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sometimesanalice · 2 months ago

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Are You Gonna Be My Girl?

Summary: It’s been a couple of months since the two of you have started hooking up, and it’s no secret that Rooster is hung up on you. He takes the gamble and invites you to the yearly Halloween bash at the Hard Deck. The only problem is he can’t figure out what the hell you’re supposed to be.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.2K

Warnings: allusions to smut and Rooster being a simp (but what else is new 😂) (mdni)

The Black Keys’ “Howlin’ for You” playing loudly over the static-y speakers of the Hard Deck masking the sound of Rooster’s fingers as he impatiently drums them on top of the worn table, uncaring of the fact he’s out of tempo with the song.

Penny’s yearly Halloween Spooktacular has always been a fan favorite with those stationed at North Island. A name that Amelia had thrown shade at no less than five times as she worked on designing the event flier the afternoon that the Daggers had been bribed with free beers for coming in on their free time to help decorate.

There wasn’t an inch of the bar that was left untouched, and it wasn’t just that Bob had gotten carried away with the downy spider webbing. There were orange and purple string lights threaded around the circular mug racks, floating candles over the pool table, dangling bats and streamers, and an enthusiastic but poorly executed attempt at a balloon arch over the entry door.

The wispy fog covered punchbowl with a suspicious dark purple beverage bubbled away on the bartop, tendrils cascaded over the side only adding to the atmosphere. The stuff was so potent that Bradley was pretty sure it would put the jungle juice he’d thrown back in college to shame.

Rooster had been tasked with curating the playlist for tonight’s party, and if he’d been paying even a little bit of attention, he’d have known his choices were being well received by the boisterous crowd. But his attention is half split trying to listen to Hangman’s story about the Halloween prank gone wrong that left him with twelve stitches and half listening for-

Ding

He’s quick on the draw to pull out his phone from the chest pocket to check if it was his that went off.

When he’d arrived Nat, decked out in a sequined pink gown with a gun he wasn’t sure was fake or not strapped to her thigh for her Miss Congeniality costume, had given him a look of disdain and said what he was wearing was low effort even for him.

Rooster tucks his phone away with a disappointed sigh when there are zero new notifications on his lock screen.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you so whipped over a girl before, Bradshaw,” Hangman drawls, leaning into the gunslinging cowboy thing he has going on for the evening. His shirt is unbuttoned more than is strictly necessary, and is complete with a belt buckle that is larger than the state of Texas and too heavy looking to have been bought off Amazon.

Ding

Bradley fishes out his phone again from the pocket he’d put it back in only moments earlier.

You, 10:32pm: “u up?”

He grins.

“And we’ve lost him,” someone snarks, but he’s too busy punching in the password to unlock his phone to care.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:32pm: are you ever going to let that go?

You, 10:32pm: Mmm, no. You were so bad at being a fuckboy, it was funny.

You, 10:33pm: But in a very hot way, might I add. And clearly, it worked in your favor since I let you come over and hit it a second time.

Rooster snorts in amusement.

It was the first and last time he’d taken Fanboy’s advice and you teased him about it every opportunity you got. He had been a little rusty with the ins and outs of no-strings-attached sex with someone who wasn’t in the Navy. But he’d more than made up for it that same night by eating you out until your legs were shaking and you were weakly pushing his head away as he’d coaxed you into coming just one more time against his tongue.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:33pm: don’t remember hearing you laughing last night when your pussy was dripping all over my cock

He takes a sip of beer as he waits for your response.

You, 10:33pm: Look! You’re already so much better at sexting than you were when we met!

You, 10:34pm: “u up?” is still on the table, by the way. Not to brag, but I even have a pumpkin shaped pizza.

You, 10:34pm: If you want to come over.

If you want to come over. He shakes his head reading the text again.

As if he’d ever pass up on getting to spend time with you.

As if Rooster hadn’t been hooked on you since the moment he’d met you.

𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦 𝗔𝗚𝗢

As a general rule, Bradley hated grocery shopping.

He’s never had the patience for it, with the way that everyone is in their own world. He gets tired of always having to weave around people and the way that there always seems to be carelessly parked carts or people catching up standing between him and the items on his list.

Which is why when he noticed the parking lot was mostly empty on his way home, he decided to stop and spare himself the headache of doing it over the weekend when everyone else was out and just get it done.

He’d expected to be in and out in record time until the uniform lines of colorful cartons of ice cream caught his attention as he was tossing in a few bags of frozen chicken into his cart. Normally it was always so crowded that he never felt like he could take his time looking without being in someone’s way, that he’d skip it entirely and later try to convince himself that his Greek yogurt was just as good. But tonight since no one was around, he was taking his time.

Under the glare of the fluorescents, he stands there with the hum of the freezers competing with the too-twangy-for-his-taste country song playing over the speakers and debating his options when he feels an arm thread around his own, surprising him out of the pros and cons list he was making in his head between the healthier low-calorie choice versus the one he actually wanted.

“Hi, hello there.” Bradley glances over to see the prettiest pair of eyes looking up at him expectantly. “Do you mind playing along for a few minutes, there’s some creep who keeps trying to bother me.”

He looks over the top of your head to see some guy lingering at the end of the aisle. “The guy who looks like off-brand John Mayer?”

You scrunch your nose up. “That’d be the one.”

“How good are you at picking out ice cream flavors?” he asks, standing up straighter and pulling his shoulders back.

You blink at him in confusion before your lips tick up in a relieved smile. “Very good, as a matter of fact.”

“Great, you came to my rescue just in time.” Bradley guides you closer until you’re in front of him, lightly resting a hand on your hip the way he would if you were his girlfriend. “Is this ok?” he asks under his breath, only loud enough for you to hear.

When you nod, he feels the knot in his chest loosen. Because while he wants this to be convincing to the guy still loitering at the edge of the aisle, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“First things first, we need to establish a baseline.” You point at the carton covered in cartoony looking chocolate chip cookies. “What’s your opinion on cookie dough?”

“Overrated,” he answers, not missing a beat. “I’d rather just eat the stuff out of a tube instead.”

You lean back into him a bit more. “Ooh, tough crowd,” you tease, your head finding his shoulder. “Ok then, mister tempting-fate-with-salmonella, what’s your stance on the great vanilla bean vs French vanilla debate?”

Bradley takes a quick look around to make sure they’re not blocking any other late night grocery shoppers. He pretends to ponder for a moment before responding, “I like the one with flecks.”

“A dignified choice.” You say it so solemnly that he can’t help but chuckle.

The easy back and forth banter goes on for a few more minutes. Sometimes you rib him about his answers and other times agree. It shouldn’t be so fun standing there in front of the cooler filled with tubs of ice cream, but it is. It was the last thing he could have expected when he’d decided to stop in at the last minute on his way home after hitting up the Hard Deck.

When he tells you the two choices he had been contemplating before you’d come up to him, you hum contemplatively and tap a finger against your cheek, “Well this changes everything if you’re dairy free.”

“Nah, just watching my figure. The containers are smaller and I have a sweet tooth.”

“Respectfully, I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about. You fill out those khakis just fine, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Rooster wonders if you can hear his self-satisfied grin. “Not every day I get a pretty girl telling me she was checking out my ass.”

You let out a small, amused scoff and all he feels is pleased with himself.

“I was not checking out your- oh.” The surprise in your voice has him leaning back enough to get a look at your face. “Wait, is he gone?” You peer around his shoulder, but don’t make a move to pull away from the gentle hold he has on you.

“He left around the time you were giving a very impassioned speech about how overlooked spumoni is. I probably should have mentioned it sooner, but you were making a pretty compelling case and I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says, trying to play it off casually and hoping that he didn’t just become the creep in this story when you tell it to your friends later.

“Oh, ok. That’s, um, that’s good.” You sound almost… disappointed? You take a step towards the case and he drops his arm back down to his side, already missing the feel of you under it. “Thank you so much for committing to the bit. Seriously, I truly appreciate it,” you say over your shoulder, opening the glass door.

He rubs the back of his neck, watching as you grab a carton out of the freezer, not sure whether to move on with the rest of his shopping or not. But when you turn back towards him, he’s hit with the full force of your smile, feeling it all the way to his toes.

“Rocky Road,” you say, setting the carton into his cart. “It has peanuts in it, which is a nutrient-dense food and an excellent plant-based source of protein. There’s collagen from the gelatin in the marshmallows. And chocolate has antioxidants in it and is known to trigger the holy trinity of happy brain chemicals. It’s basically a superfood.”

Rooster grins. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“No, unfortunately, it really doesn’t,” you agree, playfully leaning a hip against his cart. “But it’s more fun this way, don’t you think?”

He’s so fucking charmed by you and he doesn’t even know your name yet.

While he’s glad he was there at the right time and got to play a small part in deterring that guy from continuing to hassle you, he kind of wishes the two of you could have met under different circumstances, because he’d jump at the chance of being able to score a date with you. He sighs and shakes the thought out of his head.

“Would you like me to walk you to your car?” Rooster offers, ready to abandon his groceries for a few extra minutes with you.

“Oh wow.” That mischievous gleam that had been in your eyes changes to something softer. You tilt your head, taking him in with a thoughtful expression on your face. “You’re one of those rare genuinely a gentleman types, aren’t you? Like the kind who always walks closest to the curb and mows their elderly neighbor’s yard without being asked.” Bradley just lifts a shoulder. He’s used to looking out for other people, it’s just something he’s always done. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you muse, contemplatively, “I should let you know though, knock-off John Mayer is my ex.”

He feels his hackles rise up immediately and scans the area again to double check the guy isn’t still hanging around. “Is he harassing you?”

“Oh no, it was only an unfortunate fluke, I promise,” you say, patting his hand that’s gripping the handle of the shopping cart reassuringly. “He’s just a jackass who thought he could cheat on me and that I’d still take him back.” Bradley grunts at that, even more irritated than he was before. “But he was still trying to test the waters, even after I told him I was seeing someone,” you continue, with a roll of your eyes, “Which was technically true- even if I am in fact single right now- because that’s when I saw you over here gazing very intensely into the freezer case like you’d been personally victimized by Ben and Jerry.”

“You’re out of his league anyways,” he rasps.

There’s no way in hell Bradley would fumble a girl like you.

You grin widely, clearly amused at his annoyance on your behalf. “He was a tool with an overinflated ego and a flat ass.” Rooster barks out a surprised laugh. “And you’re so much hotter than him, so I really lucked out there with you as my knight in ironed khakis,” you say unabashedly, reaching out to straighten out his already perfectly straight name tag. “You really went above and beyond for your country there helping me win the break up.”

“I don’t think you needed me for that part. It’s pretty clear you came out on top.” His eyes dart down to your hand on the cart, like you forgot it was still resting on top of his. “But I was more than happy to help all the same.” He takes a half step closer into your space, deciding just to go for it. “I’m thinking we should keep up the ruse though, you know, just in case he is lurking by the pasta or something.”

You quirk a knowing eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

“I could also use your professional opinion on cereal. That is if you still have some more shopping to do,” he suggests, nodding to your mostly empty handbasket.

There’s no question that he’s caught your interest, not with the way you’re looking at him. That smile you’re wearing tells a story of its own. “What a coincidence, that just happens to be my forte.”

“I had a feeling you might be the right girl for the job.” Bradley takes your basket from you and sets it in his cart and gestures for you to lead the way.

He learns your name around the same time he does about your hottake on Frosted Cheerios.

And later that night, his groceries are packed away in your fridge as the container of Rocky Road the two of you were sharing melts on your coffee table- the condensation puddling on the marble surface reflecting the credits rolling across the TV screen- as you ride him on your couch. Your hands tightly fisted in his hair and your breathy whines in his ear urging him to fuck you harder and faster until you come with his name in your mouth.

And in the morning, he gets your number over a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

The two of you have been fooling around for a couple of months now.

On the nights Rooster wasn’t fucking you, he was getting himself off to the thought of you and wishing you were in bed with him. You’ve never been to his place, so he doesn’t even have the bonus of that bright citrus scent of you lingering on his sheets on the nights he spends alone.

The sex was great. Mind-blowing. You were loud and enthusiastic and gave just as good as you got. Bradley found your confidence sexy as hell. You were the type of girl who knew exactly what she wanted and he was always up for the challenge of finding new ways to make your back arch and toes curl.

But he was just as much of a fan of the parts that came before and after getting you spasming around his cock.

He liked the way your mind worked. You were always telling him about something interesting you’d read, because you were naturally curious about the world around you. You asked him thoughtful questions about his job and his life in the Navy, but not in the way he was used to from the tag chasers that frequented the Hard Deck. There was no mistaking you were asking because you wanted to know more about him, and not fixated on the shiny sheen of his golden aviator wings.

Rooster has never laughed as much as he has with you. In those moments between catching your sighs with his mouth and waiting for the knock on the door for whatever late-night craving was being delivered, you’d have him laughing and grinning until his cheeks ached.

The closest he’s ever gotten to taking you on a proper date was that one late night drive-thru run when everything on delivery apps were closed. You’d looked like his favorite daydream sitting there under the glow of the streetlamp in the nearly empty parking lot in a shirt of his that he must have accidently left behind after a hook up.

That night was the most real it’s ever felt. And he wanted more nights just like that.

He liked the way you always seemed to have a documentary to recommend for any given topic, he has a list on his phone and has been working his way through them. He liked the way the glasses you wore sometimes seemed slightly too big for your face because it was cute the way you’d constantly push them back up your nose. He liked that you texted in full sentences with complete and proper punctuation.

Bradley could already imagine how tonight would most likely go.

He’d dip out of the party early and come to your place. Your tongue in his mouth and your greedy little hand tugging to get his belt undone before he’d even made it through the door. The two of you going at it until someone has to tap out- which he is smug in the fact that more often than not it’s usually you- now that he knows all the best ways to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you. Sometimes the two of you order in, and other nights you’ll pass a bowl of ice cream or cereal back and forth over the island in your kitchen where he gets to hear you laugh and tease him and tell him about your day. Then do it all over again and once you’re thoroughly spent, he’ll hold you as you fall asleep. And then in the morning he’ll press a kiss to your cheek and take one more look back at you before leaving through the same door he’d shown up at only hours before.

And that was fine for now, but he wanted more of you. He didn’t want to be just a casual hook up, he wanted to date you.

He wanted to be soft launched and hard launched, or whatever it was that Mickey was talking about that night he’d taken his misguided advice and sent the much teased “u up?” text. He wanted to block people in the chip aisle of the grocery store as you talked him into getting some crazy flavor, turning his least favorite chore into the highlight of his week. He wanted knockoff John Mayer to see he got the girl and knew how to treat her right.

He wanted you to be his girl.

“Aren’t you too old to be in a situationship, Bradshaw?” Jake asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Fuck off,” Rooster grumbles, his eyebrows furrowed and his thumbs still hovering over the screen. A couple minutes have ticked by since your last text as he sits there stewing. He knocks back the remainder of his beer, it’s mostly foam, “I think I’m gonna head out.”

“No, you’re not. Bob hasn’t even performed the dance routine to “Thriller” yet,” Nat says, pinning him to his stool with a look, “Come on, Bradley, just invite her here.” She reaches overs and squeezes his shoulder. “You’ve been seeing her for a couple months now. You’re clearly into her, and you wouldn’t disappear on us as much as you do if she wasn’t into you too. This is a low stakes environment with everything going on and people off having fun doing their own thing. And the two of you can still go and do whatever you’re going to do after.”

“I don’t know, Phoenix, she might dump him when she sees what he’s wearing at a Navy bar on Halloween,” Hangman drawls, unhelpfully, grinning around that damn toothpick.

“Shut it, Bagman,” they both say simultaneously.

“Just throw it out there and see what she says.” Nat slides out of her seat, the beads on her dress scraping against the edge of the stool. “Now, we’re going to let you panic in peace for a few minutes while we get another round.”

“We’re?” Jake asks slowly, deliberately drawing out the word.

“Yep,” she confirms, the look on her face leaving no room for arguments as she tugs him off his seat. “And you’re paying, let’s go.”

Bradley scrubs a hand over his face, but not before he sees Nat punching Seresin in the arm on their way to the bar.

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous all of a sudden, he’s never had an issue asking girls out before. Not that he’s ever had to work that hard for it, but still.

His knee bounces on the foot rest as he works out what to say. He types out the message and gives it a quick once over and hits send before he can overthink it.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:42pm: I’d never say no to you or a pumpkin shaped pizza. But I’m actually at a Halloween party right now at the bar near base with some friends. And I’m thinking you should stop by.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:42pm: I’m sorry it’s a last minute invite, but it’s always a good time and I think you would have fun. I’d like to see you, if “ur up” for it.

He tries not to dwell on the fact he just double texted you, a thing he didn’t know he should be worried about before Fanboy warned him about doing it.

It’s like he’s been hit by lightning the way he shoots up in his seat when he sees those little dots appear on the screen. Rooster holds his breath when they start and stop a few times, each time they disappear and come back again his heart pounds a little harder in his chest.

You, 10:44pm: I’m all in. What’s the address?

All the bubbles from the beer he’d had earlier swarm and rush to his head at once as he drops you a pin.

Nat pushes a shot of bourbon towards him across the table when they return. “Did it go well?”

He nods. “She’s on her way.”

“Good, because you know Halloween is my favorite holiday and your sulking was bringing the vibe down.”

He chuckles, there’s no way he’s beating those whipped allegations now.

She clinks her own shot with his and they throw them back together, the warmth of the expensive tasting liquor sticks behind his sternum.

The next thirty minutes are the longest of Rooster’s life. His head swings to the front door every time it opens, hoping that it’ll be you outlined by the purple, green, and orange string lights.

When he sees you come through the swiftly deflating balloon arch scanning the bar for him, he almost does a double take.

You’ve got on a black and white polka dot top, the cuffs are a flared ruffle that are tied with a bow at your wrist. Your skirt is plain black, but the way it hugs your hips leaves little to the imagination. He can’t even begin to guess what you’re dressed as because other than the night he met you, it’s the most clothes he’s ever seen you in.

Excluding those little silky matching sets you’re usually wearing when he comes over. But those don’t usually stay on too long before they end up on the floor of your living room. Or bedroom. Or kitchen.

He usually has to leave before you, so he’s usually headed out your front door while you’re still wrapped up in one of those fluffy white towels you have. He’s enjoying seeing you here in his favorite bar in that outfit and heading towards him like you’re just as happy to see him as he is to see you.

“Huh, if I'm not mistaken I’m pretty sure that’s what I sent you into work in this morning,” you say, grinning up at him and lightly tugging on the zipper of his flight suit. “Are you supposed to be a Walk of Shame?”

Bradley wraps an arm around you because he can’t help himself. “Please, we all know it’s called the Stride of Pride. It’s never a shame when I get laid.” He presses his fingertips into the swell of the top of your ass before leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear, “Plus, I didn’t have time to go home and grab my costume because someone lured me back into bed this morning.”

He had to do 200 extra push-ups and stay behind to do paperwork as penance for being late the third time that week, but it was worth it. But by the time he was finished, the sun was already well on its way to setting. If he’d been a bit more forward thinking he would have brought the costume he had planned with him, instead of thinking he’d have time to swing by his house to change. Bradley didn’t think it was too much of a let down for you, not with the way you’re looking at him. It’s that same heated way that tells him you’re remembering your reaction to it the first time you’d ever seen him in it.

“Sounds like poor planning on your part,” you tease, your finger tracing the edge of his nametag. “I can’t believe you’re wearing your work clothes to a Halloween party, Rooster.”

“Ok, funny girl. Tell me then, what’re you supposed to be?” He takes a step back and gives you a blatant once over, taking his time admiring the shape of you from your head to your toes in some wicked looking heels and back up again.

