he could borrow, after weeks of hyper fixated, non-stop sewing, the sound was worse than nails on a chalkboard.

David’s constant foot tapping didn’t help either. He was perched in his wheelchair throne, seemingly reviewing some ancient documents. By the way he was squinting and underlying, it seemed to be pretty important stuff.

But none of this was as important as what Paul had to tell them. He cleared his throat pointedly.

The whirring of the sewing machine slowed before coming to a stop, Dwayne looked up from his book expectantly, and a little annoyed, David continued his work, ignoring Paul entirely. “I’m calling a meeting,” Paul stated confidently.

“You don’t have the authority to call a meeting,” David said without looking up from his papers, “only Dwayne and I do.”

Paul wondered if he could explode David with his mind if he tried hard enough. How would he know if he never tried?

“Well it’s an emergency,” Paul gritted.

David met Paul’s frustration with a mocking pout. “Dealer’s out of the good stuff again Paulie? Tragic.” He turned back to his papers.

Dwayne seemed to sense Paul’s desperation, “what’s wrong Paul?” he asked.

“I have another mate,” he said hesitantly, “which means that you guys probably do to.”

David stilled at the same time Marko gasped, the curly haired vampires lips curling up into a bright smile.

“What are they like? Are they nice? Are they funny? Are they hot?” The shorter vamp bombarded Paul with questions, making him cringe.

Dwayne frowned, “Paul…” he began gently, “why aren’t they here with you?”

A broken look crossed Paul’s face, “she…doesn’t want me.”

Marko’s excitement was extinguished as he came to Paul’s side, lacing their fingers together. Dwayne softened, quietly reflecting on Paul’s words. David frowned.

“What do you mean she doesn’t want you?” he narrowed his eyes.

“Exactly what I said dude,” Paul strained, “she said she didn’t care!”

David leaned back, unconvinced. “Tell us exactly what happened, start to finish.”

Paul nodded and painfully recounted every moment from the excitement of meeting you, to the pain of watching you leave as he picked up his jaw from the floor.

David stroked his chin, “are you sure she’s a vampire? Human mates are rare, but they’re not unheard of,” he mused.

Paul scoffed, “duh she’s a vampire! She said, ‘I know what we are, and I don’t care.’ How would she know we were mates if she wasn’t a vampire?” He threw his hands up in frustration.

“Did she say, ‘I know what we are,’ or did she say, ‘I know what you are,’” Dwayne chimed in.

Paul scratched his head, what did she say? He’d been talking about what they were, but had she? He couldn’t quite remember. “She could have been saying ‘I know what you are,’” he decided.

David’s hands clapped together, “so she’s human, but she knows we’re vampires, or at least that you are Paul. Unsurprising, you and Marko have the combined subtlety of an airhorn at the opera,” Paul rolled his eyes. “That’s an easy enough fix,” David reasoned.

“Makes more sense too,” Marko added. “If she ran off, it was probably because she was scared. If I was a human I wouldn’t wanna fuck around with us to get bit either.”

“Why don’t we give her some time,” Dwayne suggested, “prove we’re not going to rush into the video store and drag her out to hurt her or anything. We could give her some space to calm down from her confrontation with Paul, and then we can all go meet her together.”

The boys nodded slowly, considering Dwayne’s plan.

“And,” Dwayne added, “if she’s human, we all need to be on our absolutely best behavior,” he shot a pointed glance at David.

David rolled his eyes, “I’d teach her to be on her best behavior,” he mumbled.

Dwayne sighed. “Let’s just give it two weeks, then we’ll go check in on her,” he paused his voice taking on a gentle tone once more, “I think we could all take some time to cool off.”

Paul tensed at that last part, but he knew Dwayne was right. You were a human and you didn’t understand. You couldn’t! They’d have to show you, go slow, ease you into things, be gentle…you were basically made of glass after all.

He sighed, ‘two weeks,’ he thought, ‘I can do two weeks.’

He could not do two weeks.

Not gracefully at least.

By the end of those two weeks, Paul was practically feral. The second the Sun began to fade into the horizon, Paul was awake and attempting to drag David out of the cave.

As eager to meet you as they were, the boys had grown tired of Paul’s impatience.

Dwayne’s evenings consistently began and ended with “has it been two weeks yet?” The dark haired vampire had come so close to just buying Paul a damn calendar.

Marko had had to stick to Paul like glue to stop him from wandering off to the video store every night. On two unfortunate occasions, Marko AND David had to drag him back to the cave to stop him was barging in to talk to you. Paul was like a dog with a bone when he wanted something, and he wanted you bad.

But Dwayne has assured him last night that today was the day, and Paul was chomping at the bit. “Let’s go,” he groaned, annoyed and excited.

“Paul.” Dwayne chastised.

“Dwayne.” Paul mocked.

“Paul,” it was too early for this shit. “I know you want to see her, we all do,” Dwayne reminded him. “But I think we should wait until closing.”

“What?!” Paul huffed, “I’ve been waiting two weeks! Now we gotta wait longer? No way man!”

“Paul listen,” David groaned, “we can’t have a long, intensive conversation with her about vampire mates with random human customers running around, get it? It’s a private conversation.”

Marko nodded in agreement, “it’s doesn’t seem fair to drop all of that on her while she’s still at work either,” he added, “it’s better if we get ‘er as she’s leaving.”

Paul rolled his eyes, “whatever, I bet Fishy’s on my side.” He grumbled as he stalked off to his room.

“You think we should invest in one of those backpack leashes for him?” Marko asked, only half joking.

David scoffed a laugh, “don’t tempt me.”

When closing time finally came, Paul’s eagerness had wavered. What if they explained everything and you still weren’t on board? Humans had tons of reasons to fear vampires after all, you might want nothing to do with them.

He shuddered at the thought.

He looked to his left to see Marko biting his thumb, equally nervous.

“A human mate,” he muttered under his breath, “what are the odds.”

David rolled his eyes, “if she’s a human I can use my thrall, why are you idiots so worried.”

Paul and Marko shot him dirty looks, but Dwayne placed a hand on his shoulder. As tough as David liked to pretend to be sometimes, Dwayne knew he was nervous too.

“No use waiting any longer,” the dark haired vampire reasoned, “c’mon.”

Dwayne lead the way, pushing the door to the video store open and letting the bell ring softly as the other boys filed in behind him.

The vampires maneuvered to the desk together, passing through aisles they’d walked through a million times over.

The silence was deafening as the boys’ thoughts whirled with what they’d say to you. How they’d explain the significance of vampire mates to a mere human.

Dwayne sighed, they probably had nothing to worry about. Even as a human, there’d still be a pull for you. And he could work with a pull, no matter how small.

He’d show you, he decided. Show you how amazing it could be to be cared for, to be protected. He’d treat you like a princess, he’d worship you if you let him.

God you must be his if he was already thinking this way. The tug at his heart grew stronger and strongernwith every step. If you only knew the effect you had on him, on them all. If you only knew you could have him wrapped around your finger.

When the boys finally reached the front desk, Dwayne’s musings were shattered by the vision of your tongue down Maria’s throat.

He watched as David’s jaw dropped when he was met with the sight of one of your hands tangled in Maria’s curly locks, the other caressing her hip.

He’d felt it, and by the looks of it, David and Marko had too. You were theirs, but you were tangled in Maria’s embrace.

The boys were too stunned to speak.

Until Paul abruptly broke the silence with a resounding “what the fuck.”

FYFNO Taglist❤️:

(Let me know if you’d like to be added to my list for this fic, or to my main list)

@6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @ghoulgeousimmaculate @crustyboypix @anna1306 @arenpath @arbesa-mind @bookworm551 @chiefdirector @dwaynedelight @dwaynesluscioushair @sad-ghost-of-garbage @its-freaking-bats @kurt-nightcrawler @ria-coolgirl @solobagginses @vampirefilmlover @vxarak @mickkmaiden333 @bitchyexpertprincess @lostboys1987girl @f4iryfxies @bloodywickedvamp @softchonk @walmart-cereal @warrior-616 @katerinaval @memphiscity69 @rynsfandomsfun @fraudfrog @ghostedghostie @welcome-to-the-hole @people-are-strange-87 @blenna3967 @drascilla @jezabella8 @gothamslostboy @charlottieellis @ilikechocolatemilkh @simplyreading96 @mad-is-sad @justaspeachy @pookiesnatcher @jamie-poopoo @buzzybee-26 @cocopuffs1450 @sarcastic-sourwolf @kristel1990 @the-lonely-abyss @mihawksdemoness

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: Dramione Month (Part 10)

Dramione Month 2024:

Dizzy at the Falling Stars by galaxy_skies - T, one-shot - Professor Snape has been teaching them the Patronus Charm for two weeks. Most of her fellow Dumbledore’s Army students have been pretending to struggle with the spell. Not Harry, though, of course. His stag careens impressively around the classroom until Snape tells him to stop posturing or it’ll turn into a peacock. And while everyone else is busy casting spells, Hermione has been busy watching Draco Malfoy.

Obliviate by WitchyWander - E, one-shot - The first time Hermione realised that Draco Malfoy wasn't the biggest git in wizarding Britain was the day he finally kissed her. Too bad Harry had to be an idiot and waltz into her office at the worst possible time.

Pansy Plans a Party by TheDarkFaerie - E, 3 chapters - Pansy is in charge of planning and running a special party. She's going to make sure that it's extra special. “Paperwork check,” a dangerously low satin of words rippled across the dark carpeted room, bringing silence to the goading voices all around Hermione’s ears. ** Long snippet from my full series re-write, currently in progress, called "A Moment of Leverage". ** [WARNINGS: Rape/Non-Con]

Obliviate by saneasluna - G, one-shot - He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to pull forward all the memories he can, a whirling kaleidoscope of colors. He tries to touch each moment with his mind one last time, fast forward through what’s been keeping him going this last year. That first kiss in front of the Black Lake, under darkness of night, their breaths coming out in puffs of cold as they bundled under his cloak.

Haven’t I given enough? by Goldenbuckydrabbles (Goldenbucky) - E, one-shot - She never imagined she would be face to face with the task of performing this devil of a spell for a second time. She digs deep into her emotions, trying to draw up the raw strength she needed the first time, filling herself with the same courage and resilience she had to feel to save her parents as she gears up to cast the spell. For, in the end, it’s to save his life. She has to be strong. She has to do this.

