#lets not count how many times I used the word 'hands' okay? Tumblr posts

[ily-fictional-women]

Since Agatha is coming back for us real soon, I'd love to read more of her. I know you just posted a fic for her not so long ago, but if you have any more up your sleeve, I'd love to read it

Faithful Familiar

Summary: Villains have hearts— it’s just that their minds are set on other things. Not every “villain” is a monster. 

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!familiar!reader 

Warnings: Minor Agatha All Along spoilers (like really small I swear)

Word count: 1361

a/n: Happy Halloween everyone! What’s a better way to spend the night than with your favorite witch? So in this scenario, witch familiars can shift from their original animal form to a human form at will. So yes, it is similar to Diaval in Maleficent. (Reblogs are welcome and critiques/advice are heavily encouraged, but please no translating.)

1972

The two run panting hand in hand down the alleyway. “Okay was it necessary to do your whole power-draining thing while we’re here,” Y/n asks continuing to drag Agatha to some kind of safety. Agatha chuckles, “No it wasn’t necessary. But it was something I felt like doing. It’s not my fault they had some pets.” She grins to herself, “What were they called again?”

As Y/n tries to make a sharp right turn she’s stopped by two women geared up with a variety of potions and weapons. One of the women steps forward, “Have and we are the Daughters of Liberty! Humans sworn to protect witches in-” Agatha cackles. “Blah blah blah blah. Ladies! You deserve a vacation!”

Rolling her eyes at Agatha’s snide remark Y/n begins dragging her down the alleyway in the opposite direction. Agatha smiles at Y/n, “Oh come on! Not even a pity laugh! That was funny and you know it.”

“No time for that Agatha.” Y/n peers over her shoulder to see how far away the other women are. They’re still chasing not that far away but one is readying a lasso that has a glowing blue tint to it, binding magic Y/n thinks to herself. Y/n pushes Agatha ahead of her, “Go!” 

Agatha’s face flashes with concern for a split moment. “Just take a right then a left, there should be some stores nearby to hide out in. I’ll be right behind you don’t worry,” Y/n says assuringly. 

One of the Daughters of Liberty begins to throw down her lasso as Agatha runs farther away, managing her timing though Y/n knocks down one of the trash cans lining the alleyway. Looking above her head though the lasso begins to fall on her. Before it can cinch to her waist though she manages to create a big puff of black smoke, shifting into her crow form. 

Flying much faster than the women can run Y/n catches up to Agatha just enough to see her enter a crafting supplies store. Landing and shifting back to her human form Y/n enters the store her eyes set on Agatha. Alone in a paint supplies aisle, Y/n wraps an arm around Agatha’s waist. 

“There’s plenty of stores nearby why this one? You’re not much one for arts and crafts.” Agatha shrugs. “It was either this or a poultry deli,” she teases. Y/n rolls her eyes cracking a small smile, the moment quickly fades though, as a dagger flies right by Agatha’s head tearing through the paint canvas next to her. 

The witch and crow bolt running through the store as the Daughters of Liberty follow. The Daughters of Liberty finally catch up though one blocking each end of the knitting aisle. Agatha and Y/n stand back to back being similar situations too many times to count.

Agatha’s hands begin to whirl with purple energy, “You think you can handle the one on your end?” Y/n pulls out the feather-shaped dagger strapped to her side, “Always. Let’s put on a show though, we should have an audience within a couple of minutes.”

As Y/n lunges for the woman on her end with her blade, Agatha smiles cockily at the woman on her end. “I think I’m gonna take my time with you little thing.” Clouded with anger the woman tries to lunge at Agatha with the blue-tinted lasso but Agatha simply raises her arm with a slight elegance. 

Purple tendrils begin to wrap around the woman’s hand and arm. “Ah! Drop it!” Immediately in saying so the woman drops the lasso letting it fall to the floor. Agatha inches closer to the woman keeping her hold on her. “Now I’m curious, why be so loyal to something dead?”

The woman grits, “We live to protect witches wanted dead, even if it’s by other witches.” Agatha scoffs, “Well you sure did a poor job of that.” Using her free hand the woman grabs a knitting needle stabbing it into the arm Agatha had been using to keep a hold on her. 

As Agatha jerks her arm back at the pain the woman does not loosen her grip causing the needle to tear through Agatha’s arm leaving a long gash in it. Ripping out the needle the woman tries to go in for a second stab— unfazed Agatha simply examines the wound groaning, “Well that wasn’t very nice.” 

Using her good hand Agatha makes the woman punch herself hard enough a few times to knock her out. Turning Agatha sees Y/n finish off the other woman quickly stabbing her in the stomach with her feather-shaped blade. 

Meeting Agatha’s gaze Y/n quickly notices the cut on Agatha’s arm, she cringes at the site. “Shit, are you okay?” Straighting out her shirt Agatha sighs, “I’m fine. This is why I don’t do hand-to-hand combat though. It is so for losers.” Y/n quirks an eyebrow at the last comment making Agatha grin with amusement. “I mean that with no offense to you obviously,” she says sarcastically.

Y/n nods in mock agreement, “Sure.” 

“Mom?” Agatha turns around the question, the voice familiar. “Nicky?” She mutters to herself trying to follow the voice. “Mom?” All other noise and sound don’t reach Agatha besides this voice, and from the sound of it, it’s coming from the back exit of the craft store. 

Making it to the alley she hears the voice echo out again, “Mom?” Turing in that direction she sees a short figure with its back turned a few feet away at the the end of the alleyway. “Nicky.” She feels some sadness swell up inside her she doesn’t care how or why this happening anymore. 

Falling to her knees closing her eyes and going in for a hug she feels a tightness wrap around her, a painful tightness though. Looking down she sees the blue lasso wrapped around her, it wasn’t real. As the blue glow on the lasso fades she hears another voice. “Agatha!”

Y/n kneels in front of her cupping her face. “Hey, hey. Are you okay? The girl you knocked out released some kind of bottled spell. You were gone when I snapped out of it, then say you and-”

“I want to go back to the apartment.” Agatha’s voice was drained of emotion, her eyes prickled with tears. Y/n lifts Agatha up by her good arm her voice softer now, “Yeah, we can go back.” 

//

Settling Agatha on the couch Y/n grabs the first aid kit from the bathroom sink, sitting next to her Y/n attempts to start cleaning the wound. As the alcohol swab makes contact with the wound Agatha snatches it from Y/n snapping at her. “I can do it myself!” 

Y/n calmly lets go of the cotton swab, “You saw him, didn’t you?” Agatha stares at the wall in front of her unresponsive, which for Y/n was plenty enough of a response. Standing up Y/n puts on a long coat before kissing Agatha’s forehead gently, cupping her face once more.

“I’m gonna go out and get some food, mostly to give you space. While I’m gone please just take care of that cut. Okay?”

“Fine.”

//

Standing in front of a window display of TVs a woman stands next to Y/n. “How is she?” she asks. Y/n sighs deeply not facing the woman, “Why don’t you just ask her yourself sometime Rio?” 

“Now’s not the right time.” Rio’s face gets serious, “Seriously though. How is she?” Y/n shrugs finally facing her. “Not great this second. One of the Daughters of Liberty used an illusion spell, she hallucinated Nicky.” 

Rio conjures some flowers holding them out to her, “Just take care of her for me alright?” Taking the flowers Y/n nods, “I live to serve her. I don’t do it for just you anymore. It hasn’t been that way for decades.” 

“Good, she needs all the love she can get. Even if she is stubborn.” As Rio begins to walk away Y/n chuckles a little. 

“You leaving to go clean up her mess?”

“Always.” 

[zetsubo-billy]

𝚃𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴

genre(s): ¿comedy?, nsfw but no smut, college!AU — all characters are 20-ish y/o

pairing(s): eventual hanamaki takahiro x reader, eventual matsukawa issei x reader, eventual hanamaki takahiro x matsukawa issei

summary: frustrated after an argument with your now-ex-fuck buddy, you find yourself asking your two best guy friends the forbidden question

content warnings: sex talk, that’s literally it, that’s the fic, reader has a few stray horny thoughts, one (1) joke about feminism, sexual tension, a lot of mentions of oral sex

word count: 2.2k

MINORS AND AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT! DO! NOT! INTERACT!

“Okay, but, do you guys think girls taste weird?”

You have no idea why you say it. Usually, you let Mattsun and Makki have their lively discussions of recent sexcapades while you listen passively. Maybe you’ll laugh at them here and poke fun at them for something silly there, or just nod along. You never pipe up and tell them about your own experiences, no matter how many times they grill you about the guys they’ve seen you with, but the past week has made you reach your breaking point. You couldn’t stop yourself.

“What?”, Makki asks as his and Mattsun’s conversation reaches a sudden halt, tilting his head at you from where he sits on the other end of the creaky old sofa in their shared apartment. “Like, your pussies?”

Heat flashes up your neck and you quickly look away from him, busying yourself with fingering at the hem of the woolen blanket you bought him and his housemate as a housewarming gift. Your pussies. He means girls’ pussies in general, you’re sure. It’s not like you have several vaginas. But it still felt oddly targeted. Then again, you’re the only one in the apartment with that anatomy, so of course it’s a little bit targeted. He sure wasn’t talking to Mattsun, at least.

Makki and Mattsun’s intense eyes seem to burn holes into your being as they both stare at you. Makki, expectantly, and Mattsun, curiously. Your mind spins as you try to focus on how to answer. “Well… yeah”, you mumble, embarrassed. You shift in your seat, pulling your knees closer to yourself.

Absolute silence fills the boys’ living room for a few seconds. You’re just about to wave your question away and say that you were just kidding, it doesn’t matter what they think and wow that was a stupid question, when Mattsun speaks up.

“Not really”, he says in his deep voice. He sits in between you and Makki, the (sometimes) calm between two storms, in the middle of the couch. One of his arms is stretched out along the back of the sofa, behind you, while he scratches lightly at the back of his neck with his other hand as if in thought. “I mean, there’s not really another taste like it. But it’s not weird, no.”

“Yeah, no other taste like it”, Makki agrees, leaning over the armrest on his end of the sofa. “I love it. It’s not weird, it’s just… purely her. I think it’s hot as fuck that everyone tastes different.”

A heat starts to boil deep in your gut at the same time as it blossoms in your cheeks. You hope they don’t notice. “R-really?”, you ask, and you internally curse yourself for stuttering.

“Yeah, really”, the strawberry blonde continues. If you look at him, you know he’ll be grinning teasingly. “Why’re you asking?”

Dread starts to mix in with the warmth in your stomach, and you shift again as you pull the blanket closer to yourself. It’s not at all cold in their apartment anymore, though. Now you only have the blanket for comfort, like a toddler who’s grown too old to have a pacifier but doesn’t want to throw it away.

“Oh, uh, no reason”, you mumble, hoping they’ll let it go.

“Really?”, Mattsun pipes up, and you can hear the smirk that’s plastered across his stupidly handsome face as he speaks. “No reason at all that you suddenly decided to talk to us about sex after we’ve been trying to get you to open up since high school?”

Curse him and his attentiveness.

“Mhm”, you force yourself to answer. The blanket isn’t comforting anymore but suffocating, the warmth of the wool combined with your flushed embarrassment — and let’s be honest, a little bit of arousal — and the way Mattsun and Makki are looking at you makes it too hot in the living room. You tug the blanket off, throwing it at Makki. “No reason, let’s forget about it.”

Makki’s volleyball reflexes allow him to easily catch the blanket in his hands. He balls it up and shoves it in between the sofa cushions. “No reason, huh? You sure about that?”, he asks, and this time you do look at him. And, what do you know, he is grinning just as stupidly just as you thought. “Not even a little bit of a reason?”

You shift in your seat, looking away from him again, but you don’t answer.

Cold, long fingers brush against the hot back of your burning neck and you shiver almost violently in your seat as you snap your head around to look at Mattsun. He’s looking at you with his deep brown eyes, and just the way he looks at you makes you shiver again. He wets his lips with his tongue before speaking up, still gently caressing the back of your neck with his fingers. “Don’t tell me that guy you go out with tells you he won’t eat your pussy ‘cause he doesn’t like the taste.”

You swallow thickly and avoid his gaze, shaking your head. “No reason, is what I said. Let’s just forget about this whole—”

“Uuuugh, god!”, Makki cuts you off exasperatedly, making you jump slightly in your seat. “I fucking hate guys like that! They act like they’re saints for fingering their girlfriends, like, a third of the times before they fuck, but then they still expect to get sucked off every night!”, he continues, letting his head fall back against the sofa. “Fucking assholes. They’re the reason we still need feminism.”

Despite yourself, and despite the odd conversation, you can’t help but giggle at his last sentence. He’s… not exactly wrong. “I’d argue the reason we still need feminism is because of the patriarchy”, you tease, and watch as color drains from his face. “But I guess you’re right, too”, you finish as Mattsun’s gentle touch at the back of your neck moves to your hair, playing with a few loose strands. “And there are so many guys like that. Hell, I’ve never been with a guy who wasn’t like that.”

And then you remember that they’re not your girlfriends ranting about sleazy men but your childhood guy friends.

This is the first time in a long time that the three of you have managed to fit all of your schedules together since you started at different universities, different majors, different after class activities and different weekend jobs to pay the rent. They still live together, and presumably see each other every day, while you live with two girls you met in your first year in college. You swallow thickly, embarrassment eating away at you again as you, once again, pull your knees closer to yourself and shrink away from Mattsun’s hand in your corner of the sofa. “Umm, forget I said that.”

“No way I can forget that”, Makki quickly answers, and there’s a tone in his voice that you’ve never heard before.

Before you really know what’s happening, he’s flying up from his seat and kneeling on the floor in front of you while Mattsun follows you into the corner of the sofa to be able to start tracing shapes over the back of your neck again. Makki’s hands are gentle and warm as they land on the tops of your bare knees, resting there. “You’re telling me, the god of pussy-eating—”, Mattsun snorts at that and the strawberry blonde sends him a glare, “— that you’ve never been eaten out?”

You feel suddenly cornered, as if they caught you doing something bad, as if they’re about to scold you. “Uh… well… not exactly…”, you mumble, eyes flitting between Makki and Mattsun before settling on your own nails as you start to slightly pick at your cuticles, nervous. “No, I have, I just… never came from it. Max says I take too long and… that he doesn’t… like how my, uh… how I taste.”

When you look up again, Makki looks just about ready to murder your now-ex fling, and you feel the way Mattsun tenses up beside you as he momentarily stops playing with your hair.

“Tell me, how much do I need to pay you to let me kick his ass?”, Makki grumbles, hands balling into fists where they still rest on your knees.

You smile sheepishly. “Well, um, nothing. I broke it off with him this morning after we got into a really bad argument. It started out about oral, actually, but then it just sort of… spiraled… and then I told him to fuck off.”

Makki’s jaw drops while Mattsun heaves a humored sigh. “So that’s why you got into this conversation from the start”, the taller one states, his fingers tickling you behind the ear. You shiver and try to shy away from his touch, but he doesn’t let you.

Again, you’re reminded of the heat in their apartment. You’re only wearing a pair of sweatshorts, old and ratty and something you wouldn’t be caught dead in around any other creature of the male species but Makki and Mattsun, and one of their soft t-shirts with a worn print that you stole several years ago — none of you remember which one of them it originally belonged to since they usually swap t-shirts back and forth, and they stopped pestering you about giving it back a long time ago.

“Well… yes?”, you find yourself saying.

Makki’s hands unclench and grip your bare knees gently, drawing your attention back to him from Mattsun. He’s grinning up at you, and there’s a darkness in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. “So… you want us to give you an oral orgasm?”

Your jaw drops as you stare at him, wide-eyed. Admittedly, you had considered the both of them in that light, several times, over the years. I mean, look at them. Over six feet tall the both of them, athletic, fast and with nice features. It should be illegal to be so physically gifted. Horny teenage curiosity and more recent dry spells had led you to long nights with your hand between your thighs, imagining how one of their hands would feel in its place; or better yet both of their hands.

Their fingers are thicker, longer, than yours, so they would undoubtedly reach deeper. Stretch you wider. But how would they go about it? Would they be soft and careful? Hard and rough? Would they be different from each other?

Of course the two would be different. But how different? Would one of them be fast, the other slow? Or would it be the softness-contra-roughness that differs, rather than the pace? And let’s not get started on the question of their size. You’ve seen them lounge about in sweatpants sometimes, it doesn’t happen often, and every time you have to force your eyes up to their faces. You know it’s a stupid assumption, but they have big hands. And large shoe sizes. It’s only fair to assume that—

Mattsun’s large hand lands across the back of your neck, squeezing lightly to get your attention. It’s such a simple gesture, yet you feel like you melt into the palm of his hand. “Hiro asked you a question, sweetheart”, he mumbles right into your ear. He’s so close you can feel his breath against the side of your face. “I think he’d like an answer.”

Only then do you realize that you got lost in your own thoughts for several moments. How long? You don’t know, but you don’t dare to dwell on it. You swallow thickly, raising your gaze from where you’d zoned out while looking at Makki’s hands on your knees until you meet his eyes. He’s smirking that usual cocky smirk of his, but his eyes are swimming with something you’ve never seen in him before. His hands are warm on your knees, and you shiver in your seat as Mattsun squeezes gently at the back of your neck. They’ve literally got you cornered on their shitty old couch.

“U-um, could you repeat the question?”, you stutter out, hating the way your voice wavers and sounds so airy.

But Makki grins, squeezing your knees in his hands. “Sure thing, babe”, he says teasingly. “I asked if you wanted me and Issei to eat your pussy until you cum.”

Oh. Right. That.

Your jaw drops again and this time around, they both laugh. Not meanly, not at your expense. They just laugh lowly, and you feel like the sound makes your entire being vibrate.

“I— umm, I mean, I, hah…”, you stammer, trying to get out a complete sentence.

“Only if you want to. And it doesn’t have to be both of us, you can take your pick. Promise we won’t be mad”, Makki continues, squeezing your knees gently. “Right, Issei?”

Mattsun huffs in agreement, his palm still heavy and warm and comforting against the back of your neck. “Right”, he echoes his friend’s statement. “If you're not comfortable, neither of us want it. Don’t pressure yourself.”

Makki nods along, and starts talking about something that you only half-hear because your mind is reeling. They don’t want to pressure you. They’re waiting for your word. But the way they pose it, it’s like they expect you to say no. It’s like they’ve already given up, even though you haven’t even answered yet. Or, well, technically you have, but that embarrassing stutter of a reply you gave just a moment ago doesn’t count. Not really.

Just as Makki leans back slightly, about to get up from the floor as his hands lift from your knees, your hands dart out to grab his wrists. His eyebrows shoot up as you firmly place his hands high up on your thighs, but he still grins.

“Well, self-proclaimed god of pussy-eating”, you start off teasingly, and he rolls his eyes at you as Mattsun chuckles beside you. Makki’s eye roll is cut short as you suggestively spread your legs slightly, his gaze zeroing in on where your pussy hides beneath your bottoms. “Do your worst.”

[lis-likes-fics]

Strung Up (Cont.)

Pairing(s): Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 32.8k words Warnings: NSFW, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat (violence), graphic descriptions of violence, graphic descriptions of death, murder, blood, gore, anxiety, panic attack, implications of stalking, frequent swearing, drug use, alcohol use, manipulation, degradation (not always in the sexy way), dubious consent, light praise kink, fingering, groping, oral sex, multiple orgasms, spanking, titty fucking, masturbation, vaguely masochistic tendencies… A/N: IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ: Not all of the warnings are listed above, but the full list of warnings is provided here. The only reason they're not all here is to avoid spoilers throughout the story, but none of the warnings unlisted here should be trigger warnings. If you're still unsure, please feel free to check the list. But if you want to go into this blind, go right ahead! A/N II: Okay so...I did finish the last two scenes at 3 o'clock in the morning last night, but hey! We finished! This is the last upload for my Kinktober 2024 event. I'm glad I was able to finish just in time, and I hope you all enjoy this just as much as I did (even though I almost gave up five different times but that's not important.) Thank you so much and Happy Halloween! A/N III: The story is too long so Tumblr won't let me post this. Because of this, I will ahve to split it into two parts (which is annoying bc it will really damage notes and stuff and it's harder to manage >:( )

The warmth of Eddie's hand on your back is very comforting. As soon as he ushers you out of the car, his hand falls to the small of your back and holds you there to guide you into the very large house.

“I'm back!” she shouts, mindful of your ears. He leads you into the living room where everyone is gathered with blankets and pillows and beer.

There's a mess of greetings as you enter the room with Eddie.

“What's up, Back? The name's Argyle, my dude.” He holds his hand out with a grin.

Eddie rolls his eyes and takes his previous seat on the floor, pillows and blankets included, and gestures for you to sit next to him. “You think you're funny, but you're not,” Eddie lightly scolds, offering you a beer. You take it.

His hands shoot up as he shakes his head. “Hey, hey, hey! Pump the brakes, duderino. Just a lil joke, it's good to laugh.” Argyle chuckles before finally looking over at you. His smile drops, and he looks at you with reddened eyes. “Woah. Who's the girl you got with you, Eddie?”

Jonathan looks at him with a brow raised in confusion. “Argyle, you’ve met her before.”

He just shakes his head, his long flowing locks swishing with the movement. “I don’t think so. I remember every face that passes my perimeter, and I don’t remember her. Fess up.”

Now Robin’s confused (as are you, because you’ve definitely had conversations with this boy before). “She’s sat at our table many times.”

He crosses his arms now. “I have no recollection of this whatsoever.”

“Seriously?” Jonathan lightly smacks his hand against his shoulder.

Argyle’s character breaks. He starts laughing as he nods and pats his knee. “Ha, ha! I’m just kidding.” He holds his hand out for you to slap, which you do. “What’s up, dudette? How’s it hangin’?”

You shrug, smiling a bit. “Well, it's hangin’.”

“Right on,” he nods. “Come and join the party. We were just tryna decide which horror movie we should put on.”

You tuck your legs beneath you, leaning back against the couch behind you where Steve and Robin are. “You're seriously watching horror movies? With everything going on?”

Robin tsks as she shakes her head. “I told them it was distasteful.”

Nancy, perched on the single sofa, shrugs as she offers her suggestion “We could watch Gremlins.”

Eddie scoffs, glancing over at her as he throws his arms back on the couch. This brings an arm almost draping over your shoulder, which you hardly blink at. You're used to Eddie and all his touchiness, the way he’s always touching you, holding you. It’s comforting, if nothing else.

“That is, arguably, not a horror movie,” he says.

Argyle tilts his head from side to side, considering that and deciding he disagrees. “I don’t know. Some of those little critters were pretty spooky to me.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Then you’re a wuss. Gremlins isn’t scary.”

“Friday the 13th?” Steve’s quite proud of that suggestion as he chirps up from behind you and Eddie. “That one’s a really good one.”

Robin smacks him, scoffing loudly when his hand covers where she hit him. “A movie about a bunch of teenagers being slaughtered in the middle of the woods by a masked killer?” She rolls her eyes. “That’s not insensitive at all.”

He scowls at her. “We’re not in the woods.” He shoves her.

“And none of the victims were found in the woods either,” Jonathan pipes up. There’s something mischievous in his tone that doesn’t sit right with you. “Carver was strung up and gutted. Cassidy was stabbed, and her throat was cut so deep her head almost came clean off. Tommy H and Carol Perkins were sliced up like bacon.”

His depictions swirl in your gut and make you feel a little sick. Images of the last two victims flash in your mind, their unblinking eyes, their bloodied faces, their chests like overused pin cushions, insides on the outside. You don’t realize it when you scoot closer to Eddie. His arm officially falls to your shoulders.

“Hey, man,” Argyle speaks up. “I like bacon! Don’t say that.”

Steve rolls his eyes, staring at Jonathan. “Dude, it’s called tact.” You register his hand nudging your shoulder, gently rubbing a tiny circle with his knuckle. You assume he’d noticed your unease.

Jonathan waves a hand. “All I’m saying is, Mrs. Voorhees isn’t gonna getcha.”

You raise a brow, speaking like it’s obvious (because it is). “Yeah, but Ghostface might.” You bring the can to your lips, taking a drink of your beer and scowling. Then with a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you take another drink.

“Wait,” Nancy mutters. “I thought Jason was the killer in that movie.”

Argyle flinches. “Oh, that’s just bad timing.”

You drop your head in your hands at his point out. Either way, you shake your head. “No,” you look up, “the original killer was his mom. Jason didn’t show up ‘til the sequel.”

Eddie smacks a hand over his chest. “Ugh!” he swoons. “A woman after my own heart.”

You smack him yourself, rolling your eyes. “Oh, please.”

“Anyway,” Jonathan corrects, “Ghostface isn’t going to come after us because we’re in a group. Lone killers don’t strike groups, it’s why you’re never supposed to split up in a horror movie.”

Argyle nods. “It’s a low level rule. Doesn’t guarantee survival, but it’s a good measure to follow.” He holds his hands up with a smile. “We follow the rules and none of us get sliced and diced.”

“The rules?” Eddie wonders, glancing at you to see if you know what they’re talking about. You just shrug.

“The horror movie rules.” Jonathan shrugs like it’s obvious. (It’s not.) You glance behind you to glance at Robin, who’s just as confused as you are.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

Jonathan seems to be in completely disbelief as he whips his head to Argyle, who’s sharing similar feelings. “You don’t know the rules of being in a horror movie? Everyone knows them.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Obviously not if we’re asking.”

Argyle crosses his legs, straightening his back as he holds his arms out. “Take a seat and let us teach you the ways, younglings.”

Eddie vaguely gestures to Steve as he raises a brow. “We’re older than you.”

Neither of them pay attention to him. “Rule number one,” Jonathan begins, “Never—never—drink or do drugs.”

Steve clears his throat, raising his can in the air. Everyone in the room slowly follows suit, some clinking as if to toast to the rule. “We kinda beat you to that,” Nancy says as she brings the lip of the can to her own.

“You’re high, Gyle,” Robin points out.

Argyle shrugs. “So is Jonathan, and Eddie’s a dealer. Sometimes you just got plot armor.”

“So we’re all going to die?” Eddie wonders.

“Nope,” Jonathan says. “You need a survivor, or your movie’s bland. And the survivor’s always a girl, so one of you probably has crazy plot protection.” He points out each of the girls in the room.

“Wrong!” Eddie almost shouts it. “Evil Dead. Survivor’s a guy—it was Ash Williams.”

“And the Friday the 13th series has, like, three male survivors,” Steve adds. “And The Thing has no survivors.”

“Neither does Night of the Living Dead.” Eddie beams at your contribution.

Argyle dismisses everything, waving his hands at you all. “We’re not talking about monster movies, man.”

“And just be glad this isn't a sequel, otherwise everyone here would be on the chopping block.” Jonathan says it with little remorse.

Argyle huddles toward him, lowering his voice ineffectively. “Well, they don't needa know that. Not tryna scare ‘em, man.”

“Shit,” Jonathan mutters, covering his mouth. “You're right.”

Argyle nods enthusiastically. “Anyway, plot armor. You guys probably have it, it's okay.”

“You're comic relief though, right?” Robin quips. She smirks, “Don't comic reliefs usually die in slashers?”

A look of horror crosses Argyle’s face. “Oh, shit,” he gasps, snapping his head to Jonathan. “You think I'm gonna die, Byers?”

Jonathan, who is now worried about the same thing, shakes his head with no amount of certainty. “No…” he says, in no way convincing. “No, man. You're…” He pats his shoulder, looking away. “You'll be fine.”

“Promise?”

Jonathan actually shakes his head as he says, “Yeah, man… Promise.”