Maybe if things went well tonight, you’d leave them on for him later when he gets you alone.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to spend the night guessing,” you smirk, the curve of your mouth promising mischief. “But I think you’ll like it once you figure it out.”

“Bradshaw, are you going to introduce us to your sexy librarian?” Hangman hollers, waving the two of you over back to the table with his hat. Bradley doesn’t hear as much as he sees the oof that comes out of the blonde when Phoenix sends an elbow into his side.

Rooster glances at you with a raise of his eyebrow and you shake your head. Not a sexy librarian then.

“I take it you know the rodeo clown?”

He tips his head back and laughs, already looking forward to telling Hangman. “I do. And Gracie Lou Freebush over there too.”

You wave over at Nat, gesturing to her costume and mouth obsessed, before turning back to him to ask, “Is that gun real?”

“I’m too afraid to ask,” he jokes, only half kidding. “C’mon let me get you a drink, I have an in with the bartender.”

“Are you trying to show off for me, Bradley?”

“Definitely.” He reaches out and toys with the end of the bow on your sleeve. “Is it working, Leslie Knope?”

You just send him that devastating smile of yours and thread your fingers through his. “I think I'm going to have so much fun with this tonight.”

“But full disclosure, you see Napoleon Bonaparte?” He points over to where Mav is behind the bar wearing tasseled shoulder pads pouring pints behind the bar next to a bedazzled Penny in a white neoclassical style dress. “That’s my godfather and his fiancée.”

You school the surprise on your face quickly. “Bradley Bradshaw, are you a nepobaby?”

“That’s a story for another time.” He chuckles, carefully winding his way around a Fred Flintstone and a Deviled Egg to the bar. “Be warned though, the Blue Slime Sipper is lethal. I had four last year and put on an a cappella performance of the Ghostbusters theme song.”

“Please tell me someone has a video of that,” you laugh.

“I called in every favor I had to get all evidence of that particular performance erased.”

At the bar, you order two Blue Slime Sippers looking the picture of innocence as you admire the giant spider affixed to the top of the bar by the till, even though he knows better.

One for him and one for you.

He briefly introduces you to Penny and Mav, trying to keep it casual. Thankfully, it’s busy enough that there’s not more time for small talk or jokes about the frosted tips he had when he was thirteen.

Their guess at a modern day I Love Lucy was also met with a no.

But he’s pretty sure Mav’s attempt to stealthily shoot him two thumbs up after you get your neon blue colored drinks fails based on the way your lips are pressed together in an attempt to smother the smile that he sees toying at the corners of your mouth.

Over the course of the night, it becomes a game that the rest of the team joins in on as he introduces them to the girl he’s been hung up on for weeks.

You help him kick Payback and Fanboy’s asses at the Eyeball Beer Pong that Penny had set up outside on the deck.

“Damn, Lawyer Barbie has an arm,” Fanboy says, the spring of the Slingy Dog costume sagging sadly between him and Payback, watching as you sink another doodled on ping-pong ball into a cup.

“I think we need a rematch,” Payback countered after their loss, “Flight Attendants have great hand-eye coordination, it’s an unfair advantage.”

Both guesses were met with a no.

When you side with Nat over Death Becomes Her as the best, but most underrated, Halloween movie, she throws her hands up in victory, “Thank you! Finally, someone with good taste… Olivia Pope?”

It’s another no, but he’s happy to see how much fun you’re having with his friends.

Between the riotous costume contest voting, and the one-man performance of “Thriller” that Bob puts on, and the pumpkin tic-tac-toe, Rooster has a lot of fun making his own guesses.

Except for the time he offers up Miss Bliss, he nearly chokes on his Cauldron Cooler when you ask him, “Is that a porn thing?”

Which in hindsight, he probably should have specified from the show Saved by the Bell, that he only knew because he’d been into Tiffani Amber Thiessen as a kid, but he doesn’t get to because you’re too busy delightedly laughing at his near spit-take.

He sticks close to your side, an arm slung over your shoulder or around your waist. There’s a moment when he gets worried he might be smothering you, but then you’d lean your head on his shoulder and he figured you were right where you wanted to be.

The two of you step outside when the Monster Mash smashburger contest starts up, the song following you to the sun-bleached wooden deck.

There are less people out here now, a few people are stationed behind the ping-pong table and others are seated on the picnic tables chatting and swapping stories. Most of his friends had stayed inside to cheer on Coyote’s attempt to hold onto his burger eating crown.

It’s the first time all night that he has you on your own, and while he appreciates how welcoming his friends are with wanting to make you feel included and slipping in more than a few jokes at his expense, he’s ready to have you to himself for a while.

But first.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re supposed to be?” He runs a finger along the ruffle down the front of your shirt. “I think I’ve lost count of how many failed attempts I’ve made now and It’s starting to take a toll on my ego.”

“How about this, you tell me what you were supposed to be and then I’ll tell you what my costume is,” you offer, playfully.

You’re still toying with him like a cat does a string and he doesn’t mind a single bit.

He steps in close, winding an arm around your low back pulling you in close. “James Bond,” he says, enjoying the way your eyes light up.

“Now that’s something I would love to see,” you murmur, running your hand along his arm. “Not that the flight suit isn’t working for me.” He grins smug because he knows exactly how much this flight suit works for you.

Rooster shakes his head amused. “I’ll put it on for you later if you want.” He grins smug because he knows exactly how much this flight suit works for you, but you haven’t seen him in a tux yet. “Now, I’ve been dying to know since the moment you walked in, what are you dressed as?”

You grin, wide and bright, like you’ve been waiting for this all night.

“Your future girlfriend, I thought it was pretty obvious.”

Bradley doesn’t waste a moment bringing both of his hands to your face and getting his lips on yours. A surprised noise escapes from the back of your throat before you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer.

Your full lips soften under his demanding ones, the sensual slide of your lips against his has him desperate for more. His tongue chases after the sweetness of your mouth. He can’t get enough of it.

He can’t get enough of you.

“So I take it, you like my costume then?” you ask against his lips.

“I’m about to go swipe that trophy from Cousin Itt because yours is the best one here by far.” You giggle when he pulls you back in to kiss you again- or tries to. “C’mon, sweetheart, I need you to cooperate here. I’m trying to kiss my girlfriend.”

But then his teeth click against yours because now you’ve got him smiling too.

You skim another soft kiss against his mouth and lean back. “You know, I did have a back-up costume, just in case things didn’t go well.” You put a finger up and twist a little in his arms to rummage in your purse. And when you turn back towards him you’ve got a bright red clown nose on your face.

“Are you kidding me? The only clown here is Seresin.” He chuckles and gently pulls it from off your nose. “I’ve been trying to figure out how lock this down for weeks now. That tux was going to be my ace. It’s about a half size too small, but I figured it might do the trick to make things more official. It’s a good thing I’ve got a girl who knows what she wants.”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, Bradshaw. I still want to see you in it.”

“I can make that happen. Especially since that means I get to take you home with me tonight.” He drops a kiss on your cheek. “I’ve got an idea about what we can be next year though.”

“It’s not even midnight yet, and you’re thinking about next year?”

Bradley shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m all about playing the long game. Just want to give you something to look forward to.”

“Let’s hear it then,” you say, giving him an expectant look.

“Considering how we met and all, I think contestants from Supermarket Sweep would be a solid choice for us. There’s nothing sexier than some khakis and sweatshirts.”

You look delighted and amused and like his.

“Done. You know I am a big fan of you in a pair of khakis.”

Rooster tugs you to him again needing to taste your grin. He hears a cheer go up inside of the bar, probably for whoever won the contest, but he pretends it’s for him.

After all, he’s the one who got the girl.

Happy Halloween! I'm dropping a smitten Rooster into everyone's candy bucket this year! Thank you for reading!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine

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itneverendshere · 2 months ago

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all you've got to do is want something and then let yourself have it - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

this is a combination of a few requests: "hella see jj instantly jumping into uncle jay mode when autumn comes (...) + "she's just so small against rafe and it's halloween where jj and monica and milo come stop by, and she's just so srunchy in her halloween onesie" + "the thought of baby cameron's first holiday being halloween! + thinking of jj having the most random nicknames for autumn that even rafes like what did u just call my daughter (...).

it was halloween—rafe’s first as a dad—and his baby girl, autumn, was just about a month old. his chest swelled with pride every time he looked at her—her little hands, those big blue eyes that still seemed so new to the world.

he'd never understood how people could fall in love so quickly with something so small. but now, looking down at her cute face, he couldn’t help but be consumed by it.

tonight wasn’t just another halloween—it was autumn's first.

rafe was determined to make it special. he'd even set up a few decorations in the living room, hoping to at least start the tradition early. not that she could enjoy it yet, but someday she would.

he heard the familiar chime of a text, swiping open his phone, he grinned at the picture you’d sent to the group chat. there was his baby girl, strapped in her car seat, snug as a bug, with her tiny fists curled up against the pumpkin onesie she was drowning in.

found her a decent costume, guess who’s about to come home! read your message.

he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he replied, i bet she’s ready to see her daddy.

another message popped up from jj, his voice coming through as if he were already in full-on uncle jay mode. he hadn’t even seen the baby for more than a couple minutes, but he was all about claiming his spot in the family.

aw, my sweet little chipmunk must be so excited to see me!

“chipmunk?” rafe mumbled to himself, brows pulling together as he shook his head. that idiot had a nickname for autumn every week since she was born, and every week, they seemed to get more random.

he could picture it now—jj walking in and immediately stealing the kid from his arms, calling her some out-of-nowhere name.

just as he pocketed his phone, he heard the front door swing open.

there you were, his pretty wife with that tired-but-radiant look in your eyes that made him weak in the knees every time, and there was his little girl, her chubby cheeks smushed against the car seat strap, already half-asleep.

“hey, troublemaker,” he whispered to his daughter as he scooped her up, her onesie crinkling as she wiggled and blinked up at him.

rafe had never felt so big as he did when holding her; her whole body fit in his arms like she was meant to be there. the doorbell interrupted their little moment, and rafe smiled to himself.

right on time.

he opened the door to see jj, monica, and milo—the familiar, chaotic crew.

jj was already leaning in for autumn, hands outstretched like she was his to claim. he rushed over, grinning like a kid who’d just won the jackpot. “ohhh, chipmunk’s home!”

“alright, alright, hold on,” rafe grumbled, stepping back. he shook his head, giving jj a warning glance. “dude, she’s barely awake. can you let her at least stay asleep for five minutes?”

“eh, five minutes is all she needs,” jj smirked, taking her from rafe’s arms with ease. “monica always says she’s got my personality—just sleeps through everything.”

monica rolled her eyes. “i never said that. don’t put words in my mouth.”

“come on, rafey, princess fussy butt just needs her uncle.” he shot rafe a wink, then immediately started babbling nonsense to the baby, who blinked at him with that open-mouth stare, like she was trying to understand why everyone thought this dude was so funny.

"what did you just call my daughter?" rafe raised a brow. “princess fussy butt? really, dude?”

maybank just laughed. “better than ‘chipmunk'.”

milo, meanwhile, was tugging at your sleeve, showing you the skeleton costume he’d been wearing all day, rattling off about the latest candy haul he was plotting.

monica glanced over, shaking her head. “if you start with that nickname, she’s going to think it’s her real name by the time she’s two.”

“good,” jj smirked. “she’ll be ready to take on the world by then.”

rafe chuckled, glancing back at his baby, her scrunchy little self bundled in her onesie, eyes already half-shut.

“look at her,” he nodded towards jj, while you rested your head against his bicep.

“it’s her first holiday,” you murmured.

“yeah, and she’s got maniac jj, aunt monica, and the skeleton over there to keep it interesting,” he joked, watching milo comparing candy bars with jj in what looked like a serious negotiation.

he was still cradling autumn, making faces at her and talking to her in a voice that was a little too high-pitched for anyone but a baby. rafe watched from the couch now, his arms wrapped around you as you sat beside him, both of you listening to the holiday mess around you.

“hey, i swear, if she calls him ‘uncle jay’ before she can even say ‘mama’ or ‘dada,’ i’m gonna fucking' lose it,” rafe muttered under his breath to you, nudging your side.

you chuckled, lifting your gaze to meet his. “as long as she doesn’t call him ‘princess fussy butt,’ i think we’re good.”

first holidays were a big deal, but it was more than that.

this halloween was his first as a dad, and it felt like his whole life had changed in the best possible way. you two were building memories now, the kind that would last for years, traditions that he could carry with him and pass down.

milo, now done with his fifth round of candy negotiations with jj, walked over to you two, shaking his head in frustration as he planted himself right beside the couch.

“seriously, you gotta get him to shut up,” he complained, eyeing the blonde as he bounced autumn in his arms, making strange sounds in an attempt to get her to smile, and failing miserably.

rafe snickered, his arm still around you as he pulled you in closer. “what did i tell you, kid? maybank's gotta be himself. we can’t tame him.”

milo raised an eyebrow, then glanced at you, trying to change the subject. “so, can we continue the candy haul now, or…?”

you grinned, happy to let him off the hook. “you’ve been thinking about candy for the last hour, haven’t you?”

milo nodded vigorously. “well, yeah, but only because jay’s been ignoring me. i’m on a mission. i need your professional opinion on my stash.”

you shot a glance at rafe, who was trying to hide his amusement. “looks like milo’s ready to be your candy mentor,” you teased.

he shrugged. “i don’t know, man. i might’ve been planning to steal some of his stash later.” he winked at milo, who, despite being ten, was wise enough to know when they were messing around.

“i need your help to make sure i got the best stuff this year. it’s a whole strategic thing, okay?” he leaned in close, as if he were about to reveal some secret mission. “the candy’s gotta be in prime condition.”

you raised an eyebrow. “so, you’ve got it all laid out?”

“oh, you bet,” milo said, reaching for the plastic pumpkin bucket beside him. he held it up with a dramatic flourish, as if he were presenting treasure. “operation candy haul is a success.”

rafe nodded, “what do you need from us?”

milo went into full-on candy expert mode. “okay, here’s the rundown. first, we’ve got your classics—snickers, m&ms, twix. but then there’s the premium section—reese’s, kit-kats, and my personal favorite, the milky ways.” he paused, looking at you seriously. “you have got to help me sort this. we need an unbiased opinion.”

you tried not to chuckle at his intensity. “you’re taking this a little seriously for someone who’s only ten.”

“well, i’m not ten anymore,” he said matter-of-factly. “i’m, like, ten and a half now. that’s practically a teenager.”

“i’ll give you that,” rafe said with a grin, as you smothered a laugh. “so what’s next on your list, teenager milo?”

“for the final test, you’ve gotta rank the ones that have the most chocolate-to-nougat ratio. i’ll leave that to you.” milo said, clearly trusting rafe’s opinion on these serious matters.

“you’ve got it,” rafe replied, pretending to think deeply. “the most chocolate-to-nougat ratio… now that’s a crucial step. can’t mess with the classics, kid.”

“exactly!” milo nodded, looking up at you. “we need to do a double-check of his candy haul. make sure the ratios are balanced.”

you pretended to ponder it, peeking at the candy bucket with exaggerated seriousness. “okay, you’ve convinced me. i’m in.”

you turned to rafe, who was already pulling a few pieces of candy from the pile, ready to play along. jj, still holding autumn, caught wind of what was happening and walked over with a dramatic sigh.

“what’s going on here? i hear talk of candy, and i need in.”

“too late,” milo said, grinning at him like he’d won a major victory. “i’m running this operation now.”

jj, not one to be outdone, threw a playful scowl at him. “when did you start talking back?”

as you and rafe dove into the candy sorting, a tiny whimper broke the festive ambience. everyone paused, glancing over to where jj was still cradling autumn and her face had gone from sleepy to fussy in seconds, her lips wobbling as her eyes squeezed shut.

“oh no, no, no...” jj muttered, bouncing her a little too enthusiastically, trying to avoid the inevitable meltdown. “come on, chipmunk, we’re just getting started here—don’t bail on me now.”

her hands clenched, and then came the wail—a high-pitched, all-out baby cry that instantly turned heads, her tiny face was scrunched, cheeks red, and her lungs proving just how powerful they were for someone so small.

“oh, jj,” you sighed, moving to take her, but rafe was already up, a smile spreading across his face as he reached for her.

“alright, alright, time’s up,” rafe said, easing her from jj’s arms. he held her close, gently rocking her, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her tiny back. “hey, sweet girl,” he murmured softly, his voice dropping into that warm, gentle tone reserved just for her. “shh, it’s okay.”

as if by magic, her cries began to ease, her little body relaxing against rafe as she blinked up at him, still sniffling but calming with each second. she reached a tiny hand up, clutching onto his sweater.

jj put his hands on his hips, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “see that? kid won’t cry for anyone else. i think i’m losing my charm.”

rafe smirked, not looking up from his daughter, “told you, maybank. you gotta have the touch.”

you leaned into him as he sat back down, resting your chin on his shoulder as you watched her settle, her wide eyes blinking up at you both, taking in the world from the safe haven of her dad’s arms.

the blonde grinned, putting a hand on his heart in mock sadness. “well, fine then. guess she’s got her favorites.”

monica elbowed him, rolling her eyes, “they made her, you idiot.”

“ew.” he gave you and rafe a teasing side-eye, earning a good-natured smack from your sister.

autumn, oblivious to all the drama, had already snuggled back into her dad’s chest, letting out a sleepy sigh. rafe’s face softened as he looked down at her, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her back.

halloween had never felt more complete, and as you looked at your husband holding your daughter, you knew it wouldn’t be the last.

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months ago

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Mija's Halloween

Alexia Putellas x Baby!Reader

Summary: The twelfth of my Halloween-centric fics

It wasn't often that the staff let them have too much fun on camp.

There were breaks for team bonding and a few game nights but nothing like a party, especially not a Halloween party.

But the RFEF could be fickle at times and Alexia knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth so just nodded along when the staff told her of their plans.

Besides, it just meant that she could finally dig out the Halloween costume from her suitcase and put you in it.

You'd worn it once before at the store to check it was the right size but that was it. The tags were still on it by the time Alexia puts it on you for a second time.

"Mija," She coos," Over here, look at the camera."

You do no such thing, looking down at the scary pumpkin face on the front of your body. Your little brow furrows in confusion as you touch it.

"Mija," Alexia says again," Look, it's our friend Bun-Bun!"

At the mention of your bunny, your head pops up and you watch as Alexia dangles your best friend behind the camera.

"That's it," She says," Big smile. Smile for me, Mija."

You giggle as she makes Bun-Bun do a funny dance while she takes enough pictures of you to fill a whole album before finally returning your bunny to you.

"Oh!" Alexia says," Big kisses for Bun-Bun. Does Mami get kisses too?"

You lean forward and give her more of a big wet puff of air than an actual kiss but Alexia accepts it all the same, finally placing the hat onto your head so you can be a proper pumpkin.

"Now," She says, as she changes into her own costume," You need to remember to laugh when you see whatever silly costume Tia Jenni is wearing, okay? Osita will be a fox like always but Tia Jenni will wear something silly."

You babble a bit back at her, chewing on Bun-Bun's ear until Alexia lifts you up and onto her hip, pointing at the mirror.

"We're pumpkins!" Alexia says," Can you say that? Pump-kins?"

You babble something that kind of sounds like that but also not really.

Alexia takes it as a win, kissing the top of your head before making her way downstairs to where the party is already in full swing.

Just like she predicted, your cousin Osita is dressed up as a little fox complete with ears and paws and a cute bushy tail that you briefly wonder if you can pull.

You don't get the chance to though because Alexia gently presses a kiss to the top of Osita's head and continues walking through the hall, bringing Osita back to Tia Jenni at the same time.

It's not difficult to find the others, hidden away in the corner like they're simultaneously too old or too tired to take part in the quite vicious game of Spoons that the younger girls are partaking in.