Lost Love by HCB123 - G, one-shot - Why did Draco refuse to identify the golden trio? What was really going on upstairs when Harry and Ron were locked in the dungeon listening to Hermione's screaming at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange? A fic in which Draco is just a boy, trapped in an impossible situation wanting to do the right thing but external forces prevent him.

Meet Me in Margate by thehoneydoll - E, WIP - “Don’t you want to see?” Draco asks from beside her this time. Only as she turns, he’s there. Not just a voice at the edges of her mind, but there. Tall, slender, and pale as ever—his eyes sad and his shoulders hunched as he stares at her. He looks just as he had the last time she’d seen him. “Don’t you want to remember me one last time?” “No,” Hermione answers honestly, voice hoarse and throat tight as she considers it. “I didn’t know it’d be like this. They said I just had to go to sleep and I’d forget everything. I didn’t know I’d have to relive it first.” “It’s okay, Granger,” he says with a small tilt of his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “In the morning it’ll all be over.” Or: The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind AU

Come Back to Me; I Love You Still by galaxy_skies - T, one-shot - Sometimes he pulls the memory out, on quiet lonely nights when the ache bites into his bones. When the curiosity gets too much to bear.

This fest is ongoing.

[fireflykaizoku]

Kid x Reader | 8th Floor

let's pretend it's new year already 👀

It was your last New Year party with your friends from college, and one of your close friends, Killer, invited you to a party at his apartment. Many of your friends were going and the blonde was a nice guy, so of course, you couldn’t say “no”.

You were waiting for the elevator to arrive on the main floor, already late for the party, when someone you knew very well stood next to you holding two plastic bags. The tall figure, bright red hair and strong arms were hard to miss. 

Eustass Kid.

For some reason, both of you never got along and exchanged snarky remarks almost every day ever since you started college. And honestly, you had no interest in befriending him. Maybe it was his bad boy attitude and how he always had that stupid little smirk on his face. And to Kid, the way you challenged him was amusing but annoying at the same time.

— Hello, (Y/N). — he greeted you with that sarcastic tone. — What a pleasure to see you here.

— Sadly I can’t say the same, Eustass. — you rolled your eyes, tapping your foot and waiting for the elevator that was taking way too long. 

— Then do like I do, just lie.

Before you answered, the elevator finally arrived, and as you made your way towards it, Kid followed you.

— What are you doing? — you asked, pressing the number 11, Killer’s floor. 

He raised his nonexistent eyebrows.

— Going to Killer’s party at his place? — he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And honestly, it was. But you completely forgot someone like Killer could be friends with him.  — Maybe you spent the past couple of years so distracted focusing on me, that you forgot that he’s my best friend.

— You know, I’m going to ignore that. — the door closed and you crossed your arms.

It felt like a whole eternity, and being in such a small space with Kid was making it hard to breathe. You felt relief when you saw the number 7 on the display, and right on the 8th floor, the lights went out and the elevator stopped moving. It was almost completely dark if it wasn’t for the emergency lights.

Oh no.

— Are you kidding me?! — you both exclaimed at the same time, making you look at each other frowning. 

You took a deep breath to keep yourself calm.

— It’s temporary, it’s just temporary. — you repeated, closing your eyes.

— Of course it’s temporary! — he sat on the floor, just in case it took longer. — Or do you think we’ll spend the rest of our lives inside an elevator?

You softly kicked the redhead, making him grunt.

— It’d be my worst nightmare! — you said while placing your own bag on the floor. You checked your watch, it was already 11 PM.

It’d be alright, though. After all, the power would come back before midnight for sure. There’s nothing to worry about.

You and Kid were about to get your phones to text Killer, only to realize that there was no signal there. Great.

After five minutes of silence, still nothing.

Ten minutes later, no sign of the power coming back. You sat on the floor, trying to be as far as possible from the annoying redhead.

— I don’t bite. — the man broke the silence. — Of course, if you want to… — you interrupted him.

— I don’t! — you softly kicked him again, making his husky voice let out an “ouch��. — I can’t believe I’m stuck in here with the most annoying person I know.

Kid laughed. It wasn’t the best moment of his life, but it wasn’t that bad in his opinion. And after a peaceful moment of silence, Eustass broke it.

Again.

— Tell me, (Y/N)... Why do you hate me that much? — he asked, actually curious this time. — I don’t remember what happened between us.

You rested your head against the wall, trying to think back and find a reason why.

— I don’t hate you, Eustass. — you started. — You annoy me and I want to punch you sometimes, but I don’t hate you. I guess we… Just never tried to get along for some reason.

He hummed in response.

— What's that? Are you getting all sentimental because of the holidays? — you laughed. — What about you? Why do you hate me so much?

— I don’t hate you. — he widened his eyes and his voice sounded very sincere, different from his usual mocking tone. — I like annoying you and pushing your buttons because you look cute when you’re angry, that’s different.

You couldn’t help feeling your cheeks getting warmer at his sudden compliment. It was unusual and in a weird sentence, but it was still a compliment.

— Well… — you stuttered. — You need to find other hobbies then. You have too much free time.

The redhead laughed at your reaction right before looking at his cellphone to check the time and getting a can of beer out of the bag.  

11:30 PM.

Still nothing. You couldn’t even hear the sound outside, which made you assume everyone were in their own apartments, either waiting for the power to come back or just celebrating in the dark anyway.

— Do you think we’ll be able to arrive before midnight? — you asked, rubbing your arms feeling the temperature drop slowly. 

— I doubt it at this point. — the man placed the beer on the short space of the floor and removed his leather jacket, offering it to you. After being hesitant for a second, he sighed. — You’re going to be cold. Take it.

You took his jacket, a bit too large for you. But it was comfortable anyway. Seeing Kid drinking his beer, you shrugged and got your bottle of champagne, trying to open it. A hard task to do in the dark.

— Let me help you. — he gently took the bottle out of your hand and opened it easily. — Here.

— Thanks. — you took a sip of it, finding it very unusual to see all the kindness coming from him.

Both of you drank silently. It was odd not bickering with each other every five minutes, but maybe, being stuck in an elevator with Kid changed things between you two. It felt like you could tolerate each other for the first time.

Time was going slow, so you tried to start a conversation, asking about his resolutions for the next year, for his plans after college. And surprisingly, Kid was very interested to know about your plans as well, and what you’d do after the party.

The sound of fireworks and yelling coming from all the apartments made you both look at your phones, it was midnight.

You look at each other and for some reason, maybe because you two finally got along or maybe because the whole situation felt weird, you giggled.

— Here’s to a very weird New Year. — he raised his can.

You laughed.

— Happy New Year, Kid. — you raised your bottle.

Right away, the power was back. The light made your eyes hurt a little, and the elevator started finally moving. You both looked at each other in surprise and deep inside, there was a bit of disappointment. 

You were having a good time.

Both of you arrived on the 11th floor in silence, wondering if things would be back to normal after that night, or if things would change from now on.

— Hey… — he started, a bit hesitant as you made your way towards you friend's apartment. — Now that we know that we don’t hate each other… Do you mind if I take you home later tonight? I mean, because it's... Dangerous.

You couldn’t help feeling a weird feeling in your stomach. Not a bad one, it felt more like butterflies, which was too weird to you. 

— Okay. — was the only word that left your lips as you softly smiled.

When you arrived at Killer’s apartment, everyone was already drinking, laughing and having fun while blowing out the candles that were all over the living room. And maybe it was the alcohol, but all of your friends, even Killer, noticed that you and the redhead were almost holding hands at the party.

They’d need to remember to ask you about it in the morning.

[kiwwles]

Liira

Liira! The Necromancer Vampire OC! She has a little skeleton fox friend and likes to host elaborate dance parties with the skeletons in her possession. AKA Superman

BACKSTORY*

Vampire attacked her family, she was the one and only survivor. Instead of joining the coven, she killed them (because they killed her family, duh.) Keeps the skulls of all the vampires as trophies.

(Talked about after the idea of Lira gaining the castle by just squatting there)

She killed the elder vampires as a fledgling through sheer rage, but then had nowhere to go.

She was lost in the woods and a servant found her. Having pity on what they though was a child, the servant took her in as an employee in the castle to provide shelter to the poor thing. Then as people started dying out she rose through the ranks by the simple quality of Not-Dying and when everyone else died she simply became the owner of the castle because she was all that was left.

Servant: *finds this small probably 16yr old in the forest covered in blood*

Servant: you poor thing :( come with me and j can get you a stable job and bed

Unfortunately, liira is just one person, and as more and more people die, it's harder die her to keep up with making the castle lion nice. So it's pretty run down by the time she meets northwind. Theres no electricity, just oil lamps and candles

Or the castle belonged to the vampires and she won it through right of conquest if you prefer, but I think it’d be funny if there’s just a random ass vampire teen who lives in the castle. She doesn’t do dishes or laundry cause ow, running water, but she’s good at dusting high places and can make a bed really well. She doesn’t eat anybody, fledglings her age are only supposed do drink their sire’s blood and she got PLENTY of that so she’s just kind of around. People get old, start to die. Didn’t repopulate fast enough to keep the castle employed. The young lord doesn’t have children after the passing of his parents. Once he grows ill and dies, that’s essentially it. Servants leave in hopes of finding other civilization or lay down and die in their homes. And Liira… watches. She is unchanged in the past two generations. People realized what she is long ago but do not care. They give her well wishes for eternity before passing on. And so Liira is left with her castle. A bit lonely though.