Argyle smiles, somehow reassured. He looks back at Robin, his brows furrowed. “Hey! Stop distracting. We're tryna save your lives here.”

Stifling her laugh, Nancy moves forward. “What's number two?”

“Oh, right. Número dos,” he continues. “Never. Have. Sex. Ever.” He points at each of you to make his point. “If you participate in the Devil's Tango at any point in the story, you die.”

“Virgins always live,” Jonathan nods.

You swallow thickly, glancing down at your hands as you recall the day before: Jake's wandering hands, his lips on your neck, his body…

“Think I'd rather die,” Eddie comments. Steve shoves Eddie, and a collective murmur of agreement floats between nearly everyone, pulling you enough from your thoughts to scoff.

“Slut,” you mutter, directed toward Eddie.

He smiles, beaming from ear to ear. “Okay, little miss Mary. Where are you on the virginity scale?”

You press your smile into a thin line, turning back to Argyle as you clear your throat. “Rule three?”

Eddie snickers, but it sounds half-hearted.

“I like the way you roll,” Argyle laughs. He turns to Jonathan. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” They stare at each other as they count down from three.

“Never–” “Don't–”

“Seriously?” Jonathan exclaims, snapping back around to his friend.

“Ah, shit, man. I’m sorry, man.” Argyle shakes his head woefully. “That was me,” he admits.

Jonathan shakes his head, disappointed by their lack of coordination. “Never say you’ll be right back,” he says without any of the flair he intended. “Because you won’t.”

Eddie stands, adjusting his shirt as he waves a hand at them. “I’m gonna go pick up my sweet Mary Jane,” he says, fondly placing his hands over his heart. “Anyone want some?”

“Eddie,” Argyle sighs, smiling just as fondly. “That sounds like a delectable idea.”

“Awesome. Hey,” he smirks mischievously, walking backwards toward the door. “I’ll be right back!”

There’s a lot of laughter, some protests, Steve tosses a crushed beer can at him—which clatters against the wall and falls to the floor, completely missing him. He’s laughing on his way out the front door. When it closes behind him, a bad feeling settles in your stomach.

Everyone else has already moved on to the next thing, still debating movies and the validity of these supposed “rules”. While they’re distracted, you decide to follow Eddie out. You don’t want to leave him alone and risk him getting hurt, and you’re paranoid enough to believe it will happen.

As you begin to leave the living room, Steve’s head perks up. “Hey, you okay?” he asks, his voice soft enough to keep the conversation between the two of you.

You nod, gesturing toward the door. “Yeah. Goin’ after Eddie.”

“No, I mean…” He gets up to join you, following you to the door as you both stop in the small hall. “Are you okay? You seemed pretty distressed on the phone.”

“Oh,” you mumble, scratching your neck and looking down at your shoes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I just..” You take in a deep breath, willing yourself to look at Steve as you nod. “Trouble is paradise, I guess,” you shrug.

Steve nods a bit, scratching his own neck. “Ah,” he says with an understanding that puts you at ease.

“Yeah.” You sigh. “But I’ll be okay.” You start to turn back to the door, but he gently grabs your wrist. He doesn’t hurt you, and it’s not invasive.

“You sure?” He lets you go and gestures to his house. “Always welcome here if you need it.”

You smile, looking over his face, so kind and so gentle. “Thanks,” you grin. “I’ll be okay.” You say it a little more definitely now, offering him a smile that seems more believable now.

He smiles gently, nodding as he slowly steps away from you. “Alright,” he says, raising his hand and waving a little. “Go make sure he doesn’t get himself killed or anything.”

Your eyes widen in a playful kind of horror. “Don’t say that!” you exclaim quietly, a gentle scold. He laughs, turning on his heel to return to the living room. You push the front door open, turning as well to see the boy you were looking for.

“Eddie,” you call gently from the door, spotting him at the door of his van.

He turns on his heels, smiling at you and gesturing you forward. “Hey, sweetheart. You gonna be my knight in shining armor?” He bobs his brows where they disappear in the fringe of his wild hair.

You chuckle lightly. “Sure.”

“Well, c’mon then.” He makes a grand sweeping gesture with his hand, encouraging you forward. You follow after him. He throws the back doors of his van open, bowing dramatically to offer you entry. You shake your head playfully as you climb in with him following right after. He closes the doors behind him and sits across from you, his shoe bumping yours as he does.

“We’re not going back inside?” you wonder.

He shrugs. “They’ll be fine without us for a bit.” He reaches over his body to grab something, his shirt riding up his side with the stretch. Your eyes trail down at the movement, but you quickly correct yourself. He grabs his lunchbox, shaking it toward you with a smile. “Do you want one?”

You chuckle lightly, raising a brow. “I’m not gonna die?”

“Never.” He says it with more intensity than you’d anticipated. “I’ll protect you from the mean and scary Ghostface.”

You don’t mean to be so genuine when you say it, but you are and he doesn’t bat an eye. “Promise?”

Eddie’s hand falls to his chest, right over where his heart sits. “On my life,” he promises.

You swallow thickly, looking away as bashfulness nips at your fingertips. “Can’t say things like that,” you tell him, glancing up. “Our lives are what’s at stake.”

Eddie opens the box, looking up at you with all the sincerity he has. “That’s exactly why I’m saying it,” he shakes like it’s nothing. Like it’s the easiest thing to promise—to protect you with his life. You look away again, unsure of whether you want to smile because he’s so sweet or cry because he’s too sweet.

A comfortable silence settles in the space between you, which he fills with the task of rolling his blunt. You take this opportunity to look at him, while he’s too distracted to do the same.

You like looking at Eddie. He’s always been very pretty to you. He’s got these wild locks of hair, entirely unruly to reflect his rebellion. His eyes are these big, dark pools of honey. They’re always so warm and reassuring, and they make you feel nice (even when sometimes, the warmth seems a little forced…like he’s struggling to maintain it when there’s the option of just…being upset.)

Beyond his hair and his eyes, there’s his smile. He’s got plump lips made for kissing, plump lips he’s always got screwed into a smile simmering with care and heat. Though he denies it, his nose is so lightly sprinkled with these precious freckles. If you look close enough in the right light, you can see a light dust beneath his eyes.

You glance down at his hands where they crush little green buds. He’s got nice hands, decorated with giant silver rings that make him look like a rockstar. You really like his hands.

“So…” Your attention shifts back to his face. “Why did you fight?” He looks up at you through his fringe, soft eyes simmering something a little difficult to place. It takes you a moment to gather the courage to respond. You pick at your nails, pulling your knee to your chest. Eddie corrects himself. He holds his hand up, “You don’t have to tell me if you're not comfortable.”

His concern warms your chest. “Eddie,” you say, “if there’s anyone I’m comfortable around, it’s you.”

He tilts his head to his shoulder, fluttering his lashes. “Aww,” he grins.

You snort, glad when he looks away. You chew on your bottom lip, trying to decide how to phrase it. You don’t want Eddie to misunderstand. “I was telling them about…” You consider telling him about the letter, but quickly decide against it. That’s what got you in this mess anyway.

Besides…it’s likely nothing at all…

“About how afraid all of this was making me,” you respond hesitantly, “and they weren’t listening to me. They…never listen to me.” You stare blankly at your nails where your cuticles have been abused by the amount of stress you’ve been under.

Eddie watches you carefully, his eyes always soft. His foot nudges yours again so gently, you almost don’t feel it. “Are you afraid now?”

You look up at him, smiling gently. “Not in this moment.”

He tilts his head. “What was scaring you?”

“Just some…” you shrug, trying to clear your head. You didn’t want to think about it right now. “Some stupid joke. Someone playing a trick on me, probably. It’s nothing.”

He raises a brow. You can tell he doesn’t believe you, but his gaze isn’t entirely of gentle encouragement as it is of a strange suspicion. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, giving him a strained smile. He stares at you for a while, assessing the look on your face. After a moment, he gives up with a sigh, nodding gently and continuing his task.

You're tired.

It's tiring being scared and anxious all the time. Everything that's been happening, the murders and the letters, they've only been stacked on top of all the other emotions going through your head, and you're tired. You hadn't realized it until now.

The more silence that lingers, the more time you have to think…mostly about what Jake had told you. You supposed you'd been so distracted by the glitz and glams of having a lover that you didn't even consider the idea that he wasn't…a lover.

You never realized that he, in fact, did not want you.

And then you think…maybe you were a bit dramatic. He's under a lot of stress, and people say things they don't mean when they're upset—it happens all the time. Maybe you're looking for excuses now to leave. And if you are, does that make you a bad person for not wanting to deal with him anymore or are you just dumb for trying to find an excuse to defend him—or! Maybe you're just trying to find a reason to be upset, because it's not like you talk to anyone for any other reason than your problems.

And here you are in Eddie's van. You made it about you again. God, you just wish you were normal. You wish you weren't such a pain in the ass.

“Eddie?” You hadn't meant to call his name. It was an impulse, and you don't actually want to ask what you were going to ask.

“Hm?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. Sorry.”

He looks up, concern creasing his brows. “What's wrong?” he insists.

You shake your head with a little more desperation. You want to drop it because you don't want him to be right. “It's nothing. Sorry.”

“Hey.” He reaches over and nudges you. He looks at you through his bangs, his eyes nothing if not puppy-like. “Tell me.”

You swallow thickly. Your eyes feel hot, but you blink to ignore the heat anyway. “Do you…” you clear your throat when it comes out raspy, “...think I'm whiny?”

His hands pause entirely on his task, and he stares at you with a look that you don't think you've ever seen before. It's a kind of warmth that feels like you'll burn alive. You notice the slightest tightening of his jaw, his fingers flexing on his lunchbox as he seals the latch.

His eyes flit from yours to your necklace. You notice the slightest movement of his bobbing Adam's apple. “Did he tell you that?” he asks, his voice low.

There's a long pause where you hesitate to speak. You've never seen him so…serious. You look down at your hands, twiddling your thumbs as you swallow down the lump in your throat.

When you don't say anything, he locks eyes with you once more. “What did he say?”

You rub your arm anxiously. “He called me delusional. He said…” You look away from him again, your voice so quiet that it's almost a whisper. “He said, ‘Why do you have to be such a whiny little bitch?’”

You hear him sigh. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't even look at you as he processes what you've told him.

The moment is still, though there's a slight brewing of something solemn in the space between you.

Then Eddie takes a deep breath in, pauses, and without blinking an eye, says, “I'm gonna kill him.”

Your lips threaten to break into a grin, and your eyes go wide as dimes. “Eddie!” you exclaim, lightly smacking him. You shake your head scoldingly. “You can’t say that.”

“I am,” he repeats, humor returning to his tone as he smiles at you, holding an arm up to shield from your swatting hand. He makes sure to articulate this time. “I’m going to kill him.”

You laugh, though it quickly becomes weak. “It’s fine, really,” you say, trying to keep the happy mood you’d been able to lift the two of you into. But it’s hard because you just keep thinking about everything, and everything hurts. “I just…” You swallow thickly, breathing in with more effort than it should take. “It doesn’t bother…” Your breath catches. “I… I don’t feel–”

Eddie’s hands are already reaching out for you upon hearing the tremble in his voice. His smile drops once more, and he sighs when he’s got you pulled closely to his chest. He shushes you gently, petting you in warm, soothing strokes with you tucked beneath his chin.

You can’t keep the tears in. It comes crashing down again, and hot tears rush down your cheeks. You hadn’t meant to cry. You’re not supposed to be crying. Your head hurts as you nuzzle into his chest, pressing your nose to his shirt and inhaling the scent of his cologne, his detergent, his skin. It’s a comforting smell that turns your heaving chest to gentle tremors of breath.

It takes some time for the erratic breaths to calm, but Eddie doesn’t seem bothered by the time. His hands are gentle, he’s warm and inviting. He soothes you with the gentle hush of his voice whispering, “Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay. Okay? Hm?”

It does make you feel better.

You get it together faster than he thought you would. He doesn’t pull away from you as he speaks gently, the sounds reverberating in his chest with a deep hum. “You know you don’t have to take care of me, right?”

You sniffle, pulling away from him. He doesn’t let you go too far. Still within his arms, you shift so you sit beside him and rest your head on his shoulder. “I know, but…” You wipe your face roughly. You settle your voice enough to sound a little more in control, the strained sound made from tears and aching breaths channeled into something more forceful in an attempt to sound stronger than you feel. “You shouldn’t have to deal with me and my stupid feelings. You always have to deal with me and my stupid feelings.” You mumble that last part mostly to yourself.

His arm is tucked behind you, rubbing gentle circles into the small of your back. “They’re not stupid,” he promises. “Your boyfriend fucking sucks. God, I hate that guy.” He rolls his eyes, and gives a hard look to the wall of the van just so that he’s not glaring at you when he says it. His head turns back to you, a genuine question full of opposition falling from his tongue. “Why don’t you break up with him?”

You turn your face on his shoulder so your forehead rests against the bump of it, shaking your head and sniffling still. “I just…” You sigh woefully. “Everyone keeps telling me we’ll be high school sweethearts.” Your voice lifts a little with false hope. “And it sounds so nice, finding that person you want to be with young and then…spending your life with them.” You speak as if from a distant dream. You blink a few tears from your eyes. You mutter under your breath so softly that he wouldn’t have heard you if you weren’t so close. “Stupid.”

Eddie stares at you, his lashes kissing his cheeks and his head tilted just slightly to his left. “Hey,” he mutters, his large palm engulfing your cheek to encourage you to look at him. There is only sincerity in his voice when he speaks. His other hand finds you and holds your face.

“Nothing about you is stupid. I think the only stupid thing you’ve ever done was date that guy. He’s an asshole, and he doesn’t deserve you.” He shakes his head, wild hair shifting. “Because you’re perfect. You hear me?”

The slightest echo of words you shoved to the back of your mind arises. You breathe gently, slowly nodding your head. “Yeah…” you sigh. “I hear you.”

He wipes your tears away with his thumbs. “Please don’t cry.”

His voice is so small and soft, you almost feel bad for crying (and then you remember that he doesn’t want you to feel bad, and then you do your best not to).

You encourage his hands from your face, scooting close to him for the warmth and letting your head drop to your hands. You stay there for a long time, stewing. “I feel like I’m losing my mind,” you muffle into your palms. “And you’re the only one who ever listens to me.”

He scoffs, and though it’s an attempt at humor to lift your spirits, it lacks the humor he’s wanting. “That’s ‘cause you have shit friends. Except for me, of course.”

When you laugh, his smile is genuine. You’re already sounding better. “Except for you,” you mutter as you pull yourself from your hands. You sniff, and then look at him. You notice the tears on the fabric of his shirt from a moment ago and wince lightly. “Sorry for crying on your shirt.”

His brows furrow funnily. “You kidding?” He laughs lightly. “I’ll never wash this shirt again.”

You scrunch your nose. “That’s gross.”

He chuckles, bringing his hands to wipe under your eyelids where the remnants of your tears still lay. You sigh, and it's the kind of sigh that releases all the tension in your body. You slump into his hands, and he smiles.

Eddie lets go of you in favor of grabbing the blunt he'd made. He brings it between his fingers and shows it off to you like ancient treasure. “Here,” he smiles. “You can have the first hit.”

You grab it without looking, lingering there for a moment. “Thank you,” you murmur, your voice heavy with emotion.

He smirks, furrowing his brow. “It's just a hit.”

“Not that, dummy,” you say, pushing him lightly. He laughs whole-heartedly. “Thank you for being here. It means a lot to me.”

He smiles, his lashes kissing in a slow blink. “Anytime,” he breathes. He nudges your shoulder lightly, “Hey. You know you can trust me, right?”

Your lips pull in a brief smile. You're focusing on not staring down at his lips, so close to you and moving so gently with each word. “Yeah. I know.”

It's silent as you stare at one another. His eyes are more brown in the gentle light of his van when you're this close to him. They almost look like glass in the way that they shine, glossy and smooth.

You hadn't realized it when you leaned in, but you do notice when his soft breaths fan over your lashes. You lick your lip as you lean away again, looking down at the blunt between your fingers as you silently scold yourself for doing such a thing…trying to kiss Eddie. There was something wrong with you, deeply wrong.

You shake it off, setting the blunt between your lips and looking back at him. Eddie watched you for a moment before wordlessly fetching his lighter. He flicks the flame to life and sets it beneath the end.

You take the first drag, already anticipating the relief it'll bring you once it kicks in. You slowly blow out the smoke as you pass it to Eddie, who takes it graciously.

He closes his eyes as his lips wrap around the blunt. He lingers there perhaps a bit longer than he should, and then smiles at you as the smoke shoots from his mouth.

~

“Guys, wake up.”

You're woken up rather rudely. It'd been a long day, you were exhausted. The sun has barely risen in the sky, and someone's voice is ripping you from your slumber. You get up slowly, pushing yourself to get your head off the pillow from your spot on the couch. Eddie’s slumped on the floor, blankets and pillows cushioning his spot. He blindly reaches a hand up to feel for your own, though he doesn’t move to sit up as he mumbles something under his breath. (Something along the lines of “Just one more goddamn minute, please.”)

Robin sounds half-asleep as she hoists herself up from her curled up position in Steve’s single-sofa too quickly to be kind. “What? What’s going on?” she stumbles, looking around to find Nancy in the middle of the living room.

“Principal Higgins is dead.”

You’re awake now.

It’s only then when you notice the quiet droning of the television, the sound so low that it was easy to miss. There are police lights and caution tape and crowds of people being kept out by authorities. It’s all very unsettling.

Steve sits up quickly, his tousled brown hair a mess on his head. “What?” His gaze snaps to the television, where everyone else follows. You wipe your face quickly, grabbing Eddie’s hand when it finally finds yours.

“How?” you question when you find your voice.

“They found him strung up on the goal post.” Nancy turns up the sound. “They’re shutting down the school until further notice.”

Jonathan sits up, though his face has fallen in seriosity, his tone doesn’t match. “I mean…” he mutters, “score for school being out.”

“Jonathan!” Robin yells.

Argyle shakes his head, combing his fingers through his hair to fix the straight locks. “I never liked him too much, but killin’ the dude?” He sighs, “Not cool, man.”

You shove yourself off the couch to sit next to Eddie, who’s arm instinctively moves to pull you in. You let yourself be comforted by him as you shake your head. “What did Higgins even do?”

Argyle shrugs. “Everyone wants to kill the principal.”

You roll your eyes at his remark; although true, not entirely helpful. “Yeah, but no one actually does it.”

The phone rings suddenly, a very loud sound that slices through the thick air and makes everyone jump. Nancy rushes to grab it, as she’s already standing. “Hello?” There’s a pause. Her eyes fall on someone in the room, and she holds the phone out. “Robin, it’s your grandmother.”

Robin moves to stand, walking over to grab the phone from Nancy. She holds it up to her ear, mumbles something over the phone, and then hangs up. “She wants me home. She doesn’t feel safe with me out of the house.”

It only takes a couple minutes for the phone to ring again and again and again. Joyce Byers, Karen Wheeler, Wayne Munson. Everyone is called home ASAP (except for you, of course). Your parents are still away on a business trip, entirely unaware that there is a serial killer in Hawkins who’s going around killing teenagers, while their only daughter stays home alone with no one to protect her…

Eddie ends up taking you home. When he drops you off, his leg is bouncing and he seems entirely displeased by the fact that you’re insisting on being here. Something about “in case my parents call” or whatever. Really, you just don’t want Eddie to get tired of you by being around so much…and you don’t want to burden him with the responsibility of protecting you.

“You sure you don’t want to stay with me? I promise Wayne won’t mind.”

His brows are frowning like even they are concerned. You open the door, ignoring the way your hand trembles at the aspect of staying home alone in this circumstance. You hope he doesn’t notice as you give him the most reassuring smile you can handle.

“I’ll be fine,” you insist in an effort to convince even yourself.

Eddie doesn’t believe it. He reaches a hand out to cover yours. “You sure?” He sighs, “I really don’t mind. I can even convince Wayne to let me stay with you tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You shake your head. “I’ll be okay,” you quiet your voice in the hopes that he will hear you better. “Just…call me.”

He stares at you for a long time, shaking his head and looking very upset by the idea of leaving you here alone. With a defeated sigh, he runs a hand down his face and nods. Then she shakes his head. “I’m gonna pick you up before curfew.”

You groan. “Eddie–”

“No,” he says, his tone firm and without room for argument. “I’ll be back at curfew, and you’ll stay the night with me. Okay?”

You hate that it makes you feel better, but it does. With a sigh of half-defeat, you open the door. “Okay.”

He squeezes your hand gently. “Be safe. Lock the doors.”

And the windows, you think to yourself. “I will,” you agree.

You hesitate before grabbing your things and stepping out of his van. You close the door behind you and slowly make your way to your front door. Eddie watches you the whole way, refusing to leave you until you’re safely inside with the door locked.

You unlock the front door with shaky hands, closing your eyes and hoping against all hope that there’s no note waiting for you when you return. You step inside and close the door a little harder than you’re supposed to. It’s at least a solid minute before you hear Eddie’s van driving away.

Now you’re alone.

~

When they’re a knock at the door, you’re surprised you didn’t hear Eddie pull up. It’s usually very clear when Eddie arrives, he makes sure his entrance is note-worthy. You pull your door open to greet him, having come to terms with the fact that you are happy to be with Eddie tonight. But when the door is open, your shoulders tense and your face falls into something less excited.

“What do you want?” you ask, your tone flat as you stare at the girl on the other side of the door. “You’re not supposed to be out here, it’s almost past curfew.”

Brynn crosses her arms over her chest. “And you’re not supposed to be alone.” When your expression doesn’t change, and you still look very upset, she sighs and holds her hands up in a truce. “I came to apologize.”

You want to turn her away…but it is almost past curfew, and part of you does want to hear what she has to say. You consider it a moment longer and then sigh as you step back to let her in.

You close the door behind her, locking it tight. You pass by Brynn on your way to the kitchen, putting the island between the two of you simply to show her where you’re at. She doesn’t speak right away. She looks like she's trying to decide what to say to you. She reaches for her arm, stroking it lightly before beginning.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “You were right, I should've been on your side, and I wasn’t.” She cards her fingers through her hair. “It’s just been crazy with all these psycho murders, and Jake was out of line for saying that shit to you.”

You cross your arms, though the action is half-hearted. You shift on your feet, nodding slightly. “Yes, he was.”

“I’m really sorry, hon,” she repeats, tilting her head to the side. She steps forward, placing a hand on the island as an olive branch. “Walk me through it. What’s been going on?”

You stare at her for a long time, debating whether you should tell her or not. All you’ve been wanting from her for a long time is just for her to listen to you. Now she’s here offering to do just that, and you’re not even sure you want it anymore…

But, with a sigh, you concede. “I–”

The harsh ringing of the phone cuts you off. You look at it quickly wondering if it’s Eddie saying that he’s on his way. You don’t know who else it could be.

You pick up the phone, bringing it to your ear to greet. “Hello?”

“Hello, my little puppet.”

You practically slam the phone back down. A wave of shock and fear crashes through you, your eyes wide and your heart racing as you stumble back. Brynn is startled into the same state as she clutches her chest. “It’s him.” Your voice trembles, and tears are already springing to your eyes. You didn’t recognize the voice, so you’re still no closer to figuring out who this psycho is.

“Who?” she insists, stepping over to you.

“Fucking—him. The killer,” you stumble over your words, your tongue tied with each syllable you try to get out. “Fucking Ghostface!”

The phone rings again, and you move away from it as quickly as possible. You look frantically to Brynn, as if she’ll have all the answers. As if she knows how to make it stop.

She marches over to the phone, picking it up with a determined look on her face. “Listen–”

You watch her face widen in horror. Her grip on the phone trembles as she seems to stop breathing. She glances over at you, swallowing thickly before quietly passing the phone back to you. You shake your head quickly, still moving away with clumsy steps.

“I don’t want to,” you nearly whisper.

She clears her throat a bit. “I don’t think you have a choice.”

Your fearful sigh trembles as it passes from your lungs. You close your eyes shut, steeling your nerves before reaching out and grabbing the phone. You try to keep your voice steady, but it proves to be futile as your voice wavers on your words. “What do you want?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” the voice says. It’s a strange voice. It sounds almost artificial. “I just wanna talk, sweet girl. I know you’ve been getting my letters, and I know you keep them locked away in your closet to think of me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to contain your sob. Your eyes find Brynn after a moment, who’s terrified by what’s going on. These things aren’t supposed to happen in real life, and yet here you are.

“You’re crazy.”

“Crazy in love with you,” he chuckles.

“What do you want?”

There’s a pause. You hear him inhale. “I want to give you another token of my love,” he says. “Turn on the back porch light.”

Your blood runs cold. You think you literally feel your heart stop in your chest, and you’re almost gasping for air at the feeling. You whip your head to Brynn, then to the glass sliding door in the living room. Your breaths are heavy through the phone. “I don’t–”

“Do it.” His voice lowers to something scarier, and you startle at the sound.

You walk with shaky legs slowly to the living room. Brynn follows you, her movements just as hesitant as she reaches a hand out to grab yours. You squeeze it tight, bracing yourself as you lift your hand to the lightswitch.

You both scream.

Jake sits on the other side of the door with duct tape slapped over his mouth. He’s covered in blood, muffled screams forcing against the tape to no avail. He squirms as he tries to break free of his bindings that keep him stuck to the chair. You try to look away, but he doesn’t like that.

“Look at him,” he says. A sob shakes you as you force your head back. “I got him just for you. I had to break his foot and his arm just to get him here.” You wipe the tears from your face. It’s becoming hard to see. “Don’t be scared, everything’s gonna be just fine.” His voice is a purr in your ear, but not in a way that’s particularly pleasant. Your gut twists uneasily.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Your boyfriend is not as good as you think.” He sounds incredibly upset. You actually hear him growl as he continues. “Think about it, puppet. He ignores you, he makes you feel like you’re crazy, he fucking uses you for sex like you’re some cheap whore. Do you even enjoy when he touches you? When he fucks you?”

You swallow thickly, refusing to answer him as you lift your hand to press against the glass. Jake stares at you, still struggling against his restraints with all the energy he has. You can hear his muffled cries through the door. You open your mouth to speak, struggling to find the words. “Please don’t hurt him,” your voice is weak when you say this.

“And why shouldn’t I?” he questions.

“Because I’m asking you to.” You close your eyes, trying to steady your breath. “If… If you really love me, you won’t hurt him. Please.”

He laughs. “Oh, puppet.” He seems to tsk when he says it. “I’m doing this for you.” His voice takes on a sudden softness that you refuse to admit provides the slightest amount of soothing. “I promise, once this is over, you’ll feel like a brand new you. You don’t need him. You don’t need this. You deserve so much more, so much better than a jockey piece of shit like him.”

You don’t know if your sobs have stopped coming because of his words or because of the fatigue that comes with it. You hope it’s the latter.

“And it’s because I love you that I’m letting you say goodbye.”

Your heart siezes in your chest. “No, no, please!” Your scream triggers Byrnn’s, and she’s pulling your arm to try to figure out what’s going on.

“You have five seconds.” You shout protests, banging on the window and shaking your head in an attempt to stop him, but he doesn't care. “Four, three, two–”

“Bye! Goodbye! Please!”

“Good girl.”

A figure cloaked in a shroud of darkness appears outside the window. It happens so quickly, you don't even have time to process it. He swoops out behind him, a knife glinting in the porch light. Screams fill the house when the knife goes in, and then out, and then in, and then out, and then in and out and in and out–

You grab Brynn’s hand, tearing her away from the window to run. You don’t think about it too much when you do. Brynn is stumbling behind you, having trouble seeing beyond her tears. If he’s outside, surely you can make it to the door fast enough to escape.