"Jenni..." Alexia says," Are you a...?"

"Fork? Yes, yes I am."

Jenni grins proudly back, hands on her hips as she shows off her fork costume.

"And the fox ears are because...?"

"Osita wanted to match." Jenni looks down meaningfully at the bottom of the table, where Osita has hidden herself away with some food and her IPad. "But I've had this fork costume for ages so we compromised."

"You had this fork costume...for ages," Alexia repeats, completely deadpan.

"Since last Halloween," Jenni replies, nodding like she's done something particularly impressive by not assaulting everyone's eyes with the costume until this Halloween has rolled around.

"Mija," Alexia coos, getting your attention again," Remember what I said when we see Tia Jenni's silly costume?"

She tickles your tummy and you burst into a peal of laughter.

"That's exactly right! We laugh at Tia Jenni!"

Jenni rolls her eyes as she gestures towards Irene.

"At least I didn't just bring a sheet and cut holes in it!"

Irene, dressed plainly as a ghost, shrugs.

"This party was very short notice," She says," They're lucky I went out and bought a sheet rather than just cutting up one of theirs. Besides, Matteo wants to be a ghost this year. We can match."

"Well, Alexia knows all about matching. Two pumpkins in a pumpkin patch," Jenni teases.

Alexia rolls her eyes. "At least I'm making my little girl's dream come true. Fox ears? Really?"

"Hey! Osita likes them! Besides, Mija can barely talk. How do you know matching costumes is what she wanted?"

You hear your name and lift up your head from where you're playing with Bun-Bun.

Tia Jenni and Tia Irene are looking at you but you look away because Alexia is looking at you too.

You lean your whole body weight against her, tucking your head under her chin and reaching your hand out to play with her fingers.

Alexia grins down at you. "I think Mija is very happy with our pumpkin costumes."

"I think Mija," Jenni says pointedly," Is up past her bedtime."

Your train of babble has slowed down now and you're more of less gnawing on Bun-Bun's ear like you do with your dummy sometimes.

"Osita too," Alexia says, spying the way that Osita is leaning more heavily against Jenni's legs," I think this is a bit too much excitement for them."

"Well I guess they don't want any sweeties then."

You don't know a lot of words but you recognise that one, blinking blearily as you try to sit up though Alexia's arms cuddled around your body restrict a lot of your movement.

Irene shakes her little bag of sweeties and even Osita pops her head up to take a look.

"Mami!" You whine, kicking your little feet when Alexia doesn't let you lean forward to collect what Tia Irene is offering. "Mami!"

Alexia laughs at the stubborn look on your face, cheeks puffed out in outrage before she finally gives in.

"Maybe we eat this tomorrow, Mija," She says to you as a big yawn racks your whole body," You're very sleepy."

Her finger swipes down your nose and you go cross eyed trying to follow it. Your eyelids feel all heavy and droopy and Alexia is so nice and warm against you.

"Well I think she's out for the count," Alexia says softly, adjusting you in her arms until your head is pillowed against her shoulder," I think I should get her to bed."

A content, sleepy noise leaves your mouth that has Alexia melting as she puts you in your travel crib, smacking your little lips together.

"Your bottle isn't for another few hours," She coos, stroking a finger over your cheek," And then we can cuddle in bed."

You make another soft noise and Alexia just can't help herself.

"You're right, Mija," She says," Let's cuddle now."

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 1 year ago

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On Set Shenanigans || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

GIFS by me :) cred if use!!

Summary: just a bunch of random scenarios on set I thought of while I was in the shower lmao 🤣

Warnings: noneee

Wc: 1,553

A/n: sorta all over the place sorry lmao

Divider by @pommecita

“If you could describe Y/n and Tom in one word, what would you say?” Rachel purses her lips, side eyeing the two of you who were watching her with silly grins. “Y/n and Tom are,” Rachel hums, tapping her chin as she breaks out into a chuckle.

“Goofy.” You and Tom turn to each other and just break into laughter. “They are seriously the most goofiest people I have met in my entire life! There is never a dull moment on set when these two around,” Rachel shakes her head as she smiles at the two of you who blow kisses her way.

“Tom and Y/n, there’s a behind the scenes video circulating around of the two of you in costume, dancing to Low by Flo Rida,” “Oh my god,” You drop your head on Tom’s shoulder as the two of you couldn’t help wipe the grin off your faces.

“Yes, there is,” Tom laughs as they put up said video. “If you guys haven’t see it, here it is,” Dressed in his peacekeeper outfit, white singlet with his dog tag out, and you in your outfit, you and Tom were dancing along to your favourite song to dance to, Low by Flo Rida.

Rachel was recording the video during your break and was dying of laughter. The camera was shaking the entire time because of it. You and Tom loved goofing around and dancing.

You could say it was your love language. You grab Tom’s peacekeeper hat and plop out on your head slightly wonky as you move along to the song, acting as if you were at a club in Berlin and not on set. The way you and Tom danced and moved to the music just made so much sense.

“She turned around and gave that big booty a smack,” Tom spun around as you slap his ass causing an eruption of laughter from everyone who was watching.

You and Tom were trying to hold your composure but that failed miserably as you grab Tom’s arms to stabilise yourself but turned out he had no sense of stability at that moment as the two of you fall to the ground. A light scream leaving your lips as you fall on top of Tom.

And then the camera focused on the ground as Rachel had leaned over, hands on thighs as she laughed out loud. If anyone didn’t know the context of that clip, they probably would have thought that you two were drunk but truth was you were quite sober.

The crowd on set burst out into laughter as you cover your face in slight embarrassment, Tom laughing along with the host as he pats your head.

“What do you usually do when you’re not filming on set?” Tom gives you a look as you bite back a laugh. “I think everyone knows this but, film tiktoks” The crowd breaks into laughter as they knew what you were talking about.

“Yeah Y/n is always filming tiktok and forcing me to do them with her,” Tom grips your thigh, shaking it lightly as you roll your eyes. “No I do not, you always want to be in them!” You argue with him. “Why don’t we watch a few of them here?” Kelly Clarkson recommended as you squeeze Tom’s arm with a smile.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CQrdGn8AYiD/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA== The first tiktok was of you, Tom, Rachel, and Josh in your trailer. You had the idea in your head for a while now and showed them all. “Please don’t drop me babe,” You say to Tom as you set up the camera, “I would never,” You hear him say followed by giggle.

You expected to land in Tom’s arms. Not the floor. You let out a yelp as Tom slaps his hand over his mouth. The three of them laughing their asses off while you landed on yours with a loud thud. “It’s not funny you idiot,” You slap his arm as he picks you up, apologising to you by peppering your face with kisses.

You had to admit it was pretty funny rewatching the tiktok. “You weren’t supposed to catch my feet!” You say in between laughs as you post the tiktok.

“This one, captioned name a better duo, I’ll wait has gone quite viral with over 10 million views,” Kelly exclaims as you cross your legs at your knees nodding your head as the video plays on the screen. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNVsM6kw/

“Tom,” You tap your boyfriend’s shoulder as he hums. You had just finished filming a scene together and had abit of time before you were up again. You were both in your mentor outfits, Tom having his blonde locks today.

“I wanna film this tiktok, come be in it?” You urge him as he looks up from his phone seeing a glint of playfulness in your eyes as he lets out a sigh.

Tom secretly loved making tiktoks with you, especially since he wasn’t on it and found the stuff you make him do were interesting and funny. You had hundreds of random tiktoks that you filmed on set saved into your drafts, half of them were of you and Tom.

Your hair stylist helped film the tiktok as the two of you did it out in the open, a bunch of the filming team watching with curiosity and laughing as they walk by. Other cast members such as Josh, Hunter and a bunch of the mentor actors walked by ended up being in the background of it.

You and Tom moved along to the beat, literally just vibing to the music. You wrote on the tiktok “the funniest duo on set>>>” and you weren’t lying.

“We are here with the cast of the Hunger Games Prequel, the ballad of songbirds and snakes!” The crowd cheered as you, Tom, Josh, and Rachel smiles. “From what I’ve seen, you guys are actually TikTok sensations!” An eruption of laughter followed.

“This TikTok here specifically,” https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNqguTEY/ you all turn your head to watch the TikTok play on screen as you all start to laugh. “Tom, where were you while this was happening,” The host looks at Tom whose eyes were trained on the ground, a grin forming on his lips.

“I’m actually there in the tiktok, on the bed. Trying to sleep.” He deadpans as you giggle, leaning your head on his shoulder as you grip his arm. “Yeah this was after we came back from partying in Berlin, obviously for some of us, our night didn’t end yet,” Tom chuckles as everyone bursts out in laughter.

“Let’s do that tiktok!” You squeal the second you enter the room. Opening up tiktok, you find the video and show Josh, Hunter, Rachel, and Tom it. Tom’s arms were thrown around your shoulders, his head resting on your head due to the height difference.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” He yawns, kissing your cheek before you all bid him goodnight. Tom couldn’t even get 5 minutes of peacefulness as the four of you spill into the bedroom and set up your phone. He lets out a quiet groan at the noise and flashing of lights as he digs his head deep into his pillow.

“Babeee,” You call out as you step into the hair and makeup trailer. He was sitting on a chair, fully dressed in his peacekeeper outfit, hair free from his wig.

He looked more presentable compared to you and Rachel who still had hair rollers on and were still in your robes. You had seen a new trend going around tiktok where you would stare at a guy with Justin Timberlake’s mirrors playing in the background, and you wanted to do it with Tom https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNqnRSNJ/

One side of his lips turns up as he looks up at you, “I’m filming a tiktok and I want you to be in it,” You say with puppy eyes although you know he wouldn’t refuse. You even got his hair and makeup artists, Stacey and Jade to be in on it too.

You pull up a chair beside Tom as you set up the camera. “Wait what am I supposed to do?” He asks, “Nothing, just sit there,” You innocently smile at him as he gives you a suspicious look but nods nonetheless, complying with whatever you were up to.

He honestly just expected to be on camera while you were doing something, but he did not expect to be stared down at by his girlfriend and hair and makeup artists. You stare intensely at Tom, trying your hardest to not laugh or look away.

Staring at your boyfriend has always not been an easy task, especially since he holds such intense eye contact. And his pretty blue eyes did not help at all. Tom tries not to laugh either as he gazes at you before his eyes flicker towards Stacey and Jade then back to you. “What’s going on,” He finally says as his body shakes from laughing.

The TikTok ends and you let out a small laugh, looking over the TikTok. You throw your head back in laughter at Tom’s face when you all look back to stare at him, honestly was priceless.

#tom blyth #fanfiction #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x actress!reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #rachel zegler #josh andres rivera #hunter schafer #boyfriend!tom blyth #actress au #Spotify

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lovelytsunoda · 2 months ago

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you've got me under your spell | eddie brock and venom

summary: the then's and now's of halloween in the brock household

pairing: eddie brock x wife!reader (and their son!) x venom

warnings: i've turned eddie brock from a swagless loser to a dilf, venom is loaned to a child as a halloween costume, venom is almost like a second child tbh, implied smut, brief mentions of mental illness and pregnancy-related mental health issues. not to spoil anything at the end but the final section is pretty fucking funny if i do say so myself.

author's note: i have a very delayed last minute addition to my halloween fics for 2024! after flying through all three venom movies in about two days (as someone who doesn't watch marvel movies, might i add), i am pleased (and a little concerned) to annoucne that eddie brock is now my favourite marvel character.

yes, dylan brock is a canon character in the venom comics (or so i have been told) but all this dylan had in common with the canon version is his name.

2010.

she watched fondly from the doorway as eddie picked up the infant, who was currently trying to crawl towards the white pumpkin in the bay window. dylan laughed in his father's arms as eddie spun around before cradling the infant against his chest. he caught his wife's eyes from the doorway, a cheeky grin on his face as he looked down at dylan.

"hey kiddo, i think mommy's looking at us."

dylan smiled, wide and toothless, letting out the baby equivalent of a cheer as he looked over at his mother.

"are you guys ready to make the rounds? i promised mrs. chen some baby time." y/n laughed, reaching out to hold her son's small hand in hers.

the streets outside were lit up with fog machines and smiling skeletons, filled with the sounds of kids milling about. it was baby brock's first halloween, and he was dressed appropriately for it in his little pumpkin costume. after attempting to suck on y/n's finger, dylan dropped her hand and busied himself with attempting to trace the tattoos visible on eddie's forearm.

eddie beamed, kissing his wife softly before answering. "we're ready if you are. lead the way, mamas."

y/n had never pictured herself as a mother. in her twenties, when it seemed like settling down was the only thing people her age wanted to do, she was paralyzed with fear, insecurity and a little bit of self-loathing. being inside of her head was a nightmare, and she wasn't even sure she'd make it to thirty.

things had started to change when she met eddie brock.

slowly, she came alive again. she started to want things that she had thought were out of reach. she wanted to get married, have that house and that family and the white picket fence. to know that everything she had done had added up to this moment, and that everything had been worth it.

but she hated being pregnant. for her, growing another human being had been an arduous, terrifying experience. the eight hours of labour she had gone through on the day dylan was born was enough for her to decide that she didn't want more kids, and that she could still have the family she dreamed of with only one child.

she kissed dylan's forehead softly, brushing back his thin baby hair before tucking the small pumpkin hat onto his little head, and over his small ears.

the couple walked down the front steps of their bungalow, one of eddies arms around his wife, and the other holding his son (which was quite the feat, considering that the infant so desperately wanted out of his father's arms. dylan was an active baby, but he was allowed to crawl down the residential street, he would do so at such a pace that the brocks would never get him back.)

at every house they went to there was someone to coo over the littlest brock. eventually, eddie had to drop that arm around his wife so that he could use both hands to hold his son. dylan smiled that wide, gummy smile and laughed and babbled at all of the people that they passed, y/n clutching an almost-full orange bag of candy (she was convinced that some of their neighbours gave out extra candy to the couple, simply to reward them with the hit of caffeine found in chocolate that the new parents would so crave).

as they walked towards mrs. chen's house, dylan finally settled in his fathers arms, eddie looked over at his wife with nothing but reverence and love in his eyes. even carrying a little bit of extra weight around her hips and stomach, her breasts a little fuller and her arms a little chubbier, she was as radiant as she was the day that they got married. he would do anything for her, for his son. his little family.

"eddie, darling." she laughed, turning to face him. "you're staring."

eddie blushed, the rose in his cheeks barely visible in the dark. "uh, no i'm not."

"yes you are." she giggled. "i love you, eddie brock."

"i love you more." eddie beamed, leaning over to kiss her. "i think the little guy is worn out." he spoke softly, nodding towards the baby in his arms. "he's asleep."

"awe." y/n cooed, gently stroking her son's arm with her pointer finger. the sight of eddie holding their son in his arms would never grow old. she was starting a folder of pictures on her laptop of this very thing, as she knew dylan would soon be too big for his father to hold. "he's just like his father. he can go to sleep any time, any where and in any condition."

eddie laughed. "i feel like there was an insult buried in there somewhere."

"i still married you, didn't i?"

2024.

"dylan, if you want to get to eric's on time, you've gotta get going now! his mom's on the way!"

y/n knocked on her son's door, waiting until she heard the disgruntled teenage groan from the other side. satisfied that dylan had been served enough warning, she headed back out into the living room.

she had put eddie in charge of moving the halloween candy from the massive carboard costco boxes to the festive plastic bowls, and he was doing a surprisingly okay job at it.

their life had changed drastically in the years since her husband had begun to share his body with a symbiote. the symbiote had once given dylan nightmares, and she had fielded one too many concerned calls from the school after he had gone around and told all of the other kids that his father was an alien and would eat anybody who was mean to him (although, once eddie and venom had bonded, venom was steadfast in his commitment to eating any bullies that dylan may face) it had taken time, and a lot of home repairs to get used to, but alas, venom now felt like one of the family.

well, more like the cousin you don't want any of your friends to meet. or the alien that your husband is in a strangely homeorotic relationship with.

"i thought venom would have eaten half of those by now." she remarked, leaning over the back of the sofa to rest her head on her husband's shoulder, hands on his chest.

"i made him promise to behave today. i don't want him scaring the little kids." eddie shrugged, turning his had to kiss his wife softly.

"what did you have to give him?"

eddie paused, waiting a beat in order to formulate an answer that wouldn't send his wife into a spiral. in the distance, he heard dylan's bedroom door open and close, and then the fourteen-year-old came bounding into the living room.

"eric's mom is like five minutes away. is it okay if i wait outside?"

keeping her hands on eddie shoulders, y/n straightened, looking over at her son. "no costume?'

she didn't miss the way that eddie's muscles tensed up under her hands, or the way dylan's pinkie finger twitched. neither of them said a word, and when her eyes zeroed in on the full boxes of nestle chocolates, she got her answer.

"edward brock, please tell me that you did not lend your symbiote to our son as a halloween costume!"

dylan's shoulder rippled black over the top of his hunter-green sweatshirt, venom's inky head materializing next to a defeated looking dylan.

"okay, we won't tell you." the symbiote said , turning to face eddie. "you told me that this was okay with mrs. b."

eddie got up from the couch, pointing a finger at the symbiote. "i said no such thing. i said we were never supposed to tell y/n under any circumstances."

"mom, it's only for the night. you let dad have venom year-round!" dylan protested, stuffing his hands in his sweater pockets. "how is this any different?"

y/n stopped and counted to twenty, eyes closed before she breathed deeply and opened them again.

"that's because your father is the one who brought venom into this house in the first place, and i didn't get a say in the matter. also, your father is an adult, and venom actually listens to him."

"i listen to nobody!"

eddie coughed. "actually, he doesn't listen to me at all. he does what he wants half of the time."

"not the point, eddie! hosting venom almost killed you."

"actually- "

"not now vee!" eddie and y/n shouted together.

eddie reached for his wife's hand, knowing that she needed something to ground her, something tangible that she could hold on to. his hand was warm and calloused, comforting. she ran her thumb over eddie's knuckles as he stepped closer, dropping his voice in the hopes that dylan and venom wouldn't be able to eavesdrop.

"y/n, you know that i wouldn't let dylan take venom out if i didn't think he could handle it. its just one night."

"eddie, venom eats people. i don't want to get calls from parents stating that their sons hung out with my son, and then they came back headless."

"he has sworn to be on his best behavior tonight." eddie insisted. "and besides, when was the last time we had a night that was just the two of us? no dylan, no venom."

she paused, trying to think, the calm was starting to ease back into her body, the initial panic subsiding. her husband was right, she knew. while nights without dylan had become more common the older he got, with the boy staying over at friend's houses or going out late with his buddies, having a husband who hosted an alien sometimes put a damper on date night.

for the past five years, she had felt like she was in a never-ending threesome. don't get her wrong, the sex was absolutely phenomenal, but she missed her husband. she missed the days when it was just the two of them, curled up in bed on a sunday afternoon, with reruns of a bad sitcom playing in the background as they made love without a care in the world.

she realized that she was excited at the idea of having sex with her husband without an alien tentacle trying to slip into her ass (which felt absolutely incredible, by the way. after the first time venom did that, she downloaded all the monsterfucking books she could find on kindle unlimited. trying to explain the plot of ice planet barbarians to eddie had been quite the spectacle).

a honk in the front driveway snapped her out of her thoughts. dylan was looking at her expectantly, venom's head still hovering in the air next to him. if it were possible for symbiotes to give puppy dog eyes, she was sure that venom would be doing so. she looked at eddie, and then back at dylan, weighing her options.

"fine. dylan, you can take venom with you."

venom and dylan gave a cheer, the teen high-fiving one of venom's slinky tentacles.

"i promise not to eat any of the children, mrs. b. only gourmet chocolate. dylan says tonight is the best night for it."