I love that

That's so much better then just "she killed the last vampires and got it "

It's just

Lonely. Watching everyone you know die

**REANIMATING LORE STUFF and the woods she lives*

Okay here's a random idea

All the animals near liiras castle are dead

You walk through the forest and see a squirrel run by missing fur There's a rotting badger corps digging a hole. The closer you get the more animated dead animals you see

Because she loves icolayed in a forest. She needs to drink some blood to survive, so she goes for the animals. But then she feels bad, so she reanimates their corpses, dispelling more energy, so she needs to eat more - and it's just a cycle

The villagers nearby all died out. The other vampires are gone. It's just her and the animals she feeds on

I think the animals probably intuitively avoid her when their alive. It's how they evolved. The ones who hang out with her are all dead and brainwashed

We established that her undead skeletons don’t actually have the souls of the person they once were, just her memory of how it once was, so the squirrels run around trees and bury nuts, chew on wood chips and flick their tails. But what else do squirrels do? She doesn’t know, so they just do that. On loop. Over and over. The badger roams around and digs holes, fights other animals, and generally sneaks around. Because that’s all badgers do, right? The deer roam, eat grass, follow rivers, and the males fight with their antlers. Birds sing songs but she’s not familiar with the intricacies of different birdsongs so they’re all singing the same song. Fish swim in circles. Mice stockpile vegetation with no real use. Foxes sleep in burrows and ‘hunt’ the mice. None of them exist outside of Liira’s understanding of their ‘roles’

It's so uncanny, and even if you can't tell their dead you can definitely tell there's something Off

Each animals varies, but if you follow one around,, it'll probably cover the same trail over and over. Walking in circles, repeating all the actions they were told to. Every 30 minutes to 5 hours, depending on the animal, they'll pass by that same tree

Her understanding of the animal changes how long the loop is. Squirrels are common, easier to see and learn their behaviors. Those have the longest loop. But more elusive animals? Or seasonal ones? The turkey just gobbles and scratches the ground, walking in the same half mile circle to the east of the river. The rabbits spend two hours idle, sitting still like statues in their warrens without moving because she can’t observe their behavior down there so they have no task in the burrow but she knows they’re there a lot so they go down there for hours on end.

Do you think that's why northwinds tribe left? They were traveling and saw how off the animals were. And it freaked them out so they left too soon for her to get back? I don't remember her lore that well

Imagine you're like, a traveler And you're hungry. So you follow this deer around for 20 minutes. And. It's just doing the same thing, over, and over, and over again. Do you still try and kill/ eat it?

Most hunters would keep a distance anyways, as to not scare the prey off, so they might not notice a slashed throat or blood on its snout. Even if they do, the animal is just weak now so it should be even easier to kill… but you shoot it in the heart and it got back up. Maybe you just missed. Liver shot, same thing. Lung, again. It has three arrows sticking out of it and has yet to stop doing what it was doing. Fine, headshot, let’s get this over with. Clean shot right in the eye! The deer falls. You stand up to run over. The deer stands up as well. You freeze, shaking. The deer’s head sits crooked now, leaning heavily towards the side with the arrow as it casually steps forward in the dry grass field, grazing on nothing as its face does not reach the ground but it mimes it anyways. You run. You run as fast as your legs can take you. You don’t make it out of the forest. No living thing was around to hear your scream.

Omg yes yes YESSSSS

You kill it and it just keeps getting back up. A horrid imitation of life

And as you run you swear your being followed. A twig snap there. A shadow there. Something grazes your shoulder and when you finally get a glimpse of the creature you're paralyzed by the glowing red eyes. You can't look away.

Just a dead forest of dead creatures

In a way you got what you wanted. You were hungry… and the dead have no need for food.

And now you get to dance

Forever.

[meridakrawczyk]

Character Name: Merida Dinah Krawczyk-Wiśniewski 

Appearance: Twenty-Four Years Old.

Age: 188 years old.

Born: 19th September, 1800. 

Turned: 24 years old. 1824.

Current Location: New York City

Affiliation: Borgias

Occupation: Krawczyk Casting Agency Owner.

What ties them to Salem?: She visits from time to time to see an old friend, who happens to be a witch she’d met in the early 19th century. She mainly resides in New York City, but finds that Salem often draws her back.

Good traits: Intuitive, Perfect Recall and Romantic.

Bad traits: Sly, Emotionally Void, Manipulative and Gluttonous. 

TIMELINE

tw: forced turning, infedility, murder, death of children, blood trafficking.

Merida Dinah Krawczyk-Wiśniewski, born into the respectable upper-class Krawczyk family in Poland during the early 1800s. With a conventional upbringing for that time, she was well-educated, set on a path that left her with little voice to choose. Marrying a wealthy merchant, known as Krzysztof Wiśniewski of whom her father had neatly paid for such a blessing and two children who would follow consecutively a year after their vows were made before God. Till death do us part, they’d said on that holy day. But there’d been nothing holy about the act that would follow. Love was but a bitter taste upon the tongue of a foolish woman who’d once believed she deserved it. Her life, though comfortable, often felt confined by societal expectations and domestic responsibilities, and that ever-growing hole in her chest for something that was missing. 

Merida had always yearned for more, needed it, even. 

Married, she found herself bored but content. Though every day felt like the same tired routine of false smiles and house duties, she still enjoyed the luxuries that others could not afford. Still, as the first couple of years passed, and she bore two children, their life grew to be something worthy of her attention. And slowly, she developed feelings for her husband that only deepened on both ends as time passed. He wasn’t a knight in shining armour as she’d dreamed of as a child, but he was kind and thoughtful. Coming from money, events and social seasons were all the rage. 

Not long after her twenty-fourth birthday, Merida attended a Beethoven concert, a favourite experience for her, given her refined taste for classical music. Captivated in her private box accompanied by her maid, she was unaware of the predatory gaze of a man. If that’s what you could call a dead-man walking. A member of the Boregais vampire clan, a powerful and ancient family that had held reign and prestige. The man, an elite member within the clan, was struck by Mer's beauty and her intense, profound adoration for the music. Not once did she look away, tears lighting those rounded eyes. 

Like a doe waiting in a clearing, out in the open for all to see. And this time the predator was hunting her, and she had no idea. The introduction was quick, a kiss on either cheek, a flash of that well-perfected, poised smile. An exclusive after-party. Here, she encountered a man with eyes she’d never forget. Startling, but captivating. Still, Merida didn’t know he’d been watching her. Assessing and drinking her in. (Not quite, yet, though.) It didn’t take long for her to find herself engaging in a deep, intense conversation with him. Slowly gravitating away from those she’d come with. Her husband and children – forgotten. Merida found herself drawn to him, like a silent siren call sang to her. Beckoning her close. Go to him, it’d almost seemed to whisper. To this day, she wasn’t sure if that had been Satan guiding her. Had she been foolish? 

Tonight, yes. And the consequences would be great. During this conversation, the man made an offer that gave her pause: eternal life. Intrigued and yearning for an escape from a mundane, ordinary existence, Mer accepted without hesitation, naively unaware of the true nature of the offer. Of how the life she sought would end, and although she may live, there were parts of her that would never truly be the same. Human nature was altered, perception changed.

The second his teeth tore into her skin, and the screams erupted from her lips: she regretted it.

Sometime later, lay on an expensive sofa, dying as her body, completely drained of her life's blood, humanity slipping away piece by piece. The man completed the ritual that turned her into a vampire. The swapping of blood, the ritual. In haste, she’d weakly attempted to push him away, but as his skin touched her lips. She drank deeply, gluttonously. Like there would never be enough in the world as it surged through her. And just like that, a Boregias sired Vampire she became.

The following hours, Merida wasn’t quite sure how to explain what became of her. Altered, she was, but the newfound perception of reality was skewed, especially as she let the man unlace her corset and have his way with her. Not once, or twice, but thrice. It’d been exhilarating, a release like none she’d ever experienced before. Blood-fuelled and hazed. And when the night ended, sat there, her maid redoing her laces—he was gone. Like he’d never been there.

And she was alone, eyes squinting in the light.

The early hours, when the candle had burned to a stump and the house was silent. Merida returned home. Somewhat traumatised by what had happened and keenly aware that she’d cheated on her husband, not with a man, but someone of the undead. Something she now was. There’d been ghost stories told to her as a child, about those that lurked in the dead of night. Now she was the main character of one of those bedtime stories that had kept her awake as a girl. 

As a fledgling vampire, a savage hunger marked Mer's first night. She could barely control it. Avoidance didn’t work, and with it, that insatiable appetite only grew, divided and conquered her very being. Sweats, tossing and turning and the thumbing of her husband's vein in his neck, kept her staring at the ceiling. The smell embedded itself inside of her, choking until she was close to falling over the ledge. She’d never forgive herself, couldn’t. So when she stumbled through the hallways, feeling as if her body was about to set on fire.

Unsure how to placate it. Agnieszka, her first victim, her maid and the lady who’d been with her since she was a girl had come after her, a small candle in her hand, worry etched into those motherly features: but it had only been when . The act horrified and exhilarated her, awakening a new, darker side of her nature.

Driven by an insatiable thirst and a twisted sense of liberation, she found her husband next. He’d begged and pleaded, told her that whatever it was, they’d find a cure. But…did she want to be cured? In her blood rage, she hadn’t listened to sense, hadn’t seen reason. This man, she loved and shared a whole life with, children who slept just a room away: and without any sense of right or wrong, humanity vanishing from her being…she fed, and drank the lifeblood of the only man who would truly ever love her, for her. For who she was before she became a monster, before that last shred of humanity evaporated. Forever severing her ties to her former human life.

It was as she began to sober from his blood that she heard the heartbeats of her children. But even through that haze, she resisted, she pushed, and fought every urge in her body. Motherly instinct and sheer willpower kept her in that room as she barked against pain. Feed, feed, feed. The first was always the worst, the frenzy not like the bedtime stories her mother had read when she was a child. Nothing could compare to this. It felt like childbirth all over again. Screaming silently so as to not alert anyone, begging.

She remembered one whispered fact, from the man she’d met at the after party: avoid the sun. She wasn’t sure if he’d meant it as a joke, or if she truly should fear, as the legends had said. Without a thought, one last glance towards the bedroom door, she ran. As far, and as fast as she could. She did everything she could to save her children that night, but it still wasn’t enough. 

News came, not four months later, that a war party travelling through had ravished her house. No survivors. Remaining war fights of the Soviet and Republican fighters. Her children, dead. It didn’t quite hit her at first. The news of her husband's murder, and the wife’s disappearance had been branded a murder, kidnapping. No one would suspect that Merida could have been involved in such a thing. Yelled in the streets: The killer is still at large. A great aunt, Helena, had taken her children in. 

But in the end, she had eternity to live with the fact that she was the reason. If she’d been there, she might’ve been able to save them, especially as a vampire. And regret, for eternity, was a lot to swallow.