You’re quickly proven wrong when you’re stopped right at the threshold of the living room. It can’t be.

You stare right into the face of a ghost, stepping back slowly. He tilts his head slowly to the side, raising his hand and waving one of your kitchen knives from side to side.

“Now where do you think you're going?” He takes two slow, calculated steps toward the both of you. Brynn moves away as you stay planted in your spot. That same warped voice leaks from the mask.

Brynn tugs on your arm, pulling you toward the back door. When you look, the other Ghostface is gone. It's only when she yanks the door open that he jumps in front of you with a teasing “Boo!”

Your throat is scratched rough from your screams. Jake's blood covers his hands and up the length of his arms.

In your haste to get away, to fight, to do anything, you throw your fist out in an attempt to hit him. He catches your wrist with ease, and your stomach flips when he walks you back. He never lets go. You try to hit him again and again and again, to no avail. He turns you in his arms and pulls you to his chest. You feel the sticky, hot blood on your skin. You shout as you will the tears to come.

“Why?” you ramble incoherently. “Why did you have to kill him? Why did you—fuck!”

“Hey, now!” he exclaims, still laughing in your ear. The flat side of his bloodied knife taps your cheek, and you flinch. “You're so excited, and we haven't even gotten to the big surprise.”

You shake your head, struggling to get away from him. “I don't want it. Please, I don't want it.”

He leans down closer to your ear, to the crook of your neck. “Hey, hey. Shh,” he coos.

Your cries calm, turning to stuttering breaths as you stare at the other cloaked man in the room. You almost forget about Brynn.

“Please don't hurt me,” you mutter.

“Hurt you?” He scoffs, letting you go. He turns you around to see him, and you watch his head tilt down to his shoulder. “I would never hurt you, sweetheart.”

Your lips part, and you furrow your brow at his pet name. There's only one person in the world who calls you sweetheart. But the idea of it, of him…

“Why…” You step away. “Why did you call me that?”

He stands there for a moment, contemplating. Then he laughs, raising his gloved hands to his waist and shaking his head. “Well, fuck. Guess I outed myself, huh?” He turns his head to look past you, glancing at his duplicate through dark, empty eyes. “Guess the cat's outta the bag now.”

He reaches his hand to his mask, tucking his fingers beneath it before slowly peeling the mask like skin off his face.

There's an ache in your chest and a twist in your gut when brown eyes stare back at you, smiling, glinting with joy. The tears that slip down your face burn your cheeks like molten lava. Your mind is clouded with the haze of memories flashing in your mind. All the times you held his hand, the same hand that plunged a blade into your boyfriend's chest. All the times you laughed with the same voice now sore with screams. All the times you looked into his brown eyes with the same joyous shine he has in them now. You'd always thought they looked normal. You don't understand how you missed it, the glinting.

Your voice trembles as you struggle to speak, cracking on the apex of his name. “Eddie?”

“Hello, puppet.” He grins with a kind of mischief that takes on a different tone now.

You shake your head and struggle to find the words. “Why? Why would you– I thought– You–”

He pulls you back into him, flush against his chest with his arms around your body. You feel the shape of the blade pressing against your back and try not to move. “Shh, it's okay.” He strokes your back soothingly.

When you pull away you feel the blood he'd smeared on your cheek stick to his cloak. You look down at your clothes, now stained in red, and feel your heart thrumming frantically.

“Hey. C’mon,” the other says. You turn to face him when you hear him closer than you anticipated. You clamp a hand over your mouth when tousled brown hair falls in Steve's face. He runs a hand through his curls and smiles. “No one's gonna hurt you. You're the one we're tryna help here.”

Brynn startles at that, stepping back so quickly she stumbles. You move away from Eddie, backing up to the side so you stand between them and Brynn, so you can face them both and not feel so cornered.

You try to gather the strength to sound threatening, but you don't. You know you don't. “How is this helping me? I thought you were my fucking friends! You– You tricked me!”

“We tricked you?” Steve scoffs. “Honey, we're not the ones sneaking around behind your back.” A tiny smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “Not really, anyway.”

You pause, your brows knitting together in confusion. “What–” You shake your head, “What do you mean?”

Eddie looks past you, his eyes locking with Brynn’s. They darken in a way that you've only ever seen once or twice before. A hardness takes over the expression on his face until you almost don't recognize the boy you're looking at.

“Go on, then, Brittany.” His voice nearly takes on a growl. There's no humor in his words, no joy. It creates a chill that rushes down your spine as he raises his knife toward her. “Tell her.”

You turn, looking at her from her place on the floor. “Tell me what?”

She slowly rises from the floor, her hands up in defense. “I don't know what they're talking about,” she says slowly. She begins to back into the kitchen, inching away from you as you advance, Steve behind you and Eddie at your side.

You know she's lying. You can hear it in her voice, and you can see it on her face. She's gotten better at it over the years, but she's never been good.

“Tell me what?”

Her eyes go wide at your accusation. Surely there's no way you're going to believe two murderers over her. “Don't listen to them!” She never blinks, she never looks away. Her gaze is sharp.

Eddie walks toward her, the tip of his blade taunting her as she moves away. Eddie’s voice is low and rough, and you’ve never heard him sound so…terrifying. “Tell her how you were letting Jacob plow you every time she looked away.”

“What?” It almost comes out as a whisper. You knew she’d been lying to you about something, but you didn’t know it was this. You wish you could have picked up clues from Jake, but unlike her, he’s a great liar, and you would believe him if he told you he was some long-lost prince of a fairytale kingdom.

But this… You’d hoped for better.

“They’re fucking lying!” she shouts. Her eyes never blink. “They just fucking killed Jake, and now you’re gonna let these fucking psychopaths–”

She’s cut off when a strange sound echoes in the room. You know what it is, you know who it must be. When your eyes fall to the source of the sound, Steve holds out a camera that you recognize from Jake’s room. “Look familiar?” she asks, offering it to you. You glance at Brynn and watch her face shift into something fearful once more. She mutters your name.

You grab the camera, sliding your hand through the band and watching the video playing on the little screen. Your face falls, fear and suspicion being stripped away to something solemn.

It’s taken from within Jake’s bedroom, the desk beneath his window. Your shoulders drop when you see them. Brynn’s on her knees, between his. You watch her head bob as she grips his thighs. You watch his fingers grab a hold of her hair. You listen to him groan, to her gag. You flex your jaw and flex your fingers.

You look up at her as the sounds continue to play, taunting you, mocking you. “You…” You let out a shaky sigh. Your voice is too soft and too calm. “He was cheating on me? With you?” She watches your lip twitch. Your eyes close when you hear the sound of his grunt as he curses, and you know he’s cumming down her lying throat. Her giggle follows soon after.

She shakes her head. “It wasn’t like that. We–” She bumps into the kitchen island, but she doesn’t blink. “We were drunk, and-and it happened so fast—it was only one time!”

“Go to the next video,” Steve says, his voice so close to your ear. You don’t flinch as you take in a slow breath and do as he says.

Your sigh shakes your chest. It feels like someone’s punched you in the chest as you see Brynn on her hands and knees, Jake’s hands on her waist, his hips smacking into her as they moan and grunt and curse. The date is different. In fact, the date is your birthday.

You swallow thickly, quickly passing the camera back to Steve as you bring a hand to your neck. You stare at the floor, unable to look at her as you close your eyes and beg Steve to turn it off. You can still hear them…laughing at you. What a stupid girl. A stupid girl who thinks we love her.

“Why…” You don’t finish your question, supposing that’s enough. “How could you do this to me?” Your voice trembles, and you can’t find it within you to care. She doesn’t say anything, she just keeps staring. Your voice gets a little stronger, a little louder. “You were supposed to be my friend. You were supposed to be my best friend.”

She licks her lips. “Look, I–”

“You were fucking him behind my back!” you shout, walking toward her again. Every step you take toward her, she takes back. “How long?”

“Listen��”

“Shut your mouth,” Steve snaps.

Eddie almost startles you when you hear him at your side. You feel the warmth of his presence against your shoulder, you hear his voice by your ear. “She betrayed you,” he whispers in your ear in a clear disgust, his voice a low hum. “Just like Jacob, she ignored you and made you think you were crazy. She fucked your boyfriend. She’s supposed to be your closest friend, and she hurt you like this.” He shakes his head. His breath is warm against the shell of your ear. “Doesn’t it just make you wanna hurt her?”

You blink blankly. “I… No, I don’t…” You sigh, “I don’t want…to hurt her.” You don’t sound so sure. You don’t feel so sure. And that scares you.

“Don’t you?” Steve wonders. You turn to look at him and the glare in his eyes. You hear Eddie huff when Steve wraps an arm around your midsection, pulling your side into his chest. “She's been lying to you this whole time. I mean, how do you know she wasn't just using you to be close to him, huh?”

She shakes her head. “That's not true. We were friends before–”

“Shut up!” you yell, your head snapping back to her as you shove Steve's arm from you. You can't keep it in, the anger is boiling in your chest and it feels like poison in your throat. You just have to get it out. “Don't say a goddamn word, you lying whore.”

You scare her into silence. The anger shifts into something sad, and you hate that your lips tremble.

Your voice, though quiet now, is rough when you speak. “You never spent time with me, you weren't there for me when I needed you. I told you about the letters, and you didn't believe me. You fucking—You betrayed me.”

“That’s right!” Eddie exclaims. His hand comes to cup the side of your neck, pulling your temple to his lips as he nods giddily. He presses his mouth to your skin, and you hate to admit that his kiss feels nice. “She did. She betrayed you and your trust, and she should pay for it. Shouldn't she, puppet?”

Brynn’s fear twists into pure disgust. “You’re fucking crazy–”

“See, she keeps saying that,” he says, raising the knife at her again. He keeps hold of you, murmuring in your ear like a demon on your shoulder. “But I’m the only person who’s had your back all this time. I’ve listened to your problems, I’ve helped you through them. I’ve been there for you.” He breathes in the scent of your hair. “Me and Steve, we did all this for you.”

Steve’s in your other ear, his hand crossing over your midsection once more. You’re stuck between them, boxed in by their warm bodies as they whisper in your ear. You make no move to stop them. “And didn’t she call you crazy, too?” He smiles, “You told her about Ed’s love letters, and they said you were delusional. You told them you were afraid, he called you a whiny bitch. You ran out of the house with a killer on the loose, and neither of them went after you.”

“But you’re not delusional, are you? You’re not a whiny bitch. You know what you are?” Eddie kisses your temple once more, “You’re just like us. You’re hurt, and you want to destroy the thing that hurt you.” The idea makes you warm, and you assume it’s the rage. “And she’s hurt you so bad, you could just…kill her, couldn’t you?”

“Fuck you!”

Her voice breaks you from their embrace. You all turn to look at her, watching her now confident with anger. Eddie and Steve take a step away, letting you go. They want to see what you’ll do.

“I fucking told you he was fucking crazy,” she spits. “We kept telling you there was something wrong with him, and you never fucking listened to us. And now? Now six people are fucking dead—Jake is fucking dead. And it’s all your fault–!”

A scream rises from your chest and into your throat, but it’s not the type of scream that reaches the top of your voice and screeches. It’s the kind of scream that stays in your throat. It’s rough and it’s guttural. You clench your fist and rush toward her with nothing but red in your sight.

You don’t even fully realize it when you hit her. It’s like you black out, letting go and dissolving yourself to your most basic instincts as you knock her to the floor. She shouts, and when you kick her in the side, she moans out loud in pain and fear. It only fuels you, fuels the heat in your fists, in your head, curling in your chest.

You wrestle her onto her back and straddle her waist, punching her again when she tries to protest. She screams and cries and the blood that comes from her mouth or the cuts on her face makes it worse. You keep punching her, but each punch isn’t enough to quell the scream in your throat. Your skin of your knuckles split, your fists become covered in your blood and hers.

Eddie and Steve are cheering you on, but Eddie’s voice is the loudest. He laughs and claps his hands, yelling, “That’s it! Yes, my good fuckin’ girl, make her pay for what she did to you.” The excitement and the anger keep mixing in his tone, and there’s so much of it that he can’t even control what he wants. “Make her pay for breaking your heart.”

You hit and hit and hit until you run out of strength to continue.

She lays there, her head swaying from side to side as she whimpers and coughs, unable to breathe. She looks bad, bloodied and bruised. But it’s still not enough. You sit there, gasping for air as you stare at her.

Something enters your peripheral, and when you see it, it shines. Eddie's gloved hand, still stained with Jake’s blood, wraps around your own. He lifts it to grasp the handle of his knife, squeezing tight to secure your grip. He lets go, and you hold on still, staring at the blade in quiet contemplation.

“Do it,” he whispers. He grabs your other hand, he wraps it around the first. “Do it.” He lets you go and steps back.

You look down at Brittany. Your best friend. Your enemy.

She shakes her head weakly. Her voice is scratchy, unintelligible. “No,” she whimpers, her words sticky. “No, please. Don’t–”

You don’t let her finish.

It takes a lot more effort than you thought it would. When you bring it down, it hardly goes as deep as you meant it. When you pull it back out, it takes a lot of core strength, you have to clench your teeth and flex your abdomen. You try again and again and again. It feels good. Fuck that, it feels amazing. You shove the blade into her chest and the blood stains your hands, and you seek out the feeling over and over.

You hadn’t expected it to be so quiet.

Eddie makes no noise, neither does Steve. Your grunts feel silent in your ear. Even the squelch of the knife tearing from flesh and meat and bone sounds like nothing. Your blood thrums in your ears, and your heart thumps in your chest. It’s a silent rush that reaches a pique, and once it’s met, you feel the strength and the rage and all the intense emotion pouring out of you like the crashing fall of water.

You gasp for breath as you sit there, and it’s the only sound you hear.

Your eyes find your hands still grasping the handle, soaked in crimson and dripping. You huff, staring at it. It’s all you can do, stare.

It hits you all at once as you let the blade clatter to the floor. It’s the only sound you hear. You rush off of her, looking down at your clothes, stained. Everything is stained, everything is red. Your heart is rushing, your breath is catching, your hands are dripping.

You look at her face, deformed from your fists, stained with more red. She stares at the ceiling. She never blinks.

“Wha–” You huff, looking at your hands and her face and her chest and your clothes and– “Wha-What did I do? What– I, no, I ca–” You drop your head to your hands and then shout when you feel sticky blood on your skin. “Oh, God, I–” You turn to Eddie, so overwhelmed that you can’t even cry. Your clothes feel too tight, and you can’t see straight. And the lights, and the floor. The fucking—the walls are too close. And– “You—Oh, my fucking G– I–” Your breaths turn into a broken, tearless sob. “Eddie– I… Fuck. Eddie, I c–” You’re getting too dizzy, and you start to feel sick. “E– Fuck, wha–”

Eddie scoops you up into his arms. You fight his embrace at first, but that just makes everything worse. He shushes you and pets your hair. He pulls you against his body and tries to calm you, so you cling with all the strength you have left. “Hey, shh, shh. It’s okay, sweetheart. Hey, baby, you’re okay. Shh, shh.”

Your breaths slow enough for the spinning to stop. You slump into his body when the tension leaves you. When Eddie hears your breaths even out and feels your weight in his arms, he pulls you away from him to see your face. His hand cups your face as his thumb strokes your cheek gently.

“You’re just like us now,” he whispers. “You’re not crazy, you’re free.” He brushes stray hairs from your forehead and brushes his knuckles along the underside of your jaw. “Free of Jason Carver, who called me a freak. Free of Cassidy Franklin, who threatened your job.”

Steve continues. “Free of Tommy H, who insulted you and treated me like shit.”

Eddie nods, seeming particularly proud. “Free of your cheating boyfriend, who didn’t give a fuck about you.”

“Free of your lying friend, who betrayed your trust.”

Eddie takes your face in his hands, watching you with eyes that never show you anything but affection. “You can be whoever you want to be. And we’ll always be here for you. I will always be here for you. I can be what you need.”

You swallow thickly, searching his eyes for a lie. But he’s never had a reason to truly lie to you. You’ve always been able to trust him. He’s always been there for you. All he’s ever done was to make you happy. Your lips part in a sigh. “You will?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I love you,” he says. His voice is brimming with his confession. His hands tighten just the slightest around your head as he pulls you closer. “You are everything to me. I would kill for you. I would die for you. I would die without you.”

Eddie leans in quickly, and you panic.

You turn your head, feeling his lips on your cheek. You use your arms to separate you, holding your fists to your chest and shaking your head. “N-No,” you mutter. It's not right.

“Shh,” he whispers, turning your face with gentle movements. “Everything's gonna be okay, puppet.”

He kisses you. You breathe into it, trying not to fall for the feeling of his lips pressing into yours, but finding it inevitable. You close your eyes and feel yourself melt. You flatten your hands against his chest, and then ball the fabric of his robe in your fists. When the slightest whimper slips between your lips, Eddie groans into your mouth and his kiss becomes less affectionate.

He bites your lip, moving one hand to the back of your neck and the other to wrap around your waist. You sigh, biting back and tugging on his shirt. When his hand wanders to your side, and then up to your chest, your lips go slack against his when he gropes your breast through your shirt.

It pulls you from the depth you’d gotten lost in. He slides his hand beneath your shirt, and the chilly air makes you shrink away from him. You let go of his shirt, pushing him away with a grunt. “No.”

“Hey,” he tries to soothe. “It’s okay.”

You shake your head. This is wrong. You should not be holding him, kissing him. You push him off of you, shoving him away as you rush to stand. You remember Steve when he steps forward. You continue to back away, you need to get away.

Eddie calls your name, but you only shake your head once more. He reaches for you. You scramble to your feet and run. They don’t chase you right away. Not when you make for the stairs because they’re blocking your exits. Not when you slam your bedroom door shut and lock it tight. Not when you open your bedroom window and stare down at the bottom, unsure of your ability to make the jump.

When you hear their footsteps on the stairs, you panic again. You keep the window open, rushing to the closet and closing the door behind you as you hide behind the clothes hung around you. You can see the letters on the floor, the rose, the doll.

“Open the door, baby,” Eddie’s voice comes, muffled from your spot in the closet. He knocks on the door three slow times. You close your eyes and cover your mouth and nose. You can feel yourself shaking, your lungs struggling to keep up with your attempt at silence.

“We’re not gonna hurt you,” Steve joins. “We pinky promise.”

“Is this a game?”

“Do you like playing games?”

“Do you wanna play with us?”

“Unlock the door, and we can play all night long.”

You hear the door knob jiggle. The faintest sound of the lock clicking makes your blood run cold, and you stop moving entirely upon hearing the door open.

Deep footsteps are heard as they step into the room, their heavy boots adding to your impending doom. Your gut twists, your lungs seize, your heart pounds in your chest. You’re silent as a mouse, better than that.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Eddie sings.

“There’s only so many places you can hide.”

You hear their boots stomp over to the window. Then there’s a pause. You stare wide-eyed in the darkness, seeing nothing but the doors and hearing everything outside of the sound of your blood rushing through your ears. “Come on, sweetheart, you know we’re gonna find you. And when we do, we’ll treat you right.” He sighs gently, his voice still sing-songy as he wonders aloud. “I wonder where she could be…”

His footfalls stop in front of the closet doors, and you feel the tension releasing from your body as you feel yourself giving up. The doors open in a slow, taunting manner, and the mask stares back at you with a tilted head.

“Boo.”

He grabs you, though his grip is not unkind. Eddie crowds you as he brings you to your bed, blocking your hands when you try to hit him, escaping your legs when you try to kick him. He shushes you again, though he’s still laughing.

“What’s the matter, puppet? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

He continues to wrestle with you until you feel the fight leaving you, ounce by ounce until you lay on the bed with limbs heavy with exhaustion. He pins your wrists at either side of your head, watching reluctant tears slip down the side of your face and disappear into your hairline.

You shake your head weakly. “Please don’t hurt me, Eddie.” Your voice is nearly a whisper.

He tilts his head. “I would never hurt you.” He leans down to whisper in your ear, and the fabric tickles the skin of your neck when it brushes you. “I just need you to know just how much I love you.”

You shiver, still shaking your head and trying to stifle the feelings in your body. It’s too much to focus on, too much to think about. “It’s not right,” you cry. “I killed Brynn. You killed Jake and Cassidy and–” You cut yourself off. “I just want it to be over.”

“It is over.” Eddie gathers your wrists into one hand, the other trailing down the length of your arm. You shudder and feel yourself trying to squirm away from him (you assume). “Everyone who hurt us is gone.” His hand presses into your side. “Anyone who would hurt us will be.” You sigh when his hand strokes your thigh. “We can be together, finally.” Your breath stutters when you feel his hand slip between your thighs, where you’ve pressed them tightly together. You bite down hard on your bottom lip when his hand cups your clothed cunt.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His palm grinds into your mound, and you stifle your sigh as you squeeze your eyes shut. Steve’s voice fills your ears. “C’mon, honey,” he says, his voice almost as breathy as Eddie’s has become. “He just wants you to be happy.”

Your breath hitches when you feel him undoing your pants. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” His hand slips past the band of your panties, beneath the fabric that had been keeping him from you. Your lips part slightly when you feel the warm pad of his finger press against your clit. You squeeze your thighs tight. “I want you to be happy.”

You moan when he circles your clit, feeling the uneasy pleasure begin to tease your nerves. He stays there for a moment before letting his finger part your folds. You whine against your tight lips when you feel another hand find your thigh. Steve spreads them apart, and you hate how exposed you feel. You hate how little you care about being exposed to them.

Eddie’s hand in your panties, his finger teasing the opening of your pussy. It swirls in your mind and makes it hard to focus on resisting. It feels good, and you hate that it feels good. It’s a sick, twisted pleasure that makes you feel uneasy but oh, so good.

“Safe,” he coos, pressing his thick finger into the warmth of your cunt with a sigh. Your mouth falls open with every inch he puts inside of you. Your legs spread on their own accord, and you open your eyes as you stare down the empty eyes of a ghost.

He strokes his finger in and out of you, a steady pace that sets every nerve ending on fire. You find your hips rolling into his hand, searching for more and then squirming away and then searching him out once more. When your back arches as he curls his finger, his voice sounds almost strained as he watches you. “Loved.”

You moan as he picks up the pace, the steady stroke of his finger becoming an insistent thrust of two long digits inside of you. You bite your lip and moans as he fucks you with his fingers, curling and thrusting and making you feel the pleasure he knows you deserve.

When you catch sight of Steve, it’s the first time you notice the camera. The red light stares you down as he films the way you wet Eddie’s hand with your arousal, the way you arch your back with each movement, the way your mouth falls open and breathy moans come out of you.

“That’s it, baby. Watch the camera,” Steve grunts.

Eddie laughs breathily. “Such a good girl,” he rasps. “A good, greedy girl. A greedy girl who wants to cum on my fingers. Huh? You gonna cum on my fingers, greedy girl?”

You tug at your wrists, and he lets one of them go just to see what you'll do. When you grip his forearm, holding onto him tight as you keen into him, he groans.

“Don't…” It's so quiet, he doesn't catch it. Eddie leans in and hums, coaxing you to speak again as you look at him with hazy eyes. “Don't stop.”

Eddie has no choice but to stop. When you whine, he almost loses his head. His eyes never tear away from your own after he pulls the mask off his head. You watch as he begins to strip, dropping his robes, and then his shirt and his pants. He takes off everything he's got on until he's standing naked in front of you.

You flush at the sight of him in all his glory. The lines of his muscles are soft and entrancing. Black ink decorates his pale skin, and your breath catches as you stare at all the illustrations. God, he's perfect. His smooth skin, his wild hair, the curve of his long cock stiff and flushed.

“You like what you see?” Eddie chuckles deeply. “What about Steve, hm?”

You tear your eyes away from him to see the boy in question. You watch as he follows suit, stripping to nothing but skin. You stare at the patch of hair on his chest, the shape of his abs (soft, but not as soft as Eddie's), the thickness of his cock heavy between his legs.

“Don't stare too long, puppet,” Eddie mutters. “I'll let him have a taste of you, but you're mine.”

You swallow thickly, staring at Eddie, his darkened brown eyes—though offering a different kind of clarity now—still the same ones that comforted you when you were upset about your boyfriend. The same eyes you saw when he gave you a ride home in the middle of the night. The same eyes that want you and only you.

Your timid fingers reach up and brush the skin of his cheek. “Eddie,” you whisper. He gazes back at you. You lick your lips, letting out a sigh and deciding in that moment. He loves you more than anyone else ever could.

“I'm yours,” you agree. “I'm yours.”

Eddie kisses you like he's afraid to lose you again. He kisses you like he thinks you might run away again. But why run away from someone who's only ever protected you? Why run away from someone who has freed you from those who have only hurt you? Why run away from someone who loves you more than you could possibly know?

You wrap your hand around the back of his head and keep him close, tasting his lips against yours, along with the faint metallic taste of blood on your tongue. You moan into his mouth, seeking more of him as you bite down on his lip and grasp his tongue between your teeth.

You let him go, your breaths shallow and bated. “Make me yours,” you whisper.

Eddie attacks your lips, dipping his head into the crook of your neck and marking you up with teeth and tongue. He red and purples your skin, claiming you as his own.

You roll your body into his, seeking out the pleasure he intends to give. His hands find your clothes, both of them gripping the top of your shirt. You yelp when he rips it down the middle, tearing your shirt in two until you shed it like skin. He pulls your pants off of your body with no love or remorse for the fabric, crueler with your panties and bra as he rips them apart.

Steve snatches your underwear up, bringing them to his nose and letting his eyes flutter shut as he inhales your sweet scent. “Fuck,” he sighs thickly. “She's amazing.”

“You're telling me,” Eddie says, his tongue laving along your nipple. You arch your back up into him, reveling in the feeling of his hot mouth on your skin.

Steve kneels on the bed, filming you with one hand stroking his cock. Eddie's lips find the spot below your belly button, kissing with teeth before dipping low once more.

Your hand grips the sheets beneath you when Eddie's mouth finds your cunt. His lips wrap around you as he laps at your folds. His tongue dips inside of your hole, licking into you with a deep moan that sends shivers down your spine.

Your fingers find his hair, tangling themselves in his messy locks and tugging hard. In return, he claws at your thighs and at the meat of your ass with dull nails, pulling you as close as he can get you as he breathes in your scent and devours you like he's been starved for a thousand years.

The heat and the pleasure and the pain mix together into this unintelligible mess. You allow yourself to be lost to the sensations, to drown in the darkness that surrounds you.

It's sort of poetic.

All your life, all you have ever done was for the pleasure and the benefit of everyone around you. You smiled when you were told to smile, you've cared for people who have never cared for you. You've let your parents leave you, you've let your best friend forget about you, you've let your boyfriend use your mouth and your body for his pleasure and leave you to rot.

But Eddie is different. He doesn’t care. You taint yourself with the blood of a friend, and he kisses your reddened lips, he holds your crimson-soaked hands, he licks the slick from your dripping cunt with the fervor of a mad man. Eddie whispers his love and devotion in your ear and tells you he will always love you.

Steve's mouth on yours is unexpected, but you take it in stride. Your nose bumps his chin as you suck on his top lip. His roaming hand strokes your side, finding your chest and squeezing your tit in his greedy palm. You moan, reveling in the attention—Eddie’s tongue lapping between your legs, Steve’s tongue licking at your chest. You card your fingers through their hair. You grasp and grip and tug. When they moan, you tug again. When you moan, they suck and hold you tighter.

When Eddie pulls away from his spot between your thighs, he shoves Steve’s head to the side so he can see your face. “Hey,” he mutters, though the hostility is half-hearted. He sits back, focusing on keeping the camera on you once more.