"go on." y/n laughed. "don't keep eric waiting. and be careful!"

eddie and y/n stood by the front window, eddie's hand in her back pocket as they watched dylan run down the driveway and jump into the back of eric's mom's nissan. he had grown up so fast. it felt like just yesterday he was an infant in a pumpkin costume, cradled in eddie's strong arms. now he was almost as tall as his father.

y/n let out a small yelp as she felt herself become weightless, her husband's strong, beefy arms wrapped around her thighs.

"baby, be careful! you aren't as strong without venom! i don't want you to hurt your back!"

"i'll be fine! we have a heating pad for a reason!"

the headed down the hallway in a cloud of giggles, eddie kicking the bedroom door closed behind them with a cheeky grin on his face.

oh yeah, they were going to enjoy every second of having the house to themselves.

____

it was nearing midnight when dylan brock came home, shocked to find his father in the living room, sitting on the sofa in the dark and wincing every time he moved.

"dad? what are you doing? where's mom?"

eddie groaned, trying not to move too much. the heating pad rested against his lower back, and any movement sent a sharp pain up his spine. "she's asleep. tired out."

dylan made a face, dropping his backpack next to the couch. "god damn it, dad! i don't need to know that!"

eddie chuckled. "not like that." well, sort of like that. "this week has been hard on her. between you, me and venom, she's got her hands full."

"what's the heating pad for?" dylan crossed his arms over his chest, staring his father down.

"i hurt my back. it's nothing, not important."

"oh my god! you hurt your back banging mom!"

"dylan, keep your voice down! your mother is sleeping!" eddie scolded, screwing his eyes shut. "and she doesn't know. there is nothing less sexy than pinching something in your back while-"

"stop. please. i don't want to know."

"anyways, i waited until she fell asleep to put some muscle spray on it, and that didn't help, so here i am with the heating pad. how was your night?"

"it was good. venom's fun. we went trick-or-treating around eric's neigbourhood, where all the fancy houses are. also, i think i know what possum brain tastes like." dylan scrunched up his face. "venom decided he'd eaten enough snickers bars."

"snickers are for the weak." venom grunted. "real men eat brains."

eddie laughed. "now you know what the inside of my head is like. at least venom didn't try to eat any people. i wish i never knew what grey matter tasted like."

dylan extended his hand. "it's been fun, but i think he wants his host back."

eddie took dylan's hand in his, inhaling as he felt venom fill his veins once more, the familiar voice he'd come to tolerate returning to the back of his mind. slowly, the stinging pain in his lower back started to subside, the symbiote healing him from the inside out.

"thanks buddy. i needed that." he sighed. "and thanks for looking after dylan."

"no problem, eddie. you know, you'd get hurt less around the house if you stopped doing silly things when i'm not here."

"hey dylan, do you want the symbiote back?"

dylan laughed, heading to his room. "not a chance, dad. you're the only person in the world who could handle him."

#the cozy collection 2024 #eddie brock x reader #venom x reader #mcu fanfiction #venom fanfiction #venom imagine #eddie brock imagine #tom hardy x reader

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joeyfranchise · 2 months ago

Text

all eyes on you, all eyes on us

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: it’s halloween night, time to dress up with your best friend and get your party on. all is well until you see your ex at the party, the emotions rush back in… but he fits you like a missing puzzle piece. you keep letting him back in, he’s doing a number on you.

warnings: MDNI i’m sooo serious i love to block. semi-public sex, groping, hickeys, scratching, pinv, dirty talk.

word count: 3.3k.

note: this fic is based off the song So It Goes… by T. Swift! requested by my sweet friend @starsinthesky5! i also wanted to add a halloween element to it.. i hope you guys like it! (something funny in the tags hehe) (i do not own any pics used!!)

you could feel the bass of the music bumping through the floor, radiating through your feet and up your legs as your best friend pulled you deeper into the club.

she took your hand in hers, leading you through the sea of sweaty bodies to an open area in the room, somewhere the two of you could dance and let loose.

“you need this!” she assured you while you got ready. her claims were that recently you’ve been too uptight, you’ve been shouldering too much. and it’s halloween, so you need to have fun.

you agreed to come to the party, and even in matching costumes. she looked incredible in a dress identical to yours, but hers was white with gold fringe hanging from a slit in the leg. she wore a halo, gold jewelry, and red lips to match.

your dress was black with silver fringe, and rather than necklaces or bracelets you decided on two silver cuffs that sat tightly on your biceps. you painted glitter highlights on your cheekbones, and a dark maroon stain on your lips. you clipped two black horns into your hair at the top of your head. classic angel and devil costumes… but you didn’t care. you both felt good.

she finally stopped walking, dropping your hand as she stood in a vacant spot near the back of the club. there was a smoky haze that settled across the room, illuminated by the neon lights that were strung along the ceiling and the walls. you couldn’t quite make out the song that was on, but the beat was nice and you swayed your body along with it. you weren’t sure if you’d know anyone else here, but you were hoping to meet someone, even if just for a night of fun.

your friend was right. you needed to let loose. have fun. get laid.

“i’m gonna go get us a shot!” she yelled over the music, reaching over to squeeze your shoulder. your eyes followed her as she walked to one side of the bar, which wasn’t that far from you. she leaned over to speak to the bartender and then gestured back to you, presumably telling him why she wanted two shots. you locked eyes with him and - whoa. he was hot.

he smirked at you, eyes raking over your body, before looking back at your friend. his salt and pepper hair and stubble told you he was older - nearing his forties if you had to guess. he turned to grab a bottle of vodka off the shelf behind him and you ogled his form as you watched the muscles in his back and arms ripple. when he turned around, he looked back at you again. he poured the shots and your friend grabbed them, walking back over to you with her mouth wide open.

she handed yours to you and you both downed them, discarding the cups on a small table nearby. “the bartender is a total dilf!” she laughed, grabbing on to your shoulders. “totally!” you agreed, looking up to check him out again. “he was totally feeling you, babe!” she smiled. you weren’t focused on anything she said.

the bartender was now making a drink for a tall man, dressed in an all black suit. you couldn’t see the front of him, but you didn’t need to. you knew it was your ex. you could tell by his posture, the utter confidence in which he carried himself. joey fucking burrow.

flashback to your break-up

“you’re so difficult to deal with, you know that?” joe spoke, the way he sat made him look defensive. you held back tears as he threw complaints your way.

“we’re in public, joe. you’re not a fucking walk in the park!” you finally speak up, tilting your head at him to show him you wouldn’t back down. the chatter and soft music that floated through the restaurant weren’t doing enough to hide that the two of you were arguing. “this relationship hasn’t been working for a while, but it’s not just on me. you’re a diva sometimes. you make things difficult.”

he let out a snarky laugh, tipping his head back. his hand flexed on the glass he was holding, threatening to crunch it right then before he loosened his grip. you weren’t even sure what had started this fight, but you’d been at odds with each other recently, so it could have been anything. but when joe brought up working it out, you told him you weren’t sure you wanted to, which led you here. a fancy dinner in a quaint restaurant where everyone could see you falling apart.

“maybe you’re right. maybe it isn’t worth trying to work out. lets throw the last six months down the drain.” he said, his tone smarmy. he widened his eyes at you as he spoke, placing the ball in your court. the waiter came over to ask you how everything was, but he didn’t get a single word out as he took the two of you in, your anger and emotions sitting on the table rather than your meals.

“i’m sorry i just.. i don’t think this is working. i think our personalities clash too much.”

to be honest, you felt caged in. you felt like a hostage to your feelings, but you weren’t sure exactly why. sometimes joe’s barriers were difficult to break through, and you had an idea that was something that was breaking you down.

joe never had the intention of making you feel that way. he didn’t want to push you away, but he wasn’t the best at displaying his emotions. his temper was getting shorter and shorter. he had the tendency to take things out on you, and he hated it. but, if you wanted out, he couldn’t stop you.

neither of you said a word for the rest of your meal, the tension was palpable from across the table. he paid for dinner, although you offered, and you climbed into his car quickly so he could take you home.

he pulled into your drive, parking the car before leaning over the console to look at you. you felt stifled, the air in the car was thick with anger, sadness, regret. you grabbed the door handle and popped it open, but before you could get away joe grabbed your hand, turning you back to face him. you leaned into the car, waiting for his spiel.

“i’m sorry for making you feel upset. i’m sorry i couldn’t have been more for you.” tears spilled down your cheeks finally, all your emotions were rolling down your face leaving salty stains in your makeup.

he continued. “i really am sorry, i love you.” he said, looking down at the wheel.

“so it goes…” you respond, pulling your hand away and walking inside.

end of flashback

joe must’ve felt your eyes burning holes into the back of his head, because he turned around and smirked at you, catching you staring at him.

he took his drink from the bartender and walked away, back toward his group of friends. you tried to push him out of your mind and let loose anyway. you danced with your friend through five or six songs, and the thought of joe being at the party almost became a distant memory.

after a little while you were feeling hot, a sticky sheen of sweat coated your whole body. “i’m gonna gef some water!” you told your friend. you made your way to the bar, slightly excited to talk to the extremely hot bartender.

you sat down on one of the stools and waited for him to get finished making someone else’s cocktail so he could attend to you. he shook their drink in the mixer, poured it, then finally looked your way. a goofy lopsided smile spread over his lips as he walked closer.

“what can i getcha?” he drawls, leaning over the bar on his elbows. his face is now inches from your own, but you don’t mind it. he looks even better up close. “just some water, please. i’m just a little hot.”

he turns and grabs a bottle of water from a mini-fridge behind him, placing it on the bar in front of you. you unscrew the cap and take a long sip, accidentally letting a drop fall from the corner of your mouth and slide down your neck. you know he sees it, but he doesn’t mention it. after you finish drinking, you place the bottle down, twisting the cap back on.

the bartender starts speaking to you again. “i really like your costume, by the way. i saw you when you came in and… woah. you’re gorgeous. i’m j-” he begins to tell you his name, but he’s cut off.

“she doesn’t care what your name is, buddy. she’s my girl.” joe snaps. he must have seen you flirting with the man behind the bar and made his way over. “i’m not your girl, joey.”

he places a hand on your arm, running his fingers along the silver cuff. “‘can we go talk for a moment?” he asks you, tone sounding oddly soft. the bartender looks back and forth between you. “i can have him thrown out.” he says, completely seriously. “it’s okay,” you tell him, reaching across to pat his shoulder. “i’ll go talk and be right back.”

you hop off the barstool, ready to walk away with joe, but then you remember your friend. your eyes scan the room to find her and you aren’t shocked to see her making out with one of joe’s friends. “she’ll be fine.” joe says, taking your hand and leading you through the crowd. he stops in the middle of the dance floor, pulling you close against him as you allow him to take the lead, moving along with the music.

“very fitting costume.” he smirks, looking you up and down. “what are you supposed to be?” you ask.

he reaches his hand in his pocket, pulling something out. he holds up a white masquerade style mask. “a magician.”

he lifts it up to his face, putting it on with the strap going around his head. he’s smirking. curse the phantom of the opera for making you think this costume style was hot. his hands find your hips, pulling your body closer to his. it’s like you can feel every set of eyes in the room on you. joe feels you tense up and watches you as you scan the room.

“i promise all eyes aren’t on us, babe.” he whispers. “but i think they are.” you reply. “what did you even want to talk to me about?” you ask, pushing at his chest to create some distance between you.

“i miss you.”

you scoff out a laugh. he misses you? he knows this’ll never work. joe cradles your face in his hands. “you know we don’t work, joey.” you argue, once again trying to pull away from him. “we don’t,” he agrees, small smile playing at his lips, “but the sex does.”

you can’t disagree with him on that front. “why try to find some random stranger to sleep with when i’m here, when i know your body and what you like?” he challenges, leaning down so his lips are ghosting over yours. he’s right.

you don’t give it any more consideration. you don’t allow yourself time to back out. you smash your lips into his with fervor, your arms wrapping around his neck. he kisses you back with just as much intensity before pulling away, grabbing your hand and leading you through the club again.

“where are you taking me?” you ask him breathlessly. “one of the private rooms.”

he pulls you through a beaded curtain that hangs on a doorway, roughly pushing you up against a wall. “i’m not fucking you on one of those beds or couches or whatever they are. that’s so unsanitary.” you protest.

“i know that. that’s why were gonna do it against the wall.” he smirks.

“anyone could walk in here and find us!” you say, worried about being caught. “let loose, that’s what makes it fun, baby.”

his lips find your neck, biting and sucking at the skin. “jump.” he murmurs. you hop up and wrap your legs around his waist. you reach up and pull his mask off, tossing it somewhere across the room. your fingers tangle in his dirty blonde curls.

his grip is firm as he holds you against the wall. you tug on his hair, bringing his lips back up to yours. he slips his tongue into your mouth, sliding it against yours. you can feel him straining against his dress pants as his hips roll upward into yours.

“joey, fuck me.” you breathe, your voice hoarse. he chuckles at you. “still so eager for it, huh?” he teases.

he uses one of his arms to press you into the wall, sliding his other hand up your dress and tugging at your panties. when he realizes this angle won’t work, he drops you back down til your feet are on the floor and helps you step out of the lacy black thong. he shoves it in his back pocket before standing up, telling you to jump again. his hand bunches up your dress, exposing your bare core to him.

he kisses you again, one of his hands working to undo his belt and pants. you glance down slightly, watching as he pulls his thick cock from his pants. your arms remain around his neck, your forehead pressed to his shoulder. he brings his hand up to his mouth, spitting on it before reaching down to run his fingers through your folds, not that you really needed it.

from seeing him in the costume, the thrill of potentially getting caught, and knowing that he knows just how to get you there, you’re soaked. he takes his cock in his hands, sliding it through your folds before finally pushing into you, inch by inch. you gasp at the size, even though you know from plenty of experience exactly what he feels like.

the air in the room is thick as he begins thrusting into you. the sheer force of his hips slamming into yours is holding you against the wall, but you still help him remove his jacket anyway, and you pop the buttons on his shirt as he bites and sucks at your neck again. you’re satisfied when you can finally get your hands in enough to rake your nails along his back. if he plans on marking your neck, you’re going to tear his back up with your freshly manicured nails.

“fuck, you feel so good. so tight.” he says, tongue soothing over a mark he left on your neck. “i’m so full, joey.” you reply, finally pulling him up to look into your eyes again. he reaches up and places a hand on your neck, applying the lightest pressure. “ah, your favorite necklace.” he teases. you place your hand on top of his, pushing on his fingers so he’ll squeeze harder. he does, but only briefly, all the while his hips are still pistoning into yours. when he removes his hand, his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles into it. you can tell he’s close, and he’s trying to get you there too.

he presses gentle kisses into your lips as he speaks to you. “come on baby, i know you’ve got one for me. let me have it.” he coaxes.

it doesn’t take long before you’re unraveling, cumming hard all over his cock as warmth spreads from your horns to your toes. you’re squeezing joe, sucking him in and he cums soon after, filling up your cunt with his cum.

you press your sweaty foreheads together for a moment, the slight intimacy of the moment making both of you reminisce. you don’t let it last long, you can’t. because you know this doesn’t work.

“joe… can i.. have my panties back?” you ask, trying to make your voice sound playful so you don’t completely ruin the moment. he pulls out of you and lets you down. you squeeze your legs together, hoping that none of his seed will run down your thighs.

“sure.” he says, fishing them out of his pocket. “not sure what they’re gonna do for you, though.”

he’s right, but you need to slip something on, to create at least the tiniest barrier. joe awkwardly scratches at the back of his head before fixing himself, and then buttoning his pants. he fixes his shirt, slides his jacket on, and makes himself look as neat as he can.

“um.. thanks joe. that was nice.” you slip out, voice cracking. saying goodbye would be awkward for you both. joe doesn’t respond verbally, instead he just leans in and kisses your forehead before walking away. you unfortunately have to walk out after him, looking for your friend. she’s still kissing joe’s friend, but you think you’ll have to interrupt to tell her you’re just going to head home.

joe turns to look at you. “i’ll have tee tell her you left, just make sure you text her when you get home.”

“tee?” you ask, looking puzzled. “my teammate tee? that’s who she’s kissing.” you nod knowingly. you turn away from him then, heading for the exit, walking as slow as you can so that no evidence of what you’ve just done with him leaks out of you. when you’re almost to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder.

you turn around and you’re face to face with the bartender. he looks you over, smirking. he can tell by your appearance that barely any talking was done, but he doesn’t care. he shoots his shot anyway. he hands you a slip of paper with his number on it, winking at you before sauntering back off to the bar. you glance around the crowded club again, your eyes landing on joe. he’s already dancing with another girl. you’re not jealous you tell yourself. he’s not yours, nor are you his. you tear your eyes away and walk out.

you make it outside, hailing a taxi and telling the driver your address. it doesn’t take long to get back to your building. you pull out your phone and keys, which you’re surprised you didn’t lose after the events of the evening, and head up the elevator to your floor.

you unlock the door, stepping inside and kicking your heels off before locking it again behind you. you tiptoe to the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting it heat up. you look back at your phone, two new text notifications showing on your screen. you open them one by one.

bestie: girl!!! let me know when you make it home! i’ll probably be going home with this cutie i met!

you respond to her quickly.

you: home! have fun 😋

the second text is from joe, go figure.

joeyyy b: so it goes, huh?

you don’t respond to his message, you just heart react to it. you really aren’t in the headspace to talk to him right now, because if you respond you’ll end up inviting him over, and you can’t have that. he’s not good for you, you aren’t good for him. you’ve let the pieces fall naturally into place. it’s over between you, even if you both still have the slightest residual feelings left.

before you step into the shower to wash the day away, you click new message at the top of your screen. you type the bartenders number in and… are you really gonna do this? fuck it.

you: hey, it’s y/n. the devil from the bar. 😈

when you see typing bubbles pop up almost immediately you squeal, locking your phone and slamming it on the bathroom counter before undressing and stepping into the hot, steamy shower.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @bengals-barnesbabe @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22

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ghost-proofbaby · 2 months ago

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"HALLOWEEN PARTIES"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of possible future pregnancy, lots of suggestive conversation and making out. not edited. upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 9.9k+ → a/n: @take-everything-you-can plagued me with thoughts of what our idiots would get up to on halloween, and i just couldn't help myself. it definitely spiraled out of control though. my bad. ALSO, QUICK DISCLAIMER: please if you get a snake don't do what reader and eddie did. snakes a homebodies. we are just going to pretend it's okay in this context for the name of fiction, alright? obligatory snake owner ramble over. let's GO.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

The thumping of the bass was audible before you’d even exited the elevator fully.

Any other day of the year, you’d assume your group of friends would be earning an instant noise complaint for the volume of the music coming from behind Steve and Robin’s apartment front door. But it wasn’t just any other day – it was Halloween, and somewhere amongst the rhythm of what surely had to be Steve blasting Abba, you could make out fellow neighbors playing music just as loudly.

If anything, the overly quiet apartments were more concerning than the noisy ones.

“Do you think Lestat is going to do okay with the music?” Eddie suddenly frets, one hand reaching to tug on what little fabric there was of his costume. It almost made you smile, a reminder of what exactly your usually ‘scary’ boyfriend was donning.

Britney Spears, circa 2001. One of her most iconic VMA performances.

He’d decided it the moment you two had come home several months ago with the most important accessory that was draped around his neck – a juvenile ball python named Lestat, who looked surprisingly content as he hung onto Eddie’s shoulders.

“I don’t know,” you hum, looking over at Eddie, a little bit concerned now that he’d brought it up, “Maybe it’s a bad idea-”

“I’m texting Nance to turn the music down.”

“What if it freaks him out?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“What if he gets stressed and bites you, Eddie?”

To any onlooker, the sight of you might have been a bit funny. Furrowed brows, arms crossed, sticky blood spread out across your stomach and sternum.