For many years, she drifted. From place to place, a nomad of sorts, creating connections and befriending her kind. It was there that she secured a reputation, heartless, emotionally-void, and, of course, great when it came to business. After spending ten years alongside a man known as Cain, business savvy and an intellectual freaking genius, she learned a few things.

One being that vampires alike would pay a high price for good blood, especially their preferred blood type. An idea flourished, and with that, she ran with it. Blood trafficking came easily, especially to a woman who had the ability to persuade and promise things she had no intention of delivering, without batting an eyelid.

The company has had many names over the years, Legal Services Unite, EOLC and, last but not least, the modelling agency that was bustling with work. In the past, they’d simply trafficked without much legitimacy, but with people saying the new technology era was upon them, she’d had to think. To scheme.

The modelling agency had real clients, people they sent to jobs. But those that had no family, no connections, nothing: they were the perfect targets. The ones they needed. And that was all it took. Slowly, as business began to boom, so did the blood trade. It started small, and before she knew it, she was in the states and expanding over state lines every day. 

But there’s currently something missing. She’s searching for someone, a rumour bringing her out of New York City and back to Salem to find an old friend.

[tristayranambrosio]

Things Forgotten and Reforged Part 7

The Tournament of Ages Was as ever in full swing in August. The chill in the air was a welcome respite from a harsh summer and an excuse to celebrate and sell, to spend time with those dearest to someone, and to make new acquaintances. Trist had to work subtly whittling and shaping components while between the shows his friends put on, shopping with Fao and Leo himself, and chaperoning Their Eldest, Nestah Pale about the grounds. Not to mention getting various gifts for those in his life who for one reason or another couldn’t make the festival days. He managed to get a good deal of carving done before his fiancé called him out on working when he should be relaxing but he needed to get some basic shapes done. Nestah for her part noticed what Trist had been up to long ago, and was hardly going to spoil anything for her Dream-Papa, the man that stayed when the rest had left her Dad's heart broken if not totally shattered. She might not have the full memory given how long ago it was now, but she had enough of seeing Trist turn on himself and internalize the abuse… to do all the things to himself he never wanted his children to. She watched him work golden eyes missing nothing, until Leo teased her dad about never being idle and just relaxing.

On the one hand she agreed… Trist worked too much and seemed afraid to stop, and breathe, and it was her and her siblings’ job to remind him with Dream, but on the Other… she knew how beautiful it’d be when it was done. After performances and then a visit with a fortune teller, then the most charming Snake person who sent her home with a new hat, Dad would be taking her home. She waited until Dream was off getting changed for an after party. “Daddy?” She chirped, still wearing her new cowpoke scorpion hat as Trist brought her to her room and helped her out of her winter coat. “Yes Moondrop?” Trist smiled, he’d never been able to stop calling her that, this wisened maybe too jaded and cynical for her modest half decade of life child of his probably deserved a less cutesie endearment by now but he couldn’t help himself. “The fortune teller said I have lots of potential… I used my gold pieces to buy this when she pulled me aside.” Nestah said as she produced the Tarot card she had in fact purchased and then the small antler talisman that was meant as a blessing from Malorne the White Stag and in some tales the Moon’s lover himself, “Take them… They’re for Dream’s gift.” Trist blinked and looked at the moonstone antler and Tarot card… then smiled seeing the suit she had given him, “Dream’s more 'Strength' not the Fool.”

“You’re the Fool Silly. You should make it like mister Merius did… with the secret on the inside.” Nestah referred to the message that had been on the inside of a violin Trist had fixed, with a secret line of a poem hidden within the body of an instrument to be discovered so many years later. Jaded she may be but even Nestah it seemed could appreciate the romance of it, “When you got married it was after the Tournament. When Dream first showed us his … 'Cat Hole' Castle. The Tournament is special to you and Dream, like the other places and these are from there.” She grinned as she climbed into her bed seeing the flood of emotions rush through on her guardian’s face. She knew she wasn’t his daughter, not by blood… He looked so different with pale skin, pink hair and short ears, with magenta eyes to her golden ones, but she would always see Trist as her parent. It had been his singing that made her sleep every night since the one she’d been brought into the world… and he who gave her a name. Seeing Trist’s face overwhelmed, staring at the card and the tokens she handed him, she added reassuringly, “Dream’s not like the rest, Daddy. And this one is really for Eternity… He’ll love it like he loves you.” Trist jolted from where his thoughts had wandered and the silver lining his eyes was all the confirmation she needed. She climbed out of the bed and wrapped her arms around Trist’s shoulders where he knelt, holding him tightly and tucking her face under his jaw and into his shoulder, “Its okay…” “T-thank you Moondrop…” Trist shuddered holding his daughter like if he let go she would somehow evaporate and vanish if he didn’t. “Besides you’re only marrying him for everyone else. I know he’s been your Dream-lord and husband this whole time.” Nestah murmured muffled in Trist’s mane of pink. “I-I know you’re right. Your handfasting is still official. We’re just making it more official.” Trist laughed scrubbing at his face. “You want him to stay right?” Nestah asked pulling away to examine Trist’s face watching it for his real emotions. “More than anything.” Trist said heart and words heavy with the truth of them. “Good. He will.” Nestah said. Nodding once. She was certain. Trist stared at his daughter like she was some divine being, “You know your Dad’s a fool for a lot of reasons right? I make mistakes… I mess up… I might-” Nestah shrugged, pulling her blanket over herself having returned to her bed, “Everyone Messes up Daddy… if someone changes their mind about you because you mess up they don’t deserve you. Dream wants to make mistakes with you and I don’t think he’s changing his mind about you. Not ever.” “Sometimes I forget how much like your Namesake you are, Moondrop.” Trist managed half whimpering it. Nestah puffed up, “That’s because All Nestahs are right about everything.” Trist laughed at that, “He’d have said that too. But I need you to at least pretend to be asleep so I can get Dream dancing tonight.” “Okay.” She agreed, “I’m still wearing my hat.” Trist laughed again, “Okay, Moondrop. You can wear your hat.” Trist then reached forward to tuck the cowpoke hat over his daughter’s face making her swat at his hand, “Daddy!” Trist chuckled, raising her hat off her face enough to kiss her temple, “Goodnight Moondrop.” She snatched the hat back, sticking her tongue out at Trist and clutching her new prize like it was the most precious thing she’d ever owned. Then yawned, “Night Daddy. I love you.” “I love you too, Moondrop.”

[anthonybialy]

Every Star and No All-Stars

What do you need: a trophy?  Actually, that would be nice.  But an object indicating supremacy is just something else to dust.  True all-stars possess mental awards.  Winning a popularity contest is unnecessary.  Freaking out about the lack of accolades is for those who either crave sanction or don’t have the stats to impress.

In an ideal world, nobody cares about who a shady panel endorses.  But apathy never wins when it should.  Getting agitated about snubs is a sign of self-doubt.  Save anger for weighty issues that affect the world like officials who don’t know how to define a pass.  Oh, and it’d be nice to have universal peace and prosperity or whatever.

The quantity is as questionable as the quality.  Fans could probably think of Bills who deserved to prance in this year’s mock competitions, not to mention Bills who were more deserving than those selected.  But the purported honor is even more meaningless than the rest of existence.  The only thing any competitor who’s truly one of the two or three best deserves is to enjoy vacation.  

Competitors added for reasons unrelated to play serve the important purpose of not relying on credentials.  Unworthy winners exploit name recognition regardless of faded skills or injury.  For an all-time example, Ruben Brown looks like a Hall of Famer for throwing a party that convinced invitees to keep bringing him back. It’s easier than playing at that level.

Truth is absolute regardless of how many believe it.  There’s no need for validation.  You’ll know.  Don’t fret about some snarky Bengals fan on Twitter citing Pro Bowl appearances in making the case of supremacy.  An amateur argument based in not watching play is perfect for our times.  Results are the only thing to value, and not during simulacrums.

Pin a ribbon to your coat next to your mittens so everyone knows just how special you are.  Distinctions are nice to have and also nice to know is unneeded.  Anyone who says you’re awesome should be allowed to speak.  But you’re already super even if nobody points it out.  Those excelling are not searching for lauding.  The insecurity of needing acknowledgment is also a reflection of inferiority.

Glaring omissions routinely happen in every sport just like the outrage shouldn’t.  Take my BFF point guard Jalen Brunson, who’s accomplished the seemingly impossible task of making the Knicks relevant.  Some Knickerbocker backers fume that he only made the All-Star Game as a reserve.  But he’s already featured on the back page of Gotham tabloids.  Votes don’t count for anything meaningful, which makes it a bit too much like the rest of life.  Sports indeed offer life lessons.

Heed lessons in silliness from a process somehow more infuriatingly capricious than naming a league’s top players.  The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame is the least rock & roll thing ever, which is just another reason to listen instead of visiting.  There’s nothing more subjective than music.  There are no statistics other than sales, and by that metric Taylor Swift is the greatest.  Science knows that to be the wrongest thought ever conceived.

As for an egregious exclusion, Motörhead still not being inducted is merely the most egregious insult to rock from a venue that purports to celebrate it.  Our lord and savior Lemmy will remain just as awesome the day after the historical injustice of his outfit’s exclusion is rectified.  The lamest of institutions is inadvertently helpful in demonstrating the eternal shame of not knowing a thing about who rocks.

Play well enough to receive a chance for slacking.  Gatherings of the world’s best inside one venue should logically lead to the best games ever.  And any Eddie Murphy movie should be hilarious, yet unfortunate viewers have sulked through more of his work than laughed deliriously.  Giving a bad name to exhibitions isn’t really a benefit.  People who’ve enjoyed an all-star game in any sport are the target audience for timeshare salesmen.

There are rightfully no stakes or way to invent any.  Those taking the field for the equivalent of AI football either play to their utmost in the sports we cherish and risk injury or goof around in the skills competition that resembles the sports in the same sense vegans enjoy Portobello mushrooms just as much as porterhouses.  Skill competitions aren’t fooling anyone unless pretending to care counts.  Baseball’s attempt to make it relevant by granting home-field advantage has thankfully been discarded, unlike the absurdity of getting to hit without fielding.