Eddie’s fingers return to the seam of your cunt, filling you and making you gasp. “Does it feel good, puppet?” he asks. “Getting all this attention from us? Do you like when I eat out this greedy little pussy? Do you like when Steve sucks on your tits?”

You can’t think with the rhythm of his fingers inside of you. They thrust and curl, and you moan as you find yourself grinding your hips into his palm. “Please,” you murmur, struggling to find the words to properly beg him.

“She’s so sweet, isn’t she?” Steve asks, still reaching for your breasts to flick the nipple. You hold onto Eddie’s arm, trying to keep him where he’s at as you continue to grind into his palm.

“She’s greedy. That’s what she is,” he smiles. “You wanna cum, sweetheart? Do you want to come on my hands?” You nod, feeling him pumping his fingers in and out of you. “You look so nice like this, moaning on my hands, covered in blood. Like a fucking angel.”

You’d almost forgotten about the blood. By now, with everything you’ve just gone through, with your choice to be with Eddie, with your decision to stop caring and let Eddie love you, you find that you don’t mind much. Eddie loves you, and if he loves you covered in blood as well, then you’ll gladly let it smear.

Eddie sighs longingly when you moan, arching your back and riding his palm. “That’s it, baby. Use my hand to get off. There you go,” he rambles, thrusting and curling his fingers to get you closer to where he wants you to be.

“Eddie,” you moan. “Eddie, I’m gonna cum.” He gets back to his knees, still fingering you as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. He licks and laps and does all that he can to feel you unravel by his hands, by his lips, by his touch.

Steve strokes his cock as he watches, letting heavy sighs fall past his lips. “Fuck, she looks so fuckin’ pretty.” He gropes you, flicking your nipple and massaging your tit and loving the way you gasp. “Keep going just like that, Ed. She's almost there.”

Your hips jerk up into his mouth. Eddie leans forward and holds you down, becoming more and more insistent in tasting you. He's completely consumed by your perfect thighs at either side of his head, clamping down around him as you reach the apex of your pleasure.

When you cum, your hands tug at his hair and your moan is more reminiscent of a sob as he licks you through it. “Oh, fuck,” you gasp. You moan his name and ride his face, and almost ignore the fact that he needs to breathe.

When your body stops trembling and your moans turn to heavy breaths, he pulls away from you. His chin glistens with your arousal, and he licks his pink, swollen lips with a thick sigh.

You're surprised when Eddie's hand smacks your thigh. A slight shout escapes your throat, and you wince at the pain that spreads along your body. He soothes the skin with his palm, gripping the flesh once more before delivering another smack. You stifle your cry this time.

“Does that hurt, baby?” he asks, his tone not as sympathetic. You nod. “Do you want me to stop?”

You open your eyes and shake your head. “No.”

His smile is nothing if not malicious. “Perfect.” He bends down, and his kiss is all-consuming. For a moment, you struggle to keep up, but finding your footing isn't difficult. When his hand wraps around the back of your head, you nip his tongue. When he grunts, you tilt your head. When he pulls away, you tug on his lip before letting it slap against his bottom teeth.

He smiles, letting out a long breath. “Your lips are so soft.” He kisses you quickly. “I wonder how they'd feel wrapped around my dick.”

You whine, sitting up and grabbing his shirt in your balled fist. You feel Steve behind you, pressing his body into your back to sandwich you between them. His lips brush your ear, you can tell he's struggling not to kiss you.

Eddie pulls back, diving his face into your shoulder and biting into your flesh. You turn your head toward Steve, feeling his lips at the corner of your mouth.

“Do you wanna kiss me?” you whisper to Steve, who ignores your question and dips his head into your neck. You feel their lips and teeth and tongue against your skin. 

You close your eyes, breathing through thinly parted lips as they taste your skin, having their fill of you. Steve's head switches to the other side, bumping Eddie's gently. He looks up, staring at Steve. You see him offer a grin, leaning in and biting his lip.

Eddie shoves Steve back, his actions playful but definite. Steve looks back at him with a grin and hooded eyes. You get shoved next, laying flat on your back. Eddie steps back, walking around the bed until he's bending down to kiss you again, just as Steve had done to you before.

“Open your mouth,” he mutters against your lips. You open your eyes to look at him, letting your mouth fall open just as he told you. You want him to feel as good as he made you.

Eddie takes his cock in his hand, stroking it a couple times before placing his tip at the plush of your lips. You dart your tongue out to lick at the slit of his cock, eliciting the slightest wince. One of his hands covers the length of your throat, the other cradles the back of your head. Eddie pushes his cock past your lips and into the warmth of your mouth, sighing at the feeling as you close your lips around him.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” he groans, sliding in and out of your mouth in slow strokes.

“I bet it is,” Steve mutters. He watches, envy soaked into his skin as he holds the camera still.

The bed dips when Steve gets on it. Eddie’s head is thrown back in bliss as he thrusts his cock slowly into your mouth, going deeper and deeper with each thrust until he can feel the length of him stretching your throat. He can tell you’ve had practice because you don’t immediately gag. He pushes his cock so far into your mouth that your chin presses against his pelvis.

Steve straddles you, bending down to your chest and wetting your chest with his tongue. He sucks on your nipples, bites the flesh of your tits. He paints the valley of your breasts with saliva before moving himself further up your body and pressing your tits together.

You gag on Eddie's cock when Steve's slides between the split of your tits. His moan is deep and broken as he throws his head back. “Fuck,” he breathes. “God, she's perfect.”

You press your hand to Eddie's waist, pushing him back until his dick slips from the warmth of your mouth. You turn your head to the side to cough, catching your breath as your mind races with the strange sensation of Steve thrusting between your tits.

When Eddie thinks you've gotten enough air, he tilts your head back again to push himself back inside. Your throat is tight around his cock. It squeezes around his length, and you struggle to take him as your lungs seize and your gagging stalls.

He curses, feeling the way your pretty throat bulges. Steve grabs your hands, guiding you to hold your tits together so he can grab the camera from its propped position on the bed.

“Got a good shot?” Eddie asks, his laughter mixing with a grunt.

“Fuckin’ perfect shot,” he says. “Shit, she might finish me like that.”

Precum leaks from his aching tip, spilling onto your chest, your neck. When Eddie pulls out to let you breathe, you gasp and cough once more, letting your breathy moans fill the air and imagining how ruined you must look covered in blood and precum with Steve fucking your tits and Eddie fucking your throat.

God, it's a sinful sight, and you just hope they'll let you watch the video when this is all over.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Eddie when he opens your mouth again to shove his cock back into it.

Steve sounds absolutely dreadful. The camera is unstill as he struggles to keep it together, his hips moving too fast. He's sure he's going to blow soon if he doesn't let up, but how is he supposed to when you're pressing your breasts so tightly together around his cock.

You don't see it, but you hear the way their lips briefly smack together over the sound of your gags and your glistening skin.

“F-fuck,” Eddie grunts, pressing his cock down your throat and keeping it there for just a moment before he pulls out. You gasp for breath as he grips the base of his cock, staving off his release with a rough sigh.

He hears the way Steve's sounds have begun to rise, and his chuckle is almost evil as he pulls your hands away to let them fall away from him. Steve huffs, grabbing your tits himself, but ultimately being pushed off of you by his “friend”.

Steve, pent up and frustrated as he feels his release declining into something bitter, hits the bed with a heavy palm and lets himself fall forward onto your chest. He sits there for a moment, balling his fist and trying not to punch something.

“Fuck, I was so close.” He shouts at Eddie, shoving him away. “Why’d you do that? She's mine, too!”

Eddie moves over to him, crowding his space with that same malicious grin on his face. “I said you could fuck her tits, but you can't go inside or cum on her.”

“Stupid rules. I'm not gonna cum in her,” he argued, shoving him again.

Eddie feeds off of it, and Steve can tell. “My girl, my rules.” A third shoves satiates Steve enough to stand down, shaking his head and muttering about fairness.

Eddie wraps his hand around the back of his neck and brings him in close. “You can cum on her next time,” he promises.

Steve thinks about it, looking Eddie's face up and down in thoughtful silence. When his eyes find yours, he smiles a little and nods. “Fine.”

Eddie pats his cheek before turning back to you. “Sorry, baby. Where were we?”

On one hand, you should be annoyed that Eddie is trying to pass you around like a whore. On the other, it feels nice to be desired like this. They're fighting over you, and you're flattered. A shiver runs down your spine at the aspect of letting Steve use your body, and then paint it in his gratitude. You're excited for next time…

You move to stand, walking toward him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You bring him down to kiss you again, moaning into his mouth and making sure he can taste himself on your lips just as much as you can taste yourself on his.

When Eddie gets excited, he shows you by shoving you back by your chest. You stare at him as he walks forward, turning you around harshly with your back pinned to his front. He whispers in your ear, “I'm gonna fuck you better than Jake ever could.”

A wave rushes down your spine, and you shudder. “Please,” you whisper. “I need you, Eddie.”

His sigh is shaky. His hands tighten around your arms, pulling you impossibly closer. “Want me to use this little pussy? Fuck it so hard, it's puffy and sore?”

You curse under your breath, nodding as you struggle to keep it together. “Yes, Eddie. Please. I need you.”

He pushes you down onto the bed, bending you over by the waist and feeling the round of your ass with greedy hands.

Steve snatches up the camera from the bed once more, holding it still and making sure to capture Eddie's hand slapping down against your ass. You yelp, your body jerking at the sensations.

Eddie doesn't bother soothing over the spot this time. He just hits you again and again and again. He hits you with uncaring hands until your bottom is sore and flushed with color. “Fuck, I love this pretty little ass.” He grabs it harshly, hitting you again.

The tears at your eyes can only be described as pathetic. You grip the sheets, your face messy with your tears.

Eddie wraps his arm around your neck and pulls you up harshly. “You still need me? Hm?” His voice is heavy, and he sounds almost upset. “You still want me fuck this little cunt of yours?”

He brings his other hand to your stomach and rakes his dull fingers across. You clench your jaw and close your eyes at the pain that spreads across your body. You flex your stomach when his nails reach the other side of your chest, your breaths picking up once he finishes.

“You still want me?” He asks darkly. “Do you still love me?”

After a moment, the stinging mixes into something strange and you nearly feel yourself going limp in his arms. He holds you up, his face still tucked in your neck.

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly. “I love you, Eddie. There's nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you.”

Eddie's heavy breaths fill the silence between you. “Yeah?”

You nod, your voice quieter but no less genuine. “Yes. Please fuck me. Cum in me and make me yours.”

Eddie curses as he pushes you back down onto the bed. He spreads your legs wide making sure your pussy is ready for him as he thrust a finger into the wet heat.

Eddie's cock sits deep inside of you. He holds you tightly by your waist as he thrusts so far that you think you can feel him in your fucking throat.

You grip the sheets, moaning and sighing as you try to adjust to him. Eddie's hands press against your back and push you more into the bed as he pulls out slowly. When he thrusts back in, it makes a loud smacking sound that makes you wet and dripping.

Soon, Eddie's thrusts are cruel. He fucks you in fast, rough strokes of his cock. You moan in whiny breaths, your voice high and heavy. The tears are returning, and you can't keep them at bay.

“That’s it,” Steve rasps. “Fuck her hard, Eddie. Make her cry for the camera.”

The feeling of Eddie's cock pushing against a deep spot within you has your eyes rolling. You melt into the bed and moan every time his hips snap into you. He fucks you ruthlessly and without remorse. You cry out and reach for something to hold.

You ramble nonsensically, telling him how good he feels, how good you feel. You tell him not to stop, and you tell him that you love him.

Steve tugs on his cock, desperately fisting himself in search of the same pleasure he'd had in his hands before Eddie took it away from him. He continues to encourage Eddie, who continues to fuck you. You let yourself succumb to the pleasure of Eddie's thrusts and the occasional smack that spread like wildfire through your skin. You let yourself succumb to Steve's words, filling your mind with dirty phrases and nothing more.

Your limbs are like jelly, and you decide that it feels better not to think as you let yourself be fucked.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Doin’ so good f’me.” “God, that's it. Take it like a little whore.” “Take it, take it, take it.” “You like being fucked like a slut for Eddie, hm?”

Their words mix together into a messy blurb in your head. You let it garble up, because at the end of the day, it feels good and it's white noise that makes you squelch around his cock.

You nearly cry when Eddie pulls out of you. It's a sudden thing that takes you by surprise and tears your pleasure away. He has to stop you with his hand over your mouth as he turns you over onto your back.

“Lemme see your pretty face while I fuckin’ ruin you.” He spreads your lower lips, thrusting his fingers inside of you once more and feeling how wet you are as you moan. “No one else is gonna be able to touch you after this. You know that right? No one is going to be able to fuck you as good as us. Isn't that right, Stevie?”

He kisses your temple. “That's right,” he huffs. “This pussy is ours. You understand?”

You nod, keening for their touch. “Yes. Yes, I understand.” You push your chest up to show it off, looking straight down the camera as Steve shoves it in your face. “Ruin me, please.”

It's hard not to concede after that.

Eddie thrusts inside of you once more, and you're so wet that he slips in with ease. Your eyes flutter, and you blindly reach out for Steve before grasping his cock in your hand. Steve lets you jerk him off, tugging and twisting, squeezing his cock in your tiny palm and letting his head fall back when you do.

Eddie holds your waist tight as he fucks you, his cruelty as blissful punch inside of you. The pad of his thumb circles your clit, encouraging your pleasure as you moan and whimper for this man who would do anything for you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, accompanied by moans and rough grunts and ramblings. A light sheen of sweat coats your body as the heat fills you inside and out.

Eddie bends down, tucking his face in your neck as his nose traces the shell of your ear. “Do you feel good, puppet?” You nod, your vision hazy and your mind numb. “You promise?”

Again you nod. “Yeah.”

A rough thrust makes his whole body flex, makes you cry into his ear. “Good,“ he says. “I love you, and I'm gonna make sure this perfect fucking cunt knows it. I'm gonna be so good to you, sweetheart. You know that?”

You nod, wrapping your legs around him as you continue to tug at Steve's cock. One of his hands wraps around yours, tightening and keeping you steady as he huffs.

“Love you,” you mumble, your mind so jumbled that the words are almost incoherent. “‘M yours.”

He moans, his thrusts becoming shorter and harder. You can feel yourself getting closer with every circle of his thumb.

“All mine,” he grunts.

Steve listens to the pattern of your breaths, the lilts of your moans. He smiles and strokes a little faster. “Just like that, Eddie. She's gonna cum.”

“I know she is,” he laughs. “Perfect little slut’s gonna cum on my cock like the whore she is. She's gonna moan, and she's gonna scream my fuckin’ name. Aren't you, baby?”

You nod, going on about something in the haze of pleasure.

When Eddie's deep grunts turn into weaker sounding moans, you know he's close. When your belly flexes and he can feel you clamping around him, Eddie knows you're close. When Steve jerks your hand too quickly back and forth along the head of him, you know he's close.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” Eddie moans, feeling his coming.

You do as you're told, and you do as you want. You go blind with pleasure, and your back arches as your release comes crashing down around you. You gasp and cry out Eddie's name on a broken sob as the pleasure wrecks you in the most beautiful way.

As you flutter around his cock, clenching and gushing, Eddie loses his head. He fist clenches in the sheets, still circling your clit in lazy circles as he fucks his cock deep inside of you. His groans are weak as he lets his mouth hang open, taking in the smell of you as he spills deep inside of your wet heat.

Steve, envious of your closeness, follows after, imagining the shape of your cunt, how'd you squeeze him. His warmth spills out over the sheets and into the palm of your hand, his sounds joining with yours until it's a symphony of heavy breaths and gasping moans and lazy strokes of skin on skin.

The air is thick and charged for a while, all of you refusing to slow down as you continue to drag this out for as long as you can. When you physically can't prolong it anymore, you feel your limbs grow heavy and your body releases all the tension left inside. You let yourself go limp on the sheets, still filled by Eddie as you continue to give Steve slow, lazy strokes.

Eddie brushes hair from your face, pulling back enough to kiss you sweetly. When you can see his face, you smile at the sight of his sweetness returning. It's the Eddie you're used to, the Eddie you first loved. You're getting to love all of these versions of himself.

Eddie kisses all over your face, seemingly unphased by the taste of nearly dried blood. “I love you,” he whispers into your skin with every kiss until he's kissed every last inch of you, covering you with his love. “How do you feel, baby?”

You smile lazily at him, holding his face in your hands. “Good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, brushing hair from your face. He glances at Steve, gesturing for him to join you. He goes to put the camera away to do just that. “You still love me?” he wonders.

You smile, nodding again. “Yes, Eddie,” you whisper. “I'll always love you.”

He grins wide, his dark eyes shining with adoration. “That's good.”

When Steve joins, he bumps your nose with his. “We're gonna take care of you,” he whispers. “But first, we have to make sure we don't get caught.”

Eddie sighs, unraveling himself from you as he stands up straighter. He pulls you to sit up on the bed.

You take each of their hands. “What do we do?”

Eddie cups your cheek. “First, you need to get dressed again.”

“Do I clean up?” you wonder, feeling the uncomfortable sensation of the drying blood on your face.

“Yeah, but not too much,” Steve says. Your heart thuds in your chest. “We needa get more blood on you.”

“Can you do that for us?” Eddie asks, his eyes soft. “For me?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“Good girl,” he smiles.

“Me and Eddie will handle everything else.” Steve kisses your forehead before leaving you to by yourself. Eddie lingers only for a moment, staring at your face in quiet adoration before kissing you and following after Steve.

You stand on shaky legs, disappearing into your bathroom and flicking on the light. You're almost surprised by what you see.

Red covers your face, along with tear streaks on your cheeks and saliva on your chin. You're covered in blood and spit and sweat. You look terrible. But it's the clearest you've seen yourself in a very long time.

For once, you don't feel so artificial. Strangely, in this moment, with love from a boy who truly loves you and protection from two people who want nothing but the best for you, you feel like yourself. It feels good not to hide.

You wipe off the blood, you wipe off the sweat, you clean yourself up until you don't look so guilty. When you open your closet, you see the doll lying on the floor. You move to your knees picking it up and looking over it once more. Guilt seeps into your veins as you stare at the stitches of her face.

The door opens after a while, but you don't turn to look. You know who it is.

“You okay?”

Eddie walks farther into the room, coming to kneel beside you with an arm around your body. You stroke the cheek of his gift, sighing gently.

“I'm sorry I treated her so badly.”

Eddie considers the versatility of your apology. The doll is meant to represent you, after all. He pulls you in, kissing your temple. “It's okay,” he promises. “You didn't understand yet, but now you do. Now everything's perfect.”

You look up at him with a soft smile. “Did you make her yourself?”

He nods gently, easing the doll from your hands to look over his handiwork. “Yeah. Not great work but–”

You reclaim her, holding her to your chest. “She's perfect. Thank you.”

He smiles wide, all teeth and glistening sweetness. It only gets worse when you kiss him. God, he's been waiting so long for this moment.

“I love you, Eddie,” you whisper against his lips.

He shudders at your confession. “Promise?”

You nod, echoing his words from just the night before. “On my life.”

He sighs dreamily. “I love you, too.” Then his pauses, and his face falls into something a little more solemn. He takes your hand, squeezing it tight with a sigh.

“Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

He nods gently. “I'm gonna have to hurt you.”

You smile a bit, and it's contagious. “How badly?”

Eddie beams, standing to his feet and holding out his hand. You take it with pleasure, and he helps you dress.

He leads you back downstairs, where Steve is breaking things around the living room. Brynn is still in the same spot as before, entirely undisturbed as she stares at the ceiling.

This time, when you see her, you don't feel upset. You don't get sad or scared. You don't gasp or shrink away. Strangely, you feel proud of what you've done. She can no longer lie to you. She no longer has reason to. You're both free of it, for the rest of your lives, one much shorter than the other.

You look up at Eddie and smile, and he's not sure if he can love you anymore than he already does.

“What do we do?” you ask as Steve joins you. They both walk you through it, the sequence. The story.

Brynn came by to apologize for yesterday. Jake was behaving strangely, but she was too afraid to stand up for you. When Jake shows up, he kills Brynn first because he's a witness. When he reveals himself to you as a killer, you reject him, and it sends him into a blind rage where he tries to kill you.

Steve and Eddie come to pick you up. Eddie catches Jake in the act and tries to stop him. He gets knocked out, but not before getting a couple hits on him first, weakening him enough for you to have to upperhand.

You try to escape, but you only make it to the patio. This is where you kill him in self-defense.

Steve comes in when Eddie's been gone too long. He couldn't hear over the music in the van. He sees what's happened and calls 911, wrapping everything in a nice little bow.

Eddie takes your hand in his, stroking his thumbs over the back of them with gentle touches. “Have it make it look believable, okay? I have to hit you. Is that okay, sweetheart?”

You don’t hesitate when you nod. You trust me. He only wants what’s best. “Yes. Do what you have to do.” He gives you a look, one last chance to decline. When you meet him with no fear, he nods.

The first slap really fucking hurts. Your head whips to the side, and you taste blood in your mouth as your teeth cut into your cheeks. The sensations begin as an invading heat before twisting into pain, and then into something not as bad.

You turn back to him, licking the blood from your lips as a look he’s never seen before crosses his eyes. You stare at him for a moment, and then feel your lips tugging into a grin that matches the mischief he’s reflected in his own tonight. “Do it again,” you whisper.

Eddie actually laughs, giddy with the look in your eyes. He soothes your cheek with a loving hand, kissing you quickly before striking you once more. You stumble this time, bending down and holding your face in your hands to try to soothe the aching. Eddie goes to you quickly, pulling you to him to see if you’re okay. You huff, nodding and looking up at him again. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You wipe at your lip, seeing blood and darting your tongue out to taste it. “It actually feels kind of good…after a second.” He shakes his head and mutters something about you potentially being actually crazy. You just laugh weakly.

He helps you stand, taking your face in his hands. He sighs, shaking his head gently before continuing. “We're gonna have to stab you,” Eddie says. “Not too much, just enough to get the point across.”

You nod, swallowing thickly. “Okay.”

“We also have to get some of your blood all over this room.” Steve gestures in the general area.

“Okay.”

“Still trust me?” Eddie asks.

“Yes.”

Steve hands Eddie a pair of gloves. He slips them on and takes the knife firmly in his grip.

“Is it gonna hurt a lot?”

Eddie positions the end of if at your side, his hands steady as he looks at you. “Not at first. But it will.”

“How bad?”

“A lot.”

You sigh, nodding. “I'm ready.”

“Look me in the eyes,” Eddie instructs. You do as you're told, watching him as you breathe in deep, long breaths to keep from hyperventilating.

He's right. The pain isn't immediate, but it's hot and this guttural sound falls out of you at the feeling. Eddie pulls the knife out, and you feel the hot blood rushing from the wound.

Eddie and Steve are quick to work, trying to keep you calm and keep your focus on them so you don't feel too much of the pain too quickly. They bring you outside where Jake is dressed in the robes, the mask was discarded somewhere in the room. They've already torn up the fabric to match the stab wounds.

You find that the sight of him like this makes you happy. He can't hurt you anymore. And that's all you wanted.

Eddie lays you on the ground next to Jake's body. “I'm gonna stab you again.”

“Do it,” you tell him, your breathing labored. “I trust you.”

He smiles, glimmering with pride. “Can't wait to see the scars.” He stabs you again in the middle of your pained laugh. You hold onto his loved hands, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to steady your breath.

He pulls it out, and the sensation is so strange. He kisses you. Steve busies himself with coating your hands with the pool of Jake's blood.

“We'll be here the whole time,” Eddie promises. He seems to be bracing himself for something, his jaw clenched and his face determined.

“Are you o–”

Steve thrusts the knife into Eddie's side, ripping it out with a grunt. Eddie bends over, holding the spot and straining to be calm. “Fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart.” The knife clatters by you.

While he's down, he kisses your cheek again before being helped up by Steve. “Everything's gonna work out.” They go back inside, and you lay back against the concrete as your unfocused eyes stare at the sky.

You look over at Jake, staring at the stars with you. You think he looks better like this, sweeter. You look back to the stars and smile, letting your eyes close as darkness teases your peripheral.

Once they’re all gone, we will be together…

~

You’re woken up by someone yelling. The bright, white lights of the hospital room glare in your face as you open your eyes. You move to sit up, groaning as you wrap an arm around the bandages wrapped tightly around your waist.

You glance over at Eddie, still sitting by your bed as he had been before. He’s slumped over, holding his side. They’ve given you both morphine for the pain. He was only stabbed once, but he looks a lot worse than you. Steve had to beat the shit out of him. His face is bruised and cut, and he’s got a few more along the skin you can see. (It looks kind of hot.)

“Oh, my God!”

Robin rushes into the room first, going straight to your bedside and helping you sit up. The rest of the group floods in, Steve leading them inside.

“Are you okay?” Nancy asks quickly, looking at the state of you and wincing at the way your bruises have turned out.

Jonathan looks relatively sober, worry taking over every crease in his face. “What the hell happened?”

“I guess you do have plot armor,” Argyle says in awe. “Because, in all honesty, you shoulda died, man.”

Nancy scolds him with a smack to the shoulder. He over-exaggerates the strike, seemingly betrayed by such a thing. Eddie reaches over and grabs your hand, and you smile at him before looking at everyone around you.

It feels good to have so much attention. You notice the flowers in Nancy’s hands, to join the million others in the room, along with all the gift baskets and the balloons and cards. Everyone has been so kind, and the attention is going straight to your head.

“I’m okay, guys,” you say, glancing at Steve. “I promise.”

Robin chuckles lightly, though she still sounds worried. “Who knew he was that crazy?” She scoops up your free hand to hold it, nudging Steve in his side. “You know, it’s said that some sports, like football, can make people more aggressive. I mean, I know Jake didn’t play football, but I’m sure the sport isn’t that important in this case.” She pauses. “I guess that’s why so many of them are bullies.”

“I played basketball,” Steve points out.

She looks at him and shrugs. “And, if I recall, Steven, you were also a bully for a while. Didn’t Jonathan be the shit out of you a while back?”

Jonathan finds humor in this, but it’s all in good fun. They made up a long time ago. Steve just rolls his eyes. You laugh a little, but it hurts. You wince and cover your wounds, where you’ve been stitched up and patched. “Thanks, Robin,” you say in reference to her facts.

“It’s a good thing they got there in time, huh?” Nancy asks, adding her gift to your collection.

Eddie chuckles a little, looking at you. “Good thing I didn’t let you stay home alone all night.”

You grant him a look, trying to mask the humor there into a different kind to avoid suspicion. “Har, har,” you mutter. “Yes. I’m very fortunate.”

Argyle scratches his head. “So are you guys, like, together now?”

“Argyle!” Jonathan exclaims softly.

He shrugs. “I’m just asking, man. Look at ‘em! All holding hands and shit with the goo-goo eyes.” He waves his hand in dismissal.

Eddie squeezes your hand, and you all share a very brief look between the three of you. Your little secret. You look at Jonathan. “It’s okay.” You smile, “I think it’s safe to say that Eddie and I will be together a lot more often from now on.”

Robin sort makes this lovey-dovey kind of sigh, tilting her head with a smile. “You know, I always liked you two together.”

You grin, clasping his hand in both of yours and remembering the night before. Eddie’s fingers inside of you, Steve’s lips at your breasts. The three of you, stained with blood and sweat. What a night!

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “Me, too.”

Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @queermaxwooo @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash @jjmaybankswifes-blog @thegr8estpuff @lover-of-books-and-tea @xxhanililoxx @quickslvxrr Eddie the Banished taglist: @iiiiluvhobie @eddiiiieeee @hb8301 @queermaxwooo @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420 @mewchiili @mischieftom @hiscrimsonangel

[sissylittlefeather]

Kinktober Day 31: Biting

Happy Halloween! 🎃

Bonded Pt 2: Can't Help Falling In Love

A/N: SURPRISE!!! The last Kinktober fic is a sequel to my Halloween vampire fic from last year! AND I'm turning it into a series called Bonded! I hope you all enjoy it!

Quick reminders: you are a vampire at the Moulin Rouge in 1959 when Elvis Presley walks in. Things transpire and afterwards he asks you to turn him into a vampire... Will you?

Need to read the first part? Find it HERE.

Warnings: 18+ MInors DNI, kissing, oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also mentions of blood (duh)

Word Count: ~2.5k

Kinktober Masterlist

"Elvis, I said no."

"Listen, honey, I told you. If you won't do it, I'll find someone who will." He's pacing back and forth across the floor of your small apartment. You brought him back here when you both woke up in the middle of the night still on that small couch. Now it's morning and he's insisting he wants you to make him like you. 

"Good luck. There aren't many of us. I only know of a couple others." He stops and turns to you. 

"I'm Elvis Presley. I can find anyone I want." You purse your lips and shake your head. 

"You sound like a petulant child." 

"Don't do that. Don't act like you're so much older than me."

"Elvis, I was born in 1832." He stops pacing and drops down on the bed next to you. 

"Oh." It comes out breathlessly and he turns towards you, brushing your hair out of your face. "You don't look a day over 25. I want that." 

"Why? Why do you want this so bad?" He sighs deeply and takes your hand in his, kissing your palm. 

"My mother died." 

"Yeah, Elvis if-"

"If I'm a vampire, I can make the important people in my life vampires and then I never have to lose anyone ever again." 

"That's really not how it works."

"Why not?" You're sure there must be a reason but you can't think of it. 

"Elvis, I'm not doing this if that's your reason. I'm not even sure I know how to do it." He drops your hand and looks at you hard. 

"Fine. I want to be immortal. I want to never be forgotten. I want to exist forever. Is that better?"

"Elvis..." He puts his hand on the side of your face and makes you look at him. 

"I trust you. Please. Help me." His blue eyes are so round and pleading that it's impossible for you to say no. If you didn't know any better you'd think he was already a vampire compelling you. 

"I'm not sure I know how." He scoffs. 

"Yes you do. Come on." You shrug. 

"I think you have to drink my blood or something." He laughs. 

"Thats it?! We could do that right now!" You shake your head and stand up out of the bed. 

"No. No Elvis. What if that's not how you do it?" 

"Then I stay human and drink a little of your blood. It's weird, but I'll survive." You look at him on the bed, a puppy, so young and eager. You're not even sure he knows what he's asking for: the long and lonely life of immortality when everyone around you ages and dies. 

"You don't want this." 

"Look. Here's the deal. I'm doing this with or without you. So you can decide if you want to help me or leave me at the mercy of some other vampire. And he may not be as-"

"She." 

"What?" 

"I've never met a male vampire. They're very rare." He raises his eyebrows. Even better. You pinch the bridge of your nose and then look at him. There's a determined look on his face and you know that if you say no, someone out there will say yes. 

"If I do this, you have to listen to me about what you need to do." He nods excitedly. 

"Yes. I'll do anything you say." 

"Okay. God, I don't even really know what I'm doing." You wring your hands and whimper. 

"I think I read in a book once that we have to have sex first."

"Wait, really?" He shakes his head with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

"Nah, but I figured if I might die I should try to fuck you one last time." 

"Elvis! You're not going to die. Just... I think I need to bite you again. And then I'll bite myself and let you drink from me." He nods seriously, all hints of mischief gone. Your stomach flip flops as he leans his head over to give you access to his neck. You crawl into his lap straddling him and he hands go to your hips to hold you in place. It's hard to ignore the fact that he does have a massive erection, but you try to and lean forward, licking the spot on his neck where you bit him last night. He whimpers a little and you feel your fangs descend. If nothing else, you are hungry and he's here and willing. 

He yelps a little as your fangs sink into his neck and he squeezes your hips a little harder. You revel in the sweet taste of his blood on your tongue. He tastes abnormally good and if you were a younger vampire you might completely drain him by accident, but after a bit you know you've had enough. You pull back and he looks at you in a daze. Good, the venom in your fangs is working. You lean down and bite your own arm, jumping a bit at how bad it hurts. 

"Here, drink." You hold your arm up for him and he presses his lips, his perfectly heart-shaped pillow lips, to the place where your blood is flowing. He moans a little, trying to get used to the taste. eventually he backs off of you and waves his hand. 

"I can't do any more. That has to be enough, right?" You're genuinely not sure, so you shrug and nod. "Fuck, I'm... I think... woah..." 

You catch him as he seems to fall backwards on the bed in slow motion and help him lay down. 

"Elvis? Elvis!" You pat his cheek and try to shake him but he's out cold. He's still breathing, though, so you tell yourself that's a good sign. You rearrange him so that he's laying correctly in the bed and lie down next to you, snuggling into his arm. 

"God, I really hope I haven't killed Elvis Presley." You mumble quietly as you let sleep take you as well. 

******

He wakes up first, so when you finally stir and open your eyes, he's staring at you. 

"Hi baby. I'm glad you're awake. Are you hungry? Do you eat food or do you want... me?" 

"Woah, Elvis, slow down. Aren't you hungry? Oh God, you didn't feed already did you?" You look around the apartment, afraid you'll see a dead girl in there somewhere, but there's nothing. He kisses your cheek and then mumbles into your neck sheepishly. 

"I'm hungry, but I still want regular food. And you. I want you." You raise one eyebrow. He should be consumed with bloodlust right now. The only thing you remember about being turned is waking up so hungry for blood that you felt like you might die. But the way his hands are all over your body right now and you feel him rubbing himself on your thigh, it seems the only thing he's consumed with is actual lust. 

"Elvis, you don't want blood?" He shakes his head, climbing on top of you and kissing down into the valley between your breasts. 

"No. But God, I need to fuck you. Please." He keeps kissing down your abdomen to the place just below your bellybutton and above your panty line. You whimper as he starts to press soft kitten licks there and slips his thumbs under the lace. "I need it. I need you so bad." 

"O-okay..." You moan softly as he pulls your panties down, his fingers immediately going to your center as he kisses up your legs. 

"So pretty... I love you..." He mumbles just before his mouth settles on your clit. 

"What? OH...." You know you need to question him about what he just said, but it feels so good you can't. "Fuck, Elvis."

You moan loudly and grab the front of his hair as he fucks you with his tongue, licking and sucking you with a fervor you've never experienced. He looks up at you with those blue eyes, face buried in your pussy, and it's a look of pure adoration. Something has gone terribly wrong. But you can't work it out right now while his tongue slides over and around your clit. 

The pleasure builds to a fever pitch in your hips and then snaps, washing over you like a tidal wave as you shudder and pulse in his mouth. He sits up on his knees eagerly as soon as you're finished and pushes his underwear down, one hand on his hard cock. 

"Was that good? Baby can I please?" You look up at him and try to figure out what's happened, but the way he begs you to let him have you makes it impossible to say no. You nod your head and he smiles, putting your ankles on his shoulders and pushing into you. Your eyes almost cross at the sensation. He's big in just the right way and, more than that, he knows how to use his size. 

"Feels... so good..." He groans as he slides in and out of you with increasing speed. You whimper as he really starts to pound you. "Not gonna last long."

"That's okay, baby." You try to reassure him, but he looks like he might cry. He bites his bottom lip and grunts. 

"Fuck... hafta.. oh!" He moans and leans over on top of you as his hips stutter into you, cock throbbing as he fills you with his cum. You try to figure out what's going on as he peppers you with kisses, but when you hear what he's whispering as he kisses you, you freeze. “I love you… I love you… I love you…” 

“Elvis, stop.” You grab his face and push him back to look him in the eyes. He's not a vampire, but something dramatic has happened. Now he's in love with you? This can't be right. 

“What? I just… I can't get enough of you. Please don't ever leave me. I'll do anything.” You shake your head. 

“It didn't work. You're not a vampire.”

“No, but that's okay. I need to be human so you can feed from me.” Your eyebrows shoot straight up. Is he volunteering to be your consistent source of food? 

“Okay. Get up. We need to find another vampire and figure out what went wrong.”

“Wrong? Honey, I-I-I love you. That's not wrong?” You look up at him and his puppy dog eyes almost break you. But this is Elvis Presley. There's no way he just fell in love with you in a matter of hours. 

“Come on.” You get out of bed and get dressed and he follows suit, eager to do anything you ask of him. 

******

You stand on the porch of the big, old house nervously, with Elvis wrapped around you from behind. He hasn't let go of you since you left the apartment, always having to have at least one hand on you. It's sweet, but it's getting a little old. 

“Just knock, honey.”

“I'm scared.” 

“Why?” He kisses your cheek. Okay, maybe it is nice to have him so devoted to you. 

“What if I really messed you up? I'm scared of what she's going to say.” 

“I don't feel messed up. I feel happier than I've been in a long time.” He nuzzles your hair and you have to remind yourself: this isn't real. You sigh and then knock on the door loudly. It slowly creaks open and you stand there frozen on the doorstep. 

“Come on, let's go in.” He whispers in your ear. 

“I can't. I have to be invited.” You whisper back. 

“Come in! Please!” You hear a woman yell from the back of the house. He moves to hold your hand as you cross the threshold. 

As you stand in the foyer, a beautiful woman of about 60 enters the room. She's unimaginably gorgeous with her white hair and green eyes and you're both a little in awe of her. 

“I am Mary. Who told you about me?” She stares intensely and you're not sure if you should be afraid or not. 

“My friend Anya.”

“Ah, yes, I know Anya. How long have you been one of us dear?” You do the math in your head quickly. 

“Just shy of a hundred years.” Elvis looks at you, amazed. 

“A young one.” 

“She's young?!” Elvis speaks for the first time and her eyes dart over to him coldly. She seems to get taller as she speaks to him. 

“I am over a thousand years old. She is a child. We won't even begin to discuss what you are.” You feel Elvis bristle and move him behind you. He doesn't object, but instead obeys you happily, reminding you of why you're there. 

“Mary, we need your help.”

“I assumed as much. What have you done?” You have a sneaking suspicion that she knows, but you say it out loud anyway. You explain to her how you tried to turn him, how he passed out and then woke up like this. She erupts in laughter. 

“Oh, you sweet young thing, you.” You're a little annoyed by her tone and her laughter. This doesn't seem like a time to be laughing. She senses your irritation and stops. “You've created a blood bond with him.” 

“A what?!” Your knees go weak and Elvis holds you up. 

“A blood bond. You didn't go far enough to turn him, just far enough to make him your familiar. He is blood bonded to you for life.”

“Oh, God.” You sink onto a bench and he sits next to you. 

“No, honey, that's bullshit. I love you. There's no blood bond or whatever.” He pats you reassuringly, but it has the opposite effect. 

“Tell me, child. How long have you known her?” He looks up at the older woman. 

“W-we met last night.” She raises her eyebrows and doesn't have to say anything else. Elvis looks back at you and shakes his head. “No. No, I feel it. It's real. No…” 

His eyes get glossy and wet like he's about to cry and you feel a lump form in your throat. Before either of you can get too emotional, though, Mary cuts in. 

“Would you like to know how to break it?” 

“Yes.” You answer without hesitation and Elvis looks like you've slapped him in the face. His mouth hangs open a bit and he blinks to get rid of the tears. The thought of going back to being without you is devastating. You take his face in your hands. “I need you to remember who you are. This will not work. You cannot give up your life and your career to follow me around like a puppy. I won't let you.”

You turn back to Mary. 

“How do we break it?” She gives you a wicked smile. 

“It's easy. You kill him.” 

******

To Be Continued

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @your-nanas-house @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

How does Team RWBY react to counter JNPR?

I cannot get all of JACC in one post without it being miles long. I will get to the other three in time.

Dawne: Hey Cutie~ That's a cool weapon you got~

Ruby: *Gasp* Thank you! *she unfurls Crescent Rose* It's A Scythe and a High-Impact Customizable Sniper Rifle!

Dawne: Huh?

Ruby: It's also a gun! My uncle helped me design it's first iteration ...

Dawne: *Zoning Out*

*tap Tap tap*

Dawne: ?

Yang: She's Fifteen.

Dawne:

Yang: *Grabbing his shoulder* Nope! You started this conversation, and you're gonna finish it!

Dawne: *scoffs*

Dawne: So it's Chambered in .50?

Ruby: Yes! Yes She is! But enough about my baby, What's yours like?

Dawne: Oh, you mean- *He brings out a silvery longsword, it's blade splitting along the spine to let the barrel be seen* Horizon Line?

Ruby: Ooooh~ .308?

Dawne: Yes, yes she is~ A Longsword and Designated Marksman Gauss-Rifle!

Ruby: Gauss? Why Gauss instead of traditional firing mechanisms?

Dawne: Well ... I dunno ... I thought the trade off of easier maintenance was worth the initial cost and the necessity of Electric dust to fire it.

Ruby: I can see how that'd be useful! You're ... you were another tournament Runner, Yeah? Like Pyrrha?

Dawne: Yes. Like Pyrrha.

Ruby: Ah, W-well ... with all the funds you got from it, I can see how'd it'd be worth it! Don't need to worry about something failing as often!

Dawne: *Wasn't expecting to have an actual good conversation with anyone* I ... yeah! Plus, I can attach my Scroll to it for data - Thermal detection, bullet counting, aura level remaining ...

~~~~~

Dawne: What's Cookin' Good Lookin'!

Yang: ... Hmm.

Dawne: What? Speechless~

Yang: Well, way too many people are comfortable getting touchy before the first word. Thinking of giving you a chance since you kept your hands to yourself.

Dawne: Oh, giving me a chance would be the worst mistake for you romantic prospects in the future! No one will ever compare~

Yang: And there's the other shoe. I don't like being played with.

Dawne: Aw, Come on! I don't play with people, I make them sing~

Yang: Alright you've got your point across. Leave.

Dawne: Come on! I'm Dawne Angeles, One of the Top Tournament fighters of the Mistral League~ You have no Idea how lucky you are-

Yang: I told you to Back off.

Dawne: *raising his hands defensively* Okay! Okay! ... Fine. No Flirting. How about a drink? Just a drink and I'll be out of your hair

Yang: ...

Yang: *sigh* Fine. One Drink. You fuck up again, and you leave, got it?

Dawne: Sounds like a plan, Fireb-

Yang: ?

Dawne: ... I don't think I caught your name!

~~~~~

Dawne: H-

Weiss: If you're going to flirt with me, turn around and leave, or else I'm freezing you solid! I get enough of that junk from you're brother. and if you believe I'll entertain it for one second, then you're sorely mistaken.

Dawne: ...