The theme tonight for the two of you had been iconic performances. Eddie insisted, and part of you knew he was just afraid to dress up so extravagantly all alone when it came to this small get-together, but you hadn’t hesitated to pull together your own version of Lady Gaga’s iconic VMA performance from 2009. If you two were going to commit to a theme this year, you were committing.

Eddie balances his phone in one hand, typing with a single thumb. Impressive, given his history of ardently avoiding owning a smart phone. His other hand trails up to his collarbone, sneaking a careful finger below Lestat’s head, holding him up and pouting his lip a little, “This little guy? Biting me? He would never.”

The sight was cute. Obnoxiously, overly, endearingly cute.

“He’s still a snake,” you try to argue, stopping right outside of apartment 34C. The music was more clear now as it switched from whatever Abba tune had been playing to Maneater by Nelly Furtado, “If he gets scared enough, he might.”

“I’d hardly call him a snake,” Eddie snorts, shoving his phone back into his pocket, smiling as he tilts his chin to awkwardly stare at the snake now carefully slithering over his knuckles, “Dude misses the mice on his first strike every time we feed him. And if there was ever a time he was going to bite me, it would have been when I was taking that moss out of his mouth as he was eating.”

That earns a huff of a laugh from you as well. The image of Eddie on Monday night, absolutely losing his mind as he’d noticed that Lestat had gotten his mouse entangled in some of the moss decorating his enclosure, not even hesitating to open the tank once more and throw his hand in right along with the tongs to prevent your new ‘son’ from ingesting it, crosses your mind. It hadn’t mattered how much you reassured him that it was probably normal in the wild, that Lestat’s body could certainly handle it. Eddie had been insistent and blinded by what could only be described by paternal instinct.

If you’d asked yourself last Halloween if that had been where you see your life heading in a year’s time, you would have rolled your eyes.

“You do realize how dumb that was of you, right?” you insist, remembering your fear and the way your breath had caught in the moment. It was funny now, but you’d never gripped onto Eddie’s shoulder tighter than when he’d recklessly done so. You loved the snake, you really did, but you’d realized in that moment you might still love Eddie just a little bit more.

The conversation is cut short as it’s clear that Nancy had received Eddie’s text, the music behind the door quieting a bit along with a change of song.

Your jaw nearly drops, “You did not make Nancy do that.”

The opening notes of I’m a Slave 4 U were impossible to miss.

“I did.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Are you gonna insult me the entire night, or let me make my iconic entrance?”

You don’t get a chance to answer, Eddie carefully passing by you, Lestat’s head bouncing a little as it passes a bit closer to your face than you would have been comfortable with a few months ago.

The snake, funnily enough, had even been your idea to begin with. Your want, your desperate argument you’d wasted countless breaths upon while getting ready for bed with Eddie.

It’ll be fun, you’d whined to Eddie as you’d both crawled into bed, we even have the space in the living room.

Sweetheart, you’re fucking terrified of snakes, Eddie had easily rebuttalled. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t stop you from huffing like a petulant child.

That’s an exaggeration, you argued right back.

Your hands had still shook ferociously that first day of bringing home the snake when you’d been the one to move him from the small container the store had placed him and into the full fifty gallon tank now occupying a fairly large chunk of the apartment’s living room.

You’re still lost in your head as the door swings open for Eddie right as the first chorus of the song begins. He’s dramatic, fully committed, a glimmer of who he must have been in high school shining right through as he struts confidently into your friends’ apartment.

A version of Eddie you somehow missed despite never having met. You almost wonder if you would have still ended up here if you’d met then; you almost wonder if you would have still ended up at each other’s throats inevitably, even in those days.

You probably would have. You secretly hope that it all would have still happened exactly as it has.

“No fucking way!”

Robin is the first voice you can hear excitedly shriek out a reaction to Eddie, followed by a sharp hush from Nancy. They’re deeper in the apartment, out of your line of sight. You can hear Jonathan’s muttered response lost in the music, and you can smell Argyle’s presence rather than hear or see it.

Weed had been expected, but Steve and Robin were strict in their rule of only partaking on the balcony.

“Yes fucking way,” Eddie responds, clearly giddy. You finally trail in behind him, not necessarily shy but certainly not nearly as extravagant as he had been. You hang back a bit, biting back a grin, just admiring your boy.

All warmth, rosey cheeks spread wide in his boyish grin, eyes bright as he wiggles his brows as Robin.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Robin whispers as she rushes forward, glancing over her shoulder, clearly looking for Steve before she leans it a tad bit closer towards Lestat.

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” Eddie snarkily replies, moving to slowly remove the snake from his neck.

“Language,” you jokingly scold him, reaching out to take the snake from his hands as he brings it to his chest, giving Robin a closer look at the nearly-glimmering pale scales of your pet. Almost instinctively, he starts to pull the animal away, but once he sees the look on your face, he’s quick to hand him over. “No cursing around our son.”

Nancy finally walks up, still no sign of Steve as she joins your side and Lestat wraps his body slowly around your wrist, “Oh my God, don’t tell me you also refer to this thing as your child.”

“This thing?” Eddie huffs, more offended than you, “Nance, he has a name.”

Robin has gravitated towards you now, entirely captivated by the ball python, eyes shimmering as she lets out the smallest gasps and squeals under her breath, “What’s his name?”

“Lestat,” you whisper, watching Nancy and Eddie grow closer and clearly get more immersed in their own private conversation, “But Eddie wanted to name him Frodo.”

“Frodo,” Robin chuckles a little, looking at you questioningly as she holds out a timid finger. You give her a nod, moving a thicker part of the snake’s body to face her rather than the head, “Sounds like Eddie.”

It did indeed. Once the bickering of whether or not you two would even get the snake to begin with had faded, the entire argument of what its name would be had started up. Eddie wanted the snake to be named after his favorite books – you wanted to name the snake after your most recent reads.

You’d clearly won. At the sacrifice of promising the inevitable first of many cats you and Eddie would eventually have be named Frodo instead. But you’d still won.

Robin’s eyes finally leave the snake long enough to take in your own outfit, and you hadn’t realized it was possible for the girl’s grin to widen, “Wait - are you dressed as Lady Gaga from her Paparazzi performance?”

“Oh, my dear Birdie,” you coo out the endearment, shivering slightly as the cool body of the snake continues to slither up near your elbow, “This night is just getting started.”

—

You were right. The night had just begun.

The first few hours pass fairly chaotically. A languid and rapid mixing of everyone excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, various drinks beginning to be concocted. Some delicious, and some spurring gags from others simply from the description of the hard liquor that had gone into them.

Argyle had managed to lure many of the group out onto the patio at various intervals to partake in the devil’s lettuce, as he had proudly proclaimed it. Nancy and Jonathan had figured out a way to set up a makeshift karaoke party in the living room, lyrics for songs being displayed on the main TV. And Steve, for all his attentive hospitality as the one of the co-hosts of the night, had remained painfully oblivious.

Eddie had gone behind his back when it came to bringing Lestat. Steve had made it clear when the two of you had purchased the puppy in reptile form that he wanted nothing to do with the python, while the rest of the group had been easily intrigued – especially Robin. And so once Eddie had decided upon his Britney outfit, the next logical step had been securing Lestat’s attendance at the party. He hadn’t texted Steve - or Nancy, as a matter of fact - but rather Robin.

The girl hadn’t even taken a minute to respond, overly enthusiastic to meet the snake.

Everyone had slowly become a part of a more silent bet as the night dragged on, and for once, you and Eddie were on the betting side of it all. The drinks were poured, the weed was smoked, the music was sung along to painfully off-key, and Steve never once noticed the snake that was frequently wrapped around various parts of yours and Eddie’s body.

The quick exchanges probably didn’t help. When Steve needed your help in the kitchen at one point, you’d smoothly handed Lestat over to Eddie in passing. When Eddie had agreed to join Jonathan and Argyle on the balcony at one point, he’d easily and carefully draped the snake across the nape of your neck from behind the couch. Hell, you’d even spent a good five minutes engrossed in a conversation with Steve, all the while Lestat had been comfortably coiled around your bicep opposite the man.

As the hours passed by, you found yourself wanting to be caught.

Your phone pings suddenly as you bury yourself deeper into the leather couch, giggling over Steve’s current rendition of What’s New Scooby Doo?.

You shuffle carefully to pull it from where you’d wedged it against your hip, trapped weakly by your white bottoms speckled with glittery blood.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: I want a cigarette :-(

You do a double take of the contact name, blinking rapidly before you finally connect the dots.

YOU: when the hell did you change your contact name in my phone?

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: Unimportant.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: Do you think if I hand Lestat off to you right now that Steve would notice?

Your eyes flick up as the song ends, Robin having jumped up to finish off the performance with Steve, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs clinging to each other and joyful laughter bubbling out of them for unknown reasons.

Well, partially unknown reasons. One of them was surely the strange concoction the two of them had chugged at some point in the night that had included both watermelon flavored vodka and green apple whiskey. That had been one you’d cringed and stuck your tongue out at.

YOU: 50/50 chance. And NOT unimportant btw, what’s my name in YOUR phone?

Just as Eddie exits the bathroom, Steve perks up at the sound of the door and distant flush, removing himself entirely from Robin’s embrace, “Fuckin’ finally! I have to piss.”

Everyone holds their breath as he rushes past Eddie, but he still remains completely unaware of the snake that Eddie is carrying.

The slam of the door times perfectly with Eddie’s collapse onto the couch next to you, a shy and guilty grin already gracing his face before you even begin bursting at the seams with continuing the text conversation face-to-face.

“Seriously,” you waste no time, turning to him quickly and your knee easily overlapping his thigh as you shuffle into a more comfortable position, “When did you change your name in my phone, asshole?”

He takes his time answering, pulling on the ridiculously small jean shorts he wears as his shoulders quiver with the effort of holding in his laughter, “Words hurt, baby.”

You hate the way nicknames as simple as baby can send still shivers down your spine.

“You couldn’t have at least been a little more creative? Like, world’s hottest boyfriend? C’mon, you can be more clever than that, surely.”

It’s easy to do this, to egg him on and prod at his ego in the softest of ways. It’s also always been a dead giveaway to him that he’s gotten under your skin.

“My name with a pretty black heart next to it just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” he pouts exaggeratedly, leaning into your space a bit, holding the snake a careful distance away as he looks into your eyes and a suspiciously jubilant look crosses his face, “What would you have preferred?”

“Something shorter,” you breathe out, feeling some of the alcohol coursing through your veins now, making your headswim as you suck in the scent of his cologne heavy in the space between you, “It’s a bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.”

“It is,” he nods, and his lips spread salaciously, pupils growing just a tad bit wider before he delivers a devastating blow, “But we both know you can take it, can’t you, baby?”

Damn him. Fuck him. Send him all the way down to the depths of Hell, for all you care.

He’s caught on to a clear game he can play now that you’re tipsy, one that he certainly has the upper hand in, and you can’t tell if the night ending in him winning it would actually spell your loss. You swear, you can already feel his hands on your hips, tearing off the costume you’d spent several weeks carefully sewing sequins into, his lips getting sticky with all the fake blood across your torso, his-

Huh. Never had you realized yourself to be such a horny drunk.

“Now I need a cigarette,” you grumble, leaning away from him, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. None of your friends’ have even noticed the interaction happening on the couch, saving you from eternal embarrassment.

If you’d had less pinot noir and shots of Fireball whiskey in your veins, you’d probably still find the decency in you to be self-conscious at toying with these things in public. Maybe scold him, maybe douse out whatever flames he was attempting to ignite.

Eddie leans back as well, clearly satisfied with himself as he lifts Lestat up to preoccupy himself by pretending to study the lightened coloring of the snake. Mostly white, with splatterings of a traditional morph at random across the body. The woman who had sold the snake to the two of you had referred to it as a piebald. If you had been shopping with an actual breeder rather than a reputable rescue, he would have cost an arm and a leg.

Luck had been on your side the day you’d stumbled upon the snake. You wish luck was still on your side tonight.

Eddie sticks out the tip of his tongue to mimic the snake a few times before he focuses on you again, “You know, we could always see if Robin wants to watch him while we both go grab one.”

You have no clue how the girl had heard him from across the living room, but she suddenly appears at his side, just as eager in appearance as her original text giving the blessing to bring Lestat had been.

“Did someone say I could hold the snake?” she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet, looking down with utter fascination, “Please tell me you guys just said I could hold the little guy. When you first got him, I did a ton of research so I’d know proper handling tips, and also how to know if he gets too stressed. Also I may or may not have been nervous about how often they bite, but I found out that-”

“They don’t bite,” Eddie interrupts with reassurance, offering a small smile as he looks up to her, “At least, not very often. You usually have to aggravate them pretty badly, or catch them on a really shit day for them to strike.”

It had been a huge selling point in convincing him. Ball pythons were docile in nature, and they’d be quicker to match up to their namesake by balling up than actually strike out at someone.

Of course, the day you had been informing of this, you had no idea he was already aware of it. He knew they didn’t bite, he knew the specifics of what a habitat for them needed, he knew their dietary needs – he’d already had an Amazon shopping cart filled with supplies after the first time you brought the snake up to him, unbeknownst to you.

“Yeah,” Robin nods ferociously, hands reaching out carefully, already more than prepared to take the snake, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hand over the baby and go do whatever debauchery you two are clearly wanting to get up to.”

“We aren’t getting up to debauchery!” you try to defend the two of you, watching Eddie carefully uncurl Lestat from his arm to pass him into Robin’s waiting hands, “Eddie just wants a cigarette and-”

“And you want to join him and probably get in some hot and steamy makeout sessions, right?” Robin finishes your sentence for you, quirking an eyebrow for a second before letting out a whisper of a squeal when Lestat takes to her quickly. His tail wraps around the length of her wrist and you’re shocked as you watch him stay just as curious as he had been while held by you and Eddie. A tad bit more reserved, but no sign of balling up any time soon.

Eddie stands from the couch, patting his largest back pocket to ensure his pack of cigarettes and lighter are still safely tucked into it, and you know it’s useless to keep arguing with Robin. She’s entirely entrapped by the snake in her hands now, whispering in a high-pitched tone that surprisingly doesn’t seem to bother Lestat. All her coos nearly resemble baby-talk. It’s cute – sort of. A direct mirror of how you and Eddie have been acting at home when you handle the ball python.

You stand slower than Eddie had, hawk eyes still glued to your friend, “Just- Just be careful, okay? Avoid touching his head, and don’t wave your hands around too much while talking, because it can scare him. He also might try and crawl up to your hair because Eddie lets him hide in his at home, and sometimes he’ll pull on it because it sticks to him, so just-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie stresses, throwing an arm around your shoulders, giving your bicep opposite from him a quick squeeze, “She’ll be fine.”

Robin nods, clearly only half listening to the debate as she watches Lestat wander up her arm in clear wonder.

It sort of does feel like Lestat is your actual human child, as though you’re leaving your toddler with a babysitter for the first time.

Eddie tugs you deeper into his side, musky cinnamon and boyish charm filling your nose as he leans down and murmurs, “C’mon.”

A Ghost song starts to thump over the speakers as you allow Eddie to guide you over to the sliding door beside the kitchen, the layout different and even a tad bit nicer than your own apartment. It’s odd, the view of the kitchen being clearer than the living room, the exact opposite of how your home is.

Home. Even in your tipsy state, even after so much time having living with Eddie and even going as far as to now own a pet with him, the notion fills you with warmth.

Maybe you’re actually a sentimental drunk.

As the two of you pass by Argyle, he briefly lifts his head, cherry-shaded eyes peering up excitedly until Eddie quickly shakes his head, making the poor man sink back against the loveseat that he occupies with Jonathan and Nancy. You almost feel bad, but it’s clear Argyle is too far gone to even feel disappointment right now.

“After you, m’lady,” Eddie chivalrously slides the door open for you, half-bowing and putting on a half-assed British accent as he sweeps his arm for you to exit onto the balcony first.

“It’s Lady Gaga to you,” you snark as you slip out into the crisp Autumn air, cheeks cooling instantly.

“Oh,” the door slides shut with a soft thud behind Eddie as he joins you, face immediately covered by the shadows of the evening, “My apologies.”

It’s nice out. Far nicer than any October has been in the city in what feels like years. The air is refreshing, dare you even say sobering, and the city lights below wink at you as you hear all the distant noises of life. Car horns, children’s laughter, music from other parties. It sounds as though one of the neighbors below is blasting heavy rap, and you swear you can hear the trill of a radio pop song from your left.

Beer, cider, pumpkin spice – it all fills the air. It’s Halloween, and it’s nice.

The breeze is electric with all the livelihood, sending goosebumps up your arms as you approach the railing, looking out across a night sky painted some sort of faded cross between navy and grey rather than a stark black of midnight.

It all turns to static the moment Eddie wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, heavy pack of cigarettes in his palm as his lips find solace in one of the few bare patches of skin on your shoulder.

“God, I love Halloween,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot as it catches across your costume.

God, I love you.

You can’t help the cheesy thought as a hand comes up to grip Eddie’s forearm, giving three short squeezes, pulling him just a tad bit closer. But it’s true – Halloween was wonderful, you’d always enjoyed any excuse to get together with your friends and family, but it had never felt quite like this.

Planning cliche dates during the season, movie marathons spent cuddling up with your other half rather than sitting across on a couch from friends. Kisses in the pumpkin patch. Cider on his lips. Putting up decorations and ending up chasing each other around the apartment, landing in a pile of limbs that slot against one another perfectly. Arguing about which decorations should go on the balcony, which garland to line your front door with.

It wasn’t a replacement for spending time with your friends. And there were still crude jokes, still bickering over timing of plans and locations to visit. It still felt like spending the holiday with friends – it was spending it with your best friend.

Eddie Munson. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The sentiment is unexpected to past you, but so entirely welcome by the you currently enveloped in his embrace.

“I used to insist on spending Halloween alone, you know,” you mumble as his chin digs in the point where your shoulder connects to your neck, vision blurring as you continue to stare out at the tiny busy streets, “Just, like, lay around in my dorm. Watch shitty horror movies on my laptop until I got too scared and had to find some dumb comedy to help me sleep. It was the only day of the year where my roommate sort of acknowledged my existence. She was the one who’d go out, and she’d get all this candy and share it with me.”

You don’t know the point of your rambling, but Eddie is listening intently anyways.

You turn carefully in his arms, now mesmerized by how his face looks in the warm glow of the seasonal lights Robin and Steve had put up. Shades of orange flickering across his amber eyes, shadows making all his sharpness in his features more prominent.

“Talking about it now sounds kind of boring,” you muse, laughing a bit dryly, “The most festive thing I would do was going to the Halloween store with Robin and Steve once they opened.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, arms still tangled around you, grinning gently, “I don’t think that’s too boring.”

“It was,” you insist, pressing just a little closer to him, “God, it was so boring. Not going to the store with those idiots – I mean, that was pretty fun. But it was nothing compared to setting up a snake habitat, or carving pumpkins with you. Now I can watch whatever slasher you want before bed, and I still sleep just fine, cause I’ve got you to protect me.”

His smile matches your own – radiant, proud, happy.

“Oh, definitely,” he nods once, twice. So sure, ego inflated for the bit, “Any scary men with a chainsaw dare to break into our apartment, and I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Our apartment. The perfect ring to it.

“Didn’t you scream about that spider in our apartment yesterday? Like, full on squeal, hopping up onto the couch, begging me to save you-”

He cuts off all your teasing, even though it was true, with a kiss. Simple, strong, sure. Fingers dancing under your chin to pull you up to him, meeting you halfway and not even hiding his smile at your antics as he effectively shuts you up.

“We agreed to not talk about that,” he mumbles against your lips, tasting like the last shot of whiskey he took with Nancy.