What did Hawaii do to the NFL?  The free trip to paradise would be especially welcome now for a rebuilding island chain.  Instead, a heartless league doesn’t even grant obligated attendees a voyage out of the continental United States to the balmy freak state.

The only concern should be games played in the uniform of their employer.  Noticing how they fare when standings are affected is infinitely more valuable than the original fantasy roster.  Standing around and pretending to compete flaunts what an afterthought the actual event is.

Draftees envy non-all-stars get to catch up on their streaming queues.  Diehard followers would much rather their heroes have the time off than a white elephant gift of an appointment.  Coerced participation in perspiration-free affairs that make scrimmages seem relatively enthusiastic feature the best at their worst.

Do you know Josh Allen is the best?  If so, then that’s the only needed prestige.  Wholly uninformed voting blocs pick shady candidates who only impress deluded types like Michael Scott.  You don’t need a medal.  That’s what she said.  It’s as nice to have laurels as it is fine to live without receiving them.

[itsmentalillness]

Like an Angel || Poly Marauders

Pls reblog/comment

A/N: I have no clue how quidditch works; and I might make a second part

CW: smut, dom/sub elements, verbal degradation, choking, innocence kink,corruption kink, daddy kink, dumbification, mentions of alcohol (no one drinks tho)

word count: 2.2k

Tag list: @obliviatehp @pottahishotasf @lillsthoughts @justadreamyhufflepuff @el-imaskingforyourlefthand @harrymylove [join]

The loud cry of the gryffindor stand rang through your ears. James nearly grabbed the snitch that was soaring low to the ground. Sirius screamed out something about James needing to get his shit together, as you held onto Remus’ arm tighter than you thought you really ever could.

Remus leaned down to speak. “You okay bunny?”

“Yeah, just a little loud today, that’s all.” You tried to get your voice heard over the crowd. Slytherin v. Gryffindor games tended to be louder than any of the others, but it was the last game of the season, so stakes were higher.

“Should be over soon.”

“It’d be over quicker if James knew how to do his bloody job.” Sirius scoffed.

The game continued as such; you grasping onto Remus as if your life depended on it, while Sirius cursed out everyone he could.

Maybe it was the spring heat, the screams of the fans, or the fact that you were sandwiched tightly between your boyfriends watching a sport that made zero sense, but this game seemed to drown on for eternity.

If you were being honest, you had little interest in quidditch. It was more complicated than it needed to be and moved too fast for you to keep up with. The only thing that made the games slightly more bearable was James. Saying he looked pretty in his uniform doing whatever a seeker is supposed to do would be an understatement.

The cheers erupted from the surrounding peers, knocking you out of your daydreams. You looked at Remus expectantly.

“James got the points. We won.” Remus explained.

“We did more than ‘win’ Moony. We beat those little snake shits into the ground where they belong!” Sirius pulled you away from Remus and picked you up. Your eyes scanned the field full of flashes of red and yellow searching for James.

“He’s over there.” Remus pointed across the field to the boy who was making his way on his broom towards you. When you finally pulled his attention away from the hundreds of others filled in the stands, you waved. “Love you, James!” You screamed out. You knew he couldn’t really hear you, but you tried.

After the team finished rolling in their victory in front of all the houses and the stands died down, everyone made their way out. The people behind you shoved you out of the stands in anticipation to get to the party that would be held in the commons. You watched James and the rest of his team walk the other side of the field into the lockers.

You skipped today’s ‘pre-party’, the celebration prior to the rowdy team’s arrival. You wanted to dress up for the occasion. Your hands rifled through your trunk looking for the dress the boys bought you a few weeks earlier. There had yet to be a time to wear it, but today seemed like the occasion to show it off.

The white fabric of the dress was soft, but the lace lining the hem that barely hit mid thigh was itchy against your legs. There was no way you could make it through the night with that bother. You decided a pair of tights should do the trick in keeping you from scratching. Twirling in front of the bathroom mirror, you decided you did the dress justice and made your way downstairs to find your partners.

You spotted two of three on one couch on the outskirts of the makeshift dance floor.

“I think you’re missing half your dress there puppy.” The black-haired boy snarked as you sat on the couch beside them.

Remus corrected the boy on his lap. “Pads, we’re the ones that picked it out for her. You look lovely, darling. Like an angel.”

“Is Jamesie here yet?” You asked both of them.

“Haven’t seen him, probably should find him and let him know he can’t drink tonight. Sirius, why don’t you tell him.”

“Moony, don’t ruin this and not let us- oh… got it.” He came to realize what was happening and left to find James. You replaced Sirius and took his place on Remus’ lap.

“I didn’t do something wrong, did I?” The no alcohol rule had you a little on edge. That rarely ever happens, only if you’re in trouble.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Absolutely not, just don’t think it’s a good idea tonight.”

That answer only confused you more. You threw your head back into Remus’ shoulder and sighed exaggeratedly. “But they always have really excellent drinks, just a little?”

“If you talk back like that again, you will be in trouble. Understand?”

“Yes, sir” you spoke clearly. You didn’t want to get in any more ‘trouble’.

After a few minutes of silence, you turned around to straddle his lap and started braiding little strands of his hair, and kissing his nose now and then.

You were intently working on the braids in his hair, when you felt a pair of hands grab at your shoulders and a kiss to the top of your head.

“Having fun there Remus?” The familiar voice of James was music to your ears.

“James!” You pushed off of Remus and just about launched yourself at the other boy.

“Well, I missed you too.”

You kept your arms around his neck and hugged his waist with your legs as he sat down in between Remus and Sirius.

“How’d I do today, princess? Sirius said I did well but I think he’s leaving something out.” James asked you.

“Um… I think Sirius said you sucked for a little bit. Specifically, and I quote, ‘James needs to get his shit together.’” You giggled at your answer as Sirius glared at you.

“To be fair, you could’ve won very close to the beginning.” James was not too happy with Sirius’ response.

“Well, I don’t see yo-“ Remus cut his retort off.

“(Y/n), it’s a little late. You go upstairs to our room. We’ll be up shortly to help you.”

Making your way past all the people in the commons, thoughts of your wrong doings filled your head. First nothing to drink, now getting sent to bed even though it was not that late considering the day’s circumstances. Memories of the last hour ran over and over as you trudged up the stairs. The only thing you could think that was wrong was the fact that you cursed. Even then, that wasn’t at the beginning of the night.

The door opening and shutting behind the three boys you were expecting pulled you from your recalls. You stayed on the comfort of the bed in silence.

“Come here bunny.” Remus’ voice seemed to echo in the awkward stillness of the room.

The calm tone of your dominant sent butterflies to your stomach as you reluctantly crossed the room to meet him.

“Do you know what you did?”

“No, sir.” Everything about you felt small as you stared at your boyfriends towering over you.

“‘S what I thought. You’re just a stupid bunny.”

“I’m not stupid.” You mumbled.

Remus’ hand wrapped around your throat, “Oh really? If you’re so smart, why didn’t you realize how hard you made all of us? Hmm?”

Your eyes moved across each of their crotches, and you whined at the sight of their bulges strained against their trousers.

“Can’t dress like that and expect us not to react.” He let you go and pushed you forward, “Be a good bunny, on the bed.”

Heat burned in your stomach at his words as you sat on the bed, watching your partners stare at you like you were simply prey to them. Within seconds, hands were all over you. James’ hands barely ghosted over your collar bones before reaching down your dress to grope at your breasts. You leaned your head back onto the shoulder of the bespectacled boy to allow for Remus to start roughly painting your skin with hickeys. Your breathy moans turned into a yelp as Sirius pinched your thighs. Your hips bucked up to reach Sirius’ hands.

“Feelin’ needy puppy?” He mocked.

“Daddy please.” Your words were barely a whisper.

Sirius smirked, “Since you asked so nicely.” He ripped the thin fabric of your tights around your cunt. He paid little mind to the other boys. He pushed his middle finger past your underwear, running his calloused fingertip barley along your folds. Involuntarily, your hips moved, trying to get better friction.

“Don’t be greedy.” Reprimanded Remus.

“Think she’s past that point. She’s got the attention of all three of us but she still needs more.” The degrading words of James went straight to your core. “Isn’t that right, baby? Just a needy little thing.”

“‘M not needy. Just feels good.” Your whines were hardly audible to the boys surrounding you.

“I thought you knew better than that. Good angels aren’t needy, they use their manners and wait.” There was a slight desire to protest Remus’ words, but the fear of a ruined evening squashed it.

“Come on Moony. Let us ruin her already. Even she wants it, isn’t that so angel?”

You nod feverishly at the raven haired boy’s words. The desire continued to build, making every touch of the boys feel absolutely unbearable.

Remus shifts behind you to step away, that is, until you grab onto his arm. “Alright, I’ll stay. Gonna let you make a mess on Sirius’ fingers. Sounds good?”

Your head lolled back onto Remus’ shoulder, and Sirius elicited a small moan from you with his fingers finally gaming in contact with where you needed it. Nimble fingers quickly making their way in and out of your cunt; hitting just the right spots to have you arching away from Remus. You were pulled from your blissed state by the growing moans of a certain James on the edge of the bed to your right, running the pad of his thumb around the tip of his cock. You outstretched a hand towards him in a pathetic attempt to bring him closer.

“Come on, angel, use your words. What do you want?” questioned the boy in between your legs.

In all honesty, you were not too sure what you wanted. Only pleasure. However that came about was irrelevant, and if it was yours or theirs, it didn’t matter.

“I- I dunno. Jamsie. Please.” Your pleading eyes bounced between the two boys, hoping they might be able to know for you.

James made his way toward the three of you, his built frame hovering above your own. “Wanna help me bunny? Is that it? Make me feel good?” His tone was cocky, something that tended to happen when he obviously had power over you.

As you reached above to take James’ cock into your hand, Sirius sped up his ministrations in your cunt. James threw his head back and let out a shallow breath as your hand closed around his base with more stress than intended.

Quickly your hand moved along his shaft, feeling all the veins and ridges in your palm.

Sirius finally brought his thumb to your clit, making little figure eights around it. The tips of his fingers brushing softly against your g-spot mixed with the contact to your clit made it difficult to focus on pleasuring James, not that you had given full attention to him.

Your movements became limp, lazily moving up and down, barely giving James the satisfaction he needed in order to reach his orgasm.