Dawne: Snow ang- *Frozen*

~~~~~

Dawne: Well if it isn't my lucky day~

Blake: *Reading*

Dawne: I mean, most people think black cats are bad to come across, but I don't think they've been the ones lucky enough to even lay their eyes upon a beauty such as yourself~

Blake: *Still Reading*

Dawne: ...

Dawne: I can't help but notice that we have similar palettes! Why we almost look like to parts of a pair-

Blake: Like Siblings?

Dawne: ...

Dawne: Great. Thanks for that mental image. Really appreciate it.

Blake: Not a problem~

[spineless-lobster]

MY THOUGHTS ON THE VENGEANCE SAGA HOLY SHIT!!!!!!

(Spoilers under cut)

Okay I took like half an hour to yell about this with my brother so I have a few thoughts in order here we go!

1. Not Sorry for Loving You

First of all this song is absolute bop like calypso they can never make me like you BUT they can make me like your song.

“I’m angry and tired and restless and sad” honestly me too girl welcome to the club (also the flow in this verse is crazzyyy)

Odysseus is a braver man than I if I was him I could never tell her I love you in any capacity lmao

The ending is 😭👌

2. Dangerous

LETS FUCKING GO I’VE BEEN WAITING SO LONG FOR THIS!!!!

“Six hundred deaths under my command” okay that’s just fowl you can’t say that

The acoustic guitar in the beginning is amazing actually

NO BECAUSE WHEN HE SAID “Cause I had one goal in mind” AND WE HEAR THE SILENCE WHERE THE CREW USED TO BE????? THAT SHIT BROKE ME DUDE!!!!!

HERMES WITH THE AEOLUS LYRICS/MOTIF/WHATEVER THE WORD IS I SEE YOU GIRL I AM A BIG FAN!!!!!!

Everyone who was like “aeolus and hermes would be besties” YOU WERE ALL RIGHT!!!!!

GROOVY!!!!!!!!! TIME TO FUCKING GROOVE BABEYYYYY!!!!!! ✨✨✨✨

“Wash it away like the blood your hands have known” that is such a raw line to come from such a funky character hermes girl you did NOT have to read him like that

WELL IT’S A LITTLE BIT ✨DANGEROUS✨ MY FRIEND!~

Windbag ex machina

To quote my brother: “the windbag is such a broken item” 😭

HERMES X WINIONS LETS GOOOOOOOO

SING IT ODY!!!!!! YOU’RE GONNA USE RUTHLESSNESS BABE!!!!!!

“Don’t thank me, friend, I’m not the one that fought for you” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAthena

3. Charybdis

This one is another banger!!!!

The ody monologue as he is talking to charybdis is really cool actually

OHHHHH BRING IT ON!!!!!!!!

“My love” what if I just died violently

Ohhh fuck here we go lads

That “NOOOOO!!!!!!” is so fucking visceral oh my GOD when jay said voice acting he MEANT Voice Acting

4. Get in the Water

The erratic piano!!!!!!! That’s so cool!!!!!

Ohhhhh fuck wet hades is here

The way he says “get in the water” is so cold. It’s like You Don’t Have An Option. Get in the fucking water.

“I’ll take your son and gouge his eyes” okay I know we were cheering on ody when he was doing it to your son mr poseidon but have you considered that telemachus has never done anything wrong in his life ever?

Poseidon: I’m going to fucking kill you and your gay little island

Odysseus: have you considered greeting the world with open arms?

Lads how many fucking years has it been I don’t think ody knows how to count

THE EDITING OF STEVEN’S VOICE HERE AAAUUUUGGGGGHHHHH ITS SOOOO GOOOOD!!!!!

I KNEW IT!!!!! I FUCKING CALLED IT!!!!! I KNEW POLITES WOULD COME BACK I KNEW EURYLOCHUS WOULD COME BACK I KNEW WE’D HEAR THE CREW!!!! (Tbh I should’ve expected anticlea but ssshhhh) AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH I FUCKING LOST MY MIND HERE!!!!!!

I see you draw your final breath~

Okay but literally in this moment I think this is where we see everyone forgive odysseus. Whether they lost their lives to mistakes like with polyphemus or a conscious decision like with zeus. Here we see everyone odysseus has loved who has passed away stand by him, telling him that they’re waiting and ready to greet him with (pardon me) open arms in the underworld.

ALSO I JUST NOTICED THAT POLITES SAYS “we can tell you’re getting nervous” not “I” and THAT’S how I know ody died (or at least was on the edge of death) for a few seconds in that moment and interacted with the shades of everyone

5. Six Hundred Strike

Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my FUCKING god

I said this song would break me and I was fucking right

ODYSSEUS HAS THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP ON HIS SIDE MOTHERFUCKERSSSSSS

THE INSTRUMENTAL GOES CRAZY!!!!! THE METAL FUCKS SO HARD!!!! THE ELECTRIC GUITAR!!!!!!

Bro the hades soundtrack called they said they want their fucking music back

The deliver of “MY WIFE!!!” DUDDDEEEEEEEE

Literally if you don’t get yourself someone like odysseus don’t even try to get anyone else never settle for less okay the gods created men and then sent odysseus as an apology

STORM MOTIF!!!!!

FULL SPEED AHEAD TUNE!!!!!!!

Poseidon: fuck you

Odysseus: whatever, go my six hundred strike

“You’re going to call off that storm.” The amount of BALLS this man has HOW DOES HE WALK AROUND WITH THOSE

Odysseus said “if I can’t kill you I guess I’ll torture you forever” literally that’s my favourite war criminal

ODY’S MONOLOGUE AS HE’S STABBING POSEIDON HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS IS THE RAWEST SHIT EVER!!!!!

Literally the animation for this was so good it felt illegal to watch like is this allowed???? Can I stomach this??? This is the most fucked up thing I’ve ever seen????? In a good way????

“I’m still the same” in keep your friend close vs. “Look what you turned me into” in six hundred strike <3333

“Look what we’ve become.” It’s reminding me of how ody and scylla harmonized “we are the same you and I” godddd he truly has become the monster rawr rawr rawr

The way poseidon says “NOO” and “STOP!!!” is so crazy actually

POSEIDON SINGING MONSTER WHAT IF I JUST FUCKING DIED ON THE FLOOR!!!!!

“After everything you’ve done. How will you sleep at night?”

“Next to my wife.”

LITERALLY I SCREAMED INTO MY FUCKING PILLOW WHEN HE SAID THAT!!!!!! THAT IS THE COLDEST MOST RUTHLESS FUCKING LINE EVER HOLY FUCK ODY I THINK YOU ACTUALLY JUST FUCKING KILLED HIM!!!!!! THERE IS NO COMING BACK FROM A LINE LIKE THAT!!!!! LITERALLY THE BEST WAY TO END THIS SAGA!!!!!!!

Closing thoughts

JAY WHEN I FUCKING CATCH YOU JAY!!!!!!

When he said vengeance saga he meant Vengeance with a capital V

Bro all I’m saying is that if I was penelope and I heard all of this go down… let’s just say telemachus would no longer be an only child

Also! In the midst of my boisterous reaction I uhhhhh broke my vengeance saga bracelet so I’m gonna have to fix that eventually

Uh… yeah… I’m gonna go like….. lay down for a bit or something…

[firewasabeast]

Okay, here’s a prompt: I know everyone wants to see Tommy’s helicopter crash and Buck go save him (I do too obvs), buuuuut what about Buck gets into a dangerous situation on a call and Tommy has to save him 👀

first, I didn't see the "on a call" so oops, but here you go! trigger warning: mass shooting, blood, reference to child abuse.

He couldn't stop staring at the blood that covered his hands as he waited in the hospital lobby. It had long dried, some of it flaking away when he'd curl hands into fists. Most of it stayed though. A harsh reminder of how their perfect day turned into a horror show in the blink of an eye.

His legs shook with anxiety. He was usually so calm and collected. Even in the worst situations he could hold himself together. He wasn't one to panic.

But he was panicking now.

“Tommy,” Eddie's voice was gentle as he sat down beside him, “you need to go wash that off.”

Tommy tore his red, wet eyes away from his hands to look over at Eddie. “I can't.” His own voice shaky. “I can't leave here. I have to... I need to wait on the doctor.”

“You're not going to miss the doctor. I promise I will get you if she comes out while you're in the bathroom.”

Tommy shook his head, his gaze returning to the blood. “No.”

Eddie sighed. He didn't want to push the issue, but there was a fairly extreme amount of blood still on the man, and there were certain people who didn't need to see it. “Tommy, Maddie and Chim are about to get here, and they...” his voice trailed off as a tear dropped down from Tommy's face and onto his shirt. “I'll, uh, I'm gonna go get some wet towels from a nurse,” he offered instead. “You can clean up here.”

It had been such a good day. They'd woken up early together, still wrapped in each others arms from the night before. Buck had heard about an art show that was happening at the nearby convention center so that's where they headed after breakfast.

They were supposed to go to lunch afterward, head home for a while, then to Bobby's that night for dinner.

Tommy would have been fine with toast or a frozen waffle for breakfast, but Buck had insisted on making him something special.

“I think I've perfected omelettes,” he said excitedly as he hurried out of bed.

“You've been making perfect omelettes for a while now, Babe,” Tommy informed him.

Buck shook his head. “No, these are on another level. I'm sure of it.”

He wasn't wrong.

It was the best damn omelette Tommy's ever had.

Unfortunately, it had all come back up after he arrived at the hospital. Now, he wasn't sure if he could ever look at eggs again.

While Tommy was more of an art buff than Buck ever claimed to be, he had done a lot of research on the artists that would have their work displayed at the show. Buck had led them into the convention center hand in hand, a wide smile on his face.

Tommy may have loved looking at art, but he enjoyed looking at Buck even more.

They took turns talking about each piece. Buck would tell Tommy about the artist, Tommy would tell Buck about the art.

There were certain pieces that would grab Buck's attention more than others. They were usually colorful, abstract paintings. He'd tilt his head, think about it for a second before telling Tommy how it made him feel.

There was one certain painting, a slew of colors and chaos in the background with two figures in the forefront. One was a deep shade of blue, holding on tight to a red figure. Their bodies seemed to almost melt together in the center.

“What are you thinking?” Tommy asked, wrapping an arm around Buck's waist.

“It's me and you. You're blue, I'm red.” Buck made no effort to look away from the painting.

“Oh yeah?” A smile rose on Tommy's face. “How so?”

“Our, uh, our lives can be a little crazy sometimes, but you... you keep me steady.”

Tommy stared at Buck briefly before placing two fingers up underneath his chin. Buck turned to him and Tommy pressed their lips together gently.

“That's the most-”

His words were cut off by a loud bang. Followed by multiple bangs going off one after another.

Gun shots.

It happened so fast. People were screaming, crying, running all around.

The man with the gun was brought down quickly. There were security guards nearby who didn't hesitate to respond.

But all Tommy felt was something wet on his hands, up his arms, splattered on his shirt. All he saw was Buck dropping to the ground beside him with a loud thud.

Eyes wide, it felt like his heart was pounding but his breathing stopped at the same time.

He fell to his knees beside Buck as soon as reality hit.

“Ev- Evan. Evan!” He put his hands to Buck's face, tapping his cheek.

Buck's eyes fluttered open, but he didn't do much else.

Tommy searched over him, tearing his shirt to find the bullet wound.

No. Bullet wounds.

“Evan, I need you to keep your eyes open,” Tommy said, trying and failing to hide the panic in his voice. He pressed down on the wounds, one near his lung, the other over his abdomen.

“Evan, babe, can you keep them open for me?”

Buck's eyes opened again. He reached up to grab at Tommy's shirt, but he was too weak. His arm flopped back down fairly quickly. It looked like he was trying to speak, his lips moving without any words coming out.

“It's okay, Evan, you'll be okay. Someone call 911!” he yelled. He knew other people had been hurt, killed even. He knew there was most likely multiple people on the phone with 911, but it wasn't enough. He needed them there now.

There was so much blood. No matter how much he pressed, with every labored breath Buck let out, more blood poured between Tommy's fingers.

He kept his focus on Buck's eyes. “Stay with me, hon. That's it! Stay with me. I've got you, Evan.”

The paramedics arrived just as Buck's eyes closed, his body going limp.

*****

Tommy didn't remember calling Eddie. Or maybe it was Bobby? He'd look at his phone later to check. Didn't seem to matter right now. But most of the 118 was in the waiting room, scattered all around with their own worried faces and anxious ticks.

He must've asked Bobby to please leave him alone at some point, because he was sitting a few chairs away, and Tommy could feel his eyes on him every couple of minutes.

The feeling of a warm towel being placed over his hands brought him out of his trance. He hadn't even noticed Eddie crouching down in front of him.

“Want me to do it for you?” Eddie asked. He was talking to Tommy like he was a child. In any other circumstance, Tommy might have laughed about it, but there was no laughing happening right now.

Instead Tommy nodded. He wasn't sure he could do it himself. Not without breaking down in front of everyone.

Eddie began working on his right hand, the blood slowly transferring from his hand to the towel. He watched as it changed the towel from white to pink. He worked his way up his arm, just below the elbow. Tommy wasn't even sure how that much blood made it that far up his arms. The thought of it made his heart ache even more than it already was.

Once the right arm was done, Eddie picked up a second towel and started on his left hand.

Tommy tightened his hand when Eddie began to pull at the wedding band around his finger.

“Just need to get underneath it,” Eddie explained. “I'll put it right back.”

Tommy relaxed again and Eddie resumed cleaning him up.

He'd just finished when Maddie walked through the doors. In his peripheral Tommy could see Bobby getting up, could hear Howie's voice, Maddie's sniffles.

Eddie got up with the towels, walking out of view as quickly as he could.

Tommy could feel someone walking up behind him. He knew who it would be.

He couldn't even manage to get up. His legs felt like jelly.

There was a hand on his shoulder, then Maddie came into view.

Their eyes met. Maddie's were dark, filled with tears. Her lip trembled.

He was sure he didn't look much different.

She didn't speak, didn't ask questions. Just bent down and wrapped him up.

He held her as tightly as he could, letting himself sob into her shoulder. He didn't even know he could make the sounds that were coming out of him. Each one a deep, desperate plea for this all to be some horrible nightmare. He hadn't hyperventilated since he was fourteen, after his dad found out he'd been tearing out posters of all the boys from a teen magazine. Tommy had tried to convince him, unsuccessfully, that he was deciding on a new hairstyle and didn't know which one to choose. He felt the sting from his dad's belt on his back for nearly a week.

Maddie cried with him, yet somehow managed to soothe him at the same time. She ran a hand up and down his back, telling him it was okay over and over through her own hiccuped cries.

It took a few minutes, but Tommy managed to calm down. Maddie took a seat beside him, keeping a tight hold on his hand until the moment Buck's surgeon entered the waiting room.

Everyone was up and surrounding him within seconds. Tommy felt like he was about to throw up again, but he kept himself together.

“He's being moved to recovery now,” she said, and Tommy felt like he took his first real breath since Buck fell to the floor nearly six hours ago. She continued talking, going over exactly where the bullets hit and how much damage was done, but Tommy would have to ask about that later because he didn't hear anything else past Buck being in recovery.

Maddie squeezing his shoulder brought him back to the present. “Can we see him?” she asked.

“It'll take a few minutes to get him transferred, and he will probably be out for the night, but I'll have a nurse come get you as soon as he's in his room.”

*****

It took a couple of days for Buck to wake up enough to have a real conversation. Tommy was in the middle of making up the extra bed a nurse had managed to bring in for him when Buck asked where his wedding ring was at.

Tommy dug through the bag he'd been handed after Buck's surgery. He ignored the bloody clothes and went straight for the ring at the bottom.

He held it up as he headed back over to Buck, sitting beside him on the bed.

“Put it on for me?” Buck asked, holding out his hand.

Tommy did, gently gliding it over his finger until it was back right where it belonged. Tommy brought Buck's hand up to his mouth, softly kissing over the ring.

“Perfect,” Buck said, a content smile on his own face.

Tommy sighed. He rested Buck's hand between his own. “You were wrong the other day, you know.”

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “When?”

“At the art show, you remember that one painting?”

“The one I was looking at when-”

“Mhm.”

“I remember.”

“You said I was the blue one, and you were red. That I kept you steady.”

Buck nodded, unsure where Tommy was going with this.

Tommy kept his eyes on their intertwined hands. “It's the other way around,” he admitted.

He was met with silence, but after a moment Buck lifted his hand and pressed two fingers under Tommy's chin, lifting his head so their eyes met. “Come here,” he said, unable to raise himself up.

Tommy leaned forward until their lips met in a chaste kiss. Once they parted, Tommy kept his forehead pressed against Buck's.

“I love you, Mr. Buckley-Kinard,” Buck whispered in the space between them.

Tommy closed his eyes, letting the words soak in before whispering back, “I love you more, Mr. Buckley-Kinard.”

[bro-atz]

sweetheart

in which: you're the atz frat's newest sweetheart, but first, you gotta go through with the initiation.

pair: frat bros!ateez/afab!reader

word count: 4.2k

content: smut, gang bang, nicknames (they call you sweetheart), (some) drinking, mouth to mouth (you'll understand when you read it), unprotected sex (PLS REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL), oral, anal, double/triple penetration, creampies, slight breeding kink, filthy, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: written for the @cultofdionysusnet permevent and for the @atzhouse frat event <3 it seriously was a happy coincidence how this one fic lined up for both events i kid you not

networks: @/atzhouse @cromernet @/cultofdionysusnet @san-network @wonderlandnet

frat bros!ateez: part one | part two

taglist: @k-hotchoisan @eyeryis @sinnarols @sunshineangel-reads @hwallazia @dazzlingstarrs @dutchessskarma @yourlocaljonghoe @st4rhwa @frobin4ever @certifiedmoa @therealcuppicake @yuyubeans @hyukssunflower @chewyhotteoks @alexwritesfics @dinossaurz @skteezcursed @yessa-vie @minkilicious @isiloiale @ywtfvs @nvdhrzn @sanhwajjong @hyunukitty @startlinglyoongi @bsehindu @woomyteez @sanglix @khjoongie98 my tags have been acting kind of weird lately, so if you didn't get the notif, lmk! apply for the permanent taglist here!

Here’s the thing: you were pretty much already labeled as the ATZ frat sweetheart— and, yes, frat sweethearts are still a thing, and you know that for a fact because you definitely were theirs— since you were the sole being keeping the frat from falling apart. Granted, Hongjoong and Seonghwa put in the work when they had to, but they were so close to the brink of collapse since someone (Wooyoung) submitted the wrong receipts and nearly got the frat shut down by the university due to lack of proper funding use… It was a whole thing.

After you stepped in, though, the frat flourished, and the boys owed you a debt of gratitude, and the wanted to show that gratitude by officially swearing you in as their sweetheart.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mingi greeted you with his low, rumbling voice as he sat down next to you on the couch. “How are you?”

“Could be better,” you replied with a small smile. “Seonghwa missed my double stuffed Oreos request on the grocery list again.”

“Oh, I did the groceries this week,” Mingi said with a tinge of guilt. “I had no idea you wrote that.”

“That’s okay, Gi! I’ll just rewrite it on the list and underline the shit out of it next time.”

“Still… I feel bad…” Mingi murmured. He leaned towards you and said, “Let me make it up to you.”

“How do you plan on doing that?”

Without a response, Mingi placed his hand gently on your knee, his fingers teasing you by pushing your skirt up slightly. He brushed his nose against your ear as he tucked your hair behind your ear, a small, rough sigh leaving his lips and ticking your skin. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, your lips slightly parted in anticipation, your eyes fluttering. Mingi flirted with you all the time, and you jokingly would tell him that you would give him a chance if he was being serious, and you felt nothing but serious energy from him at that moment, so yes, you would give him that chance.

“Hey!”

The sound of San’s voice snapped you and Mingi out of your trance, the two of you giving the boy all of your attention.

“Don’t you remember what Hwa said?” San said with a slight frown. “No touching the sweetheart until tonight.”

“Why? What’s tonight?”

“Your initiation, duh,” Wooyoung, who popped up behind San, said matter-of-factly.

You for sure thought Wooyoung was messing with you because you knew that the boys had scheduled a frat party that night, but when the night arrived, you realized he was dead serious. There was no party. Instead, the living room was decorated with an assortment of beers, wines, and hard liquors, and they were all brand new, which freaked you out even more because you had never seen so many unopened, high quality bottles of liquor in the frat house before.

“Joong,” you started, your tone accusatory. “Do not tell me you used frat funds for this…”

“No, sweetheart. We used our personal money for this,” Hongjoong shook his head. “Come. Have a drink.”

You eyed the boy suspiciously, but you joined him in the living room anyway. The second you sat down, he handed you a glass of your favorite red wine— you never told the boys about your favorite wine, so you wondered how on Earth they figured it out in the first place— and willed you to drink it.

The wine warmed you up instantly, and your entire tense body relaxed almost instantly at the familiarity of the hints of black cherry. You sighed softly and relaxed into the couch cushions, only for that relaxation to quickly leave when you realized the eight pairs of eyes boring into your soul.

“W-What…?”

“Choose,” Seonghwa stated softly.

“What…?”

“Choose one of us to start your initiation,” Jongho explained a little further.

“How am I supposed to choose when I don’t even fucking know what this initiation is?!”

“Alright, fine,” San pushed his way past the boys. “I’ll start it for you, then.”

Without a second to waste, San took the wine glass out of your hand and shove it into Hongjoong’s hands before forcefully grabbing your face and bringing it near his. Your entire body jolted with excitement, but in the same breath, you also wanted to slap San and tell him to knock it off, but the way he was holding you made arousal pool in your panties at an alarming rate.

“Welcome to ATZ,” he started, a smirk playing on his lips. “If you really want to be our sweetheart, you’re going to obey our every order, got it?”

You responded with a mere nod, warmth flushing through your extremities. Your body only god hotter when San reached behind him and gestured for someone to hand him a bottle of whatever liquor, and with one hand still on your face, he took a swig from the bottle before immediately connecting his lips to yours. You could taste the sharp burn of vodka hit your tongue and go down your throat, nearly choking you. Yet, the motion itself was erotic enough for you to let the burn somehow turn into pleasure, the giddy feeling inside you getting stronger.

As San’s kisses got more passionate, lingering traces of vodka mixed with your saliva and started dripping down your chins. He moved entirely so he pinned you against the couch cushions, one of his hands choking you lightly while the other grabbed your wrist. You were so sucked into San’s kisses that you didn’t realize that someone had moved to the other side of you and started pulling your skirt down.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” you heard Seonghwa purr into your ear.

Along with your skirt went your panties, leaving your bottom half stark naked. Seonghwa pulled one of your thighs one way while someone else pushed your other thigh the other way. It was when San broke your chain of kisses to start decorating your neck with dark marks did you see Mingi kneeling before you, his tongue dangerously close to your inner thigh. You let out a whimpering sigh when you felt him trail his tongue along your thigh and closer to your cunt, the sigh turning into a slight moan when Seonghwa’s fingers reached for your clit and started drawing circles around it with the pad of his finger.

“I never knew you could make a sound like that, sweetheart,” Hongjoong chuckled as he downed whatever was left of the wine in your glass.

Tilting your head towards him with the tips of his fingers, Hongjoong’s lips met yours softly, leaving you with the sweetest kiss. You cupped his face with one hand while your other reached down to Mingi’s head and grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging backwards while trying to get him to stop licking stripes up and down your pussy. San, meanwhile, lifted your shirt and bra up to reveal your breasts, his lips and Seonghwa’s lips immediately claiming one perky nipple each.

As the four of them ravished you, the other four started feasting away on the alcohol— you can’t expect to leave bottles of alcohol in front of frat bros and expect them not to drink it, now can you?— the beer bottles clattering to the ground and the shot glasses slamming onto the countertop.

All the four men were simply just caressing you, kissing you, but your brain was turning to mush at an alarming rate. You were so out of it that you didn’t even realize that they had gotten all of your clothes off you entirely, leaving all of your skin exposed and ready for the other four to start with you. Yunho had opted to kneel on the ground next to Mingi and caress your legs, his soft fingers trailing across your thigh and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Yeosang stood behind the couch and collected your hair for you to hold it back, allowing him to leave kisses along your temple and trail his tongue along your ear. Wooyoung chose to forcibly get your hand out of Mingi’s hair and move it to his crotch so you could cup his slowly stiffening cock through his pants, and Jongho snuck his way onto the couch so he could grope your waist and leave bite marks along the gentle curve of your hip.

“Mingi,” Seonghwa said as he started pushing the boy’s head away from your pussy. “We need to open her up.”

Nodding, Mingi moved away from you, giving Seonghwa the opportunity to slide down and sit between your legs. The other boys started leaving your side one by one as Seonghwa cupped the underside of your thigh and pushed your legs up, your knees pressing against your breasts. Then, you felt his tongue prod into your asshole, making you nearly jump off the couch had it not been for his insane grip on your thighs and Yeosang still holding your hair back.

“H-Hwa, don’t!” you cried. “It’s dirty!”

“Sweetheart, don’t tell me you forgot what I said already,” San tsked.

"Of course I didn't, Sannie, but—"

“No buts,” Yunho, now shirtless, stood before you. “Just go with the flow, sweetheart.”

Gulping, you nodded, allowing Seonghwa to resume. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt his tongue prodding once more, your cunt and ass tightening in the process.

"No, sweetheart. You need to relax," Seonghwa murmured.

But you could do anything but relax. So, Yunho decided to help you out. He directed your attention to him and kissed you sweetly, his talented lips clearing out your mind. The way his hand traced the outline of your body as it went up to rest on your neck made your body lean towards him, an erotic sigh leaving your soul as he kissed you more and more passionately with every passing second. Yunho kissing you was enough to distract and relax your body, allowing Seonghwa to open you up as he wanted. He stuck two fingers in your asshole and pulled them apart, making you whine loudly into Yunho’s mouth.

As the two worked on you, the rest of the frat took the opportunity to strip themselves down, low grunts and moans rippling through them as they started stroking themselves. Once Seonghwa deemed you stretched out enough, he got up and shed his own clothes while Yunho choked you lightly as he moved you down from the couch so that you were kneeling before the eight of them.

“Alright, sweetheart. Suck,” San ordered as he slapped his thick cock against your cheek.

You looked up at him with half-lidded, lust-filled eyes, a smile playing on your lips as your hand reached for his cock. You only took the tip into your mouth, your hand rubbing the length as you moaned with his cock in your mouth. All you did was suck the tip of his cock, taking it in and out of your mouth with a little pop, making the boy groan in slight frustration. When Jongho stole your hand from San’s cock so you could start jacking him off, and when Yeosang took your other hand to do the same, San grabbed the back of your head and forced you down on his cock, making you gag loudly. He moved your head forcefully, continuing to make you gag as you sucked him off properly, the sound reverberating through the room.

“God, she sounds like such a fucking slut,” Mingi commented as he smirked at the sight of you on your knees sucking the thick boy off.

“Hey, show some respect,” Hongjoong snapped. “She’s our sweetheart.”

“Our slutty sweetheart,” Wooyoung couldn’t help but let out a little laugh as he bent down to give your ass a tight slap.

You couldn’t help but moan, your body jolting towards San when you felt Wooyoung’s hand go from slapping your ass to grabbing it and pulling upwards. San finally let you surface for air, only for Yunho to interject, his hand guiding your face to his massive cock.

“Don’t just focus on San, sweetheart. We all want to stuff our cocks in your face,” Yunho said, his soft voice very misleading considering the words that just left his mouth.

And so, all eight of the frat bros took their turns stuffing their cocks in your mouth. While you were choking on Mingi’s insane length, Hongjoong moved behind you, pushing you forward so that you were on your hands and knees. He licked his hand and ran his fingers along the folds of your sopping cunt, his fingers teasing you by slipping inside briefly.

"You're so fucking wet, sweetheart. You want us that bad, do you?"

You couldn't respond properly— you still had a mouthful of Mingi in you. Luckily, Hongjoong's didn't bother waiting for a reply from you. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds slowly before entering you at that same pace, the feeling of his cock filling you up making your entire body tingle. He watched as you curled your toes, making him chuckle slightly.

"You like my cock inside you, sweetheart? Of course you do," he sighed out. "You're so fucking tight... You feel so good, sweetheart."

He moved at a gentle pace, but each motion was enough to make you feel good already— you just needed a little boost. You brought your hand to your clit and started rubbing, only for someone to snatch your hand away.

“Nuh uh, sweetheart. That’s our job,” Wooyoung quickly denied you.

Sliding into the space underneath you, Yeosang was the next of them to press his tongue against your sore bud, the wetness from his tongue and the way he swirled it around your clit getting you to satisfaction much faster than your fingers ever could. You took Mingi out of your mouth to cry out loudly as you came, your walls fluttering around Hongjoong’s cock as your arousal dripped out of your stuffed cunt.

You clenched so hard around Hongjoong’s dick that he ended up coming without warning as well. He rammed his hips into yours and came inside, his cum heating you up as he filled you up.

“Hey, you said we wouldn’t cum inside,” Seonghwa pointed an accusatory finger at the oldest boy.

“N-No, I want you to fill me up,” you caught yourself whimpering. “I want you all to fill me with your cum.”

“Well, you heard her,” Hongjoong said slyly. “And who are we to say no to our sweetheart?”

You telling the boys that you wanted them to cum inside you excited them more than you anticipated. Within seconds, you were seated on Jongho’s lap, his girth spreading your walls so far that you thought you were going to tear while Wooyoung stood before you, his knee pressed into the couch as he rubbed you from the front with his cock.

“Woo— Hnngh! It’s n-not going to fit,” you said while moaning as Jongho thrust from underneath you.

“Oh, trust me, sweetheart. You’re going to fit us both.”

With that, Wooyoung slid his cock into you, a scream of pleasure leaving your lungs as you flung your head back and closed your eyes, just letting yourself feel both of them inside you. You thought there would hardly be any space for either of them to start moving, but Jongho proved you wrong when he held your waist tightly and started moving your body up and down while Wooyoung rolled his waist against yours. You could hear Jongho’s desperate grunts in your ear and Wooyoung’s erratic breathing against your skin as he pressed his face into the nook of your neck.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” Jongho bit out. “You feel so fucking good, I don’t think I can hold back anymore.”

Responses evaded you. Instead, you turned your head to kiss Jongho, your fingers pressing into his scalp as you held the back of his head. You briefly made eye contact with him, the dark lust in his eyes sending a wave of heat through your body, the heat only increasing when he kissed you, his tongue inviting yours to dance. Your other hand went to Wooyoung’s neck, your nails digging into his skin and leaving deep crescents as you kissed Jongho passionately.

Wooyoung thrust into you in a way that made your body lean into Jongho’s firm chest further, the slightly altered angle of your body doing it for the boy underneath you. He grunted against your lips as he came, his ropes of cum shooting deep inside you. The second the other guys realized he came, they grabbed for you, pulling you off his lap. Soon, you were pinning Wooyoung to the couch, his cock still inside you.

“Hyung, come here,” Yeosang said to Seonghwa.

Getting on top of you, Yeosang slid his cock along your ass, the tip teasing your asshole every so often as Seonghwa knelt on the couch behind you.

“Forget about double stuffed, sweetheart,” Seonghwa quipped. “You’re going to get triple stuffed tonight.”

Without giving you time to ponder the implications of those words, Yeosang forced his cock into your tight asshole while Seonghwa slipped his cock into your pussy, the three of them fully inside you.

“Oh my God!” you cried as they pressed further until they were all completely inside you.

“Shit, her asshole is still really fucking tight,” Yeosang swore, the profanities leaving his mouth making your entire body thirst for him.

Your eyes watered up when Yeosang began to move, your hole tight and red as it swallowed him, the sight of which nearly drove Yeosang up the wall. He mercilessly fucked your ass, not wanting that tight feeling to leave as you squeezed his cock just right. You wanted to cry, nay, scream his name, but before long, San was standing in front of you, forcing his cock down your throat again.

“Good, sweetheart,” he praised as you gawked obnoxiously. “Very fucking good.”

Below you, Wooyoung’s pants were getting breathier, high moans and groans leaving his lungs. He bit his lower lip as he tried desperately to hold his orgasm at bay as he did not want the other guys stealing you from him just yet. But, he was finding it a little difficult to move at the pace he wanted with Seonghwa’s cock stuffed in your cunt. Thankfully, when Seonghwa pulled out, it allowed Wooyoung to ram his hips upwards, the slapping of his waist against yours overpowering your moans.

Seonghwa had decided he wanted to move to your asshole, so while you were distracted by Wooyoung’s insane hip thrusts, Seonghwa shoved his cock into your asshole, practically making you feel like Yeosang and Seonghwa were going to tear you a new one. San had to pull his cock out of your mouth before you bit down on it, making him opt to repeatedly shove his cock in your mouth over and over again instead of having you continuously suck it.

Wooyoung couldn’t hold back anymore. The erotic noises of your cunt and ass and you sucking San off did it for him. He groaned loudly and blinked stars out of his eyes as he came, filling you with your third load.

“Woo, pull out,” Seonghwa ordered. “I’m close, too.”

You were surprised to hear Seonghwa say that— he sounded way too calm and collected to be close. But, when all three boys pulled out, you turned to see that Seonghwa’s jaw was slightly dropped, and his eyes were fluttering when he re-entered your cunt. Despite three loads of cum inside you, you were still insanely tight for him, and him being in your ass just moments prior squeezing and nearly snapping his dick off was already plenty tight. Yeosang, who had resumed with your asshole, snapped you back to attention when he slapped your ass, your back arching as a result.

Seonghwa had barely entered you, and he was done. You pressed your chest against Wooyoung’s and pushed your ass upwards, and as a result, Seonghwa came hard. He grabbed your ass cheeks and let out a low, shuddering groan as he came, disappointment evident on his face— he wanted to fuck you more. What a shame. The second Seonghwa pulled out and moved away, Yeosang switched to your cunt and immediately came. He had been holding his load for quite some time, and he wanted to fill your cunt, not your ass, with his seed.

The five of them swam inside you threatening to spill out when you relaxed your pussy just enough, but you clenched and held it in. You wanted to keep them inside you for as long as humanly possible.

San determined that it was his turn after you were left panting for dear life on the couch. He nimbly picked you up and laid you so that you were bent slightly uncomfortably, your head and shoulders pressing into the ground while your ass rested against the edge of the couch. San stood over you, his thick cock twitching in anticipation as he prepared to drill into you. As he adjusted his position, Yunho and Mingi knelt by your side, their cocks slipping into your open palms, and Wooyoung bent over so that his face was above yours but upside down— he had every intention to Spiderman-kiss you.