“You agreed to not talk about it,” you pester back, trying to pull away from his kiss. But his other hand comes up, trapping your face between both his palms, and it’s a useless effort, “I just promised to not immediately share the photo of you up on the couch with everyone.”

Half the words are hardly articulate as his lips continue to nip at yours, struggling from your wide smile and the way your entire body is shaking from your giggles. You can feel the cold metal of the railing brushing your exposed lower back, a breeze picking up that can be blamed for the goosebumps racing down your spine rather than Eddie’s wandering hand. It’s not devourment, it’s not desperation, it’s not Earth-shattering.

It’s something like mending. Something like a promise.

Living together, celebrating the holidays together, owning a pet together – they were all baby steps leading to something even brighter in the future. An unspoken truth between the both of you. An inevitable crescendo to all that had been built.

Eddie whines a bit when you pull away again, but this time, your forehead stays pressed to his. A joint effort between the way you tilt your head and the way his hands press you against him.

“Do you remember the last time we were on a balcony together?” you ask in a low whisper, trying to mimic the same suggestive tone that he’s always been able to put on at the drop of a hat.

You’re not quite as talented as him. You’re actually just a giggly drunk.

His brows furrow, “What? This morning?”

“No.”

“Two nights ago, when you insisted Lestat needed to see the moon?”

“No.”

“Are you talking about the afternoon we had a redo of our pumpkin carving contest? Because I still won again, fair and square, ba-”

“I’m talking about the bet, you idiot.”

His fingertips press a bit deeper into your flesh, his lips forming a wobbly ‘o’ as he stares down at you, “How was I supposed to know you were referring to that? That was definitely not the last time we were on a balcony together-”

You shut him up with the same courtesy as he had done to you, adding in a roll of your eyes before your hands wrap around his neck to pull him into you. This time, you make it hot and heavy. Lips and teeth and tongues, grabby hands from the both of you making their way across all the exposed skin and scraps of costumes you two wear. It takes Eddie aback at first, clearly not expecting the sudden passion, but he recovers quickly.

He remembers exactly what you’re referring to quickly.

Your back collides a bit harsher with the railing as he rolls his body up against yours, not a breath of space between the two of you as he wedges his knee between your thighs. You have no idea where his pack of cigarettes has vanished to, but you don’t care. All you really care about is the way he’s holding you, the way he’s suffocating you, the way he’s watering you.

It’s hard to believe the garden within that he’s nurtured at your side for the last year was ever something broken. That there was once a time it was nothing more than dried vines and pathetic blossoms begging to see the light of day. Now, the warmth of a thousand suns was gifted to you every morning you awoke to his smile. Every joke, every small caring act, every kiss stolen just because one of you felt like it. You two may have accidentally killed that first plant you bought the week you moved in properly with him, but this?

You can’t imagine a day where the two of you ever might let this die off.

His lips break from yours, predictably painting a path along your jaw as he murmurs, “I think I do remember. But, just in case – wanna remind me?”

And for a second, you almost do.

All your coils are tight across your body, burning in your abdomen and shaking in your knees, but all it takes is the faintest movement of a shadow to remember all your friends inside the apartment still.

“We can’t,” you whisper, as if they might hear you in the glass, trying to pry yourself away from him just as his teeth start to graze your neck, “Seriously - we can’t.”

Eddie chuckles lowly against your neck, and you know exactly why.

You’d started this without even considering the consequences.

“Started something you can’t finish, didn’t ya, baby?”

Oh, damn him. That stupid low and teasing tone. That dimple you can feel brush against your skin as he moves his mouth to the other side of your neck. All the heat in your body travels south, pooling between your hips, aching for him to go against your wishes to avoid embarrassment and just finish this.

He doesn’t, though. You’re starting to believe he’s less drunk than you are, a clearer mind than your own with far more sensibility than he seems capable of most of the time. His lips leave your neck, his hands finding the polite placement of hovering over your hips. The fog is starting to clear, if only just the slightest bit, and-

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

He’s not sensible. That wicked hand placement was nowhere near polite. In an instant, he’s latched onto you tightly and spun you around, quickly bending you over against the railing so your chest presses into the metal and the cold sends shockwaves across your entire body. Your ass is pressed to his crotch and one hand holds you securely, tight enough that he can be sure you won’t fall, as the other crawls up your back at impeccable speed to press you further down.

Immediately, you’re squealing, “Eddie!”

His laughter is just as loud as all your protests as you come face-to-face with the true height of a three-story balcony, knuckles paling from gripping onto the bars.

You’d hate him for it, but you feel the security of his palm and knuckles around your waist, and you know he’s not letting you go anywhere over that railing. He’s hardly even allowing your head to hang over it.

The moment you start to lean back up against his hand on your back, he’s allowing it immediately. There’s no friction or fight as you stand up straight once more, back against his chest and your hands already prepared to swing back to smack him before both of his arms come up around your shoulders and cross your chest.

“You asshole,” you gasp out, flailing hands deciding to grip strongly onto his forearms as he cradles you up in the tight embrace from behind, still chucking in your ear as you both take several steps back. Your heart pounds, and you’re pretty sure your nails are biting into his skin.

Maybe they’ll leave a mark – you hope they sort of hurt.

“Just had to make sure you really do remember that night,” he jokes, trying to lean his head far enough over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, “I think the bars would have been a bit more exposing, though, yeah?”

Your nails dig in deeper, and his grin widens.

Bastard.

“What if I had fallen?” you snap, finding it hard to be mad at him. Those damned strong arms around you, the thump of his own heart right against the space between your shoulder blades, that fucking dimple.

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

If the two of you had children some day, would they have his dimples?

“We’re both drunk-”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“-And I’m pretty sure this balcony isn’t up to OSHA standards-”

“Oh, it definitely isn’t.”

“-And you almost left our poor son motherless,” you finish off with a forced scowl, shaking off his embrace to face him properly, “Are you prepared for that? Were you prepared to be a single father?”

God, you hate his fucking smile. God, you hope if you have real kids someday, they have that same shit-eating grin.

With a pout of his lips, he steps back up to you, looking down tauntingly, “You’re right, baby. I didn’t even think about poor Lestat.”

You hum, standing your ground, but your defenses are quickly crumbling. Your mind is running with too many thoughts, exhausting itself over everything except the residing anger you should feel at your absolute nuisance of a boyfriend.

The feeling of being held down by him in that position once more. How the heat of his body had warmed you, and you’d only noticed now that the cool air was attacking your exposed back. Swimming in the visions of what color eyes your children might have, pigtail curls of a little girl with Eddie’s defiance or a little boy who wears his shit-eating grin as he exhibits your same unbreakable curiosity.

You definitely shouldn’t have drank so much tonight. It doesn’t matter what kind of drunk you are – it was a bad idea regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice takes you out of your thoughts as he slides his arms around your waist, always needing to be touching you, clingy to a ridiculous degree.

You weren’t complaining, though. How could you? If given the option, you’d make a home out of his bones in a fraction of a heartbeat as well.

“Nothin’,” you lie through a sigh, head tilted dramatically, much preferring to focus on the ginger contours of Eddie’s cheeks than whatever future Jack Daniels had been painting in your mind.

“Bullshit,” he doesn’t hesitate to call you out on it. And it’s not the alcohol fueling his boldness – it’s just how he is. He knows you better than the back of his hand, the roof of his mouth, his favorite songs on guitar. He knows you. “You got this dreamy look in your eyes, and you’re staring so hard over my shoulder, I’m almost scared I’ll turn around to see a ghost in the window-”

Jack Daniels will be your arch nemesis after tonight, the culprit behind the way the words suddenly tumble out of your mouth, “Do you think we’ll have kids someday?”

You wait for the air to leave the space between the two of you with the same urgency it’s left your lungs. You wait for a crack in the air, a chasm to suddenly appear. It’s heavy – God, it’s a heavy question to suddenly ask your boyfriend of one year at a Halloween party. You’re both drunk on your friends’ balcony, and you were having a perfectly sweet moment, and you’d just gone and ruined it. And to top it all off, Eddie was still just smiling, and-

Wait.

Eddie was smiling.

The air was still there, filling his lungs with calm breaths. No sign of fear within his twinkling eyes. No chasm squeezing between the stitches holding you two together.

He’s just smiling.

“Is that really what you were thinking about?” he quietly asks.

You almost don’t want to answer. You almost want to force out cackles of fake laughter, to double over and face the ground rather than his humored expression.

“Yeah.”

Maybe he doesn’t believe you yet, maybe he has to double check before he breaks out into his own laughter. Maybe the alcohol in both your veins is just delaying the inevitable that you’d been originally expecting.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe not.

Instead of laughter, instead of mocking you, he keeps a cheery expression as he shrugs softly, “I mean, maybe? I sort of hope so. And, don’t get me wrong, I know a kid is a pretty far leap from a snake, but I’d say we make a pretty good team at keeping living things…. Well, living, y’know? Besides, I solemnly swear I won’t try to name our kids after Tolkien. I’ll reserve those names for the pets.”

All the air leaves your lungs again, but this time, it’s a little less painful, “What?”

“Annie’s a cute name,” he continues on, completely unphased. It’s nearly impossible to remember that you were the one who had started such a serious conversation about the future, “I also like the name Parker. I remember you mentioned that one once, right? Something about being able to nickname the kid Pac-Man, I’m pretty sure. I think that’d be pretty sick.”

And oh, was he right. You had mentioned the name Parker once. Just not to him. Not directly, at least.

The entire ridiculous make-believe scenario had come to you during a girls’ night, after one too many glasses of wine and Nancy bringing up the topic. You, her, and Robin had all spent a good hour coming up with names for children and the best nicknames to suit them. Some had been genuine, and some had been for nothing more than shits and giggles.

Parker, and the nickname Pac-Man, had been serious for you. Parker Anthony. You hadn’t figured out a second middle name to complete the initial acronym of Pac that night, the rosé eventually getting to you, but you had been serious.

“You were listening that night?” you breathe out, only feeling slightly betrayed, “What the Hell? I thought you said you were going to put your headphones on and listen to some Metallica to unwind after work.”

“I lied,” he cheeses, hot palms against your barren lower back, “I’m nosey. Sue me.”

“You could have just joined us, Eddie.”

“And miss the chance to hear you plot out the middle names of our future children?” Eddie snorts, “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

He says it so casually, you wonder if it’s possible for a heart to burst from optimism.

“So,” you pause, take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment creep back up your throat, “Is that, uh…. Is that a yes? That you do think so?”

Why was it so hard to repeat yourself, to just say the words already spoken?

Eddie had made it clear you had nothing to lose. You two were on the same page. He hadn’t scoffed in your face, he hadn’t even pulled away at the mere mention of the idea. Instead, he had leaned fully into it, head-first as he slid right into the imaginary future with you. He’d given a name to the little girl with his hair and his spunk, to the little boy with his dimples and his mischief.

Was it still a little too soon, too fast? Was that where the hesitation was born from?

It just all felt a bit too easy. After the rocky start you two had endured, this entire last year had just felt too simple.

Of course, even if the hesitation was sitting there in the pit of your stomach alongside all of your anxieties, all of your waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie easily soothes it all over as he gives a slow nod and responds, “Yeah. I do – I really do.”

And you clearly wear your heart on your sleeve, emotions painted across your eyes and cheeks for him to read clear as day, because he notices that catch in your breath.

“Not right now,” he rushes to add on, “I mean, listen, we’re still adjusting to Lestat. I think I’d like to be a cat dad too, before I even think about being a girl dad.”

“You’re gonna be a girl dad?” you laugh out without thinking, starting to thaw into a conversation that Jack Daniels had begun but you know you can surely finish with Eddie at your side, “That’s… unexpected.”

His face scrunches for the first time during the entire conversation, “What? You don’t think I’d be a good girl dad? I already deal with my rat’s nest of hair, so I know I’d be at least decent at braiding. And can you imagine getting to take a mini-you to shows, or buying her some cute unicorn helmet once she’s old enough to ride ol’ Nightfury? God, I think I might die from cuteness overload…”

Your cheeks are aching, ears ringing with his words. But all you can do is latch onto one little phrase: mini-you.

Here you were, picturing duplicates of Eddie bounding around the two of you, and you hadn’t considered what he might be seeing.

Not a child with his spunk. No, he’s seeing a little girl with your wit. A little boy with your stubbornness. Those eyes of his, nearly resembling heart-shapes at this point, weren’t wanting to see carbon copies of his whiskey irises. He wanted yours to be looking back up at him.

Hearts clearly can’t burst from an overload of optimism, of happiness. Yours beats wildly as proof, still intact behind your ribs that bloom with rosebuds for the boy pressed to your front.

“Mini-me?” you murmur, making him trail off, focused entirely on you so sincerely you could choke up. You shake your head, letting out a soft huff of air, smiling down at the ground, “No, I- I think you’ll be an amazing dad, Eddie. I just didn’t…. I just forgot…”

“That I’m with you all the way?” he finishes your sentence for you, one eyebrow arched as he gives a squeeze to one of your hips, “You could decide tomorrow you don’t even want to talk about having a kid ever again, that you’d rather get ten more snakes and live as some sort of cryptic couple somewhere in the Midwest the rest of our lives, and I’d be just as excited. I don’t really care where we end up, sweetheart – I just care that it’s with you,” You can no longer tell if it’s his words or the remnants of alcohol in your system that has you tearing up. All you know is that you are, and it’s ridiculous, but it’s fine, because all you see are dark brown eyes and entire realms of possibility in front of you, “Girl dad, snake dad, cat dad – whatever you need from me, I’m your guy.”

When the first tear falls, you're quick to shoot one hand up to your cheek in order to swipe it away as the other reaches out blindly to smack Eddie softly, “Shut up. Stop being cheesy. I’m too drunk for this.”

“You’re right,” he nods ferociously, taking over the duty of wiping away your tears without so much as mentioning it, “Wanna make out again instead?”

You let out a snort, and it eggs him on.

“Or, hey,” his eyes light up, some of the seriousness of the moment fading naturally, “Maybe we ditch this party and start practicing. You know, in case we still want kids someday.”

His pupils widen a bit, and you know surely that it’s only half a joke. You don’t miss the way his breathing picks up at the thought.

“Careful, big boy,” you tease, leaning into his feathery touch on your cheek, relishing the way the nickname draws him under your spell even when you aren’t saying it with an ounce of gravity, “It’d be awfully dangerous to get yourself worked up in such short shorts.”

Saying it outloud almost makes you want to see it, genuinely.

“Worked up?” he scoffs, backing up a little, caught off-guard, “Who says I’m getting worked up? I’m not getting worked up.”

It doesn’t matter how many steps back he takes from you, you still follow, your palm still lands dead center on his chest as you roll your eyes, “Right. Because I’m totally meant to believe that the guy who used to jack off to Playboy magazines with girls who looked like me isn’t going to pop a boner at the thought of fucking a baby into me-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Nearly more resembling a bite, his canines digging right into your bottom lip as he pulls you forward and collapses back against the glass door behind him.

No words are spoken, no subtle interruptions for this kiss. Toying a dangerous line, dancing along a narrow cliff, and he’s the one who’s decided to drag the two of you off of it.

You don’t mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked you to.

When one of his hands reaches up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair for no other reason than he can, your mouth opens up into a silent laugh. An invitation, a jeer, a challenge. A quiet whisper of go ahead, do it. Consume me already.

He’s already everything to you. He’s already a definition of home thinly veiled with skin and bones, a future with a heartbeat.

His tongue down your throat doesn’t change the matter. Just reclaims it.

A whine is lost in translation somewhere from the back of your throat and right into his cheeks. His right hand wraps around some of the skin of one of your thighs, encouraging it to lift up to his hip, and you can still feel the memory of his usual rings imprinting into your skin. A permanent tattoo, a ghost of a feeling that’ll haunt you for all time – you love it. You want to live there forever, right here in this haunted house, collecting memories and dust of all that he is.

Haunted houses are only lonely when you’re left to wander these halls all by yourself, and you think he’d truly cross over into the actual afterlife rather than leave you like that.

The kiss is almost enough to forget where you are and who’s waiting on you inside the apartment. It’s almost enough to have you recreating that fateful night from over a year ago, to let him bend you back over this balcony railing again, and this time, any squeals you let out won’t be of fear. You’d face that fall head on.

His hot hands on your waist, his tongue in your cheek, his knee once again pressed between your inner thighs. Him, him, him-

A sharp rap sounds on the sliding door behind Eddie, and you’ve never jumped apart faster.

It’s Robin and Nancy at the door, Lestat happily wrapped around Robin’s forearm as she waves and points eagerly to him and Nancy simply crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as though she might have been a disappointed mother rather than a friend at the moment.

You done? Robin mouths, exaggerating her silent enunciation.

As you nod, Eddie only deeply sighs, throwing his head back against the glass with a soft thump. Nancy is quick to throw out a palm against the glass and tap back at him, mimicking swatting him for his theatrics.

Eddie pays no mind to Nancy’s retaliation, or maybe he just doesn’t see it, as he whines out, “I didn’t even get my cigarette.”

“Oh, cut it out, drama queen,” you snicker, trying to hide all your breathlessness as you fully pull away, “We’ve left our son alone long enough. You can chainsmoke to your heart’s desire once we get back home.”

You’re already walking towards the door, Nancy and Robin having retreated further into the kitchen, when he catches your wrist to tug you back close to him. He leans down, deliberate and careful to make sure his lips catch against the lobe of your ear, whispering soft as night, “Can’t chainsmoke if I’m too busy fucking a baby into you, sweetheart.”

It feels like someone’s poured literal fire across your body. As if flames have been dumped over the crown of your head, and are licking their pathway down your spine.

“Eddie.”

If you don’t get inside within the next ten seconds, you’re definitely going to make a decision you regret.

He’s chuckling the entire time he steps around you, opening the door and waving for you to slip inside in front of him. Your entire body is still burning so violently, you barely register the way his fingers hang at his side and make a point to brush the back of your thigh when you pass him.

Bastard, you want to snipe, but instead you just smile.

—

The next morning, you’re awoken by the incessant pinging of your phone.

You try to ignore it at first, burying your head deeper beneath the covers as a headache pulses at the edges of your mind, but after the fifth ping, it becomes impossible.

“Who the fuck is texting us this early?” Eddie’s muffled voice complains into his pillow, facedown with one arm thrown across you securely.

You can even feel him kick his bare legs in a show of defiance next to yours at the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for the late night prior catching up to you, it’d be something sweet to laugh at.

“What time is it?” you croak, scooching further up the bed, making Eddie’s arm around you only tighten. As if he can stop you from getting out of bed, or delay the inevitable by resisting you checking the phone, “Is it even early?”

His free arm that had been tucked below his pillow flings out to the bedside table quickly, grabbing blindly for at least one of your phones. It doesn’t really matter if it’s yours or his; he’s got the password to both.

“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he curses, seeming more awake as he notices that he was right in it being early. “How in the fuck is anyone up right now? We didn’t leave until nearly three.”

His arm is finally loose enough for you to sit up properly, tugging the comforter with you to keep your bare chest covered, “Lemme see it.”

“If it’s Harrington, can you post my bail for murder?”

“You’re not killing Steve,” you nonchalantly reply as you snatch the phone right out of his hand. It had been yours, unsurprisingly. You don’t even know if Eddie remembered to put his own phone on the charger before the two of you had promptly passed out. You hardly even remember how you managed to do so, “But – yeah, it’s Steve.”

“Fucking Harringt-”

“And Robin. And Jonathan.”

“Have I mentioned I hate our friends?”

The fog of sleep has officially lifted for you, and despite the wave of fatigue and aching joints you’d argue you’re far too young to be experiencing right now, you smile at your grumpy boyfriend. He exchanges his pillow for your stomach, shoving his entire cheek tightly to you as his arms wrap around you slowly. Clinging to you like a child, squinting against what little light pours in through the curtains.