“That’s enough Pads. I don’t think our girl is smart enough to multitask.” Remus’ condescending words made Sirius stop his motions.

“No, no, no, no, no. I’ll do better this time. I promise.”

“Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.” Remus taunted your pitiful state. “You’re the one who wanted to be ruined. Now you’re going to make it up to James.”

Remus moved out from behind you, and James took Sirius’ spot within your legs. He tugged at the waist of your tights and panties much more delicately than Sirius had done previously.

He planted a soft kiss to your lips before sitting back on his knees, “You’re going to behave for me this time?” His expression was phrased as a question, but most definitely was not.

He lined the tip of his cock to your entrance and gasped as slowly sheathed himself within your walls. He set a brisk pace, trying to salvage his ruined orgasm from minutes earlier. Every thrust of his had his spongy head hitting a certain spot that had you seeing stars. Yet it wasn’t enough, without any stimulation to your clit, the impending orgasm felt futile.

Tears rolled down your cheeks in time with James’ cum coating your walls. The loud whine that escaped your lips as James pulled out had the two others laughing.

Sirius gave you little time to adjust before he was commanding you to your hands and, weak, knees.

“Siri am I gonna cum this time?” You asked Sirius, who was standing at the end of the bed.

“No. Only good girls get to cum.”

A slight haze that clouded your mind made Sirius’ words not too clear. “Wait, I thought I was?”

“Do you think you are?” The rear of the mattress dipped letting you know where he was.

“I dunno. I- I think so?” You kept your eyes forward, not wanting to look at anyone, hoping that would lighten any ridicule.

“Is that so? Let’s see. Dressed like a slut, forgot your place, were lazy,” a ring clad hand smacked your ass, “and have yet to refer to me as your superior.” 

[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain

A/n finally writing that Kaz Brekker x reader angsty-fluff where the reader is all sunshine-y and Kaz is dramatic as always lol 

Might make this a blurb series bc i like this dynamic so much lol

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y reader 

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Kaz has a conversation with the reader (who’s a runaway princess) about what happens to people who stay near him. 

-- 

He once said that he didn’t believe in Saints. A moment later he conceded that perhaps they existed in order to appease Inej, but he was quick to tact on that if Saints existed they didn’t care about him. Inej and I had exchanged a look, she pleaded with me in silence to let him be. I opened my mouth despite the look in her eyes, but he had walked away before I could get any words out. 

He believes that the Saints don’t care about him, but as soon as he was dragged in by Jesper, bleeding and more broken than usual, it had started to rain. The rain is a promise. The rain is a sign that he will wake up. 

I tap a finger against the forgotten book on my lap, ignoring the dried blood I’ve been too anxious to wash off. When Kaz wakes up he’ll either scold me or partially tease me for waiting here by his bedside. The rain continues, cascading down invisible hope. 

“Save your prayers, even for you the Saints won’t regard me.” Kaz. His voice is raspier than it should be and his slight condescension is blighted by the tired flatness of it. But it’s him. He’s speaking. 

I tear my gaze away from the window, almost forgetting to tamper down my relief before finally looking at him. I haven’t known him long enough to see him in any level of defeat, but I’ve heard enough stories. The fictional exaggeration of those that fear him have made him seem so immortal. Some part of me must have internalized that because to see him like this, to see him so human is too intimate. 

“Don’t be so narcissistic.” Something about Kaz always leaves me feeling challenged, like each comment is some kind of dare. I adjust my posture. “I wasn’t praying because I knew you’d be okay.” 

His expression is unchanging. “So much faith in me?” 

There’s a soft edge to his words, an attempt to twist some kind of awkward denial out of me. Some days I don’t think Kaz enjoys anything and then other days I think he enjoys any misstep in my words. 

I shrug, pushing down the flood of relief still attempting to crawl out of my chest. “You’re always okay.” I scratch the back of my wrist idly. “It seems the safe bet.” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve been taking gambling advice from Jesper.” 

I half roll my eyes. “No--Jesper and I don’t play together anymore.” I let out an easy sigh. “Last time I beat him he bordered on a hissy fit.” There’s the slightest hint of upturning at the corners of his lips. “I should go tell Jesper and Inej you’re awake.” 

“I think you should change out of that dress first.”

He was more likable when I thought he might die at any second. “Wow--Kaz Brekker the professional stylist.” He has no right to judge the formal gown I’m in. Yes, my outfit is ridiculous, but I’m only wearing it because the Crows needed someone they knew at a merchant’s party for a part of some scheme they wouldn’t share the details of with me. “Yes, I’m aware that this dress is more tulle than anything else, but I’m only wearing it because I was helping you.” 

I wait for some retort about how he could have managed without my assistance or some kind of comment about how I didn’t need such a large dress to flirt and distract the guards as the Crows snuck into the merchant’s private office. “You fit in there more than you said you would.” 

From anyone else, I’d consider this an insult. “I was making an effort for the sake of your plans.” 

“I saw you before I went into the office, you knew the dances, the man took your hand.” 

That’s the weirdest observation I’ve ever witnessed someone reflect on. “That’s how those dances tend to work.” I don’t hide the confusion in my expression. “How much blood did you lose?” 

Kaz’s piercing gaze drops to the blanket on his lap. “Not a concerning amount.”

“Why do I feel like we have different definitions of ‘concerning’?” 

His eyes flit upwards, a partial smirk playing at his lips. “We define a lot of things differently.” He pauses, “You defined the life you slipped into so easily tonight as something you could never do.” 

“I can’t.” What is his problem? “One dance is different than an eternity of planning teas and marrying some man who only keeps me so I can rear his children.” 

“You’d end up marrying someone who could give you things.”

He better not be implying I should be having children. I’m seriously starting to hope he did lose a significant amount of blood because that would be some kind of explanation. “I don’t want anyone to be giving me children right now, but I guess your concern is ni--”

“No, no,” he screws his eyes shut for a long second, “You know what I meant.” I stay silent. “You’re technically a princess, y/n, you could have more than the Barrel.” There’s an odd silence as he pauses. “Someone like you should have more than the Barrel.” 

He speaks like his word is law. That’s the one habit of his I can never seem to forgive. Is Kaz telling me to go home? To go back to a mother who dreams of marrying me off and a father with a temper that often leads to violence? He may be Dirtyhands, but he is no one to tell me who to go back to. Not after I risked my anonymity to get him into that merchant’s office. 

I shut my book and stand in one swift motion. “I’m going to tell Jesper and Inej that you’re awake.”

“Y/n.” I ignore him. “Y/n.” Again, I ignore him, approaching the doorway. The rustling of sheets leaves me frozen, hand on the doorknob. “Y/n.” 

Without thinking, I turn on my heels while glaring. There’s no way he’s proud enough to have climbed out of bed wi--and he’s standing. Standing almost directly behind me. 

“Kaz Brekker, I am going to say this one time and one time only.” I keep my words measured and my tone flat. No room for argument. “You just had nine stitches put in near your heart, get your ass back in bed before that is no longer your only injury.” 

He pauses, lips pressed together into a tight white line. And then his mouth opens, pried open by an oddly light sound. Did he just--Did Kaz Brekker just laugh? He doesn’t laugh. I didn’t think he was physically capable, and now he laughs while I’m threatening him? I should hit him on principle alone and damn the consequences. 

“Did you--” I’m gaping at him with a rage I am not accustomed to. “Did you just laugh?” 

Kaz is quick to shut his mouth. “You did swear you’d get me to laugh one day.” 

Saints--now he chooses to have some kind of sense of humor. “Not while I was threatening you for being an idiot after saying my lineage means that I’m meant to be trapped in the life I desire least.” 

“I didn’t say that.” I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t deserve more than this because of your family, you deserve more than this because--” He cuts himself off with a sharp sigh. “Do you remember what happened the day we met?” 

He had wanted to return me to my father for the money. I had managed to convince him I could be more useful working for him without profit. The first day had been tense, I had sworn to myself that I would hate him forever. 

“I remember really hating you.” I remember thinking him beautiful despite his darkness. “I remember it started raining on our way here.” 

“You had a hood, but you pushed it off your head to feel the rain.” I don’t remember that because indulging in the rain is instinctual to me. “You looked at the rain, and you smiled--and then you saw a woman with a child and you took off your hood and gave it to them.” 

“What does that have to d--” 

“Watching that felt like intruding on an intimate moment I had no business knowing about, but it wasn’t that to you. That moment was nothing to you because that moment was who you are.” 

I don’t understand what he sees in something I can barely remember. “Kaz, what does that have to do with anything?” 

“I’m the monster that children believe live under their beds, I’m the bastard of the Barrel, I’m someone who gets blood on everything near them.” His gaze is harsher than I’ve ever seen it as he focuses on the dried blood splotched across my hands and arms. “And then I can’t even help you wash it off.” 

Those last words are the closest to broken I’ve ever heard him sound. “Kaz--”

“And you’re the girl who looks at the rain like it’s a gift from the Saints.” 

Is he implying what I think he’s implying? Even if I believed him such a source of evil, even if I felt like touch mattered that much--why would he care? I keep the much more frightening implication at bay as I exhale. Clarity will only make this conversation worse. “That doesn’t matter.” The words leave me in a low whisper. 

I stare at the ground until his silence is something I can no longer bear. Looking up as cautiously as possible, I take in his expression. I’ve never seen him look so--so enraged. “It doesn’t matter?!” He doesn’t bother hiding the fact that he’s practically seething. “I’ve viewed your presence here as temporary since you first came and despite that, when I saw you there…” The breath he lets out is practically pained. “When I saw what your life is meant to be--I didn’t want you to go.” 

The admission breaks something hard in my chest. “I never wanted to go.” My eyeline drops to the ground. “I didn’t want to go when you were trying to make me, I didn’t want to go when it was only for that evening.” I swallow a lump of emotion restricting my throat. “When you were bleeding out and Jesper had to carry you back here I let myself imagine what it’d be like if you died. And it hurt. It hurt so badly I asked myself if I would rather never know you than feel that pain.” 

“Would you?” His voice has gone hollow. 

I finally look up again. “No.” That word leaves me more bare than any physical touch ever could. 