Before you realized it, San’s cock was inside you and throbbing while staying still, a long moan leaving him. Wooyoung didn’t give you the chance to moan. He kissed you roughly, his lips tugging upwards on your lower lip. You were a little too focused on Wooyoung to the point where Yunho and Mingi had to forcefully move their own cocks in your loose grip— not that they really minded, though, because they were waiting their turn to fuck your cunt.

To say San’s cock was literally drilling into you would be an understatement. He was annihilating your pussy and back with the amount of force he was using to thrust. He had a tight grip on your waist as he rammed his waist into yours repeatedly, your entire body shifting with every rut.

“S-Sannie! I’m c-cumming!” you cried as you broke off your kisses with Wooyoung.

“Fuck, sweetheart, me— Oh, God!”

San didn’t get to finish his sentence— he just finished. He pressed a good majority of his body weight onto you as he shoved his cock so far deep inside you that it hit your cervix, making your entire body shudder as you came; and the second San pulled out, Yunho and Mingi were on you like vultures. Mingi grabbed you and hoisted you in the air quickly, your legs dangling as he kept his arms secure behind the backs of your knees.

“Oh my God, Mingi, do not fucking drop me,” you yelped as you clung to him.

“Relax, sweetheart. I have no intention of letting you go,” his deep chuckle reverberated in your ear.

Without using his hands to help him, Mingi was able to successfully sink you down on his cock, making you cry loudly as you felt his length slide inside you quickly. Before he could even start moving you, Yunho pressed his chest against your back, his own cock making its way inside your cunt as well, earning yet another cry from you.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted as the two men with the longest lengths fucked you midair, the two of them moving you so that you were bouncing on their insane cocks.

You could barely keep your head on straight with them fucking you like that, but with the addition of their low grunts and groans in your ear, you were losing your mind completely. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you leaned backwards into Yunho, your grip on Mingi loosening like your grip on reality.

“Look at you all fucked out by our cocks, sweetheart,” Yunho teased.

“You really like double stuffed that much, huh?” Mingi added to the teasing.

You wanted oh so badly to tell them to shut up, but you could only scream their names as you felt your climax rapidly approach. You brought your head back to face Mingi’s, your lips immediately searching for his as you did your best to hold off on cumming. But, when Mingi pulled you towards him to meet your desperate kisses, he rubbed against your G-spot, making you cum instantly. Your cunt clenched so tightly that both boys subsequently came, their loud groans echoing in the living room as their cum spurt deep inside you, leaving you with the cum of the eight of them threatening to spill out of you had it not been for the two massive cocks blocking its path.

Mingi let you down onto the ground, the cum flowing out of you, leaving you sitting in a pool of their cum as you fought to regain your breath and sanity. Blinking stars and tears out of your eyes, you looked up to see all eight of them hovering above you while stroking their cocks.

“So, sweetheart,” Hongjoong spoke. “Welcome to ATZ.”

You couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed— was that really it?

“Do you want more, sweetheart?” Seonghwa chuckled looking at your expression.

Biting your lower lip, you looked up at him and nodded, all eight boys’ breath hitching.

“Believe me, sweetheart. We’re not done fucking you yet.”

[thestarkinternship]

10 Minutes

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader: One Shot (Smut)

Summary: Bucky is a little desperate for some alone time during one of Stark's parties, and ten minutes is all he needs.

Word Count: 2.2k (no mention of Y/N)

Warnings: Profanity, drinking, unprotected sex, praise, oral (male receiving), slight exhibitionism (bathroom at a party), MINORS DNI!

A/N: I kinda took a break from writing because I had a lot of unfinished fics, but I'm slowly starting to get back into it. And thank you for 300 followers on here! I can't believe there's that many people of you who actually like my writing :)

Masterlist

-

“That’s gotta be what, your sixth drink?” You giggled, watching as Bucky polished off another glass, “don’t you wanna slow it down a little?”

With a smirk, he set the empty crystal on the countertop. “Worried I’ll have too much and do something to embarrass you, sweetheart?”

“You could never embarrass me, James,” you rolled your eyes, “and you also can’t get drunk.”

“S’not gonna stop me from trying,” he grinned, “now come here..”

Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you into his side before you could give an answer. Not that you minded – you didn’t need an excuse to be as close to him as possible. You nestled your head in the crook of his neck, breathing in the heavy aftershave that he wore. It was your favourite scent. The musk from it mixed with the spice of the whiskey on his breath as it fanned across your cheeks. It was intoxication in the best way possible, superseding the several glasses of liquor that you’d consumed yourself.

“There is something else, if you think you can handle it.”

In your own little bubble, it was easy to forget that the two of you weren’t alone. Breaking your gaze away from Bucky, you saw one of your teammates making his way over to you with a delicately engraved bottle in his large hand.

“Hi Thor,” you smiled politely, “what is that?”

He held the bottle up proudly. “Asgardian liquor, the finest brewed there. It puts everything here on Midgard to shame.”

“I bet.” You chuckled.

“I’ll take that as a challenge.” Bucky grinned, stepping away from you momentarily to join Thor and some of the others in a round.

You folded your arms across your chest as you shook your head. The super soldier serum might stop his body from reacting to alcohol in the typical way, but it did have a particular effect on Bucky. You couldn’t help but notice how he always seemed to get that little bit more handsy with you. Maybe it was a placebo effect, or maybe that was just an excuse to keep you close to his wandering hands.

Either way, barely twenty minutes had passed before your observation was proven true.

Your shoulder leaned against the back wall as you watched Steve and Tony play pool when Bucky joined you.

“Where’ve you been?” he murmured, “I was looking for you.”

His metal hand drifted up your side, tracing the hem of your shirt and slipping underneath to graze your hip. The metal raised goosebumps on your warm skin, and you shivered further back into his arms.

“Bucky, stop… what if someone sees?” You whispered.

Bucky didn’t ease up, rubbing soft circles on your hip as he drew you in closer. “It’s okay, nobody’s looking at us.”

You glanced around. The loud music masked your hushed whispers, and the addition of Thor’s Asgardian liquor had worked wonders on the team of superheroes. With all of their defences down, no one had noticed the way the pair of you had sidled off to the side.

“We shouldn’t risk it.” You whispered, reaching for his hand and stopping it in its tracks.

“Let’s get out of here, just for a little bit,” he leaned in, pressing his lips to your jaw. The gentle ghost of his breathy murmurs in your ear sent your heart racing, “ten minutes, that’s all I need.”

“Are you really suggesting that we hook up in the middle of the party?” Your head tilted in a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

“Why not?” Bucky pouted. His lips looked so damn kissable when he did that. The thought of giving in, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth in a frantic need to satisfy the urge that you were starting to feel right now was starting to not seem like such a bad idea.

“Because…” Your voice trailed off in search of a compelling reason. Even the slightly hint of doubt would signal a dead giveaway to Bucky that you were more than willing to give in. And the worst part of it was the stupid grin on his face that told you he knew this too.

“Because?” He taunted, his smirk growing wider.

“Because…” The agitation in your voice grew as you struggled.

Bucky chuckled darkly, letting his right hand meet his other at your waist. He turned you slightly, until your back was against his chest. Grip tightening, he pulled your hips back into his. Pressed flush against him, you became all too aware of the way his tight, muscular body felt against yours. And that wasn’t the only thing.

“Bucky, are you-“

“Painfully.” He whispered, leaving another soft kiss just below your ear. Your head fell back to rest against his shoulder. Lips parting, a quiet whimper escaped from them. Bucky  tucked a curl behind your ear to lean in better, “What was that that I just heard, hm? You can resist all you like, doll. But your body’s betraying you.”

He was right of course, but you bit your bottom lip anyway in an attempt to prevent yourself from letting another sound slip. The more you tried to hide your growing desires, the more Bucky persisted. His hand slid down your hip to the hem of your skirt. He played with the material, gently grazing his fingers across the back of your thigh that was now exposed to him. Instinctively, your legs clenched as he dared to venture higher.

Bucky chuckled under his breath. “Bite your lip all you want. But what are you gonna do when you start to soak through your underwear and all over that pretty outfit of yours?”

Your face burned red as your gaze immediately fell downwards. Searching the front of your dress as discreetly as you could, your shoulders relaxed when you found that you hadn’t. But your reaction alone was enough to let Bucky know that you considered it a real possibility.

“Did I have you worried there for a second?” he mocked, “You know I’m right. Come on… ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Yes ma’am.” He smirked, gripping your hand and pulling you out of the room.

It was a wonder that you made it to the bathroom at all. His hands were everywhere. Running through your hair, on your waist, cupping your cheek. But yours were the same, only pulling away just long enough to fumble with the bathroom door. It pushed open, and you both crashed through.

With a hand on his chest, you pushed him back to lean on the door. His eyes widened in at your sudden control, but who was he to stop you? Ripping the hand towel down off the rail by the sink, he dropped it to the floor to cushion you as you sank to your knees in front of him. You toyed with the zipper of his jeans, slowly pulling them and his boxers down in one as you pressed soft kisses to each inch of his bare skin that you exposed.

Bucky let out a tormented groan from the back of his throat as your tongue teased up to the head of his cock. He looked down at you and nearly buckled at the sight. Your hand gripping his thigh, hair messy and lipstick smudged. He watched your wet lips twist into a soft smirk that was so close to wrapping around him.

“When you said painfully, I had no idea this is what I’d done to you.” You cooed, innocently sliding your palm up and down his length.

Bucky hissed at the sensation and reached out to tilt your face up to look at him. His fingers were firm on your cheeks. “We’re down to nine minutes. You gonna keep talking with that sweet mouth, doll, or do you want to put it to good use?”

He didn’t have to ask twice. His tip grazed the back of your throat in one smooth motion. But you didn’t let it rest. You moved your head back and forth, letting your tongue trace over every vein. Bucky’s hand slid up from your jaw to cup your cheek, pulling you further around him as he met your movements with shallow thrusts. His view of you faded as his eyes squeezed shut, revelling in the overwhelming pleasure you were bringing him. The two of you might’ve set a time limit on this brief rendezvous but fuck he could let you go on like this forever.

Head falling back against the door with a soft thud, he growled. The animalistic sound ripped through his gritted teeth as he tugged your head back and off him. Pre cum lingered on your lips as you licked them clean.

Reaching for your hands he helped you to your feet and wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours. He walked you backwards until your bumped into the sink. Reaching for your thighs, he lifted you up to rest on the countertop. Your skirt slipped and bunched up around your waist as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He leaned in, nudging himself between your legs. Gentle whines slipped out from your trembling lips as he brushed over your wetness.

“Bucky…” You begged softly.

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured, sliding your underwear over to one side, “seven minutes.”

Bucky pushed his hips forward to meet yours, burying himself completely in you. His head dropped to the crook of your shoulder and his lips met your neck. Your arms curled around his broad back, scrunching up the material of his shirt as you clung desperately to him. Soft grunts from him reverberated up into your ear as he pulled out of you only to get sucked right back in by your tight cunt. With one hand on your hip and the other on the edge of the sink, he kept you in position to take it all. Every stroke inside of you had you clenching down around him. His knuckles turned white as his fingertips pressed harder into your skin with each sharp thrust.

“Such a good girl, letting me fuck you with all our friends in the next room,” he muttered between delicate nips at the skin just below your ear, “and you had the nerve to act like you didn’t want this just as much as I did.”

Your hands moved up through his hair and down to the sides of his face as you leaned in, lips met his in a needy fashion. The kiss that followed was all-consuming, swallowing any quiet moans that might give the pair of you away. But shallow breaths slipped out here and there as Bucky rolled his tongue over yours in passionate frenzy.

He pulled on your hip until your body slipped closer to the edge of the sink, and you let out a small gasp. As Bucky’s lips parted from yours, he smirked at the fucked-out haze that glazed over your eyes as his cock rutted up deeper inside of you. As he quickened the twitch of his hips, your thighs tightened around his waist.

“Keep that up, and I won’t be able to pull out, doll.” He grunted softly.

Your brows furrowed as your head leaned back in a wave of pleasure. You weren’t listening to a damn word he was saying right now. Bucky’s hand left your hip briefly to tilt your head back to him.

“Is that what you want? Want me to fill you up and fuck it back into you hard enough that it doesn’t leak out for everyone to see?”

Too out of it to verbally respond, your thighs gave him a light squeeze and answered for you. Bucky’s hand let go of your face and reaffirmed its position on your hip as he then set a ruthless pace. Your head slipped forwards to rest on his shoulder. Burying your face in the crook of his collarbone, your moans vibrated against his throat, driving him crazy. You let your body go limp in his hands as he worked to bring you both a release that the pair of you desperately craved.

Two more thrusts was all it took to bring you both over that delicious edge. His metal hand nearly snapped a porcelain chunk out of the counter with how hard he was gripping it when he came. But you were only the same, with your thighs shaking and breathing heavy. You fluttered around him with every beat of your heart, squeezing every drop of come out of his cock that he had to give you. He lazily rocked his hips a couple more times, coating every inch inside of you.

Bucky’s hands released your body from his tight grip as he gently brushed strand of messy hair out of your face, but he kept himself seated.

“You can’t tell me that wasn’t worth it.” He breathed.

Your pink cheeks pinched into a soft smile. “Maybe it was.”

“Maybe, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, not hesitating to lean into your neck.

“What are you doing?” You giggled as you felt his gentle kisses.

“What? I’ve still got one minute left.” He grinned playfully, trailing kisses up your cheek now as well.

“Bucky.” You whined, feeling his cock teasingly plunge deeper inside of you. Your sensitive body could barely handle any more.

“Fine,” he smirked, and slowly eased himself out of you, “but when this party’s over, I’m done holding back.”

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Too Many Beds

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist 

summary: you want nothing more than an excuse to sleep next to dean again

pairing: (pre-s1/s1) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 2.1k 

warnings: none really, language, bed sharing, kissing, mutual pining, idiots in love, brief mention of the death of reader’s dad

timeline: starts slightly before season one, ends near the beginning of season one

author’s note: a spin on the classic 'just one bed, what ever shall we do?' trope lol

You’d known Dean all your life, practically. You met him when you were six and he was eight; two lonely little kids stuck with absent (job-driven) fathers and baby brothers you felt responsible for. Over the course of the last eighteen-or-so years you ran into the Winchesters during hunts enough that you considered them family. 

When Sam left for college you were there for Dean and when you lost your dad in a hunting accident Dean was there for you. He actually stayed with you, not wanting you to hunt alone since your brother was off at college too.

So, for the last six months you’d been hunting with Dean (who hadn’t spoken to Sam for over a year).

“One room, two queens,” Dean said to the woman behind the counter, placing “his” credit card on the space between them before sliding it toward her.

“We’re all booked up I’m afraid,” she said.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I was actually about to turn on the no vacancy sign.”

“This is the third motel we’ve been to,” you said, “every one of them has been full—you’ve gotta have something!”

“I mean, there’s technically one room left but the heater’s out and my boss said not to let anyone sleep there because of that.”

There was a silent pause; you and Dean shared a knowing look.

“We’ll pay in cash, your boss ‘ll never know,” you told the woman. She smiled and nodded as you paid her with cash. 

“Room 209, my boss gets here at ten tomorrow morning so please leave before then.” She handed you the key and you nodded in thanks.

You had underestimated just how cold the room could be, but when you unlocked and opened the door you understood why the owner didn’t want anyone staying here.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled, following you into the room and feeling the cold air. “We’re gonna freeze our asses off in here!” he quickly closed the door behind him, hoping the icy air hadn’t swept any snow into the room.

“It’s either this or we sleep in the Impala,” you shrugged, “and, no offense to your car, but it’s fuckin’ uncomfortable to sleep in.”

“And there’s only one bed,” Dean sighed.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you told him, ignoring his complaints. 

**

“Are you shivering or crying?” Dean asked.

You rolled over so you could meet his stare; “Shivering! It’s fuckin’ cold in here!”

“You wanna…cuddle up, maybe?” he asked hesitantly.

“Excuse me?” you laughed a little.

“Look, I’m not thrilled about it either, but it’s cold in here and unless we both wanna catch fucking pneumonia we better be smart and share body heat.”

You sighed, weighing your options; “Fine. But we never, and I mean never speak of this again, you hear me?”

“Understood.” He nodded.

You rolled back over as he scooted closer to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.

“This okay?” he asked quietly, his lips ghosting the back of your head.

“Yeah,” you mumbled back. “Thank you, Dean.”

**

You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring loudly. You were used to his snores, sure, but he’d never been this close. He was laying on his stomach and resting on your chest; his mouth open and his hair tickling your neck. Your first reaction was annoyance but then it quickly washed away as you realized you didn’t want to move a muscle, so Dean could continue sleeping. 

And the more you laid there, listening to his snores, the more you realized how comfortable you were…even in such a physically uncomfortable situation. 

As the time passed and the sun began to rise, you cursed the light that was slowly but surely peeking through the curtain and onto Dean’s face. 

“Morning,” he mumbled to you as he lifted his head up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand before wiping his mouth. “Sorry,” he chuckled, noticing the small spot on your gray sweater dampened with his drool.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled back. “I think it’s your sweater anyway.”

“I thought it looked familiar.”

He rolled off of you and out of bed. 

You watched as he padded across the dirty carpet and over to the small kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and the loud, off putting grinding noise made his face scrunch before he quickly shut off the (definitely broken) machine.

“So much for coffee,” he grumbled. “You gonna sit there all morning or you wanna get outta here? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“I’m getting up,” you replied. You would usually be annoyed at him for rushing you to wake up, but this time the annoyance was…different. Something about his bedhead, the way his lips were pouting over the lack of caffeine, and how he looked in his brown Henley and baggy sweats just made you wanna hold him again. All you wanted was to pull him back into bed with you and hold him in your arms forever.

**

You were beyond frustrated at this point. How many stupid fucking hotels had to have vacant rooms with two beds and a functional heating system!? 

It had been nearly six months since you and Dean shared a bed and you had been looking for an excuse to sleep next to him ever since. 

But the last couple weeks had been different—Sammy was back. Yes, you loved Sam like a brother, but you missed getting to be alone with Dean. You missed sitting shotgun in the Impala and watching him drive.

Sam definitely noticed the way you looked at Dean, but the younger Winchester didn’t say a word. Without being too obvious about it, he tried to do little things that would let you be close to his brother. He’d sit in a certain chair or part of the couch so that you and Dean had no choice but to sit together. Or he’d make some lame excuse so that he got his own room while you and Dean had to share. “I need to do some more research and I need the light, why don’t you two just sleep in the other room?” for example. 

**

“Two rooms, please,” Dean said, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet.

“Unfortunately we’ve only got one room left,” the cashier replied. 

You almost couldn’t believe your ears, fucking finally!

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you faked your best frustrated look, of course Sam saw right through that.

“Well, I am not sharing with either or you,” he said with a teasing smile. 

“There’s actually a pullout couch in that room, as luck would have it,” the cashier informed the three of you. 

God fucking damn it, you thought to yourself.

**

It was barely after two when you felt the bed behind you dip, and you shook yourself awake. 

“The hell?” you asked, still half asleep.

“The pullout couch isn’t working,” Dean mumbled quietly. “You mind sharing with me?”

You smiled a little and scooted closer into his arms, indicating you were okay with him sleeping next to you.

“Of course I don’t mind sharing with you,” you whispered and his grip tightened.

**

“I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Sam announced. “I’m assuming you want your usual?”

Dean put his right pointer finger to his lips and furrowed his brows angrily. He gestured to you as you slept and Sam got the message. 

“Usual is good,” Dean whispered before Sam left.

Dean stayed laying perfectly still as you slept on his chest, soft snores escaping your lips and to Dean they were the sweetest sound. 

As you stirred awake slowly, he rubbed your back a little.

“Morning,” you mumbled, a small smile on your lips. “Where’s Sam?”

“He went to grab breakfast,” Dean told you. 

You furrowed your brows as you sat up, looked across the room, and realized something; “The pullout bed looks fine? I thought you said it wasn’t working?” You turned back to Dean, who had a sheepish grin growing on his lips.

“So…maybe I’ve just been looking for an excuse to sleep next to you again. Like we did back in that motel when the heat was out.”

“Really?” You attempted to hide the smile trying to find its way onto your face. 

“When we were checking in last night I noticed how your face lit up when they said there was only one room left,” Dean admitted. “And I saw that disappointed look you made when they said there was a pullout couch. So, am I wrong, or have you been wanting an excuse too?”

“I really liked sleeping next to you that night,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “And you’re right, I have been hoping for another ‘oh no just one bed, guess we’ll have to share’ situation but…”

“But what?” Dean asked when you trailed off. You looked down at him. 

“Dean, you and Sam have been like my brothers for as long as I can remember. I mean, Bobby practically raised all three of us and my actual brother as siblings! Your dad and my dad knew each other basically forever and I guess…I guess I figured our lives are too entangled for anything to ever actually happen between us. We’re family.”

“Chosen family, Y/n.” Dean smiled softly. “Doesn’t mean you have to be my chosen sister, you could be my chosen…you know…” 

You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his full lips. 

“That,” Dean finished his previous statement. 

“Let’s just keep this between us for now, okay?” you suggested. “If Sam finds out, then your dad will find out, and he’ll immediately tell my brother, then before we know it Bobby—”

“I get the picture, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled before kissing you again. He put his hands on your cheeks as he sat up. He pulled you onto his lap, your legs now straddling his hips. His hands moved to your shoulders then trailed down to your lower back as yours went into his hair. You pulled away from him after a moment, huge smiles on both your faces.

You looked into his eyes, his truly beautiful eyes, and you bit your bottom lip ever so slightly. Your right hand rested on his left cheek, your thumb stroking his skin lovingly. 

“You’re awesome, Dean Winchester,” you whispered. 

“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he replied before he kissed you again. “And gorgeous, too,” he added. “You know how fuckin’ annoying it’s been, sleeping without you every night since that one time?”

“I do know, Dean, I’ve been just as annoyed about it.”

Dean kissed you one more time before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, tucking his head into your neck. You wrapped your arms around him too, pressing your lips to his temple.

You pulled out of the hug so you could once again look at his face. Resting your forehead on his, you smiled before you kissed him again. 

“Breakfast,” Sam called out as he opened the door, “is served!”

You and Dean froze for a split second before you hurried off of him.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, “did I interrupt you two?”

“What?” you scoffed. “Of course not!”

“Interrupt? There’s nothing to interrupt?” Dean added.

“Oh…wow you two are fast,” Sam mumbled, shaking his head as he made his way to the kitchen before putting the food down. “Well, pancakes, eggs, and bacon from the continental breakfast.” He gestured to the food now on the table. “Hope you’re hungry.”

As Sam sat down to eat, you looked at Dean anxiously. Say something you begged him with your eyes.

“Sammy,” Dean started as he got out of bed, “would you mind uh…not telling dad? About me and Y/n…kissing just now? When we find him, I mean.”

“Dad’s never really been invested in your love life, but he’s not an idiot,” Sam laughed. 

“So…you are gonna tell him?” Dean furrowed his brows in frustration.

“Dean, he knows you two are together, it’s not some big secret?” Sam replied, shoveling more food into his mouth. “Damn that’s good.”

“Okay, just hold on—what?” Dean asked. “What do you mean dad knows? There’s been nothing to know since like four minutes ago?”

“Wait,” Sam stopped eating and fully turned to face you and his brother, “are you trying to tell me this is the first time you two have kissed?” Sam furrowed his brows deeply as you and Dean both nodded. “So…never in high school?” You shook your heads again. “That prom we crashed?”

“Sam you were there the whole time? When would we have kissed?” you asked.

“Huh,” Sam let out a laugh. “I genuinely thought you two had been a thing since like… ‘98.”

“What!?” you and Dean exclaimed in unison.

[pomefioredove]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do the Dormleaders' reactions to Yuu who, given that they're from another world, is immune to any and all magic spells.

Example: Riddle's 'Off With Your Head' doesn't make a collar on their neck, 'King's Roar' doesn't affect them at all, 'It's A Deal' doesn't take anything from Yuu and acts like any ordinary contract, etc.

However, this means any healing spells has no effect, forcing Yuu to heal on their own.

Thank you for reading this!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ magic immune reader

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

out of all the dorm leaders, Riddle would be the most annoyed

...not that 'Off With Your Head' would've done much, anyway

you have no magic to take away

but... it's the meaning!

it's symbolic!

even a plain old collar would be punishment enough

but he can't even do that!

hopefully, you're not the type to misbehave, so he won't have to worry about it

if you are...

...expect to spend a lot of your week trimming the hedges around Heartslabyul as punishment

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona doesn't even know until his overblot

...well...

until after his overblot

everyone keeps going on about how lucky you are

(personally, he doesn't see what's so great about being magic-repellent, but sure)

he's... glad you're okay

not that he'd ever admit that...

just don't let it get to your head, alright?

being immune to magic means both bad and good spells

and he's not going to be sanding you again anytime soon

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul is PISSSSSED lmao

all that work he's put into his latest business venture

and for what??

you're not even BOUND by his contracts!

he has a hard time saying goodbye to Ramshackle...

what a nice cafe it would have made...

but, still

there's got to be some way he can use this to his advantage

he's an adaptable man

and he's always looking for a new assistant

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kalim is only a little disappointed

first, you can't even cast a spell

now you can't have any cast on you?

you're missing out on all his great party tricks!!!

but... oh, well

he thinks of it as an adventure, or a fun challenge

magicless parties sound kinda cool, right?

and Jamil says it's probably for the better, and Kalim trusts his judgment

(...for now, at least, cough cough)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

not counting the... VDC incident, Vil doesn't care

unlike your annoying friends, he has no reason to curse you

and he can certainly think of many magicless punishments should you ever misbehave

so, no

not really something that crosses his mind

even when you're unwell (because, of course, he's the first to tend to you), he prefers using natural remedies before magical ones

to him, it's just another piece of the strange puzzle that is you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

honestly what is Idia going to do

open the gates of hell on you?

nah

even boring spells would be too much effort for a guy like him

he does find you kinda interesting, though

I mean, being immune to magic in this place is a total buff!

imagine a group of NPCs firing magic at you, and you're like, wham! whew! zoooom!

...in his own words, anyway

(it's not actually that cool)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Malleus...

where do I even start?

he's so reliant using magic that he can almost sense there's something different about you right away

one on hand, it's a good thing

he worries about you, you know? the students at this school can get... unruly

on the other hand, knowing that you won't respond to magical healing is... worrying

he tries not to think about it so much

his overblot is a different story, though

if he can't put you to sleep, what can he do? trap you at NRC with him forever?

actually... I take it back, he'd totally do that

[classyrbf]

ᯓ★ SUDDEN CHOICES! — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...when you thought your marriage couldn’t fall apart more than it already was, you’re facing the reality of it all. Forced to deal with a broken heart and taking care of your child, you’re left with the ultimate decision of choosing to stay or choosing to leave

INFO...toji x fem!reader, reader and toji have a child, angst, marriage problems, mentions of cheating, arguing, crying, threatening to divorce, comfort towards the end, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Toji stared at you from across the room, a defeated look on his face as you held your crying child in your arms. A sour look formed on your face when you looked back at him. You two had been arguing again, he’s lost count of how many times you’ve gone back and forth with each other. The thickness of the room made him feel like he was suffocating, stuck.

“We can continue this conversation tomorrow,” you harshly say, rubbing your baby’s back gently, trying to soothe him back to sleep.

“How about we just drop it?” Toji sighed, turning away from you. You had caught him talking with his coworker alone in his office, which wouldn’t be a problem if they’re faces weren’t two inches away from each other and her hand was placed so comfortably on his chest. You caught them when dropping off his lunch that he’d forgotten at home.

“Drop it?” Your eyes widen in surprise. “You want me to fucking drop it?” You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Yes! I want you to fucking drop it! Is it so hard for you to stop arguing for one fucking day?!” He shouts, voice echoing off the four walls of your home. The babies cries start back up again, and Toji lets out another tired sigh. And he can’t even look at you anymore, not when you stare at him with such emptiness, tears threatening to spill. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell—”

“You never mean to do anything anymore, do you?” You reply through gritted teeth, stomping past him to make your way to the babys room. You slam the door behind you, silence engulfs the room and you stand there alone, consoling your child as hot tears pour down your cheeks. “It’s alright, baby boy, just sleep.” You kiss the top of his head, shushing him.

Rocking back and forth on your feet, you stare into space, the thought of what would have happened if you hadn’t brought him his lunch plaguing your mind. The girl…she was young, beautiful, something that you feel you’d lost along the way. It’s part of the reason you think Toji has been so distant with you. He’s lost attraction to you, maybe even lost love for you. And every time you bring it up, he denies it with the roll of his eyes. He’s doesn’t comfort or reassure you. It’s like he’s bothered by you and your child.

You barely see him anymore, always at work or drinking at the bar with his friends. Hell, you can’t even remember the last time you actually got to spend time with him. Sometimes you wondered why he even asked to marry you, and you wonder why you said yes. It was clear your marriage was falling apart right before your eyes. He says he loves you but you don’t feel it, see it. You feel nothing. Just a bunch of empty words to make you think everything is okay.

You look at the shining diamond ring on your finger, watching as it glistened in the light. The day he asked you felt like something out of a fairytale. It’s a moment every girl thinks about, the day the one she loves asks her to be theirs forever. It what you’ve always wanted. A marriage, a family, and now that you have it…would little you be disappointed it’s not like what she imagined? Would she ask why our husband acts that way? Why he’s always making us cry? Why he’s never here? It’s strange to think about.

You thickly swallow, blinking down at your hand. Is it even worth it anymore? You don’t know Toji anymore. It’s like he’s a ghost. Tears spill from your eyes, a stoic look on your face. The door to the room creaks open and you can feel him standing behind you, his eyes burning a hole in the back of your head. He looks over to your child, his son sleeping soundly on your shoulder. He slowly walks over to you, worried at how oddly silent you are. “Mama?” He looks at you with furrowed brows. You’re still looking down at your ring, dried tears on your cheeks. His eyes flicker between your face and your ring, a concerned look in his eye.

“Here, lemme see him.” He gently grabs the baby from your arms. As soon as he does, you quickly exit the room, walking away without saying a word. The baby stirs in his arms and Toji strokes his cheek with the pad of his finger. “It’s alright. I’m sorry for yelling. Im sorry if I scared you.” He stares down at his son and Toji feels a wave of crushing sadness wash over him, like a dark cloud. He kisses his son’s cheek before placing him in his crib, turning the nightlight on and turning off the room light. He shuts the door softly, making his way to the bedroom where he finds you sitting at your vanity in the bathroom, staring at yourself while you wipe your makeup off.

“Mama, can you talk to me?” He leans against the doorway, the silence from you making him itch for something, anything.

You halt your movements and slowly turn to look at him. “What do you want me say? You asked me to drop it, so I did.” You shrugged, sniffling, looking away from him.

“I’m not cheating on you. I know what it looked like.” He walked over to you, his footsteps heavy. “She’s just—”

“You’re gonna tell me she’s just friendly, she’s a co worker, I walked in at the wrong time. Am I about right?” You slam your hand down on the vanity. “I’m sick, Toji! What even is this?” You stood from your seat, the chair scraping against the floor of the bathroom.