“You don’t hate them,” you murmur, holding the phone in one hand to get a better look at the phone as the other cards through his curls, “You hate mornings.”

He hmphs in agreement, relaxing against your makeshift scalp massage.

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PHOTO OF ME WITH A SNAKE IN THIS CHAT?

BIRDIE: it is too early to be yelling

DINGUS: oh my bad

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU, ROBIN, SEND A PHOTO OF A SNAKE IN THIS FUCKING CHAT? WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE IS THAT?

You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth as you begin to see what the entire commotion was, and Eddie is lifting his head immediately.

“What?” he questions, moving to lift himself up and peer over the top of the phone, nosier than ever, “Why did you gasp? Is someone dead?”

You scroll up, finding the photo being referred to.

“Not yet.”

Steve, clearly partaking in another round of karaoke. Eyes glazed over, mid stumble based on the blur.

“What do you mean not yet?”

Most impressively, most notably, is the snake around his neck.

Lestat, without a care in the world, his upper body being cradled by Steve’s palm as your drunk friend appears to be serenading the snake.

You bite back your smile, eyebrows high as you glance down at Eddie, “You remember when we let Steve sing Taylor Swift while holding Lestat? About… two and a half drinks after he finally noticed we had him, and he didn’t flip out courtesy to all that Absolute vodka?”

“Oh, fuck me.”

Eddie flings himself back to the edge of the bed in search of his phone just as another notification pings.

JOHNNY: I’ll do you one better. I have a video.

You don’t know if you’ve ever watched Eddie excitedly type on his phone faster than he does once he’s read that message, already giggling like a fool long before you can see what he’s sent in the chat.

LOVER BOY: Johnny, my boy, you can’t just say that and NOT send it.

JOHNNY: Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish.

DINGUS: WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE WAS IT? IS IT EDDIE’S?

YOU: i will not stand for this erasure of me as lestat’s mother.

Eddie snorts and looks up at you with glee as he reads your response, “He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?”

“Can we be buried next to each other?” you respond with a question instead, looking at him lazily, “We could have matching headstones.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” his grin is worth whatever Hell there may come to pay with Steve and the Lestat debacle last night, “Should we look up designs or-”

He’s cut off by the trill ringing of his own phone, watching several messages roll into the groupchat in quick succession.

DINGUS: who the fuck is lestat?

BIRDIE: the snake, dingus.

NANCE: As someone who has seen the video… I think Jonathan should send it.

DINGUS: DON’T YOU DARE

You’re a mess of hoarse giggles, hardly able to look at Eddie for the fear of both of you descending right into a madness of laughter. Like two children staying up too late at a sleepover, the room rings out with all your little noises, Eddie propping up his chin to watch you with the widest of smiles.

Except you’re not children – you’re just two idiots, in your shared apartment, with your shared snake in the living room and your shared friends blowing up both your phones.

Mornings have never felt quite as sweet as this kind.

“We’re gonna hear an earful next time he sees us, aren’t we?” Eddie finally sighs wistfully, rolling over flat on his back, head propped up slightly in your lap.

“Oh, definitely,” you nod, taking to twirling his frizzed curls around your knuckles this time rather than scratching mindlessly at his scalp, “But who cares? You saw how in love with the snake he was after a few drinks. He’ll come around, sober this time.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut.

You let the two of you sit in the quiet a bit longer, phones still buzzing with new messages, but the chaos can wait. For now, you just want to drink it in. Rays of vivid sunlight, the silence from the lack of the buzzing AC unit, the birds chirping annoyingly outside the window. You have one foot in relaxation, and one foot in the hangover you know you’ll have to battle once you choose to leave this bed.

“You know what sounds good?” you question, nearly under your breath. You’re really thinking outloud more than anything, but Eddie still entertains you with a hum in his tired state, “Betty’s.”

He’s the equivalent of a puppy dog who’s heard the word walk. One second, Eddie Munson is seemingly dead to the world, and the next, he’s perked up entirely. If it wasn’t for his nude state, he’d probably already be out the door with his keys in hand, dragging you right along with him.

His eyes shimmer despite heavy lids as he asks, “Almond croissants?”

A small nod, an ever present smile. You recall the conversation from the night before as you look into those deep russet eyes, and you see an entire future of late nights and almond croissants reflected back.

“Almond croissants.”

#ghost's stories #twenty four hours #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #beyond the hours #this can sort of be read as a stand alone but there's several references to the main story haha #ive missed them. sigh.#you can tell given the nearly 10k words that almost no one asked for

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wholoveseggs · 2 months ago

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Kinktober - {Day Thirty-One} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ HAPPY HALLOWEEN ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

{Elijah Mikaelson X Klaus Mikaelson x f!Reader} Request {@originals23}: Well, I am all for Elijah, but Kinktober without Klaus must not happen;) I therefore request a Klaus story with a female reader and kinks 15 (m/m/f) and 17. Maybe with some jealousy as Klaus doesn't like to share. ;) Hope you are feeling a bit better! Thanks!!

♡♡♡ Hiii darling @originals23 you know how much I adore you~ And of course the other man in this ménage à trois HAS to be Elijah ♡♡♡

7.3k words - Kinks: costumes, lots of blood drinking, threesome, lots of flirting, a haunted house && Klaus and Elijah competing over you in bed ...

“You’re joking.” Rebekah’s tone was flat as she stared you down in the doorway, her disapproval nearly tangible.

You blinked at her, feigning innocence, and looked down at your outfit as if trying to figure out what could possibly be the problem. “What?” you asked, tilting your head. “Is something wrong with it?”

Rebekah’s gaze didn’t waver, taking in every inch of your ‘vampire’ costume. The short, form-fitting dress, plunging neckline, lace gloves, and, of course, the dramatic collar.

“Is this supposed to be funny?” she asked, her voice dripping with barely-contained irritation. “I thought you’d have more taste than to show up looking like that.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a buzzkill!” You laughed, waving off her disapproval with a flick of your hand. “It’s Halloween, and I’m here to have fun.”

Rebekah’s lips tightened. “You do realize there will be actual vampires at this party?” she said, her eyes narrowing.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “So... they’ll get the joke then?”

Rebekah sighed, moving over to sit at the edge of her bed as she slipped on the ridiculous hot pink heels she had chosen to complete her Barbie costume. The look suited her in a way that only added to her usual allure: effortlessly beautiful and intimidatingly flawless. “I don’t think you quite understand,” she started, giving you another withering glance.

“Sorry? Didn’t catch that,” you interrupted with a grin, pulling a pair of plastic fangs from your pocket and popping them into your mouth. Turning dramatically, you flashed her your best vampy grin.

Rebekah let out an exasperated sigh, but you saw the slight grin that tugged at the corner of her mouth. You always had a way of making her laugh, even when she didn’t want to. “I’m being serious,” she told you, standing up and reaching for her handbag.

“Ya don tink I can sedu a ampire like tis?” you said, grinning wider, struggling to speak around the fangs. You barely had time to flinch as Rebekah reached over and snatched the fangs right out of your mouth, tossing them over her shoulder without so much as a second glance.

“Hey!” you protested, trying to catch them as they sailed behind her. “I was just starting to get the hang of those!”

Rebekah rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she looked at you with a smirk. “Honestly, you’re hopeless. And I can’t imagine what Elijah and Klaus will think when they see you dressed like… well, that.”

At the mention of their names, you felt a warm flush rise in your cheeks. You quickly looked away, pretending to fix a wrinkle on your dress. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you muttered, hoping the blush wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

“Oh, please.” Rebekah’s grin widened, clearly enjoying your sudden shyness. She had known for a while about the little crush you had on her brothers, but she had never outright called you on it. Not until now.

You gave her a wary look, but she only shook her head, laughing softly.

“That dress is definitely going to test their self-control. Elijah, I suppose, will try to behave himself. But Klaus? Good luck with that. He’ll probably drag you off to some dark corner the second he sees you.” She smirked, leaning in conspiratorially.

The flush in your cheeks deepened, and you turned away, embarrassed. But Rebekah wasn’t finished. She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Or maybe you wouldn't mind that. Maybe you're hoping for it." She raised an eyebrow, studying your reaction carefully. "If you had to choose one of them, which would it be? Elijah, or Klaus?"

You swallowed hard, feeling your face grow hotter. Your pulse was racing, and you knew she could hear it, could sense the quickening of your heartbeat. But there was no point in lying to her. She would know if you did.

"Both," you whispered back, meeting her gaze at last.

Your face was definitely burning now, and you bit your lip nervously. The thought of either one of them alone was enough to make you weak in the knees. The thought of both of them... well, it was almost too much to imagine.

Rebekah's grin widened, and she leaned back, looking satisfied.

"That's what I thought," she said, chuckling softly. Then, with a shrug, she turned away, heading toward the door. "Well, come on, then. Let's go. We can't keep them waiting forever."

You hesitated, still flustered from her teasing. But after a moment, you followed her, trailing behind her out of the room and down the stairs to the party happening in the courtyard.

The place was decorated to the nines, just like any other Mikaelson party, with elaborate decor, dim lighting, and an ever-growing throng of guests mingling and dancing to the live music. The scent of alcohol and expensive perfume filled the air, and you caught sight of a few familiar faces, including Marcel and Cami. They both looked like they were having fun, chatting and laughing as they sipped their drinks.

You felt a rush of relief at seeing them, glad that there would be someone else around to help ease the tension. The last thing you needed was to be alone in a room full of vampires, especially in your current outfit.

You followed Rebekah through the crowd, trying to stay close behind her so as not to get separated. As you approached the bar, you saw a few of the vampires look your way, and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending not to notice.

You could feel their eyes on you, and the weight of their stares made the back of your neck prickle. Wearing this costume was so funny when you imagined it, but the reality was far more nerve-wracking.

You tried to push the anxiety aside, focusing instead on the music and the atmosphere. The music was loud and pulsing, with a heavy bass that vibrated through your body, and the lights were dim enough to make everything feel a bit surreal, like you were walking through a dream.

You spotted Elijah at the bar, nursing a glass of wine and talking with Hayley. He looked dashing as always, dressed up as a 1920s gangster. His suit was perfectly tailored, and his hair was slicked back, making him look more like a mob boss than a vampire. It was a very good look on him, and you felt your pulse quicken as he glanced your way, his gaze lingering on your outfit for a moment before returning to the conversation.

Klaus was nowhere to be seen, but you figured he must be around somewhere. He wouldn't miss his own party.

As you approached the bar, Marcel and Cami waved you over, inviting you to join them. Marcel chuckled at your outfit, shaking his head as he took in the whole thing.

"Nice costume. Did you leave your fangs at home?" he asked, laughing.

You blushed, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah, Rebekah wasn't really a fan," you admitted, glancing over at her. She had joined Elijah and Hayley, and the three of them seemed engrossed in their conversation.

"I like it, it's very bold," Cami chimed in, giving you a reassuring smile. She was dressed as a butterfly, with big, sparkly wings and a glittery top. It suited her well, bringing out her bright eyes and golden hair.

"It's supposed to be a joke," you explained, a bit self-consciously. "I figured if I showed up looking like a cliché, maybe the actual vampires would find it funny. Guess not, though."

Marcel shrugged, taking a swig of his drink. "I think you look hot," he told you, grinning. He was dressed as a prince, complete with a crown and fake sword. "You're definitely turning some heads tonight."

Cami nudged him with her elbow, rolling her eyes. "You're such a flirt," she teased, shaking her head. "Ignore him, he's just saying that because he thinks it'll get him lucky."

Marcel feigned innocence, raising his hands. "Who, me?"

You laughed, relaxing a bit. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"You must check out the haunted house," Cami said, gesturing across the courtyard. There was a small building, covered in fake cobwebs and skeletons, that had been transformed into a spooky attraction for the party.

"It's pretty awesome, there are some seriously creepy creatures in there," Marcel added, giving you a sly smile. "Some of them might even bite."

Just then, you heard the familiar sound of Klaus' voice coming from behind you. You turned, and your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of him. He was dressed as the Phantom of the Opera, and the mask accentuated his handsome features perfectly, making him look even more mysterious and dangerous than usual. His gaze fell on you, and he grinned, his eyes darkening with hunger.

"There you are," he said, his voice low and husky. "I've been looking for you."

Marcel and Cami exchanged a look, and you could see the amusement in their eyes. You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself.

"H-hey," you stammered, your voice cracking slightly.

"Interesting choice in costume," he teased, his gaze raking over you slowly.

You felt your cheeks grow hot under his scrutiny, and you bit your lip, trying not to squirm.

"Do you like it?" you managed, giving him a coy smile.

Klaus' lips curved into a wicked grin, and he stepped closer, his hand moving up your arm. "I think it's perfect," he murmured, his fingertips trailing along the choker around your neck.

You couldn't deny that you enjoyed the way his gaze seemed to undress you, and you swallowed hard, feeling a familiar warmth pooling between your legs. You couldn't remember ever being this affected by someone, and the fact that it was Klaus only made it worse.

"Well, I'm glad someone has good taste," you said, forcing a lighthearted tone, trying not to let him know how flustered you were.

"Mmm, indeed." Klaus' fingers traced the collar of your dress, brushing against your skin and sending a thrill through you. He moved closer, his other hand settling on your waist as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

"But I think it could be improved," he breathed, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "You need a real bite."

Before you could respond, he dipped his head, his fangs grazing the side of your neck, just above your pulse. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart began to race.

Marcel cleared his throat, and you suddenly remembered where you were. You flushed, pulling back a little and glancing around, noticing that several people were staring at you.

He chuckled and pulled away, giving you a wicked grin. He was teasing you, and you both knew it. But there was no denying the heat in his gaze, or the way his fingers tightened on your waist, as if he wanted to pull you closer.

"Save me a dance later?" he murmured, his thumb stroking over your hip bone.

You nodded, still a little breathless. "Of course," you managed, licking your lips.

His eyes followed the movement, his gaze darkening. "Good." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering against your skin. "I'll hold you to that, love."

With that, he stepped back, giving you a wink before turning and heading back into the crowd.

You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding. It was almost overwhelming how attracted you were to him, and it didn't help that he knew it, too.

Marcel and Cami exchanged a knowing look, and you rolled your eyes at them.

"Oh, shut up," you muttered, taking a long sip of your drink.

They laughed, shaking their heads.

"It's about time, though," Cami said, grinning.

"I'll drink to that," Marcel agreed, raising his glass.

You gave them a warning glare, but they just laughed harder. "I'm going to check out the haunted house," you announced, turning on your heel and walking away.

Their laughter followed you as you crossed the courtyard, heading toward the small building. Your mind was racing, replaying the way Klaus had looked at you, the way his touch had sent a thrill through you. You knew you were blushing, and you were grateful for the cover of darkness as you slipped inside the attraction.

You immediately regretted the decision. It was dark and creepy, filled with cobwebs and skeletons, and the eerie soundtrack only made it worse. There was definitely a spell or two involved, the entire atmosphere was designed to put guests on edge.

You wandered through the maze of corridors and rooms, trying to find the exit. There was something about the dark corners and flickering candles that made you uneasy, and you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you.

You reached a dead end and cursed under your breath, turning back. A sudden loud scream came from the speakers, and all the lights began flashing, making your heart leap into your throat. You hurried forward, desperately searching for a way out.

You turned a corner, running blinding for the exit. But instead of finding the door, you crashed into a hard body, nearly falling over. Two strong arms wrapped around you, steadying you, and you gasped as you looked up into familiar brown eyes.

"Elijah," you breathed, clutching his chest. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you."

He chuckled, his hands resting on your hips. "That's quite alright,"

"I-I was looking for the exit," you explained, a little embarrassed.

He grinned, stepping back and gesturing to a nearby door. "You've found it," he said, taking your hand and leading you through.

The fresh air hit you, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. Elijah's touch was still making your pulse race, and you couldn't deny that you had been hoping to run into him, too.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," he said, his thumb tracing over the back of your hand. "Need a drink?"

"Please," you breathed, following him as he led you toward the bar.

He ordered two drinks, handing one to you and lifting the other in a toast. You clinked your glass against his and quickly took a sip of your drink, hoping he couldn't hear the way your heartbeat quickened.

"I'm a bit insulted by your outfit." He said, his tone playful. "I've never considered a vampire so... tasteless."

You nearly choked on your drink, surprised by his bluntness. You couldn't tell if he was serious or not, but the look in his eyes told you he was at least half-teasing.

"Hey, now. I'll have you know, I put a lot of thought into this outfit," you told him, feigning offense, though you couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up.

Elijah smiled, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "Did you put glitter on your face? You're sparkling."

"Isn't that what vampires do?" You flashed a coy grin. "Sparkle in the sun?"

Elijah shook his head, his fingers trailing over your jaw. "If we did, we wouldn't do it nearly as beautifully as you."

You felt your cheeks flush at his compliment, and you looked away, taking another sip of your drink. You weren't sure what to say, he was so damn smooth with his words.

"Thank you," you finally murmured, meeting his gaze again. "For rescuing me in there."

He chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink. "My pleasure. Though, I'd say the rescue was a bit mutual."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've rescued me as well, darling. From a very dull night."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Dull? Hardly. It's a Mikaelson Halloween party, there's nothing dull about it."

He shrugged, his gaze traveling over you again. "Perhaps. But a night spent in your company is much more exciting."

You blushed, looking down. You could feel his eyes on you, and the tension between you was nearly palpable. You had always had a crush on him, and it was surreal to be standing here, with him looking at you like that.

"Dance with me," he said, pulling you closer.

You nodded, letting him lead you onto the dance floor. The music was slow and sensual, and you could feel the beat pulsing through your body, making your heart race.

Elijah's hand settled on your waist, his other gently grasping your own as he drew you in close. You rested your free hand on his shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes. Out of all Rebekah's brothers, he was the hardest to read, and sometimes the most intimidating.

But there was no denying the heat in his gaze as he looked down at you, or the way his fingers tightened on your waist. You bit your lip, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

"Tell me, sweetheart," he said, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Did you pick your costume specifically to try and get attention?"

You blinked, caught off-guard by the question. "I, um..." You weren't sure how to answer. The truth was, yes, you had picked the outfit hoping to attract their attention, but you hadn't thought anyone would call you out on it.

"I'm not judging," he assured you, his hand sliding down your waist, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "I'm merely curious."

"Maybe," you admitted, a flush rising in your cheeks. "What do you think?"

"I think," he murmured, his fingers dancing along the hem of your dress, his touch sending sparks of desire through you, "that you don't have to try so hard," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear.

You let out a soft gasp and your hand curled into the collar of his suit jacket. You knew it was a reckless idea, that getting tangled up with a Mikaelson was bound to end badly, but right now, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" you whispered, looking up at him.

"So are you," he replied, his eyes darkening.

You could see the hunger in his gaze, dark veins rippling under his eyes ever so slightly. You knew that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

"How much did this little outfit cost?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "What does that matter?"

"Because I want to know how much money I'm going to spend replacing it."

You blinked, your cheeks growing warm. "Elijah," you whispered, a thrill rushing through you.

He smiled, a wide toothy grin, and then spun you around, dipping you back. The move was fluid and graceful, and you clung to him, laughing breathlessly. The alcohol was making your head spin, and the heat between the two of you was intoxicating.

"I must confess I'm a bit jealous," he murmured, bringing you back up. His hand rested on the small of your back, keeping you close as the two of you moved together.

"Of who?"

"Niklaus has made it clear he's interested in pursuing you. I'm afraid that if I let you out of my sight, he'll steal you away." He chuckled, and the sound vibrated through you.

"And what do you intend to do about it?" you asked, a challenge in your voice.

He smirked, his eyes darkening. "Why, I intend to keep you right here, where I can enjoy you for myself."