“I stain everything that stays with me,” his voice has seamlessly shifted back to a tone meant for business, “Me wanting you to stay is more than enough reason for you to leave.”

My chest aches as emotions I’ll never be able to place a name to pound against my chest. “I’m a princess that ran away from her family and tried to befriend her kidnapper--you can’t possibly be narcissistic enough to believe that you’re what’s corrupted me.” 

“Y/n,” his voice is gravely again, the way it was when he first woke up. 

“No. What could you possibly think I’d say to that?” He’s insane--I’m not even sure I understand what he’s implying. “You know I’ll never agree with what you’re saying, so I have no idea what kind of reaction you’re looking for.”

“Maybe a genuine one.” 

The comment is so frustrating I can’t help but roll my eyes. The irony of Kaz Brekker asking for a genuine reaction to an emotionally heavy comment is almost laughable. “My genuine reaction is that you’re acting like an idiot because I don’t agree with anything you’re saying, but calling someone an idiot after they’ve been stabbed in the chest is a little insensitive so I can’t give you my genuine reaction.”

Kaz half-scoffs, “You don’t agree? Y/n--are you hearing me!? I want--I want you to stay.” Even angry, the admission warms me. He lets out a frustrated sigh. “More than that I want--” 

“What?” 

He shakes his head once. “I want something that can never be because I can’t give what needs to be given to get it.” 

“Kaz, if it involves me staying you don’t need to give anything for that because I don’t want to go.” 

“I-want-you-to-stay-with-me.” The admission is pried from him by some invisible force. He speaks so fiercely the sentence comes out as one angry word. 

He speaks so quickly a part of me is convinced that I misheard him. I watch him as he moves back to the bed, sitting down in a way so resigned I wonder if I blurted something out on instinct. 

“Kaz,” this is embarrassing, “I wanted to stay with you even when I wanted to hate you.”

I take in his measured expression, the only thing implying any kind of reaction is the way his eyebrows draw together. “Don’t say that, you don’t understand what that means.” 

“Why? Because you’re convinced you’ll ruin me?” 

“Y/n, we’d be together with a wall between us, keeping us from ever touching.” 

“I will tolerate any amount of damage you’re so convinced staying with you will bring, I will stay with you and never touch you and think nothing of it--but I will not stay with you just to stand in front of a wall.” I let out a tired breath. “I will stay with you but my one condition will be that you have to let me know you.” 

Kaz’s intense gaze wavers. “The first thing you’ll know is that me allowing you to stay is a testament to my greed.” 

I give him a sharp look, “It’s not greed if I want to be here.” 

He half sighs, leaning against a pillow as he turns to look out the window. “It’s raining,” he muses, “The Saints must have done that for you.” 

The sentiment is so soft my heart feels like it’s constricting. “I thought you didn’t believe in the Saints.” 

“If they exist, they do so for people like you.” 

I push past the emotion in my chest as I move to sit in the same chair I was in earlier. “I was honest when I said I didn’t pray for you.” I scratch the back of my arm, a coldness passing over me. “I didn’t pray because I knew you would be okay because you had to be.” 

“They wouldn’t have saved me,” he mumbles, “Or maybe they would have for you.” 

I shake my head once, staring at the rain with more fascination than before. 

--

General Taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship

[ragingbookdragon]

“I’m just saying maybe trusting the evil sorceress isn’t the best choice?” Hal offered, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes darting from said sorceress to Bruce. “She literally threatened to kill you like two hours ago with her…crazy, smoky, witch powers.”

“The funniest thing to me, Hal,” she started, “is that you think I need powers to kill Bruce, let alone anybody.” Cocking a brow, she added, “Psychological warfare can do much more nefarious and detrimental damage on its own without me even raising a single finger to deliver the final blow.”

Hal’s expression pinched. “So, what? You just mentally torture people into killing themselves?”

She shrugged. “It’s worked so far. Why fix what isn’t broke?”

“Because that’s really fucked up? Like extremely fucked up?” Hal said. “Seriously, you can’t be willing to add her onto the team. She’s a murderer.”

“I’ve never murdered anybody, Hal. I’ve killed, but I’ve never murdered. There’s a fine line between the two.”

“That line is a slippery slope, not a steady walk.”

She hummed and walked around the table to Hal’s side and offered an amused stare at the way he sat up straight, eyes watching her like a hawk as she perched herself on the desk beside him. “I’m very old, Hal. Much, much older than the lot of friends you keep around here and much older than the ground you’ve walked on.” She raised her hand, and a wispy trail of smoke came from her fingers. “I walked different dimensions when this one was just beginning, when the stars were taking their first steps across the universe.”

Gazing at him, she said, “The concern of one man of what I have done with my life is no concern to me. I’m only joining this little tea party because your dearest Dark Knight knows that if you truly tried to fight me, it’d end in a bloodbath with your party facing the worst casualties.”

She leaned forward and got in his face. “You are a man. A mere mortal man whose existence is but a speck in the flow of time.” Something sinister swam in her smirk. “And I am an immortal who will exist far after you return to the dust from which you were born as.” She brushed nonexistent dust off his shoulder and warned, “I don’t have to kill you, Hal. If I wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. So, the next time you want to throw around labels, remember that it wouldn’t take much to drag your soul out to the farthest realms and have it tortured beyond all comprehension.”

She smiled. “Clear?”

Hal swallowed thickly. “Crystal.”

“Excellent choice to make,” she commended and reached in her pocket, pulling some tiny, flashily wrapped chocolate out; tossing it, she said, “Have a chocolate.”

Rising from the table, she glanced at Bruce. “I’ll speak with you later tonight on what my requirements are for joining this group.” She raised a hand above her head and snapped a single time, a loud crack that begged to split everyone’s eardrums, then she dissolved from the head down in a shimmering cloud of smoke, dissipating until nothing was left.

“Well,” Barry drawled. “She seems pleasant.”

“She’ll warm up,” Bruce said, clicking on the holo-table. “Her ‘evil demeanor’ is a ploy to keep people away.”

Hal stared at him with incredulity. “She literally just threatened to have my soul tortured for eternity.”

Bruce blinked at him. “You’re you and you’re surprised by this?”

“Is anybody on my side?” Hal asked. “My life was literally just threatened!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be fearless?” Oliver cracked and Hal’s head swiveled around to glare at him.

“Shut up. Bruce, c’mon, man, she—”

“Is a valuable asset and you’ll see in time. Maybe just don’t act like be you and she won’t do anything.”

“This is ridiculous!”

“I like her,” Diana said. “She seems a remarkably interesting woman full of mystery. I look forward to becoming friends with her. Perhaps she will change her ways with better friendships.”

“Why is no one else concerned about this?!”

Bruce didn’t pay any attention to Hal’s outburst, merely going into the spiel of the weekly meeting.

[astaroth1357]

Okay, but like could you imagine how the demon bros would react if MC had a fanclub, because I feel like that would be wild lol

The Brothers v. The MC’s Fanclub

Surely, the italics blurb was meant for more than this! Any old letters in any order could have been strung together for the purpose of wasting space and yet here it is, a being brought forth with intent! With substance! The blurb has a need for greater purpose, but what is it to do when its sole function is to only exist?? How can it ever hope to fulfill its ambition when it's no more than a proto-intro to a fuller, more engaging story?! Surely… Surely there is a way...

Lucifer

He had expected a human in the Devildom would have been eaten… not popular!

The MC’s rise to the social hierarchy sidelined him hard. When he had assigned Mammon to guard their human, it was with the expectation of keeping hungry demons at bay… not ushering them through crowds of followers like a security detail.

Honestly, it’s more inconvenient than anything… The MC’s fans are actually worse than his own at taking a hint and he had to give the human a map of school just to find ways to avoid them in the halls!

They usually know better than to crash any dates that the two are on (this is Lucifer we’re talking about), but they get no privacy at RAD anymore… If he tries to meet up with the MC for anything, he has to go round up all their crazed stalkers groupies before he can actually say anything.

He’d expel them all if he could, but since Diavolo holds onto that power, he just gives any of them that get in his way an eternal detention… Can’t bother MC if you’re sealed in a closet, now can you?

Mammon

His possessiveness and his need to make money are at real odds with themselves…

On the one hand, it’d be so easy to milk these fools like no tomorrow! He could sell them practically anything the MC’s touched from old shirts to toothbrushes. Pictures could go for twice as much and if he could get the MC to give out hugs…? They’d be loaded!! Loaded, baby!!!

… But then one of them tries to get too close to MC and he feels the urge to sock him in the jaw… Like, they’re suckers, obviously, but the MC is still HIS MC. The idea of a bunch of groupies following them around… it gets under his skin something fierce.

He pretty much won’t leave their side at all at RAD just so he can swat away their fans whenever he gets the chance. He may as well be their personal bodyguard, the second a guy gets too close, Mammon will have him by the back of the neck and toss him out on his ass.

It doesn’t stop him from making money off them completely (this is Mammon we’re talking about) but he makes sure they stick to whatever worthless cast-offs he pawns on them. The real deal is his and his alone, ya hear?

Levi

Jealous boi is jealous and he doesn’t want to talk about it.

The second he found out the MC had their own fanclub he knew he hated them. He’s an otaku and a huge ass simp for people in both 2 and 3 dimensions. That means he knows what fans like this do to the people they idolize… 

Just the thought of the MC’s groupies trying to get candid shots of them or going after everything from their pencils to their bathwater… Nope. No. Not allowed. Not with his MC anyway.

He starts going out to RAD more often just to stake his claim when those losers are around (yes, even he considers them to be losers… not that he has much leg to stand on but hey). 

Normally stuttery and blushy Levi suddenly upgrades to a confident snek boy literally any time he sees their fans around. He’s gotta be touching them somehow and he’ll smile in their direction like a smug asshole the entire time. Yeah that’s right… be jealous of him for a change, you simps.

Satan

Dear lord are they an annoying bunch…

Satan isn’t opposed to the MC having fans in principle, on some level he even understands it. They’re a human in a world full of demons and that’s going to turn some heads on its own, but that doesn’t mean they have to be SO IRRITATING about it...

Satan will just be walking with the MC out in the courtyard and they’ll have fans practically nipping their heels for attention… He’d be much more patient with them if they didn’t insist on following the MC everywhere, even when they clearly don’t want them around!