“What are you even talking about, y/n?” Clear signs of frustration show in his expression.

“You’re never home. We barely talk to each other besides arguing. You never touch me, make love to me, most of the time you can’t even look me in the eye! You sleep next to me and don’t even hold me anymore!” The tears your tried your hardest to hold back come flowing out with ease. The anger boiling inside you allows your words to be sharp and powerful. “I can’t…” Your voice breaks. Toji goes to reach for you and you push him away. “Don’t.” You shake your head. “I don’t want your touch if I have to beg for it.”

“You’re my wife, y/n. My wife. I married you,” he exclaims, eyebrows raised.

“And what does that mean to you exactly?” You ask. “Genuinely, what does it mean to you? I need to know.” You stare into his eyes. “You say you love me but I don’t feel it, I don’t see it. So, please be honest with me, Toji. If you lie to me one more time…I’m leaving.” You were tired, over everything.

“I love you, y/n—” Toji stops his words when you take your ring off of your finger, placing it in his hand. “What…what are you doing?” He’s quick to ask. “Mama, don’t walk away from me.” He follows you out of the bathroom. “I’m not lying to you.” He squeezes the ring in his hand.

“You are,” you calmly say. “You’re lying to me and yourself. You may love me, Toji, but you’re not in love with me. Not anymore,” you explain. “Did you fall for someone else or did you just wake up one day and realize I wasn’t what you wanted anymore?”

“What are you talking about?” He shakes his head. “Mama, look at me.” He grabs your hand and slides the ring over your finger. “I am in love with you. I’m lying to no one. Not you, not me. What is this about, huh? Is it about her? I’ll fire her. I’ll do anything.” He’s practically begging, his grip on your hand growing tighter, the other cupping your cheek, trying to get you to look at him.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” You break down, sobbing. “I’m so tired of this.” You try and pull away from him but his hold on you is strong. “Why do you only change when I threaten to leave? Why can’t you just change on your own? Why do I have to yell at you and cry to get you to realize?” You hit his chest once, and then once more, and then again. And Toji stands there and takes it. “Why don’t you want me anymore?” You cry.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly against his chest while you sob in his embrace. You hate the way he still brings you comfort despite being the sole reason of your pain. You feel conflicted. Should you stay or should you go? Does he mean everything that he says? By now, you think you would’ve learned your lesson, but it’s hard to leave someone you dearly love, someone you’ve grown accustomed to, been so intimate with. Imagining a life without him is hard, especially now that you have a child together. Leaving brings in the conflict of having to explain why you and Toji aren’t together, why your child only sees one or the other, and every holiday and birthday is now split into two.

Toji knows he’s grown distant with you. He’s aware. But never in a million years did he mean to make you feel like you weren’t enough for him. He regrets turning down every conversation you’ve tried to have with him about it, because in his head it was no big deal. His entire reasoning being the fact you two were arguing a lot more and he needed space. Which, now thinking about it, is a stupid reason. As for his co worker, he could care less about it. Toji knew she was overly friendly and he’s told her about you, about your family. He drew a boundary that she wasn’t respecting. Not once he cheated on you or thought about it.

Though, that doesn’t mean he’s the perfect husband. Not at all. He can lash out, say hurtful things and come off as selfish. Clearly. Your muffled cries fill his ears and he just holds you. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. Im so sorry,” he says again. Slowly, he sits both of you on the edge of the bed. “We’re okay, mama. We’re alright. I promise.” He kisses the top of your head, holding onto you like he never wanted to let go. Toji doesn’t remember where things went wrong, but he didn’t want your marriage to continue down this path.

You lifted your head to look at him. His eyes immediately search yours and he can see how broken and tired you are. It shatters him. “You promise me?” You nervous bite the inside of your cheek. He wipes your tears and just with the touch of his hand he can make everything feel better, giving you hope.

“I promise you,” he says barely above a whisper.

“I miss you, Toji. I miss us.” Your lips quiver with a frown. His arms wrap around your waist, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you both hold onto each other, hearts beating in sync against your chests.

“I’m here now. I’m sorry.” He heavily sighs. “I’ll make this right. I’ll do whatever you need to me to as long as you don’t leave. I can’t let you go—can’t let either of you go.” His voice begins to waver at the thought. His breath hitches, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Can we lay down?” You mumble. At your request, he climbs into bed with you, laying you on top of his chest. It felt good to be so close to him again, something you haven’t felt in months. And Toji realizes he didn’t know what he was missing until he had you back in his presence again. Not in only in a physical sense, but mentally and emotionally as well. He drapes the blankets over the both of you.

“I won’t go into work tomorrow,” he blurts out. “We’ll spend the day together. Maybe ask Gojo to babysit for the day?” He suggests.

“What will we do?” You ask.

“Whatever you want, mama. We’ll have the whole day.” He intertwines his fingers with yours. You sit in silence for a few, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “You’re important to me. I need you to know that.” He caresses your back. “You listening?” Toji peeks down only to find your eyes shut, you’re quickly asleep, chest rising and falling with each breath. A small smile quirks at the corner of his scarred lips. “We can continue this conversation tomorrow.”

taglist (comment to be added):

@valleydoli @zxnxy @screechingbasementprincess @lexluthorbutnotbald @lynxslokley @briyah0 @levisjinchuriki @maiiluvs @levizonlywife

[surftrips]

ABOUT YOU | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

request: luke x reader fluff w like an aphrodite!reader? reader is all sunshine and flowers and makes luke all soft/campers teasing luke abt the way reader changed him 🤭

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this is probably my favorite luke fic that i've written so far thank u so much anon for sending this request in! writing aphrodite!reader is so much fun, i'm such a sucker for the opposites trope. hope you all enjoy 🤍

You were the human embodiment of sunshine, a real life angel. Gentle, kind, and lovely— in other words, the complete and total opposite of Luke Castellan. He was dark and broody, strong and rough, and not totally unfriendly, but definitely intimidating. 

But even if you weren’t the daughter of Aphrodite, Luke believed that you would still be just as beautiful. There was something in the way you carried yourself that had made his heart surrender the second he laid eyes on you. You became the one and only exception in his long list of grievances. 

So it came as no surprise to anyone at camp when the two of you started dating, just to the dismay of many of your admirers and a few of Luke’s as well. If there was one thing you had in common, it was your beauty. With his puppy dog eyes and curly brown hair, Luke was a sight for sore eyes, almost as much as you were. 

One day, you were walking hand in hand when one of the younger campers accidentally bumped into Luke. On any other occasion, Luke might have started an altercation, but today, he simply smiled and said, “Just be careful next time.” The camper stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked into place as you softly giggled.

“What?” he smiled, looking over at you as the kid took it as an opportunity to run away. 

“Nothing,” you mused. “Just that I think you’re getting soft, Luke Castellan.” You poked a finger at his chest playfully. 

“What?” he shook his head. “No, I’m not.” 

Though he attempts to keep a serious face, you could see the amusement in his eyes. He often looked at you like this, ready to go along with anything you said— no matter how silly or whimsical your remarks. 

“Okay, lover boy. Whatever you say,” you shrugged, offering him a kiss on his cheek that instantly causes color to rush into his face. Ignoring that he’s just proven your point, he attempts to hide his expression by seeking solace in the crook of your neck. He would never admit it to anyone, but he often thought his favorite place at camp was the spot in between your jaw and collarbone. 

Even though most of the campers were still a little frightened by the idea of approaching Luke, his closest friends were not afraid to speak their minds. 

“Dude, you’re like, totally whipped for her,” Percy remarked over lunch once. 

“And you’re like, totally fourteen years old,” Luke said.

“I think the fourteen year old’s right,” Chris jumped in.

“Dude! I thought you were supposed to have my back,” Luke throws up his arms in mock aggravation.

The two boys snickered, causing Luke to speak up again. “I am not whipped for Y/N.” 

“Oh, sure,” Chris began. “So the reason you’re practically skipping around camp and letting whatever team Aphrodite cabin is in win Capture the Flag is because…?” 

“Oh, and don’t forget the constant checking his phone to see if she texted back and sharing his blanket with her at the campfire!” Percy pointed out. “Meanwhile, I’m over here freezing…” 

“Maybe,” Luke scrambled to come up with an answer. “Maybe, I was just in a really good mood those days. It could have absolutely nothing to do with Y/N.” 

He barely believed the words himself, and Chris and Percy were certainly not convinced. Luke wasn’t even sure why he felt the need to defend himself. 

“Dude, it’s okay if you are, she’s literally your girlfriend,” Chris said.

“Hey! I have an idea, let’s ask Annabeth!” Percy declared.

“Annabeth? Why her?” Luke furrowed his brow. 

“Because, she’s a girl. And she’s known you the longest, she can give us a real answer,” Percy said matter-of-factly. 

Luke thought it over. The young boy was technically right, Annabeth was like a little sister to him. If anyone could tell if he had changed since dating you, it would be her. This came as both a good and bad realization to him, because what if he had changed? Gods, was it that obvious? 

Before he could agree to asking Annabeth, the young girl was already at their table. Percy must have called her over while Luke was thinking. 

“What’s up?” she asked, sitting down across from him with her plate of food. 

“Oh, nothing, just talking about how soft Luke has gotten since he started dating Y/N,” Chris explained with a grin on his face. 

“Oh?” Annabeth said, seemingly amused. 

“Yeah, we actually wanted to get your opinion,” Percy continued. “Would you say you agree or disagree, that you know, Luke is nicer now that he’s with Y/N?”

Annabeth seemed to think it over for a second. “Gods, you guys are such children,” she scoffed. 

“Thank you!” Luke cut in.

“I mean, all of you,” she looked at Luke pointedly. “Why do you care what a bunch of kids think about you anyway? And not that it matters, but you, Castellan, are most definitely whipped for Y/N.” 

That shut Luke up immediately, and caused cheers to erupt from Chris and Percy, who were clapping each other on their backs as if they had just won Capture the Flag. 

Annabeth smiled and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say “Sorry, Luke. It’s true.” 

Later that night, Luke snuck over to the Aphrodite Cabin to find you. You were surprised when Luke woke you up, it had been a while since he came seeking your comfort in the middle of the night. He used to have bad nightmares, but you noticed he had gotten better since you started dating. You’d like to think it was because of you, but perhaps that would be thinking too highly of yourself.  

In an effort to clear his mind, you suggested to go on a walk together. He agreed, and you climbed out of bed as quietly as you could.

You allowed him a few minutes of silence until his heavy breathing had slowed down and his grip on your hand had loosened. 

“What’s on your mind, hon?” you asked softly. 

Luke didn’t respond at first, distracting himself by tracing the lines on the palm of your hand. You were happy to give him as much time as he needed, placing your other hand on his back and gently drawing circles.

After a while, he did speak up. “Uhm, do you think that I’m, like, unapproachable?” 

Your heart sank and you stopped in your tracks. “What makes you say that?” 

“I don’t know, it’s just something that’s been on my mind recently.” 

“Luke, is this about what I said to you the other day? Because I didn’t mean it like that—” 

“No, baby,” he rushed. The last thing he wanted was for you to think you had done something wrong. He wasn’t sure that you could ever do wrong, not in his eyes. “I was just talking to Percy and Chris at lunch today and they were kind of teasing me.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of your boyfriend, Mr. Tough Guy, being teased by a few kids younger than him. “I’m sorry, babe. Continue,” you placed a supportive hand on his chest as you regained your composure. 

“They said that I’ve changed since we started dating.” 

Though you were an expert in human emotion, there were still times you couldn’t read the expression on Luke’s face. You couldn’t tell if he thought of this as a bad thing, or if he was just curious to see what you thought. You decided on the latter. “Changed how so?” 

“They think I’m soft now because I’m always in a good mood and stuff…” he trailed off. Even now, in the dark of the night, you could tell he was blushing.

“Well,” you started, trying to find the right words. “You know, I was just teasing you the other day, babe. I think you’ve always been this way.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think you’ve always been a giant teddy bear,” you grinned, unable to contain yourself. “Luke, you’re not as bad as everyone thinks you are.” 

By now, both of you had stopped walking. Ever since Luke arrived at camp, he had been characterized as the tough, stony, and slightly antagonistic guy. All because of a scar he carried and the stories of what he had gone through with Annabeth and Thalia. Many people were still intimidated by him, despite his position as the counselor in Hermes and his job to welcome newcomers. It had been so long, he wasn’t sure if this was the way he was, or the way that he was made to be. 

As if reading his thoughts, you said, “You don’t have to be what they tell you to be. Do you know the words I use to describe you when someone asks me about you?” 

Unable to speak, Luke simply shook his head. 

“Gentle, kind, and lovely.” 

Luke wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but certainly nothing close to the words you had chosen. “You do not,” he objected. 

“I'm serious, baby,” you placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled him in until your foreheads were touching. “I think you’re the most wonderful and caring guy I’ve ever met. I think you always have been, you just don’t always show it.”

He stared at you intently before pulling a loose strand of hair out of your face. You kissed the top of his head, “I must be one lucky girl.” 

“Hey, if there’s one thing I’m sure about, it’s that I’m the lucky one,” he said, before pulling you in for a kiss. 

[just-some-little-lads]

A Late Night

Summary: You come back home after a long day only to find Sylus waiting for you, acting a bit differently than normal. Word Count: 1.1k SFW, Second Person POV, GN MC.

Being a Hunter was good work; you knew that. However, heroism or not, long days could still have you cursing under your breath, dreaming of living in isolated peace by some lakeside. Dragging your feet, you contemplated calling in sick tomorrow. The key to your apartment flailed clumsily on it’s ring before finally turning in the slot. Shoes kicked to the shadows, work bag abandoned on the floor, you didn’t even bother turning on your lights before flopping on your couch. With your eyes closed, you were two alluring seconds away from drifting off… Till the hairs on the back of your head prickled. A sixth sense blared warnings of danger throughout your body, urging you to fly up in enough time to grab a figure approaching the back of the couch. Tact and grace were not your close friends tonight. Amidst the self-defense, you threw yourself off the couch to tackle your intruder to the ground. If you could call it a tackle, anyway. More like keeping them pinned with your collapsed body.

Before you could fully enter “interrogation mode”, a low chuckle stopped you in your tracks. Which emotion would your tone land on today? Surprise, confusion, irritation? “Sylus?” All three, apparently.

“Do you know how long I waited for you?” Despite the words, he didn’t sound irritated, just amused. He wasn’t even pushing you off of him.

After a moment of consideration, you graciously removed your knee from the middle of his back. A subtle groan suggested that your frantic maneuver had affected him more than he would ever like to admit. Step, flick, and a mellow light illuminated your living room. Sylus had pushed himself up enough to sit on the floor, his back leaning against the sofa.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not break into my apartment? Not only is it an extreme breach of my privacy, but it is also illegal!” You found yourself hissing quietly as you scolded him, worried that shouting too loud would reach the ears of curious neighbors. Neighbors who also happened to be Hunters. Hunters who would not treat the company of the most infamous N109 Zone boss so casually. “If you’re so determined to treat this place like your own, maybe I could consider making you a spare key but—“ You cut your own lecture off, noticing the distinct lack of attention of this particular criminal. “Are you listening to me? Sylus.”

A humph left his chest as he lifted himself up to his feet, needing to use the furniture for leverage. Not a detail left unnoticed. Suddenly you were worried; after all, this wouldn’t be the first time he had come to you to wounded. “Are you—“

“I can listen to you and ignore you at the same time, sweetie. And as for the moment, I don’t have a key. How else was I supposed to welcome you home after work, hmmm?” His hum dragged out longer than usual.

“—okay.” You finished your question from earlier. “I was going to ask ‘are you okay’.” Without waiting for a proper answer, you approached him, taking his wrist in your hand and observing his body for any clear wounds. He smiled down at you while you did so. Nothing…obvious, but a gut feeling was still telling you that something was off. Wrist in hand, you dragged him to the other side of the couch and shoved him into a seating position.

Another stern line of questioning was about to leave your mouth, but it never came. A soft kiss pressed itself against the back of your hand, Sylus’ head slightly lowered. A move straight out of some knightly romance. Your heart fluttered, your face flushed, yet you wouldn’t let yourself melt so easily. Yes…affection amongst other things had started to blossom between you two; however, Sylus’ demeanor always had you thinking that this was another game of his. But this… He had never been so open like this before.

The man in question raised his head, looking up at you with another grin on his face. Only, this one didn’t have that edge of haughty aloofness that typically painted his expression. He was…genuinely pleased. Should you be worried? Something else to note was the subtle tint of pink in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “No…” you ended up stating aloud. “You? Drunk?”

Sylus’ hand waved in the air, like he had to physically bat away that accusation before it stuck. “I don’t get drunk, sweetie.”

“But you have been drinking?”

Keeping your hand still in his grasp, he idly brushed a finger up and down your wrist. The motion sent a shudder down your spine. “Maybe that…exchange I told you about went very well today.” His words went hush, a deep purr in his throat as his face came close to your hand again. His breath warmed your skin. “And maybe I celebrated another resounding success with a bottle of wine I’ve been saving for a lovely rainy day.” The anticipation for him to kiss you again ended with him pressing a cheek to the back of your hand. Sylus’ face was heated. He glanced up at you through the fringe of his grey hair. Apparently, he caught that little glimpse of eagerness in your eyes.

Slowly, he guided you down onto the couch. You swallowed something building up in your throat as he began to lean over you till your back was against the armrest. “So, you came all the way out here while tipsy?” The pounding in your chest now was obvious.

Once more, he raised one of your hands. “I wanted to see you, is that such a crime?” Voice soft and low, he pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, dragging it down to his cheek, and then finally right before his mouth. If you closed your eyes and drowned out the slight condescending hum in your ears, you'd have a hard time believing that this was the leader of Onychinus. The touch was that of an entirely different man. At least one you were not well acquainted with. Maybe Sylus was the evil one in a set of twins and you got sent the benevolent one by mistake. The gestures were gentle, tender, pleading. Pinkies intertwined while his wine-tinted lips pecked different promises on the backs of your knuckles. “Can I stay tonight?”

The word ‘yes’ kept echoing in your mind at a disturbing pace, but you wouldn’t let him win with just sweetened words and some sudden puppy-dog eyes. You weren’t even aware his face could do that. “Say please.”

Sylus practically giggled, propped up by an arm next to your head. His posture lowered till his forehead pressed against yours. The tip of his nose rubbed against your own as his whisper was as quiet and needy as you were wishing it would be. “Please?”

[navybrat817]

The Day After

Pairing: Roommate's Brother!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Your new roommate introduces you to her brother, but you met him last night.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, mention of hooking up, tension, humor, flirting, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes being a menace (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Calling this AU About Last Night. No one asked for it. Hope you enjoy it anyway! @targaryenvampireslayer @tavners @starlightcrystalline he's such a menace! ❤️ Thanks to the lovely @whisperlullaby for prereading and assuring me it isn't garbage. Any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You groaned as you saw the time and wiped down the coffee table again. Rebecca Barnes, your new roommate, would be there any minute. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous. She seemed like a sweetheart and was down to earth, the perfect person to take the other bedroom and help with rent. Plus, she had already seen the place and seemed excited to be roommates.

She was doing you a favor by moving in. Your last roommate got engaged and moved in with her fiancé. While you were thrilled for her, keeping a place in this part of town was costly. You had debated downsizing, but there was nothing available. Giving up the place would’ve been tough as well since you did love your apartment and it was close to work.

“It’ll be great,” you said, taking a wipe to the table once more.

Maybe you were on a cleaning spree so your mind wouldn’t keep going back to the guy from last night. The one at the bar with the piercing blue eyes and charming smile. And the beefy frame and soft chestnut hair that framed his face. The same hair you pulled when he laid you down on his bed and kissed down your body and-

You jumped at the knock on your door. Now wasn’t the time to think about the guy who blew your back out. “Just a sec!” You called out, putting the cleaning supplies away before you straightened up your top. With a deep breath, you opened the door with a smile. “Becca, hi!”

Rebecca’s smile was enough to light up the whole place, her brown hair swept back to showcase her beautiful face. You imagined guys, and maybe girls, flocked to her, but she told you she was single and happy that way. You were single, too, minus whatever last night was. “Hi,” she said, balancing a box in her hand before you held your hands out to take it. “How are you?”

“Good. How are you?”

“Good, but I’ll be better once I get everything inside. I didn’t realize I had so many boxes,” she teased.

“I’m happy to help with whatever you need,” you promised, setting the box down by her bedroom door. “Is your car outside?”

“Actually, one of my brother’s friends let us use his truck to haul most of my stuff here,” she said, a worried look crossing her face as she looked your way. “It’s okay that they help move the stuff in, right? I’m so sorry. I don’t think I asked. The furniture is just a bit heavy.”

“It’s fine. You have nothing to apologize for. This is your place now, too,” you assured her. You remembered her saying she had an older brother. Was his name James? “And you shouldn’t have to lug up an entire bedroom by yourself.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks. My last roommate would’ve flipped,” she smiled, heading back to the door to stick her head out. “This way, guys!”

The first man that walked in was thick with broad shoulders and a smile as golden as his hair. If you had to imagine an all-American man in the flesh, this guy was it. But the guy that followed inside after him, he was the one who made your heart stop. The one who made your knees buckle. Because you knew those blue eyes.

And as his eyes bore into yours, he smirked.

Fuck…

“This is Steve, one of my brother’s best friends and pretty much like another brother,” Rebecca said, pointing to the blonde as you blinked. “And that’s my brother, James. Everyone calls him Bucky.”

You were very much aware that people called him Bucky. It was the name he made you cry out when he was balls deep inside you the night before. There was still an ache between your legs that reminded you just how thoroughly he fucked you. It was a miracle you were able to walk by the time he was done with you.

Not only did you manage to walk out of his room, you left his place before he woke up.

To be fair, it wasn’t your plan to ditch him after he took you in just about every position you could imagine. You just had to get home, shower, and clean up a bit before Rebecca showed up. And you did leave your number for him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Steve said as Bucky continued to stare.

The room suddenly felt very hot.

“James, could you not gawk at my new roommate like that, please?” his sister asked, waving a hand dismissively when he continued to stare at you. Thank god she spoke because your words were stuck in your throat. “I’m sorry. He does this weird staring thing sometimes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s okay,” you said, clearing your throat as Bucky raised an eyebrow. Why wasn’t he saying anything? You didn’t know what to say. “It’s nice to meet you guys, too.”

Bucky’s pretty eyes darkened a shade as he continued to stare you down. You shifted slightly on your feet. Was he upset that you left or that you just pretended not to know him, like last night hadn’t happened? But if you said you knew him, how would you explain it to his sister? You could’ve just said you met at a bar and left it at that. Or blurted out everything.

But how the hell were you to know Bucky was her brother? It wasn’t like the two of you had exchanged last names. Oh, Jesus, what was wrong with you?

The corner of Bucky’s lip tugged in a smile as he said your name. How did he manage to make it sound like honey and something sinful? “Becca was telling us all about you on the drive over. Said you’re very welcoming.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks as he gauged your reaction. “That was nice of her to say,” you said, tearing your gaze away because you didn’t know what else to do. “Becca, I can go to the truck and-”

“Actually, could you show me where the bathroom is?” Bucky casually cut you off, jerking his head toward the door. “Steve, Becca, if you wanna grab a couple more boxes, I’ll be right down.”

“Sure,” Steve nodded as Rebecca narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t bother my roommate,” she warned before she left with Steve.

The brunette swung his head back toward you, a wolfish grin on his face as you gulped. “I won’t be a bother, will I?”

“Bathroom’s this way!” You said much louder than you needed to, your heart racing as you went down the hall. He was right on your tail and you wondered if he would figure out which bedroom was yours and drag you into it. The hall seemed more narrow with him in it. The wonderful smell of him took up the space, too. “Right there,” you said, not looking him in the eye as you pointed to the bathroom door.

He put an arm up to block your exit. “Nice to meet me, huh?” He asked, tsking as he shook his head. “Did I fuck you so good that you lost your memory?”

You inhaled, your cheeks hot. “Bucky!” You hissed, looking over his shoulder to make sure his sister and friend weren’t back yet.

“So, you do remember my name,” he said. The smirk that followed almost had you dropping to your knees. What sorcery did this man have over you and how could you get it to stop? “I mean, you should remember it. I did have you screaming it.”

You stuck a finger in his face as you stepped closer. “Shut the fuck up! If your sister hears, she might get upset and back out of the lease. And I don’t want her to leave. She’s nice and I can’t afford this place without a roommate.”

He gripped your wrist and maintained eye contact as he swirled his tongue around the tip of your finger. An unashamed whimper slipped past your lips that you couldn’t smother, yet you didn’t make a move to stop him. “My sister won't back out of the lease, so don’t worry about that.”

“O-Okay,” you said, trying not to let him distract you as he repeated the motion. Your nipples hardened under your top anyway. Damn him. “But if she stays, how am I supposed to explain that we…”

“Fucked until the sun came up then fucked again? Yeah, you're right. It might be really hard.” He tilted his head as his gaze went lower. Was he trying to kill you? “About as hard as when I had my cock in your sweet, wet-”

You covered his mouth to smother the rest of the statement, but you felt the vibration from the word “pussy” against your skin. He chuckled at your expression. The man was going to drive you crazy.

“Yes, yes. We fucked. Best fuck of my life, okay?” You admitted in a huff.

A genuine smile touched his lips as he lowered your hand. Not a smirk or smug smile, but something lighter like when the two of you chatted over a drink. A smile that made your knees weak. “I was the best fuck of your life?”

You shook your head. You shouldn’t have said that. “That isn’t the point, but I do want to point out that I don’t make it a habit of hooking up with random guys,” you said, hoping that would be the end of it.

Amusement filled his eyes. “I know. You told me that when I brought you home and I believed you,” he reminded you, your breath hitching when he leaned in close. “But you still begged me to fuck you raw. Or did you ‘forget’ that, too?”

Electricity crackled between the two of you slowly exhaled. “I didn’t forget,” you breathed, your tongue darting out to touch your lip. It almost touched his.

How could you ever forget how right it felt when he filled you up?

“Yeah? Then were you embarrassed that you went home with me?” He asked, his voice quieter than before as he took your hand in his. His thumb moved over your skin as your pulse quickened again. “Is that why you left this morning? Or acted like we hadn’t met?”

Your gaze softened. God, did you hurt his feelings? You hadn’t meant to. “No, I’m not embarrassed that I went home with you. Not at all,” you promised. Bucky was like a god and you were a mere mortal that he somehow chose to bless with his presence. “I’m sorry I left. I only did that because I had to get back here.”

“I could’ve given you a ride. Well, another ride,” he said, brushing his fingers along your cheek, his voice still not back to normal yet. “I’m a gentleman like that.”

“I didn’t want to wake you, but I did leave my number,” you said, hoping that would at least soothe the unintended wound. “And I’m not at all pointing fingers, but you didn’t exactly jump to tell your sister we had met either when you walked in.”

He shrugged and looked over his shoulder. “She’ll be back any minute. Let’s tell her.”

“Tell her what?” You asked. The two of you hooked up. There was no label or relationship yet. “We did a lot of things that I don't think she needs to hear about.”

The smile morphed back to the smirk that was getting under your skin in the best way. “Then come to my place so she can't hear the things we’ll do to each other. You know I have a great bed.”

You smiled and considered it for a moment. The handsome menace was single and so were you. Would it be so bad to go with him again? Yes. You couldn’t ditch your new roommate to hop into her brother’s bed, especially on the day she was moving in.

With a shake of your head, you backed away. “You’re unbelievable,” you replied, almost giving in when he pouted. That look probably got him whatever he wanted with most people. “And I’m not going back to your place today.”

“Why not? Like you said, you left me your number,” he said, making a show of holding up his phone. “You obviously wanted to, at the very least, talk to me again.”

“Look, Bucky, can we talk about this later? Please? Your sister’s moving in today. Let’s focus on that.”

His shoulders slumped, but he recovered in the blink of an eye. “Okay, you’re right. But you promise we’ll talk? Because I haven’t stopped thinking about last night.”

You bit your lip. Yeah, you wanted to talk to him again and it warmed your heart that he seemed interested in talking to you, too. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it either,” you told him. But you couldn’t dwell on that when you heard footsteps approaching. “I promise we’ll talk later and figure out whatever this is.”

That appeased him for now since he dropped his arm. “Later then.”

“James! Are you done going to the bathroom? I thought you were going to help?” Rebecca’s voice rang out. “Oh, God, you’re bothering her, aren’t you?”

You giggled as you ducked past him. “He isn’t bothering me.”

“But I am offering to order dinner for all of us if she doesn’t mind the company after we bring the rest of the stuff up. Maybe we can all watch a movie, too,” Bucky said from behind you, smiling when you looked over your shoulder with an exasperated gaze. “What do you say?”

You had to smile back because you knew you’d say “yes” before Steve brought the next box in.

And things were about to get a lot more interesting in your life since Bucky Barnes seemed determined to continue whatever had transpired the night before.

Neighbor!Bucky level of being a menace. 😂 I also like to imagine this is a version of Stud and Smartie in another world had she lived with his sister instead. ❤️‍🔥 How long before Becca finds out? What shenanigans will these two get up to? Do you lovelies want to see the night before? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[thebearer]

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up. 

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home. 

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him. 

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before. 

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind. 

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively. 

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-” 

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum. 

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach. 

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.” 

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?” 

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-” 

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!” 

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you  now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-” 

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”  

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-” 

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you. 

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest. 

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!” 

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible. 

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one. 

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for. 

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing. 

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat. 

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth. 

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear. 

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed. 

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt. 

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-” 

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in. 

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted. 

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger. 

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door. 

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again. 

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick. 

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber. 

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits. 

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance. 

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open. 

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him. 

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?” 

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question. 

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-” 

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it. 

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you. 

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left. 

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?” 

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony. 

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left. 

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him. 

And he’d driven you away. 

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete. 

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went. 

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything. 

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you.