"You can't keep me, I'm not an object," you teased, even as you felt your pulse quicken.

Elijah smiled, amused, his gaze moving to someone standing behind you. "Perhaps not. But Niklaus certainly thinks so."

You glanced over your shoulder and saw Klaus leaning against a nearby pillar, a drink in his hand and a smirk on his face. He gave you a wink and lifted his glass, silently toasting you.

Your cheeks flushed, and you turned back to Elijah, biting your lip. You were torn between being flattered by their attention and feeling embarrassed by it. You were just a human, after all, and they were two powerful vampires, kings among their own kind.

You felt another pair of hands sliding along your hips, and Klaus' familiar scent filled your nostrils. He nuzzled against the crook of your neck, pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

"Can I have that dance, love?" He murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

Your breath hitched, the proximity of both of them sending your pulse racing. The fantasy that you had built up in your head suddenly seemed very possible and it overwhelmed you. The heat of them, the way they touched you, the way their bodies moved against yours as they danced. You felt like a piece of prey caught between a wolf and a panther, and they were circling, waiting for the right moment to strike.

You saw Marcel watching you, an amused grin on his face. He had seen everything and was clearly entertained by the whole situation. You felt a sudden wave of embarrassment wash over you, and you stepped away, clearing your throat.

"I, uh, I should probably go find Rebekah," you said, avoiding their gazes. "I'll.. see you guys later."

Klaus' brows furrowed, and he reached for you, his fingers brushing against yours. "Love, wait—"

You pulled away from them, mumbling an excuse, and hurried off, disappearing into the crowd. Your cheeks were burning, and you could feel their eyes on you, but you didn't dare look back.

You made your way through the party, keeping your head down and avoiding eye contact with everyone. Searching for Rebekah, you found her in a far corner, chatting with Cami.

Rebekah smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Have you received the attention you were hoping for tonight?"

"Uh, yeah," you muttered, shaking your head. "Perhaps a little too much."

Cami snorted, hiding her grin behind her hand.

"You don't say," Rebekah chuckled, giving you a knowing look.

"I'm not sure what I was thinking, wearing this." You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, and you looked down at the ground, your cheeks heating.

"Nonsense," Rebekah said, linking her arm with yours. "It's not the outfit, but the girl wearing it. And besides, those idiots have been pining after you for ages, this is hardly news."

Cami nodded in agreement. "They're smitten, and everyone can see it."

You rolled your eyes, not quite believing them. "I guess…”

"Did they bother you?" Rebekah asked, a hint of protectiveness in her tone.

"No," you replied, quickly shaking your head. "I mean, not really. They were just a little... overwhelming. I'm not used to having two guys chasing after me."

Cami nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. "If anything, I think it's a good thing. Gives you the chance to decide which one you're more into."

Rebekah let out a laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Please, if she knew who she was more into, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

You glared at her, trying not to blush. She had a point, but that didn't mean you wanted her bringing it up in front of Cami.

"I don't know," Cami said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You seem pretty torn. Maybe you should just try them both out, see which one fits better."

You blinked, surprised by the suggestion. But before you could respond, Cami held up a hand, stopping you.

"No, listen, I'm serious. There's nothing wrong with trying to figure out who you're more attracted to. It's healthy."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Are you saying I should sleep with both of them?"

"If that's what it takes," Cami replied, shrugging. "You deserve to know what you want, and I don't think you'll find the answer until you give it a try."

Rebekah pretended not to hear, sipping her drink, but the corners of her mouth twitched, as if she were trying not to smile.

You stared at her for a moment, speechless. You hadn't expected such a suggestion, but at the same time, part of you wondered if Cami was right. You did want them both, and they were clearly interested in you. But there was no way in hell you could choose between them. Maybe sleeping with both of them was the only way to make things clear.

"Here," Rebekah said, interrupting your thoughts. She handed you your fake fangs, smiling mischievously. "Go put these back on, and then find my brothers. I'm sure they'd be happy to continue the party in private."

You gave her a look, but she only laughed, patting your arm.

"Just trust me," she said, winking. "I've seen you with them, you are not acting like yourself, all shy and sweet. That's not you. Go be reckless, have fun, and maybe get laid. You need it."

You felt your cheeks grow hot, and she pushed you gently back towards the dance floor. Cami joined her, both of them laughing and pushing you playfully.

"Hey, are you blushing?" Rebekah called after you, giggling.

You waved her off, rolling your eyes. But there was no denying the heat rising in your cheeks, and the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You made your way through the crowd, looking for them. But they were nowhere to be found on the first floor so you headed upstairs.

You found them sitting on the lounge on an ornate looking sofa, discussing something in hushed voices. It seemed heated, like they were arguing over something… But when they saw you, however, their conversation halted, and they exchanged a glance.

"Back so soon?" Klaus teased, his eyes sweeping over you.

You kept your mouth closed, trying to hide the fangs. You sat down in-between them, letting the silence stretch between the three of you.

Elijah cleared his throat, glancing at Klaus, and then back to you. "Is everything alright, sweetheart?"

You have them a wide grin, the ridiculous plastic fangs finally revealing themselves.

Klaus burst into laughter, throwing his head back, and Elijah's lips twitched.

"That's the ugliest thing I've ever seen," Klaus said, snorting.

"And yet, somehow, it looks quite fetching on you," Elijah remarked, a small smile playing on his lips.

You giggled, feeling a bit foolish, but also emboldened. "Why, thank you gentlemen. Now it's only fair you show me yours," you said, waggling your eyebrows and popping the fangs out of your mouth.

Klaus chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “If that's what you wish."

You watched as the veins under his eyes appeared and his fangs lengthened. It looked extra frightening, paired with his phantom costume, and you couldn't help but reach out, touching one of his fangs.

He grinned, and his eyes flashed gold, a sign of his werewolf side, too. "Does this frighten you?" he murmured, leaning closer.

"Not at all," you told him, biting your lip.

He smirked, his gaze flickering to your mouth. "Good."

You turned to Elijah, and found him watching the two of you intently, his dark eyes glittering.

"Well, don't I get to see yours, too?" you asked, batting your eyelashes.

Elijah hesitated for a moment, and then his own fangs descended, his eyes flashing black.

You let out a soft gasp, reaching out and touching his cheek. His skin was warm, the dark veins under his eyes were dancing, and you could feel the power radiating off him.

"Beautiful," you whispered, awed by their supernatural sides.

Klaus chuckled, watching the two of you with amusement. "Our little human has quite the appetite," he murmured, his eyes gleaming.

"Indeed," Elijah replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.

They exchanged a look, and then turned back to you, their gazes heated. You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a bit nervous.

"Elijah and I have a bit of a wager going," Klaus said, leaning closer.

"Niklau-" Elijah started to speak, but Klaus cut him off.

"No, no, no, Elijah. We should get to the bottom of this, once and for all," Klaus said, a mischievous look on his face.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, confused.

"Well, my dear brother is under the impression that he is the one you have feelings for," Klaus explained, his tone playful.

"Niklaus, I swear to-"

Klaus held up a hand, stopping Elijah. "However, I believe it's me you're attracted to."

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. You had a feeling they had been bickering over this since the moment you left them downstairs.

"What if I can't choose?" You asked, meeting their gaze.

"Then you'll just have to spend the night with both of us," Klaus replied, a wicked grin on his face.

"Niklaus. That's enough," Elijah said, his tone sharp. You could tell he was irritated by the way Klaus was behaving. But you didn't mind the teasing, and you knew just how to shut them up.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your courage, and then you grabbed Elijah's tie and pulled him toward you, kissing him.

Elijah let out a surprised grunt, but quickly recovered, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. His lips were soft and warm, and you could feel his fangs scraping against your mouth.

The kiss was intense, and you were breathless when he finally pulled away. He smiled, his eyes dark with desire, then he looked over your shoulder at Klaus, a smug expression on his face.

"Well, there's your answer," he said, sounding a bit pleased with himself.

You glanced behind you and saw that Klaus was glaring at Elijah, his jaw clenched tight. You giggled and turned to him, pulling him in for a kiss.

He growled, his hands sliding over your body as he kissed you, hard and demanding. You could feel the anger rolling off him, and you had to admit, it was kind of thrilling.

"See, she likes me more," Klaus said, a smug grin on his face.

"Incorrigible child," Elijah scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Both of you shut up," you told them, feeling impatient. "You're ruining the mood."

Klaus smirked, his eyes flashing. "As you wish, love."

They both leaned in, pressing soft kisses to either side of your neck simultaneously. You closed your eyes, sighing, your fingers curling into the fabric of their shirts. Their lips trailed over your skin, their fangs gently scraping against you.

"We should go somewhere more private," Elijah murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh.

Klaus nodded, nipping at your earlobe. "My room, perhaps? I'd very much like to have you alone."

"Oh, no. My room," Elijah countered, his voice low and husky.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in your throat, and you opened your eyes, looking at both of them.

"How about the guest room I'm staying in? Feels like neutral territory," you offered, smirking.

"Agreed," Elijah said, pulling you closer and nuzzling your neck.

Suddenly he scooped you up into his arms and you yelped in surprise. He smirked, and you watched Klaus grab multiple bottles of champagne. He popped one open and began to chug it.

You giggled, holding onto Elijah's neck as he carried you to the bedroom. He placed you on the bed, and you watched as they stripped their clothes off, tossing them carelessly to the floor.

"Why Phantom of the Opera?" you teased Klaus, admiring their toned bodies.

"Because I look dashing, of course," Klaus replied, grinning. "I miss the fashion of that era,"

"And you?" You looked at Elijah, "did you just find an old outfit in your closet?"

Elijah chuckled, shrugging. "More or less. Though, I did take some liberties with the suit."

You rolled your eyes, amused. They were such divas, always wanting to look their best. But you weren't complaining, they were incredibly sexy.

Elijah was the first to move, crawling onto the bed and hovering over you. He captured your mouth in a passionate kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. His hands moved over your body, gently squeezing your breasts before ripping your costume open. You gasped, and then moaned as his mouth moved down, trailing kisses along your exposed chest.

"Cheap satin, mass produced garbage," he muttered, tossing the shredded fabric to the side.

You laughed, but your laugh turned into a moan as his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking gently. His hands slid over your hips, squeezing possessively.

You arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair. He was rough, but not too rough, and you could feel the heat building between your legs.

You felt the bed dip, and then Klaus was kneeling next to you, his cock already hard and throbbing. You reached out, wrapping your hand around his length and giving him a slow, firm stroke.

"That's it, love," he groaned, his hips jerking forward.

Elijah chuckled, nipping at your neck. "Impatient as ever, Niklaus."

Klaus glared at him, his eyes flashing gold. "And you're not, Elijah? Look at you, rutting against her like a bloody animal."

Elijah pulled back, a smirk on his face. "Touché."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head. The tension between the two of them was palpable, but you couldn't bring yourself to mind. It was thrilling, being the focus of their attention.

You quickly shut Klaus up by leaning forward and taking him into your mouth.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hand tangling in your hair.

You swirled your tongue around the head, and then bobbed down his shaft, taking him in as deep as you could. Enjoying the low moans you pulled from him.

Elijah kissed and nipped his way down your body, settling between your legs. He spread your thighs, and you whimpered as he ran his tongue along your slit, the sensation making your toes curl.

You knew they would be good in bed, but this was... beyond your wildest imagination. The way they worked in sync, almost competing for your attention, left you breathless. It was exhilarating, and you couldn’t help but revel in the pleasure they both brought you.

Elijah's tongue danced over your clit, his skillful movements driving you wild as he circled and dipped inside you. You moaned around Klaus's cock, the vibrations intensifying the pleasure building within you.

“Fuck, love. Your mouth feels incredible,” Klaus groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair as he thrust forward.

You tightened your lips around him, feeling the heat radiating from both men. Elijah’s grip on your hips was firm, holding you still as he devoured you. The pressure inside you mounted, a delicious tension just out of reach. Your thighs squeezed his head, and you caught a glimpse of his smirk through the haze of pleasure.

Klaus was groaning and cursing, his thrusts becoming erratic. You knew he was close, and the thought made your core ache. With a final, fervent moan around Klaus's length, he spilled himself down your throat, a deep growl escaping his lips. You relished the taste, the raw connection of it all.

Elijah pulled away, and you whined at the sudden emptiness, your body craving more of his touch. He grinned, fangs descending, and pressed his lips to the delicate skin of your inner thigh. His bite pierced your skin, and the pain quickly transformed into a rush of pleasure. You could feel him drinking from you, pulling your essence into him, intensifying your arousal.

Your breath caught as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. Climax ripped through you, leaving you trembling and gasping. Elijah pulled away, licking the wound on your thigh clean, then pressed a soft kiss to your skin, his eyes dark with desire.

“So sweet,” he murmured, his voice husky. “I could drink from you all night.”

Klaus chuckled, tracing a finger along the bite mark. “Now, now, brother. Let’s not be greedy.”

Elijah’s mouth moved higher, trailing kisses along your hip bones and stomach. You could see the dark veins under his eyes, the whites of his eyes now black. He was equal parts beautiful and deadly. You reached down, tracing the veins under his eyes, captivated by the sight.

Klaus smirked, watching your reaction. “Our little human is quite fascinated by our supernatural side.”

“Indeed,” Elijah murmured, his mouth hovering over the curve of your breast.

“It’s kind of hot,” you said, breathless with a smile.

Elijah grinned, then latched onto one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. You moaned, arching into him, feeling the tension building again.

Klaus chuckled. “Elijah, I do believe it’s my turn.”

Elijah paused, glancing at him. “Of course.” he muttered, reluctantly pulling away.

Klaus shifted behind you, pulling you into his lap, your back pressed against his chest. “Now, when it comes to you making a decision, it’s all about who’s best, isn’t it?” he whispered in your ear.

You swallowed, eyes fluttering closed as his hand slipped between your thighs, pressing two fingers inside you. “I-I guess,” you stuttered, struggling to focus on his words.

“I’m going to show you why it should be me,” Klaus said, his voice low and husky.

Elijah’s eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. He didn’t like being upstaged, but you couldn’t help but feel amused. They were both so competitive, always trying to prove themselves better than the other.

“Come now, brother. No need to be jealous,” Klaus said, smirking.

Elijah’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m certain I’ll win her favor.”

You giggled, the sound turning into a moan as Klaus curled his fingers, rubbing against your sensitive spot. He pressed a kiss to your neck, nipping at your skin, and you could feel his fangs scraping against you.

Your hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into his skin. He groaned, fingers pumping in and out of you, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Elijah watched, gaze intense. You could see the jealousy in his eyes, but there was desire there too. And it turned you on even more.

“Don’t hold back, love,” Klaus murmured, his voice seductive. “Let me hear those sweet sounds.”

Your lips parted, and you couldn’t stop the moans spilling from your mouth. It was overwhelming—the way Klaus touched you, the way Elijah watched. The tension inside you was building, and you knew you were close.

Klaus sank his fangs into your neck, and you cried out, the sensation pushing you over the edge. Your body trembled, waves of pleasure crashing through you.

Klaus growled, teeth digging deeper, and you could feel him drinking from you. The combination of pleasure and pain was intoxicating, and you found yourself wishing he would never stop.

But eventually, he pulled away, lapping at the bite marks on your neck. You felt lightheaded, a pleasant buzz flowing through your veins.

“Delicious,” he whispered, his voice rough.

Elijah leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He tasted like blood, and you could feel the desperation in his touch.

“Now, now, brother,” Klaus said, amusement lacing his tone. “I didn’t say you could have a turn.”

“Oh, stop,” you chuckled, pushing on Elijah’s chest and turning to face Klaus. Straddling him, you kissed him passionately, then slowly lowered yourself onto his length.

“Bloody hell,” Klaus groaned, his hands gripping your hips.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, biting his lip.

He smirked, thrusting into you. You moaned, throwing your head back, and began to ride him. His fingers dug into your skin, and you knew you’d have bruises later, but you didn’t care.

Elijah pressed himself into your back, licking the bite mark on your neck, sucking more blood from it. You shuddered; the feeling of him behind you combined with Klaus thrusting into you was almost too much.

Klaus’s eyes flashed gold, veins dancing beneath his skin. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his and locking your gaze with his. He looked so damn beautiful, eyes dark with lust, skin flushed.

“Cum for us, sweetheart,” Elijah whispered, breath hot against your ear.

You couldn’t hold back any longer. You cried out, your climax crashing through you as they both watched with rapt attention, intensifying the pleasure.

Your vision blurred, and you felt dizzy. You had no idea how much blood they had taken from you, but it must have been a lot.

“Niklaus,” Elijah warned, voice strained.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Klaus muttered, letting you fall back into Elijah’s arms.

“I’m fine,” you said, breathless. “Just a little dizzy.”

Elijah scooped you up and laid you down, his lips finding yours. “I’m afraid we got a bit carried away,” he said, his expression regretful.

“I’m not complaining,” you replied, giving him a weak smile.

“Here,” he said softly, biting down on his wrist and holding it to your mouth.

You nodded, taking his blood. It was surprisingly sweet, reviving you, clearing the fog from your mind.

“That’s cheating,” Klaus grumbled, pouting.

“We need her in top form for the rest of the night,” Elijah replied, lips twitching with a smile.

You ran your fingers through Elijah’s hair, pulling him in for a kiss as you parted your legs. He smiled, positioning himself between your thighs.

You moaned as he eased into you, filling you completely. His movements were slow and deliberate, and it felt so damn good. You could almost feel the way his blood flowed through you, rejuvenating you.

Elijah’s rhythm was steady, thrusts deep and sure, kissing and nipping at your neck and jaw. You were lost in pleasure, fingers digging into his back.

It didn’t take long for your release to build again, your whole body trembling. Elijah groaned, pace quickening. You felt his body tense, control slipping, and he finally spilled himself inside you.

He kissed you, eyes dark with desire, then pulled out, breathing ragged.

Klaus began to slow clap, a smirk on his face. "Well done, brother."

You couldn't help but laugh, even though you were utterly exhausted. "I guess we're all winners tonight," you said, a sleepy smile on your face.

Elijah chuckled, rolling onto his back and pulling you into his arms. You snuggled against him, feeling safe and warm.

Klaus shifted on the bed, lying beside you and pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. "So... who do you choose?"

"Both," you replied, not even having to think about it.

"Afraid that's not an option," Elijah murmured, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your arm.

"And why not?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because," Klaus said, his hand sliding over your hip, "we need to know who the victor is."

You rolled your eyes, knowing this was just another game to them. "Fine. Elijah, then."

"Ha!" Elijah exclaimed, looking smug.

"Actually... No. Klaus," you said, turning your head and smirking at him.

"Don't lie to make him feel better," Elijah said, a teasing tone to his voice.

You giggled, unable to keep a straight face.

"You're not going to make a choice, are you?" Klaus asked, his tone amused.

"Nope," you replied, grinning. "Also, you both owe me a costume,"

They exchanged a look, and then turned back to you, their eyes glinting with mischief.

"We can arrange that," Klaus said, his lips curving into a wicked grin.

"And perhaps," Elijah added, his tone suggestive, "you could wear it for us."

You smirked, your pulse racing at the thought. "Oh yeah? What would you have me dress up as?"

"Hmm," Klaus murmured, his hand trailing over your hip. "How about a naughty nurse?"

Elijah raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Or a sexy librarian?"

You giggled, enjoying their suggestions. "Perhaps a French maid," you said, giving them a flirty smile.

"I think we could work with that," Klaus said, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Agreed," Elijah replied, his expression mirroring his brother's.

You sighed, smiling contentedly. "I love Halloween,"

Below, the sounds of the party continued, music and laughter drifting up to you. But the three of you remained locked away in your own private world, enjoying each other's company, and the promise of what was to come.

{<- kinktober masterlist}

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