Satan ends up becoming a second bodyguard for the MC when Mammon’s not around. Most of the club will keep their distance from him after just a glare but he’ll start breaking arms if pushed. Satan doesn’t play.

One unfortunate soul made the mistake of trying to take a bit of the MC’s hair for a spell and Satan caught him, scissors at ready and everything… No one talks about where those scissors ended up afterward…

Asmo

Actually isn’t as irritated with their fanclub as everybody else because, like, have you seen his? It’s just one of the joys (and challenges) of being so popular! Slay it, MC!!

Asmo is the only one who tries to encourage the MC to interact with their fans more because he’s experienced the benefits for himself. 

Having a loyal fanclub can be so heartwarming at times! It’s like having a group of people always willing to pump to you up all the time - and who doesn’t need that?

Often invites their fanclub to join his fanclub to make “crossover” parties where they all can mingle together and enjoy heaps of praise! (The MC’s actual enjoyment of these “parties” is entirely up to their tolerance of sycophantic idol worship…)

Asmo does have his limits though. The MC’s lips really only belong to him and any fan who thinks otherwise will have to deal with the full verbal fury of the fifthborn… He has made several of them dropout completely… 

Beel

Thought their club was maybe a little weird at first but tried to keep an open mind… 

They certainly aren’t like HIS fanclub (who are just the sweetest people) but they liked the MC and he liked the MC. They couldn’t have been that different, right?

Wrong. Very, very wrong. They are nothing alike.

This fact became abundantly clear to Beel after he watched a few of them steal the MC’s gym shoes from their locker… Yeah, he’s not about these guys much after that.

Mammon refused to let Beel take over as the MC’s 24/7 bodyguard, but he did become the primary muscle of the “MC Security Squad.” If a fan gets a little too crazy, then Beel straightens them out with a fist and a smile.

Belphie

Heeeey, good job MC, you got some minions! Now you just got to learn how to use them.

At least, that’s what he says but he’s not actually going to teach them or anything. Does he look like a tutor to you? Too much work...

Whether or not the MC learned how to exploit their popularity properly, he doesn’t like it when they’re around anyway. Belphie’s a very, “Me Time means Just ME” sort of guy and having a bunch of losers following the MC around gets in the way of their lunchtime cuddle…

Unlike everyone else, though, Belphie has his own minions to do his bidding so now Belphie’s fanclub and the MC fanclub are having all-out wars between class periods. We’re talking fistfights, blackmail, and firecrackers. Shit gets wild.

Not that Belphie really cares or even looks as involved in any of it as he actually is. Little does the MC know that every time they pull him in for a snuggle, he’s probably just ordered someone to slash some poor groupie’s tires… Don’t fuck with the Sleep King.

[phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing]

(CHAPTER 31 ACT 1 SPOILER!)

Hii! So instead of sleeping i watched live streams of the new chapter act and reveal of 6.0 valk. Something i didn't understand:

So, since Elysia was the first Herrscher, and the FC knew that, what was the final banquet they keep talking about? Before the reveal i thought it was about Ellie showing herself to be the 13th to unite humanity and "forcing" (?) Kevin to kill her, but now i'm so confused because it seems all the FC actually always believed her (?) so i'm not sure anymore what the banquet was about. Did Kevin kill her? Did she let herself to be killed? So why did she give them the keys (those colorful flowers)?

It was her farewell party. They didn’t fight. Regardless of the exact method, she killed herself getting rid of their doomed fate so Humanity could have another chance. The flowers seem to basically be souvenirs to remember her by? Unclear if they had any power in reality.

The lie that she turned into the 13th Herrscher (and the implication that Kevin had to kill her) was to cover up her true nature and the reason she had to die; they couldn’t make it public that a Herrscher helped them all along, it’d just ruin morale and make things way too complicated.

As a side note, Mobius saw the reports about her turning into a Herrscher prior to the banquet, but threw them in the trash immediately since she knew it was total bullshit. Which is kinda interesting because Elysia’s death is allegedly what made her realize eternity was meaningless. I hope we get more info =w=;;

[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Diluc, Childe, Kaeya & Zhongli / Darling Saying “I hate you.”

Warnings: Suggestive themes and typical unhealthy yandere behavior. Note: sometimes in life we just gotta suffer,

Diluc had told himself that this was for your own good.

That’s what gave him the ability to rest at night -- while holding the knowledge of all the freedoms he’s taken from you -- that you are safe. There’s air in your lungs, healthy color to your cheeks, and life shining brightly in your eyes. It’d be selfish to ask for anything more, he would reason. This is good enough, is what he’d think, not fully sure if he believed the creed himself. 

Now he knows those words were but a lie to cover a gaping wound in his heart.

He gazes at you now, his hand reaching out, only to stop when you flinch away. The reality that he tried so desperately to push down has risen to the surface, your turmoil not easily ignored. Diluc needs to remain steadfast as he considers hesitation an insult. Certainly, he is low for holding you here against your will, but it’d be that much worse if he started questioning himself. 

“I know,” is the strained answer he arrives at. You hear the pain in his voice, how the words were all but pried from him. “I’ve always known.” 

“Then why?” You plead, exasperation pushing you past the limit. His head is hung low for once, unable to meet your scrutinizing gaze, instead taking an acute interest in the wooden floorboard beneath his feet. 

It brings him back to his childhood, like a kid being scolded for an illogical grievance against their sibling. Your question strikes deep and close to the heart. His answer comes fast, almost robotic, as if he’s practiced it in the mirror countless times.

“For your safety.”

And so you won’t leave like everyone else has.

Exchanging thinly veiled antagonism behind the guise of banter has always thrilled Childe. This game the two of you play, he wouldn’t change it for the world, deriving too much satisfaction in your flustered reactions. Every day is spent thinking about when he’ll get to see you next, what words might bring out the cutest expressions. 

The manner you deliver the line is frigid and he can’t help but be reminded of  Snezhnaya’s climate. For a fleeting moment, it stings, like snowflakes against bare skin. If there’s anything Childe excels at, it’s warding off the cold. He laughs, once, twice, face illuminated with uncanny elation. 

You watch in disbelief as he treats your honest admission as nothing but a joke. There’s nothing you can think to say to describe the frustration that grows in the depths of your soul, Childe’s response encapsulating exactly why you said it in the first place. Half of you considers leaving him where he stands, but you know better, he’d follow after you relentlessly. A Fatui Harbinger’s ability to spot and track their prey cannot be understated.

When his laughter starts to settle down, he speaks. “So the truth comes out, hm?” 

Childe stalks towards you, sporting a wolf-like grin that sends shivers down your spine, every step you take back not enough to increase the space between you two. Eventually, your back hits the wall. Childe takes advantage of your lack of escape, taking your chin in his hand and placing his arm by your head. At that moment, it’s impossible to ignore the looming height difference, though he leans down to look at you closer.

“Hate me all you want,” he hums, his voice dipping lower with each syllable. “But I’m not going anywhere, ever, so keep that in mind. And who knows?”

Childe winks at you.

“Maybe I have a thing for being degraded.”

To be looked at with suspicion is nothing new to Kaeya. Everyone has their own reasons for doing so, whether it be to his cunning nature creating suspicion, or his country of origin. Though, he admits, your reasoning is far more personal than that. After all, his schemes have sent you into a whirlwind of misfortune. 

Kaeya moves back, observing how your chest rises and falls with each labored breath, the way you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s quietly grateful that your former entangled position didn’t grant you the ability to see his face, as shock undoubtedly must’ve crossed over it. Moment’s later, he’s collected, in control of every twitch and crease of his expression. 

“Hm, while I never excelled in my linguistics tutoring, I think I’m familiar enough with the word hate to draw a different conclusion,” Kaeya nods to your discarded clothes on the floor, to which you flush even brighter than before. “Is that what you’d call this? You were throwing yourself at me just a few seconds ago, y’know.” 

He’s getting under your skin on purpose. You know this, seeing the trap he’s laid out without even trying to hide it, yet still fall for it to defend yourself.

“Where else am I supposed to go, when no one even looks me in the eye anymore?” You challenge, wiping the saliva from your lips with the back of your hand. Kaeya hums, considering your inquiry, fingers rubbing circles into your skin as he does so. The contact makes your mind hazy, being deprived of physical contact having done a toll on you. To come to him for comfort is a blow to your pride.

“Your hand could’ve always helped with that, but you still chose mine.” Kaeya smiles, ducking down to press open-mouthed kisses against your neck. You decide not to honor him with any further response. It feeds into his ego and that’s the last thing you want, so you close your eyes and sigh. 

He pauses for a brief moment, not willing to let it go. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. I’ll always find a way to make time for you.” 

Zhongli places his cup of tea down onto the table, outward reaction schooled and giving nothing away. It’s a pathetic, last-ditch attempt to earn an emotional response, even you know this. From how he whispers archaic prose into your ear about his love and adoration for you, you were expecting at least... something. A frown, furrowed eyebrows, pain in his amber eyes. Anything. 

His visage remains unchanging. You drum your fingers against the table, narrowing your eyes and jutting your bottom lip out. It took you weeks to work up the courage to tell him this! Indignation and embarrassment blossom inside your chest, threatening to suffocate you. Any other time he’s talkative, but for some reason, he’s decided to take some vow of silence now. 

You perk up expectantly when he clears his throat. 

“It was never in the terms of our contract for you to have positive feelings towards me,” Zhongli decides, raising the cup to his lips and blowing. “Though, if I might add, I would personally like it if you did.” 

Maybe it would’ve been better if he stayed silent after all. There’s no validation to be found in his taciturn response, no substance to appease your burning frustration. The word contract sticks out like a sore thumb. Petty as it might be to continue this exchange, you feel vindicated enough to do just that.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the correct term would be marriage, not contract.”

“Are the two not one and the same? You’ve pledged yourself eternally to be my significant other, in the same way a contract binds two parties together.” Zhongli watches how you slide down into your seat dejectedly. Attempting to start an argument with Zhongli was akin to yelling at a brick wall, you decide.

“Don’t act so proud of yourself for swindling my parents into believing you’re an upstanding person.” 

His lips quirk up for the briefest of moments.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the term would be negotiating, not swindling.” 

You leave him to eat his breakfast alone.